LINES OCCASIONED BY SOME FRIENDS SAYING "Throw away that worthless shell, it disgraces the collection." 'Worthless," indeed! Long cherish'd shell Thy hist'ry 'tis not their's to tell, Nor can they half thy worth define. They do not see thee polish'd bright, 'Tis not thy beauty makes thee dear, Thy scarceness, nor thy glitt'ring hue- External beauties often lie, Concealing baseness, woe, and sin; Who ne'er has known a simple flow'r, An instant sunshine to the heart? Such but to see, has from the soul, And may, when gayest moments roll, Such thou to me !-Let others say Thy worth is poor, thy beauty less; Thou call'st my thoughts from griefs away, To scenes of purest happiness. In mem❜ry oft I seek the spot, From whence thou cam'st; that long-past hour Will never, never be forgot, While thought retains its wonted pow'r. The shore on which we idly stroll'd, That hour-that shore-that wave-for me I see them all when seeing thee, And think who was beside me there, Thee, from her hand, 'twas mine to take, Oh! let them take what here is bright, I'd rather lose o'er all my right, C. ΤΟ AT THE APPROACH OF DEATH. So, thou must yield to death's subduing sway; Quick and irregular thy pulses play, And all thy frame a listless languor feels. The frowns of censure and the smiles of praise, No med'cine mix'd with Esculapian art For life's warm tide scarce issues through thy heart Dim are those eyes which once with brightness shone, Alike regardless of thy friends or foes, You wait the dawning of that awful hour, Which to affliction brings a welcome close, And lifts the soul above misfortune's power. Then, when exempt from ev'ry earthly tie, Let smiling angels quit their native sky And bear thee to the realms of bliss and love. L. TO THE FIRST VOLUME OF THE Adieu, thou little book, adieu ! I'll raise to you a grateful strain, Thou wast my solace, aye, in woe, For, when the vacant time of grief But chief of all, I own thee dear, And taught my pensive soul to stray Is all "my thoughts' employ." Oh! should that page e'er meet her eye, Though "Latham" may not there be sign'd And though upon thy page no more ; May trace the plaintive line G G LATHAM. THE EDITORS' SCRAP-BOOK. April 2, Noon.-The dedication of our First Volume, has employed the leisure of this morning: would that our language could adequately express the sincerity and respect of our feelings. 8 o'clock, P. M.-Ordinary business, avaunt! Here sit we down to address a few words to our schoolfellows. April 3.—Very busily engaged in revising and correcting the past numbers. In many papers we have made a strange alteration-we trust, not all in vain. Where we have omitted to do so, we plead guilty, and hope to be forgiven. Of one paper it is necessary to say a few words. A friend in Devonshire will see his hint on Cricket, No.1," was not lost upon us, nor received with ingratitude. The members of the "R.C.C." will pardon our putting initials only-they know all. To our other friends, and more especially to those of the fair sex, we are sorry we can offer no better apology, than that Dashwood will, (if the interrogator be a pretty girl, and in most other cases any other of that gallant community will,) with pleasure, give that explanation, personally, which here we dare not afford. April 7.-Our friends at Oxford and Bath are gratefully remembered. has our warmest thanks for his acceptable lines. We do not esteem the favor the less, that it is his first, though we would hope, not his last, contribution. Our friend at H-w is thanked. We pity the squeamish sensibility of Cornubianus,' and, while we blush for him, can instance those, at first as utterly strangers to cricket as himself, who, under the fostering care of the Radcliffe Club, have often made the playfield "resound" with applause for skill as well as courage. The only redress we can now afford him, is the insertion of this letter. For the rest he need not fear. April 8.-In daily expectation of receiving papers from our friends, 'Dashwood,' 'Wentworth,' and |