The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1843-06-02 00:00:00

NEW SONG,

Old Rosin the Beau. American air. Written by J. B. Buck-
atone, Esq. Liverpool : Hime and Son.

This capital song, which Mrs. Fitzwilliam sang with so
much applause at the Liver Theatre, has been published,
with a portrait of the songstress on the title page. it is one
of the hest songs of the sort we have heard, and never fails,
if sung with humour, to excite much amusement. It is quite
as good, in fact better, than Jim Crow and fifty others.

A FLIGHT IN THE AERIAL.

(From Tait's Magazine for June.)

" It's no use, gentlemen," said Henson, pleasantly but
firmly. " We're ready to start. A great problem in science
is on the eve of being solved. I put it to you as men of
education, as philanthropists. Will you, for a small matter
of personal comfort, delay the great experiment?"
. .

- .
" Oh, it," exclaimed the modern Hogartb, " science
is all very well, and philanthropy may be so too—although I
never knew a philanthropist yet that was not a scoundrel—
but I'll see them both at the bottom of the ocean before I'll
consent to be shut up in a furnace, like Monsieur Chabert.
I'm not a salamander."
" It is most probable that we shall all be at the bottom of
the ocean if you or some other of our friends don't accept
the vacant shovel," said Henson, smiling. He stepped back
and called down something into the engine-room ; then ad-
vancing to the end of the cabin, he lifted a hatchet that was
lying beside a large pin, around which was coiled a cable of
the thickness of your arm, and with two rapid strokes cut
the rope in two. That instant the vessel shut forward like
an arrow. Cruikahank disappeared under the table, I was
projected into Lever's lap, Ainsworth and Jenkins embraced
each other on the floor.

" Now, gentlemen, settle it among yourselves," said Hen-
son, taking his seat very quietly between the tiller ropes.
" We are off, and mutt have a stoker."

" Remonstrance was now fruitless. We therefore picked
ourselves up and proceeded to draw lots for the vacant posts
with the best grace we could. Meanwhile Cruikahank kept
muttering dark sayings about `unhandsome advantage,' and
making gestures typical of a desire to have a little fancy
sparring with Mr. Henson. But when he drew the steward's
place, the berth which he had previously destined for himself,
h• became wonderfully tranquil, nay, even smiled at Ains-
worth's look of horror, when the dreaded post of stoker fell
to his lot. I drew the cook's place, Jenkins the cabin boy's;
and that the joke might be thoroughly kept up, Lever under-
took to be the gentleman of the party.
" Ainsworth, my lad, let me mix you a tumbler," said
Cruikahank, who had by this time ensconced himself behind
a chevaux-de-frize of bottles, flanked by two enormous
bastion of loaf-sugar, and garrisoned with a large supply of
shot in the shape of limes. "It will do you good before you
turn in for the night. Warm work, you know !"
"You'll excuse me, Mr. Cruikahank; I've had one stoker
tipsy to-night already," here broke in our conductor. " Not
a drop till daylight. Mr. Ainsworth, the fire's getting low,
I see," he continued, as he glanced through a wicket behind
him, which commanded a view of the furnace. " You'll
require to turn in and watch it."
" Good night, my dear fellow," said we all, pressing round
the author of Rookwood, and shaking him affectionately by
the hand. "It might have been our own case, you know."
" I wish to heaven it had !" said William Harrison, dash-
ing into the engine-room, which Henson deliberately locked
behind him. _ _

" Upon my soul, Duggins," said I, " our friend Ainsworth
was much to be pitied. I dare say he would rather have been
in his own Well-hole. But the bottle's done. Capital wine
tins, is it not? Lieschen, mein Liebeskind, kommen S'ie
herauf Ein anderes Flaschen Geisenheirner I"
" Mit Vergnugen. " replied the pretty Lieschen, our land-
lady's daughter, placing another flask on the table. "Schmeckt
das out ? Nicht wahr l"
" liimmlisch ! Well, and how did you get on, after Ains-
worth entered upon his fiery task!"
" Why, the fact is, after that we turned to, and made our-
selves as comfortable as possible. Lever told capital stories
—Cruikshauk brewed capital punch ;—as for Jenkins, we
despatched him to the steward's room to wash the dishes and
clean our boots, for fear of his dragging our conversation into
his next hook. The motion of the vevel, which pursued is
way steadily through the air, became very pleasant, after a
little, and we were as merry as possible. 1 soon became very
drowsy. Perhaps it might be the rarefied air that overcame
me, although 1 believe we took no great altitude at first
either ; or perhaps it might be the punch, or both ; but I
believe I fell asleep about eleven, singing the chorus of ' We
fly by night,' which Henson led off with great taste and no
small execution."
" I dare say your aerial chant was regarded as the music
of the spheres by any gentleman of a poetical turn who may
have heard you. '
" Very possibly. But if you're done with that bottle ?
Thank you !" Duggins refreshed himself with a potent pull
at the Geisenheimer, and continued.
" When day dawned we found ourselves skimming over
the blue waters of the Mediterranean sea. The prospect
was divine. To the east, on the very verge of the horizon,
Malta appeared like a black speck against the brilliant orange

hue which the rising sun sent forth as the precursor of his
coming. To the west lay the Sierras of Spain, still wrapped
in the fog and gloom of night ; whilst the snowy tops of the
Atlas range, towards which we were approaching, shone with
that rosy light, which the denizen of the Alps beholds, ere,
girding himself for the pursuit of the chamois, he prefers his
prayer from the lowly valley to the blessed saint, whose star
rests like a halo upon the Jungfrau's untrodden summit !"
"That's very pretty, Duggins," said I, with a slight yawn,
" but we hav'n't time for that sort of thing just now ; so
pray keep to facts, will you, and we'll imagine the poetry."
" Having satiated my curiosity with a view of the external
landscape, I next directed my attention to my fellow-voyagers.
Lever lay sound asleep with his legs stretching across the

table. A purple velvet nightcap and gold tassel gracefully
concealed his right eye; and the batt end of a cigar, with
about an inch of grey ashes, was firmly fixed between his
lips. The head of Cruikshenk lay upon the table, under
shelter of his right arm. Upon the thumb-nail of his left
haud, which grasped an empty tumbler. I observed a sketch
of myself. It was wretchedly drawn, and therefore, before
awakening him, I took an opportunity of erasing it. At the
extreme end of the car sat Henson, wrapped in a huge pilot
coolt, his vigilant clear eye dilated with the consciousness of
superior genius, and the tiller ropes noosed around his arm.
" Good morning, Master Duggins !" said he. " You've
slept well, considering the precious row we had on board last
night."
" Gracious heavens !" said I, " did anything go wrong with
the machinery ?"
" Shiver my vanes! no," replied Henson ; " we've had a
glorious run of it. Light airs and catspaws from the north-
west by north, since two bells. Only, d'ye see, there was
something like a mutiny on board. Our stoker was going to
strike work, because we refused him an allowance of grog ;
but I heat all hands to quarters, and we soon made him belay
his jaw. He's quiet enough now, I reckon."
" A horrid suspicion seized nie. Could they have pitched
Ainsworth overboard? I believe the thought was legibly
written on my countenance, for Henson gave a short gruff
laugh, and continued—

--
"WVhy, no—we didn't do that exactly, for we couldn't
spare him; but we shut him up in the boiler, and told him.
that if he didn't work there like a good 'un till seven bells,
he had very little chance of ever tasting half-and-half again.
He roared a good deal for the first half-watch, and wouldn't