THE LONDON PAPERS! (DEDICATED TO THE METROPOLITAN PRESS.) The paper is a Guide to man, The page for him to read and scan, When Grunticle's are Black. Though edited by Young. The True Sun was a paper grand, 'Tis gone to join the dead and d-d, In spite of Harvey's sauce." "Do you want to buy a raal prime lot of butter ?" said a Yankee notion dealer, who had picked up a load at fifty different places, to a Boston merchant.-"What kind of butter is it?" asked the buyer.-"The clear quill; all made by my wife, from a dairy of forty cows; only two churnings". "But what makes it so many different colours ?" said the merchant.-" Darnation! hear that now. I guess you would'nt ax that question if you'd seen my cows, for they are a darn'd sight peckleder than the butter is." ON VISITING CORNHILL I looked for Gresham's house of call, INSINUATION. A VALENTINE TO JESSIE. I had heard about Love, and the joys that it brought, And was told of the rapturous hour; I had heard of its pleasures; that ages of bliss I had heard the bright virtue of woman proclaimed 'Till I found, by thy worth-I was wrong! I had heard that the men were unfaithful in love, DROLL STORY OF A FOX Some years ago a young fox was kept at the Talbot inn, Shrewsbury, and employed in a wheel to turn the jack; but after a while Reynard gave his keepers the slip, and regained his native fields. This very fox was afterwards pursued by the hounds, but running into the town he sprang over a half door which opened into the kitchen, jumped into his wheel, resumed his former occupation, and saved his life. This though very amazing, is absolutely true. WORDS OF LOVE. FROM THE GERMAN OF KORNER. WORDS of love, ye whisper as soft To the bliss that lives in a lover's heart? G. F. RICHARDSON. As long as the human frame can suffer, and is subject to death, the mind will require whatever light philosophy can pour upon it, to preserve it from error, and whatever consolation religion can afford, to save it at least from misery, if not from We perceive an advertisement headed, "A dog gion consolation; and he is a friend to man who despair. In philosophy there is light, and in reliWaterford has been missing some short labours to secure to him those inestimable blesstime, it occured to us he might be the party, hav-ings, free from the admixture of ignorance and the ing frequently heard him called a sad dog. lost." olloy of superstition. SERENADE. Oh! think not friendship only prompts my lay? Nor you ne'er yet could feel the thrill of love? For I can love the nymph! that gives me pain; Altho' her heart ne'er yet in love could move. The woe-fraught gloom no longer let me share, Let peaceful calmness dwell within my breast? Enough is known to thee my lovely fair! To cheer a heart that you alone possess ! Away despair, my anxious bosom clear, Too long thou hast my tortured heart oppress'd, Oh! tell me if thou'lt tarry longer here? Or soothe that heart that's sinking for its rest. CAPT. HOUGHTON, R. N. LAZINESS. A man of considerable wealth, and no small degree of indolence, while in his easy chair sipping his coffee from his urn, told his servant to hand him his handkerchief; the servant did so, and then was commanded to hold it to his nose; he again obeyed, and the man sat a moment, and half starting from his chair, angrily cried, "Why dont you blow? you know very well what I wanted." A FRAGMENT. Forget me not! these words when friends From other friends depart, Seem fraught with lucious melody, And fix the youthful heart. Forget me not! what burning thoughts ISABELLA V EMILY. A TALE OF MY YOUTH. The hoarse roar of the wintry blast was hushed, the snows with which nature had been clothed were gone; the rivers and brooks glided smoothly along their pebbly channels, and anon would dance as with joy that they were released from their icy bonds; every tree and shrub was clothed with a lively verdure, the daisies and buttercups boldly reared their heads. Beneath the hedges, white with the bloom of May, the modest primrose shone in all its purity, and the sweet brier threw wide its fragrance, to welcome me after an absence of three years to my native village; every step seemed to disclose fresh beauties. I stopped for a moment to enjoy the pleasing ideas that crowded upon my mind, as I saw the lambs all innocence and gaiety, playing their gambols beneath the noonday sun; now climbing a mossy bank, then down again, quick as thought, and round and round in giddy circles, then stop to pick up the daisies that spangle their path. Happy creatures," thought I, as I pursued my path, and met in every field some old acquaintance in the shape of a hollow willow, a lordly oak, or a towering elm, where I had oft ventured iny neck for the sake of the nest which crowned it. As I drew nearer, the sound of the village bells in a merry peal, fell sweetly on my ears, in concert with the melodious notes of the feathered songsters, greeting the triumphant reign of May. Whether through an idle curiosity, or more likely through a desire of partaking in the merriment of a village wedding, I set off at top speed, and soon saw my home with its low brick walls and thatched roof. With all the buoyancy of spirit which a youth feels after a long absence, I burst open the door; the welcome home, warm and hearty, was scarcely bid; family questions were unasked, nor had I stroked the head of our faithful shepherd dog, ere I burst out in my usual strain. 66 So, father, I hear Cupid and Hymen are as busy here as they are in town. I suppose some one of my old school-fellows, tired of the monotony of a bachelor's life, has led some fair nymph of the grove to the alter, eh!" "Ah! boy," said my father, folly and disobedience, clothed with the appearance of love, are as busy here as elsewhere." "Why, what's the matter?" I enquired. "The matter is," said he gravely, "your old and dear acquaintance, Emily B-, has married young Walter S "And is that all, father?" "All!" rejoined he warmly, "for young people to marry contrary to the advice of their parents, and all their friends!--what can they expect but unhappiness?" "Well, well," said I at last, laughing, " you shall talk to me of that when I find such an occasion as mutual love for disobeying you." The sun was sinking to rest with all the glory of departing day; the birds had ceased to sing, and the lambkins to play; all nature seemed to smile, delighted with her beauty, and rested silent with content; not so the guests, who were celebrating the nuptials of Walter and Emily, they sat with us in all their youth and beauty. I confess, I secretly envied Walter, when Emily said to him, "I'm sure we ought to be happy, Walter, here are all the friends of our childhood come to welcome us, we can't help being happy, can we ?" and took his hand very affectionately. "Oh, I don't know," said ne, carelessly. But I know I should like to knock your stupid head off, thought I, for not kissing her for such an endearing speech. Hour after hour passed away, and nothing occured during my stay in the country that at all abated my determination, "to love and love, in spite of all.' The second autumn had begun to fade e'er I saw my own dear home again, a little older I was 'tis true, but little, very little wiser; my fancy was picturing in brightest colours my last visit, 'twas then gentle spring, now declining autumn; the lively green was changed, the leaves were flying withered and dead; the fields were stripped of their riches, and a solemn silence reigned, where last I heard the notes of a thousand songsters. I felt at once a weight of dull reflections, and determined first of all to see Emily, her lively sallies of harmless mirth will soon cheer me up, thought I, when on a sudden turn of the path I beheld a female seated with an infant on a bank of moss and thyme, where the sun's faint rays still delighted to smile upon, her white and delihands covered her face, she was weeping. I seated myself beside her and enquired the cause of her sorrow; she started at hearing my voice, and I beheld-Emily-" what Emily! the lovely Emily in tears!" said I, as 1 pressed her cold hand in mine. "Oh, sir! Oh, sir!" said she, "you have known me young, lively, obedient and happy. You now see me miserable, because I have been disobedient, he who I thought loved me, he who I loved so fondly, now hates me, and leads a wretched life of dissipation; my heart is broken, and I live only for this last blessing!" here she pressed the smiling babe to her breast. I could bear no more, but mingled my tears with her's, to wash away the sin of disobedience. T. W. C. TO MISS G With a Bottle of the Cream of Roses. BY HORATIO. This fragrant rosy cream they say, I love to see a pearly skin, THE COLOSSEUM. This Palace of the Peri's vast in extent and admirable in conception, is also interesting in a moral point of view. It leads us back to an epoand literature, but how distinct is "the quality of cha equally celebrated for advancement in arts mercy!" that attribute which best adorns our human capacity. The Colosseum since it has fallen into the hands of Mr. John Braham has been made a perfect paradise, and has attracted more beauty and fashion within its walls during the last summer than was ever known to have assembled in any ten seasons since it was first opened to the public. The taste of Mr. Braham, proverbial for elegance and refinement, has made this gigantic structure, the grandest point of attraction in London, now confessedly the noblest capital in the known world. To Mr. Braham we owe the comfort which is computible with ease, and both these essentials may be enjoyed to perfection by the stranger in London on his mornings lounge at the Colosseum. THE VICTIM OF COQUETRY. Poor yonth! he wanders now unseen, And tells me of his former woes; Of fascinating beauty's eyes, Do sport themselves, and gaze Delighted with the lover's joys.) His early dream of love was sweet, Ah! most enrapturing sweet, (but oh! When perfect love and beauty meet, The Thames may cease to ebb and flow,) As fair was she as angels are; Her brow would shame the lily's white, As cheering as the evening star Her eyes beam'd forth their beauty bright, In waving ringlets hung her hair, To shield her snowy neck from harm; Her lips for ever seem'd to dare A kiss, resistless was their charm. He loved her, and he fondly thought, He was beloved and well he might; But Oh! coquetry now has brought, Her arts to offend a lover's sight, Tho' loved at first yet cold disdain Soon blew a hurricane, and toss'd, Of dark despair, for ever lost, T. W. C. A bishop, congratulating a poor parson, said, "he lived in a very fine air." Yes my Lord," replied he, "I should think so too if one could live upon it as well as in it." TO CORRESPONDENTS. Sylvian in our next. We shall feel obliged if W. C. S. will forward to us the picture of which he speaks in his letter of the 8th. G. White shall appear in the course of a week or So. T. W. C. is welcome. He will perceive we have attended to his request. G. K. M. is inadmissible. I. H. is thanked. His articles are always acceptable. Former Editor's may have been imposed upon in the way he mentions, but it will be impossible to deceive the present conductor of the STAR in the way mentioned. The poetry mentioned is not Southey's, but to be found as Anonymous in the Elegant Extracts. Correspondents are requested to send their com munications (Post Paid) not later than Wednesday previous to publication, addressed to the Victoria Literary Club, at their office, 12, Wellington Street, Strand. Printed for the Proprietors, by F. 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