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

brandy in it."
" Cruikshank did as he was desired, and Lever rattled on—
" Devilish good stuff this, after a hard night's swizzling
Duggias, do you think you could knock off a spatch-cock, or
a kidney with a slight sprinkling of cayenne ? Try it—that's
a good fellow. I say, Henson,—what the deuce have you
made of Ainsworth ? I could hardly get a wink of sleep for
his confounded bellowing in the boiler."
" I dare say, Master Charley," said Cruikshank, a little
offended at the cavalier manner in which Lever seemed dis-
posed to treat his friend ; " I dare say you'd be rather apt to
bellow yourself, if you were shut in there without a drop of
anything to wet your whistle. He hadn't six stiff tumblers
and a snooze after them to keep him fresh."
" Which you had, at the very least, friend George," re-
torted Lever. " But, hang it, after all, it's not right to
muzzle the ox that treads out the coke, eh? I say, Henson,
do you think it would be safe to let the poor devil out for an
hour or so? We can easily shove him in again, you know,
when he's wanted."
" Henson swept the horison with his telescope, noted down
some figures on a scrap of paper, and then appeared absorbed
in calculation.
"By the quadrant less seven," he said, after a pause. " I
think he may come out now. There's no chance of a squall
on this side the equator, and there's fuel enough in the fur.
'lace to keep us going as far as the mountains of the Moon.
Tumble out, my kiddy 1" and he drew back the bolt.
" Poor Ainsworth ! When he entered the Aerial he was
in ripe and ruddy condition, plump as a Dunstable lark, and
full of fun and frolic. Now, he crawled out from his den, a
spectral emaciated figure ; his long hair, matted with ashes
and sweat, hung around his cheeks like a bunch of tallow
dips tied together by the wicks ; his face was streaked with a
fancy ochre formed by the combination of steam and cinders;
and his elegant apparel, which might formerly have electri-
fied Piccadilly, was now woefully soiled, and in some places
burned into patches. His first action was to clutch convul-
sively at a jug of beer which he drained to the very dregs.
He then threw himself upon a sofa and scowled moodily
around.
"Ainsworth, my fine fellow!" said Lever, by way of
soothing him. " you've had a long spell of it, and we all feel
devilishly obliged. Take a drop more beer. Cruikshank,
look sharp, will, and handle the tap."
" William Harrison glared wildly at him. He said nothing,
however, but took the beer.
" When I was a child," said I, cheerfully, hoping to allay
the irritation of my friend, " quite a little child, you know—
a thing full of life and joy—l remember to have tumbled, on
a rainy day, over a heap of ashes, and to hare been very
much in the same plight with yourself. Would you like to
wash your face, my dear fellow ?"
" Driz my kemesa !" said Ainsworth, savagely. " Give
us none of your gammon, Master Duggins, for I won t sifind
no nonsense."
" Quite right," said Lever ; " devilish spirited answer. I
say, Duggins, where's that spatch-cock you promised to
make about an hour ago? Look sharp, will you? Why,
confound it, man, are you to sit there all day with your hands
in your pockets, doing nothing? Joint-stock work, you
know—division of labour, eh ? That's it. Ladle away with
the cayenne. Cruikshank, I'll thank you for another glass
of soda and cogniae ; (a light for my cigar, Jenkins!) and
then squeeze a lemon or two into that bowl,—a glass of weak
rum-punch will do us no harm, eh, Henson ? and I've a
notion we shall find it confoundedly hot in crossing the great
Zahara desert. Ainsworth, my good fellow, 'pon my soul
you'd better dip your head in that bucket. You'd improve
your appearance vastly.—Eh! what was that ?—a cannon-
shot ? By George! we're above Algiers ; and these con-
founded French are firing at us 1"
" Sure enough a cannon-ball came whistling up within
three yards of the larboard sail, and reaching its upmost
point of elevation, about a hundred feet above us, turned in
the air, and fell straight down with immense velocity to the
earth. It went crash into a minaret.
" There's a muezzin done for !" cried Lever, who had been
staring down through a telescope.
" Henson grew pale.
" If they hit the engine," said he, " or even shiver the
canvass, it's all up with us. Blast them I there's another
fellow below pointing a gun !"
" Short sixes, I perceive," said Lever. " Hand me that
rifle, will you ?—bang !—there goes the artilleryman on the
rampart, tumbling over like a dolphin with a hole through
his jacket ; and I guess, by this time we're pretty well out
of their range."
" And so it proved. Five more guns were fired at us from
the batteries of Algiers; but the shot, as Lever predicted,
fell short of the mark, and no injury ensued. I must con-
fess, however, that I felt rather nervous until the roar of
the artillery was silenced."