Almost immediately after the collision between the police and the collegians, a song was composed, in reference to the affair, by a gentleman who has acquired by it and several other productions of a comic character, a reputation which obtains for him a most enthusiastic reception in the choicest convivial reunions. He introduces the most extravagant fictions, and enunciates them with such apparent seriousness, as suffices completely to dissolve the gravity of his hearers. His song on the "College Row" imputes the "doleful tragedy" to the resentment of the Duchess of Sutherland, Lord Carlisle's sister, consequent on his loss of the Lord Lieutenancy, and the appointment of Lord Eglinton. She communicates by telegrams with the Commissioners of Police, and remits five hundred pounds to supply their force with ardent spirits, closing the communication with an injunction, that in case of any enthusiasm being manifested by the students on the public entry of Eglinton, they should be at once subjected to the most unsparing application of swords, batons, and bayonets. The ballad describes the carnage provoked by the explosion of a few crackers and squibs, as being fully equal to the worst excesses of our Indian sepoys in their mutinous massacres. I have heard it sung in the presence of Colonel Brown and other police functionaries; and from all who heard its fearful but fictitious details, it elicited the utmost merriment. I have been informed that in his subsequent viceroyalty, Lord Carlisle and his Chief Secretary had it frequently sung by the author, who is now connected with the Dublin police in an important professional capacity. THE COOK STREET PRINTER.