As a pendant to the foregoing, I shall venture to insert Mr. Simpkinson's lucubrations on a subject to him, as a Savant of the first class, scarcely less interesting. The aërial voyage to which it alludes took place about a year and a half previously to the august event already recorded, and the excitement manifested in the learned Antiquary's effusion may give some faint idea of that which prevailed generally among the Sons of Science at that memorable epoch.
[THE "MONSTRE" BALLOON.]
Oh! the balloon, the great balloon, It left Vauxhall one Monday at noon, And every one said we should hear of it soon With news from Aleppo or Scanderoon. But very soon after folks changed their tune: "The netting had burst—the silk—the shalloon;— It had met with a trade-wind—an awful monsoon— It was blown out to sea—it was blown to the moon— They ought to have put off their journey till June; Sure none but a donkey, a goose, or baboon Would go up in November in any balloon!"
Then they talk'd about Green—"Oh! where's Mister Green? And where's Mister Hollond who hired the machine? And where is Monk Mason, the man that has been Up so often before—twelve times or thirteen— And who writes such nice letters describing the scene? And where's the cold fowl, and the ham, and poteen? The press'd beef, with the fat cut off—nothing but lean, And the portable soup in the patent tureen? Have they got to Grand Cairo, or reach'd Aberdeen? Or Jerusalem—Hamburgh—or Ballyporeen? No! they have not been seen! Oh! they haven't been seen!"
Stay! here's Mister Gye—Mr. Frederick Gye— "At Paris," says he, "I've been up very high, A couple of hundred of toises, or nigh, A cockstride the Tuilleries' pantiles, to spy, With Dollond's best telescope stuck at my eye, And my umbrella under my arm like Paul Pry, But I could see nothing at all but the sky; So I thought with myself 'twas of no use to try Any longer: and, feeling remarkably dry From sitting all day stuck up there, like a Guy,
But here's Mr. Hughes!—What says young Mr. Hughes?— "Why, I'm sorry to say we've not got any news Since the letter they threw down in one of their shoes, Which gave the mayor's nose such a deuce of a bruise, As he popp'd up his eye-glass to look at their cruise Over Dover; and which the folks flock'd to peruse At Squier's bazaar, the same evening, in crews— Politicians, news-mongers, town-council, and blues, Turks, Heretics, Infidels, Jumpers, and Jews, Scorning Bachelor's papers, and Warren's reviews; But the wind was then blowing towards Helvoetsluys, And my father and I are in terrible stews, For so large a balloon is a sad thing to lose!"—
Here's news come at last!—Here's news come at last! A vessel's come in, which has sail'd very fast; And a gentleman serving before the mast,— Mister Nokes—has declared that "the party has past Safe across to the Hague, where their grapnel they cast, As a fat burgomaster was staring aghast To see such a monster come borne on the blast, And it caught in his waistband, and there it stuck fast!"— Oh! fie! Mister Nokes,—for shame, Mr. Nokes! To be poking your fun at us plain-dealing folks— Sir, this isn't a time to be cracking your jokes, And such jesting your malice but scurvily cloaks; Such a trumpery tale every one of us smokes, And we know very well your whole story's a hoax!—
"Oh! what shall we do?—Oh! where will it end?— Can nobody go?—Can nobody send To Calais—or Bergen-op-zoom—or Ostend? Can't you go there yourself?—Can't you write to a friend, For news upon which we may safely depend?"—
Huzza! huzza! one and eight-pence to pay For a letter from Hamborough, just come to say They descended at Weilburg, about break of day; And they've lent them the palace there, during their stay, And the town is becoming uncommonly gay, And they're feasting the party, and soaking their clay With Johannisberg, Rudesheim, Moselle, and Tokay! And the Landgraves, and Margraves, and Counts beg and pray That they won't think, as yet, about going away; Notwithstanding, they don't mean to make much delay, But pack up the balloon in a waggon, or dray, And pop themselves into a German "po-shay," And get on to Paris by Lisle and Tournay; Where they boldly declare, any wager they'll lay, If the gas people there do not ask them to pay Such a sum as must force them at once to say "Nay," They'll inflate the balloon in the Champs-Elysées, And be back again here the beginning of May.—