'DEAR SIR: It affords me great pleasure to acknowledge the delicacy of delight and joy I felt while perusing the many songs composed and sung by you, at the palacious rooms in London and elsewhere. The presses of Great Britain has certainly paid a great tribute to your mental capacity and physical ability, as a vocalist superior to RUSSELL, whose name was entitled to record on the first pages of history. You are certainly a man of high standing and respectability, whose intellectual faculties has added much to the brilliancy of youth, taste, and grandeur. I rejoice at the testimony bore to your character by some of the most eminent and distinguished writers in Ewrop. Melody of the feathered songsters could not warble with more harmony through the refractive powers of the _Atmosphere_, than did your voluble fluency vociferate in the grand '_Adelaide of Australia_.' As an elocutionist, your name is eminently combined with the ablest men of the age; and elevated to a higher degree than my pen is able to expound. At the same time I cannot refrain from any thing that has a tendency to morality without giving it my humble but human approbation.
Where is our sable friend and correspondent of the Louisville Hotel? That colored orator and model letter-writer must look to _his_ sesquipedalian fame. But this aside. The above, Mr. SUNNEY, is fine prose; but you must look to your poetic 'bays:' not a _span_ of spanking 'bays,' Mr. SUNNEY, on the Bloomingdale-Road, but the laurel _greens_ by which 'bards,' although quite unlike yourself, were wont to be crowned. We repeat that you must look to _this_ kind of 'bays,' because there is a fellow-bard, a Yankee, yet a kindred spirit, down in Maine, who can rhyme you 'out o' house and home.' He is the '_Bard of Misery_,' and hence, of course, a most miserable poet. Where Sorrow dwells, there is his country. He revels especially in marine disasters: _there_ he 'expands and bourgeons.' A friendly 'DEVIL,' (no 'Goblin-Damned,' we'll be sworn,) writing to us from a newspaper printing-office in Bangor, Maine, says: 'Will you kindly permit me to approach your Most Excellent Ma'--gazine, of which I am a constant reader, with a little contribution which I have picked up from the many similar 'favors' which we have had the honor of printing for the 'Son of the Muse,' whose effusions, somehow, don't seem to what-they-call 'TAKE:' but I expect these passages _will_.' Our modest, welcome correspondent is right: the 'passages' which he has marked for us _must_ 'take.' For example: only a few 'brief stanzas' from the 'poem' depicting '_Levi P. Willey's Last Voyage to Cubey_.' LEVI had, 'by all accounts,' a hard time. 'A few' of his 'experiences' are recorded in the lines which we annex: EBEN BABBIDGE being the name of the skipper, 'as he sailed, as he sailed:'