LORD MELBOURNE AND LORD JOHN RUSSELL--A pair of cast-off slippers.
MR. WAKELY--A dish of Tory flummery.
DAN O'CONNELL--A prime lot of

[Illustration: REAL IRISH BUTTER.]

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SONGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL.--NO. 7.

Fair Daphne has tresses as bright as the hue
That illumines the west when a summer-day closes;
Her eyes seem like violets laden with dew,
Her lips will compare with the sweetest of roses.
By Daphne's decree I am doom'd to despair,
Though ofttimes I've pray'd the fair maid to revoke it.
"No--Colin I love"--(thus will Daphne declare)
"Put that in your pipe, if you will, sir, and smoke it."

Once I thought that she loved me (O! fatal deceit),
For she wore at the dance the gay wreath I had twined her;
She smiled when I swore that I envied each sweet,
And vow'd that in love's rosy chains I would bind her.
I press'd her soft hand, and a blush dyed her cheek;
"Oh! there's love," I exclaim'd, "in that eye's liquid glancing."
She spoke, and I think I can _still_ hear her speak--
"You know about love what a pig knows of dancing!"

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