On Thursday, the London Press offered its annual sacrifice to
custom. Each paper omitted its articles to make room for a dreary history of the year, too lengthy for human perusal, too brief to be of the slightest use for future reference. The anathemas uttered at breakfast-tables must have been an awful addition to the daily sins of London, and all gobemouches, conversationists, old gentlemen, and club loungers displayed a perceptible increase of stupidity and weariness. A dictionary, or index, or concordance, or collection of Mr. Byron's puns, is lively reading by the side of these things, and a London Directory would afford a great deal more amusement. Who are they written for? Even the penny papers insert them, though they at least cannot aspire to the
honour of the " If they did, they would print themselves on paper lasting more than an hour and a half.
Previous page
