The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — 1846-09-01 (Liverpool, Merseyside, England)

DAY TICKET.--A romantic young lady, re;iding not 100 miles from Bourn, contrived, a few days ago, with the as,ietance of a little absence of mind, to make more of one of these railway indulgences, and to enjoy a greater amount of locomotion on one day's fare, than commcnly falls to any one's lot. With no luggage (hear this, liclies!) and little more cash th,,n was just needful for " the day ticket," our heroine left Peterborough, and in due time arrived in London, where ices. and something quite new from Madame T—'s, in Regent-street, contributed to exhaust the small resources of her purse; but " the day ticket" is all right—" I shall get comfortably to Peterborough to a late tea." The train leaves Eustonsquare, and our heroine, charmed with the day, composes herself with a novel and a first-class carriage for Peterborough. Qn they go, and night arrives; the train, too, arrives at a station. "Is this Peterborough ?" " This is Rugby, ma'am." Alas, 'twits too true! the virtuous hero of the novel was about to commit suicide when the  train divided at Wolverton, and our heroine was at Rugby ! Here, front the state of her exchequer, she was obliged to repose on the sof. in the " waitingroom" till the morning. With promises from the guard that she should really be conveyed to Peterborough forthwith, and that " the day ticket" should, owing to the mistake, still be the passport, our heroine starts once more ; and now, in place of the novrl hero, she meets with a must agreeable gentleman fellow-traveller—a real hero—who soon becomes more interesting than even the martyr at Wolverton the preceding day. Conversation progresses—so does the train ; till during a pause caused perhaps by the introduction of some vulgar porter's head into the carriage, the lady "fears they must be near Peterborough by this time." " Peterborough. my d  madam ! I am afraid you have made a mistake," said her comoanio,. ; and in the fulness of his top4raphical information he tells her that she is tit Watford, only some 18 or 20 miles from 1 ondon, again ! Such was verily the case, and serious misgivings aro' e as t t the remaininz and oft-tried virtues of " the day ticket ;" but it still held good. and, with one more effort. Peterborough is at last reached in safety, and our heroine lives to tell the tale.—Stamford Mercury.  NT VELLS "Et IJAti."—The Times givesthe folloionm account ot the reception ot t his extraordinary composition at the Birmingham Festival on Wednesday last : "The crowds of strangers and visitors, which were great the day before, were still more numerous, the whole length of New-street being lined on each side witn a dense mass of human beings. eager to behold the visitors 'a they made their way to the budding. The tops of the every window, from garret to ground floor, crowded with spectators. In the ball  houses,  every corner was alive ; not a vacant spot was to be seen. suet' being the intense anxiety to hear the new oratorio of " Elijah," for the first time, under the direction of its author. The orchestra was quite filled with the elect). tants, and the immense orgen, with its thirty-two feet pipes, looking like gigantic rolls of oil-cloth, rose from behind till its head touelictl the roof, like come .ast animal  of mysterious Urtin. When Nlemieissohn, the master s:.L rit rhht was to direct this multitude, stepped into the COT)... ductor's rostrum. and gave one rapid glance at the brilliant compaov who had come to listen to his favourite work—fur " is the child of his adoption, the composition he  is written—l  'or tn s of etiquette were  Unanimously laid , and one loud and. universal cheer acknowledged the presence of the greatest composer of the age. But X.endelsolin, aho set ms to hold app'ause in small account, after a hrief salutation, waved his Idion to begin. lierr Stawligil, accompanied by the low, mysterious tones of the oboes and bassoons, deliver, d in a voice of thunder, the awful prediction of the prophet Eltja!), that " no rain or dew should refresh the earth for years." happily deThe tingoverture,tled a masterpiece espofti,e orfeolupglea! was writing, happily played ; the band seemed animated with one magnetic sympathy, and it was as though one instrument. in stead of one hundren I!.u. tpoanrftwieatsogtihveennnwuis:le, otif,ethre inspired ,auepr:ceisoinionpoasreidr. elff'eticetE.ecTonhct last note of " Elijah" was drowne I in a long-conti• need and unanimous volley of n!andir.  five, w  efirnnstasni, long checked had soddenly burst Ira 111.11 filled the air with bliout of exaltation. Mendelcsohn, evidently overpowered /lowed his neknowletlpmpnt.  arm quickly descended from his prattion to the conductor's rostrutn ; but he was compelled to am ear again, amidst renewed cheers and huzzas. Never was there a more complete triumph—never a more thorough and speedy recognition of agreat work of art. " Elijah" i 3 110 t only the chef-d g ceuvre of Mendelssohn, but altogether one of the most extraordinary achievements of human intelligence. The urenteat e, edit is due to the  band and choru.7lln,p-p;o-at,h4;b7e;sisMendelssohn as a conductor, unrivalled es is his exrerience of the orch,stra and its resources, his woi k could never have won such .instantaneous appreciation but for the zealous and artistlike unanimity of his forces. Mendelssohn, after thanking them, exuressed his particular obligations to Mr. Simi,_ son, the B:rmingham professor, who had, for two months previously, so well and effectively trained the local choir.  Sept. 1, 1846.