benjamin franklin and the first balloons by abbott lawrence rotch reprinted from the proceedings of the american antiquarian society volume xviii worcester, massachusetts the davis press 1907 benjamin franklin and the first balloons. by abbott lawrence rotch. the recent bi-centenary of franklin's birth, which coincided with the revival of interest in balloons, makes this a timely topic, especially since franklin's descriptions of the first balloon ascensions are almost unknown and do not appear among his philosophical papers. the five letters which i have the honor to present were written to sir joseph banks, president of the royal society of london, in 1783, when franklin was minister to the court of france and, with the collateral documents, they give perhaps the most complete and accurate account of the beginning of aerial navigation, enlivened with the humor and speculation characteristic of the writer. it is certainly remarkable that franklin, in the midst of diplomatic and social duties, could have found time to investigate personally this new invention of which he at once appreciated the possibilities. the documents which i publish are copies of franklin's letters, made on thin paper in a copying press (probably the rotary machine invented by franklin), and all but one bear his signature in ink. they have corrections in the author's hand-writing and, except for a few words, are quite legible. they were purchased by me from dodd, mead & co., in december, 1905, and previously had belonged to g. m. williamson, of grandview-on-the-hudson, to whom they had come from vienna. none of the letters appear in sparks' edition of franklin's works, and while all but one are included in the collections compiled by bigelow and smyth, there are numerous inaccuracies, some of which will be specified hereafter. drafts of three of the letters are deposited in the university of pennsylvania, but the existence of one letter and the whereabouts of another were unknown to the late mr. smyth, the editor of the last and most complete edition of franklin's works,[1] who made careful search for the original documents. although the american owners of these copies did not allow them to be transcribed, mr. smyth states that he printed one letter from my copy, and he noted how the other copies differed from the drafts in the university of pennsylvania. in general it may be said that, whereas bigelow gives the text without paragraphs, capital letters or the old spelling,[2] smyth follows the originals more closely. in view of the historic and scientific interest of these letters, they are now printed exactly according to the press-copies. the letter dated november 30, appears never to have been printed and whereas smyth reproduced the letter of november 21 from the university of pennsylvania draft, this or another draft (or possibly this copy) was in the possession of the french aeronaut, gaston tissandier, about 1887.[3] [1] the writings of benjamin franklin, collected and edited by albert henry smyth, volume ix, new york, 1906. [2] complete works of benjamin franklin, compiled and edited by john bigelow, volume viii, new york, 1888. [3] histoire des ballons, paris, 1887, volume i, page 29. (the first hydrogen balloon.) passy, aug. 30, 1783. sir, on wednesday, the 27th instant the new aerostatic experiment, invented by mess^rs. montgolfier, of annonay, was repeated by m. charles, professor of experimental philosophy at paris. a hollow globe 12 feet diameter was formed of what is called in england oiled silk, here _taffetas gommé_, the silk being impregnated with a solution of gum elastic in lintseed oil, as is said. the parts were sewed together while wet with the gum, and some of it was afterwards passed over the seams, to render it as tight as possible. it was afterwards filled with the inflammable air that is produced by pouring oil of vitriol upon filings of iron, when it was found to have a tendency upwards so strong as to be capable of lifting a weight of 39 pounds, exclusive of its own weight which was 25 lbs. and the weight of the air contain'd. it was brought early in the morning to the _champ de mars_, a field in which reviews are sometimes made, lying between the military school and the river. there it was held down by a cord till 5 in the afternoon, when it was to be let loose. care was taken before the hour to replace what portion had been lost, of the inflammable air, or of its force, by injecting more. it is supposed that not less than 50,000 people were assembled to see the experiment. the champ de mars being surrounded by multitudes, and vast numbers on the opposite side of the river. at 5 aclock notice was given to the spectators by the firing of two cannon, that the cord was about to be cut. and presently the globe was seen to rise, and that as fast as a body of 12 feet diameter, with a force only of 39 pounds, could be suppos'd to move the resisting air out of its way. there was some wind, but not very strong. a little rain had wet it, so that it shone, and made an agreeable appearance. it diminished in apparent magnitude as it rose, till it enter'd the clouds, when it seem'd to me scarce bigger than an orange, and soon after became invisible, the clouds concealing it. the multitude separated, all well satisfied and delighted with the success of the experiment, and amusing one another with discourses of the various uses it may possibly be apply'd to, among which many were very extravagant. but possibly it may pave the way to some discoveries in natural philosophy of which at present we have no conception. a note secur'd from the weather had been affix'd to the globe, signifying the time & place of its departure, and praying those who might happen to find it, to send an account of its state to certain persons at paris. no news was heard of it till the next day, when information was receiv'd, that it fell a little after 6 aclock, at gonesse, a place about 4 leagues distance, and that it was rent open, and some say had ice in it. it is suppos'd to have burst by the elasticity of the contain'd air when no longer compress'd by so heavy an atmosphere. one of 38 feet diameter is preparing by mr. montgolfier himself, at the expence of the academy, which is to go up in a few days. i am told it is constructed of linen & paper, and is to be filled with a different air, not yet made public, but cheaper than that produc'd by the oil of vitriol, of which 200 paris pints were consum'd in filling the other. it is said that for some days after its being filled, the ball was found to lose an eighth part of its force of levity in 24 hours; whether this was from imperfection in the tightness of the ball, or a change in the nature of the air, experiments may easily discover. i thought it my duty, sir, to send an early account of this extraordinary fact, to the society which does me the honour to reckon me among its members; and i will endeavour to make it more perfect, as i receive farther information. with great respect, i am, sir, your most obedient and most humble servant b. franklin sir joseph banks, bar^t. p. s. since writing the above, i am favour'd with your kind letter of the 25th. i am much obliged to you for the care you have taken to forward the transactions, as well as to the council for so readily ordering them on application. please to accept and present my thanks. i just now learn, that some observers say, the ball was 150 seconds in rising, from the cutting of the cord till hid in the clouds; that its height was then about 500 toises, but, being moved out of the perpendicular by the wind, it had made a slant so as to form a triangle, whose base on the earth was about 200 toises. it is said the country people who saw it fall were frightned, conceiv'd from its bounding a little, when it touched the ground, that there was some living animal in it, and attack'd it with stones and knives, so that it was much mangled; but it is now brought to town and will be repaired. the great one of m. montgolfier, is to go up, as is said, from versailles, in about 8 or 10 days; it is not a globe but of a different form, more convenient for penetrating the air. it contains 50,000 cubic feet, and is supposed to have force of levity equal to 1500 pounds weight. a philosopher here, m. pilatre du rozier has seriously apply'd to the academy for leave to go up with it, in order to make some experiments. he was complimented on his zeal and courage for the promotion of science, but advis'd to wait till the management of these balls was made by experience more certain & safe. they say the filling of it in m. montgolfier's way will not cost more than half a crown. one is talk'd of to be 110 feet diameter. several gentlemen have ordered small ones to be made for their amusement. one has ordered four of 15 feet diameter each; i know not with what purpose; but such is the present enthusiasm for promoting and improving this discovery, that probably we shall soon make considerable progress in the art of constructing and using the machines. among the pleasanteries conversation produces on this subject, some suppose flying to be now invented, and that since men may be supported in the air, nothing is wanted but some light handy instruments to give and direct motion. some think progressive motion on the earth may be advanc'd by it, and that a running footman or a horse slung and suspended under such a globe so as to have no more of weight pressing the earth with their feet, than perhaps 8 or 10 pounds, might with a fair wind run in a straight line across countries as fast as that wind, and over hedges, ditches & even waters. it has been even fancied that in time people will keep such globes anchored in the air, to which by pullies they may draw up game to be preserved in the cool & water to be frozen when ice is wanted. and that to get money, it will be contrived to give people an extensive view of the country, by running them up in an elbow chair a mile high for a guinea &c. &c. b. f. (a hot air balloon carrying animals.) passy, oct. 8, 1783. sir, the publick were promised a printed particular account of the rise & progress of the balloon invention, to be published about the end of last month. i waited for it to send it to you, expecting it would be more satisfactory than anything i could write; but it does not appear. we have only at present the enclosed pamphlet, which does not answer the expectation given us. i send you with it some prints. that of the balloon raised at versailles is said to be an exact representation. i was not present, but am told it was filled in about ten minutes by means of burning straw. some say water was thrown into the flame, others that it was spirits of sal volatile. it was supposed to have risen about 200 toises: but did not continue long at that height, was carried horizontally by the wind, and descended gently as the air within grew cooler. so vast a bulk when it began to rise so majestically in the air struck the spectators with surprise and admiration. the basket contained a sheep, a duck, and a cock, who, except the cock, received no hurt by the fall. the duke de crillon made a feast last week in the bois de boulogne, just by my habitation, on occasion of the birth of two spanish princes; after the fireworks we had a balloon of about 5 feet diameter filled with permanent inflammable air. it was dismissed about one aclock in the morning. it carried under it a large lanthorn with inscriptions on its sides. the night was quite calm and clear, so that it went right up. the appearance of the light diminished gradually till it appeared no bigger than one of the stars, and in about twenty minutes i lost sight of it entirely. it fell the next day on the other side of the same wood near the village boulogne, about half after twelve, having been suspended in the air eleven hours and a half. it lodged in a tree, and was torn in getting it down; so that it cannot be ascertained whether it burst when above, or not, tho' that is supposed. smaller repetitions of the experiment are making every day in all quarters. some of the larger balloons that have been up are preparing to be sent up again in a few days; but i do not hear of any material improvements yet made either in the mechanical or chemical parts of the operation. most is expected from the new one undertaken upon subscription by messieurs charles and robert, who are men of science and mechanic dexterity. it is to carry up a man. i send you enclosed the proposals, which it is said are already subscribed to by a considerable number and likely to be carried into execution. if i am well at the time, i purpose to be present, being a subscriber myself, and shall send you an exact account of particulars. with great esteem and respect, for yourself and the society; i have the honour to be, sir, your most obedient & most humble servant, b. franklin sir joseph banks, bar^t. (the first aerial voyage by man.) passy, nov^r 21st, 1783 dear sir, i received your friendly letter of the 7th inst. i am glad my letters respecting the aerostatic experiment were not unacceptable. but as more perfect accounts of the construction and management of that machine have been and will be published before your transactions, and from which extracts may be made that will be more particular and therefore more satisfactory, i think it best not to print those letters. i say this in answer to your question; for i did not indeed write them with a view of their being inserted. mr. faujas de st. fond acquainted me yesterday that a book on the subject which has been long expected, will be publish'd in a few days, and i shall send you one of them. enclosed is a copy of the _procès verbal_ taken of the experiment made yesterday in the garden of the queen's palace la muette where the dauphin now resides which being near my house i was present. this paper was drawn up hastily, and may in some places appear to you obscure; therefore i shall add a few explanatory observations. this balloon was larger than that which went up from versailles and carried the sheep, &c. its bottom was open, and in the middle of the opening was fixed a kind of basket grate in which faggots and sheaves of straw were burnt. the air rarified in passing thro' this flame rose in the balloon, swell'd out its sides, and fill'd it. the persons who were plac'd in the gallery made of wicker, and attached to the outside near the bottom, had each of them a port thro' which they could pass sheaves of straw into the grate to keep up the flame, & thereby keep the balloon full. when it went over our heads, we could see the fire which was very considerable. as the flame slackens, the rarified air cools and condenses, the bulk of the balloon diminishes and it begins to descend. if those in the gallery see it likely to descend in an improper place, they can by throwing on more straw, & renewing the flame, make it rise again, and the wind carries it farther. _la machine poussée par le vent s'est dirigée sur une des allées du jardin._ that is against the trees of one of the walks. the gallery hitched among the top boughs of those trees which had been cut and were stiff while the body of the balloon lean'd beyond and seemed likely to overset. i was then in great pain for the men, thinking them in danger of being thrown out, or burnt for i expected that the balloon being no longer upright the flame would have laid hold of the inside that leaned over it. but by means of some cords that were still attach'd to it, it was soon brought upright again, made to descend, & carried back to its place. it was however much damaged. _planant sur l'horizon._ when they were as high as they chose to be, they made less flame and suffered the machine to drive horizontally with the wind, of which however they felt very little, as they went with it, and as fast. they say they had a charming view of paris & its environs, the course of the river, &c but that they were once lost, not knowing what part they were over, till they saw the dome of the invalids, which rectified their ideas. probably while they were employed in keeping up the fire, the machine might turn, and by that means they were _desorientés_ as the french call it. there was a vast concourse of gentry in the garden, who had great pleasure in seeing the adventurers go off so chearfully, & applauded them by clapping &c. but there was at the same time a good deal of anxiety for their safety. multitudes in paris saw the balloon passing; but did not know there were men with it, it being then so high that they could not see them. _développant du gaz._ that is, in plain english, _burning more straw_; for tho' there is a little mystery made, concerning the kind of air with which the balloon is filled, i conceive it to be nothing more than hot smoke or common air rarify'd, tho' in this i may be mistaken. _aiant encor dans leur galerie les deux tiers de leur approvisionement._ that is their provision of straw; of which they carried up a great quantity. it was well that in the hurry of so hazardous an experiment, the flame did not happen by any accidental mismanagement to lay hold of this straw; tho' each had a bucket of water by him, by way of precaution. one of these courageous philosophers, the marquis d'arlandes, did me the honour to call upon me in the evening after the experiment, with mr. montgolfier the very ingenious inventor. i was happy to see him safe. he informed me that they lit gently without the least shock, and the balloon was very little damaged. this method of filling the balloon with hot air is cheap and expeditious, and it is supposed may be sufficient for certain purposes, such as elevating an engineer to take a view of an enemy's army, works, &c. conveying intelligence into, or out of a besieged town, giving signals to distant places, or the like. the other method of filling a balloon with permanently elastic inflammable air, and then closing it is a tedious operation, and very expensive; yet we are to have one of that kind sent up in a few days. it is a globe of 26 feet diameter. the gores that compose it are red and white silk, so that it makes a beautiful appearance. a very handsome triumphal car will be suspended to it, in which mess^rs. robert, two brothers, very ingenious men, who have made it in concert with mr. charles propose to go up. there is room in this car for a little table to be placed between them, on which they can write and keep their journal, that is take notes of every thing they observe, the state of their thermometer, barometer, hygrometer, &c which they will have more leisure to do than the others, having no fire to take care of. they say they have a contrivance which will enable them to descend at pleasure. i know not what it is. but the expence of this machine, filling included, will exceed, it is said, 10,000 livres. this balloon of only 26 feet diameter being filled with air ten times lighter than common air, will carry up a greater weight than the other, which tho' vastly bigger was filled with an air that could scarcely be more than twice as light. thus the great bulk of one of these machines, with the short duration of its power, & the great expence of filling the other will prevent the inventions being of so much use, as some may expect, till chemistry can invent a cheaper light air producible with more expedition. but the emulation between the two parties running high, the improvement in the construction and management of the balloons has already made a rapid progress; and one cannot say how far it may go. a few months since the idea of witches riding thro' the air upon a broomstick, and that of philosophers upon a bag of smoke, would have appeared equally impossible and ridiculous. these machines must always be subject to be driven by the winds. perhaps mechanic art may find easy means to give them progressive motion in a calm, and to slant them a little in the wind. i am sorry this experiment is totally neglected in england where mechanic genius is so strong. i wish i could see the same emulation between the two nations as i see between the two parties here. your philosophy seems to be too bashful. in this country we are not so much afraid of being laught at. if we do a foolish thing, we are the first to laugh at it ourselves, and are almost as much pleased with a _bon mot_ or a good _chanson_, that ridicules well the disappointment of a project, as we might have been with its success. it does not seem to me a good reason to decline prosecuting a new experiment which apparently increases the power of man over matter, till we can see to what use that power may be applied. when we have learnt to manage it, we may hope some time or other to find uses for it, as men have done for magnetism and electricity of which the first experiments were mere matters of amusement. this experience is by no means a trifling one. it may be attended with important consequences that no one can foresee. we should not suffer pride to prevent our progress in science. beings of a rank and nature far superior to ours have not disdained to amuse themselves with making and launching balloons, otherwise we should never have enjoyed the light of those glorious objects that rule our day & night, nor have had the pleasure of riding round the sun ourselves upon the balloon we now inhabit. with great and sincere esteem, i am, dear sir, your most obed^t & most humble servant, b. franklin sir joseph banks. (postponement of charles' and robert's ascension.) passy, nov. 30, 1783 dear sir, i did myself the honour of writing to you the beginning of last week, and i sent you by the courier, m. faujas's book upon the balloons, which i hope you have receiv'd. i did hope to have given you to day an account of mr. charles's grand balloon, which was to have gone up yesterday; but the filling it with inflammable air having taken more time than had been calculated, it is deferr'd till to-morrow. i send you herewith a paper in which you will see what was proposed by mess^rs robert who constructed the machine; and some other papers relative to the same subject, the last of which is curious, as containing the journal of the first aerial voyage performed by man.--i purpose being present to-morrow at the experiment, and shall give you an acc^t of it by the wednesday's post. with sincere & great esteem, i have the honour to be, sir, your most obed^t humble serv^t b. franklin sir jos. banks, bar^t. (the second aerial voyage by man.) passy, dec. 1, 1783. dear sir, in mine of yesterday, i promis'd to give you an account of mess^rs. charles & robert's experiment, which was to have been made at this day, and at which i intended to be present. being a little indispos'd, & the air cool, and the ground damp, i declin'd going into the garden of the tuilleries where the balloon was plac'd, not knowing how long i might be oblig'd to wait there before it was ready to depart; and chose to stay in my carriage near the statue of louis xv. from whence i could well see it rise, & have an extensive view of the region of air thro' which, as the wind sat, it was likely to pass. the morning was foggy, but about one aclock, the air became tolerably clear, to the great satisfaction of the spectators, who were infinite, notice having been given of the intended experiment several days before in the papers, so that all paris was out, either about the tuilleries, on the quays & bridges, in the fields, the streets, at the windows, or on the tops of houses, besides the inhabitants of all the towns & villages of the environs. never before was a philosophical experiment so magnificently attended. some guns were fired to give notice, that the departure of the great balloon was near, and a small one was discharg'd which went to an amazing height, there being but little wind to make it deviate from its perpendicular course, and at length the sight of it was lost. means were used, i am told, to prevent the great balloon's rising so high as might indanger its bursting. several bags of sand were taken on board before the cord that held it down was cut, and the whole weight being then too much to be lifted, such a quantity was discharg'd as to permit its rising slowly. thus it would sooner arrive at that region where it would be in equilibrio with the surrounding air, and by discharging more sand afterwards, it might go higher if desired. between one & two aclock, all eyes were gratified with seeing it rise majestically from among the trees, and ascend gradually above the buildings, a most beautiful spectacle! when it was about 200 feet high, the brave adventurers held out and wav'd a little white pennant, on both sides their car, to salute the spectators, who return'd loud claps of applause. the wind was very little, so that the object, tho' moving to the northward, continued long in view; and it was a great while before the admiring people began to disperse. the persons embark'd were mr. charles, professor of experimental philosophy, & a zealous promoter of that science; and one of the messieurs robert, the very ingenious constructors of the machine. when it arrived at its height, which i suppose might be 3 or 400 toises, it appeared to have only horizontal motion. i had a pocket glass, with which i follow'd it, till i lost sight, first of the men, then of the car, and when i last saw the balloon, it appear'd no bigger than a walnut. i write this at 7 in the evening. what became of them is not yet known here. i hope they descended by day-light, so as to see & avoid falling among trees or on houses, and that the experiment was completed without any mischievous accident which the novelty of it & the want of experience might well occasion. i am the more anxious for the event, because i am not well inform'd of the means provided for letting themselves gently down, and the loss of these very ingenious men would not only be a discouragement to the progress of the art, but be a sensible loss to science and society. i shall inclose one of the tickets of admission, on which the globe was represented, as originally intended, but is altered by the pen to show its real state when it went off. when the tickets were engraved, the car was to have been hung to the neck of the globe, as represented by a little drawing i have made in the corner a. i suppose it may have been an apprehension of danger in straining too much the balloon or tearing the silk, that induc'd the constructors to throw a net over it, fix'd to a hoop which went round its middle, and to hang the car to that hoop, as you see in fig. b. tuesday morning, dec. 2. i am reliev'd from my anxiety, by hearing that the adventurers descended well near l'isle adam, before sunset. this place is near 7 leagues from paris. had the wind blown fresh, they might have gone much farther. if i receive any farther particulars of importance i shall communicate them hereafter. with great esteem, i am, dear sir, your most obedient & most humble servant, b. franklin p. s. tuesday evening. since writing the above, i have receiv'd the printed paper & the manuscript, containing some particulars of the experiment, which i enclose.--i hear farther, that the travellers had perfect command of their carriage, descending as they pleas'd by letting some of the inflammable air escape, and rising again by discharging some sand; that they descended over a field so low as to talk with labourers in passing and mounted again to pass a hill. the little balloon falling at vincennes, shows that mounting higher it met with a current of air in a contrary direction: an observation that may be of use to future aerial voyagers. sir joseph banks, bar^t. (some particulars of the second voyage.) mr. le chevalier de cubière qui a suivi la marche du globe est arrivé chez m. charles hier à 10 heures 1/4 du soir et a dit, que les voyageurs étoient descendus lentement et volontairement à trois heures 3/4 dans les marais de nesle et d'hebouville, une lieue et demie après l'isle adam. ils y ont été accueillis par mrs. le duc de chartre et fitz james, qui après les avoir embrassés, ont signé le procès verbal de lieu et d'heure. beaucoup d'habitants de la campagne et le curé de nesle et d'hebouville se sont aussi trouvés à leur arrivée. les voyageurs ont assuré n'avoir éprouvé que des sensations agréables dans leur traversée. mr. robert étant sorti du char, et aidé de quelques paysans, se disposoit à remplacer sa pesanteur avec de la terre; mais m. charles voulant profiter du peu de jour qui lui restoit, pour faire encore quelques observations, impatienté de la lenteur de cette operation, a repris son vol à 4 heures et 1/4, avec un excédant de légèreté d'environ 100 livres par une ascension droite et une rapidité telle qu'en peu de tems le globe s'est trouvé hors de vue. la chute du jour l'a déterminé à redescendre une lieue et 1/2 plus loin, aux environs de fouroy. la machine n'a éprouvé aucun accident. elle perdoit légèrement par une petite ouverture qui existoit dejà quelques heures avant son depart auprès de l'appendice, et dont le morceau de taffetas que l'on y avoit appliqué au moment de l'expérience, s'étoit detaché. * * * * * le petit ballon est tombé dans la cour du dongeon à vincennes. il a été ramassé par des enfans et vendu 6_d._ au nommé bertrand. il avoit perdu son air inflammable par le robinet qu'on avoit laissé ouvert exprès pour empêcher l'explosion à trop grande hauteur. on évalue qu'il a été 50 minutes en l'air. le taffetas étoit roussi aux deux extremités. notes concerning the letters. _letter of august 30._ the hand-writing is in a more flowing style than the subsequent letters. bigelow omits paragraph ten beginning "it is said." both bigelow and smyth give another paragraph in the postscript, beyond the signature "b. f." in my copy; also a note dated sept. 2^d, which contains calculations in french relating to the balloon. smyth says that these additions are not in the university of pennsylvania draft but that they occur in this press-copy, which is obviously a mistake. in paragraph two of the postscript "mov'd out," in smyth, should read "being moved out," and in the last line but one "upon" should read "up in." _letter of october 8._ in the eighth line after the word "balloon" smyth inserts "lately." part of the valedictory and the signature are omitted by bigelow and smyth, but the former gives an "extract of the proposals" for the balloon of which i have no copy. _letter of november 21._ this should be dated nov. 22, since the ascension of d'arlandes and de rozier which, according to the letter, took place the previous day is known to have been on the 21st. the orthography of the french words in bigelow and smyth does not always agree with the copy. in paragraph three, for "post," in smyth, read "port;" in paragraph six for "adventures," in smyth, read "adventurers;" in paragraph thirteen for "by the emulation," in smyth, read "but the emulation;" in paragraph fifteen for the phrase, in smyth and bigelow, beginning, "i wish i could see the same emulation," correct to end, "between the two nations as i see between the two parties here;" in paragraph sixteen, in both bigelow and smyth, for "experiment," read "experience;" and for the unintelligible phrase in both bigelow and smyth, "beings of a frank and [sic] nature," read "beings of a rank and nature." minor discrepancies between this and the other press-copies and the letters as printed by bigelow and smyth also occur. the signature is in pencil in this copy. a "p. s. nov. 25th" is not in the press-copy, contrary to smyth's statement, but i have a press-copy of the french _procès-verbal_, therein referred to, in franklin's handwriting with his name and eight others affixed as witnesses. neither bigelow nor smyth print this document, which was first reproduced in the book mentioned by franklin in the first paragraph of his letter, viz: "description des expériences de la machine aérostatique par m. faujas de saint-fond, paris, 1783." since franklin's copy of the _procès-verbal_ differs only in his spelling the word "_sang-froid_" instead of "_sens-froid_," i do not print it. however, other changes were introduced in the _procès-verbal_ when reprinted in the second volume of m. faujas' work, published in 1784. the plate forming the frontispiece to this volume shows the balloon as seen from mr. franklin's terrace at passy. _letter of november 30._ this has never been published so far as i know. "the journal of the first aerial voyage," here mentioned, was written by the marquis d'arlandes to m. faujas de saint-fond on nov. 28th and first printed in the _journal de paris_ but was republished by faujas de saint-fond in his second volume. _letter of december 1._ smyth states that he reproduced this letter from my press-copy but he omits the capital letters and the contractions in spelling, as well as the references "a" and "b," which are given by bigelow with the remark that the drawings were not found. "the manuscript, containing some particulars of the experiment, which i enclose," mentioned in the postscript, is a two-page account in french, in franklin's handwriting, by an eye-witness of the voyage, m. le chevalier de cubière. as this interesting document has never been published, to my knowledge, i have given it here _literatim_ from my press-copy. --transcriber's note-a caret (^) indicates the following character or characters were printed in superscript. some superscripts were silently converted to regular characters (i.e. 27th instead of 27^th). except for the following corrections, the original text and punctuation remain unchanged: p. 7, added a missing comma after "sir" at the beginning of the letter "a hot air balloon carrying animals", as there is one in every other letter; p. 7, added missing "t" to "than" in "more satisfactory than anything"; p. 9, "procés verbal" corrected to "procès verbal"; p. 11, added a missing comma after "robert" in "mess^rs. robert, two brothers,"; p. 11, "aiant encor dans leur galerie le deux tiers de leur approvissonement." was corrected to "... les deux tiers de leur approvisionement." "aiant encor" might be "ayant encore", as printed in the "journal des sçavans" of january 1784, but was not corrected here; p. 14, "carr" corrected to "car" in "on both sides their car,"; p. 16, removed a space after "d'" in "beaucoup d'habitants"; p. 16, "bart." corrected to "bar^t." in "sir joseph banks, bar^t."; p. 17, "sept. 2d" corrected to "sept. 2^d", for 2nd. the following possible mispellings have been retained: p. 6, "m. pilatre du rozier" should be "m. pilâtre de rozier"; p. 10, "chearfully" is possibly an older spelling for "cheerfully"; p. 16, there are several missing accents that might have been in the original french document, in "desorientés", "operation", "dejà", "depart", "detaché" and "extremités". there are two occurences of "&c" for "&c." a voyage in a balloon (1852) by jules verne redactor's note from _sartain's union magazine of literature and art_ (philadelphia: 1849-1852): may 1852: vol. x. no. 5: p. 389-395. john sartain (1808-1897) was an english artist and engraver skilled in the art of mezzotint who emigrated to the united states; in 1848 he purchased a one-half interest in the "union magazine", a new york periodical, which he transferred to philadelphia. the name was changed to "sartain's union magazine", and during the four years of its existence the journal became widely known, publishing works of poe and other literati. the article here is a translation of "la science en famille / un voyage en ballon. / (réponse à l'énigme de juillet.)", in: _musée des familles. lectures du soir_, paris, seconde série. vol. 8, no. 11 (august 1851), pp. 329-336 (5 illustrations by a. de bar, two chapters). this is a different version from the one published by hetzel; "un drame dans les airs", in: _le docteur ox_, 19 october 1874, (ed. c & d) (6 illustrations by emile bayard, only one chapter!). in this early work we see the ingredients of verne's later _voyages extraordinaires_; characters brought or thrown together on a journey to afar; introduction of new characters part way through the story; careful scientific explanation of critical events (the ascension, filling the balloon, rising and falling, ballast); use of dialogue to convey scientific information (the history of ballooning); use of scientific instruments (barometer, compass); chapter heads to presage the story; escapes from perilous events caused by scientific or natural catastrophes. one may also wonder why hetzel removed the description of the inflation of the balloon with hydrogen gas. in fact hydrogen is barely mentioned in the revised story. could it be that while hetzel approved of verne's scientific descriptions of impossible undertakings, when it came to real exploits such as ballooning he did not want his juvenile readers experimenting with the "hogsheads of sulphuric acid and nails" to produce explosive hydrogen? in fact in the hetzel version the lifting gas hydrogen is replaced with "illuminating gas", an inferior, though lighter than air material, but one which his readers would find difficult to use for deadly experimentation. it may also be that verne had little to do with this volume; hetzel may have edited the collection so that it would count as one of the required volumes verne was to produce annually. the correspondence archives may shed some light. ms. wilbur also translated other articles on ballooning from the french. it is also interesting that she retained in her translation the original units which verne used (metre, feet, leagues), a practice forgotten until recently. this may be the first appearance of a work by jules verne in the english language. norman m. wolcott rockville, maryland a voyage in a balloon by jules verne translated from the french by anne t. wilbur 1852 i. my ascension at frankfort--the balloon, the gas, the apparatus, the ballast--an unexpected travelling companion--conversation in the air--anecdotes--at 800 metres[a]--the portfolio of the pale young man--pictures and caricatures--des rosiers and d'arlandes--at 1200 metres--atmospheric phenomena--the philosopher charles--systems--blanchard--guyton-morveaux--m. julien--m. petin--at 1500 metres--the storm--great personages in balloons--the valve--the curious animals--the aerial ship--game of balloons. [footnote a: a metre is equal to 39.33 english inches.] in the month of september, 1850, i arrived at frankfort-on-the-maine. my passage through the principal cities of germany, had been brilliantly marked by aerostatic ascensions; but, up to this day, no inhabitant of the confederation had accompanied me, and the successful experiments at paris of messrs. green, godard, and poitevin, had failed to induce the grave germans to attempt aerial voyages. meanwhile, hardly had the news of my approaching ascension circulated throughout frankfort, than three persons of note asked the favour of accompanying me. two days after, we were to ascend from the place de la comédie. i immediately occupied myself with the preparations. my balloon, of gigantic proportions, was of silk, coated with gutta percha, a substance not liable to injury from acids or gas, and of absolute impermeability. some trifling rents were mended: the inevitable results of perilous descents. the day of our ascension was that of the great fair of september, which attracts all the world to frankfort. the apparatus for filling was composed of six hogsheads arranged around a large vat, hermetically sealed. the hydrogen gas, evolved by the contact of water with iron and sulphuric acid, passed from the first reservoirs to the second, and thence into the immense globe, which was thus gradually inflated. these preparations occupied all the morning, and about 11 o'clock, the balloon was three-quarters full; sufficiently so;--for as we rise, the atmospheric layers diminish in density, and the gas, confined within the aerostat, acquiring more elasticity, might otherwise burst its envelope. my calculations had furnished me with the exact measurement of gas required to carry my companions and myself to a considerable height. we were to ascend at noon. it was truly a magnificent spectacle, that of the impatient crowd who thronged around the reserved enclosure, inundated the entire square and adjoining streets, and covered the neighbouring houses from the basements to the slated roofs. the high winds of past days had lulled, and an overpowering heat was radiating from an unclouded sky; not a breath animated the atmosphere. in such weather, one might descend in the very spot he had left. i carried three hundred pounds of ballast, in bags; the car, perfectly round, four feet in diameter, and three feet in height, was conveniently attached; the cord which sustained it was symmetrically extended from the upper hemisphere of the aerostat; the compass was in its place, the barometer suspended to the iron hoop which surrounded the supporting cord, at a distance of eight feet above the car; the anchor carefully prepared;--all was in readiness for our departure. among the persons who crowded around the enclosure, i remarked a young man with pale face and agitated features. i was struck with his appearance. he had been an assiduous spectator of my ascensions in several cities of germany. his uneasy air and his extraordinary pre-occupation never left him; he eagerly contemplated the curious machine, which rested motionless at a few feet from the ground, and remained silent. the clock struck twelve! this was the hour. my _compagnons du voyage_ had not appeared. i sent to the dwelling of each, and learned that one had started for hamburg, another for vienna and the third, still more fearful, for london. their hearts had failed them at the moment of undertaking one of those excursions, which, since the ingenious experiments of aeronauts, are deprived of all danger. as they made, as it were a part of the programme of the fête, they had feared being compelled to fulfil their agreements, and had fled at the moment of ascension. their courage had been in inverse ratio to the square of their swiftness in retreat. the crowd, thus partly disappointed, were shouting with anger and impatience. i did not hesitate to ascend alone. to re-establish the equilibrium between the specific gravity of the balloon and the weight to be raised, i substituted other bags of sand for my expected companions and entered the car. the twelve men who were holding the aerostat by twelve cords fastened to the equatorial circle, let them slip between their fingers; the car rose a few feet above the ground. there was not a breath of wind, and the atmosphere, heavy as lead, seemed insurmountable. "all is ready!" exclaimed i; "attention!" the men arranged themselves; a last glance informed me that everything was right. "attention!" there was some movement in the crowd which seemed to be invading the reserved enclosure. "let go!" the balloon slowly ascended; but i experienced a shock which threw me to the bottom of the car. when i rose, i found myself face to face with an unexpected voyager,--the pale young man. "monsieur, i salute you!" said he to me. "by what right?"-"am i here? by the right of your inability to turn me out." i was confounded. his assurance disconcerted me; and i had nothing to say in reply. i looked at him, but he paid no regard to my astonishment. he continued: "my weight will disturb your equilibrium, monsieur: will you permit me--" and without waiting for my assent, he lightened the balloon by two bags of sand which he emptied into the air. "monsieur," said i, taking the only possible course, "you are here,--well! you choose to remain,--well! but to me alone belongs the management of the aerostat." "monsieur," replied he, "your urbanity is entirely french; it is of the same country with myself! i press in imagination the hand which you refuse me. take your measures,--act as it may seem good to you; i will wait till you have ended--" "to--" "to converse with you." the barometer had fallen to twenty-six inches; we had attained a height of about six hundred metres, and were over the city; which satisfied me of our complete quiescence, for i could not judge by our motionless flags. nothing betrays the horizontal voyage of a balloon; it is the mass of air surrounding it which moves. a kind of wavering heat bathed the objects extended at our feet, and gave their outlines an indistinctness to be regretted. the needle of the compass indicated a slight tendency to float towards the south. i looked again at my companion. he was a man of thirty, simply clad; the bold outlines of his features betokened indomitable energy; he appeared very muscular. absorbed in the emotion of this silent suspension, he remained immovable, seeking to distinguish the objects which passed beneath his view. "vexatious mist!" said he, at the expiration of a few moments. i made no reply. "what would you? i could not pay for my voyage; i was obliged to take you by surprise." "no one has asked you to descend!" "a similar occurrence," he resumed, "happened to the counts of laurencin and dampierre, when they ascended at lyons, on the 15th of january, 1784. a young merchant, named fontaine, scaled the railing, at the risk of upsetting the equipage. he accomplished the voyage, and nobody was killed!" "once on the earth, we will converse!" said i, piqued at the tone of lightness with which he spoke. "bah! do not talk of returning!" "do you think then that i shall delay my descent?" "descent!" said he, with surprise. "let us ascend!" and before i could prevent him, two bags of sand were thrown out, without even being emptied. "monsieur!" said i, angrily. "i know your skill," replied he, composedly; "your brilliant ascensions have made some noise in the world. experience is the sister of practice, but it is also first cousin to theory, and i have long and deeply studied the aerostatic art. it has affected my brain," added he, sadly, falling into a mute torpor. the balloon, after having risen, remained stationary; the unknown consulted the barometer, and said: "here we are at 800 metres! men resemble insects! see, i think it is from this height that we should always look at them, to judge correctly of their moral proportions! the place de la comédie is transformed to an immense ant-hill. look at the crowd piled up on the quays. the zeil diminishes. we are above the church of dom. the mein is now only a white line dividing the city, and this bridge, the mein-brucke, looks like a white thread thrown between the two banks of the river." the atmosphere grew cooler. "there is nothing i will not do for you, my host," said my companion. "if you are cold, i will take off my clothes and lend them to you." "thanks!" "necessity makes laws. give me your hand, i am your countryman. you shall be instructed by my company, and my conversation shall compensate you for the annoyance i have caused you." i seated myself, without replying, at the opposite extremity of the car. the young man had drawn from his great coat a voluminous portfolio; it was a work on aerostation. "i possess," said he, "a most curious collection of engraving, and caricatures appertaining to our aerial mania. this precious discovery has been at once admired and ridiculed. fortunately we have passed the period when the mongolfiers sought to make factitious clouds with the vapour of water; and of the gas affecting electric properties, which they produced by the combustion of damp straw with chopped wool." "would you detract from the merit of these inventions?" replied i. "was it not well done to have proved by experiment the possibility of rising in the air?" "who denies the glory of the first aerial navigators? immense courage was necessary to ascend by means of those fragile envelopes which contained only warm air. besides, has not aerostatic science made great progress since the ascensions of blanchard? look, monsieur." he took from his collection an engraving. "here is the first aerial voyage undertaken by pilatre des rosiers and the marquis d'arlandes, four months after the discovery of balloons. louis xvi. refused his consent to this voyage; two condemned criminals were to have first attempted aerial travelling. pilatre des rosiers was indignant at this injustice and, by means of artifice, succeeded in setting out. this car, which renders the management of the balloon easy, had not then been invented; a circular gallery surrounded the lower part of the aerostat. the two aeronauts stationed themselves at the extremities of this gallery. the damp straw with which it was filled encumbered their movements. a chafing-dish was suspended beneath the orifice of the balloon; when the voyagers wished to ascend, they threw, with a long fork, straw upon this brazier, at the risk of burning the machine, and the air, growing warmer, gave to the balloon a new ascensional force. the two bold navigators ascended, on the 21st of november, 1783, from the gardens of la muette, which the dauphin had placed at their disposal. the aerostat rose majestically, passed the isle des cygnes, crossed the seine at the barrière de la conference, and, directing its way between the dome of the invalides and l'ecole militaire, approached st. sulpice; then the aeronauts increased the fire, ascended, cleared the boulevard, and descended beyond the barrière d'enfer. as it touched the ground, the collapsed, and buried pilatre des rosiers beneath its folds." "unfortunate presage!" said i, interested in these details, which so nearly concerned me. "presage of his catastrophe," replied the unknown, with sadness. "you have experienced nothing similar?" "nothing!" "bah! misfortunes often arrive without presage." and he remained silent. we were advancing towards the south; the magnetic needle pointed in the direction of frankfort, which was flying beneath our feet. "perhaps we shall have a storm," said the young man. "we will descend first." "indeed! it will be better to ascend; we shall escape more surely;" and two bags of sand were thrown overboard. the balloon rose rapidly, and stopped at twelve hundred metres. the cold was now intense, and there was a slight buzzing in my ears. nevertheless, the rays of the sun fell hotly on the globe, and, dilating the gas it contained, gave it a greater ascensional force. i was stupified. "fear nothing," said the young man to me. "we have three thousand five hundred toises of respirable air. you need not trouble yourself about my proceedings." i would have risen, but a vigorous hand detained me on my seat. "your name?" asked i. "my name! how does it concern you?" "i have the honour to ask your name." "i am called erostratus or empedocles,--as you please. are you interested in the progress of aerostatic science?" he spoke with icy coldness, and i asked myself with whom i had to do. "monsieur," continued he, "nothing new has been invented since the days of the philosopher charles. four months after the discovery of aerostats, he had invented the valve, which permits the gas to escape when the balloon is too full, or when one wishes to descend; the car, which allows the machine to be easily managed; the network, which encloses the fabric of the balloon, and prevents its being too heavily pressed; the ballast, which is used in ascending and choosing the spot of descent; the coat of caoutchouc, which renders the silk impermeable; the barometer, which determines the height attained; and, finally, the hydrogen, which, fourteen times lighter than air, allows of ascension to the most distant atmospheric layers, and prevents exposure to aerial combustion. on the 1st of december, 1783, three hundred thousand spectators thronged the tuileries. charles ascended, and the soldiers presented arms. he travelled nine leagues in the air: managing his machine with a skill never since surpassed in aeronautic experiments. the king conferred on him a pension of two thousand livres, for in those days inventions were encouraged. in a few days, the subscription list was filled; for every one was interested in the progress of science." the unknown was seized with a violent agitation. "i, monsieur, have studied; i am satisfied that the first aeronauts guided their balloons. not to speak of blanchard, whose assertions might be doubted, at dijon, guyton-morveaux, by the aid of oars and a helm, imparted to his machines perceptible motions, a decided direction. more recently, at paris, a watchmaker, m. julien, has made at the hippodrome convincing experiments; for, with the aid of a particular mechanism, an aerial apparatus of oblong form was manifestly propelled against the wind. m. petin placed four balloons, filled with hydrogen, in juxtaposition, and, by means of sails disposed horizontally and partially furled, hoped to obtain a disturbance of the equilibrium, which, inclining the apparatus, should compel it to an oblique path. but the motive power destined to surmount the resistance of currents,--the helice, moving in a movable medium, was unsuccessful. i have discovered the only method of guiding balloons, and not an academy has come to my assistance, not a city has filled my subscription lists, not a government has deigned to listen to me! it is infamous!" his gesticulations were so furious that the car experienced violent oscillations; i had much difficulty in restraining him. meanwhile, the balloon had encountered a more rapid current. we were advancing in a southerly direction, at 1200 metres in height, almost accustomed to this new temperature. "there is darmstadt," said my companion. "do you perceive its magnificent chateau? the storm-cloud below makes the outlines of objects waver; and it requires a practised eye to recognise localities." "you are certain that it is darmstadt?" "undoubtedly; we are six leagues from frankfort." "then we must descend." "descend! you would not alight upon the steeples!" said the unknown, mockingly. "no; but in the environs of the city." "well, it is too warm; let us remount a little." as he spoke thus, he seized some bags of ballast. i precipitated myself upon him; but, with one hand, he overthrew me, and the lightened balloon rose to a height of 1500 metres. "sit down," said he, "and do not forget that brioschi, biot, and gay-lussac, ascended to a height of seven thousand metres, in order to establish some new scientific laws." "we must descend;" resumed i, with an attempt at gentleness. "the storm is gathering beneath our feet and around us; it would not be prudent." "we will ascend above it, and shall have nothing to fear from it. what more beautiful than to reign in heaven, and look down upon the clouds which hover upon the earth! is it not an honour to navigate these aerial waves? the greatest personages have travelled like ourselves. the marquise and comtesse de montalembert, the comtesse de potteries, mlle. la garde, the marquis of montalembert, set out from the faubourg st. antoine for these unknown regions. the duc de chartres displayed much address and presence of mind in his ascension of the 15th of july, 1784; at lyons, the comtes de laurencin and de dampierre; at nantes, m. de luynes; at bordeaux, d'arbelet des granges; in italy, the chevalier andreani; in our days, the duke of brunswick; have left in the air the track of their glory. in order to equal these great personages, we must ascend into the celestial regions higher than they. to approach the infinite is to comprehend it." the rarefaction of the air considerably dilated the hydrogen, and i saw the lower part of the aerostat, designedly left empty, become by degrees inflated, rendering the opening of the valve indispensable; but my fearful companion seemed determined not to allow me to direct our movements. i resolved to pull secretly the cord attached to the valve, while he was talking with animation. i feared to guess with whom i had to do; it would have been too horrible! it was about three-quarters of an hour since we had left frankfort, and from the south thick clouds were arising and threatening to engulf us. "have you lost all hope of making your plans succeed?" said i, with great apparent interest. "all hope!" replied the unknown, despairingly. "wounded by refusals, caricatures, those blows with the foot of an ass, have finished me. it is the eternal punishment reserved for innovators. see these caricatures of every age with which my portfolio is filled." i had secured the cord of the valve, and stooping over his works, concealed my movements from him. it was to be feared, nevertheless, that he would notice that rushing sound, like a waterfall, which the gas produces in escaping. "how many jests at the expense of the abbé miolan! he was about to ascend with janninet and bredin. during the operation, their balloon took fire, and an ignorant populace tore it to pieces. then the caricature of _the curious animals_ called them _maulant, jean mind, and gredin_." the barometer had began to rise; it was time! a distant muttering of thunder was heard towards the south. "see this other engraving," continued he, without seeming to suspect my manoeuvres. "it is an immense balloon, containing a ship, large castles, houses, &c. the caricaturists little thought that their absurdities would one day become verities. it is a large vessel; at the left is the helm with the pilot's box; at the prow, _maisons de plaisance_, a gigantic organ, and cannon to call the attention of the inhabitants of earth or of the moon; above the stern the observatory and pilot-balloon; at the equatorial circle, the barracks of the army; on the left the lantern; then upper galleries for promenades, the sails, the wings; beneath, the cafés and general store-houses of provisions. admire this magnificent announcement. 'invented for the good of the human race, this globe will depart immediately for the seaports in the levant, and on its return will announce its voyages for the two poles and the extremities of the occident. every provision is made; there will be an exact rate of fare for each place of destination; but the prices for distant voyages will be the same, 1000 louis. and it must be confessed that this is a moderate sum, considering the celerity, convenience, and pleasure of this mode of travelling above all others. while in this balloon, every one can divert himself as he pleases, dancing, playing, or conversing with people of talent. pleasure will be the soul of the aerial society.' all these inventions excited laughter. but before long, if my days were not numbered, these projects should become realities." we were visibly descending; he did not perceive it! "see this game of balloons; it contains the whole history of the aerostatic art. this game, for the use of educated minds, is played like that of the jew; with dice and counters of any value agreed upon, which are to be paid or received, according to the condition in which one arrives." "but," i resumed, "you seem to have valuable documents on aerostation?" "i am less learned than the almighty! that is all! i possess all the knowledge possible in this world. from phaeton, icarus, and architas. i have searched all, comprehended all! through me, the aerostatic art would render immense services to the world, if god should spare my life! but that cannot be." "why not?" "because my name is empedocles or erostratus!" ii. the company of aerostiers--the battle of fleurus--the balloon over the sea--blanchard and jefferies--a drama such as is rarely seen--3000 metres--the thunder beneath our feet--gavnerin at rome--the compass gone--the victims of aerostation--pilatre--at 4000 metres--the barometer gone--descents of olivari, mosment, bittorf, harris, sadler, and madame blanchard--the valve rendered useless--7000 metres--zambecarri--the ballon (sic) wrecked--incalculable heights--the car overset--despair--vertigo--the fall--the dénouement. i shuddered! fortunately the balloon was approaching the earth. but the danger is the same at 50 feet as at 5000 metres! the clouds were advancing. "remember the battle of fleurus, and you will comprehend the utility of aerostats! coulee, by order of the government, organized a company of aerostiers. at the siege of maubeuge, general jourdan found this new method of observation so serviceable, that twice a day, accompanied by the general himself, coutelle ascended into the air; the correspondence between the aeronaut and the aerostiers who held the balloon, was carried on by means of little white, red, and yellow flags. cannons and carbines were often aimed at the balloon at the moment of its ascension, but without effect. when jourdan was preparing to invest charleroi, coutelle repaired to the neighbourhood of that place, rose from the plain of jumet, and remained taking observations seven or eight hours, with general morelot. the austrians came to deliver the city, and a battle was fought on the heights of fleurus. general jourdan publicly proclaimed the assistance he had received from aeronautic observations. well! notwithstanding the services rendered on this occasion, and during the campaign with belgium, the year which witnessed the commencement of the military career of balloons, also saw it terminate. and the school of meuon, founded by government, was closed by bonaparte, on his return from egypt. 'what are we to expect from the child which has just been born?' franklin had said. but the child was born alive! it need not have been strangled!" the unknown hid his forehead in his hands, reflected for a few moments, then, without raising his head, said to me: "notwithstanding my orders, you have opened the upper valve!" i let go the cord. "fortunately" continued he, "we have still two hundred pounds of ballast." "what are your plans?" said i, with effort. "you have never crossed the sea?" i grew frightfully pale, terror froze my veins. "it is a pity," said he, "that we are being wafted towards the adriatic! that is only a streamlet. higher! we shall find other currents!" and without looking at me, he lightened the balloon by several bags of sand. "i allowed you to open the valve, because the dilatation of the gas threatened to burst the balloon. but do not do it again." i was stupified. "you know the voyage from dover to calais made by blanchard and jefferies. it was rich in incident. on the 7th of january, 1785, in a northeast wind, their balloon was filled with gas on the dover side; scarcely had they risen, when an error in equilibrium compelled them to threw out their ballast, retaining only thirty pounds. the wind drifted them slowly along towards the shores of france. the permeability of the tissue gradually suffered the gas to escape, and at the expiration of an hour and a half, the voyagers perceived that they were descending. 'what is to be done?' said jefferies.--'we have passed over only three-fourths of the distance,' replied blanchard 'and at a slight elevation. by ascending we shall expose ourselves to contrary winds. throw out the remainder of the ballast.' the balloon regained its ascensional force, but soon re-descended. about midway of the voyage, the aeronauts threw out their books and tools. a quarter of an hour afterwards, blanchard said to jefferies: 'the barometer?'--'it is rising! we are lost; and yet there are the shores of france!' a great noise was heard. 'is the balloon rent?' asked jefferies.--'no! the escape of the gas has collapsed the lower part of the balloon'--'but we are still descending. we are lost! everything not indispensable must be thrown overboard!' their provisions, oars and helm were thrown out into the sea. they were now only 100 metres in height. 'we are remounting,' said the doctor.--' no, it is the jerk caused by the diminution of weight. there is not a ship in sight! not a bark on the horizon! to the sea with our garments!' and the unfortunate men stripped, but the balloon continued to descend. 'blanchard,' said jefferies, 'you were to have made this voyage alone; you consented to take me; i will sacrifice myself to you! i will throw myself into the water, and the balloon, relieved, will re-ascend!'--' no, no, it is frightful.' the balloon collapsed more and more, and its concavity forming a parachute, forced the gas against its sides and accelerated its motion. 'adieu, my friend,' said the doctor. 'may god preserve you!' he was about to have taken the leap, when blanchard detained him. 'one resource remains to us! we can cut the cords by which the car is attached, and cling to the network? perhaps the balloon will rise. ready! but the barometer falls! we remount! the wind freshens! we are saved!' the voyagers perceived calais! their joy became delirium; a few moments later, they descended in the forest of guines. i doubt not," continued the unknown, "that in similar circumstances you would follow the example of doctor jefferies." the clouds were unrolling beneath our feet in glittering cascades; the balloon cast a deep shadow on this pile of clouds, and was surrounded by them as with an aureola! the thunder growled beneath our feet! all this was frightful! "let us descend!" exclaimed i. "descend, when the sun is awaiting us yonder! down with the bags!" and he lightened the balloon of more than fifty pounds. at 3000 metres we remained stationary. the unknown talked incessantly, but i scarcely heard him; i was completely prostrated, while he seemed in his element. "with a good wind, we shall go far, but we must especially go high!" "we are lost!" "in the antilles there are currents of air which travel a hundred leagues an hour! on the occasion of napoleon's coronation, gavnerin let off a balloon illuminated with coloured lamps, at eleven o'clock in the evening! the wind blew from the n.n.e.; the next morning at daybreak the inhabitants of rome saluted its passage above the dome of st. peter's. we will go farther." i scarcely heard him; everything was buzzing around me! there was an opening in the clouds! "see that city, my host;" said the unknown. "it is spire. nothing else!" i dared not lean over the railing of the car. nevertheless i perceived a little black spot. this was spire. the broad rhine looked like a riband, the great roads like threads. above our heads the sky was of a deep azure; i was benumbed with the cold. the birds had long since forsaken us; in this rarefied air their flight would have been impossible. we were alone in space, and i in the presence of a strange man! "it is useless for you to know whither i am taking you," said he, and he threw the compass into the clouds. "a fall is a fine thing. you know that there have been a few victims from pilatre des rosiers down to lieutenant gale, and these misfortunes have always been caused by imprudence. pilatre des rosiers ascended in company with remain, at boulogne, on the 13th of june, 1785. to his balloon, inflated with gas, he had suspended a _mongolfier_ filled with warm air, undoubtedly to save the trouble of letting off gas, or throwing out ballast. it was like putting a chafing-dish beneath a powder-cask. the imprudent men rose to a height of four hundred metres, and encountered opposing winds, which drove them over the ocean. in order to descend, pilatre attempted to open the valve of the aerostat; but the cord of this valve caught in the balloon, and tore it so that it was emptied in an instant. it fell on the mongolfier, overturned it, and the imprudent men were dashed to pieces in a few seconds. it is _frightful, is_ it not?" said the unknown, shaking me from my torpor. i could reply only by these words: "in pity, let us descend! the clouds are gathering around us in every direction, and frightful detonations reverberating from the cavity of the aerostat are multiplying around us." "you make me impatient!" said he. "you shall no longer know whether we are ascending or descending." and the barometer went after the compass, along with some bags of sand. we must have been at a height of four thousand metres. some icicles were attached to the sides of the car, and a sort of fine snow penetrated to my bones. meanwhile a terrific storm was bursting beneath our feet. we were above it. "do not fear," said my strange companion; "it is only imprudence that makes victims. olivari, who perished at orleans, ascended in a mongolfier made of paper; his car, suspended below the chafing-dish, and ballasted with combustible materials, became a prey to the flames! olivari fell, and was killed. mosment ascended at lille, on a light platform; an oscillation made him lose his equilibrium. mosment fell, and was killed. bittorf, at manheim, saw his paper balloon take fire in the air! bittorf fell, and was killed. harris ascended in a balloon badly constructed, the valve of which was too large to be closed again. harris fell, and was killed. sadler, deprived of ballast by his long stay in the air, was dragged over the city of boston, and thrown against the chimneys. sadler fell, and was killed. cocking descended with a convex parachute which he pretended to have perfected. cocking fell, and was killed. well, i love them, those noble victims of their courage! and i will die like them! higher! higher!" all the phantoms of this necrology were passing before my eyes! the rarefaction of the air and the rays of tile sun increased the dilatation of the gas; the balloon continued to ascend! i mechanically attempted to open the valve; but the unknown cut the cord a few feet above my head. i was lost! "did you see madame blanchard fall?" said he to me. "i saw her, i--yes, i was at tivoli on the 6th of july, 1819. madame blanchard ascended in a balloon of small size, to save the expense of filling; she was therefore obliged to inflate it entirely, and the gas escaped by the lower orifice, leaving on its route a train of hydrogen. she carried, suspended above her car, by an iron wire, a kind of firework, forming an aureola, which she was to kindle. she had often repeated this experiment. on this occasion she carried, besides, a little parachute, ballasted by a firework terminating in a ball with silver rain. she was to launch this apparatus, after having lighted it with a _lance à feu_, prepared for the purpose. she ascended. the night was dark. at the moment of lighting the firework, she was so imprudent as to let the lance pass beneath the column of hydrogen, which was escaping from the balloon. my eyes were fixed on her. suddenly an unexpected flash illuminated the darkness. i thought it a surprise of the skilful aeronaut. the flame increased, suddenly disappeared, and re-appeared at the top of the aerostat under the form of an immense jet of burning gas. this sinister light projected over the boulevard, and over the quarter montmartre. then i saw the unfortunate woman rise, twice attempt to compress the orifice of the balloon, to extinguish the fire, then seat herself in the car and seek to direct its descent; for she did not fall. the combustion of the gas lasted several minutes. the balloon, diminishing by degrees, continued to descend, but this was not a fall! the wind blew from the northeast, and drove her over paris. there were, at that time, in the neighbourhood of the house no. 16 rue de provence, immense gardens. the aeronaut might have fallen there without danger. but unhappily the balloon and the car alighted on the roof of the house. the shock was slight. 'help!' cried the unfortunate woman. i arrived in the street at that moment. the car slid along the roof, and encountered an iron hook. at this shock, madame blanchard was thrown out of the car, and precipitated on the pavement! she was killed!" these histories of fatal augury froze me with horror. the unknown was standing upright, with bare head, bristling hair, haggard eyes. illusion was no longer possible. i saw at last the horrible truth. i had to deal with a madman! he threw out half the ballast, and we must have been borne to a height of 7000 metres! blood spouted from my nose and mouth. "what a fine thing it is to be martyrs to science! they are canonized by posterity!" i heard no more. the unknown looked around him with horror, and knelt at my ear. "on the 7th of october, 1804, the weather had began to clear up a little; for several days preceding, the wind and rain had been incessant. but the ascension announced by zambecarri could not be postponed! his idiot enemies already scoffed at him. to save himself and science from public ridicule, it became necessary for him to ascend. it was at bologna! no one aided him in filling his balloon; he rose at midnight, accompanied by andreoli and grossetti. the balloon ascended slowly; it had been rent by the wind, and the gas escaped. the three intrepid voyagers could observe the state of the barometer only by the aid of a dark lantern. zambecarri had not eaten during twenty-four hours; grossetti was also fasting. "'my friends,' said zambecarri, 'i am benumbed with the cold; i am exhausted; i must die;' and he fell senseless in the gallery. "it was the same with grossetti. andreoli alone remained awake. after long efforts he succeeded in arousing zambecarri from his stupor. "'what is there new? where are we going? in which direction is the wind? what time is it?' "' it is two o'clock!' "' where is the compass?' "'it has fallen out.' "' great god! the lamp is extinguished!' "' it could not burn longer in this rarefied air!' said zambecarri. "the moon had not risen; the atmosphere was plunged in horrible darkness. "' i am cold, i am cold, andreoli! what shall we do?' "the unfortunate men slowly descended through a layer of white clouds. "'hush!' said andreoli; 'do you hear--' "' what?' replied zambecarri. "'a singular noise!' "'you are mistaken!' "'no!--do you see those midnight travellers, listening to that incomprehensible sound? have they struck against a rower? are they about to be precipitated on the roofs? do you hear it? it is like the sound of the ocean!' "'impossible!' "' it is the roaring of the waves!' "' that is true!--light! light!' "after five fruitless attempts, andreoli obtained it. it was three o'clock. the sound of the waves was heard with violence; they almost touched the surface of the sea. "' we are lost!' exclaimed zambecarri, seizing a bag of ballast. "' help!' cried andreoli. "the car touched the water, and the waves covered them breast high. to the sea with instruments, garments, money! the aeronauts stripped entirely. the lightened balloon rose with frightful rapidity. zambecarri was seized with violent vomiting. grossetti bled freely. the unhappy men could not speak; their respiration was short. they were seized with cold, and in a moment covered with a coat of ice. the moon appeared to them red as blood. after having traversed these high regions during half an hour, the machine again fell into the sea. it was four o'clock in the morning: the bodies of the wretched aeronauts were half in the water, and the balloon, acting as a sail, dragged them about during several hours. at daybreak, they found themselves opposite pesaro, five miles from the shore; they were about to land, when a sudden flow of wind drove them back to the open sea. they were lost! the affrighted barks fled at their approach. fortunately, a more intelligent navigator hailed them, took them on board; and they landed at ferrara. that was frightful! zambecarri was a brave man. scarcely recovered from his sufferings, he recommenced his ascensions. in one of them, he struck against a tree; his lamp, filled with spirits of wine, was spilled over his clothes, and they caught fire; he was covered with flame; his machine was beginning to kindle, when he descended, half burned. the 21st september, 1812, he made another ascension at bologna; his balloon caught in a tree; his lamp set fire to it. zambecarri fell, and was killed! and in presence of these high facts, shall we still hesitate? no! the higher we go the more glorious will be our death." the balloon, entirely unballasted, we were borne to incredible heights. the aerostat vibrated in the atmosphere; the slightest sound re-echoed through the celestial vaults; the globe, the only object which struck my sight in immensity, seemed about to be annihilated, and above us the heights of heaven lost themselves in the profound darkness! i saw the unknown rise before me. "this is the hour!" said he to me. "we must die! we are rejected by men! they despise us! let us crush them!" "mercy!" exclaimed i. "let us cut the cords! let this car be abandoned in space! the attractive force will change its direction, and we shall land in the sun!" despair gave me strength! i precipitated myself upon the madman, and a frightful struggle took place! but i was thrown down! and while he held me beneath his knee, he cut the cords of the car! "one!" said he. "mercy! o, god!" "two! three!" one cord more, and the car was sustained only on one side. i made a superhuman effort, rose, and violently repulsed this insensate. "four!" said he. the car was overset. i instinctively clung to the cords which held it, and climbed up the outside. the unknown had disappeared in space! in a twinkling the balloon ascended to an immeasurable height! a horrible crash was heard. the dilated gas had burst its envelope! i closed my eyes. a few moments afterwards, a moist warmth reanimated me; i was in the midst of fiery clouds! the balloon was whirling with fearful rapidity! i felt myself swooning! driven by the wind, i travelled a hundred leagues an hour in my horizontal course; the lightnings flashed around me! meanwhile my fall was not rapid. when i opened my eyes, i perceived the country. i was two miles from the sea, the hurricane urging me on with great force. i was lost, when a sudden shock made me let go; my hands opened, a cord slipped rapidly between my fingers, and i found myself on the ground. it was the cord of the anchor, which, sweeping the surface of the ground, had caught in a crevice! i fainted, and my lightened balloon, resuming its flight, was lost beyond the sea. when i recovered my senses, i was in the house of a peasant, at harderwick, a little town of gueldre, fifteen leagues from amsterdam, on the banks of the zuyderzée. a miracle had saved me. but my voyage had been but a series of imprudences against which i had been unable to defend myself. may this terrific recital, while it instructs those who read it, not discourage the explorers of the routes of air. up in the clouds, by r.m. ballantyne. chapter one. balloon voyages. treats of early efforts to fly, etcetera. it is man's nature to soar intellectually, and it seems to have been his ambition from earliest ages to soar physically. every one in health knows, or at some period of life must have known, that upward bounding of the spirit which induces a longing for the possession of wings, that the material body might be wafted upwards into those blue realms of light, which are so attractive to the eye and imagination of poor creeping man that he has appropriately styled them the heavens. man has envied the birds since the world began. who has not watched, with something more than admiration, the easy gyrations of the sea-mew, and listened, with something more than delight, to the song of the soaring lark? to fly with the body as well as with the mind, is a wish so universal that the benignant creator himself seems to recognise it in that most attractive passage in holy writ, wherein it is said that believers shall "mount up with wings as eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint." of course man has not reached the middle of the nineteenth century without making numerous attempts to fly bodily up to the skies. fortunately, however, such ambitious efforts have seldom been made except by the intellectually enthusiastic. prosaic man, except in the case of the tower of babel, has remained content to gaze upwards with longing desire, and only a few of our species in the course of centuries have possessed temerity enough to make the deliberate effort to ride upon the wings of the wind. naturally, the first attempts were, like most beginnings, simple and imitative. the birds flew with wings, therefore man put on artificial wings and essayed to fly like the birds. it was not until many grievous disappointments and sad accidents had befallen him, that he unwillingly gave up wings in despair, and set to work to accomplish his ends by more cumbrous and complex machinery. very early in the world's history, however, "flying machines" were made, some of which were doubtless intended by their honest inventors to carry men through the air, while others were mere shams, made by designing men, wherewith to impose upon the ignorant for wicked ends of their own; and some of these last were, no doubt, believed to be capable of the feats attributed to them. the credulity of the ancients is not to be wondered at when we reflect on the magical illusions which science enables us to produce at the present day--illusions so vivid and startling that it requires the most elaborate explanations by adepts and philosophers to convince some among their audiences that what they think they see is absolutely not real! no wonder that the men of old had firm faith in the existence of all kinds of flying machines and creatures. they believed that fiery dragons were created by infernal machination, which, although not what we may call natural creatures, were nevertheless supposed to rush impetuous through the sky, vomiting flames and scattering the seeds of pestilence far and wide. in those dark ages, writers even ventured to describe the method of imitating the composition of such terrific monsters! a number of large hollow reeds were to be bound together, then sheathed completely in skin, and smeared over with pitch and other inflammable matters. this light and bulky engine, when set on fire, launched during thick darkness from some cliff into the air, and borne along by the force of the wind, would undoubtedly carry conviction to the minds of the populace, whilst it would fill them with amazement and terror! sometimes, however, those who attempted to practise on the credulity of their fellows were themselves appalled by the results of their contrivances. such was the case so late as the year 1750, when a small roman catholic town in swabia was almost entirely burnt to ashes by an unsuccessful experiment made by some of the lowest order of priests for the astonishment, if not the edification, of their flocks. an attempt was made by them to represent the effigy of martin luther, whom the monks believed to be in league with satan, under the form of a winged serpent with a forked tail and hideous claws. unfortunately martin's effigy, when ignited, refused to fly, and, instead of doing what was required of it, fell against the chimney of a house to which it set fire. the flames spread furiously in every direction, and were not subdued until the town was nearly consumed. in the early part of the sixteenth century a very determined attempt at flying was made by an italian who visited scotland, and was patronised by james the fourth. he gained the favour of that monarch by holding out to him hopes of replenishing his treasury by means of the "philosopher's stone." the wily italian managed, by his plausible address, to obtain a position which replenished, to some degree, his own empty purse, having been collated by royal favour to the abbacy of tungland, in galloway. being an ingenious fellow, and somewhat, apparently, of an enthusiast, he spent some of his leisure time in fashioning a pair of huge wings of various plumage, with which he actually undertook to fly through the air from the walls of stirling castle to france! that he believed himself to be capable of doing so seems probable, from the fact that he actually made the attempt, but fell to the ground with such violence as to break his leg. he was sharp-witted, however, for instead of retiring crest-fallen at his failure, he coolly accounted for the accident by saying, "my wings were composed of various feathers; among them were the feathers of dunghill fowls, and they, by a certain sympathy, were attracted to the dunghill; whereas, had my wings been composed of eagles' feathers alone, the same sympathy would have attracted them to the region of the air!" about a century later a poor monk, whose boldness and enterprise were more conspicuous than his prudence, attempted a similar feat. he provided himself with a gigantic pair of wings, constructed on a principle propounded by the rector of the grammar school of tubingen, in 1617, and, leaping from the top of a high tower, fell to the ground, broke both his legs, and lost his life. it was long before men came to see and admit that in regard to this they were attempting to accomplish the impossible. there can be no doubt that it is absolutely impossible for man to fly by the simple power of his own muscles, applied to any sort of machinery whatever. this is not an open question. that man may yet contrive to raise himself in the air by means of steam or electricity, or some other motive power, remains to be seen. it does not seem probable, but no one can say authoritatively that it is impossible. it is demonstrable, however, that to rise, or even to remain suspended, in the air by means of machinery impelled by human force alone is a feat which is as much an impossibility as it is for a man, by the strength of his own legs, to leap thirty or forty times his own length,--a grasshopper can do that easily, and a bird can fly easily, but a man cannot, and never will be able to do so, because his peculiar conformation forbids it. this was first demonstrated by borelli, an eminent italian mathematician and philosopher, who lived in a fertile age of discovery, and was thoroughly acquainted with the true principles of mechanics and pneumatics. he showed, by accurate calculation, the prodigious force, which in birds must be exerted and maintained by the pectoral muscles, with which the all-wise creator has supplied them, and, by applying the same principles to the structure of the human frame, he proved how extremely disproportionate was the strength of the corresponding muscles in man. in fact, the man who should attempt to fly like a bird would be guilty of greater folly and ignorant presumption than the little infant who should endeavour to perform the feats of a gladiator! it is well for man in all things to attain, if possible, to a knowledge of what certainly lies beyond his powers, for such knowledge prevents the waste and misdirection of energies, as well as saving from disappointment and other evil results. but many of those enthusiasts, who have attempted at various periods of the world's history to fly, did not fall into the error which we have attempted to point out. on the contrary, they went intelligently to work; their only aim being modestly to fly _somewhat_ after the manner of a bird, but they all failed; nevertheless one philosopher, of modern times, stoutly continued to assert the opinion that there is no impossibility in man being able to fly _apparently_, though not really, like a bird. he did not hold that man could ever fly as high, or as far, or as fast, or in any degree as easily, as a bird. all that he ventured to say was, that he might perhaps fly _somewhat like one_. as the plan of this philosopher is rather curious, we shall detail it. it is well known that balloons, filled with appropriate gas, will rise. big balloons and little ones are equally uppish in their tendencies. it is also known that rotundity of form is not essential to the successful rising of a balloon. "well, then," says this philosopher, "what is to prevent a man making two balloons, flattish, and in the form of wings, which, instead of flying away with him, as ordinary balloons would infallibly do, should be so proportioned to his size and weight as that they would not do more than raise him an inch or so off the ground, and so keep him stotting and bobbing lightly about, something like the bright thin india-rubber balls with which children are wont to play now-a-days? "having attained this position of, so to speak, readiness to fly, there is nothing to prevent him from propelling himself gently along the surface of the ground by means of fans, or, if you choose, small flexible cloth wings attached to the hands and arms. the legs might also be brought into play a little. it is obvious, however, that such wings would require to be mounted only in calm weather, for a breeze of wind would infallibly sweep the flyer off the face of the earth! we would only observe, in conclusion, that, however ridiculous this method of flying may appear in your eyes, this at least may be said in its favour, that whereas all other plans that have been tried have signally failed, _this_ plan has never failed--never having been tried! we throw the idea before a discriminating public, in the hope that some aspiring enthusiast, with plenty of means and nerve, and no family to mourn his loss, may one day prove, to the confusion of the incredulous, that our plan is not a mere flight of imagination!" when men began to find that wings refused in any circumstances to waft them to the realms of ether, they set about inventing aerial machines in which to ascend through the clouds and navigate the skies. in the fourteenth century a glimmering of the true principles on which a balloon could be constructed was entertained by albert of saxony, a monk of the order of saint augustin, but he never carried his theories into practice. his opinion was that, since fire is more attenuated than air, and floats above the region of our atmosphere, all that was necessary would be to enclose a portion of such ethereal substance in a light hollow globe which would thus be raised to a certain height, and kept suspended in the sky, and that by introducing a portion of air into the globe it would be rendered heavier than before, and might thus be made to descend. this was in fact the statement of the principles on which fire-balloons were afterwards constructed and successfully sent up, excepting that air heated by fire, instead of fire itself, was used. others who came after albert of saxony held the same theory, but they all failed to reduce it to practice, and most of these men coupled with their correct notions on the subject, the very erroneous idea that by means of masts, sails, and a rudder, a balloon might be made to sail through the air as a ship sails upon the sea. in this they seem to have confounded two things which are dissimilar, namely, a vessel driven through water, and a vessel floating in air. the fallacy here may be easily pointed out. a ship is driven through water by a body in motion, namely, wind, while its rudder is dragged through a body comparatively at rest, namely, water; hence the rudder slides against or is pushed against the water, and according as it is _turned_ to one side or the other, it is _pushed_ to one side or the other, the stern of the ship going along with it, and the bow, of course, making a corresponding motion in the opposite direction. thus the ship is turned or "steered," but it is manifest that if the ship were at rest there would be no pushing of the rudder by the water--no steering. on the other hand, if, though the ship were in motion, the sea was also flowing at the _same rate_ with the wind, there would be no flowing of water past the ship, the rudder would not be acted on, and the vessel could not be steered. now a balloon, carried by the wind, cannot be steered by a rudder, because it does not, like the ship, rest half in one medium which is in motion, and half in another medium which is at rest. there is no sliding of any substance past its side, no possibility therefore of pushing a rudder against anything. all floats along _with_ the wind. if, however, the balloon could be made to go _faster_ than the wind, then steering would at once become possible; but sails cannot accomplish this, because, although wind can drive a ship faster than water flows, wind cannot drive a substance faster than itself flows. the men of old did not, however, seem to take these points into consideration. it yet remains to be seen whether steam shall ever be successfully applied to aerial machines, but this may certainly be assumed in the meantime, that, until by some means a balloon is propelled _faster than the wind_ through the atmosphere, sails will be useless, and steering, or giving direction, impossible. it was believed, in those early times, when scientific knowledge was slender, that the dew which falls during the night is of celestial origin, shed by the stars, and drawn by the sun, in the heat of the day, back to its native skies. many people even went the length of asserting that an egg, filled with the morning dew, would, as the day advanced, rise spontaneously into the air. indeed one man, named father laurus, speaks of this as an observed fact, and gravely gives directions how it is to be accomplished. "take," says he, "a goose's egg, and having filled it with dew gathered fresh in the morning, expose it to the sun during the hottest part of the day, and it will ascend and rest suspended for a few moments." father laurus must surely have omitted to add that a goose's brains in the head of the operator was an element essential to the success of the experiment! but this man, although very ignorant in regard to the nature of the substances, with which he wrought, had some quaint notions in his head. he thought, for instance, that if he were to cram the cavity of an artificial dove with highly condensed air, the imprisoned fluid would impel the machine in the same manner as wind impels a sail. if this should not be found to act effectively, he proposed to apply fire to it in some way or other, and, to prevent the machine from being spirited away altogether by that volatile element, asbestos, or some incombustible material, was to be used as a lining. to feed and support this fire steadily, he suggested a compound of butter, salts, and orpiment, lodged in metallic tubes, which, he imagined, would at the same time heighten the whole effect by emitting a variety of musical tones like an organ! another man, still more sanguine than the lest in his aerial flights of fancy, proposed that an ascent should be attempted by the application of fire as in a rocket to an aerial machine. we are not, however, told that this daring spirit ever ventured to try thus to invade the sky. there can be no doubt that much ingenuity, as well as absurdity, has been displayed in the various suggestions that have been made from time to time, and occasionally carried into practice. one man went the length of describing a huge apparatus, consisting of very long tin pipes, in which air was to be compressed by the vehement action of fire below. in a boat suspended from the machine a man was to sit and direct the whole by the opening and shutting of valves. another scheme, more ingenious but not less fallacious, was propounded in 1670 by francis lana, a jesuit, for navigating the air. this plan was to make four copper balls of very large dimensions, yet so extremely thin that, after the air had been extracted, they should become, in a considerable degree, specifically lighter than the surrounding medium. each of his copper balls was to be about 25 feet in diameter, with the thickness of only the 225th part of an inch, the metal weighing 365 pounds avoirdupois, while the weight of the air which it should contain would be about 670 pounds, leaving, after a vacuum had been formed, an excess of 305 pounds for the power of ascension. the four balls would therefore, it was thought, rise into the air with a combined force of 1220 pounds, which was deemed by lana to be sufficient to transport a boat completely furnished with masts, sails, oars, and rudders, and carrying several passengers. the method by which the vacuum was to be obtained was by connecting each globe, fitted with a stop-cock, to a tube of at least thirty-five feet long; the whole being filled with water; when raised to the vertical position the water would run out, the stop-cocks would be closed at the proper time, and the vacuum secured. it does not seem to have entered the head of this philosopher that the weight of the surrounding atmosphere would crush and destroy his thin exhausted receivers, but he seems to have been alarmed at the idea of his supposed discovery being applied to improper uses, such as the passing of desperadoes over fortified cities, on which they might rain down fire and destruction from the clouds! perhaps the grandest of all the fanciful ideas that have been promulgated on this subject was that of galien, a dominican friar, who proposed to collect the fine diffused air of the higher regions, where hail is formed, above the summit of the loftiest mountains, and to enclose it in a cubical bag of enormous dimensions--extending more than a mile every way! this vast machine was to be composed of the thickest and strongest sail-cloth, and was expected to be capable of transporting through the air a whole army with all their munitions of war! there were many other devices which men hit upon, some of which embraced a certain modicum of truth mixed with a large proportion of fallacy. ignorance, more or less complete, as to the principles and powers with which they dealt, was, in days gone by, the cause of many of the errors and absurdities into which men were led in their efforts to mount the atmosphere. our space, however, forbids further consideration of this subject, which is undoubtedly one of considerable interest, and encircled with a good deal of romance. turning away from all those early and fanciful speculations, we now come to that period in the history of balloon voyaging, or aeronautics, when true theories began to be philosophically applied, and ascending into the skies became an accomplished fact. chapter two. the first balloons. the germ of the invention of the balloon lies in the discovery of mr cavendish, made in 1766, that hydrogen gas, called inflammable air, is at least seven times lighter than atmospheric air. founding on this fact, dr black of edinburgh proved by experiment that a very thin bag, filled with this gas, would rise to the ceiling of a room. in dr thomson's _history of chemistry_, an anecdote, related by mr benjamin bell, refers to this as follows:-"soon after the appearance of mr cavendish's paper on hydrogen gas, in which he made an approximation to the specific gravity of that body, showing that it was at least ten times lighter than common air, dr black invited a party of friends to supper, informing them that he had a curiosity to show them. dr hutton, mr clerk of eldin, and sir george clerk of penicuik, were of the number. when the company invited had arrived, he took them into a room where he had the allantois of a calf filled with hydrogen gas, and, upon setting it at liberty, it immediately ascended and adhered to the ceiling. the phenomenon was easily accounted for; it was taken for granted that a small black thread had been attached to the allantois, that the thread passed through the ceiling, and that some one in the apartment above, by pulling the thread, elevated it to the ceiling, and kept it in its position! this explanation was so plausible, that it was agreed to by the whole company, though, like many other plausible theories, it turned out wholly fallacious, for, when the allantois was brought down, no thread whatever was found attached to it. dr black explained the cause of the ascent to his admiring friends; but such was his carelessness of his own reputation, that he never gave the least account of this curious experiment even to his class, and several years elapsed before this obvious property of hydrogen gas was applied to the elevation of balloons." cavallo made the first practical attempts with hydrogen gas six years later, but he only succeeded in causing soap-bubbles to ascend. at last the art of aerial navigation was discovered in france, and in 1782 the first ascent was made. the triumph was achieved by stephen and joseph montgolfier, sons of a wealthy paper-maker who dwelt at annonay, on the banks of a rivulet which flows into the rhone, not far from lyons. these brothers were remarkable men. although bred in a remote provincial town, and without the benefit of a liberal education, they were possessed in a high degree of ingenuity and the spirit of observation. they educated themselves, and acquired an unusually large stock of information, which their inventive and original minds led them to apply in new fields of speculation. they were associated in business with their father, a man who passed his quiet days like a patriarch amidst a large family and a numerous body of dependants, until he reached the advanced age of ninety-three. stephen devoted himself chiefly to the study of mathematics, joseph to chemistry; and they were accustomed to form their plans in concert. it appears that they had long contemplated, with philosophical interest, the floating and ascent of clouds in the air, and when they heard of or read cavendish's theories in regard to _different kinds of air_, it at once struck them that by enclosing some gas lighter than the atmosphere in a bag, a weight might be raised from the earth into the air. the brothers montgolfier were men of that vigorous stamp who act promptly on receiving their convictions. at once they set about experimenting, and constructed large bags of paper,--the substance which naturally came readiest to their hands, and which appeared to them to be best suited to their purpose. these were filled with hydrogen gas, which raised them to the ceiling; but, owing to the escape of the gas through the pores and cracks of the case, those embryo balloons descended in a few minutes. instead of varnishing the paper to prevent the escape of the gas, and supposing, erroneously, that the fault lay in the latter, they sought about for a new gas more suitable to the paper. this they found, as they supposed, in the gas which resulted from the combustion of wet straw and wool, which had an upward tendency, they thought, on account of its electrical properties, which caused it to be repelled from the ground. it is scarcely necessary now to point out that the true cause of the upward tendency lay in the rarefaction of the air by the heat of the fire, and that hot air has a tendency to rise because its bulk is greatly increased beyond the same quantity of the surrounding cold air. although wrong in assigning the cause of the result, they were right in the application of it. while on a visit to avignon joseph montgolfier procured a silk bag having a small opening at its lower end, and a capacity of about fifty cubic feet. under the orifice some paper was burnt; the air inside was heated and expanded so as to fill the bag, which, when let go, soared rapidly up to the height of seventy or eighty feet, where it remained until the air cooled and allowed it to descend. thus did the _first_ balloon ascend in the month of november 1782. delighted with their success, the indefatigable brothers resolved to make further experiment on a larger scale. they procured a quantity of packcloth or coarse linen, formed it into a globe about ninety feet in circumference, lined it with paper, and lighted a fire under it in an iron choffer. this balloon went up with a force which they estimated as equivalent to 500 pounds. after this the montgolfiers appeared to have become ambitious of accomplishing greater things, and giving to their discoveries publicity; for we are told that, "they invited the members of the provincial meeting of the states of the vivarais, then assembled at annonay, to witness the first _public_ aerial ascent. on the 5th june 1783, amidst a very large concourse of spectators, the spherical bag or balloon, consisting of different pieces of linen, merely buttoned together, was suspended from cross poles. two men kindled a fire under it, and kept feeding the flame with small bundles of chopped straw. the loose bag gradually swelled, assuming a graceful form, and in the space of five minutes it was completely distended, and made such an effort to escape that eight men were required to hold it down. "on a signal being given the stays were slipped, and the balloon instantly rose with an accelerating motion till it reached some height, when its velocity continued uniform, and carried it to an elevation of more than a mile. all was admiration and transport. amidst the shouts of unbounded applause, the progress of the artificial cloud retiring from sight arrested every eye. it was hurried along by the wind; but its buoyant force being soon spent, it remained suspended only ten minutes, and fell gently in a vineyard at a distance of about a mile and a half from the place of its ascension. so memorable a feat lighted up the glow of national vanity, and the two montgolfiers were hailed and exalted by the spontaneous impulse of their fellow-citizens." this event created a sensation not only in france but over the whole of europe. in paris, particularly, the effect on all classes was so great that they determined to have the experiment repeated, set a subscription on foot, and appointed a scientific man named charles, and two brothers of the name of robert, to construct a balloon. this they did, but instead of applying the montgolfier motive power--heated air--they used hydrogen gas, procured by the action of diluted sulphuric acid upon iron filings. their balloon, which was made of thin silk, varnished with a solution of elastic gum, was a much nearer approach to the balloon of modern days than that of montgolfier. it was a great success; it rose and remained suspended at a height of 100 feet, in which state it was conveyed with acclamation to the place des victoires, where it rested and underwent some repairs. at midnight it was conveyed in solemn procession by torchlight, and guarded by a detachment of horse, to the champ de mars, where, on the following day, the whole world of paris turned out to witness another ascent. the balloon went up to the sound of cannon, and in two minutes reached a height of 3000 feet, when it was lost for a time in a dark cloud, but speedily reappeared still higher. after a flight of fifteen miles, performed in three-quarters of an hour, it sunk to the ground in a field near ecouen, where it was secured by the peasants. the parisians now appeared to become balloon-mad. the royal academy of sciences invited joseph montgolfier to repeat his experiments, and another balloon was prepared by him of coarse linen with a paper lining, which, however, was destroyed by incessant and violent rain before it could be tried. undeterred by this, another was constructed by him, which ascended from versailles on the 19th of september 1783. this balloon deserves peculiar notice as being the first which carried up living creatures. a sheep, a cockerel, and a duck, were the first aeronauts! they ascended to a height of about 1500 feet; remained suspended for a time, and descended some two miles off in perfect safety--indeed we may say in perfect comfort, for the sheep was discovered to be quietly feeding when it returned to the earth! the practicability of ballooning being now fairly established, men soon began to venture their own persons in the frail cars. a young and enthusiastic naturalist named rozier leaped into the car of another of montgolfier's balloons soon after this, and ascended in safety to an elevation of about 300 feet, but on this occasion the balloon was held down by ropes. the ice, however, was broken, and bolder attempts quickly followed. chapter three. early attempts at aerial navigation. the first free and unfettered balloon voyage was performed very soon after the event mentioned at the end of the last chapter. it was a daring attempt, and attended with great danger. a balloon made by montgolfier was used. it was 75 feet high, 45 feet wide, and spheroidal in form--heated air being the motive power. the bold aeronauts, on this occasion, were the naturalist rozier and the marquis d'arlandes, a major of infantry. from the gardens of the chateau of muetta they ascended on the 21st november 1783. in the car there was a quantity of ballast, and a provision of straw to feed the fire. the balloon mounted at first with a majestic steady motion, gazed at in breathless wonder by thousands of spectators, who assembled not only in the neighbourhood of the chateau, but clustered on every point of vantage in paris. when the daring voyagers reached a considerable height, they took off their hats and waved them to their friends below, and the multitude-realising, perhaps, that that which in former ages had been deemed the dream of visionaries, was at last an accomplished fact--responded with enthusiastic acclamations until the balloon passed upwards through the clouds and was lost to view. it would seem that these first aeronauts were of different temperaments; for, after they had reached a height of nearly 3000 feet, and the earth was no longer distinguishable, the marquis began to think that he had seen enough of the upper regions, would fain have descended, and murmured against his companion, who still kept feeding the fire. apparently his alarm was justifiable, for rozier continued recklessly to heap on fuel, until he almost set the balloon on fire. on hearing some cracks from the top, and observing some holes burning in its sides, the marquis became so alarmed that he compelled his companion to desist, and with wet sponges stopped the conflagration, which had actually begun. when the fire diminished, however, the balloon began to descend much quicker than was safe or agreeable, and the marquis himself began to throw fresh straw on the fire to enable them to clear the roofs of paris. this they did very dexterously, considering that they were so unaccustomed to such navigation, throwing on just as much fuel as was sufficient for the purpose, and keeping clear of steeples and chimneys until they alighted in safety beyond the boulevards. their voyage lasted about half-an-hour, and they described a track of six miles around paris, having ascended to a height of 3000 feet. thus was the first balloon voyage successfully accomplished by the french; and the montgolfiers, besides enjoying the triumph which their persevering efforts deserved, were awarded the annual prize--six hundred livres--of the academy of sciences. the elder brother was invited to court, decorated with the badge of saint michael, and received a patent of nobility; while the younger received a pension and a sum of forty thousand livres wherewith to prosecute his experiments with balloons. the great success of the montgolfier balloons naturally threw the efforts of monsieur charles and the brothers robert into the shade. nevertheless those gentlemen had got hold of a better principle than their rivals; and, knowing this, they resolved to convince the sceptical by constructing another balloon. they wisely began by obtaining subscriptions to enable them to carry out their designs, and finally succeeded in making a globe formed of tiffany, covered with elastic varnish, which was twenty-eight feet in diameter. this they filled with hydrogen gas. some idea of their difficulties and expenses may be gathered from the fact that the mere filling of the balloon required an apparatus which cost about 400 pounds sterling, one-half of which was expended on the production of the gas alone. the ascent of this balloon deserves to be regarded with special interest, because, besides being the first _hydrogen_ balloon which carried up human beings, it was the first in which scientific observations were made and recorded. monsieur charles was a lecturer on natural philosophy, and, like our own great aeronaut, mr glaisher, does not seem to have been content to produce merely a spectacle, but went up to the realms of ether with an intelligent and scientific eye; for we read of him recording the indications of the thermometer and barometer at different heights and under various conditions. there were many accidents and delays in the construction of this balloon; but at last, on the 1st december 1783, it was taken to the tuileries and there filled with gas. the process was slow, as the gas had to be generated in large quantities by means of diluted sulphuric acid and iron filings put into wooden casks disposed round a large cistern, from which it was conveyed through water in long leaden pipes. to keep the impatient populace quiet, therefore, during the tedious operation, montgolfier sent up one of his fire-balloons. at last, when it was sufficiently filled, messieurs charles and robert stepped into the car, which was ballasted with sandbags, and the ropes were let go. it went up with slow and solemn motion, at the rate of about five miles an hour. "the car," writes a reporter of the day in language more inflated than the balloon itself, "ascending amidst profound silence and admiration, allowed, in its soft and measured ascent, the bystanders to follow with their eyes and hearts two interesting men, who, like demigods, soared to the abode of the immortals, to receive the reward of intellectual progress, and carry the imperishable name of montgolfier. after the globe had reached the height of 2000 feet, it was no longer possible to distinguish the aerial navigators; but the coloured pennants which they waved in the air testified their safety and their tranquil feelings. all fears were now dissipated; enthusiasm succeeded to astonishment; and every demonstration was given of joy and applause." the period of flight was an hour and three-quarters, which, for those early days of the art, was a pretty long voyage. by throwing over ballast the voyagers ascended, and by letting off gas they descended at pleasure; and they observed that during an hour, while they were exposed to the sun's rays, the gas was heated up to the temperature of fifty-five degrees of fahrenheit's scale, which had the effect of sensibly increasing the buoyancy of the balloon. they descended safely on the meadow of nesle, about twenty-five miles from paris. but, not content with what he had accomplished, monsieur charles made a sudden resolve to have another flight alone. the shades of night were falling, and the sun had already set, when the enthusiastic aeronaut re-entered the car, and, casting off the grapnels, began his solitary night voyage. he was well rewarded. the balloon shot up with such celerity as to reach the height of about two miles in ten minutes, and the sun rose again to him in full orb! from his lofty station he watched it until it set again below the distant horizon. probably monsieur charles was the first man in the world, on whom the sun thus rose and set twice in the same day! in such regions, at that romantic period of night, the aeronaut, as might have been expected, saw strange unearthly sights. rising vapours concealed the lower world from view, and the moon shed her pale rays on accumulated masses of clouds, casting various hues over their fantastic and changing forms. no wonder that one thus surrounded by objects of awful grandeur and sublimity, left, as it were, more completely alone with god than any of his fellow-mortals, found it impossible to refrain from giving vent to his emotion in tears. monsieur charles did not remain long at this elevation. as the cold was excessive, and night advancing, he deemed it prudent to descend; opened the safety-valve, out of which the gas rushed like a misty vapour with a whistling noise, and, after the lapse of a little more than half an hour, alighted in safety near the wood of tour du lay, having travelled about nine miles. after this, balloon ascents became frequent. we cannot here give a particular account of each, even if it were desirable to do so, but, before passing to the consideration of the more recent voyages, we shall run over a few facts and incidents that occurred during the early period of aerial navigation. the first lady who went up in a balloon was a madame thible. she ascended from lyons on 28th june 1784 with a monsieur fleurant in a fire-balloon. this lady of lyons mounted to the extraordinary elevation of 13,500 feet--at least so it was estimated. the flagstaff, a pole of fourteen pounds weight, was thrown out and took seven minutes to reach the ground. the thermometer dropped to minus 43 degrees fahrenheit, and the voyagers felt a ringing sensation in their ears. the first long voyage accomplished was about the same period, by a balloon constructed by monsieur robert, which was filled with hydrogen. it was 56 feet in height, and 36 in diameter. the duke de chartres ascended in it along with robert and two others to a considerable height, and in five hours performed a voyage of 135 miles. this machine was furnished with a helm and four oars, for men still laboured under the erroneous belief that it was possible to direct the course of a balloon. one of the most interesting balloon voyages of the last century was that of monsieur testu. he ascended from paris on the 18th june 1786 in a balloon of glazed tiffany, 29 feet in diameter, which was constructed by himself. it was filled with hydrogen, and had wings as well as oars! when the aeronaut deemed it advisable to descend, he attempted to do so by using the wings. these had little or no power, but the gradual waste of gas lowered him until he alighted safely in a corn field in the plain of montmorency. here he began to collect stones without quitting the car; but while thus engaged, was seized by the proprietor of the field with a troop of peasants, who demanded indemnification for the damage alleged to have been done by him. poor testu assured them that his wings being broken, he was at their mercy, whereupon the stupid and ill-natured boors seized the stay of the balloon, which floated some height above the ground, and dragged him in triumph towards their village. their triumph, however, was short-lived. finding that the loss of his wings and some other articles had lightened him considerably, he quietly cut the cord and bade the clowns an abrupt farewell! testu then rose to the clouds, where he experienced the violence and witnessed the grandeur of a thunderstorm, the terrible nature of which was greatly increased when night closed in, while lightning flashed on all sides, thunder reverberated in the sky, and sleet fell copiously around him. on this voyage he saw some hunters in a field, and descended to observe them! he remained out all night, saw the sun set and rise, and finally alighted near the village of campremi, about sixty-three miles from paris. chapter four. the first aerial voyages made in great britain--succeeding ascents. the credit of the first aerial voyage made in great britain has usually been given to vincenzo lunardi, an italian. there is ground for believing, however, that the first balloon voyage was performed by a scotchman, as the following extract from chamber's _book of days_ will show:-"it is generally supposed that lunardi was the first person who ascended by means of a balloon in great britain, but he certainly was not. a very poor man, named james tytler, who then lived in edinburgh, supporting himself and family in the humblest style of garret or cottage life by the exercise of his pen, had this honour. he had effected an ascent at edinburgh on the 27th of august 1784, just nineteen days previous to lunardi. tytler's ascent, however, was almost a failure, by his employing the dangerous and unmanageable montgolfier principle. after several ineffectual attempts, tytler, finding that he could not carry up his fire-stove with him, determined, in the maddening desperation of disappointment, to go without this his sole sustaining power. jumping into his car, which was no other than a common crate used for packing earthenware, he and the balloon ascended from comely garden, and immediately afterwards fell in the restalrig road. for a wonder, tytler was uninjured; and though he did not reach a greater altitude than 300 feet, nor traverse a greater distance than half a mile, yet his name must ever be mentioned as that of the first briton who ascended with a balloon, and the first man who ascended in britain. "tytler was the son of a clergyman of the church of scotland, and had been educated as a surgeon; but being of an eccentric and erratic genius, he adopted literature as a profession, and was the principal editor of the first edition of the _encyclopaedia britannica_. becoming embroiled in politics, he published a handbill of a seditious tendency, and consequently was compelled to seek a refuge in america, where he died in 1805, after conducting a newspaper at salem, in new england, for several years." the voyage of vincenzo lunardi was made in september 1784. his letters to a friend, in which he comments on the manners and customs of the english, are very amusing. his balloon was of the ordinary spherical shape, made of the best oiled silk, about 520 yards of which were used in its construction. it was filled with hydrogen gas, and provided with car, oars, and wings. the car consisted simply of a wooden platform surrounded by a breast high railing, and the oars and wings were intended, the one to check, by a vertical motion, the rapidity of descent, and the other to act as sails when becalmed in the upper regions of cloudland. he requested permission to make chelsea hospital the scene of his first aerial exploit, and the governor, sir george howard, with the full approval of his majesty king george the third, gave his consent. he accordingly made all necessary arrangements for an ascent, and his fondest expectations seemed about to be realised. he was, however, doomed to disappointment, owing to the failure of a rival balloon. writing to a friend at this time he says, "the events of this extraordinary island are as variable as its climate. it was but lately everything relating to my undertaking wore a favourable and pleasing appearance, but i am at this moment overwhelmed with anxiety, vexation, and despair." this rival balloon was constructed by a frenchman named de moret, who, having succeeded in attracting a concourse of fifty or sixty thousand people to see his ascent, failed in the primary part of his undertaking,--that of filling his balloon. the people, after waiting patiently for three hours, and supposing "the whole affair an imposture, rushed in and tore it to pieces." in consequence of this failure, and the riots with which it was followed, the governor forbade signor lunardi to make his ascent from chelsea hospital grounds. he writes again to his friend, "the national prejudice of the english against france is supposed to have its full effect on a subject, from which the _literati_ of england expect to derive but little honour. an unsuccessful attempt has been made by a frenchman, and my name being that of a foreigner, a very excusable ignorance in the people may place me among the adventurers of that nation, who are said to have sometimes distinguished themselves here by ingenious impositions." in vain did he try to obtain another place to launch his aerial ship; he was laughed at and ridiculed as an impostor, and the colleague of de moret. at length, after much exertion, he obtained leave to ascend from the ground of the honourable artillery company. by twelve o'clock on the day fixed for the ascension, an immense mass of people had assembled, including the prince of wales. the filling of the balloon caused some delay, but, in order to keep the patience of the populace within control, it was only partially filled. at five minutes past two the balloon ascended amid the loud acclamations of the assembled multitudes, and signor lunardi had proved himself no impostor. he writes to his friend, "the stillness, extent, and magnificence of the scene rendered it highly awful. my horizon seemed a perfect circle, the terminating line several hundred miles in circumference; this i conjectured from the view of london, the extreme points of which formed an angle only a few degrees. it was so reduced on the great scale before me that i can find no simile to convey an idea of it. i could distinguish saint paul's and other churches from the houses; i saw the streets as lines, all animated with beings whom i knew to be men and women, but which otherwise i should have had a difficulty in describing. it was an enormous bee-hive, but the industry of it was suspended. all the moving mass seemed to have no object but myself, and the transition from the suspicion, perhaps contempt, of the preceding hour, to the affectionate transport, admiration, and glory of the present moment, was not without its effect on my mind. it seemed as if i had left below all the cares and passions that molest mankind. i had not the slightest sense of motion in the machine; i knew not whether it went swiftly or slowly, whether it ascended or descended, whether it was agitated or tranquil, but by the appearance or disappearance of objects on the earth. the height had not the effect which a much less degree of it has near the earth, that of producing giddiness. the gradual diminution of objects, and the masses of light and shade, are intelligible in oblique and common prospects, but here everything wore a new appearance and had a new effect. the face of the country had a mild and permanent verdure, to which italy is a stranger. the variety of cultivation and the accuracy with which property is divided give the idea, ever present to the stranger in england, of good civil laws and an equitable administration. the rivulets meandering; the immense districts beneath me spotted with cities, towns, villages, and houses, pouring out their inhabitants to hail my appearance. you will allow me some merit in not having been exceedingly intoxicated with my situation." he descended at north mimms about half-past three-o'clock, but wishing to obtain a second triumph, he threw out the remainder of his ballast and provisions, landed a cat which he had taken up with him, and which had suffered severely from the cold, and again ascended to the regions above. this time his ascent was more rapid, the thermometer quickly fell to 29 degrees, and icicles were soon formed all round his machine. he descended at twenty minutes past four near ware in hertfordshire, and the balloon being properly secured, the gas was let out and "nearly poisoned the whole neighbourhood by the disagreeable stench emitted." the success and triumph of this first attempt in aerial navigation in english air exceeded signor lunardi's utmost expectations. everywhere he was received with marks of approbation, and treated as a hero. "my fame," he writes, "has not been sparingly diffused by the newspapers (which in england are the barometers of public opinion; often erroneous, as other instruments are, in their particular information, but yielding the best that can be obtained). you will imagine the importance of these vehicles of knowledge when you learn that in london alone there are printed no less than 160,000 papers weekly, which, by a stamp on each paper, and a duty on advertisements, brings into the treasury of the nation upwards of 80,000 pounds a year. they are to the english constitution what the censors were to those of ancient rome. ministers of state are checked and kept in awe by them, and they freely, and often judiciously, expose the pretensions of those who would harass government merely to be taken into its service." there were many other aeronauts who distinguished themselves after this period. in 1785, monsieur blanchard, with dr j. jeffries, an american, crossed the channel between england and france in a balloon--starting from dover, and descending in safety in the forest of guiennes. they had, however, a narrow escape, having been compelled to throw out all their ballast, and everything they could dispense with, to prevent their balloon from falling into the sea. the first ascents for scientific purposes were made about the beginning of the present century. in 1803, mr robertson ascended from saint petersburg, for the purpose of making electrical, magnetical, and physiological experiments. messieurs gay-lussac and biot followed his example from paris, in 1804. gay-lussac was an enthusiastic and celebrated aeronaut. he made several interesting ascents. two years afterwards, brioschi, the astronomer-royal at naples, endeavoured to ascend to a higher elevation than had been reached by monsieur gay-lussac--namely, 22,977 feet. he was accompanied by signor andreani, the first italian aeronaut. the balloon burst when at a great height, but the remnants were sufficient to check the descent so much that both gentlemen escaped with their lives. brioschi, however, received injuries which afterwards resulted in his death. in england one of the most famous aeronauts was mr green, who introduced coal gas for balloons, and made many hundreds of ascents. in the year 1836 he ascended from london in a coal-gas balloon, and with two other gentlemen made an aerial voyage to weilburg in the grand duchy of nassau. it lasted eighteen hours, and extended over 500 miles. chapter five. parachutes. of the other voyages which were made in balloons in our own country and in foreign lands about this period we shall say nothing, but, before describing the most interesting of recent ascents, give a short account of the parachute. this contrivance has been considered by some a very important adjunct to the balloon; whether it be so or no, we do not pretend to determine, but certainly it is an interesting and curious machine, which merits notice. the parachute may be described as a species of gigantic umbrella attached to the balloon below the car, which hangs in a loose form while ascending, but expands, of necessity, when cut adrift and allowed to descend. as the balloon has a car hung beneath it, so in like manner the parachute has a small car or basket, capable of holding one person, suspended from it. the word signifies a _guard against falling_--from the french _parer_, to ward off, and _chute_, a fall, and is allied to _parasol_, which means literally "a warder off of the sun." the parachute was introduced some years after a terrible accident which occurred to the celebrated aeronaut rozier, who, desirous of emulating blanchard and jeffries by crossing the channel from france to england in a balloon, made an attempt, which cost him his life. rozier's balloon was about forty feet in diameter, and had attached to it, beneath, a smaller balloon on the montgolfier principle. on the 15th of june 1785, he entered the car with monsieur romain, and ascended to the height of above three thousand feet, when it was observed by the spectators that the lower balloon had caught fire. with horror they saw that the fire spread--the whole apparatus was in a blaze--and in another minute it descended like a shattered meteor to the ground with a terrible crash. it fell near the sea-shore, about four miles from boulogne, and of course the unfortunate voyagers were killed instantaneously. at a later period a venetian nobleman and his lady fell with their balloon from a great height and were killed. it must be remarked, however, that cases of this kind were very rare, considering the rage which there was at that period for ballooning. in order to provide aeronauts with a means of escape--a last resource in case of accident--the parachute was invented. it may be regarded as a balloon's lifeboat, which will (perhaps!) bear the passengers in safety to the ground in case of balloon-wreck. doubtless the umbrella suggested the parachute. every one knows the tremendous force that this implement exerts in a high wind if the unfortunate owner should happen to get turned round in the wrong direction. the men of the east have, it is said, turned this power to account by making use of an umbrella to enable them to leap from considerable heights. in particular, a native of siam, who was noted for his feats of agility, was wont to amuse the king and his court by taking tremendous leaps, having two small umbrellas with long slender handles attached to his girdle. these eased him down in safety, but he was occasionally driven by the wind against trees or houses, and sometimes into a neighbouring river. in case any adventurous individual should be tempted to make trial of the powers of himself and his umbrella in this way, we think it right, by way of caution, to tell him that the french general bournonville, who was imprisoned in the fortress of olmutz in 1793, became so desperate that he attempted to regain his freedom by leaping with an umbrella from his window, which was forty feet from the ground. he hoped that the umbrella would break his fall. doubtless it did so to some extent, and saved him from being killed, but being a large heavy man, he came down with sufficient violence to break his leg, and was carried back to his dungeon. the chief differences between a parachute and an umbrella lie in the great size of the former, and in the cords which stretch from the outer points of its ribs to the lower end of the handle. these cords give it strength, and prevent it from turning inside out. there is also a hole in the top of the parachute to allow some of the air to escape. the first parachute was constructed by blanchard in 1785, and a dog was the first living creature that descended in it, and reached the earth unhurt. blanchard afterwards made a descent in person at basle, and broke his leg in the fall. the bold aeronaut monsieur garnerin next ventured to make the perilous descent. he visited london in 1802, and made several ascents in a balloon. during one of these, on the evening of the 2nd november, he cut himself adrift in his parachute when at a vast height. the parachute was made of white canvas, having thirty-two gores, which, when not in use, hung with its cords from a hoop near the top of the machine. when expanded, it formed a vast umbrella of twenty-three feet in diameter, with a small basket about four feet high, and two and a quarter wide, suspended below it. monsieur garnerin stood in this basket when his balloon mounted into the air from an enclosure near north audley street. the parachute hung like a curtain over his head, above it towered the balloon, beneath stood the anxious multitude. well might they gaze in breathless expectation! after floating for some time in the upper regions of the air, as if he dreaded to make the bold attempt, he cut the cord that fastened him to the balloon when at the height, probably, of about half a mile. at first the parachute remained closed and descended with frightful violence; then it burst open, and for some seconds tossed about to such an extent that the basket was sometimes thrown almost into a horizontal position. the wind carried it over marylebone and somerstown; it almost grazed some of the houses of saint pancras in passing, and finally came to the ground in a field with such violence that poor garnerin was thrown on his face and severely cut and bruised. no wonder that we are told he received a terrible shock. he trembled violently, and blood flowed from his nose and ears. nevertheless, the accident did not deter his daughter from afterwards making the descent several times--and in safety. the cause of the irregularity and violence of garnerin's descent was the giving way of one of the stays, which had the effect of deranging the balance of the apparatus. in 1837 mr cocking invented a new parachute, which he hoped would be free from the faults of the other. it may be described as being the reverse of that of garnerin, being made in the form of an umbrella blown inside out. the resistance to the air, it was thought, would be sufficient to check the rapid descent, while its form would prevent the tendency to oscillate. this parachute was 34 feet in diameter, and was distended by a strong hoop to prevent its closing. there was also a hole in the middle of it, about 6 feet in diameter. mr cocking started from vauxhall gardens on the 24th of july, and after ascending to a considerable height, cut himself loose from his balloon when over blackheath. the parachute descended rapidly, and vibrated with great violence; the large hoop broke, the machine collapsed, and the unfortunate aeronaut was killed, and his body dreadfully mutilated. fatal accidents of this kind were to be expected; nevertheless it is a fact that the disasters which have befallen aeronauts have been comparatively few, considering the extreme danger to which they are necessarily exposed, not only from the delicacy of the materials, with which they operate, and the uncertainty of the medium through which they move, but, particularly, because of the impossibility of giving direction to their air-ships, or to arrest their progress through space. parachutes, however, are not so absolutely incapable of being directed as are balloons. monsieur nadar writes on this point as follows:-"let us consider the action of the parachute. "a parachute is a sort of umbrella, in which the handle is replaced at its point of insertion by an opening intended to ease the excess of air, in order to avoid the strong oscillations, chiefly at the moment at which it is first expanded. cords, departing symmetrically from divers points of the circumference, meet concentrically at the basket in which is the aeronaut. above this basket, and at the entrance of the folded parachute, that is to say, closed during the rise, a hoop of sufficient diameter is intended to facilitate, at the moment of the fall, the entrance of the air which, rushing in under the pressure, expands the folds more easily and rapidly. "now the parachute, where the weight of the car, of the attaching cords, and the wrigglings of the aeronaut, is in equilibrium with the expansion--the parachute, which seems to have no other aim but to moderate the shock in falling--the parachute even has been found capable of being directed, and aeronauts who have practised it, take care not to forget it. if the current is about to drive the aeronaut over a place where the descent is dangerous--say a river, a town, or a forest--the aeronaut perceiving to his right, let us suppose, a piece of ground suitable for his purpose, pulls at the cords which surround the right side, and by thus imparting a greater obliquity to his roof of silk, glides through the air, which it cleaves obliquely, towards the desired spot. every descent, in fact, is determined by the side on which the incline is greatest." that these are not mere theoretical opinions or conjectures is certain from the fact that mademoiselle garnerin once wagered to guide herself with a parachute from the point of separation from her balloon to a place determined and very remote. by the combined inclinations which could be given to her parachute, she was seen in fact, very distinctly, to manoeuvre and tend towards the appointed place, and succeeded at length in alighting within a few yards of it. chapter six. ascents by messrs. glaisher and coxwell. we now come to that point in our subject where it is appropriate to give more detailed and graphic accounts of the recent doings of aeronauts. an extremely interesting description of a scientific balloon ascent is given by the celebrated aeronaut, mr glaisher, in a pamphlet, from which we shall make a few extracts. [see note 1.] his description is illustrative of the subject of ballooning, and contains the salient points of several ascents. he asks us to imagine the balloon somewhat more than half inflated, eager for flight, with only one link connecting it with earth, namely, a rope attached to an instrument, called a liberating iron catch. when all the ballast, instruments, etcetera, were placed in the car, mr coxwell brought the balloon to a _nice_ and _even_ balance, so that the addition of twenty pounds would have prevented it from rising. as the moment for departure drew near, friends became impatient, and every one anxiously watched the final arrangements, which were made by mr coxwell, on whom was laid the important duty of _letting go_. his hand was on the catch, his countenance was fixed, and his expression stern, as he gazed up into the heavens. he was waiting for the right moment, for the sky was partially cloudy, and it was necessary to wait until the balloon was midway between the cloud that had just passed and the next that was approaching, so that the aeronauts might have a clear sky, and be able to see the earth they were about to quit for a time. nor was this all; he knew that in every wind, however strong it might be, there are periods of calm. if he could start in one of these he would avoid much rotatory motion. the deciding, therefore, of the exact moment for making a fair start was not so easy a matter as one might suppose. some one at this critical time, with the characteristic eagerness of poor human nature to "put its finger in the pie," cried out "now!" and another shouted "pull!" but mr coxwell, regardless of every one, decided for himself; and, just when the wind lulled and the sun shone bright, and the balloon stood proudly erect, he pulled the trigger and they were free. but they were more than free. they were suddenly in profound repose, for--however high the wind may be, however agitated the balloon, swaying to and fro with sudden and violent action, despite the efforts of many hands that endeavour to restrain it,--no sooner do aeronauts quit their hold of earth, than, in an instant, all agitation ceases and they are in perfect stillness, without any sense of motion whatever; and this freedom continues throughout the entire flight--except, indeed, when they sink so low as to come into contact with mother earth, when the serenity of their flight is terribly and violently interrupted, as shall be seen in the case of another balloon voyage hereafter to be described. they were now fairly away, but we pause to remark, before joining them in their voyage, that their object on this occasion was not merely amusement--scientific investigation and experiment were their aim. in order that the reader may have some idea of the nature of such, we subjoin mr glaisher's list of the objects of his experiments: the primary objects were, he says, "to determine, at various heights, up to five miles--first, the pressure of the atmosphere; _second_, the temperature of the air; _third_, the hygrometrical (or moist-measured) states of the air." the secondary objects were: "to compare the readings of an aneroid barometer with those of a mercurial barometer, up to five miles. "to determine the electrical state of the air. "to determine the oxygenic state of the atmosphere by means of ozone papers. "to determine the time of vibration of a magnet on the earth, and at different distances from it. "to determine the temperature of the dew point by daniell's dew point hygrometer and regnault's condensing hygrometer, and by the use of the dry and wet bulb thermometers, as ordinarily used, and their use when under the influence of the aspirator, causing considerable volumes of air to pass over both their bulbs, at different elevations, as high as possible, but particularly up to heights where man may be resident, or where troops may be located, as in the high table-lands and plains of india; with the view of ascertaining what confidence may be placed in the use of the dry and wet bulb thermometers at those elevations, by comparison with daniell's and regnault's hygrometers; and also to compare the results as found by the two hygrometers together. "to collect air at different elevations. "to note the height and kind of clouds, their density and thickness at different elevations. "to determine the rate and direction of different currents in the atmosphere if possible. "to make observations on sound. "to note atmospherical phenomena in general, and to make general observations." with these objects in view the aeronauts left _terra firma_ and soared into the skies. "once away," says mr glaisher, "we are both immediately at work; we have no time for graceful acknowledgments to cheering friends. mr coxwell must put the car in order, and accordingly looks to it, to his balloon, and to the course we are taking; and i must get my instruments in order, and without delay place them in their situations, adjust them, and take a reading as soon as possible. "in a few minutes we are from 1000 to 2000 feet high. mr coxwell looks intently upwards to see how the huge folds of the balloon fill into the netting. if we have started from a town, we now hear its busy hum, and the now fast fading cheers of our assembled friends naturally attract our attention. we behold at a glance the quickly-diminishing forms of the objects which we so lately left, and then resume our work. "presently mr coxwell, who is always alive to the beauties of the ever-varying scene below, and to the opening landscape, fixes his eye upon me, and, just when a rural scene of surpassing beauty is lighted up in the west, he summons me to look and admire. i struggle against picturesque temptations, somewhat at variance with my duties, but cannot so quickly suppress them. a fine cloud rears its alpine cap in close proximity to the car; mr coxwell looks as delighted as an artist when he displays a magnificent painting. i feel i must conquer such enchantment, and exclaim, `beautiful! grand indeed!' and again resume my observations, with a cold philosophic resolve to pursue my readings without further interruption. "for a while i am quiet, the instruments affording indication that we are rising rapidly. mr coxwell again disturbs me just as we are approaching the clouds, and recommends a farewell peep at mother earth; and just as i take this, the clouds receive us, at first in a light gauze of vapour, and then in their chilly embrace, where i examine their structure, and note the temperature of the dew point particularly. "shortly it becomes lighter, the light gradually increasing, till it is succeeded by a flood of light, at first striking, then dazzling, and we pass out of the dense cloud to where the clouds open out in bold and fantastic shapes, showing us light and shadow, and spectral scenes, with prismatic embellishments, disporting themselves around us in wild grandeur, till at length we break out into brilliant sunshine, and the clouds roll away in a perfect sea of vapour, obscuring the earth entirely; so that now in perfect silence i note the circumstances, and make my observations for some time uninterruptedly. "after a time mr coxwell directs my attention to the fact that the balloon is full, and that the gas is coming out from the safety-valve. i of course look, for this is an exciting moment. he then directs my attention to the fit and proportions of the netting. i find the gas, which was before cloudy and opaque, is now clear and transparent, so that i can look right up the balloon and see the meshes of the net-work showing through it, the upper valve with its springs and line reaching to the car, and the geometrical form of the balloon itself. nor is this an idle examination. i have already said that, in passing through the cloud, the netting would gather moisture, augmenting the weight of the balloon. if this should not all have evaporated, the net-work would have become frozen, and be a wire-rope; so that, if the diamond shape of the netting when under tension, and the form of the crown of the balloon, be not symmetrical, the weight might not be equally distributed, and there would be danger of it cutting the balloon. a sense of security therefore follows such an examination. "a stream of gas now continually issues from the neck, which is very capacious, being fully two square feet in area, which is always left open. presently i see mr coxwell, whose eye has been continually watching the balloon, pass his fingers over the valve-line, as if in readiness to pull the cord. i observe a slight gathering on his brow, and look inquiringly at him. he says, `i have decided upon opening the large upper valve,' and carefully explains why. `the tension,' he says, `in the balloon is not greater than it would bear with safety in a warm stratum of air; but now that we are three miles up with a chilled balloon, it is better to allow some to escape at top, as well as a good deal from the neck.' at once i see the force of the argument, and inwardly infer that i am in no way dependent upon chance, and not likely to suffer from carelessness with mr coxwell. we are now far beyond all ordinary sounds from the earth; a sea of clouds is below us, so dense that it is difficult to persuade ourselves that we have passed through them. up to this time little or no inconvenience is met with; but on passing above four miles, much personal discomfort is experienced; respiration becomes difficult; the beating of the heart at times is audible; the hands and lips become blue, and at higher elevations the face also; and it requires the exercise of a strong will to make and record observations. before getting to our highest point, mr coxwell counts the number of his sandbags, and calculates how much higher we can go, with respect to the reserve of ballast necessary to regulate the descent. "then i feel a vibration in the car, and, on turning round, see mr coxwell in the act of lowering down the grapnel, then looking up at the balloon, then scanning the horizon, and weighing apparently in his mind some distant clouds through which we are likely to pass in going down. "a glance suffices to show that his mind is made up how much higher it is prudent to rise, and how much ballast it is expedient to preserve. "the balloon is now lingering, as it were, under the deep blue vault of space, hesitating whether to mount higher or begin its descent without further warning. we now hold a consultation, and then look around from the highest point, giving silent scope to those emotions of the soul which are naturally called forth by such a wide-spread range of creation. "our course is now about to change. but here i interpose with `no, no; stop; not yet; let us remain so long that the instruments are certain to take up the true temperature, and that no doubt can rest upon the observations here. when i am satisfied i shall say, "pull."' "then in silence--for here we respire with difficulty, and talk but little--in the centre of this immense space, in solitude, without a single object to interrupt the view for 200 miles or more all round, abstracted from the earth, upheld by an invisible medium, our mouths so dry that we cannot eat, a white sea below us, so far below, we see few, if any, irregularities. i watch the instruments; but, forcibly impelled, again look round from the centre of this vacuity, whose boundary-line is 1500 miles, commanding nearly 130,000 square miles, till i catch mr coxwell's eye turned towards me, when i again direct mine to the instruments; and when i find no further changes are proceeding, i wave my hand and say, `pull.' "a deep resonant sound is heard overhead; a second pull is followed by a second report, that rings as with shrill accompaniment down the very sides of the balloon. it is the working of the valve, which causes a loud booming noise, as from a sounding-board, as the springs force the shutters back. "but this sound in that solitary region, amid silence so profound that no silence on earth is equal to it,--a drum-like sound meeting the ear from above, from whence we do not usually hear sounds--strikes one forcibly. it is, however, one sound only; there is no reverberation, no reflection; and this is characteristic of all sounds in the balloon,-one clear sound continuing during its vibrations, then gone in a moment. no sound ever reaches the ear a second time. but though the sound from the closing of the valve in those silent regions is striking, it is also cheering,--it is reassuring; it proves all to be right, that the balloon is sound, that the colder regions have not frozen tight the outlet for gas, and that we are so far safe. we have descended a mile, and our feelings improve with the increase of air and warmth. but silence reigns supreme, and mr coxwell, i observe, turns his back upon me, scanning intently the cloudscape, speculating as to when and where we shall break through and catch sight of the earth. we have been now two hours without seeing _terra firma_. how striking and impressive is it to realise a position such as this; and yet as men of action, whose province it is to subordinate mere feelings, we refrain from indulging in sentiment. i say refrain, for presently mr coxwell breaks out, no longer able to contain himself: `here, mr glaisher, you must welcome another balloon. it is the counterpart of our own.' this spectral balloon is charming to look upon, and presents itself under a variety of imposing aspects, which are magnified or diminished by the relative distance of our balloon from the clouds, and by its position in relation to the sun, which produces the shadow. at mid-day it is deep down, almost underneath; but it is more grandly defined towards evening, when the golden and ruby tints of the declining sun impart a gorgeous colouring to cloudland. you may then see the spectre balloon magnified upon the distant cloud-tops, with three beautiful circles of rainbow tints. language fails utterly to describe these illuminated photographs, which spring up with matchless truthfulness and choice decoration. "just before we enter the clouds, mr coxwell, having made all preparations for the descent, strictly enjoins me to be ready to put up the instruments, lest, when we lose the powerful rays of the sun, and absorb the moisture of the lower clouds, we should approach the earth with too great rapidity. "we now near the confines of the clouds, and dip swiftly into the thickest of them; we experience a decided chill, and hear the rustling of the collapsing balloon, which is now but one-third full, but cannot see it, so dense is the mass of vapour. one, two, three, or more minutes pass, and we are still in the cloud. how thick it must be, considering the rapidity of the descent! presently we pass below, and the earth is visible. there is a high road intersecting green pastures; a piece of water looking like polished steel presents itself; a farmhouse, with stacks and cattle, is directly under us. we see the sea-coast, but at a distance. an open country lies before us. a shout comes up, and announces that we are seen, and all goes well, save the rapidity of our descent, which has been caused by that dark frowning cloud which shut us out from the sun's rays, and bedewed us with moisture. mr coxwell, however, is counteracting it by means of the ballast, and streams out one bag, which appears to fly up instead of falling down; now another is cast forth, but still it goes up, up. a third reduces the wayward balloon within the bounds of moderation, and mr coxwell exultingly exclaims that `he has it now under perfect command, with sand enough, and to spare.' "delighted to find the balloon is thus checked, as it is favourable to good readings of the several instruments at this elevation, i work as quickly as i can, noticing also the landscape below; rich mounds of green foliage, fields of various shades of green, like a tessellated pavement in motion; with roads, rivers, rivulets, and the undulatory nature of the ground varying the scene every instant. should our passage be over a town, it is like a model in motion; and all is seen with a distinctness superior to that from the earth; the line of sight is through a purer and less dense medium; everything seems clearer, though smaller; even at the height of four miles above birmingham we distinguished the new street station and the streets. "we have been descending slowly for a little time, when i am challenged to signify when i can close my observations, as yonder, about two miles distant, is a fine park, where mr coxwell's eye seems to wander with something like a desire to enter it. i approve of the spot, as it is in every way suitable for a descent. the under-current, which is oftentimes stronger than the upper, is wafting us merrily in that direction. we are now only a few hundred feet above the surface. `put up your instruments,' cries mr coxwell, `and we will keep on this level until you are ready.' "a little more sand is let out, and i pack up the instruments quickly in their wadded cases. `are you all right?' inquires the aeronaut. `all right,' i respond; `look out then, and hold fast by the ropes, as the grapnel will stop us in that large meadow, with the hedgerow in front.' "there, sure enough, we land. the cattle stand at bay affrighted, their tails are horizontal, and they run wildly away. but a group of friends from among the gentry and villagers draws up near the balloon, and although some few question whether we belong to this planet, or whether we are just imported from another, yet any doubt upon this point is soon set at rest, and we are greeted with a hearty welcome from all when we tell our story, how we travelled the realms of space, not from motives of curiosity, but for the advancement of science, its applicability to useful purposes, and the good of mankind." in commenting on the several ascents thus combined in one description, mr glaisher gives us various pieces of information which are highly interesting. the clouds, he says, on which the sun was shining brightly, each moment opened up to view deep ravines, and shining masses appeared like mountain ranges, some rising perpendicularly from rolling seas or plains, with summits of dazzling brightness, some pyramidal, others undulatory, with deep shadows between. while passing over london on one occasion at night, at the height of about one mile, he heard the hum of the great city, and saw its lights. the river looked dull, but the bridges that spanned it, and the many miles of straight, intersecting, and winding streets were distinctly visible. in referring to sound, he tells us that, on different occasions, at a height of 11,800 feet above the earth, a band was heard playing. at between four and five thousand feet a railway whistle and the shouting of people were heard, and at 10,070 feet the report of a gun. a dog was also heard barking at a height of two miles. at a height of 19,000 feet the hands and lips were observed, during one ascent, to be of a dark bluish colour. at four miles the palpitations of the heart were audible, and the breathing was affected. considerable difficulty was experienced in respiration at higher elevations. from his various observations he found that the effect of high elevation is different upon the same individuals at different times, and believed that, up to heights less than three miles--to which persons of ordinary self-possession might ascend--delicate and accurate scientific observations might be made with ease, but at heights approaching to four miles, such observations could not be made so well, because of the personal distress of the observer, and on approaching to five miles above the earth it required the exercise of a strong will to take any observations at all. the most wonderful and alarming of the experiences of mr glaisher appear to have occurred to him and his companion, mr coxwell, during an ascent made from wolverhampton on the 5th september, when they reached the enormous elevation of between six and seven miles. they felt no particular inconvenience until after passing above the fifth mile. when at a height of 26,000 feet, mr glaisher could not see the column of mercury in the tube; then the fine divisions on the scale of the instrument became invisible. shortly afterwards he laid his arm on the table, and on attempting again to use it found that the limb was powerless. he tried to move the other arm, and found that it also was paralysed. he then tried to shake himself, and succeeded in shaking his body, but experienced the curious sensation of having no legs! while in this condition he attempted to look at the barometer, and, while doing so, his head fell on his left shoulder. struggling to get out of this lethargic state, he found that he could still shake his body, although he could not move either arms or legs. he got his head upright for an instant, but it dropped again on his shoulder, and he fell backwards, his back resting against the side of the car, and his head on its edge. in this position his eyes were directed to mr coxwell, who did not at first observe the state of his companion, in consequence of his having had to ascend into the ring of the balloon to disentangle the valve-line, which had become twisted. hitherto mr glaisher had retained the power of moving the muscles of his back and neck, but suddenly this was lost to him. he saw mr coxwell dimly in the ring, and attempted to speak to him, but could not do so. a moment later intense black darkness surrounded him--the optic nerve had lost its power! he was still conscious, however, and with his brain as active as at other times. he fancied he had been seized with asphyxia, and that death would quickly ensue unless they descended without delay. suddenly the power of thought ceased, and he became unconscious. all these extraordinary and alarming sensations, he calculated, must have taken place within five or six minutes. while still powerless he heard the words "temperature" and "observation," and knew that mr coxwell was in the car endeavouring to arouse him. presently he heard him speak more emphatically, but could neither see, reply, nor move. then he heard him say, "do try now, do," after which vision slightly returned, and in a short time he saw clearly again, rose from his seat, looked round, and said to mr coxwell, "i have been insensible." his friend replied, "you have, and i too, very nearly." mr coxwell had lost the use of his hands, which were black; mr glaisher, therefore, poured brandy over them. his companion then told him that, on descending from the ring, he thought he had laid himself back to rest, but noticing that his legs projected, and his arms hung down by his side, it struck him there was something wrong, and he attempted to go to his assistance, but felt insensibility coming over himself. he tried to open the valve, so that they might descend, but, having lost the use of his hands, could not. in this critical moment he seized the cord with his teeth, dipped his head two or three times, and thus succeeded in opening the valve, and descending from those dangerous regions of attenuated atmosphere! at first they went down at the tremendous rate of twenty miles an hour, but after descending three miles in nine minutes, the balloon's progress was checked, and they finally alighted safely in a grass field, where their appearance so terrified the country folk that it required a good deal of coaxing in plain english to convince them that the aeronauts were not inhabitants of another world! -----------------------------------------------------------------------note 1. _exeter hall lectures--scientific experiments in balloons_, by james glaisher, esquire, f.r.s.--published by james nisbet and company, london. chapter seven. account of nadar's balloon, "le geant." first ascent. as the "giant" is the largest balloon that has yet been made, and as its experiences on the occasions of its first and second ascents were not only peculiar but terrible, we shall give an account of it in detail-commencing with its construction, and ending with the thrilling termination of its brief but wild career. monsieur nadar, a photographer of paris, was the enthusiastic and persevering aeronaut who called it into being, and encountered the perils of its ascents, from which he did not emerge scatheless, as we shall see. besides being an experimental voyager in cloudland, monsieur nadar started a newspaper named _l'aeronaute_, in which he gives an account of the "giant," and his reasons for constructing it. these latter were peculiar. he is emphatic in asserting that the huge balloon was never intended by him to be an "end," but a mere stepping-stone to an end--which end was the construction of an _aeromotive_--a machine which was to be driven by means of a screw, and which he intended should supersede balloons altogether, so that his own "giant" was meant to be the last of its race! in reference to this, monsieur nadar tells us that he was deeply impressed with the belief that the screw would ultimately become our aerial motor, but that, being ignorant of what it was likely the experiments of this first aeromotive would cost, he had resolved, instead of begging for funds to enable him to accomplish his great end, to procure funds for himself in the following manner:-"i shall," says he, "make a balloon--the _last balloon_--in proportions extraordinarily gigantic, twenty times larger than the largest, which shall realise that which has never been but a dream in the american journals, which shall attract, in france, england, and america, the crowd always ready to run to witness the most insignificant ascent. in order to add further to the interest of the spectacle--which, i declare beforehand, without fear of being belied, shall be the most beautiful spectacle which it has ever been given to man to contemplate,--i shall dispose under this monster balloon a small balloon (_balloneau_), destined to receive and preserve the excess of gas produced by dilation, instead of losing this excess, as has hitherto been the case, which will permit my balloon to undertake veritable long voyages, instead of remaining in the air two or three hours only, like our predecessors. i do not wish to ask anything of any one, nor of the state, to aid me, even in this question of general, and also of such immense, interest. i shall endeavour to furnish myself the two hundred thousand francs necessary for the construction of my balloon. the said balloon finished, by public ascents and successive exhibitions at paris, london, brussels, vienna, baden, berlin, new york, and everywhere, i know that i shall collect ten times the funds necessary for the construction of our first aeromotive." this first aeromotive, however, has not yet made its appearance, whether from want of funds or of practicability we do not know, but monsieur nadar carried his designs triumphantly into effect with the "monster balloon," which in course of time made its appearance, performed flights, attracted the wonder and admiration, as well as a good deal of the coin, of hundreds of thousands in france and england, even conveyed royalty up into the clouds, broke the bones of its originator, and was exhibited in the great transept (which it nearly filled) of the crystal palace at sydenham. while there, we had the good fortune to behold it with our own eyes! the construction of this balloon merits particular notice; but first, it may be remarked that it is well worthy of being named a giant, seeing that its height was only forty-five feet less than that of the towers of notre dame cathedral, namely 196 feet. that nadar had cut out for himself an arduous task will be readily believed. touching on this, he writes thus:-"i have set myself to work immediately, and with difficulties, sleepless nights, vexations which i have kept to myself alone to this hour, and which some one of the days of this winter, the most urgent part of my task being finished, i shall in part make in confidence to my readers. i have succeeded in establishing my balloon, in founding at the same time this journal--indispensable _moniteur_ to the aerial automotive-and in laying the basis of that which shall be, perhaps, the greatest financial operation of the age. those who shall see and appreciate these labours, will please to pardon me, i hope, for having wiped my forehead with a little touch of pride, when at the end of a month--one month!--i have said to myself, `it is done!'" the "giant" was composed of yellowish white silk, of which there were used 22,000 yards at about 5 shillings 4 pence a yard, so that the cost of the silk alone was 5,866 pounds. this was cut into 118 gores, which were entirely hand-sewed with a double seam, and some idea of the vastness of the work may be gathered from the fact that 200 women were employed during a month in the sewing of the gores. for the sake of greater strength the silk was doubled. in other words, there were _two_ balloons of the same size, one within the other. directly beneath, and attached to its lower orifice, there was a small balloon called a _compensator_, the object of which was to receive and retain for use the surplus gas. when a balloon rises to the higher regions of the atmosphere, the gas within it expands, so that a large quantity of it is allowed to rush out at the open mouth beneath, or at the safety-valve above. were this not the case, the balloon would certainly burst. this loss of gas, however, is undesirable, because when the balloon descends the gas contracts, and the loss is then felt to be a great one. by collecting the over-flow of gas in the _compensator_, this disadvantage is obviated. the car, which was made chiefly of wicker-work, was actually a small cottage of two storeys (a ground-floor and platform or upper deck), with door and windows. its height was about eight, and its length thirteen feet. the ground-floor contained a cruciform passage and six divisions. at one extremity was a captain's cabin with a bed in it, and underneath a compartment for luggage. at the other was the passengers' cabin, with three beds, one above the other. the four other divisions or rooms were a provision store, a lavatory, a place for conducting photographic operations, and a room for a small lithographic press, with which it was intended to print an account of the voyage, to be scattered about the localities over which they should pass! in reference to this last, monsieur nadar writes:-"an english company a month ago (our neighbours are marvellous in not losing time), appreciating the bustle which the sight of a balloon always excites in every inhabited place, and judging rightly that papers would never be better received and more greedily read than those thrown overboard by us, despatched a messenger to propose to me to accept commercial prospectuses. we shall never have too much money for the construction of our first aeromotive. i have accepted and made a contract." besides many miscellaneous articles, such as grapnels, fowling-pieces, speaking-trumpets, etcetera, that were to be carried up in this cot, there were provisions of all sorts, instruments for scientific observations, games, means of defence in case of descent among an inhospitable people, and two cages of carrier-pigeons sent from liege. the car and all it contained was secured by twenty cables traversing on and beneath its walls, interlaced with the fabric and fastened to a large hoop just below the neck, to which hoop was also attached the ropes of the net-work, by which the balloon itself was enveloped. there were two axles and four wheels connected with the car, by means of which it could, when necessary, be drawn along an ordinary road. canes, disposed to act as springs, were placed underneath and round the middle of it to protect it from concussions, besides which internal buoys and an immense girdle in compartments of inflated india-rubber, rendered it incapable of submersion in water. such was the giant balloon in which monsieur nadar and his friends made two ascents; of the first of which (4th october 1863) galignani writes thus:-"the departure of this leviathan of the airy regions attracted immense crowds to the champ de mars yesterday afternoon. considering that the avenues encircling that vast space were filled to suffocation, so that we found it extremely difficult to force our way to the open ground reserved for tickets, and that all the housetops were occupied by spectators, we think the number of persons present may fairly be stated at 80,000. ample precautions had been taken to prevent disasters,--a strong police force, supported by a company of infantry and some cavalry, being present to maintain order. the balloon, which is 90 yards in circumference, and has consumed upwards of 20,000 yards of silk in its manufacture, was held down, while filling, by about 100 men, and the weight of at least 200 sandbags. the car was of wicker-work, comprising an inner surface of about 54 square feet divided into three compartments or small rooms, surmounted by an open terrace, to which the balloon was braced. outside grapnels, wheels, and fowling-pieces, four of each, besides two speaking-trumpets, were lashed to the sides of the car. (the wheels were intended to be put to the car after alighting, in order to convey it back with horses.) the preliminary operations took considerable time, putting the patience of the spectators to a severe trial, a circumstance which perhaps prevented them from cheering when the words `_lachez tout_!' were given, and the immense machine rose slowly and majestically into the air. we were rather surprised at the silence of the public, considering the very remarkable and interesting feat in aeronautics thus successfully performed. there were fifteen persons in the car, or rather cabin:--monsieur nadar, captain; messieurs marcel, louis and jules godard, lieutenants; the prince de sayn-wittgenstein, count de saint martin, monsieur tournachon (nadar's brother), messieurs eugene delessert, thirion, piallat, robert mitchell, gabriel morris, paul de saint victor, de villemessant, and one lady, the princess de la tour d'auvergne. the princess was taking her usual drive to the bois de boulogne, when, observing an unusual movement in the neighbourhood of the invalides, and having inquired the cause; she ordered her coach man to drive to the champ de mars. having seen the balloon, she expressed a wish to make the ascent, and although nadar had to the last moment refused to take any lady, and even his own wife, he could not resist the entreaty of the princess. on starting, monsieur nadar climbed up the net-work and took off his hat to the spectators. the balloon took a north-easterly direction, and was visible for some time. at the moment of going to press, a communication has reached us, signed by the captain, monsieur nadar, and all those who had taken places in the balloon, stating that on alighting yesterday evening at nine o'clock at ibarcy, near meaux (seine-et-marne), three severe shocks were experienced, which had the effect of completely capsizing the balloon, and inflicting on its occupants several rather severe contusions. "interesting details of the ascent of the nadar balloon, said to have been narrated by prince wittgenstein, are given by the _france_. the most extraordinary is, that at half-past eight, when the balloon attained the height of 1500 metres, the aeronauts saw the sun, which had set for the earth below upwards of two hours before. the effect of the light upon the balloon is described as something marvellous, and as having thrown the travellers into a sort of ecstasy. although they met with no rain, their clothes were all dripping wet from the mist which they passed through. the descent was more perilous than at first reported. the car dragged on its side for nearly a mile, and the passengers took refuge in the ropes, to which they clung. several were considerably bruised--though, as before stated, no one sustained any very serious injury. everybody behaved well. nadar, visibly uneasy about his fair charge, the young princess de la tour d'auvergne, was told by her to attend to his duty as captain. `every one at his post,' said she; `i will keep to mine.' notwithstanding all the shaking which the car underwent, the 37 bottles of wine provided for the journey were all found unbroken, and they were most joyously broached when the party got on _terra firma_. the rifles, the crockery, as well as a cake and 13 ices, presented to nadar by siraudin, of the rue de la paix, were all uninjured. when the descent was effected, the lights and the speaking-trumpets soon attracted a number of peasants, who brought carts and helped the party to the village of barcy, where most of them passed the night; but monsieur nadar and the prince de wittgenstein, with two or three others, came to paris by the first train from meaux. "it is said that the descent was resolved upon in consequence of the advice of the brothers godard, and contrary to the wish of monsieur nadar, who, as captain, had made every one of his companions sign an agreement to act upon his orders, even though the vote should be unanimously against him. he, however, yielded his opinion, in deference to that of these experienced aeronauts. a truly extraordinary statement is, that they fancied the wind was blowing them to the sea, and certain destruction, whereas they were going due east, with no sea at all before them nearer than the caspian. "there was great disappointment in the receipts at the champ de mars, which are said to have realised only 27,000 francs, whereas 150,000 had been calculated upon. the papers say that the public broke down the barriers and got in for nothing, instead of paying their franc. it is quite certain that at the moment of the ascent there could not have been less than 50,000 people on the champ de mars, and on the terraces and heights around there must have been four times that number." monsieur nadar, on his return to paris, wrote as follows:-"here, as briefly as possible, is the account which you asked me to send. yesterday evening at nine o'clock, the `giant' was compelled to descend near the barcy marsh, two leagues from meaux, after three violent shocks, the last of which completely turned everything in the car topsy-turvy, and it descended on its side. the rupture of our valve-pipe rope while travelling by night, forced us to throw out our anchors. one of the prongs of the first anchor having broken, the principal anchor fortunately took hold of the ground. we were able to let out the gas, notwithstanding the violence of the wind, and the car was set up at half-past one in the morning. some slight contusions and a concussion of the knee of one of the passengers--that is our receipt in full. it is not too dear. "a. nadar." this bold and zealous aeronaut unfortunately paid dearer for his succeeding ascent as shall be seen in the next chapter. chapter eight. second ascent of nadar's "giant" balloon. before describing the second ascent, which was decidedly the more adventurous, we shall give the rules laid down for his party by monsieur nadar, which were remarkably stringent, and somewhat amusing:-"1. every traveller on board the `geant' must, before mounting, take knowledge of the present rules, and engage himself upon his honour to respect them, and to make them respected, both in the letter and in the spirit. he accepts and will obey this obligation until the descent. "2. from the departure to the return there shall be only one command, that of the captain. that command shall be absolute. "3. as legal penalty cannot be enforced, the captain, having the responsibility of the lives of the passengers, decides alone, and without appeal, in all circumstances, the means of assuring the execution of his orders with the aid of all under him. the captain can, in certain cases, take the advice of the crew, but his own authority is decisive. "4. every passenger declares, at the time of ascending, that he carries with him no inflammable materials. "5. every passenger accepts, by his simple presence on board, his entire part and perfect co-operation in all manoeuvres, and submits himself to all the necessities of the service; above all, to the command of the captain. on landing, he must not quit the balloon without permission duly acquired. "6. silence must be absolutely observed when ordered by the captain. "7. victuals and liquors carried up by the travellers must be deposited in the common canteen, of which the captain alone has the key, and who regulates the distribution thereof. passengers have no claim to victuals and liquors, except when on board. "8. the duration of the journey is not limited. the captain alone decides the limitation; the same judgment decides, without appeal, the putting down of one or more travellers in the course of the voyage. "9. all gambling is expressly prohibited. "10. it is absolutely forbidden to any traveller to throw overboard ballast, or any packet whatever. "11. no passenger can carry up with him luggage exceeding thirty pounds in weight, and occupying more space than a travelling-bag. "12. except in very rare cases, of which the captain alone shall be judge, it is absolutely forbidden to smoke on board, or on land within the vicinity of the balloon." the second ascent took place on the 18th of october, when monsieur nadar, nothing daunted by his former experience, again went up in his "giant" from the champ de mars. on this occasion preliminaries were managed with greater success than on the former, and the event was regarded with much more general interest. soldiers kept the ground; the emperor himself was present, and conversed with the bold aeronaut on the subject of his balloon; george the first of greece was there also, and the crowd which assembled to witness the ascent surpassed all expectation. there were two peculiar features in this second ascent. it had been doubted whether the balloon, which was said to be capable of raising four-and-a-half tons, could carry more than thirteen men. in order to set this question at rest, a short preliminary flight was made with a rope attached to restrain the "giant." about thirty soldiers were then put into the car, who mounted to the extent of the rope, and were pulled down again. the other feature was that a balloon of more ordinary dimensions was let fly along with the "giant," to give, by contrast, a better idea of its size. the balloon used for this purpose was the "godillot," which had been used by the emperor in the italian campaign for reconnoitring the enemy. after the usual delays which are inseparable from such displays, monsieur nadar, with eight friends, stepped into the car, the rope was let go, and the "giant" rose slowly towards the clouds, grew "small by degrees and beautifully less," until it finally disappeared about night-fall--being wafted along by a gentle south-easterly breeze. nothing more was heard of the aeronauts for the next two days, and their friends were becoming naturally very anxious about them, when at last a telegram came from bremen, dated the 21st, which ran as follows:-"nadar's balloon descended near eystrup in hanover. there were nine persons in it, of whom three were seriously, and two slightly injured." other telegrams quickly followed stating that monsieur nadar had both legs dislocated; monsieur saint felix had sustained severe fractures and contusions; and that madame nadar had also been severely injured. it was stated that the voyagers would probably all have perished if jules godard (a celebrated aeronaut, who, with his brother louis, accompanied nadar), had not, at the risk of his life, climbed up the net-work, and cut a hole in the silk with a hatchet, so as to allow the gas to escape. by so doing, he stopped the furious course of the balloon, which was making truly gigantic bounds of from forty to fifty yards over the ground, with a violence that would soon have knocked the car to pieces! a full and graphic, but inflated and sentimental account of the voyage-which was one of real and thrilling interest--is given by one of the voyagers, monsieur eugene arnould, a reporter of the french newspaper _la nation_. had monsieur arnould confined himself to a simple statement of facts, he would have greatly increased the interest and power of his description. however, we must take him as we find him, and as his account is the most complete--and correct in the main, although exaggerated in detail--we present it to the reader. "at nine o'clock at night [the same night on which they started] we were at erquelines; we passed over malines, and towards midnight we were in holland. we rose up very high, but it was necessary to come down to see where we were. ignorant of that, our position was a critical one. below, as far as we could see, were marshes, and in the distance we could hear the roar of the sea. we threw out ballast, and, mounting again, soon lost sight of the earth. what a night! nobody slept, as you may suppose, for the idea of falling into the sea had nothing pleasant about it, and it was necessary to keep a look-out in order to effect, if necessary, a descent. my compass showed that we were going towards the east--that is to say, towards germany. in the morning, after a frugal breakfast made in the clouds, we re-descended. an immense plain was beneath us; the villages appeared to us like children's toys--rivers seemed like little rivulets--it was magical. the sun shone splendidly over all. towards eight o'clock we arrived near a great lake; there i found out our bearings, and announced that we were at the end of holland, near the sea. "we passed i know not how much time in contemplating the enchanting scene around us; but at length we all felt the necessity of going downwards to see where we were. presently the balloon came so near to the earth that we could readily distinguish the tall chimneys of a great many flaming furnaces. `if we were to fall upon some of them,' said montgolfier anxiously. these furnaces told us very clearly that we were in belgium, and, besides, the flemish songs that continually reached our ears left no doubt upon the point. godard, nadar, all of us, called out frequently to the people below, `where are we?' but we got no other answer than shouts of laughter. there were two bells in the car, and yon and myself rang them as hard as we could, while nadar roared through his speaking-trumpet. i had an opportunity of observing that the purity of the air in no degree attenuates the quantity of false notes lodged in the throats of certain individuals. our aerial charivari at length provoked a corresponding one on earth, and we could hear dogs barking, ducks quacking, men swearing, and women screaming. all this had a droll effect; but time went on, the wind blew hard, it was dark night, and our balloon drove on with prodigious rapidity, and we were not able to tell exactly where we were. i could not see my compass, and we were not allowed to light a lucifer match under any pretext whatsoever. from the direction in which we had passed over lille, we judged that we must be going towards the sea; louis godard fancied that he could see lighthouses. we descended again to within 150 yards of the earth. beneath us we saw a flat marshy country of sinister aspect, and indicating plainly the neighbourhood of the coast. every one listened with all his ears, and many fancied they heard the murmurs of the sea. the further we went on the more desert the country became: there was no light whatever, and it became more and more difficult to guess where we were going. `i am entirely out of my reckoning,' exclaimed louis godard, `and my opinion is that the only thing we have to do is to descend at once.' `what! here in the marshes!' remonstrated all of us; `and suppose we are driven into the sea?' the balloon went driving on still. `we cannot descend here,' said jules godard; `we are over water.' two or three of us looked over the edge of the car, and affirmed that we were not over water, but trees. `it is water,' jules godard persisted. every one now looked out attentively; and, as the balloon descended a little, we saw plainly that there was no water, but without being able to say positively whether there were trees or not. at the moment when jules godard thought he saw water, nadar exclaimed, `i see a railway.' it turned out that what nadar took for a railway was a canal running towards the scheldt, which we had passed over a few minutes before. hurrah for balloons! they are the things to travel in; rivers, mountains, custom-houses,--all are passed without let or hindrance. but every medal has its reverse; and, if we were delighted at having safely got over the scheldt, we by no means relished the prospect of going on to the zuyder zee. `shall we go down?' asked louis godard. there was a moment's pause. we consulted together. suddenly i uttered a cry of joy; the position of the needle of my compass indicated that the balloon had made a half turn to the right, and was now going due east. the aspect of the stars confirmed this assertion. forward! was now the cry. we threw out a little ballast, mounted higher, and started with renewed vigour with our backs turned to the depreciated zuyder zee. it was now three in the morning, and none of us had slept. just as we began to try to sleep a little, my diabolical compass showed that the balloon was turning back again. `where are you going to take us to?' cried out yon to the immense mass of canvas which was oscillating above our heads. louis godard again proposed to descend; but we said, `no! forward! forward!' two hours sped away without our being able to tell where we were. at five o'clock day broke, and broad daylight came on with marvellous rapidity. it is true that we were at a height of 980 metres. novel-writers and others have so much abused descriptions of sunrise, on mountains and on the ocean, that i shall say little about this one, although it is not a common thing to see the horizon on fire below the clouds. the finest venetian paintings could alone give an idea of the luxuriant tones of the heaven that we saw. such dazzling magnificence led me to wonder that there is no revival of sun worship, since men must necessarily have some material representation of the divinity. it is true that the sun is not made in man's image! we now had beneath us an immense plain, the same, probably, that we had passed over in the night. there is nothing more pleasant at first sight, nor more monotonous in the long-run, than the sort of country which forms at least one-third of holland. there are miniature woods the size of bouquets, fields admirably cultivated and divided into little patches like gardens, rivers with extraordinary windings, microscopic roads, coquettish-looking villages, so white and so clean that i think the dutch housewives must scour the very roofs of their houses every morning. in the midst of every village there is a jewel of a church with a shining steeple. while riding along at a height of 700 metres, we had beneath us a picture of paul potter's fifty leagues square. all at once the tableaux became animated. the people below had perceived the balloon. we heard cries expressive of astonishment, fright, and even of anger; but the feeling of fright seemed to predominate. we distinctly saw women in their chemises look hurriedly out of windows and then rush back again. we saw chubby boys looking at us, and blubbering as if they were mad. some men, more determined than the rest, fired off guns at us. i saw several mammas pointing us out to stubborn babies, with an attitude which seemed to say that our balloon was old bogy. old women raised their hands against us, and at their signal many ran away, making the sign of the cross. it is evident that in some of these villages we were taken to be the devil in person. on this point it is _apropos_ to cite a letter communicated to me which has been addressed to the _courrier de hanovre_. i translate it textually:-"`this morning, at about six o'clock, we saw passing over our heads, at a prodigious height, an immense round form, to which was suspended some thing which looked like a square house of a red colour. some people pretend to have seen animated beings in this strange machine, and to have heard issuing from it superhuman cries. what think you, mr editor? the whole country is in a state of alarm, and it will be long before our people recover their equanimity.' "at seven a.m. we crossed over a lake near yssel; the wind then again pushed us in a new direction, nearly at right angles with that which we were taking before. in less than a quarter of an hour the balloon got into westphalia near renheim; then we crossed the great river ems, the towns of rheine and ibbenburen, and returned to hanover a little above osnabruck. we traversed, without deigning to take notice of them, a little chain of mountains, and by way, no doubt, of relaxation after so long a journey, went all round a lake which is called in german dummersee. we then got into a great plain, through which runs a road. at this time the balloon became almost motionless. the reason of this was, that the heat of the sun had caused the gas to expand. the thermometer was then at 145 degrees (about 59 degrees fahrenheit [no! editor]). louis godard was very uneasy about this dilation. after two or three oscillations, our aerial courser decided upon going off rapidly in an eastern direction, with about two degrees variation towards the north. this course would have taken us to hamburg and the baltic; but we were all so completely absorbed by the splendour of the tableau before us that we took little note of the change. our hippogriff passed over wagenfeld-steyerberg, where there is a river which flows into the weser. we came within sight of the great river and nienburg, a considerable town on one of its banks. we saw a steamboat going down the river from the town. the view here was charming. a rustling of the silk of our balloon made us look upwards; the monster, under the influence of the sun, now very hot, was palpably swelling. as it would have been supremely ridiculous, after having made such a first-rate journey, to have treated the inhabitants of nienburg with the spectacle of seeing us blown up--to say nothing of the consequences of such a catastrophe to our own limbs--we resolved to come down. the remaining bags of ballast were got in order, the ropes and the anchors prepared, and godard opened the safety-valve. `the monster is disgorging!' exclaimed thirion. and the balloon did vomit forth its gas with a tremendous noise, which may be compared to the snoring of some gigantic animal. while our companion made this observation, we were descending at the rate of two metres to the second. `to the ropes! to the ropes!-hold on well!' cried the brothers godard, who seemed quite in their element, `take care of the shock!' every one climbed up to the ropes which attach the car to the circular handles underneath the balloon. madame nadar, whose _sang-froid_ was truly magnificent, grasped two large ropes with her delicate hands. nadar did the like, but at the same time put his arms round his wife so as to protect her body. i was on one side towards the middle of the sort of hurdle which serves as a balcony. i was on my knees and clinging to two ropes. montgolfier, thirion, and saint felix were near me. the balloon descended so rapidly that it gave us the vertigo. the air, which we had left so calm above, became a violent wind as we neared the earth. `we are going to throw down the anchors,' said godard, `hold tight!' ah! the car struck the earth with tremendous violence. i cannot imagine how it was that my arms were not broken. after the first terrible shock the balloon went up again, but the safety-valve was opened--it again fell--and we suffered a second shock, if not more violent, at least more painful to us than the first. up we went again; the balloon dragged its anchors. several times we thought we should be thrown out. `the anchors are broken,' exclaimed godard. the balloon beat the ground with its head, like a kite when it falls down. it was horrible. on we went towards nienburg, at the rate of ten leagues an hour. three large trees were cut through by the car, as clean as if by a woodman's hatchet. one small anchor still remained to us. we threw it down, and it carried away the roof of a house. if the balloon had dragged us through the town we should, inevitably, have been cut to pieces. but fortunately it rose a little and then bumped against the ground again with as much violence as before. every one of these shocks wrenched our limbs; to complete our misfortunes the rope of the safety-valve got loose from us, and the safety-valve shutting up we lost all hope of the balloon emptying itself. it went on by bounds of twenty-five, thirty, and forty metres from the earth, and continued to fall upon its head. everything that stood in the way of the car was dashed to pieces. "jules godard then tried, and accomplished, an act of sublime heroism. he clambered up into the netting, the shocks of which were so terrible that three times he fell on my head. at length he reached the cord of the valve, opened it, and the gas having a way of escape the monster ceased to rise but it still shot along in a horizontal line with prodigious rapidity. there were we squatting down upon the frail osier car. `take care!' we cried, when a tree was in the way. we turned from it, and the tree was broken; but the balloon was discharging its gas, and if the immense plain we were crossing had yet a few leagues, we were saved. but suddenly a forest appeared in the horizon; we must leap out at whatever risk, for the car would be dashed to pieces at the first collision with those trees. i got down into the car, and raising myself i know not how,--for i suffered from a wound in my knees, my trousers were torn,--i jumped, and made i know not how many revolutions, and fell upon my head. after a minute's dizziness i rose. the car was then far off. by the aid of a stick i dragged myself to the forest, and having gone a few steps i heard some groans. saint felix was stretched on the soil frightfully disfigured; his body was one wound; he had an arm broken, the chest torn, and an ankle dislocated. the car had disappeared. after crossing a river i heard a cry. nadar was stretched on the ground with a dislocated thigh; his wife had fallen into the river. another companion was shattered. we occupied ourselves with saint felix, and nadar and his wife. in trying to assist the latter i was nearly drowned, for i fell into the water and sank. they picked me up again, and i found the bath had done me good. by the assistance of the inhabitants the salvage was got together. vehicles were brought; they placed us upon straw. my knees bled; my loins and head seemed to be like mince-meat; but i did not lose my presence of mind an instant, and for a second i felt humiliated at looking from the truss of straw at those clouds which in the night i had had under my feet. it was in this way we reached rethem, in hanover. "in seventeen hours we had made nearly 250 leagues. our _course infernale_ had covered a space of three leagues. now that it is over i have some shudderings. it does not signify! we have made a good journey, and i marvel to see with what indifference we may regard the most frightful death, for, besides the prospect of being dashed about on our way, we had that of gaining the sea; and how long should we have lived then? i am glad to have seen this--happier yet at having to narrate it to you. these germans who surround us are brave people, and we have been as well cared for as the resources of the little spot will allow. "p.s.--i have just reached hanover with my companions, and re-open my letter to tell you so. the king has sent an aide-de-camp to us. are we at the end of our reverses? at any rate, i am consoled to think they can no longer laugh at us in paris. we have kept our promises, and more." making some allowance for the palpable exaggeration of small details, this excitable frenchman's description of the ascent is the best that we have seen, therefore we have given it in full. the accounts given by other members of the party corroborate most of it, and correct a few of its errors. for instance, where monsieur arnould represents the anchor as dragging off the _roof_ of a house, another account states that it tore away one of the rafters; and while he tells us that large trees were "cut through by the car as clean as if by a woodman's hatchet," monsieur godard says that they were knocked down or uprooted! but, upon the whole, after comparing the several narratives, we are of opinion that, with all his tendency to exaggeration and the use of inflated language, monsieur arnould has found it impossible to convey by means of words an adequate conception of this, perhaps, the most wonderful and thrilling balloon voyage on record. many dangerous voyages of thrilling interest have been undertaken since this ascent of monsieur nadar. we shall just give a brief account of two of these, which occurred at a comparatively recent date, to show the reader that men are not to be deterred by the misfortunes of predecessors from prosecuting inquiries and experiments in this field. a _fete_ was held some years ago in the park of mr north, basford, near nottingham. amongst the amusements, it was arranged that mr coxwell should make a balloon ascent. the balloon was almost new, but not of very large dimensions. after it had been fully inflated, mr coxwell tried it, and found there would be some difficulty in ascending in it, owing to its weight. at this juncture, a mr james chambers, of nottingham, who had previously made many ascents, stepped forward and offered to go in his stead, saying that he was lighter than mr coxwell, and that he wished to make the ascent. after some conversation, it was agreed that chambers should go up, but mr coxwell told him not to attempt an ascent unless he felt quite confident that he could manage the balloon. chambers replied that he had no fear about managing it, and accordingly he was allowed to make the ascent. the balloon rose steadily, and was carried somewhat rapidly in a north-easterly direction towards nottingham. it proceeded as far as arno vale, when it was seen suddenly to collapse, while still at a considerable altitude, and then to fall quickly in an unshapely mass. some young men who were near the spot where the balloon fell, hastened to render assistance. the balloon dropped into the car as it descended, completely covering it, and ultimately both fell in a field near scout lane, three miles from nottingham. the car struck the ground and rebounded several feet, and then fell again, when it was seized and stopped by the young men, who had followed it. at the bottom of the car lay stretched the body of the unfortunate aeronaut. he was lifted out and found to be breathing, but quite insensible. he was conveyed to the nearest dwelling, and means were adopted to restore animation, but without effect. two medical gentlemen, named robertson and maltby, afterwards saw him, and it was discovered that his left thigh was fractured, and some of the ribs on his left side were broken, but they considered it very probable that the unfortunate man had died through suffocation, as a handkerchief, which had been found in his mouth, had probably been placed there by himself when he found that he was in danger of being stifled by the gas from the collapsing balloon. on another occasion, still more recent, a perilous balloon voyage was accomplished by an aeronaut named vouens. he ascended from the bellevue gardens, near huddersfield, in a balloon which was capable of containing 20,000 cubic feet of gas. its height was 50 feet, and it expanded to 100 feet in circumference. away floated the balloon in a westerly direction, oscillating for a considerable distance in a most extraordinary and unusual manner. mr vouens experienced a stronger breeze than he had anticipated, and, the current changing rapidly, his energy and knowledge as an aeronaut were very severely taxed. a fresh current drove him to the east for a time, but presently another gust unexpectedly sent him in the direction of halifax, and thence towards bradford, in a northerly course. after the lapse of twenty minutes the balloon and its occupant pierced the clouds. mr vouens then began to make observations, for the purpose of selecting a suitable site, on which to descend; and in a few minutes concentrated his attention upon a field, in which a _fete_ was being held. the breeze, however, carried him some three miles further, and a second time mr vouens attempted to lower himself in a field adjoining some farm-houses at denholme. cautiously opening the escape-valve, he continued the journey downwards, and threw out the grapnels. impetuous blasts of wind increased the difficulty of bringing the balloon to anchor. a strong wind prevailing, it became unmanageable, and drifted over fields and stone walls with amazing velocity. the flukes of the grapnels penetrated the ground and uprooted the earth as they followed in the wake of the balloon, while the aerial chariot dashed onwards, making, in its career, wide gaps in several stone walls. mr vouens, preparing to encounter the worst fate, wrapped the end of the cord which opens the escape-valve round one of his wrists, and, burying himself in the car, permitted the balloon to proceed until the breeze subsided, when, after the car had been thrice capsized, and every article which it contained thrown out, mr vouens, who received no injuries, anchored, and completed a voyage of many miles, which occupied half-an-hour in its accomplishment. chapter nine. war-balloons. as the french were the first to teach mankind the art of navigating the air by means of balloons, so they were the first to set the example of applying them to the art of war. it may not be generally known, perhaps, that balloons have actually been used in war. they were first introduced to this new field of action at valenciennes in 1793, and the result of the experiment was a failure; not, however, owing to the fault of man, but to the unpropitious nature of the winds. the garrison, being hard pressed by the english and their allies, attached a letter, addressed to the national assembly, to a small balloon, or parachute, and committed it to a breeze which blew in the direction of paris. towards evening the wind changed, and the faithless messenger fell into the enemy's camp! about the same time the subject of war-balloons was brought before the committee of public safety, who commissioned a young captain of engineers, named coutelle, to make experiments, and report on the matter. he made a balloon twenty-seven feet in diameter, with a car to hold two persons, which, when filled with hydrogen gas, was capable of lifting about a quarter of a ton, and cost a little above 80 pounds. it was not intended that this balloon should go free. it was to be held down by two guy-ropes, each between four and five hundred yards in length, by which, when at the full length of its tether, the balloon was to be hauled about in any direction, pulled down, or allowed to rise in obedience to the wishes of the aeronaut, who was to communicate his orders by means of a system of signals. reports of what he might be thus enabled to discover of the enemy's position were to be written on slips of paper, put into small sandbags, and tossed overboard. small coloured flags were attached to each bag, so that it might be easily observed in its descent. after several satisfactory ascents to the height of above 500 feet had taken place--the balloon being held easily by ten men, five to each guy-rope--an order was given, in april 1794, for the formation of a company of military aeronauts--styled _aerostiers_, to which coutelle was appointed captain-commandant. his company consisted of one lieutenant, one sergeant-major, one sergeant, two corporals, and twenty privates, who wore a dark blue uniform, with black velvet facings, and were armed with pistols and swords. this new and peculiar company of aerostiers was very soon sent to join the army at maubeuge, and was regarded with some ridicule and contempt by the rest of the army. coutelle, however, took an effectual method of commanding respect. he begged that he and his men might be allowed to take part in a projected _sortie_. they were permitted, and went; an officer and private were wounded, and the corps behaved with such gallantry that it was from that time treated with becoming respect. ascents were made daily in the balloon for reconnoitring purposes, and the austrians fired at their audacious and inquisitive enemy both with muskets and cannon, but without effect. after a time the balloon was ordered to take the road, and join that part of the army which was marching on charleroi. its march through the country in leading-strings was curious to spectators and harassing to the aerostiers. the car, with all its appurtenances, was placed on a cart, over which the balloon was allowed to float at a height sufficient to admit of the passage of cavalry under it. twenty men, marching in single file, held it down by twenty stays; but they had a sad time of it, for their charge was headstrong and restive, jerking and tugging at them continually, not only with its own inherent power of ascension, but with the irregular impetus derived from gusts and squalls of wind, which caused it to make sudden and violent charges against trees, houses, or whatever chanced to come in its way, and sometimes to beat its blunt forehead wildly on the ground as if it had been a monster in despair! it reached charleroi, however, on the 22nd of june, after a journey of three days, and took part in the battle of fleurus on the 26th. a high wind rendered it necessary, on the day of battle, to fasten its guy-ropes to thirty horses--fifteen to each rope--and, thus secured, it remained in the air eight hours, passing from place to place, and making observations. its services were so highly appreciated by the generals on that occasion that a second balloon was made and sent to the field of action. the first one, which was named _l'entreprenant_, met with accidents which rendered it necessary that it should be sent to maubeuge for repair; but it afterwards rejoined the army and took part in the battle of aldenhoven, at the capture of bonn, and at the operations before ehrenbreitstein, in all of which it escaped without a wound, although frequently exposed to a furious fire of musketry and shells from the exasperated austrians. nevertheless, its natural enemy, the wind, did not allow it to escape scatheless, as coutelle shows in one of his letters. he writes thus: "i received orders to make a reconnaissance of mayence. i accordingly posted myself between our lines and the town, at about half cannon-shot distance. the wind was very high, so, to counteract its effects as far as lay in my power, i ascended alone, with two hundred pounds additional buoyancy. i was at a height of five hundred metres when three successive gusts dashed me to the ground with such violence that several portions of the car were smashed to bits. each time the balloon darted up again with so much force that sixty-four men--thirty-two at each guy-rope--were dragged to some distance. had the guys been made fast to grapnels, as had been suggested to me, they must infallibly have given way." notwithstanding this rough treatment, the aerial warrior managed, during a lull in the wind, to count the number of the enemy's guns. but the successes of these war-balloons were sadly intermingled with reverses of fortune and harassing difficulties. the aeronauts had, indeed, won the respect and admiration of the army, but this did not compensate for the terribly fatiguing work of holding on, with scarcely a moment's intermission, to the ropes of the intractable monsters during long and frequent marches. the second balloon at length succeeded in breaking loose, and was so much damaged as to become unserviceable, and the first one was afterwards found riddled with balls--destroyed, it was supposed, by its own men, who had become tired of the hardships to which they were continually subjected. the balloon was repaired, but was taken prisoner at wurtzburg in september 1796, after a short but brilliant, and, it is said, useful career. after this the war-ballooning fell into disrepute. some attempts have been made in modern times to revive it, but these are not worth mentioning. chapter ten. aerial locomotives, etcetera. having treated of the balloon in all its different aspects, it is both just and appropriate to conclude with an account of the theory and construction of that curious machine which is, according to some enthusiastic aeronauts, to supplant the balloon altogether, and enable us to accomplish that which has been one of the great aims and desires of mankind from the earliest ages, namely, the directing of our flight, or steering a course, not only through, but, if need were, in opposition to the winds. monsieur nadar being, perhaps, the most zealous advocate of this machine, we draw our information chiefly from his writings. of course the reader will understand that we do not support the views which we are about to set forth; neither, however, do we treat them lightly, because we have lived long enough to see proposals which, not many years ago, would have been deemed worthy of the most visionary of lunatics, carried out to a successful issue and reduced to sober facts. when we hear of a _flying machine_ which is to rise from the earth at the bidding of man, and, like the fabulous creations in the _arabian nights' entertainment_, dart through the air with passengers and luggage bound for definite localities, turning hither and thither, or alighting on the earth according to the will of a steersman--we confess to a feeling which is apt to wrinkle our visage with the smile of incredulity; but we sternly rebuke the smile, for we know that similar smiles wreathed the faces of exceedingly wise people when, in former days, it was proposed to drive ships and coaches by steam, and hold instantaneous converse with our friends across the atlantic by means of electricity! let us therefore gravely consider the aerial locomotive. monsieur nadar, as the reader already knows, scouts the idea of steering balloons. in reference to this he states with truth that, "a balloon which presents to the action of the atmosphere a volume of from 22,000 to 42,000 [cubic] feet of a gas from ten to fifteen times lighter than air, is, by its very nature, smitten with incapacity to struggle against the slightest current, no matter what may be the resisting motive force which may be imparted to it. both by its constitution, and by the medium which drives it hither and thither at the pleasure of the winds, it can never become a vessel. it is a buoy, and remains a buoy." discarding, therefore, with contempt, the balloon as an aerial locomotive, he announces his belief that it is the _screw_ which is destined to drive us, or clamber with us, into the blue vault above, and convey us from place to place. and here it is right to assure the reader that the theoretical power of the screw to accomplish the end in view is not a disputable question. it has been practically proved by models, and the only point that remains to be settled is the possibility of applying the power to machines large enough to carry human beings with a sufficient degree of safety to warrant risking the attempt. monsieur nadar sets out with a statement which he deems self-evident, namely, that, "in order to contend against the air, we must be specifically heavier than the air"--a truth which was also, we are told, announced by the first napoleon in the epigrammatic sentence, "there can be no progress without resistance." from this the frenchman proceeds to prove that, in order to command the air, it is necessary to support one's-self upon it, instead of being at its mercy; that we can only rest upon that which resists, and that the air itself furnishes us amply with the needful resistance--it being "the same atmosphere which overturns walls, tears up by the root trees a century old, and enables ships to ascend impetuous currents." glowing with the ardour of a man whose faith is refreshingly great, he tells us that the time has at last come when the atmosphere must yield to man. "it is for man," he says, "to restrain and subdue this insolent and abnormal rebellion, which has for so many years laughed at our vain efforts. we are in turn about to make it serve us as a slave, just as the water on which we launch the ship, as the solid earth on which we press the wheel!" there is a toy called the _spiralifer_, which is common enough in towns, and which is, doubtless, known to almost every one. it consists of four flat fans attached to a spindle somewhat after the manner of the arms of a windmill. it is placed in a hollow tube and made to spin violently by pulling a string wound round the spindle. the result is that the spiralifer leaps out of the hollow tube and ascends powerfully as long as the violent spinning motion continues. if properly constructed, this toy acts with great force and certainty, and if the spinning motion could only be kept up, by any means, the ascent would be continued. the principal here involved is precisely the same as that which causes a windmill to turn, a screw-propeller to drive a ship, and a cork-screw to enter a cork. it is pressure against a resisting medium. air is the resisting medium in the case of the mill; water and cork respectively in the other cases. the only difference between the windmill and the spiralifer is, that the first is moved by the air pressing against it, the other by itself, in its rotatory action, pressing against the air. if you turn a bottle upside down, and, while in that position, send a cork-screw up into the cork, you set in motion the same force which is applied in the spiralifer. as the screw screws itself up into the cork, so the spiralifer screws itself up into the air. of course the screw remains sticking there when the motive power ceases, because of the density of the medium through which it moves, while the spiralifer, when at rest, sinks, because of the fluidity of the air; but the principle of motion in each is the same. the screw-propeller of a ship is just a spiralifer placed horizontally, acting on water instead of air, and having a vessel placed in front of it. now, monsieur nadar's aerial locomotive is a huge spiralifer, made strong enough to carry up a steam-engine which shall keep it perpetually spinning, and, therefore, perpetually ascending. perhaps we should have said that his locomotive is a huge machine to which several spiralifers are attached, so that while one set raises or (by reversing the engine) depresses it, other sets drive it sideways. the theory is perfect, and the practice has been successfully attempted in models. messieurs ponton d'amecourt and de la laudelle, we are told--"the one a man of the world, and the other a man of letters"--engaged the services of two skilled mechanics, messieurs joseph of arras and j. richard, who constructed models of machines which ascended the atmosphere, carrying their motive power (springs) along with them. besides horizontal screws, it is proposed to furnish additional guiding power to the locomotive by means of inclined planes. these, by being arranged in various positions, while the machine is in motion, would act on the air, as do the wings of a bird, and give it direction. no doubt, despite the simplicity of all this, difficulties will present themselves to most minds, some of which may perhaps bulk very large in the minds of mechanicians--such as the power of materials to withstand the violence of the forces, to which they are to be applied, etcetera. we do not know; however, no difficulties seem to have afflicted monsieur nadar, who thus grandly waives them all aside, and revels in the contemplation of the triumphant flights that lie before him in the future:-"it will be understood," he writes, "that it belongs not to us to determine at present either the mechanism or the necessary manoeuvres. neither shall we attempt to fix even approximately the future velocity of the aerial locomotive. let us rather attempt to calculate the probable velocity of a locomotive gliding through the air, without the possibility of running off the rails, without any oscillation, without the least obstacle. let us fancy such locomotive encountering on its way, in the midst, one of those atmospheric currents which travel at the rate of forty leagues an hour, and following that current; add together these formidable data, and your imagination will recoil in adding still further to these giddy velocities, that of a machine falling through an angle of descent of from 12,000 to 15,000 feet in a series of gigantic zigzags, and making the tour of the globe in a succession of fantastic leaps." truly monsieur nadar seems to us to be right! there are few men or women, we suspect, who would not recoil from such "fantastic leaps," and unless the prospect of a more sedate style of travelling be held out, it is not probable that aerial locomotives will receive much patronage from the general public. lord carlingford, who mistook the sentiments of monsieur nadar in regard to the aerial locomotive, claimed for himself, in 1863, the honour of having previously invented and successfully launched an aerial chariot, weighing seventeen stone, which rose on the air without any assistance but that of the wind, and, having arrived at a horizontal position on the air, it remained stationary there until pulled down. monsieur nadar, at the conclusion of a courteous letter in reply to this claim, gives his intentions and opinions on the subject pretty clearly as follows:-"in fine, and that there may be no possible mistake on the part of any one regarding what i am attempting, i desire to find the necessary resources for the constitution of a society, which shall be the centre of all hitherto isolated and therefore lost attempts to solve a question so profound, so vast, so complex that it does not seem to belong to a single individual to achieve it. i have my system, which i believe to be good, since it is mine; but i shall aid with all the strength of my will, and with all the energy of my perseverance, every system which shall be proved to be better than mine. the question to me is not at all who may have determined the great problem; it is that the solution may be found at last. the fruit is ripe; i long to see it plucked, no matter by whom; and this is the sole cause of the agitation which i have endeavoured to call forth, and which i am now pursuing." a man who takes up a subject with such hearty enthusiasm, and in such a liberal spirit, is, we hold, entitled to the utmost respect. as we have, however, done our best to lay his case before the public, we feel entitled to express with all humility some of the doubts which have been suggested to our own mind while meditating on the subject. no doubt the theory propounded is correct, and, as carried into practice with models, the aerial locomotive has been a great success. no doubt also it is pleasant to contemplate the possibility of traversing space like a bird, a meteor, or a comet, and the absolute impossibility of "getting off the rails;" but what, we would ask, would be the result of a hitch--ever so small--in the working of the steam-engine or of the spring motor? if a railway engine breaks down, there are all sorts of chances of escape open to the traveller. the engine may not quit the rails, or it may bound off alone, snap the coupling chains and leave the carriages to run until they come to a gradual standstill; or, the concussion may be so modified that no serious injury may result; or, should it come to the worst, the traveller may be among the fortunate number who make "miraculous escapes." but if a crank of an aerial machine should snap while it is careering through space, or even a screw get loose and cause a momentary stoppage of the motor, it is abundantly evident that escape from total and swift destruction would be "miraculous" indeed, for the whole affair would come to the ground like a thunderbolt, and "leave not a wrack behind!" probably it might be answered in reply that a parachute attached to the machine, or the inclined planes acting as a parachute, would moderate the descent. well, there may be _something_ in that; nevertheless, parachutes have not yet proved themselves to be very trustworthy,--and we are constrained to reiterate the fact, that while an accident causing the break-down of the motive power of a steamboat or a railway carriage does not necessarily involve fatal consequences, an accident which should stop the motive power in an aerial locomotive would _almost_ to a certainty, result in a grand smash, which would involve machine and passengers in one inconceivable whirl of chaotic destruction. whether this machine shall ever be successfully completed or not, it is evident that it still engages the earnest attention of men, as we gather from the following paragraph recently published in the _san francisco bulletin_:-"at a meeting of the aerial navigation company, held on friday, july 24, 1869, in san francisco, it was voted to raise the necessary funds to construct an improved avitor of large size. the opinion of the engineers of the company was unanimous as to success so far, and the feasibility and success of the projected flying-ship. it will be about 150 feet in length, 20 to 40 feet diameter of the gasometer, with propelling blades on each side of the centre, describing a radius of about 16 feet. the propellers are shaped like a steamship's, with two blades, each very light. they will be driven by a steam-engine of five-horse power, weighing, with boiler connections and water, 430 pounds weight. the planes on each side for floating the machine will be about twenty feet wide at the centre of the machine, and made in sections, so that they can be depressed or elevated at pleasure with the rudder or tail. the gasometer will be made in sections, so that in the event of accident to one section, the remainder will be sufficient for all practical purposes; indeed, it is claimed that the ship can fly through the air with such speed that the sustaining power of the planes alone will be sufficient to maintain the avitor in mid-air. the gasometer will be made, probably, of thin muslin or silk, saturated with gutta-percha. it is to carry four persons, and will be ready for trial in sixty or ninety days. the result of this experiment will be looked for with great interest all over the country." the americans, with that vigour of conception and promptitude in action for which they are celebrated, have done a good deal in the cause of aerostation; but, as their doings and experiences have been in many respects similar to those men whose voyages have been already recounted or touched upon, it would involve too much repetition to detail them here. some of their attempts, however, have outshone those of the men of the eastern hemisphere. for instance, mr j. wise, a noted aeronaut, has several times exploded his balloons while in the air, to show that the fragments with net-work form a sort of parachute which moderates the descent. he also, with mr la mountain and others, accomplished in 1859 the longest flight on record, namely, 1150 miles in less than twenty hours; and the latter gentleman did 300 miles in four hours in the same year. another american, mr lowe, made an enormous balloon, with which he resolved to cross the atlantic in about 48 hours. we await the accomplishment of this feat with much solicitude! in conclusion, we may say that the subject of aerostation is still in its infancy, and that we have still to learn how to conduct ourselves properly when--up in the clouds. the end. _the romance of science._ ------------------------------------------------- sounding the ocean of air _being six lectures_ delivered before the lowell institute of boston in december 1898 by a. lawrence rotch, s.b., a.m., director of the blue hill meteorological observatory, massachusetts, u.s.a., and member of the international cloud and aeronautical committees. published under the direction of the general literature committee. london: society for promoting christian knowledge, northumberland avenue, w.c.; 43, queen victoria street, e.c. brighton: 129, north street. new york: e. & j. b. young & co. 1900 this little book is gratefully dedicated to the late augustus lowell, esq. of boston, u.s.a. who, as trustee of the lowell institute, enabled scientific men of two continents to present the results of their investigations to the public corrigenda page 50, line 11, _for_ "isolation" _read_ "insolation." page 59, line 21, _before_ "direction" _insert_ "opposite." page 112, line 2; page 115, lines 2 and 15, and index, pages 175 and 183, _for_ "viollé" _read_ "violle." page 112, line 23; page 113, line 6, and index, page 181, _for_ "muntz" _read_ "müntz." page 123, last line, _for_ "1889" _read_ "1891." index, page 177, _for_ "cotte (t.)" _read_ "cotte (l.)." index, page 179, _after_ "hann (j.), 36," _add_ "173." index, page 179, _for_ "hellman (g.)" _read_ "hellmann (g.)." index, page 181, _after_ "langley (s. p.)" _insert_ "28." [transcriber's note: these corrections have been applied to the current version] contents chap. page i. the atmosphere--ancient and modern knowledge--methods of investigation 9 ii. clouds--formation and classification--measurements at blue hill--the international observations 38 iii. balloons--notable ascents and results obtained--captive balloons 68 iv. _ballons-sondes_ for great altitudes--the international ascents 98 v. kites--history and application to meteorological purposes at blue hill and elsewhere 117 vi. results of the kite-flights at blue hill--future work 145 index 175 list of illustrations page plate i. comparative altitudes 22 plate ii. optical phenomena showing the height of the atmosphere 26 plate iii. temperature at different latitudes and altitudes 31 fig. 1. nephoscope at blue hill observatory. 52 fig. 2. cloud theodolite at blue hill observatory 54 plate iv. heights and velocities of clouds 57 plate v. atmospheric circulation at different heights in cyclones and anti-cyclones 61 fig. 3. german balloon equipped for meteorological observations 87 plate vi. temperatures observed in four high balloon ascents 91 fig. 4. german kite-balloon. 95 fig. 5. baro-thermograph of richard 102 fig. 6. the _aérophile_ rising 103 plate vii. heights and temperatures recorded in eight ascents of the _cirrus_ 109 fig. 7. oriental tailless kites. 119 fig. 8. eddy tailless kite 129 fig. 9. hargrave kite 130 fig. 10. modified hargrave kites at blue hill 133 fig. 11. lamson's aero-curve kite 135 fig. 12. meteorograph lifted by kites at blue hill 138 plate viii. meteorogram from the kite-flight of oct. 8, 1896, at blue hill 148 plate ix. mean changes with height, and changes during the kite-flight of oct. 8, 1896 150 plate x. changes with height recorded by kites at blue hill 155 plate xi. kite observations at blue hill, sept. 5-11, 1897 163 plate xii. automatic records during a high kite-flight at blue hill 166 plate xiii. results of kite-flights at blue hill during an anti-cyclone and a cyclone 168 sounding the ocean of air --------- chapter i the atmosphere--ancient and modern knowledge--methods of investigation concerning this most important element in which we live and move and have our being, pliny, in the first century of our era, wrote as follows: "it is time to consider the other marvels of the heavens; thus our fathers called that immense space where flows the vital fluid to which we give the name of air, and which is not apparent to the senses because of its great rarity. there clouds form, thunder and lightning also; it is the region of tempests and of whirlwinds; from there fall rains, hail, and hoar frost; from there come all those phenomena, astonishing and often disastrous, which follow the combat of nature with herself.... the sun's rays strike the earth on all sides, warming and strengthening it; they are reflected and detach all the particles they can carry away; vapours descend and rise again; the winds come empty and return laden with spoil; animals breathe in from above this vital fluid which animates them, and the earth sends it back to its source as if she would fill the void by this means. so, by nature acting everywhere and in all directions there results an apparent discord from which is born the harmony of the universe; it is this general movement which puts all things in their places; some are preserved by the destruction of others; all move, all act, the struggle is continual, if it ceased an instant everything would fall into chaos...." from the earliest times, as far back as history extends, we find mankind interested in meteorological phenomena. this appears natural if we consider the importance of the weather to the ancient pastoral nations, which, from the open-air life and keen perceptive faculties of their people, were well fitted to study natural phenomena. the beauty and grandeur of many of the phenomena occurring in the atmosphere, and the curiosity excited concerning their causes, probably contributed to interest people in them. meteorology appears to have been first treated systematically, as distinct from astronomy and astrology, by the greek philosopher, aristotle, more than 2000 years ago. the word "meteor," derived from the greek "elevated," was applied to certain phenomena having their origin in the atmosphere. these were classified into aërial, aqueous, and luminous meteors, and were all included in the term meteorology. in his treatise by this name aristotle gave a more detailed account of them than any preceding or contemporary writer, and theophrastus, his pupil, wrote two books on the winds and on the signs of rain, which have been translated into latin and english. about the same period aratus incorporated the current weather proverbs in his poem, _diosemeia_. the greek historians and poets frequently alluded to atmospheric phenomena, and their example was followed by the romans, of whom pliny has been quoted. no doubt the desire to ascend into the air always possessed man, but owing to the awe with which mountains seem to have inspired the ancients, there is rarely mention in their writings of climbing mountains, or of the physiological effects which could hardly have failed to be apparent upon high summits. citing one of the few existing narratives, aristotle relates: "those which ascend to the top of the mountain olympus could not keep themselves alive without carrying with them wet sponges, by whose assistance they could respire in that air otherwise too thin for respiration." this mountain of less than 10,000 feet was said to be so high that it never rained on its summit, where, it was supposed, the air was always still. a still higher mountain, easily accessible to the ancient world, and which we know was ascended, is etna. concerning the progress of meteorology, from the time of the ancient romans to the revival of knowledge in europe, there is little to say except that during the middle ages meteorology, like other learning, was confined to the monasteries. speculations were current as to the extent of the atmosphere until, in the middle of the eleventh century, alhazen, a learned arab, computed from the duration of twilight that the atmosphere extended nineteen leagues above the earth. the same method was applied with more precision by tycho brahe, kepler, and other astronomers of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. the earliest weather chronicles were probably noted by monks from time to time in almanacks or missals, although when this was done first we do not know. the oldest daily chronicles of the weather extant are those kept by william merle in oxford from 1337 to 1344. we owe it to the late mr. symons, the english meteorologist and bibliophile, that this ms. and many other old records have been brought to light and published. dr. hellmann has done even more in germany, and this historical research is evidence of the growing importance of the science of meteorology. with the advent of the age of geographical discovery it was seen that the climatic features of our globe depend chiefly upon distance from the equator, proximity to the ocean, and height above it. in the tropics especially, the luxuriant vegetation, which diminishes on mountain slopes and higher up gives place to snow, must have been visible proof of the decrease of temperature with altitude, for, as professor daniell remarked, mountains are a gigantic registering thermometer having for the freezing-point the line of perpetual snow. the invention of instruments for measuring temperature and barometric pressure made possible the quantitative observations that have supplied the data for deducing the laws governing the atmosphere. the oldest meteorological instrument is, no doubt, the weather or wind-vane, which had its origin before the christian era. the next oldest is the hygrometer, or instrument for measuring moisture in the air, the form which acts by absorption dating from the middle of the fifteenth century, and the condensation hygrometer being a century younger. next in chronological order comes the rain-gauge, which appears to have been used by castelli, a friend of galileo, in the year 1639. the history of that important instrument, the thermometer, is obscure, but it is certain that galileo in padua used an air-thermometer in the latter part of the sixteenth century, which rey, a french physician, filled with liquid in 1631. this thermometer, as well as other physical instruments, was perfected by members of the accademia del cimento at florence. these instruments are described in _saggi di naturali esperienza_, written in 1666, and translated into latin and english. the florentine thermometers had one fixed point, that of freezing water, and contained either spirits or mercury. in 1724 fahrenheit, in danzig, fixed three points on the scale of the mercurial thermometer, viz. the cold produced by ice and sal-ammoniac which he called 0°, freezing water or 32°, and the heat of the human blood which he assumed to be 96°. this thermometric scale, having 180° between freezing and boiling water, and that of celsius, with 100°, are the only ones in scientific use to-day. it is a remarkable fact in the history of thermometers that neither of these thermometers remained in the country where it was invented; thus the thermometer of fahrenheit, a german, came into use exclusively in england and her colonies, while that of celsius, a swede, is now used on the continent of europe except in germany, where the thermometer of réaumur, a frenchman, is still in popular use. of the four fundamental meteorological instruments, the barometer was the last invented. aristotle had suspected that air had weight, but it was not demonstrated until the middle of the seventeenth century, when the old axiom "that nature abhors a vacuum" was replaced by the rational explanation, given by galileo and torricelli, his pupil, why water will not rise in a suction pump more than thirty-two feet. in 1643 torricelli executed this famous experiment: he took a glass tube, sealed at one end, and filled it with mercury, then, closing the open end with his finger, he inverted it in a basin of mercury. the mercury fell to about thirty inches, which was recognized to be the weight of a column having the area of the tube and of the height of the atmosphere. the application of the barometer was due to blaise pascal, who repeated at rouen torricelli's experiment with a much longer tube filled with water, which being thirteen times lighter than mercury, stood thirteen times higher, or thirty-two feet, in the tube. pascal, being himself at paris in 1648, got his brother-in-law perier to carry a barometric tube filled with mercury to the top of the puy de dôme, a mountain in auvergne rising about 3500 feet above the city of clermont. the mercury fell in the tube with the ascent, and at the top of the mountain it stood some three inches lower than at the base, showing that the lower layers of the atmosphere are denser than the upper. pascal repeated the experiment on the tower of st. jacques in paris, and it is interesting to note that more than two hundred years afterwards, meteorological stations were established both there and on the puy de dôme. it was soon perceived that not only did the level of the mercury in the tube change with height, but that it oscillated continually at the same place, and from its observed relation to the state of the weather its name "weather-glass" is derived. in 1650 the weight of the air was demonstrated in another manner by otto von guericke, burgomaster of magdeburg, who by means of an air-pump of his invention performed the experiment, which aristotle had tried unsuccessfully, of weighing a vessel full of air and the same vessel exhausted of air. he also showed the pressure of the air in all directions by the famous experiment of the magdeburg hemispheres, which, being hollow, were placed together, and after the air was exhausted from the sphere so formed sixteen horses were unable to pull them apart. soon afterwards robert boyle experimented further upon the weight and "spring of the air," as he called it, and gave the name to the barometer. both boyle in england and mariotte in france discovered the law, bearing indifferently their names, that the pressure of gases is proportional to their density. halley, a few years later, showed that the rate of decrease in pressure differed from the rate of increase in height, and developed formulæ for measuring heights by the barometer, which were afterwards perfected by laplace. knowing the heights of the barometer at a high and at a low-level station, and the mean temperature of the air lying between them, it is possible to compute accurately the difference of height of the two stations, or, conversely, given this height, the difference in barometric pressure can be calculated. by the middle of the seventeenth century the most important meteorological instruments had been invented, and not only can italy claim to be their birthplace, but the grand duke ferdinand ii., whose brother leopold founded the accademia del cimento, distributed the new instruments in italy and even beyond the alps, so that in 1654 observations several times a day were begun at a dozen stations. the observations in florence from 1650 to 1670 were preserved and constitute the commencement of instrumental meteorology. it was the conquest of peru which, by leading men over the high passes of the andes, first brought them to great heights, but although we find mention in the history of the expeditions of the so-called mountain sickness, caused by fatigue as well as by cold and rarefied air, it does not appear that scientific observations were made. therefore, while it must be assumed that the atmospheric conditions at considerable altitudes were familiar to travellers, yet not until the middle of the last century did bouguer, one of three french academicians sent to peru on a geodetic mission, fix the height of the freezing point in various latitudes, after observing that the temperature fell below freezing at night upon the mountains near the equator. during the latter part of the century, kirwan, an english chemist, calculated the temperature for various parallels of latitude, and in 1817 alexander von humboldt, after a voyage around the world, published his isothermal lines, or lines of equal temperature on the surface of the globe, by which he showed that the deviation from the normal, or calculated, temperature arose from the distribution of land and water, and from the geographical relief of the former. this work of von humboldt formed the basis of all subsequent studies in comparative climatology. meanwhile chemistry had kept pace with physics, and in 1774 the old theory, that air was one of the four elements from which all things originated, was rendered untenable by priestley, who proved that oxygen gas, which he discovered, was a constituent part of air. the other constituent, nitrogen, formerly called azote from its destructiveness to life, was discovered soon afterwards, and its proportion in the air determined by the french chemist, lavoisier. in 1783 man became possessed of the long-sought-for means of rising freely in the air, and he speedily availed himself of it. the first balloons, filled with heated air, were called _montgolfières_ from the inventors, the brothers montgolfier, living in annonay, france. after animals had been sent up attached to one, pilâtre de rozier ventured to ascend in the aerostatic machine, first tethered captive but then set free, and before the close of the year a balloon, filled with hydrogen gas, or "inflammable air" as it was called, carried m. charles 9000 feet above paris. during more than a century the balloon has been the most important agent for the exploration of the atmosphere, and yet, notwithstanding the courage and devotion to science of the early aeronauts, their ascents with unsuitable instruments furnished much discordant and erroneous data. some of the most remarkable balloon voyages and the modern methods of sounding and dredging the atmosphere, to borrow terms from the exploration of the ocean, will be described in two future chapters. perhaps the chief reason for the slow progress of meteorology to the status of a science is the variable character of its phenomena with the place of observation. in this respect it differs from astronomy, which was more easily cultivated in the restricted ancient world. only after many years of observation at different places had contributed a foundation for climatology was it realized that man, in his relation to the atmosphere, resembled marine organisms confined to the bottom of the ocean, and that in order to discover the true conditions of the atmosphere it was necessary to observe them at considerable heights. in the last century the highest point at which physical observations had been made was the summit of mont blanc, less than 16,000 feet above the sea. the ascent of this mountain was first accomplished in 1787 by h. b. de saussure and his guides with much difficulty and suffering, and the observations, abridged and rendered less accurate by the fatigue and sickness of de saussure, were also influenced by the proximity of the mountain itself. in 1802 von humboldt and bonpland reached a height of about 18,000 feet in the andes, where they made important observations. the ascent of man was rapid during the first years of the nineteenth century, for in 1804 gay-lussac rose in a balloon, without exertion or discomfort, to the height of 23,000 feet, and there made observations which were assumed to give the true atmospheric conditions. after an active campaign the conquest of the air by balloons was temporarily abandoned, and the field was left free to the mountaineer. but to-day supremacy rests with the aeronaut, for no one has succeeded in getting higher than 24,000 feet on a mountain, while the aeronaut has exceeded this altitude by a mile without great hardship, and lately has sent his unmanned balloons twice as high as the loftiest mountains. plate i., headed the exploration of the atmosphere, represents a vertical section of the lower portion of our atmosphere. on the right is a scale of miles above the sea, and on the left is a scale of barometric pressures corresponding to the height. the right-hand half of the diagram shows the eastern hemisphere with the himalaya mountains, the left-hand half the western hemisphere with the andes. there are seen the heights of the different kinds of clouds, measured at blue hill, as described in the next chapter; the highest meteorological stations, those on mont blanc and el misti in peru; the highest permanently inhabited place, which is a monastery in thibet; and the greatest height to which man has climbed, namely, in the andes. the heights at which observations have been made in balloons, carrying observers, or only recording instruments, may be compared with the height attained by the blue hill kites, to be described hereafter. other altitudes can be noted, such as the height of the snow-line on various mountains, and as a thousand-foot measure, the eiffel tower in paris, the tallest structure erected by man, may be used. [illustration: plate i.--comparative altitudes.] the development of meteorological knowledge to the commencement of the present century has now been traced, but before beginning the consideration of the methods of exploring the atmosphere that form the subject of the book, let us, in order to understand this work better, review the general knowledge which we possess of our atmosphere as regards its origin, composition, extent, and conditions of heat and moisture. first, then, regarding the =origin of the atmosphere=, or vapour envelope which the name means. according to the nebular hypothesis of laplace, our earth, like all existing suns and planets, was condensed from clouds of nebulous matter and became a highly-heated globular mass rotating, like every celestial body, from west to east. as the earth cooled, a crust was formed, and many of the substances that now exist in the earth were suspended as clouds in the cooler atmosphere surrounding it. eventually, these substances were condensed upon the crust; the oxygen, especially, must have been diminished by combining with the rocks, while the lighter gases, such as hydrogen, may have escaped from the earth's atmosphere. no doubt, when vegetable and animal life began, the earth's atmosphere was denser than now and much richer in carbonic acid, which, during the carboniferous period, was absorbed by plants, and is now imprisoned in coal and limestone. within historic times, however, there is no evidence of any change in the composition of our atmosphere, or the climatic conditions as a whole. m. jourdanet, a distinguished french physiologist, maintained that man appeared on the earth at the close of the tertiary period, when the barometric pressure at sea-level was, he supposed, about forty-three inches, or nearly a half more than it is to-day, and owing to the greater density of the air its temperature was also considerably higher. under these circumstances he believed that man first occupied the high regions of central asia, and only emigrated to lower levels when the climatic conditions became ameliorated. in other words, m. jourdanet believed in a literal "descent of man," but if this be true, many of the race have returned to their birthplace, for to-day millions of people dwell on the great asiatic plateau, and on the south american cordillera, at an average altitude of 10,000 feet, while a few live throughout the year at extreme heights of 15,000 feet. =composition of the atmosphere.=--dry air is a mixture of about one-fifth of a volume of oxygen to four-fifths of a volume of nitrogen, besides a very small quantity (3/10,000) of carbonic acid, traces of ammonia, ozone, argon, and other recently discovered gases. the oxygen consumed, and the carbonic acid given off by animal life and by combustion, are maintained in this fixed proportion in the free air by the absorption of the carbonic acid, and the setting free of oxygen by vegetation. by diffusion and the mobility of the air, a thorough mixture is effected, with the result that the fundamental composition of our atmosphere is everywhere nearly the same. in the lower atmosphere the vapour of water is present in a varying quantity, in the average about one per cent. in weight, with a volume depending on the temperature. dust is always suspended in the atmosphere; the coarser particles settle, but the finer ones, that come from volcanoes, may float for a long time in the high atmosphere. dust is an important factor in the production of clouds and rain, and occasions many optical phenomena. [illustration: plate ii.--optical phenomena showing the height of the atmosphere. ] =extent of the atmosphere.=--if the atmosphere were incompressible and had throughout the density that it has at the earth, its height would be about five miles only, but actually it is composed of gases that follow boyle's law and vary in volume inversely as the pressure upon them. since the pressure decreases with height in a geometrical progression, it would be halved for each three and a half miles of ascent were the temperature constant, but as the temperature also decreases with height, the successive intervals, beginning with three and a half miles, become shorter because the volume of a gas depends on its temperature as well as on the pressure upon it. the decrease of pressure with increasing height above the earth is shown by the left-hand scale of plate i., already described, and the subsequent diminution of density to the limits of our measurable atmosphere is indicated on the right of plate ii., optical phenomena showing the height of the atmosphere. the gases composing the atmosphere probably extend to heights proportional to their density; viz. oxygen to about thirty miles and nitrogen to thirty-five miles, although water-vapour nearly disappears at twelve miles. from these considerations it is supposed that the atmosphere, as measurable by the barometer, vanishes at about thirty-eight miles, and this is about the height indicated by twilight, which is the reflected light of the sun when 18° below the horizon. after the great eruption of the volcano krakatoa in the south seas in 1883, the brilliant sunset glows and the longer twilight showed that the dust emitted by the eruption remained for more than a year suspended at a height of at least sixty miles. the so-called "luminous clouds" seen at night during the same period, and which were probably these same dust particles still illumined by the sun, were found by trigonometrical measurements to have about the same altitude. although it is computed that at a height of seventy miles the air has less than one-millionth of its density at sea-level--which is about the density of the air remaining in the exhausted bulb of an incandescent electric lamp--it is there sufficiently dense to render meteors luminous by friction after they with great velocity enter our atmosphere. the height of these meteors has been found, from simultaneous trigonometrical measures at two stations, sometimes to exceed one hundred miles, and if we suppose the aurora borealis to be an electrical discharge in highly rarefied air, measures made in the same way indicate as great a height for our atmosphere. the height of the aurora varies enormously, but the average altitude of it and of the other phenomena described, with the corresponding computed density of the air, are shown in the preceding diagram, in which the depth of the ocean of air may be compared with the deepest seas and the highest mountains. while, as professor young says, it cannot be asserted that the atmosphere has any defined upper limit, yet the kinetic theory of gases seems to afford evidence that the molecules of oxygen and nitrogen do not escape from the earth's attraction, and therefore the hypothesis of professor förster is unwarranted, that interplanetary space is filled with _himmelsluft_, or very thin air. =temperature of the atmosphere.=--the warmth of the atmosphere is derived chiefly from the sun's rays which, arrested by the earth's surface, are partly reflected and partly radiated back through the atmosphere. not more than seventy-five per cent.--professor langley says only sixty per cent.--of the heat of the sun, which is received vertically on the upper surface of the atmosphere, penetrates to the earth, and very much less than this when the angle of the sun is low. the reason why temperature diminishes as we ascend, is partly owing to the greater loss of heat by radiation through the thinner envelope of the upper strata, and partly owing to the greater absorption of the heat given off from the earth by the lower and denser strata. in general, it may be said that there is a diminution of 1° fahrenheit for each three hundred and thirty feet that we rise vertically, but, this rate varies greatly at different heights, places, and times. for instance, the decrease is not the same on mountains as it is in the free air, and in the northern hemisphere it is greater on the south than on the north sides of mountains; it is usually greatest near the ground, and is faster in summer than in winter. but in the average, the temperature falls as much for three hundred and thirty feet of elevation as it does for a change of seventy miles on the earth's surface north or south of the equator. when dry air rises, because it is heated and thereby is made lighter, the laws of thermo-dynamics show that, by reason of its expansion, its temperature is decreased 1° fahrenheit for each one hundred and eighty-three feet that it ascends, and, by compression, its temperature is increased as much if it is made to descend the same distance. this is called the "adiabatic rate of change of temperature," because it is produced by an alteration in the density of the air, due to variation in pressure, without the addition or loss of heat. in the course of this book there will be occasion frequently to refer to this law of heating and cooling. the adiabatic rate of change is seldom observed on mountains because of their influence upon the currents of air in contact with their flanks, or even in balloons, on account of imperfect measurements, but, as will be explained in the closing chapter, the adiabatic change of temperature is confirmed by the observations with kites, which furnish the best method of obtaining the temperature of the free air up to moderate heights. the adiabatic cooling of rising currents of air is another reason for the rapid decrease of temperature with height up to a mile or more. the upper air alters its temperature from diurnal and seasonal causes much more slowly than the lower air, and a mile above the earth the daily change of temperature, apart from the passage of "warm and cold waves," is less than one degree. at a height of six miles above the earth a temperature much below zero constantly prevails, while, at ten miles, 80° below zero has been recorded in a balloon--this is approximately the temperature prevailing winter and summer above pole and equator. these facts are expressed graphically in plate iii., temperature at different latitudes and altitudes, which represents half of a section of the earth, from the north pole to the equator, with the superincumbent atmosphere. [illustration: plate iii.--temperature at different latitudes and altitudes.] perhaps it should be explained, that whereas the curvature of the earth with respect to the height of the atmosphere in the previous diagram was not exaggerated, in the present diagram the height of the atmosphere over the radius of the earth is enormously increased. at the north pole the mean annual temperature is about 0° fahrenheit, and at the equator it is about 80°. it is seen that the atmospheric layer having a temperature of 50° (here represented in section by a line) touches the earth at 45° latitude, but is about two miles above the equator. in the same way the line of freezing (32°) leaves the earth's surface at 58° latitude and rises to about three and a half miles over the equator; the line of 0° rises from the pole to about seven miles at the equator. this is familiarly illustrated by the fact that only the highest mountains in the tropics are snow-capped, while within the arctic circle the snow-line descends nearly to sea-level. the lines in the diagram show the mean annual temperatures, but the isothermal surfaces rise in summer and sink in winter, the change of altitude being greatest in northern regions and near the ground. frequently there is an inversion of temperature, that is to say, it is warmer above than below. notably, in siberia, where the winter temperature is 60° below zero, there can be no immediate decrease of temperature with height, and it is probable that there is a warmer layer of air interposed between the very cold earth and the still colder upper air, so that the temperature first rises rapidly with elevation and then falls slowly to the limits of the atmosphere. in temperate latitudes it often happens, with a high barometric pressure, in winter that the mountain stations enjoy a long period of still and relatively warm weather, as compared to that experienced in the valleys. but the subject of inversions of temperature will be discussed at length in considering the results of the balloon and kite observations. the observations from balloons at great heights are neither sufficiently numerous nor accurate to enable us to form an opinion as to what is the temperature of interplanetary space, which the kinetic theory of gases places at 460° fahrenheit below zero. this temperature is called "the absolute zero," and is calculated from the fact that air under a constant pressure contracts 1/490 of its volume for each degree fahrenheit it is cooled below the temperature of freezing water, and consequently under no pressure it should have an infinite volume and a temperature of about 490° below freezing, or 458° below zero. there are other hypotheses regarding the temperature of space, but since it can never be measured directly, it will probably remain a matter of speculation. it is certain, however, that if the earth were deprived of its atmosphere, the temperature would fall very low, and even with our atmosphere as a blanket our earth would be uninhabitable were it not for the aqueous vapour which controls the selective absorption of the solar rays, transforming them into obscure rays so that they cannot escape from the atmosphere. water-vapour, then, is a very important factor in the physics of the atmosphere, but it can only be considered briefly here. =moisture of the atmosphere.=--the air is constantly absorbing moisture from the water on the earth, but the tension of this aqueous vapour decreases with elevation much faster than does the atmospheric pressure. at the height of about a mile and a quarter half the quantity of water-vapour is below, while we must rise about three and a half miles to reduce the quantity of air one-half, as may be seen in plate i. the relative humidity, or the percentage of moisture in the air, as compared to the amount which it could contain at that temperature, is nearly the reverse at low and at high levels. it is found from the kite-observations at blue hill, that up to the height of a mile or two the air is drier during winter and at night, and damper during summer and in the day-time than it is near the ground. at great heights probably the air is always very dry. the condensation of the invisible vapour into a visible form is considered in the next chapter on clouds. it is apparent that our observational knowledge of the atmosphere is gained by two general methods of exploring it, viz. observations made from the earth upon clouds and optical phenomena at a distance, and observations made directly in the air itself. although it was realized at the beginning of this century that meteorological observations were almost all conducted at the very bottom of our atmosphere--"in the shoals and shallows of the ocean of air," von humboldt said--yet only within the past thirty years was it thought necessary to replace the occasional observations on mountains by systematic and long-continued ones, comparable to those so generally carried on at low levels. it is an evidence of the zeal in america to advance the young science of meteorology, that the first mountain-top station in the world was established in 1871 upon mount washington, and that both this exposed post of observation, 6300 feet above the sea, and the one more than twice as high on pike's peak, which was for a long time the highest in the world, were maintained for many years by the united states signal service. the present highest station in the world is maintained by the harvard observatory upon el misti in peru, where, at a height exceeding 19,000 feet, a combination of self-recording instruments was constructed by my assistant, mr. fergusson, to operate during three months without attention. it must be admitted, however, that the addition to our knowledge of the physics of the atmosphere afforded by the american stations has been slight and incommensurate with the expense incurred. more has been gained from the mountain stations in europe, notably from those in the austrian alps, which have furnished data for dr. hann's splendid discussions of the thermo-dynamics of the atmosphere. while mountain stations present the only means of obtaining continuous observations at a considerable and constant height, still they have serious drawbacks. not only is the distribution of mountains over our globe irregular, but since they form part of the earth's crust, terrestrial influences affect all observations made upon them. in the case of plateaux this was at once admitted, but by placing the stations on the summits of high and isolated peaks, it was hoped to approximate to the conditions of the free air. it is now recognized that the equilibrium of the atmosphere is so delicate that for its dynamical study exact and minute measurements of temperature, moisture, and currents are required, and the methods which will be described are intended to give the values of these elements free from terrestrial disturbances. clouds, balloons, and kites naturally supplement one another. while clouds indicate the direction and velocity of the air at different heights, yet the lower clouds often conceal the upper strata, or there may be no clouds at all, in which case balloons or kites will aid us to determine the drift of the currents. when there is little wind at the ground, or to reach heights of several miles, we must employ balloons, but otherwise kites are preferable in most cases. the thermal and hygrometric conditions of the free air can be ascertained only by personal observations in balloons, or by raising self-recording instruments with balloons and kites, and this latter method it is predicted will be the path of greatest progress. chapter ii clouds--formation and classification--measurements at blue hill--the international observations clouds must have been among the earliest observed natural phenomena, and they were used from time immemorial as weather signs. yet their every-day occurrence was very likely the reason why their origin was not studied until about a century ago. father cotte, in his classic work on meteorology, published in 1774, devotes only a couple of paragraphs to clouds, but abbé richard, in his contemporary _histoire naturelle de l'air_, discusses the appearance and theories of clouds in ten chapters. the cause of evaporation was unknown in the last century, and it was not until its close that dalton, the english chemist, proved that water-vapour exists independently in the air, and hutton explained that precipitation was produced by the contact of a current of saturated air with a colder one. although there remains much to be learned about cloud formation, yet it is now pretty well established that its most effective cause is the ascent, and consequent cooling by expansion of the air, rather than the mixture of masses of air having different temperatures. the ascent of the air may result from its being forced up a mountain slope by its horizontal movement, or from its being drawn up in a vortex, but most commonly the air rises from its lessened specific gravity when warmed. if the temperature of the quiescent air decreases faster than 1° for each 183 feet of height, which is the adiabatic rate of cooling for dry air, as explained in the last chapter, air warmed locally will rise and cool at this rate until the dew-point is reached. then the vapour in the air will be condensed upon particles of dust, which aitken found to be more numerous in clouds than outside them. the most conspicuous of the clouds formed by rising currents is the cumulus, or rounded summer cloud, which has been aptly termed "the visible capital of an invisible column of air." saturated air cools as it rises more slowly than dry air, consequently the upward motion is maintained through the cloud mass, causing the swelling up of the tops of the cumulus clouds, which reach their highest development in the thunder clouds, or cumulo-nimbus, as they are called. the lower limit of the cloud region is determined therefore by the height at which the rising currents reach their dew-point, and the altitude of the cloud formation depends upon the humidity of the ascending current, the drier it is, so much the higher must it rise to have its vapour condensed. in storms the rising current mingles with the stronger horizontal current above, which carries with it the upper portion of the cloud, and covers the whole sky with a uniform sheet. the wave, or ripple cloud, has been explained by von helmholtz and von bezold to be due to the undulations in a horizontal current producing alternate rarefaction and condensation of its water-vapour through changes of temperature. still another cause of low-lying clouds is the cooling of the air to its dew-point by contact with a cold surface, such as the earth when cooled by radiation during a clear night, or the polar currents of the ocean. fog is often formed in this way, which we call stratus cloud when it rises above us. the highest clouds consist of ice crystals, because the temperature of the air where they are is much below that of freezing water. although it is possible to cool drops of water considerably below 32° fahrenheit without congelation, yet it can be told with certainty that the clouds are composed of ice if the sun and moon when seen through them are surrounded by the large rings or halos, which the theory of optics shows can only result from refraction of light by ice crystals, whereas water drops in the clouds produce the smaller coloured rings, which are called coronæ. the old question, why clouds float unless their particles are hollow, is easily answered, for they do not float, and always tend to sink if they are not supported by the currents of air. in sinking into warmer air the particles are vapourized and become invisible, but others rising are condensed and take their places, so that the cloud persists, although its particles change. this is illustrated by the "cloud banners," which frequently stream from mountain peaks, and are caused by the rise of air up the mountain side. even in a strong wind the cloud remains attached to the peak, showing that its particles are being renewed continually; but if, as is often the case, the wind descends on the leeward side of the mountain, the cloud particles disappear. lamarck, the celebrated naturalist, in the opening year of the present century, first proposed a classification of cloud forms. two years later luke howard, a london merchant, published his epoch-making essay on _the modifications of clouds_. the theories there advanced and the nomenclature proposed have been accepted generally to our day, notwithstanding the more complete classifications devised by poëy, ley, and others. howard believed that clouds are formed by the aqueous vapour which rises from the earth, and that the globules which compose them are solid, and are not filled with hydrogen gas as had been maintained by deluc and de saussure. howard classified the clouds as we do to-day, according to their appearance, into three principal types, viz. stratus, cumulus, and cirrus, which represented also low, middle, and high clouds. stratus is the sheet of low-lying cloud which forms at night, and commonly rests on the earth; cumulus is the heaped-up cloud of the day-time; and cirrus is the curl cloud of the high atmosphere. these three types were further divided into four intermediate types, viz. nimbus, cumulo-stratus, cirro-stratus, and cirro-cumulus. howard's nomenclature was used almost exclusively, until in 1889 the international meteorological conference that met at paris recommended the adoption of another classification, based on howard's, but modified by two experts, abercromby of england and hildebrandsson of sweden. this classification also disregarded the origin of clouds, and was based only on their appearance. the next year an atlas, with coloured pictures of the clouds, separated according to the new nomenclature, with descriptive text, was prepared by dr. hildebrandsson, assisted by drs. neumayer and köppen of the deutsche seewarte, or german national meteorological observatory. this atlas was adopted by the principal meteorological institutions on the continent of europe for their observers. the preface contained the following statement: "the study of the forms of clouds is daily increasing in importance, both from the standpoints of theory and of weather prediction. observations taken at the bottom of the atmospheric ocean are plainly insufficient to determine its circulation. the clouds, however, furnish information about the condition and motion of the air at various levels. but, a comparison of the observations of different observers is only possible when the same ideas are connected with the same expressions. it is hardly possible to give a sufficient verbal description of such indeterminate and changeable forms as those of the clouds; graphical representations are therefore necessary, with the help of a short description, in order to enable an observer to connect what he sees in the sky with what he finds in the instructions. in order that a cloud picture may be intelligible to non-specialists, the clouds and the blue sky must, at least, be plainly distinguishable from each other." the meeting of the directors of the meteorological institutions in different parts of the world, which was held at munich in 1891, decided to adopt the classification of abercromby and hildebrandsson, and a committee was appointed to prepare an atlas of clouds, which should be cheaper than the preceding one. this committee, of which the writer has the honour to be the american member, met at upsala in 1894. it defined the various forms of clouds, selected typical pictures to illustrate them, and drew up instructions for observing. this atlas, which was published in 1896, is the recognized authority on cloud forms. meanwhile the united states weather bureau had issued a plate of clouds, printed in one colour, to familiarize its observers with the new system. the navy department has also an interest in clouds, for several thousand seamen in various parts of the world send their special logs to the united states hydrographic office. the hydrographer, a few years ago, was captain sigsbee, who, long before he became known to the public as commander of the ill-fated _maine_, had achieved scientific reputation from his investigations upon the depths and the currents of the ocean. captain sigsbee desired to render comparable the observations of clouds which were being made all over the world, and to this end he resolved to publish a coloured atlas of the international cloud types which should be intelligible to seamen, and yet not too costly for his office to supply. after two years of experimenting, during which the writer and his assistant, mr. clayton, were frequently consulted, the _illustrative cloud forms_, with and without descriptive text, were issued in 1897 by the hydrographic office, and in several respects this atlas is the best. still, it is impossible for anything but a photograph from the cloud itself to show the extreme delicacy of certain forms. perhaps it should be explained, however, that as the blue sky and the white clouds act with almost equal actinic effect upon the sensitized plate, in order to obtain the proper contrast between sky and cloud it is necessary either to polarize the light from the sky, or, as is most commonly done, to separate the coloured rays by allowing them to pass through a yellow screen, and to fall upon autochromatic plates. before defining the ten principal types of cloud it should be explained that two general classes of clouds are distinguished, separate or globular masses, which are most frequently seen in dry weather, and forms which are widely extended or completely cover the sky, which are typical of wet weather. both these classes of clouds are found at all heights. =cirrus= are thin, fibrous, detached, and feather-like clouds formed of ice-crystals. they are the highest of all the clouds, and move with the greatest velocity. =cirro-stratus= form a thin whitish veil, more or less fibrous, which often produces halos around the sun and moon and other optical phenomena. =cirro-cumulus= are flocks of small detached fleecy clouds, generally white and without shadows. =alto-stratus= is a grey or bluish veil through which the sun and moon are faintly visible, occasionally giving rise to coronæ. its altitude is only about half that of cirro-stratus. =alto-cumulus= are flocks of larger, more or less rounded, white or partially shaded masses, often touching one another, and frequently arranged in lines in one or more directions. =strato-cumulus= are large globular masses or rolls of dark cloud, frequently covering the whole sky, especially in winter. =cumulus= are piled clouds with conical or hemispherical tops and flat bases. they are formed by rising currents of heated air, and are therefore most common in summer and in tropical regions. when broken up by strong winds the detached portions are called fracto-cumulus. =cumulo-nimbus= is the massive thunder shower cloud rising in the form of mountains or turrets, and generally having above a screen of fibrous appearance (false cirrus), and underneath a mass of cloud similar to nimbus from which rain falls. =nimbus= is a dense, dark sheet of ragged cloud from which continued rain or snow generally falls. broken clouds underneath, forming the scud of the sailors, are called fracto-nimbus. =stratus= is a thin uniform layer of cloud at a very low level. when the sheet is broken up into irregular shreds it is called fracto-stratus. having described the origin and appearance of the different clouds, an account will now be given of the measurements made at blue hill observatory and the information which they give about the circulation of the atmosphere. the work there was taken up in 1887 in consequence of the interest of the meteorologist, mr. clayton, in the study of clouds; his discussion of the cloud observations, published two years ago with the blue hill observations, has been termed by far the most thorough study of the kind ever undertaken in america if not in the world. most of the conclusions which are stated popularly here have their scientific expression in his work. the first investigation related to the amount of cloud at different hours of the day, and during the various seasons. it is customary to note the degree of cloudiness on a scale of from 0, when there are no clouds, to 10, when the whole sky is covered. for twelve years the amount of cloud at each hour of the day has been recorded at blue hill. the personal observations have been supplemented during the day-time by an automatic instrument called a sunshine-recorder, for it has been proved that the cloudiness is very nearly the inverse of the bright sunshine. consequently, if, as is usual there, the sun shines forty-six per cent. of the time when it is above the horizon, the cloudiness is very nearly fifty-four per cent., which is the average for the year. the instrument generally used for this purpose is a glass sphere which acts as a burning-glass, and chars a strip of cardboard placed concentrically around the lower part of the sphere. as the sun moves, the image on the card moves in the opposite direction over the card, burning a line as long as it shines, but leaving the card untouched when it is cloudy. in a similar way a record may be obtained on sensitized "blue paper" by allowing the sun's rays to enter a dark chamber containing the paper. the maintenance of personal observations at each hour of the night is arduous, and, therefore, during ten years an automatic instrument has been used at blue hill which deserves to be better known. it is called the pole-star recorder, and was devised by professor pickering, director of the harvard college observatory. the instrument is very simple, and consists of a telescopic camera focussed on polaris. this star is not at the north pole of the heavens but a little more than a degree distant, and, consequently, it describes a small circle in the heavens during twenty-four hours. when the sky is clear around polaris its trail upon the photographic plate is continuous, but when the sky is partly or entirely covered with clouds the trail is broken or obscured. of course the plate is not exposed until after dark, and a shutter is closed by a clock before dawn. the only hourly records of cloudiness at night in the united states are obtained by this instrument on blue hill and at cambridge. it will be objected, perhaps, that the cloudiness derived from observations of the sun or the pole-star is not the amount over the whole sky, but only that in the region of the luminary. this is true, but it is found that the average of the records for a month or a year agrees very closely with the average of estimates of cloudiness over the whole sky during these periods. the use of the pole-star is preferable to that of the sun, because in our latitude it gives values at a point about half-way between the horizon and the zenith; while since the sun travels at a variable height across the sky, when its altitude is low the same mass of cloud may intercept more sunlight than when it shines vertically. from ten years' observations the following deductions have been made concerning the variation in the amount of cloud at blue hill. for all the months the diurnal amount of cloud is greatest about one o'clock in the afternoon, on account of the frequency of cumulus clouds near the warmest part of the day, while the next greatest amount, due to the frequency of stratus clouds, occurs near sunrise, or at the coldest time of day. all over the world the least cloudiness is in the evening, when the sum of the combined effects of radiation and insolation is least. the annual period in the cloudiness is complex, because the amount of cloud is connected with changes of humidity at many different levels in the atmosphere, but in the northern hemisphere there is most cloud during the first half of the year and least during the latter half, probably because the increasing warmth at the earth's surface produces increased ascending currents until summer, while the chilling of the earth's surface in the autumn becomes unfavourable for ascending currents. the distribution of cloud over the globe is intimately connected with the general atmospheric circulation, being greater where there are rising currents and less where there are downward currents. the reason, naturally, is that as descending air becomes warmer and therefore relatively drier, the clouds in it evaporate and disappear. a cloudy belt encircles the earth at the equator, and on either side are two belts of less cloud, but in higher latitudes the cloudiness increases. if we could see our earth from outside its atmosphere, the light reflected from the upper surfaces of the cloud-belts would probably make them appear bright. from the markings on a planet that are known to be caused by condensation, a french meteorologist, m. teisserenc de bort, believes that the circulation of its atmosphere can be inferred, for wherever on the surface of the planet bright spots are seen, there the vapour of rising currents should be condensed. if this be true, there is a resemblance between jupiter, as we see it, and the earth as it would appear from another planet, the bright bands being cloud surfaces, and the dark patches glimpses of the surface of the planet beneath. observations of the direction of motion, and apparent velocity of clouds at different heights, have been made at blue hill several times a day since 1886. to measure the motion of clouds the nephoscope (fig. 1) is used. it consists of a horizontal circular mirror with a concentric circle of azimuths and an eye-piece _c_, movable in a plane _bd_ at right angles to the mirror and also around it, through which the image of the cloud is brought to the centre of the mirror _a_. it can be proved by geometry that the motion of the cloud-image is proportional to the movement of the cloud itself, so by noting in what direction and how far the image is displaced in a given time, we have the true direction of motion of the cloud itself and also its relative velocity, comparable with the velocity of all clouds having the same height. if the height is known, then the relative velocity can be easily converted into absolute velocity, and thus the velocity of currents at different heights in the atmosphere is accurately ascertained. [illustration: fig. 1.--nephoscope at blue hill observatory.] the height of clouds seems to have been measured trigonometrically from two stations as early as 1644 by riccioli and grimaldi, two jesuits of bologna, but notwithstanding these measurements and some conclusions derived from observations on mountains, and in balloons, the altitudes of the different clouds were not known with any accuracy until in 1884 ekholm and hagström made a series of trigonometrical measurements upon the different kinds of clouds at upsala, sweden. about the same time attempts were made at kew observatory to measure clouds by photography, and in 1885 probably the first trigonometrical measurements in america were made at cambridge, mass., by professor w. m. davis and mr. a. mcadie. in 1890-91 the swedish methods were employed at blue hill by messrs. clayton and fergusson of the observatory staff, and until recently the measurements there and at upsala comprised all that was known accurately about the heights and velocities of the various species of clouds. [illustration: fig. 2.--cloud theodolite at blue hill observatory.] the trigonometrical measurements at blue hill were made as follows: at two stations, one at the observatory, the other at the base of the hill about a mile distant, two observers determined simultaneously the angular altitude and azimuth of some point on the cloud which was agreed upon by telephonic conversation. if, as is generally the case, the lines of sight did not meet, the trigonometrical formulæ gave the height of a point midway between the crossing of these lines. such was the accuracy of these measurements that the probable error of the calculated heights of the highest clouds is only a few hundred feet. successive observations at the two stations of the position of the cloud enabled its velocity to be calculated, or, as already explained, this may be got from the relative velocity measured at one station, if the height of the cloud be known. fig. 2 shows the theodolite on the tower of the observatory. five other methods of measuring clouds have been employed at blue hill: (1) the only method of finding the height of lofty and uniform cloud strata is by means of the light thrown on them from below, and on blue hill the electrical illumination of the surrounding towns is utilized. the angle which the centre of the illumination makes with the horizon is measured, and knowing the distance of the town, the right-angled triangle may be solved. (2) an accurate method for low and uniform clouds is to send kites into them, as will be explained in the closing chapter. (3) when the clouds are low enough to cast shadows on the ground, the angles of the cloud and sun as seen from the observatory are measured, and with the distance of the shadow from the hill-top, ascertained by a map, this triangle can be solved. the times of passage of the shadow over known points on the landscape afford another means of calculating its velocity. (4) a method that was suggested by espy, the pioneer american meteorologist, for getting the altitude of the bases of clouds lying within a mile of the earth, is to find the difference in temperature between the air and the dew-point at the ground, and to compute the height at which this difference should disappear. when the temperature of the rising currents increases, as on warm days, and the level of the dew-point rises higher, the cloud can be seen to ascend, and, in fact, the measurements at blue hill show that the clouds of moderate altitude are highest during the warmest part of the day. (5) finally, very low stratus or nimbus may be measured by noting the heights of their bases on the sides of the hill. [illustration: plate iv.] the identity of cloud-forms all over the world has been established, and as a result of the measurements at blue hill, the heights and speed of all clouds observed there are known. the averages have been plotted in the five levels into which we separate the clouds in plate iv., heights and velocities of clouds, where ordinates represent heights and abscissæ velocities, and, consequently, the distances of the various forms of clouds above the horizontal base indicate their heights, and the distances from the left-hand vertical line their velocities. for comparison, the velocity of the wind on blue hill, a few hundred feet above the general level of the country, is represented. the mean height of the cirrus is about 29,000 feet, but this cloud sometimes reaches 49,000 feet. the mean height of the cumulus is about a mile, but the tops of the cumulo-nimbus, or thunder-shower cloud, sometimes penetrate into the cirrus level. generally the base of the nimbus, or rain cloud, is only 2300 feet above the ground, and it frequently sinks below the top of blue hill, which is only 630 feet above the sea. the poetic saying, that "earth wraps her garment closer about her in winter," has a scientific basis, for the average height of all the clouds is greatest in summer and least in winter. but the reverse is true of their velocity, for the entire atmosphere moves twice as fast in winter as it does in summer, and at the lower levels the seasonal change is even greater. the average velocity of cirriform clouds is ninety miles an hour in winter, and sixty miles in summer, but occasionally in winter cirrus have been found to have the enormous velocity of two hundred and thirty miles an hour. in the average, the velocity of the currents increases, from the lowest to the highest clouds, at the rate of about three miles an hour for each 1000 feet of height, but near the ground the increase with height is faster. it has been found that the velocity of the lower clouds is less than the velocity of the wind on a mountain of the same height, which may, perhaps, be explained on the supposition that the mountain acts like a dam to accelerate the flow of air over it. the measurements in sweden showed that the middle and upper levels of clouds are higher than in america, but that they move less rapidly. this may be because the surfaces of equal temperature in the air are higher in the united states than in sweden, on account of the direction of the upper currents, while the greater velocity of our high clouds corresponds with the more rapid movement of areas of low and high barometric pressure over the united states. these results are suggestive. for instance, the energy of the upper half of the mass of the atmosphere, or that portion which lies above 18,000 feet, has been calculated to possess six times the energy of the lower half in which we live, and as yet, none of this enormous store of energy is applied to the use of man. while it appears certain that no navigable balloon or flying machine will ever be able to stem the enormous velocity of the upper atmosphere, rarified though it is, perhaps in the future aërial machines will take advantage of the prevailing currents of the high atmosphere, as our sailing ships do of the trade winds. the observations of cirrus clouds in various parts of the world show that they always move from a general westerly direction, while below this primary drift toward the east occur the relatively permanent or transient differences of pressure which cause the deviations from the normal circulation of the atmosphere, and give rise to the local circulation in storms. in the familiar daily weather map it will be noticed that there is usually some portion marked "low," and another portion marked "high." the former is an area of low barometric pressure, into which the winds at the ground blow spirally inward in the opposite direction that the clock hands turn; the latter is an area of high barometer, out of which the winds at the ground blow in the contrary way. the former when well developed are called "cyclones," and are usually accompanied by stormy weather, and the latter, called "anti-cyclones," bring fair weather. from the observations of the directions from which the clouds move in cyclones and anti-cyclones, we have found that above the cumulus level (at the height of about a mile) the inward inclination of the wind in a cyclone, and the outward inclination in an anti-cyclone, both disappear, and the general drift from the west prevails. the results of the observations are shown in plate v., atmospheric circulation in cyclones and anti-cyclones, representing sections of the atmosphere, concentric to the earth's surface, in the five cloud-levels seen from above. the arrows fly with the wind and are proportional in length to its velocity, the dotted arrows indicating the probable flow of the air through the cyclones and anti-cyclones that are indicated by the circles, their axes being assumed to be nearly perpendicular to the earth's surface. above the cumulus it will be observed that the wind in the cyclone tends to come from the south-west in front and from the north-west in the rear, while in the anti-cyclone the contrary is the case, indicating a deflection of the westerly upper current to the right in cyclones and to the left in anti-cyclones. this sustains the theory that the cyclonic circulation is struggling against a general atmospheric drift from the west which increases with altitude, and above the height of a mile becomes greater than the cyclonic influence. higher than this, the atmospheric circulation is controlled primarily by the permanent temperature gradient between equator and pole, by the seasonal temperature gradient between ocean and continent, and, in the united states, by the passage of "warm and cold waves." mr. clayton's investigations indicate that the motion of the upper clouds is nearly parallel to the lines of equal temperature at the earth's surface. a high temperature, by expanding the air upward, causes in the upper air a high pressure; and a low temperature, by contracting the air towards the ground, causes in the upper air a low pressure, so that the lines of equal pressure in the upper air are parallel to the lower lines of equal temperature, and since there is little friction in the upper air the motion of the wind is nearly parallel to the lines of equal pressure. below the cumulus level the winds follow the normal cyclonic and anti-cyclonic circulation. there are two theories of the origin of these areas of high and low pressure, the "driven theory" which supposes that they derive their energy and drift from the general atmospheric movement from west to east, and the "convectional theory" which attributes their formation and progression to the difference of temperature between them and the adjacent air. while the observations on mountains have favoured the driven theory, yet the inward spiral motion of the cirrus clouds above the anti-cyclone, indicating a lower pressure than in the surrounding air, contradicts the hypothesis, and the recent observations with kites at blue hill strongly support the convectional theory of cyclones. [illustration: atmospheric circulation at different heights in cyclones anti-cyclones plate v.] the relation of the clouds to weather forecasting has been investigated at blue hill. for instance, it is found, in this region at least, and contrary to the general opinion, that cirrus clouds do not indicate rain, but do foretell a change of temperature that is proportional to the rapidity of motion of the clouds. alto-cumulus is followed by rain within twenty-four hours three times in four. rain follows the appearance of all high and intermediate clouds most frequently when the cloud banks are densest toward some westerly point and when they come from the west. mr. sweetland, an assistant, has studied special forms of cloud in their relation to the succeeding weather. he concludes that cirrus plumes precede fair weather, while dense clots of cirro-cumulus are followed by rain. rounded pendants, or mammillated clouds, in the lower levels indicate rain, but in the upper levels fair weather. of all the forms, the dark sheet of stratus, and clouds of lenticular shape, are most frequently followed by rain. of clouds presaging changes in temperature, the turreted cumulus, which is connected with thunder-storms, precedes the greatest fall in temperature, and next in order come lenticular clouds, flaky cirrus, and alto-cumulus. in general, flat and flaky clouds, clouds forming and disappearing rapidly, and clouds changing to forms at a higher level precede dry and cooler weather. it will be seen that this modern study of clouds as prognostics simply adds to the weather proverbs that have come down to us from the time of theophrastus. it does not appear, however, that cloud forms alone can usually serve to predict rain for more than twenty-four hours, but for a few hours in advance the appearance of certain cloud forms frequently furnishes the observer more trustworthy signs of coming rain than does the synoptic weather map. to a forecaster in possession of telegraphic data, the prevalence of rapidly-moving cirrus over a wide area indicates a rapid storm movement, with sudden and marked changes of weather and of temperature, while slowly-moving cirrus indicate slight changes of temperature and dry weather. the direction of the cirrus movements in front and around a storm centre will usually point out the future movement of the storm, which tends to advance in the same general direction. the work done at blue hill shows the importance of cloud observations to elucidate the general movements of the atmosphere, as well as the circulation of the air above barometric maxima and minima, which can result practically in making accurate weather forecasts possible a day or two in advance. the systematic observation of the upper currents was brought to the attention of the international meteorological committee by dr. hildebrandsson in 1885, and at the meeting of the international cloud committee in 1894, besides the adoption of the nomenclature of clouds and instructions for observing them, it was decided that observations of their motion, as well as measurements of their height, should be made in various parts of the world. accordingly, the year commencing may 1, 1896, was designated as the "international cloud-year," and observations with nephoscopes of the direction of motion and relative velocity of clouds were begun at many stations in europe and asia, and at fifteen stations in the united states. trigonometrical measures of the heights of clouds were undertaken at stations in norway and sweden, russia, finland, prussia, and france, as well as at toronto, manila, and batavia; in the united states the measurements already described were recommenced at blue hill, and the weather bureau equipped a similar station in washington. in europe it is thought that the determination of heights by photogrammeters, as the theodolites with attached photographic cameras are called, possesses advantages over the visual theodolites, and it is true that not only is the kind of cloud recorded on the plates, but there are available for calculation as many points on the cloud as can be identified on the two plates exposed simultaneously at both stations. on the other hand, in the case of nearly uniform or dark cloud-strata, it is easier to see points for measurement on the cloud than to fix them on the photographic plates. for this reason, and from the difficulty of manipulating the photogrammeter, visual instruments were adopted both at blue hill and at washington. the work was successfully carried on until may 1, 1897, and the observations and measurements were reduced at blue hill according to the plan prescribed by the committee. already the observations and measurements made at upsala, manila, and blue hill are published, and the others will follow. the discussion of the correlated data from the various countries will probably increase our knowledge of the circulation of the atmosphere, which is certainly one of the most interesting and important questions in the physics of the globe. the result will have been reached by international co-operation, of which the benefits to science are everywhere manifest to-day. but for the whole problem to be solved, it is necessary, not only to know the movement of the air, but, as far as possible, to ascertain its conditions of heat and moisture. this may be accomplished by the use of balloons and kites, to be described in the remaining chapters. chapter iii balloons--notable ascents and results obtained--captive balloons in the first chapter the invention of the hot-air and the hydrogen balloon was chronicled, and it was stated that on december 1, 1783, charles rose from paris to a height of 9000 feet. public interest in france was greatly excited by this wonderful extension of the realm of man, and numerous ascensions with _montgolfières_ and _charlières_, as the hot-air and hydrogen balloons were respectively called, took place in paris and the provinces. the uses of the balloon seemed innumerable, and lavoisier was instructed by the academy of sciences to draw up a report on the value of the new discovery. after having described in detail the ascensions which he had witnessed, the great chemist stopped, appalled at the multitude of problems which the balloon could solve. history has shown, however, that no commercial application of the balloon was possible, and that aside from its spectacular attractions, its chief use has been for scientific observations. the first persons in england who devoted themselves to aërial navigation were foreigners. two of them were italians, the philosopher tiberius cavallo, who already in 1782 had showed to a london assembly that soap-bubbles filled with hydrogen will rise, and therefore had almost anticipated the invention of the hydrogen balloon, and the diplomatist vincent lunardi, who made some daring balloon ascents in 1784. but the honour of making the first scientific balloon voyage is due to a bostonian, dr. john jeffries. dr. jeffries graduated at harvard college in 1763 and then practised medicine in england, where he became a loyalist, and during the revolution was with the british troops. in london he interested himself in aerostation, and, aided by the royal society, ascended in a balloon because, he said, "i wished to see the following points more clearly determined: first, the power of ascending or descending at pleasure, while suspended and floating in the air; secondly, the effect which oars or wings might be made to produce towards the purpose and in directing the course of the balloon; thirdly, the state and temperature of the atmosphere at different heights from the earth; and fourthly, by observing the varying course of the currents of air, or winds, at certain elevations, to throw some new light on the theory of winds in general." a french professional aeronaut named blanchard had made three ascents in france and one in england, and dr. jeffries paid one hundred guineas to accompany blanchard on his fifth ascent, which was made from london november 30, 1784. he took with him a thermometer, a barometer, a hygrometer, an electrometer, and a mariner's compass, also several numbered bottles, filled with water and provided with glass stoppers, which were to be emptied and corked up at different heights in the atmosphere. it was arranged to record the observations on ruled paper with a silver pen, because the doctor would not trust a common pen or pencil as liable to accident. he also had a map of england to determine the direction which the balloon took. jeffries' english sentiments are shown by this quotation from his narrative: "i had provided a handsome british flag, invidiously represented the next day in one of the public papers to have been the flag of the american states." the barometer and thermometer were observed every few minutes, and the hygrometer occasionally. the electrometer did not change its indications. samples of air were obtained and sent to the royal society, but it does not appear that they were ever analyzed. the balloon rose nearly two miles, and descended safely in kent after an hour and a half. jeffries' observations compare favourably with those made until recently; indeed, for nearly a century there was little improvement in the apparatus. the decrease of temperature which jeffries found, viz. 1° for 360 feet rise, and the decreasing humidity with height agree very well with later observations. jeffries and blanchard undertook a more perilous voyage on january 7, 1785, from dover across the channel, landing in the province of artois, after, so runs the announcement, "we were suspended and floating in the atmosphere two hours over the sea and forty-seven minutes over the land of france." the voyagers were cordially welcomed, and were entertained lavishly in paris as being, jeffries says, "the first who passed across the sea from england into france by the route of the air." no instruments but a barometer and a compass were carried, and the only scientific result worthy of notice was that the balloon seemed to lose buoyancy over the sea, due to what jeffries thought might be "the power of attraction over the water." the height of the balloon was measured trigonometrically by french officers in calais, who found by angular measures, when the balloon was midway across the channel, that its height was 4500 feet. jeffries' voyages have been described somewhat at length because the first scientific balloon voyage is generally attributed to the belgian physicist, robertson, who ascended from hamburg in 1803 to the improbable height of 24,000 feet. robertson made his third ascent the next year from st. petersburg, accompanied by the academician sacharoff. this was a scientific voyage, instituted at the request of the russian academy, to ascertain the physical state of the atmosphere and the component parts of it at different heights, also the difference between the results of vertical ascents and the observations of deluc, de saussure, von humboldt and others on mountains, which it was rightly concluded could not be so free from terrestrial influences as those made in the open air. among the experiments which the academy proposed were the following: change of rate of evaporation of fluids, decrease or increase in the magnetic force, inclination of the magnetic needle, increase of heat of the solar rays, fainter colours in the spectrum, influence of rarefaction of the air on the human body, as well as some other chemical and philosophical experiments. a height of about two miles was reached, and many interesting observations were made, but since the instruments were not easily used in the basket of the balloon, the results were unsatisfactory and required repetition to be conclusive. the academy of sciences of paris now took up the investigation with the special object of proving whether the magnetic force decreased as robertson in a balloon and de saussure in the alps had supposed. two young physicists, biot and gay-lussac, were chosen to carry out the investigations. they ascended from paris on august 24, 1804, provided with all necessary instruments, but the balloon was too small to rise higher than 13,000 feet. gay-lussac ascended alone to a height of 23,000 feet on september 16, 1804, in a balloon filled with hydrogen. his observations confirmed those which he had made with biot, that there was no change in the magnetic force, and from samples of air collected he proved that the chemical constitution of the air is invariable. his observations of temperature seemed to confirm the theory of a decline of temperature of 1° in 300 feet of elevation. the air was found to be very dry, and gay-lussac noticed that at the highest altitude the clouds were still far above him. passing over several notable ascents in other countries, it was not until 1850 that scientific ballooning was begun again in the land where the balloon originated. then mm. barral and bixio made two ascents from paris in rainy weather to the heights of 19,000 and 23,000 feet respectively, although they had expected to attain twice these altitudes. their most interesting observations were the great thickness of the cloud mass, which in one case amounted to 15,000 feet, and the sudden fall of temperature in it from +15° to -39°. some curious optical phenomena were connected with the floating ice crystals, and although the light of the sky was found to be strongly polarized, the light reflected from the clouds was not polarized. the field of operations was now transferred to england, where, under the auspices of the british association, four ascents were made by john welsh of the kew observatory in the great _nassau_ balloon managed by green, the veteran aeronaut. the special object of these investigations, like those in france, was the determination of the temperature and hygrometric condition of the air at different elevations. besides this, samples of air at different heights were collected for analysis and the light reflected from clouds was examined for polarization. recognizing that on account of the calm prevailing in the car of the balloon and the great solar radiation, the readings of the thermometer would be affected, welsh enclosed the thermometers in polished tubes through which air was forced by bellows. this was the first aspirated thermometer, which alone gives the true temperature of the air with the conditions prevailing in a balloon. the instrument fell into oblivion until a few years ago, and to this fact is due the fictitious temperatures generally obtained by aeronauts. welsh reached heights of from 12,500 to 23,000 feet, and his observations showed that the temperature of the air decreased uniformly with height until at a certain elevation, varying on different days, the decrease is arrested, and for a space of 2000 or 3000 feet the temperature remains nearly constant, or even increases slightly; the regular diminution being afterwards resumed and generally maintained at a less rapid rate than in the lower air, and commencing from a higher temperature than would have existed but for the interruption. the variation of the decrease with the seasons was also demonstrated. the humidity did not change much with height, and it was nowhere very dry. finally, the light of the clouds was proved not to be polarized, and the permanent composition of the atmosphere was confirmed. in 1861 another grant of money was made by the british association for balloon experiments to be performed, under the direction of a committee, by mr. james glaisher, then engaged in geodetic and meteorological work in england. between 1862 and 1868 glaisher, accompanied by the aeronaut coxwell, made thirty ascents. they attained three times a height exceeding 23,000 feet, and once more than 29,000 feet, when they believed that the balloon rose to 37,000 feet. the primary objects of glaisher's experiments were as follows: determination of the temperature of the air and its hygrometrical conditions up to five miles, comparisons of an aneroid barometer with a mercurial one, determination of the electrical state of the air and of its oxygenic state by means of ozone papers, time of vibration of a magnet at different distances from the earth. secondary objects of study were the composition of the air, the form and thickness of clouds, the atmospheric currents, acoustical phenomena, etc. in order to obtain many observations frequent ascents were necessary, as the insular position of england precluded long voyages. during 1869 ascents in a captive balloon up to 1700 feet supplemented the employment of the free balloon, which from its rapid rise and fall made observations in it near the earth impossible. glaisher was a good observer; his instruments were excellent, and had been previously tested, but their exposure in the basket of the balloon was bad, and although the thermometer was provided with an aspirator similar to welsh's, glaisher, noticing that the readings agreed with those of a freely exposed thermometer, hastily concluded that the use of the aspirator was unnecessary, and so discarded it. until quite recently glaisher's results were accepted as representing the conditions of the free air up to the greatest height which it was possible to reach. these results showed that the temperature did not fall uniformly with height, but that it fell most rapidly near the earth and much less rapidly at great heights. in cloudy weather up to the height of a mile the mean decrease of temperature in the day-time differed little from the theory of 1° per 300 feet, but in clear or partly clear weather the decrease was more rapid, commencing with 1° for 160 feet near the ground and diminishing to 1° for 1000 feet at an elevation exceeding six miles. the observations in the captive balloon up to a third of a mile indicated a daily range in the vertical decrease of temperature. the observations of relative humidity agreed with welsh's in showing a slight increase up to about half-a-mile, then a decrease up to above five miles, where there seemed to be an almost entire absence of water. the other observations were inconclusive, except that the time of vibration of a magnet was found to be somewhat longer than on the earth, which was contrary to gay-lussac's experience. the most remarkable of glaisher's ascents was made from wolverhampton on september 5, 1862, when in less than one hour he had passed the altitude of five miles, exceeding the greatest height hitherto reached. to quote from glaisher's narrative: "up to this time i had taken observations with comfort and experienced no difficulty in breathing, whilst mr. coxwell, in consequence of the exertion he had to make, had breathed with difficulty for some time. having discharged sand, we ascended still higher; the aspirator became troublesome to work, and i also found a difficulty in seeing clearly.... about 1 hour 52 min., or later, i read the dry-bulb thermometer as minus 5°; after this i could not see the column of mercury in the wet-bulb thermometer, nor the hands of the watch, nor the fine divisions of any instrument. i asked mr. coxwell to help me to read the instruments. in consequence, however, of the rotatory motion of the balloon, which had continued without ceasing since leaving the earth, the valve-line had become entangled, and he had to leave the car and mount into the ring to readjust it. i then looked at the barometer, and found its reading to be 9-3/4 inches, still decreasing fast, and implying a height exceeding 29,000 feet. shortly after, i laid my arm upon the table, possessed of its full vigour, but on being desirous of using it, i found it powerless.... trying to move the other arm, i found it powerless also. then i tried to shake myself and succeeded, but i seemed to have no limbs.... i dimly saw mr. coxwell, and endeavoured to speak, but could not. in an instant intense darkness overcame me, so that the optic nerve lost power suddenly, but i was still conscious, with as active a brain as at the present moment whilst writing this. i thought i had been seized with asphyxia, and believed i should experience nothing more, as death would come unless we speedily descended; other thoughts were entering my mind, when i suddenly became unconscious.... i cannot tell anything of the sense of hearing, as no sound reaches the air to break the perfect stillness and silence of the regions between six and seven miles above the earth. my last observation was made at 1 hour 54 min., above 29,000 feet.... whilst powerless i heard the words, 'temperature' and 'observation,' and i knew mr. coxwell was in the car speaking to and endeavouring to rouse me.... i then heard him speak more emphatically, but could not see, speak, or move. i heard him again say, 'do try; now do!' then the instruments became dimly visible, then mr. coxwell, and very shortly i saw clearly.... mr. coxwell told me that while in the ring he felt it piercingly cold, that hoarfrost was all round the neck of the balloon, and that on attempting to leave the ring he found his hands frozen. he had, therefore, to place his arms on the ring and drop down.... he wished to approach me, but could not; and when he felt insensibility coming over him too, he became anxious to open the valve. but in consequence of having lost the use of his hands he could not do this; ultimately he succeeded, by seizing the cord with his teeth, and dipping his head two or three times, until the balloon took a decided turn downwards. no inconvenience followed my insensibility; and when we dropped, it was in a country where no conveyance of any kind could be obtained, so i had to walk between seven and eight miles.... i have already said that my last observation was made at a height of 29,000 feet; at this time (1 hour 54 min.) we were ascending at the rate of 1000 feet per minute; and when i resumed observations we were descending at the rate of 2000 feet per minute. these two positions must be connected, taking into account the interval of time between, viz. 13 minutes, and on these considerations the balloon must have attained the altitude of 36,000 or 37,000 feet. again, a very delicate minimum thermometer read minus 11°.9, and this would give a height of 37,000 feet. mr. coxwell, on coming from the ring, noticed that the centre of the aneroid barometer, its blue hand, and a rope attached to the car were all in the same straight line, and this gave a reading of seven inches and leads to the same result. therefore, these independent means all lead to about the same elevation, viz. fully seven miles." mr. glaisher's circumstantial evidence of the height he reached has been assailed lately, partly from his assumption that the velocity of the balloon while rising and falling during the thirteen minutes was uniform, but principally from the supposition that men could have survived in that region of death, without at least artificial means of respiration. while it is certain that berson's observations, which are described later, were made at a greater height than glaisher's, yet all credit must be given to this nestor of aeronautical and meteorological science in great britain, who is still living at the advanced age of ninety. the example of glaisher was not followed in england, but it stimulated interest in the balloon again in france, where mm. flammarion, de fonvielle, and tissandier have made many ascents for scientific purposes, and have presented the results in a popular form to the public. photography in a balloon is generally a failure on account of the intense reflection from the upper cloud surfaces and the haze which masks the earth. consequently, for scenic effects we must rely upon sketches, of which those in that interesting, but now rather rare book, _travels in the air_, may be referred to. the high atmosphere is often filled with fine ice crystals which, though invisible from below, occasion curious optical phenomena, and some of these have been sketched by m. albert tissandier, who has the advantage of being an artist as well as an aeronaut. of the many narratives of balloon voyages, one of the most thrilling is the tragedy of the _zenith_. in 1875, through the co-operation of the french academy of sciences and other scientific bodies, it was arranged to make two voyages, one of long duration, the other to a great height, in the balloon _zenith_. the long voyage from paris to bordeaux was successfully accomplished in twenty-four hours, and on april 15 the _zenith_ again rose from paris, carrying mm. gaston tissandier and crocé-spinelli, with sivel as aeronaut. by the advice of m. paul bert, the distinguished physiologist, three small balloons of oxygen were provided to assist respiration. the scientific apparatus was as follows: a pump was arranged to draw air through tubes filled with potash in which to store the carbonic acid at different heights in the atmosphere, in order that analysis might determine if its proportion diminished at great heights; a spectroscope was employed to examine the line of water-vapour in the atmosphere, and two aneroid barometers were provided, one giving the pressure corresponding to heights up to 13,000 feet, the other the pressure between 13,000 and 30,000 feet. there were also two barometric tubes registering the lowest pressure, as well as thermometers and other scientific instruments. at 15,000 feet the voyagers began to breathe oxygen, which had been used beneficially by sivel and crocé-spinelli in a high ascent the previous year. at 24,000 feet tissandier wrote in his notes: "my hands are freezing. i am well. we are all right. haze on horizon with small rounded cirrus. we are rising. crocé pants. we breathe oxygen. sivel shuts his eyes, crocé does the same." five minutes later: "sivel throws out ballast, temperature -11° cent., barometer 300 millimeters." after this, tissandier became so weak that he could not turn his head to look at his companions. he tried to seize the oxygen tube, but was unable to move his arms. his mind was clear, and he saw the barometer sink below 280 millimeters, indicating a height of 27,000 feet. then he fainted. after a half-hour of unconsciousness he revived and wrote: "we are falling, temperature -8°, barometer 315 millimeters. i discharge ballast. crocé and sivel unconscious in bottom of basket. we fall rapidly." again he fell into a stupor, from which he was roused by crocé shaking his arm, saying, "throw out ballast!" which he did, together with the pump, wraps, etc. what happened after this is unknown, but probably the balloon, thus lightened and the gas in it being warm, rose again nearly as high as before. when tissandier came to his senses the balloon was falling with frightful speed, and in the bottom of the basket, which was oscillating violently from side to side, were crouched his two companions with black faces and bloody mouths. the shock of striking the ground was terrific, but the anchor held, and the balloon soon emptied. from the barometric data it appears probable that the _zenith_ attained twice a height of about 28,000 feet, and that asphyxiation from the long deprivation of sufficient oxygen killed the two companions of tissandier and nearly proved fatal to him. this disaster discouraged further attempts to reach high altitudes, and with the exception of the ascent to 23,000 feet in france by mm. jovis and mallet, no more were made until the past decade. the results of the meteorological observations were seen to be strangely discordant; for example, the temperature of 40° below zero, observed by barral and bixio at a height of 23,000 feet, and 80° above zero, noted by the american aeronaut wise, at 6000 feet. the prophecy "that the balloon-basket would be the cradle of the young science of meteorology" seemed unlikely to be realized, but, nevertheless, observations in balloons continued to be made in france, italy, and russia. in the united states a series of balloon ascents was conducted by the signal service, which then included the weather bureau, and the height of 15,500 feet reached by professor hazen in 1887 is probably the greatest at which observations in the free air have been made in america. the difficulty of obtaining the true temperature of the air from a balloon is great, and without special precautions the observations give the conditions of the free air even less well than do observations on mountain summits. during a rapid ascent the air is carried up in the balloon basket like water in a well-bucket, and since the balloon drifts with the wind it is relatively in a calm, so that there is no circulation of air; the thermometers, even when screened from direct sunshine, are affected by radiation from the heated gas-bag above, and moreover they are not sufficiently sensitive to follow the changing temperature of the air strata so quickly traversed by the balloon. the aneroid barometer, from which the height of the balloon is calculated, cannot respond to rapid changes of pressure; consequently there is a double source of error in determining the height at which the temperature is measured. ordinarily, the temperature of the air may be obtained quite accurately by slinging in a circle a thermometer attached to a cord, even though this is done in sunshine. during two balloon ascents by the writer, a sling thermometer was found in extreme cases to read 14° lower than was recorded by automatic instruments, hung in their usual position from the ring of the balloon. the sling thermometer, however, is influenced by intense insolation, and moreover cannot be swung far enough outside the basket of a balloon to insure good results. the standard instrument for obtaining the temperature of the air under all conditions, adopted for international use in 1898, is a modification of that used by welsh forty-five years before. this instrument, which is the invention of dr. assmann of berlin, is called the aspiration thermometer, and is designed to prevent the casing surrounding the thermometer from being heated by insolation or conduction, and to insure a flow of air past the thermometer bulbs. [illustration: fig. 3.--german balloon equipped for meteorological observations.] the reorganization of balloon observations was accomplished by the german society for the promotion of aërial navigation, which has been assisted by the prussian meteorological institute, and by officers of the german army balloon corps. the german emperor takes a personal interest in the work, and has aided it by the gift of a considerable sum of money. the first voyage under the direction of the society was made in 1888, and many notable ones followed. in 1891, through the courtesy of the president, dr. assmann, the writer made an ascent from berlin in a balloon equipped for accurate observations, with the special purpose of comparing the sling with the aspiration thermometer. the car of the balloon is shown in fig. 3. a companion was the now famous dr. berson, who then made his second ascent, but who has now become an expert aeronaut by reason of more than fifty ascensions, some of them to great heights. on december 4, 1894, he ascended alone from stassfurt, prussia, in the _phoenix_, to probably the greatest height ever reached by man, at least in a conscious state. by breathing oxygen he was able to keep his senses and to read the barometer at 9·1 inches, indicating approximately an altitude of 30,000 feet, and the aspirated thermometer at 54° below zero. an ordinary thermometer read 11° below zero in the sun, showing its heat was much diminished in consequence of the haze that prevailed even at this enormous height. the cirriform clouds which surrounded the balloon were found to have the structure of snow-flakes rather than that of ice-crystals. the chief result of this record-breaking ascent was the extraordinarily low temperatures recorded at great heights, as compared with those observed by glaisher, tissandier, and others. an inversion of temperature--that is an increase of temperature with height--prevailed up to a mile, but above that the temperature fell at a rapid and accelerated rate which approached the adiabatic fall above 26,000 feet. the wind, which was almost calm at the earth's surface, increased to a gale in the high atmosphere, and carried the balloon along at an average speed of thirty-six miles an hour. wishing to demonstrate conclusively whether the insular position of england influenced the temperature of the high atmosphere, as had been suggested, dr. berson determined to execute a high ascension in england during the prevalence of a barometric maximum in summer, when the air column would be abnormally warmed and the upper isothermal surfaces elevated. an opportunity was afforded berson to follow in glaisher's footsteps on september 14, 1898, when abnormal heat prevailed in europe. berson, with the aeronaut spencer, in the balloon _excelsior_, rose from the crystal palace in london to the height of 27,300 feet, where he observed a temperature of -29°. the oxygen inhaled prevented harmful physiological effects except for the discomfort caused by the enormous reduction of temperature from 80° at the ground only thirty-five minutes before. the temperature decreased rapidly at first, then moderately up to three miles, and above that it fell almost at the adiabatic rate. even in this hot summer maximum of pressure and notwithstanding the maritime climate and south-westerly currents, a temperature about 29° below zero reigned at 27,000 feet, being only a few degrees warmer than berson had observed in winter at the same height above germany. yet glaisher, in all his ascents, two of which exceeded 26,000 feet, never recorded a temperature of less than 5° below zero. these relatively high temperatures, obtained also by welsh, tissandier, and gay-lussac, must be attributed to the insufficient protection of the thermometers against insolation, to the proximity of the instruments to the heated basket and its occupants, and lastly, to the sluggishness of the thermometers themselves, from lack of ventilation, during the rapid passage through air-strata of different temperatures. plate vi. indicates the change of temperature with height observed during the four highest balloon ascents in europe and in the united states. dots indicate the observations while ascending, and crosses the observations while descending; these are connected by full and broken lines respectively, an inclination upward to the left showing a decrease of temperature with height and _vice versâ_. the adiabatic lines, representing a fall of temperature of 1° fahrenheit per 183 feet of ascent, serve for comparison. [illustration: plate vi.--temperatures observed in four high balloon ascents.] this account of notable balloon ascents should not be closed without mentioning the most daring and unique of all, the voyage of mr. s. a. andrée towards the north pole in 1897. although his was a voyage of geographical discovery, and not one for the exploration of the air, yet meteorological and other observations were to be made, and andrée had familiarized himself with the instruments and the management of a balloon during several voyages in sweden. the success of the polar voyage depended primarily upon the prevalence of southerly winds, and the ability of the balloon to keep afloat long enough to profit by them, even should they be light and variable at times. therefore the impermeability of the balloon to hydrogen gas was of vital importance, and it was the conviction that the _eagle_, of 140,000 cubic feet, was neither sufficiently large nor staunch to sustain itself for thirty days, the time which might be required to reach behring straits, that led dr. nils ekholm, the meteorologist and physicist, to withdraw from the expedition. unfortunately, his fears seem to have been well founded, and it is probable that we must now abandon hope of the safety of the brave andrée and his two companions. a less perilous voyage northward across the alps was attempted in 1898 by professor heim, the swiss geologist, and two associates, conducted by the italian aeronaut, spelterini. with an automatic photographic camera, similar to one described in the next chapter, it was hoped to get views of the high alps from above, which would be alike valuable for geologic and topographic study. extensive meteorological observations were made in connection with the sixth international balloon ascent, but only the jura was crossed, at an altitude of 13,000 feet, because the balloon travelled in a north-westerly direction, instead of north-east as was expected. many years ago wise and donaldson, the american aeronauts, proposed to cross the atlantic ocean in a balloon. the difficulties which present themselves in such an undertaking are purely technical, and given a balloon which loses its gas so slowly that its buoyancy can be maintained for several days, there seems to be no reason why such a balloon, at a height of four or five miles, could not pass from san francisco to new york, or from the united states to europe, since the motion of the upper clouds proves that the high atmosphere moves almost constantly with great velocity from the west to the east. the dirigible balloon has not been realized except in nearly calm weather, but the aeronaut can often reverse his direction by ascending or descending into a contrary wind to that in which he has been travelling. frequently no clouds separate these opposing currents, which become apparent only when a balloon enters them. it has been mentioned that in 1869 glaisher made observations in a captive balloon in england up to the height of 1700 feet in order to study the conditions of the air within this distance of the earth, which could not be done in a free and rapidly moving balloon. although captive balloons are frequently used in the european cities to lift people who wish to enjoy the view from a height of 500 or 1000 feet, they appear to have been little used by scientific observers since the time of glaisher. in 1890-91 the aeronautical society at berlin employed a captive balloon in connection with the observations in free balloons which have been described. this captive balloon had a capacity of only 5000 cubic feet, but it sufficed to lift an apparatus weighing sixteen pounds, designed by dr. assmann to record atmospheric pressure, as well as the temperature and relative humidity of the air. the balloon, attached to a cable 2600 feet long, was drawn down by a steam engine. it was possible in this way to have simultaneous observations at three levels, viz. near the ground, in the free air at a height of about half-a-mile, and at the highest level attained by a free balloon. but the captive balloon is often at a disadvantage, for the wind drives it down, and although the meteorograph mentioned had ingenious devices to neutralize the violent shocks caused by this and by the rebound of the balloon after the gust of wind, yet these impaired the automatic record. the height to which the balloon rose was so much diminished by the wind that instead of 2600 feet, which the balloon attained in calm weather when the cable was vertical, the average height of the twenty-four ascents was but half this, and in very windy weather the balloon could not rise at all. [illustration: fig. 4.--german kite-balloon.] to obviate these difficulties, a few years ago there was invented by two officers of the german army, lieutenants von siegsfeld and von parseval, a captive balloon capable of resisting strong winds, called, from its action as a kite, the _drachen-ballon_ or kite-balloon, and which at the present time is being successfully used in the german army and navy for reconnoitring in all kinds of weather. a smaller kite-balloon, of 7700 cubic feet capacity, filled either with hydrogen or with illuminating gas, was first used to lift meteorological instruments at strassburg in 1898, where it remained at a height of several hundred feet during twenty-four hours. as is seen from fig. 4, the balloon is cylindrical, with hemispherical ends, and is attached to its cable like a kite, so that the wind acts to lift and not to depress it. the cylinder is divided by a diaphragm near its lower end into two chambers, the upper and larger one being filled with gas, while the lower chamber, by means of a valve opening inwards, receives the pressure of the wind which presses against the diaphragm, and preserves the sausage-like form of the balloon in spite of leakage of gas. another wind-bag encircling the bottom of the air-chamber serves as a rudder, and lateral fins or wings give stability to the balloon about its longer axis. the instruments are placed in a basket hung far below the balloon. in cases where there is little or no wind at the ground, captive balloons can render valuable service for meteorological observations, but in all other cases kites are preferable. the reasons for this assertion will be given when we consider kites. from what has been said it will be perceived how much the germans did to advance scientific ballooning, yet their constant rivals, the french, found a way to surpass them in the exploration of the atmosphere. for several years the struggle for supremacy in the attainment of the greatest heights was keen between the scientific men of both countries, but a truce was declared at paris in 1896, and since then both nations have worked together harmoniously. the friendly meeting of french and german physicists at strassburg in 1898 to agree upon the details of co-operation, typified the union of nations through science, and while it is true that the atmosphere has no boundaries and cannot be pre-empted, let us hope that the common aims of science will ultimately obliterate even political boundaries. chapter iv _ballons-sondes_ for great altitudes--the international ascents we have seen that the ascent of human beings to heights of six miles is attended with difficulty and danger, and even with apparatus for supplying the life-sustaining oxygen, man can hardly hope to reach much greater altitudes. consequently, to obtain information about the atmospheric strata lying above six miles, that is to say, those facts which require to be ascertained in the medium itself, we must employ the so-called _ballons-sondes_, carrying self-recording instruments but no observers. this method, which was proposed in copenhagen as long ago as 1809, was first put into execution by the french aeronauts, hermite and besançon, who, it may be remarked, suggested attempting to reach the north pole by balloon some time before andrée announced his scheme. a balloon is the best of anemometers, since it takes the direction and speed of the currents in which it floats, and hence it is customary, before a manned balloon starts, to dispatch several small pilot-balloons in order to judge of the direction and strength of the upper winds. even if we do not know the height of the currents in which they float, though this can be ascertained by measuring the height of the balloon trigonometrically or micrometrically, we still obtain a general knowledge of the direction and speed of the currents. with this idea, m. bonvallet in 1891 dispatched from amiens, france, ninety-seven paper balloons, each provided with a postal card asking for the time and place of descent. sixty of these cards were returned, almost all the balloons having been carried east by the upper current, ten going beyond one hundred and thirty miles, and one travelling at a speed of almost one hundred miles an hour. the next year the experiment was continued by mm. hermite and besançon with balloons of thirty-five cubic feet contents, and about half of those dispatched from paris were recovered within a radius of one hundred miles. the height to which the balloons could rise is determined by the following considerations: to ascend 18,000 feet, where the atmospheric pressure is one-half that at the earth (see plate i.), the balloon when half full of gas must lift itself from the ground; to rise 35,000 feet, where the pressure is reduced to one-quarter, it must be able to start upward when one-quarter filled, and so on. in practice the ascensional force usually diminishes at first from various causes, such as the escape of gas, its cooling, and the deposit of moisture on the outside of the balloon. to penetrate the clouds, therefore, it is necessary to have a considerable excess of ascensional force, but above the clouds, since the heating effect of the sun increases greatly with altitude, the gas in the balloon is warmed much above the surrounding air, and so the theoretical altitudes are exceeded. having determined that balloons inflated with one hundred and fifty cubic feet of coal-gas would rise to great heights, simple and light registering instruments, as well as the postal cards, were attached to them. as the pressure diminished, an aneroid barometer traced a line on a smoked glass, and after the descent was placed under the receiver of an air-pump, and the pressure required to reproduce the trace was measured by a manometer. from this the height could be computed approximately. the maximum and minimum thermometer was of the well-known u-form, and instructions appended asked that it be read as soon as found. a slow-match was arranged to detach postal cards successively, so that if they were found and mailed, the track of the balloon could be determined. these balloons at first were called _ballons perdus_, or lost balloons, but when it was known that most of the fourteen balloons liberated from paris were recovered, the name _ballons explorateurs_ was given, which was afterwards changed to _ballons-sondes_, or sounding balloons. the germans call them, _registrir-ballons_, and in english they have been designated unmanned balloons also. one of these paper balloons having reached a height of nearly 30,000 feet, mm. hermite and besançon proceeded to construct a balloon of gold-beater's skin, having a capacity of 3960 cubic feet, in order to carry a better instrumental equipment. the self-recording instruments made by the french firm of richard brothers were well adapted for this purpose, and a combined barometer and thermometer, registering in ink on an upright drum that is turned by clockwork inside, is shown in fig. 5. the exhausted pair of boxes b of the barometer actuates the lower pen, while the curved tube c, which is filled with alcohol, by its change of shape moves the upper pen and records the temperature. from the indications of the barometer and the temperature of the mass of air, it is possible by laplace's formula to calculate the height at any hour of the registration. the balloon mentioned was the first of the so-called _aérophiles_, and when inflated with coal-gas it could lift seventy-seven pounds besides its own weight of forty pounds. it carried two of the baro-thermographs described, and a package of information cards arranged to be detached by a slow-match. to mitigate the shock of striking the ground one of the instruments was hung by rubber cords inside a wicker basket that in the first ascent was not screened from the sun. it was decided to liberate these balloons entirely filled with gas (instead of partly full, to allow for its expansion), and to utilize all possible ascensional force at first rather than to weight the balloon with an automatic discharger of ballast (fig. 6). the trial of the _aérophile_ occurred march 21, 1893, and the next day one of the cards was returned announcing its fall in the department of the yonne, where the balloon and the instruments were recovered injured. from the blurred traces of the latter it was computed that at an altitude of about 49,000 feet a temperature of -60° fahrenheit had been met with, both pressure and temperature being the lowest measured in a balloon up to that time. although the data secured by this ascent were somewhat doubtful, yet the feasibility of exploring the atmosphere by _ballons-sondes_ was proved. it was seen that the enormous velocity of ascent overcame the wind and permitted the path of the balloon to the summit of its trajectory to be followed, the balloon appearing like a meteor visible in daylight, and so its height could be calculated by trigonometrical measurements; while the descent, caused by the escape and cooling of the gas, was gentle and regular, permitting the delicate instruments to be recovered uninjured. [illustration: fig. 5.--baro-thermograph of richard.] [illustration: fig. 6.--the _aérophile_ rising. the left-hand picture shows the deformation caused by the resistance of the air to its rapid ascent, and the right-hand one the violent oscillations when first liberated.] the second ascent of this _aérophile_ was its last, for, after falling in the black forest, it was burned by children. however, m. besançon, not discouraged, constructed the _aérophile ii._ of 6300 cubic feet, and improved the instruments as experience suggested. the records had often been interrupted by freezing of the ink, so the pen was replaced by a needle marking with less friction on smoked paper surrounding the record drum. to avoid heating of the thermometers by the sun, they were placed in a wicker cylinder open at both ends and covered with bright metallic paper. this was hung below the balloon with its axis vertical, in order that the draught through the cylinder when the balloon was rising or falling should counteract the insolation, and in the next ascent, at about the same altitude, a temperature lower by 36° fahrenheit indicated the effect of the protection. to secure an independent record of the lowest temperature an ingenious device was used, consisting of a thermometer tube filled with alcohol and having black divisions. the lowest point to which the alcohol sank was recorded on photographic paper placed behind the tube, the whole being enclosed in a metallic box that was automatically closed on striking the ground, and so was preserved against the meddling of curious persons. up to the middle of 1898 ten voyages had been made by the _aérophiles_, which were now constructed of varnished silk to hold 16,000 cubic feet of gas. one of the objects sought was the collection of samples of air at great heights, but this was not accomplished until recently. in the first apparatus for this purpose, an aneroid barometer at a predetermined pressure turned the cock communicating with an exhausted receiver that filled with air and was then closed. the cock leaked, so next the ingenious device of generating heat chemically to seal the glass tube was tried. this, too, failed, but finally, an apparatus of m. cailletet solved the problem. it is advisable to control the height deduced from the barometric records by direct observations so long as the balloon remains visible, and for this purpose micrometric measures were made with a telescope as soon as the balloon left the ground. there was also used a species of registering theodolite which, when kept pointed at the balloon, automatically traced on paper its azimuth and angular altitude. these records, when combined with the barometric height at a known hour, permitted the horizontal distance traversed, and hence the velocity, to be calculated, or, with two such instruments at ends of a base line, the height of the balloon could be found. the first experiments with _ballons-sondes_ in france were soon repeated in germany, where a balloon of rubber-fabric holding 8700 cubic feet was obtained by the german society for the promotion of aërial navigation. when inflated with coal-gas it had a lifting force of about two hundred and ninety pounds, in excess of its envelope, etc., weighing ninety-three pounds, and the meteorological apparatus weighing six pounds. the _cirrus_, as it was called, burst on its first trial, but in july 1894 it made a remarkable voyage from berlin to the boundary of bosnia, a distance of seven hundred miles, at an average speed of sixty-two miles an hour. a maximum height of 54,000 feet and a minimum temperature of -63° fahrenheit were recorded. the _cirrus_ on its third voyage was accompanied by manned balloons in order to have simultaneous observations at different levels, and this time it travelled eighty-three miles an hour and rose 61,000 feet. the lowest temperature of -88° fahrenheit was supposed to be too high, for the reason that whereas the ventilation of the thermometers in a rapidly ascending or descending balloon might be sufficient to counteract solar radiation, this would not be the case when the balloon was approaching its culminating point with a diminishing speed. therefore, dr. assmann, under whose supervision the german experiments were conducted, employed the thermometer, which in the captive balloon was aspirated electrically, but now was driven by a weight, and later, because the ink froze, the registration was made photographic. the efficacy of the aspirator was seen in the ascent referred to, for, when its action stopped, a higher temperature was recorded though the balloon continued to ascend. in april 1895 the _cirrus_ rose to the extraordinary height of 72,000 feet, or more than thirteen and a quarter miles, where the barometric pressure was reduced to one and a half inches of mercury. (in plate i. this extreme and possibly excessive height is not shown as the height of the _ballon-sonde_, but the average of the three highest ascents of the _cirrus_ is indicated.) the comparative warmth (-50° fahrenheit) recorded has led dr. assmann himself to doubt the accuracy of the usual methods of registering temperature at such extremely low pressures. plate vii. shows the heights in metres, and the temperatures in degrees centigrade, during eight voyages from berlin prior to june 1897. notwithstanding the rivalry and difference of opinion between the germans and french as to the methods of exploring the high atmosphere, there was also a sincere desire to co-operate, and the international meteorological conference which was held at paris in september 1896 furnished an opportunity to make the arrangements. resolutions were adopted favouring ascents with manned balloons, as well as simultaneous ascents of _ballons-sondes_ in the different countries. the successful use of kites at blue hill to lift self-recording instruments more than a mile into the air led to the wish that similar experiments should be tried elsewhere. an international committee was appointed to carry out these resolutions, of which professor hergesell of strassburg is president, and the veteran parisian aeronaut and journalist, wilfrid de fonvielle, is secretary. [illustration: plate vii.--heights and temperatures recorded in eight ascents of the _cirrus_.] it was agreed to make a night ascent and to use identical instruments, in order that the observations might be made everywhere under the same conditions. accordingly, on the early morning of november 14, 1896, five balloons manned by observers, and three _ballons-sondes_ with recording instruments, were liberated in france, germany, and russia. by means of the automatic diagrams from the _ballons-sondes_, and the direct observations in the manned balloons, it was sought to determine the decrease of temperature with height in vertical sections of the atmosphere connecting the various centres from which the balloons started. seven such sections were available by connecting paris and strassburg, berlin and st. petersburg, warsaw and munich, etc., but, unfortunately, observations in the highest strata were generally lacking. three more international ascents were made during the year 1897, which were participated in less extensively. at this time it was necessary to decide questions that had arisen, and to make plans for the future, consequently a meeting of the international committee was held at strassburg in 1898. many technical questions were settled, but the chief result accomplished was the dissipation of misunderstandings and prejudices, not only between french and germans, but between the german representatives themselves, for no doubt personal intercourse is the greatest good of such conferences. although it was not a surprise, nevertheless it was regretted that no one came from great britain, where, since glaisher's epoch-making balloon ascensions, little has been done to explore the air. the beneficial results of the conference were apparent at the fifth international ascent, which occurred in the early morning of june 8, 1898. austria and belgium joined germany, france, and russia, and the field of atmospheric survey was extended over a good part of europe. a veritable aeronautic fleet was launched from paris, brussels, berlin, warsaw, st. petersburg, strassburg, munich, and vienna, consisting of twenty-one balloons, of which thirteen carried observers, who all used the aspiration thermometers, and eight were equipped only with self-recording instruments. some of the latter balloons reached altitudes of 50,000 feet, and the former attained extreme heights of one-third this. on the day selected the atmosphere was in a state of repose, with light variable winds, except high up, where they blew, as is usual, from the west or south-west. these observations were sufficiently numerous to form a synoptic chart at a considerable height above europe for comparison with the usual chart drawn from the surface observations. besides the general work of the international committee, special investigations have been undertaken by the french, who formed an aerostatic commission in paris. the services of the eminent physicists, mm. cailletet and violle, have been enlisted, while a generous patron has been found in prince roland bonaparte. the apparatus of m. cailletet to bring down samples of air from the high regions may now be described. when the balloon has reached its greatest height a cock of special construction, turned by clockwork, opens and allows the air to enter a reservoir in which a vacuum exists, and then the cock is automatically and hermetically closed. as it is known that the balloon reaches its extreme height in about an hour and a quarter, the time of opening the cock is so regulated, the closing taking place a little later by its further rotation. in order to protect the moving parts from the extreme cold, a receptacle filled with fused acetate of soda is placed in the box containing the motor, so that, notwithstanding the intense cold of the high regions, this salt in assuming a crystalline state gives out enough heat during several hours at least. during the ascent of an _aérophile_ air was collected at 50,000 feet, which when analyzed by m. müntz showed what was supposed, viz. that at this altitude the composition of the air does not differ much from that of the lower air. the slight excess of carbonic acid found in the upper air might be due to the oxidation of the grease used on the cock, and the smaller quantity of oxygen, as compared with normal air, might be caused by the absorption of this gas by the grease or even the absorption by the tinned sides of the copper reservoir. by eliminating all possible sources of error in future ascensions, m. müntz thinks that it can be proved whether there are real differences in the air at different heights, for the methods of analysis are to-day accurate enough to show such differences if they exist. but since it is probable that in the regions which can be explored by the _ballons-sondes_, the air undergoes the same mixing that renders the lower air nearly uniform, only the smallest variations in its composition would naturally be found, requiring minute precautions against errors. this is no doubt why previous measures agreed in showing the invariable composition of the air at lower altitudes. another important contribution of m. cailletet is an apparatus for measuring the height of the balloon by photography in order to verify laplace's formula connecting the barometric pressure with the altitude. the idea was to replace the observers on the ground, who sometimes made the trigonometrical measurements of the balloon described, by a photographic apparatus carried by the balloon itself, and which at frequent intervals should photograph automatically the ground over which it passed, at the same time that an aneroid barometer was photographed on the same sheet. the apparatus is hung vertically below the balloon; in the lower portion of the box is an objective which photographs the ground, and in the upper portion is a second objective which photographs the face of an aneroid barometer placed at the proper distance above. a clock-movement makes exposures every two minutes, and a sensitive film unrolled between the objectives receives the images on each side. if there are known, the focal length of the objective, the distance of two points on the ground, and the distance of two points on the photograph, a simple proportion permits the height of the balloon to be determined at that time, and consequently, from the barometric record, the law connecting the pressure with height can be deduced. the apparatus was successfully used in the voyage of a large balloon with observers, and the accuracy of the determination of height was found to be within 1/250. if the apparatus is to be used at great heights it would be necessary to protect the barometer and the camera from the very low temperatures. besides the use for which it was designed, this apparatus may serve to trace the route of a balloon and to determine the horizontal velocity at the different points of its path. the exploration of the high atmosphere by _ballons-sondes_, which can aid so many investigations, has been utilized by m. violle to obtain actinometric measures, that is, to determine the amount of heat given by the sun, or what is called the "solar constant." this has been done on mountains with varying results, due to the changing amount of atmospheric absorption. in regions traversed by the balloon where the pressure of the air is reduced to a few inches of mercury, where there is a complete absence of water-vapour, and at heights to which terrestrial dust does not extend, the measure of the quantity of heat sent by the sun towards the earth is freed from almost all the errors which we encounter on its surface. the actinometer of m. violle is, in principle, a sphere of copper, blackened externally, and having inside a thermometric apparatus which registers some distance away. under the action of the solar rays the sphere is heated, and assumes equilibrium when the loss by radiation and by contact with the air compensates for the gain by the absorption of the direct heat. while at low levels the atmosphere also contributes to heat the sphere, at great heights the sun shines from an almost black sky and alone heats the sphere. since the balloon follows the wind the apparatus is protected from air currents which would otherwise introduce errors. each twenty minutes a screen cuts off the solar rays from the sphere so that it cools to the temperature of the air, which is also recorded. on account of its weight this apparatus has not yet been carried by a _ballon-sonde_, but it has operated successfully in a balloon with observers. m. teisserenc de bort, who is actively engaged in exploring the air from a meteorological standpoint, has constructed a very sensitive thermometer made of a blade of german silver set in a frame of nickel-steel that does not expand with heat. this may be ventilated by a fan, and, while extremely sensitive to changes of temperature, it is not affected by shocks, and consequently is well adapted for use in _ballons-sondes_ that pass rapidly through air-strata of varying temperature. from this review of the development of the _ballons-sondes_ it is evident that they offer possibilities of obtaining data in the high atmosphere, perhaps up to fifteen miles or more, which, though subject to inaccuracies, are of great interest to the physicist and astronomer. the meteorologist is chiefly concerned with that portion of the atmosphere which lies within two or three miles of the earth, and he requires, moreover, accurate measurements for his conclusions. the new and most satisfactory way of obtaining these data is by kites, and the remaining chapters will treat of this method of exploring the atmosphere and the results. chapter v kites--history and application to meteorological purposes at blue hill and elsewhere kites are supposed to have been invented four hundred years before the christian era by archytas, and at smyrna the flying of kites remains a national sport to this day. we are told that two hundred years later, a chinese general, han sin, employed kites as a means of communication with the garrison of a besieged town, and there is a legend about their use in japan to dislodge and carry away a golden ornament from a tower. whatever may be the truth of these stories, we know that kite-flying in the malay archipelago, in china, and in japan, has been a pastime for all classes during centuries, and that the asiatic people have always been the expert kite-fliers of the world. kites with tails seem to have been introduced into england about two hundred and fifty years ago, and isaac newton when a school-boy made some improvements in them. notwithstanding the fact that generations of boys have flown kites and so eminent a mathematician as euler investigated their theory, until recently kites remained toys unsuited for practical purposes. since the tailless kite has become a familiar object, it has been said facetiously that kites lost their tails by the same process of evolution which deprived man of his caudal appendage; but as kites without tails have been flown in asia for centuries, the truth is that the tailed kites were the ones first brought to europe as playthings. to-day in holland we see boys flying the english bow-kite and the common kite with crossed sticks, both of which require tails, and by the side of them tailless kites imported from the dutch colonies in java. fig. 7 represents a kite from the east coast of java, drawn from a model in a museum at amsterdam, and also a drawing of a chinese bird-kite in the national museum at washington. like most of the oriental kites, they are made flat, but when exposed to the wind the extremities of the wings, which have a frame of split bamboo, bend backward, securing in this way the stability which in our common flat kite is gained by the action of the tail in lowering the centre of gravity and in maintaining the inclination to the wind. [illustration: fig. 7.--oriental tailless kites.] from historical researches that have been stimulated by the recent practical applications of kites, it appears that their first use for scientific purposes was in 1749, when dr. alexander wilson of glasgow, and his pupil, thomas melvill, used kites to lift thermometers. their kites, from four to seven feet in height, and covered with paper, were fastened behind one another, each kite taking up as much line as could be supported, thereby allowing its companion to soar to an elevation proportionally higher. it is related that "the uppermost one ascended to an amazing height, disappearing at times among the white summer clouds, whilst all the rest, in a series, formed with it in the air below such a lofty scale, and that too affected by such regular and conspiring motions, as at once changed a boyish pastime into a spectacle which greatly interested every beholder.... to obtain the information they wanted they contrived that thermometers, properly secured, and having bushy tassels of paper tied to them, should be let fall at stated periods from some of the higher kites, which was accomplished by the gradual singeing of a match-line." how the thermometers were prevented from changing their readings while falling to the ground is not explained. the account concludes: "when engaged in these experiments, though now and then they communicated immediately with the clouds, yet, as this happened always in fine weather, no symptoms whatever of an electrical nature came under their observation. the sublime analysis of the thunderbolt, and of the electricity of the atmosphere, lay yet entirely undiscovered, and was reserved two years longer for the sagacity of the celebrated dr. franklin." hence it seems that franklin's famous experiment of collecting the electricity of a thunder-cloud by means of a kite, performed at philadelphia in 1752, was not its first scientific application, and therefore america can claim only the later and most remarkable development of this means of exploring the air. about 1837 there existed in philadelphia an organization called the franklin kite club that flew kites for recreation. espy, the eminent meteorologist, was a member, and he states "that on those days when columnar clouds form rapidly and numerously the kite was frequently carried upward nearly perpendicularly by columns of ascending air," a phenomenon which is often observed to-day. espy calculated the height at which clouds should form by the cooling of the air to its dew-point, and then employed kites to verify his calculations of the heights of the clouds. it will be remembered that both these methods are utilized in the measurements of cloud-heights at blue hill. kites were employed to get temperatures a hundred or more feet above the arctic ocean early in the present century, and in 1847 w. r. birt flew a kite at kew observatory, with which he hoped to obtain measures of temperature, humidity, wind velocity, etc. this kite, hexagonal in shape, required three divergent strings attached to the ground to keep it steady, and the instruments were to be hoisted up to the kite by a pulley. perhaps the first person to soar aloft on a kite was a lady, who, more than fifty years ago, was lifted some hundred feet by a great kite constructed by george pocock, an englishman, to serve as an aërial observatory in warfare, and also to drag carriages along the ground. it was proposed afterwards to make use of kites in shipwrecks to take persons or life-lines ashore, and in 1865 sir george nares invented a storm-kite, so called, with a tail made up of hollow cones. this form of tail, subsequently used for both kites and balloons, is very efficient, since it offers increasing resistance as the wind becomes stronger. in 1882 mr. douglas archibald in england revived the use of kites for meteorological observations, and outlined a comprehensive scheme of exploring the air with kites which included almost all that has been done since, but his actual work, performed during the next three years, was limited to ascertaining the increase of wind velocity with height. to do this, he attached registering anemometers at four different points on the kite-wire, but since the total wind movements only were registered from the time the anemometers left the ground until they returned, it was impossible to obtain simultaneous records near the ground and at the kite, as is done to-day. still, archibald got differential measurements of the velocity of the wind up to the height of 1200 feet. the kites he employed were diamond-shaped, covered with silk, and were flown tandem, with the hollow cones, already mentioned, attached to the tails. although copper and iron wire had been used for flying kites many years before, yet archibald was the first to substitute steel pianoforte wire for the string, thereby increasing the strength while diminishing the weight, size, and cost of the line. mr. archibald in 1887 took the first photograph from a kite, a method which mm. batut and wenz developed in france, and messrs. eddy and woglom in the united states. the subsequent progress of kite-flying for meteorological purposes has taken place in the last-named country, and may be chronologically stated as follows: in 1885 mr. alexander mcadie (later of the u. s. weather bureau) repeated franklin's kite experiment on blue hill, with the addition of an electrometer; in 1891, and again in 1892, he measured simultaneously the electric potential at the base of blue hill, on the hill, and with kites as collectors several hundred feet above the hill-top, about the same time that dr. weber, in breslau, germany, was making a more extensive use of kites for the same purpose. it was no doubt william a. eddy of bayonne, n. j., who turned the attention of american scientific men to kite-flying, and created the widespread interest in kites which exists to-day. about 1890 mr. eddy lifted thermometers with an ordinary kite, but soon afterwards devised a tailless kite, resembling the java kite except that the horizontal cross-piece is nearer the top of the vertical stick, and its ends are bent backward in a bow and connected by a cord. this kite starts upward on being held in the wind at the end of a taut line, and continues to rise until the increasing wind-pressure on the portion above the cross-stick balances the pressure on the larger lower portion. the kite is kept from falling to one side by the looseness of the covering on either side of the backbone, and if there is more material on one side than on the other, or if the covering is too tight to form pockets in the wind, the kite requires a tail.[1] [1] a tail will prevent any kite from turning over, or "diving," because its weight keeps the lower end down while the pressure of the wind on the tail also pulls the lower end backward and maintains the necessary angle of the kite to the wind, the most efficient angle being about 22 degrees. bending back the ends of the cross-stick gives stability to a kite because, when, on account of the eddies in the wind, a stronger pressure is exerted on one side of the kite, this side is driven backward, thereby presenting less effective surface to the wind, while as the other side comes forward more nearly at right angles to the wind, it receives greater pressure than before. in this way the equilibrium about the central stick is automatically maintained, the required inclination to the wind being secured by the greater surface presented to the wind below the point of attachment of the bridle. in 1891 mr. eddy lifted a minimum thermometer by several of these kites flown tandem, and proposed to obtain in this way data to forecast the weather. in the _proceedings of the aeronautical conference_, held in connection with the chicago exposition, prof. m. w. harrington, then chief of the u. s. weather bureau, quoted mr. eddy's estimate of the cost of exploring the air by means of kites flown in series, and advocated their use. up to this time it does not appear that self-recording instruments--that is to say, those which make continuous graphic records--had been raised by kites. in the days of the early experimenters such instruments were too heavy and cumbersome to be lifted by the more or less unmanageable kites, but within the past few years m. richard of paris has made the simple and light recording instruments described in connection with balloons, which can be attached to kites. in this way it is possible to obtain simultaneous records at the kite and at a station on the ground, and from them to study the differences of temperature and humidity, and this seems to have been done first at blue hill observatory. in august 1894 mr. eddy brought his kites to blue hill and with them lifted a richard thermograph, which had been partly reconstructed of aluminium by mr. fergusson so that it weighed but 1-1/4 lbs., to the height of 1500 feet, and so the earliest automatic record of temperature was obtained by a kite. during the next summer, mr. eddy assisted again in the experiments at blue hill, and secured photographs of the observatory and the hill by a camera carried between his kites to the height of a hundred feet or more. now that the possibility of lifting self-recording meteorological instruments to considerable heights had been demonstrated, an investigation of the thermal and hygrometric conditions of the free air was undertaken by the staff of the blue hill observatory, who had already made an investigation of the movements of the clouds by the methods described in the second chapter. the development of the kite and its accessory apparatus, and the acquisition of the knowledge how to use them, required much time, and resulted in the damage or loss of many kites. two meteorographs, as the combination of two or more self-recording instruments is called, were dropped from a great height and no trace of them was found. when, however, by the breaking of the line both kites and instrument are carried away, the kites act as a parachute and bear the instrument gently to the ground, where both are usually recovered uninjured; to facilitate their return should they fall at a distance, the name and address are marked on each. it would be tedious to relate the ups and downs of scientific kite-flying at blue hill before the wind was successfully harnessed to the service of science, and the kites were prevented from kicking over the traces, or from breaking away, so only a brief account of the progress of the work will be given, and then the methods at present used will be described. at first the eddy, or malay kites, as they are also called, covered with paper or with varnished cloth, were coupled tandem to secure greater safety and lifting power. the principle of attaching kites at several points on the line was early adopted at blue hill, for although it can be demonstrated theoretically that a greater height is possible by concentrating all the pull at the end of the line, yet in the case of a line which is not infinitely strong the best results are got by distributing the pull, and in this way, too, kites can be added as the wind conditions aloft warrant. to obviate the frequent breaking of the bowed cross-piece, mr. fergusson made it in two pieces, each being held in a metal socket on the central stick, the two pieces forming a dihedral angle towards the wind. it had the advantage also of being readily taken apart for transportation. this kite, shown in fig. 8, flew at a high angle above the horizon and through a considerable range of wind velocity, but it could not be kept permanently in balance, or made to adjust itself to great variations in wind velocity, and therefore it was discarded. the first meteorograph, a combined recording thermometer and barometer (from which the height can be calculated), was constructed by mr. fergusson in august 1895, and three months later he united a recording anemometer to the thermometer, which was probably the first apparatus of this kind to be attached to kites. a meteorograph, recording the atmospheric pressure, air temperature, and relative humidity, was ordered from m. richard of paris in 1895, like one already carried by french aeronauts, except that, since for kites lightness is all-essential, m. richard constructed this triple-recorder for the first time of aluminium, and hereby reduced its weight to 2-4/5 lbs. [illustration: fig. 8.--eddy tailless kite.] [illustration: fig. 9.--hargrave kite.] one of these meteorographs was hung to a ring at the point of attachment of the two kite-lines to the main line, a method which was used until recently. in august 1895, besides the eddy kites, there was first used the cellular or box kite, invented by lawrence hargrave of sydney, australia, which bears no resemblance to the conventional forms of kites and which it would not be supposed could fly. as seen from fig. 9 its appearance is that of two light boxes without tops or bottoms, fastened some distance above each other. the wind exerts its lifting force chiefly upon the front and rear sides of the top box, the lower box, which inclines to the rear, and so receives less pressure, preserving the balance. the ends of the boxes, being in line with the wind, keep the kite steady and serve the purpose of the dihedral angle in the malay kite. the japanese are said to fly a single box, which is the prototype of the hargrave double cell. at the present time some form of the hargrave kite is generally employed for scientific purposes. on account of the weight of the large cord necessary to control these kites, and the surface which it presented to the wind, a height of 2000 feet could not be reached, so, during the winter of 1895-6, following archibald's example and the methods of deep-sea sounding employed by captain sigsbee, u. s. n., steel pianoforte wire was substituted for the cord. this wire is less than half as heavy, and less than one-fourth the size of cord having the same strength, and, moreover, its surface is polished, which reduces the friction of the wind blowing past it. with the wire the height of a mile was reached in july, and a mile and two-thirds above blue hill in october 1896. up to this time a reel turned by two men sufficed to draw down the kites, but the increasing pull and length of wire made recourse to steam-power necessary. in january 1897 a grant of money was allotted from the hodgkins fund of the smithsonian institution for the purpose of obtaining meteorological records at heights exceeding ten thousand feet, and no doubt the first application of steam to kite-flying was the winch built by mr. fergusson with ingenious devices for distributing, oiling, and measuring the length of wire. the cumulative pressure of the successive coils of wire finally crushed the drum, and the next apparatus applied the principle of sir william thomson's deep-sea sounding apparatus, in which there is no accumulation of pressure. in october 1897 records were brought down from eleven thousand feet, or a thousand feet above the prescribed height. the kites and apparatus at present employed at blue hill will now be described. the kites are all of the multiplane type, and mostly of hargrave's construction with two rectangular cells. these cells are covered with cloth or silk, except at their tops and bottoms, and one is secured above the other by four or more sticks. the wooden frames are as light as possible, but are made rigid by guys of steel wire that bind them in all directions. the average weight is about two ounces a square foot of lifting surface, which is about the same weight a square foot as the eddy kites when all the surface is included in the estimate. the largest of the hargrave kites stands nine feet high, weighs eleven pounds, and contains ninety square feet of lifting surface, which in the recent kites is arched, resembling the curvature of a bird's wings, a construction that was proposed many years ago by phillips (fig. 10). these curved surfaces increase the lift, or upward pull, more than the drift, or motion to leeward, and so the angular elevation is augmented without materially adding to the total pull on the wire, which should not exceed one-half its breaking strength. [illustration: fig. 10.--modified hargrave kite at blue hill.] perhaps the most important factor in the success of the blue hill work was the invention by mr. clayton of the regulating bridle which is applied to every kite. an elastic cord is inserted in the lower part of the bridle, to which the flying-line is attached, and when the wind-pressure increases this cord stretches, and causes the kite to diminish its angle of incidence to the wind until the gust subsides. a kite can be set to pull only a fixed amount in the strongest wind, when the kite will fly nearly horizontal. we are therefore able to calculate the greatest pull which can be exerted on the wire by all the kites. with this device the kites have flown through gales of fifty or sixty miles an hour without breaking loose or injuring themselves. another efficient kite which has been used at blue hill is the so-called "aero-curve kite" made by mr. c. h. lamson of portland, maine. as is seen from fig. 11, this kite resembles a soaring bird, and it can be taken apart and folded up for storage or transportation. in general, the angle of the flying lines of the blue hill kites is 50° or 60° above the horizon, and in winds of twenty miles an hour the pull on the line is about one pound for each square foot of lifting surface in the kite. kites can be raised in a wind that blows more than twelve miles an hour at the ground, and as the average velocity of the wind for the year on blue hill is eighteen miles an hour, the days are few when kites will not fly there. [illustration: fig. 11.--lamson's aero-curve kite.] the wire to which the kites are attached is steel music-wire, 32/1000 of an inch in diameter, weighing fifteen pounds a mile, and capable of withstanding a pull of three hundred pounds. the wire is spliced in lengths of more than a mile with the greatest care, special pains being taken that no sharp bends or rust-spots occur which would cause it to break. to lift the increasing weight of wire, kites are attached at intervals of a few thousand feet, so that the angle may be maintained as high as is consistent with a safe pull, and this is done by screwing on the wire aluminium clamps, to which the kite-lines are fastened. on account of the greater stability and strength of the new kites, the meteorograph is suspended directly from the top kite. the richard meteorograph, contained in an aluminium cage of about a foot cube, weighs less than three pounds, and it is only necessary to screen the thermometer from the sun's rays to obtain the true temperature of the air, since the wind insures a circulation of air around the thermometer. another meteorograph, constructed by mr. fergusson, records the velocity of the wind in addition to the three other elements, and it weighs no more than the french instrument. the reeling apparatus is an example of how the same apparatus may serve diametrically opposite purposes. in sounding the deep sea the wire must be pulled upwards, whereas in sounding the heights of the atmosphere the wire must be pulled in the reverse direction. therefore the deep-sea sounding apparatus has been altered by mr. fergusson to pull obliquely downwards, the wire passing over a swivelling pulley which follows its direction and registers on a dial the exact length unreeled. next the wire bears against a pulley carried by a strong spiral spring, by which the pull upon it at all times is recorded on a paper-covered drum turned by clockwork. the wire passes now several times around a strain-pulley, and finally is coiled under slight tension upon a large storage-drum. when the kites are to be pulled down, the strain-pulley is connected with a two-horse-power steam-engine, and the wire is drawn in at a speed of from three to six miles an hour; but when the kites are rising the belt is removed, and the pull of the kites unreels the wire. [illustration: fig. 12.--meteorograph lifted by kites at blue hill.] the method of making a kite-flight for meteorological purposes at blue hill is as follows: a kite, fastened by a long wire to the ring in the main wire, being in the air, and the meteorograph suspended, another kite is attached to the ring by a shorter cord (fig. 12). they are then allowed to rise, and to unreel the wire, until its angle with the horizon becomes low, when, by means of the clamps described, other kites are added, the number depending on the size of the kites and the strength of the wind. after a pause at the highest attainable altitude, the winch is connected with the steam-engine and the kites are drawn down. the pauses at the highest point, and when kites are attached or detached, are necessary to allow the recording instruments to acquire the conditions of the surrounding air; and because at these times the meteorograph is nearly stationary, measurements of its angular elevation are made with a surveyor's transit, while observations of azimuth give the direction of the wind at the different heights. the time of making each angular measurement is noted, so that the corresponding point on the trace of the meteorograph may be found. from the length of the wire and its vertical angle, the height of the meteorograph can be calculated, it having been found that the sag of the wire, or its deviation either in a vertical or a horizontal plane from the straight line joining the kite and the reel, does not cause an error exceeding three per cent. in the height so computed. when the meteorograph is hidden by clouds, the height above the last point trigonometrically determined is computed from the barometer record by laplace's formula. at night there is only the barometer from which to determine the height; for although an attempt was made to use a lantern to sight upon, yet it soon became invisible, or, when seen, was confounded with the stars. before and after the flight the meteorograph is hung upon a tripod in the free air, in order that its thermometer and hygrometer may be compared with the standards. heights above sea-level of kite-flights. (_blue hill is 630 feet above the sea_) ----+----+----------------++------------------------------------------ | no.|heights in feet || percentages of records above year| of +-------+--------++-------+--------+--------+--------+------- |rec-|mean of|absolute|| 500 m.| 1000 m.| 1500 m.| 2000 m.| 3000 m. |ords|maximum|maximum || (1640 | (3280 | (4920 | (6560 | (9840 | | | || ft.) | ft.) | ft.) | ft.) | ft.) ----+----+-------+--------++-------+--------+--------+--------+------- 1894| 2 | 1,860 | 2,070 || 50 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 1895| 28 | 1,673 | 2,490 || 59 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 1896| 86 | 2,772 | 9,327 || 78 | 28 | 9 | 4 | 0 1897| 38 | 4,557 | 11,716 || 95 | 68 | 45 | 21 | 5 1898| 35 | 7,350 | 12,070 || 100 | 92 | 80 | 66 | 20 ----+----+-------+--------++-------+--------+--------+--------+-------since the use of wire and more efficient kites, the heights have been greatly increased. thus the average height above the hill attained by the meteorograph in thirty-five flights made during 1898 was more than a mile and a quarter, whereas the average height of all the ascents prior to 1897 was about a quarter of a mile (see table). the average height of the meteorograph above the hill, in all the flights during august 1898, was nearly a mile and a half, and on august 26 the meteorograph was raised 360 feet higher than ever before, its altitude, determined trigonometrically, being 11,440 feet above blue hill, or 12,070 feet above the neighbouring ocean. the meteorograph was suspended from the topmost kite, one of the lamson pattern, having 71 square feet of lifting surface, and this was increased to a total of 149 square feet by four kites of the modified hargrave type, that were attached at intervals to the wire. the five miles of wire in the air weighed 75 lbs., and the total weight including kites and apparatus was 112 lbs. the meteorograph left the ground at 10:40 a.m., attained its greatest height at 4:15 p.m., and returned to the ground at 8:40 p.m., a feat which it would be difficult for a man to equal on a mountain. the cumulus clouds were traversed three-quarters of a mile from the earth, and above them the air was found to be very dry. on the hill the air temperature was 72°, when it was 38° in the free air 11,440 feet above, and the wind velocity increased from twenty-two to forty miles an hour. these figures give an idea of the change of atmospheric conditions which occurs, but the conclusions deduced from the blue hill kite-flights will be discussed in the next chapter. however, the phenomena of atmospheric electricity, which have become noticeable since the use of wire, may be described here. generally, whenever the kites rise above seventeen hundred feet, the wire becomes strongly charged with electricity, and when the great heights are reached the electricity is discharged in long and brilliant sparks at the reel, often to the inconvenience of the attendants. usually, the electrical potential increases with altitude, and it is greatest during snow-storms or when the conditions favour thunder-storms. notwithstanding its intensity, the quantity of electricity in the atmosphere is probably insufficient to make its collection and storage for practical purposes worth while. it must not be imagined that kite-flying for meteorological purposes is a sinecure. at blue hill about two hundred flights have been made in all seasons and in all weathers, with temperatures varying from -5° to +90°, in gales, in rain, and in snow-storms, though not in thunder-storms. sometimes the kites are invisible from almost the time they leave the earth until their return, but when the upper kites are visible it is necessary to observe them with theodolites every few minutes. remembering that a high flight occupies ten or twelve hours, and frequently terminates late at night, or even continues until morning, it will be obvious that the work requires skill, energy, and perseverance, which have been shown by my assistants at the blue hill observatory who have conducted the flights. occasionally, for lack of wind or from breakage of the line, the kites fall to the ground, usually intact. if they were visible, trigonometrical measurements on the hill enable the place of descent to be located, and then the kites and meteorograph are sent for and the wire is reeled up. but at night, or when clouds hide the kites, the direction in which they fall is not known, because the azimuth of the wire at the reel often differs from that of the kites; so last autumn several hundred miles of road, path, wood, and swamp were traversed before the aërial apparatus, which had been lost during a flight at night, was found comparatively close at hand. from what has been said it will be evident that a former toy has been proved to be of the greatest importance for meteorological investigation at the blue hill observatory. on account of the success there attained it is coming into use elsewhere for meteorological observations. in 1898 the united states weather bureau created seventeen kite stations, chiefly in the mississippi valley, with the intention of obtaining data every day, at the height of a mile or more, with which to plot a synoptic weather map similar to the map that is now drawn from the data at the ground. from a knowledge of the weather conditions prevailing simultaneously in the upper and lower air, it was expected that the weather forecasts could be improved, but unfortunately, on account of the light winds during the summer, it was impossible to make enough simultaneous kite-flights to construct the upper-air map, and therefore the scheme was abandoned. however, the data obtained will no doubt furnish valuable information about the vertical temperature gradient, etc., in various conditions of weather. the chief meteorological bureaus of germany and russia are equipping stations with kites and balloons, and m. teisserenc de bort, who has provided his private observatory near paris with kite apparatus of the blue hill type, has already reached high altitudes. in scotland too, which was the birthplace of scientific kite-flying, experiments have been resumed by a scotchman and an american--a happy union of forces. from these preparations it appears that the resolution of the international aeronautical conference, recommending that all central observatories should employ this method of investigation as being of prime importance for the advancement of meteorological knowledge, is being carried out, and seems likely to produce important results. chapter vi results of the kite-flights at blue hill--future work kites possess several advantages over other methods of exploring the air up to heights of at least 12,000 feet whenever there is wind, but their chief merit is, that with them the true conditions of the air may be ascertained. the disadvantages of other methods of exploring the air, as compared with kites, are these: 1. =mountains= not only affect by contact the adjacent air, but by deflecting the air-currents cause mixture and ascent, which give conditions differing widely from those of the free air. 2. =free balloons= are more or less surrounded by heated or stagnant air, because they drift with the wind, and on account of the sluggishness of the thermometers, the temperatures observed at a given height in a balloon are generally higher during the ascent, _i.e._ when passing from warm to cold air, than during the descent, when the conditions are reversed. again, it is not possible to study the progressive changes in the atmospheric conditions at one place, because observations in a drifting balloon are not comparable with simultaneous ones made at a station on the ground below. with kites, however, the possibility of making frequent and nearly vertical ascents and descents permits observations to be obtained almost simultaneously in superincumbent strata of air. the height of the kite can usually be determined with an accuracy not attainable by the barometer in a balloon. 3. =captive balloons=, although constructed so as not to be driven down by wind, cannot rise nearly so high as kites on account of the weight and resistance of the cable necessary to control them, and even the german kite-balloon, on account of its large surface, would hardly withstand the strong winds in which kites can fly. 4. =the cost= of installing and operating either mountain stations or balloons is much greater than for kites. the exploration of the lower two miles of air with kites flown from blue hill is no doubt the most complete ever made at one place. nearly two hundred records have been obtained in all kinds of weather conditions, and the progressive attainment of greater and greater heights is shown in the table in the preceding chapter. the records from the flights have been discussed by mr. clayton; those until february 1897, with the blue hill observations, in vol. xlii., part i., of the _annals of the astronomical observatory of harvard college_, and later records in two _bulletins_ of the blue hill observatory, in which the changes of temperature and humidity with height, and their relation to the positions of cyclones and anti-cyclones, are investigated. the use of kites for weather predicting, as was said, has been tried by the united states weather bureau, but it is certain that further studies, such as have been made on blue hill, are necessary before the sequence of the conditions at the earth's surface to the phenomena observed in the upper air is definitely known, so that the latter can be utilized in forecasting. some of the deductions from the observations with kites at blue hill follow. plate viii. is a facsimile of the record of the baro-thermo-hygrograph during two flights on october 8, 1896, when for the first time the height of a mile and a half was attained. the record-sheet, it may be said, is wrapped around a cylinder that turns on its axis in twelve hours, and the curved lines in each of the three horizontal sections divide them into quarter hours. the lower section contains the trace of the barometer, the horizontal lines being the heights in metres and feet that correspond to the barometric pressure with a temperature of 32° fahrenheit; in the middle section is the trace of the hygrometer on a scale of relative humidity in percentages, and in the upper section is the trace of the thermometer on a scale of temperatures in fahrenheit and centigrade degrees. it will be observed that the record of the barometer is reversed, _i.e._ the trace rises for falling pressure, and in the second flight when the unexpected height of 8697 feet above blue hill was reached, the limit of the altitude scale was exceeded. [illustration: plate viii.--meteorogram from the kite-flight of oct. 8, 1896, at blue hill.] in order to study the changes of these elements with height during the higher flight, in plate ix., figs. 4 and 5, the temperature and humidity of the automatic record are plotted as abscissæ, with the heights above sea-level in metres as ordinates. for those not familiar with this unit of length, it may be said that 100 metres are about 330 feet, and that 1600 metres equal one mile approximately. when the meteorograph was ascending, dots indicate the recorded temperatures and humidities, which are each connected respectively by continuous lines; when the meteorograph was descending, crosses indicate the observations, which are connected by broken lines. lines inclining upwards to the left indicate decreasing temperature and humidity with increase of height, and lines inclining to the right increasing temperature and humidity with height. the straight dotted lines show the adiabatic decrease of temperature for ascending dry air. the ascent was made during the warmest part of the day, and the descent for the most part after sunset. the two branches of the temperature-lines typify the temperature change with height which usually occurs in fair weather during the day and the night respectively. the continuous line, representing the day observations, shows a uniform fall of temperature at the adiabatic rate to the cloud level. during the night, the lower part of the broken line bends decidedly to the left, showing a body of relatively cold air near the ground, caused by radiation. there is a rise of temperature with increasing altitude above the ground up to a certain height, and afterwards a comparatively uniform fall as high as the clouds, if they exist; but the rate of fall with increasing altitude, shown by the upper part of the diagram, is slower at night than during the day. it appears that the diurnal change of temperature is very small at great altitudes, compared with the change near the earth's surface. the relative humidity (fig. 5) up to 2000 metres varies inversely with the temperature, and in the present case there was only a slight change in the direction of the wind (fig. 6). [illustration: plate ix.--mean changes with height, and changes during the kite-flight of oct. 8, 1896.] =diurnal changes of temperature at different altitudes.=--the curve representing the diurnal change in the air at some distance above the ground is probably similar to one representing the change near the ground, except that its amplitude is less. if this be true, then the diurnal rate of fall for a given time at any two levels will be proportional to the daily ranges of temperature at the two levels. it is impossible in practice to keep a kite at exactly the same level for twenty-four hours; hence the daily ranges for the different levels must be found by comparing the rates of rise or fall of temperature for given times with the rates found from records near the ground, made simultaneously with those above. in plate ix., fig. 1, the results for six stations, _i.e._ the kite at 1000 and 500 metres, the eiffel tower in paris (300 metres), the summit of blue hill, its base, and the valley (200, 50, and 15 metres respectively), are connected, and a smooth curve is drawn through them. the curve passes approximately through every one of the observed and the computed ranges, except the one at the summit of blue hill, which is too great. this evidently is because insolation and radiation, acting through the soil of the hill, heat and cool the air to a greater extent than the free air is heated and cooled at the same altitude, and this must be true at every mountain station. the smoothed curve passes also very slightly to the left of the data for the eiffel tower, indicating that the range there is about 1° greater than the true range on account of the heating and cooling of the tower. from this it appears that the diurnal range of temperature diminishes rapidly with increasing altitude in the free air, and almost disappears in the average at a height of 1000 metres. the records of the anemometer show that, as a rule, the wind increases steadily as the kites rise, but the increase is greatest between boston and the top of blue hill, due probably to the retarding of the lower winds by contact with the ground. the results are plotted in plate ix., fig. 3, together with the mean wind velocity on blue hill (209 metres), and the velocity on a tower in boston (60 metres). single records of the kite-anemometer differ much, for sometimes the wind velocity diminished with altitude, and at other times it increased so rapidly that the kites were unable to rise higher. on several occasions when the kites passed from one current into another, having a different direction and a different temperature, the wind suddenly increased, and was stronger between the two currents than above or below that plane. =diurnal changes of humidity at different altitudes.=--it is found that as night approaches the humidity at the altitude of 1000 metres diminishes, while at the earth it increases. this agrees with the evidence furnished by the cumulus clouds that form during the day between 1000 and 2000 metres, and disappear at night, thus visibly indicating an increase of humidity by day and a decrease by night. if the trend of the humidity-curve at a height of 1000 metres is assumed to be the reverse of its trend at the ground, then the results from the kite-meteorograph show the minimum humidity to be at the coldest and the maximum humidity at the warmest part of the day. the mean daily ranges for different altitudes are plotted in plate ix., fig. 2. the part of the curve at the left of the zero line shows the range at different altitudes, with the minimum humidity near the warmest time of day, while the part at the right of the zero shows the ranges at different altitudes, with the minimum humidity at the coldest time of day. =types of change of temperature with altitude.=--when the records of temperature and humidity made aloft by the kite-meteorograph and at the stations near the ground are plotted in relation to altitude, they are found to be easily divisible into a few types. in plate x., type 1 represents the decrease of temperature on most fair days from the ground to altitudes of a mile or more, when no clouds are met. the continuous line, plotted from the records of the ascent, represents the day conditions, and the broken line, plotted from the records of the descent, represents the night conditions. this curve shows that with increasing altitude the temperature falls uniformly during the day and approximately at the adiabatic rate represented by the dotted lines. the fall of temperature with increasing altitude during the night is slower than during the day, and in fact, from the earth's surface to an altitude of a few hundred metres, there is often a rise of temperature with height, so that the air at altitudes of from 300 to 500 metres may be considerably warmer than it is at the ground. this was shown in the descent on october 8, 1896, and is found in type 3. [illustration: plate x.--changes with height recorded by kites at blue hill.] when clouds are traversed during the flight, the temperature curve assumes the form of type 2. the continuous curve is plotted from the records of an ascent; the broken curve from the records of the descent, both occurring in the day-time. the temperature falls at the adiabatic rate in unsaturated air till the base of the cumulus cloud is reached. it falls at a slower rate in the cloud, the rate probably being that computed by physicists as the adiabatic rate for air in which condensation is taking place. above the clouds, the fall of temperature appears to be very slow. type 3 is a condition which persists throughout the day and night, and it resembles the night form of type 1. the temperature rises very rapidly for a short distance above the ground and then falls, with increase of height, somewhat slower than the adiabatic rate. the rise of temperature near the ground with increasing height is more marked after sunset than during the day-time. type 4 was illustrated by the ascent of october 8. this distribution of temperature is caused by a warmer current overflowing colder air, which is very commonly found at low altitudes in the atmosphere and probably exists usually at some altitude, great or small. recent observations indicate that this type represents the normal condition of the atmosphere in all sorts of weather. frequently there are two or more sudden rises of temperature at different heights, so that the plotted data resemble inverted stair-steps. during the day there is a decrease of temperature at the adiabatic rate (1°·8 in 100 metres) from the ground to the height of several hundred metres, then a sudden rise of temperature in the next one or two hundred metres, and above this a slow fall of temperature with increasing altitude, usually much less than the adiabatic rate. generally, clouds are found near the plane of meeting of the warm and cold current. the reverse of type 4, that is, a sudden fall of temperature, due to a colder current overlying a warmer one, is probably impossible, because the colder air, on account of its greater weight, would immediately begin to sink and the warmer air would rise. this should cause a fall of temperature at the adiabatic rate from the ground to the top of the colder current, and is probably the origin of the "cold wave" shown in type 5. both the continuous and broken curves (representing an ascent and a descent) show a fall of temperature at the adiabatic rate of unsaturated air, from about 500 metres to the highest point reached. up to 500 metres the decrease of temperature is more rapid than the adiabatic rate, due to the rapid moving in of colder air above, whereby air rising from the ground is cooled by contact as well as by its expansion, and also because the air is heated more than usual by contact with the ground, which under these conditions is abnormally warmer. this is the special characteristic of the "cold wave" type of curve during the day hours. the night form of type 5, notwithstanding the excessive radiation from the ground through the dry air, shows a rapid decrease of temperature with increase of altitude from the ground upward. type 6 shows a less common, but an interesting form, of vertical distribution of temperature, in which the temperature is about the same from 400 metres to 1400 metres or more. up to 400 metres there is a fall of temperature with increasing altitude during the day, and a rise with increasing altitude at night. these last conditions can be readily traced to the effects of insolation and radiation near the ground. in the morning, if the temperature of the air be the same from the ground up to 1000 metres or more, the heating of the ground by the sun will cause ascending currents, until the warmest part of the day. this air, cooling by expansion at the adiabatic rate, will rise to about 440 metres before it assumes the mean temperature of the upper air column. at night cooling takes place next the ground by radiation and is gradually transferred upward a few hundred metres by conduction, thus producing an increasing temperature with increasing altitude, until sunrise. as a result of the conditions described, it is evident that on certain days the diurnal range of temperature is but little felt above 500 metres. =types of change of relative humidity with altitude.=--as in the temperature types, the continuous lines represent the records of the ascent, and the broken lines the records of the descent, generally under changing conditions. lines inclining upward to the left show a decreasing humidity, and to the right an increasing humidity. type 1 may be called a normal type of curve when there are clouds. a variation of this type was met with in the ascent on october 8, 1896, and it differed from that now illustrated in indicating in its upper part a fall of humidity rather than a rise. these two types can be taken as the normal change of humidity with change of altitude in cloudy or partly cloudy weather. the humidity increases steadily to the base of the cloud, then there is complete saturation in the cloud, and above it is a sudden fall of humidity, on entering the dry air above the cloud, into which the ascending currents from the ground have not penetrated. type 3 is a clear-weather form of curve in which the humidity increases until a certain altitude is reached, probably at the upper limits of the currents rising from the ground. above this altitude the humidity decreases rapidly. type 5 is also a clear-weather form and accompanies the "cold wave" type of temperature, also numbered 5. the very dry descending air mingles with air rendered damp by ascent, and the result is a nearly uniform relative humidity at different altitudes, although the absolute humidity diminishes on account of decreasing pressure and temperature. in type 6 both the relative and the absolute humidity decrease rapidly, this type coinciding with the temperature, type 6. during the week of september 5 to 11, 1897, kite-flights were made daily on blue hill. twice the kites were maintained in the air, and continuous records were obtained during most of twenty-four hours. these records furnish an example of the small diurnal changes of temperature in the free air at short distances above the ground, which were deduced from the average changes at different hours and at different heights. from 2 p.m. of the fifth to 2 p.m. of the sixth, the altitude of the self-recording instruments varied between 500 and 1000 metres above sea-level, averaging about 700 metres and varying little from this height during much of the night. the times when the kite-meteorograph crossed the 700-metre level in ascending and descending were determined from its barograph trace, and the synchronous temperatures and humidities were read from the records of its thermograph and hygrograph. the results have been plotted in plate xi., figs. 1 and 2, together with the temperatures recorded simultaneously at the summit and valley stations of the observatory and the humidities at the summit. fig. 1 shows that the diurnal variation of temperature, well marked at the lower levels, is very slight or has entirely disappeared at 700 metres. fig. 2 shows that the course of the relative humidity at 700 metres is exactly opposite in phase to that recorded at lower levels, for at 700 metres the minimum humidity was recorded at night and the maximum during the day, while the opposite conditions prevailed on the hill. repeated kite-flights indicate that these are the normal conditions at the two levels. in plate xi., fig. 3, is plotted a curve from the hourly readings of the thermograph at the blue hill valley station (fifteen metres) during the week, and also a curve connecting temperatures recorded by the kite-meteorograph once or twice each day during the same week at a level of 500 metres, obtained in the way described or computed from the adiabatic change. all the night records show that it was decidedly warmer at the height of 500 metres during the night than it was at the ground, except during the cool wave on the seventh and eighth. furthermore, the curves in fig. 3 indicate a control of the surface temperatures during the day by those above. for instance, on the seventh there was a distinct flattening of the day curve, evidently because, as the temperature on the ground rose 10° above that at 500 metres, the air was in unstable equilibrium, and colder air descended to take the place of the surface air so that its temperature could rise no higher. on the tenth, the temperature at 500 metres was considerably greater than the mean of the day at the ground, and the air at the ground did not acquire the unstable condition in any volume until the warmest part of the day, so that the diurnal curve at the lower station forms a sharp peak. [illustration: plate xi.--kite observations at blue hill, sept. 5-11, 1897.] since there appears to be no appreciable diurnal period in the temperature at and above 500 metres, a better comparison of the relative changes aloft and below during the passage of warm and cold waves is obtained by smoothing out the diurnal period below. this has been done in plate xi., fig. 4, with the data given by the kites at 500 and 1000 metres plotted in curves, which it was necessary to complete by extrapolation. it is seen that there is a much greater range in the temperature from the crest of a warm to the crest of a cold wave at a height of 500 metres than at the ground. at 1000 metres the range appears to be slightly greater than at 500 metres, and the crests of the warm and cold waves occur successively earlier than they do at the ground. on the approach, and until the passage of the crest of the cold wave the air is colder aloft than at the ground, the difference being apparently that of the adiabatic cooling of ascending air. after the passage of the crest of the cold wave, the temperature aloft rises much more rapidly than at the ground, and at the crest of the warm wave the air at 500 metres is some 10° warmer than the mean daily temperature at the ground. in many kite-flights the difference was found to be even greater than this. taking the mean temperature of twenty-four-hours, it is seen that the average temperature at the ground during a week or more is about the same as it is at 500 metres. fig. 5 shows the change in the vertical distribution of temperature during the oncoming of the warm wave on the eighth and early morning of the ninth, as determined by four ascents, culminating at 11 a.m., 9 p.m., 11 p.m., and 4 a.m. the lines of 59°, 62°, 65°, and 68° show that there was a gradual rise of temperature aloft, which extended downwards to 200 metres, or to the top of blue hill. clouds formed at the level of lowest temperature, and these sank also until they covered the top of the hill. plate xii. is a facsimile of the meteorogram during the kite-flight of october 15, 1897, the lower part showing the trace of the barometer on a scale of heights in metres, the middle section the trace of the hygrometer, and the upper one the trace of the thermometer on a scale of centigrade degrees. the temperature followed the normal change, which is as follows: during the day, up to a certain height, which varies under different conditions, there is a decrease nearly at the adiabatic rate of 1°·8 f. per hundred metres. above that height the air suddenly becomes warmer, and then cools with ascent at a rate somewhat less than the adiabatic rate. during the night there is a marked inversion of temperature between the ground and 200 or 300 metres. [illustration: plate xii.--automatic records during a high kite-flight at blue hill.] higher than this, the temperature decreases at a fairly uniform rate, but more slowly than the adiabatic rate. although no clouds were visible, yet the relative humidity increased greatly, both during the ascent and descent, near 1500 and 2700 metres, these being about the heights at which cumulus and alto-cumulus clouds usually form. during september 1898 four kite-flights were made on four successive days when an anti-cyclone and a cyclone passed nearly over blue hill. this is a rare occurrence, and the mechanism of these phenomena was accordingly studied by mr. clayton, some of whose deductions will now be given, illustrated by plate xiii. figs. 1 and 2 give the temperature plotted according to height on september 21 in the anti-cyclone, and on september 22, when the barometric pressure was falling, the full lines, as in previous diagrams, indicating observations during the ascents, and the broken lines observations during the descents. it is seen that from the ground the lines all incline upward to the left, indicating a fall of temperature, to a certain height when the lines bend to the right sharply, showing a sudden rise of temperature. above this, the temperature again falls, but more slowly than at lower levels. the general prevalence of this phenomenon was noted by welsh in his balloon ascents in england in 1854, and the high kite-flights at blue hill show it to be very frequent below 2000 metres. the plane of increased temperature usually determines the height of the tops of cumulus and strato-cumulus clouds. above 2000 metres other sudden rises of temperature are found during the highest kite-flights. [illustration: plate xiii.--results of kite-flights at blue hill during an anti-cyclone and a cyclone.] figs. 3 to 6 show the changes in the various elements during the four days at some of the following levels, viz. near sea-level, 200, 1000, 2000, and 3000 metres. fig. 3 shows the changes in the barometer at the four levels, from which it is evident that the fall of pressure was greatest near sea-level. fig. 4 shows temperature changes at the different levels, and indicates that the changes were of the same nature up to 3000 metres. the greatest non-diurnal range of temperature is seen to be at 1000 metres, and it diminishes both at higher and at lower levels. fig. 5 shows changes in relative humidity at 200, 1000, and 2000 metres. the curves show that the greatest range of humidity was at 2000 metres. there the relative humidity rose from almost zero, in the anti-cyclone on the twenty-first, to saturation at the same level in the cyclone. at 200 metres the change is similar to that at 2000, but is less in amount. at 1000 metres the relative humidity fell until the twenty-second, but then rose rapidly, showing the very dry air at 2000 metres on the twenty-first had descended as low as 1000 metres on the twenty-second. fig. 6 gives the change in wind velocity at the different levels. there was an increase of wind at all the levels from the time of the passage of the anti-cyclone to the passage of the cyclone. the minimum of wind at 200 metres was in the anti-cyclone, with a secondary minimum during the passage of the centre of the cyclone. figs. 7 to 10 show the changes in height from day to day of the equal conditions at the different levels. fig. 7 shows the change in level of the isobars, which, although very small, is largest at the lower levels. the light broken lines in fig. 7 and subsequent figures indicate the axes of the anti-cyclone and cyclone. that the axis of the cyclone was inclined backward, and that the high pressure occurred later at high than at low levels, was confirmed by the wind observations on the twenty-first. fig. 8 shows the heights at which the same temperatures were found on successive days. since the isotherms rose until the twenty-third, the temperature of the air up to 3000 metres was higher on the day of the cyclone than on the day of the anti-cyclone. previous high flights indicate that this is the normal condition in the moving cyclones and anti-cyclones of the eastern united states. as the light broken lines represent the axes of the anti-cyclone and cyclone up to 3000 metres, it is seen that at this level the temperature at the place of maximum pressure is probably higher than at the place of minimum pressure, although this is not true for a vertical column of air above the earth. fig. 9 gives the positions of equal humidities on successive days, saturated and cloudy areas being indicated by crossed shading, and less humidity by single ruling. from the laws of thermo-dynamics the unshaded curves should represent descending currents, and the shaded portions ascending ones. in the first case, increased warmth and a lower relative humidity are produced in the descent to a lower altitude; in the last case, cooling, increasing relative humidity, and condensation are produced by expansion in the ascent to a higher altitude. consequently, two regions of descending air are indicated, one in the centre of the anti-cyclone, the other in the centre of the cyclone. fig. 10 shows the change in height of the lines of equal wind velocity. with ascending currents and precipitation, high wind velocities were found at low levels, because of increased barometric gradient, while with the descending currents in the anti-cyclone and centre of the cyclone, the high velocities were found only at great altitudes. the study of these data indicate that the cyclonic and anti-cyclonic circulations observed in this latitude do not embrace any air-movements at greater altitudes than 2000 metres, except in front of the cyclone, when the air appears to be carried upward to a great height. above 2000 metres there are probably other weak cyclones and anti-cyclones, or secondary ones, with their centres at different places from those at the earth's surface and producing a different circulation of wind. the observations of the cirrus clouds at blue hill indicate that at their level exists a cyclonic circulation above the anti-cyclone apparent at the earth's surface. the shallowness of our anti-cyclones would be inferred from the great differences in speed of the general atmospheric drift, for since the velocity of the general drift from the west is more than thirty times greater at 10,000 metres than it is at 200 metres, a circulation of great depth could not endure long. cyclones and anti-cyclones appear to be but secondary phenomena in the great waves of warm and cold air which sweep across the united states from periodic causes. the origin of cyclones and anti-cyclones is perhaps the most important problem remaining for meteorological study. the theory that they are produced by differences of temperature in adjacent masses of air, or, as it is called, the convectional theory of the american meteorologists, espy and ferrel, is opposed by the observations on mountains in europe which were collected by dr. hann of vienna. if the question can be solved by the use of kites, as seems to be foreshadowed by the results just stated, another foundation-stone will be laid in the science of meteorology and the status of the kite established as an instrument of research. the kite fails when there is little or no wind at the ground, but it seems possible in such cases to lift the kite into the upper air, where there usually is wind, by attaching it to a small balloon that, after the kite can support itself, shall be detached automatically. while the height to which kites can rise is limited, and the limit is probably being approached, judging from the less gain of altitude in recent flights, yet it seems reasonable to expect that, with favourable conditions, a height of at least three miles will be reached. besides lifting the meteorological instruments described, kites can carry apparatus for other investigations in the free air, such as the measurement of atmospheric electricity, and the collection of samples of air, to be examined for cosmic dust and bacteria. cameras have been lifted by kites, as already said, and for the purpose of photographing the upper surfaces of clouds there is being constructed for the blue hill observatory a very light automatic camera, similar in principle to m. cailletet's apparatus for photographing the ground from a balloon. the use of the kite as an aeroplane can only be alluded to in this book, and it may be sufficient to say that if a motor attached to a kite can, by wings or screws, propel it against the wind, the sustaining string is unnecessary, and we shall have the flying machine which professor langley tells us will soon be realized. the surface of our globe has been tolerably well explored; the exploration of the atmosphere by balloons and kites will continue to make great progress during the last year of the century, and at the end of the twentieth century we may confidently expect that as the seas now are a medium for transportation, so the ocean of air will have been brought likewise into man's domain. index a abercromby (r.), classification of clouds, 42 academy of sciences, french, 18, 72-3 academy of sciences, russian, balloon ascent, 72 accademia del cimento, 14 actinometer, viollé's, 115 adiabatic rate of change of temperature, 29 aeronautical conference at chicago, 125 ---conference at strassburg, 97, 110 ---committee; international, 108 _aérophile_ balloons, 102, 104 aerostatic commission, french, 111 air, collection and analysis of, 70, 73, 75, 82, 112 ---weight of, 16 aitken (j.), dust particles, 39 alhazen (b. a.), height of atmosphere, 12 altitudes, comparative, 20 andrée (s. a.), balloon voyage to north pole, 90 anti-cyclones, 59, 170 aratus, _diosemeia_, 11 archibald (d.), kites for meteorological observations, 122 archytas, supposed inventor of kite, 117 aristotle, 10, 11, 15 assmann (r.), 86, 94, 108 atmosphere, composition of, 24 ---energy of upper portion, 58 ---extent of, 28 ---methods of exploring same, 35 _et seq._, 145 ---moisture of, 34 ---origin of, 23 ---phenomena showing height of, 26 ---pliny on, 9 ---temperature of, 28 atmospheric circulation in cyclones and anti-cyclones, 60 ---electricity, 70, 76, 121, 141 b balloon ascents, international, 108 _et seq._ ---crossing the atlantic by, 92 ---invention of hot-air, 19 ---kite, 94 balloons, 19, 20, 21, 37, 68, _et seq._ ---captive, 76, 93, 146 ---changes of temperature observed in, 71, 73, 75, 77, 84, 88, 90 ---changing the direction of, 93 _ballons-sondes_, 98 _et seq._ barometer, 15, 16, 85, 113 baro-thermograph of richard, 102 barral, balloon ascent, 73, 84 batavia, java, international cloud measurements, 65 batut (a.), photography from kites, 123 berson (a.), balloon ascents, 81, 87 _et seq._ bert (p.), respiration of oxygen, 82 besançon (g.), 98, 99, 101, 104 bezold (w. von), wave-cloud, 40 biot (j. b.), balloon ascent, 73 birt (w. r.), kite at kew observatory, 122 bixio, balloon ascent, 73, 84 blanc, mont, 20, 21 blanchard, balloon ascent with jeffries, 70, 71 blue hill observatory, 47, 51, 53, 64, 108, 126 _et seq._ bonaparte (prince roland), patron of aeronautics, 112 bonpland (a.), ascent in andes, 20 bonvallet (l.), exploring balloons, 99 bouguer (p.), height of freezing-point, 18 boyle (r.), 16 c cailletet (l.), 112, 113 cambridge, mass., clouds measured at, 53 castelli (b.), invented rain-gauge, 13 cavallo (t.), showed lightness of hydrogen, 69 celsius (a.), thermometer, 14 charles (j. a. c.), ascent in hydrogen balloon, 19, 68 cimento, accademia del, 14 _cirrus_ balloon, 106 clayton (h. h.), 45, 47, 53, 62, 133, 147, 167 cloud, amount of, 47 _et seq._ ---atlases, 42, 43, 44 ---committee, international, 44, 65 ----year, international, 65 clouds, classification of, 41 _et seq._ ---definitions of, 45 ---formation of, 39 ---observations of direction and relative velocity, 51, 65 ---measurements of height and velocity, 52, 53 _et seq._, 65, 121 ---on jupiter, 51 ---relation to forecasting, 63-4 cotte (l.), on clouds, 38 coxwell (h.), aeronaut for glaisher, 75 _et seq._ crocé-spinelli (j.), ascent in _zenith_, 82 cyclones, 59, 170 d dalton (j.), water-vapour in the air, 38 daniell (j. f.), mountains a registering thermometer, 13 davis (w. m.), cloud measurements, 53 deluc (j. a.), theory of clouds, 42 de saussure (h. b.), 20, 42, 73 ---(h. b.), ascent of mont blanc, 20 deutsche-seewarte, hamburg, 43 donaldson (w. h.), proposed crossing atlantic in a balloon, 92 e eddy (w. a.), 123, 124 _et seq._ eiffel tower, paris, 23, 152 ekholm (n.), 53, 92 electricity, atmospheric, 70, 76, 121, 141 espy (j. p.), kites to verify calculated height of clouds, 121 etna, ascended by ancients, 12 euler (l.), theory of kites, 118 exploring the atmosphere, methods of, 35 _et seq._, 145-6 f fahrenheit (d. g.), thermometer, 14 ferdinand ii. (grand duke), distributed meteorological instruments, 17 fergusson (s. p.), 35, 53, 126, 128, 131, 136 ferrel (w.), theory of cyclones, 173 flammarion (c.), balloon ascents, 81 flying machines, future, 59, 174 fonvielle (w. de), 81, 108 förster (w.), hypothesis of _himmelsluft_, 28 forecasting by kites, 143, 147 franklin (b.), experiment with kites, 121, 123 franklin kite club, 121 g galileo (g.), 14, 15 gay-lussac (j. l.), balloon ascent, 20, 73 german emperor (william ii.), patron of aeronautics, 86 ---society for promotion of aërial navigation, 86, 93, 106 glaisher (j.), balloon ascents, 75 _et seq._, 93 green (c.), aeronaut for welsh, 74 grimaldi (f. m.), first measured clouds trigonometrically, 52 guericke (o. von), experiment of magdeburg hemispheres, 16 h hagström (k.), measured clouds, 53 halley (e.), measured heights by barometer, 17 hann (j.), 36, 173 han sin, employed kites in warfare, 117 hargrave (l.), invented cellular kite, 129 harrington (m. w.), advocated exploring air with kites, 125 harvard college observatory, 35, 48 hazen (h. a.), highest balloon ascent in america, 85 height of balloon, cailletet's apparatus for obtaining, 113 heights of kite-flights at blue hill, 21, 140 ---how measured by barometer, 17, 101 heim (a.), voyage across the alps, 92 hellmann (g.), historical researches, 12 helmholtz (h. von), wave-cloud, 40 hergesell (h.), president of aeronautical committee, 108 hermite (g.), 98, 99, 101 hildebrandsson (h. h.), 42, 65 hodgkins' fund of smithsonian institution, grant from, 131 howard (l.), cloud nomenclature, 41 humboldt (a. von), 18, 20, 35 humidity, changes with altitudes, 34, 71, 73, 77, 151, 169, 171 ---diurnal changes at different altitudes, 153 ---types of change with altitudes, 159 _et seq._ hutton (j.), cause of precipitation, 38 hygrometer, invention of, 13 j jeffries (j.), first scientific balloon ascent, 69 ---first to cross the english channel, 71 jourdanet (d.), hypothesis of descent of man, 24 jovis, balloon ascent, 84 jupiter, analogy between cloudiness on earth and on, 51 k kepler (j.), height of atmosphere, 12 kew observatory, 53, 74, 122 köppen (w.), cloud atlas, 43 kirwan (r.), temperature at different latitudes, 18 kite, antiquity of the, 117 ---eddy or malay, 124, 129 ---flights at blue hill, 21, 137, 140, 142 ---hargrave, 129, 132 ---lamson's "aero-curve," 134 ---photography, 123, 126, 173 ---theory of, 118, 124, 130 kites, first scientific use of, 120 ---first self-recording instruments raised by, 126 ---oriental tailless, 118 ---scientific uses of, 173 kite-winch at blue hill, steam, 131, 136 krakatoa, eruption of volcano, 27 l lamarck (j. b.), first to classify cloud forms, 41 lamson (c. h.), aero-curve kite, 134 langley (s. p.), 28, 174 laplace (p. s. de), 17, 23, 101 lavoisier (a. l.), 19, 68 ley (w. c.), classification of clouds, 42 lunardi (v.), balloon ascent, 69 m m'adie (a.), 53, 123 magnetism, variation with height, 73, 77 mallet (m.), balloon ascent, 84 manila, philippine islands, cloud measurements at, 65-6 mariotte (e.), law of gases, 16 melvill (t.), aided in first scientific use of kites, 120 merle (w.), oldest weather chronicles, 12 meteorograph for kites, 128, 136 meteorological conferences, international, 42, 44, 108 meteorology, first treated by aristotle, 10 ---origin of, 10 misti, el, highest station, 35 montgolfier brothers, invented hot-air balloon, 19 müntz (a.), analysis of air, 112-13 n nares (sir g.), storm-kite, 122 nebular hypothesis of laplace, 23 neumayer (g.), cloud-atlas, 42 newton (i.), improved kites, 118 o olympus, mountain ascended by ancients, 11 oxford, oldest weather chronicles, 12 p parseval (a. von), kite-balloon, 94 pascal (b.), experiment with barometer, 15, 16 perier (f.), _idem_, 15 photography from balloons, 81, 113 ---from kites, 123, 126, 173 pickering (e. c.), pole-star recorder, 48 pike's peak, meteorological station, 35 pilâtre de rozier (j. f.), first to ascend in balloon, 19 pliny, the atmosphere, 9 pocock (g.), great kite, 122 poëy (a.), classification of clouds, 42 priestley (j.), oxygen in the air, 18 r rain-gauge, invention of, 13 réaumur (r. a. f. de), thermometer, 14 rey (j.), first thermometer filled with liquid, 14 riccioli (g. b.), first to measure clouds trigonometrically, 52 richard (abbé), clouds, 38 ---(j.), self-recording instruments, 101, 125, 128, 136 robertson (e. g.), 72, 73 ---balloon ascent, 72 rotch (a. l.), balloon ascents, 85, 86 s sacharoff, balloon ascent, 72 siegsfeld (h. b. von), kite-balloon, 94 sigsbee (c. d.), 44, 131 sivel (t.), ascent in _zenith_, 82 spelterini (e.), balloon voyage with heim, 92 spencer (s.), aeronaut for berson, 89 sweetland (a. e.), prognostics from clouds, 63 symons (g. j.), meteorologist and bibliophile, 12 t teisserenc de bort (l.), 51, 116, 144 temperature, change with height, 18, 29, 71, 73, 75, 77, 89, 90, 104, 107, 120, 121, 126, 141, 151, 167 ---diurnal changes at different altitudes, 152, 161-2 ---types of change with altitude, 154 _et seq._ theodolite, registering, 106 theophrastus, weather prognostics, 11 thermometer, aspiration, 74, 86 ---metallic, 116 ---sling, 85 thermometers, early, 14 tissandier (a.), sketches of optical phenomena, 81 ---(g.), ascent in _zenith_, 81, 82 toronto, canada, international cloud measurements, 65 torricelli (e.), invented barometer, 15 tycho brahe, height of atmosphere, 12 u united states hydrographic office, 44 ---weather bureau, 44, 65, 143 upsala, sweden, clouds measured at, 53, 58, 66 v violle (j.), 112, 115 w washington (mount), meteorological station, 35 weather chronicles, first, 12 ---forecasting by means of clouds, 63 ---prognostics of aristotle and theophrastus, 11 ---vane, oldest meteorological instrument, 13 weber (l.), measured electric potential with kites, 124 welsh (j.), balloon ascents, 74 wenz (e.), photography from kites, 123 wilson (a.), first scientific use of kites, 120 wind at different heights, 57 _et seq._, 98, 153, 170, 171 wire for kite-lines, 123, 131, 134 wise (j.), 84, 92 woglom (j. t.), photography from kites, 123 y young (c. a.), limit of atmosphere, 28 z _zenith_, catastrophe of balloon, 82 zero, absolute, 33 _richard clay & sons, limited, london & bungay._ transcriber's notes the text presented here is essentially that in the original printed volume. the list of corrections (corrigenda) which accompanied the original has been applied. one additional typo (see below) has also been made. there may have been some minor corrections (missing period, commas, etc. added) which are not detailed here. in the original publication, several figures and plates were placed in the middle of paragrahs. here most were moved between paragraphs. the list of illustrations and any other page references still indicate the page number of the original location. on page 88, the "oe" ligature was replaced with the individual letters. typographical correction page correction ===== ================================== 128 all-assential => all-essential [frontispiece: at work in the printing-office.] phaeton rogers a novel of boy life by rossiter johnson _illustrated_ new york charles scribner's sons 743 and 745 broadway 1881 copyright by charles scribner's sons 1881 trow's printing and bookbinding company, _201-213 east 12th street_, new york. contents. chapter i. a morning canter chapter ii. rapid transit chapter iii. aunt mercy chapter iv. jack-in-the-box chapter v. jimmy the rhymer chapter vi. the price of poetry chapter vii. phaeton's chariot chapter viii. a horizontal balloon-ascension chapter ix. the art deservative chapter x. torments of typography chapter xi. a comical comet chapter xii. a literary mystery chapter xiii. a lyric strain chapter xiv. an alarm of fire chapter xv. running with the machine chapter xvi. a new fire-extinguisher chapter xvii. how a church flew a kite chapter xviii. an extra fourth-of-july chapter xix. a conquest chapter xx. rings, scissors, and boots chapter xxi. a tea-party chapter xxii. old shoes and orange-blossoms list of illustrations. the printing-office rapid transit by cable rapid transit by car the boys consult jack-in-the-box ned's invention "the whole caravan went roaring down the turnpike" ned's plan for a press the meddlesome poet the frame of a comet "a comet, gentlemen--a blazing comet!" "it rose like a fountain" a broken poem "jimmy looked so pale and thin" "ned looked up into the face of a policeman" phaeton is taken for a burglar "jump her, boys! jump her!" "this must be put in a safe place" phaeton's fire-extinguisher the kite on the steeple discharging the arrow riding home in the barouche how the chair was mended taking home the chairs the boys run the red rover bridal favors phaeton rogers. chapter i. a morning canter. nothing is more entertaining than a morning canter in midsummer, while the dew is sparkling on the grass, and the robins are singing their joyful songs, and the east is reddening with the sunrise, and the world is waking up to enjoy these beautiful things a little, before the labors of the day begin. and here is one of the many advantages of being a boy. when ladies and gentlemen ride horseback, it is considered necessary to have as many horses as riders; but an indefinite number of boys may enjoy a ride on one horse, all at the same time; and often the twenty riders who walk get a great deal more fun out of it than the one rider who rides. i think the best number of riders is three--one to be on the horse, and one to walk along on each side and keep off the crowd. for there is something so noble in the sight of a boy on a horse--especially when he is on for the first time--that, before he has galloped many miles, he is pretty certain to become the centre of an admiring throng, all eyes being turned upon the boy, and all legs keeping pace with the horse. it falls to the lot of few boys to take such a ride more than once in a lifetime. some, poor fellows! never experience it at all. but whatever could happen to any boy, in the way of adventure, was pretty sure to happen to phaeton rogers, who was one of those lucky fellows that are always in the middle of everything, and generally play the principal part. and yet it was not so much luck or accident as his own genius; for he had hardly come into the world when he began to try experiments with it, to see if he couldn't set some of the wheels of the universe turning in new directions. the name his parents gave him was fayette; but the boys turned it into phaeton, for a reason which will be explained in the course of the story. it was my good fortune to live next door to the rogers family, to know all of phaeton's adventures, and have a part in some of them. one of the earliest was a morning canter in the country. phaeton was a little older than i; his brother ned was just my age. one day, their uncle jacob came to visit at their house, riding all the way from illinois on his own horse. this horse, when he set out, was a dark bay, fourteen hands high, with one white foot, and a star on his forehead. at the first town where he staid overnight, it became an iron-gray, with a bob tail and a cast in its eye. at the next halt, the iron-gray changed into a chestnut, with two white feet and a bushy tail. a day or two afterward, he stopped at a camp-meeting, and when he left it the horse was a large roan, with just the hint of a springhalt in its gait. then he came to a place where a county fair was being held, and here the roan became piebald. how many more changes that horse went through, i do not know; but, when it got to us, it was about eleven hands high (convenient size for boys), nearly white, with a few black spots,--so it could be seen for a long distance,--with nice thick legs, and long hair on them to keep them warm. for these particulars, i am indebted to ned, who overheard the conversation between his father and his uncle, and repeated it a few times to the boys. now, mr. rogers had no barn, and his brother jacob, who arrived in the evening, had to tie his horse in the wood-shed for the night. he might have taken it to the "cataract house, by james tone," which was only a short distance away, and had a first-rate stable; but it was not the custom, in that part of the country, ever to patronize a hotel if you could by any possibility quarter yourself and your horse on a friend. just before bedtime, ned came over to tell me that phaeton was to take the horse to pasture in the morning, that he was going with him, and they would like my company also, adding: "uncle jacob says that a brisk morning canter will do us good, and give us an appetite for breakfast." "yes," said i, "of course it will; and besides that, we can view the scenery as we ride by." "we can, unless we ride too fast," said ned. "does your uncle's horse go very fast?" said i, with some little apprehension, for i had never been on a horse. "i don't exactly know," said ned. "probably not." "has phaeton ever been on a horse?" said i. "no," said ned; "but he is reading a book about it, that tells you just what to do." "and how far is the pasture?" "four miles,--kidd's pasture,--straight down jay street, past the stone brewery. kidd lives in a yellow house on the right side of the road; and when we get there we're to look out for the dog." "it must be pretty savage, or they wouldn't tell us to look out for it. are you going to take a pistol?" "no; fay says if the dog comes out, he'll ride right over him. you can't aim a pistol very steadily when you are riding full gallop on horseback." "i suppose not," said i. "i never tried it. but after we've left the horse in the pasture, how are we to get back past the dog?" "if fay once rides over that dog, on that horse," said ned, in a tone of solemn confidence, "there won't be much bite left in him when we come back." so we said good-night, and went to bed to dream of morning canters through lovely scenery, dotted with stone breweries, and of riding triumphantly into pasture over the bodies of ferocious dogs. a more beautiful morning never dawned, and we boys were up not much later than the sun. the first thing to do was to untie the horse; and as he had managed to get his leg over the halter-rope, this was no easy task. before we had accomplished it, ned suggested that it would be better not to untie him till after we had put on the saddle; which suggestion phaeton adopted. the saddle was pretty heavy, but we found no great difficulty in landing it on the animal's back. the trouble was, to dispose of a long strap with a loop at the end, which evidently was intended to go around the horse's tail, to keep the saddle from sliding forward upon his neck. none of us liked to try the experiment of standing behind the animal to adjust that loop. "he looks to me like a very kicky horse," said ned; "and i wouldn't like to see any of us laid up before the fourth of july." phaeton thought of a good plan. accordingly, with great labor, ned and i assisted him to get astride the animal, with his face toward the tail, and he cautiously worked his way along the back of the now suspicious beast. but the problem was not yet solved: if he should go far enough to lift the tail and pass the strap around it, he would slide off and be kicked. ned came to the rescue with another idea. he got a stout string, and, standing beside the animal till it happened to switch its tail around that side, caught it, and tied the string tightly to the end. then getting to a safe distance, he proposed to pull the string and lift the tail for his brother to pass the crupper under. but as soon as he began to pull, the horse began to kick; and not only to kick, but to rear, bumping phaeton's head against the roof of the low shed, so that he was obliged to lie flat and hang on tight. while this was going on, their uncle jacob appeared, and asked what they were doing. "putting on the saddle, sir," said i. "yes, it looks like it," said he. "but i didn't intend to have you take the saddle." "why not, uncle?" said phaeton. "because it is too heavy for you to bring back." "oh, but we can leave it there," said phaeton. "hang it up in kidd's barn." "no; that won't do," said his uncle. "can't tell who might use it or abuse it. i'll strap on a blanket, and you can ride just as well on that." "but none of us have been used to riding that way," said ned. without replying, his uncle folded a blanket, laid it on the horse's back, and fastened it with a surcingle. he then bridled and led out the animal. "who rides first?" said he. i was a little disappointed at this, for i had supposed that we should all ride at once. still, i was comforted that he had not merely said, "who rides?"--but "who rides first?"--implying that we were all to ride in turn. phaeton stepped forward, and his uncle lifted him upon the horse, and put the bridle-reins into his hand. "i think you won't need any whip," said he, as he turned and went into the house. the horse walked slowly down till he came to a full stop, with his breast against the front gate. "open the gate, ned," said phaeton. "i can't do it, unless you back him," answered ned. this was true, for the gate opened inward. "back, dobbin!" said phaeton, in a stern voice of authority, giving a vigorous jerk upon the reins. but dobbin didn't back an inch. "why don't you back him?" said ned, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. "why don't you open that gate?" said phaeton. by this time, three or four boys had gathered on the sidewalk, and were staring at our performance. "shall i hit him?" said ned, breaking a switch. "no," said phaeton, more excited than before; "don't touch him! back, dobbin! back!" but dobbin seemed to be one of those heroic characters who take no step backward. "i know how to manage it," said ned, as he ran to the wood-pile and selected a small round stick. thrusting the end of this under the gate, he pried it up until he had lifted it from its hinges, when it fell over outward, coming down with a tremendous slam-bang upon the sidewalk. a great shiver ran through dobbin, beginning at the tips of his ears, and ending at his shaggy fetlocks. then, with a quick snort, he made a wild bound over the prostrate gate, and landed in the middle of the road. i don't know how phaeton managed to keep his seat, but he did; and though the boys on the sidewalk set up a shout, dobbin stood perfectly still in the road, waiting for the next earthquake, or falling gate, or something, to give him another start. "come on, boys! never mind the gate!" said phaeton. when he said "boys," he only meant ned and me. but the boys on the sidewalk promptly accepted the invitation and came on, too. "you walk on the nigh side," said phaeton to me, "and let ned take the off side." i was rather puzzled as to his exact meaning; and yet i was proud to think that the boy who represented what might now be considered our party on horseback, as distinguished from the strangers on foot crowding alongside; was able to use a few technical terms. not wishing to display my ignorance, i loitered a little, to leave the choice of sides to ned, confident that he would know which was nigh and which was off. he promptly placed himself on the left side, near enough to seize his brother by the left leg, if need be, and either hold him on or pull him off. i, of course, then took a similar position on the right side. "he told you to take the nigh side," shouted one of the boys to me. "he's all right," said phaeton. "i'd advise you to hurry home before your breakfast gets cold. we'll run this horse without any more help." "run him, will you?" answered the boy derisively. "that's what i'm waiting to see. he'll run so fast the grass'll grow under his feet." "if there was a hot breakfast an inch ahead of your nose," said another of the boys, addressing phaeton, "it'd be stone cold before you got to it." notwithstanding these sarcastic remarks, our horse was now perceptibly moving. he had begun to walk alone in the middle of the road, and--what at the time seemed to me very fortunate--he was going in the direction of the pasture. "can't you make him go faster, fay?" said ned. "not in this condition," said phaeton. "you can't expect a horse without a saddle on him to make very good time." "what difference does that make?" said i. "you read the book, and you'll see," said phaeton, in that tone of superior information which is common to people who have but just learned what they are talking about, and not learned it very well. "all the directions in the book are for horses with saddles on them. there isn't one place where it tells about a horse with just a blanket strapped over his back. if uncle jacob had let me take the saddle, and if i had a good pair of wheel-spurs, and a riding-whip, and a gag-bit in his mouth, you wouldn't see me here. by this time i should be just a little cloud of dust, away up there beyond the brewery. this animal shows marks of speed, and i'll bet you, if he was properly handled, he'd trot way down in the thirties." so much good horse-talk, right out of a standard book, rather awed me. but i ventured to suggest that i could cut him a switch from the hedge, which dobbin could certainly be made to feel, though it might not be so elegant as a riding-whip. "never mind it," said he. "it's no use; you can't expect much of any horse without saddle or spurs. and besides, what would become of you and ned? you couldn't keep up." i suggested that he might go on a mile or two and then return to meet us, and so have all the more ride. but he answered: "i'm afraid uncle jacob wouldn't like that. he expects us to go right to the pasture, without delay. you just wait till i get a good saddle, with mexican stirrups, and wheel-spurs." by this time, the boys who had been following us had dropped off. but at the next corner three or four others espied us, and gathered around. "why don't you make him go?" said one who had a switch in his hand, with which at the same time he gave dobbin a smart blow on the flank. a sort of shiver of surprise ran through dobbin. then he planted his fore feet firmly and evenly on the ground, as if he had been told to toe a mark, and threw out his hind ones, so that for an instant they formed a continuous straight line with his body. the boy who had struck him, standing almost behind him, narrowly escaped being sent home to his breakfast with no appetite at all. "lick those fellows!" said phaeton to ned and me, as he leaned over dobbin's neck and seized his mane with a desperate grip. "there are too many of them," said ned. "well, lick the curly-headed one, any way," said phaeton, "if he doesn't know better than to hit a horse with a switch." ned started for him, and the boy, diving through an open gate and dodging around a small barn, was last seen going over two or three back fences, with ned all the while just one fence behind him. when they were out of sight, the remaining boys turned their attention again to dobbin, and one of them threw a pebble, which hit him on the nose and made him perform very much as before, excepting that this time he planted his hind feet and threw his fore feet into the air. "go for that fellow!" said phaeton to me. he struck off in a direction opposite to that taken by the curly-headed boy, and i followed him. it was a pretty rough chase that he led me; but he seemed to know every step of the way, and when he ran into the culvert by which the deep hollow stream passed under the canal, i gave it up, and made my way back. that he should have run from me, seemed at first a mystery, for he had a far better pugilistic record than i. but he probably ran because he was conscious of being in the wrong, as he had no shadow of right to throw a pebble at the nose of another boy's horse. this proves the power of a just cause. calculating that phaeton must have passed on some distance by this time, i took a diagonal path across a field, and struck into the road near the stone brewery. phaeton had not yet arrived, and i sat down in the shade of the building. presently, dobbin came up the road at a jog trot, with phaeton wobbling around on his back, like a ball in a fountain. the cause of his speed was the clatter of an empty barrel-rack being driven along behind him. on arriving at the brewery, he turned and, in spite of phaeton's frantic "whoas!" and rein-jerking, went right through a low-arched door, scraping off his rider as he passed in. "so much for not having a gag-bit," said phaeton, as he picked himself up. "i remember, uncle jacob said the horse had worked fifteen or sixteen years in a brewery. that was a long time ago, but it seems he hasn't forgotten it yet. and now i don't suppose we can ever get him out of there without a gag-bit." he had hardly said this, however, when one of the brewery men came leading out dobbin. then the inquiry was for ned, who had not been seen since he went over the third fence after the curly-headed boy who didn't know any better than to hit a horse with a switch. phaeton decided that we must wait for him. in about fifteen minutes, one of the great brewery wagons came up the road, and as it turned in at the gate, ned dropped from the hind axle, where he had been catching a ride. after we had exchanged the stories of our adventures, ned said it was now his turn to ride. "i wish you could, ned," said phaeton; "but i don't dare trust you on his back. he's too fiery and untamable. it's all _i_ can do to hold him." ned grumbled somewhat; but with the help of the brewery man, phaeton remounted, and we set off again for kidd's pasture. ned and i walked close beside the horse, each with the fingers of one hand between his body and the surcingle, that we might either hold him or be taken along with him if he should again prove fiery and untamable. when we got to the canal bridge, we found that a single plank was missing from the road-way. nothing could induce dobbin to step across that open space. all sorts of coaxing and argument were used, and even a few gentle digs from phaeton's heels, but it was of no avail. at last he began to back, and ned and i let go of the surcingle. around he wheeled, and down the steep bank he went, like the picture of putnam at horseneck, landed on the tow-path, and immediately plunged into the water. a crowd of boys who were swimming under the bridge set up a shout, as he swam across with phaeton on his back, and, climbing out on the other side, accompanied us along the road as far as the requirements of civilization would permit. ned and i crossed by the bridge. "i only hope uncle jacob won't blame me if the horse takes cold," said phaeton. "can't we prevent it?" said ned. "what can you do?" said phaeton. "i think we ought to rub him off perfectly dry, at once," said ned. "that's the way mr. gifford's groom does." "i guess that's so," said phaeton. "you two go to that hay-stack over there, and get some good wisps to rub him down." ned and i each brought a large armful of hay. "now, see here, fay," said ned, "you've got to get off from that horse and help rub him. we're not going to do it all." "but how can i get on again?" said phaeton. "i don't care how," said ned. "you've had all the ride, and you must expect to do some of the work. if you don't, i'll let him die of quick consumption before i'll rub him." this vigorous declaration of independence had a good effect. phaeton slid down, and tied dobbin to the fence, and we all set to work and used up the entire supply of hay in rubbing him dry. after several unsuccessful attempts to mount him by bringing him close to the fence, phaeton determined to lead him the rest of the way. "anyhow, i suppose he ought not to have too violent exercise after such a soaking as that," said he. "we'll let him rest a little." as we were now beyond the limits of the town, the only spectators were individual boys and girls, who were generally swinging on farm-yard gates. most of these, however, took interest enough to inquire why we didn't ride. we paid no attention to their suggestions, but walked quietly along,--phaeton at the halter, and ned and i at the sides,--as if guarding the sacred bull of burmah. about a mile of this brought us to mr. kidd's. "what about riding over the dog?" said ned. "we can't very well ride over him to-day, when we've neither saddle nor spurs," said phaeton; "but you two might get some good stones, and be ready for him." accordingly we two selected some good stones. ned crowded one into each of his four pockets, and carried one in each hand. i contented myself with two in my hands. "there's no need of getting so many," said phaeton. "for if you don't hit him the first time, he'll be on you before you can throw another." this was not very comforting; but we kept on, and ned said it wouldn't do any harm to have plenty of ammunition. when we reached the house, there was no dog in sight, excepting a small shaggy one asleep on the front steps. "you hold dobbin," said phaeton to me, "while i go in and make arrangements." i think i held dobbin about half a minute, at the end of which time he espied an open gate at the head of a long lane leading to the pasture, jerked the halter from my hand, and trotted off at surprising speed. when phaeton came out of the house, of course i told him what had happened. "but it's just as well," said i, "for he has gone right down to the pasture." "no, it isn't just as well," said he; "we must get off the halter and blanket." "but what about the dog?" said ned. "oh, that one on the steps won't hurt anybody. the savage one is down in the wood-lot." at this moment a woman appeared at the side door of the farm-house, looked out at us, and understood the whole situation in a moment. "i suppose you hadn't watered your horse," said she, "and he's gone for the creek." phaeton led the way to the pasture, and we followed. i shouldn't like to tell you how very long we chased dobbin around that lot, trying to corner him. we tried swift running, and we tried slow approaches. i suggested salt. ned pretended to fill his hat with oats, and walked up with coaxing words. but dobbin knew the difference between a straw hat and a peck measure. "i wish i could remember what the book says about catching your horse," said phaeton. "i wish you could," said i. "why didn't you bring the book?" "i will next time," said he, as he started off in another desperate attempt to corner the horse between the creek and the fence. nobody can tell how long this might have kept up, had not an immense black dog appeared, jumping over the fence from the wood-lot. phaeton drew back and looked about for a stone. ned began tugging at one of those in his pockets, but couldn't get it out. instead of coming at us, the dog made straight for dobbin, soon reached him, seized the halter in his teeth, and brought him to a full stop, where he held him till we came up. it only took a minute or two to remove the blanket and halter, and turn dobbin loose, while a few pats on the head and words of praise made a fast friend of the dog. with these trappings over our arms, we turned our steps homeward. as we drew near the place where we had given dobbin the rubbing down to keep him from taking cold, we saw a man looking over the fence at the wet wisps of hay in the road. "i wonder if that man will expect us to pay for the hay," said phaeton. "it would be just like him," said ned. "these farmers are an awful stingy set." "i haven't got any money with me," said phaeton; "but i know a short cut home." ned and i agreed that any shortening of the homeward journey would be desirable just now,--especially as we were very hungry. he led the way, which required him to go back to the first cross-road, and we followed. it seemed to me that the short cut home was about twice as long as the road by which we had come, but as i also was oppressed with a sense of having no money with me, i sympathized with phaeton, and made no objection. when i found that the short cut led through the deep hollow culvert, i confess to some vague fears that the boy i had chased into the culvert might dam up the water while we were in there, or play some other unpleasant trick on us, and i was glad when we were well through it with only wet feet and shoulders spattered by the drippings from the arch. we got home at last, and phaeton told his uncle that dobbin was safe in the pasture, at the same time giving him to understand that we were--as we always say at the end of a composition--much pleased with our brisk morning canter. but the boys couldn't help talking about it, and gradually the family learned every incident of the story. when mr. rogers heard about the hay, he sent phaeton with some money to pay for it, but the stingy farmer said it was no matter, and wouldn't take any pay. but he asked phaeton where we were going, and told him he had a pasture that was just as good as kidd's, and nearer the town. chapter ii. rapid transit. if phaeton rogers was not an immediate success as a rider of horses, he certainly did what seemed some wonderful things in the way of inventing conveyances for himself and other people to ride. one day, not long after our adventures with dobbin, ned and i found him sitting under the great plane-tree in the front yard, working with a knife at some small pieces of wood, which he put together, making a frame like this: [illustration: rapid transit by cable.] "what are you making, fay?" said ned. "an invention," said phaeton, without looking up from his work. "what sort of invention? a new invention?" "it would have to be new or it wouldn't be an invention at all." "but what is it for?" "for the benefit of mankind, like all great inventions." "it seems to me that some of the best have been for the benefit of boykind," said ned. "but what is the use of trying to be too smart? let us know what it is. we're not likely to steal it, as lem woodruff thinks the patent-lawyer stole his idea for a double-acting washboard." phaeton was silent, and worked away. ned and i walked out at the gate and turned into the street, intending to go swimming. we had not gone far when phaeton called "ned!" and we turned back. "ned," said he, "don't you want to lend me the ten dollars that aunt mercy gave you last week?" their aunt mercy was an unmarried lady with considerable property, who was particularly good to ned. when phaeton was a baby she wanted to name him after the man who was to have been her husband, but who was drowned at sea. mrs. rogers would not consent, but insisted upon naming the boy fayette, and aunt mercy had never liked him, and would never give him anything, or believe that he could do anything good or creditable. she was a little deaf, and if it was told her that phaeton had taken a prize at school, she pretended not to hear; but whenever ned got one she had no trouble at all in hearing about it, and she always gave him at least a dollar or two on such occasions. for when ned was born she was allowed to do what she had wanted to do with fayette, and named him edmund burton, after her long-lost lover. later, she impressed it upon him that he was never to write his name e. b. rogers, nor edmund b. rogers, but always edmund burton rogers, if he wanted to please her, and be remembered in her will. she never called him anything but edmund burton. whereas, she pretended not to remember fayette's name at all, and would twist it in all sorts of ways, calling him layit and brayit, and fater and faylen, and once she called him frenchman-what's-his-name, which was as near as she ever came to getting it right. "why should i lend you my ten dollars?" said ned. "for the information you kindly gave us about your invention?" "oh, as to that," said phaeton, "i've no objection to telling you two about it, now that i have thought it all out. i did not care to tell you before, because i was studying on it." "all right; go ahead," said ned, as we seated ourselves on the grass, and phaeton began. "it is called the underground railway. you see, there are some places--like the city of new york, for instance--where the buildings are so close together, and land is worth so much, that they can't build railroads enough to carry all the people back and forth. and so they have been trying, in all sorts of ways, to get up something that will do it--something different from a common railroad." "balloons would be the thing," said ned. "no; balloons won't do," said phaeton. "you can't make them 'light where you want them to. i've thought of a good many ways, but there was some fault in all of them but this last one." "tell us about the others first," said ned. "i'll show you _one_ of them," said phaeton, and he drew from his pocket a small sheet of paper, which he unfolded. [illustration: rapid transit by car.] "this," said he, "represents the city of new york. _a_ is some place far up-town where people live; _b_ is the battery, which is down-town where they do the business. i suppose you both know what a mortar is?" "a cannon as big around as it is long," said ned. "and shoots bomb-shells," said i. "that's it," said phaeton. "now here, you see, is a big mortar up-town; only, instead of shooting a bomb-shell, it shoots a car. this car has no wheels, and has a big knob of india-rubber on the end for a buffer. when you get it full of people, you lock it up tight and touch off the mortar. this dotted mark represents what is called the line of flight. you see, it comes down into another sort of mortar, which has a big coiled spring inside, to stop it easy and prevent it from smashing. then the depot-master puts up a long step-ladder and lets the people out." ned said he should like to be the one to touch off the mortar. "and why wasn't that a good plan?" said i. "there are some serious objections to it," said phaeton, in a knowing way. "for instance, you can't aim such a thing very true when the wind is blowing hard, and people might not like to ride in it on a windy day. besides, some people have a very strong prejudice, you know, against any sort of fire-arms." "there wouldn't be much chance for a boy to catch a ride on it," said ned, as if that were the most serious objection of all. "but tell us about the real invention." "the real invention," said phaeton, "is this," and he took up the little frame we had seen him making. taking an india-rubber string from his pocket, he stretched it from one of the little posts to the other, and fastened it. "now," said he, "suppose there was a fly that lived up at this end, and had his office down at that end. he gets his breakfast, and takes his seat right here," and he laid his finger on the string, near one of the posts. "i call out, 'all aboard!' and then----" here phaeton, who had his knife in his hand, cut the string in two behind the imaginary fly. "where is the fly now?" said he. "at his office doing business--" "i don't understand," said ned. "i've only half explained it," said phaeton. "now, you see, it's easy enough to make a tunnel under-ground and run cars through. but a tunnel always gets full of smoke when a train goes through, which is very disagreeable, and if you send a train every fifteen minutes, all the passengers would choke. so, you see, there must be something instead of an engine and a train of cars. i propose to dig a good tunnel wherever the road wants to go, and make it as long as you please. right through the centre i pass an india-rubber cable as large as a man's leg, and stretch it tight and fasten it to great posts at each end. all the men and boys who want to go sit on at one end, as if on horseback. when everything is ready, the train-despatcher takes a sharp axe, and with one blow clips the cable in two behind them, and zip they go to the other end before you can say jack robinson." ned said he should like to be train-despatcher. "they'd all have to hang on like time," said i. "of course they would," said phaeton; "but there are little straps for them to take hold by." "and would there be a tub at the other end," said ned "to catch the passengers that were broken to pieces against the end wall?" "oh, pshaw!" said phaeton. "don't you suppose i have provided for that?" the fact was, phaeton had spent more study on the question of landing his passengers safely than on any other part of his invention. it was not the first instance since the days of the hand-mill that made the sea salt, in which it had been found easy to set a thing going, but difficult to stop it. "there are several ways," said he, continuing his explanation, "to let the passengers off safely. i haven't decided yet what i'll adopt. one way is, to have a sort of brake to squeeze down on the cable and make it stop gradually. i don't exactly like that, because it would wear out the cable, and these cables are going to cost a great deal of money. another way is, to throw them against a big, soft mattress, like pins in a bowling-alley. but even that would hurt a little, i guess, no matter how soft you made the mattress. the best way is, to have it drop them in a tank of water." "what! and get all wet?" said ned. "don't be in a hurry," said phaeton. "each one would wear an india-rubber water-proof garment (a sort of over-dress), covering him all over and fastened up tight. of course, these would be provided by the company." "but wouldn't it use up a cable every time you cut it?" said ned. "not at all; it could be stretched again by hitching a team of horses to the end and drawing it back, and then we should solder it together with melted india-rubber. probably a dozen teams would be at work at night stretching cables for use next day. you see, we should have as many cables as the business of the road required." i have never known whether phaeton was sincere in all this, or whether he was simply fooling ned and me. i have since suspected that he had a purpose which did not appear at the time. at any rate, we took it all in and believed it all, and looked upon him as one of the world's great inventors. "and what do you want the ten dollars for?" said ned. "well, you know nothing can be done without more or less money," said phaeton. "the first thing is, to get up a model to send to the patent-office, and get a patent on it." "what's that?" said ned. "what's what?" "a model." "a model," said phaeton, "is a little one, with tunnel and all complete, to show how it works." "but a tunnel," said ned, "is a hole in the ground. you can't send a hole in the ground to the patent-office, no matter how small you make it." "oh, pshaw! don't you understand? there would be a little wooden tube or shell, painted red, to represent the brick-work that the real tunnel would be arched in with." "well, what then?" "i suppose it would cost about ten dollars to get up a model. if it's going to the patent-office it doesn't want to be botched up with a pocket-knife." "of course not," said ned. "but the model will be only a beginning. it will take a great deal more money than that to build the real thing." "now you talk business," said phaeton. "and i'm ready to talk with you. i've thought it all out. i got an idea from the way that father says mr. drake manages to build so many houses." "let's hear about it." "there are two ways to get the thing into operation. one is, to try it first in this town. you know we boys could dig the tunnel ourselves, and it wouldn't cost anything." "yes, i suppose so--if enough boys would take hold." "then we could give a mortgage on the tunnel, and so raise money to buy the cable, and there you are." "that's all very fine," said ned; "but they foreclose mortgages. and if there was a mortgage on our tunnel, and they foreclosed it while we were in there, what would become of us? how should we ever get out?" phaeton laughed. "i'll tell you how we'll fix it," said he. "we'll have a secret shaft leading out of the tunnel, and not let the man we give the mortgage to know anything about it." ned didn't exactly know whether he was being quizzed or not. "what's the other way of getting the thing into operation?" said he. "the other way," said phaeton, "is to go to new york and see uncle silas, and have him get up a company to start it there." "i think i like that way best," said ned. "but, to tell you the truth, i had made arrangements to do something else with that ten dollars." phaeton looked disappointed. "then why didn't you say so in the first place?" said he, as he put his things into his pocket and turned to walk away. "don't get mad, fay," said ned. "perhaps we can get another ten." "where can we get it?" "of aunt mercy." "you might, but i can't." "well, i'll try to get it for you, if you'll let me take your machine." "all right," said phaeton. "when will you go?" "i might as well go this evening as any time," said ned. so it was agreed that he should visit his aunt mercy that evening, and see if she would advance the money for a model. i was to go with him, but phaeton was to be kept entirely in the background. "do you suppose fay can really make anything out of this machine?" said ned to me, as we were on the way to his aunt mercy's. "i should think he might," said i. "for he is certainly a genius, and he seems to have great faith in it." "at any rate, we might as well get fifteen dollars while we are about it," said ned. "i suppose we might," said i. chapter iii. aunt mercy. "good evening, aunty." "good evening, edmund burton." aunt mercy was sipping a cup of tea, and reading the evening paper. "what's the news, aunty?" "another railroad accident, of course." "nobody hurt, i hope?" "yes; a great many. i wonder that anybody's foolhardy enough to ride on the railroads." "how did it happen?" said ned, beginning to think it was a poor time to get money for a railroad invention. "train ran off the track," said aunt mercy, "and ran right down an embankment. seems to me they always do. i don't see why they have so many embankments." "they ought not to," said ned. "if they only knew it, there's a way to make a railroad without any track, or any wheels to run off the track, or any embankment to run down if they did run off." "you don't say so, edmund burton! what sort of a railroad would that be?" "i happen to have the plan of one with me," said ned. "edmund burton! what _do_ you mean?" "i mean this," said ned, pulling from his pocket the little frame with a rubber string stretched on it. "it's a new invention; hasn't been patented yet." "edmund burton!" was all his aunt could say. "i'll explain it to you, aunty," said ned, as he picked up the newspaper which she had dropped, and rolled it into a tube. "this," said he, "represents a tunnel, a big round hole, you know, as big as this room, bored along in the ground. it goes right through rocks and everything, and is perfectly straight. no dangerous curves. and this"--showing the frame and then passing it into the paper tube--"represents an india-rubber cable as large as a stove-pipe. it is stretched out as far as possible, and fastened tight to posts at the ends." "edmund burton!" "now, aunty, we'll call this end albany, and this end buffalo." "edmund burton!" "all the men and boys in albany that want to go to buffalo could come down to the depot, and get on the cable right there, sitting just as if they were on horseback, and there will be nice little straps for them to hold on by." "edmund burton!" "when everybody's ready, the train-despatcher just picks up a sharp axe, and with one blow cuts the cable in two, right here, and zip! the passengers find themselves in buffalo. no boiler to burst, no track to get off from, no embankment to plunge down, no wheels to get out of order." "edmund burton, you _are_ a genius! but ladies can't ride that way." "of course not," said ned, catching an idea. "we have a car for the ladies. this"--and he picked up a spool of thread and a lead pencil, and passed the pencil through the spool--"represents it. the pencil represents the cable, and the spool represents the car, which is fastened tight on the cable. when the ladies are all in, it is locked up, and then the cable is cut behind it." "edmund burton!" "and the great advantage of it is, that the car is perfectly round, and so whichever way it might happen to turn, it would always be right side up, for every side is the right side!" "edmund burton, you _are_ a genius!" "but you mustn't tell anybody about it, aunty, for it hasn't been patented yet." "why don't you patent it, edmund burton?" "we think of doing so, aunty, but it will cost more money than we have just now. the first thing is to get up a model." "what's that, edmund burton?" "a little one, with tunnel and everything complete, to show how it works. that has to go to the patent-office and be put in a glass case." "and how much will it cost to make a muddle, edmund burton?" "fay says he thinks one _could_ be made for ten dollars; but i suppose more money would build a better one." "your brother knows nothing about it, edmund burton. _he_ would get up a miserable cheap muddle, and disgrace the family. don't let him have anything to do with it. jane!"--calling to the servant--"bring me my pocket-book from the right-hand corner of my top bureau drawer." jane brought it. "how much will it take for a good muddle, edmund burton?" said his aunt mercy, as she opened her pocket-book. "i should think fifteen dollars ought to be a great plenty," said ned, and she handed him a crisp new ten-dollar bill and a five. "thank you, aunty." "you're welcome, child. always come to me when you want money to make a muddle. but mind what i tell you, edmund burton. don't let that numskull brother of yours have anything to do with it, and be sure you get up a handsome muddle that will do credit to the family." "yes, aunty. good-night!" "good-night! but come and kiss me before you go, edmund burton." * * * * * "don't you think," said ned, as we were walking home, "before fay goes any further with this invention, and spends money on it, he'd better talk with somebody who knows more about such things than we do?" i didn't quite know whether ned said this because he was really anxious about the fate of the invention, or because he did not like to part with the money, now that he actually had it. some people are always ready to say that they would lend money to a friend, if they had it; but when they feel it in their hands, they are not in such a hurry to let it go out. however, i thought this was a good idea, whatever might be ned's reason for suggesting it; so i said, "certainly, he ought! who do you think would be the best person for him to talk with?" "i don't know anybody better than jack-in-the-box," said ned. "of course he knows all about railroads." "of course he does," said i, "and he'll be glad to help us. jack-in-the-box is the very one!" chapter iv. jack-in-the-box. the box was a red box, about five feet square and eight feet high, with a pointed top. jack was about five feet nine inches high, with a brown beard and mustache and dark hazel eyes, and might have been twenty-six years old, possibly older. when he was in the box, he wore a blue blouse and dark trousers and a small cloth cap. the only time i ever saw him away from the box was on sundays, when he always came to the presbyterian church, and sat in pew no. 79. one of the great pillars that supported the gallery was planted in this pew, and spoiled nearly the whole of it; but there was a comfortable seat for one at the outer end, and jack had that seat. the box had two small square windows on opposite sides. on another side was a door, with 248 over it. the fourth side was covered in summer with morning-glory vines, planted by jack, and trained to run up on strings. a stove-pipe about as large as your arm stuck out at the top. when jack looked out at one of his windows, he looked up the railroad; when he looked out at the other, he looked down the railroad; when he stepped out of his door, he stood beside the track, and on those occasions he generally had in his hand either a red flag or a red lantern. close beside the box rose a tall, heavy pole, with a cross-piece on the top and short iron rods stuck through it at intervals all the way up. a rope passed over pulleys in the ends of the cross-piece, and jack used to hoist sometimes three white balls, sometimes two red balls, at night tying on white or red lanterns below the balls. to us boys, jack was a delightful character, in an enviable situation, but to older people he was a mystery. i remember one day i was walking with father, when mr. briggs joined us, and as we came in sight of the box, jack was rolling up his flag, a train having just gone by. "what do you make of that young man?" said mr. briggs. "i don't know what to make of him," said father. "he is evidently not the sort of man they generally have in those positions. you can tell by his speech and manner, and his whole appearance, that he is an educated man and a gentleman." "oh, yes," said mr. briggs. "if you peep in at the window, you will see a shelf full of books. he seems to have taken this way to make a hermit of himself--not a bad way, either, in these modern times, when there are no uninhabited wilds to retire to, and when a little money income is absolutely necessary to existence." "i should like to know his history," said father. "either he has committed some crime--forgery, perhaps--and escaped," said mr. briggs, "or he has quarrelled with his family, or in some way been disappointed." "i don't think it's for any crime," said father; "his appearance forbids that." "still, you can't always tell," said mr. briggs. "i tried to make his acquaintance once, but did not succeed. i am told he repels all advances. even the presbyterian minister, whose church he attends, can't get at him." "i understand he likes the boys, and makes their acquaintance," said father. we had now arrived at our gate, and mr. briggs said good evening, and passed on. it was true that jack-in-the-box was partial to boys; in fact, nobody else could make his acquaintance. he liked to have us come and talk with him, but never wanted more than two or three to come at a time. perhaps this was on account of the size of the box. we used to consult him on all sorts of occasions, and got a great many shrewd hints and useful bits of information from him. the inside of the box was a romance to me. i never saw so many things in so small a space. in one corner was a stove about as large as a coffee-pot, and beside it a sheet-iron coal-box, not much larger. in another corner stood the red flag, when it was furled, and a hatchet. behind the door, hung flat on the wall, was a large coil of rope. overhead, on one side, was a shelf, nearly filled with tools and trinkets. on the opposite side--lower, but still over the window--was another shelf, filled with books. i took a special interest in this shelf, and studied the backs of the books so often, that i think i can give the title of every one, in their order. they were, beginning at the left hand, a bible, "essays of elia," "henry esmond," "life of columbus," "twice-told tales," "anatomy of melancholy," "modern painters," "the shadows of the clouds," "the middle ages," "undine and sintram," "tales of the great st. bernard," "sordello," "divina commedia," "sophoclis tragoediã¦," "demosthenis orationes," "platonis dialogi," "q. horatii flacci opera," "robinson crusoe," "byron's poems," and shakespeare. i was so curious about them, that i copied off all the hard ones on a card, and, when i went home, tried to find out what they were. under the book-shelf, at one side of the window, fastened to the wall, was a little alarm-clock. jack knew exactly what time every train would come along. as soon as one had passed, and he had rolled up his flag, he used to set the alarm so that it would go off two minutes before the next train was due. then he could sit down with his book, and be sure of not forgetting his duty. jack generally sat in a sort of easy chair with one arm to it, on which a board was fastened in such a way as to make a little writing-desk. the space under the seat of the chair was boxed, with a little door on one side, and in there he kept his stationery. hardly a day passed that jack did not have boy visitors. there were only two things about him that seemed singular to me. we could never find out his real name. he told us to call him simply jack; whereupon isaac holman said the full name must be jack-in-the-box, and after that we always called him by the full name. the other queer thing was, that he was never known to read a newspaper. the boys sometimes brought one to him, but he always said he didn't care about it, and would not open it. father and mr. briggs appeared to think it very strange that he should live in that box and attend to the flags and signals. to me it seemed the most delightful life imaginable, and jack-in-the-box was one of my heroes. i often thought that if i could choose my own station in life, my choice would be a flag-station on the railroad. phaeton adopted ned's suggestion as to consulting jack-in-the-box about his invention, and we three went together to see him. when we got there, the door of the box stood wide open; everything seemed to be in its place, but jack had disappeared. "probably gone up the road, to flag an extra train," said phaeton. "no, he hasn't, for there's his flag in its place in the corner." "he can't have been murdered," said ned, "or they would have robbed the box. must be suicide. perhaps we'd better take charge of his things." "i wouldn't be in a hurry about that," said phaeton. "or he may have been run over by a train that he didn't see," said ned, getting excited, and examining the rails in search of blood-marks. "if he was trying to remember all that funny-looking greek stuff in some of those books, i shouldn't think he would notice a train, or anything else. and we'll all have to sit on the coroner's jury. poor jack! i don't believe we can say the train was to blame, or make it pay damages. i think i should like to sit near the feet; for he had handsome feet and only wore number six boots. he was an awful good fellow, too. but that'll take us out of school one day, anyway." "so you think there is no great loss without some small gain," said phaeton. "i didn't say so!" said ned, a little offended at this plain interpretation of his last sentence. "i feel as badly as anybody about jack's death. but, at any rate, they'll have to do something with his property. i suppose, if he had no relations--and i never heard of any--they'll give it to his best friends. i think i should like the alarm-clock, and the chair, and perhaps a few of the tools. what will you take?" turning to me. "i think i should like to take his place, if anything," said i. ned took a look at the box. "i tell you what it is," said he, "the prettiest design for a monument over jack's grave would be a box just like that--all cut in marble, of course--with jack's name and age on the door, and beside it a signal-pole struck by lightning and broken off in the middle, or something of that sort." a slight noise, or else the allusion to the signal-pole, caused us to look up. there was jack coming down, with an oil-can in his hand! he had been at the top oiling the pulleys, and had probably heard every word we said, for there was a quiet smile all over his face. "good morning, jack," said phaeton, who seldom lost his presence of mind. "good morning, boys. i'm glad to see you," said jack. as soon as ned and i could recover from our abashment, we also said good morning. "is there anything i can do for you to-day?" said jack, as he set away the oil-can, observing that phaeton had the little frame and a small drawing in his hand. "yes, sir," said phaeton. "i want to get your advice about a little invention that i've been making." "it's a new kind of railroad," said ned; "and we thought you'd be the one to know all about railroads. beats these common railroads all to nothing. why, three months after ours is introduced, and the public understand it, they'll have to take up this track and sell it for old iron." [illustration: the boys consult jack-in-the-box.] ned had thoroughly identified himself with the invention, and thought it was as much his as phaeton's. "but then," he added thoughtfully, "that would spoil your business, jack. and we should be sorry to do that." jack smiled, and said it didn't matter; he wouldn't wish to let his private interests obstruct the march of improvement. phaeton explained the invention to jack, illustrating it with a rubber-string stretched on the frame, just as he had explained it to us. "i see," said jack. "quite a novel idea." "we haven't made up our minds," said ned, "what sort of depot we'll have. but it'll be either a big tank full of water, or an awful soft mattress." "how is that?" said jack. "why, you see," said ned, "this railroad of ours is going to go like lightning. there's no trouble about its going." "none whatever," said jack. "but it's going to stop rather sudden." "how so?" said jack. "i mean the trains," said ned. "that is, the cables. they're going to fetch up with a bang at the other end. at least, they would, if we hadn't thought of a way to prevent it. because it wouldn't do to break the heads of all the passengers every time." "no," said jack. "that would be too much." "too much," said ned. "and so you see the depot must be some sort of contrivance to let 'em off easy." "of course," said jack. "and the first thing anybody thinks of is a bowling-alley, and the pins flying every which way." "quite naturally," said jack. "and that makes you think of a soft mattress to stop them. but fay thinks it would be better, on some accounts, to drop them into a big tank of water." "i suppose in winter you would have the water warmed?" said jack. "of course we should; though we hadn't thought of it before," said ned. "and that would give the passengers a ride and a bath, all for the price of one ticket," said jack. "certainly; and you see that would be favorable to the poor," said ned, willing to indulge in the joke. "exactly; a great boon to mankind," said jack. "and i think it would not only make them cleaner, but more religious." "how so?" said ned. "well, i think every passenger would feel like saying his prayers, as the train, or cable, drew near the getting-off station." phaeton and i burst out laughing. "i'm afraid you're only making fun of our invention," said ned. "not i," said jack. "i like to encourage the inventive faculty in boys." "well, then, tell us honestly," said ned,--"where would you introduce it first? would you go to new york, and build it under broadway at once? or would you go slow, and try it first in this town, on a rather small scale?" "i think i'd go slow," said jack. "and where would be the best place to build it?" "you'll have to survey the town," said jack, "and find out where there is the most travel." "we thought we'd dig the tunnel ourselves," said ned, "and then give a mortgage on the tunnel, and raise the money to buy the cable." "i see you have the true business idea," said jack. "in that case, i think you'd better build it wherever you find the softest dirt." "that's worth thinking about," said ned. "and now, jack, i'll tell you what 'tis. we don't want to throw you out of employment; and when our road's running, and this one stops, you shall have a good situation on ours. there won't be any signal stations, but you may be the train-despatcher--the one that chops off the cable, you know." "thank you," said jack. "i'll think about it." "it will probably be good pay," said ned, "and it's certain to be lots of fun." "oh, there can be no doubt whatever about that," said jack, drily. "good morning!" "good morning!" "jack-in-the-box takes a deep interest in our invention," said ned, in a low, confidential tone, as we walked away. "i can see that he thinks it's going to be a great success." phaeton burst out laughing. "what are you laughing about?" said ned. "i am laughing to think how jack-in-the-box fooled you to the top of your bent." "what do you mean?" "i mean that the thing won't do at all; and he saw it wouldn't, as soon as he looked at it; but he thought he wouldn't say so. he just liked to hear you talk." "do you think so?" said ned to me. "i'm afraid it's true," said i. "well," said ned, growing a little red in the face, "i don't care. it's no invention of mine, anyway. it was all your idea, fay." "oh, was it?" said phaeton. "when i heard you talk to jack-in-the-box about it, i began to think it was all yours." "if i was going to make an invention," said ned, "i'd make one that would work--something practical." "all right," said phaeton; "you're at liberty to do so if you wish. i should be glad if you would." "well, i will," said ned. "i'll make one to beat yours all hollow." * * * * * three or four days afterward, ned came to me with a look on his face that showed he had something important in his mind. "can you go?" said he, almost in a whisper. "that depends on where you're going," said i. "to see jack-in-the-box," said he. "yes, i always like to go to the box," said i. "but i've got to split these kindlings first." "oh, never mind your kindlings! you can split those any time. i've got a sure thing now; and if jack says it's all right, i'll let you go partnership." of course, this was more important than any paltry consideration of lighting the fires next morning; so i threw down the hatchet, and we started. "i think we'd better go by the postern," said i. postern was a word we had found frequently used in "the haunted castle;" and we had looked out its meaning in the dictionary. whenever we thought it desirable to get away from the house without being seen,--as, for instance, when we were leaving kindlings unsplit,--we climbed over the back fence, and called it "going by the postern." "all right," said ned, for in these things he was a wise boy, and a word to him was sufficient. "what is it?" said i, as soon as we were fairly out of sight of the house. "tell me all about it." "wait till we get to jack's," said he. "has your aunt mercy given you money to make a muddle of it?" said i. "that troubles me a little--that fifteen dollars," said ned. "you see, we got it honestly; we thought fay's invention was going to be a great thing, and we must have money to start. but now, if aunt mercy knew it was a failure, it would look to her very much as if we had swindled her." "not if you gave her back the money," said i. "but i don't exactly like to do that," said ned. "it's always a good thing to have a little money. and, besides, she'd lose faith in me, and think i couldn't invent anything. and next time, when we had really made a good thing, she'd think it was only another failure, and wouldn't furnish the money. that's one reason why i made this invention that i have in my pocket now. we can use the money on this, and tell aunt mercy we changed off from the underground railroad to a better thing." "how do you do to-day, jack?" "pretty well, thank you! how are you? come in, boys; i'm glad to see you." "would you be willing to look at another invention for us?" "certainly; with the greatest pleasure." "i hope it will turn out to be better than the other--that is, more practical," said ned. "but you see, jack, that was our first invention, and i suppose we can only improve by practice." "that is about the only way," said jack. "what is your second invention?" ned drew a bit of paper from his pocket. "the other day," said he, "i heard father reading a piece in the newspaper about a church that was struck by lightning, although it had a lightning-rod. the reason was, that the rod was broken apart at one place, and nobody had noticed it, or if they had, they didn't take the trouble to fix it. people are always careless about those things. and so they lost their church. father says there are a good many things that spoil lightning-rods. he says, if there's rust in the joints they won't work." "that's true," said jack. "well, then, all this set me to thinking whether i couldn't invent a lightning-rod that would be a sure thing. and here you have it," said ned, as he unfolded his paper. jack looked at it. [illustration: ned's invention.] "i don't understand it," said he, "you'll have to explain." "of course you don't," said ned. "i will explain." jack said he was all attention. "what does fire do to ice?" said ned, taking on the tone of a school-master. "melts it," said jack. "right," said ned. "and when ice is melted, it becomes what?" "water," said jack. "right again!" said ned. "and water does what to fire?" "puts it out," said jack. "exactly so," said ned. "and there you have it--action and reaction. that's the principle." i think ned borrowed his style of explanation not so much from the school-master as from a young man who appeared in the streets one day, selling a sort of stuff to clean the teeth, calling a crowd around him, and trying it on the teeth of one or two boys. "that's all true," said jack; "but how do you apply it to lightning-rods?" "here is a picture," said ned, "of a house with a rod on it. the family think it's all right, and don't feel afraid when it thunders. but that rod may be broken somewhere, or may be rusted in the joints, and they not know it. what then? we simply fasten a large ball of ice--marked _i_ in the illustration--to the rod at _r_--freeze it on tight. you see it isn't likely there will be any break, or any rusty joint, between the point of the rod and the ball." "not likely," said jack. "but there may be one lower down." "there may be," said jack; "though there couldn't be one higher down." ned was too intent on his invention to notice this criticism on his expression. "we'll say a thunder-storm comes up," said he. "the lightning strikes this rod. what then? in an instant, in the flash of an eye, the lightning melts that ball of ice--it becomes water--in another instant that water puts out the lightning--and the family are safe!" "it will if there's enough of it," said jack. "oh, well," said ned, "if there should happen to be a little lightning left over, that wasn't put out, why, you see, as lightning-rods are _generally_ in good order, it would probably be carried off in the usual manner, without doing any harm." jack sat with the paper in his hand, and looked at it in silence, as if he were spell-bound. "what do you think of it?" said ned. "i think it's a work of genius," said jack. "i'm glad you think so," said ned. "and yet," said jack, "some things that exhibit great genius, don't work well in practice." "certainly!" said ned. "that was the way with fay's underground railroad." jack smiled, and nodded. "and now," continued ned, "how would you go to work to introduce it? you wouldn't like to take it and introduce it to the public yourself, would you?--on shares, you know,--you take half of the profits, and we half." jack said his business engagements wouldn't permit him to go into it at present. "then we must manage it ourselves. where would you advise us to put it first?" "on a tall hickory-tree in burke's woods," said jack. "why so?" said ned. "because the great trouble's going to be with the lightning that's left over. you don't know what that may do." "i'm afraid the invention doesn't look practical to you," said ned. before jack could answer, isaac holman appeared at the door of the box, with a latin grammar under his arm. at that time of day, there was an interval of an hour and a half when no train passed, and isaac had arranged to come and take of jack a daily lesson in latin. "i see it's time for your school to begin; we'll finish talking about this some other day," said ned, as he hastily thrust the paper into his pocket. for he didn't want isaac (nor anybody else, i guess) to know about it. "don't hurry yourself; i can wait awhile," said isaac. "to-morrow will do as well for us," said ned. "_totus dexter!_--all right!" said isaac, as we left the box, and made room for him to enter. isaac had been studying the language only a fortnight, but was fond of using latin expressions in talking to the boys. yet he was very considerate about it, and always gave an immediate translation, as in the sentence just quoted. as ned and i walked away, i was the first to speak. "ned, i have an idea! that ball of ice would only stay on in winter." "i suppose so," said ned, a little gloomily. "and nearly all the thunder-storms are in summer," said i. "i'm afraid they are," said ned. "and this invention isn't worth a cent. it's not any better than fay's." and he tore up the paper, and threw the pieces into the gutter. "then what will you do with the fifteen dollars?" said i, after another pause. "that's a thing we must think about," said he. "but here comes jimmy the rhymer. i wonder if he has anything new to-day." chapter v. jimmy the rhymer. james redmond, the boys used to say, was small for his size and old for his age. he was not exactly humpbacked, but his shoulders came so nearly up to the level of his ears that he seemed so; and he was not exactly an invalid, though we never counted on him in any of the games or enterprises that required strength or fleetness. i have no idea what his age was. he must have been some years older than i, and yet all the boys in my set treated him tenderly and patronizingly, as if he were a little fellow who needed their encouragement and protection. jimmy used to make little ballads, generally taking for his subject some incident that had occurred among the boys of the neighborhood, and often sticking to the facts of the case--at the expense of rhyme and rhythm--with a literalness that made him valuable as a historian, whatever he was as a poet. he was called "jimmy the rhymer," and the polite thing to do, on meeting him, was to ask him if he had anything new to-day--meaning any new poem. if he had, he was always willing to read it, sometimes accompanying it with remarks in prose that were quite as entertaining as the ballad itself. "hello, jimmy!" "hello, boys!" "got anything new to-day?" "not much." "that means that you have something." "well, yes; a little one. but i don't think very much of it." this didn't satisfy us. jimmy, like many greater artists, was a poor judge of his own productions. some of his ballads of which he had been proudest were so long and dull that we had almost told him they were failures; but it would have required a very hard-hearted boy to say anything unpleasant to jimmy. others, which he thought little of, the boys would call for again and again. "let us hear it, please," said ned. "i'm afraid i've left it at home," said jimmy, feeling in his pockets. "oh, no; here it is." so we sat down on the horse-block in front of the quaker meeting-house, and while ned whittled the edge of the block--which had not been rounded off quite enough, by previous jack-knives, to suit his fancy--jimmy read his newest ballad. "it is called 'the unlucky fishermen,'" said he; "and you will probably recognize some of the characters. "joe chase and isaac holman, they would a-fishing go; they rose at sunrise friday morn, and called their dog fido." "what!" said ned, interrupting, "the little yellow cur that joe bought of clam jimmy for a six-pence?" "yes, that's the one." "but his name isn't fido--it's prince. haven't you ever noticed that the smaller and snarlier and more worthless a dog is, the surer it is to be called prince?" "perhaps that's the way with princes," said jimmy, who had more than once uttered the most extreme democratic sentiments, expressing contempt for all royalty, merely because it was royalty. "but i don't know,--i never saw one. at any rate, i didn't know the dog's name, and i had to call him something. i think you'll find that everything else is correctly stated." i ventured to suggest that it didn't make much difference whether the dog's name was right or wrong, in a poem. "oh, yes, it does," said jimmy. "i always try to have my poems true to life; and i shall change that, and make it prince--that is, after i have inquired of joe, and found out that the dog's name really is prince. i am glad you spoke about it." then he continued the reading. "in two small willow baskets- one white, the other brown- their mothers put the dinners up which they were to put down. "they'd dug their bait the night before,- the worms were live and thick; their bamboo poles were long and strong, their hooks were limerick." "my brother fay says there isn't a limerick hook in this whole town," said ned. "you can buy plenty of them at karl's--two for a cent," said jimmy. "oh, no, you can't," said ned. "fay says you can't get a limerick hook this side of new york." "what is a limerick hook?" said i, for i was not much of a fisherman. "why, don't you know?" said jimmy. "a hook that's made like a little file on the end where you tie the line, instead of a flat knob." "a real limerick hook is one that's made in limerick," said ned. "those you get in this town are made in connecticut, and are only imitations." i began to suspect that ned had been nettled at the failure of his lightning-rod invention, and was venting his spite on poor jimmy's literary invention. "i can't see," said i, "that it makes any difference with the poem, whether they were real limerick hooks, or only imitation. the poetry is just as good." "oh, no, it isn't," said jimmy; "and i'm glad to have my attention called to it. i'll inquire about that, and if i find they were not true limericks, i'll change that line." then the reading proceeded. "'now let us make it doubly sure that nothing's left,' said joe. and '_totus dexter!_' ike replied- which means 'all right!' you know. "these jolly boys set off at once when everything was found; their fathers said, 'we wish good luck!' their mothers, 'don't get drowned!'" "holman's father hasn't been at home for four months," said ned. "he's gone to missouri to see about an iron mine." "i admit," said jimmy, "that there i drew a little on my imagination. i didn't know what they said, and so i put in what i thought they would be likely to say. but if holman's father wasn't at home, of course he couldn't have said anything at all. however, i think you'll find that the rest of the poem is entirely true to nature. "when they unto the river came, where they should cast the lead, the dew still glistened under foot, the robin sang o'erhead." "i doubt if any robin sings so late in the season as this," said ned. "still," said jimmy, "if one did sing, it would certainly be overhead, and not on the ground. no robin ever sings when he's on the ground. you admit that?" "oh, certainly," said ned. "then i think that line may stand as it is," said jimmy. "all down the road and through the woods they had a lovely walk; the dog did frisk, and chase the birds, and they did laugh and talk." "he's been anything but a frisky dog when i've seen him," said ned. "perhaps so," said jimmy; "but there are exceptions to all rules. "but here their luck all left them- the case seemed very sad: for everything was good before- now everything was bad. "their sinkers were not large enough, the current was so strong, and so they tied on pebble-stones, to help the thing along. "and bitterly they did regret they bought their lines at karl's; for every time they hauled them out, they found them full of snarls." "of course they did," said ned. "there's not a thing in karl's store that's not a cheat--all imitation." "i am glad to hear you say so," said jimmy. "i thought you would see that the rest of the poem was true to nature. "when little fish got on the hooks, they soon flopped off again; when big ones bit, they gave a jerk, and snapped the line in twain." "isaac told me," said jimmy, interrupting himself, "that that thing happened every time with him, and every time but once with joe." "he probably said that as an excuse for coming home with no fish," said ned. "oh, no,--ike wouldn't lie about it," said jimmy. "he's one of the most truthful boys i ever knew." "everybody lies about fishing," said ned. "it's considered the proper thing to do. that's what they mean by a fish-story." "but i saw the lines myself," said jimmy. and then he hurried on with the reading. "the dog lay by the dinners, and was told to guard them well- to let no stranger, man or beast, come near, touch, taste, or smell. "but fido--of course i mean prince--fell asleep, and kicked the baskets in a dream; the contents tumbled o'er the bank, and floated down the stream. "and once a bass robbed isaac's hook, just as he tried to haul; which made him nervous, and in haste he let the bait-box fall." "how could he know what kind of fish it was that robbed his hook?" said i. "i didn't think to ask," said jimmy. "but, at any rate, he said it was a bass, and isaac is generally pretty correct. "it fell between two rugged rocks, where out of reach it lay; and when with sticks they fished it up, the worms had crawled away. "now when the golden setting sun was shining down the glen, they sadly turned their steps toward home, these luckless fishermen. "and when they came upon the road, all tired in foot and side, they said, 'let's hide our poles away, and try to catch a ride.' "they caught upon an omnibus- they did not stir or talk; but some one cried out, 'whip behind!' and so they had to walk." "that must have been a dublin boy," said ned. "nobody on our side of the river is mean enough to holler 'whip behind!'" "i think it was a dublin boy," said jimmy. "if i can find out for certain, i shall state it so in the poem. "they came up slowly from the gate, and fido--that is to say, prince--walked behind; their parents sat about the door, or on the grass reclined. "their fathers said--at least joe's father did--'it grieves us much that you no luck have found.' their mothers said, 'our precious boys, we're glad you are not drowned.'" "that's a good poem," said i, as we rose from the horse-block. "i like that." "yes," said ned; "it ought to be printed." "i'm glad to hear you say so," said jimmy. "but i think i can improve it in a few spots, if i can get at the facts. at any rate, i shall try." jimmy continued his walk up the street, while we sauntered toward home. "i think you were too severe in your criticisms on the poem," said i. "i'm afraid jimmy felt hurt." "do you think so?" said ned. "well, now, i didn't mean to be. i wouldn't hurt that boy's feelings for the world. i suppose i must have been a little cross on account of my lightning-rod. but i shouldn't have played it off on jimmy, that's a fact." "i think he has great genius," said i, "and it ought to be encouraged." "yes, it ought," said ned. "i've often thought so, myself, and wished i could do something for him. perhaps i can, now that i have capital. father says nothing can be done without capital." "jimmy's folks are very poor," said i. "that's so," said ned. "i don't suppose his father ever had fifteen dollars at one time in his life. do you think of any good way in which i could help him with a little capital?" "i don't know of any way, unless it is to print his poems. i should think if his poems could once be published, he might make a great deal of money out of them, and be able to support himself, and perhaps help his mother a little." "that's so," said ned. "i'll publish his poems for him. come over after supper, and we'll talk it up." chapter vi. the price of poetry. when i went over in the evening, i found that ned had gone to jimmy's house, and obtained thirteen of his poems in manuscript, and was now carefully looking them over, correcting what he considered errors. "i tell you what 'tis," said he, "jimmy's an awful good poet, but he needs somebody to look out for his facts." "do you find many mistakes?" said i. "yes; quite a few. here, for instance, he calls it a mile from the four corners to lyell street. i went with the surveyors when they measured it last summer, and it was just seven eighths of a mile and three rods over." "but you couldn't very well say 'seven eighths of a mile and three rods over' in poetry," said i. "perhaps not," said ned; "and yet it won't do to have that line stand as it is. it'll be severely criticised by everybody who knows the exact distance." i felt that ned was wrong, but i could not tell how or why. in later years i have learned that older people than he confidently criticise what they don't understand, and put their own mechanical patches upon the artistic work of others. "perhaps we'd better see what fay thinks about it," said i. "he probably knows more about poetry than we do." "he's in the library, getting father to help him on a hard sum," said ned. "he'll be here in a minute." when phaeton returned, we pointed out the difficulty to him. "that's all right," said he. "that's poetic license." "what is poetic license?" said i. "poetic license," said phaeton, "is a way that poets have of making things fit when they don't quite fit." "like what?" said ned. "like this," said phaeton; "this is as good an example as any. you see, he couldn't say 'seven eighths of a mile and three rods over,' because that would be too long." "that would be the exact distance," said ned. "i mean it would make this line too long," said phaeton; "and, besides, it has to rhyme with that other line, which ends with the word _style_." "and if that other line ended with _cheek_, would he have to call it a _league_ from the four corners to lyell street?" said ned. "i suppose so," said phaeton, "though it wouldn't be a very good rhyme." "and is that considered all right?" "i believe it is." "then you can't depend upon a single statement in any poem," said ned. "oh, yes, you can," said phaeton--"a great many." "mention one," said ned. "'thirty days hath september, april, june, and november,'" said phaeton. "that's true," said ned; "but it's only because the words happen to come so. at any rate, you've greatly lessened my respect for poetry, and i don't know whether i'd better publish them, after all." "these poems?--were you going to publish them?" said phaeton. "yes." "why?" "to make a little money for jimmy. you know his folks are very poor," said ned. "the papers won't pay you anything for them," said phaeton. "alec barnes's sister had a poem two columns long in the _vindicator_ last week, and alec told me she didn't get a cent for it." "but we're going to make a book of them," said ned. "you can make money on a book, can't you?" "i believe you can," said phaeton. "wait a minute." he went to the library, and came back with three volumes of a cyclopã¦dia, out of which, after looking through several articles, he got, at intervals, these bits of information: "moore received three thousand guineas for 'lalla rookh.'" "how much is that?" said ned. "over fifteen thousand dollars," said phaeton. "whew!" said ned. "scott made a profit of ten thousand dollars on 'the lady of the lake.'" "good gracious!" said ned. "byron received more than seventy-five thousand dollars for his poems." "great cã¦sar!" said ned. "tupper must have made thirty thousand dollars on his 'proverbial philosophy.'" "that's enough!" said ned. "that's plenty! i begin to have great respect for poetry, in spite of the license. and i suppose that if the poets make all that money, the publishers make a little something, too." "they probably know how to look out for themselves," said phaeton. "but who is going to publish this book for you?" "i'm going to publish it myself. you know we haven't used up the capital i got from aunt mercy," said ned. "but you're not a publisher." "nobody is a publisher until after he has published something," said ned. "but that won't be capital enough to print a book," said phaeton. "printing costs like fury." "then i shall have to get more from aunt mercy." "yes, i suppose you can--she'd give you anything; but, the truth is, ned, i--i had a little plan of my own about that." "about what?" "about the fifteen dollars--or a part of it. i don't think i should need all of it." "what is it? another foolish invention?" "yes, it is a sort of invention; but it is sure to go--sure to go." "let's hear all about it," said ned. "will you lend me the money to try it?" "how much will it take?" "six or eight dollars, i should think." "yes; i'll lend you six dollars on it. or, if it is really a good thing, i'll put in the six dollars as my share, and go partnership." "well, then, it's a substitute for a balloon," said phaeton. "much cheaper, and safer, and better in every way." "how does it work?" said ned. "it makes a horizontal ascension. i could tell you all about it; but i would rather wait a week, and then show you." "all right!" said ned. "you can have the money, and we'll wait." "thank you!" said phaeton. "but now tell me how you are going to publish jimmy's poems." "why, just publish them, of course," said ned. "and what do you understand by that?" "take this copy to the printer, and tell him to print the books. when it's done, load them into big wagons, and drive around to the four book-stores and leave them. after a few days, call around and get the money, and divide with jimmy. we wouldn't ask them to pay for them till they had a chance to look them over, and see how they liked them." "i don't believe that would work," said phaeton. "why not?" said ned. "the booksellers might not take them." "not take them!" said ned. "they'd be only too glad to. of course they would make a profit on them. i suppose the price would be--well, about half a dollar; and we should let them have them for--well, say for forty-seven cents apiece. maybe if they took a large number, and paid cash down, they might have them for forty-five." phaeton laughed. "they don't do business for any such small profits as that," said he. "i've heard father tell of a man," said ned, "that made his fortune when wheat rose three cents on a bushel. and who wouldn't rather have a volume of jimmy's poems than a bushel of wheat? if nobody happened to buy the wheat for a year or two, it would spoil; but that volume of poems could stand on the shelf in the book-store for twenty years, and be just as good at the end of that time as the day it was put there." "all that sounds very well," said phaeton; "but you'd better talk with some one that knows about it, before you rush into the enterprise." "i'll go and see jack-in-the-box, of course," said ned. "he must know all about books. i never yet asked him anything that he didn't know all about." ned could hardly wait for the night to pass away, and when the next day came, off we posted once more to see jack-in-the-box. when we got there, ned plunged at once into the business, before we had fairly said good morning. "jack," said he, "did you ever publish a book?" jack blushed, and asked why he wanted to know. "i am thinking of publishing one," said ned. "indeed?" said jack. "i didn't know that you had written one." "i haven't," said ned. "jimmy the rhymer wrote it. but i talk of publishing it." "i see," said jack. "i didn't understand you before." "i thought you would understand all about it," said ned. "your expression might have meant either one of two things," said jack. "when a publisher prints a book and sells it, he of course is said to publish it; and when a person writes a book, and gets a publisher to publish it for him, he also is said to have published a book." "i see," said ned. "and did you ever publish one?" "i never was a publisher," said jack. "still, you may know a good deal about it." "i know a little about it," said jack, "and shall be glad to give you all the advice i can. is this the manuscript?" ned said it was, and handed him a roll which he had brought in his hand. "ah, poetry, i see," said jack, turning over the leaves. "yes, first-rate poetry," said ned. "a few licenses here and there; but that can't be helped, you know." "of course not," said jack. "we want to make as much money as we can," said ned, "for jimmy's folks are awful poor, and he needs it, and poetry's the stuff to make money." "is it?" said jack. "i'm glad to hear it." "there was sir walter tupper," said ned, "made thirty thousand dollars, clean cash, on a poem called 'the lady and the snake'--probably not half so good as these of jimmy's. who'd want to read about such a dreadful thing? and mr. barrons was paid seventy-five thousand dollars for his poem called 'the little rook,' whatever that is. and there was lord moore got three thousand guineas--that's fifteen thousand dollars, you know--for some sort of philosophy all turned into rhyme. i don't see how a philosophy could be in rhyme, though, for you know everything in philosophy has to be exact, and in poetry you have to take licenses. suppose you came to the five mechanical powers, and the line before ended with _sticks_, what could you do? you'd have to say there were _six_ of them." jack laughed heartily. "yes, it would be ridiculous," continued ned. "but that's lord moore's lookout. in these poems of jimmy's, there isn't any trouble of that sort. they don't need to be exact. suppose, for instance, one of them says it's a mile from the four corners to lyell street. what odds? very few people know that it's just seven eighths of a mile and three rods over. i might not have known it myself, if i hadn't happened to be with the surveyors when they measured it. jimmy admits that he has drawn on his imagination in one or two places; but he isn't going to do it any more, and i think those can be fixed up somehow." jack laughed again, said he thought imagination was not altogether objectionable in poetry, and kept on turning over the leaves. "where is the title-page?" said he. "what is that?" said ned. "the one with the name on it--the first page in the book," said jack. "oh!" said ned, "we never thought about that. won't the printer make it himself?" "not unless you write it first." "then we've got to name the book before we go any further," said ned. "that's it, exactly," said jack. "couldn't you name it for us?" "i might suggest some names," said jack, "and let you choose; but it seems to me, the person who wrote it ought to name it." "oh, never mind jimmy," said ned. "he'll be satisfied with anything i do." "it might be called simply, 'poems. by jimmy the rhymer,'" said jack. "his name is james redmond," said ned. "i'll write down a few," said jack, as he reached into the box under his chair and took out a sheet of paper and a pencil, and in five minutes he showed us the list: "rhymes and roundelays. by james redmond." "a picnic on parnassus. by james redmond." "the unlucky fishermen, and other poems. by james redmond." "jimmy's jingles." "songs of a school-boy." "minutes with the muses. by james redmond." it did not take ned very long to choose the third of these titles, which he thought "sounded the most sensible." "very well," said jack, as he wrote a neat title-page and added it to the manuscript. "and how are you going to publish it?" "i thought i'd get you to tell me how," said ned, who by this time had begun to suspect that he knew very little about it. "the regular way," said jack, "would be to send it to a firm in new york, or boston, or philadelphia." "and then what?" "they would have a critic read it and tell them whether it was suitable." "he'd be sure to say it was; but then what?" "then they would have it printed and bound, and advertise it in the papers, and sell it, and send it to other stores to be sold." "but where would our profits come from?" "oh, they would pay you ten per cent. on all they sold." "and how many do you think they would sell?" "nobody can tell," said jack. "different books sell differently--all the way from none at all up to a great many." ned borrowed jack's pencil, and figured for two or three minutes. "then," said he, "if they should sell a hundred of our book, we would only get five dollars--two and a half for jimmy, and two and a half for me." "that's about it," said jack. "then that won't do," said ned. "jimmy's folks are very poor, and he needs more than that. isn't there some way to make more money out of it?" "not unless you pay for the printing and binding yourself," said jack. "and how much would that cost?" jack looked it over and said he guessed about two hundred dollars for an edition of five hundred. "we can't do it," said ned, with a sigh. "aunt mercy wouldn't give me so much money at a time." "there is one other way," said jack. "how is it?" "to get up a little printing-office of your own, and print it yourselves." "that sounds like business; i guess you've hit it," said ned, brightening up. "how much money would it take for that?" "i should think twenty-five or thirty dollars would get up a good one." "then we can do it," said ned. "aunt mercy will let me have that, right away." "do you know anything about printing?" said jack. "not much; but my brother fay knows all about it. he worked in a printing-office one vacation, to earn money to buy him a chest of tools." "indeed! what did your brother do in the printing-office?" said jack. "they called him second devil," said ned, "but he was really a roller-boy." "they're the same thing," said jack. "there's no harm in a printer's devil; he's only called so because he sometimes gets pretty well blacked up with the ink." "i'm glad to hear you say so," said ned, who had been a little ashamed to tell what fay did in the office, but now began to think it might be rather honorable. "in fact, he was first devil one week, when the regular first devil was gone to his grandfather's funeral in troy." "then he knows something about the business," said jack; "and perhaps i can help you a little. i understand the trade to some extent." "of course you do," said ned. "you understand everything. and after we've finished jimmy's book, we can print all sorts of other things--do a general business, in fact. i'll see what fay says, and if he'll go in, we'll start it at once." while ned was uttering the last sentence, jack's alarm-clock went off, and jack took his flag and went out to flag the pacific express, while we walked away. we must have been very much absorbed in the new project, for we never even turned to look at the train; and a train of cars in swift motion is a sight that few people can help stopping to look at, however busy they may be. readers who have followed this story thus far will perhaps inquire where the scene of it is laid. i think it is a pertinent question, yet there is a sort of unwritten law among story-writers against answering it, excepting in some vague, indefinite way; and i have transgressed so many written laws, that i should like at least to keep the unwritten ones. but if you are good at playing "buried cities," i will give you a chance to find out the name of that inland city where phaeton and his companions dwelt. i discovered it buried, quite unintentionally, in one of jimmy the rhymer's poems. here is the couplet: "though his head to the north wind so often is bared, at the sound of the siroc he's terribly scared." chapter vii. phaeton's chariot. ned and i pushed on the project for a printing-office with great energy. we made the acquaintance of a man named alvord, who kept a job office--where they never seemed to be in a hurry, as they always were in the newspaper offices--and was never unwilling to answer questions or sell us old type. it was great fun to explore the mysteries of his establishment. i think he liked boys as much as jack-in-the-box did, and i'm sure it was a pleasure to us, in laying out ned's capital, to pay so much of it to so pleasant a man. but energy without skill is like zeal without knowledge; in fact, it is about the same thing, and we couldn't really make much progress till phaeton should take hold; and he would have nothing to do with it till he had finished his apparatus for "a horizontal balloon-ascension," which he was at work upon every minute that he could spare from sleep and meals. with the help of the carriage-maker and the blacksmith, and ned's capital--which he drew upon much more freely than had been bargained for--he constructed a low, broad, skeleton-like carriage, the body of which was hung below the axles of the wheels, instead of above them, and almost touched the ground. this was to prevent it from tipping over easily. the front axle turned on a swivel, and was controlled by two stout handles, by means of which the carriage could be steered. on the front of the box were three iron hooks. at the back there was a single hook. the wheels were pretty large, but the whole was made as light as possible. when it was finished, phaeton brought it home and put it away carefully in the wood-shed. "i am afraid," said he, "that somebody will steal this car, or come in and damage it, unless we put a lock on this wood-shed door." "who would want to steal it or damage it?" said ned. "the dublin boys," said phaeton, half under his breath. "two of them were seen prowling around here the other day." one section of the town, which was divided from ours by the deep gorge of the river, was popularly known as dublin, and the boys who lived there, though probably very much like other boys, were always considered by us as our natural enemies--plotters against the peace of boy society, capable of the most treacherous designs and the darkest deeds ever perpetrated in the juvenile world. every piece of mischief not obviously to be accounted for in any other way, was laid to the dublin boys as a matter of course. "but we haven't any padlock," said ned, "except that old brass one, and the key of that is lost, and we couldn't turn it when we had it." "i suppose we shall have to buy a new one," said phaeton. "all right--buy one," said ned. "i haven't any money," said phaeton. "nor i," said ned--"spent the last cent for a beautiful little font of tuscan type; weighed just five pounds, fifteen cents a pound--nothing the matter with it, only the es are gone." "the es are gone?" said phaeton. "do you mean to say that you have been buying a font of type with no es in it?" "yes; why? what's the harm in that?" said ned. "you don't expect everything to be perfect when you buy things second-hand." "of course not," said phaeton; "but what can you do without es? if the qs or the xs were gone, it wouldn't so much matter; but there's hardly a word that hasn't at least one e in it. just count the es on a page of any book. and you've been fooling away your money on a font of type with no es! mr. alvord ought to be ashamed of himself to cheat a boy like that." "you needn't be scolding me for fooling away the money," said ned. "what have you been doing, i should like to know? fooling away the money on that old torrid-zontal balloon thing, which will probably make a shipwreck of you the first time you try it. and, besides, i didn't buy the type of mr. alvord." "where did you get it?" "bought it of a boy that i met on the stairs when i was coming down from alvord's." "who was he?" "i don't know. he lives on one of those cross-streets down by the aqueduct. i went to his house with him to get the type. he said he used to have a little office, but his father wouldn't let him keep it any more, just because the baby ate some of the ink." "it's too bad," said phaeton; "the type will never be of any use. what do you suppose could have become of the es?" "i don't know," said ned, a little morosely, "unless the baby sister ate them too." "they'd set rather heavy on her stomach," said phaeton. "but how are we going to get a lock for this door?" "i don't see that we can get one at all," said ned. i suggested that the door of the wood-shed might be nailed up, to keep out the dublin boys, till we had a chance to get a padlock. "that's a first-rate idea," said phaeton, and he at once brought out the hammer and nail-box, and began to nail up the door. it was a heavy, panelled door, which had evidently come from some old mansion that was torn down. "it's as well to make it strong while we're about it," said he; "for if those fellows should come, they'd pry it open if they could," and he put in a few more nails. "father showed me how to drive nails so as to make them hold," said i. "let me show you;" and taking the hammer from his hand, i drove eight or ten more nails into the door, driving them in pairs, each pair slanting in opposite directions. "that's a thing worth knowing," said ned. "let me practice on it a little." he took the hammer, and drove one or two pairs in the manner i had shown him, and was so pleased with his success, that he kept on till he had used up all the nails in the box. "no dublin boy is going to get that car this night," said he, as he gave a final blow to the last nail. "no," said phaeton; "i think that's pretty safe." as it began to rain, i was obliged to hurry home. that night, as i afterward learned, there was sorrow in the breast of the youngest member of the rogers family. little may rogers, who never went to sleep without her favorite cat, jemima, curled up on the foot of her little bed, couldn't go to sleep because jemima was nowhere to be found in the house, and had not come when every outside door in turn was opened, and she was called from the vasty darkness. even when mrs. rogers stood in the kitchen-door and rasped the carving-knife on the steel, jemima failed to come bounding in. that was considered decisive as to her fate. the cat would be sure to come at that sound, if she were able to come at all. but a much more serious commotion shook the family next morning. when mr. rogers went down to his breakfast, it was not ready; in fact, the kitchen fire was not made. "how is this, biddy?" said he to the cook. "sure, i couldn't help it, sir; i could get no kindlings." "why so, biddy?" "because, sir, the wood-shed door's bewitched. i couldn't get it open. and everything outside is soakin' wet wid the rain, and so of course i couldn't kindle the fire." mr. rogers walked out to the wood-shed door, and attempted to open it with an impatient and vigorous jerk, but the handle came off in his hand. then he tried to get hold of it by the edge, but there wasn't a crack where he could insert his fingers. then he took hold of it at the bottom, where there was considerable space, but it would not budge a hair. he was becoming a little excited, for he had an engagement to leave town by the early train. he went into the house for some sort of tool, and brought out the poker. cutting a little hole with his pocket-knife at the edge of the door, he inserted the poker, and pried; but the poker bent double, and the door did not stir. then he went in again, and brought out the stove-wrench. cutting the hole a little larger, he pried at the door with the wrench; but the wrench was of cast-iron, and snapped in two. "biddy," said he, "i see a light at robbins's,"--it was very early in the morning--"go over and borrow an axe." biddy soon returned with an axe, and mr. rogers tried to pry the door open with that, but only succeeded in breaking splinters from the edge. "biddy," said he, "bring a light, and let's see what ails it." biddy brought out a candle, but trembled so at the idea of letting out the witches, that she dropped it at mr. rogers's feet, and it struck on its lighted end and immediately went out. biddy made rapid apologies, and ran in for another candle. but mr. rogers would wait no longer. he raised the axe in fury, and began to slaughter the door, like a mediã¦val soldier before the gate of a besieged castle. slice after slice was torn off and flew inward, striking the opposite side of the shed; but the door as a whole would not fall. when a considerable hole had been made, a frightened cat, its eyes gleaming wildly, and its tail as large as a feather-duster, leaped out from the inner darkness, passing over mr. rogers's head, and knocking his hat off, landed somewhere in the yard, and immediately made for the woods. biddy, who arrived on the ground with the second candle just in time to witness this performance, dropped the light again, and fled screaming into the house. this aroused two neighbors, who threw up their windows, thrust their heads out, and, hearing the powerful blows of the axe, thought a maniac was abroad, and hallooed for the police. the watchman on that beat, ever on the alert, waited only eight or nine minutes, till he could call four others to his aid, when all five of them started for the scene of the trouble. separating after they had entered mr. rogers's gate, they made a little circuit through the yard, and cautiously approached him, two on each side, and one behind. as the one behind laid his hand on his shoulder, mr. rogers dropped the axe, whirled around, and "hauled off," as the boys say, but caught the gleam of the silver star on the policeman's breast, and dropped his fist. "what do you want?" said he. "if it's you, we don't want anything," said the policeman, who, of course, knew mr. rogers very well. "but we thought we wanted a crazy man." "then you might as well take me," said mr. rogers, "for i am pretty nearly crazy. the mischief has got into this door, so that it couldn't be opened, and the cook had no kindlings and i no breakfast; and i shall lose the early train, and if i don't reach albany to-day, i can't tell how many dollars it will cost me, but a good many." mr. rogers drew out his handkerchief, and wiped the perspiration from his brow. one of the policemen produced a bull's-eye lantern, and examined the ruined door, passing it up and down the edge where the outer frame, studded with many nails, still clung tightly to the jambs, all the central portion having been cut away in ragged slices. "this door has been nailed up with a great many nails," said he. "i can't imagine who would do that," said mr. rogers; "this isn't the first day of april." neither could the policemen. in fact, i have observed that policemen have very little imagination. in this instance, five of them, all imagining at once, could not imagine who nailed up that door. the nearest they could come to it was, that it was probably done with a heavy, blunt instrument, in the hands of some person or persons unknown. when, later in the day, we boys stood contemplating what ned called the "shipwreck of the door"--older people than he call all sorts of wrecks shipwrecks--he remarked that he didn't know what his father would say, if he should find out who did it. mr. rogers had taken the next train for albany. "he will find out," said phaeton; "for i shall tell him as soon as he gets home." the day that his father returned, phaeton told, at the tea-table, the whole story of how the door was bewitched. a week had then passed, and--such are the soothing influences of time--mr. rogers laughed heartily at the whole affair, and at his own excitement most of all. "i had no idea," said ned, solemnly, "that so much trouble could be caused by a few nails." his mother thought "few" was good. the next day i heard little may rogers telling another child about it. this was her story: "you see, brother fay and brother neddie, they drived a nail in the wood-shed door; and biddy, she lended mr. robbins's axe; and then papa, he got besited; and so we haven't any wood-shed door any more." * * * * * meanwhile, the preparations for the horizontal balloon ascension had gone on. but, as ned remarked long ago, nothing could be done without capital, and he was obliged to make another business call upon his aunt mercy. "what's new down at your house?" said she, after the greetings were over. "nothing particular," said ned. "i hear that idiotic brother of yours has been cutting up a pretty caper," said aunt mercy, after a pause. "what was it?" said ned. "why, don't you know?" "i don't know what you have been told, and i can't think of anything very bad that fay has done." "gracious me!" said aunt mercy. "don't you call it bad to go around slyly in the night and nail up every door and window in the house?" "yes, that would be pretty bad, aunty. but fay hasn't done so." "you admit that it was bad, then?" "why, certainly--but it isn't true. only one door was nailed up--the wood-shed door." "i do believe you're standing up for him. but i tell you, a boy that would nail up one door would nail up a hundred." "he might if he had nails enough," said ned, in a low voice. "that's just it," said aunt mercy. "that fellow would nail up just as many doors as he could get nails for. i've no doubt it was only the givin' out of the nails that prevented him from going through every house in the neighborhood. mark my words, he'll come to some bad end. don't you have anything to do with him, edmund burton." ned said he thought it would be rather hard not to have anything to do with his own brother. "yes, i suppose so," said aunt mercy. "but do the best you can." "yes, aunty, i'll do my best." "now tell me," said she, "about your muddle. have you made a muddle yet?" i thought ned might have answered conscientiously that he had made a muddle. but he said: "no, aunty, we've put that off for a while. we think it will be best to do some other things first." "what are the other things?" "one of them is a printing-office. we think of setting up a little printing-office to print little books and papers and cards and things, if we can get together enough money for it. it takes rather more capital than we have at present." i suppose aunt mercy thought i was the other one besides himself included in ned's "we." "i should have supposed," said she, "that it was best to finish one muddle before going into another. but you know best, edmund burton. i have great confidence in your judgment." and she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, and seemed to be dreaming for some minutes. i doubt if she more than half knew which edmund burton she was talking to--the one who had long since gone down beneath the waters of a distant sea, or the young scapegrace who, without intending to represent anything falsely, had got so much money from her on false representations. "i don't know how it is," said he to me one day. "i never intend to cheat aunt mercy; and yet, whenever i go to see her, things seem to fix themselves somehow so that she misunderstands. i guess it's her imagination." "how much money do you need for your new muddle?" said she, when she came out of her reverie. "jack-in-the-box says he thinks twenty-five or thirty dollars would fit up a good one," said ned. "who is jack-in-the-box?" "a gentleman connected with the railroad." "queer name for a railroad director," said aunt mercy. "but i suppose you've blundered on it. french, very likely. might be jacquin thibaux. (i studied french two terms at madam farron's.) some of those old huguenot names have got into strange shapes. but it doesn't matter. i dare say monsieur thibaux is right about it. i haven't any money with me to-night, but i'll send it over to you to-morrow. don't let that ignorant brother of yours meddle with your printing-office; he'll misspell every word, and disgrace the family." "i'll try to keep him straight," said ned. "good-night, aunty." "good-night, edmund burton, my dear boy." "i thought part of this capital," said i to ned, as we walked away, "was for the horizontal balloon." "so it is," said he; "but i couldn't explain that to aunt mercy, because fay has never explained it to me. i have no idea how he's going to make that queer thing go." when phaeton was furnished with a little more money, we soon saw how the thing was to go. he built three enormous kites, six feet high. they were not bow-kites--the traditional kite always represented in pictures, but seldom used in our country. they were the far more powerful six-cornered kite, familiar to the boys of the middle states. he certainly built them with great skill, and ned and i had the pleasure of helping him--if holding the paste-cup and hunting for material to make the tails was helping. as each was finished, phaeton carefully stood it up in the wood-shed to dry, where there was no more danger of dublin boys; for mr. rogers had sent a carpenter to put on a new door and furnish it with a lock. nevertheless, phaeton took the first kite to his room for the night, and put it against the wall behind the bed. but ned, who tossed a great deal, managed to kick a hole through it in his sleep. after that, they were left in the wood-shed over night, where a similar misfortune befell the second. biddy, breaking kindlings in an unscientific way with the hatchet, sent a piece of wood flying through the kite, tearing a large hole on what a sailor would call the starboard quarter. when phaeton complained of her carelessness, she seemed to think she had improved the kite, saying: "the two kites were not comrades before--but they are now." when an enterprising boy attempts to carry out some little project of his own, it is astonishing to see how even the best natured household will seem to conspire against him. if he happens to leave a few of his things on the dining-room floor, they are carelessly stepped upon by his own mother, or swept out-of-doors by an ignorant servant. i have seen a boy trying to make a galvanic battery, and his sister looking on and fervently hoping it would fail, so that she could have the glass cups to put into her play-house. however, phaeton had about as little of this sort of thing to endure as any boy ever had. when the kites were finished and dry, and the holes patched up, and the tails hung, phaeton said he was ready to harness up his team as soon as the wind was right. "which way do you want it?" said i. "it must be a steady breeze, straight down the turnpike," said he. one reason why phaeton chose this road was, that here he would encounter no telegraph wires. at the railway crossing, two men, riding on loads of hay, had come in contact with the wires and been seriously hurt. another repetition of the accident might have been prevented by raising the wires on higher poles, but the company had chosen rather to run them down the pole on one side, under the street, and up the next pole. "but i don't see how these kites are going to work," said ned, "if you fly them side by side, and hitch the strings to those three hooks." "why not?" "because they'll interfere with each other, and get all tangled up." "you would think so," said phaeton, "if you haven't made a study of kite-flying, as i have. if you look at a dozen boys flying their kites at once on the common, you will see that, no matter how near together two or three boys stand, their kites will not go in exactly the same direction. either the strings will slant away from each other a little, or else they will cross." "how do you account for that?" said ned. "i suppose it's because you never can make two kites exactly alike; or, if they are exactly alike, they are not hung precisely the same; and so the wind bears a little more on the left side of one, and a little more on the right side of the other." "i guess that's so," said ned. "and yet it seems to me it would be better to fly them tandem." "how would you get them up?" said i. "first get up one," said ned. "and when it was well up, fasten the end of the string to the back of the next kite, and let that up, and do the same with the third. then you would have a straight pull by the whole team in line." "and the pull of all three kites would come on the last string, and probably break it," said phaeton. "i didn't think of that," said ned. "i see your way is the best, after all. but hurry up and have it over with, for we want you to help us about the printing-office; we can't get along without you." "it never will be 'over with,'" said phaeton. "i shall ride out every fine day, when the wind is in the right direction." "why, is that all it's for?" said ned--"merely your own amusement?" "not at all," said phaeton. "it is a great invention, to be introduced all over the country. better than a locomotive, because it will run on a common road. better than horses, because it doesn't eat anything. but then, i'm going to enjoy it myself as much as i can. however, we'll find time for the printing." chapter viii. a horizontal balloon-ascension. phaeton had to wait three days for a fair wind, and in that time the secret--for we had tried to keep it quiet--leaked out among the boys. it was saturday, and everything seemed favorable. as ned and i wanted to go up town in the forenoon, and phaeton could not start the thing alone, he appointed two o'clock in the afternoon as the hour for the experiment. on our way up town we met isaac holman. "i'm going down to see your brother's new flying machine, or whatever it is," said he. "'tisn't going to start till two o'clock," said ned. "_totus dexter!_--all right! i'll be around at that hour," said holman. phaeton gave his apparatus a thorough inspection, newly greased the wheels, tested every string about the kites, and made sure that all was in perfect order. exactly at two o'clock, he took a strong stake and a heavy mallet, walked out into the street, and, amid a babel of questions from about twenty boys, who had gradually gathered there, drove the stake exactly in the middle of the road, leaving it a foot and a half out of the ground. he answered none of the questions, and, in fact, did not open his lips, except to return the greeting of holman, who sat on the bowlder by the horse-gate, and was the only one that asked nothing. i saw monkey roe hanging on the outskirts of the crowd. his name was james montalembert roe; but he was never called anything but monkey roe, and he seemed to like it just as well. the moment i saw him, i began to fear mischief. he was a thoroughly good-natured fellow, but was always plotting some new sort of fun, and was as full of invention, though in a very different way, as phaeton himself. when phaeton had returned and put away his mallet, we all took hold of the car and ran it out into the street, where phaeton fastened a short rope to the hook at the back, and tied the other end firmly to the stake. then i stood by the car, as a sort of guard, while he and ned brought out the kites, one at a time, and got them up. when each had risen to the full height of the string, which was pretty long,--and they were the best-behaved kites i ever saw,--phaeton tied the string to one of the hooks on the front of the car. when all three were harnessed up, they lifted the fore-wheels from the ground. this work used up considerable time, and while it was going on, the crowd about us was increasing by the addition of dublin boys, who kept coming, singly or in twos and threes, and were distinguishable by the fact that they were all barefooted, without jackets, and had their trousers supported by one suspender buckled around the waist like a belt. it seemed evident that somebody had told them about the horizontal balloon-ascension, for they did not come as if by accident, but as if by appointment, and made straight for the car, which they inspected with a great deal of curiosity. phaeton brought out four shot-bags filled with sand, and placed them in a row in the front of the car. then he brought out a rope five or six yards long, with a small balloon-anchor fastened to it. a balloon-anchor is made of three iron hooks placed back to back, so that the points project in three different directions, and the three backs or shanks welded together into one stem, which ends in a ring, through which the rope is tied. phaeton tied the end of the anchor-rope to the hook on the back end of his car, coiled it up in one corner of the box, and laid the anchor on the coil. his calculation was, that when he threw it out on the road it would catch a little here and there in the ground, as the hooks dragged over the surface, making the car go more slowly, till after a while it would take a firm hold of something and bring him to a full stop. phaeton also brought out a small american flag, on a light staff, and stuck it up in a place made for it, on one of the back corners of the car. the kites were now tugging away at the car, with a steady and strong pull. the arrangement was, that when phaeton was seated (on a light board laid across the top of the car) with the steering handles in his grasp, and all was ready, he would give the word, and i was to draw a sharp knife across the rope that held the car to the stake. all now was ready. ned, who had gone down the road a short distance, to see if any teams were coming, signalled that the coast was clear, and phaeton stepped into the car. "i say," said one of the dublin boys, "why don't you put up the stake before we start?" "the stake is all right," said phaeton, just glancing over his shoulder at it. "who's holding it?" said the dublin boy. "don't you see, the ground is holding it?" said phaeton, arranging the sand-bags. "oh, don't try to get out of it in that way," said the dublin boy. "i don't understand you," said phaeton. "what do you mean?" "didn't you say," said the dublin boy, "you'd give a dollar to any boy that could beat your machine in a mile run?" "no," said phaeton. "i have never said anything of the sort--nor thought of it. who told you so?" "lukey finnerty." "and who told lukey finnerty?" "berny rourke." "and who told berny rourke?" "teddy dwyer." "and who told teddy dwyer?" "owney geoghegan" (pronounced gewgan). "and who told owney geoghegan?" "patsy rafferty." "and who told patsy rafferty?" "oh, never mind who told me!" broke in another dublin boy, who, it seems, was patsy rafferty. "the question is, are you going to put up the money?" "i never offered to put up any," said phaeton. "and i haven't any with me, just now, to put up." "then somebody's played us a trick," said patsy. "i'm sorry for that," said phaeton. "ah, well, we don't mind--we'll run all the same," said patsy. "but i don't care to have you run," said phaeton. "in fact, i'd rather you wouldn't." "well, we're all ready for it," said patsy, giving his trousers a hitch, and tightening the suspender a little by giving another twist to the nail that fastened it in lieu of a buckle. "and i suppose the road's as free to us as 'tis to you?" "oh, certainly!" said phaeton. "if you haven't any money," spoke up another dublin boy, "you might say you'll give a ride in your car to the fellow that beats it--just to lend a little interest to the race, you know." phaeton somewhat reluctantly said he would,--"although," he added, in an undertone, "if you can beat it, i don't see why you should want to ride in it." casting one more glance about, to see that all was ready, phaeton told me to cut the rope and let him start. partly because he spoke in a low tone, wishing to make as little excitement as possible, and partly because i was watching what i considered certain suspicious movements on the part of monkey roe, i did not hear or heed him. "_littera lapsa!_--let her slide!" roared out holman, who saw that i had not understood. with a quick, nervous stroke i drew the knife across the rope. the machine started--at first with a little jerk, then with a slow rolling motion, gradually increasing in speed, until at the end of six or eight rods it was under rapid headway. the dublin boys at first stood still, looking on in gaping admiration at the wonder, till they suddenly remembered that they were there to race it, when they started off after it. our boys naturally followed them, as we couldn't see any more of the fun unless we kept up with it. it was a pretty even race, and all was going on smoothly, when down the first cross-street came a crowd of women, apparently very much excited, many of them with sticks in their hands. the sight of our moving crowd seemed to frenzy them, and they increased their speed, but only arrived at the corner in time to fall in behind us. at the same time, down the cross-road from the other direction came a drove of cattle, pelted, pounded, and hooted at by two men and three boys; and close behind them was dan rice's circus, which had been exhibiting for two days on the falls field, and was now hurrying on to the next town. whether it was because of the red skirts worn by many of the women in front of them, or the rumbling of the circus so close behind them, i did not know, but those cattle did behave in the most frantic manner. and so the whole caravan went roaring down the turnpike--phaeton in his flying car at the head, then the dublin boys, then our boys, then the mothers of the dublin boys, then the drove of cattle, then the circus, with all its wagons and paraphernalia,--the striped zebra bringing up the rear. [illustration: "the whole caravan went roaring down the turnpike."] it soon became evident that the mothers of the dublin boys were proceeding on erroneous information--however they got it--and supposed that the contest between us and their sons was not a friendly one. for whenever one of our boys lagged behind in the race, and came within reach of their sticks, he was pretty sure to get a sounding whack across the shoulders. i dare say the dublin boys would have received the same treatment if they had not been ahead of us in the race, which they always were, either because they were better runners, or better prepared. foremost of all was patsy rafferty, who, by doing his prettiest, had closed up the distance between himself and the car, and was now abreast of it. phaeton became excited, and, determined not to be beaten, lightened his car by hurriedly throwing out one of the bags of sand. unfortunately, it struck the ground right in front of patsy, and the next instant he stubbed his toes on it and went sprawling into the gutter. when the dublin women saw this, they probably took it as full confirmation of the evil designs which somebody had told them we had on their sons, and some of our boys immediately paid the penalty by receiving a few extra whacks. as for patsy, he soon picked himself up and renewed the race, all the more determined to win it because he thought phaeton had tripped him purposely--which i am happy to say was not true. as we neared the railway crossing, jack-in-the-box was half way up the signal-pole. hearing the outcry, he looked down upon us, took in the situation at a glance, then descended the pole two steps at a time, seized his red flag, and ran up the track at lightning speed. he had calculated that the pacific express would arrive at the crossing just in time to dash through some part of our procession, and as he saw it would be useless to try to stop us, with everything crowding on behind us, he went to flag the train and stop that. this he just succeeded in doing, and when my section of the procession passed that given point,--you know it is the inveterate habit of processions to pass given points,--there stood the great locomotive stock still by jack's box, with its train behind it, and seemed to look down upon us like an astonished and interested spectator. we swept on across the track, and as there was a straight, smooth piece of road before us, all went well till we neared the canal. there a stupid fellow, as we afterward learned, leading home a cow he had just bought, had tied her to the corner-post of the bridge by which the turnpike crossed the canal, and gone into a neighboring grocery. the cow had placed herself directly across the narrow road-way of the bridge, and there she stood contentedly chewing her cud, entirely ignorant of the fact that an important race was in progress, and that she was obstructing the track. phaeton saw her with horror; for if he kept on, the car would run into her--the foot-path over the bridge was too narrow for it. he threw out his anchor, which ricochetted, as an artillerist would say. that is, it would catch the ground for an instant, and then fly into the air, descend in a curve, catch again, and fly up again. at last it caught on a horse-block, stuck fast, and brought the car to a stop. but before phaeton could climb out, patsy rafferty had come up, and, whipping out his jack-knife, cut the anchor-rope in two. in an instant the machine was off again. phaeton's situation was desperate. there stood the stupid cow like an animated toll-gate closing the bridge, and he rushing on to destruction at the rate of a good many miles an hour, with no way to stop the machine, and a certainty of broken bones if he jumped out. in his agony, he half rose in the car and gave a terrific yell. the cow started, saw him, and then clumsily but quickly swung herself around against the truss of the bridge that divided the carriage-way from the foot-path. but the carriage-way had been newly planked, and the planks were not yet nailed down. as the cow stepped on the ends, four or five of these planks were instantly tilted up like a trap door, while the cow sank down till she was wedged between the truss and the first sleeper or lengthwise beam (the space being not quite large enough to let her drop through); the planks of course being held in an almost perpendicular position between her body and the sleeper. into the abyss that thus suddenly yawned before him, phaeton and his chariot plunged. after him went patsy rafferty, who on seeing the danger had laid hold of the car and tried to stop it, but failed. whether he jumped through, or let himself down more cautiously by hanging from the floor of the bridge and dropping, i did not see; but, at all events, when the rest of us reached the tow-path by running down the embankment, the waters of the canal had closed over both boys and the car. at this moment another accident complicated the trouble and increased the excitement. this was a "tow-path bridge"--one which the boat-horses have to pass over, because at that point the tow-path changes from one side of the canal to the other. the "red bird" packet-horses, coming up at a round trot, when they reached the crown of the bridge and saw the rushing, roaring caravan coming at them, and heard phaeton's yell, stopped, and stood shivering with fear. but the packet was all the while going ahead by its own momentum, and when it had gone the length of the tow-line, it jerked the horses over the parapet into the water, where they floundered within a yard of the sunken machine. the dublin women gathered on the tow-path, and immediately set up an unearthly wail, such as i have never heard before or since. i think that some of them must have "cried the keen," as it is called in ireland. patsy soon emerged from beneath the wreck, hauling phaeton out by the hair, and as half a dozen of the boys, from both parties, were now in the water, they had plenty of help. the bow-hand of the "red bird" cut the tow-line with a hatchet,--if he had been attending to his business, he would have done it soon enough to prevent the accident,--and the horses, thus released, swam ashore. meantime the circus had stopped, and many of the men came to the scene of the disaster, while most of the packet passengers stepped ashore and also joined the wondering crowd. the steersman brought a long pike-pole, with which he fished out phaeton's car. every one of the kite-strings was broken, and the kites had gone down the sky, with that wobbling motion peculiar to what the boys call a "kite-broke-away," to find lodgment in some distant forest or meadow. great was the wonderment expressed, and many were the questions asked, as the packet passengers and the circus people crowded around the rescued car and the dripping boys. the dublin women were wringing out the jackets of our boys, and talking rather fast. a benevolent-looking old gentleman, who wore a white vest and a large fob-chain, said, "something ought to be done for that boy"--pointing to patsy rafferty. the clown of the circus said "certainly!" and taking off his hat passed it first to the benevolent-looking old gentleman, who seemed a little surprised, but soon recovered, and hastily dropped in ten cents. then the clown passed it all around, and nearly everybody, excepting the boys, of course, put in a little something. the patagonian woman of the circus, who had very red cheeks and very round eyes, and wore a large diamond ring on nearly every finger, gave the most of anybody,--half a dollar,--which she borrowed of the strong man, who used to lift the big iron balls on the back of his neck. the clown counted the money, and said there were three dollars and eighty-four cents, and a crossed shilling, and a bogus quarter, and two brass buttons, and a pewter temperance medal. "well," said he, in a solemn tone, looking down at the collection, and then around at the people, "i should say this crowd was about an average specimen of humanity." i didn't see the clown himself put in anything at all. "here, sonny," said he to patsy, "we'll tie it up in your handkerchief for you." patsy said he hadn't any handkerchief with him, just then; whereupon the patagonian woman gave him hers--excellent people, those patagonians!--and the clown tied it up with two hard knots, and patsy tucked it into his trousers pocket, which it caused to bulge out as if he had just passed through 'squire higgins's orchard. the boss of the circus offered to give patsy a place, and take him right along, at fifteen dollars a month and his board. patsy was crazy to go; but his mother said she couldn't spare him. some of the circus men brought a pole and tackle from one of their wagons, and lifted the cow out of her uncomfortable position, after which they replaced the planks. "all aboard!" shouted the captain of the "red bird," for the tow-line had been mended and the horses rubbed down, and all the passengers started on a run for the boat, excepting the benevolent-looking old gentleman, who walked very leisurely, seeming to know it would wait for him. "all aboard!" shouted the boss of the circus, and his people climbed upon the wagons, whipped up the horses, and rumbled over the bridge. the dublin women each laid hold of one or more of their boys, and marched them home; lukey finnerty's mother arguing, as they went along, that her boy had done as much as patsy rafferty, and got as wet, and therefore ought to have a share of the money. "oh, there's no doubt," said mrs. rafferty, in a gently sarcastic tone, "but your boy has taken in a great deal of cold water. he shall have the temperance medal." the other women promptly took up the question, some on mrs. finnerty's side and some on mrs. rafferty's, and thus, all talking at once, they passed out of sight. chapter ix. the art deservative. when phaeton's kites went wobbling down the sky, owney geoghegan and three or four others of the dublin boys who had escaped their mothers, started off on a chase for them. phaeton, ned, holman, and i took the car up the bank, and when we arrived at the top we saw monkey roe walking away pretty rapidly. "_gravitas pro vehiculum!_--wait for the wagon!" shouted holman to him. roe seemed a little uncertain whether to stop, but finally leaned against the fence and waited for us. i observed that the drove of cattle had gone down to a shallow place in the canal on the other side of the bridge, and were most of them standing in the water, either drinking or contemplating. their drivers were throwing stones at them, and saying uncomplimentary things, but they took it philosophically--which means they didn't mind it much. when you are stolidly indifferent to anything that ought to move you, your friends will say you take it philosophically. "wasn't it an odd thing, roe," said holman, "that all those dublin boys should have got the idea that a prize was offered for anybody who could beat this machine?" "yes, it was very odd," said roe. "fay, what sort of wood is this?" "chestnut." "but i say, roe," continued holman, "who in the world could have told them so?" "probably somebody who was fond of a practical joke," said roe. "who did the blacksmith work for you, fay?" "fanning." "and i suppose," persisted holman, still talking to roe, "that it must have been the same practical joker who sent their mothers after them." "very likely," said roe. "are you going to get the kites and harness her up again, fay?" "haven't made up my mind." it was evident that monkey roe didn't want to talk about the mystery of the dublin boys, and holman--probably satisfied by this time that his suspicions were correct--himself changed the subject. "when i saw this thing tearing down the turnpike," said he, "with all that rabble at its heels, and go splash into the canal, i was reminded of the story of phaeton, which i had for my latin lesson last week." of course, we asked him to tell the story. "phaeton," said holman, "was a young scapegrace who was fond of fast horses, and thought there was nothing on four legs or any number of wheels that he couldn't drive. his father was the sun-god helios--which is probably a corruption of 'held a hoss' (i must ask jack-in-the-box about it)--and his mother's maiden name was clymene--which you can easily see is only changed a little from 'climb-iny.' this shows how phaeton came by his passion for climbing in the chariot and holding the hosses. "one day, one of the boys, named epaphus, tried to pick a quarrel with him by saying that he was not really a son of helios, but was only adopted out of the poor-house. phaeton felt pretty badly about it, for he didn't know but it might be true. so he went home as fast as he could, and asked helios, right out plump, whether he was his own son, or only adopted out of the poor-house. 'certainly,' said the old gentleman, 'you are my own son, and always have been, ever since you were born.' "this satisfied phaeton, but he was afraid it might not satisfy the boys who had heard epaphus's remark. so he begged to be allowed to drive the chariot of the sun one day, just to show people that he was his father's own boy. helios shook his head. that was a very particular job; the chariot had to go out on time and come in on time, every day, and there couldn't be any fooling about it. but the youngster hung on and teased so, that at last his father told him he might drive just one day, if he would never ask again." "did he have a gag-bit?" said ned, remembering his brother's remarks on the occasion of our brisk morning canter. "probably not," said holman, "for gag-bits were not then invented. the next morning old helios gave the boy all the instructions he could about the character of the horses and the bad places in the road, and started him off. "he hadn't gone very far when the team ran away with him, and went banging along at a terrible rate, knocking fixed stars out of their places, overturning and scattering an immense pile of new ones that had been corded up at the side of the road to dry (that's what makes the milky way), and at last setting the world on fire. "jupiter saw that something must be done, pretty quick, too, so he threw a sand-bag, or a thunder-bolt, or something of that sort, at him, and knocked over the chariot, and the next minute it went plump into the river eridanus--which i've no doubt is the latin for erie canal. you can easily see how it would come: erie canal--erie ditch--erie drain--erie drainus--eridanus. that's the way professor woodruff explains words to the advanced class. he can tell you where any word came from in two minutes. "phaeton wasn't so lucky as you, fay, for there was no patsy rafferty to pull him out, and he was drowned, while his poor sisters stood on the tow-path and cried till they turned into poplar-trees." we were all deeply interested in this remarkable story from grecian mythology, told in good plain american, and from our report holman was often called upon to repeat it to the other boys. it was this that gave fayette rogers the name of phaeton. the fate of the horizontal balloon for a time dampened phaeton's ardor for invention, and he was willing at last to unite with ned and me in an enterprise which promised to be more business-like than brilliant--the printing-office scheme. meanwhile, we had been doing what we could ourselves. the first necessity was a press. ned, whom we considered a pretty good draughtsman, drew a plan for one, and he and i made it. there was nothing wrong about the plan; it was strong and simple--two great virtues in any machine. but we constructed the whole thing of soft pine, the only wood that we could command, or that our tools would cut. consequently, when we put on the pressure to print our first sheet--feeling as proud as if we were faust, gutenberg, schã¶fer, the elzevirs, ben franklin, and the whole manutius family rolled into one--not only did the face of the types go into the paper, but the bottoms of them went right into the bed of the press. [illustration: ned's plan for a press.] "it acts more like a pile-driver than a printing-press," said ned, ruefully. "it'll never do," said i. "we can't get along without fay. when he makes a press, it will print." "when fay makes a press," said ned, "he'll probably hire somebody else to make it. but i guess that's the sensible way. i suppose the boys would laugh at this thing, even if it worked well; it looks so dreadfully cheese-pressy." "it does look a little that way," said i. "but fay will get up something handsome, and i've no doubt we can find some good use for this--perhaps keep it in the corner for the boys to fool with when they call. they'll be certain to meddle with something, and this may keep their hands from the good one." "i don't intend to run the office on any such principles," said ned. "the boy that meddles with anything will be invited to leave." "then you'll make them all angry, and there won't be any good-will to it," said i. "i've heard father say that the good-will of the _vindicator_ office was worth more than all the type and presses. he says the _vindicator_ lives on its good-will." "that may be all very nice for the _vindicator_," said ned; "but this office will have to live on hard work." "but we must be polite to the boys that patronize the establishment," said i. "oh, yes; be polite to them, of course," said ned. "but tell them they've got to keep out of our way when the press is running." whether the press ever would have run, or even crawled, without phaeton to manage it, is doubtful. but he now joined in the enterprise, and very soon organized the concern. as ned had predicted, he hired a man who was a carriage-maker by trade, but had a genius for odd jobs, to make us a press. in those days, the small iron presses which are now manufactured in great numbers, and sold to boys throughout the country, had not been heard of. ours was a pretty good one, made partly of wood and partly of iron, with a powerful knee-joint, which gave a good impression. the money to pay for it came from aunt mercy _via_ ned. there was a small, unused building in our yard, about fifteen feet square, sometimes called the "wash-house," and sometimes "the summer-kitchen," now abandoned and almost empty. phaeton, looking about for a place for the proposed printing-office, fixed upon this as the very thing that was wanted. he said it could not have been better if it had been built on purpose. after some negotiation with my parents, their consent was obtained, and phaeton and ned took me into partnership, i furnishing the building, and they furnishing the press and type. we agreed that the name of the firm should be rogers & co. on the gable of the office we erected a short flag-staff, cut to the form of a printer's "shooting-stick," and whenever the boys saw the stars and stripes floating from it, they knew the office was open for business. "this font of tuscan," said ned to phaeton, as we were putting the office in order, "is not going to be so useless as you suppose, even if the es are all gone." "how so?" said phaeton. "because i asked a printer about it, and he says when you find a box empty you simply use some other letter in place of the one that is missing--generally x. and here are plenty of xs." phaeton only smiled, and went on distributing type into his case of pica. "i say, fay," said ned again, after awhile, "don't you think it would be proper to do a little something for patsy rafferty, just to show your gratitude for his services in pulling you out of the canal?" "i've thought about it," said phaeton. "we might print him a dozen cards, with his name on," said ned, "and not charge him a cent. get them up real stylish--red ink, perhaps; or patsy in black and rafferty in red; something that'll please him." and ned immediately set up the name in tuscan, to see how it would look. it looked like this: mr. patsy raffxrty, xsq. "how do you think he'd like that, done in two colors?" said ned. "i don't believe he'd care much about it," said phaeton. "but i've invited him to come over here this afternoon, and perhaps we can find out what he would like." patsy came in the afternoon, and was made acquainted with some of the mysteries of printing. after a while, ned showed him what he intended to print on a dozen cards for him. "it's very nice, indeed," said patsy; "but that's not my name." "not your name?" said ned. "no," said patsy. "my father's name is mr. patsy rafferty, esquire; but i'm only patsy rafferty, without any handle or tail to it." "if that's all that ails it," said ned, "it's easy enough to take off the handle and tail," and he took them off. patsy took another look at it. "that's not exactly the way i spell my name," said he. "there ought to be an e there, instead of an x." "of course there ought," said ned, "but you see we haven't any es in that style of type, and it's an old established rule in all printing-offices that when there's a letter you haven't got, you simply put an x in place of it. everybody understands it." "i didn't understand it," said patsy, "and i think my name looks better when it's spelled the way i was christened." "all right!" said ned. "we'll make it as you want it; but it'll have to be set in some other kind of type, and that tuscan is the prettiest thing in the office." patsy still preferred correctness to beauty, and had his way. "and now what color will you have?" said ned. "we can print it in black, or red, or blue, or partly one color and partly another--almost any color, in fact." patsy, true to the tradition of his ancestors, chose green. "i'm awful sorry," said ned, "but we haven't any green ink. it's about the only color we haven't got." "you can make it by mixing blue and yellow together," said patsy. "true," said ned; "but the fact is, we haven't any yellow. green and yellow are about the only colors we haven't got." after studying the problem a few minutes, patsy chose to have his visiting-cards printed in alternate red and blue letters, and we set about it at once, ned arranging the type, while i took the part of devil and managed the ink. as they were to be in two colors, of course each card had to go through the press twice; and they were not very accurately "registered," as a printer would say--that is, the red letters, instead of coming exactly on even spaces between the blue, would sometimes be too far one way, sometimes too far the other, sometimes even lapping over the blue letters. but out of fifty or sixty that we printed, patsy selected thirteen that he thought would do--"a dozen, and one for luck"--and, without waiting for them to dry, packed them together and put them into his pocket, expressing his own admiration and anticipating his mother's. he even intimated that when she saw those she would probably order some for herself. patsy asked about phaeton's chariot, and whether it was hurt much when it went into the canal. "hardly damaged at all," said phaeton. patsy hinted that he would like to see it, and he and phaeton went over to rogers's. when phaeton returned an hour later, he was alone. "where's patsy?" said ned. "gone home with the chariot," said phaeton. "gone home with the chariot?" said ned, in astonishment. "yes," said phaeton, "i have given it to him. i saw, by the way he looked at it and talked about it, that it would be a great prize to him, and i didn't intend to use it any more myself, so i made him a present of it." "but you had no right to," said ned. "that chariot was built with my money." "not exactly," said phaeton. "it was built with money that i borrowed of you. i still owe you the money, but the car was mine." "well, at any rate," said ned, who saw this point clearly enough, "you might have sold the iron on it for enough to buy another font of type." "yes, i might," said phaeton. "but i preferred giving it to patsy. he's a good deal of a boy, and i hope father won't forget that he said he should do something for him." "but what use will the car be to him?" said ned. "he says it'll be a glorious thing to slide down hill in summer," said phaeton. a few days afterward, patsy came again to see phaeton, and wanted to know if he could not invent some means by which the car could be prevented from going down hill too fast. he said that when berny rourke and lukey finnerty and he took their first ride in it, down one of the long, grassy slopes that bordered the deep hollow, it went swifter, and swifter, until it reached the edge of the brook, where it struck a lump of sod and threw them all into the water. "water is an excellent thing," said ned, "for a sudden stoppage of a swift ride. they always use it in horizontal balloon-ascensions, and on the underground railroad they're going to build all the depots of it." phaeton, who appeared to be thinking deeply, only smiled, and said nothing. at last he exclaimed: "i have it, patsy! come with me." they went off together, and phaeton hunted up an old boot, the leg of which he drove full of shingle-nails, driving them from the inside outward. then he filled it with stones and sand, and sewed the top together. then he found a piece of rope, and tied one end to the straps. "there, patsy," said he, "tie the other end of the rope to one of the hooks on the car, and take the boot in with you. when you are going fast enough, throw it out for a drag. i don't believe a streak of lightning could make very good headway, if it had to pull that thing along on the ground after it." patsy, berny, and lukey tried it, but were thrown into the brook as before. phaeton said the true remedy was, more old boots; and they added one after another, till they had a cluster of seven, which acted as an effectual drag, and completely tamed the spirit of the machine, after which it soon became the most popular institution in dublin. patsy said seven was one of the lucky numbers. to return to the printing business. when i was about to sit down at the tea-table, that evening, mother exclaimed: "what in the world ails your hands?" i looked at them. some of my fingers were more red than blue, some were more blue than red, and some about equally red and blue. i said i guessed patsy rafferty's visiting-cards were what ailed my hands. "well, i wish you'd wash your hands of patsy rafferty's visiting-cards," said she. "can't do it with any such slimpsy water as we have here," said i. "and where do they have any that is less slimpsy?" said mother. "at the printing-offices," said i. "they put a little ley in it. we haven't any at our office, but that's the next thing we're going to buy. don't worry; it won't rub off on the bread and butter, and we shall have a can of ley next week." "the next thing to be done," said ned, when we had the office fairly in running order, "is to get up a first-rate business-card of our own, have it large enough, print it in colors, and make a stunning thing of it." "that reminds me," said phaeton, "that i was talking with jack-in-the-box about our office the other day, and i told him we ought to have a pretty poetical motto to put up over the door. he suggested two or three, and wrote them down for me. perhaps one of them would look well on the card." "what are they?" said ned. after some searching, phaeton found a crumpled piece of paper in one of his pockets, and smoothing it out showed the following, hastily scratched in pencil: faith, he'll prent it.--_burns_. i have misused the king's press.--_shakespeare_. so careful of the type she seems.--_tennyson_. "i don't like one of them," said ned. "why not?" said phaeton. "well, the first one is spelled wrong. we _print_ here, we don't _prent_." "but it means the same thing," said phaeton; "that's the scotch of it. burns was a scotchman." "was he?" said ned. "well, i never heard of him before, and we don't want any of his scotch spelling. that second motto is all wrong; the press belongs to us, not to any king, and we're not going to misuse it. the third one would do pretty well, but it says 'she,' and we're none of us girls." "perhaps you can think of a better one," said phaeton. "yes, i can," said ned. "i heard uncle hiram say that printing was called the art deservative of all arts, and that would be just the motto for us." "what does it mean?" said i. "it means," said ned, "that printers deserve more than any other artists." "didn't he say _pre_servative?" said phaeton. "oh, no," said ned; "that wouldn't mean anything. printing has nothing to do with preserving--unless we should print the labels for mother's fruit-cans next fall. he said 'deservative,' i heard him distinctly, and we'll put it on the card." "very well," said phaeton; "you set up the card according to your own taste, and we'll see how we like it." the next day phaeton and i went fishing. while we were gone ned set up the card, and on our return we found, to our consternation, that he had not only set it up, but printed scores of them, and given away a good many to the boys. it ran as follows: [illustration] "good gracious, ned!" said phaeton, "why did you print this thing before we had seen it?" "because i felt sure you'd like it," said ned, "and i wanted to surprise you." "you've succeeded admirably in that," said phaeton. "i hope there's nothing wrong about it," said ned. "i took a great deal of pains with it. oh, yes; now i see there's one letter upside down. but what of that? very few people will notice it, and they will know it's an accident." "one?" said phaeton. "there are half a dozen standing on their heads. and that's not the worst. just look at the spelling!" "i don't see anything wrong about that," said ned. "you must remember that what's wrong by webster may be right by worcester." "what do you call that?" said phaeton, pointing at the first word in the third line. "job, of course," said ned. "some people spell it with a j, but that can't be right. j-o-b spells job, the name of that king of israel who had so many boils on him at once." "he wasn't king of israel," said phaeton. "well, king of judah, then," said ned. "i always get those two mixed. what's the use of being too particular. those old kings are as dead now as julia cã¦sar. and everybody knows how dead she is." "well, then, what's this?" said phaeton, pointing to the second word on the right-hand side of the press. "don't you know what dodgers are?" said ned. "little bills with 'bankrupt sale!' or 'great excitement!' or something of that sort across the top, to throw around in the yards, or hand to the people coming out of church." "oh, yes; dodgers," said phaeton. "but i never saw it spelled so before. have you given out many of these cards?" "i gave one to holman," said ned, "and one to monkey roe, and one to jack-in-the-box." "what did jack-in-the-box say to it?" said phaeton. "oh, he admired it amazingly," said ned. "he said it was the most entertaining business-card he had ever seen. but he thought perhaps it would be well for us to have a proof-reader. i asked him what that was, and he said it was a round-shouldered man, with a green shade over his eyes, who knew everything. he sits in the corner of your office, and when you print anything he reads the first one and marks the mistakes on it, so that you can correct them before you print any more. we might get jimmy the rhymer; he's awful round-shouldered, but he doesn't know everything. the only man in this town who knows everything is jack-in-the-box himself, and i suppose we couldn't get him." "i suppose not," said phaeton, "though i know he'd look over a proof for us, any time we took one to him. but now tell me whether you've given out any more of these cards." "well, yes, a few," said ned. "patsy rafferty was over here; he rolled for me, or i couldn't have got them done so soon; and when he went home, he took fifty to leave at the doors of the houses on his way. i thought if we were going to do business, it was time to be letting people know about it." "just so," said phaeton. "and is that all?" "not quite. uncle jacob was going to ride out to parma, and i gave him about forty, and asked him to hand them to people he met on the road." "y-e-s," said phaeton, with a deep sigh; "and is _that_ all?" "i put a dozen or two on that little shelf by the post-office window," said ned, "so that anybody who came for his letters could take one. and now that's all; and i hope you won't worry over one or two little mistakes. everybody makes some mistakes. there is no use in pretending to be perfect. but if you two fellows had been here in the office, instead of going off to enjoy yourselves fishing and leaving me to do all the work, you might have had the old card just as you wanted it. of course you'd have spelled it right, but there might have been bad taste about it that would look worse than my spelling. and now i'm going home to supper." "the worst thing about ned," said phaeton, after he had gone, "is, that there's too much go-ahead in him. very few people are troubled in that way." "but what are we going to do about that dreadful card?" said i. "when the people see that, they may be afraid to give us any jobs, for fear that we'll misspell everything." "i don't know what we can do now," said phaeton, "unless we get out a good one, and say on it that no others are genuine. i must think about it over night." chapter x. torments of typography. in spite of ned's declaration that he would tolerate no loungers, the office soon became a favorite gathering-place for the boys of the neighborhood; which fact contributed nothing to the speed or accuracy of the work. they made us a great deal of trouble at first, for few of them knew better than to take a type out of one box, examine it curiously, and throw it into another; or lift a page of type that had just been set up, "to see how heavy it was," and let it drop into a mass of pi. they got over this after a while, but they never did quite get over the habit of discussing all sorts of questions in a loud voice; and sometimes, when we happened to be setting type, and were interested in what they were talking about, fragments of the conversation would mingle in our minds with the copy before us, and the curious effect would horrify us in the proof. for instance, monkey roe's mother had employed us to print her a few copies of mrs. opie's poem, "the orphan boy," which she had known since she was a child, and very greatly admired, but of which she had never had any but a manuscript copy. while i was setting it up, three boys were carrying on an animated discussion about the city fire department, and when i took a proof of my work, i found it read like this: stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake, and hear the brick church bell strike the 4th district. ah! sure my looks must pity no by crackie orph bo cataract eight can't begin to throw the stream red rover three can--tis want that makes reliance five wash my cheek so pale at annual inspection. yet i was once a mother's pride, three's men cut her hose at the orchard street fire before bix six's air chamber busted my brave father's hope and joy. but in the nile's proud fight he sucked archer's well dry in three minutes and a half, and i am now assistant foreman of torrent two with a patent brake on the orphan boy. i am afraid if monkey's mother had seen that, she would hardly have recognized it as the first stanza of her favorite poem. instead of feeling sorry for spoiling my work, the boys seemed to think it was a good joke, and nearly laughed their heads off over it. they insisted on my printing a few copies of it, just as it was, for them to keep. next time i saw jack-in-the-box, he showed me one of them pasted into a little old scrap-book that he kept under his chair. on the opposite page was one of our business-cards, as printed by ned. jack very kindly explained to me some of the mysteries of proof-reading. "the next thing to be done," said ned, when the office was fairly in running order, "is to get out jimmy the rhymer's poems. that's what we got up the establishment for, and it'll be more profitable than all these little puttering jobs put together. and, besides, jimmy's awful poor and needs the money. i've been around to the book-stores and told them about it. hamilton promises to take ten copies, and hoyt twenty-five. when they see how good the poems are, they'll be sure to double their orders; and when the other stores see the book going off like hot cakes, they'll rush in and want to buy some, but they'll have to wait their turn. first come, first served." there were enough of jimmy's poems to make a little book of about sixty pages, and we all went to work with a will to set the type. it would have been a pretty long job for us, as it was, but jimmy made it a great deal longer, and nearly drove us crazy, by insisting on making changes in them after they were set up. he could not understand how much extra work this made for us, and was as particular and persistent as if his whole reputation as an author had hung on each disputed comma. sometimes when we had four pages all ready to print, he would bring in a new stanza, to be inserted in the first page of the form, which, of course, made it necessary to change the arrangement of all the others. at last ned got out of patience. "you try it yourself once," said he to jimmy, "and you'll find out whether it's easy to make all these little changes, as you call them." jimmy secretly made up his mind that he would try it himself. he went to the office one day when we were not there, found four pages "locked up" ready for printing, and went to work to make a few corrections. as he did not know how to unlock the form, he stood it up on edge, got a ten-penny nail and a mallet, and tried to knock out an obnoxious semicolon. the result was a sudden bursting of the form, which rattled down into ruin at his feet, and frightened the meddlesome poet out of his wits. [illustration: the meddlesome poet.] in his bewilderment, jimmy scooped up a double handful of the pi and was in the act of pouring it pell-mell into one of the cases, when phaeton, ned, and i arrived at the door of the office. ned, who saw him first, and instantly comprehended the situation, gave a terrific yell, which caused jimmy to drop the handful of type, some of which went into the case, and the rest spattered over the floor. "are you trying to ruin the office?" said ned. "don't you know better than to pi a form, and then throw the pi into the cases? after all the trouble we've had with your old poems, you ought to have more gratitude than that." jimmy was pale with terror, and utterly dumb. "hold on, ned," said phaeton, laying his hand on his brother's shoulder. "you ought to have sense enough to know that it must have been an accident of some sort. of course jimmy wouldn't do it purposely." "pieing the form may have been an accident," said ned; "but when he scoops up a double handful of the pi and goes to pouring it into the case, that can't be an accident. and it was my case, too, and i was the one that did everything for him, and was going to bring him out as a poet in the world's history. if he had behaved himself, i'd have set him up in business in a little while, so he could have made as much money as sir walter tupper, or any of those other fellows that you read to us about. and now, just look at that case of mine, with probably every letter of the alphabet in every box of it." "but i tell you it must have been a mere accident," said phaeton. "wasn't it, jimmy?" "suppose it was an accident," said ned; "the question is, _whose_ accident was it? if it had been my accident, i should expect to pay for it." phaeton took hold of his brother's arm with a quiet but powerful grasp, and led him to the door. "you're needlessly excited, ned," said he. "go outside till you get cooled off." and he put him out and shut the door. then he asked jimmy how it happened, and jimmy told us about it. "i'm sorry you poured any of it in the cases," said phaeton. "for, you see, the cases have a different letter in every box, and if you take a handful of type like that and pour it in at random, it makes considerable trouble." "oh, yes; i knew all that before," said jimmy; "but when the form burst, and i saw the type all in a mess on the floor, i was so frightened i lost my head, and didn't know what i was about. i wish i could pay for it," he added, as he left the office. "don't let it trouble you," said phaeton. for a long time jimmy did not come near us again, and as he had carried off the copy of his remaining poems, that enterprise came to an end--for the time being, at least. there was no lack of other jobs, but we sometimes had a little trouble in collecting the bills. small boys would keep coming to order visiting-cards by the hundred, with their name on them in ornamental letters,--boys who never used any visiting-card but a long, low whistle, and never had a cent of money except on fourth of july. when phaeton or i was there, they were given to understand that a pressure of other work compelled us to decline theirs with regret; but, if they found ned alone, they generally persuaded him that they had good prospects of getting money from some source or other, and so went away with the cards in their pockets. there was no lack of advice, either. the boys who lounged in the office were always proposing new schemes. the favorite one seemed to be the publication of a small paper, which some of them promised to write for, others to get advertisements for, and others to distribute. after the book of poems had come to an untimely end, ned was fierce for going into the paper scheme; but phaeton figured it up, declared we should have to do an immense amount of work for about a cent an hour, and put an effectual veto on the plan. charlie garrison, who, while the other boys only lounged and gossiped, "learned the case," and quietly picked up a good deal of knowledge of the trade, intimated one day that he would like to be taken into the partnership. "yes," said ned; "there's work enough here for another man; but you'd have to put in some capital, you know." "put in capitals wherever they belong, of course," said charlie; "begin proper names and every line of poetry." "i mean money," said ned. "money's called capital, you know, when it's put into business. we put capital into this office, and you'd have to, if we took you into partnership." "oh, that's it," said charlie, musingly. "well, i suppose i could; we live on the bowl system at our house; but i should hardly like to take it." "the bowl system? what's that?" said ned. "soup, or bread-and-milk, for every meal?" "no; not that at all," said charlie. "you see, on the highest shelf in our pantry there's a two-quart bowl, with a blue-and-gold rim around it. whenever any member of the family gets any money, he puts it into that bowl; and whenever any of us want any money, we take it out of that bowl. i've seen the bowl full of money, and i've seen it when it had only five cents in it. the fullest i ever saw it was just before sister edith was married. for a long time they all kept putting in as much as they could, and hardly took out anything at all, till the bowl got so full that the money slid off from the top. then they took it all out, and went down town and bought her wedding things. and oh, you ought to have seen them! stacks and stacks of clothes that i don't even know the names of." "then i suppose you could help yourself to all the capital you want, out of the bowl?" said ned. "yes, i could," said charlie; "but i shouldn't like to; for i am the only one of the family that never puts anything into it. perhaps other people don't know it by that name, but brother george calls it living on the bowl system." "why don't you put the money into the bank?" said phaeton. "father had a lot of money in a bank once," said charley, "but the bank broke, and he said he'd never put in any more." "i wish we lived on the bowl system at our house," said monkey roe. "it wouldn't be many days before i'd have a velocipede and a double-barrelled pistol." chapter xi. a comical comet. the business of the printing-office went on pretty steadily, so far as ned and i were concerned. phaeton's passion for invention would occasionally lead him off for a while into some other enterprise; yet he, too, seemed to take a steady interest in "the art deservative." the most notable of those enterprises was originated by monkey roe, who had considerable invention, but lacked phaeton's powers of execution. one day monkey came to the door of the office with mitchell's "astronomy" in his hand, and called out phaeton. "there's some mischief on foot now," said ned; "and if fay goes off fooling with any of monkey roe's schemes, we shall hardly be able to print the two thousand milk-tickets that john spencer ordered yesterday. it's too bad." when they had gone so far from the office that we could not hear their conversation, i saw monkey open the book and point out something to phaeton. they appeared to carry on an earnest discussion for several minutes, after which they laid the book on the railing of the fence and disappeared, going by the postern. ned ran out, and brought in the book. on looking it over, we found a leaf turned down at the chapter on comets. neither of us had studied astronomy. "i know what they're up to," said ned, after taking a long look at a picture of halley's comet. "i heard the other day that mr. roe was learning the art of stuffing birds. i suppose monkey wants fay to help him shoot one of those things, or catch it alive, may be, and sell it to his father." then i took a look at the picture, and read a few lines of the text. "i don't think it's quite fair in fay," continued ned, "to go off on speculations of that sort for himself alone, and leave us here to do all the work in the office, when he has an equal share of our profits." "ned," said i, "i don't believe this is a bird." "well, then, it's a fish," said ned, who had gone back to his case and was setting type. "they stuff fishes, as well as birds." "but it seems to me it can hardly be a fish," said i, after another look. "why not?" "because i don't see any fins." "that's nothing," said ned. "my book of natural history says a fish's tail is a big fin. and i'm sure that fellow has tail enough to get along very well without any other fins." this did not satisfy me, and at length we agreed to go and consult jack-in-the-box about it. "jack," said ned, as soon as we arrived at the box, "did you ever stuff a fish?" "do you take me for a cook?" said jack, looking considerably puzzled. "i don't mean a fish to bake," said ned. "i mean one to be put in a glass case, and kept in a museum." "oh," said jack, "i beg pardon. i didn't understand. no, i never stuffed a fish." "but, i suppose you know all about how it's done?" said ned. "oh, yes; i understand it in a general way." "what i want to get at," said ned, "is this: how much is a fish worth that's suitable for stuffing?" "i don't know exactly," said jack, "but i should say different ones would probably bring different prices, according to their rarity." "that sounds reasonable," said ned. "now, how much should you say a fellow would probably get for one of this sort?" and he opened the astronomy at the picture of halley's comet. something was the matter with jack's face. it twitched around in all sorts of ways, and his eyes sparkled with a kind of electric light. but he passed his hand over his features, took a second look at the picture, and answered: "if you can catch one of those, i should say it would command a very high price." "so i thought," said ned. "should you say as much as a hundred dollars, jack?" "i should not hesitate to say fully two hundred," said jack, as he took his flag and went out doors to signal a freight-train. "i see it all, as plain as day," said ned to me, as we walked away. "fay has gone off to make a lot of money by what father would call an outside speculation, and left us to dig away at the work in the office." "perhaps he'll go shares with us," said i. "no, he won't," said ned. "but i have an idea. i think i can take a hand in that speculation." "how will you do it?" "i'll offer fay and monkey a hundred dollars for their fish, if they catch it. that'll seem such a big price, they'll be sure to take it. and then i'll sell it for two hundred, as jack says. so i'll make as much money as both of them together. and i must give jack a handsome present for telling me about it." "that seems to be a good plan," said i. "and i hope they'll catch two, so that i can buy one and speculate on it. but, then," i added, sorrowfully, "i haven't the hundred dollars to pay for it, and there's no aunt mercy in our family, and we don't live on the bowl system." "never mind," said ned, in a comforting tone. "perhaps you'll inherit a big fortune from some old grandmother you never heard of, till she died and they ripped open her bed-tick and let the gold tumble out. lots of people do." as we arrived home, we saw phaeton and monkey coming by the postern with half a dozen hoops--that is to say, half a dozen long, thin strips of ash, which would have been hoops after the cooper had bent them into circles and fastened the ends together. "that's poor stuff to make fish-poles," said ned, in a whisper; "but don't let them know that we know what they're up to." they brought them into the office, got some other pieces of wood, and went to work constructing a light frame about ten feet long, three feet high at the highest part, and a foot wide--like that shown in the engraving. [illustration: the frame.] "what are you making, fay?" said ned. "wait a while, and you'll see," said phaeton. ned winked at me in a knowing way, and we went on printing milk-tickets. when the frame was completed, monkey and phaeton went away. "i see," whispered ned. "they're going to catch him with a net. the netting will be fastened on all around here, and this big end left open for him to go in. then, when he gets down to this round part, he'll find he can't go any farther, and then they'll haul him up. it's all as plain as day." but when monkey and phaeton returned, in about half an hour, instead of netting they brought yellow tissue-paper and several candles. we pretended to take very little interest in the proceeding, but watched them over our shoulders. when we saw them fasten the tissue-paper all around the frame, except on the top, and fit the candles into auger-holes bored in the cross-pieces at the bottom, ned whispered to me again: "don't you see? that isn't a net. they're going to have a light in it, and carry it along the shore to attract the fish. it's plain enough now." "if you'll be on hand to-night," said monkey, "and follow us, you may see some fun." "all right! we'll be on hand," said ned and i. in the evening we all met in the office--all except phaeton, who was a little late. "monkey," said ned, in a confidential tone, "i want to make you an offer." "offer away," answered monkey. "if you catch one," said ned, "i'll give you a hundred dollars for it." "if i catch one?" said monkey. "if--i--catch--one? oh, yes--all right! i'll give you whatever i catch, for that price. though i may not catch anything but hail columbia." "but i won't take it unless it's the kind they stuff," said ned. "the kind--they--stuff?" said monkey. "did you say the kind _they_ stuff, or the kind _of_ stuff? oh, yes--the kind of hail columbia they stuff. that would be a bald eagle, i should think." at this moment phaeton joined us. "it's no use, fay," said monkey. "jack won't let us hoist it on the signal-pole. he says it might mislead some of the engineers, and work mischief." "hoist it on the signal-pole," whispered ned to me. "then it's a bird they're going to catch, after all, and not a fish. i see it now. probably some wonderful kind of night-hawk." "well, then, what do you think is the next best place?" said phaeton. "i think haven's barn, by all odds," monkey answered promptly. "haven's barn it is, then," said phaeton, and they shouldered the thing and walked off, we following. before we arrived at the barn, holman, charlie garrison, and at least a dozen other boys had joined us, one by one. the numerous ells and sheds attached to this barn enabled monkey and phaeton to mount easily to the ridgepole of the highest part, where they fastened the monster, and quickly lighted all her battle-lanterns, when she blazed out against the blackness of the night like some terrific portent. "now you stay here and keep her in order," said monkey, "while i go for adams." mr. adams was an amateur astronomer of considerable local celebrity, whose little observatory, built by himself, was about fifty rods distant from haven's barn. unfortunately, his convivial habits were as famous as his scientific attainments, and roe knew about where to find him. i went with him on the search. we went first to the bar-room of the "cataract house, by james tone," but we did not find him there. "then," said roe, "i know where he is, for sure," and he went to a dingy, wooden building on state street, which had small windows with red curtains. this building was ornamented with a poetical sign, which every boy in town knew by heart, and could sing to the tune of "oats, peas, beans." w. wheeler keeps in here, sells groceries, cider, ale, and beer; his produce is good, his weight is just, his profits small, and cannot trust; and those who buy shall be well used, shall not be cheated, nor abused. "is professor adams present?" said monkey, as he opened the door and peered through a cloud of tobacco smoke. an individual behind the stove returned a drowsy affirmative. roe stepped around to him, and with a great show of secrecy whispered something in his ear. he sprang from his chair, exclaimed, "good night, gentlemen! you will wake up to-morrow morning to find me famous," and dashed out at the door. "what is it?" said one of the loungers, detaining monkey as he was about to leave. "a comet," whispered monkey. "a comet, gentlemen--a blazing comet!" repeated the man aloud; and the whole company rose and followed the astronomer to his observatory. when they arrived there, they found him sitting with his eye at the instrument, uttering exclamations of thankfulness that he had lived to make this great discovery. [illustration: "a comet, gentlemen--a blazing comet!"] "not biela's, not newton's, not encke's--not a bit like any of them," said he; "all my own, gentlemen--entirely my own!" then he took up his slate, and went to figuring upon it. several of the crowd, who were now jammed close together around him in the little octagonal room, made generous offers of assistance. "i was always good at the multiplication-table," said one of them. "i have a fine, clear eye," said another; "can't i help yez aim the pipe?" this excited a laugh of derision from another, who inquired whether the man with the fine, clear eye "didn't know a pipe from a chube?" another rolled up his sleeves, and said he was ready to take his turn at the crank for the cause of science; while still another expressed his willingness to blow the bellows all night, if professor adams would show him where the handle was. they all insisted on having a peep at the comet through the telescope, and with some jostling took turns about. one man, after taking a look, murmured solemnly: "that thing bodes no good to this city; i'm going home to make my will," and elbowed his way out of the room. "ah, professor," said another, "your fortune's made for all time. this'll be known to fame as the great american comet. i dare say it's as big as all the comets of the old world put together." mr. wheeler took an unusually long look. "gentlemen," said he, "i don't believe that comet will stay with us long. we'd better leave the professor to his calculations, while we go back and have a toast to his great discovery." but nobody stirred. then mr. wheeler left the observatory, and walked straight up to haven's barn. he picked up a cart-stake, swung it around his head, and hurled it; and, in the twinkling of an eye, that comet had passed its perihelion, and shot from the solar system in so long an ellipse that i fear it will never return. unfortunately, the flying cart-stake not only put out the comet, but struck phaeton, who had been left there by monkey roe to manage the thing, and put his arm out of joint. he bore it heroically, and climbed down to the ground alone before he told us what had happened. then, as he nearly fainted away, we helped him home, while holman ran for the family physician, who arrived in a few minutes and set the arm. "it serves me right," said phaeton, "for ever lending myself to any of monkey roe's schemes to build a mere fool-thing." "i'm sorry you're hurt," said ned; "but it does seem as if that comet was a silly machine, only intended to deceive me and professor adams, instead of being for the good of mankind, like your other inventions. and now you won't be able to do anything in the printing-office for a long while, just when we're crowded with work. if you were not my own brother, and such an awful good fellow, we wouldn't let you have any share of the profits for the next month." chapter xii. a literary mystery. the printing-office enjoyed a steady run of custom, and, as ned had said, we were just now crowded with work. almost every hour that we were not in bed, or at school, was spent in setting type or pulling the press. it was not uncommon for ned to work with a sandwich on the corner of his case; and, as often as he came to a period, he would stop and take a bite. "this is the way barnum used to do," said he, "when he started his museum--take his lunch with him, and stay right there. it's the only way to make a great american success"--and he took another bite, his dental semicircle this time inclosing a portion of the bread that bore a fine proof-impression of his thumb and finger in printer's ink. though phaeton was not able, for some time, to take a hand at the work, he rendered good service by directing things, as the head of the firm. he was often suspicious, where ned and i would have been taken in at once, as to the circuses and minstrel shows for which the boys used to come and order tickets and programmes by the hundred, always proposing to pay for them out of the receipts of the show. the number of these had increased enormously, and it looked as if the boys got them up mainly for the sake of seeing themselves in print. sometimes they would write out the most elaborate programmes, and then want them printed at once, before their enterprises had any existence except on paper. one boy, whose father was an actor, made out a complete cast of the play of "romeo and juliet," with himself for the part of _romeo_, and monkey roe as _juliet_. one day a little curly-headed fellow, named moses green, came to the office, and wanted us to print a hundred tickets like this: +-------------------+ | mose green's | | minstrel show. | | admit the bearer. | +-------------------+ "where's your show going to be?" said phaeton. "i don't know," said moses. "if uncle james should sell his horses, perhaps he would let me have it in his barn." "yes, that would be a good place," said phaeton. "and who are your actors?" "i don't know," said moses. "but i'm going to ask charlie garrison, because he's got a good fife; and lem whitney, because he knows how to black up with burnt cork; and andy wilson, because he knows 'o susanna' all by heart." "and what is the price of admission?" said phaeton. "i don't know," said moses. "but i thought if the boys wouldn't pay five cents, i'd take four." "i'll tell you what 'tis, moses," said phaeton; "we're badly crowded with work just now, and it would accommodate us if you could wait a little while. suppose you engage your actors first, and rehearse the pieces that you're going to play, and get the barn rigged up, and burn the cork, and make up your mind about the price; and then give us a call, and we'll be happy to print your tickets for you." "all right," said moses. "i'll go home and burn a cork, right away." and he went off, whistling "o susanna." "fay, i think that's bad policy," said ned, when moses was out of sight. "i don't see how you can say that," said phaeton. "it's as plain as day," said ned. "we ought to have gone right on and printed his tickets. suppose he hasn't any show, and never will have one--what of it? we shouldn't suffer. his father would see that our bill was paid. i've heard father say that mr. green was the very soul of honor." "ah, ned, i'm afraid you're getting more sharp than honest," said phaeton. from the fact that our school has hardly been mentioned in this story, it must not be inferred that we were not all this time acquiring education by the usual methods. the performances here recorded took place out of school-hours, or on saturdays, when there was no school. the events inside the temple of learning were generally so dull that they would hardly interest the story-reader. yet there was now and then an accident or exploit which relieved the tediousness of study-time. on one occasion, robert fox brought to school, as part of his luncheon, a bottle of pop-beer. an hour before intermission we were startled by a tremendous hissing and foaming sound, and the heads of the whole school were instantly turned toward the quarter whence it came. there was fox with the palm of his hand upon the cork, which was half-way in the bottle that stood upon the floor beside his desk. though he threw his whole weight upon it, he could not force it in any farther, and the beer rose like a fountain almost to the ceiling, and fell in a beautiful circle, of which fox and his bottle were the interesting centre. [illustration: "it rose like a fountain."] any boy who has ever attended a school taught by an irascible master will readily imagine the sequel. isaac holman recorded the affair in the form of a latin fable, which was so popular that we printed it. here it is: vulpes et beer. _quondam vulpes bottulum poppi beeris in schola tulit, quod in arca reponebat. sed corda laxa, ob vim beeris, cortex collum reliquit, et beer, spumans, se pavimento effudit. deinde magister capit unum extremum lori, ci vulpes alterum sentiebat. hã¦c fabula docet that, when you bring pop-beer to school, you should tie the string so tight that it can't pop off before lunch-time._ when jack-in-the-box saw this fable, he said it was a good fable, and he was proud of his pupil, though some of the tenses were a little out of joint. holman said the reason why he put the moral in english was, because that was the important part of it, and ought to be in a language that everybody could understand. monkey roe said he was glad to hear this explanation, as he had been afraid it was because holman had got to the end of his latin. charlie garrison, in attempting to criticise the title of the fable, only exposed himself to ridicule. "it must be a mistake," said he; "for you know you can't eat beer. it's plain enough that it ought to be, _vulpes_" (he pronounced this word in one syllable) "_drank beer_." this shows the perils of ignorance. if charlie had had a thorough classical training, he wouldn't have made such a mistake. it was a curious fact that the boys who had never studied latin, and to whom the blunder had to be explained, laughed at him more unmercifully than anybody else. but holman's literary masterpiece (if it was his) was in rhyme, and in some respects it remains a mystery to this day. one evening he called to see me, and intimated that he had some confidential business on hand, for which we would better adjourn to the printing-office, and accordingly we went there. "i want a job of printing done," said he, "provided it can be done in the right way." "we shall be glad to do it as well as we possibly can," said i. "what is it?" "i can't tell you what it is," said he. "well, let me see the manuscript," said i. "there isn't any manuscript," said he. "oh, it isn't prepared yet?" said i. "when will it be ready?" "there never will be any manuscript for it," said he. i began to be puzzled. still, i remembered that small signs and labels were often printed, consisting of only a word or two, which did not require any copy. "is it a sign?" said i. "no." "labels?" "no." "then what in the world is it? and how do you suppose i am going to print for you, unless i know what to print?" "that's the point of the whole business," said isaac. "i want you to let me come into your office, and use your type and press to print a little thing that concerns nobody but myself, and i don't care to have even you know about it. i want you to let me do all the work myself, when you are not here, and i shall wash up the rollers, distribute the type, destroy all my proofs, and leave everything in the office as i found it. of course i shall pay you the same as if you did the work." "but how can you set the type?" said i. "you don't even know the case, do you?" "no," said he; "but i suppose the letters are all in it somewhere, and i can find them with a little searching." "and do you know how to lock up a form?" said i. "i've often seen you do it," said he; "and i think i'm mechanic enough to manage it." "when do you want to go to work?" "_duo eques, rectus ab_--to-night, right away." "very well--good night!" said i. when i went to the office next day, i found ned busily at work trying to fit together some small torn scraps of paper. they were printed on one side, and, as fast as he found where one belonged, he fastened it in place by pasting it to a blank sheet which he had laid down as a foundation. when i arrived, the work had progressed as far as this: to on ed. vainly trive sweetness- instantly comet back: over rt rol dream its fleetness, with its tor and rack. how i sigh my od. going in fan long agone.- looking cross he jo i knew er me dawn earest and bes aughters. aspire t ove regard? even in otus dext aters, never again to ai ward. "here's a mystery," said ned. "what is it?" said i. "did you print this?" said he, suddenly looking into my face suspiciously. "no," said i, calmly; "i never saw it before." "well, then, somebody must have broken into our office last night. for when i came in this morning, i found the oil all burned out of the big lamp,--i filled it yesterday,--and these torn scraps in the wood-box. i got so many together pretty easily, but i can't find another one that will fit." "it looks as if it had been a poem," said i. "yes," said ned; "of course it was. and oh, look here! it was an acrostic, too!" ned took out his pencil, and filled in what he supposed to be the missing initial letters, making the name viola glidden. "it _may_ have been an acrostic," said i; "but you can't tell with certainty, so much is missing." "there isn't any doubt in my mind," said ned; "and it's perfectly evident who was the burglar. everybody knows who's sweet on viola glidden." "i should think a good many would be sweet on her," said i; "she's the handsomest girl in town." "well, then," said ned, "look at that 'otus dext.' of course it was _totus dexter_,--and who's the boy that uses that classic expression? i wouldn't have thought that so nice a fellow as holman would break in here at midnight, and put his mushy love-poetry into print at our expense. he must have been here about all night, for that lamp full of oil lasts nine hours." "there's an easy way to punish him, whoever he was," said phaeton, who had come in in time to hear most of our conversation. "how is that?" said ned. "get out a handbill," said phaeton, "and spread it all over town, offering a reward of one cent for the conviction of the burglar who broke into our office last night and printed an acrostic, of which the following is a fac-simile of a mutilated proof. then set up this, just as you have it here." "that's it; that'll make him hop," said ned. "i'll go to work on it at once." "but," said i, "it'll make miss glidden hop too." "let her hop." "but then perhaps her brother john will call around and make you hop." "he can't do it," said ned. "the man that owns a printing-press can make everybody else hop, and nobody can make him hop--unless it is a man that owns another press. whoever tries to fight a printing-press always gets the worst of it. father says so, and he knows, for he tried it on the _vindicator_ when he was running for sheriff and they slandered him." at this point i explained that holman had not come there without permission, and that he expected to pay for everything. "then why didn't you tell us that before?" said phaeton. "i was going to tell you he had been here," said i, "and that he did not want any of us to know what he printed. but when i saw that you had found that out, i thought perhaps, in fairness to him, i ought not to tell you _who_ it was." "all right," said ned. "of course, it's none of our business how much love-poetry holman makes, or how spooney it is, or what girl he sends it to, if he pays for it all. but don't forget to charge him for the oil. by the way, so many of the boys owe us for printing, i've bought a blank-book to put the accounts in, or we shall forget some of them. monkey roe's mother paid for the 'orphan boy' yesterday. i'll put that down now. half a dollar wasn't enough to charge her; we must make it up on the next job we do for her or monkey." while he was saying this, he wrote in his book: _mrs. roe per monkey 12 orphan boys 50 paid._ hardly had he finished the entry, when the door of the office was suddenly opened, and patsy rafferty thrust in his head and shouted: "jimmy the rhymer's killed!" "what?" "what?" "i say jimmy the rhymer's killed! and you done it, too!" i am sorry that patsy said "done," when he meant _did_. but he was a good-hearted boy, nevertheless; and probably his excitement was what made him forget his grammar. "what do you mean?" said ned, who had turned as pale as ashes. "you ought to know what i mean," said patsy. "just because he had the bad luck to spill a few of your old types, you abused him like a pickpocket, and said he'd got to pay for 'em, and drove him out of the office. and he's been down around the depot every day since, selling papers, tryin' to make money enough to pay you. and now he's got runned over be a hack, when he was goin' across the street to a gentleman that wanted a paper. and they've took him home,--and his blood's all along the road,--and my mother says it's on your head, too, you miserable skinflint! i won't have any of your gifts!" and with that patsy thrust his hand into his pocket, drew out the visiting-cards that ned had printed for him, and threw them high into the room, so that in falling they scattered over everything. "i'll bring back your car," he continued, "as soon as i can get it. i lent it to teddy dwyer last week." then he shut the door with a bang, and went away. we looked at one another in consternation. "what shall we do?" said ned. "i think we ought to go to jimmy's house at once," said i. "yes, of course," said ned. and he and i started. phaeton went the other way--as we afterward learned, to inform his mother, who had long been noted for her benevolence in cases of distress and sorrow among her neighbors. ned and i not only went by the postern, but made a bee-line for jimmy's house, going over any number of fences, and straight through door-yards, grass-plots, and garden-patches, without the slightest reference to streets or paths. we left in such a hurry that we forgot to lock up the office. while we were gone, monkey roe sauntered in, found holman's acrostic which ned had pieced together, and, when he went away, carried it with him. chapter xiii. a lyric strain. the impulse which had sent ned and me headlong toward jimmy's home as soon as we heard of the accident, found itself exhausted when we reached the gate. as if by concert, we both came to a dead halt. "what shall we do?" said ned. "if jimmy was alive, we could whistle and call him out; or we might even go and knock at the door. but i don't know how to go into a house where somebody's dead. i wish we had gone first and asked jack-in-the-box what was the right way to do." "perhaps jimmy isn't dead," said i. "there's no black crape on the door." "that doesn't prove it," said ned; "for jimmy's folks might not have any crape in the house." while we were still debating the question, the front door opened, and jack-in-the-box came out. "you're the very boy--i mean man--i wanted to see," said ned, running up to him, and speaking in a whisper. "that's fortunate," said jack. "tell me what i can do for you." "why, you see," said ned, "we came right over here as soon as we heard about jimmy. but we don't know the right way to go into a house where anybody's dead. we never did it before." "jimmy isn't dead," said jack. ned literally gave a great bound. i suppose he felt as if he had been suddenly acquitted of a serious charge of murder. "oh, jack, how lovely!" said he, and threw his arms around jack's neck. "but i suppose he must be hurt, though?" "yes," said jack, "he's pretty badly hurt." "still, if he's alive, we can do something for him," said ned. "oh, certainly!" said jack. "a great deal can be done for him--a great deal has been done already. but i think you'd better not go in to see him just yet. wait a few days, till he gets stronger," and jack hurried away. we still lingered before the house, and presently a little girl came out, eyed us curiously, and then went to swinging on the chain that supported the weight which kept the gate shut. "you don't seem to go along," said she, after a while. we made no answer. "did you want to know about my brother jimmy?" said she, after another pause. "yes," said i, "we'd be glad to hear all about him." "well, i'll tell you all about it," said she. "jimmy's hurt very bad--because he was runned over by a wagon--because he got in the way--because he didn't see it--because a gentleman wanted a paper on the other side of the street--because jimmy was selling them--because he wanted to get money--because he had to pay a great lot of it to a naughty, ugly boy that lives over that way somewhere--because he just touched one of that boy's old things, and it fell right to pieces. and he said jimmy'd got to pay money for it, and shouldn't come in his house any more. and jimmy was saving all his money to pay; and he's got two dollars and a half already from the papers, besides a dollar that isaac holman gave him to write a poem for him. and that makes almost five dollars, i guess." "let's go home," said ned. but i lingered to ask one question of the voluble little maiden. "what poem did jimmy write for isaac holman?" "i don't know," she answered. "it's the only poem jimmy ever wouldn't read to me. he said it was very particular, and he mustn't let anybody see it." a literary light dawned in upon me, as we slowly walked away. ned was silent for a long time. at last he spoke. "i feel sick," said he. "what's the matter?" said i. "the matter is," said he, "that everybody seems to be trying to make out that it's all my fault that jimmy got hurt." "patsy rafferty and jimmy's sister are not everybody," said i. "of course not; but they only talk what they hear other people say." "i suppose you were a little to blame," said i. "perhaps i was," said ned, "and i wish i could do something for him. i'd get any amount of money out of aunt mercy--if money would do him any good." as our way home led us past jack's box, i suggested that we should stop and consult him about it. "jack," said ned, "please tell us exactly how it is about jimmy." "the poor boy is fearfully hurt," said jack. "one leg is broken, and the other badly bruised." "do you know of anything we can do for him?" "what do you think of doing?" said jack. "if money was wanted," said ned, and the tears started in his eyes, "i could work on aunt mercy's feelings and get him any amount." jack drummed with his fingers on the arm of his chair, and said nothing for some minutes. then he spoke slowly. "i doubt if the family would accept a gift of money from any source." "couldn't i, at least, pay the doctor's bill?" said ned. "you might," said jack. "yes, of course," said ned; "i can go to the doctor privately, and tell him not to charge them a cent, and aunt mercy'll pay him. that's the way to do it. what doctor do they have?" "dr. grill." "dr. grill!" ned repeated in astonishment. "why, dr. grill doesn't know anything at all. father says somebody said if a sick man was made of glass, and had a drummond light in his stomach, dr. grill couldn't see what ailed him." "we don't need a drummond light to see what ails jimmy," said jack, quietly. "still," said ned, "he ought to have a good doctor. can't you tell them to get dr. campbell? father says he has tied the croaking artery nineteen times. dr. campbell is the man for my money! but how queer it must feel to have nineteen hard knots tied in your croaking artery. do you think jimmy's croaking artery will have to be tied up, jack? if it does, i tell you what, dr. campbell's the man to do it." jack laughed immoderately. but ned was not the only person who ever made himself ridiculous by recommending a physician too enthusiastically. "i don't see what you're laughing at," said he. "it seems to me it's a pretty serious business." "i was only laughing at a harmless little mistake of yours," said jack. "when you said 'the croaking artery,' i presume you meant the carotid artery--this one here in the side of the neck." "if that's the right name of it, that's what i meant," said ned. "and when your father said dr. campbell had tied it nineteen times," continued jack, "he didn't mean that he had tied nineteen hard knots in one person's, but that he had had occasion to tie the artery in nineteen different persons." "and will jimmy's have to be tied?" said ned. "as the carotid artery is in the neck, and jimmy's injuries are all in his legs, i should say not," said jack. "of course not; i might have thought of that," said ned. "but you see, jack, i don't know much about doctor-things anyway, and to-day i don't know what i do know, for everybody's been saying i'm to blame for jimmy's hurt, and making me feel like a murderer. i'll do whatever you say, jack. if you say run for dr. campbell, i'll go right away." "i think dr. grill will do everything that ought to be done," said jack. "there's nothing you can do now, but perhaps we can think of something when jimmy begins to get well." "then you think he will get well?" said ned. "i hope he will," said jack. "i tell you what 'tis," said ned, as we continued our walk toward home, "that jack-in-the-box is the nicest fellow that ever waved a flag. sometimes i think he knows more than father does." a day or two later, ned went to see his aunt, and i went with him. "aunt mercy," said he, "one of the best boys in this town has got badly hurt--run over down by the depot--and his folks are so awful poor i don't see what they're going to do." "yes, i heard about it," said aunt mercy. "it was that wretched, brutal brother of yours who was to blame for it all." "oh no, aunty, fay had nothing at all to do with it," said ned. "don't tell me, child; you needn't try to shield your wicked brother; i know all about it. miss pinkham came to call on me, and told me the whole story. she said the poor little fellow tipped over a type or something, and one of those rogers boys drove him away, and swore at him dreadfully, and made him go and sell papers under the wheels of the cars and omnibuses, to get money to pay for it. of course i knew which one it was, but i did not say anything, i felt so deeply mortified for the family." it is difficult to say what answer ned ought to have made to this. to convince his aunt that miss pinkham's version of the story was incorrect, would have been hopeless; to plead guilty to the indictment as it stood, would have been unjust to himself; and to leave matters as they were, seemed unjust to his brother. and above all was the consideration that if he vexed his aunt, he would probably defeat the whole object of his visit--getting help for jimmy. so he remained silent. "what were you going to say, edmund burton, about poor jimmy redmond?" said his aunt. "i was going to say," ned answered, "that i wished i could help him a little by paying his doctor's bill, and not let him know anything about it." "you lovely, benevolent boy!" exclaimed aunt mercy, "that's exactly what you shall do. you're an ornament to the family. your right hand doesn't know what your left hand's doing. as soon as you find out what the doctor's bill is, come to me, and i'll furnish you the money. oh, what a pity that hard-hearted brother won't follow your noble example." jimmy had the best of care; mrs. rogers did a great deal, in a quiet, almost unnoticeable way, to add to his comforts; and after a while it was announced that he might receive short visits from the boys. phaeton, ned, and i were his first visitors. we found him lying in a little room where the sunbeams poured in at a south window, but not till they had been broken into all sorts of shapes by the foliage of a wistaria, the shadows of which moved with every breeze to and fro across a breadth of rag carpet. the walls were ornamented with a dozen or twenty pictures--some of them out of old books and papers, and some drawn and painted in water-colors by jimmy himself--none of them framed. the water-colors were mainly illustrations of his own poems. i am not able to say whether they possessed artistic merit, for i was a boy at the time, and of course a boy, who only knows what pleases him, can not be expected to know what is artistic and ought to please him. but some of them appeared to me very wonderful, especially one that illustrated "the unlucky fishermen." it was at the point where joe and isaac were trying to catch a ride behind an omnibus. not only did the heroes themselves appear completely tired out by the long day of fruitless fishing, but the dog looked tired, the bus horses were evidently tired, the driver was tired, the boy who called out "whip behind!" was tired, even the bus itself had a tired look, and this general air of weariness produced in the picture a wonderful unity of effect. [illustration: "jimmy looked so pale and thin, as he lay there."] jimmy looked so pale and thin, as he lay there, that we were all startled, and ned seemed actually frightened. he lost control of himself, and broke out passionately: "oh, jimmy, dear jimmy, you mustn't die! we can't have you die! we'll get all the doctors in the city, and buy you everything you need, only don't die!" here he thrust his hand into his pocket, and brought out two silver dollars. "take them, jimmy, take them!" said he. "aunt mercy's got plenty more that you can have when these are gone. and we don't care anything about the type you pied. i'd rather pi half the type in the office than see your leg broken. we can't any of us spare you. live, jimmy, live! and you may be proof-reader in our office,--we need one dreadfully, jack-in-the-box says so,--and you know pretty nearly everything, and can soon learn the rest, and we'll get you the green shade for your eyes, and you're awful round-sho--that is, i mean, in fact, i think you are the very man for it. and you can grow up with the business, and always have a good place. and then, jimmy, if you want to use your spare time in setting up your poems, you may, and change them just as much as you want to, and we won't charge you a cent for the use of the type." ned certainly meant this for a generous offer, and jimmy seemed to consider it so; but if he could have taken counsel of some of the sad-faced men who have spent their lives in proof-reading, i think, perhaps, he would have preferred to die. ned had scarcely finished his apostrophe, when jimmy's little sister brought in a beautiful bouquet, sent by miss glidden to brighten up the sick boy's chamber. looking around, we saw that other friends had been equally thoughtful. isaac holman had sent a basket of fruit; monkey roe, a comic almanac, three or four years old, but just as funny; jack-in-the-box a bottle of cordial; and patsy rafferty, a small bag of marbles. whether these last had been acquired by honest purchase, or by the gambling operation known as "playing for good," it would be ungenerous to inquire. "how do you amuse yourself, jimmy?" said phaeton. "i don't have much amusement," answered jimmy; "but still i can write a little." "poetry?" said phaeton. "oh, yes," said jimmy; "i write very little except poetry. there's plenty of prose in the world already." "perhaps," said phaeton, "if you feel strong enough, you'll read us your latest poem." "yes, certainly, if you'd like to hear it," said jimmy. "please pull out a box that you'll see under the head of my bed here." phaeton thrust his arm under, and pulled out a pine box, which was fastened with a small brass padlock. "the key is under the dying hound," said jimmy. looking around the room, we saw that one of jimmy's pictures represented a large dog dying, and a little boy and girl weeping over it. whether it was beth gelert, or some other heroic brute, i do not know. the corner of this picture being lifted, disclosed a small key, hung over the head of a carpet-tack driven into the wall. when the box was opened, we saw that it was nearly full of manuscripts. "the last one," said jimmy, who could not turn from his one position on the bed, "is written on blue paper, with a piece torn off from the upper right-hand corner." phaeton soon found it, and handed it to jimmy. "it is called an 'ode to a horseshoe'--that one over the door," said jimmy. "i found it in the road the day before i was hurt, and brought it right home, and put it up there." "then it hasn't brought you much good luck, so far, has it?" said phaeton. "i don't know about that," said jimmy. "it's true i was hurt the very next day; but something seems to have brought me a great many good friends." "oh! you always had those, horseshoe or no horseshoe," said ned. "i'm glad if i did," said jimmy; "though i never suspected it. but now i should like to read you the poem, and get your opinions on it; because it's in a different vein from most of my others." and then jimmy read us his verses: ode to a horseshoe. thou relic of departed horse! thou harbinger of luck to man! when things seem growing worse and worse, how good to find thee in the van! a hundred thousand miles, i ween! you've travelled on the flying heel- by country roads, where fields were green, o'er pavements, with the rattling wheel. your toe-calk, in that elder day, was sharper than a serpent's tooth; but now it's almost worn away; the blacksmith should renew its youth. bright is the side was next the ground, and dark the side was next the hoof; 'tis thus true metal's only found where hard knocks put it to the proof. for aught i know, you may have done your mile in two nineteen or twenty; or, on a dray-horse, never run, but walked and walked, and pulled a plenty. at last your journeys all are o'er, whether of labor or of pleasure, and there you hang above my door, to bring me health and strength and treasure. when the reading was finished we all remained silent, till jimmy spoke. "i should like to have you give me your opinions about it," said he. "don't be afraid to criticise it. of course, there must be faults in it." "that's an awful good moral about the hard knocks," said i. "yes," said phaeton, "it might be drawn from jimmy's own experience. and as he says, the poem does seem to be in a new vein. i noticed a good many words that were different from any in his other pieces." "that," said jimmy, "is because i've been studying some of the older poets lately. jack-in-the-box lent me shakespeare, and i got three or four others from the school library. probably they have had some effect on my style." ned walked to the door, and, standing tiptoe, looked intently at the horseshoe. "one thing is certain," said he, "that passage about the toe-calk is perfectly true to nature. the toe-calk is nearly worn away, and the heel-calks are almost as bad." "it's a good poem," said i. "i don't see how you could make it any better." "nor i," said phaeton. "it tells the whole story." "i'm glad you like it," said jimmy. "i felt a little uncertain about dipping into the lyric strain." "yes," said ned; "there's just one spot where it shows the strain, and i don't see another thing wrong about it." "what's that?" said jimmy. "perhaps we'd better not talk about it till you get well," said ned. "oh, never mind that," said jimmy. "i don't need my legs to write poetry with, or to criticise it, either." "well," said ned, "i hate to find fault with it, because it's such a good poem, and i enjoyed it so much; but it seems to me you've strained the truth a little where you say 'a hundred thousand miles.'" "how so?" said jimmy. "calculate it for yourself," said ned. "no horse is likely to travel more than about fifty miles a day. and if he did that every day, he'd go three hundred miles in a week. at that rate, it would take him more than six years to travel a hundred thousand miles. but no shoe lasts a horse six years--nor one year, even. so, you see, this couldn't have travelled a hundred thousand miles. that's why i say the lyric strain is strained a little too much." "i see," said jimmy. "you are undoubtedly right. i shall have to soften it down to a dozen thousand, or something like that." "yes," said ned; "soften it down. when that's done, the poem will be perfect; there won't be a single fact misstated in it." at this point, phaeton said he thought we had staid as long as we ought to, and should be going. "i wish, jimmy," said ned, "you'd let me take this poem and read it to jack-in-the-box. i know he would enjoy it." "i've no objection," said jimmy. "and if you can find time some day to print it for me, here's two dollars to pay for the job," and he thrust ned's money back into his hand. "all right!" said ned, as he saw that jimmy would not accept the money, and yet did not want to refuse it rudely. "we'll try to make a handsome job of it. perhaps some day it will be printed on white satin, and hung up in the emperor of china's palace, like--whose poem was it father told about the other day, fay?" "derzhavin's," said phaeton. "yes, derzhavin's, whoever he was," said ned. "and this one of jimmy's ought to have a horseshoe embroidered in gold thread on the corner of the satin. but those funny ladies with slant eyes and little club feet will have to do that. i suppose they haven't much else to keep them busy, as they're not able to do any housework. it might have a small gold horseshoe on each of the four corners, or it might have one big horseshoe surrounding the poem. which do you think you would like best, jimmy?" "i've no choice; either would suit me," answered the poet. "good-bye, jimmy!" "good-bye, boys!" chapter xiv. an alarm of fire. every day some one of us called to see jimmy. he was well taken care of, and got along nicely. jack-in-the-box lent him books, and each day a fresh bouquet was sent in by miss glidden. one day monkey roe called on him. "jimmy," said he, "you know all about poetry, i suppose." "i know something about it," said jimmy. "i have written considerable." "and are you well enough yet to undertake an odd job in it?" "oh, yes," said jimmy. "a fellow doesn't have to be very well to write poetry." "it isn't exactly writing poetry that i want done," said monkey. "it's a very odd job, indeed. you might call it repairing poetry. do poets ever repair poetry, as well as make it new?" "i don't know," said jimmy. "i should think it might be done in some cases." "well, now," said monkey, "i have a broken poem. some part of every line is gone. but the rhymes are all there, and many of the other words, and most of the beginnings of the lines. i thought a poet would know how to fill up all the blank spaces, and make it just as it was when it was whole." "i don't know," said jimmy, doubtfully. "it might be possible to do it, and it might not. i'll do what i can for you. let me see it, if you have it with you." monkey pulled out of his pocket the mutilated poem of holman's which ned had pieced together, and, after smoothing it out, handed it to jimmy. as jimmy looked it over, he turned every color which it is possible for an unhappy human countenance to assume, and then gave a heavy groan. "where did you get this, monkey?" said he. "found it," said monkey. "found it--impossible!" said jimmy. "upon my word, i did find it, and just in the shape you see it now. but what of it?" "where did you find it?" said jimmy. "in rogers's printing-office, kicking around on the floor. it seemed to be thrown away as waste paper; so i thought there was no harm in taking it. and when i read it, it looked to me like a curious sort of puzzle, which i thought would interest you. but you seem to take it very seriously." "it's a serious matter," said jimmy. "no harm done, i hope," said monkey. "there may be," said jimmy. "i can't tell. some things about it i can't understand. i must ask you to let me keep this." "if it's so very important," said monkey, "it ought to be taken back to phaeton rogers, as it was in his office that i found it." "no," said jimmy; "it doesn't belong to him." "then you know something about it?" said monkey. "yes, monkey," said jimmy, "i do know considerable about it. but it is a confidential matter entirely, and i shall have to insist on keeping this." "all right!" said monkey. "i'll take your word for it." a few days after this, we were visiting jack in his box, when, as he was turning over the leaves of his scrap-book to find something he wanted to show us, phaeton exclaimed: "what's that i saw?" and, turning back a leaf or two, pointed to an exact fac-simile of the mutilated poem. it had evidently been made by laying a sheet of oiled paper over the original, and carefully tracing the letters with a pencil. "oh, that," said jack, "is something that monkey roe brought here. he said it was a literary puzzle, and wanted me to see if i could restore the lines. i've been so busy i haven't tried it yet." phaeton at once wrote a note to monkey, asking him to bring back the original; whereupon monkey called at the office and explained why he could not return it. "all right! i'll see jimmy about it myself," said phaeton. "but have you made any other tracings of it besides the one jack-in-the-box has?" "only two others," said monkey. "where are they?" "one i have at home." "and the other?" "i sent it to miss glidden, with a note saying that, as i had heard she wrote poetry sometimes, i thought she might be interested in this poetical puzzle." "good gracious!" said phaeton. "there's no use in trying to dip up _that_ spilled milk." * * * * * in those days there was an excitement and pleasure enjoyed by many boys, which was denied to phaeton, ned, and me. this was the privilege of running to fires. nearly all large fires occurred in the night, and mr. rogers would not permit his boys to turn out from their warm beds and run at breathless speed to the other side of the town to see a building burned. so they had to lie still and possess their souls in impatience while they heard the clanging of the bells and the rattling of the engine, and perhaps saw through their window the lurid reflection on the midnight sky. there was no need for my parents to forbid me, since none of these things ever woke me. running to fires, at least in cities, is now a thing of the past. the alarm is communicated silently by telegraph to the various engine-houses, a team is instantly harnessed to the engine, and with two or three men it is driven to the fire, which is often extinguished without the inhabitants of the next street knowing that there has been a fire at all. at the time of this story, the steam fire-engine had not been invented, and there were no paid fire departments. the hand-engine had a long pole on each side, called a brake, fastened to a frame that worked up and down like a pump-handle. when the brake on one side was down, that on the other was up. the brakes were long enough for nearly twenty men to stand in a row on each side and work them. no horses were used, but there was a long double rope, called a drag-rope, by which the men themselves drew the engine from its house to the fire. they always ran at full speed, and the two men who held the tongue, like the tongue of a wagon, had to be almost as strong as horses, to control and guide it as it went bumping over the pavement. each engine had a number and a name, and there was an organized company, of from forty to seventy men, who had it in charge, managed it at fires, drew it out on parade-days, took pride in it, and bragged about it. the partiality of the firemen for their own engine and company was as nothing in comparison with that of the boys. every boy in town had a violent affection for some one company, to the exclusion of all others. it might be because his father or his cousin belonged to that company, or because he thought it had the handsomest uniform (for no two companies were uniformed alike), or because it was first on the ground when his uncle's store was on fire, or because he thought it was the company destined to "wash" all others. sometimes there would be no discoverable reason for his choice; yet the boy would be just as strong in his partisanship, and often his highest ambition would be to be able to run with the hose-cart of his favorite company. the hose was carried wound on a reel, trundled on two light wheels, which was managed by half a dozen boys, fifteen or sixteen years of age. when a fire broke out, the bells of all the churches were rung; first slowly, striking one, two, three, four, etc., according to which district of the town the fire was in, and then clanging away with rapid strokes. thus the whole town was alarmed, and a great many people besides the firemen ran to every fire. firemen jumped from their beds at the first tap of a bell; or, if it was in the day-time, they instantly threw down their tools, left their work, and ran. there was an intense rivalry as to which engine should first get to the fire, and which should pour the most effective stream of water upon it. but the highest pitch of excitement was reached when there was an opportunity to "wash." if the fire was too far from the water-supply to be reached through the hose of a single engine, one engine would be stationed at the side of the river or canal, or wherever the water was taken from, to pump it up and send it as far as it could through its hose, there discharging into the box of another engine, which, in turn, forced it another distance, through its own hose. if the first engine could send the water along faster than the second could dispose of it, the result would be that in a few minutes the box of the second would be overflowed, and she was then said to be "washed," which was considered a great triumph for the company that had washed her. this sort of rivalry caused the firemen to do their utmost, and they did not always confine themselves to fair means. sometimes, when an engine was in danger of being washed, some member of the company would follow the line of the other company's hose till he came to where it passed through a dark place, and then, whipping out his pocket-knife, would cut it open and run away. when there were not enough members of a company present to man the brakes, or when they were tired out, the foreman had the right to select men from among the bystanders, and compel them to take hold. monkey roe was a born fireman. he never failed to hear the first tap of the bell, about ninety seconds after which he dropped from the casement of his window to the roof of the kitchen, thence to the roof of the back piazza, slid down a pillar, and was off for the fire, generally following in the wake of red rover three, which was the company he sided with. it was entertaining to hear him relate his exciting adventures; but it was also somewhat exasperating. "i don't see," said ned, after monkey had finished one of these thrilling narratives, "what father means by never letting us run to a fire. how does he suppose he's going to make men of us, if we never begin to do anything manly?" "perhaps he doesn't think it is especially manly," said phaeton. "not manly!" exclaimed ned, in astonishment. "i should like to know what's more manly than to take the tongue of big six when there's a tremendous fire and they jump her all the way down state street. or to stand on the engine and yell at the men, when torrent two is trying to wash her. why, sometimes the foreman gets so excited that he batters his trumpet all to pieces, pounding on the brakes, to cheer his men." "knocking trumpets to pieces is very manly, of course," said phaeton, smiling. "i didn't mean to say father wouldn't consider it manly to be a fireman. what i should have said was, that perhaps he thought there were other ways to become manly. i should like to run to a fire once in a while; not for the sake of manliness, but to see the fun." the more ned thought about it, the more it seemed to him it was a continuous wrong. at last he spoke to his father about it, and set forth so powerfully the danger of growing up without becoming manly, that mr. rogers laughingly told the boys they might run to the very next fire. the next thing was to count me in. the only difficulty to be overcome in my case was sleepiness. we canvassed many plans. ned suggested a pistol fastened to the side of my window, with a string tied to the trigger and reaching to the ground, so that he or phaeton could pull it on their way to the fire. the serious objection to this was that a shower would prevent the pistol from going off. it was also suggested that i have a bell, or tie the cord to a chair or something that could be pulled over and make a racket. "the objection to all those things is," said phaeton, "that they will disturb the whole family. now, if you would make a rope-ladder, and hang it out of your window every night, one of us could climb up quietly, and speak to you. then you could get out at the window and come down the ladder, instead of going through the house and waking up the people." this suggestion struck us with great force; it doubled the anticipated romance. under instructions from phaeton, ned and i made the ladder. in the store-room we found a bed-cord, which answered well for the sides. the rungs must be made of wood, and we had considerable difficulty in finding anything suitable. any wood that we could have cut would be so soft that the rungs, to be strong enough, must have been very bulky. this was an objection, as i was to roll up the ladder in the day-time, and hide it under my bed. at last, ned came over to tell me he had found just the thing, and took me to the attic of their house to see. "there," said he, pointing to half a dozen ancient-looking chairs in a cobwebbed corner. "that is exactly what we want. the rounds of those old chairs are as tough as iron." "whose chairs are they?" said i. "oh, anybody's, nobody's," said ned. "i suppose they are a hundred years old. and who's ever going to sit in such awkward-looking old things as those?" it did seem preposterous to suppose that anybody would; so we went to work to take out the rounds at once. the old chairs were very strong, and after we had pulled at them in vain to spring them apart enough for the rounds to drop out, we got a saw and sawed off all the rounds an inch or two from the legs. with these, the ladder was soon made, and i went home and drove two great spikes into the sill of my window, to hang it by. i used to hang out the ladder every night, and take it in every morning. the first two nights i lay awake till almost daylight, momentarily expecting the stroke of the fire-bell. but it was not heard on those nights, nor the next, nor the next. "it would be just like our luck," said ned, "if there should never be another fire in this town." "it would be lucky for the town," said phaeton, who overheard him. "perhaps so," said ned; "and yet i could point out some houses that would look a great deal better burned up. i wonder if it would do any good to hang a horseshoe over the door." "what for?" said phaeton. "to prevent them from burning?" "oh, no," said ned. "i mean over the door of our office, to--to--well, not exactly to make those houses burn, but to bring us good luck generally." it did seem a long time for the town to be without a conflagration, and one day ned came into the office looking quite dejected. "what do you think has happened now?" said he. "just like our luck, only worse and worse." "what is it?" said i. "the whole fire department's going to smash." "i shouldn't think you'd call that bad luck," said phaeton. "for now when there _is_ a fire, it will be a big one, if there's no fire department to prevent it from spreading." "but the best fun," said ned, "is to see the firemen handle the fire, and to see red rover three wash cataract eight. i saw her do it beautifully at annual inspection. what i want is a tremendous big fire, and plenty of engines to play on it." the explanation of ned's alarming intelligence was that the fire department had got into a quarrel with the common council, and threatened to disband. one company, who had rather a shabby engine-house, and were refused an appropriation for a new one, tied black crape on the brakes of their engine, drew it through the principal streets, and finally, stopping before the court-house yard, lifted the machine bodily and threw it over the fence. then they threw their fireman hats after it, and quietly disbanded. this company had been known as reliance five. the incident frightened the common council into giving the other companies what they asked for; but there was never more a number five company in that city. i had got pretty tired of hanging out my rope ladder every night, and rolling it up every morning, when at last the hour of destiny struck, as the majority of poets would say--that is, the court-house bell struck the third district, and steeple after steeple caught up the tune, till, in a few minutes, the whole air was full of the wild clangor of bells. at the same time, the throats of innumerable men and boys were open, and the word "fire!" was pouring out from them in a continuous stream. "wake up, ned!" said phaeton. "here it is at last, and it's a big one." ned bounded to his feet, looked out at the window, exclaimed "oh, glory!" as he saw the lurid sky, and then began to get into his clothes with the utmost rapidity. suddenly he stopped. "look here, fay," said he. "this is sunday night. i'm afraid father won't let us go, after all." "perhaps not," said phaeton. "then, what must we do?" said ned. "do the best we can." "the question is, what _is_ best?" said ned. "it is evident we ought to go out of the window, but it's too high from the ground." "then we must make a rope," said phaeton. "what can we make it of?" "the bedclothes, of course." "that's a splendid idea!--that saves us," said ned, and he set about tying the sheets together. before phaeton was dressed, ned had made the rope and cast it out of the window, first tying one end to the bedpost, and sliding down to the ground, made off, without waiting for his brother. he came straight to my ladder, and had his foot on the first rung, when a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder. "so you're the one he sends in, are you?" said a deep voice, and ned looked up into the face of a policeman. "i'd rather have caught the old one," he continued, "but you'll do. i've been watching this burglar arrangement for two hours. and by the way, i must have some of it for evidence; the old one may take it away while i'm disposing of you." and he turned and with his pocket-knife cut off about a yard of my ladder, taking which in one hand and ned in the other, he hurried away to the police-station. [illustration: "ned looked up into the face of a policeman."] it was useless for ned to protest that he was not a burglar, nor a burglar's partner, or to tell the true story of the ladder, or to ask to be taken to his father. the policeman considered himself too wise for any such delusive tricks. "mr. rogers's boy, eh?" said he. "why don't you call yourself george washington's boy, while you're about it?" "washington never had any boys," said ned. "didn't eh? well, now, i congratulate george on that. a respectable man never knows what his sons may come to, in these times." "washington didn't live in these times," said ned; "he died hundreds of years ago." "did, eh?" said the policeman. "i see that you're a great scholard; you can go above me in the history class, young man. i never was no scholard myself, but i know one when i see him; and i always feel bad to put a scholard in quod." "if i had my printing-office and a gun here," said ned, "i'd put plenty of quads into you." "would, eh?" said the policeman. "well, now, it's lucky for me that that are printing-office and them ere quads are quietly reposing to-night in the dusky realms of imagination, aint it, young man? but here's the quod _i_ spoke about--it's reality, you see." and they ascended the steps of the station-house. in the midst of sound sleep, i woke on hearing my name called, and saw the dark outlines of a human head and shoulders at my window, projected against a background of illuminated sky. i had heard father reading an article in the evening paper about a gang of burglars being in the town, and i suppose that in my half-wakened condition that mingled itself vaguely in my thoughts with the idea of fire. at any rate, i seized a pitcher of water and threw its contents toward the light, and then, clubbing the pitcher, was about to make a desperate assault on the supposed burglar, when he spoke again. [illustration: phaeton is taken for a burglar.] "what are you doing? don't you know me?" "oh, is that you, fay?" "yes, and you've drenched me through and through," said he, as he climbed in. "that's too bad," said i. "i didn't know what i was about." "it's a tremendous fire," said he, "and i hate to lose the time to go back home and change my clothes. besides, i don't know that i could, for we made a rope of the bedclothes and slid down from our window, and i couldn't climb up again." "oh, never mind, put on a suit of mine," said i, and got out my sunday suit, the only clothes i had that seemed likely to be large enough for phaeton. it was a tight squeeze, but he got into them. "why did you make your ladder so short?" said he. "it reaches to the ground," said i. "no, it doesn't," said phaeton; "i had hard work to get started on it. i expected to find ned standing at the foot of it, but he was so impatient to see the fire, i suppose he couldn't wait for us." we dropped from the shortened ladder to the ground, passed out at the gate and shut it noiselessly behind us, and then broke into a run toward that quarter of the town where both a pillar of flame and a pillar of cloud rose through the night and lured us on. at the same time our mouths opened themselves by instinct, and that thrilling word "fire!" was paid out continuously, like a sparkling ribbon, as we ran. chapter xv. running with the machine. presently we heard a tremendous noise behind us,--a combination of rumble, rattle, and shout. it was red rover three going to the fire. she was for some reason a little belated, and was trying to make up lost time. at least forty men had their hands on the drag-rope, and were taking her along at a lively rate, while the two who held the tongue and steered the engine, being obliged to run at the same time, had all they could do. the foreman was standing on the top, with a large tin trumpet in his hand, through which he occasionally shouted an order to the men. "let's take hold of the drag-rope and run with her," said phaeton. if i had been disposed to make any objection, i had no opportunity, for phaeton immediately made a dive for a place where there was a longer interval than usual between the men, and seized the rope. not to follow him would have seemed like desertion, and i thought if i was ever to be a boy of spirit, this was the time to begin. when a boy for the first time laid his hand upon the drag-rope of an engine under swift motion, he experienced a thrill of mingled joy and fear to which nothing else in boy-life is comparable. if he missed his hold, or tired too soon, he would almost certainly be thrown to the ground and run over. if he could hang on, and make his legs fly fast enough, he might consider himself as sharing in the glory when the machine rolled proudly up in the light of the burning building, and was welcomed with a shout. there comes to most men, in early manhood, a single moment which perhaps equals this in its delicious blending of fear and rapture--but let us leave that to the poets. phaeton and i hung on with a good grip, while the inspiration of the fire in sight, and the enthusiasm of our company, seemed to lend us more than our usual strength and speed. but before we reached the fire, a noise was heard on a street that ran into ours at an angle some distance ahead. the foreman's ear caught it instantly, and he knew it was cataract eight doing her best in order to strike into the main road ahead of us. "jump her, men! jump her!" he shouted, and pounded on the brakes with his tin trumpet. the eighty legs and four wheels on which red rover three was making her way to the fire each doubled its speed, while forty mouths yelled "ki yi!" and the excited foreman repeated his admonition to "jump her, boys! jump her!" [illustration: "jump her, boys! jump her!"] phaeton and i hung on for dear life, though i expected every moment to find myself unable to hang on any longer. sometimes we measured the ground in a sort of seven-league-boot style, and again we seemed to be only as rags fastened to the rope and fluttering in the wind. the men at the tongue were tossed about in all sorts of ways. sometimes one would be lying on his breast on the end of it where it curved up like a horse's neck, and the next minute one or both of them would be thrown almost under it. whenever a wheel struck an uneven paving-stone, these men would be jerked violently to one side, and we could feel the shock all along the rope. it seemed sometimes as if the engine was simply being hurled through the air, occasionally swooping down enough in its flight to touch the ground and rebound again. all the while the church-bells of the city, in the hands of sextons doubly excited by fire and fees, kept up a direful clang. i doubt whether the celebrated clang of apollo's silver bow could at all compare with it. as we neared the forks of the road, the foreman yelled and pounded yet more vociferously, and through the din we could hear that cataract eight was doing the same thing. at last we shot by the corner just in time to compel our rival to fall in behind us, and a minute or two later we burst through the great ring of people that surrounded the fire, and made our entrance, as it were, upon the stage, with the roaring, crackling flames of three tall buildings for our mighty foot-lights. we had jumped her. the fire was in the novelty works--an establishment where were manufactured all sorts of small wares in wood and iron. the works occupied three buildings, pretty close together, surrounded by a small strip of yard. either because the firemen, from the recent demoralization of the department, were long in coming upon the ground, or for some other reason, the fire was under good headway, and all three buildings were in flames, before a drop of water was thrown. phaeton whispered to me that we had better get away from the engine now, or they might expect us to work at the brakes; so we dodged back and forth through the crowd, and came out in front of the fire at another point. here we met monkey roe, who had run with red rover's hose-cart, was flushed with excitement, and was evidently enjoying the fire most heartily. "oh, she's a big one!" said he, "probably the biggest we ever had in this town--or will be, before she gets through. i have great hopes of that old shanty across the road; it ought to have been burned down long ago. if this keeps on much longer, that'll have to go. don't you see the paint peeling off already?" the "old shanty" referred to was a large wooden building used as a furniture factory, and it certainly did look as if monkey's warmest hopes would be realized. i observed that he wore a broad belt of red leather, on which was inscribed the legend: we have can and will "monkey," said i, "what's that?" "why, don't you know that?" said he; "that's red rover's motto." "yes, of course it is," said i; "but what does it mean?" "it means," said monkey, with solemn emphasis, "we have washed eight, we can wash eight, and we will wash eight." there were older people than monkey roe to whom the washing of eight, rather than the extinguishing of fires, was the chief end of a company's existence. "yes," said i, catching some of monkey's enthusiasm, in addition to what i had already acquired by running with red rover, "i think we can wash her." the next moment i was pierced through and through by pangs of conscience. here was i, a boy whose uncle was a member of cataract eight, and who ought, therefore, to have been a warm admirer and partisan of that company, not only running to a fire with her deadly rival, but openly expressing the opinion that she could be washed. but such is the force of circumstances in their relative distance,--smaller ones that are near us often counterbalancing much larger ones that happen, for the moment, to be a little farther off. it did not occur to me to be ashamed of myself for expressing an opinion which was not founded on a single fact of any kind whatever. the consciences of very few people seem ever to be troubled on that point. "the hook-and-ladder is short-handed to-night," said monkey. "i think i'll take an axe." "what does he mean by taking an axe?" said i to phaeton. "i don't know," said phaeton; "let's follow him, and find out." monkey passed around the corner into the next street, where stood a very long, light carriage, with two or three ladders upon it and a few axes in sockets on the sides. these axes differed from ordinary ones in having the corner of the head prolonged into a savage-looking spike. monkey spoke to the man in charge, who handed him an axe and a fireman's hat. this hat was made of heavy sole-leather, painted black, the crown being rounded into a hemisphere, and the rim extended behind so that it covered his shoulder-blades. on the front was a shield ornamented with two crossed ladders, a trumpet, and a large figure 2. he took the axe, and put on the hat, leaving his own, and at the man's direction went to where a dozen axe-men were chopping at one side of a two-story wooden building that made a sort of connecting-link between the novelty works and the next large block. monkey seemed to hew away with the best of them; and, though they were continually changing about, we could always tell him from the rest by his shorter stature and the fact that his hat seemed too large for him. before long, a dozen firemen, with a tall ladder on their shoulders, appeared from somewhere, and quickly raised it against the building. three of them then mounted it, dragging up a pole with an enormous iron hook at the end. but there was no projection at the edge of the roof into which they could fix the hook. "stay where you are," shouted the foreman to them through his trumpet. then to the assistant foreman he shouted: "send up your lightest man to cut a place." the assistant foreman looked about him, seized on monkey as the lightest man, and hastily ordered him up. the next instant, monkey was going up the ladder, axe in hand, passed the men who were holding the hook, and stepped upon the roof. while he stood there, we could see him plainly, a dark form against a lurid background, as with a few swift strokes he cut a hole in the roof, perhaps a foot from the edge. the hook was lifted once more, and its point settled into the place thus prepared for it. the pole that formed the handle of the hook reached in a long slope nearly to the ground, and a heavy rope formed a continuation of it. at the order of the foreman, something like a hundred men seized this rope and stretched themselves out in line for a big pull. at the same time, some of the firemen near the building, seeing the first tongues of flame leap out of the window nearest to the ladder,--for the fire had somehow got into this wooden building also,--hastily pulled down the ladder, leaving monkey standing on the roof, with no apparent means of escape. a visible shudder ran through the crowd, followed by shouts of "raise the ladder again!" the ladder was seized by many hands, but in a minute more it was evident that it would be useless to raise it, for the flames were pouring out of every window, and nobody could have passed up or down it alive. "stand from under!" shouted monkey, and threw his axe to the ground. then, getting cautiously over the edge, he seized the hook with both hands, threw his feet over it, thus swinging his body beneath it, and came down the pole and the rope hand over hand, like his agile namesake, amid the thundering plaudits of the multitude. as soon as he was safely landed, the men at the rope braced themselves for a pull, and with a "yo, heave, ho!" the whole side of the building was torn off and came over into the street with a deafening crash, while a vast fountain of fire arose from its ruins, and the crowd swayed back as the heat struck upon their faces. by this time the engines had got into position, stretched their hose, and were playing away vigorously. the foremen were sometimes bawling through their trumpets, and sometimes battering them to pieces in excitement. the men that held the nozzles and directed the streams were gradually working their way nearer and nearer to the buildings, as the water deadened portions of the fire and diminished the heat. and, through all the din and uproar, we could hear the steady, alternating thud of the brakes as they struck the engine-boxes on either side. occasionally this motion on some particular engine would be quickened for a few minutes, just after a vigorous oration by the foreman; but it generally settled back into the regular pace. and now a crack appeared in the front wall of one of the tall brick buildings, near the corner, running all the way from ground to roof. a suppressed shout from the crowd signified that all had noticed it, and served as a warning to the hose-men to look out for themselves. the crack grew wider at the top. the immense side wall began to totter, then hung poised for a few breathless seconds, and at last broke from the rest of the building and rushed down to ruin. it fell upon the burning wreck of the wooden structure, and sent sparks and fire-brands flying for scores of yards in every direction. the hose-men crept up once more under the now dangerous front wall, and sent their streams in at the windows, where a mass of living flame seemed to drink up the water as fast as it could be delivered, and only to increase thereby. it might have been ten minutes, or it might have been an hour, after the falling of the side wall,--time passes so strangely during excitement,--when another great murmur from the crowd announced the trembling of the front wall. the hose-men were obliged to drop the nozzles and run for their lives. after the preliminary tremor which always occurs, either in reality or in the spectator's imagination, the front wall doubled itself down by a diagonal fold, breaking off on a line running from the top of the side wall still standing to the bottom of the one that had fallen, and piling itself in a crumbled mass, out of which rose a great cloud of dust from broken plaster. the two other brick buildings, notwithstanding thousands of gallons of water were thrown into them, burned on fiercely till they burned themselves out. but no more walls fell, and, for weeks afterward, the four stories of empty and blackened ruin towered in a continual menace above their surroundings. the old shanty which monkey roe had hoped would burn, had been saved by the unwearied exertions of the firemen, who from the moment the engines were in action had kept it continually wet. "the best of the fire was over," as an habitual fire-goer expressed it, the crowd was thinning out, and phaeton and i went to look for ned, who, poor fellow! was pining in a dungeon where he could only look through iron bars upon a square of reddened sky. we had hardly started upon this quest when several church-bells struck up a fresh alarm, and the news ran from mouth to mouth that there was another fire; but nobody seemed to know exactly where it was. "let's follow one of the engines," said phaeton; and this time we cast our lot with rough-and-ready seven--not with hand on the drag-ropes to assist in jumping her, but rather as ornamental tail-pieces. "i think i shall take an axe this time," said phaeton, as we ran along. "i've no doubt you could handle one as well as monkey roe," said i,--"that is,"--and here i hesitated somewhat, "if you had on an easy suit of clothes. mine seem to be a little too tight to give perfectly free play to your arms." "oh, as to that," said phaeton, who had fairly caught the fireman fever, "if i find the coat too tight, i can throw it off." the new fire proved to be at mr. glidden's house. it had probably caught from cinders wafted from the great fire and falling upon the steps. all about the front door was in a blaze. at the sight of this, phaeton seemed to become doubly excited. he rushed to the hook-and-ladder carriage, and came back in a minute with an axe in his hand and a fireman's hat on his head, which proved somewhat too large for him, and gave him the appearance of the victorious gladiator in gã©rã´me's famous picture. he seemed now to consider himself a veteran fireman, and, without orders from anybody, rushed up to the side door and assaulted it vigorously, shivering it, with a few blows, into a mass of splinters. he passed in through the wreck, and, for a few minutes, was lost to sight. i barely caught a glimpse of a man passing in behind him. what took place inside of the house, i learned afterward. miss glidden had been sitting up reading "ivanhoe," and had paid no attention to the great fire, except to look out of the window a few minutes on the first alarm. hearing this thundering noise at the door, she stepped to the head of the stairs, in a half-dazed condition, and saw ascending them, as she expressed it, "a grotesque creature, in tight clothes, wearing an enormous mediã¦val helmet, and bearing in his hand a gleaming battle-axe." she could only think him the ghost of a templar, screamed, and fainted. the man who had gone in after phaeton, passed him on the stairs, and soon emerged from the house, bearing the young lady in his arms. it was jack-in-the-box. phaeton came out a few minutes later, bringing her canary in its cage. [illustration: "this must be put in a safe place."] "this must be put in a safe place," said he to me; "miss glidden thinks the world of it. i'll run home with it, and come back again." and he ran off, just escaping arrest at the hands of a policeman who thought he was stealing the bird, but who was not able to run fast enough to catch him. meanwhile the firemen were preparing to extinguish the new fire. there was no water-supply near enough for a single engine to span the distance. some of them had been left at the great fire, to continue pouring water upon it, while the chief engineer ordered four of them to take care of this one. they formed two lines, red rover three and big six taking water from the canal and sending it along to cataract eight and rough-and-ready seven, who threw it upon the burning house. as phaeton, jack-in-the-box, miss glidden, and the canary emerged from the house, half a dozen men rushed in--some of them firemen, and some citizens who had volunteered their help. in a little while, one of them appeared at an upper window, having in his hands a large looking-glass with an elaborately carved frame. without stopping to open the window, he dashed the mirror through sash, glass, and all, and as it struck the ground it was shivered into a thousand fragments. then another man appeared at the window with an armful of small framed pictures, and, taking them one at a time by the corner, "scaled" them out into the air. then the first man appeared again, dragging a mattress. resting this on the window-sill, he tied a rope around it, and let it down slowly and carefully to the ground. the second man appeared again in turn; this time with a handsome china wash-bowl and pitcher, which he sent out as if they had been shot from a cannon. in falling, they just escaped smashing the head of a spectator. bearing in mind, i suppose, the great mercantile principle that a "set" of articles should always be kept together, he hurriedly threw after them such others as he found on the wash-stand,--the cake of soap striking the chief engineer in the neck, while the tall, heavy slop-jar--hurled last of all to complete the set--turned some beautiful somersaults, emptying its contents on lukey finnerty, and landed in the midst of a table full of glassware which had been brought out from the dining-room. next appeared, at another upper window, two men carrying a bureau that proved to be too large to go through. with that promptness which is so necessary in great emergencies, one of the men instantly picked up his axe, and, with two or three blows, cut the bureau in two in the middle, after which both halves were quickly bundled through the window and fell to the ground. the next thing they saved was a small, open book-case filled with handsomely bound books. they brought it to the window, with all the books upon it, rested one end on the sill, and then, tripping up its heels, started it on the hyperbolic curve made and provided for projectiles of its class. if the commissioner of patents could have seen it careering through the air, he would have rejected all future applications for a monopoly in revolving book-cases. when it reached the ground, there was a general diffusion of good literature. they finally discovered, in some forgotten closet, a large number of dusty hats and bonnets of a by-gone day, and came down the stairs carefully bringing a dozen or two of them. close behind them followed the other two, one having his arms full of pillows and bolsters, while the other carried three lengths of old stove-pipe. "we saved what we could," said one, with an evident consciousness of having done his duty. "yes," said another, "and it's too hot to go back there, though there's lots of furniture that hasn't been touched yet." "what a pity!" said several of the bystanders. meanwhile the hook-and-ladder company had fastened one of their great hooks in the edge of the roof, and were hauling away with a "yo, heave, ho!" to pull off the side of the house. they had only got it fairly started, separated from the rest of the frame by a crack of not more than five or six inches, when the chief engineer came up and ordered them to desist, as he expected to be able to extinguish the fire. and now the engines were in full play. a little trap-door in the top of cataract eight's box was open, and the assistant foreman of red rover three was holding in it the nozzle of three's hose, which discharged a terrific stream. the same was true of big six and rough-and-ready seven. i never heard a more eloquent orator than the foreman of cataract eight, as he stood on the box of his engine, pounded with his trumpet on the air-chamber, and exhorted the men to "down with the brakes!" "shake her up lively!" "rattle the irons!" "don't be washed!" etc., all of which expressions seemed to have one meaning, and the brakes came down upon the edges of the box like the blows of a trip-hammer, making the engine dance about as if it were of pasteboard. the foreman of red rover three was also excited, and things in that quarter were equally lively. for a considerable time it was an even contest. eight's box was kept almost full of water, and no more; while it seemed as if both companies had attained the utmost rapidity of stroke that flesh and bones were capable of, or wood and iron could endure. but at last four fresh men, belonging to red rover three, who had been on some detached service, came up, leaped upon the box, and each putting a foot upon the brakes, added a few pounds to their momentum. the water rose rapidly in eight's box, and in about a minute completely overflowed it, drenching the legs of her men, and making everything disagreeable in the vicinity. a shout went up from the bystanders, and three's men instantly stopped work, took off their hats, and gave three tremendous cheers. we had washed her. big six was trying to do the same thing by rough-and-ready seven, and had almost succeeded when the hose burst. phaeton and i were standing within a step of the spot where it gave way, and we ourselves were washed. "let's go home," said he, as he surrendered his axe and fire-hat to a hook-and-ladder man. "yes," said i, "it's time. they've poured water enough into that house to float the ark, and all the best of the fire is over." as we left the scene of our labors, i observed that my sunday coat, besides being drenched, was split open across the back. "phaeton," said i, "you forgot to throw off my coat when you went to work with the axe, didn't you?" "that's so," said he. "the fact is, i suppose i must have been a little excited." "i've no doubt you were," said i. "putting out fires and saving property is very exciting work." chapter xvi. a new fire-extinguisher. it was not yet morning, and my rope-ladder was still hanging out when phaeton and i reached the house. we climbed up, and as soon as he could tie up his wet clothes in a bundle, he went down again and ran home. when our family were assembled at the breakfast-table, i had to go through those disagreeable explanations which every boy encounters before he arrives at the age when he can do what he pleases without giving a reason for it. at such a time, it seems to a boy as if those who ought to sympathize with him, had set themselves up as determined antagonists, bringing out by questions and comments the most unfavorable phase of everything that has happened, and making him feel that, instead of a misfortune to be pitied, it was a crime to be punished. looking at it from the boy's side, it is, perhaps, wisest to consider this as a necessary part of man-making discipline; but, from the family's side, it should appear, as it is, a cowardly proceeding. it was in vain that i strove to interest our family with vivid descriptions of how we jumped red rover three, how we washed cataract eight, and how we saved mr. glidden's property. i suppose they were deficient in imagination; they could realize nothing but what was before them, visible to the physical eye; their minds continually reverted to the comparatively unimportant question as to how my clothes came to be in so dreadful a condition. as if 'twas any fault of mine that big six's hose burst, or as if i could have known that it would burst at that particular spot where phaeton and i were standing. the only variation from this one-stringed harp was when they labored ingeniously to make it appear that the jumping, the washing, and the saving would all have been done quite as effectually if i had been snug in bed at home. phaeton came over to tell me that ned was missing. "i don't wonder that we didn't happen to run across him in that big crowd," said he; "but i shouldn't think he'd stay so long as this. do you suppose anything can have happened to him?" "what could happen?" said i. "he may have taken an axe, and ventured too far into some of the burning buildings," said phaeton. "no," said i, after a moment's consideration; "that wouldn't be like ned. he might be very enthusiastic about taking care of the fire, but he wouldn't forget to take care of himself. however, i'll go with you to look for him." as we went up the street, we came upon patsy rafferty and teddy dwyer, pushing phaeton's car before them, with jimmy the rhymer in it. they were taking him out to see what remained of the fire. jimmy said he was getting well rapidly, and expected soon to be about again on his own legs. his parents never knew who paid the doctor's bill, but thought it must have been the unknown gentleman who was calling him to come across the street when he was run over. a few rods farther on, we met ned rogers walking toward home. "hello! where have you been all this time?" said phaeton. "can't you tell by the feathers?" said ned. "what feathers?" "jail-bird feathers. i've been locked up in jail all night." of course we asked him how that came about, and ned told us the story of his captivity, which the reader already knows. "but how did you get out?" said phaeton. "why, when 'squire moore came to the office and opened the court, i was brought out the first one. and when i told him my story and whose boy i was, he said of course i was; he'd known father too many years not to be able to tell one of his chickens as soon as it peeped. he advised me not to meddle any more with burglar things, and then told me to go home. 'squire moore's the 'squire for my money! but as for that stupid policeman, i'll sue him for false imprisonment, if aunt mercy will let me have the funds to pay a lawyer." "aunt mercy's pretty liberal with you," said phaeton, "but you may be sure she'll never give you any such amount as that." when ned heard of our adventures at the fire, he fairly groaned. "it would be just like my luck," said he, "if there shouldn't be another good fire in this town for a year." the lost brother being found, phaeton said the next thing to be done was to take home the bird he had rescued. i went with him on this errand. as we approached the house, phaeton carrying the cage, a scene of desolation met our eyes. nearly everything it contained had been brought out-of-doors, and had sustained more or less injury. the house itself, with all the windows and doors smashed out, the front burned to charcoal, the side so far wrenched apart from the rest of the frame that it could not be replaced, and the whole browned with smoke and drenched with water, was a melancholy wreck. mr. glidden and his son john stood in the yard looking at it, and their countenances, on the whole, were rather sorrowful. "good-morning, mr. glidden," said phaeton. "good-morning, sir." "i should like to see miss glidden," said phaeton. "she is at her aunt's, over on west street," said mr. glidden. phaeton seemed a little disappointed. "i've brought home her bird," said he. "i carried it out when the house was on fire, and took it up to our house for safety." "my sister will be very much obliged to you," said john glidden. "i'll take charge of it." phaeton intimated his entire willingness to run over to west street with the bird at once, saying that he knew the house where she was staying perfectly well; but john said he wouldn't trouble him to do that, and took the cage, which phaeton gave up with some appearance of reluctance. "i don't believe the smell of smoke will be good for that bird," said phaeton, as we walked away. "canaries are very tender things. he'd better have let me carry it right over to his sister." "yes," said i, "and relieve her anxiety of mind about it. but i suppose he and his father are thinking of nothing but the house." "i don't wonder at that," said phaeton. "it must be a pretty serious thing to have your house and furniture knocked to pieces in that way. and the water seems to do as much harm as the fire." "yes, and the axes more than either," said i. "but it can't be helped. houses will get on fire once in a while, and then, of course, they must either be put out or torn down." "i am inclined to think it can be helped," said phaeton. "i've been struck with an idea this morning, and if it works out as well as i hope, i shall be able to abolish all the engines and axe-men, and put out fires without throwing any water on them." "that would be a tremendous invention," said i. "what is it?" "wait till i get it fully worked out," said he, "and then we'll talk it over. it needs a picture to explain it." a day or two afterward, phaeton asked me to go with him to see jack-in-the-box, as he had completed his invention, and wanted to consult jack about it. "by the way," said he, as we were walking up the street, "i received something this morning which will interest you." he took from his pocket, and handed me, a note written on delicate scented paper and folded up in a triangle. it was addressed to "dear mr. rogers," and signed "v. glidden." it acknowledged the receipt of the bird, and thanked him handsomely for his "gallantry in rescuing dear little chrissy from the flames." "that's beautiful," said i, as i folded it up and handed it back to phaeton, who read it again before putting it into his pocket. "yes," said he, "that's lovely." "you never were called 'mr. rogers' before, were you?" said i. "no," said he. "i tell you what 'tis, fay," said i, "we're getting along in life." "yes," said he; "youth glides by rapidly. it was only a little while ago that we had never run with a machine, never taken an axe at a fire, and--never received a note like this." "and now," said i, "we--that is, you--have made an invention to abolish all fire departments." "if it works," said phaeton. "i haven't the least doubt that it will," said i, although i had not the remotest idea what it was. jack, who had just flagged a train, and was rolling up his flag as we arrived, cordially invited us into his box. "i want to consult you about one more invention," said phaeton, "if you're not tired of them." "never tired of them," said jack. "i have found something to admire in every one you've presented, though they were not all exactly practicable. the only way to succeed is to persevere." "it's very encouraging to hear you say so," said phaeton. "the thing that i want to consult you about to-day is a method of putting out fires without throwing water upon the houses or chopping them all to pieces." "that would be a great thing," said jack. "how do you accomplish it?" "by smothering them," said phaeton. "i know you can smother a small fire with a thick blanket," said jack, "but how are you going to smother a whole house, when it is in a blaze?" "if you will look at this drawing," said phaeton, "you will easily understand my plan." and he produced a sheet of paper and unfolded it. [illustration: phaeton's drawing.] "i first build a sort of light canvas tent," he continued, "somewhat larger than an ordinary house. it has no opening, except that the bottom is entirely open, and there is a long rope fastened to each of the lower corners. then i have a balloon, to which this tent is fastened in place of a car. of course the balloon lifts the tent just as far as the ropes--which are fastened to something--will let it go." "that's plain enough," said jack. "then," continued phaeton, "whenever a fire occurs, the firemen (it needs only a few) take these ropes in their hands and start for the fire, the tent and balloon sailing along over their heads. when they get there, they let it go up till the bottom of the tent is higher than the top of the burning house, and then bring it down over the house, so as to inclose it, and hold the edge close against the surface of the ground till the fire is smothered." "i see," said jack; "the theory certainly is perfect." "i have not forgotten," said phaeton, "that the tent itself might take fire before they could fairly get it down over the house. to prevent that, i have a barrel of water at this point,--below the balloon and above the tent,--and have a few gimlet-holes in the bottom of the barrel; so that there is a continual trickle, which just keeps the tent too wet to take fire easily." "that's as clear as can be," said jack. "it's the wet-blanket principle reduced to scientific form." "and how shall i manage it?" said phaeton. "as to that," said jack, "the most appropriate man to consult is the chief engineer." chapter xvii. how a church flew a kite. as soon as possible, phaeton went down town with his drawing in his pocket, and hunted up the office of the chief engineer. this, he found, was in the engine-house of deluge one,--a carpeted room, nearly filled with armchairs, having at one end a platform, on which were a sofa and an octagonal desk. the walls were draped with flags, and bore several mottoes, among which were "ever ready," "fearless and free," and "the path of duty is the path of glory." under the last was a huge silver trumpet, hung by a red cord, with large tassels. this was the room where the business meetings of deluge one were held, and where the chief engineer had his office. but the young men who were now playing cards and smoking here, told phaeton the chief engineer was not in, but might be found at shumway's. this was a large establishment for the manufacture of clothing, and when phaeton had finally hunted down his man, he found him to be a cutter,--one of several who stood at high tables and cut out garments for the other tailors to make. "i've come to consult you about a machine," said phaeton. "how did you happen to do that?" said the chief engineer, without looking up. "a friend of mine--a railroad man--advised me to," said phaeton. "clever fellers, them railroad men," said the chief engineer; "but what's your machine for?" "for putting out fires," said phaeton. "one of them gas arrangements, i suppose," said the chief engineer,--"dangerous to the lives of the men, and no good unless applied in a close room before the fire begins." "i don't know what you mean by that," said phaeton; "but there's no gas about mine." the chief engineer, who all this time had gone on cutting, laid down his shears on the pattern. "let's see it," said he. phaeton produced his drawing, spread it out before him, and explained it. "why, boy," said the chief engineer, "you couldn't--and yet, perhaps, you could--it never would--and still it might--there would be no--but i'm not so sure about that. let me study this thing." he planted his elbows on the table, each side of the drawing, brought his head down between his hands, buried his fingers in the mass of his hair, and looked intently at the picture for some minutes. "where did you get this?" said he, at last. "i drew it," said phaeton; "it's my invention." "and what do you want me to do about it?" "i thought perhaps you could help me in getting it into use." "just so! well, leave it with me, and i'll think it over, and you can call again in a few days." phaeton did call again, and was told that the chief engineer was holding a meeting in the engine-house. going over to the engine-house, he found it full of men, and was unable to get in. the next time he called, the chief engineer told him he "hadn't had time to look it over yet." next time he was "not in." and so it seemed likely to go on forever. but meanwhile something else took place, which called out phaeton's inventive powers for exercise in another direction. it happened that the pastor of the baptist church, in talking to the sunday-school, dwelt especially on sabbath-breaking, and mentioned kite-flying as one of the worst forms of it. "this very day," said he, "as i was coming to church, i saw three wicked boys flying kites in the public street, and one of them sits in this room now." a boy who knew whom the pastor referred to, pointed out monkey roe. as many of the school as could, turned and stared at monkey. the truth was, he had not been flying a kite; but on his way to church he passed two boys who were. it was the universal practice--at that time and in that country, at least--when a boy was flying a kite, for every other boy who passed to ask "how she pulled?" and take the string in his hand a moment to see. if she pulled hard, the flyer was rather proud to have his friends ask the question and make the test. in fact, i suppose it would hardly have been polite not to ask. monkey had just asked this interesting question, and had the string in his hand, when the pastor happened to pass by and see the group. of course it would have been well if he could have stood up in the sunday-school, and simply told the fact. but he was not the sort of boy who could do such a thing at any time, and he was especially unable to now, when he was taken by surprise, and felt that an outrage had been committed against his character and reputation. but perhaps the pastor was not much at fault. he had probably been born and brought up in a breezeless country where kite-flying was unknown, and therefore was ignorant of its amenities. just before the school closed, monkey was struck with a mischievous idea. "i prophesy," said he to the pastor's son, who sat next to him, "that this church will fly a kite all day next sunday." "i should be greatly delighted to see it," answered the pastor's son. early monday morning, monkey went over to dublin, and found owney geoghegan, who had chased and recovered one of the kites that drew phaeton's car. monkey obtained the kite, by trading a jack-knife for it, and carried it home. every day that week, as soon as school was out, he took it to a large common on the outskirts of the town, and flew it. he thoroughly studied the disposition of that kite. he experimented continually, and found just what arrangement of the bands would make it pull most evenly, just what length of tail would make it stand most steadily, and just what weight of string it would carry best. it occurred to him that an appropriate motto from scripture would look well, and he applied to jack-in-the-box for one, taking care not to let him know what he wanted it for. jack suggested one, and monkey borrowed a marking-pot and brush, and inscribed it in bold letters across the face of the kite. finally he procured a good ball of string, a long and strong fish-line, and a small, flat, light wooden hoop, which he carefully covered with tin-foil, obtained at the tobacco-shop. saturday night monkey's mother knew he was out, but not what he was about, and wondered why he stayed so late. if she had gone in search of him, she might have found him in independence square, moving about in a very mysterious manner. the baptist church, which had a tall, slender spire, ending in a lightning-rod with a single point, faced this square. it was a bright, moonlight night, and it must have been after eleven o'clock when monkey walked into the square with his kite, accompanied by owney geoghegan. monkey laid the kite flat on the ground near one corner of the square, stationed owney by it, and then walked slowly to the opposite corner, unwinding the string as he went. after looking around cautiously and making sure that nobody was crossing the square, he raised his hand and gave a silent signal. owney hoisted the kite, monkey ran a few rods, and up she went. he rapidly let out the entire ball of string, and she sailed away into space till she hovered like a night-hawk over the farthest corner of the sleeping city. the sunday-school room was hung round with mottoes, printed on shield-shaped tablets, and monkey had made copies of some of them on similarly shaped pieces of paper, which he fastened upon the string at intervals as he let the kite up. among them i remember "look aloft!" "time flies!" and "aspire!" then monkey took up the hoop, and tied the string through a hole that was bored near one edge. through a similar hole on the opposite side of the hoop, and near the same edge, he tied about a yard of comparatively weak string. to the end of this he tied his long fish-line, which he carefully paid out. the kite sailed still higher and farther away, of course carrying the hoop up into mid-air, where it was plainly visible as the tin-foil glittered in the moonlight. so far, monkey's task had all been plain mechanical work, sure of success if only performed with care. but now he had arrived at the difficult part of it, where a great amount of patience and no little sleight-of-hand were necessary. the thing to be done was, to let out just enough string for the kite to carry the hoop exactly as high as the top of the steeple. it took a vast deal of letting out, and winding in, walking forward, and walking backward, to accomplish this, but at last it seemed to be done. then he must walk back and forth till he had brought the hoop not only on a level with the top of the spire, but directly over it, which took more time. as the strings were fastened at one edge of the hoop, of course it remained constantly horizontal. when, at last, monkey had brought it exactly over the point of the lightning-rod, he carefully and steadily brought the hand in which he held the string down to the ground. the hoop encircled and slid down the rod, and, after two hours' hard work, his task was virtually done. he had now only to walk up to the church, and give a steady, hard, downward pull at the fish-line, when the weak piece of string that fastened it to the hoop snapped in two. winding up the fish-line, he slipped it into his pocket, looked about once more, said good-night to owney, walked rapidly home, and went softly up to bed. sunday morning dawned beautifully, and everybody in town, who ever went to meeting at all, prepared for church. as the time for services approached, the bells rang out melodiously; down every street of residences, door after door opened, as individuals and families stepped forth, attired in their best, and soon the sidewalks were full of people passing in every direction. somebody discovered the kite, and pointed it out to somebody else, who stopped to look at it, and attracted the attention of others; and thus the news spread. a few groups paused to gaze and wonder, but most of the people passed on quietly to their respective places of worship. [illustration: the kite on the steeple.] somebody told the baptist pastor of it as he was ascending the pulpit-stairs. "i will have it attended to," said he; and, calling the sexton, he ordered him to go into the steeple at once and take down the kite. easy to say, but impossible to do. the highest point the sexton could reach was more than forty feet below the top of the spire, and there he could only poke his head out at a little trap-door. the appearance of his head at this door was the signal for a derisive shout from a group of boys on the sidewalk. by the time the services in the various churches were over, and the people on their way home, nearly everybody in town had heard of the phenomenon. they gathered in small groups, and gazed at it, and talked about it. these groups continually grew larger, and frequently two or three of them coalesced. they soon found that the best point to view it from--considering the position of the sun, and other circumstances--was the southwest corner of the square; and here they gradually gathered, till there was a vast throng, with upturned faces, gazing at the kite and its appendages, and wondering how it got there. it was amusing to hear the wild conjectures and grave theories that were put forth. one man thought it must have been an accident. "probably some boy in a neighboring town," he said, "was flying the kite, when it broke away, and, as the string dragged along, it happened to catch somehow on that steeple." another said he had read that in china grown-up people flew kites, and were very expert at it. "depend upon it," said he, solemnly, "you'll find there's a chinaman in town." another presumed it was some new and ingenious method of advertising. "probably at a certain hour," said he, "that thing will burst, and scatter over the town a shower of advertisements of a new baking-powder, warranted to raise your bread as high as a kite, or some other humbug." still another sagacious observer maintained that it might be merely an optical illusion,--a thing having no real existence. "it may be a mirage," said he; "or perhaps some practical joker has made a sort of magic-lantern that projects such an image in mid-air." patsy rafferty happened to see a lady sitting at her window, and looking at the kite through an opera-glass. immediately he was struck with an idea, and ran off home at his best speed. his mother was out visiting a neighbor; but he didn't need to call her home; he knew where she kept his money. going straight to the pantry, he climbed on a chair and took down what in its day had been an elegant china teapot, but was now useless, because the spout was broken off. thrusting in his hand, he drew out the money which the clown had collected for him from the crowd on the tow-path,--every cent of it, except the crossed shilling, the bogus quarter, the brass buttons, and the temperance medal. patsy then ran to a pawnbroker's shop, before the window of which he had often stood and studied the "unredeemed pledges" there displayed. the pawnbroker, whose sabbath was the seventh day, sat in the open door, smoking a pipe. "how much for a spy glass?" said patsy, as soon as he could get his breath. "come inside," said the pawnbroker. "this one i shall sell you for five dollars--very cheap." and he handed patsy an old binocular, which really had very powerful glasses, though the tubes were much battered. patsy pointed it out of the door, and looked through it. "oh, moses!" said he, as a dog larger than an elephant ran across the field of vision. "sir?" said the pawnbroker. "i can't buy it," said patsy, with a sigh, laying it upon the counter. "why not?" said the pawnbroker. "i haven't enough money," said patsy. "how much have you got?" said the pawnbroker. "three dollars and eighty-four cents," said patsy. "and you don't get some more next saturday night?" said the pawnbroker. "no," said patsy. "well, you are a good boy," said the pawnbroker; "i can see that already; so i shall sell you this fine glass for three dollars and eighty-four cents,--the very lowest price. i could not do it, but i shall hope that i trade with you again some day." patsy put down the money in a hurry, took the glass, and left the shop. he went to where the crowd was gazing at the kite, took a long look at it himself, and then began renting out the glass at ten cents a look, at which price he found plenty of eager customers. when they looked through the glass, they read this legend on the face of the kite: ye shall have in abomination the kite after his kind. levit. xi. 13, 14. when teddy dwyer saw the success of patsy's speculation, he thought he also had an idea, and running home, he soon reappeared on the square with a large piece of newly smoked glass. but nobody seemed to care to view the wonder through smoked glass, though he offered it at the low price of "wan cent a look," and teddy's investment was hardly remunerative. patsy, before the day was over, amassed nearly thirteen dollars. he carried it all home, and without saying anything to his mother, slipped it into the disabled teapot, where the money collected for him by the clown had been kept. the next day he quietly asked his mother if he might have ten cents of his money to spend. "no, patsy," she answered, "i'm keeping that ag'in the day you go into business." but mrs. rourke was present, and she pleaded so eloquently patsy's right to have "a little enjoyment of what he had earned," that his mother relented, and went to get it. "either my hands are getting weak," said she, as she lifted it down, "or this teapot has grown heavy." she thrust her hand into it, uttered an exclamation of surprise, and then turned it upside down upon the table, whereupon there was a tableau in the rafferty family. "i often heard," said mrs. rafferty, "that money breeds money, but i never knew it bred so fast as that." she more than half believed in fairies, and was proceeding to account for it as their work, when patsy burst out laughing, and then, of course, had to tell the story of how the money came there. "and so you got it be goin' after pawnbrokers, and be workin' on sunday?" said his mother. patsy confessed that he did. "then i'll have none of it," said she, and opening the stove, was about to cast in a handful of the coins, when she hesitated. "after all," said she, "'tisn't the money that's done wrong; why should i punish it?" so she put it back into the teapot, and adopted a less expensive though more painful method of teaching her son to respect the sabbath. in the bitterness of the moment, patsy firmly resolved that when he was a millionnaire--as he expected to be some day--he wouldn't give his mother a single dime. he afterward so far relented, however, as to admit to himself that he might let her have twenty thousand dollars, rather than see her suffer, but not a cent more. chapter xviii. an extra fourth-of-july. deacon graham had predicted that "the wind would go down with the sun," and then the kite would fall. but the prediction was not fulfilled: at least there seemed to be a steady breeze up where the kite was, and in the moon-lighted evening it swayed gently to and fro, tugging at its string, and gracefully waving its pendulous tail. all the young people in town appeared to be walking out to see it, and the evening services were very slimly attended. monday morning the trustees of the church began to take vigorous measures for the suppression of the mysterious kite. the cart of hook-and-ladder no. 1 was wheeled up in front of the church, and the two longest ladders taken off, spliced together, and raised with great labor. but they fell far short of reaching any point from which the hoop that held the kite could be touched. "i hope you are satisfied," said the foreman to the trustees. "i told you them ladders wouldn't reach it, nor no others that you can get." "yes, i see," said deacon graham. "i supposed the ladders were longer. but we're very much obliged to you and your men." "you're welcome," said the foreman, as the men replaced the ladders on the cart. "and by the way, deacon, if you was thinking of sending a dish of oysters and a cup of coffee around to the engine-house, i may say that my men prefer saddle-rocks and java." "just so!" said the deacon. "i'll send saddle-rocks and java, if i send any." one of the trustees suggested that the most muscular of the firemen might go up in the steeple, open the little trap-door, and from there throw clubs at the string. one of the firemen procured some sticks, about such as boys like for throwing into chestnut-trees, and went up and tried it. but the door was so far below the top of the steeple, and the position so awkward to throw from, that he did not even hit the string, and after one of the clubs in descending had crashed through the stained-glass skylight of a neighboring mansion, this experiment was abandoned. the next consisted in firing with rifles at the kite, the hoop, and the string. the trustees looked up two amateur huntsmen for this purpose, and furnished a small amount of ammunition. as there was a city ordinance against discharging firearms "in any street, lane, or alley, park, or square of the said city," the trustees were obliged to go first to the mayor and get a suspension of the ordinance for this special purpose, which was readily granted. as soon as the two huntsmen saw this in black and white, they fired half a dozen shots. but they did not succeed in severing the string or smashing the hoop. like all failures, however, they gave excellent reasons for their want of success, explaining to the trustees that there was a difference between a covey of partridges and a small hoop on the top of a steeple. their explanation was so lucid that i feel confident the trustees must have understood it. "in rifle-shooting," added one of the huntsmen, "you always have to make allowance for the wind, and we can't tell how it may be blowing at the top of that spire till we learn by experimental shots. but we shall get the range after awhile; it's only a question of time." what little ammunition they had with them was soon exhausted, and deacon graham, who was very excitable and over-sensitive as to anything connected with the church, rushed down town to buy some more. "how much powder will you have?" said the clerk. "enough to shoot a kite off from a steeple," said the deacon. the clerk couldn't tell exactly how much that would take--had not been in the habit of selling powder for that purpose. "give me enough, at any rate," said the deacon. the clerk suggested that the best way would be to send up a small keg and let them use as much as was necessary, the remainder to be returned. to this the deacon assented, and accordingly a small keg of powder, with a liberal quantity of bullets and caps, was sent up at once,--all to be charged to the account of the church militant. at the first shot the boys had begun to gather. when they found what was going on, that the ordinance was suspended, and that ammunition was as free as the gospel, they disappeared one after another, and soon reappeared carrying all sorts of shot-guns, muskets, and even horse-pistols and revolvers. no boy who could get a fire-arm failed to bring it out. most of us had to hunt for them; for, so far as i know, not one of our boys was guilty of the folly of habitually carrying a pistol in his pocket. the powder and bullets were on the church steps, where all who wished to aid in the good work could help themselves; and within half an hour from the time the ball opened, at least thirty happy and animated boys were loading and firing. the unsectarian spirit of those boys was beautiful to behold. they were from all denominations, and yet every one of them was both willing and eager to burn baptist powder in firing baptist bullets at a baptist steeple. the noise had attracted the townspeople, and several hundred of them now stood looking on at the strange spectacle. patsy rafferty ran home to draw some money from his teapot-bank, but found the cashier present, and hesitated. however, he soon plucked up courage, and said, with a roguish twinkle: "mother, will you please lend me two dollars of my money?" ordinarily, mrs. rafferty would have said no. but she was a very bright woman, and was so pleased with this evidence that patsy had inherited some of her own wit, that she could not find it in her heart to refuse him. "there's two dollars, and i suppose when you come back it'll be four," said she, remembering how money breeds money. "yes--four o'clock," said patsy, as he ran out of the door and made for his friend the pawnbroker's, who sold him an old musket, with which, in a few minutes, patsy joined the volunteers. ned rogers had not been able to find any fire-arm; but when he learned where patsy got his musket, and that the pawnbroker had a mate to it, he ran off to his aunt's house at his best speed, and entering unceremoniously, exclaimed: "aunty, i want two dollars quicker than lightning!" "edmund burton! how you frighten me," said his aunt mercy. "jane, get my pocket-book from the right-hand corner of my top bureau-drawer, and throw it downstairs right away." the instant the pocket-book struck the floor, ned snatched two dollars out of it and was off like a shot. "sweet, benevolent boy!" said aunt mercy. "i've no doubt he's hastening to relieve some peculiar and urgent case of distress he has discovered among the poor and sorrowful." as it was rather late when ned arrived at the church with his weapon, and the keg of powder was in its last quarter, he thought he'd make up for lost time. so he slipped in three bullets, instead of one, with his first load, and in his excitement rammed them so hard as almost to weld them together. the consequence was that, when he discharged it, a large sliver was torn from the spire, and at the same time he found himself rolling over into the gutter, a very peculiar case of distress, indeed. when deacon graham saw how fast the ammunition was disappearing, while the desultory firing produced no effect upon the kite, he thought some better plan should be devised, and conceived of a way in which, as he believed, concerted action might accomplish the desired result. but when he tried to explain it to the crowd, everybody was excited, and nobody paid the slightest attention to him. the spectators partook of the general excitement, and applauded the performance. "bang away, boys! never mind the deacon!" said the pastor's son, as he pulled both triggers of a neat little double-barrelled shot-gun. "_epigrus via, generosissimi tormentarii!_ peg away, most noble gunners!" shouted holman. the deacon, who had been growing more and more excited, was now beside himself. in his desperation, he sat down upon the keg of powder, and declared that no more should be used till he was listened to. whereupon the pastor's son produced a lucifer match, lighted it, and declared that if the deacon didn't get up at once, he'd send him kiting. "get up, or go up," was the laconic way in which he put it; and the deacon got up. "i'll tell you, deacon," said one of the huntsmen, "a chain-shot would be the thing to break that string with." "you shall have it," said the deacon, and off he posted down town again, to order chain-shot. but the article was not to be had, and when he returned, the kite still rode triumphant. the trustees held a meeting on the steps of the church. "now don't get excited," said mr. simmons, the calmest of them; "the first shower will bring down the kite. we've only to go off quietly about our business, and leave it to nature." "i don't know about that," said monkey roe, in a low tone, to one of the boys who had crowded around to learn what the trustees would do. "the back of that kite is pretty thoroughly greased. it'll shed water like a duck, and nothing less than a heavy hail-storm can bring it down." "how do you know that, young man?" said mr. simmons, who overheard him. "why," said monkey, seeing that he had betrayed himself, "you see--the fact is--i--i--saw a little bird try to light on the kite, but he slipped off so quick i knew it must be greased." "humph!" said mr. simmons. "that's a likely story." "brother simmons," said deacon graham, "we can't wait for a storm,--there is no prospect of any. if we don't dispose of this thing pretty soon, i'm afraid it'll make us ridiculous." nobody was able to suggest any means of relief. perhaps a sailor could have climbed the lightning-rod; but there was no sailor in town, and half way up the spire the rod was broken and a section was missing. there seemed to be no way short of building a scaffolding to the top of the steeple, which would have cost considerable money. the pastor's son took monkey roe aside. "your prophesy has been nobly fulfilled," said he, "and you've given us a tremendous piece of fun. get us up another as good as this." the result of the deliberations of the trustees was, that they resolved to offer a reward of twenty dollars to any one who would get the kite off from the steeple; and this offer was formally proclaimed to the crowd by deacon graham. hardly had the proclamation been made, when phaeton rogers, who had conceived a plan for getting down the kite, and had been preparing the necessary implements, appeared on the scene with his equipment. this consisted of a powerful hickory bow, about as tall as himself, two heavy arrows, and a large ball of the best kite-string. after measuring with his eye the height of the steeple and the direction of the kite, phaeton said he must mount to the roof of the church. "certainly, young man," said deacon graham; "anything you want, and twenty dollars reward if you'll get that thing down. here, sexton, show this young gentleman the way to the roof." phaeton passed in at the door with the sexton, and soon reappeared on the roof. the crowd seemed to watch him with considerable interest. standing on the ridge-pole, he strung his bow. then he unwound a large part of the ball of string, and laid it out loosely on the roof; after which he tied the end of it to one of the arrows, and laid the arrow across his bow. a murmur of approbation ran through the crowd, as they thought they saw his plan. pointing the arrow upward at a slight angle from the perpendicular, and drawing it to the head, he discharged it. the shaft ascended gracefully on one side of the string of the kite, and descended on the other side. [illustration: "pointing the arrow upward at an angle, phaeton drew it to the head."] at sight of this, the crowd burst into applause, supposing that the task was virtually accomplished. it would have been easy enough now to take hold of the two ends of the string that had been carried by the arrow, and by simply pulling bring down the kite. but this would not have taken off the hoop from the top of the spire, and it would have been necessary to break off the kite-string, leaving more or less of it attached to the hoop, to float on the breeze like a streamer till it rotted away. phaeton intended to make a cleaner job than that. when the arrow fell upon the ground, ned, by his brother's direction, picked it up and held it just as it was. phaeton threw down the ball of string still unwound, and then descended to the ground. he very quickly made a slip-knot on the end of the string, passed the ball through it, and then, by pulling carefully and steadily on the ball-end, made the slip-knot slide up till it reached the string of the kite. before it was pulled up tight, he walked out on the square in a direction to pull the slip-knot as close as possible to the hoop. this done, he placed himself, with the string in his hand, on the spot where he supposed the one who got up the kite must have stood while putting the hoop over the point of the lightning-rod. that is to say, he walked from the church in such a direction, and to such a distance, that the string he held in his hand formed a continuous and (but for the sag) straight line with the string that held the kite to the hoop. he expected, on arriving at this point, to raise his hand, give a jerk or two at the string, and see the hoop slide up and off the rod, from the tendency--caused by the kite's pulling at one end of the string, and himself at the other--to take up the sag. his theory was perfect, but the plan did not work; probably because the wind had died down a little, and the kite was flying lower than when it was first put up. when he saw that the hoop was not to be lifted by this means, he cast about for a further expedient, the crowd meanwhile expressing disappointment and impatience. carrying the string entirely across the square, he stopped in front of the house that was in line with it, and asked permission to ascend to the roof, which was granted. breaking off the string, and telling ned to stand there and hold the end, he put the ball into his pocket, took a pebble in his hand, and went up through the house and came out at the scuttle. tying the pebble to the end of the string, he threw it down to his brother, who tied the end of the string to the end he had been holding. phaeton then drew it up, and once more pulled at the hoop. it stuck a little at first; but as he alternately pulled and slackened, it was started at last, and began to slide up the lightning-rod; whereupon the crowd set up a shout, and a great many people remarked that they knew all the while the boy would succeed. but the hoop only rose to a point about half way between its former resting-place and the tip of the rod, and there it remained. no sleight-of-hand that phaeton could exercise would make it rise another inch. if the wind had freshened, so as to make the kite sail higher, the hoop would have slid to the top of the rod at once. but the wind did not freshen, and there was no taller building anywhere in line with the string than the one phaeton was standing on. the crowd expressed disappointment again, some of them groaned, and remarked that they had been confident all the while the boy couldn't do it. "ned," said phaeton, "come up here." ned went up. "now," said phaeton, "stand right in this spot; hold the string just as you see me holding it now; and try to pull on it just hard enough to make the hoop hang loosely around the rod instead of being held close against it either by the tugging of the kite one way, or by your pulling the other." "i understand," said ned. "i'll do my best." phaeton then went back to the church, and ascended to the roof again with his bow and arrow and the ball of string. laying out the string as before, and tying the end to the arrow, he shot it over the kite-string so that the arrow fell upon the roof. making a slip-knot as before, he pulled upon the end of his string till the knot slid up to the kite-string at a point pretty near the hoop. he now broke off the string, leaving it just long enough to reach from the point where it was attached to the kite-string straight down to where he stood on the roof. he tied the end to his arrow, and, drawing the shaft to the head, shot it straight upward. as the arrow left the bow, the crowd cheered again, for it was evident that when the arrow, in its course, should reach a point as far above the kite-string as phaeton was below it, it would begin to pull the kite-string upward, and if it had force enough to go a yard or two higher, it must, of course, pull the hoop off from the rod. but it lacked force enough. it rose till it had almost straightened the string it was carrying, and then wearily turned its head and dropped to the roof again. the crowd groaned, and some of them left for their homes or their business, saying they knew all the while that foolery wouldn't work. phaeton sat down on the ridge-pole of the church, put his head between his hands, and thought. while he sat there, the crowd shouted all sorts of advice to him, most of which was intended to be sarcastic, though some spoke seriously enough, as those who suggested that he use a larger bow and a lighter string. after some moments he got up, went to the arrow, and detached it from the string; then, taking the end of the string between his palms, he rolled it and rolled it, until he had very greatly hardened the twist. if you have ever twisted a piece of common string up tight, and then, taking the two ends between your thumb and finger, let go of the middle, you know what it does. it doubles and twists itself together, in the vain effort to untwist. when phaeton had tightened the twist of his string as much as he could, he tied the arrow on again, laid it across his bow, pointed it toward the zenith, drew it to the head, and once more discharged it. while the arrow was climbing, the string--wherever the slack folds of it hung near enough to one another--was doubling and twisting together, thus greatly shortening itself. the arrow had not gone much more than half its former distance above the kite-string when it arrived at the end of its own now shortened string, and gave such a jerk as pulled the hoop clear up from the end of the lightning-rod. when the crowd saw this, they burst into a tremendous cheer, threw their caps into the air, and bestowed all sorts of compliments upon phaeton. phaeton took off his hat and made a low bow to the people, and then disappeared through the little door in the tower, by which he had gained access to the roof. he soon reappeared, emerging from the front door, and then ran across the square, to the house where ned still stood on the roof, like a statue, or casabianca, waiting for his next orders. "haul her in," said phaeton, and ned immediately began winding in the kite, using his left forearm as a reel, and passing the string around his elbow and through the notch between his thumb and forefinger. he wound on everything as he came to it--hoop, mottoes, even phaeton's arrow. phaeton stood in the street before the house, caught the kite by the tail as it approached the ground, and soon had it secure. he broke off the string, and ned came down through the house. an immense crowd surrounded them, and impeded their progress as they started for home. "jump into my carriage; i'll take you home," said the driver of an open barouche, who had stopped to see the performance, and like everybody else was intensely interested in it. phaeton was instantly seized in the arms of three or four men and lifted into the carriage. then ned was lifted in the same way and seated beside him. then the kite was stood up on the front seat, leaning against the driver's back, with its astonishing motto staring the boys in the face. lukey finnerty, who had been proudly holding ned's musket for him, handed it up, and it was placed aslant of the seat between the two boys. the bow, brought by the sexton, was placed beside it, and the carriage then moved off, while a large number of boys followed in its wake, three of them being suspended from the hind axle by their hands, while their feet were drawn up to clear the ground. [illustration: riding home in the barouche.] "why is he carrying away that kite?" said deacon graham, asking the question in a general way, as if he expected the crowd to answer it in concert. "that belongs to the church." "_sic nodus_--not so," said isaac holman. "it belongs to him; he made it." "ah, ha!" said the deacon; "i smell a mice, i s-m-e-l-l a mice!" as the driver had recently procured his new and handsome barouche, and was anxious to exhibit it, he drove rather slowly and took a somewhat circuitous route. all the way along, people were attracted to their windows. as the carriage was passing through west street, phaeton colored a little when he saw three ladies standing on an upper balcony, and lifted his hat with some trepidation when the youngest of them bowed. the next moment she threw a bouquet, which landed in the carriage and was picked up and appropriated by ned. "i am inclined to think," said phaeton, "that bouquet was intended for me." "was it?" said ned. "then take it, of course. i could buy one just like it for a quarter, if i cared for flowers. but, by the way, fay, what are you going to do with the twenty dollars you've won? that's considerable money." "i am going to put it to the best possible use for money," said phaeton. "i didn't know there was any one use better than all others," said ned. "what is it?" "to pay a debt," said phaeton. "i never should have guessed that," said ned; "and i don't believe many people think so." as they rode by jack's box, jack, who stood in the door, learned for the first time what monkey roe had wanted the scripture motto for. they also passed aunt mercy's house, and their aunt and miss pinkham were on the piazza. ned stood up in the carriage and swung his hat. phaeton saluted his aunt more quietly. "what in the world are those boys doing in that barouche?" said aunt mercy. "i don't know, but i'll go and find out," said miss pinkham, and she ran to the gate and got the story from one of the dublin boys, who spoke of phaeton and ned as "the rogers boys," without differentiating them, as a scientific man would say. miss pinkham returned to the piazza and repeated the whole story. "edmund burton always was a smart boy," said aunt mercy. "i could have predicted he would be the one to get that kite off. he'd find a way to scrape the spots off the sun, if they wanted him to. but i don't see why that stupid brother of his should be stuck up there to share his glory." when it came to the question of paying the reward, deacon graham stoutly opposed the payment, on the ground that phaeton himself had been concerned in putting the kite on the steeple--or, at least, had furnished the kite--for the very purpose of getting it down as he did. he said "no boy could fool him,--it was too long since he was a boy himself,"--which seemed to me a very singular reason. it looked for a while as if phaeton would not get the money; but the other trustees investigated the matter, rejected the deacon's theory, and paid the reward. on their complaint, monkey roe was brought before 'squire moore, the police justice, to answer for his roguery. the court-room was full, about half the spectators being boys. "what is your name?" said the justice. "i'm not sure that i know," said monkey. "not know your own name? how's that?" "because, my mother calls me monty, my father calls me james, and the boys call me monkey roe." "i suppose the boys are more numerous than your parents?" said the justice. "much more," said monkey. "and you probably answer somewhat more readily when they call?" "i'm afraid i do." "then," said the justice, "we'll consider the weight of evidence to be in favor of the name monkey roe, and i'll enter it thus on the record." as he wrote it down, he murmured: "we've often had richard roe arraigned in this court, but never monkey, i believe." "now, monkey, i'm going to ask a question, which you need not answer unless you choose to. did you, on saturday night last, between the hours of sunset and sunrise, raise, fly, and elevate one six-cornered paper kite, bearing a motto or sentiment from the sacred book called leviticus, and tie, fix, anchor, attach, or fasten the same to the lightning-rod that surmounts the spire, or steeple, of the first church of the sect or denomination known and designated as baptist, fronting and abutting on independence square in this city?" "to the best of my knowledge and belief, i did," said monkey. "please state to the court, monkey, your motives, if you had any, for this wicked and atrocious act." in answer to this, monkey told briefly and clearly the whole story, which the reader already knows, beginning at the point where he "just stopped half a second, sunday morning, to see how that boy's kite pulled." when he came to the scene in the sunday-school room, he gave it with a dramatic effect that was well calculated to arouse sympathy for himself. 'squire moore had been as much interested as anybody in the kite on the steeple, and had laughed his enormous sides sore when he scanned it and its appendages through patsy's glass. when monkey had finished his story, the 'squire delivered the decision of the court in a little speech. "i have searched the revised statutes," said he, "and have consulted the best authorities; but i look in vain to find any statute which makes it a penal office to attach a kite to a steeple. the common law is silent on the subject, and none of the authorities mention any precedent. you have succeeded, young man, in committing a misdemeanor for which there is no penalty, and the court is, therefore, obliged to discharge you, with the admonition never to do so any more." as monkey left the bar, there was a rush for the door, the boys getting out first. they collected in a body in front of the building, and, when he appeared, gave him three tremendous cheers, with three others for 'squire moore,--in which performance the pastor's son was conspicuous. but when monkey came to face the domestic tribunal over which his father presided, he found that a lack of precedent was no bar to the administration of justice in that court. about a week later, a package addressed to me, and bearing the business-card of a well-known tailor, was left at our door. when i opened it, i found a new sunday suit, to replace the one which had been ruined when phaeton wore it to the fire. it must have taken about all of his reward money to pay for it. for years afterward, the boys used to allude to that season as "the summer we had two fourth-of-julys." the scars made by the bullets on the steeple were never healed, and you can see them now, if you chance to pass that way. chapter xix. a conquest. when, at length, phaeton got an answer from the chief engineer concerning his invention, it seemed rather surly. "this thing won't do at all, boy," said he. "it can't be made to work on a large scale." and he handed the drawing to phaeton, and then turned his back to him and resumed his work. phaeton thrust it into his pocket, and walked out of the shop, quite crestfallen. when he told us about it, ned became indignant. "i don't believe a word of it," said he; "i see through the whole plot. the chief engineer has entered into a conspiracy with himself to crush out your invention, because he knows it would do away with all the fire-engines and hook-and-ladders, and the city wouldn't need a chief engineer any more, and he couldn't draw that nice little salary of a thousand dollars just for running to fires and bossing things." "i didn't know that the firemen got any pay," said i. "i thought it was only a patriotic duty,--besides all the fun." "that's just it," said ned. "the men who do the hard work don't get a cent; but the chief engineer, who has more fun than any of us,--for he can choose the best place to see the fire from, and can order the engines to play any way he likes,--gets a thousand dollars a year." i thought almost everybody had had a better place than ned's to see the novelty works' fire, but kept my thoughts to myself. "i'll spoil that job for him," continued ned. "how can you do it?" said i. "by getting fay's invention patented, and then having it brought before the common council at their very next meeting. we might let this city use it free; that would give us a great reputation for patriotism, and bring it into notice, and then we could make all the other cities pay a big price for it." "wouldn't some people oppose it?" said i. "yes, the boys would, because it spoils all the fun of fires; and the chief engineers would, because it spoils their salaries; but all the other people would go for it, because it saves millions of dollars' worth of property. the women, especially, would be friendly to it, because it saves the scare." "what do you mean by that?" said i, not quite understanding him. "why, you must know," said ned, "that when a woman wakes up in the middle of the night and finds the four walls of her room on fire, and the floor hotter than an oven, and the ceiling cracking open, and the bed-clothes blazing, she's awfully scared, as a general thing." "i don't doubt it," said i. "but fay's invention puts out the fires so quick, besides keeping them from spreading, that it saves all that anguish of mind, as well as the property." "it seems to me it's a good plan," said i, referring to ned's proposal for taking out a patent at once. "then we'll go to aunt mercy and get the money right away," said he. "what do you say, fay?" this conversation took place in the printing-office. phaeton, after telling us the result of his interviews with the chief engineer, had taken no further part in it, but busied himself setting type. "i've no special objection," said he, in answer to ned's question. "then let's have your drawing," said ned, and with that in hand, he and i set off for aunt mercy's. "i don't feel quite right," said ned, as we went along, "about the way aunt mercy has always misunderstood these things. this time i am determined to make her understand it right." "you mean to let her know that it's phaeton's invention, and not yours?" said i. "that's the main thing," said he. "i've got a good deal of credit that belonged to him; but i never meant to take it. she has always managed to misunderstand, somehow, and i could never see any way to correct it without spoiling the whole business." "but if you tell her that, will she let you have the money?" said i. "not so easily, of course," said ned; "but still aunt mercy's a good-hearted woman, after all, and i think i can talk her into doing the generous thing by fay." we found aunt mercy apparently in an unpleasant mood, from some mysterious cause. but ned talked away in a lively manner, and when she began to brighten up, he gradually approached the subject which he really had in mind. "aunty," said he, sympathetically, "don't you ever feel afraid of fire?" "yes, indeed, edmund burton," said she. "i'm afraid of it all the time, especially since i've had this new girl in the kitchen. it seems to me she's very careless." "if your house should take fire in the night, and burn up the stairs the first thing, how would you get out?" said ned. "i really don't know," said she. "i ought, by good rights, to be taken out of the window and down a ladder by some gallant fireman. but it seems to me they don't have any such gentlemen now for firemen as they used to. they're more of a rowdy set." "they're certainly not very gentle," said ned. "did you hear how they knocked mr. glidden's house and furniture to pieces at the last fire?" "yes; but why were they allowed to do so?" said aunt mercy. "that's it," said ned. "somebody, out of all the people there, ought to have had sense enough to stop them. as for myself, i wasn't there. i was going, but was detained on the way." "if you had been, you'd have stopped them, i've no doubt," said his aunt. "i should have tried to, i hope," said ned. "and now, aunty, i'd like to show you a little invention for doing away with all those horrors." "something you want me to furnish money to make a muddle of, i suppose?" said she. "well, yes, if it pleases you," and here ned produced the drawing of the fire-extinguisher. "and now i want to tell you, aunty, that this is not my own invention, but my brother's; and i think it's about the best that he's ever made." "u-m-m-m," said aunt mercy. ned then proceeded to explain the drawing. "i see it all quite plainly," said aunt mercy, when he had finished. "my house takes fire----" "i hope not," said ned. "the alarm is given, and this thing is brought out----" "just so," said ned. "in about a minute it is clapped right down over the house----" "precisely," said ned. "and smothers the fire instantly----" "that's it exactly," said ned. "and smothers me in it, as well." ned was dumbfounded for a moment, but soon came to his senses. "as to that," said he, "it's to be supposed that you'd run out of the house just before we put on the extinguisher. but the fact is, you've suggested an improvement already. i guess fay must have inherited his inventive genius from you. of course we shall have to build the extinguisher with several flaps, like tent-doors, so that if there _are_ any people in the house, they can easily escape." "and you think i ought to furnish that brother of yours the money necessary to make a proper muddle of this thing?" "i should be glad if you would," said ned. "well," said aunt mercy, "there's a piece of his work in the kitchen now. i wish you'd step out and look at it, and _then_ tell me what you think." ned and i walked out to the kitchen. there stood the skeletons of half a dozen chairs--those from which we had taken the rounds to make our rope-ladder. "those look well, don't they?" said aunt mercy, who had followed us. "they belonged to my great-grandfather, and were probably not new in his time. i had them stored at your house, and yesterday i sent a furniture man to get them and polish them up for me. he brings them home in this plight, and tells me the mischief has been done recently, for the saw-cuts are all fresh. they were priceless relics; i wouldn't have taken ten dollars apiece for them; and your brother has ruined every one of them." ned was staggered, and i wondered what he would find to say. but he was equal to the occasion. "aunty," said he, "fay didn't do that----" "don't tell me, child; nobody but a boy would ever have thought of such mischief." "very true," said ned; "it _was_ a boy--two boys--and we two are the ones." aunt mercy turned pale with astonishment. apparently it had never occurred to her that ned could do any mischief. "we sawed out the rounds," he continued, "to make a rope-ladder. but we didn't know the chairs were good for anything, or we wouldn't have touched them. if there's any way we can put them in again, we'll do it. i suppose we can get them all--except a few that the policeman carried off." aunt mercy was still more confounded. "rope-ladder"--"policeman"--that sounded like robbery and state-prison. "go home, edmund burton," said she, as soon as she could get her breath. "go home at once, and take away out of my house this bad boy who has led you into evil ways." ned wanted to explain my innocence; but i took myself out of the house with all possible haste, and he soon followed. "it's of no use," said he. "aunt mercy's heavily prejudiced against me." when all this was told at the rogers's breakfast-table next morning, mr. rogers could not help laughing heartily. he said his sister valued the chairs far above their real worth, though of course that did not excuse us for sawing out the rounds. "but as for patenting your invention, boys," said he, "you need not trouble yourselves. it has been tried." "how can it have been tried?" said phaeton. "as a great many others are," said his father. "by being stolen first. the reason why our worthy chief engineer kept putting you off, was because he thought it was a good invention and wanted to appropriate it. he had a model built, and applied for a patent through lawyer stevens, from whom i have the information. the application was rejected by the patent office, and he had just received notice of it when you called on him yesterday, and found him so surly. his model cost him forty dollars, the patent office fee on a rejected application is fifteen dollars, and he had to pay his lawyer something besides. you can guess at the lawyer's fee, and the express company's charge for taking the model and drawings to washington, and then reckon up how much his dishonesty probably cost him." "but what puzzles me," said ned, "is the rejection. that's such a splendid invention, i should think they would have given it a patent right away." "it does seem so," said mr. rogers, who never liked to discourage the boys by pointing out the fatal defects in their contrivances; "but the commissioner probably had some good reason for it. a great many applications are rejected, for one cause or another." phaeton had suddenly ceased to take any part or interest in the conversation, and ned observed that he was cutting his bread and butter into very queer shapes. one was the profile of a chair; another was a small cylinder, notched on the end. as soon as breakfast was over, phaeton took his hat and disappeared. he went up to his aunt's house, and asked to see the mutilated chairs. "i think they can be mended," said he. "of course they can," said his aunt. "the cabinetmaker can put in new rounds, but those wouldn't be the old rounds, and he'd be obliged to take the chairs apart, more or less, to get them in. i don't want anything new about them, and i don't want them weakened by being pulled apart. unless they are the same old chairs, every splinter of them, that stood in grandfather's dining-room, they can have no value for me." "i think i could put in the old rounds without taking the chairs apart," said phaeton; "and if you'll let me, i'll take one home and try it." "try what you like," said aunt mercy. "you can't make them look any worse than they do now." so phaeton took up one of the ancient chairs, inverted it and placed it on his head as the easiest way of carrying it, and marched home. his next care was to secure the missing rounds. he came over to our house and got the rope-ladder, and then went to the police-station and had the good fortune to recover the piece which the over-shrewd policeman had carried off as evidence. this gave him the whole twenty-four rounds, and it did not take him long to select from them the four that had been sawed from the particular chair which he had in hand. ned and i had done our work hurriedly, and somewhat roughly, and no two were sawed precisely alike. we had sawed them so that stubs, perhaps an inch long, were left sticking out from the legs. phaeton procured a fine saw, and sawed one of the rounds in two, lengthwise, thus splitting it in halves, each of which, of course, had one flat side and one curved side. then he sawed in each of the two stubs which had originally been parts of that same round, a notch, or "shoulder," which cut away about half of the stub,--the upper side of one and the lower side of the other,--carefully saving the pieces that came out of the notches. then he put the two halves of the round together, as they were before being sawed apart,--except that he slid them by each other, lengthwise, a distance equal to the length of the notches in the stubs. [illustration: how the chair was mended.] now, as he held the reconstructed round in its place in the chair, it just fitted, and there was sufficient overlap on the stubs to make a secure fastening possible. near each end there was a small vacant space, into which the pieces that had been cut out to make the notches in the stubs exactly fitted. phaeton procured a pot of glue, and fastened the pieces together and in place. to give the work greater strength, he carefully bored a hole through the stub and the overlapping end of the round, put in a piece of large copper wire, a trifle longer than the hole, and, holding a large hammer against one end, gently pounded on the other with a tack-hammer, till he had flattened it out into a rivet-head; then reversed the hammers, and made a head on the other end. finally, as he had no vise or hand-screws, he placed a strip of wood on each side of the mended round, tied a piece of strong cord in a loose hanging-loop around each end, put a stick through, and twisted them up tight,--the sticks resting against the legs of the chair, which prevented the cords from untwisting. he thus made what a surgeon would call a couple of tourniquets, to hold his work firmly together while the glue was hardening. ned and i had watched all these operations with intense interest. "i tell you what 'tis," said ned, "fay sometimes makes mistakes when he goes sailing off in the realms of imagination with his inventive genius, like that fire-extinguisher; but when you come down to a real thing that's got to be fixed, and nobody else can fix it, he's right there every time." phaeton treated the other three rounds of the chair in the same manner, and then set it away for the glue to harden. when that had taken place, he took off the tourniquets, scraped and sand papered the rounds, so as to leave no unevenness at the edges of the pieces, and then varnished them. waiting for that varnish to dry was one of the severest trials of patience we ever endured. but it was dry at last, and of course ned and i were proud to go with phaeton when he carried home his work. he left the chair in the hall, where ned and i also remained, and went in first to speak to his aunt. "seems to me things are mightily changed," said ned, in a humiliated tone, "when fay walks in to see aunt mercy, and i stay outside. but i suppose it's all right." we heard his aunt say to phaeton: "i'd given up looking for you. i thought you'd find you couldn't do it; but i know you tried hard, poor boy, and i'm just as much obliged to you." presently phaeton came out and got the chair, and this time we went in with him. he set it down before his astonished aunt, and carefully explained to her the whole process, showing her that not a splinter of any but the original wood had been used. that cobbled-up old chair went straight to aunt mercy's heart, and seated phaeton in her affections forever. she made us stay and take tea with her, and after tea we took home the other five chairs, to be similarly treated; phaeton marching first with two on his head, then ned with two more, and i bringing up the rear with the odd one on my head. [illustration: taking home the chairs.] chapter xx. rings, scissors, and boots. phaeton's fame as an inventor and general engineer was growing rapidly among the boys. they had great faith in his powers, and in some of them a similar inventive spirit was awakened, though none of them accomplished much. they very commonly came to consult him when they thought they had an idea. one day holman came to the printing-office when we were all there,--including jimmy, who, with the help of wilson's "treatise on punctuation," was learning to read proof,--and said he thought he knew how we could make a fortune. "that's a good thing to know," said phaeton. "but i can't be quite sure that i do know it," said holman, "till i talk with you about some parts of the scheme." "i shall be glad to help you if i can," said phaeton. "i don't care to make any secret of it," continued holman, "because, if it can be carried out, we shall have to make a sort of joint-stock company, and take in several of the boys." "will it make us a fortune apiece?" said ned, "or only one fortune, to be divided up among the company?" "that depends on how much you consider a fortune," answered holman. "the main thing i want to know, fay, is this: whether it is possible to invent some way of going under water, and working there, without a big, heavy diving-bell." "i think," said phaeton, "that other and lighter apparatus has been invented already; but if not, i should think it could be." "then we are all right," said holman. "i know where the fortune is,--there's no uncertainty about that,--but it's under water a few feet, and it won't do to go for it with any large and noticeable machinery." "fay can easily invent a pocket diving-bell," said ned. "do you know the history of venice?" said holman. phaeton said he knew the outlines of her history, jimmy said he knew about the bucentaur and the brass horses, but ned and i confessed total ignorance. "i've just been reading it," said holman, "and that's where i got my idea. you must know that when venice was a rich republic, the doge--who was the same as a president or mayor--used to go out once a year in a big row-boat called the bucentaur, with banners and streamers, and a brass band, and a lot of jolly fellows, and marry the adriatic sea, as they called it. that is, he threw a splendid wedding-ring into the water, and then i suppose they all gave three cheers, and fired a salute, and had some lemonade, and perhaps made speeches that were a little tedious, like those we have to listen to at school on examination-day. at any rate, he threw in the ring, and that's the important thing." "what was all that for?" said ned. "jack-in-the-box told me," said holman, "it was because the venetians were a sea-going people, and all their wealth came from commerce, and so this ceremony signified their devotion to the sea. but, as i was saying, this was done regularly every year for six hundred and twenty years; and what makes it lucky for us is, that it was always done at the same spot--the porto di lido, a channel through that long, narrow island that lies a little off shore." "i don't see where the luck for us comes in," said i. "if the doges had been our grandfathers, and bequeathed us the rings instead of throwing them away, there might be some luck in that." "wait till you see what i'm coming to," said holman. "the adriatic is a shallow sea,--i've looked up all the facts,--and my idea is, that we might as well have those rings as for them to lie there doing nobody any good." "how much are they worth?" said ned. "you can calculate it for yourself," said holman. "as i said before, the ceremony was repeated every year for six hundred and twenty years. of course, we might not get quite all of them--throw off the twenty; there are six hundred rings. they must have been splendid ones, and were probably worth at least a hundred dollars apiece. there's sixty thousand dollars, all in a huddle in that one spot." "but don't you suppose," said ned, "that after a while those cunning old doges would stop throwing in solid gold rings with real diamonds on them, and use brass ones washed with gold, and paste diamonds?" "i think not," said holman; "for they didn't have to pay for them--the bill was footed by the common council. and they couldn't try that without getting caught. for of course the ring would be on exhibition a week or so in the window of some fashionable jewelry store, and the newspapers would tell that it was furnished by the celebrated establishment of so-and-so." "but don't you suppose," said phaeton, "that as soon as it was dark, some fellow went out quietly in a little skiff, and dove for the rings? some of those italians are wonderful divers." "i think not," said holman; "for the ring would be of no use to a venetian; he wouldn't dare offer it for sale." "how do you propose to get them?" "my plan is, first, to invent some kind of diving apparatus that is small, and can be packed in a valise; then, for us to save up all the money we can get, till we have enough to pay the travelling expenses of two of us from here to venice. we could go cheap in a sailing-vessel. suppose you and i went, fay; we'd ask the venetians about the fishing, and buy or hire some tackle, and put a lunch in our valise, with the diving apparatus, and get a skiff and start off. i've planned the very course. when you leave the city you steer a little east of north-east; row about four miles, and there you are." "that's easy enough," said i,--"only a little over half the distance from here to charlotte, which we've all rowed scores of times." "when we get there," holman continued, "we'll fish a while to lull suspicion, and then i'll quietly get into the diving apparatus and drop into the water, with the valise in my hand. it wouldn't take me long to scoop up those rings, once i got amongst them; then, of course, fay would haul me up, and we'd hurry home and divide. we could easily turn the rings into money." "i should think we might get more for them as curiosities than as old gold," said i. "that's a good idea," said holman. "but we mustn't be in a hurry to sell them _all_," said jimmy the rhymer. "when a fellow grows up and gets engaged, one of those would be an awful romantic thing to give to the lady." "i know a better way than that to get them, though," said ned. "let's hear." "just invent some kind of magnet that'll stick to gold, as a common magnet sticks to iron, and put a good strong one in the butt end of your fish-pole; then, when the venetians were looking, you could be fishing; and when they were not looking, you could drop the big end of the pole into the water, poke around a little on the bottom, and haul up a ring. maybe sometimes you'd haul up a dozen at once, all sticking together like a cluster of grapes." whether holman was in earnest, or was only testing the credulity of us younger boys, i never knew; but we took it all in good faith, and went home that night to dream of loading our fingers with rings, and spending sixty thousand dollars divided into five shares. however holman may have been jesting in this scheme for acquiring a fortune for himself, it was not many days after this when he actually entered upon a rather ludicrous performance to get a little money for somebody else. there were two red rovers in our town--in fact, there were three. the reader has already made the acquaintance of the fire-company and engine known as red rover three. a man who had once belonged to that company, but was now past the prime of life, and honorably retired from the service, made his living by grinding knives and scissors. but he was too much of a yankee to go about with a wheel in a little frame strapped upon his back, and a bell in his hand, to be rung monotonously, from street to street. he built a peculiar carriage,--a square framework, about four feet high and six feet long,--running on four large wheels, wherein was a bewildering mass of machinery. standing behind it, and laying his hands upon two great brass knobs, he walked slowly through the streets, pushing it before him in a dignified manner, to the awe of the boys and the wonderment of the whole town. it went with an easy motion, the wheels making only a subdued and gentle noise. surmounting it in front was a large bell, which was struck at solemn and impressive intervals. this apparatus both increased his patronage and elevated the dignity of the profession. he had no vulgar and noisy cry, soliciting custom in a half-intelligible jargon. people who wanted their scissors ground came to the doors with them when they heard his bell. then the wheels of the chariot stopped, the charioteer lifted his hat in salutation, and the negotiation seemed like a matter of friendly favor, rather than bargain and pay. in order to grind, he opened a little gate in the rear of the machine, stepped inside, closed the gate behind him, and seated himself upon a small shelf which was fastened to the gate. his feet were then placed upon two pedals, and the machinery began to move. five small grindstones, of different sizes and fineness, revolved before him. at his right hand was a little anvil; at his left was a vise; and under this was a box of small tools. about the middle of the machine, on the top, was a small figure of a scottish highlander, with bag-pipes under his arm. the bag--which was of painted tin--was filled with water; and a plug, withdrawn from the longest of the pipes, allowed the water to trickle down upon the knife-wheel. scissors were generally ground on a dry wheel. when the machinery was in motion, the pipes played something, intended for music, between a squeak and a whistle; so that when he was travelling, the bell rang, and when he was grinding, the pipes played. on one of the front corners was a little bronze bust of washington, and on the other was one of franklin; between them was a clock, with a marine movement. the whole frame and running gear were painted a bright red, and garnished with shining brass ornaments. the man called his machine red rover, after the beloved engine with which he used to run, and the name appeared on the side in brass letters. it seemed as if he must spend the greater part of his earnings on its improvement and embellishment. the man himself, whose hair was broadly streaked with gray, was called "the old red rover," and we never knew him by any other name. he lived in a little bit of a house by the canal; and the machine, which was always kept in shining order, had to be taken in-doors every night. how he managed to find room in the house for himself, his wife, and his four children, besides the machine, we could never imagine--and it was none of our business. that little house by the canal was as much the old red rover's castle as the palaces that you and i live in, dear reader, are ours. i think it was a week after our conversation concerning the doge's rings, when, one saturday, ned and i heard the bell ring, and saw the red rover coming up state street, with isaac holman propelling it, instead of its owner. this was rather astonishing, and, of course, an immediate explanation was demanded. "why, you see," said holman, "mother had been for a long time wishing the old red rover would come around, for every pair of scissors in the house was as dull as a dutch grammar. at last she got tired of waiting, and so i went to his house with them. i found he was laid up with rheumatism, and hadn't been out for five weeks. it looked to me as if the family were on short rations, and i began to think what i could do for them. i thought the best thing would be, to take the machine and spend the day in going around grinding scissors, and at night take home the money to the old red rover." "yes," said ned, "that's the very best thing; it's more fun than anything else you could have thought of." "he was rather afraid to let me try it," continued holman, "but mrs. the-old-red-rover was greatly pleased with the idea, and soon persuaded him. 'be very tender with her--she's the pride of my life,' said he, as we rolled it out of the door; and he didn't mean his wife--he meant the machine." we had often kept this machine company as it passed through the streets in charge of its owner, and it was doubly interesting now when one of our own number was allowed to run it. so, of course, we went along with holman on his benevolent tour. other boys also joined us, and the unusually large crowd attracted attention. we were all ready to explain the situation to people who stood in the doors or looked out at the windows, and the result was that holman had plenty of work. [illustration: the boys run the red rover.] soon after turning into west street, he began to go much more slowly. at the house where miss glidden had been living since the fire, nobody appeared at door or window. it happened that right here something got out of order in the machine--at least, holman said it did, and he had to stop stock-still and tinker at it a long time; but i was not able to see what was out of order. at last miss glidden appeared at the door, and inquired what was going on. monkey roe ran up the steps and informed her. "it's entirely out of mercy," said he, "and you'd be doing a benevolent thing to give him as many scissors as possible to sharpen." miss glidden invited him in, and soon collected three pairs of scissors and a pair of shears, which she requested him to take out and have ground for her. "is this all you have?" said he, in a tone signifying that he considered it a very small crop. "there may be more," said she. "biddy"--to the servant--"bring here any scissors you have that need grinding." biddy brought from the kitchen a pair that were used to trim lamps. "is this all, biddy?" said monkey. "i don't know--i'll see, sir," said biddy; and monkey followed her to the kitchen. next to it he found a sort of combined work-room and store-room, the door of which stood open, and, looking over its contents, soon discovered a pair of tinsmith's shears, a pair of sheep-shears, a drawing-knife, a cooper's adze, and a rusty broad-axe, all of which, with the family carving-knife, brought by biddy, he added to the collection, and came down the steps with them in his arms. "here, holman," said he, "miss glidden wants you to sharpen these few things for the good cause." "_boni cani calcei!_--good gracious!" exclaimed holman, "does she think i'm hercules?" "no," said monkey, in a low tone, "but i guess she thinks you're her--admirer." "but i suppose it must be done," isaac added, not hearing monkey's remark. and he took off his jacket and went to work manfully. the scissors were soon disposed of, as were also the carving-knife and the drawing-knife; but the other articles were somewhat troublesome. about all he could do with the broad-axe was to grind off the rust that completely coated it. the tinsmith's shears were a heavy job, and the sheep-shears completely baffled him, till he gave up trying to sharpen them on the grindstone, and, finding a file in the tool-box, applied that to their edges, against the solemn protest of monkey roe, who declared it would take the temper out of the steel. "and when miss glidden sees them, it may bring her temper out too," he added. "can't help it," said holman, "and now the lot's finished; you may take it in and collect the pay." he had just begun to study book-keeping, and, opening a little drawer in the machine, he found a scrap of paper, and made out this bill: miss v. glidden. to mr. the old red rover. _dr._ to sharpening 3 prs. scissors, @ 6c $0 18 " 2 " shears, @ 8c 16 " 1 pr. tinsmith's shears 15 " 1 " sheep-shears 10 " 1 drawing-knife 8 " 1 adze 6 " 1 broad-axe 20 " 1 carving-knife 8 --- $1.01 received payment, the old red rover, pr. holman. monkey took this and the armful of cutlery, and carried them in to miss glidden, who was somewhat surprised, as she had not known exactly what he was about. however, she laughingly paid the bill, and he carefully piled the articles on the parlor table, and came away. i observed that holman put the dollar into the drawer where he had put all the other money, but the cent he put into his pocket. then he took another cent from another pocket, and threw it into the drawer. we had travelled perhaps half a mile farther, and holman had ground something like forty pairs of scissors in all, when we were joined by phaeton, who watched him as he ground the next pair. "is that the way you've ground them all?" said he, when it was finished. "yes, of course--why?" said holman. "because if you have, you've ruined every pair you've touched," said phaeton. "don't you know that scissors must be ground on the edge of the blade, not on the side, like a knife? if you grind away the sides, the blades can't touch each other, and so can't cut at all." "i declare, i believe that's so," said holman. "i thought it was kind of queer that none of the scissors would really cut anything; but i was sure i had made them sharp, and so supposed they were all old, worn-out things that wouldn't cut, any way. i guess you'd better take my place, fay." phaeton declined to do this, but went along as confidential adviser. we wound about through a great number of streets, the accompanying crowd of boys being sometimes larger and sometimes smaller, and ground a great many knives and scissors. on turning a corner into a by-street that bore the proud name of fairfax, we came suddenly upon jimmy the rhymer. he was sitting on a bowlder, with a quantity of printed bills over his left arm, a paste-brush in his right hand, and a small bucket of paste on the ground beside him. he looked tired and melancholy. the outward situation was soon explained. a man who had kept a cobbler's shop for many years, but had recently enlarged it into something like a shoe-store, had employed us to print some bills to be posted up on the fences and dead-walls, announcing the event. they began with the startling legend, printed in our largest type, go it boots! which was followed by an account of the new store and new goods, the favorite rhetorical figure being hyperbole. looking about for some one to post them who would do it more cheaply than the regular bill-poster of the town, he had thought of jimmy the rhymer, who accepted the job because he wanted to earn a little money. "are you sick, jimmy?" said phaeton, observing his dejection. "not in body," said jimmy, "but i am sick in mind--sick at heart." "why, what's the matter?" "look at that," said jimmy, slowly raising his hand and pointing at one of the bills which he had just posted on a barn-door. "go it boots!"--he quoted it very slowly. "what do i care about going it boots? i couldn't go it boots if i wanted to. there is no more going it boots for me in this world." "i don't quite understand you," said phaeton. "i mean," said jimmy, "that my soul yearns for poetry--for the beautiful in nature and art. and it disgusts me to think of spending my time in spreading such literature as this through the world." "that isn't very complimentary to us," said ned. "we spent considerable of our time in printing it." "i suppose you get paid for it," said phaeton. "of course," said jimmy, "or i shouldn't do it at all." "then it seems to me," said phaeton, "you might look upon it cheerfully as only so much drudge-work done to purchase leisure and opportunity for the work you delight in. you know a great many famous men have been obliged to get through the world in that way." "yes, cheer up," said monkey roe. "look at us: we're having lots of fun over drudgier work than yours. come along with us, and we'll make one circus of the whole thing--two entertainments under one canvas, as the bills say. holman has plenty of help, so i'll be your assistant." and he took the brush and paste-bucket, while jimmy still carried the bills, and we all moved on together. as jimmy walked beside the machine, he and holman seemed to resume some former conversation. "can't you make up your mind to do it, if i double the price?" said holman. "on the contrary," said jimmy, "i've made up my mind that i _won't_ do it at _any_ price." "why not?" asked holman. "for two reasons," answered jimmy. "one is, that i don't think it's exactly honest to write such things for anybody else to pass off as his own." "and the other?" said holman. "the other is," said jimmy, speaking much lower, but still so that i who was next to him could hear, "and i may as well tell you plainly, isaac,--the other is, that i have some hopes in that direction myself, and if i write anything more for her, i'll send it as my own." "you?" said holman, in astonishment. "certainly," said jimmy, with great coolness, as if he felt himself master of the situation, "and i think my claim is better than yours. whatever there is between you and her--if there is anything--is entirely of your seeking. but in my case it's all of her seeking; she sent me flowers every day when i was laid up." "that's nothing--that doesn't mean anything," said holman. "if it doesn't, then i've read the poets all wrong," said jimmy. "_poetã¦ apis suspensi!_--poets be hanged!" exclaimed isaac, and then gave a prolonged whistle, which closed the conversation. phaeton, who was next to me, and also overheard, opened his mouth as if to say something to jimmy, but checked himself. yet he was so full of his idea that he was obliged to utter it somehow, and so whispered it in my ear: "if it comes to that, my claim is even better than his, for she gave flowers to me when i was not an object of pity." * * * * * the way monkey roe did that job created an epoch in bill-posting. we passed the office of a veterinary surgeon, who had the skeleton of a horse, mounted on a board, for a sign; and before anybody knew what he was about, monkey whipped off one of the bills from jimmy's arm, and pasted it right across the skeleton's ribs. we came to a loaded coal-cart, broken down in the middle of the street by the crushing of a wheel, and he posted one on that. we passed a tobacco-shop, in front of which stood a life-size wooden statue of a bare-legged and plaided highlander; and monkey pasted a go it boots! on his naked shin. we met a beggar who went about on two crutches, but who was known to be an impostor; and after he had passed us, one of the bills was attached to his coat-tail, like the cheapest kind of april-fool. we passed a windmill that had been put up as an experiment, and had failed; and monkey posted a bill on each of the sails--revolving it enough to bring each of them near the ground in turn--and one on the door. there was an omnibus-horse that had fallen by the roadside that morning, and monkey unfeelingly pasted a go it boots! on his poor, dead back. on whatever he saw that couldn't go it at all, he was sure to fasten this advice to go it boots. i think monkey was a very ironical boy. "there, jimmy," said he, as he disposed of the last bill, "you see it's only necessary to approach your work in the right spirit to make it a pleasure, as the school-master says. but i'll tell you what to do, if you don't want to spread this sort of literature. the next time dunderson, or any other cobbler, wants to get out a bill, you write it for him, and put it all in poetry. then it'll be a delight to post it." jimmy said he'd consider it. about five o'clock in the afternoon, when we were all pretty tired, we returned the red rover safely to its home, and holman gladdened mrs. the-old-red-rover with more money than she had seen in a long time, for which she was very grateful. as we turned away, we met their eldest boy, johnny the-old-red-rover, bringing a basketful of bark which he had cut from the oaken logs in the saw-mill yard. before we were out of sight of the house, the smoke curled out of the little chimney, and i've no doubt they celebrated the day with a joyful supper. as we passed the box, we stopped to speak with jack. he was flagging an express train that was creeping slowly into the city, retarded by a hot box. when it had reached the crossing, it stopped entirely, and most of the passengers thrust their heads out at the windows. one of these heads came out in such a way as to be exactly face-to-face with jack, the interval between them being less than a yard. jack gave a piercing shriek, and fell to the ground. phaeton and i ran to him, and picked him up. "he's in a fit," said i. "no," said phaeton, "i think he has only fainted. bring water." i found a pitcher-full in the box, and we poured it upon his face, which brought him to. he looked about in a bewildered manner for a moment, then seemed to recollect himself, and turned toward the track. but the train had passed on. "phaeton," said he, "will you please stand here and flag a special freight train that will come along in about ten minutes?" "certainly, with pleasure," said phaeton, receiving the flag. "and after that has passed, haul down the red ball and run up the white one; then turn that second switch and lock it." "all right!" said phaeton. "i understand." jack then picked up his cap, and started on a run, crossing the public square diagonally, evidently taking the shortest route to the passenger station. chapter xxi. a tea party. the mending of the chairs had entirely changed aunt mercy's demeanor toward us. "i've given you money to make a great many muddles," said she; "but, so far as i can learn, this is the first successful muddle you've produced. however, this is fine enough to make up for all. and i want you both to come and take tea with me saturday evening." phaeton and ned not only accepted the invitation with thanks, but asked to have me included in it. "certainly," said aunt mercy; "it wouldn't do to separate you and him. and if you have any other very particular friends among the boys, bring them along too. only let me know how many are coming." phaeton said he should like to invite jimmy the rhymer. "invite jimmy," said aunt mercy. "and monkey roe is awful lively company," said ned. "invite monkey," said aunt mercy. "if we're going to have so many," said phaeton, "i shouldn't like to leave out isaac holman." "it isn't exactly a spelling-match, but choose away," said aunt mercy. "it's your turn now, edmund burton." ned chose charley garrison, and then phaeton chose patsy rafferty, and after some discussion they determined to let the list end there. "you haven't mentioned a single girl," said aunt mercy. "sister may is too little," said ned; "and besides that, i don't much believe in girls, any way." "that's complimentary to your mother and me," said his aunt. "i don't think we know any girls well enough to ask them," said phaeton,--"unless it may be one," and he blushed a little. "one will do," said aunt mercy; and so it was agreed that she should invite miss glidden, whom she called "a very sweet girl." the evening that had been designated was the evening of the day recorded in the last chapter, and not one of the eight boys included in the invitation forgot it. we gravitated together, after a series of whistlings, and all went to aunt mercy's in a crowd. when we arrived at the house, phaeton went up the steps first, and rang the bell. there was no immediate response, and while we were waiting for it, ned and monkey roe, who had lagged behind a little, came up. "oh, pshaw!" said ned, "don't fool around out here. probably the girl's cooking something that she can't leave right away; but aunty expects us--come in, boys," and he opened the door and led us into the hall. "i ought to know the way around this house pretty well," he continued. "here's the place to hang your caps," and he pointed out the hat-rack under the slope of the stairs. with a soft, pattering noise, the eight caps almost instantly found lodgment on the pegs, some being thrown with great precision by the boys who were hindmost over the heads of the others. "now follow me, boys; i'll introduce you to aunt mercy; i'm perfectly at home here," said ned, and throwing open the parlor door, he ushered us in there as unceremoniously as he had admitted us to the house. the parlor was beautifully though not brilliantly lighted by an argand lamp. aunt mercy was sitting on the sofa, and beside her--"awful near together," as ned expressed it--sat a tall gentleman, with a full beard and a sun-browned face. "why! what does this mean?" said aunt mercy, as soon as she could get her breath. ned was considerably abashed, and had fallen back so that he was almost merged in the crowd of boys now huddled near the door. but he mustered courage enough to say: "we've come to tea." phaeton stepped forward, and relieved the situation: "you remember, aunty, you asked us to come to tea this evening, and bring our friends. but, perhaps now it isn't convenient for you. we can come some other day just as well." "really," said his aunt, "i made preparations for you to-day, and it's perfectly convenient; but in the last two hours i had totally forgotten it. you see i have an unexpected visitor." phaeton introduced those of the boys whom his aunt had never seen before, and she then introduced us all to mr. burton. she had not the least trouble in remembering phaeton's name, and she called mr. burton's attention especially to ned as his namesake. "is this the mr. burton who was dead long ago?" said ned. "the very same one," said his aunt, laughing. "but he has suddenly come to life again, after many strange adventures, which he has just been telling me. i must ask him to tell them over again for you. but did none of you call for miss glidden?" we all looked blank. "then," said she, "fayette must go after her now." phaeton took his cap and started at once. three of the boys kindly offered to go with him, fearing he would be lonesome, but he said he didn't mind going alone. while he was gone, we made the acquaintance of mr. burton very rapidly. he seemed a good deal like jack-in-the-box in one respect--he liked boys. in ned he appeared to be particularly interested. several times over he asked him how old he was, and how tall he was. i suppose ned seemed to him to be a sort of visible measure of the time that had been lost out of his life; for he must have disappeared from the knowledge of his friends about the time that ned was born. soon after phaeton returned with miss glidden, tea was announced. both during the meal and afterward, mr. burton did the greater part of the talking, and his conversation consisted mainly of a running account of his adventures since he left his home, more than a dozen years before. i give the story as nearly as possible in his own words. it was of a nature to seize upon a boy's fancy; but i fear it has not lain in my memory all these years without losing many of its nicest points. "i was a tall and slender boy," said mr. burton,--"so slender that my parents feared i would become consumptive, and i reached the age of twenty without improving much in that respect. our family physician said a long sea-voyage might build me up and make a strong man of me, and as my uncle owned a large interest in a whaler then fitting out, at nantucket, for a cruise in the north pacific, it was arranged that i should make the voyage. by my own choice, i shipped as a common sailor before the mast, as it seemed to me that was the only way to get the full benefit of the experience. "i need not tell you the story of the tedious passage around cape horn, against head winds and through rainy seas. you have all read it dozens of times. the greenest hand on board was an accomplished sailor by the time we reached the whaling-ground. we had a prosperous cruise, and i calculated that though the hundred and twenty-fifth lay, which was to be my share, would not make me rich, it would give me considerable pocket-money when we got home. "when we turned our prow southward for the long homeward voyage, our troubles began. week after week we labored against heavy gales and head seas. it was many months since we had been in port, and we were not well equipped for so long a strain. at last, when we were barely out of the tropics, a terrific and long-continued easterly gale struck us, and drove us helplessly before it. just before daylight, one morning, she struck heavily, with a shock that sent one of the masts overboard. dawn showed us that we were wrecked on a lonely island. as nearly as the captain could calculate, this was in south latitude 27 degrees and longitude 110 degrees west. "we judged that the island must be about a dozen miles long. three volcanic peaks rose in plain sight, to a height of more than a thousand feet, and between their branching ridges were green valleys sloping down to the shore. if you ever see an old cart-wheel, with half its spokes broken or missing, which has lain upon the ground till the grass has sprung up through it, you may look upon it as a rude representation of the appearance that island presented from the sea. the hub would be the cone of an extinct volcano, the weather-beaten wood being about the color of the volcanic rock, and the remaining spokes the irregular, sharp ridges that radiated from it, some of them reaching to the water's edge and others stopping half-way. "an hour or two after daylight, we found there was no possibility of saving the ship, though the storm was over. we launched the boats, but could make no landing on that side of the island, which was steep and rocky. so we pulled southward, and through a channel where two rocky islets lay off the south-east point, and soon came to a pretty bay, where we made a landing. "looking at the shore through the misty dawn, we had seen what looked like giants standing on the flat roofs of their houses and watching us. but they showed no signs of life, and the captain at length made them out, through his glass, to be images of some sort. we afterward had abundant opportunity to examine them, and found them to be stone statues of colossal size. what we had taken for houses were three platforms of solid masonry, built on ground that sloped toward and overlooked the sea. four of these great statues had originally stood on each of the platforms, but most of the twelve were now overthrown. we measured one that lay on the ground, and found it was fifteen feet high and six feet across the shoulders. "they were cut in gray stone, and each statue that was still standing had on its head an immense red stone, smoothly cut to the shape of a cylinder, at least a yard high,--as if it wore what you call a band-box hat, but with no brim. we afterward found there were great numbers of these statues in various places on the island, though mostly on the east side. few of them seemed to be finished. it was as if the sculptor had taken the rough blocks and begun work at the top, and, after bringing out the statue perhaps as far down as the waist, had left it in that condition, and begun on the next one. the largest one we found was over twenty-five feet high. "it was two hours after our landing before we saw any living being. then we saw three children peeping at us from the top of a little hill. when we discovered them, they scampered away, and pretty soon a crowd of people appeared, led by an old man whose face was painted white, and who carried a long spear. "the captain made them understand that we were cast away, and wished to be taken care of. they led us along the shore, to the entrance of one of those green and beautiful valleys, where we found a village and were made welcome. they kept saying '_taya, taya_, which we found meant 'friends,' and gave us a feast of yams, bananas, and roast chicken. the next day they went through a ceremony which we understood to mean that they formally adopted us into their tribe, and considered us their brothers. they also exchanged names with us. the man who adopted my name (burton) called it obuttee, and his which he gave me in exchange was moaneena." mr. burton gave a considerable account of his adventures on the island, which we found very entertaining; but i cannot remember it with sufficient accuracy to attempt repeating it. as we were walking home, monkey roe pointed out what he thought were improbabilities in the narrative too great to be believed,--especially the account of the gigantic stone statues, which he said could not possibly have been made by people who had no iron tools. i was inclined to share monkey's incredulity at the time; but i now know that mr. burton told the truth, and that he must have been cast away on easter island, where roggeween, the dutch navigator, had discovered the mysterious statuary more than a century before. "that little island," he continued, "was our home for nearly ten years. it is far out of the usual track of ships, and as good water is very scarce upon it, there is little temptation for them to go out of their way to visit it. we had two small boats, but the coast of south america was more than two thousand miles distant. "at last a merchantman, driven out of her course by stress of weather, came to anchor off the western shore, and sent in a boat, the crew of which were naturally astonished at being greeted by white men. "we were taken off, and carried to melbourne, where every man took his own way of getting home. about half of them went to the newly discovered gold-fields. i got a chance after a while to ship before the mast in a vessel going to calcutta. "there i made the acquaintance of a young man who, i found, was from my native town; though i had not known him at home, as he was nearly, or quite, ten years my junior. his name was roderick ayr. he offered to lend me money, but i would take it only on condition that he receive my watch as security, to be redeemed when we reached home. it was a splendid watch, but had long since ceased to keep time, for want of cleaning. "mr. ayr had been educated at one of the older colleges, knew something of engineering, had studied law, had spent a year in journalism, and had done a little something in literature--in fact, i think he told me he had published a small volume of poems, or essays. his talents were so varied that he found it difficult to settle down to one occupation; and so he had made a voyage to india, merely to see something of the world, while he was growing a little older and finding out what he was best fitted for. "he was about to return home as a passenger, when i found an opportunity to ship before the mast in the 'emily wentworth,' bound for boston. to keep me company, he shipped in the same capacity. "we passed down the hoogly, and wound through the horrible swamps and jungles of the sunderbunds, where tigers and crocodiles were an every-day sight, till our pilot left us, on a sunny july morning, with the deep blue waters of the bay of bengal before us, and a gentle breeze from the north-east. "two days later we were struck by a cyclone, and the vessel was reduced to a helpless wreck. everybody on board seemed paralyzed with terror, except ayr and the captain, and the captain was soon swept away by a heavy sea. three of the men, headed by the second mate,--a fellow named hobbes,--managed to launch the only boat that had not been stove, threw into it a keg of water, a few provisions, and the charts and instruments, and were about to pull away and leave the rest of us to our fate, when ayr ordered them back. as they paid no attention to him, he sprang into the boat and took hobbes by the throat. hobbes drew his knife, but as quick as lightning ayr gave him a blow that sent him overboard. one of the sailors caught him and drew him in, and then they all consented to return to the deck. the next sea swept away the boat. "ayr was now recognized as commander, by virtue of his natural superiority, and the first mate, a well-meaning but forceless man, had the good sense to resign his authority to the only one who could do anything for us--if anything could be done at all. "with a few volunteers to assist him, ayr rigged and launched a raft, upon which nine of us embarked. the remainder of the crew had already been lost, or were afraid to leave the vessel, and some had lashed themselves to her spars. ayr was the last to leave her. he jumped overboard, swam to the raft, cut the hawser, and we drifted away from the hulk, which heeled and went down before we were out of sight. "the raft floated low, and half the time we were up to our necks in water, for all that day and all night heavy seas broke over her. ayr, who was a powerful swimmer, was swimming about the raft the greater part of the time, sometimes tightening the fastenings where she threatened to break apart, and often saving and hauling on board again some poor wretch who had been swept off. but every few hours a man would be carried away whom ayr could not reach, and our little company was continually growing smaller. "as for myself, i was rather a poor swimmer, and either the exposure, or some disease that i had previously contracted, caused an uncomfortable swelling and puffiness in my fingers and toes. i took off, with some difficulty, a ring which i had worn for a dozen years, as it now begun to hurt me, and slipped it upon ayr's finger, asking him to keep it for me till some happier time. "in the afternoon of the second day, it became evident that the raft was too large for the strength of the ropes that held it together, and that a smaller one must be made. ayr set to work to build it almost alone. indeed, but four of us were now left--simpson, an englishman, hobbes the mate, ayr, and i. ayr had lost a great deal of his strength, and his knife slipped from his hand and sank in the sea. i lent him mine, for the other two men were destitute of knives; hobbes had lost his when ayr knocked him out of the boat. "just as the new raft was ready to be cut loose, a great sea struck us, and widely separated the two, leaving ayr and hobbes on what remained of the old one, while simpson and i were on the new. i saw ayr plunge into the water and strike out toward us; but after a few strokes he turned back, either because he felt he had not strength to reach us, or because he would not leave hobbes helpless. the sudden night of the tropics shut down upon us, and when morning dawned the old raft was nowhere to be seen. "the sea was now much less violent, and simpson and i managed to maintain our position in spite of our wasted strength. i felt that another night would be our last. but an hour before sunset we were picked up by a dutch vessel, bound on an exploring voyage to the coasts of borneo and celebes. we had not the luck to sight any vessel going in the opposite direction, and so could only return after the explorations had been made, which kept us away from home nearly two years longer. "when at last i crossed my father's threshold again, a week ago, i found that i was not only given up for dead, but was supposed to have been murdered by my dearest friend, roderick ayr. he and hobbes had been picked up by a vessel bound for liverpool. "hobbes, who, it seems, had never given up his grudge against ayr, passing through my native town on his way from boston to his own home, had stopped over a train for the purpose of setting afloat the story of the wreck, in which he so far mingled truth and falsehood as to represent that ayr, in view of the scanty stock of provisions on the raft, had successively murdered three of the men in their sleep,--of whom i was one,--robbed them, and rolled their bodies off into the sea. "when ayr came along on the next train, a policeman's hand was laid upon his arm before he stepped off from the platform. he was taken to police headquarters and searched, and as my watch, my ring, and my knife were found in his possession, the evidence against him seemed conclusive. but the living, lying witness had disappeared, and could not be found. either he had felt that he would be unable to confront ayr and withstand cross-questioning, or else he had no desire to send ayr to the gallows, but only to disgrace him in the estimation of his townsmen. in this he succeeded to a considerable extent. ayr told the straight story, which his nearest friends believed--except some who feared he might have done, under the peculiar temptations of a wreck, what he would not have done under any other circumstances; and as no murder could be actually proved, he, of course, could not be held. but most of the people ominously shook their heads, and refused to receive his account of the watch, the ring, and the knife as anything but an ingenious triple falsehood. it was more than he could stand, and between two days he disappeared, his nearest relatives not knowing what had become of him. "when i suddenly appeared in the town a few days since, those overwise people of two years ago were dumbfounded, and i hope by this time they are sufficiently ashamed of themselves. but some one besides roderick ayr had left the town during my absence. miss rogers had removed to detroit six years before, and i took the next train for that city, only to learn that after a brief residence she had come here. so i retraced my journey. "as we were entering the city this afternoon, i put my head out of the car-window in an idle way, and thought i saw a strange vision--a man standing beside the track with a flag in his hand, who wore the features of roderick ayr. in a moment it was gone, and i could not tell whether it was fancy or reality, whether i had been dreaming or awake. but as i was passing through the door of the railway station he accosted me, and sure enough it was my friend." "by jolly!" said monkey roe, and brought his fist down upon the table with a whang that made every dish leap up an inch. "_johannes in perpetuo!_--jack for ever!" said isaac holman. "o-o-o-o-h!" said ned, three times--once with his mouth, and once with each eye. phaeton leapt to his feet, and waving his napkin over his head, proposed "three cheers for roderick jack-in-the-box!"--whereupon all the boys rose instantly and gave three terrific cheers and a handsome tiger. "please excuse me, aunty," said phaeton; "i'm going to bring jack-in-the-box," and he was off. "i don't know what he means by that," said aunt mercy. "you see, edmund burton, there's a gentleman connected with the railroad--either president or one of the directors--monsieur thibaux, jacquin thibaux, originally a frenchman, who seems to have befriended these boys in some way, and they talk a good deal about him. i always have to laugh at the way they pronounce his name; as they don't understand french, they call it jack-in-the-box. i believe monsieur thibaux is a very fine man, but i don't know why my nephew should bring him here." "the explanation is this," said miss glidden, "that jack-in-the-box, jacquin thibaux, and roderick ayr are one and the same person." "then of course i shall be most happy to welcome him," said aunt mercy. "but i confess i can't understand how a runaway young man could so soon become president of a great railroad, nor why the president should be waving a red flag, like a switch-tender." the good lady had surpassed both of her nephews in making a muddle, and before it could be cleared up to her satisfaction, mr. ayr was announced. the hostess rose to greet him, and "all the boys except miss glidden," as patsy rafferty expressed it, made a rush for him and wound themselves around him like an anaconda. "where's fay?" said ned, as he looked about him when the anaconda had loosened its folds. "he's at the box, managing the signals," said jack. the hero of the evening was now beset with inquiries, and nearly the whole story was gone over again, by question and answer. "i understand it all now," said ned, "except one thing. why did you always refuse to look at a newspaper?" "there were several reasons for that," said jack. "one was, that the paragraph about my supposed crime was constantly turning up. another was, that i thought my friends would advertise for me, and was afraid some of them might attempt to decoy me with what they would consider a justifiable fib,--as, that my mother was at the point of death, or something of that sort. if such a thing appeared, i preferred not to see it." chapter xxii. old shoes and orange-blossoms. not many weeks after the tea party, there were two weddings. mr. burton and aunt mercy were married on wednesday quietly at her house, and none of the boys were there except phaeton and ned. roderick ayr and miss glidden were married next morning in church, and all the boys were there. in the arrangements for this wedding, it was planned that there should be no bridesmaids and no best man, though it was then the fashion to have them,--but four ushers. jack had asked phaeton and ned rogers, isaac holman, and me, to officiate in this capacity; and we, with a few of the other boys, met in the printing-office to talk it over. "i suppose we shall get along somehow," said ned, "but i never ushed in my life, and i wouldn't like to make any blunder." "you can buy a behavior-book that tells all about it," said charlie garrison. "i don't much believe in books for such things," said ned. "i remember once when we were going to take uncle jacob's horse to pasture, fay sat up half the night reading a book about horseback-riding, and yet when we actually had the horse under us, we didn't get along very well." "that," said i, "was only because we hadn't the proper things. if we had had a mexican saddle and a gag bit and wheel spurs, we should have galloped over the ground so fast we could hardly have viewed the scenery as we rode by." "yes," said charlie, "and you'll find you must have a lot of trappings for this affair--white gloves and bouquets, and rosettes and cockades, and bridal favors, and a little club with ribbons on it, to hit the boys when they don't keep still." "oh, pshaw!" said jimmy the rhymer, "half of those are the same thing. and as for hitting the boys, they'd better hit the whole congregation, who never know any better than to jump up and gaze around every time there's a rumor that the bridal party have arrived." "i don't think we need be troubled about it," said phaeton. "of course jack will rehearse us a little, and instruct us what to do." "_bonus ego cervus!_ good idea!" said holman. "let's go up to the box this afternoon and ask him." and we agreed that we would. "that's all very well for that part of the business," said jimmy the rhymer; "but there's something else we ought to talk over and agree upon, which we can't ask jack about." "what's that?" "i mean," said jimmy, "our own demonstration. of course we're not going to stand by and see jack-in-the-box married and disposed of without doing something to show our friendship for him." "they won't receive any presents," said holman. "and i think all the flowers there need be will be provided by somebody else," said phaeton. "then," said jimmy, "there is but one thing left for us." "what's that?" "old shoes." "old shoes?" "yes. don't you know that it's a famous custom to throw old shoes after people, as a sign that you wish them good luck--especially when they're just married and starting off on their wedding journey?" "i've heard of it," said phaeton, "but i never saw it done." "i'll go for that," said monkey roe. "horseshoes, or human shoes?" "for roderick ayr and his beautiful bride, nothing but the softest velvet moccasins," said the poet. "don't believe i can get them," said monkey. "we don't wear that kind at our house." "i'm afraid it won't do to have any throwing about it," said holman. "last week i read a paragraph about a negro wedding where they all threw their old shoes after the couple as they were riding away, and one of them knocked the bridegroom's five-dollar silk hat into the middle of next week, while another broke the bride's jaw." "was there a full account of the other ceremonies at that wedding?" said patsy rafferty. "i don't remember," said holman. "why?" "because," said patsy, "whatever they did, we must do the very contrary." "there needn't be any throwing, that's certain," said jimmy. "and that will give us a chance to put in an old horseshoe, which is luckier than any other." "those carriages," said phaeton, "generally have a platform behind to carry trunks on. while the bridal party are in the church, we might have all our old shoes piled up on that platform." "that's it," said jimmy. "and that will give us a chance to decorate them with a few flowers and ribbons." we appointed jimmy a committee of one to manage the old shoes. in the afternoon we four who were to be ushers went to see jack-in-the-box. "jack," said ned, "if we're going to ush for you, you'll have to instruct us a little. none of us understand the science very well, and we're afraid to try learning it from books." jack laughed heartily. "as to the science of ushing, as you call it," said he, "it's a very simple matter." then he got a sheet of paper and a pencil, drew roughly a ground plan of the church, showed us our places at the heads of the aisles, and gave us all the information that was needed for our simple duties. "and about the clubs?" said ned. "will you make those? or do we buy them?" "what clubs?" said jack. "the little clubs with ribbons wound around them," said ned, "to hit the boys with when they don't keep still." jack laughed more heartily than before. "i guess we won't hit the boys," said he. "they needn't keep any stiller than they want to, at my wedding." and then he explained to us the difference between a marshal and an usher. "a marshal," said he, "is a sort of commander, and the little club, as you call it, is the symbol of his authority. but an usher stands in the relation of servant to those whom he shows to their places." "i must tell charlie garrison about that," said ned; "it was he who started the story about the little clubs. charlie's an awful good boy, but he generally gets things wrong. i'm afraid he's too ready to believe everything anybody tells him." in trying to describe charlie, ned had so exactly described himself, that we all broke into a smile. as we were walking away, holman suggested that perhaps while we were about it we ought to have got instructions as to the reception, also; for there was to be a brief one at the house immediately after the ceremony in the church. "oh, i know all about that," said phaeton. "then let's hear how it is," said holman. "it's simply this," said phaeton. "you go up to the couple, and shake hands, and if you're a girl you kiss the bride--what did you say? you wish you were?--and wish them many happy returns of the day; then you say what kind of weather you think we've had lately, and the bridegroom says what kind he thinks, and the bride waves her fan a little; then you give a real good smile and a bow, and go into another room and eat some cake and ice-cream; and then you go home. that's a reception." "it sounds reasonable," said i; "but i don't feel quite certain about it. i will ask my sisters." when i asked them, they laughed, but said that if i did as phaeton had directed, i'd probably get through safely. two days before the wedding, jack resigned his place in the employ of the railroad, and took all his things away from the box. patsy rafferty's father succeeded him as signal-man. thursday was a beautiful, dreamy october day, and as we had settled all the weighty questions of etiquette, we put on the white gloves with a feeling of the most dignified importance. the people began coming early. the boys, who were among the earliest, came in a compact crowd, and we gave them first-rate seats in the broad aisle, above the ribbon. before ten o'clock every seat was filled, and in the steep gallery beauty and fashion were banked up, "like niobe, all tiers." everybody in town seemed to be present. there were matrons with a blush of the spring-time returned to their faces, who must have witnessed scores of weddings and become connoisseurs in all that pertains to them. there were little misses in short dresses, who had never looked on such a spectacle before. there were young ladies evidently in the midst of their first campaign, just a little excited over one of those events toward which ill-natured people say all their campaigning is directed. there were fathers of families, with business-furrowed brows, brushing the cobwebs from dim recollections, and marking the discovery of each with the disappearance of a wrinkle. there were bachelors who, if not like the irreverent hearers of goldsmith's preacher, were at least likely to go away with deep remorse or desperate resolve. there were some who would soon themselves be central figures in a similar spectacle. there were those, perhaps, whose visions of such a triumph were destined to be finally as futile as they were now vivid. frequent ripples of good-natured impatience ran across the sea of heads, and we who felt that we had the affair in charge began to be a little anxious, till the organ struck up a compromise between a stirring waltz and a soothing melody, which speeded the precious unoccupied moments on their long journey. the usual number of false alarms caused the usual automatic turning of heads and eyes. but at last the bridal party, like the wolf in the fable, really came; and as they glided up the broad aisle, the bride might almost have mounted bodily to the seventh heaven on the substantial stares that were directed at her,--whence perhaps she could have slidden down again on some whispered railing at her want of bridesmaids. but her eyes were on the ground, and she heard nothing but the rustle of her own train, and saw nothing, i trust, but the visions that are dear to every human heart, in spite of the sorrowful comment of human experience. the organ checked its melodious enthusiasm as the party reached the chancel. then the well-known half-audible words were uttered, with a glimmer of a ring sliding upon a dainty finger. the benediction was said, a flourish of the organ sounded the retreat, and the party ran the gauntlet of the broad aisle again, while the audience, as was the fashion of that day, immediately rose to its feet and closed and crushed in behind them, like an avalanche going through a tunnel. while we were in the church, jimmy the rhymer, with lukey finnerty to help him, had brought the old shoes in an immense basket, and arranged them on the platform at the back of the bridegroom's carriage. the cluster of seven boots which patsy had used for a drag to control phaeton's car, was laid down as a foundation. on this were piled all sorts of old shoes, gaiters, and slippers, bountifully contributed by the boys, and at the top of the pyramid a horseshoe contributed by jimmy himself. sticking out of each shoe was a small bouquet, and the whole was bound together and fastened to the platform with narrow white ribbons. [illustration: bridal favors.] "i wanted to write a little poem for the occasion," said jimmy to me, the next day, "and tie it to the horseshoe; but somehow when i tried there was a lump in my throat, and the inspiration wouldn't come." my young lady readers will want to know what the bride wore. as nearly as i can recollect--and i have refreshed my memory by a glance at the best fashion-magazines--it was a wine-colored serge sicilienne, looped up with pipings of gros-grain galloon, cut _en train_ across the sleeve-section; the overskirt of pompadour passementerie, shirred on with striped gore of garnet silk, the corners caught down to form shells for the heading, and finished off in knife plaitings of brocaded facing that she had in the house. coiffure a fanchon remnant of pelerine blue, laced throughout and crossing at the belt. the corsage was a pea-green fichu of any material in vogue, overshot with delicate twilled moss-heading cut bias, hanging gracefully in fan outline at the back, trimmed with itself and fitted in the usual manner with darts; bertha panier of suit goods, and watteau bracelets to match. with such a costume as this overflowing its open sides, and our contribution on the trunk-board, the carriage presented a very original and picturesque appearance as it rolled away. the boys went to the reception as they had gone to the tea party and the wedding, in a solid crowd. when we presented ourselves, ned made us all laugh by literally following his brother's humorous instructions. the caterer thought he had provided bountifully for the occasion; but when the boys left the refreshment-room, he stood aghast. the premium boy in this part of the performance was monkey roe. as ned and i walked silently toward home, he suddenly spoke: "it's all right! for the fact is, miss glidden was too awful old for fay and jimmy and holman. she's nineteen, if she's a day." "i've no doubt of it," said i, "and besides, they couldn't all have had her. but how came you to know that about fay and jimmy and holman?" i thought ned had not discovered what i had. without a word, he placed his forefinger in the corner of his eye, then pulled the lobe of his ear, and then, spreading the fingers of both hands, brought them carefully together, finger-end upon finger-end, in the form of a cage. by which he meant to say that he could see, and hear, and put this and that together. "ah, well!" said i, "let us not talk about it. we may be nineteen ourselves some day." the end. the dominion of the air the story of aerial navigation by rev. j. m. bacon chapter i. the dawn of aeronautics. "he that would learn to fly must be brought up to the constant practice of it from his youth, trying first only to use his wings as a tame goose will do, so by degrees learning to rise higher till he attain unto skill and confidence." so wrote wilkins, bishop of chester, who was reckoned a man of genius and learning in the days of the commonwealth. but so soon as we come to inquire into the matter we find that this good bishop was borrowing from the ideas of others who had gone before him; and, look back as far as we will, mankind is discovered to have entertained persistent and often plausible ideas of human flight. and those ideas had in some sort of way, for good or ill, taken practical shape. thus, as long ago as the days when xenophon was leading back his warriors to the shores of the black sea, and ere the gauls had first burned rome, there was a philosopher, archytas, who invented a pigeon which could fly, partly by means of mechanism, and partly also, it is said, by aid of an aura or spirit. and here arises a question. was this aura a gas, or did men use it as spiritualists do today, as merely a word to conjure with? four centuries later, in the days of nero, there was a man in rome who flew so well and high as to lose his life thereby. here, at any rate, was an honest man, or the story would not have ended thus; but of the rest--and there are many who in early ages aspired to the attainment of flight--we have no more reason to credit their claims than those of charlatans who flourish in every age. in medieval times we are seriously told by a saintly writer (st. remigius) of folks who created clouds which rose to heaven by means of "an earthen pot in which a little imp had been enclosed." we need no more. that was an age of flying saints, as also of flying dragons. flying in those days of yore may have been real enough to the multitude, but it was at best delusion. in the good old times it did not need the genius of a maskelyne to do a "levitation" trick. we can picture the scene at a "flying seance." on the one side the decidedly professional showman possessed of sufficient low cunning; on the other the ignorant and highly superstitious audience, eager to hear or see some new thing--the same audience that, deceived by a simple trick of schoolboy science, would listen to supernatural voices in their groves, or oracular utterances in their temples, or watch the urns of bacchus fill themselves with wine. surely for their eyes it would need no more than the simplest phantasmagoria, or maybe only a little black thread, to make a pigeon rise and fly. it is interesting to note, however, that in the case last cited there is unquestionably an allusion to some crude form of firework, and what more likely or better calculated to impress the ignorant! our firework makers still manufacture a "little devil." pyrotechnic is as old as history itself; we have an excellent description of a rocket in a document at least as ancient as the ninth century. and that a species of pyrotechny was resorted to by those who sought to imitate flight we have proof in the following recipe for a flying body given by a doctor, eke a friar, in paris in the days of our king john:-"take one pound of sulphur, two pounds of willowcarbon, six pounds of rock salt ground very fine in a marble mortar. place, when you please, in a covering made of flying papyrus to produce thunder. the covering in order to ascend and float away should be long, graceful, well filled with this fine powder; but to produce thunder the covering should be short, thick, and half full." nor does this recipe stand alone. take another sample, of which chapter and verse are to be found in the mss. of a jesuit, gaspard schott, of palermo and rome, born three hundred years ago:-"the shells of hen-eggs, if properly filled and well secured against the penetration of the air, and exposed to solar rays, will ascend to the skies and sometimes suffer a natural change. and if the eggs of the larger description of swans, or leather balls stitched with fine thongs, be filled with nitre, the purest sulphur quicksilver, or kindred materials which rarify by their caloric energy, and if they externally resemble pigeons, they will easily be mistaken for flying animals." thus it would seem that, hunting back in history, there were three main ideas on which would-be aeronauts of old exercised their ingenuity. there was the last-mentioned method, which, by the way, jules verne partly relies on when he takes his heroes to the moon, and which in its highest practical development may be seen annually on the night of "brock's benefit" at the crystal palace. there is, again, the "tame goose" method, to which we must return presently; and, lastly, there is a third method, to which, as also to the brilliant genius who conceived it, we must without further delay be introduced. this may be called the method of "a hollow globe." roger bacon, melchisedeck-fashion, came into existence at ilchester in 1214 of parentage that is hard to trace. he was, however, a born philosopher, and possessed of intellect and penetration that placed him incalculably ahead of his generation. a man of marvellous insight and research, he grasped, and as far as possible carried out, ideas which dawned on other men only after centuries. thus, many of his utterances have been prophetic. it is probable that among his chemical discoveries he re-invented gunpowder. it is certain that he divined the properties of a lens, and diving deep into experimental and mechanical sciences, actually foresaw the time when, in his own words, "men would construct engines to traverse land and water with great speed and carry with them persons and merchandise." clearly in his dreams bacon saw the atlantic not merely explored, but on its bosom the white star liners breaking records, contemptuous of its angriest seas. he saw, too, a future dumont circling in the air, and not only in a dead calm, but holding his own with the feathered race. he tells his dream thus: "there may be made some flying instrument so that a man sitting in the middle of the instrument and turning some mechanism may put in motion some artificial wings which may beat the air like a bird flying." but he lived too long before his time. his ruin lay not only in his superior genius, but also in his fearless outspokenness. he presently fell under the ban of the church, through which he lost alike his liberty and the means of pursuing investigation. had it been otherwise we may fairly believe that the "admirable doctor," as he was called, would have been the first to show mankind how to navigate the air. his ideas are perfectly easy to grasp. he conceived that the air was a true fluid, and as such must have an upper limit, and it would be on this upper surface, he supposed, as on the bosom of the ocean, that man would sail his air-ship. a fine, bold guess truly. he would watch the cirrus clouds sailing grandly ten miles above him on some stream that never approached nearer. up there, in his imagination, would be tossing the waves of our ocean of air. wait for some little better cylinders of oxygen and an improved foot-warmer, and a future coxwell will go aloft and see; but as to an upper sea, it is truly there, and we may visit and view its sun-lit tossing billows stretching out to a limitless horizon at such times as the nether world is shrouded in densest gloom. bacon's method of reaching such an upper sea as he postulated was, as we have said, by a hollow globe. "the machine must be a large hollow globe, of copper or other suitable metal, wrought extremely thin so as to have it as light as possible," and "it must be filled with ethereal air or liquid fire." this was written in the thirteenth century, and it is scarcely edifying to find four hundred years after this the jesuit father lana, who contrived to make his name live in history as a theoriser in aeronautics, arrogating to himself the bold conception of the english friar, with certain unfortunate differences, however, which in fairness we must here clearly point out. lana proclaimed his speculations standing on a giant's shoulders. torricelli, with his closed bent tube, had just shown the world how heavily the air lies above us. it then required little mathematical skill to calculate what would be the lifting power of any vessel void of air on the earth's surface. thus lana proposed the construction of an air ship which possibly because of its picturesquesness has won him notoriety. but it was a fraud. we have but to conceive a dainty boat in which the aeronaut would sit at ease handling a little rudder and a simple sail. these, though a schoolboy would have known better, he thought would guide his vessel when in the air. so much has been claimed for father lana and his mathematical and other attainments that it seems only right to insist on the weakness of his reasoning. an air ship simply drifting with the wind is incapable of altering its course in the slightest degree by either sail or rudder. it is simply like a log borne along in a torrent; but to compare such a log properly with the air ship we must conceive it wholly submerged in the water and having no sail or other appendage projecting into the air, which would, of course, introduce other conditions. if, however, a man were to sit astride of the log and begin to propel it so that it travels either faster or slower than the stream, then in that case, either by paddle or rudder, the log could be guided, and the same might be said of lana's air boat if only he had thought of some adequate paddle, fan, or other propeller. but he did not. one further explanatory sentence may here be needed; for we hear of balloons which are capable of being guided to a small extent by sail and rudder. in these cases, however, the rudder is a guide rope trailing on earth or sea, so introducing a fresh element and fresh conditions which are easy to explain. suppose a free balloon drifting down the wind to have a sail suddenly hoisted on one side, what happens? the balloon will simply swing till this sail is in front, and thus continue its straightforward course. suppose, however, that as soon as the side sail is hoisted a trail rope is also dropped aft from a spar in the rigging. the tendency of the sail to fly round in front is now checked by the dragging rope, and it is constrained to remain slanting at an angle on one side; at the same time the rate of the balloon is reduced by the dragging rope, so that it travels slower than the wind, which, now acting on its slant sail, imparts a certain sidelong motion much as it does in the case of a sailing boat. lana having in imagination built his ship, proceeds to make it float up into space, for which purpose he proposes four thin copper globes exhausted of air. had this last been his own idea we might have pardoned him. we have, however, pointed out that it was not, and we must further point out that in copying his great predecessor he fails to see that he would lose enormous advantage by using four globes instead of one. but, beyond all, he failed to see what the master genius of bacon saw clearly--that his thin globes when exhausted must infallibly collapse by virtue of that very pressure of the air which he sought to make use of. it cannot be too strongly insisted on that if the too much belauded speculations of lana have any value at all it is that they throw into stronger contrast the wonderful insight of the philosopher who so long preceded him. by sheer genius bacon had foreseen that the emptied globe must be filled with something, and for this something he suggests "ethereal air" or "liquid fire," neither of which, we contend, were empty terms. with bacon's knowledge of experimental chemistry it is a question, and a most interesting one, whether he had not in his mind those two actual principles respectively of gas and air rarefied by heat on which we launch our balloons into space to-day. early progress in any art or science is commonly intermittent. it was so in the story of aeronautics. advance was like that of the incoming tide, throwing an occasional wave far in front of its rising flood. it was a phenomenal wave that bore roger bacon and left his mark on the sand where none other approached for centuries. in those centuries men were either too priest-ridden to lend an ear to science, or, like children, followed only the will-o'-the-wisp floating above the quagmire which held them fast. they ran after the stone that was to turn all to gold, or the elixir that should conquer death, or the signs in the heavens that should foretell their destinies; and the taint of this may be traced even when the dark period that followed was clearing away. four hundred years after roger's death, his illustrious namesake, francis bacon, was formulating his inductive philosophy, and with complete cock-sureness was teaching mankind all about everything. let us look at some of his utterances which may help to throw light on the way he regarded the problem we are dealing with. "it is reported," francis bacon writes, "that the leucacians in ancient time did use to precipitate a man from a high cliffe into the sea; tying about him, with strings, at some distance, many great fowles; and fixing unto his body divers feathers, spread, to breake the fall. certainly many birds of good wing (as kites and the like) would beare up a good weight as they flie. and spreading of feathers, thin and close, and in great breadth, will likewise beare up a great weight, being even laid without tilting upon the sides. the further extension of this experiment of flying may be thought upon." to say the least, this is hardly mechanical. but let us next follow the philosopher into the domain of physics. referring to a strange assertion, that "salt water will dissolve salt put into it in less time than fresh water will dissolve it," he is at once ready with an explanation to fit the case. "the salt," he says, "in the precedent water doth by similitude of substance draw the salt new put in unto it." again, in his finding, well water is warmer in winter than summer, and "the cause is the subterranean heat which shut close in (as in winter) is the more, but if it perspire (as it doth in summer) it is the less." this was bacon the lord. what a falling off--from the experimentalist's point of view--from bacon the friar! we can fancy him watching a falcon poised motionless in the sky, and reflecting on that problem which to this day fairly puzzles our ablest scientists, settling the matter in a sentence: "the cause is that feathers doe possess upward attractions." during four hundred years preceding lord verulam philosophers would have flown by aid of a broomstick. bacon himself would have merely parried the problem with a platitude! at any rate, physicists, even in the brilliant seventeenth century, made no material progress towards the navigation of the air, and thus presently let the simple mechanic step in before them. ere that century had closed something in the nature of flight had been accomplished. it is exceedingly hard to arrive at actual fact, but it seems pretty clear that more than one individual, by starting from some eminence, could let himself fall into space and waft himself away for some distance with fair success and safety, it is stated that an english monk, elmerus, flew the space of a furlong from a tower in spain, a feat of the same kind having been accomplished by another adventurer from the top of st. mark's at venice. in these attempts it would seem that the principle of the parachute was to some extent at least brought into play. if also circumstantial accounts can be credited, it would appear that a working model of a flying machine was publicly exhibited by one john muller before the emperor charles v. at nuremberg. whatever exaggeration or embellishment history may be guilty of it is pretty clear that some genuine attempts of a practical and not unsuccessful nature had been made here and there, and these prompted the flowery and visionary bishop wilkins already quoted to predict confidently that the day was approaching when it "would be as common for a man to call for his wings as for boots and spurs." we have now to return to the "tame goose" method, which found its best and boldest exponent in a humble craftsman, by name besnier, living at sable, about the year 1678. this mechanical genius was by trade a locksmith, and must have been possessed of sufficient skill to construct an efficient apparatus out of such materials as came to his hand, of the simplest possible design. it may be compared to the earliest type of bicycle, the ancient "bone shaker," now almost forgotten save by those who, like the writer, had experience of it on its first appearance. besnier's wings, as it would appear, were essentially a pair of double-bladed paddles and nothing more, roughly resembling the double-paddle of an old-fashioned canoe, only the blades were large, roughly rectangular, and curved or hollowed. the operator would commence by standing erect and balancing these paddles, one on each shoulder, so that the hollows of the blades should be towards the ground. the forward part of each paddle was then grasped by the hands, while the hinder part of each was connected to the corresponding leg. this, presumably, would be effected after the arms had been raised vertically, the leg attachment being contrived in some way which experience would dictate. the flyer was now fully equipped, and nothing remained for him save to mount some eminence and, throwing himself forward into space and assuming the position of a flying bird, to commence flapping and beating the air with a reciprocal motion. first, he would buffet the air downwards with the left arm and right leg simultaneously, and while these recovered their position would strike with the right hand and left leg, and so on alternately. with this crude method the enterprising inventor succeeded in raising himself by short stages from one height to another, reaching thus the top of a house, whence he could pass over others, or cross a river or the like. the perfecting of his system became then simply a question of practice and experience, and had young athletes only been trained from early years to the new art it seems reasonable to suppose that some crude approach to human flight would have been effected. modifications and improvements in construction would soon have suggested themselves, as was the case with the bicycle, which in its latest developments can scarcely be recognised as springing from the primitive "bone-shaker" of thirty-three years ago. we would suggest the idea to the modern inventor. he will in these days, of course, find lighter materials to hand. then he will adopt some link motion for the legs in place of leather thongs, and will hinge the paddle blades so that they open out with the forward stroke, but collapse with the return. then look on another thirty-three years--a fresh generation--and our youth of both sexes may find a popular recreation in graceful aerial exercise. the pace is not likely to be excessive, and molestations from disguised policemen--not physically adapted, by the way, to rapid flight--need not be apprehended. one of the best tests of besnier's measure of success is supplied by the fact that he had pupils as well as imitators. first on this list must be mentioned a mr. baldwin, a name which, curiously enough, twice over in modern times comes into the records of bold aerial exploits. this individual, it appears, purchased a flying outfit of besnier himself, and surpassed his master in achievement. a little later one dante contrived some modification of the same apparatus, with which he pursued the new mode of progress till he met with a fractured thigh. but whatever the imitators of besnier may have accomplished, to the honest smith must be accorded the full credit of their success, and with his simple, but brilliant, record left at flood mark, the tide of progress ebbed back again, while mankind ruminated over the great problem in apparent inactivity. but not for long. the air-pump about this period was given to the world, and chemists were already busy investigating the nature of gases. cavallo was experimenting on kindred lines, while in our own land the rival geniuses of priestley and cavendish were clearing the way to make with respect to the atmosphere the most important discovery yet dreamed of. in recording this dawn of a new era, however, we should certainly not forget how, across the atlantic, had arisen a rumford and a franklin, whose labours were destined to throw an all-important sidelight on the pages of progress which we have now to chronicle. chapter ii. the invention of the balloon. it was a november night of the year 1782, in the little town of annonay, near lyons. two young men, stephen and joseph montgolfier, the representatives of a firm of paper makers, were sitting together over their parlour fire. while watching the smoke curling up the chimney one propounded an idea by way of a sudden inspiration: "why shouldn't smoke be made to raise bodies into the air?" the world was waiting for this utterance, which, it would seem, was on the tip of the tongue with many others. cavendish had already discovered what he designated "inflammable air," though no one had as yet given it its later title of hydrogen gas. moreover, in treating of this gas--dr. black of edinburgh, as much as fifteen years before the date we have now arrived at, had suggested that it should be made capable of raising a thin bladder in the air. with a shade more of good fortune, or maybe with a modicum more of leisure, the learned doctor would have won the invention of the balloon for his own country. cavallo came almost nearer, and actually putting the same idea into practice, had succeeded in the spring of 1782 in making soap bubbles blown with hydrogen gas float upwards. but he had accomplished no more when, as related, in the autumn of the same year the brothers montgolfier conceived the notion of making bodies "levitate" by the simpler expedient of filling them with smoke. this was the crude idea, the application of which in their hands was soon marked with notable success. their own trade supplied ready and suitable materials for a first experiment, and, making an oblong bag of thin paper a few feet in length, they proceeded to introduce a cloud of smoke into it by holding crumpled paper kindled in a chafing dish beneath the open mouth. what a subject is there here for an imaginative painter! as the smoky cloud formed within, the bag distended itself, became buoyant, and presently floated to the ceiling. the simple trial proved a complete success, due, as it appeared to them, to the ascensive power of a cloud of smoke. an interesting and more detailed version of the story is extant. while the experiment was in progress a neighbour, the widow of a tradesman who had been connected in business with the firm, seeing smoke escaping into the room, entered and stood watching the proceedings, which were not unattended with difficulties. the bag, half inflated, was not easy to hold in position over the chafing dish, and rapidly cooled and collapsed on being removed from it. the widow noting this, as also the perplexity of the young men, suggested that they should try the result of tying the dish on at the bottom of the bag. this was the one thing wanted to secure success, and that good lady, whose very name is unhappily lost, deserves an honoured place in history. it was unquestionably the adoption of her idea which launched the first balloon into space. the same experiment repeated in the open air proving a yet more pronounced success, more elaborate trials were quickly developed, and the infant balloon grew fast. one worthy of the name, spherical in shape and of some 600 cubic feet capacity, was now made and treated as before, with the result that ere it was fully inflated it broke the strings that held it and sailed away hundreds of feet into the air. the infant was fast becoming a prodigy. encouraged by their fresh success, the inventors at once set about preparations for the construction of a much larger balloon some thirty-five feet diameter (that is, of about 23,000 cubic feet capacity), to be made of linen lined with paper and this machine, launched on a favourable day in the following spring, rose with great swiftness to fully a thousand feet, and travelled nearly a mile from its starting ground. enough; the time was already ripe for a public demonstration of the new invention, and accordingly the 5th of the following june witnessed the ascent of the same balloon with due ceremony and advertisement. special pains were taken with the inflation, which was conducted over a pit above which the balloon envelope was slung; and in accordance with the view that smoke was the chief lifting power, the fuel was composed of straw largely mixed with wool. it is recorded that the management of the furnace needed the attention of two men only, while eight men could hardly hold the impatient balloon in restraint. the inflation, in spite of the fact that the fuel chosen was scarcely the best for the purpose, was conducted remarkable expedition, and on being released, the craft travelled one and a half miles into the air, attaining a height estimated at over 6,000 feet. from this time the tide of events in the aeronautical world rolls on in full flood, almost every half-year marking a fresh epoch, until a new departure in the infant art of ballooning was already on the point of being reached. it had been erroneously supposed that the ascent of the montgolfier balloon had been due, not to the rarefaction of the air within it--which was its true cause--but to the evolution of some light gas disengaged by the nature of the fuel used. it followed, therefore, almost as a matter of course, that chemists, who, as stated in the last chapter, were already acquainted with so-called "inflammable air," or hydrogen gas, grasped the fact that this gas would serve better than any other for the purposes of a balloon. and no sooner had the news of the montgolfiers' success reached paris than a subscription was raised, and m. charles, professor of experimental philosophy, was appointed, with the assistance of m. roberts, to superintend the construction of a suitable balloon and its inflation by the proposed new method. the task was one of considerable difficulty, owing partly to the necessity of procuring some material which would prevent the escape of the lightest and most subtle gas known, and no less by reason of the difficulty of preparing under pressure a sufficient quantity of gas itself. the experiment, sound enough in theory, was eventually carried through after several instructive failures. a suitable material was found in "lustring," a glossy silk cloth varnished with a solution of caoutchouc, and this being formed into a balloon only thirteen feet in diameter and fitted without other aperture than a stopcock, was after several attempts filled with hydrogen gas prepared in the usual way by the action of dilute sulphuric acid on scrap iron. the preparations completed, one last and all-important mistake was made by closing the stop-cock before the balloon was dismissed, the disastrous and unavoidable result of this being at the time overlooked. on august 25, 1783, the balloon was liberated on the champ de mars before an enormous concourse, and in less than two minutes had reached an elevation of half a mile, when it was temporarily lost in cloud, through which, however, it penetrated, climbing into yet higher cloud, when, disappearing from sight, it presently burst and descended to earth after remaining in the air some three-quarters of an hour. the bursting of this little craft taught the future balloonist his first great lesson, namely, that on leaving earth he must open the neck of his balloon; and the reason of this is obvious. while yet on earth the imprisoned gas of a properly filled balloon distends the silk by virtue of its expansive force, and in spite of the enormous outside pressure which the weight of air exerts upon it. then, as the balloon rises high in the air and the outside pressure grows less, the struggling gas within, if allowed no vent, stretches the balloon more and more until the slender fabric bursts under the strain. at the risk of being tedious, we have dwelt at some length on the initial experiments which in less than a single year had led to the discovery and development of two distinct methods--still employed and in competition with each other--of dismissing balloons into the heavens. we are now prepared to enter fully into the romantic history of our subject which from this point rapidly unfolds itself. some eleven months only after the two montgolfiers were discovered toying with their inflated paper bag, the younger of the two brothers was engaged to make an exhibition of his new art before the king at versailles, and this was destined to be the first occasion when a balloon was to carry a living freight into the sky. the stately structure, which was gorgeously decorated, towered some seventy feet into the air, and was furnished with a wicker car in which the passengers were duly installed. these were three in number, a sheep, a cock, and a duck, and amid the acclamations of the multitude, rose a few hundred feet and descended half a mile away. the cock was found to have sustained an unexplained mishap: its leg was broken; but the sheep was feeding complacently, and the duck was quacking with much apparent satisfaction. now, who among mortals will come forward and win the honour of being the first to sail the skies? m. pilitre de rozier at once volunteered, and by the month of november a new air ship was built, 74 feet high, 48 feet in largest diameter, and 15 feet across the neck, outside which a wicker gallery was constructed, while an iron brazier was slung below all. but to trim the boat properly two passengers were needed, and de rozier found a ready colleague in the marquis d'arlandes. by way of precaution, de rozier made a few preliminary ascents with the balloon held captive, and then the two intrepid frenchmen took their stand on opposite sides of the gallery, each furnished with bundles of fuel to feed the furnace, each also carrying a large wet sponge with which to extinguish the flames whenever the machine might catch fire. on casting off the balloon rose readily, and reaching 3,000 feet, drifted away on an upper current. the rest of the narrative, much condensed from a letter of the marquis, written a week later, runs somewhat thus: "our departure was at fifty-four minutes past one, and occasioned little stir among the spectators. thinking they might be frightened and stand in need of encouragement, i waved my arm. m. de rozier cried, 'you are doing nothing, and we are not rising!' i stirred the fire, and then began to scan the river, but pilitre cried again, 'see the river; we are dropping into it!' we again urged the fire, but still clung to the river bed. presently i heard a noise in the upper part of the balloon, which gave a shock as though it had burst. i called to my companion, 'are you dancing?' the balloon by now had many holes burned in it, and using my sponge i cried that we must descend. my companion, however, explained that we were over paris, and must now cross it. therefore, raising the fire once more, we turned south till we passed the luxemburg, when, extinguishing the flame, the balloon came down spent and empty." daring as was this ascent, it was in achievement eclipsed two months later at lyons, when a mammoth balloon, 130 feet in height and lifting 18 tons, was inflated in seventeen minutes, and ascended with no less than seven passengers. when more than half a mile aloft this machine, which was made of too slender material for its huge size, suddenly developed a rent of half its length, causing it to descend with immense velocity; but without the smallest injury to any of the passengers. this was a memorable performance, and the account, sensational as it may read, is by no means unworthy of credit; for, as will be seen hereafter, a balloon even when burst or badly torn in midair may, on the principle of the parachute, effect its own salvation. in the meanwhile, the rival balloon of hydrogen gas--the charliere, as it has been called--had had its first innings. before the close of the year mm. roberts and charles constructed and inflated a hydrogen balloon, this time fitted with a practicable valve, and in partnership accomplished an ascent beating all previous records. the day, december 17, was one of winter temperature; yet the aeronauts quickly reached 6,000 feet, and when, after remaining aloft for one and a half hours, they descended, roberts got out, leaving charles in sole possession. left to himself, this young recruit seems to have met with experiences which are certainly unusual, and which must be attributed largely to the novelty of his situation. he declared that at 9,000 feet, or less than two miles, all objects on the earth had disappeared from view, a statement which can only be taken to mean that he had entered cloud. further, at this moderate elevation he not only became benumbed with cold, but felt severe pain in his right ear and jaw. he held on, however, ascending till 10,500 feet were reached, when he descended, having made a journey of thirty miles from the start. ascents, all on the continent, now followed one another in rapid succession, and shortly the mm. roberts essayed a venture on new lines. they attempted the guidance of a balloon by means of oars, and though they failed in this they were fortunate in making a fresh record. they also encountered a thunderstorm, and by adopting a perfectly scientific method--of which more hereafter--succeeded in eluding it. the storm broke around them when they were 14,000 feet high, and at this altitude, noting that there were diverse currents aloft, they managed to manoeuvre their balloon higher or lower at will and to suit their purpose, and by this stratagem drew away from the storm centre. after six and a half hours their voyage ended, but not until 150 miles had been covered. it must be freely granted that prodigious progress had been made in an art that as yet was little more than a year old; but assuredly not enough to justify the absurdly inflated ideas that the continental public now began to indulge in. men lost their mental balance, allowing their imagination to run riot, and speculation became extravagant in the extreme. there was to be no limit henceforward to the attainment of fresh knowledge, nor any bounds placed to where man might roam. the universe was open to him: he might voyage if he willed to the moon or elsewhere: paris was to be the starting point for other worlds: heaven itself had been taken by storm. moderation had to be learned ere long by the discipline of more than one stern lesson. hitherto a marvellous--call it a providential--good fortune had attended the first aerial travellers; and even when mishaps presently came to be reckoned with, it may fairly be questioned whether so many lives were sacrificed among those who sought to voyage through the sky as were lost among such as first attempted to navigate the sea. it is in such ventures as we are now regarding that fortune seems readiest to favour the daring, and if i may digress briefly to adduce experiences coming within my own knowledge, i would say that it is to his very impulsiveness that the enthusiast often owes the safety of his neck. it is the timid, not the bold rider, that comes to grief at the fence. it is the man who draws back who is knocked over by a tramcar. sheer impetus, moral or physical, often carries you through, as in the case of a fall from horse-back. to tumble off when your horse is standing still and receive a dead blow from the ground might easily break a limb. but at full gallop immunity often lies in the fact that you strike the earth at an angle, and being carried forward, impact is less abrupt. i can only say that i have on more than one occasion found the greatest safety in a balloon venture involving the element of risk to lie in complete abandonment to circumstances, and in the increased life and activity which the delirium of excitement calls forth. in comparing, however, man's first ventures by sky with those by sea, we must remember what far greater demand the former must have made upon the spirit of enterprise and daring. we can picture the earliest sea voyager taking his first lesson astride of a log with one foot on the bottom, and thus proceeding by sure stages till he had built his coracle and learned to paddle it in shoal water. but the case was wholly different when the first frail air ship stood at her moorings with straining gear and fiercely burning furnace, and when the sky sailor knew that no course was left him but to dive boldly up into an element whence there was no stepping back, and separated from earth by a gulf which man instinctively dreads to look down upon. taking events in their due sequence, we have now to record a voyage which the terrors of sky and sea together combined to make memorable. winter had come--early january of 1785--when, in spite of short dark days and frosty air, m. blanchard, accompanied by an american, dr. jeffries, determined on an attempt to cross the channel. they chose the english side, and inflating their balloon with hydrogen at dover, boldly cast off, and immediately drifted out to sea. probably they had not paid due thought to the effect of low sun and chilly atmosphere, for their balloon rose sluggishly and began settling down ere little more than a quarter of their course was run. thereupon they parted with a large portion of their ballast, with the result that they crept on as far as mid-channel, when they began descending again, and cast out the residue of their sand, together with some books, and this, too, with the uncomfortable feeling that even these measures would not suffice to secure their safety. this was in reality the first time that a sea passage had been made by sky, and the gravity of their situation must not be under-estimated. we are so accustomed in a sea passage to the constant passing of other vessels that we allow ourselves to imagine that a frequented portion of the ocean, such as the channel, is thickly dotted over with shipping of some sort. but in entertaining this idea we are forgetful of the fact that we are all the while on a steamer track. the truth, however, is that anywhere outside such a track, even from the commanding point of view of a high-flying balloon, the ocean is seen to be more vast than we suppose, and bears exceedingly little but the restless waves upon its surface. once fairly in the water with a fallen balloon, there is clearly no rising again, and the life of the balloon in this its wrong element is not likely to be a long one. the globe of gas may under favourable circumstances continue to float for some while, but the open wicker car is the worst possible boat for the luckless voyagers, while to leave it and cling to the rigging is but a forlorn hope, owing to the mass of netting which surrounds the silk, and which would prove a death-trap in the water. there are many instances of lives having been lost in such a dilemma, even when help was near at hand. our voyagers, whom we left in mid-air and stream, were soon descending again, and this time they threw out their tackle--anchor, ropes, and other gear, still without adequately mending matters. then their case grew desperate. the french coast was, indeed, well in sight, but there seemed but slender chance of reaching it, when they began divesting themselves of clothing as a last resort. the upshot of this was remarkable, and deserves a moment's consideration. when a balloon has been lightened almost to the utmost the discharge of a small weight sometimes has a magical effect, as is not difficult to understand. throwing out ten pounds at an early stage, when there may be five hundred pounds more of superfluous weight, will tell but little, but when those five hundred pounds are expended then an extra ten pounds scraped together from somewhere and cast overboard may cause a balloon to make a giant stride into space by way of final effort; and it was so with m. blanchard. his expiring balloon shot up and over the approaching land, and came safely to earth near the forest of guiennes. a magnificent feast was held at calais to celebrate the above event. m. blanchard was presented with the freedom of the city in a gold box, and application was made to the ministry to have the balloon purchased and deposited as a memorial in the church. on the testimony of the grandson of dr. jeffries the car of this balloon is now in the museum of the same city. a very noteworthy example of how a balloon may be made to take a fresh lease of life is supplied by a voyage of m. testu about this date, which must find brief mention in these pages. in one aspect it is laughable, in another it is sublime. from every point of view it is romantic. it was four o'clock on a threatening day in june when the solitary aeronaut took flight from paris in a small hydrogen balloon only partially filled, but rigged with some contrivance of wings which were designed to render it self-propelling. discovering, however, that this device was inoperative, m. testu, after about an hour and a half, allowed the balloon to descend to earth in a corn field, when, without quitting hold of the car, he commenced collecting stones for ballast. but as yet he knew not the ways of churlish proprietors of land, and in consequence was presently surprised by a troublesome crowd, who proceeded, as they supposed, to take him prisoner till he should pay heavy compensation, dragging him off to the nearest village by the trail rope of his balloon. m. testu now had leisure to consider his situation, and presently hit on a stratagem the like of which has often since been adopted by aeronauts in like predicament. representing to his captors that without his wings he would be powerless, he suffered them to remove these weighty appendages, when also dropping a heavy cloak, he suddenly cut the cord by which he was being dragged, and, regaining freedom, soared away into the sky. he was quickly high aloft, and heard thunder below him, soon after which, the chill of evening beginning to bring him earthward, he descried a hunt in full cry, and succeeded in coming down near the huntsmen, some of whom galloped up to him, and for their benefit he ascended again, passing this time into dense cloud with thunder and lightning. he saw the sun go down and the lightning gather round, yet with admirable courage he lived the night out aloft till the storms were spent and the midsummer sun rose once more. with daylight restored, his journey ended at a spot over sixty miles from paris. we have, of course, recounted only a few of the more noteworthy early ballooning ventures. in reality there had up to the present time been scores of ascents made in different localities and in all conditions of wind and weather, yet not a life had been lost. we have now, however, to record a casualty which cost the first and boldest aeronaut his life, and which is all the more regrettable as being due to circumstances that should never have occurred. m. pilatre de rosier, accompanied by m. romain, determined on crossing the channel from the french side; and, thinking to add to their buoyancy and avoid the risk of falling in the sea, hit on the extraordinary idea of using a fire balloon beneath another filled with hydrogen gas! with this deadly compound machine they actually ascended from boulogne, and had not left the land when the inevitable catastrophe took place. the balloons caught fire and blew up at a height of 3,000 feet, while the unfortunate voyagers were dashed to atoms. chapter iii. the first balloon ascent in england. as may be supposed, it was not long before the balloon was introduced into england. indeed, the first successful ascent on record made in our own country took place in the summer of 1784, ten months previous to the fatal venture narrated at the close of the last chapter. now, it is a remarkable and equally regrettable circumstance that though the first ascent on british soil was undoubtedly made by one of our own countrymen, the fact is almost universally forgotten, or ignored, and the credit is accorded to a foreigner. let us in strict honesty examine into the case. vincent lunardi, an italian, secretary to the neapolitan ambassador, prince caramanico, being in england in the year 1784, determined on organising and personally executing an ascent from london; and his splendid enterprise, which was presently carried to a successful issue, will form the principal subject of the present chapter. it will be seen that remarkable success crowned his efforts, and that his first and ever memorable voyage was carried through on september 15th of that year. more than a month previously, however, attention had been called to the fact that a mr. tytler was preparing to make an ascent from edinburgh in a hot air balloon, and in the london chronicle of august 27th occurs the following circumstantial and remarkable letter from a correspondent to that journal: "edinburgh, aug. 27, 1784. "mr. tytler has made several improvements upon his fire balloon. the reason of its failure formerly was its being made of porous linen, through which the air made its escape. to remedy this defect, mr. tytler has got it covered with a varnish to retain the inflammable air after the balloon is filled. "early this morning this bold adventurer took his first aerial flight. the balloon being filled at comely garden, he seated himself in the basket, and the ropes being cut he ascended very high and descended quite gradually on the road to restalrig, about half a mile from the place where he rose, to the great satisfaction of those spectators who were present. mr. tytler went up without the furnace this morning; when that is added he will be able to feed the balloon with inflammable air, and continue his aerial excursions as long as he chooses. "mr. tytler is now in high spirits, and in his turn laughs at those infidels who ridiculed his scheme as visionary and impracticable. mr. tytler is the first person in great britain who has navigated the air." referring to this exploit, tytler, in a laudatory epistle addressed to lunardi, tells of the difficulties he had had to contend with, and artlessly reveals the cool, confident courage he must have displayed. no shelter being available for the inflation, and a strong wind blowing, his first misfortune was the setting fire to his wicker gallery. the next was the capsizing and damaging of his balloon, which he had lined with paper. he now substituted a coat of varnish for the paper, and his gallery being destroyed, so that he could no longer attempt to take up a stove, he resolved to ascend without one. in the end the balloon was successfully inflated, when he had the hardihood to entrust himself to a small basket (used for carrying earthenware) slung below, and thus to launch himself into the sky. he did so under the conviction that the risk he ran was greater than it really was, for he argued that his craft was now only like a projectile, and "must undoubtedly come to the ground with the same velocity with which it ascended." on this occasion the crowd tried for some time to hold him near the ground by one of the restraining ropes, so that his flight was curtailed. in a second experiment, however, he succeeded in rising some hundreds of feet, and came to earth without mishap. but little further information respecting mr. tytler is apparently forthcoming, and therefore beyond recording the fact that he was the first british aeronaut, and also that he was the first to achieve a balloon ascent in great britain, we are unable to make further mention of him in this history. of his illustrious contemporary already mentioned there is, on the contrary, much to record, and we would desire to give full credit to his admirable courage and perseverance. it was with a certain national and pardonable pride that the young italian planned his bold exploit, feeling with a sense of self-satisfaction, which he is at no pains to hide, that he aimed at winning honour for his country as well as for himself. in a letter which he wrote to his guardian, chevalier gherardo compagni, he alludes to the stolid indifference of the english people and philosophers to the brilliant achievements in aeronautics which had been made and so much belauded on the continent. he proclaims the rivalry as regards science and art existing between france and england, attributing to the latter an attitude of sullen jealousy. at the same time he is fully alive to the necessity of gaining english patronage, and sets about securing this with tactful diplomacy. first he casts about for a suitable spot where his enterprise would not fail to enlist general attention and perhaps powerful patrons, and here he is struck by the attractions and facilities offered by chelsea hospital. he therefore applies to sir george howard, the governor, asking for the use of the famous hospital, to which, on the occasion of his experiments, he desires that admittance should only be granted to subscribers, while any profits should be devoted to the pensioners of the hospital. his application having been granted, he assures his guardian that he "still maintains his mental balance, and his sleep is not banished by the magnitude of his enterprise, which is destined to lead him through the path of danger to glory." this letter was dated the 15th of july, and by the beginning of august his advertisement was already before the public, inviting subscribers and announcing a private view of his balloon at the lyceum, where it was in course of construction, and was being fitted with contrivances of his own in the shape of oars and sails. he had by this time not only enlisted the interest of sir george howard, and of sir joseph banks, but had secured the direct patronage of the king. but within a fortnight a most unforeseen mishap had occurred, which threatened to overwhelm lunardi in disappointment and ruin. a frenchman of the name of moret, designing to turn to his own advertisement the attention attracted by lunardi's approaching trials, attempted to forestall the event by an enterprise of his own, announcing that he would make an ascent with a hot air balloon in some gardens near chelsea hospital, and at a date previous to that fixed upon by lunardi. in attempting, however, to carry out this unworthy project the adventurer met with the discomfiture he deserved. he failed to effect his inflation, and when after fruitless attempts continued for three hours, his balloon refused to rise, a large crowd, estimated at 60,000, assembled outside, broke into the enclosure, committing havoc on all sides, not unattended with acts of violence and robbery. the whole neighbourhood became alarmed, and it followed as a matter of course that lunardi was peremptorily ordered to discontinue his preparations, and to announce in the public press that his ascent from chelsea hospital was forbidden. failure and ruin now stared the young enthusiast in the face, and it was simply the generous feeling of the british public, and the desire to see fair play, that gave him another chance. as it was, he became the hero of the hour; thousands flocked to the show rooms at the lyceum, and he shortly obtained fresh grounds, together with needful protection for his project, at the hands of the hon. artillery company. by the 15th of september all incidental difficulties, the mere enumeration of which would unduly swell these pages, had been overcome by sheer persistence, and lunardi stood in the enclosure allotted him, his preparations in due order, with 150,000 souls, who had formed for hours a dense mass of spectators, watching intently and now confidently the issue of his bold endeavour. but his anxieties were as yet far from over, for a london crowd had never yet witnessed a balloon ascent, while but a month ago they had seen and wreaked their wrath upon the failure of an adventurer. they were not likely to be more tolerant now. and when the advertised hour for departure had arrived, and the balloon remained inadequately inflated, matters began to take a more serious turn. half an hour later they approached a crisis, when it began to be known that the balloon still lacked buoyancy, and that the supply of gas was manifestly insufficient. the impatience of the mob indeed was kept in restraint by one man alone. this man was the prince of wales who, refusing to join the company within the building and careless of the attitude of the crowd, remained near the balloon to check disorder and unfair treatment. but an hour after time the balloon still rested inert and then, with fine resolution, lunardi tried one last expedient. he bade his colleague, mr. biggen, who was to have ascended with him, remain behind, and quietly substituting a smaller and lighter wicker car, or rather gallery, took his place within and severed the cords just as the last gun fired. the prince of wales raised his hat, imitated at once by all the bystanders, and the first balloon that ever quitted english soil rose into the air amid the extravagant enthusiasm of the multitude. the intrepid aeronaut, pardonably excited, and fearful lest he should not be seen within the gallery, made frantic efforts to attract attention by waving his flag, and worked his oars so vigorously that one of them broke and fell. a pigeon also gained its freedom and escaped. the voyager, however, still retained companions in his venture--a dog and a cat. following his own account, lunardi's first act on finding himself fairly above the town was to fortify himself with some glasses of wine, and to devour the leg of a chicken. he describes the city as a vast beehive, st. paul's and other churches standing out prominently; the streets shrunk to lines, and all humanity apparently transfixed and watching him. a little later he is equally struck with the view of the open country, and his ecstasy is pardonable in a novice. the verdant pastures eclipsed the visions of his own lands. the precision of boundaries impressed him with a sense of law and order, and of good administration in the country where he was a sojourner. by this time he found his balloon, which had been only two-thirds full at starting, to be so distended that he was obliged to untie the mouth to release the strain. he also found that the condensed moisture round the neck had frozen. these two statements point to his having reached a considerable altitude, which is intelligible enough. it is, however, difficult to believe his further assertion that by the use of his single oar he succeeded in working himself down to within a few hundred feet of the earth. the descent of the balloon must, in point of fact, have been due to a copious outrush of gas at his former altitude. had his oar really been effective in working the balloon down it would not have needed the discharge of ballast presently spoken of to cause it to reascend. anyhow, he found himself sufficiently near the earth to land a passenger who was anxious to get out. his cat had not been comfortable in the cold upper regions, and now at its urgent appeal was deposited in a corn field, which was the point of first contact with the earth. it was carefully received by a country-woman, who promptly sold it to a gentleman on the other side of the hedge, who had been pursuing the balloon. the first ascent of a balloon in england was deserving of some record, and an account alike circumstantial and picturesque is forthcoming. the novel and astonishing sight was witnessed by a hertfordshire farmer, whose testimony, published by lunardi in the same year, runs as follows:-this deponent on his oath sayeth that, being on wednesday, the 15th day of september instant, between the hours of three and four in the afternoon, in a certain field called etna, in the parish of north mimms aforesaid, he perceived a large machine sailing in the air, near the place where he was on horseback; that the machine continuing to approach the earth, the part of it in which this deponent perceived a gentleman standing came to the ground and dragged a short way on the ground in a slanting direction; that the time when this machine thus touched the earth was, as near as this deponent could judge, about a quarter before four in the afternoon. that this deponent being on horseback, and his horse restive, he could not approach nearer to the machine than about four poles, but that he could plainly perceive therein gentleman dressed in light coloured cloaths, holding in his hand a trumpet, which had the appearance of silver or bright tin. that by this time several harvest men coming up from the other part of the field, to the number of twelve men and thirteen women, this deponent called to them to endeavour to stop the machine, which the men attempted, but the gentleman in the machine desiring them to desist, and the machine moving with considerable rapidity, and clearing the earth, went off in a north direction and continued in sight at a very great height for near an hour afterwards. and this deponent further saith that the part of the machine in the which the gentleman stood did not actually touch the ground for more than half a minute, during which time the gentleman threw out a parcel of what appeared to this deponent as dry sand. that after the machine had ascended again from the earth this deponent perceived a grapple with four hooks, which hung from the bottom of the machine, dragging along the ground, which carried up with it into the air a small parcel of loose oats, which the women were raking in the field. and this deponent further on his oath sayeth that when the machine had risen clear from the ground about twenty yards the gentleman spoke to this deponent and to the rest of the people with his trumpet, wishing them goodbye and saying that he should soon go out of sight. and this deponent further on his oath sayeth that the machine in which the gentleman came down to earth appeared to consist of two distinct parts connected together by ropes, namely that in which the gentleman appeared to be, a stage boarded at the bottom, and covered with netting and ropes on the sides about four feet and a half high, and the other part of the machine appeared in the shape of an urn, about thirty feet high and of about the same diameter, made of canvas like oil skin, with green, red, and yellow stripes. nathaniel whitbread. sworn before me this twentieth day of september, 1784, william baker. it was a curious fact, pointed out to the brave italian by a resident, that the field in which the temporary descent had been made was called indifferently etna or italy, "from the circumstance which attended the late enclosure of a large quantity of roots, rubbish, etc., having been collected there, and having continued burning for many days. the common people having heard of a burning mountain in italy gave the field that name." but the voyage did not end at etna. the, as yet, inexperienced aeronaut now cast out all available ballast in the shape of sand, as also his provisions, and rising with great speed, soon reached a greater altitude than before, which he sought to still farther increase by throwing down his plates, knives, and forks. in this somewhat reckless expenditure he thought himself justified by the reliance he placed on his oar, and it is not surprising that in the end he owns that he owed his safety in his final descent to his good fortune. the narrative condensed concludes thus:-"at twenty minutes past four i descended in a meadow near ware. some labourers were at work in it. i requested their assistance, but they exclaimed they would have nothing to do with one who came on the devil's horse, and no entreaties could prevail on them to approach me. i at last owed my deliverance to a young woman in the field who took hold of a cord i had thrown out, and, calling to the men, they yielded that assistance at her request which they had refused to mine." as may be supposed, lunardi's return to london resembled a royal progress. indeed, he was welcomed as a conqueror to whom the whole town sought to do honour, and perhaps his greatest gratification came by way of the accounts he gathered of incidents which occurred during his eventful voyage. at a dinner at which he was being entertained by the lord mayor and judges he learned that a lady seeing his falling oar, and fancying that he himself was dashed to pieces, received a shock thereby which caused her death. commenting on this, one of the judges bade him be reassured, inasmuch as he had, as if by compensation, saved the life of a young man who might live to be reformed. the young man was a criminal whose condemnation was regarded as certain at the hands of the jury before whom he was being arraigned, when tidings reached the court that lunardi's balloon was in the air. on this so much confusion arose that the jury were unable to give due deliberation to the case, and, fearing to miss the great sight, actually agreed to acquit the prisoner, that they themselves might be free to leave the court! but he was flattered by a compliment of a yet higher order. he was told that while he hovered over london the king was in conference with his principal ministers, and his majesty, learning that he was in the sky, is reported to have said to his councillors, "we may resume our own deliberations at pleasure, but we may never see poor lunardi again!" on this, it is further stated that the conference broke up, and the king, attended by mr. pitt and other chief officers of state, continued to view lunardi through telescopes as long as he remained in the horizon. the public press, notably the morning post of september 16, paid a worthy tribute to the hero of the hour, and one last act of an exceptional character was carried out in his honour, and remains in evidence to this hour. in a meadow in the parish of standon, near ware, there stands a rough hewn stone, now protected by an iron rail. it marks the spot where lunardi landed, and on it is cut a legend which runs thus: let posterity know and knowing be astonished that on the 15th day of september 1784 vincent lunardi of lusca in tuscany the first aerial traveller in britain mounting from the artillery ground in london and traversing the regions of the air for two hours and fifteen minutes in this spot revisited the earth. on this rude monument for ages be recorded that wondrous enterprise successfully atchieved by the powers of chemistry and the fortitude of man that improvement in science which the great author of all knowledge patronyzing by his providence the invention of mankind hath graciously permitted to their benefit and his own eternal glory. chapter iv. the development of balloon philosophy. in less than two years not only had the science of ballooning reached almost its highest development, but the balloon itself, as an aerostatic machine, had been brought to a state of perfection which has been but little improved upon up to the present hour. better or cheaper methods of inflation were yet to be discovered, lighter and more suitable material remained to be manufactured; but the navigation of the air, which hitherto through all time had been beyond man's grasp, had been attained, as it were, at a bound, and at the hands of many different and independent experimentalists was being pursued with almost the same degree of success and safety as to-day. nor was this all. there was yet another triumph of the aeronautical art which, within the same brief period, had been to all intents and purposes achieved, even if it had not been brought to the same state of perfection as at the present hour. this was the parachute. this fact is one which for a sufficient reason is not generally known. it is very commonly supposed that the parachute, in anything like its present form, is a very modern device, and that the art of successfully using it had not been introduced to the world even so lately as thirty years ago. thus, we find it stated in works of that date dealing with the subject that disastrous consequences almost necessarily attended the use of the parachute, "the defects of which had been attempted to be remedied in various ways, but up to this time without success." a more correct statement, however, would have been that the art of constructing and using a practicable parachute had through many years been lost or forgotten. in actual fact, it had been adopted with every assurance of complete success by the year 1785, when blanchard by its means lowered dogs and other animals with safety from a balloon. a few years later he descended himself in a like apparatus from basle, meeting, however, with the misadventure of a broken leg. but we must go much further back for the actual conception of the parachute, which, we might suppose, may originally have been suggested by the easy floating motion with which certain seeds or leaves will descend from lofty trees, or by the mode adopted by birds of dropping softly to earth with out-stretched wings. m. de la loubere, in his historical account of siam, which he visited in 1687-88, speaks of an ingenious athlete who exceedingly diverted the king and his court by leaping from a height and supporting himself in the air by two umbrellas, the handles of which were affixed to his girdle. in 1783, that is, the same year as that in which the balloon was invented, m. le normand experimented with a like umbrella-shaped contrivance, with a view to its adoption as a fire escape, and he demonstrated the soundness of the principle by descending himself from the windows of a lofty house at lyons. it was, however, reserved for m. jacques garnerin in 1797 to make the first parachute descent that attracted general attention. garnerin had previously been detained as a state prisoner in the fortress of bade, in hungary, after the battle of marchiennes in 1793, and during his confinement had pondered on the possibility of effecting his escape by a parachute. his solitary cogitations and calculations resulted, after his release, in the invention and construction of an apparatus which he put to a practical test at paris before the court of france on october 22nd, 1797. ascending in a hydrogen balloon to the height of about 2,000 feet, he unhesitatingly cut himself adrift, when for some distance he dropped like a stone. the folds of his apparatus, however, opening suddenly, his fall became instantly checked. the remainder of his descent, though leisurely, occupying, in fact, some twelve minutes, appeared to the spectators to be attended with uncertainty, owing to a swinging motion set up in the car to which he was clinging. but the fact remains that he reached the earth with only slight impact, and entirely without injury. it appears that garnerin subsequently made many equally successful parachute descents in france, and during the short peace of 1802 visited london, where he gave an exhibition of his art. from the most reliable accounts of his exploit it would seem that his drop was from a very great height, and that a strong ground wind was blowing at the time, the result of which was that wild, wide oscillations were set up in the car, which narrowly escaped bringing him in contact with the house tops in st. pancreas, and eventually swung him down into a field, not without some unpleasant scratches. nor was garnerin the only successful parachutist at this period. a polish aeronaut, jordaki kuparento, ascended from warsaw on the 24th of july, 1804 in a hot air balloon, taking up, as was the custom, an attached furnace, which caused the balloon to take fire when at a great height. kuparento, however, who was alone, had as a precaution provided himself with a parachute, and with this he seems to have found no difficulty in effecting a safe descent to earth. it was many years after this that fresh experimentalists, introducing parachutes on new lines and faulty in construction, met with death or disaster. enough, however, has already been said to show that in the early years we are now traversing in this history a perfectly practicable parachute had become an accomplished fact. the early form is well described by mr. monck mason in a letter to the morning herald in 1837, written on the eve of an unrehearsed and fatal experiment made by mr. cocking, which must receive notice in due course. "the principle," writes mr. monck mason, "upon which all these parachutes were constructed is the same, and consists simply of a flattened dome of silk or linen from 24 feet to 28 feet in diameter. from the outer margin all around at stated intervals proceed a large number of cords, in length about the diameter of the dome itself, which, being collected together in one point and made fast to another of superior dimensions attached to the apex of the machine, serve to maintain it in its form when expanded in the progress of the descent. to this centre cord likewise, at a distance below the point of junction, varying according to the fancy of the aeronaut, is fixed the car or basket in which he is seated, and the whole suspended from the network of the balloon in such a manner as to be capable of being detached in an instant at the will of the individual by cutting the rope by which it is made fast above." it followed almost as a matter of course that so soon as the balloon had been made subject to something like due control, and thus had become recognised as a new machine fairly reduced to the service of man, it began to be regarded as an instrument which should be made capable of being devoted to scientific research. indeed, it may be claimed that, among the very earliest aeronauts, those who had sailed away into the skies and brought back intelligent observations or impressions of the realm of cloud-land, or who had only described their own sensations at lofty altitudes, had already contributed facts of value to science. it is time then, taking events in their due sequence, that mention should be made of the endeavours of various savants, who began about the commencement of the nineteenth century to gather fresh knowledge from the exploration of the air by balloon ascents organised with fitting equipment. the time had now come for promoting the balloon to higher purposes than those of mere exhibition or amusement. in point of fact, it had already in one way been turned to serious practical account. it had been used by the french during military operations in the revolutionary war as a mode of reconnoitring, and not without success, so that when after due trial the war balloon was judged of value a number of similar balloons were constructed for the use of the various divisions of the french army, and, as will be told in its proper place, one, at least, of these was put to a positive test before the battle of fleurus. but, returning to more strictly scientific ascents, which began to be mooted at this period, we are at once impressed with the widespread influence which the balloon was exercising on thinking minds. we note this from the fact that what must be claimed to be the first genuine ascent for scientific observation was made in altogether fresh ground, and at so distant a spot as st. petersburg. it was now the year 1804, and the russian academy had determined on attempting an examination of the physical condition of the higher atmosphere by means of the balloon. the idea had probably been suggested by scientific observations which had already been made on mountain heights by such explorers as de luc, saussure, humboldt, and others. and now it was determined that their results should be tested alongside such observations as could be gathered in the free heaven far removed from any disturbing effects that might be caused by contiguity to earth. the lines of enquiry to which special attention was required were such as would be naturally suggested by the scientific knowledge of the hour, though they may read somewhat quaintly to-day. would there be any change in the intensity of the magnetic force? any change in the inclination of the magnetised needle? would evaporation find a new law? would solar rays increase in power? what amount of electric matter would be found? what change in the colours produced by the prism? what would be the constitution of the higher and more attenuated air? what physical effect would it have on human and bird life? the ascent was made at 7.15 on a summer evening by m. robertson and the academician, m. sacharof, to whom we are indebted for the following resume of notes, which have a special value as being the first of their class. rising slowly, a difference of atmosphere over the neva gave the balloon a downward motion, necessitating the discharge of ballast. as late as 8.45 p.m. a fine view was obtained of the newski islands, and the whole course of the neighbouring river. at 9.20 p.m., when the barometer had fallen from 30 inches to 23 inches, a canary and a dove were dismissed, the former falling precipitately, while the latter sailed down to a village below. all available ballast was now thrown out, including a spare great coat and the remains of supper, with the result that at 9.30 the barometer had fallen to 22 inches, and at this height they caught sight of the upper rim of the sun. the action of heart and lungs remained normal. no stars were seen, though the sky was mainly clear, such clouds as were visible appearing white and at a great height. the echo of a speaking trumpet was heard after an interval of ten seconds. this was substantially the outcome of the experiments. the practical difficulties of carrying out prearranged observations amid the inconvenience of balloon travel were much felt. their instruments were seriously damaged, and their results, despite most painstaking and praiseworthy efforts, must be regarded as somewhat disappointing. but ere the autumn of the same year two other scientific ascents, admirably schemed and financed at the public expense, had been successfully carried out at paris in a war balloon which, as will be told, had at this time been returned from military operations in egypt. in the first of these, gay lussac ascended in company with m. biot, with very complete equipment. choosing ten o'clock in the morning for their hour of departure, they quickly entered a region of thin, but wet fog, after which they shot up into denser cloud, which they completely surmounted at a height of 6,500 feet, when they described the upper surface as bearing the resemblance, familiar enough to aeronauts and mountaineers, as of a white sea broken up into gently swelling billows, or of an extended plain covered with snow. a series of simple experiments now embarked upon showed the behaviour of magnetised iron, as also of a galvanic pile or battery, to remain unaltered. as their altitude increased their pulses quickened, though beyond feeling keenly the contrast of a colder air and of scorching rays of the sun they experienced no physical discomfort. at 11,000 feet a linnet which they liberated fell to the earth almost helplessly, while a pigeon with difficulty maintained an irregular and precipitate flight. a carefully compiled record was made of variations of temperature and humidity, and they succeeded in determining that the upper air was charged with negative electricity. in all this these two accomplished physicists may be said to have carried out a brilliant achievement, even though their actual results may seem somewhat meagre. they not only were their own aeronauts, but succeeded in arranging and carrying out continuous and systematic observations throughout the period of their remaining in the sky. this voyage was regarded as such a pronounced success that three weeks later, in mid-september, gay lussac was induced to ascend again, this time alone, and under circumstances that should enable him to reach an exceptionally high altitude. experience had taught the advisability of certain modifications in his equipment. a magnet was ingeniously slung with a view of testing its oscillation even in spite of accidental gyrations in the balloon. thermometers and hygrometers were carefully sheltered from the direct action of the sun, and exhausted flasks were supplied with the object of bringing down samples of upper air for subsequent analysis. again it was an early morning ascent, with a barometer on the ground standing at 30.6 inches, and a slightly misty air. lussac appears to have accomplished the exceedingly difficult task of counting the oscillations of his magnet with satisfaction to himself. at 10,000 feet twenty vibrations occupied 83 seconds, as compared with 84.33 seconds at the earth's surface. the variation of the compass remained unaltered, as also the behaviour of magnetised iron at all altitudes. keeping his balloon under perfect control, and maintaining a uniform and steady ascent, he at the same time succeeded in compiling an accurate table of readings recording atmospheric pressure, temperature and humidity, and it is interesting to find that he was confronted with an apparent anomaly which will commonly present itself to the aeronaut observer. up to 12,000 feet the temperature had decreased consistently from 82 degrees to 47 degrees, after which it increased 6 degrees in the next 2,000 feet. this by no means uncommon experience shall be presently discussed. the balloon was now steadily manoeuvred up to 18,636 feet, at which height freezing point was practically reached. then with a further climb 20,000 feet is recorded, at which altitude the ardent philosopher could still attend to his magnetic observations, nor is his arduous and unassisted task abandoned here, but with marvellous pertinacity he yet struggled upwards till a height of no less than 23,000 feet is recorded, and the thermometer had sunk to 14 degrees f. four miles and a quarter above the level of the sea, reached by a solitary aerial explorer, whose legitimate training lay apart from aeronautics, and whose main care was the observation of the philosophical instruments he carried! the achievement of this french savant makes a brilliant record in the early pages of our history. it is not surprising that lussac should own to having felt no inconsiderable personal discomfort before his venture was over. in spite of warm clothing he suffered greatly from cold and benumbed fingers, not less also from laboured breathing and a quickened pulse; headache supervened, and his throat became parched and unable to swallow food. in spite of all, he conducted the descent with the utmost skill, climbing down quietly and gradually till he alighted with gentle ease at st. gourgen, near rouen. it may be mentioned here that the analysis of the samples of air which he had brought down proved them to contain the normal proportion of oxygen, and to be essentially identical, as tested in the laboratory, with the free air secured at the surface of the earth. the sudden and apparently unaccountable variation in temperature recorded by lussac is a striking revelation to an aerial observer, and becomes yet more marked when more sensitive instruments are used than those which were taken up on the occasion just related. it will be recorded in a future chapter how more suitable instruments came in course of time to be devised. it is only necessary to point out at this stage that instruments which lack due sensibility will unavoidably read too high in ascents, and too low in descents where, according to the general law, the air is found to grow constantly colder with elevation above the earth's surface. it is strong evidence of considerable efficiency in the instruments, and of careful attention on the part of the observer, that lussac was able to record the temporary inversion of the law of change of temperature above-mentioned. had he possessed modern instrumental equipment he would have brought down a yet more remarkable account of the upper regions which he visited, and learned that the variations of heat and cold were considerably more striking than he supposed. with a specially devised instrument used with special precautions, the writer, as will be shown hereafter, has been able to prove that the temperature of the air, as traversed in the wayward course of a balloon, is probably far more variable and complex than has been recorded by most observers. the exceptional height claimed to have been reached by gay lassac need not for a moment be questioned, and the fact that he did not experience the same personal inconvenience as has been complained of by mountain climbers at far less altitudes admits of ready explanation. the physical exertion demanded of the mountaineer is entirely absent in the case of an aeronaut who is sailing at perfect ease in a free balloon. moreover, it must be remembered that--a most important consideration--the aerial voyager, necessarily travelling with the wind, is unconscious, save at exceptional moments, of any breeze whatever, and it is a well-established fact that a degree of cold which might be insupportable when a breeze is stirring may be but little felt in dead calm. it should also be remembered, in duly regarding gay lussac's remarkable record, that this was not his first experience of high altitudes, and it is an acknowledged truth that an aeronaut, especially if he be an enthusiast, quickly becomes acclimatised to his new element, and sufficiently inured to its occasional rigours. chapter v. some famous early voyagers. during certain years which now follow it will possibly be thought that our history, so far as incidents of special interest are concerned, somewhat languishes. yet it may be wrong to regard this period as one of stagnation or retrogression. before passing on to later annals, however, we must duly chronicle certain exceptional achievements and endeavours as yet unmentioned, which stand out prominently in the period we have been regarding as also in the advancing years of the new century among these must in justice be included those which come into the remarkable, if somewhat pathetic subsequent career of the brilliant, intrepid lunardi. compelling everywhere unbounded admiration he readily secured the means necessary for carrying out further exploits wherever he desired while at the same time he met with a measure of good fortune in freedom from misadventure such as has generally been denied to less bold adventurers. within a few months of the time when we left him, the popular hero and happy recipient of civic and royal favours, we find him in scotland attempting feats which a knowledge of practical difficulties bids us regard as extraordinary. to begin with, nothing appears more remarkable than the ease, expedition, and certainty with which in days when necessary facilities must have been far harder to come by than now, he could always fill his balloon by the usually tedious and troublesome mode attending hydrogen inflation. we see him at his first scottish ascent, completing the operation in little more than two hours. it is the same later at glasgow, where, commencing with only a portion of his apparatus, he finds the inflation actually to proceed too rapidly for his purpose, and has to hold the powers at his command strongly in check. later, in december weather, having still further improved his apparatus, he makes his balloon support itself after the inflation of only ten minutes. then, as if assured of impunity, he treats recognised risks with a species of contempt. at kelso he hails almost with joy the fact that the wind must carry him rapidly towards the sea, which in the end he narrowly escapes. at glasgow the chances of safe landing are still more against him, yet he has no hesitation in starting, and at last the catastrophe he seemed to court actually overtook him, and he plumped into the sea near berwick, where no sail was even in sight, and a winter's night coming on. from this predicament he was rescued by a special providence which once before had not deserted him, when in a tumult of violent and contrary currents, and at a great height to boot, his gallery was almost completely carried away, and he had to cling on to the hoop desperately with both hands. then we lose sight of the dauntless, light-hearted italian for one-and-twenty years, when in the gentleman's magazine of july 31, 1806, appears the brief line, "died in the convent of barbadinas, of a decline, mr. vincent lunardi, the celebrated aeronaut." garnerin, of whom mention has already been made, accomplished in the summer of 1802 two aerial voyages marked by extreme velocity in the rate of travel. the first of these is also remarkable as having been the first to fairly cross the heart of london. captain snowdon, r.n., accompanied the aeronaut. the ascent took place from chelsea gardens, and proved so great an attraction that the crowd overflowed into the neighbouring parts of the town, choking up the thoroughfares with vehicles, and covering the river with boats. on being liberated, the balloon sped rapidly away, taking a course midway between the river and the main highway of the strand, fleet street, and cheapside, and so passed from view of the multitude. such a departure could hardly fail to lead to subsequent adventures, and this is pithily told in a letter written by garnerin himself: "i take the earliest opportunity of informing you that after a very pleasant journey, but after the most dangerous descent i ever made, on account of the boisterous weather and the vicinity of the sea, we alighted at the distance of four miles from this place and sixty from ranelagh. we were only three-quarters of an hour on the way. to-night i intend to be in london with the balloon, which is torn to pieces. we ourselves are all over bruises." only a week after the same aeronaut ascended again from marylebone, when he attained almost the same velocity, reaching chingford, a distance of seventeen miles, in fifteen minutes. the chief danger attending a balloon journey in a high wind, supposing no injury has been sustained in filling and launching, results not so much from impact with the ground on alighting as from the subsequent almost inevitable dragging along the ground. the grapnels, spurning the open, will often obtain no grip save in a hedge or tree, and even then large boughs will be broken through or dragged away, releasing the balloon on a fresh career which may, for a while, increase in mad impetuosity as the emptying silk offers a deeper hollow for the wind to catch. the element of risk is of another nature in the case of a night ascent, when the actual alighting ground cannot be duly chosen or foreseen. among many record night ascents may here, somewhat by anticipation of events, be mentioned two embarked upon by the hero of our last adventure. m. garnerin was engaged to make a spectacular ascent from tivoli at paris, leaving the grounds at night with attached lamps illuminating his balloon. his first essay was on a night of early august, when he ascended at 11 p.m., reaching a height of nearly three miles. remaining aloft through the hours of darkness, he witnessed the sun rise at half-past two in the morning, and eventually came to earth after a journey of some seven hours, during which time he had covered considerably more than a hundred miles. a like bold adventure carried out from the same grounds the following month was attended with graver peril. a heavy thunderstorm appearing imminent, garnerin elected to ascend with great rapidity, with the result that his balloon, under the diminished pressure, quickly became distended to an alarming degree, and he was reduced to the necessity of piercing a hole in the silk, while for safety's sake he endeavoured to extinguish all lamps within reach. he now lost all control over his balloon, which became unmanageable in the conflict of the storm. having exhausted his ballast, he presently was rudely brought to earth and then borne against a mountain side, finally losing consciousness until the balloon had found anchorage three hundred miles away from paris. a night ascent, which reads as yet more sensational and extraordinary, is reported to have been made a year or two previously, and when it is considered that the balloon used was of the montgolfier type the account as it is handed down will be allowed to be without parallel. it runs thus: count zambeccari, dr. grassati of rome, and m. pascal andreoli of antona ascended on a november night from bologna, allowing their balloon to rise with excessive velocity. in consequence of this rapid transition to an extreme altitude the count and the doctor became insensible, leaving andreoli alone in possession of his faculties. at two o'clock in the morning they found themselves descending over the adriatic, at which time a lantern which they carried expired and was with difficulty re-lighted. continuing to descend, they presently pitched in to the sea and became drenched with salt water. it may seem surprising that the balloon, which could not be prevented falling in the water, is yet enabled to ascend from the grip of the waves by the mere discharge of ballast. (it would be interesting to inquire what meanwhile happened to the fire which they presumably carried with them.) they now rose into regions of cloud, where they became covered with hoar frost and also stone deaf. at 3 a.m. they were off the coast of istria, once more battling with the waves till picked up by a shore boat. the balloon, relieved of their weight, then flew away into turkey. however overdrawn this narrative may appear, it must be read in the light of another account, the bare, hard facts of which can admit of no question. it is five years later, and once again count zambeccari is ascending from bologna, this time in company with signor bonagna. again it is a montgolfier or fire balloon, and on nearing earth it becomes entangled in a tree and catches fire. the aeronauts jump for their lives, and the count is killed on the spot. certainly, when every allowance is made for pardonable or unintentional exaggeration, it must be conceded that there were giants in those days. giants in the conception and accomplishment of deeds of lofty daring. men who came scathless through supreme danger by virtue of the calmness and courage with which they withstood it. among other appalling disasters we have an example of a terrific descent from a vast height in which the adventurers yet escape with their lives. it was the summer of 1808, and the aeronauts, mm. andreoli and brioschi, ascending from padua, reach a height at which a barometer sinks to eight inches, indicating upwards of 30,000 feet. at this point the balloon bursts, and falls precipitately near petrarch's tomb. commenting on this, mr. glaisher, the value of whose opinion is second to none, is not disposed to question the general truth of the narrative. in regard to zambeccari's escape from the sea related above, it should be stated that in the case of a gas-inflated balloon which has no more than dipped its car or gallery in the waves, it is generally perfectly possible to raise it again from the water, provided there is on board a store of ballast, the discharge of which will sufficiently lighten the balloon. a case in point occurred in a most romantic and perilous voyage accomplished by mr. sadler on the 1st of october, 1812. his adventure is one of extraordinary interest, and of no little value to the practical aeronaut. the following account is condensed from mr. sadler's own narrative. he started from the grounds of belvedere house, dublin, with the expressed intention of endeavouring to cross over the irish channel to liverpool. there appear to have been two principal air drifts, an upper and a lower, by means of which he entertained fair hopes of steering his desired course. but from the outset he was menaced with dangers and difficulties. ere he had left the land he discovered a rent in his silk which, occasioned by some accident before leaving, showed signs of extending. to reach this, it was necessary to extemporise by means of a rope a species of ratlins by which he could climb the rigging. he then contrived to close the rent with his neckcloth. he was, by this time, over the sea, and, manoeuvring his craft by aid of the two currents at his disposal, he was carried to the south shore of the isle of man, whence he was confident of being able, had he desired it, of landing in cumberland. this, however, being contrary to his intention, he entrusted himself to the higher current, and by it was carried to the north-west of holyhead. here he dropped once again to the lower current, drifting south of the skerry lighthouse across the isle of anglesea, and at 4.30 p.m. found himself abreast of the great orme's head. evening now approaching, he had determined to seek a landing, but at this critical juncture the wind shifted to the southward, and he became blown out to sea. then, for an hour, he appears to have tried high and low for a more favourable current, but without success; and, feeling the danger of his situation, and, moreover, sighting no less than five vessels beating down the channel, he boldly descended in the sea about a mile astern of them. he must for certain have been observed by these vessels; but each and all held on their course, and, thus deserted, the aeronaut had no choice but to discharge ballast, and, quitting the waves, to regain his legitimate element. his experiences at this period of his extraordinary voyage are best told in his own words. "at the time i descended the sun was near setting already the shadows of evening had cast a dusky hue over the face of the ocean, and a crimson glow purpled the tops of the waves as, heaving in the evening breeze, they died away in distance, or broke in foam against the sides of the vessels, and before i rose from the sea the orb had sunk below the horizon, leaving only the twilight glimmer to light the vast expanse around me. how great, therefore, was my astonishment, and how incapable is expression to convey an adequate idea of my feelings when, rising to the upper region of the air, the sun, whose parting beams i had already witnessed, again burst on my view, and encompassed me with the full blaze of day. beneath me hung the shadows of even, whilst the clear beams of the sun glittered on the floating vehicle which bore me along rapidly before the wind." after a while he sights three more vessels, which signify their willingness to stand by, whereupon he promptly descends, dropping beneath the two rear-most of them. from this point the narrative of the sinking man, and the gallant attempt at rescue, will rival any like tale of the sea. for the wind, now fast rising, caught the half empty balloon so soon as the car touched the sea, and the vessel astern, though in full pursuit, was wholly unable to come up. observing this, mr. sadler, trusting more to the vessel ahead, dropped his grappling iron by way of drag, and shortly afterwards tried the further expedient of taking off his clothes and attaching them to the iron. the vessels, despite these endeavours, failing to overhaul him, he at last, though with reasonable reluctance, determined to further cripple the craft that bore him so rapidly by liberating a large quantity of gas, a desperate, though necessary, expedient which nearly cost him his life. for the car now instantly sank, and the unfortunate man, clutching at the hoop, found he could not even so keep himself above the water, and was reduced to clinging, as a last hope, to the netting. the result of this could be foreseen, for he was frequently plunged under water by the mere rolling of the balloon. cold and exertion soon told on him, as he clung frantically to the valve rope, and when his strength failed him he actually risked the expedient of passing his head through the meshes of the net. it was obvious that for avail help must soon come; yet the pursuing vessel, now close, appeared to hold off, fearing to become entangled in the net, and in this desperate extremity, fainting from exhaustion and scarcely able to cry aloud, mr. sadler himself seems to have divined the chance yet left; for, summoning his failing strength, he shouted to the sailors to run their bowsprit through his balloon. this was done, and the drowning man was hauled on board with the life scarcely in him. a fitting sequel to the above adventure followed five years afterwards. the irish sea remained unconquered. no balloonist had as yet ever crossed its waters. who would attempt the feat once more? who more worthy than the hero's own son, mr. windham sadler? this aspiring aeronaut, emulating his father's enterprising spirit, chose the same starting ground at dublin, and on the longest day of 1817, when winds seemed favourable, left the porto bello barracks at 1.20 p.m. his endeavour was to "tack" his course by such currents as he should find, in the manner attempted by his father, and at starting the ground current blew favourably from the w.s.w. he, however, allowed his balloon to rise to too high an altitude, where he must have been taken aback by a contrary drift; for, on descending again through a shower of snow, he found himself no further than ben howth, as yet only ten miles on his long journey. profiting by his mistake, he thenceforward, by skilful regulation, kept his balloon within due limits, and successfully maintained a direct course across the sea, reaching a spot in wales not far from holyhead an hour and a half before sundown. the course taken was absolutely the shortest possible, being little more than seventy miles, which he traversed in five hours. from this period of our story, noteworthy events in aeronautical history grow few and far between. as a mere exhibition the novelty of a balloon ascent had much worn off. no experimentalist was ready with any new departure in the art. no fresh adventure presented itself to the minds of the more enterprising spirits; and, whereas a few years previously ballooning exploits crowded into every summer season and were not neglected even in winter months, there is now for a while little to chronicle, either abroad or in our own country. a certain revival of the sensational element in ballooning was occasionally witnessed, and not without mishap, as in the case of madame blanchard, who, in the summer of 1819, ascending at night with fireworks from the tivoli gardens, paris, managed to set fire to her balloon and lost her life in her terrific fall. half a dozen years later a mr., as also mrs., graham figure before the public in some bold spectacular ascents. but the fame of any aeronaut of that date must inevitably pale before the dawning light shed by two stars of the first magnitude that were arising in two opposite parts of the world--mr. john wise in america, and mr. charles green in our own country. the latter of these, who has been well styled the "father of english aeronautics," now entered on a long and honoured career of so great importance and success that we must reserve for him a separate and special chapter. chapter vi. charles green and the nassau balloon. the balloon, which had gradually been dropping out of favour, had now been virtually laid aside, and, to all appearance, might have continued so, when, as if by chance concurrence of events, there arrived both the hour and the man to restore it to the world, and to invest it with a new practicability and importance. the coronation of george the fourth was at hand, and this became a befitting occasion for the rare genius mentioned at the end of the last chapter, and now in his thirty-sixth year, to put in practice a new method of balloon management and inflation, the entire credit of which must be accorded to him alone. from its very introduction and inception the gas balloon, an expensive and fragile structure in itself, had proved at all times exceedingly costly in actual use. indeed, we find that at the date at which we have now arrived the estimate for filling a balloon of 70,000 cubic feet--no extraordinary capacity--with hydrogen gas was about l250. when, then, to this great outlay was added the difficulty and delay of producing a sufficient supply by what was at best a clumsy process, as also the positive failure and consequent disappointment which not infrequently ensued, it is easy to understand how through many years balloon ascents, no longer a novelty, had begun to be regarded with distrust, and the profession of a balloonist was doomed to become unremunerative. a simpler and cheaper mode of inflation was not only a desideratum, but an absolute necessity. the full truth of this may be gathered from the fact that we find there were not seldom instances where two or three days of continuous and anxious labour were expended in generating and passing hydrogen into a balloon, through the fabric of which the subtle gas would escape almost as fast as it was produced. it was at this juncture, then, that charles green conceived the happy idea of substituting for hydrogen gas the ordinary household gas, which at this time was to be found ready to hand and in sufficient quantity in all towns of any consequence; and by the day of the coronation all was in readiness for a public exhibition of this method of inflation, which was carried out with complete success, though not altogether without unrehearsed and amusing incident, as must be told. the day, july 18, was one of summer heat, and green at the conclusion of his preparations, fatigued with anxious labour and oppressed by the crowding of the populace, took refuge within the car of his balloon, which was by that time already inflated, and only awaiting the gun signal that was to announce the moment for its departure. to allow of his gaining the refreshment of somewhat purer air he begged his friends who were holding the car of his balloon in restraint to keep it suspended at a few feet from the earth, while he rested himself within, and, this being done, it would appear that he fell into a doze, from which he did not awake till he found that the balloon, which had slipped from his friends' hold, was already high above the crowd and requiring his prompt attention. this was, however, by no means an untoward accident, and green's triumph was complete. by this one venture alone the success of the new method was entirely assured. the cost of the inflation had been reduced ten-fold, the labour and uncertainty a hundred-fold, and, over and above all, the confidence of the public was restored. it is little wonder, then, that in the years that now follow we find the balloon returning to all the favour it had enjoyed in its palmiest days. but green proved himself something more than a practical balloonist of the first rank. he brought to the aid of his profession ideas which were matured by due thought and scientifically sound. it is true he still clung for a while to the antiquated notion that mechanical means could, with advantage, be used to cause a balloon to ascend or descend, or to alter its direction in a tranquil atmosphere. but he saw clearly that the true method of navigating a balloon should be by a study of upper currents, and this he was able to put to practical proof on a memorable occasion, and in a striking manner, as we shall presently relate. he learned the lesson early in his career while acquiring facts and experience, unassisted, in a number of solitary voyages made from different parts of the country. among these he is careful to record an occasion when, making a day-light ascent from boston, lincolnshire, he maintained a lofty course, which promised to take him direct to grantham; but, presently descending to a lower level, and his balloon diverging at an angle of some 45 degrees, he now headed for newark. this experience he stored away. a month later we find him making a night voyage from vauxhall gardens, destined to be the scene of many memorable ascents in the near future; and on this occasion he gave proof of his capability as a close and intelligent observer. it was a july night, near 11 p.m., moonless and cloudy, yet the earth was visible, and under these circumstances his simple narrative becomes of scientific value. he accurately distinguished the reflective properties of the face of the diversified country he traversed. over battersea and wandsworth--this was in 1826--there were white sheets spread over the land, which proved to be corn crops ready for the sickle. where crops were not the ground was darker, with, here and there, objects absolutely black--in other words, trees and houses. then he mentions the river in a memorandum, which reads strangely to the aeronaut who has made the same night voyage in these latter days. the stream was crossed in places with rows of lamps apparently resting on the water. these were the lighted bridges; but, here and there, were dark planks, and these too were bridges--at battersea and putney--but without a light upon them! in these and many other simple, but graphic, narratives green draws his own pictures of nature in her quieter moods. but he was not without early experience of her horse play, a highly instructive record of which should not be omitted here, and which, as coming from so careful and conscientious an observer, is best gathered from his own words. the ascent was from newbury, and it can have been no mean feat to fill, under ordinary circumstances, a balloon carrying two passengers and a considerable weight of ballast at the small gas-holder which served the town eighty-five years ago. but the circumstances were not ordinary, for the wind was extremely squally; a tremendous hail and thunderstorm blew up, and a hurricane swept the balloon with such force that two tons weight of iron and a hundred men scarce sufficed to hold it in check. green on this occasion had indeed a companion, whose usefulness however at a pinch may be doubted when we learn that he was both deaf and dumb. the rest of the narrative runs thus: "between 4 and 5 p.m. the clouds dispersed, but the wind continued to rage with unabated fury the whole of the evening. at 6 p.m. i stepped into the car with mr. simmons and gave the word 'away!' the moment the machine was disencumbered of its weights it was torn by the violence of the wind from the assistants, bounded off with the velocity of lightning in a southeasterly direction, and in a very short space of time attained an elevation of two miles. at this altitude we perceived two immense bodies of clouds operated on by contrary currents of air until at length they became united, and at that moment my ears were assailed by the most awful and longest continued peal of thunder i have ever heard. these clouds were a full mile beneath us, but perceiving other strata floating at the same elevation at which we were sailing, which from their appearance i judged to be highly charged with electricity, i considered it prudent to discharge twenty pounds of ballast, and we rose half a mile above our former elevation, where i considered we were perfectly safe and beyond their influence. i observed, amongst other phenomena, that at every discharge of thunder all the detached pillars of clouds within the distance of a mile around became attracted and appeared to concentrate their force towards the first body of clouds alluded to, leaving the atmosphere clear and calm beneath and around us. "with very trifling variations we continued the same course until 7.15 p.m., when we descended to within 500 feet of the earth; but, perceiving from the disturbed surface of the rivers and lakes that a strong wind existed near the earth, we again ascended and continued our course till 7.30 p.m., when a final descent was safely effected in a meadow field in the parish of crawley in surrey, situated between guildford and horsham, and fifty-eight miles from newbury. this stormy voyage was performed in one hour and a half." it was after green had followed his profession for fifteen years that he was called upon to undertake the management of an aerial venture, which, all things considered, has never been surpassed in genuine enterprise and daring. the conception of the project was due to mr. robert hollond, and it took shape in this way. this gentleman, fresh from cambridge, possessed of all the ardour of early manhood, as also of adequate means, had begun to devote himself with the true zeal of the enthusiast to the pursuit of ballooning, finding due opportunity for this in his friendship with mr. green, who enjoyed the management of the fine balloon made for ascents at the then popular vauxhall gardens. in the autumn of 1836 the proprietors of this balloon, contemplating making an exhibition of an ascent from paris, and requiring their somewhat fragile property to be conveyed to that city, mr. hollond boldly came forward and offered to transfer it thither, and, as nearly as this might be possible, by passage through the sky. the proposal was accepted, and mr. holland, in conjunction with green, set about the needful preparations. these, as will appear, were on an extraordinary scale, and no blame is to be imputed on that account, as a little consideration will show. for the venture proposed was not to be that of merely crossing the channel, which, as we have seen, had been successfully effected no less than fifty years before. the voyage in contemplation was to be from london; it was, moreover, to be pursued through a long, moonless winter's night, and under conditions of which no living aeronaut had had actual experience. calculation, based on a sufficient knowledge of fast upper currents, told that their course, ere finished, might be one of almost indefinite length, and it is not too much to say that no one, with the knowledge of that day, could predict within a thousand miles where the dawn of the next day might find them. the equipment, therefore, was commensurate with the possible task before them. to begin with, they limited their number to three in all--mr. hollond, as chief and keeper of the log; mr. green, as aeronaut; and an enthusiastic colleague, mr. monck mason, as the chronicler of the party. next, they provided themselves with passports to all parts of the continent; and then came the fitting out and victualling of the aerial craft itself, calculated to carry some 90,000 cubic feet of gas, and a counterpoise of a ton of ballast, which took the form partly of actual provisions in large quantity, partly of gear and apparatus, and for the rest of sand and also lime, of which more anon. across the middle of the car was fixed a bench to serve as table, and also as a stage for the winding in and out of an enormous trail rope a thousand feet long, designed by mr. green to meet the special emergencies of the voyage. at the bottom of the car was spread a large cushion to serve the purposes of rest. when all was in readiness unfitness of weather baulked the travellers for some days, but monday, the 7th of november, was judged a favourable day, so that the inflation was rapidly proceeded with, and at 1.30 p.m. the "monstre balloon," as it was entitled in the "ingoldsby legends," left the earth on her eventful and ever memorable voyage. the weather was fine and promising, and, rising with a moderate breeze from the n.w., they began to traverse the northern parts of kent, while light, drifting upper clouds gave indication of other possible currents. mr. hollond was precise in the determination of times and of all readings and we learn that at exactly 2.48 p.m. they were crossing the medway, six miles west of rochester, while at 4.5 p.m. the lofty towers of canterbury were well in view, two miles to the east, and here a little function was well carried out. green had twice ascended from this city under patronage of the authorities, and the idea occurred to the party that it would be a graceful compliment to drop a message to the mayor as they passed. a suitable note, therefore, quickly written, was dismissed in a parachute, and it may be mentioned that this, as also a similar missive addressed later to the mayor of dover, were duly received and acknowledged. at a quarter past four they sighted the sea, and here, the air beginning to grow chill, the balloon dropped earthward, and for some miles they skimmed the ground, disturbing the partridges, scattering the rooks, and keeping up a running conversation the while with labourers and passers below. in this there was exercise of perfectly proper aerial seamanship, such as moreover presently led to an exhibition of true science. to save ballast is, with a balloon, to prolong life, and this may often best be done by flying low, which doubtless was green's present intention. but soon his trained eye saw that the ground current which now carried them was leading them astray. they were trending to the northward, and so far out of their course that they would soon make the north foreland, and so be carried out over the north sea far from their desired direction. thereupon green attempted to put in practice his theory, already spoken of, of steering by upper currents, and the event proved his judgment peculiarly correct. "nothing," wrote mr. monck mason, "could exceed the beauty of the manoeuvre, to which the balloon at once responded, regaining her due course, and, in a matter of a few minutes only, bearing the voyagers almost vertically over the castle of dover in the exact line for crossing the straits between that town and calais." so far all was well, and success had been extraordinary; but from this moment they became faced with new conditions, and with the grave trouble of uncertainty. light was failing, the sea was before them, and--what else thenceforth? 4.48 p.m. was recorded as the moment when the first line of breaking waves was seen directly below them, and then the english coast line began rapidly to fade out from their view. but, ahead, the obscurity was yet more intense, for clouds, banked up like a solid wall, crowned along its frowning heights, with "parapets and turrets and batteries and bastions," and, plunging into this opposing barrier, they were quickly buried in blackness, losing at the same time over the sea all sound from earth soever. so for a short hour's space, when the sound of waves once again broke in upon them, and immediately afterwards emerging from the dense cloud (a sea-fog merely) they found themselves immediately over the brilliantly lighted town of calais. seeing this, the travellers attempted to signal by igniting and lowering a bengal light, which was directly followed by the beating of drums from below. it adds a touch of reality, as well as cheerfulness, to the narrative to read that at this period of their long journey the travellers apply themselves to a fair, square meal, the first for twelve hours, despite the day's excitement and toil. we have an entry among the stores of the balloon of wine bottles and spirit flasks, but there is no mention of these being requisitioned at this period. the demand seems rather to have been for coffee--coffee hot; and this by a novel device was soon prepared. it goes without saying that a fire or flame of any kind, except with special precautions, is inadmissable in a balloon; but a cooking heat, sufficient for the present purpose, was supplied from the store of lime, a portion of which, being placed in a suitably contrived vessel and slaked quickly, procured the desired beverage. this meal now indulged in seems to have been heartily and happily enjoyed; and from this point, for a while, the narrative becomes that of enthusiastic and delighted travellers. in the gloom below, for leagues around, they regarded the scattered fires of a watchful population, with here and there the lights of larger towns, and the contemplation begot romantic reveries. "were they not amid the vast solitudes of the skies, in the dead of night, unknown and unnoticed, secretly and silently reviewing kingdoms, exploring territories, and surveying cities all clothed in the dark mantle of mystery?" presently they identified the blazing city of liege, with the lurid lights of extensive outlying iron works, and this was the last visible sign they caught of earth that night; save, at least, when occasional glimpses of lightning momentarily and dimly outlined the world in the abyss below. ere long, they met with their first discomfort, which they seem to have regarded as a most serious one, namely, the accidental dropping overboard of their cherished coffee-boiling apparatus. with its loss their store of lime became useless, save as ballast, and for this it was forthwith utilised until nothing remained but the empty lime barrel itself, which, being regarded as an objectionable encumbrance, it was desirable to get rid of, were it not for the risk involved in rudely dropping it to earth. but the difficulty was met. they possessed a suitable small parachute, and, attached to this, the barrel was allowed to float earthward. as hours advanced, the blackness of night increased, and their impressions appear somewhat strange to anyone familiar with ordinary night travel in the sky. mr. monck mason compares their progress through the darkness to "cleaving their way through an interminable mass of black marble." then, presently, an unaccountable object puzzles and absorbs the attention of all the party for a long period. they were gazing open-mouthed at a long narrow avenue of feeble light, which, though apparently belonging to earth, was too long and regular for a river, and too broad for a canal or road, and it was only after many futile imaginings that they discovered they were simply looking at a stay rope of the balloon hanging far out over the side. somewhat later still, there was a more serious claim upon the imagination. it was half-past three in the morning, and the balloon, which, to escape from too low an altitude, had been liberally lightened, had now at high speed mounted to a vast height. and then, amid the black darkness and dead silence of that appalling region, suddenly overhead came the sound of an explosion, followed by the violent rustling of the silk, while the car jerked violently, as though suddenly detached from its hold. this was the idea, leading to the belief that the balloon had suddenly exploded, and that they were falling headlong to earth. their suspense, however, cannot have been long, and the incident was intelligible enough, being due to the sudden yielding of stiffened net and silk under rapid expansion caused by their speedy and lofty ascent. the chief incidents of the night were now over, until the dawn arrived and began to reveal a strange land, with large tracts of snow, giving place, as the light strengthened, to vast forests. to their minds these suggested the plains of poland, if not the steppes of russia, and, fearing that the country further forward might prove more inhospitable, they decided to come to earth as speedily as possible. this, in spite of difficult landing, they effected about the hour that the waking population were moving abroad, and then, and not till then, they learned the land of their haven--the heart of the german forests. five hundred miles had been covered in eighteen hours from start to finish! chapter vii. charles green--further adventures. all history is liable to repeat itself, and that of aeronautics forms no exception to the rule. the second year after the invention of the balloon the famous m. blanchard, ascending from frankfort, landed near weilburg, and, in commemoration of the event, the flag he bore was deposited among the archives in the ducal palace of that town. fifty-one years passed by when, outside the same city, a yet more famous balloon effected its landing, and with due ceremony its flag is presently laid beside that of blanchard in the same ducal palace. the balloon of the "immortal three," whose splendid voyage has just been recounted, will ever be known by the title of the great nassau balloon, but the neighbourhood of its landing was that of the town of weilburg, in the duchy of nassau, whither the party betook themselves, and where, during many days, they were entertained with extravagant hospitality and honour until business recalled mr. hollond home. green had now made upwards of two hundred ascents, and, though he lived to make a thousand, it was impossible that he could ever eclipse this last record. it is true that the same nassau balloon, under his guidance, made many other most memorable voyages, some of which it will be necessary to dwell on. but, to preserve a better chronology, we must first, without further digression, approach an event which fills a dark page in our annals; and, in so doing, we have to transfer our attention from the balloon itself to its accessory, the parachute. twenty-three years before our present date, that is to say in 1814, mr. cocking delivered his views as to the proper form of the parachute before the society of arts, who, as a mark of approval, awarded him a medal. this parachute, however, having never taken practical shape, and only existing, figuratively speaking, in the clouds, seemed unlikely to find its way there in reality until the success of the nassau adventure stirred its inventor to strenuous efforts to give it an actual trial. thus it came about that he obtained mr. green's co-operation in the attempt he now undertook, and, though this ended disastrously, for mr. cocking, the great professional aeronaut can in no way soever be blamed for the tragic event. the date of the trial was in july, 1837. mr. cocking's parachute was totally different in principle from that form which, as we have seen, had met with a fair measure of success at the hands of early experimenters; and on the eve of its trial it was strongly denounced and condemned in the london press by the critic whom we have recently so freely quoted, mr. monck mason. this able reasoner and aeronaut pointed out that the contrivance about to be tested aimed at obviating two principal drawbacks which the parachute had up to that time presented, namely (1) the length of time which elapses before it becomes sufficiently expanded, and (2) the oscillatory movement which accompanies the descent. in this new endeavour the inventor caused his machine to be fixed rigidly open, and to assume the shape of an inverted cone. in other words, instead of its being like an umbrella opened, it rather resembled an umbrella blown inside out. taking, then, the shape and dimensions of mr. cocking's structure as a basis for mathematical calculation, as also its weight, which for required strength he put at 500 lbs. mr. monck mason estimated that the adventurer and his machine must attain in falling a velocity of some twelve miles an hour. in fact, his positive prediction was that one of two events must inevitably take place. "either the parachute would come to the ground with a force incompatible with the safety of the individual, or should it be attempted to make it sufficiently light to resist this conclusion, it must give way beneath the forces which will develop in the descent." this emphatic word of warning was neglected, and the result of the terrible experiment can best be gathered from two principal sources. first, that of a special reporter writing from terra-firma, and, secondly, that of mr. green himself, who gives his own observations as made from the balloon in which he took the unfortunate man and his invention into the sky. the journalist, who first speaks of the enormous concourse that gathered to see the ascent, not only within vauxhall gardens, but on every vantage ground without, proceeds to tell of his interview with mr. cocking himself, who, when questioned as to the danger involved, remarked that none existed for him, and that the greatest peril, if any, would attend the balloon when suddenly relieved of his weight. the proprietors of the gardens, as the hour approached, did their best to dissuade the over-confident inventor, offering, themselves, to take the consequences of any public disappointment. this was again without avail, and so, towards 6 p.m., mr. green, accompanied by mr. spencer, a solicitor of whom this history will have more to tell, entered the balloon, which was then let up about 40 feet that the parachute might be affixed below. a little later, mr. cocking, casting aside his heavy coat and tossing off a glass of wine, entered his car and, amid deafening acclamations, with the band playing the national anthem, the balloon and aeronauts above, and he himself in his parachute swinging below, mounted into the heavens, passing presently, in the gathering dusk, out of view of the gardens. the sequel should be gathered from mr. green's own narrative. previous to starting, 650 lbs. of ballast had to be discarded to gain buoyancy sufficient to raise the massive machine. this, together with another 100 lbs., which was also required to be ejected owing to the cooling of the air, was passed out through a canvas tube leading downwards through a hole in the parachute, an ingenious contrivance which would prevent the sand thrown out from the balloon falling on the slender structure itself. on quitting the earth, however, this latter set up such violent oscillations that the canvas tube was torn away, and then it became the troublesome task of the aeronauts to make up their ballast into little parcels, and, as occasion required, to throw these into space clear of the swinging parachute below. despite all efforts, however, it was soon evident that the cumbersome nature of the huge parachute would prevent its being carried up quite so high as the inventor desired. mr. cocking had stipulated for an elevation of 7,000 feet, and, as things were, only 5,000 feet could be reached, at any rate, before darkness set in. this fact was communicated to mr. cocking, who promptly intimated his intention of leaving, only requesting to know whereabouts he was, to which query mr. spencer replied that they were on a level with greenwich. the brief colloquy that ensued is thus given by mr. green:-"i asked him if he felt quite comfortable, and if the practical trial bore out his calculation. mr. cocking replied, 'yes, i never felt more comfortable or more delighted in my life,' presently adding, 'well, now i think i shall leave you.' i answered, 'i wish you a very "good night!" and a safe descent if you are determined to make it and not use the tackle' (a contrivance for enabling him to retreat up into the balloon if he desired). mr. cocking's only reply was, 'good-night, spencer; good-night, green!' mr. cocking then pulled the rope that was to liberate himself, but too feebly, and a moment afterwards more violently, and in an instant the balloon shot upwards with the velocity of a sky rocket. the effect upon us at this moment was almost beyond description. the immense machine which suspended us between heaven and earth, whilst it appeared to be forced upwards with terrific violence and rapidity through unknown and untravelled regions amidst the howlings of a fearful hurricane, rolled about as though revelling in a freedom for which it had long struggled, but of which until that moment it had been kept in utter ignorance. it, at length, as if somewhat fatigued by its exertions, gradually assumed the motions of a snake working its way with extraordinary speed towards a given object. during this frightful operation the gas was rushing in torrents from the upper and lower valve, but more particularly from the latter, as the density of the atmosphere through which we were forcing our progress pressed so heavily on the valve at the top of the balloon as to admit of but a comparatively small escape by this aperture. at this juncture, had it not been for the application to our mouths of two pipes leading into an air bag, with which we had furnished ourselves previous to starting, we must within a minute have been suffocated, and so, but by different means, have shared the melancholy fate of our friend. this bag was formed of silk, sufficiently capacious to contain 100 gallons of atmospheric air. prior to our ascent, the bag was inflated with the assistance of a pair of bellows with fifty gallons of air, so allowing for any expansion which might be produced in the upper regions. into the end of this bag were introduced two flexible tubes, and the moment we felt ourselves to be going up in the manner just described, mr. spencer, as well as myself, placed either of them in our mouths. by this simple contrivance we preserved ourselves from instantaneous suffocation, a result which must have ensued from the apparently endless volume of gas with which the car was enveloped. the gas, notwithstanding all our precautions, from the violence of its operation on the human frame, almost immediately deprived us of sight, and we were both, as far as our visionary powers were concerned, in a state of total darkness for four or five minutes." messrs. green and spencer eventually reached earth in safety near maidstone, knowing nothing of the fate of their late companion. but of this we are sufficiently informed through a mr. r. underwood, who was on horseback near blackheath and watching the aeronauts at the moment when the parachute was separated from the balloon. he noticed that the former descended with the utmost rapidity, at the same time swaying fearfully from side to side, until the basket and its occupant, actually parting from the parachute, fell together to earth through several hundred feet and were dashed to pieces. it would appear that the liberation of the parachute from below the balloon had been carried out without hitch; indeed, all so far had worked well, and the wind at the time was but a gentle breeze. the misadventure, therefore, must be entirely attributed to the faulty manner in which the parachute was constructed. there could, of course, be only one issue to the sheer drop from such a height, which became the unfortunate mr. cocking's fate, but the very interesting question will have to be discussed as to the chances in favour of the aeronaut who, within his wicker car, while still duly attached to the balloon, may meet with a precipitate descent. we may here fitly mention an early perilous experience of mr. green, due simply to the malice of someone never discovered. it appears that while green's balloon, previous to an ascent, was on the ground, the cords attaching the car had been partly severed in such a way as to escape detection. so that as soon as the balloon rose the car commenced breaking away, and its occupants, mr. green and mr. griffiths, had to clutch at the ring, to which with difficulty they continued to cling. meanwhile, the car remaining suspended by one cord only, the balloon was caused to hang awry, with the result that its upper netting began giving way, allowing the balloon proper gradually to escape through the bursting meshes, thus threatening the distracted voyagers with terrible disaster. the disaster, in fact, actually came to pass ere the party completed their descent, "the balloon, rushing through the opening in the net-work with a tremendous explosion, and the two passengers clinging to the rest of the gear, falling through a height said to be near a hundred feet. both, though only with much time and difficulty, recovered from the shock." in 1840, three years after the tragic adventure connected with mr. cocking's parachute trial, we find charles green giving his views as to the practicability of carrying out a ballooning enterprise which should far excel all others that had hitherto been attempted. this was nothing less than the crossing of the atlantic from america to england. there is no shadow of doubt that the adventurous aeronaut was wholly in earnest in the readiness he expressed to embark on the undertaking should adequate funds be forthcoming; and he discusses the possibilities with singular clearness and candour. he maintains that the actual difficulties resolve themselves into two only: first, the maintenance of the balloon in the sky for the requisite period of time; and, secondly, the adequate control of its direction in space. with respect to the first difficulty, he points out the fact to which we have already referred, namely, that it is impossible to avoid the fluctuations of level in a balloon's course, "by which it constantly becomes alternately subjected to escape of gas by expansion, and consequent loss of ballast, to furnish an equivalent diminution of weight." taking his own balloon of 80,000 cubic feet by way of example, he shows that this, fully inflated on the earth, would lose 8,000 cubic feet of gas by expansion in ascending only 3,000 feet. moreover, the approach of night or passage through cloud or falling rain would occasion chilling of the gas or accumulation of moisture on the silk, in either case necessitating the loss of ballast, the store of which is always the true measure of the balloon's life. to combat the above difficulty green sanguinely relies on his favourite device of a trail or guide rope, whose function, being that of relieving the balloon of a material weight as it approaches the earth, could, he supposed, be made to act yet more efficiently when over the sea in the following manner. its length, suspended from the ring, being not less than 2,000 feet, it should have attached at its lower end at certain intervals a number of small, stout waterproof canvas bags, the apertures of which should be contrived to admit water, but to oppose its return. between these bags were to be conical floats, to support any length of the rope that might descend on the sea. now, should the balloon commence descending, it would simply deposit a certain portion of rope on the water until it regained equilibrium at no great decrease of altitude, and would thus continue its course until alteration of conditions should cause it to recommence rising, when the weight of water now collected in the bags would play its part in preventing the balloon from soaring up into space. with such a contrivance green allowed himself to imagine that he could keep a properly made balloon at practically the same altitude for a period of three months if required. the difficulty of maintaining a due course was next discussed, and somewhat speedily disposed of. here green relied on the results of his own observation, gathered during 275 ascents, and stated his conviction that there prevails a uniformity of upper wind currents that would enable him to carry out his bold projects successfully. his contention is best given in his own words: "under whatever circumstances," he says, "i made my ascent, however contrary the direction of the winds below, i uniformly found that at a certain elevation, varying occasionally, but always within 10,000 feet of the earth, a current from the west or rather from the north of west, invariably travailed, nor do i recollect a single instance in which a different result ensued." green's complete scheme is now sufficiently evident. he was to cross the atlantic practically by the sole assistance of upper currents and his guide rope, but on this latter expedient, should adverse conditions prevail, he yet further relied, for he conceived that the rope could have attached to its floating end a water drag, which would hold the balloon in check until favouring gales returned. funds, apparently, were not forthcoming to allow of mr. green's putting his bold method to the test; but we find him still adhering with so much zeal to his project that, five years later, he made, though again unsuccessfully, a second proposal to cross the atlantic by balloon. he still continued to make many and most enterprising ascents, and one of a specially sensational nature must be briefly mentioned before we pass on to regard the exploits of other aeronauts. it was in 1841 on the occasion of a fete at cremorne house, when mr. green, using his famous nassau balloon, ascended with a mr. macdonnell. the wind was blowing with such extreme violence that rainham, in essex, about twenty miles distant, was reached in little more than a quarter of an hour, and here, on nearing the earth, the grapnel, finding good hold, gave a wrench to the balloon that broke the ring and jerked the car completely upside down, the aeronauts only escaping precipitation by holding hard to the ropes. a terrific steeplechase ensued, in which the travellers were dragged through stout fencing and other obstacles till the balloon, fairly emptied of gas, finally came to rest, but not until some severe injuries had been received. chapter viii. john wise--the american aeronaut. by this period the domination of the air was being pursued in a fresh part of the world. england and her continental neighbours had vied with each in adding to the roll of conquests, and it could hardly other be supposed that america would stand by without taking part in the campaign which was now being revived with so much fresh energy in the skies. the american champion who stepped forward was mr. john wise, of lancaster, pa., whose career, commencing in the year 1835, we must now for a while follow. few attempts at ballooning of any kind had up to that time been made in all america. there is a record that in december, 1783, messrs. rittenhouse and hopkins, members of the philosophical academy of philadelphia, instituted experiments with an aerial machine consisting of a cage to which forty-seven small balloons were harnessed. in this strange craft a carpenter, by name wilcox, was induced to ascend, which, it is said, he did successfully, remaining in the air for ten minutes, when, finding himself near a river, he sought to come to earth again by opening several of his balloons. this brought about an awkward descent, attended, however, by no more serious accident than a dislocated wrist. mr. wise, on the other hand, states that blanchard had won the distinction of making the first ascent in the new world in 1793 in philadelphia on which occasion washington was a spectator; and a few years afterwards other frenchmen gave exhibitions, which, however, led to no real development of the new art on this, the further side of the atlantic. thus the endeavours we are about to describe were those of an independent and, at the same time, highly, practical experimentalist, and on this account have a special value of their own. the records that wise has left of his investigations begin at the earliest stage, and possess the charm of an obvious and somewhat quaint reality. they commence with certain crude calculations which would seem to place no limit to the capabilities of a balloon. thus, he points out that one of "the very moderate size of 400 feet diameter" would convey 13,000 men. "no wonder, then," he continues, "the citizens of london became alarmed during the french war, when they mistook the appearance of a vast flock of birds coming towards the metropolis for napoleon's army apparently coming down upon them with this new contrivance." proceeding to practical measures, wise's first care was to procure some proper material of which to build an experimental balloon of sufficient size to lift and convey himself alone. for this he chose ordinary long-cloth, rendered gas-tight by coats of suitable varnish, the preparation of which became with him, as, indeed, it remains to this day, a problem of chief importance and difficulty. perhaps it hardly needs pointing out that the varnish of a balloon must not only be sufficiently elastic not to crack or scale off with folding or unavoidable rough usage, but it must also be of a nature to resist the common tendency of such substances to become adherent or "tacky." wise determined on bird lime thinned with linseed oil and ordinary driers. with this preparation he coated his material several times both before and after the making up, and having procured a net, of which he speaks with pride, and a primitive sort of car, of which he bitterly complains, he thought himself sufficiently equipped to embark on an actual ascent, which he found a task of much greater practical difficulty than the mere manufacture of his air ship. for the inflation by hydrogen of so small a balloon as his was he made more than ample provision in procuring no less than fifteen casks of 130 gallons capacity each. he also duly secured a suitable filling ground at the corner of ninth and green streets, philadelphia, but he made a miscalculation as to the time the inflation would demand, and this led to unforeseen complications, for as yet he knew not the way of a crowd which comes to witness a balloon ascent. having all things in readiness, and prudently waiting for fair weather, he embarked on his grand experiment on the 2nd of may, 1835, announcing 4 p.m. as the hour of departure. but by that time the inflation, having only proceeded for three hours, the balloon was but half full, and then the populace began to behave as in such circumstances they always will. they were incredulous, and presently grew troublesome. in vain the harnessing of the car was proceeded with as though all were well. for all was not well, and when the aeronaut stepped into his car with only fifteen pounds of sand and a few instruments he must have done so with much misgiving. still, he had friends around who might have been useful had they been less eager to help. but these simply crowded round him, giving him no elbow room, nor opportunity for trying the "lift" of his all-too-empty globe. moreover, some would endeavour to throw the machine upward, while others as strenuously strove to keep it down, and at last the former party prevailed, and the balloon, being fairly cast into the air, grazed a neighbouring chimney and then plunged into an adjacent plot, not, however, before the distracted traveller had flung away all his little stock of sand. there now was brief opportunity for free action, and to the first bystander who came running up wise gave the task of holding the car in check. to the next he handed out his instruments, his coat, and also his boots, hoping thus to get away; but his chance had not yet come, for once again the crowd swarmed round him, keeping him prisoner with good-natured but mistaken interference, and drowning his voice with excited shouting. somehow, by word and gesture, he gave his persecutors to understand that he wished to speak, and then he begged them only to give him a chance, whereupon the crowd fell back, forming a ring, and leaving only one man holding the car. it was a moment of suspense, for wise calculated that he had only parted with some eighteen pounds since his first ineffectual start from the filling ground; but it was enough, and in another moment he was sailing up clear above the crowd. so great, as has been already shewn, is often the effect of parting with the last few pounds of dead weight in a well-balanced balloon. such was the first "send off" of the future great balloonist, destined to become the pioneer in aeronautics on the far side of the atlantic. the balloon ascended to upwards of a mile, floating gradually away, but at its highest point it reached a conflict of currents, causing eddies from which wise escaped by a slight decrease of weight, effected by merely cutting away the wreaths of flowers that were tied about his car. a further small substitute for ballast he extemporised in the metal tube inserted in the neck of his fabric, and this he cast out when over the breadth of the delaware, and he describes it as falling with a rustling sound, and striking the water with a splash plainly heard at more than a mile in the sky. after an hour and a quarter the balloon spontaneously and steadily settled to earth. an ascent carried out later in the same summer led to a mishap, which taught the young aeronaut an all-important lesson. using the same balloon and the same mode of inflation, he got safely and satisfactorily away from his station in the town of lebanon, pa., and soon found himself over a toll gate in the open country, where the gate keeper in banter called up to him for his due. to this summons wise, with heedless alacrity, responded in a manner which might well have cost him dear. he threw out a bag of sand to represent his toll, and, though he estimated this at only six pounds, it so greatly accelerated his ascent that he shortly found himself at a greater altitude than he ever after attained. he passed through mist into upper sunshine, where he experienced extreme cold and ear-ache, at which time, seeking the natural escape from such trouble, he found to his dismay that the valve rope was out of reach. thus he was compelled to allow the balloon to ascend yet higher, at its own will; and then a terrible event happened. by mischance the neck of his balloon, which should have been open, was out of reach and folded inwards in such a way as to prevent the free escape of the gas, which, at this great altitude, struggled for egress with a loud humming noise, giving him apprehensions of an accident which very shortly occurred, namely, the bursting of the lower part of his balloon with a loud report. it happened, however, that no extreme loss of gas ensued, and he commenced descending with a speed which, though considerable, was not very excessive. still, he was eager to alight in safety, until a chance occurrence made him a second time that afternoon guilty of an act of boyish impetuosity. a party of volunteers firing a salute in his honour as he neared the ground, he instantly flung out papers, ballast, anything he could lay his hands on, and once again soared to a great height with his damaged balloon. he could then do no more, and presently subsiding to earth again, he acquired the welcome knowledge that even in such precarious circumstances a balloon may make a long fall with safety to its freight. mr. wise's zeal and indomitable spirit of enterprise led to speedy developments of the art which he had espoused; the road to success being frequently pointed out by failure or mishap. he quickly discarded the linen balloon for one of silk on which he tried a new varnish composed of linseed oil and india-rubber, and, dressing several gores with this, he rolled them up and left them through a night in a drying loft, with the result that the next day they were disintegrated and on the point of bursting into flame by spontaneous combustion. fresh silk and other varnish were then tried, but with indifferent success. next he endeavoured to dispense with sewing, and united the gores of yet another balloon by the mere adhesiveness of the varnish and application of a hot iron. this led to a gaping seam developing at the moment of an ascent, and then there followed a hasty and hazardous descent on a house-top and an exciting rescue by a gentleman who appeared opportunely at a third storey window. further, another balloon had been destroyed, and wise badly burned, at a descent, owing to a naked light having been brought near the escaping gas. it is then without wonder that we find him after this temporarily bankrupt, and resorting to his skill in instrument-making to recover his fortunes. only, however, for a few months, after which he is before the public once more as a professional aeronaut. he now adopts coal gas for inflation, and incidents of an impressive nature crowd into his career, forcing important facts upon him. the special characteristics of his own country present peculiar difficulties; broad rivers and vast forests become serious obstacles. he is caught in the embrace of a whirlwind; he narrowly escapes falling into a forest fire; he is precipitated, but harmlessly, into a pine wood. among other experiments, he makes a small copy of mr. cocking's parachute, and drops it to earth with a cat as passenger, proving thereby that that unfortunate gentleman's principle was really less in fault than the actual slenderness of the material used in his machine. we now approach one of wise's boldest, and at the same time most valuable, experiments. it was the summer of 1839, and once again the old trouble of spontaneous combustion had destroyed a silk balloon which was to have ascended at easton, pa. undeterred, however, wise resolutely advertised a fresh attempt, and, with only a clear month before the engagement, determined on hastily rigging up a cambric muslin balloon, soaking it in linseed oil and essaying the best exhibition that this improvised experiment could afford. it was intended to become a memorable one, inasmuch as, should he meet with no hindrance, his determination was nothing less than that of bursting this balloon at a great height, having firmly convinced himself that the machine in these circumstances would form itself into a natural parachute, and bring him to earth with every chance in favour of safety. in his own words, "scientific calculations were on his side with a certainty as great and principles as comprehensive as that a pocket-handkerchief will not fall as rapidly to the ground when thrown out of a third storey window as will a brick." his balloon was specially contrived for the experiment in hand, having cords sewn to the upper parts of its seams, and then led down through the neck, where they were secured within reach, their office being that of rending the whole head of the balloon should this be desired. on this occasion a cat and a dog were taken up, one of these being let fall from a height of 2,000 feet in a cocking's parachute, and landing in safety, the other being similarly dismissed at an altitude of 4,000 feet in an oiled silk balloon made in the form of a collapsed balloon, which, after falling a little distance, expanded sufficiently to allow of its descending with a safe though somewhat vibratory motion. its behaviour, at any rate, fully determined wise on carrying out his own experiment. being constructed entirely for the main object in view, the balloon had no true opening in the neck beyond an orifice of about an inch, and by the time a height of 13,000 feet had been reached the gas was streaming violently through this small hole, the entire globe being expanded nearly to bursting point, and the cords designed for rending the balloon very tense. at this critical period wise owns to having experienced considerable nervous excitement, and observing far down a thunderstorm in progress he began to waver in his mind, and inclined towards relieving the balloon of its strain, and so abandoning his experiment, at least for the present. he remembers pulling out his watch to make a note of the hour, and, while thus occupied, the straining cords, growing tenser every moment, suddenly took charge of the experiment and burst the balloon of their own accord. the gas now rushed from the huge rent above tumultuously and in some ten seconds had entirely escaped, causing the balloon to descend rapidly, until the lower part of the muslin, doubling in upwards, formed a species of parachute after the manner intended. the balloon now came down with zig-zag descent, and finally the car, striking the earth obliquely, tossed its occupant out into a field unharmed. shortly after this wise experimented with further success with an exploded balloon. it is not a little remarkable that this pioneer of aeronautics in american--a contemporary of charles green in england, but working and investigating single-handed on perfectly independent lines--should have arrived at the same conclusions as did green himself as to the possibility, which, in his opinion, amounted to a certainty, of being able to cross the atlantic by balloon if only adequate funds were forth-coming. so intent was he on his bold scheme that, in the summer of 1843, he handed to the lancaster intelligencer a proclamation, which he desired might be conveyed to all publishers of newspapers on the globe. it contained, among other clauses, the following:-"having from a long experience in aeronautics been convinced that a constant and regular current of air is blowing at all times from west to east, with a velocity of from twenty to forty and even sixty miles per hour, according to its height from the earth, and having discovered a composition which renders silk or muslin impervious to hydrogen gas, so that a balloon may be kept afloat for many weeks, i feel confident with these advantages that a trip across the atlantic will not be attended with as much real danger as by the common mode of transition. the balloon is to be 100 feet in diameter, giving it a net ascending power of 25,000 lbs." it was further stated that the crew would consist of three persons, including a sea navigator, and a scientific landsman. the specifications for the transatlantic vessel were also to include a seaworthy boat in place of the ordinary car. the sum requisite for this enterprise was, at the time, not realised; but it should be mentioned that several years later a sufficient sum of money was actually subscribed. in the summer of 1873 the proprietors of the new york daily graphic provided for the construction of a balloon of no less than 400,000 cubic feet capacity, and calculated to lift 14,000 lbs. it was, however, made of bad material; and, becoming torn in inflation, wise condemned and declined to use it. a few months later, when it had been repaired, one donaldson and two other adventurers, attempting a voyage with this ill-formed monster, ascended from new york, and were fortunate in coming down safely, though not without peril, somewhere in connecticut. failing in his grand endeavour, wise continued to follow the career of a professional aeronaut for some years longer, of which he has left a full record, terminating with the spring of 1848. his ascents were always marked by carefulness of detail, and a coolness and courage in trying circumstances that secured him uniform success and universal regard. he was, moreover, always a close and intelligent observer, and many of his memoranda are of scientific value. his description of an encounter with a storm-cloud in the june of 1843 has an interest of its own, and may not be considered overdrawn. it was an ascent from carlisle, pa., to celebrate the anniversary of bunker's hill, and wise was anxious to gratify the large concourse of people assembled, and thus was tempted, soon after leaving the ground, to dive up into a huge black cloud of peculiarly forbidding aspect. this cloud appeared to remain stationary while he swept beneath it, and, having reached its central position, he observed that its under surface was concave towards the earth, and at that moment he became swept upwards in a vortex that set his balloon spinning and swinging violently, while he himself was afflicted with violent nausea and a feeling of suffocation. the cold experienced now became intense, and the cordage became glazed with ice, yet this had no effect in checking the upward whirling of the balloon. sunshine was beyond the upper limits of the cloud; but this was no sooner reached than the balloon, escaping from the uprush, plunged down several hundred feet, only to be whirled up again, and this reciprocal motion was repeated eight or ten times during an interval of twenty minutes, in all of which time no expenditure of gas or discharge of ballast enabled the aeronaut to regain any control over his vessel. statements concerning a thunderstorm witnessed at short range by wise will compare with other accounts. the thunder "rattled" without any reverberations, and when the storm was passing, and some dense clouds moving in the upper currents, the "surface of the lower stratum swelled up suddenly like a boiling cauldron, which was immediately followed by the most brilliant ebullition of sparkling coruscations." green, in his stormy ascent from newbury, england, witnessed a thunderstorm below him, as will be remembered, while an upper cloud stratum lay at his own level. it was then that green observed that "at every discharge of thunder all the detached pillars of clouds within the distance of a mile around became attracted." the author will have occasion, in due place, to give personal experiences of an encounter with a thunderstorm which will compare with the foregoing description. chapter ix. early methods and ideas. before proceeding to introduce the chief actors and their achievements in the period next before us, it will be instructive to glance at some of the principal ideas and methods in favour with aeronauts up to the date now reached. it will be seen that wise in america, contrary to the practice of green in our own country, had a strong attachment to the antique mode of inflation with hydrogen prepared by the vitriolic process; and his balloons were specially made and varnished for the use of this gas. the advantage which he thus bought at the expense of much trouble and the providing of cumbersome equipment was obvious enough, and may be well expressed by a formula which holds good to-day, namely, that whereas 1,000 cubic feet of hydrogen is capable of lifting 7 lbs., the same quantity of coal gas of ordinary quality will raise but 35 lbs. the lighter gas came into all wise's calculations for bolder schemes. thus, when he discusses the possibility of using a metal balloon, his figures work out as follows: if a balloon of 200 feet diameter were constructed out of copper, weighing one pound to the square foot; if, moreover, some six tons were allowed for the weight of car and fastenings, an available lifting power would remain capable of raising 45 tons to an altitude of two miles. this calculation may appear somewhat startling, yet it is not only substantially correct, but wise entertained no doubt as to the practicability of such a machine. for its inflation he suggests inserting a muslin balloon filled with air within the copper globe, and then passing hydrogen gas between the muslin and copper surfaces, which would exclude the inner balloon as the copper one filled up. his method of preparing hydrogen was practically that still adopted in the field, and seems in his hands to have been seldom attended with difficulty. with eight common 130-gallon rum puncheons he could reckon on evolving 5,000 cubic feet of gas in an hour, using his elements in the following proportions: water, 560 lbs.; sulphuric acid (sp. g. 1.85), 144 lbs.; iron turnings, 125 lbs. the gas, as given off, was cooled and purified by being passed through a head of water kept cool and containing lime in solution. contrasted with this, we find it estimated, according to the practice of this time, that a ton of good bituminous coal should yield 10,000 cubic feet of carburetted hydrogen fit for lighting purposes, and a further quantity which, though useless as an illuminant, is still of excellent quality for the aeronaut. it would even seem from a statement of mr. monck mason that the value of coke in his day largely compensated for the cost of producing coal gas, so that in a large number of green's ascents no charge whatever was made for gas by the companies that supplied him. some, at least, of the methods formerly recommended for the management of free balloons must in these days be modified. green, as we have seen, was in favour of a trail rope of inordinate length, which he recommended both as an aid to steering and for a saving of ballast. in special circumstances, and more particularly over the sea, this may be reckoned a serviceable adjunct, but over land its use, in this country at least, would be open to serious objection. the writer has seen the consternation, not to say havoc, that a trail rope may occasion when crossing a town, or even private grounds, and the actual damage done to a garden of hops, or to telegraph or telephone wires, may be very serious indeed. moreover, the statement made by some early practitioners that a trail rope will not catch so as to hold fast in a wood or the like, is not to be relied on, for an instance could be mentioned coming under the writer's knowledge where such a rope was the source of so much trouble in a high wind that it had to be cut away. the trouble arose in this way. the rope dragged harmlessly enough along the open ground. it would, likewise, negotiate exceedingly well a single tree or a whole plantation, catching and releasing itself with only such moderate tugs at the car as were not disturbing; but, presently, its end, which had been caught and again released by one tree, swung free in air through a considerable gap to another tree, where, striking a horizontal bough, it coiled itself several times around, and thus held the balloon fast, which now, with the strength of the wind, was borne to the earth again and again, rebounding high in air after each impact, until freedom was gained only by the sacrifice of a portion of the rope. wise recommends a pendant line of 600 or 800 feet, capable of bearing a strain of 100 lbs., and with characteristic ingenuity suggests a special use which can be made of it, namely, that of having light ribbons tied on at every hundred feet, by means of which the drifts of lower currents may be detected. in this suggestion there is, indeed, a great deal of sound sense; for there is, as will be shown hereafter, very much value to be attached to a knowledge of those air rivers that are flowing, often wholly unsuspected, at various heights. small parachutes, crumpled paper, and other such-like bodies as are commonly thrown out and relied on to declare the lower drifts, are not wholly trustworthy, for this reason--that air-streams are often very slender, mere filaments, as they are sometimes called, and these, though setting in some definite direction, and capable of entrapping and wafting away some small body which may come within their influence, may not affect the travel of so big an object as a balloon, which can only partake of some more general air movement. wise, by his expedient of tying ribbons at different points to his trail rope, would obtain much more correct and constant information respecting those general streams through which the pendant rope was moving. a similar expedient adopted by the same ingenious aeronaut is worthy of imitation, namely, that of tying ribbons on to a rod projecting laterally from the car. these form a handy and constant telltale as to the flight of the balloon, for should they be fluttering upwards the sky sailor at once knows that his craft is descending, and that he must act accordingly. the material, pure silk, which was universally adopted up to and after the period we are now regarding, is not on every account to be reckoned the most desirable. in the first place, its cost alone is prohibitive, and next, although lighter than any kind of linen, strength for strength, it requires a greater weight of varnish, which, moreover, it does not take so kindly as does fabric made of vegetable tissue. further, paradoxical as it may appear, its great strength is not entirely an advantage. there are occasions which must come into the experience of every zealous aeronaut when his balloon has descended in a rough wind, and in awkward country. this may, indeed, happen even when the ascent has been made in calm. squalls of wind may spring up at short notice, or after traversing only two or three counties a strong gale may be found on the earth, though such was absent in the starting ground. this is more particularly the case when the landing chances to be on high ground in the neighbourhood of the sea. in these circumstances, the careful balloonist, who will generally be forewarned by the ruffle on any water he may pass, or by the drift of smoke, the tossing of trees, or by their very rustling or "singing" wafted upwards to him, will, if possible, seek for his landing place the lee of a wood or some other sheltered spot. but, even with all his care, he will sometimes find himself, on reaching earth, being dragged violently across country on a mad course which the anchor cannot check. now, the country through which he is making an unwilling steeplechase may be difficult, or even dangerous. rivers, railway cuttings, or other undesirable obstacles may lie ahead, or, worse yet, such a death trap as in such circumstances almost any part of derbyshire affords, with its stone walls, its precipitous cliffs, and deep rocky dells. to be dragged at the speed of an express train through territory of this description will presently mean damage to something, perhaps to telegraph poles, to roofs, or crops, and if not, then to the balloon itself. something appertaining to it must be victimised, and it is in all ways best that this should be the fabric of the balloon itself. if made of some form, or at least some proportion of linen, this will probably rend ere long, and, allowing the gas to escape, will soon bring itself to rest. on the other hand, if the balloon proper is a silk one, with sound net and in good condition, it is probable that something else will give way first, and that something may prove to be the hapless passenger or passengers. and here be it laid down as one first and all-important principle, that in any such awkward predicament as that just described, if there be more than one passenger aboard, let none attempt to get out. in the first place, he may very probably break a limb in so doing, inasmuch as the tangle of the ropes will not allow of his getting cut readily; or, when actually on the ground, he may be caught and impaled by the anchor charging and leaping behind. but, worse than all, he may, in any case, jeopardise the lives of his companions, who stand in need of all the available weight and help that the car contains up to the moment of coming to final rest. we have already touched on the early notions as to the means of steering a balloon. oars had been tested without satisfactory result, and the conception of a rotary screw found favour among theorists at this time, the principle being actually tried with success in working models, which, by mechanical means, could be made to flit about in the still air of the lecture room; but the only feasible method advocated was that already alluded to, which depended on the undesirable action of a trail rope dragging over the ground or through water. the idea was, of course, perfectly practical, and was simply analogous to the method adopted by sailors, who, when floating with the stream but without wind, are desirous of gaining "steerage way." while simply drifting with the flood, they are unable to guide their vessel in any way, and this, in practice, is commonly effected by simply propelling the vessel faster than the stream, in which case the rudder at once becomes available. but the same result is equally well obtained by slowing the vessel, and this is easily accomplished by a cable, with a small anchor or other weight attached, dragging below the vessel. this cable is essentially the same as the guide-rope of the older aeronauts. it is when we come to consider the impressions and sensations described by sky voyagers of bygone times that we find them curiously at variance with our own. as an instance, we may state that the earth, as seen from a highflying balloon, used to be almost always described as appearing concave, or like a huge basin, and ingenious attempts were made to prove mathematically that this must be so. the laws of refraction are brought in to prove the fact; or, again, the case is stated thus: supposing the extreme horizon to be seen when the balloon is little more than a mile high, the range of view on all sides will then be, roughly, some eighty miles. if, then, a line were drawn from the aerial observer to this remote distance, that line would be almost horizontal; so nearly so that he cannot persuade himself that his horizon is otherwise than still on a level with his eye; yet the earth below him lies, as it seems, at the bottom of a huge gulf. thus the whole visible earth appears as a vast bowl or basin. this is extremely ingenious reasoning, and not to be disregarded; but the fact remains that in the experience of the writer and of many others whom he has consulted, there is no such optical illusion as i have just discussed, and to their vision it is impossible to regard the earth as anything but uniformly flat. another impression invariably insisted on by early balloonists is that the earth, on quitting it, appears to drop away into an abyss, leaving the voyagers motionless, and this illusion must, indeed, be probably universal. it is the same illusion as the apparent gliding backwards of objects to a traveller in a railway carriage; only in this latter case the rattling and shaking of the carriage helps the mind to grasp the real fact that the motion belongs to the train itself; whereas it is otherwise with a balloon, whose motion is so perfectly smooth as to be quite imperceptible. old ideas, formed upon insufficient observations, even if erroneous, were slow to die. thus it used to be stated that an upper cloud floor adapted itself to the contour of the land over which it rested, giving what mr. monck mason has called a "phrenological estimate" of the character of the earth below; the clouds, "even when under the influence of rapid motion, seeming to accommodate themselves to all variations of form in the surface of the subjacent soil, rising with its prominences and sinking with its depressions." probably few aeronauts of the present time will accept the statement. it used commonly to be asserted, and is so often to this day, that a feeling as of sea-sickness is experienced in balloon travel, and the notion has undoubtedly arisen from the circumstances attending an ascent in a captive balloon. it were well, now that ballooning bids fair to become popular, to disabuse the public mind of such a wholly false idea. the truth is that a balloon let up with a lengthy rope and held captive will, with a fitful breeze, pitch and sway in a manner which may induce all the unpleasant feelings attending a rough passage at sea. it may do worse, and even be borne to earth with a puff of wind which may come unexpectedly, and considerably unsettle the nerves of any holiday passenger. i could tell of a "captive" that had been behaving itself creditably on a not very settled day suddenly swooping over a roadway and down into public gardens, where it lay incontinently along the ground, and then, before the astonished passengers could attempt to alight, it was seized with another mood, and, mounting once again majestically skyward, submitted to be hauled down with all becoming grace and ease. it is owing to their vagaries and want of manageability that, as will be shown, "captives" are of uncertain use in war. on the other hand, a free balloon is exempt from such disadvantages, and at moderate heights not the smallest feeling of nausea is ever experienced. the only unpleasant sensation, and that not of any gravity, ever complained of, is a peculiar tension in the ears experienced in a rapid ascent, or more often, perhaps, in a descent. the cause, which is trivial and easily removed, should be properly understood, and cannot be given in clearer language than that used by professor tyndall:--"behind the tympanic membrane exists a cavity--the drum of the ear--in part crossed by a series of bones, and in part occupied by air. this cavity communicates with the mouth by means of a duct called the eustachian tube. this tube is generally closed, the air space behind the tympanic membrane being thus cut off from the external air. if, under these circumstances, the external air becomes denser, it will press the tympanic membrane inwards; if, on the other hand, the air on the other side becomes rarer, while the eustachian tube becomes closed, the membrane will be pressed outwards. pain is felt in both cases, and partial deafness is experienced.... by the act of swallowing the eustachian tube is opened, and thus equilibrium is established between the external and internal pressure." founded on physical facts more or less correct in themselves, come a number of tales of olden days, which are at least more marvellous than credible, the following serving as an example. the scientific truth underlying the story is the well-known expedient of placing a shrivelled apple under the receiver of an air pump. as the air becomes rarefied the apple swells, smooths itself out, and presently becomes round and rosy as it was in the summer time. it is recorded that on one occasion a man of mature years made an ascent, accompanied by his son, and, after reaching some height, the youth remarked on how young his father was looking. they still continued to ascend, and the same remark was repeated more than once. and at last, having now reached attenuated regions, the son cried in astonishment, "why, dad, you ought to be at school!" the cause of this remark was that in the rarefied air all the wrinkles had come out of the old man's face, and his cheeks were as chubby as his son's. this discussion of old ideas should not be closed without mention of a plausible plea for the balloon made by wise and others on the score of its value to health. lofty ascents have proved a strain on even robust constitutions--the heart may begin to suffer, or ills akin to mountain sickness may intervene before a height equal to that of our loftiest mountain is reached. but many have spoken of an exhilaration of spirits not inferior to that of the mountaineer, which is experienced, and without fatigue, in sky voyages reasonably indulged in--of a light-heartedness, a glow of health, a sharpened appetite, and the keen enjoyment of mere existence. nay, it has been seriously affirmed that "more good may be got by the invalid in an hour or two while two miles up on a fine summer's day than is to be gained in an entire voyage from new york to madeira by sea." chapter x. the commencement of a new era. resuming the roll of progressive aeronauts in england whose labours were devoted to the practical conquest of the air, and whose methods and mechanical achievements mark the road of advance by which the successes of to-day have been obtained, there stand out prominently two individuals, of whom one has already received mention in these pages. the period of a single life is seldom sufficient to allow within its span the full development of any new departure in art or science, and it cannot, therefore, be wondered at if charles green, though reviving and re-modelling the art of ballooning in our own country, even after an exceptionally long and successful career, left that pursuit to which he had given new birth virtually still in its infancy. the year following that in which green conducted the famous nassau voyage we find him experimenting in the same balloon with his chosen friend and colleague, edward spencer, solicitor, of barnsbury, who, only nine years later, compiles memoranda of thirty-four ascents, made under every variety of circumstance, many being of a highly enterprising nature. we find him writing enthusiastically of the raptures he experienced when sailing over london in night hours, of lofty ascents and extremely low temperatures, of speeding twenty-eight miles in twenty minutes, of grapnel ropes breaking, and of a cross-country race of four miles through woods and hedges. such was mr. spencer the elder, and if further evidence were needed of his practical acquaintance with, as well as personal devotion to, his adopted profession of aeronautics, we have it in the store of working calculations and other minutiae of the craft, most carefully compiled in manuscript by his own hand; these memoranda being to this day constantly consulted by his grandsons, the present eminent aeronauts, messrs. spencer brothers, as supplying a manual of reliable data for the execution of much of the most important parts of their work. in the terrific ordeal and risk entailed by the daring and fatal parachute descent of cocking, green required an assistant of exceptional nerve and reliability, and, as has been recorded, his choice at once fell on edward spencer. in this choice it has already been shown that he was well justified, and in the trying circumstances that ensued green frankly owns that it was his competent companion who was the first to recover himself. a few years later, when a distinguished company, among whom were albert smith and shirley brooks, made a memorable ascent from cremorne, edward spencer is one of the select party. some account of this voyage should be given, and it need not be said that no more graphic account is to be found than that given by the facile pen of albert smith himself. his personal narrative also forms an instructive contrast to another which he had occasion to give to the world shortly afterwards, and which shall be duly noticed. the enthusiastic writer first describes, with apparent pride, the company that ascended with him. besides mr. shirley brooks, there were messrs. davidson, of the garrick club; mr. john lee, well known in theatrical circles; mr. p. thompson, of guy's hospital, and others--ten in all, including charles green as skipper, and edward spencer, who, sitting in the rigging, was entrusted with the all-important management of the valve rope. "the first sensation experienced," albert smith continues, "was not that we were rising, but that the balloon remained fixed, whilst all the world below was rapidly falling away; while the cheers with which they greeted our departure grew fainter, and the cheerers themselves began to look like the inmates of many sixpenny noah's arks grouped upon a billiard table.... our hats would have held millions.... and most strange is the roar of the city as it comes surging into the welkin as though the whole metropolis cheered you with one voice.... yet none beyond the ordinary passengers are to be seen. the noise is as inexplicable as the murmur in the air at hot summer noontide." the significance of this last remark will be insisted on when the writer has to tell his own experiences aloft over london, as also a note to the effect that there were seen "large enclosed fields and gardens and pleasure grounds where none were supposed to exist by ordinary passengers." another interesting note, having reference to a once familiar feature on the river, now disappearing, related to the paddle boats of those days, the steamers making a very beautiful effect, "leaving two long wings of foam behind them similar to the train of a table rocket." highly suggestive, too, of the experiences of railway travellers in the year 1847 is the account of the alighting, which, by the way, was obviously of no very rude nature. "every time," says the writer, "the grapnel catches in the ground the balloon is pulled up suddenly with a shock that would soon send anybody from his seat, a jerk like that which occurs when fresh carriages are brought up to a railway train." but the concluding paragraph in this rosy narrative affords another and a very notable contrast to the story which that same writer had occasion to put on record before that same year had passed. "we counsel everybody to go up in a balloon... in spite of the apparent frightful fragility of cane and network nothing can in reality be more secure... the stories of pressure on the ears, intense cold, and the danger of coming down are all fictions.... indeed, we almost wanted a few perils to give a little excitement to the trip, and have some notion, if possible, of going up the next time at midnight with fireworks in a thunderstorm, throwing away all the ballast, fastening down the valve, and seeing where the wind will send us." the fireworks, the thunderstorm, and the throwing away of ballast, all came off on the 15th of the following october, when albert smith made his second ascent, this time from vauxhall gardens, under the guidance of mr. gypson, and accompanied by two fellow-passengers. fireworks, which were to be displayed when aloft, were suspended on a framework forty feet below the car. lightning was also playing around as they cast off. the description which albert smith gives of london by night as seen from an estimated elevation of 4,000 feet, should be compared with other descriptions that will be given in these pages:-"in the obscurity all traces of houses and enclosures are lost sight of. i can compare it to nothing else than floating over dark blue and boundless sea spangled with hundreds of thousands of stars. these stars were the lamps. we could see them stretching over the river at the bridges, edging its banks, forming squares and long parallel lines of light in the streets and solitary parks. further and further apart until they were altogether lost in the suburbs. the effect was bewildering." at 7,000 feet, one of the passengers, sitting in the ring, remarked that the balloon was getting very tense, and the order was given to "ease her" by opening the top valve. the valve line was accordingly pulled, "and immediately afterwards we heard a noise similar to the escape of steam in a locomotive, and the lower part of the balloon collapsed rapidly, and appeared to fly up into the upper portion. at the same instant the balloon began to fall with appalling velocity, the immense mass of loose silk surging and rustling frightfully over our heads.... retreating up away from us more and more into the head of the balloon. the suggestion was made to throw everything over that might lighten the balloon. i had two sandbags in my lap, which were cast away directly.... there were several large bags of ballast, and some bottles of wine, and these were instantly thrown away, but no effect was perceptible. the wind still appeared to be rushing up past us at a fearful rate, and, to add to the horror, we came among the still expiring discharge of the fireworks which floated in the air, so that little bits of exploded cases and touch-paper, still incandescent, attached themselves to the cordage of the balloon and were blown into sparks.... i presume we must have been upwards of a mile from the earth.... how long we were descending i have not the slightest idea, but two minutes must have been the outside.... we now saw the houses, the roofs of which appeared advancing to meet us, and the next instant, as we dashed by their summits, the words, 'hold hard!' burst simultaneously from all the party.... we were all directly thrown out of the car along the ground, and, incomprehensible as it now appears to me, nobody was seriously hurt." but "not so incomprehensible, after all," will be the verdict of all who compare the above narrative with the ascents given in a foregoing account of how wise had fared more than once when his balloon had burst. for, as will be readily guessed, the balloon had in this case also burst, owing to the release of the upper valve being delayed too long, and the balloon had in the natural way transformed itself into a true parachute. moreover, the fall, which, by albert smith's own showing, was that of about a mile in two minutes, was not more excessive than one which will presently be recorded of mr. glaisher, who escaped with no material injury beyond a few bruises. one fact has till now been omitted with regard to the above sensational voyage, namely, the name of the passenger who, sitting in the ring, was the first to point out the imminent danger of the balloon. this individual was none other than mr. henry coxwell, the second, indeed, of the two who were mentioned in the opening paragraph of this chapter as marking the road of progress which it is the scope of these pages to trace, and to whom we must now formally introduce our readers. this justly famous sky pilot, whose practical acquaintance with ballooning extends over more than forty years, was the son of a naval officer residing near chatham, and in his autobiography he describes enthusiastically how, a lad of nine years old, he watched through a sea telescope a balloon, piloted by charles green, ascend from rochester and, crossing the thames, disappear in distance over the essex flats. he goes on to describe how the incident started him in those early days on boyish endeavours to construct fire balloons and paper parachutes. some years later his home, on the death of his father, being transferred to eltham, he came within frequent view of such balloons as, starting from the neighbourhood of london, will through the summer drift with the prevailing winds over that part of kent. and it was here that, ere long, he came in at the death of another balloon of which green was in charge. and from this time onwards the schoolboy with the strange hobby was constantly able to witness the flights and even the inflations of those ships of the air, which, his family associations notwithstanding took precedence of all boyish diversions. his elder brother, now a naval officer, entirely failed to divert his aspirations into other channels, and it was when the boy had completed sixteen summers that an aeronautic enterprise attracted not only his own, but public attention also. it was the building of a mammoth balloon at vauxhall under the superintendence of mr. green. the launching of this huge craft when completed was regarded as so great an occasion that the young coxwell, who had by this time obtained a commercial opening abroad, was allowed, at his earnest entreaty, to stay till the event had come off, and fifty years after the hardened sky sailor is found describing with a boyish enthusiasm how thirty-six policemen were needed round that balloon; how enormous weights were attached to the cordage, only to be lifted feet above the ground; while the police were compelled to pass their staves through the meshes to prevent the cords cutting their hands. at this ascent mr. hollond was a passenger, and by the middle of the following november all europe was ringing with the great nassau venture. commercial business did not suit the young coxwell, and at the age of one-and-twenty we find him trying his hand at the profession of surgeon-dentist, not, however, with any prospect of its keeping him from the longing of his soul, which grew stronger and stronger upon him. it was not till the summer of 1844 that mr. hampton, giving an exhibition from the white conduit gardens, pentonville, offered the young man, then twenty-five years old, his first ascent. in after years coxwell referred to his first sensations in characteristic language, contrasting them with the experiences of the mountaineer. "in alpine travels," he says, "the process is so slow, and contact with the crust of the earth so palpable, that the traveller is gradually prepared for each successive phase of view as it presents itself. but in the balloon survey, cities, villages, and vast tracts for observation spring almost magically before the eye, and change in aspect and size so pleasingly that bewilderment first and then unbounded admiration is sure to follow." the ice was now fairly broken, and, not suffering professional duties to be any hindrance, coxwell began to make a series of ascents under the leadership of two rival balloonists, gale and gypson. one voyage made with the latter he describes as leading to the most perilous descent in the annals of aerostation. this was the occasion, given above, on which albert smith was a passenger, and which that talented writer describes in his own fashion. he does not, however, add the fact, worthy of being chronicled, that exactly a week after the appalling adventure gypson and coxwell, accompanied by a captain whose name does not transpire, and loaded with twice the previous weight of fireworks, made a perfectly successful night ascent and descent in the same balloon. it is very shortly after this that we find coxwell seduced into undertaking for its owners the actual management of a balloon, the property of gale, and now to be known as the "sylph." with this craft he practically began his career as a professional balloonist, and after a few preliminary ascents made in england, was told off to carry on engagements in belgium. a long series of ascents was now made on the continent, and in the troubled state of affairs some stirring scenes were visited, not without some real adventure. one occasion attended with imminent risk occurred at berlin in 1851. coxwell relates that a prussian labourer whom he had dismissed for bad conduct, and who almost too manifestly harboured revenge, nevertheless begged hard for a re-engagement, which, as the man was a handy fellow, coxwell at length assented to. he took up three passengers beside himself, and at an elevation of some 3,000 feet found it necessary to open the valve, when, on pulling the cord, one of the top shutters broke and remained open, leaving a free aperture of 26 inches by 12 inches, and occasioning such a copious discharge of gas that nothing short of a providential landing could save disaster. but the providential landing came, the party falling into the embrace of a fruit tree in an orchard. it transpired afterwards that the labourer had been seen to tamper with the valve, the connecting lines of which he had partially severed. returning to england in 1852 coxwell, through the accidents inseparable from his profession, found himself virtually in possession of the field. green, now advanced in years, was retiring from the public life in which he had won so much fame and honour. gale was dead, killed in an ascent at bordeaux. only one aspirant contested the place of public aeronaut--one goulston, who had been gale's patron. before many months, however, he too met with a balloonist's death, being dashed against some stone walls when ascending near manchester. it will not be difficult to form an estimate of how entirely the popularity of the balloon was now reestablished in england, from the mere fact that before the expiration of the year coxwell had been called upon to make thirty-six voyages. some of these were from glasgow, and here a certain coincidence took place which is too curious to be omitted. a descent effected near milngavie took place in the same field in which sadler, twenty-nine years before, had also descended, and the same man who caught the rope of mr. sadler's balloon performed the same service once again for a fresh visitor from the skies. the following autumn coxwell, in fulfilling one out of many engagements, found himself in a dilemma which bore resemblance in a slight degree to a far more serious predicament in which the writer became involved, and which must be told in due place. the preparations for the ascent, which was from the mile end road, had been hurried, and after finally getting away at a late hour in the evening, it was found that the valve line had got caught in a fold of the silk, and could not be operated. in consequence, the balloon was, of necessity, left to take its own chance through the night, and, after rising to a considerable height, it slowly lost buoyancy during the chilly hours, and, gradually settling, came to earth near basingstoke, where the voyager, failing to get help or shelter, made his bed within his own car, lying in an open field, as other aeronauts have had to do in like circumstances. coxwell tells of a striking phenomenon seen during that voyage. "a splendid meteor was below the car, and apparently about 600 feet distant. it was blue and yellow, moving rapidly in a n.e. direction, and became extinguished without noise or sparks." chapter xi. the balloon in the service of science. at this point we must, for a brief while, drop the history of the famous aeronaut whose early career we have been briefly sketching in the last chapter, and turn our attention to a new feature of english ballooning. we have, at last, to record some genuinely scientific ascents, which our country now, all too tardily, instituted. it was the british association that took the initiative, and the two men they chose for their purpose were both exceptionally qualified for the task they had in hand. the practical balloonist was none other than the veteran charles green, now in his sixty-seventh year, but destined yet to enjoy nearly twenty years more of life. the scientific expert was mr. john welsh, well fitted for the projected work by long training at kew observatory. the balloon which they used is itself worthy of mention, being the great nassau balloon of olden fame. welsh was quick to realise more clearly than any former experimentalist that on account of the absence of breeze in a free balloon, as also on account of great solar radiation, the indications of thermometers would, without special precautions, be falsified. he therefore invented a form of aspirating thermometer, the earliest to be met with, and far in advance of any that were subsequently used by other scientists. it consisted of a polished tube, in which thermometers were enclosed, and through which a stream of air was forced by bellows. the difficulty of obtaining really accurate readings where thermometers are being quickly transported through varying temperatures is generally not duly appreciated. in the case of instruments carried m a balloon it should be remembered that the balloon itself conveys, clinging about it, no inconsiderable quantity of air, brought from other levels, while the temperature of its own mass will be liable to affect any thermometer in close neighbourhood. moreover, any ordinary form of thermometer is necessarily sluggish in action, as may be readily noticed. if, for example, one be carried from a warm room to a cold passage, or vice versa it will be seen that the column moves very deliberately, and quite a long interval will elapse before it reaches its final position, the cause being that the entire instrument, with any stand or mounting that it may have, will have to adapt itself to the change of temperature before a true record will be obtained. this difficulty applies unavoidably to all thermometers in some degree, and the skill of instrument makers has been taxed to reduce the errors to a minimum. it is necessary, in any case, that a constant stream of surrounding air should play upon the instrument, and though this is most readily effected when instruments are carried aloft by kites, yet even thus it is thought that an interval of some minutes has to elapse before any form of thermometer will faithfully record any definite change of temperature. it is on this account that some allowance must be made for observations which will, in due place, be recorded of scientific explorers; the point to be borne in mind being that, as was mentioned in a former chapter, such observations will have to be regarded as giving readings which are somewhat too high in ascents and too low in descents. two forms of thermometers at extremely simple construction, yet possessed of great sensibility, will be discussed in later chapters. the thermometers that welsh used were undoubtedly far superior to any that were devised before his time and it is much to be regretted that they were allowed to fall into disuse. perhaps the most important stricture on the observations that will have to be recorded is that the observers were not provided with a base station, on which account the value of results was impaired. it was not realised that it was necessary to make observations on the ground to compare with those that were being made at high altitudes. welsh made, in all, four ascents in the summer and autumn of 1852 and in his report he is careful to give the highest praise to his colleague, green, whose control over his balloon he describes as "so complete that none who accompanied him can be otherwise than relieved from all apprehension, and free to devote attention calmly to the work before him." the first ascent was made at 3.49 p.m. on august the 17th, under a south wind and with clouds covering some three-quarters of the sky. welsh's first remark significant, and will be appreciated by anyone who has attempted observational work in a balloon. he states naively that "a short time was lost at first in an attempt to put the instruments into more convenient order, and also from the novelty of the situation." then he mentions an observation which, in the experience of the writer, is a common one. the lowest clouds, which were about 2,500 feet high and not near the balloon, were passed without being noticed; other clouds were passed at different heights; and, finally, a few star-shaped crystals of snow; but the sun shone almost constantly. little variation occurred in the direction of travel, which averaged thirty-eight miles an hour, and the descent took place at 5.20 p.m. at swavesey, near cambridge. the second ascent took place at 4.43 p.m. on august 26th, under a gentle east wind and a partially obscured sky. the clouds were again passed without being perceived. this was at the height of 3,000 feet, beyond which was very clear sky of deep blue. the air currents up to the limits of 12,000 feet set from varying directions. the descent occurred near chesham at 7.45 p.m. the third ascent, at 2.35 p.m. on october the 21st was made into a sky covered with dense cloud masses lying within 3,000 and 3,700 feet. the sun was then seen shining through cirrus far up. the shadow of the balloon was also seen on the cloud, fringed with a glory, and about this time there was seen "stretching for a considerable length in a serpentine course, over the surface of the cloud, a well-defined belt, having the appearance of a broad road." being now at 12,000 feet, green thought it prudent to reconnoitre his position, and, finding they were near the sea, descended at 4.20 p.m. at rayleigh, in essex. some important notes on the polarisation of the clouds were made. the fourth and final voyage was made in a fast wind averaging fifty knots from the north-east. thin scud was met at 1,900 feet, and an upper stratum at 4,500 feet, beyond which was bright sun. the main shift of wind took place just as the upper surface of the first stratum was reached. in this ascent welsh reached his greatest elevation, 22,930 feet, when both green and himself experienced considerable difficulty in respiration and much fatigue. the sea being now perceived rapidly approaching, a hasty descent was made, and many of the instruments were broken. in summarising his results welsh states that "the temperature of the air decreases uniformly with height above the earth's surface until at a certain elevation, varying on different days, decrease is arrested, and for the space of 2,000 or 3,000 feet the temperature remains nearly constant, or even increases, the regular diminution being again resumed and generally maintained at a rate slightly less rapid than in the lower part of the atmosphere, and commencing from a higher temperature than would have existed but for the interruption noticed." the analysis of the upper air showed the proportion of oxygen and nitrogen to vary scarcely more than at different spots on the earth. as it is necessary at this point to take leave of the veteran green as a practical aeronaut, we may here refer to one or two noteworthy facts and incidents relating to his eventful career. in 1850 m. poitevin is said to have attracted 140,000 people to paris to look at an exhibition of himself ascending in a balloon seated on horseback, after which madame poitevin ascended from cremorne gardens in the same manner, the exhibition being intended as a representation of "europa on a bull." this, however, was discountenanced by the authorities and withdrawn. the feats were, in reality, merely the repetitions of one that had been conceived and extremely well carried out by green many years before--as long ago, in fact, as 1828, when he arranged to make an ascent from the eagle tavern, city road, seated on a pony. to carry out his intention, he discarded the ordinary car, replacing it with a small platform, which was provided with places to receive the pony's feet; while straps attached to the hoop were passed under the animal's body, preventing it from lying down or from making any violent movement. this the creature seemed in no way disposed to attempt, and when all had been successfully carried out and an easy descent effected at beckenham, the pony was discovered eating a meal of beans with which it had been supplied. several interesting observations have been recorded by green on different occasions, some of which are highly instructive from a practical or scientific point of view. on an ascent from vauxhall, in which he was accompanied by his friend spencer and mr. rush, he recorded how, as he constantly and somewhat rapidly rose, the wind changed its direction from n.w. through n. to n.e., while he remained over the metropolis, the balloon all the while rotating on its axis. this continual swinging or revolving of the balloon green considers an accompaniment of either a rapid ascent or descent, but it may be questioned whether it is not merely a consequence of changing currents, or, sometimes, of an initial spin given inadvertently to the balloon at the moment of its being liberated. the phenomenon of marked change which he describes in the upper currents is highly interesting, and tallies with what the writer has frequently experienced over london proper. such higher currents may be due to natural environment, and to conditions necessarily prevailing over so vast and varied a city, and they may be able to play an all-important part in the dispersal of london smoke or fog. this point will be touched on later. in this particular voyage green records that as he was rising at the moment when his barometer reached 19 inches, the thermometer he carried registered 46 degrees, while on coming down, when the barometer again marked 19 inches, the same thermometer recorded only 22 degrees. it will not fail to be recognised that there is doubtless here an example of the errors alluded to above, inseparable from readings taken in ascent and descent. a calculation made by green in his earlier years has a certain value. by the time he had accomplished 200 ascents he was at pains to compute that he had travelled across country some 6,000 miles, which had been traversed in 240 hours. from this it would follow that the mean rate of travel in aerial voyages will be about twenty-five miles per hour. towards the end of his career we find it stated by lieutenant g. grover, r.e., that "the messrs. green, father and son, have made between them some 930 ascents, in none of which have they met with any material accident or failure." this is wonderful testimony, indeed, and we may here add the fact that the father took up his own father, then at the age of eighty-three, in a balloon ascent of 1845, without any serious consequences. but it is time that some account should be given of a particular occasion which at least provided the famous aeronaut with an adventure spiced with no small amount of risk. it was on the 5th of july, 1850, that green ascended, with rush as his companion, from vauxhall, at the somewhat late hour of 7.50 p.m., using, as always, the great nassau balloon. the rate of rise must have been very considerable, and they presently record an altitude of no less than 20,000 feet, and a temperature of 12 degrees below freezing. they were now above the clouds, where all view of earth was lost, and, not venturing to remain long in this situation, they commenced a rapid descent, and on emerging below found themselves sailing down sea reach in the direction of nore sands, when they observed a vessel. their chance of making land was, to say the least, uncertain, and green, considering that his safety lay in bespeaking the vessel's assistance, opened the valve and brought the car down in the water some two miles north of sheerness, the hour being 8.45, and only fifty-five minutes since the start. the wind was blowing stiffly, and, catching the hollow of the half-inflated balloon, carried the voyagers rapidly down the river, too fast, indeed, to allow of the vessel's overtaking them. this being soon apparent, green cast out his anchor, and not without result, for it shortly became entangled in a sunken wreck, and the balloon was promptly "brought up," though struggling and tossing in the broken water. a neighbouring barge at once put off a boat to the rescue, and other boats were despatched by h.m. cutter fly, under commander gurling. green and rush were speedily rescued, but the balloon itself was too restive and dangerous an object to approach with safety. at green's suggestion, therefore, a volley of musketry was fired into the silk' after which it became possible to pass a rope around it and expel the gas. green subsequently relates how it took a fortnight to restore the damage, consisting of sixty-two bullet rents and nineteen torn gores. green's name will always be famous, if only for the fact that it was he who first adopted the use of coal gas in his calling. this, it will be remembered, was in 1821, and it should be borne in mind that at that time household gas had only recently been introduced. in point of fact, it first lighted pall mall in 1805, and it was not used for the general lighting of london till 1814. we are not surprised to find that the great aeronaut at one time turned his attention to the construction of models, and this with no inconsiderable success. a model of his was exhibited in 1840 at the polytechnic institution, and is described in the times as consisting of a miniature balloon of three feet diameter, inflated with coal gas. it was acted on by fans, which were operated by mechanism placed in the car. a series of three experiments was exhibited. first, the balloon being weighted so as to remain poised in the still air of the building, the mechanism was started, and the machine rose steadily to the ceiling. the fans were then reversed, when the model, equally gracefully, descended to the floor. lastly, the balloon, with a weighted trail rope, being once more balanced in mid-air, the fans were applied laterally, when the machine would take a horizontal flight, pulling the trail rope after it, with an attached weight dragging along the floor until the mechanism had run down, when it again remained stationary. the correspondent of the times continues, "mr. green states that by these simple means a voyage across the atlantic may be performed in three or four days, as easily as from vauxhall gardens to nassau." we can hardly attribute this statement seriously to one who knew as well as did green how fickle are the winds, and how utterly different are the conditions between the still air of a room and those of the open sky. his insight into the difficulties of the problem cannot have been less than that of his successor, coxwell, who, as the result of his own equally wide experience, states positively, "i could never imagine a motive power of sufficient force to direct and guide a balloon, much less to enable a man or a machine to fly." even when modern invention had produced a motive power undreamed of in the days we are now considering, coxwell declares his conviction that inherent difficulties would not be overcome "unless the air should invariably remain in a calm state." it would be tedious and scarcely instructive to inquire into the various forms of flying machines that were elaborated at this period; but one that was designed in america by mr. henson, and with which it was seriously contemplated to attempt to cross the atlantic, may be briefly described. in theory it was supposed to be capable of being sustained in the air by virtue of the speed mechanically imparted to it, and of the angle at which its advancing under surface would meet the air. the inventor claimed to have produced a steam engine of extreme lightness as well as efficiency, and for the rest his machine consisted of a huge aero-plane propelled by fans with oblique vanes, while a tail somewhat resembling that of a bird was added, as also a rudder, the functions of which were to direct the craft vertically and horizontally respectively. be it here recorded that the machine did not cross the atlantic. one word as to the instruments used up to this time for determining altitudes. these were, in general, ordinary mercurial barometers, protected in various ways. green encased his instrument in a simple metal tube, which admitted of the column of mercury being easily read. this instrument, which is generally to be seen held in his hand in green's old portraits, might be mistaken for a mariner's telescope. it is now in the possession of the family of spencers, the grandchildren of his old aeronautical friend and colleague, and it is stated that with all his care the glass was not infrequently broken in a descent. wise, with characteristic ingenuity, devised a rough-and-ready height instrument, which he claims to have answered well. it consisted simply of a common porter bottle, to the neck of which was joined a bladder of the same capacity. the bottle being filled with air of the density of that on the ground, and the bladder tied on in a collapsed state, the expansion of the air in the bottle would gradually fill the bladder as it rose into the rarer regions of the atmosphere. experience would then be trusted to enable the aeronaut to judge his height from the amount of inflation noticeable in the bladder. chapter xii. henry coxwell and his contemporaries. mention should be made in these pages of a night sail of a hundred miles, boldly carried out in 1849 by m. arban, which took the voyager from marseilles to turin fairly over the alps. the main summit was reached at 11 p.m., when the "snow, cascades, and rivers were all sparkling under the moon, and the ravines and rocks produced masses of darkness which served as shadows to the gigantic picture." arban was at one time on a level with the highest point of mont blanc, the top of which, standing out well above the clouds, resembled "an immense block of crystal sparkling with a thousand fires." in london, in the year of the great exhibition, and while the building was still standing in hyde park, there occurred a balloon incident small in itself, but sufficient to cause much sensation at the crowded spot where it took place. the ascent was made from the hippodrome by mr. and mrs. graham in very boisterous weather, and, on being liberated, the balloon seems to have fouled a mast, suffering a considerable rent. after this the aeronauts succeeded in clearing the trees in kensington gardens, and in descending fairly in the park, but, still at the mercy of the winds, they were carried on to the roof of a house in arlington street, and thence on to another in park place, where, becoming lodged against a stack of chimneys, they were eventually rescued by the police without any material damage having been done. but this same summer saw the return to england of henry coxwell, and for some years the story of the conquest of the air is best told by following his stirring career, and his own comments on aeronautical events of this date. we find him shortly setting about carrying out some reconnoitring and signalling experiments, designed to be of use in time of war. this was an old idea of his, and one which had, of course, been long entertained by others, having, indeed, been put to some practical test in time of warfare. it will be well to make note of what attention the matter had already received, and of what progress had been made both in theory and practice. we have already made some mention in chapter iv. of the use which the french had made of balloons in their military operations at the end of the eighteenth and beginning of nineteenth the century. it was, indeed, within the first ten years after the first invention of the balloon that, under the superintendence of the savants of the french academy, a practical school of aeronautics was established at meudon. the names of guyton, de morveau (a distinguished french chemist), and colonel coutelle are chiefly associated with the movement, and under them some fifty students received necessary training. the practising balloon had a capacity of 17,000 cubic feet, and was inflated with pure hydrogen, made by what was then a new process as applied to ballooning, and which will be described in a future chapter. it appears that the balloon was kept always full, so that any opportunity of calm weather would be taken advantage of for practice. and it is further stated that a balloon was constructed so sound and impervious that after the lapse of two months it was still capable, without being replenished, of raising into the air two men, with necessary ballast and equipment. the practical trial for the balloon in real service came off in june, 1794, when coutelle in person, accompanied by two staff officers, in one of the four balloons which the french army had provided, made an ascent to reconnoitre the austrian forces at fleurus. they ascended twice in one day, remaining aloft for some four hours, and, on their second ascent being sighted, drew a brisk fire from the enemy. they were unharmed, however, and the successful termination of the battle of fleurus has been claimed as due in large measure to the service rendered by that balloon. the extraordinary fact that the use of the balloon was for many years discontinued in the french army is attributed to a strangely superstitious prejudice entertained by napoleon. las cases (in his "private life of napoleon at st. helena ") relates an almost miraculous story of napoleon's coronation. it appears that a sum of 23,500 francs was given to m. garnerin to provide a balloon ascent to aid in the celebrations, and, in consequence, a colossal machine was made to ascend at 11 p.m. on december 16th from the front of notre dame, carrying 3,000 lights. this balloon was unmanned, and at its departure apparently behaved extremely well, causing universal delight. during the hours of darkness, however, it seems to have acquitted itself in a strange and well-nigh preternatural manner, for at daybreak it is sighted on the horizon by the inhabitants of rome, and seen to be coming towards their city. so true was its course that, as though with predetermined purpose, it sails on till it is positively over st. peter's and the vatican, when, its mission being apparently fulfilled, it settles to earth, and finally ends its career in the lake bracciano. regarded from whatever point of view, the flight was certainly extraordinary, and it is not surprising that in that age it was regarded as nothing less than a portent. moreover, little details of the wonderful story were quickly endowed with grave significance. the balloon on reaching the ground rent itself. next, ere it plunged into the water, it carefully deposited a portion of its crown on the tomb of nero. napoleon, on learning the facts, forbade that they should ever be referred to. further, he thenceforward discountenanced the balloon in his army, and the establishment at meudon was abandoned. there is record of an attempt of some sort that was made to revive the french military ballooning school in the african campaign of 1830, but it was barren of results. again, it has been stated that the austrians used balloons for reconnaissance, before venice in 1849, and yet again the same thing is related of the russians at the time of the siege of sebastopol, though kinglake does not mention the circumstance. in 1846 wise drew up and laid before the american war office an elaborate scheme for the reduction of vera cruz. this will be discussed in its due place, though it will be doubtless considered as chimerical. on the other hand, eminently practical were the experiments co-ordinated and begun to be put to an actual test by mr. coxwell, who, before he could duly impress his project upon the military authorities, had to make preliminary trials in private ventures. the earliest of these was at the surrey zoological gardens in the autumn of 1854, and it will be granted that much ingenuity and originality were displayed when it is considered that at that date neither wireless telegraphy, electric flashlight, nor even morse code signalling was in vogue. according to his announcement, the spectators were to regard his balloon, captive or free, as floating at a certain altitude over a beleaguered fortress, the authorities in communication with it having the key of the signals and seeking to obtain through these means information as to the approach of an enemy. it was to be supposed that, by the aid of glasses, a vast distance around could be subjected to careful scrutiny, and a constant communication kept up with the authorities in the fortress. further, the flags or other signals were supposed preconcerted and unknown to the enemy, being formed by variations of shape and colour. pigeons were also despatched from a considerable height to test their efficiency under novel conditions. the public press commented favourably on the performance and result of this initial experiment. mr. coxwell's account of an occasion when he had to try conclusions with a very boisterous wind, and of the way in which he negotiated a very trying and dangerous landing, will be found alike interesting and instructive. it was an ascent from the crystal palace, and the morning was fair and of bright promise outwardly; but coxwell confesses to have disregarded a falling glass. the inflation having been progressing satisfactorily, he retired to partake of luncheon, entirely free from apprehensions; but while thus occupied, he was presently sought out and summoned by a gardener, who told him that his balloon had torn away, and was now completely out of control, dragging his men about the bushes. on reaching the scene, the men, in great strength, were about to attempt a more strenuous effort to drag the balloon back against the wind, which coxwell promptly forbade, warning them that so they would tear all to pieces. he then commenced, as it were, to "take in a reef," by gathering in the slack of the silk, which chiefly was catching the wind, and by drawing in the net, mesh by mesh, until the more inflated portion of the balloon was left snug and offering but little resistance to the gale, when he got her dragged in a direction slanting to the wind and under the lee of trees. eventually a hazardous and difficult departure was effected, mr. chandler, a passenger already booked, insisting on accompanying the aeronaut, in spite of the latter's strongest protestations. and their first peril came quickly, in a near shave of fouling the balcony of the north tower, which they avoided only by a prompt discharge of sand, the crowd cheering loudly as they saw how the crisis was avoided. the car, adds mr. coxwell in his memoirs, "was apparently trailing behind the balloon with a pendulous swing, which is not often the case... in less than two minutes we entered the lower clouds, passing through them quickly, and noticing that their tops, which are usually of white, rounded conformation, were torn into shreds and crests of vapour. above, there was a second wild-looking stratum of another order. we could hear, as we hastened on, the hum of the west end of london; but we were bowling along, having little time to look about us, though some extra sandbags were turned to good account by making a bed of them at the bottom ends of the car, which we occupied in anticipation of a rough landing." as it came on to rain hard the voyagers agreed to descend, and coxwell, choosing open ground, succeeded in the oft-attempted endeavour to drop his grapnel in front of a bank or hedge-row. the balloon pulled up with such a shock as inevitably follows when flying at sixty miles an hour, and mr. coxwell continues:--"we were at this time suspended like a kite, and it was not so much the quantity of gas which kept us up as the hollow surface of loose silk, which acted like a falling kite, and the obvious game of skill consisted in not letting out too much gas to make the balloon pitch heavily with a thud that would have been awfully unpleasant; but to jockey our final touch in a gradual manner, and yet to do it as quickly as possible for fear of the machine getting adrift, since, under the peculiar circumstances in which we were placed, it would have inevitably fallen with a crushing blow, which might have proved fatal. i never remember to have been in a situation when more coolness and nicety were required to overcome the peril which here beset us; while on that day the strong wind was, strange as it may sound, helping us to alight easily, that is to say as long as the grapnel held fast and the balloon did not turn over like an unsteady kite." such peril as there was soon terminated without injury to either voyager. the same remark will apply to an occasion when coxwell was caught in a thunderstorm, which he thus describes in brief:--"on a second ascent from chesterfield we were carried into the midst of gathering clouds, which began to flash vividly, and in the end culminated in a storm. there were indications, before we left the earth, as to what might be expected. the lower breeze took us in another direction as we rose, but a gentle, whirling current higher up got us into the vortex of a highly charged cloud.... we had to prove by absolute experience whether the balloon was insulated and a non-conductor. beyond a drenching, no untoward incident occurred during a voyage lasting in all three-quarters of an hour." a voyage which coxwell (referring, doubtless, to aerial travel over english soil only) describes as "being so very much in excess of accustomary trips in balloons" will be seen to fall short of one memorable voyage of which the writer will have to give his own experiences. some account, however, of what the famous aeronaut has to tell will find a fitting place here. it was an ascent on a summer night from north woolwich, and on this occasion coxwell was accompanied by two friends, one being henry youens, who subsequently became a professional balloonist of considerable repute, and who at this time was an ardent amateur. it was half an hour before midnight when the party took their places, and, getting smartly away from the crowd in the gala grounds, shot over the river, and shortly were over the town of greenwich with the lights of london well ahead. then their course took them over kennington oval, vauxhall bridge, and battersea, when they presently heard the strains of a scotch polka. this came up from the then famous gardens of cremorne, and, the breeze freshening, it was but a few minutes later when they stood over kingston, by which time it became a question whether, being now clear of london, they should descend or else live out the night and take what thus might come their way. this course, as the most prudent, as well as the most fascinating, was that which commended itself, and at that moment the hour of midnight was heard striking, showing that a fairly long distance had been covered in a short interval of time. from this period they would seem to have lost their way, and though scattered lights were sighted ahead, they were soon in doubt as to whether they might not already be nearing the sea, a doubt that was strengthened by their hearing the cry of sea-fowl. after a pause, lights were seen looming under the haze to sea-ward, which at times resembled water; and a tail like that of a comet was discerned, beyond which was a black patch of considerable size. the patch was the isle of wight, and the tail the water from southampton. they were thus wearing more south and towards danger. they had no davy lamp with which to read their aneroid, and could only tell from the upward flight of fragments of paper that they were descending. another deficiency in their equipment was the lack of a trail rope to break their fall, and for some time they were under unpleasant apprehension of an unexpected and rude impact with the ground, or collision with some undesirable object. this induced them to discharge sand and to risk the consequences of another rise into space, and as they mounted they were not reassured by sighting to the south a ridge of lighter colour, which strongly suggested the coast line. but it was midsummer, and it was not long before bird life awakening was heard below, and then a streak of dawn revealed their locality, which was over the exe, with sidmouth and tor bay hard by on their left. then from here, the land jutting seawards, they confidently traversed dartmoor, and effected a safe, if somewhat unseasonable, descent near tavistock. the distance travelled was considerable, but the duration, on the aeronaut's own showing, was less than five hours. in the year 1859 the times commented on the usefulness of military balloons in language that fully justified all that coxwell had previously claimed for them. a war correspondent, who had accompanied the austrian army during that year, asks pertinently how it had happened that the french had been ready at six o'clock to make a combined attack against the austrians, who, on their part, had but just taken up positions on the previous evening. the correspondent goes on to supply the answer thus:--"no sooner was the first austrian battalion out of vallegio than a balloon was observed to rise in the air from the vicinity of monsambano--a signal, no doubt, for the french in castiglione. i have a full conviction that the emperor of the french knew overnight the exact position of every austrian corps, while the emperor of austria was unable to ascertain the number or distribution of the forces of the allies." it appears that m. godard was the aeronaut employed to observe the enemy, and that fresh balloons for the french army were proceeded with. the date was now near at hand when coxwell, in partnership with mr. glaisher, was to take part in the classical work which has rendered their names famous throughout the world. before proceeding to tell of that period, however, mr. coxwell has done well to record one aerial adventure, which, while but narrowly missing the most serious consequences, gives a very practical illustration of the chances in favour of the aeronaut under extreme circumstances. it was an ascent at congleton in a gale of wind, a and the company of two passengers--messrs. pearson, of lawton hall--was pressed upon him. everything foretold a rough landing, and some time after the start was made the outlook was not improved by the fact that the dreaded county of derbyshire was seen approaching; and it was presently apparent that the spot on which they had decided to descend was faced by rocks and a formidable gorge. on this, coxwell attempted to drop his grapnel in front of a stone wall, and so far with success; but the wall went down, as also another and another, the wicker car passing, with its great impetus, clean through the solid obstacles, till at last the balloon slit from top to bottom. very serious injuries to heads and limbs were sustained, but no lives were lost, and coxwell himself, after being laid up at buxton, got home on crutches. chapter xiii. some noteworthy ascents. it was the year 1862, and the scientific world in england determined once again on attempting observational work in connection with balloons. there had been a meeting of the british association at wolverhampton, and, under their auspices, and with the professional services of thomas lythgoe, mr. creswick, of greenwich observatory, was commissioned to make a lofty scientific ascent with a cremorne balloon. the attempt, however, was unsatisfactory; and the balloon being condemned, an application was made to mr. coxwell to provide a suitable craft, and to undertake its management. the principals of the working committee were colonel sykes, m.p., dr. lee, and mr. james glaisher, f.r.s., and a short conference between these gentlemen and the experienced aeronaut soon made it clear that a mammoth balloon far larger than any in existence was needed for the work in hand. but here a fatal obstacle presented itself in lack of funds, for it transpired that the grant voted was only to be devoted to trial ascents. it was then that mr. coxwell, with characteristic enterprise, undertook, at his own cost, to build a suitable balloon, and, moreover, to have it ready by midsummer day. it was a bold, as well as a generous, offer; for it was now march, and, according to mr. coxwell's statement, if silk were employed, the preparation and manufacture would occupy six months and cost not less than l2,000. the fabric chosen was a sort of american cloth, and by unremitting efforts the task was performed to time, and the balloon forwarded to wolverhampton, its dimensions being 55 feet in diameter, 80 feet in height from the ground, with a capacity of 93,000 cubic feet. but the best feature in connection with it was the fact that mr. glaisher himself was to make the ascents as scientific observer. no time was lost in getting to work, but twice over the chosen days were unsuitable, and it was not till july 17th that the two colleagues, of whom so much is to be told, got away at 9.30 a.m. with their balloon only two-thirds full, to allow of expansion to take place in such a lofty ascent as was contemplated. and, when it is considered that an altitude of five miles was reached, it will be granted that the scientific gentleman who was making his maiden ascent that day showed remarkable endurance and tenacity of purpose--the all-important essential for the onerous and trying work before him. at 9.56 the balloon had disappeared from sight, climbing far into the sky in the e.n.e. the story of the voyage we must leave in mr. glaisher's hands. certain events, however, associated with other aeronauts, which had already happened, and which should be considered in connection with the new drama now to be introduced, may fittingly here meet with brief mention. the trouble arising from the coasting across country of a fallen and still half-inflated balloon has already been sufficiently illustrated, and needs little further discussion. it is common enough to see a balloon, when full and round, struggling restively under a moderate breeze with a score of men, and dragging them, and near a ton of sand-bags as well, about the starting ground. but, as has already been pointed out, the power of the wind on the globe is vastly increased when the silk becomes slack and forms a hollow to hold the wind, like a bellying sail. various means to deal with this difficulty have been devised, one of these being an emergency, or ripping valve, in addition to the ordinary valve, consisting of an arrangement for tearing a large opening in the upper part of one of the gores, so that on reaching earth the balloon may be immediately crippled and emptied of so large a quantity of gas as to render dragging impossible. such a method is not altogether without drawbacks, one of these being the confusion liable to arise from there being more than one valve line to reckon with. to obviate this, it has been suggested that the emergency line should be of a distinctive colour. but an experiment with a safeguard to somewhat of this nature was attended with fatal consequence in the year 1824. a mr. harris, a lieutenant in the british navy, ascended from the eagle tavern, city road, with a balloon fitted with a contrivance of his own invention, consisting of a large hinged upper valve, having within it a smaller valve of the same description, the idea being that, should the operation of the smaller outlet not suffice for any occasion, then the shutter of the larger opening might be resorted to, to effect a more liberal discharge of gas. mr. harris took with him a young lady, miss stocks by name, and apparently the afternoon--it being late may--was favourable for an aerial voyage; for, with full reliance on his apparatus, he left his grapnel behind, and was content with such assistance as the girl might be able to render him. it was not long before the balloon was found descending, and with a rapidity that seemed somewhat to disturb the aeronaut; and when, after a re-ascent, effected by a discharge of ballast, another decided downward tendency ensued, mr. harris clearly realised that something was wrong, without, however, divining the cause. the story subsequently told by the girl was to the effect that when the balloon was descending the second time she was spoken to by her unfortunate companion in an anxious manner. "i then heard the balloon go 'clap! clap!' and mr. harris said he was afraid it was bursting, at which i fainted, and knew no more until i found myself in bed." a gamekeeper tells the sequel, relating that he observed the balloon, which was descending with great velocity, strike and break the head of an oak tree, after which it also struck the ground. hurrying up, he found the girl insensible, and mr. harris already dead, with his breast bone and several ribs broken. the explanation of the accident given by mr. edward spencer is alike convincing and instructive. this eminently practical authority points out that the valve lines must have been made taut to the hoop at the time that the balloon was full and globular. thus, subsequently, when from diminution of gas the balloon's shape elongated, the valve line would become strained and begin to open the valve, but in such a gradual manner as to escape the notice of the aeronaut. miss stocks, far from being unnerved by the terrible experience, actually made three subsequent ascents in company with mr. green. it deserves mention that another disaster, equally instructive, but happily not attended with loss of life, occurred in dublin in 1844 to mr. hampton, who about this time made several public and enterprising voyages. he evidently was possessed of admirable nerve and decision, and did not hesitate to make an ascent from the porto-bello gardens in face of strong wind blowing sea-wards, and in spite of many protestations from the onlookers that he was placing himself in danger. this danger he fully realised, more particularly when he recognised that the headland on which he hoped to alight was not in the direction of the wind's course. resolved, however, on gratifying the crowd, mr. hampton ascended rapidly, and then with equal expedition commenced a precipitate descent, which he accomplished with skill and without mishap. but the wind was still boisterous, and the balloon sped onward along the ground towards fresh danger unforeseen, and perhaps not duly reckoned with. ahead was a cottage, the chimney of which was on fire. a balloonist in these circumstances is apt to think little of a single small object in his way, knowing how many are the chances of missing or of successfully negotiating any such obstacle. the writer on one occasion was, in the judgment of onlookers below, drifting in dangerous proximity to the awful cwmavon stack in glamorganshire, then in full blast; yet it was a fact that that vast vent of flame and smoke passed almost unheeded by the party in the descending car. it may have been thus, also, with mr. hampton, who only fully realised his danger when his balloon blew up "with an awfully grand explosion," and he was reduced to the extremity of jumping for his life, happily escaping the mass of burning silk and ropes. the awful predicament of falling into the sea, which has been illustrated already, and which will recur again in these pages, was ably and successfully met by mr. cunningham, who made an afternoon ascent from the artillery barracks at clevedon, reaching snake island at nightfall, where, owing to the gathering darkness, he felt constrained to open his valve. he quickly commenced descending into the sea, and when within ten feet of the water, turned the "detaching screw" which connected the car with the balloon. the effect of this was at once to launch him on the waves, but, being still able to keep control over the valve, he allowed just enough gas to remain within the silk to hold the balloon above water. he then betook himself to the paddles with which his craft was provided, and reached snake island with the balloon in tow. here he seems to have found good use for a further portion of his very complete equipment; for, lighting a signal rocket, he presently brought a four-oared gig to his succour from portsmouth harbour. the teaching of the above incident is manifest enough. if it should be contemplated to use the balloon for serious or lengthened travel anywhere within possible reach of the sea-board--and this must apply to all parts of the british isles--it must become a wise precaution, if not an absolute necessity, to adopt some form of car that would be of avail in the event of a fall taking place in the sea. sufficient confirmation of this statement will be shortly afforded by a memorable voyage accomplished during the partnership of messrs. glaisher and coxwell, one which would certainly have found the travellers in far less jeopardy had their car been convertible into a boat. we have already seen how essential wise considered this expedient in his own bolder schemes, and it may further be mentioned here that modern air ships have been designed with the intention of making the water a perfectly safe landing. the ballooning exploits which, however, we have now to recount had quite another and more special object consistently in view--that of scientific investigation; and we would here premise that the proper appreciation of these investigations will depend on a due understanding of the attendant circumstances, as also of the constant characteristic behaviour of balloons, whether despatched for mere travel or research. first let us regard the actual path of a balloon in space when being manoeuvred in the way we read of in mr. glaisher's own accounts. this part is in most cases approximately indicated in that most attractive volume of his entitled, "travels in the air," by diagrams giving a sectional presentment of his more important voyages; but a little commonplace consideration may take the place of diagrams. it has been common to assert that a balloon poised in space is the most delicate balance conceivable. its intrinsic weight must be exactly equal to the weight of the air it displaces, and since the density of the air decreases according to a fixed law, amounting, approximately, to a difference in barometric reading of 0.1 inch for every 90 feet, it follows, theoretically, that if a balloon is poised at 1,000 feet above sea level, then it would not be in equilibrium at any other height, so long as its weight and volume remain the same. if it were 50 feet higher it must commence descending, and, if lower, then it must ascend till it reaches its true level; and, more than that, in the event of either such excursion mere impetus would carry it beyond this level, about which it would oscillate for a short time, after the manner of the pendulum. this is substantially true, but it must be taken in connection with other facts which have a far greater influence on a balloon's position or motion. for instance, in the volume just referred to it is stated by m. gaston tissandier that on one occasion when aloft he threw overboard a chicken bone, and, immediately consulting a barometer, had to admit on "clearest evidence that the bone had caused a rise of from twenty to thirty yards, so delicately is a balloon equipoised in the air." here, without pausing to calculate whether the discharge of an ounce or so would suffice to cause a large balloon to ascend through ninety feet, it may be pointed out that the record cannot be trustworthy, from the mere fact that a free balloon is from moment to moment being subjected to other potent influences, which necessarily affect its position in space. in daytime the sun's influence is an all-important factor, and whether shining brightly or partially hidden by clouds, a slight difference in obscuration will have a ready and marked effect on the balloon's altitude. again, a balloon in transit may pass almost momentarily from a warmer layer of air to a colder, or vice versa, the plane of demarcation between the two being very definite and abrupt, and in this case altitude is at once affected; or, yet again, there are the descending and ascending currents, met with constantly and unexpectedly, which have to be reckoned with. thus it becomes a fact that a balloon's vertical course is subjected to constant checks and vicissitudes from a variety of causes, and these will have to be duly borne in mind when we are confronted with the often surprising results and readings which are supplied by scientific observers. with regard to the close proximity, without appreciable intermingling, of widely differing currents, it should be mentioned that explorers have found in regions where winds of different directions pass each other that one air stream appears actually to drag against the surface of the other, as though admitting no interspace where the streams might mingle. indeed, trustworthy observers have stated that even a hurricane can rage over a tranquil atmosphere with a sharply defined surface of demarcation between calm and storm. thus, to quote the actual words of charles darwin, than whom it is impossible to adduce a more careful witness, we find him recording how on mountain heights he met with winds turbulent and unconfined, yet holding courses "like rivers within their beds." it is in tracing the trend of upper air streams, to whose wayward courses and ever varying conditions we are now to be introduced, that much of our most valuable information has come, affecting the possibility of forecasting british wind and weather. it should need no insisting on that the data required by meteorologists are not sufficiently supplied by the readings of instruments placed on or near the ground, or by the set of the wind as determined by a vane planted on the top of a pole or roof of a building. the chief factors in our meteorology are rather those broader and deeper conditions which obtain in higher regions necessarily beyond our ken, until those regions are duly and diligently explored. mr. glaisher's estimate of the utility of the balloon as an instrument of research, formed at the conclusion of his aeronautical labours, has a special value and significance. speaking with all the weight attaching to so trained and eminent an observer, he declares, "the balloon, considered as an instrument for vertical exploration, presents itself to us under a variety of aspects, each of which is fertile in suggestions. regarding the atmosphere as the great laboratory of changes which contain the germ of future dis discoveries, to belong respectively, as they unfold, to the chemist and meteorologist, the physical relation to animal life of different heights, the form of death which at certain elevations waits to accomplish its destruction, the effect of diminished pressure upon individuals similarly placed, the comparison of mountain ascents with the experiences of aeronauts, are some of the questions which suggest themselves and faintly indicate enquiries which naturally ally themselves to the course of balloon experiments. sufficiently varied and important, they will be seen to rank the balloon as a valuable aid to the uses of philosophy, and rescue it from the impending degradation of continuing a toy fit only to be exhibited or to administer to the pleasures of the curious and lovers of adventure." the words of the same authority as to the possible practical development of the balloon as an aerial machine should likewise be quoted, and will appear almost prophetic. "in england the subject of aero-station has made but little progress, and no valuable invention has arisen to facilitate travelling in the air. in all my ascents i used the balloon as i found it. the desire which influenced me was to ascend to the higher regions and travel by its means in furtherance of a better knowledge of atmospheric phenomena. neither its management nor its improvement formed a part of my plan. i soon found that balloon travelling was at the mercy of the wind, and i saw no probability of any method of steering balloons being obtained. it even appeared to me that the balloon itself, admirable for vertical ascents, was not necessarily a first step in aerial navigation, and might possibly have no share in the solution of the problem. it was this conviction that led to the formation of the aeronautical society a few years since under the presidency of the duke of argyll. in the number of communications made to this society it is evident that many minds are taxing their ingenuity to discover a mode of navigating the air; all kinds of imaginary projects have been suggested, some showing great mechanical ingenuity, but all indicating the want of more knowledge of the atmosphere itself. the first great aim of this society is the connecting the velocity of the air with its pressure on plane surfaces at various inclinations. "there seems no prospect of obtaining this relation otherwise than by a careful series of experiments." chapter xiv. the highest ascent on record. mr. glaisher's instrumental outfit was on an elaborate and costly scale, and the programme of experimental work drawn up for him by the committee of the british association did not err on the side of too much modesty. in the first place the temperature and moisture of the atmosphere were to be examined. observations on mountain sides had determined that thermometers showed a decrease of 1 degree f. for every 300 feet, and the accuracy of this law was particularly to be tested. also, investigations were to be made as to the distribution of vapour below the clouds, in them, and above them. then careful observations respecting the dew point were to be undertaken at all accessible heights, and, more particularly, up to those heights where man may be resident or troops may be located. the comparatively new instrument, the aneroid barometer, extremely valuable, if only trustworthy, by reason of its sensibility, portability and safety, was to be tested and compared with the behaviour of a reliable mercurial barometer. electrical conditions were to be examined; the presence of ozone tested; the vibration of a magnet was again to be resorted to to determine how far the magnetism of the earth might be affected by height. the solar spectrum was to be observed; air was to be collected at different heights for analysis; clouds, also upper currents, were to be reported on. further observations were to be made on sound, on solar radiation, on the actinic action of the sun, and on atmospheric phenomena in general. all this must be regarded as a large order where only a very limited number of ascents were contemplated, and it may be mentioned that some of the methods of investigation, as, for instance, the use of ozone papers, would now be generally considered obsolete; while the mechanical aspiration of thermometers by a stream of air, which, as we have pointed out, was introduced by welsh, and which is strongly insisted on at the present day, was considered unnecessary by mr. glaisher in the case of wet and dry bulb hygrometers. the entire list of instruments, as minutely described by the talented observer, numbered twenty-two articles, among which were such irreproachable items as a bottle of water and a pair of scissors. the following is a condensed account, gathered from mr. glaisher's own narrative, of his first ascent, which has been already briefly sketched in these pages by the hand of mr. coxwell. very great difficulties were experienced in the inflation, which operation appeared as if it would never be completed, for a terrible w.s.w. wind was constantly blowing, and the movements of the balloon were so great and so rapid that it was impossible to fix a single instrument in its position before quitting the earth, a position of affairs which, says mr. glaisher, "was by no means cheering to a novice who had never before put his foot in the car of a balloon," and when, at last, at 9.42 a.m., mr. coxwell cast off, there was no upward motion, the car simply dragging on its side till the expiration of a whole minute, when the balloon lifted, and in six minutes reached the first cloud at an altitude of 4,467 feet. this cloud was passed at 5,802 feet, and further cloud encountered at 2,000 feet further aloft. four minutes later, the ascent proceeding, the sun shone out brightly, expanding the balloon into a perfect globe and displaying a magnificent view, which, however, the incipient voyager did not allow himself to enjoy until the instruments were arranged in due order, by which time a height of 10,000 feet was recorded. mr. glaisher apparently now had opportunity for observing the clouds, which he describes as very beautiful, and he records the hearing of a band of music at a height of 12,709 feet, which was attained in exactly twenty minutes from the start. a minute later the earth was sighted through a break in the clouds, and at 16,914 feet the clouds were far below, the sky above being perfectly cloudless, and of an intense prussian blue. by this time mr. glaisher had received his first surprise, as imparted by the record of his instruments. at starting, the temperature of the air had stood at 59 degrees. then at 4,000 feet this was reduced to 45 degrees; and, further, to 26 degrees at 10,000 feet, when it remained stationary through an ascent of 3,000 feet more, during which period both travellers added to their clothing, anticipating much accession of cold. however, at 15,500 feet the temperature had actually risen to 31 degrees, increasing to no less than 42 degrees at 19,500 feet. astonishing as this discovery was, it was not the end of the wonder, for two minutes later, on somewhat descending, the temperature commenced decreasing so rapidly as to show a fall of 27 degrees in 26 minutes. as to personal experiences, mr. glaisher should be left to tell his own story. "at the height of 18,844 feet 18 vibrations of a horizontal magnet occupied 26.8 seconds, and at the same height my pulse beat at the rate of 100 pulsations per minute. at 19,415 feet palpitation of the heart became perceptible, the beating of the chronometer seemed very loud, and my breathing became affected. at 19,435 feet my pulse had accelerated, and it was with increasing difficulty that i could read the instruments; the palpitation of the heart was very perceptible; the hands and lips assumed a dark bluish colour, but not the face. at 20,238 feet 28 vibrations of a horizontal magnet occupied 43 seconds. at 21,792 feet i experienced a feeling analogous to sea-sickness, though there was neither pitching nor rolling in the balloon, and through this illness i was unable to watch the instrument long enough to lower the temperature to get a deposit of dew. the sky at this elevation was of a very deep blue colour, and the clouds were far below us. at 22,357 feet i endeavoured to make the magnet vibrate, but could not; it moved through arcs of about 20 degrees, and then settled suddenly. "our descent began a little after 11 a.m., mr. coxwell experiencing considerable uneasiness at our too close vicinity to the wash. we came down quickly from a height of 16,300 feet to one of 12,400 feet in one minute; at this elevation we entered into a dense cloud which proved to be no less than 8,000 feet in thickness and whilst passing through this the balloon was invisible from the car. from the rapidity of the descent the balloon assumed the shape of a parachute, and though mr. coxwell had reserved a large amount of ballast, which he discharged as quickly as possible, we collected so much weight by the condensation of the immense amount of vapour through which we passed that, notwithstanding all his exertions, we came to the earth with a very considerable shock, which broke nearly all the instruments.... the descent took place at langham, near oakham." just a month later mr. glaisher, bent on a yet loftier climb, made his second ascent, again under mr. coxwell's guidance, and again from wolverhampton. besides attending to his instruments he found leisure to make other chance notes by the way. he was particularly struck by the beauty of masses of cloud, which, by the time 12,000 feet were reached, were far below, "presenting at times mountain scenes of endless variety and grandeur, while fine dome-like clouds dazzled and charmed the eye with alternations and brilliant effects of light and shade." when a height of about 20,000 feet had been reached thunder was heard twice over, coming from below, though no clouds could be seen. a height of 4,000 feet more was attained, and shortly after this mr. glaisher speaks of feeling unwell. it was difficult to obtain a deposit of dew on the hygrometer, and the working of the aspirator became troublesome. while in this region a sound like that of loud thunder came from the sky. observations were practically completed at this point, and a speedy and safe return to earth was effected, the landing being at solihull, seven miles from birmingham. it was on the 5th of september following that the same two colleagues carried out an exploit which will always stand alone in the history of aeronautics, namely, that of ascending to an altitude which, based on the best estimate they were able to make, they calculated to be no less than seven miles. whatever error may have unavoidably come into the actual estimate, which is to some extent conjectural, is in reality a small matter, not the least affecting the fact that the feat in itself will probably remain without a parallel of its kind. in these days, when aeronauts attempt to reach an exceptionally lofty altitude, they invariably provide themselves with a cylinder of oxygen gas to meet the special emergencies of the situation, so that when regions of such attenuated air are reached that the action of heart and lungs becomes seriously affected, it is still within their power to inhale the life-giving gas which affords the greatest available restorative to their energies. forty years ago, however, cylinders of compressed oxygen gas were not available, and on this account alone we may state without hesitation that the enterprise which follows stands unparalleled at the present hour. the filling station at wolverhampton was quitted at 1.3 p.m., the temperature of the air being 59 degrees on the ground, and falling to 41 degrees at an altitude of 5,000 feet, directly after which a dense cloud was entered, which brought the temperature down to 36 degrees. at this elevation the report of a gun was heard. here mr. glaisher attempted (probably for the first time in history) to take a cloud-scape photograph, the illumination being brilliant, and the plates with which he was furnished being considered extremely sensitive. the attempt, however, was unsuccessful. the height of two miles was reached in 19 minutes, and here the temperature was at freezing point. in six minutes later three miles was reached, and the thermometer was down to 18 degrees. in another twelve minutes four miles was attained, with the thermometer recording 8 degrees, and by further discharge of sand the fifth aerial milestone was passed at 1.50 p.m., i.e. in 47 minutes from the start, with the thermometer 2 degrees below zero. mr. glaisher relates that up to this point he had taken observations with comfort, and experienced no trouble in respiration, whilst mr. coxwell, in consequence of the exertions he had to make, was breathing with difficulty. more sand was now thrown out, and as the balloon rose higher mr. glaisher states that he found some difficulty in seeing clearly. but from this point his experiences should be gathered from his own words:-"about 1.52 p.m., or later, i read the dry bulb thermometer as minus five; after this i could not see the column of mercury in the wet bulb thermometer, nor the hands of the watch, nor the fine divisions on any instrument. i asked mr. coxwell to help me to read the instruments. in consequence, however, of the rotatory motion of the balloon, which had continued without ceasing since leaving the earth, the valve line had become entangled, and he had to leave the car and mount into the ring to readjust it. i then looked at the barometer, and found its reading to be 9 3/4 inches, still decreasing fast, implying a height exceeding 29,000 feet. shortly after, i laid my arm upon the table, possessed of its full vigour; but on being desirous of using it i found it powerless--it must have lost its power momentarily. trying to move the other arm, i found it powerless also. then i tried to shake myself, and succeeded, but i seemed to have no limbs. in looking at the barometer my head fell over my left shoulder. i struggled and shook my body again, but could not move my arms. getting my head upright for an instant only, it fell on my right shoulder; then i fell backwards, my back resting against the side of the car and my head on its edge. in this position my eyes were directed to mr. coxwell in the ring. when i shook my body i seemed to have full power over the muscles of the back, and considerably so over those of the neck, but none over either my arms or my legs. as in the case of the arms, so all muscular power was lost in an instant from my back and neck. i dimly saw mr. coxwell, and endeavoured to speak, but could not. in an instant intense darkness overcame me, so that the optic nerve lost power suddenly; but i was still conscious, with as active a brain as at the present moment whilst writing this. i thought i had been seized with asphyxia, and believed i should experience nothing more, as death would come unless we speedily descended. other thoughts were entering my mind when i suddenly became unconscious, as on going to sleep. i cannot tell anything of the sense of hearing, as no sound reaches the ear to break the perfect stillness and silence of the regions between six and seven miles above the earth. my last observation was made at 1.54 p.m., above 29,000 feet. i suppose two or three minutes to have elapsed between my eyes becoming insensible to seeing fine divisions and 1.54 p.m., and then two or three minutes more to have passed till i was insensible, which i think, therefore, took place about 1.56 p.m. or 1.57 p.m. "whilst powerless, i heard the words 'temperature' and 'observation,' and i knew mr. coxwell was in the car speaking to and endeavouring to rouse me--therefore consciousness and hearing had returned. i then heard him speak more emphatically, but could not see, speak, or move. i heard him again say, 'do try, now do!' then the instruments became dimly visible, then mr. coxwell, and very shortly i saw clearly. next, i arose in my seat and looked around, as though waking from sleep, though not refreshed, and said to mr. coxwell, 'i have been insensible.' he said, 'you have, and i too, very nearly.' i then drew up my legs, which had been extended, and took a pencil in my hand to begin observations. mr. coxwell told me that he had lost the use of his hands, which were black, and i poured brandy over them." mr. glaisher considers that he must have been totally insensible for a period of about seven minutes, at the end of which time the water reserved for the wet bulb thermometer, which he had carefully kept from freezing, had become a solid block of ice. mr. coxwell's hands had become frostbitten, so that, being in the ring and desirous of coming to his friend's assistance, he was forced to rest his arms on the ring and drop down. even then, the table being in the way, he was unable to approach, and, feeling insensibility stealing over himself, he became anxious to open the valve. "but in consequence of having lost the use of his hands he could not do this. ultimately he succeeded by seizing the cord in his teeth and dipping his head two or three times until the balloon took a decided turn downwards." mr. glaisher adds that no inconvenience followed his insensibility, and presently dropping in a country where no conveyance of any kind could be obtained, he was able to walk between seven and eight miles. the interesting question of the actual height attained is thus discussed by mr. glaisher:--"i have already said that my last observation was made at a height of 29,000 feet. at this time, 1.54 p.m., we were ascending at the rate of 1,000 feet per minute, and when i resumed observations we were descending at the rate of 2,000 feet per minute. these two positions must be connected, taking into account the interval of time between, namely, thirteen minutes; and on these considerations the balloon must have attained the altitude of 36,000 or 37,000 feet. again, a very delicate minimum thermometer read minus 11.9, and this would give a height of 37,000 feet. mr. coxwell, on coming from the ring, noticed that the centre of the aneroid barometer, its blue hand, and a rope attached to the car, were all in the same straight line, and this gave a reading of seven inches, and leads to the same result. therefore, these independent means all lead to about the same elevation, namely, fully seven miles." so far we have followed mr. glaisher's account only, but mr. coxwell has added testimony of his own to this remarkable adventure, which renders the narrative more complete. he speaks of the continued rotation of the balloon and the necessity for mounting into the ring to get possession of the valve line. "i had previously," he adds, "taken off a thick pair of gloves so as to be the better able to manipulate the sand-bags, and the moment my unprotected hands rested on the ring, which retained the temperature of the air, i found that they were frost-bitten; but i did manage to bring down with me the valve line, after noticing the hand of the aneroid barometer, and it was not long before i succeeded in opening the shutters in the way described by mr. glaisher.... again, on letting off more gas, i perceived that the lower part of the balloon was rapidly shrinking, and i heard a sighing, as if it were in the network and the ruffled surface of the cloth. i then looked round, although it seemed advisable to let off more gas, to see if i could in any way assist mr. glaisher, but the table of instruments blocked the way, and i could not, with disabled hands, pass beneath. my last hope, then, was in seeking the restorative effects of a warmer stratum of atmosphere.... again i tugged at the valve line, taking stock, meanwhile, of the reserve ballast in store, and this, happily, was ample. "never shall i forget those painful moments of doubt and suspense as to mr. glaisher's fate, when no response came to my questions. i began to fear that he would never take any more readings. i could feel the reviving effects of a warmer temperature, and wondered that no signs of animation were noticeable. the hand of the aneroid that i had looked at was fast moving, while the under part of the balloon had risen high above the car. i had looked towards the earth, and felt the rush of air as it passed upwards, but was still in despair when mr. glaisher gasped with a sigh, and the next moment he drew himself up and looked at me rather in confusion, and said he had been insensible, but did not seem to have any clear idea of how long until he caught up his pencil and noted the time and the reading of the instruments." the descent, which was at first very rapid, was effected without difficulty at cold weston. chapter xv. further scientific voyages of glaisher and coxwell. early in the following spring we find the same two aeronauts going aloft again on a scientific excursion which had a termination nearly as sensational as the last. the ascent was from the crystal palace, and the intention being to make a very early start the balloon for this purpose had been partially filled overnight; but by the morning the wind blew strongly, and, though the ground current would have carried the voyagers in comparative safety to the southwest, several pilots which were dismissed became, at no great height, carried away due south. on this account the start was delayed till 1 p.m., by which time the sky had nearly filled in, with only occasional gleams of sun between the clouds. it seemed as if the travellers would have to face the chance of crossing the channel, and while, already in the car, they were actually discussing this point, their restraining rope broke, and they were launched unceremoniously into the skies. this occasioned an unexpected lurch to the car, which threw mr. glaisher among his instruments, to the immediate destruction of some of them. another result of this abrupt departure was a very rapid rise, which took the balloon a height of 3,000 feet in three minutes' space, and another 4,000 feet higher in six minutes more. seven thousand feet vertically in nine minutes is fast pace; but the voyagers were to know higher speed yet that day when the vertical motion was to be in the reverse and wrong direction. at the height now reached they were in cloud, and while thus enveloped the temperature, as often happens, remained practically stationary at about 32 degrees, while that of the dew point increased several degrees. but, on passing out of the cloud, the two temperatures were very suddenly separated, the latter decreasing rapidly under a deep blue upper sky that was now without a cloud. shortly after this the temperature dropped suddenly some 8 degrees, and then, during the next 12,000 feet, crept slowly down by small stages. presently the balloon, reaching more than twenty thousand feet, or, roughly, four miles, and still ascending, the thermometer was taken with small fits of rising and falling alternately till an altitude of 24,000 feet was recorded, at which point other and more serious matters intruded themselves. the earth had been for a considerable time lost to view, and the rate and direction of recent progress had become merely conjectural. what might be taking place in these obscured and lofty regions? it would be as well to discover. so the valve was opened rather freely, with the result that the balloon dropped a mile in three minutes. then another mile slower, by a shade. then at 12,000 feet a cloud layer was reached, and shortly after the voyagers broke through into the clear below. at that moment mr. glaisher, who was busy with his instruments, heard mr. coxwell make an exclamation which caused him to look over the car, and he writes, "the sea seemed to be under us. mr. coxwell again exclaimed, 'there's not a moment to spare: we must save the land at all risks. leave the instruments.' mr. coxwell almost hung to the valve line, and told me to do the same, and not to mind its cutting my hand. it was a bold decision opening the valve in this way, and it was boldly carried out." as may be supposed, the bold decision ended with a crash. the whole time of descending the four and a quarter miles was a quarter of an hour, the last two miles taking four minutes only. for all that, there was no penalty beyond a few bruises and the wrecking of the instruments, and when land was reached there was no rebound; the balloon simply lay inert hard by the margin of the sea. this terrific experience in its salient details is strangely similar to that already recorded by albert smith. in further experimental labours conducted during the summer of this year, many interesting facts stand out prominently among a voluminous mass of observations. in an ascent in an east wind from the crystal palace in early july it was found that the upper limit of that wind was reached at 2,400 feet, at which level an air-stream from the north was encountered; but at 3,000 feet higher the wind again changed to a current from the n.n.w. at the height, then, of little more than half a mile, these upper currents were travelling leisurely; but what was more noteworthy was their humidity, which greatly increased with altitude, and a fact which may often be noted here obtruded itself, namely, when the aeronauts were at the upperlimits of the east wind, flat-bottomed cumulus clouds were floating at their level. these clouds were entirely within the influence of the upper or north wind, so that their under sides were in contact with the east wind, i.e. with a much drier air, which at once dissipated all vapour in contact with it, and thus presented the appearance of flat-bottomed clouds. it is a common experience to find the lower surface of a cloud mowed off flat by an east wind blowing beneath it. at the end of june a voyage from wolverton was accomplished, which yielded remarkable results of much real value and interest. the previous night had been perfectly calm, and through nearly the whole morning the sun shone in a clear blue sky, without a symptom of wind or coming change. shortly before noon, however, clouds appeared aloft, and the sky assumed an altered aspect. then the state of things quickly changed. wind currents reached the earth blowing strongly, and the half-filled balloon began to lurch to such an extent that the inflation could only with difficulty be proceeded with. fifty men were unable to hold it in sufficient restraint to prevent rude bumping of the car on the ground, and when, at length, arrangements were complete and release effected, rapid discharge of ballast alone saved collision with neighbouring buildings. it was now that the disturbance overhead came under investigation; and, considering the short period it had been in progress, proved most remarkable, the more so the further it was explored. at 4,000 feet they plunged into the cloud canopy, through which as it was painfully cold, they, sought to penetrate into the clear above, feeling confident of finding themselves, according to their usual experience, in bright blue sky, with the sun brilliantly shining. on the contrary, however, the region they now entered was further obscured with another canopy of cloud far up. it was while they were traversing this clear interval that a sound unwonted in balloon travel assailed their ears. this was the "sighing, or rather moaning, of the wind as preceding a storm." rustling of the silk within the cordage is often heard aloft, being due to expansion of gas or similar cause; but the aeronauts soon convinced themselves that what they heard was attributable to nothing else than the actual conflict of air currents beneath. then they reached fog--a dry fog--and, passing through it, entered a further fog, but wetting this time, and within the next 1,000 feet they were once again in fog that was dry; and then, reaching three miles high and seeing struggling sunbeams, they looked around and saw cloud everywhere, below, above, and far clouds on their own level. the whole sky had filled in most completely since the hours but recently passed, when they had been expatiating on the perfect serenity of the empty heavens. still they climbed upwards, and in the next 2,000 feet had entered further fog, dry at first, but turning wetter as they rose. at four miles high they found themselves on a level with clouds, whose dark masses and fringed edges proved them to be veritable rain clouds; and, while still observing them, the fog surged up again and shut out the view, and by the time they had surmounted it they were no less than 23,000 feet up, or higher than the loftiest of the andes. even here, with cloud masses still piling high overhead, the eager observer, bent on further quests, was for pursuing the voyage; but mr. coxwell interposed with an emphatic, "too short of sand!" and the downward journey had to be commenced. then phenomena similar to those already described were experienced again--fog banks (sometimes wet, sometimes dry), rain showers, and cloud strata of piercing cold. presently, too, a new wonder for a midsummer afternoon--a snow scene all around, and spicules of ice settling and remaining frozen on the coatsleeve. finally dropping to earth helplessly through the last 5,000 feet, with all ballast spent, ely cathedral was passed at close quarters; yet even that vast pile was hidden in the gloom that now lay over all the land. it was just a month later, and day broke with thoroughly dirty weather, a heavy sky, and falling showers. this was the day of all others that mr. glaisher was waiting for, having determined on making special investigations concerning the formation of rain in the clouds themselves. it had long been noticed that, in an ordinary way, if there be two rain gauges placed, one near the surface of the ground, and another at a somewhat higher elevation, then the lower gauge will collect most water. does, then, rain condense in some appreciable quantity out of the lowest level? again, during rain, is the air saturated completely, and what regulates the quality of rainfall, for rain sometimes falls in large drops and sometimes in minute particles? these were questions which mr. glaisher sought to solve, and there was another. charles green had stated as his conviction that whenever rain was falling from an overcast sky there would always be found a higher canopy of cloud over-hanging the lower stratum. on the day, then, which we are now describing, mr. glaisher wished to put this his theory to the test; and, if correct, then he desired to measure the space between the cloud layers, to gauge their thickness, and to see if above the second stratum the sun was shining. the main details of the ascent read thus:-in ten seconds they were in mist, and in ten seconds more were level with the cloud. at 1,200 feet they were out of the rain, though not yet out of the cloud. emerging from the lower cloud at 2,300 feet, they saw, what green would have foretold, an upper stratum of dark cloud above. then they made excursions up and down, trying high and low to verify these conditions, and passing through fogs both wet and dry, at last drifting earthward, through squalls of wind and rain with drops as large as fourpenny pieces, to find that on the ground heavy wet had been ceaselessly falling. a day trip over the eastern suburbs of london in the same year seems greatly to have impressed mr. glaisher. the noise of london streets as heard from above has much diminished during the last fifteen years' probably owing to the introduction of wood paving. but, forty years ago, mr. glaisher describes the deep sound of london as resembling the roar of the sea, when at a mile high; while at greater elevations it was heard at a murmuring noise. but the view must have been yet more striking than the hearing, for in one direction the white cliffs from margate to dover were visible, while brighton and the sea beyond were sighted, and again all the coast line up to yarmouth yet the atmosphere that day, one might have thought, should have been in turmoil, by reason of a conflict of aircurrents; for, within two miles of the earth, the wind was from the east; between two and three miles high it was exactly opposite, being from the west; but at three miles it was n.e.; while, higher, it was again directly opposite, or s.w. during his researches so far mr. glaisher had found much that was anomalous in the way of the winds, and in other elements of weather. he was destined to find much more. it had been commonly accepted that the temperature of the air decreases at the average rate of 10 degrees for every 300 feet of elevation, and various computations, as, for example, those which relate to the co-efficient of refraction, have been founded on this basis; but mr. glaisher soon established that the above generalisation had to be much modified. the following, gathered from his notes is a typical example of such surprises as the aeronaut with due instrumental equipment may not unfrequently meet with. it was the 12th of january, 1864, with an air-current on the ground from the s.e., of temperature 41 degrees,, which very slowly decreased up to 1,600 feet when a warm s.w. current was met with, and at 3,000 feet the temperature was 3 1/2 degrees higher than on the earth. above the s.w. stream the air became dry, and here the temperature decreased reasonably and consistently with altitude; while fine snow was found falling out of this upper space into the warmer stream below. mr. glaisher discusses the peculiarity and formation of this stream in terms which will repay consideration. "the meeting with this s.w. current is of the highest importance, for it goes far to explain why england possesses a winter temperature so much higher than is due to her northern latitude. our high winter temperature has hitherto been mostly referred to the influence of the gulf stream. without doubting the influence of this natural agent, it is necessary to add the effect of a parallel atmospheric current to the oceanic current coming from the same region--a true aerial gulf stream. this great energetic current meets with no obstruction in coming to us, or to norway, but passes over the level atlantic without interruption from mountains. it cannot, however, reach france without crossing spain and the lofty range of the pyrenees, and the effect of these cold mountains in reducing its temperature is so great that the former country derives but little warmth from it." an ascent from woolwich, arranged as near the equinox of that year as could be managed, supplied some further remarkable results. the temperature, which was 45 degrees to begin with, at 4.7 p.m., crept down fairly steadily till 4,000 feet altitude was registered, when, in a region of warm fog, it commenced rising abruptly, and at 7,500 feet, in blue sky, stood at the same reading as when the balloon had risen only 1,500 feet. then, amid many anomalous vicissitudes, the most curious, perhaps, was that recorded late in the afternoon, when, at 10,000 feet, the air was actually warmer than when the ascent began. that the temperature of the upper air commonly commences to rise after nightfall as the warmth radiated through day hours off the earth collects aloft, is a fact well known to the balloonist, and mr. glaisher carried out with considerable success a well-arranged programme for investigating the facts of the case. starting from windsor on an afternoon of late may, he so arranged matters that his departure from earth took place about an hour and three quarters before sunset, his intention being to rise to a definite height, and with as uniform a speed as possible to time his descent so as to reach earth at the moment of sundown; and then to re-ascend and descend again m a precisely similar manner during an hour and three-quarters after sunset, taking observations all the way. ascending for the first flight, he left a temperature of 58 degrees on the earth, and found it 55 degrees at 1,200 feet, then 43 degrees at 3,600 feet, and 29 1/2 degrees at the culminating point of 6,200 feet. then, during the descent, the temperature increased, though not uniformly, till he was nearly brushing the tops of the trees, where it was some 3 degrees colder than at starting. it was now that the balloon, showing a little waywardness, slightly upset a portion of the experiment, for, instead of getting to the neighbourhood of earth just at the moment of sunset, the travellers found themselves at that epoch 600 feet above the ground, and over the ridge of a hill, on passing which the balloon became sucked down with a down draught, necessitating a liberal discharge of sand to prevent contact with the ground. this circumstance, slight in itself, caused the lowest point of the descent to be reached some minutes late, and, still more unfortunate, occasioned the ascent which immediately followed to be a rapid one, too rapid, doubtless, to give the registering instruments a fair chance; but one principal record aimed at was obtained at least with sufficient truth, namely, that at the culminating point, which again was 6,200 feet, the temperature read 35 degrees, or about 6 degrees warmer than when the balloon was at the same altitude a little more than an hour before. this comparatively warm temperature was practically maintained for a considerable portion of the descent. we may summarise the principal of mr. glaisher's generalisations thus, using as nearly as possible his own words:-"the decrease of temperature, with increase of elevation, has a diurnal range, and depends upon the hour of the day, the changes being the greatest at mid-day and the early part of the afternoon, and decreasing to about sunset, when, with a clear sky, there is little or no change of temperature for several hundred feet from the earth; whilst, with a cloudy sky, the change decreases from the mid-day hours at a less rapid rate to about sunset, when the decrease is nearly uniform and at the rate of 1 degree in 2,000 feet. "air currents differing in direction are almost always to be met with. the thicknesses of these were found to vary greatly. the direction of the wind on the earth was sometimes that of the whole mass of air up to 20,000 feet nearly, whilst at other times the direction changed within 500 feet of the earth sometimes directly opposite currents were met with." with regard to the velocity of upper currents, as shown by the travel of balloons, when the distances between the places of ascent and descent are measured, it was always found that these distances were very much greater than the horizontal movement of the air, as measured by anemometers near the ground. chapter xvi. some famous french aeronauts. by this period a revival of aeronautics in the land of its birth had fairly set in. since the last ascents of gay lussac, in 1804, already recorded, there had been a lull in ballooning enterprise in france, and no serious scientific expeditions are recorded until the year 1850, when mm. baral and bixio undertook some investigations respecting the upper air, which were to deal with its laws of temperature and humidity, with the proportion of carbonic acid present in it, with solar heat at different altitudes, with radiation and the polarisation of light, and certain other interesting enquiries. the first ascent, made in june from the paris observatory, though a lofty one, was attended with so much danger and confusion as to be barren of results. the departure, owing to stormy weather, was hurried and illordered, so that the velocity in rising was excessive, the net constricted the rapidly-swelling globe, and the volumes of out-rushing gas half-suffocated the voyagers. then a large rent occurred, which caused an alarmingly rapid fall, and the two philosophers were reduced to the necessity of flinging away all they possessed, their instruments only excepted. the landing, in a vineyard, was happily not attended with disaster, and within a month the same two colleagues attempted a second aerial excursion, again in wet weather. it would seem as if on this occasion, as on the former one, there was some lack of due management, for the car, suspended at a long distance from the balloon proper, acquired violent oscillations on leaving the ground, and dashing first against a tree, and then against a mast, broke some of the instruments. a little later there occurred a repetition on a minor scale of the aeronauts' previous mishap, for a rent appeared in the silk, though, luckily, so low down in the balloon as to be of small consequence, and eventually an altitude of some 19,000 feet was attained. at one time needles of ice were encountered settling abundantly with a crackling sound upon their notebooks. but the most remarkable observation made during this voyage related to an extraordinary fall of temperature which, as recorded, is without parallel. it took place in a cloud mass, 15,000 feet thick, and amounted to a drop of from 15 degrees to -39 degrees. in 1867 m. c. flammarion made a few balloon ascents, ostensibly for scientific research. his account of these, translated by dr. t. l. phipson, is edited by mr. glaisher, and many of the experiences he relates will be found to contrast with those of others. his physical symptoms alone were remarkable, for on one occasion, at an altitude of apparently little over 10,000 feet, he became unwell being affected with a sensation of drowsiness, palpitation, shortness of breath, and singing in the ears, which, after landing gave place to a "fit of incessant gaping" while he states that in later voyages, at but slightly greater altitudes, his throat and lungs became affected, and he was troubled with presence of blood upon the lips. this draws forth a footnote from mr. glaisher, which should be commended to all would-be sky voyagers. it runs thus:--"i have never experienced any of these effects till i had long passed the heights reached by m. flammarion, and at no elevation was there the presence of blood." however, m. flammarion adduces, at least, one reassuring fact, which will be read with interest. once, having, against the entreaties of his friends, ascended with an attack of influenza upon him, he came down to earth again an hour or two afterwards with this troublesome complaint completely cured. it would seem as if the soil of france supplied the aeronaut with certain phenomena not known in england, one of these apparently being the occasional presence of butterflies hovering round the car when at considerable heights. m. flammarion mentions more than one occasion when he thus saw them, and found them to be without sense of alarm at the balloon or its passengers. again, the french observer seems seldom to have detected those opposite airstreams which english balloonists may frequently observe, and have such cause to be wary of. his words, as translated, are:--"it appears to me that two or more currents, flowing in different directions, are very rarely met with as we rise in the air, and when two layers of cloud appear to travel in opposite directions the effect is generally caused by the motion of one layer being more rapid than the other, when the latter appears to be moving in a contrary direction." in continuation of these experiences, he speaks of an occasion when, speeding through the air at the rate of an ordinary express train, he was drawn towards a tempest by a species of attraction. the french aeronaut's estimate of what constitutes a terrific rate of fall differs somewhat from that of others whose testimony we have been recording. in one descent, falling (without reaching earth, however) a distance of 2,130 feet in two minutes, he describes the earth rising up with frightful rapidity, though, as will be observed, this is not nearly half the speed at which either mr. glaisher or albert smith and his companions were precipitated on to bare ground. very many cases which we have cited go to show that the knowledge of the great elasticity of a well-made wicker car may rob a fall otherwise alarming of its terrors, while the practical certainty that a balloon descending headlong will form itself into a natural parachute, if properly managed, reduces enormously the risk attending any mere impact with earth. it will be allowed by all experienced aeronauts that far worse chances lie in some awkward alighting ground, or in the dragging against dangerous obstacles after the balloon has fallen. many of m. flammarion's experiments are remarkable for their simplicity. indeed, in some cases he would seem to have applied himself to making trials the result of which could not have been seriously questioned. the following, quoting from dr. phipson's translation, will serve as an example:-"another mechanical experiment was made in the evening, and renewed next day. i wished to verify galileo's principle of the independence of simultaneous motions. according to this principle, a body which is allowed to fall from another body in motion participates in the motion of the latter; thus, if we drop a marble from the masthead of a ship, it preserves during its fall the rate of motion of the vessel, and falls at the foot of the mast as if the ship were still. now, if a body falls from a balloon, does it also follow the motion of the latter, or does it fall directly to the earth in a line which is perpendicular to the point at which we let it fall? in the first case its fall would be described by an oblique line. the latter was found to be the fact, as we proved by letting a bottle fall. during its descent it partakes of the balloon's motion, and until it reaches the earth is always seen perpendicularly below the car." an interesting phenomenon, relating to the formation of fog was witnessed by m. flammarion in one of his voyages. he was flying low with a fast wind, and while traversing a forest he noticed here and there patches of light clouds, which, remaining motionless in defiance of the strong wind, continued to hang above the summits of the trees. the explanation of this can hardly be doubtful, being analogous to the formation of a night-cap on a mountain peak where warm moist air-currents become chilled against the cold rock surface, forming, momentarily, a patch of cloud which, though constantly being blown away, is as constantly re-formed, and thus is made to appear as if stationary. the above instructive phenomenon could hardly have been noticed save by an aeronaut, and the same may be said of the following. passing in a clear sky over the spot where the marne flows into the seine, m. flammarion notes that the water of the marne, which, as he says, is as yellow now as it was in the time of julius caesar, does not mix with the green water of the seine, which flows to the left of the current, nor with the blue water of the canal, which flows to the right. thus, a yellow river was seen flowing between two distinct brooks, green and blue respectively. here was optical evidence of the way in which streams of water which actually unite may continue to maintain independent courses. we have seen that the same is true of streams of air, and, where these traverse one another in a copious and complex manner, we find, as will be shown, conditions produced that cause a great deadening of sound; thus, great differences in the travel of sound in the silent upper air can be noticed on different days, and, indeed, in different periods of the same aerial voyage. m. flammarion bears undeniable testimony to the manner in which the equable condition of the atmosphere attending fog enhances, to the aeronaut, the hearing of sounds from below. but when he gives definite heights as the range limits of definite sounds it must be understood that these ranges will be found to vary greatly according to circumstances. thus, where it is stated that a man's voice may make itself heard at 3,255 feet, it might be added that sometimes it cannot be heard at a considerably less altitude; and, again, the statement that the whistle of a locomotive rises to near 10,000 feet, and the noise of a railway train to 8,200 feet, should be qualified an additional note to the effect that both may be occasionally heard at distances vastly greater. but perhaps the most curious observation of m. flammarion respecting sounds aloft relates to that of echo. to his fancy, this had a vague depth, appearing also to rise from the horizon with a curious tone, as if it came from another world. to the writer, on the contrary, and to many fellow observers who have specially experimented with this test of sound, the echo has always appeared to come very much from the right place--the spot nearly immediately below--and if this suggested its coming from another world then the same would have to be said of all echoes generally. about the same period when m. flammarion was conducting his early ascents, mm. de fonvielle and tissandier embarked on experimental voyages, which deserve some particular notice. interest in the new revival of the art of aeronautics was manifestly be coming reestablished in france, and though we find enthusiasts more than once bitterly complaining of the lack of financial assistance, still ballooning exhibitions, wherever accomplished, never failed to arouse popular appreciation. but enthusiasm was by no means the universal attitude with which the world regarded aerial enterprise. a remarkable and instructive instance is given to the contrary by m. w. de fonvielle himself. he records an original ballooning exploit, organised at algiers, which one might have supposed would have caused a great sensation, and to which he himself had called public attention in the local journals. the brothers braguet were to make an ascent from the mustapha plain in a small fire balloon heated with burning straw, and this risky performance was successfully carried out by the enterprising aeronauts. but, to the onlooker, the most striking feature of the proceeding was the fact that while the europeans present regarded the spectacle with curiosity and pleasure, the native mussulmans did not appear to take the slightest interest in it; "and this," remarked de fonvielle, "was not the first time that ignorant and fanatic people have been noted as manifesting complete indifference to balloon ascents. after the taking of cairo, when general buonaparte wished to produce an effect upon the inhabitants, he not only made them a speech, but supplemented it with the ascent of a fire balloon. the attempt was a complete failure, for the french alone looked up to the clouds to see what became of the balloon." in the summer of 1867 an attempt was made to revive the long extinct aeronautic company of france, established by de guyton. the undertaking was worked with considerable energy. some forty or fifty active recruits were pressed into the service, a suitable captive balloon was obtained, thousands of spectators came to watch the evolutions; and many were found to pay the handsome fee of 100 francs for a short excursion in the air. for all this, the effort was entirely abortive, and the ballooning corps, as such, dropped out of existence. a little while after this de fonvielle, on a visit to england, had a most pathetic interview with the veteran charles green, who was living in comfortable retirement at upper holloway. the grand old man pointed to a well-filled portfolio in the corner of his room, in which, he said, were accounts of all his travels, that would require a lifetime to peruse and put in order. green then took his visitor to the end of the narrow court, and, opening the door of an outhouse, showed him the old nassau balloon. "here is my car," he said, touching it with a kind of solemn respect, "which, like its old pilot, now reposes quietly after a long and active career. here is the guide rope which i imagined in former years, and which has been found very useful to aeronauts.... now my life has past and my time has gone by.... though my hair is white and my body too weak to help you, i can still give you my advice, and you have my hearty wishes for your future." it was but shortly after this, on march 26, 1870, that charles green passed away in the 85th year of his age. de fonvielle's colleague, m. gaston tissandier, was on one occasion accidentally brought to visit the resting place of the earliest among aeronauts, whose tragic death occurred while charles green himself was yet a boy. in a stormy and hazardous descent tissandier, under the guidance of m. duruof, landed with difficulty on the sea coast of france, when one of the first to render help was a lightkeeper of the griz-nez lighthouse, who gave the information that on the other side of the hills, a few hundred yards from the spot where they had landed, was the tomb of pilatre de rozier, whose tragical death has been recorded in an early chapter. a visit to the actual locality the next day revealed the fact that a humble stone still marked the spot. certain scientific facts and memoranda collected by the talented french aeronaut whom we are following are too interesting to be omitted. in the same journey to which we have just referred the voyagers, when nearly over calais, were witnesses from their commanding standpoint of a very striking phenomenon of mirage. looking in the direction of england, the far coast line was hidden by an immense veil of leaden-coloured cloud, and, following this cloud wall upward to detect where it terminated, the travellers saw above it a greenish layer like that of the surface of the sea, on which was detected a little black point suggesting a walnut shell. fixing their eyes on this black spot, they presently discerned it to be a ship sailing upside down upon an aerial ocean. soon after, a steamer blowing smoke, and then other vessels, added themselves to the illusory spectacle. another wonder detected, equally striking though less uncommon, was of an acoustical nature, the locality this time being over paris. the height of the balloon at this moment was not great, and, moreover, was diminishing as it settled down. suddenly there broke in upon the voyagers a sound as of a confused kind of murmur. it was not unlike the distant breaking of waves against a sandy coast, and scarcely less monotonous. it was the noise of paris that reached them, as soon as they sank to within 2,600 feet of the ground, but it disappeared at once when they threw out just sufficient ballast to rise above that altitude. it might appear to many that so strange and sudden a shutting out of a vast sound occurring abruptly in the free upper air must have been more imaginary than real, yet the phenomenon is almost precisely similar to one coming within the experience the writer, and vouched for by his son and daughter, as also by mr. percival spencer, all of whom were joint observers at the time, the main point of difference in the two cases being the fact that the "region of silence" was recorded by the french observers as occurring at a somewhat lower level. in both cases there is little doubt that the phenomenon can be referred to a stratum of disturbed or non-homogeneous air, which may have been very far spread, and which is capable of acting as a most opaque sound barrier. attention has often been called in these pages to the fact that the action of the sun on an inflated balloon, even when the solar rays may be partially obscured and only operative for a few passing moments, is to give sudden and great buoyancy to the balloon. an admirable opportunity for fairly estimating the dynamic effect of the sun's rays on a silk globe, whose fabric was half translucent, was offered to the french aeronauts when their balloon was spread on the grass under repair, and for this purpose inflated with the circumambient air by means of a simple rotatory fan. the sun coming out, the interior of the globe quickly became suffocating, and it was found that, while the external temperature recorded 77 degrees, that of the interior was in excess of 91 degrees. chapter xvii. adventure and enterprise. a balloon which has become famous in history was frequently used in the researches of the french aeronauts mentioned in our last chapter. this was known as "the giant," the creation of m. nadar, a progressive and practical aeronaut, who had always entertained ambitious ideas about aerial travel. m. nadar had been editor of l'aeronaut, a french journal devoted to the advancement of aerostation generally. he had also strongly expressed his own views respecting the possibility of constructing air ships that should be subject to control and guidance when winds were blowing. his great contention was that the dirigible air ship would, like a bird, have to be made heavier than the medium in which it was to fly. as he put it, a balloon could never properly become a vessel. it would only be a buoy. in spite of any number of accessories, paddles, wings, fans, sails, it could not possibly prevent the wind from bodily carrying away the whole concern. after this strong expression of opinion, it may appear somewhat strange that such a bold theoriser should at once have set himself to construct the largest gas balloon on record. such, however, was the case and the reason urged was not otherwise than plausible. for, seeing that a vast sum of money would be needed to put his theories into practice, m. nadar conceived the idea of first constructing a balloon so unique and unrivalled that it should compel public attention in a way that no other balloon had done before, and so by popular exhibitions bring to his hand such sums as he required. a proper idea of the scale of this huge machine can be easily gathered. the largest balloons at present exhibited in this country are seldom much in excess of 50,000 cubic feet capacity. compared with these the "great nassau balloon," built by charles green, which has been already sufficiently described, was a true leviathan; while coxwell's "mammoth" was larger yet, possessing a content, when fully inflated, of no less than 93,000 cubic feet, and measuring over 55 feet in diameter. this, however, as will be seen, was but a mere pigmy when compared with "the giant," which, measuring some 74 feet in diameter, possessed the prodigious capacity of 215,000 cubic feet. but the huge craft possessed another novelty besides that of exceptional size. it was provided with a subsidiary balloon, called the "compensator," and properly the idea of m. l. godard, the function of which was to receive any expulsion of gas in ascending, and thus to prevent loss during any voyage. the specification of this really remarkable structure may be taken from m. nadar's own description. the globe in itself was for greater strength virtually double, consisting of two identical balloons, one within the other, each made of white silk of the finest quality, and costing about 5s. 4d. per yard. no less than 22,000 yards of this silk were required, and the sewing up of the gores was entirely done by hand. the small compensating balloon was constructed to have a capacity of about 3,500 cubic feet, and the whole machine, when fully inflated, was calculated to lift 4 1/2 tons. with this enormous margin of buoyancy, m. nadar determined on making the car of proportionate and unparalleled dimensions, and of most elaborate design. it contained two floors, of which the upper one was open, the height of all being nearly 7 feet, with a width of about 13 feet. then what was thought to be due provision was made for possible emergencies. it might descend far from help or habitations, therefore means were provided for attaching wheels and axles. again, the chance of rough impact had to be considered, and so canes, to act as springs, were fitted around and below. once again, there was the contingency of immersion to be reckoned with; therefore there were provided buoys and water-tight compartments. further than this, unusual luxuries were added, for there were cabins, one for the captain at one end, and another with three berths for passengers at the other. nor was this all, for there was, in addition, a larder, a lavatory, a photographic room, and a printing office. it remains now only to tell the tale of how this leviathan of the air acquitted itself. the first ascent was made on the 4th of october, 1853, from the champ de mars, and no fewer than fifteen living souls were launched together into the sky. of these nadar was captain, with the brothers godard lieutenants. there was the prince de sayn-wittgenstein; there was the count de st. martin; above all, there was a lady, the princess de la tour d'auvergne. the balloon came to earth at 9 o'clock at night near meaux, and, considering all the provision which had been made to guard against rough landing, it can hardly be said that the descent was a happy one. it appears that the car dragged on its side for nearly a mile, and the passengers, far from finding security in the seclusion of the inner chambers, were glad to clamber out above and cling, as best they might, to the ropes. many of the party were bruised more or less severely, though no one was seriously injured, and it was reported that such fragile articles as crockery, cakes, confectionery, and wine bottles to the number of no less than thirty-seven, were afterwards discovered to be intact, and received due attention. it is further stated that the descent was decided on contrary to the wishes of the captain, but in deference to the judgment of the experienced mm. godard, it being apparently their conviction that the balloon was heading out to sea, whereas, in reality, they were going due east, "with no sea at all before them nearer than the caspian." this was certainly an unpropitious trial trip for the vessel that had so ambitiously sought dominion over the air, and the next trial, which was embarked upon a fortnight later, sunday, october 18th, was hardly less unfortunate. again the ascent was from the champ de mars, and the send-off lacked nothing in the way of splendour and circumstance. the emperor was present, for two hours an interested observer of the proceedings; the king of greece also attended, and even entered the car, while another famous spectator was the popular meyerbeer. "the giant" first gave a preliminary demonstration of his power by taking up, for a cable's length, a living freight of some thirty individuals, and then, at 5.10 p.m., started on its second free voyage, with nine souls on board, among them again being a lady, in the person of madame nadar. for nearly twenty-four hours no tidings of the voyage were forthcoming, when a telegram was received stating that the balloon had passed over compiegne, more than seventy miles from paris, at 8.30 on the previous evening, and that nadar had dropped the simple message, "all goes well!" a later telegram the same evening stated that the balloon had at midnight on sunday passed the belgian frontier over erquelines, where the custom house officials had challenged the travellers without receiving an answer. but eight-and-forty hours since the start went by without further news, and excitement in paris grew intense. when the news came at last it was from bremen, to say that nadar's balloon had descended at eystrup, hanover, with five of the passengers injured, three seriously. these three were m. nadar, his wife, and m. st. felix. m. nadar, in communicating this intelligence, added, "we owe our lives to the courage of jules godard." the following signed testimony of m. louis godard is forthcoming, and as it refers to an occasion which is among the most thrilling in aerial adventure, it may well be given without abridgment. it is here transcribed almost literatim from mr. h. turner's valuable work, "astra castra." "the giant," after passing lisle, proceeded in the direction of belgium, where a fresh current, coming from the channel, drove it over the marshes of holland. it was there that m. louis godard proposed to descend to await the break of day, in order to recognise the situation and again to depart. it was one in the morning, the night was dark, but the weather calm. unfortunately, this advice, supported by long experience, was not listened to. "the giant" went on its way, and then louis godard no longer considered himself responsible for the consequences of the voyage. the balloon coasted the zuyder zee, and then entered hanover. the sun began to appear, drying the netting and sides of the balloon, wet from its passage through the clouds, and produced a dilatation which elevated the aeronauts to 15,000 feet. at eight o'clock the wind, blowing suddenly from the west, drove the balloon in a right line towards the north sea. it was necessary, at all hazards, to effect a descent. this was a perilous affair, as the wind was blowing with extreme violence. the brothers godard assisted, by m. gabriel, opened the valve and got out the anchors; but, unfortunately, the horizontal progress of the balloon augmented from second to second. the first obstacle which the anchors encountered was a tree; it was instantly uprooted, and dragged along to a second obstacle, a house, whose roof was carried off. at this moment the two cables of the anchors were broken without the voyagers being aware of it. foreseeing the successive shocks that were about to ensue--the moment was critical--the least forgetfulness might cause death. to add to the difficulty, the balloon's inclined position did not permit of operating the valve, except on the hoop. at the request of his brother, jules godard attempted the difficult work of climbing to this hoop, and, in spite of his known agility, he was obliged several times to renew the effort. alone, and not being able to detach the cord, m. louis godard begged m. yon to join his brother on the hoop. the two made themselves masters of the rope, which they passed to louis godard. the latter secured it firmly, in spite of the shocks he received. a violent impact shook the car and m. de st. felix became entangled under the car as it was ploughing the ground. it was impossible to render him any assistance; notwithstanding, jules godard, stimulated by his brother, leapt out to attempt mooring the balloon to the trees by means of the ropes. m. montgolfier, entangled in the same manner, was re-seated in time and saved by louis godard. at this moment others leapt out and escaped with a few contusions. the car, dragged along by the balloon, broke trees more than half a yard in diameter and overthrew everything that opposed it. louis godard made m. yon leap out of the car to assist madame nadar; but a terrible shock threw out mm. nadar, louis godard, and montgolfier, the two first against the ground, the third into the water. madame nadar, in spite of the efforts of the voyagers, remained the last, and found herself squeezed between the ground and the car, which had fallen upon her. more than twenty minutes elapsed before it was possible to disentangle her, in spite of the most vigorous efforts on the part of everyone. it was at this moment the balloon burst and, like a furious monster, destroyed everything around it. immediately afterwards they ran to the assistance of m. de st. felix, who had been left behind, and whose face was one ghastly wound, and covered with blood and mire. he had an arm broken, his chest grazed and bruised. after this accident, though a creditable future lay in store for "the giant," its monstrous and unwieldy car was condemned, and presently removed to the crystal palace, where it was daily visited by large crowds. it is impossible to dismiss this brief sketch of french balloonists of this period without paying some due tribute to m. depuis delcourt, equally well known in the literary and scientific world, and regarded in his own country as a father among aeronauts. born in 1802, his recollection went back to the time of montgolfier and charles, to the feats of garnerin, and the death of madame blanchard. he established the aerostatic and meteorological society of france, and was the author of many works, as well as of a journal dealing with aerial navigation. he closed a life devoted to the pursuit and advancement of aerostation in april, 1864. before very long, events began shaping themselves in the political world which were destined to bring the balloon in france into yet greater prominence. but we should mention that already its capabilities in time of war to meet the requirements of military operations had been scientifically and systematically tested, and of these trials it will be necessary to speak without further delay. reference has already been made in these pages to a valuable article contributed in 1862 by lieutenant g. grover, r.e., to the royal engineers' papers. from this report it would appear that the balloon, as a means of reconnoitring, was employed with somewhat uncertain success at the battle of solferino, the brothers godard being engaged as aeronauts. the balloon used was a montgolfier, or fire balloon, and, in spite of its ready inflation, mm. godard considered it, from the difficulty of maintaining within it the necessary degree of buoyancy, far inferior to the gas inflated balloon. on the other hand, the austrian engineer committee were of a contrary opinion. it would seem that no very definite conclusions had been arrived at with respect to the use and value of the military balloon up to the time of the commencement of the american war in 1862. it was now that the practice of ballooning became a recognised department of military manoeuvres, and a valuable report appears in the above-mentioned papers from the pen of captain f. beaumont, r.e. according to this officer, the americans made trial of two different balloons, both hydrogen inflated, one having a capacity of about 13,000 cubic feet, and the other about twice as large. it was this latter that the americans used almost exclusively, it being found to afford more steadiness and safety, and to be the means, sometimes desirable, of taking up more than two persons. the difficulty of sufficient gas supply seems to have been well met. two generators sufficed, these being "nothing more than large tanks of wood, acid-proof inside, and of sufficient strength to resist the expansive action of the gas; they were provided with suitable stopcocks for regulating the admission of the gas, and with manhole covers for introducing the necessary materials." the gas, as evolved, being made to pass successively through two vessels containing lime water, was delivered cool and purified into the balloon, and as the sulphuric acid needed for the process was found sufficiently cheap, and scrap iron also required was readily come by, it would seem that practical difficulties in the field were reduced to a minimum. according to captain beaumont, the difficulties which might have been expected from windy weather were not considerable, and twenty-five or thirty men sufficed to convey the balloon easily, when inflated, over all obstacles. the transport of the bulk of the rest of the apparatus does not read, on paper, a very serious matter. the two generators required four horses each, and the acid and balloon carts as many more. arrived on the scene of action, the drill itself was a simple matter. a squad of thirty men under an officer sufficed to get the balloon into position, and to arrange the ballast so that, with all in, there was a lifting power of some thirty pounds. then, at the word of command, the men together drop the car, and seize the three guy ropes, of which one is made to pass through a snatch block firmly secured. the guy ropes are then payed out according to the directions of the aeronaut, as conveyed through the officer. the balloon accompanied the army's advance where its services could be turned to the greatest advantage. it was employed in making continual ascents, and furnishing daily reports to general m'clellan, and it was supposed that by constant observation the aeronaut could, at a glance, assure himself that no change had taken place in the occupation of the country. captain beaumont, speaking, be it remembered, of the military operations and manoeuvres then in vogue, declared that earthworks could be seen even at the distance of eight miles, though their character could not be distinctly stated. wooded country was unfitted for balloon reconnaissance, and only in a plain could any considerable body of troops be made known. then follows such a description as one would be expecting to find:-"during the battle of hanover court house, which was the first engagement of importance before richmond, i happened to be close to the balloon when the heavy firing began. the wind was rather high; but i was anxious to see, if possible, what was going on, and i went up with the father of the aeronaut. the balloon was, however, short of gas, and as the wind was high we were obliged to come down. i then went up by myself, the diminished weight giving increased steadiness; but it was not considered safe to go more than 500 feet, on account of the unsettled state of the weather. the balloon was very unsteady, so much so that it was difficult to fix my sight on any particular object. at that distance i could see nothing of the fight." following this is another significant sentence:-"in the case of a siege, i am inclined to think that a balloon reconnaissance would be of less value than in almost any other case where a reconnaissance can be required; but, even here, if useless, it is, at any rate, also harmless. i once saw the fire of artillery directed from the balloon; this became necessary, as it was only in this way that the picket which it was desired to dislodge could be seen. however, i cannot say that i thought the fire of artillery was of much effect against the unseen object; not that this was the fault of the balloon, for had it not told the artillerists which way the shots were falling their fire would have been more useless still." it will be observed that at this time photography had not been adopted as an adjunct to military ballooning. full details have been given in this chapter of the monster balloon constructed by m. nadar; but in 1864 eugene godard built one larger yet of the montgolfier type. its capacity was nearly half a million cubic feet, while the stove which inflated it stood 18 feet high, and weighed nearly 1,000 pounds. two free ascents were made without mishap from cremorne gardens. five years later ashburnham park was the scene of captive ascents made with another mammoth balloon, containing no less than 350,000 cubic feet of pure hydrogen, and capable of lifting 11 tons. it was built at a cost of 28,000 francs by m. giffard, the well-known engineer and inventor of the injector for feeding steam engines. these aerial leviathans do not appear to have been, in any true sense successful. chapter xviii. the balloon in the siege of paris. within a few months of the completion of the period covered by the records of the last chapter, france was destined to receive a more urgent stimulus than ever before to develop the resources of ballooning, and, in hot haste, to turn to the most serious and practical account all the best resources of aerial locomotion. the stern necessity of war was upon her, and during four months the sole mode of exit from paris--nay, the only possible means of conveying a simple message beyond the boundary of her fortifications--was by balloon. hitherto, from the very inception of the art from the earliest montgolfier with its blazing furnace, the balloon had gone up from the gay capital under every variety of circumstance--for pleasure, for exhibition, for scientific research. it was now put in requisition to mitigate the emergency occasioned by the long and close investment of the city by the prussian forces. recognising, at an early stage, the possibilities of the balloon, an enquiry was at once made by the military authorities as to the existing resources of the city, when it was quickly discovered that, with certain exceptions to be presently mentioned, such balloons as were in existence within the walls were either unserviceable or inadequate for the work that was demanded of them. thereupon, with admirable promptness and enterprise, it was forthwith determined to organise the building and equipment of a regular fleet of balloons of sufficient size and strength. it chanced that there were in paris at the time two professional aeronauts of proved experience and skill, both of whom had become well known in london only the season before in connection with m. giffard's huge captive balloon at ashburnham park. these were mm. godard and yon, and to them was entrusted the establishment of two separate factories in spacious buildings, which were at once available and admirably adapted for the purpose. these were at the orleans and the northern railway stations respectively, where spacious roofs and abundant elbow room, the chief requisites, were to be found. the first-mentioned station was presided over godard, the latter by m. yon, assisted by m. dartois. it was not doubted that the resources of the city would be able to supply the large demand that would be made for suitable material; but silk as a fabric was at once barred on the score of expense alone. a single journey was all that needed to be calculated on for each craft, and thus calico would serve the purpose, and would admit of speedy making up. slight differences in manufacture were adopted at the two factories. at the northern station plain white calico was used, sewn with a sewing machine, whereas at the orleans station the material was coloured and entrusted only to hand stitching. the allimportant detail of varnish was supplied by a mixture of linseed oil and the active principle of ordinary driers, and this, laid on with a rubber, rendered the material gas-tight and quickly dry enough for use. hundreds of hands, men and women, were employed at the two factories, at which some sixty balloons were produced before the end of the siege. much of the more important work was entrusted to sailors, who showed special aptness, not only in fitting out and rigging the balloons, but also in their management when entrusted to the winds. it must have been an impressive sight for friend or foe to witness the departure of each aerial vessel on its venturesome mission. the bold plunge into space above the roofs of the imprisoned city; the rapid climb into the sky and, later, the pearl drop high in air floating away to its uncertain and hazardous haven, running the gauntlet of the enemy's fire by day or braving what at first appeared to be equal danger, attending the darkness of night. it will be seen, however, that, of the two evils, that of the darkness was considered the less, even though, with strange and unreasonable excess of caution, the aeronauts would not suffer the use of the perfectly safe and almost indispensable davy lamp. before any free ascents were ventured on, two old balloons were put to some practical trial as stationary observatories. one of these was moored at montmartre, the other at mont-souris. from these centres daily, when the weather permitted, captive ascents were made--four by day and two by night--to watch and locate the movements of the enemy. the system, as far as it went, was well planned. it was safe, and, to favour expedition, messages were written in the car of the balloon and slid down the cable to the attendants below. the net result, however, from a strategic point of view, does not appear to have been of great value. ere yet the balloons were ready, certain bold and eventful escapes were ventured on. m. duruof, already introduced in these pages, trusting himself to the old craft, "le neptune," in unskyworthy condition, made a fast plunge into space, and, catching the upper winds, was borne away for as long a period as could be maintained at the cost of a prodigal expenditure of ballast. the balloon is said to have described a visible parabola, like the trajectory of a projectile, and fell at evreux in safety and beyond the range of the enemy's fire, though not far from their lines. this was on the 23rd of september. two days afterwards the first practical trial was made with homing pigeons, with the idea of using them in connection with balloons for the establishment of an officially sanctioned post. mm. maugin and grandchamp conducted this voyage in the "ville de florence," and descended near vernouillet, not far beyond le foret de st. germain, and less than twenty miles from paris. the serviceability of the pigeon, however, was clearly established, and a note contributed by mr. glaisher, relating to the breeding and choice of these birds, may be considered of interest. mr. r. w. aldridge, of charlton, as quoted by mr. glaisher, stated that his experience went to show that these birds can be produced with different powers of orientation to meet the requirements of particular cases. "the bird required to make journeys under fifty miles would materially differ in its pedigree from one capable of flying 100 or 600 miles. attention, in particular, must be given to the colour of the eye; if wanted for broad daylight the bird known as the 'pearl eye,' from its colour, should be selected; but if for foggy weather or for twilight flying the blackor blue-eyed bird should receive the preference." only a small minority, amounting to about sixty out of 360 birds taken up, returned to paris, but these are calculated to have conveyed among them some 100,000 messages. to reduce these pigeon messages to the smallest possible compass a method of reduction by photography was employed with much success. a long letter might, in this way, be faithfully recorded on a surface of thinnest photographic paper, not exceeding the dimensions of a postage stamp, and, when received, no more was necessary than to subject it to magnification, and then to transcribe it and send a fair copy to the addressee. the third voyage from paris, on september 29th was undertaken by louis godard in two small balloons, united together, carrying both despatches and pigeons, and a safe landing was effected at mantes this successful feat was rival led the next day by m. tissandier, who ascended alone in a balloon of only some 26,000 cubic feet capacity and reached earth at dreux, in normandy. these voyages exhausted the store of ready-made balloons, but by a week later the first of those being specially manufactured was ready, and conveyed in safety from the city no less a personage than m. gambetta. the courageous resolve of the great man caused much sensation in paris, the more so because, owing to contrary winds, the departure had to be postponed from day to day. and when, at length, on october 7th, gambetta and his secretary, with the aeronaut trichet, actually got away, in company with another balloon, they were vigorously fired at with shot and shell before they had cleared st. denis. farther out over the german posts they were again under fire, and escaped by discharging ballast, not, however, before gambetta had been grazed by a bullet. yet once more they were assailed by german volleys before, about 3 p.m., they found a haven near montdidier. the usual dimensions of the new balloons gave a capacity of 70,000 cubic feet, and each of these, when inflated with coal gas, was calculated to convey a freight of passengers, ballast, and despatches amounting to some 2,000 pounds. their despatch became frequent, sometimes two in the same twenty-four hours. in less than a single week in october as many as four balloons had fallen in belgium, and as many more elsewhere. up till now some sixteen ventures had ended well, but presently there came trouble. on october 22nd mm. iglesia and jouvencel fell at meaux, occupied by the prussians; their despatches, however, were saved in a dung cart. the twenty-third voyage ended more unhappily. on this occasion a sailor acted as aeronaut, accompanied by an engineer, etienne antonin, and carrying nearly 1,000 pounds of letters. it chanced that they descended near orleans on the very day when that town was re-occupied by the enemy, and both voyagers were made prisoners. the engineer, however, subsequently escaped. three days later another sailor, also accompanied by an engineer, fell at the town of ferrieres, then occupied by the prussians, when both were made prisoners. in this case, also, the engineer succeeded in making his escape; while the despatches were rescued by a forester and forwarded in safety. at about this date w. de fonvielle, acting as aeronaut, and taking passengers, made a successful escape, of which he has given a graphic account. he had been baulked by more than one serious contretemps. it had been determined that the departure should be by night, and november 19th being fixed upon, the balloon was in process of inflation under a gentle wind that threatened a travel towards prussian soil, when, as the moment of departure approached, a large hole was accidentally made in the fabric by the end of the metal pipe, and it was then too late to effect repairs. the next and following days the weather was foul, and the departure was not effected till the 25th, when he sailed away over the familiar but desolated country. he and his companions were fired at, but only when they were well beyond range, and in less than two hours the party reached louvain, beyond brussels, some 180 english miles in a direct line from their starting point. this was the day after the "ville d'orleans" balloon had made the record voyage and distance of all the siege, falling in norway, 600 miles north of christiania, after a flight of fifteen hours. at the end of november, when over thirty escape voyages had been made, two fatal disasters occurred. a sailor of the name of prince ascended alone on a moonless night, and at dawn, away on the north coast of scotland, some fishermen sighted a balloon in the sky dropping to the westward in the ocean. the only subsequent trace of this balloon was a bag of despatches picked up in the channel. curiously enough, two days later almost the same story was repeated. two aeronauts, this time in charge of despatches and pigeons, were carried out to sea and never traced. undeterred by these disasters, a notable escape was now attempted. an important total eclipse of the sun was to occur in a track crossing southern spain and algeria on december 22nd. an enthusiastic astronomer, janssen, was commissioned by the academy of sciences to attend and make observations of this eclipse. but m. janssen was in paris, as were also his instruments, and the eclipse track lay nearly a thousand miles away. the one and only possible mode of fulfilling his commission was to try the off-chance afforded by balloon, and this chance he resorted to only twenty days before the eclipse was due. taking with him the essential parts of a reflecting telescope, and an active young sailor as assistant, he left paris at 6 a.m. and rose at once to 3,600 feet, dipping again somewhat at sunrise (owing, as he supposed, to loss of heat through radiation), but subsequently ascending again rapidly under the increased altitude of the sun till his balloon attained its highest level of 7,200 feet. from this elevation, shortly after 11 a.m., he sighted the sea, when he commenced a descent which brought him to earth at the mouth of the loire. it had been fast travelling--some 300 miles in little more than three hours--and the ground wind was strong. nevertheless, neither passengers nor instruments were injured, and m. janssen was fully established by the day of eclipse on his observing ground at oran, on the algerian coast. it is distressing to add that the phenomenon was hidden by cloud. in the month that followed this splendid venture no fewer than fifteen balloons escaped from paris, of which four fell into the hands of the enemy, although for greater security all ascents were now being made by night. on january 13th, 1871, a new device for the return post was tried, and, in addition to pigeons, sheep dogs were taken up, with the idea of their being returned to the city with messages concealed within their collars. there is apparently no record of any message having been returned to the town by this ingenious method. on january 24th a balloon, piloted by a sailor, and containing a large freight of letters, fell within the prussian lines, but the patriotism of the country was strong enough to secure the despatches being saved and entrusted to the safe conveyance of the post office. then followed the total loss of a balloon at sea; but this was destined to be the last, save one, that was to attempt the dangerous mission. the next day, january 28th, the last official balloon left the town, manned by a single sailor, carrying but a small weight of despatches, but ordering the ships to proceed to dieppe for the revictualling of paris. five additional balloons at that time in readiness were never required for the risky service for which they were designed. there can be little doubt that had the siege continued a more elaborate use of balloons would have been developed. schemes were being mooted to attempt the vastly more difficult task of conveying balloons into paris from outside. when hostilities terminated there were actually six balloons in readiness for this venture at lisle, and waiting only for a northerly wind. m. de fonvielle, possessed of both courage and experience, was prepared to put in practice a method of guiding by a small propelling force a balloon that was being carried by sufficiently favouring winds within a few degrees of its desired goal--and in the case of paris the goal was an area of some twenty miles in diameter. within the invested area several attempts were actually made to control balloons by methods of steering. the names of vert and dupuy de lome must here be specially mentioned. the former had elaborated an invention which received much assistance, and was subsequently exhibited at the crystal palace. the latter received a grant of l1,600 to perfect a complex machine, having within its gas envelope an air chamber, suggested by the swimming bladder of a fish, having also a sail helm and a propelling screw, to be operated by manual labour. the relation of this invention to others of similar purpose will be further discussed later on. but an actual trial of a dirigible craft, the design of admiral labrousse, was made from the orleans railway station on january 9th. this machine consisted of a balloon of about the standard capacity of the siege balloons, namely some 70,000 cubic feet, fitted with two screws of about 12 feet diameter, but capable of being readily worked at moderate speed. it was not a success. m. richard, with three sailors, made a tentative ascent, and used their best endeavours to control their vessel, but practically without avail, and the machine presently coming to earth clumsily, a portion of the gear caught in the ground and the travellers were thrown over and roughly dragged for a long distance. fairly looked at, the aerial post of the siege of paris must be regarded as an ambitious and, on the whole, successful enterprise. some two million and a half of letters, amounting in weight to some ten tons, were conveyed through the four months, in addition to which at least an equal weight of other freight was taken up, exclusive of actual passengers, of whom no fewer than two hundred were transported from the beleaguered city. of these only one returned, seven or eight were drowned, twice this number were taken prisoners, and as many again more or less injured in descents. from a purely financial point of view the undertaking was no failure, as the cost, great as it necessarily became, was, it is said, fairly covered by the postage, which it was possible and by no means unreasonable to levy. the recognised tariff seems to have been 20 centimes for 4 grammes, or at the rate of not greatly more than a shilling per english ounce. surely hardly on a par with fame in prices in a time of siege. it has already been stated that the defenders of paris did not derive substantial assistance from the services of such a reconnoitring balloon as is generally used in warfare at every available opportunity. it is possible that the peculiar circumstances of the investment of the town rendered such reconnaissance of comparatively small value. but, at any rate, it seems clear that due opportunity was not given to this strategic method. m. giffard, who at the commencement of the siege was in paris, and whose experience with a captive balloon was second to none, made early overtures to the government, offering to build for l40,000 a suitable balloon, capable of raising forty persons to a height of 3,000 feet. forty aerial scouts, it may be said, are hardly needed for purposes of outlook at one time; but it appears that this was not the consideration which stood in the way of m. giffard's offer being accepted. according to m. de fonvielle, the government refused the experienced aeronaut's proposal on the ground that he required a place in the champs elysees, "which it would be necessary to clear of a few shrubs"! chapter xix. the tragedy of the zenith--the navigable balloon the mechanical air ship had, by this time, as may be inferred, begun seriously to occupy the attention of both theoretical and practical aeronauts. one of the earliest machines deserving of special mention was designed by m. giffard, and consisted of an elongated balloon, 104 feet in length and 39 feet in greatest diameter, furnished with a triangular rudder, and a steam engine operating a screw. the fire of the engine, which burned coke, was skilfully protected, and the fuel and water required were taken into calculation as so much ballast to be gradually expended. in this vessel, inflated only with coal gas, and somewhat unmanageable and difficult to balance, the enthusiastic inventor ascended alone from the hippodrome and executed sundry desired movements, not unsuccessfully. but the trial was not of long duration, and the descent proved both rapid and perilous. had the trial been made in such a perfect calm as that which prevailed when certain subsequent inventions were tested, it was considered that m. giffard's vessel would have been as navigable as a boat in the water. this unrivalled mechanician, after having made great advances in the direction of high speed engines of sufficient lightness, proceeded to design a vastly improved dirigible balloon, when his endeavours were frustrated by blindness. as has been already stated, m. dupuy de lome, at the end of the siege of paris, was engaged in building a navigable balloon, which, owing to the unsettled state of affairs in france, did not receive its trial till two years later. this balloon, which was inflated with pure hydrogen, was of greater capacity than that of m. giffard, being cigar shaped and measuring 118 feet by 48 feet. it was also provided with an ingenious arrangement consisting of an internal air bag, capable of being either inflated or discharged, for the purpose of keeping the principal envelope always distended, and thus offering the least possible resistance to the wind. the propelling power was the manual labour of eight men working the screw, and the steerage was provided for by a triangular rudder. the trial, which was carried out without mishap, took place in february, 1872, in the fort of vincennes, under the personal direction of the inventor, when it was found that the vessel readily obeyed the helm, and was capable of a speed exceeding six miles an hour. it was not till nine years after this that the next important trial with air ships was made. the brothers tissandier will then be found taking the lead, and an appalling incident in the aeronautical career of one of these has now to be recorded. in the spring of 1875, and with the co-operation of french scientific societies, it was determined to make two experimental voyages in a balloon called the "zenith," one of these to be of long duration, the other of great height. the first of these had been successfully accomplished in a flight of twenty-four hours' duration from paris to bordeaux. it was now april the 15th, and the lofty flight was embarked upon by m. gaston tissandier, accompanied by mm. croce-spinelli and sivel. under competent advice, provision for respiration on emergency was provided in three small balloons, filled with a mixture of air and oxygen, and fitted with indiarubber hose pipes, which would allow the mixture, when inhaled, to pass first through a wash bottle containing aromatic fluid. the experiments determined on included an analysis of the proportion of carbonic acid gas at different heights by means of special apparatus; spectroscopic observations, and the readings registered by certain barometers and thermometers. a novel and valuable experiment, also arranged, was that of testing the internal temperature of the balloon as compared with that of the external air. ascending at 11.30 a.m. under a warm sun, the balloon had by 1 p.m. reached an altitude of 16,000 feet, when the external air was at freezing point, the gas high in the balloon being 72 degrees, and at the centre 66 degrees. ere this height had been fully reached, however, the voyagers had begun to breathe oxygen. at 11.57, an hour previously, spinelli had written in his notebook, "slight pain in the ears--somewhat oppressed--it is the gas." at 23,000 feet sivel wrote in his notebook, "i am inhaling oxygen--the effect is excellent," after which he proceeded to urge the balloon higher by a discharge of ballast. the rest of the terrible narrative has now to be taken from the notes of m. tissandier, and as these constitute one of the most thrilling narratives in aeronautical records we transcribe them nearly in full, as given by mr. glaisher:-"at 23,000 feet we were standing up in the car. sivel, who had given up for a moment, is re-invigorated. croce-spinelli is motionless in front of me.... i felt stupefied and frozen. i wished to put on my fur gloves, but, without being conscious of it, the action of taking them from my pocket necessitated an effort that i could no longer make.... i copy, verbatim, the following lines which were written by me, although i have no very distinct remembrance of doing so. they are traced in a hardly legible manner by a hand trembling with cold: 'my hands are frozen. i am all right. we are all all right. fog in the horizon, with little rounded cirrus. we are ascending. croce pants; he inhales oxygen. sivel closes his eyes. croce also closes his eyes.... sivel throws out ballast'--these last words are hardly readable. sivel seized his knife and cut successively three cords, and the three bags emptied themselves and we ascended rapidly. the last remembrance of this ascent which remains clear to me relates to a moment earlier. croce-spinelli was seated, holding in one hand a wash bottle of oxygen gas. his head was slightly inclined and he seemed oppressed. i had still strength to tap the aneroid barometer to facilitate the movement of the needle. sivel had just raised his hand towards the sky. as for myself, i remained perfectly still, without suspecting that i had, perhaps, already lost the power of moving. about the height of 25,000 feet the condition of stupefaction which ensues is extraordinary. the mind and body weaken by degrees, and imperceptibly, without consciousness of it. no suffering is then experienced; on the contrary, an inner joy is felt like an irradiation from the surrounding flood of light. one becomes indifferent. one thinks no more of the perilous position or of danger. one ascends, and is happy to ascend. the vertigo of the upper regions is not an idle word; but, so far as i can judge from my personal impression, vertigo appears at the last moment; it immediately precedes annihilation, sudden, unexpected, and irresistible. "when sivel cut away the bags of ballast at the height of about 24,000 feet, i seemed to remember that he was sitting at the bottom of the car, and nearly in the same position as croce-spinelli. for my part, i was in the angle of the car, thanks to which support i was able to hold up; but i soon felt too weak even to turn my head to look at my companions. soon i wished to take hold of the tube of oxygen, but it was impossible to raise my arm. my mind, nevertheless, was quite clear. i wished to explain, 'we are 8,000 metres high'; but my tongue was, as it were, paralysed. all at once i closed my eyes, and, sinking down inert, became insensible. this was about 1.30 p.m. at 2.8 p.m. i awoke for a moment, and found the balloon rapidly descending. i was able to cut away a bag of ballast to check the speed and write in my notebook the following lines, which i copy: "'we are descending. temperature, 3 degrees. i throw out ballast. barometer, 12.4 inches. we are descending. sivel and croce still in a fainting state at the bottom of the car. descending very rapidly.' "hardly had i written these lines when a kind of trembling seized me, and i fell back weakened again. there was a violent wind from below, upwards, denoting a very rapid descent. after some minutes i felt myself shaken by the arm, and i recognised croce, who had revived. 'throw out ballast,' he said to me, 'we are descending '; but i could hardly open my eyes, and did not see whether sivel was awake. i called to mind that croce unfastened the aspirator, which he then threw overboard, and then he threw out ballast, rugs, etc. "all this is an extremely confused remembrance, quickly extinguished, for again i fell back inert more completely than before, and it seemed to me that i was dying. what happened? it is certain that the balloon, relieved of a great weight of ballast, at once ascended to the higher regions. "at 3.30 p.m. i opened my eyes again. i felt dreadfully giddy and oppressed, but gradually came to myself. the balloon was descending with frightful speed and making great oscillations. i crept along on my knees, and i pulled sivel and croce by the arm. 'sivel! croce!' i exclaimed, 'wake up!' my two companions were huddled up motionless in the car, covered by their cloaks. i collected all my strength, and endeavoured to raise them up. sivel's face was black, his eyes dull, and his mouth was open and full of blood. croce's eyes were half closed and his mouth was bloody. "to relate what happened afterwards is quite impossible. i felt a frightful wind; we were still 9,700 feet high. there remained in the car two bags of ballast, which i threw out. i was drawing near the earth. i looked for my knife to cut the small rope which held the anchor, but could not find it. i was like a madman, and continued to call 'sivel! sivel!' by good fortune i was able to put my hand upon my knife and detach the anchor at the right moment. the shock on coming to the ground was dreadful. the balloon seemed as if it were being flattened. i thought it was going to remain where it had fallen, but the wind was high, and it was dragged across fields, the anchor not catching. the bodies of my unfortunate friends were shaken about in the car, and i thought every moment they would be jerked out. at length, however, i seized the valve line, and the gas soon escaped from the balloon, which lodged against a tree. it was then four o'clock. on stepping out, i was seized with a feverish attack, and sank down and thought for a moment that i was going to join my friends in the next world; but i came to. i found the bodies of my friends cold and stiff. i had them put under shelter in an adjacent barn. the descent of the 'zenith' took place in the plains 155 miles from paris as the crow flies. the greatest height attained in this ascent is estimated at 28,000 feet." it was in 1884 that the brothers tissandier commenced experiments with a screw-propelled air ship resembling in shape those constructed by giffard and dupuy de lome, but smaller, measuring only 91 feet by 30 feet, and operated by an electric motor placed in circuit with a powerful battery of bichromate cells. two trials were made with this vessel in october, 1883, and again in the following september, when it proved itself capable of holding its course in calm air and of being readily controlled by the rudder. but, ere this, a number of somewhat similar experiments, on behalf of the french government, had been entered upon by captains renard and krebs at chalais-meudon. their balloon may be described as fish-shaped, 165 feet long, and 27.5 feet in principal diameter. it was operated by an electric motor, which was capable of driving a screw of large dimensions at forty-eight revolutions per minute. at its first trial, in august, 1884, in dead calm, it attained a velocity of over twelve miles per hour, travelling some two and a half miles in a forward direction, when, by application of the rudder and judicious management, it was manoeuvred homewards, and practically brought to earth at the point of departure. a more important trial was made on the 12th of the following month, and was witnessed by m. tissandier, according to whom the aerostat conveying the inventors ascended gently and steadily, drifting with an appreciable breeze until the screw was set in motion and the helm put down, when the vessel was brought round to the wind and held its own until the motor, by an accident, ceased working. a little later the same air ship met with more signal success. on one occasion, starting from chalais-meudon, it took a direct course to the n.e., crossing the railway and the seine, where the aeronauts, stopping the screw, ascertained the velocity of the wind to be approximately five miles an hour. the screw being again put in motion, the balloon was steered to the right, and, following a path parallel to its first, returned to its point of departure. starting again the same afternoon, it was caused to perform a variety of aerial evolutions, and after thirty-five minutes returned once more to its starting place. a tabular comparison of the four navigable balloons which we have now described has been given as follows:- date. name. motor. vel. p. sec. 1852 m. henri giffard steam engine 13.12 ft. 1872 m. dupuy de lome muscular force 9.18 ft. 1883 mm. tissandier electric motor 9.84 ft. 1884 mm. renard & krebs electric motor 18.04 ft. about this period, that is in 1883, and really prior to the meudon experiments, there were other attempts at aerial locomotion not to be altogether passed over, which were made also in france, but financed by english money. the experiments were performed by mr. f. a. gower, who, writing to professor tyndall, claims to have succeeded in "driving a large balloon fairly against the wind by steam power." a melancholy interest will always belong to these trials from the fact that mr. gower was subsequently blown out to sea with his balloon, leaving no trace behind. at this stage it will be well to glance at some of the more important theories which were being mooted as to the possibility of aerial locomotion properly so called. broadly, there were two rival schools at this time. we will call them the "lighter-than-air-ites" and the "heavier-than-air-ites," respectively. the former were the advocates of the air vessel of which the balloon is a type. the latter school maintained that, as birds are heavier than air, so the air locomotive of the future would be a machine itself heavier than air, but capable of being navigated by a motor yet to be discovered, which would develop proportionate power. sir h. maxim's words may be aptly quoted here. "in all nature," he says, "we do not find a single balloon. all nature's flying machines are heavier than the air, and depend altogether upon the development of dynamic energy." the faculty of soaring, possessed by many birds, of which the albatross may be considered a type, led to numerous speculations as to what would constitute the ideal principle of the air motor. sir g. cayley, as far back as 1809, wrote a classical article on this subject, without, however, adding much to its elucidation. others after his time conceived that the bird, by sheer habit and practice, could perform, as it were, a trick in balancing by making use of the complex air streams varying in speed and direction that were supposed to intermingle above. mr. r. a. proctor discusses the matter with his usual clear-sightedness. he premises that the bird may, in actual fact, only poise itself for some ten minutes--an interval which many will consider far too small--without flap of the wings, and, while contending that the problem must be simply a mechanical one, is ready to admit that "the sustaining power of the air on bodies of a particular form travelling swiftly through it may be much greater or very different in character from what is supposed." in his opinion, it is a fact that a flat body travelling swiftly and horizontally will sink towards the ground much more slowly than a similar body moving similarly but with less speed. in proof of this he gives the homely illustration of a flat stone caused to make "ducks and drakes." thus he contends that the bird accomplishes its floating feat simply by occasional powerful propulsive efforts, combined with perfect balance. from which he deduces the corollary that "if ever the art of flying, or rather of making flying machines, is attained by man, it will be by combining rapid motion with the power of perfect balancing." it will now appear as a natural and certain consequence that a feature to be introduced by experimentalists into flying machines should be the "aeroplane," or, in other words, a plane which, at a desired angle, should be driven at speed through the air. most notable attempts with this expedient were now shortly made by hiram maxim, langley, and others. but, contemporaneously with these attempts, certain feats with the rival aerostat--the balloon--were accomplished, which will be most fittingly told in this place. chapter xx. a chapter of accidents. it will have been gathered from what has been already stated that the balloonist is commonly in much uncertainty as to his precise course when he is above the clouds, or when unable from darkness to see the earth beneath him. with a view of overcoming this disadvantage some original experiments were suggested by a distinguished officer, who during the seventies had begun to interest himself in aeronautics. this was captain burnaby. his method was to employ two small silk parachutes, which, if required, might carry burning magnesium wires, and which were to be attached to each other by a length of silk thread. on dropping one parachute, it would first partake of the motion of the balloon, but would presently drop below, when the second parachute would be dismissed, and then an imaginary line drawn between the two bodies was supposed to betray the balloon's course. it should be mentioned, however, that if a careful study is made of the course of many descending parachutes it will be found that their behaviour is too uncertain to be relied upon for such a purpose as the above. they will often float behind the balloon's wake, but sometimes again will be found in front, and sometimes striking off in some side direction, so wayward and complex are the currents which control such small bodies. mr. glaisher has stated that a balloon's course above the clouds may be detected by observing the grapnel, supposed to be hanging below the car, as this would be seen to be out of the vertical as the balloon drifted, and thus serve to indicate the course. however this may be, the most experienced sky sailors will be found to be in perplexity as to their direction, as also their speed, when view of the earth is obscured. but captain burnaby is associated notably with the adventurous side of ballooning, the most famous of his aerial exploits being, perhaps, that of crossing the english channel alone from dover on march 23rd, 1882. outwardly, he made presence of sailing to paris by sky to dine there that evening; inwardly, he had determined to start simply with a wind which bid fair for a cross-channel trip, and to take whatever chances it might bring him. thus, at 10.30 a.m., just as the mail packet left the pier, he cast off with a lifting power which rapidly carried him to a height of 2,000 feet, when he found his course to be towards folkestone. but by shortly after 11 o'clock he had decided that he was changing his direction, and when, as he judged, some seven miles from boulogne, the wind was carrying him not across, but down the channel. then, for nearly four hours, the balloon shifted about with no improvement in the outlook, after which the wind fell calm, and the balloon remained motionless at 2,000 feet above the sea. this state of things continuing for an hour, the captain resolved on the heroic expedient of casting out all his ballast and philosophically abiding the issue. the manoeuvre turned out a happy one, for the balloon, shooting up to 11,000 feet, caught a current, on which it was rapidly carried towards and over the main land; and, when twelve miles beyond dieppe, it became easy to descend to a lower level by manipulation of the valve, and finally to make a successful landing in open country beyond. a few years before, an attempt to cross the channel from the other side ended far more disastrously. jules duruof, already mentioned as having piloted the first runaway balloon from beleaguered paris, had determined on an attempt to cross over to england from calais; and, duly advertising the event, a large concourse assembled on the day announced, clamouring loudly for the ascent. but the wind proved unsuitable, setting out over the north sea, and the mayor thought fit to interfere, and had the car removed so as to prevent proceedings. on this the crowd grew impatient, and duruof, determining to keep faith with them, succeeded by an artifice in regaining his car, which he hastily carried back to the balloon, and immediately taking his seat, and accompanied by his wife, the intrepid pair commenced their bold flight just as the shades of evening were settling down. shortly the balloon disappeared into the gathering darkness, and then for three days calais knew no more of balloon or balloonists. neither could the voyagers see aught for certain of their own course, and thus through the long night hours their attention was wholly needed, without chance of sleep, in closely watching their situation, lest unawares they should be borne down on the waves. when morning broke they discovered that they were still being carried out over the sea on a furious gale, being apparently off the danish coast, with the distant mountains of norway dimly visible on the starboard bow. it was at this point, and possibly owing to the chill commonly experienced aloft soon after dawn, that the balloon suddenly took a downward course and plunged into the sea, happily, however, fairly in the track of vessels. presently a ship came in sight, but cruelly kept on its course, leaving the castaways in despair, with their car fast succumbing to the waves. help, nevertheless, was really at hand. the captain of an english fishing smack, the grand charge, had sighted the sinking balloon, and was already bearing down to the rescue. it is said that when, at length, a boat came alongside as near as it was possible, madame duruof was unable to make the necessary effort to jump on board, and her husband had to throw her into the arms of the sailors. a fitting sequel to the story comes from paris, where the heroic couple, after a sojourn in england, were given a splendid reception and a purse of money, with which m. duruof forthwith constructed a new balloon, named the "ville de calais." on the 4th of march, 1882, the ardent amateur balloonist, mr. simmons, had a narrow escape in circumstances somewhat similar to the above. he was attempting, in company with colonel brine, to cross the channel from canterbury, when a change of wind carried them out towards the north sea. falling in the water, they abandoned their balloon, but were rescued by the mail packet foam. the same amateur aeronaut met with an exciting experience not long after, when in company with sir claude c. de crespigny. the two adventurers left maldon, in essex, at 11 p.m., on an august night, and, sailing at a great height out to sea, lost all sight of land till 6 a.m. the next morning, when, at 17,000 feet altitude, they sighted the opposite coast and descended in safety near flushing. yet another adventure at sea, and one which proved fatal and unspeakably regrettable, occurred about this time, namely, on the 10th of december, 1881, when captain templer, mr. w. powell, m.p., and mr. agg-gardner ascended from bath. we prefer to give the account as it appears in a leading article in the times for december 13th of that year. after sailing over glastonbury, "crewkerne was presently sighted, then beaminster. the roar of the sea gave the next indication of the locality to which the balloon had drifted and the first hint of the possible perils of the voyage. a descent was now effected to within a few hundred feet of earth, and an endeavour was made to ascertain the exact position they had reached. the course taken by the balloon between beaminster and the sea is not stated in captain templer's letter. the wind, as far as we can gather, must have shifted, or different currents of air must have been found at the different altitudes. what captain templer says is that they coasted along to symonsbury, passing, it would seem, in an easterly direction and keeping still very near to the earth. soon after they had left symonsbury, captain templer shouted to a man below to tell them how far they were from bridport, and he received for answer that bridport was about a mile off. the pace at which the balloon was moving had now increased to thirty-five miles an hour. the sea was dangerously close, and a few minutes in a southerly current of air would have been enough to carry them over it. they seem, however, to have been confident in their own powers of management. they threw out ballast, and rose to a height of 1,500 feet, and thence came down again only just in time, touching the ground at a distance of about 150 yards from the cliff. the balloon here dragged for a few feet, and captain templer, who had been letting off the gas, rolled out of the car, still holding the valve line in his hand. this was the last chance of a safe escape for anybody. the balloon, with its weight lightened, went up about eight feet. mr. agg-gardner dropped out and broke his leg. mr. powell now remained as the sole occupant of the car. captain templer, who had still hold of the rope, shouted to mr. powell to come down the line. this he attempted to do, but in a few seconds, and before he could commence his perilous descent, the line was torn out of captain templer's hands. all communication with the earth was cut off, and the balloon rose rapidly, taking mr. powell with it in a south-easterly direction out to sea." it was a few seasons previous to this, namely, on the 8th of july, 1874, when mr. simmons was concerned in a balloon fatality of a peculiarly distressing nature. a belgian, vincent de groof, styling himself the "flying man," announced his intention of descending in a parachute from a balloon piloted by mr. simmons, who was to start from cremorne gardens. the balloon duly ascended, with de groof in his machine suspended below, and when over st. luke's church, and at a height estimated at 80 feet, it is thought that the unfortunate man overbalanced himself after detaching his apparatus, and fell forward, clinging to the ropes. the machine failed to open, and de groof was precipitated into robert street, chelsea, expiring almost immediately. the porter of chelsea infirmary, who was watching the balloon, asserted that he fancied the falling man called out twice, "drop into the churchyard; look out!" mr. simmons, shooting upwards in his balloon, thus suddenly lightened, to a great height, became insensible, and when he recovered consciousness found himself over victoria park. he made a descent, without mishap, on a line of railway in essex. on the 19th of august, 1887, occurred an important total eclipse of the sun, the track of which lay across germany, russia, western siberia, and japan. at all suitable stations along the shadow track astronomers from all parts of the world established themselves; but at many eclipses observers had had bad fortune owing to the phenomenon at the critical moment being obscured. and on this account one astronomer determined on measures which should render his chances of a clear view a practical certainty. professor mendeleef, in russia, resolved to engage a balloon, and by rising above the cloud barrier, should there be one, to have the eclipse all to himself. it was an example of fine enthusiasm, which, moreover, was presently put to a severe and unexpected test, for the balloon, when inflated, proved unable to take up both the aeronaut and the astronomer, whereupon the latter, though wholly inexperienced, had no alternative but to ascend alone, which, either by accident or choice, he actually did. shooting up into space, he soon reached an altitude of 11,500 feet, where he obtained, even if he did not enjoy, an unobstructed view of the corona. it may be supposed, however, that, owing to the novelty of his situation, his scientific observations may not have been so complete as they would have been on terra firma. in the same month an attempt to reach a record height was made by mm. jovis and mallet at paris, with the net result that an elevation of 23,000 feet was reached. it will have been noted that the difficulty through physical exhaustion of inhaling oxygen from either a bag or cylinder is a serious matter not easily overcome, and it has been suggested that the helmet invented by m. fleuss might prove of value. this contrivance, which has scarcely attracted the attention it has merited, provides a receptacle for respiration, containing oxygen and certain purifying media, by means of which the inventor was able to remain for hours under water without any communication with the outward air. about the period at which we have now arrived two fatal accidents befel english aeronauts. we have related how maldon, in essex, was associated with one of the more adventurous exploits in mr. simmons's career. it was fated also to be associated with the voyage with which his career closed. on august 27th, 1888, he ascended from olympia in company with mr. field, of west brighton, and mr. myers, of the natural history museum, with the intention, if practicable, of crossing to flanders; and the voyage proceeded happily until the neighbourhood of maldon was reached, when, as the sea coast was in sight, and it was already past five o'clock, it appeared prudent to mr. simmons to descend and moor the balloon for the night. some labourers some three miles from maldon sighted the balloon coming up at speed, and at the same time descending until its grapnel commenced tearing through a field of barley, when ballast was thrown out, causing the balloon to rise again towards and over some tall elms, which became the cause of the disaster which followed. the grapnel, catching in the upper boughs of one of these trees, held fast, while the balloon, borne by the force of a strong wind, was repeatedly blown down to earth with violence, rebounding each time to a considerable height, only to be flung down again on the same spot. after three or four impacts the balloon is reported to have burst with a loud noise, when high in the air, the silk being blown about over the field, and the car and its occupants dashed to the ground. help was unavailing till this final catastrophe, and when, at length, the labourers were able to extricate the party, mr. simmons was found with a fractured skull and both companions badly injured. four summers later, june 30th, 1892, captain dale, the aeronaut to the crystal palace, was announced to make an ascent from the usual balloon grounds, weather permitting. through the night and morning a violent storm prevailed, and it was contemplated that the exhibition would be withdrawn; but the wind abating in the afternoon, the inflation was proceeded with, and the ascent took place shortly before 6 p.m., not, however, before a large rent had been discovered and repaired as far as possible by mrs. dale. as passengers, there ascended the captain's son william, aged nineteen, mr. j. macintosh, and mr. cecil shadbolt. when the balloon had reached an altitude estimated at 600 feet the onlookers were horrified to see it suddenly collapse, a large rent having developed near the top part of the silk, from which the gas "rushed out in a dense mass, allowing the balloon to fall like a rag." the occupants of the car were seen to be throwing out everything madly, even wrenching the buttons from their clothing. all, however, with little avail, for the balloon fell "with a sickening thud," midway between the maze and lower lake. all were found alive; but captain dale, who had alighted on his back, died in a few minutes; mr. shadbolt succumbed later, and both remaining passengers sustained terrible injuries. few balloon mishaps, unattended with fatal results, have proved more exciting than the following. a large party had ascended from belfast, in a monster balloon, under the guidance of mr. coxwell, on a day which was very unfit for the purpose by reason of stormy weather. a more serious trouble than the wind, however, lay in several of the passengers themselves, who seem to have been highly excitable irishmen, incapable at the critical moment of quietly obeying orders. the principal hero of the story, a german. mr. runge, in writing afterwards to the ulster observer, entirely exonerates mr. coxwell from any blame, attributing his mischances solely to the reprehensible conduct of his companions. on approaching the ground, mr. coxwell gave clear instructions. the passengers were to sit down in an unconstrained position facing each other, and be prepared for some heavy shocks. above all things they were to be careful to get out one by one, and on no account to leave hold of the car. many of the passengers, however, refused to sit down, and, according to mr. runge, "behaved in the wildest manner, losing completely their self-control. seizing the valve rope themselves, they tore it away from its attachment, the stronger pushing back the weaker, and refusing to lend help when they had got out. in consequence of this the car, relieved of their weight, tore away from the grasp of mr. coxwell and those who still clung to it, and rose above the trees, with mr. runge and one other passenger, mr. halferty, alone within. as the balloon came earthwards again, they shouted to the countrymen for succour, but without the slightest avail, and presently, the anchor catching, the car struck the earth with a shock which threw mr. halferty out on the ground, leaving mr. runge to rise again into the air, this time alone." he thus continues the story:-"the balloon moved on, very soon, in a horizontal direction straight towards the sea, which we were then rapidly nearing. coming to a farm, i shouted out to the people standing there. some women, with their quick humane instincts, were the first to perceive my danger, and exhorted the men to hurry to my assistance, they themselves running as fast as they could to tender what little help they might be able to give me. the anchor stuck in a willow tree. i shouted out to the people below to secure the cable and anchor by ropes, which they did. the evening was now beautifully still, the breeze had died away, and the balloon was swinging calmly at her moorings above the farmhouse. one of the men asked me whether i had a rope with me, and how i intended to get out. i told them only to take care of the cable, because the balloon would settle down by herself before long. i was congratulating myself on a speedy escape from my dangerous position. i had not counted on the wind. a breeze in about six or eight minutes sprang up, tossed the balloon about like a large sail, then a crash, and--the anchor was loose again. it tore through the trees, flinging limbs and branches about like matches. it struck the roof of the farmhouse, splintering the chimneys and tiles like glass. "on i went; i came near another farm; shouted out for help, and told the men to secure the anchor to the foot of a large tree close by. the anchor was soon made fast, but this was only a momentary relief. the breeze again filled the half-empty balloon like a sail, there was a severe strain on the cable, then a dull sound, and a severe concussion of the basket--the cable, strange fatality, had broken, and the anchor, my last and only hope, was gone. i was now carried on in a straight direction towards the sea, which was but a short distance ahead. the anchor being lost i gave up all hope. i sat down resigned in the car, and prepared for the end. all at once i discovered that a side current was drifting me towards the mountain; the car struck the ground, and was dashing along at a fearful rate, knocking down stone fences and breaking everything it came in contact with in its wild career. by-and-by the knocks became less frequent. we were passing over a cultivated country, and the car was, as it were skimming the surface and grazing the top of the hedges. i saw a thick hawthorn hedge at some distance before me, and the balloon rapidly sweeping towards it. that was my only chance. i rushed to the edge of the car and flung myself down upon the hedge." chapter xxi. the coming of the flying machine. in the early nineties the air ship was engaging the attention of many inventors, and was making important strides in the hands of mr. maxim. this unrivalled mechanician, in stating the case, premises that a motive power has to be discovered which can develop at least as much power in proportion to its weight as a bird is able to develop. he asserts that a heavy bird, with relatively small wings--such as a goose--carries about 150 lb. to the horse power, while the albatross or the vulture, possessed of proportionately greater winged surface, can carry about 250 lbs. per horse power. professor langley, of washington, working contemporaneously, but independently of mr. maxim, had tried exhaustive experiments on a rotating arm (characteristically designated by mr. maxim a "merry-go-round"), thirty feet long, applying screw propellers. he used, for the most part, small planes, carrying loads of only two or three pounds, and, under these circumstances, the weight carried was at the rate of 250 lbs. per horse power. his important statements with regard to these trials are that one-horse power will transport a larger weight at twenty miles an hour than at ten, and a still larger at forty miles than at twenty, and so on; that "the sustaining pressure of the air on a plane moving at a small angle of inclination to a horizontal path is many times greater than would result from the formula implicitly given by newton, while, whereas in land or marine transport increased speed is maintained only by a disproportionate expenditure of power within the limits of experiment, in aerial horizontal transport the higher speeds are more economical of power than the lower ones." this mr. maxim is evidently ready to endorse, stating, in his own words, that birds obtain the greater part of their support by moving forward with sufficient velocity so as to be constantly resting on new air, the inertia of which has not been disturbed. mr. maxim's trials were on a scale comparable with all his mechanical achievements. he employed for his experiments a rotating arm, sweeping out a circle, the circumference of which was 200 feet. to the end of this arm he attached a cigar-shaped apparatus, driven by a screw, and arranged in such a manner that aero-planes could be attached to it at any angle. these planes were on a large scale, carrying weights of from 20 lbs. to 100 lbs. with this contrivance he found that, whatever push the screw communicated to the aero-plane, "the plane would lift in a vertical direction from ten to fifteen times as much as the horizontal push that it received from the screw, and which depended upon the angle at which the plane was set, and the speed at which the apparatus was travelling through the air." next, having determined by experiment the power required to perform artificial flight, mr. maxim applied himself to designing the requisite motor. "i constructed," he states, "two sets of compound engines of tempered steel, all the parts being made very light and strong, and a steam generator of peculiar construction, the greater part of the heating surface consisting of small and thin copper tubes. for fuel i employed naphtha." this mr. maxim wrote in 1892, adding that he was then experimenting with a large machine, having a spread of over 100 feet. labour, skill, and money were lavishly devoted henceforward to the great task undertaken, and it was not long before the giant flying machine, the outcome of so much patient experimenting, was completed and put to a practical trial. its weight was 7,500 lbs. the screw propellers were nearly 18 feet in diameter, each with two blades, while the engines were capable of being run up to 360 horse power. the entire machine was mounted on an inner railway track of 9 feet and an outer of 35 feet gauge, while above there was a reversed rail along which the machine would begin to run so soon as with increase of speed it commenced to lift itself off the inner track. in one of the latest experiments it was found that when a speed of 42 miles an hour was attained all the wheels were running on the upper track, and revolving in the opposite direction from those on the lower track. however, after running about 1,000 feet, an axle tree doubled up, and immediately afterwards the upper track broke away, and the machine, becoming liberated, floated in the air, "giving those on board a sensation of being in a boat." the experiment proved conclusively to the inventor that a machine could be made on a large scale, in which the lifting effect should be considerably greater than the weight of the machine, and this, too, when a steam engine was the motor. when, therefore, in the years shortly following, the steam engine was for the purposes of aerial locomotion superseded by the lighter and more suitable petrol engine, the construction of a navigable air ship became vastly more practicable. still, in sir h. maxim's opinion, lately expressed, "those who seek to navigate the air by machines lighter than the air have come, practically, to the end of their tether," while, on the other hand, "those who seek to navigate the air with machines heavier than the air have not even made a start as yet, and the possibilities before them are very great indeed." as to the assertion that the aerial navigators last mentioned "have not even made a start as yet," we can only say that sir h. maxim speaks with far too much modesty. his own colossal labours in the direction of that mode of aerial flight, which he considers to be alone feasible, are of the first importance and value, and, as far as they have gone, exhaustive. had his experiments been simply confined to his classical investigations of the proper form of the screw propeller his name would still have been handed down as a true pioneer in aeronautics. his work, however, covers far wider ground, and he has, in a variety of ways, furnished practical and reliable data, which must always be an indispensable guide to every future worker in the same field. professor langley, in attacking the same problem, first studied the principle and behaviour of a well-known toy--the model invented by penaud, which, driven by the tension of india-rubber, sustains itself in the air for a few seconds. he constructed over thirty modifications of this model, and spent many months in trying from these to as certain what he terms the "laws of balancing leading to horizontal flight." his best endeavours at first, however, showed that he needed three or four feet of sustaining surface to a pound of weight, whereas he calculated that a bird could soar with a surface of less than half a foot to the pound. he next proceeded to steam-driven models in which for a time he found an insuperable difficulty in keeping down the weight, which, in practice, always exceeded his calculation; and it was not till the end of 1893 that he felt himself prepared for a fair trial. at this time he had prepared a model weighing between nine and ten pounds, and he needed only a suitable launching apparatus to be used over water. the model would, like a bird, require an initial velocity imparted to it, and the discovery of a suitable apparatus gave him great trouble. for the rest the facilities for launching were supplied by a houseboat moored on the potomac. foiled again and again by many difficulties, it was not till after repeated failures and the lapse of many months, when, as the professor himself puts it, hope was low, that success finally came. it was in the early part of 1896 that a successful flight was accomplished in the presence of dr. bell, of telephone fame, and the following is a brief epitome of the account that this accomplished scientist contributed to the columns of nature:-"the flying machine, built, apparently, almost entirely of metal, was driven by an engine said to weigh, with fuel and water, about 25 lbs., the supporting surface from tip to tip being 12 or 14 feet. starting from a platform about 20 feet high, the machine rose at first directly in the face of the wind, moving with great steadiness, and subsequently wheeling in large curves until steam was exhausted, when, from a height of 80 or 100 feet, it shortly settled down. the experiment was then repeated with similar results. its motion was so steady that a glass of water might have remained unspilled. the actual length of flight each time, which lasted for a minute and a half, exceeded half a mile, while the velocity was between twenty and twenty-five miles an hour in a course that was constantly taking it 'up hill.' a yet more successful flight was subsequently made." but flight of another nature was being courageously attempted at this time. otto lilienthal, of berlin, in imitation of the motion of birds, constructed a flying apparatus which he operated himself, and with which he could float down from considerable elevations. "the feat," he warns tyros, "requires practice. in the beginning the height should be moderate, and the wings not too large, or the wind will soon show that it is not to be trifled with." the inventor commenced with all due caution, making his first attempt over a grass plot from a spring board one metre high, and subsequently increasing this height to two and a half metres, from which elevation he could safely cross the entire grass plot. later he launched himself from the lower ridges of a hill 250 feet high, when he sailed to a distance of over 250 yards, and this time he writes enthusiastically of his self-taught accomplishment:-"to those who, from a modest beginning and with gradually increased extent and elevation of flight have gained full control over the apparatus, it is not in the least dangerous to cross deep and broad ravines. it is a difficult task to convey to one who has never enjoyed aerial flight a clear perception of the exhilarating pleasure of this elastic motion. the elevation above the ground loses its terrors, because we have learned by experience what sure dependence may be placed upon the buoyancy of the air." as a commentary to the above we extract the following:--"we have to record the death of otto lilienthal, whose soaring machine, during a gliding flight, suddenly tilted over at a height of about 60 feet, by which mishap he met an untimely death on august 9th, 1896." mr. o. chanute, c.e. of chicago, took up the study of gliding flight at the point where lilienthal left it, and, later, professor fitzgerald and others. besides that invented by penaud, other aero-plane models demanding mention had been produced by tatin, moy, stringfellow, and lawrence hargrave, of australia, the subsequent inventor of the well-known cellular kite. these models, for the most part, aim at the mechanical solution of the problem connected with the soaring flight of a bird. the theoretical solution of the same problem had been attacked by professor langley in a masterly monograph, entitled "the internal work of the wind." by painstaking experiment with delicate instruments, specially constructed, the professor shows that wind in general, so far from being, as was commonly assumed, mere air put in motion with an approximately uniform velocity in the same strata, is, in reality, variable and irregular in its movements beyond anything which had been anticipated, being made up, in fact, of a succession of brief pulsations in different directions, and of great complexity. these pulsations, he argues, if of sufficient amplitude and frequency, would be capable, by reason of their own "internal work," of sustaining or even raising a suitably curved surface which was being carried along by the main mean air stream. this would account for the phenomenon of "soaring." lord rayleigh, discussing the same problem, premises that when a bird is soaring the air cannot be moving uniformly and horizontally. then comes the natural question, is it moving in ascending currents? lord rayleigh has frequently noticed such currents, particularly above a cliff facing the wind. again, to quote another eminent authority, major baden-powell, on an occasion when flying one of his own kites, found it getting to so high an angle that it presently rose absolutely overhead, with the string perpendicular. he then took up a heavy piece of wood, which, when tied to the string, began to rise in the air. he satisfied himself that this curious result was solely due to a strong uptake of the air. but, again, lord rayleigh, lending support to professor langley's argument, points out that the apparent cause of soaring may be the non-uniformity of the wind. the upper currents are generally stronger than the lower, and it is mechanically possible for a bird, taking advantage of two adjacent air streams, different in velocity, to maintain itself in air without effort on its own part. lord rayleigh, proceeding to give his views on artificial flight, declares the main problem of the flying machine to be the problem of the aerial plane. he states the case thus:--"supposing a plane surface to be falling vertically at the rate of four miles an hour, and also moving horizontally at the rate of twenty miles an hour, it might have been supposed that the horizontal motion would make no difference to the pressure on its under surface which the falling plane must experience. we are told, however, that in actual trial the horizontal motion much increases the pressure under the falling plane, and it is this fact on which the possibility of natural and artificial flight depends." ere this opinion had been stated by lord rayleigh in his discourse on "flight," at the royal institution, there were already at work upon the aero-plane a small army of inventors, of whom it will be only possible in a future chapter to mention some. due reference, however, should here be made to mr. w. f. wenham, of boston, u.s.a., who had been at work on artificial flight for many years, and to whose labours in determining whether man's power is sufficient to raise his own weight lord rayleigh paid a high tribute. as far back as 1866 mr. wenham had published a paper on aerial locomotion, in which he shows that any imitation by man of the far-extended wings of a bird might be impracticable, the alternative being to arrange the necessary length of wing as a series of aero-planes, a conception far in advance of many theorists of his time. but there had been developments in aerostation in other lines, and it is time to turn from the somewhat tedious technicalities of mechanical flight and the theory or practice of soaring, to another important means for traversing the air--the parachute. this aerial machine, long laid aside, was to lend its aid to the navigation of the air with a reliability never before realised. professor baldwin, as he was termed, an american aeronaut, arrived in england in the summer of 1888, and commenced giving a series of exhibitions from the alexandra palace with a parachute of his own invention, which, in actual performance, seems to have been the most perfect instrument of the kind up to that time devised. it was said to be about 18 feet in diameter, whereas that of garnerin, already mentioned, had a diameter of some 30 feet, and was distinctly top-heavy, owing to its being thus inadequately ballasted; for it was calculated that its enormous size would have served for the safe descent, not of one man, but of four or five. baldwin's parachute, on the contrary, was reckoned to give safe descent to 250 lbs., which would include weight of man and apparatus, and reduce the ultimate fall to one not exceeding 8 feet. the parachute was attached to the ring of a small balloon of 12,000 cubic feet, and the professor ascended, sitting on a mere sling of rope, which did duty for a car. mr. thomas moy, who investigated the mechanics of the contrivance, estimated that after a drop of 16 feet, the upward pressure, amounting to over 2 lb. per square foot, would act on a surface of not less than 254 square feet. there was, at the time, much foolish comment on the great distance which the parachute fell before it opened, a complete delusion due to the fact that observers failed to see that at the moment of separation the balloon itself sprang upward. chapter xxii. the story of the spencers. it has been in the hands of the spencers that the parachute, as also many other practical details of aeronautics, has been perfected, and some due sketch of the career of this family of eminent aeronauts must be no longer delayed. charles green had stood godfather to the youngest son of his friend and colleague, mr. edward spencer, and in later years, as though to vindicate the fact, this same son took up the science of aeronautics at the point where his father had left it. we find his name in the records of the patent office of 1868 as the inventor of a manumetric flying machine, and there are accounts of the flying leaps of several hundred feet which he was enabled to take by means of the machine he constructed. again, in 1882 we find him an inventor, this time of the patent asbestos fire balloon, by means of which the principal danger to such balloons was overcome. at this point it is needful to make mention of the third generation--the several sons who early showed their zeal and aptitude for perpetuating the family tradition. it was from his school playground that the eldest son, percival, witnessed with intense interest what appeared like a drop floating in the sky at an immense altitude. this proved to be simmons's balloon, which had just risen to a vast elevation over cremorne gardens, after having liberated the unfortunate de groof, as mentioned in a former chapter. and one may be sure that the terrible reality of the disaster that had happened was not lost on the young schoolboy. but his wish was to become an aeronauts, and from this desire nothing deterred him, so that school days were scarcely over before he began to accompany his father aloft, and in a very few years, i.e. in 1888, he had assumed the full responsibilities of a professional balloonist. it was in this year that professor baldwin appeared in england, and it is easy to understand that the parachute became an object of interest to the young spencer, who commenced on his own account a series of trials at the alexandra palace, and it was now, also, that chance good fortune came his way. an indian gentleman, who was witness of his experiments, and convinced that a favourable field for their further development existed in his own country, proposed to the young aspirant that he should accompany him to india, with equipment suited for the making of a successful campaign. thus it came about that in the early days of 1889, in the height of the season, mr. percival spencer arrived at bombay, and at once commenced professional business in earnest. coal gas being here available, a maiden ascent was quickly arranged, and duly announced to take place at the government house, paral, the chief attraction being the parachute descent, the first ever attempted in india. this preliminary exhibition proving in all ways a complete success, mr. spencer, after a few repetitions of his performance, repaired to calcutta; but here great difficulties were experienced in the matter of gas. the coal gas available was inadequate, and when recourse was had to pure hydrogen the supply proved too sluggish. at the advertised hour of departure the balloon was not sufficiently inflated, while the spectators were growing impatient. it was at this critical moment that mr. spencer resolved on a surprise. suddenly casting off the parachute, and seated on a mere sling below the half-inflated balloon, without ballast, without grapnel, and unprovided with a valve, he sailed away over the heads of the multitude. the afternoon was already far advanced, and the short tropical twilight soon gave way to darkness, when the intrepid voyager disappeared completely from sight. excitement was intense that night in calcutta, and greater still the next day when, as hour after hour went by, no news save a series of wild and false reports reached the city. trains arriving from the country brought no intelligence, and telegraphic enquiries sent in all directions proved fruitless. the great eastern hotel, where the young man had been staying, was literally besieged for hours by a large crowd eager for any tidings. then the press gave expression to the gloomiest forebodings, and the town was in a fever of unrest. from the direction the balloon had taken it was thought that, even if the aeronaut had descended in safety, he could only have been landed in the jungle of the sunderbunds, beset with perils, and without a chance of succour. a large reward was offered for reliable information, and orders were issued to every likely station to organise a search. but ere this was fully carried into effect messages were telegraphed to england definitely asserting that mr. spencer had lost his life. for all this, after three days he returned to calcutta, none the worse for the exploit. then the true tale was unravelled. the balloon had changed its course from s.e. to e. after passing out of sight of calcutta, and eventually came to earth the same evening in the neighbourhood of hossainabad, thirty-six miles distant. during his aerial flight the voyager's main trouble had been caused by his cramped position, the galling of his sling seat, and the numbing effect of cold as he reached high altitudes; but, as twilight darkened into gloom, his real anxiety was with respect to his place of landing, for he could with difficulty see the earth underneath. he heard the distant roll of the waters, caused by the numerous creeks which intersect the delta of the ganges, and when darkness completely shut out the view it was impossible to tell whether he was over land or sea. fortune favoured him, however, and reaching dry ground, he sprang from his seat, relinquishing at the same moment his hold of the balloon, which instantly disappeared into the darkness. then his wanderings began. he was in an unknown country, without knowledge of the language, and with only a few rupees in his pocket. presently, however, seeing a light, he proceeded towards it, but only to find himself stopped by a creek. foiled more than once in this way, he at length arrived at the dwelling of a family of natives, who promptly fled in terror. to inspire confidence and prove that he was mortal, mr. spencer threw his coat over the mud wall of the compound, with the result that, after examination of the garment, he was received and cared for in true native fashion, fed with rice and goat's milk, and allowed the use of the verandah to sleep in. he succeeded in communing with the natives by dint of lead pencil sketches and dumb show, and learned, among other things, that he had descended in a little clearing surrounded by woods, and bounded by tidal creeks, which were infested with alligators. yet, in the end, the waterways befriended him; for, as he was being ferried across, he chanced on his balloon sailing down on the tide, recovered it, and used the tidal waters for the return journey. the greeting upon his arrival in calcutta was enthusiastic beyond description from both europeans and natives. the hero of the adventure was visited by rajahs and notables, who vied with each other in expressions of welcome, in making presents, even inviting him to visit the sacred precincts of their zenanas. the promised parachute descent was subsequently successfully made at cossipore, and then followed a busy, brilliant season, after which the wanderer returned to england. by september he is in dublin, and makes the first parachute descent ever witnessed in ireland; but by november he is in bombay again, whence, proceeding to calcutta, he repeats his success of the year before. next he visits allahabad, where the same fortune attends him, though his balloon flies away in a temporary escape into the jumna. by may he is ascending at singapore, armed here, however, with a cork jacket. hence, flushed with success, he repairs to the dutch indies, and demonstrates to the dutch officers the use of the balloon in war. as a natural consequence, he is moved up to the seat of the achinese war in sumatra, where, his balloon being moored to the rear of an armoured train, an immediate move is made to the front, and orders are forthwith telephoned from various centres to open fire on the enemy. mr. spencer, the while accompanied by an officer, makes a captive ascent, in which for some time he is actually under the enemy's fire. the result of this plucky experiment is a most flattering official report. in all the above-mentioned ascents he made his own gas without a hitch. thence he travels on with the same trusty little 12,000 cubic feet balloon, the same programme, and the same success. this is slightly varied, however, at kobe, japan, where his impatient craft fairly breaks away with him, and, soaring high, flies overhead of a man-of-war, and plumps into the water a mile out at sea. but "smartly" was the word. the ship's crew was beat to quarters, and within one minute a boat was to the rescue. an ascent at cairo, where he made a parachute descent in sight of the pyramids and landed in the desert, completed this oriental tour, and home duties necessitated his return to england. among exploits far too many to enumerate may be mentioned four several occasions when mr. percival spencer has crossed the english channel. it fell to the lot of the second son, arthur, to carry fame into fresh fields. in the year 1897 he visited australia, taking with him two balloons, one of these being a noble craft of 80,000 cubic feet, considerably larger than any balloon used in england, and the singular fate of this aerial monster is deserving of mention. its trial trip in the new country was arranged to take place on boxing day in the melbourne exhibition ground, and for the lengthy and critical work of inflation the able assistance of british bluejackets was secured. to all appearance, the main difficulties to be provided against were likely to arise simply from a somewhat inadequate supply of gas, and on this account filling commenced as early as 10 a.m. on the morning of the day previous to the exhibition, and was continued till 6 o'clock in the afternoon, by which time the balloon, being about half full, was staved down with sandbags through the night till 4 o'clock the next morning, when the inflation was again proceeded with without hindrance and apparently under favourable conditions. the morning was beautifully fine, warm, brilliant, and still, and so remained until half-past six, when, with startling rapidity, there blew up a sudden squall known in the country as a "hot buster," and in two or three minutes' space a terrific wind storm was sweeping the ground. a dozen men, aiding a dead weight of 220 sandbags, endeavoured to control the plunging balloon, but wholly without avail. men and bags together were lifted clean up in the air on the windward side, and the silk envelope, not yet completely filled, at once escaped from the net and, flying upwards to a height estimated at 10,000 feet, came to earth again ninety miles away in a score of fragments. nothing daunted, however, mr. spencer at once endeavoured to retrieve his fortunes, and started straightway for the gold-mining districts of ballarat and bendigo with a hot-air balloon, with which he successfully gave a series of popular exhibitions of parachute descents. few aeronauts are more consistently reliable than mr. arthur spencer. a few summers ago in this country he was suddenly called upon to give proof of his prowess and presence of mind in a very remarkable manner. it was at an engagement at reading, where he had been conducting captive ascents throughout the afternoon, and was requested to conclude the evening with a "right away," in which two passengers had agreed to accompany him. the balloon had been hauled down for the last time, when, by some mistake, the engine used for the purpose proceeded to work its pump without previously disconnecting the hauling gear. the consequence of this was that the cable instantly snapped, and in a moment the large balloon, devoid of ballast, grapnel, or other appliances, and with neck still tied, was free, and started skyward. the inevitable result of this accident must have been that the balloon in a few seconds would rise to a height where the expansion of the imprisoned gas would burst and destroy it. mr. spencer, however, was standing near, and, grasping the situation in a moment, caught at the car as it swung upwards, and, getting hold, succeeded in drawing himself up and so climbing into the ring. quickly as this was done, the balloon was already distended to the point of bursting, and only the promptest release of gas averted catastrophe. mr. stanley spencer made himself early known to the world by a series of parachute descents, performed from the roof of olympia. it was a bold and sensational exhibition, and on the expiration of his engagement the young athlete, profiting by home training, felt fully qualified to attempt any aerial feat connected with the profession of an aeronaut. and at this juncture an eminent american cyclist, visiting the father's factory, suggested to stanley a business tour in south america. as an extra attraction it was proposed that a young lady parachutist should be one of the company; so, after a few satisfactory trial exhibitions in england, the party made their way to rio, brazil. here an ascent was arranged, and by the day and hour appointed the balloon was successfully inflated with hydrogen, an enormous concourse collected, and the lady performer already seated in the sling. then a strange mischance happened. by some means, never satisfactorily explained, the young woman, at the moment of release, slipped from her seat, and the balloon, escaping into the air, turned over and fell among the people, who vindictively destroyed it. then the crowd grew ungovernable, and threatened the lives of the aeronauts, who eventually were, with difficulty, rescued by the soldiery. this was a bad start; but with a spare balloon a fresh attempt at an ascent was arranged, though, from another cause, with no better success. this time a furious storm arose, before the inflation was completed, and the balloon, carrying away, was torn to ribbons. yet a third time, with a hot air balloon now, a performance was advertised and successfully carried out; but, immediately after, mr. spencer's american friend succumbed to yellow fever, and the young man, being thrown on his own resources, had to fight his own way until his fortunes had been sufficiently restored to return to england. a few months later he set sail for canada, where for several months he had a most profitable career, on one occasion only meeting with some difficulty. he was giving an exhibition on prince edward's island, not far from the sea, but on a day so calm that he did not hesitate to ascend. on reaching 3,000 feet, however, he was suddenly caught by a strong land breeze, which, ere he could reach the water, had carried him a mile out to sea, and here he was only rescued after a long interval, during which he had become much exhausted in his attempts to save his parachute from sinking. early in 1892 our traveller visited south africa with a hot air balloon, and, fortune continuing to favour him, he subsequently returned to canada, and proceeded thence to the united states and cuba. it was at havannah that popular enthusiasm in his favour ran so high that he was presented with a medal by the townsfolk. it was from here also that, a little while after, tidings of his own death reached him, together with most gratifying obituary notices. it would seem that, after his departure, an adventurer, attempting to personate him, met with his death. in november, 1897, he followed his elder brother's footsteps to the east, and exhibited in calcutta, singapore, canton, and also hong-kong, where, for the first and only time in his experience, he met with serious accident. he was about to ascend for the ordinary parachute performance with a hot air balloon, which was being held down by about thirty men, one among them being a chinaman possessed of much excitability and very long finger nails. by means of these latter the man contrived to gouge a considerable hole in the fabric of the balloon. mr. spencer, to avoid a disappointment, risked an ascent, and it was not till the balloon had reached 600 feet that the rent developed into a long slit, and so brought about a sudden fall to earth. alighting on the side of a mountain, mr. spencer lay helpless with a broken leg till the arrival of some british bluejackets, who conveyed him to the nearest surgeon, when, after due attention, he was sent home. other remarkable exploits, which mr. stanley spencer shared with dr. berson and with the writer and his daughter, will be recorded later. chapter xxiii. new departures in aerostation. after mr. coxwell's experiments at aldershot in 1862 the military balloon, as far as england was concerned, remained in abeyance for nine long years, when the government appointed a commission to enquire into its utility, and to conduct further experiments. the members of this committee were colonel noble, r.e., sir f. abel, captain lee, r.e., assisted by captain elsdale, r.e., and captain (now colonel) templer. yet another nine years, however, elapsed before much more was heard of this modernised military engine. but about the beginning of the eighties the government had become fully alive to the importance of the subject, and royal engineers at woolwich grew busy with balloon manufacture and experiment. soon "the sky around london became speckled with balloons." the method of making so-called pure hydrogen by passing steam over red-hot iron was fully tested, and for a time gained favour. the apparatus, weighing some three tons, was calculated to be not beyond the carrying powers of three service waggons, while it was capable of generating enough gas to inflate two balloons in twenty-four hours, a single inflation holding good, under favourable circumstances, for a long period. at the brighton volunteer review of 1880, captain templer, with nine men, conducted the operations of a captive reconnoitring balloon. this was inflated at the lewes gas works, and then towed two and a half miles across a river, a railway, and a line of telegraph wires, after which it was let up to a height of 1,500 feet, whence, it was stated, that so good a view was obtained that "every man was clearly seen." be it remembered, however, that the country was not the south african veldt, and every man was in the striking english uniform of that date. just at this juncture came the egyptian war, and it will be recalled that in the beginning of that war balloons were conspicuous by their absence. the difficulties of reconnaissance were keenly felt and commented on, and among other statements we find the following in the war intelligence of the times:-"as the want of a balloon equipment has been mentioned in letters from egypt, it may be stated that all the war department balloons remain in store at the royal dockyard at woolwich, but have been recently examined and found perfectly serviceable." an assertion had been made to the effect that the nature of the sand in egypt would impede the transport of the heavy material necessary for inflation. at last, however, the order came for the despatch of the balloon equipment to the front, and though this arrived long after tel-el-kebir, yet it is recorded that the first ascent in real active service in the british army took place on the 25th of march, 1885, at suakin, and balloons becoming regarded as an all-important part of the equipment of war, they were sent out in the bechuanaland expedition under sir charles warren, the supply of gas being shipped to cape town in cylinders. it was at this period that, according to mr. coxwell, lord wolseley made ascents at home in a war balloon to form his own personal opinion of their capabilities, and, expressing this opinion to one of his staff, said that had he been able to employ balloons in the earlier stages of the soudan campaign the affair would not have lasted as many months as it did years. this statement, however, should be read in conjunction with another of the same officer in the "soldier's pocket book," that "in a windy country balloons are useless." in the boer war the usefulness of the balloon was frequently tested, more particularly during the siege of ladysmith, when it was deemed of great value in directing the fire of the british artillery, and again in buller's advance, where the balloon is credited with having located a "death-trap" of the enemy at spion kop. other all-important service was rendered at magersfontein. the service balloon principally used was made of goldbeaters' skin, containing about 10,000 cubic feet of hydrogen, which had been produced by the action of sulphuric acid on zinc, and compressed in steel cylinders. a special gas factory was, for the purpose of the campaign, established at cape town. it is here that reference must be made to some of the special work undertaken by mr. eric s. bruce, which dealt with the management of captive balloons under different conditions, and with a system of signalling thus rendered feasible. mr. bruce, who, since major baden-powell's retirement from the office, has devoted his best energies as secretary to the advancement of the british aeronautical society, was the inventor of the system of electric balloon signalling which he supplied to the british government, as well as to the belgian and italian governments. this system requires but a very small balloon, made of three or four thicknesses of goldbeaters' skin, measuring from 7 to 10 feet in diameter, and needing only two or three gas cylinders for inflation. within the balloon, which is sufficiently translucent, are placed several incandescent lamps in metallic circuit, with a source of electricity on the ground. this source of electricity may consist of batteries of moderate size or a portable hand dynamo. in the circuit is placed an apparatus for making and breaking contact rapidly, and by varying the duration of the flashes in the balloon telegraphic messages may be easily transmitted. to overcome the difficulty of unsteadiness, under circumstances of rough weather, in the captive balloon which carried the glow lamps, mr. bruce experimented with guy ropes, and gave a most successful exhibition of their efficiency before military experts at stamford bridge grounds, though a stiff wind was blowing at the time. it must be perfectly obvious, however, that a captive balloon in a wind is greatly at a disadvantage, and to counteract this, attempts have been made in the direction of a combination between the balloon and a kite. this endeavour has been attended with some measure of success in the german army. mr. douglas archibald, in england, was one of the first to advocate the kite balloon. in 1888 he called attention to the unsatisfactory behaviour of captive balloons in variable winds, dropping with every gust and rising again with a lull. in proof he described an expedient of major templer's, where an attempt was being made to operate a photographic camera hoisted by two tandem kites. "the balloon," he writes, "went up majestically, and all seemed very satisfactory until a mile of cable had been run out, and the winder locked." it was then that troubles began which threatened the wreckage of the apparatus, and mr. archibald, in consequence, strongly recommended a kite balloon at that time. twelve years later the same able experimentalist, impressed with the splendid work done by kites alone for meteorological purposes at least, allowed that he was quite content to "let the kite balloon go by." but the german school of aeronauts were doing bigger things than making trials with kite balloons. the german society for the promotion of aerial navigation, assisted by the army balloon corps, were busy in 1888, when a series of important ascents were commenced. under the direction of dr. assmann, the energetic president of the aeronautical society above named, captive ascents were arranged in connection with free ascents for meteorological purposes, and it was thus practicable to make simultaneous observations at different levels. these experiments, which were largely taken up on the continent, led to others of yet higher importance, in which the unmanned balloon took a part. but the continental annals of this date contain one unhappy record of another nature, the recounting of which will, at least, break the monotony attending mere experimental details. in october, 1893, captain charbonnet, an enthusiastic french aeronaut, resolved on spending his honeymoon, with the full consent of his bride, in a prolonged balloon excursion. the start was to be made from turin, and, the direction of travel lying across the alps, it was the hope of the voyagers eventually to reach french territory. the ascent was made in perfect safety, as was also the first descent, at the little village of piobesi, ten miles away. here a halt was made for the night, and the next morning, when a fresh start was determined on, two young italians, signori botto and durando, were taken on board as assistants, for the exploit began to assume an appearance of some gravity, and this the more so when storm clouds began brewing. at an altitude of 10,000 feet cross-currents were encountered, and the course becoming obscured the captain descended to near the earth, where he discovered himself to be in dangerous proximity to gaunt mountain peaks. on observing this, he promptly cast out sand so liberally that the balloon rose to a height approaching 20,000 feet, when a rapid descent presently began, and refused to be checked, even with the expenditure of all available ballast. all the while the earth remained obscured, but, anticipating a fall among the mountains, captain charbonnet bade his companions lie down in the car while he endeavoured to catch sight of some landmark; but, quite suddenly, the balloon struck some mountain slope with such force as to throw the captain back into the car with a heavy blow over the eye; then, bounding across a gulley, it struck again and yet again, falling and rebounding between rocky walls, till it settled on a steep and snowy ridge. darkness was now closing in, and the party, without food or proper shelter, had to pass the night as best they might on the bare spot where they fell, hoping for encouragement with the return of day. but dawn showed them to be on a dangerous peak, 10,000 feet high, whence they must descend by their own unassisted efforts. after a little clambering the captain, who was in a very exhausted state, fell through a hidden crevasse, fracturing his skull sixty feet below. the remaining three struggled on throughout the day, and had to pass a second night on the mountain, this time without covering. on the third day they met with a shepherd, who conducted them with difficulty to the little village of balme. this story, by virtue of its romance, finds a place in these pages; but, save for its tragic ending, it hardly stands alone. ballooning enterprise and adventure were growing every year more and more common on the continent. in scandinavia we find the names of andree, fraenkal, and strindberg; in denmark that of captain rambusch. berlin and paris had virtually become the chief centres of the development of ballooning as a science. in the former city a chief among aeronauts had arisen in dr. a. berson, who, in december, 1894, not only reached 30,000 feet, ascending alone, but at that height sustained himself sufficiently, by inhaling oxygen, to take systematic observations throughout the entire voyage of five hours. the year before, in company with lieutenant gross, he barely escaped with his life, owing to tangled ropes getting foul of the valve. toulet and those who accompanied him lost their lives near brussels. later wolfert and his engineer were killed near berlin, while johannsen and loyal fell into the sound. thus ever fresh and more extended enterprise was embarked upon with good fortune and ill. in fact, it had become evident to all that the continent afforded facilities for the advancement of aerial exploration which could be met with in no other parts of the world, america only excepted. and it was at this period that the expedient of the ballon sonde, or unmanned balloon, was happily thought of. one of these balloons, the "cirrus," among several trials, rose to a height, self-registered, of 61,000 feet, while a possible greater height has been accorded to it. on one occasion, ascending from berlin, it fell in western russia, on another in bosnia. then, in 1896, at the meteorological conference at paris, with mascart as president, gustave hermite, with characteristic ardour, introduced a scheme of national ascents with balloons manned and unmanned, and this scheme was soon put in effect under a commission of famous names--andree, assmann, berson, besancon, cailletet, erk, de fonvielle, hergesell, hermite, jaubert, pomotzew (of st. petersburg), and rotch (of boston, mass.). in november, 1896, five manned balloons and three unmanned ascended simultaneously from france, germany, and russia. the next year saw, with the enterprise of these nations, the co-operation of austria and belgium. messrs. hermite and besancon, both french aeronauts, were the first to make practical trial of the method of sounding the upper air by unmanned balloons, and, as a preliminary attempt, dismissed from paris a number of small balloons, a large proportion of which were recovered, having returned to earth after less than 100 miles' flight. larger paper balloons were now constructed, capable of carrying simple self-recording instruments, also postcards, which became detached at regular intervals by the burning away of slow match, and thus indicated the path of the balloon. the next attempt was more ambitious, made with a goldbeaters' skin balloon containing 4,000 cubic feet of gas, and carrying automatic instruments of precision. this balloon fell in the department of the yonne, and was returned to paris with the instruments, which remained uninjured, and which indicated that an altitude of 49,000 feet had been reached, and a minimum temperature of -60 degrees encountered. yet larger balloons of the same nature were then experimented with in germany, as well as france. a lack of public support has crippled the attempts of experimentalists in this country, but abroad this method of aerial exploration continues to gain favour. distinct from, and supplementing, the records obtained by free balloons, manned or unmanned, are those to be gathered from an aerostat moored to earth. it is here that the captive balloon has done good service to meteorology, as we have shown, but still more so has the high-flying kite. it must long have been recognised that instruments placed on or near the ground are insufficient for meteorological purposes, and, as far back as 1749, we find dr. wilson, of glasgow, employing kites to determine the upper currents, and to carry thermometers into higher strata of the air. franklin's kite and its application is matter of history. many since that period made experiments more or less in earnest to obtain atmospheric observations by means of kites, but probably the first in england, at least to obtain satisfactory results, was mr. douglas archibald, who, during the eighties, was successful in obtaining valuable wind measurements, as also other results, including aerial photographs, at varying altitudes up to 1,000 or 1,200 feet. from that period the records of serious and systematic kite flying must be sought in america. mr. w. a. eddy was one of the pioneers, and a very serviceable tailless kite, in which the cross-bar is bowed away from the wind, is his invention, and has been much in use. mr. eddy established his kite at blue hill--the now famous kite observatory--and succeeded in lifting self-recording meteorological instruments to considerable heights. the superiority of readings thus obtained is obvious from the fact that fresh air-streams are constantly playing on the instruments. a year or two later a totally dissimilar kite was introduced by mr. lawrence hargrave, of sydney, australia. this invention, which has proved of the greatest utility and efficiency, would, from its appearance, upset all conventional ideas of what a kite should be, resembling in its simplest form a mere box, minus the back and front. nevertheless, these kites, in their present form, have carried instruments to heights of upwards of two miles, the restraining line being fine steel piano wire. but another and most efficient kite, admirably adapted for many most important purposes, is that invented by major baden-powell. the main objects originally aimed at in the construction of this kite related to military operations, such as signalling, photography, and the raising of a man to an elevation for observational purposes. in the opinion of the inventor, who is a practiced aeronaut, a wind of over thirty miles an hour renders a captive balloon useless, while a kite under such conditions should be capable of taking its place in the field. describing his early experiments, major, then captain, baden-powell, stated that in 1894, after a number of failures, he succeeded with a hexagonal structure of cambric, stretched on a bamboo framework 36 feet high, in lifting a man--not far, but far enough to prove that his theories were right. later on, substituting a number of small kites for one big one, he was, on several occasions, raised to a height of 100 feet, and had sent up sand bags, weighing 9 stone, to 300 feet, at which height they remained suspended nearly a whole day. this form of kite, which has been further developed, has been used in the south african campaign in connection with wireless telegraphy for the taking of photographs at great heights, notably at modder river, and for other purposes. it has been claimed that the first well-authenticated occasion of a man being raised by a kite was when at pirbright camp a baden-powell kite, 30 feet high, flown by two lines, from which a basket was suspended, took a man up to a height of 10 feet. it is only fair, however, to state that it is related that more than fifty years ago a lady was lifted some hundred feet by a great kite constructed by one george pocock, whose machine was designed for an observatory in war, and also for drawing carriages along highways. chapter xxiv. andree and his voyages among many suggestions, alike important and original, due to major baden-powell, and coming within the field of aeronautics, is one having reference to the use of balloons for geographical research generally and more particularly for the exploration of egypt, which, in his opinion, is a country possessing many most desirable qualifications on the score of prevailing winds, of suitable base, and of ground adapted for such steering as may be effected with a trail rope. at the bristol meeting of the british association the major thus propounded his method: "i should suggest several balloons, one of about 60,000 cubic feet, and, say, six smaller ones of about 7,000 cubic feet; then, if one gets torn or damaged, the others might remain intact. after a time, when gas is lost, one of the smaller ones could be emptied into the others, and the exhausted envelope discharged as ballast; the smaller balloons would be easier to transport by porters than one big one, and they could be more easily secured on the earth during contrary winds. over the main balloon a light awning might be rigged to neutralise, as far as possible, the changes of temperature. a lightning conductor to the top of the balloon might be desirable. a large sail would be arranged, and a bifurcated guide rope attached to the end of a horizontal pole would form an efficient means of steering. the car would be boat-shaped and waterproof, so that it could be used for a return journey down a river. water tanks would be fitted." the reasonableness of such a scheme is beyond question, even without the working calculations with which it is accompanied; but, ere these words were spoken, one of the most daring explorers that the world has known had begun to put in practice a yet bolder and rasher scheme of his own. the idea of reaching the north pole by means of balloons appears to have been entertained many years ago. in a curious work, published in paris in 1863 by delaville dedreux, there is a suggestion for reaching the north pole by an aerostat which should be launched from the nearest accessible point, the calculation being that the distance from such a starting place to the pole and back again would be only some 1,200 miles, which could be covered in two days, supposing only that there could be found a moderate and favourable wind in each direction. mr. c. g. spencer also wrote on the subject, and subsequently commander cheyne proposed a method of reaching the pole by means of triple balloons. a similar scheme was advocated in yet more serious earnest by m. hermite in the early eighties. some ten years later than this m. s. a. andree, having obtained sufficient assistance, took up the idea with the determined intention of pushing it to a practical issue. he had already won his spurs as an aeronaut, as may be briefly told. in october, 1893, when making an ascent for scientific purposes, his balloon got carried out over the baltic. it may have been the strength of the wind that had taken him by surprise; but, there being now no remedy, it was clearly the speed and persistence of the wind that alone could save him. if a chance vessel could not, or would not, "stand by," he must make the coast of finland or fall in the sea, and several times the fall in the sea seemed imminent as his balloon commenced dropping. this threatened danger induced him to cast away his anchor, after which the verge of the finland shore was nearly reached, when a change of wind began to carry him along the rocky coast, just as night was setting in. recognising his extreme danger, andree stood on the edge of the car, with a bag of ballast ready for emergencies. he actually passed over an island, on which was a building with a light; but failed to effect a landing, and so fell in the sea on the farther side; but, the balloon presently righting itself, andree, now greatly exhausted, made his last effort, and as he rose over the next cliff jumped for his life. it was past 7 p.m. when he found himself once again on firm ground, but with a sprained leg and with no one within call. seeking what shelter he could, he lived out the long night, and, being now scarce able to stand, took off his clothes and waved them for a signal. this signal was not seen, yet shortly a boat put off from an island--the same that he had passed the evening before--and rowed towards him. the boatman overnight had seen a strange sail sweeping over land and sea, and he had come in quest of it, bringing timely succour to the castaway. briefly stated, andree's grand scheme was to convey a suitable balloon, with means for inflating it, as also all necessary equipment, as far towards the pole as a ship could proceed, and thence, waiting for a favourable wind, to sail by sky until the region of the pole should be crossed, and some inhabited country reached beyond. the balloon was to be kept near the earth, and steered, as far as this might be practicable, by means of a trail rope. the balloon, which had a capacity of nearly 162,000 cubic feet, was made in paris, and was provided with a rudder sail and an arrangement whereby the hang of the trail rope could be readily shifted to different positions on the ring. further, to obviate unnecessary diffusion and loss of gas at the mouth, the balloon was fitted with a lower valve, which would only open at a moderate pressure, namely, that of four inches of water. all preparations were completed by the summer of 1896, and on june 7th the party embarked at gothenburg with all necessaries on board, arriving at spitzbergen on june 21st. andree, who was to be accompanied on his aerial voyage by two companions, m. nils strindberg and dr. ekholm, spent some time in selecting a spot that would seem suitable for their momentous start, and this was finally found on dane's island, where their cargo was accordingly landed. the first operation was the erection of a wooden shed, the materials for which they had brought with them, as a protection from the wind. it was a work which entailed some loss of time, after which the gas apparatus had to be got into order, so that, in spite of all efforts, it was the 27th of july before the balloon was inflated and in readiness. a member of an advance party of an eclipse expedition arriving in spitzbergen at this period, and paying a visit to andree for the purpose of taking him letters, wrote:--"we watched him deal out the letters to his men. they are all volunteers and include seven sea captains, a lawyer, and other people some forty in all. andree chaffed each man to whom he gave a letter, and all were as merry as crickets over the business.... we spent our time in watching preparations. the vaseline (for soaking the guide ropes) caught fire to-day, but, luckily no rope was in the pot." but the wind as yet was contrary, and day after day passed without any shift to a favourable quarter, until the captain of the ship which had conveyed them was compelled to bring matters to an issue by saying that they must return home without delay if he was to avoid getting frozen in for the winter. the balloon had now remained inflated for twenty-one days, and dr. ekholm, calculating that the leakage of gas amounted to nearly 1 per cent. per day, became distrustful of the capability of such a vessel to cope with such a voyage as had been aimed at. the party had now no choice but to return home with their balloon, leaving, however, the shed and gas-generating apparatus for another occasion. this occasion came the following summer, when the dauntless explorers returned to their task, leaving gothenburg on may 28th, 1897, in a vessel lent by the king of sweden, and reaching dane's island on the 30th of the same month. dr. ekholm had retired from the enterprise, but in his place were two volunteers, messrs. frankel and svedenborg, the latter as "odd man," to fill the place of any of the other three who might be prevented from making the final venture. it was found that the shed had suffered during the winter, and some time was spent in making the repairs and needful preparation, so that the month of june was half over before all was in readiness for the inflation. this operation was then accomplished in four days, and by midnight of june 22nd the balloon was at her moorings, full and in readiness; but, as in the previous year, the wind was contrary, and remained so for nearly three weeks. this, of course, was a less serious matter, inasmuch as the voyagers were a month earlier with their preparation, but so long a delay must needs have told prejudicially against the buoyancy of the balloon, and andree is hardly to be blamed for having, in the end, committed himself to a wind that was not wholly favourable. the wind, if entirely from the right direction, should have been due south, but on july 11th it had veered to a direction somewhat west of south, and andree, tolerating no further delay, seized this as his best opportunity, and with a wind "whistling through the woodwork of the shed and flapping the canvas," accompanied by frankel and svedenborg, started on his ill-fated voyage. a telegram which andree wrote for the press at that epoch ran thus:-"at this moment, 2.30 p.m., we are ready to start. we shall probably be driven in a north-north-easterly direction." on july 22nd a carrier pigeon was recovered by the fishing boat alken between north cape, spitzbergen, and seven islands, bearing a message, "july 13th, 12.30 p.m., 82 degrees 2 minutes north lat., 15 degrees 5 minutes east long. good journey eastward. all goes well on board. andree." not till august 31st was there picked up in the arctic zone a buoy, which is preserved in the museum of stockholm. it bears the message, "buoy no. 4. first to be thrown out. 11th july, 10 p.m., greenwich mean time. all well up till now. we are pursuing our course at an altitude of about 250 metres direction at first northerly 10 degrees east; later; northerly 45 degrees east. four carrier pigeons were despatched at 5.40 p.m. they flew westwards. we are now above the ice, which is very cut up in all directions. weather splendid. in excellent spirits.--andree, svedenborg, frankel. (postscript later on.) above the clouds, 7.45, greenwich mean time." according to reuter, the anthropological and geological society at stockholm received the following telegram from a ship owner at mandal:--"captain hueland, of the steamship vaagen who arrived there on monday morning, reports that when off kola fjord, iceland, in 65 degrees 34 minutes north lat., 21 degrees 28 minutes west long., on may 14th he found a drifting buoy, marked 'no. 7.' inside the buoy was a capsule marked 'andree's polar expedition,' containing a slip of paper, on which was given the following: 'drifting buoy no. 7. this buoy was thrown out from andree's balloon on july 11th 1897, 10.55 p.m., greenwich mean time, 82 degrees north lat., 25 degrees east lon. we are at an altitude of 600 metres. all well.--andree, svedenborg, frankel.'" commenting on the first message, mr. percival spencer says:--"i cannot place reliance upon the accuracy of either the date or else the lat. and long. given, as i am confident that the balloon would have travelled a greater distance in two days." it should be noted that dane's island lies in 79 degrees 30 minutes north lat. and 10 degrees 10 minutes east long. mr. spencer's opinion, carefully considered and expressed eighteen months afterwards, will be read with real interest:-"the distance from dane's island to the pole is about 750 miles, and to alaska on the other side about 1,500 miles. the course of the balloon, however, was not direct to the pole, but towards franz josef land (about 600 miles) and to the siberian coast (another 800 miles). judging from the description of the wind at the start, and comparing it with my own ballooning experience, i estimate its speed as 40 miles per hour, and it will, therefore, be evident that a distance of 2,000 miles would be covered in 50 hours, that is two days and two hours after the start. i regard all theories as to the balloon being capable of remaining in the air for a month as illusory. no free balloon has ever remained aloft for more than 36 hours, but with the favourable conditions at the northern regions (where the sun does not set and where the temperature remains equable) a balloon might remain in the air for double the length of time which i consider ample for the purpose of polar exploration." a record of the direction of the wind was made after andree's departure, and proved that there was a fluctuation in direction from s.w. to n.w., indicating that the voyagers may have been borne across towards siberia. this, however, can be but surmise. all aeronauts of experience know that it is an exceedingly difficult manoeuvre to keep a trail rope dragging on the ground if it is desirable to prevent contact with the earth on the one hand, or on the other to avoid loss of gas. a slight increase of temperature or drying off of condensed moisture may--indeed, is sure to after a while--lift the rope off the ground, in which case the balloon, rising into upper levels, may be borne away on currents which may be of almost any direction, and of which the observer below may know nothing. as to the actual divergence from the wind's direction which a trail rope and side sail might be hoped to effect, it may be confidently stated that, notwithstanding some wonderful accounts that have gone abroad, it must not be relied on as commonly amounting to much more than one or, at the most, two points. although it is to be feared that trustworthy information as to the ultimate destination of andree's balloon may never be gained, yet we may safely state that his ever famous, though regrettable, voyage was the longest in duration ever attained. at the end of 48 hours his vessel would seem to have been still well up and going strong. the only other previous voyage that had in duration of travel approached this record was that made by m. mallet, in 1892, and maintained for 36 hours. next we may mention that of m. herve, in 1886, occupying 24 1/2 hours, which feat, however, was almost equal led by the great leipzig balloon in 1897, which, with eight people in the car, remained up for 24 1/4 hours, and did not touch earth till 1,032 miles had been traversed. the fabric of andree's balloon may not be considered to have been the best for such an exceptional purpose. dismissing considerations of cost, goldbeaters' skin would doubtless have been more suitable. the military balloons at aldershot are made of this, and one such balloon has been known to remain inflated for three months with very little loss. it is conceivable, therefore, that the chances of the voyagers, whose ultimate safety depended so largely upon the staying power of their aerial vessel, might have been considerably increased. one other expedient, wholly impracticable, but often seriously discussed, may be briefly referred to, namely, the idea of taking up apparatus for pumping gas into metal receivers as the voyage proceeds, in order to raise or lower a balloon, and in this way to prolong its life. mr. wenham has investigated the point with his usual painstaking care, and reduced its absurdity to a simple calculation, which should serve to banish for good such a mere extravagant theory. suppose, he says, the gas were compressed to one-twentieth part of its bulk, which would mean a pressure within its receiver of 300 lbs. per square inch, and that each receiver had a capacity of 1 cubic foot, while for safety sake it was made of steel plates one-twentieth of an inch thick, then each receiver would weigh 10 lbs., and to liberate 1,000 feet clearly a weight of 500 lbs. would have to be taken up. now, when it is considered that 1,000 cubic feet of hydrogen will only lift 72 lbs., the scheme begins to look hope less enough. but when the question of the pumping apparatus, to be worked by hand, is contemplated the difficulties introduced become yet more insuperable. the only feasible suggestion with respect the use of compressed gas is that of taking on board charged cylinders under high pressure, which, after being discharged to supply the leakage of the balloon could, in an uninhabited country, be cast out as ballast last. it will need no pointing out, however, that such an idea would be practically as futile as another which has gravely been recommended, namely, that of heating the gas of the balloon by a davy lamp, so as to increase its buoyancy at will. major baden-powell has aptly described this as resembling "an attempt to warm a large hall with a small spirit lamp." in any future attempt to reach the pole by balloon it is not unreasonable to suppose that wireless telegraphy will be put in practice to maintain communication with the base. the writer's personal experience of the possibilities afforded by this mode of communication, yet in its infancy, will be given. chapter xxv. the modern airship--in search of the leonids. in the autumn of 1898 the aeronautical world was interested to hear that a young brazilian, m. santos dumont, had completed a somewhat novel dirigible balloon, cylindrical in shape, with conical ends, 83 feet long by 12 feet in diameter, holding 6,500 cubic feet of gas, and having a small compensating balloon of 880 cubic feet capacity. for a net was substituted a simple contrivance, consisting of two side pockets, running the length of the balloon, and containing battens of wood, to which were affixed the suspension cords, bands being also sewn over the upper part of the balloon connecting the two pockets. the most important novelty, however, was the introduction of a small petroleum motor similar to those used for motor tricycles. the inventor ascended in this balloon, inflated with pure hydrogen, from the jardin d'acclimatation, paris, and circled several times round the large captive balloon in the gardens, after which, moving towards the bois de boulogne, he made several sweeps of 100 yards radius. then the pump of the compensator caused the engine to stop, and the machine, partially collapsing, fell to the ground. santos dumont was somewhat shaken, but announced his intention of making other trials. in this bold and successful attempt there was clear indication of a fresh phase in the construction of the airship, consisting in the happy adoption of the modern type of petroleum motor. two other hying machines were heard of about this date, one by professor giampietre, of pavia, cigar-shaped, driven by screws, and rigged with masts and sails. the other, which had been constructed and tested in strict privacy, was the invention of a french engineer, m. ader, and was imagined to imitate the essential structure of a bird. two steam motors of 20-horse power supplied the power. it was started by being run on the ground on small wheels attached to it, and it was claimed that before a breakdown occurred the machine had actually raised itself into the air. of santos dumont the world was presently to know more, and the same must be said of another inventor, dr. barton, of beckenham, who shortly completed an airship model carrying aeroplanes and operated by clockwork. in an early experiment this model travelled four miles in twenty-three minutes. but another airship, a true leviathan, had been growing into stately and graceful proportions on the shores of the bodenzee in wurtemberg, and was already on the eve of completion. count zeppelin, a lieut.-general in the german army, who had seen service in the franco-german war, had for some years devoted his fortune and energy to the practical study of aerial navigation, and had prosecuted experiments on a large scale. eventually, having formed a company with a large capital, he was enabled to construct an airship which in size has been compared to a british man-of-war. cigar-shaped, its length was no less than 420 feet, and diameter 40 feet, while its weight amounted to no more than 7,250 lbs. the framework, which for lightness had been made of aluminium, was, with the object of preventing all the gas collecting at one end of its elongated form, subdivided into seventeen compartments, each of these compartments containing a completely fitted gas balloon, made of oiled cotton and marvellously gas tight. a steering apparatus was placed both fore and aft, and at a safe distance below the main structure were fixed, also forward and aft, on aluminium platforms, two daimler motor engines of 16-horse power, working aluminium propellers of four blades at the rate of 1,000 revolutions a minute. finally, firmly attached to the inner framework by rods of aluminium, were two cars of the same metal, furnished with buffer springs to break the force of a fall. the trial trip was not made till the summer following--june, 1900--and, in the meanwhile, experiments had gone forward with another mode of flight, terminating, unhappily, in the death of one of the most expert and ingenious of mechanical aeronauts. mr. percy s. pilcher, now thirty-three years of age, having received his early training in the navy, retired from the service to become a civil engineer, and had been for some time a partner in the firm of wilson and pilcher. for four or five years he had been experimenting in soaring flight, using a lilienthal machine, which he improved to suit his own methods. among these was the device of rising off the ground by being rapidly towed by a line against the wind. at the end of september he gave an exhibition at stamford park before lord bray and a select party of friends--this in spite of an unsuitable afternoon of unsteady wind and occasional showers. a long towing line was provided, which, being passed round pulley blocks and dragged by a couple of horses, was capable of being hauled in at high speed. the first trial, though ending in an accident, was eminently satisfactory. the apparatus, running against the wind, had risen some distance, when the line broke, yet the inventor descended slowly and safely with outstretched wings. the next trial also commenced well, with an easy rise to a height of some thirty feet. at that point, however, the tail broke with a snap, and the machine, pitching over, fell a complete wreck. mr. pilcher was found insensible, with his thigh broken, and though no other serious injury was apparent, he succumbed two days afterwards without recovering consciousness. it was surmised that shrinkage of the canvas of the tail, through getting wet, had strained and broken its bamboo stretcher. this autumn died gaston tissandier, at the age of fifty-six; and in the month of december, at a ripe old age, while still in full possession of intellectual vigour, mr. coxwell somewhat suddenly passed away. always keenly interested in the progress of aeronautics; he had but recently, in a letter to the standard, proposed a well-considered and practical method of employing montgolfier reconnoitring balloons, portable, readily inflated, and especially suited to the war in south africa. perhaps the last letters of a private nature penned by mr. coxwell were to the writer and his daughter, full of friendly and valuable suggestion, and more particularly commenting on a recent scientific aerial voyage, which proved to be not only sensational, but established a record in english ballooning. the great train of the november meteors, known as the leonids, which at regular periods of thirty-three years had in the past encountered the earth's atmosphere, was due, and over-due. the cause of this, and of their finally eluding observation, need only be very briefly touched on here. the actual meteoric train is known to travel in an elongated ellipse, the far end of which lies near the confines of the solar system, while at a point near the hither end the earth's orbit runs slantingly athwart it, forming, as it were, a level crossing common to the two orbits, the earth taking some five or six hours in transit. calculation shows that the meteor train is to be expected at this crossing every thirty-three and a third years, while the train is extended to such an enormous length--taking more than a year to draw clear--that the earth must needs encounter it ere it gets by, possibly even two years running. there could be no absolute certainty about the exact year, nor the exact night when the earth and the meteors would foregather, owing to the uncertain disturbance which the latter must suffer from the pull of the planetary bodies in the long journey out and home again among them. as is now known, this disturbing effect had actually dispersed the train. the shower, which was well seen in 1866, was pretty confidently expected in 1899, and to guard against the mischance of cloudy weather, it was arranged that the writer should, on behalf of the times newspaper, make an ascent on the right night to secure observations. moreover, it was arranged that he should have, as chief assistant, his own daughter, an enthusiastic lady aeronaut, who had also taken part in previous astronomical work. unfortunately there were two nights, those of november 14th and 15th, when the expected shower seemed equally probable, and, taking counsel with the best authorities in the astronomical world, it seemed that the only course to avoid disappointment would be to have a balloon filled and moored in readiness for an immediate start, either on the first night or on the second. this settled the matter from the astronomical side, but there was the aeronautical side also to be considered. a balloon of 56,000 cubic feet capacity was the largest available for the occasion, and a night ascent with three passengers and instruments would need plenty of lifting power to meet chance emergencies. thus it seemed that a possible delay of forty-eight hours might entail a greater leakage of gas than could be afforded. the leakage might be expected chiefly to occur at the valve in the head of the balloon, it being extremely difficult to render any form of mechanical valve gas tight, however carefully its joints be stopped with luting. on this account, therefore, it was determined that the balloon should be fitted with what is known as a solid or rending valve, consisting simply of balloon fabric tied hard and fast over the entire upper outlet, after the fashion of a jam pot cover. the outlet itself was a gaping hole of over 2 feet across; but by the time its covering had been carefully varnished over all leakage was sufficiently prevented, the one drawback to this method being the fact that the liberation of gas now admitted of no regulation. pulling the valve line would simply mean opening the entire wide aperture, which could in no way be closed again. the management of such a valve consists in allowing the balloon to sink spontaneously earthwards, and when it has settled near the ground, having chosen a desirable landing place, to tear open the so-called valve once and for all. this expedient, dictated by necessity, seeming sufficient for the purpose at hand, preparations were proceeded with, and, under the management of mr. stanley spencer, who agreed to act as aeronaut, a large balloon, with solid valve, was brought down to newbury gas works on november 14th, and, being inflated during the afternoon, was full and made snug by sundown. but as the meteor radiant would not be well above the horizon till after midnight, the aeronautical party retired for refreshment, and subsequently for rest, when, as the night wore on, it became evident that, though the sky remained clear, there would be no meteor display that night. the next day was overcast, and by nightfall hopelessly so, the clouds ever thickening, with absence of wind or any indication which might give promise of a change. thus by midnight it became impossible to tell whether any display were in progress or not. under these circumstances, it might have been difficult to decide when to make the start with the best show of reason. clearly too early a start could not subsequently be rectified; the balloon, once off, could not come back again; while, once liberated, it would be highly unwise for it to remain aloft and hidden by clouds for more than some two hours, lest it should be carried out to sea. happily the right decision under these circumstances was perfectly clear. other things being equal, the best time would be about 4 a.m., by which period the moon, then near the full, would be getting low, and the two hours of darkness left would afford the best seeing. leaving, then, an efficient outlook on the balloon ground, the party enjoyed for some hours the entertainment offered them by the newbury guildhall club, and at 4 a.m. taking their seats in the car, sailed up into the calm chilly air of the november night. but the chilliness did not last for long. a height of 1,500 feet was read by the davy lamp, and then we entered fog--warm, wetting fog, through which the balloon would make no progress in spite of a prodigal discharge of sand. the fact was that the balloon, which had become chilled through the night hours, was gathering a great weight of moisture from condensation on its surface, and when, at last, the whole depth of the cloud, 1,500 feet, had been penetrated, the chill of the upper air crippled the balloon and sent her plunging down again into the mist, necessitating yet further expenditure of sand, which by this time had amounted to no less than 3 1/2 cwt. in twenty minutes. and then at last we reached our level, a region on the upper margin of the cloud floor, where evaporation reduced the temperature, that had recently been that of greenhouse warmth, to intense cold. that evaporation was going on around us on a gigantic scale was made very manifest. the surface of the vast cloud floor below us was in a perfect turmoil, like that of a troubled sea. if the cloud surface could be compared to anything on earth it most resembled sea where waves are running mountains high. at one moment we should be sailing over a trough, wide and deep below us, the next a mighty billow would toss itself aloft and vanish utterly into space. everywhere wreaths of mist with ragged fringes were withering away into empty air, and, more remarkable yet, was the conflict of wind which sent the cloud wrack flying simply in all directions. for two hours now there was opportunity for observing at leisure all that could be made of the falling meteors. there were a few, and these, owing to our clear, elevated region, were exceptionally bright. the majority, too, were true leonids, issuing from the radiant point in the "sickle," but these were not more numerous than may be counted on that night in any year, and served to emphasise the fact that no real display was in progress. the outlook was maintained, and careful notes made for two hours, at the end of which time the dawn began to break, the stars went in, and we were ready to pack up and come down. but the point was that we were not coming down. we were at that time, 6 a.m., 4,000 feet high, and it needs no pointing out that at such an altitude it would have been madness to tear open our huge rending valve, thus emptying the balloon of gas. it may also be unnecessary to point out that in an ordinary afternoon ascent such a valve would be perfectly satisfactory, for under these circumstances the sun presently must go down, the air must grow chill, and the balloon must come earthward, allowing of an easy descent until a safe and suitable opportunity for rending the valve occurred; but now we knew that conditions were reversed, and that the sun was just going to rise. and then it was we realised that we were caught in a trap. from that moment it was painfully evident that we were powerless to act, and were at the mercy of circumstances. by this time the light was strong, and, being well above the tossing billows of mist, we commanded an extended view on every side, which revealed, however, only the upper unbroken surface of the dense cloud canopy that lay over all the british isles. we could only make a rough guess as to our probable locality. we knew that our course at starting lay towards the west, and if we were maintaining that course a travel of scarcely more than sixty miles would carry us out to the open sea. we had already been aloft for two hours, and as we were at an altitude at which fast upper currents are commonly met with, it was high time that, for safety, we should be coming down; yet it was morally certain that it would be now many hours before our balloon would commence to descend of its own accord by sheer slow leakage of gas, by which time, beyond all reasonable doubt, we must be carried far out over the atlantic. all we could do was to listen intently for any sounds that might reach us from earth, and assure us that we were still over the land; and for a length of time such sounds were vouchsafed us--the bark of a dog, the lowing of cattle, the ringing trot of a horse on some hard road far down. and then, as we were expecting, the sun climbed up into an unsullied sky, and, mounting by leaps and bounds, we watched the cloud floor receding beneath us. the effect was extremely beautiful. a description written to the times the next morning, while the impression was still fresh, and from notes made at this period, ran thus:--"away to an infinitely distant horizon stretched rolling billows of snowy whiteness, broken up here and there into seeming icefields, with huge fantastic hummocks. elsewhere domes and spires reared themselves above the general surface, or an isolated matterhorn towered into space. in some quarters it was impossible to look without the conviction that we actually beheld the outline of lofty cliffs overhanging a none too distant sea." shortly we began to hear loud reports overhead, resembling small explosions, and we knew what these were--the moist, shrunken netting was giving out under the hot sun and yielding now and again with sudden release to the rapidly expanding gas. it was, therefore, with grave concern, but with no surprise, that when we next turned to the aneroid we found the index pointing to 9,000 feet, and still moving upwards. hour after hour passed by, and, sounds having ceased to reach us, it remains uncertain whether or no we were actually carried out to sea and headed back again by contrary currents, an experience with which aeronauts, including the writer, have been familiar; but, at length, there was borne up to us the distant sound of heavy hammers and of frequent trains, from which we gathered that we were probably over bristol, and it was then that the thought occurred to my daughter that we might possibly communicate with those below with a view to succour. this led to our writing the following message many times over on blank telegraph forms and casting them down:--"urgent. large balloon from newbury travelling overhead above the clouds. cannot descend. telegraph to sea coast (coast-guards) to be ready to rescue.--bacon and spencer." while thus occupied we caught the sound of waves, and the shriek of a ship's siren. we were crossing a reach of the severn, and most of our missives probably fell in the sea. but over the estuary there must have been a cold upper current blowing, which crippled our balloon, for the aneroid presently told of a fall of 2,000 feet. it was now past noon, and to us the turn of the tide was come. very slowly, and with strange fluctuations, the balloon crept down till it reached and became enveloped in the cloud below, and then the end was near. the actual descent occupied nearly two hours, and affords a curious study in aerostation. the details of the balloon's dying struggles and of our own rough descent, entailing the fracture of my daughter's arm, are told in another volume.{*} we fell near neath, glamorganshire, only one and a half miles short of the sea, completing a voyage which is a record in english ballooning--ten hours from start to finish. * "by land and sky," by the author. chapter xxvi. recent aeronautical events. the first trial of the zeppelin air ship was arranged to take place on june 30th, 1900, a day which, from absence of wind, was eminently well suited for the purpose; but the inflation proved too slow a process, and operations were postponed to the morrow. the morrow, however, was somewhat windy, causing delay, and by the time all was in readiness darkness had set in and the start was once more postponed. on the evening of the third day the monster craft was skilfully and successfully manoeuvred, and, rising with a very light wind, got fairly away, carrying count zeppelin and four other persons in the two cars. drifting with the wind, it attained a height of some 800 or 900 feet, at which point the steering apparatus being brought into play it circled round and faced the wind, when it remained stationary. but not for long. shortly it began to descend and, sinking gradually, gracefully, and in perfect safety, in about nine minutes it reached and rested on the water, when it was towed home. a little later in the month, july, another trial was made, when a wind was blowing estimated at sixteen miles an hour. as on the previous occasion, the direct influence of the sun was avoided by waiting till evening hours. it ascended at 8 p.m., and the engines getting to work it made a slow progress of about two miles an hour against the wind for about 3 1/2 miles, when one of the rudders gave way, and the machine was obliged to descend. on the evening of october 24th of the same year, in very calm weather and with better hope, another ascent was made. on this occasion, however, success was frustrated by one of the rear rudders getting foul of the gear, followed by the escape of gas from one of the balloons. another and more successful trial took place in the same month, again in calm atmosphere. inferior gas was employed, and it would appear that the vessel had not sufficient buoyancy. it remained aloft for a period of twenty minutes, during which it proved perfectly manageable, making a graceful journey out and home, and returning close to its point of departure. this magnificent air ship, the result of twenty years of experiment, has since been abandoned and broken up; yet the sacrifice has not been without result. over and above the stimulus which count zeppelin's great endeavour has given to the aeronautical world, two special triumphs are his. he has shown balloonists how to make a perfectly gas-tight material, and has raised powerful petroleum motors in a balloon with safety. in the early part of 1900 it was announced that a member of the paris aero club, who at the time withheld his name (m. deutsch) offered a prize of 100,000 francs to the aeronaut who, either in a balloon or flying machine, starting from the grounds of the aero club at longchamps, would make a journey round the eiffel tower, returning to the starting place within half an hour. the donor would withdraw his prize if not won within five years, and in the meanwhile would pay 4,000 francs annually towards the encouragement of worthy experimenters. it was from this time that flying machines in great variety and goodly number began to be heard of, if not actually seen. one of the earliest to be announced in the press was a machine invented by the russian, feedoroff, and the frenchman, dupont. dr. danilewsky came forward with a flying machine combining balloon and aeroplane, the steering of which would be worked like a velocipede by the feet of the aeronaut. mr. p. y. alexander, of bath, who had long been an enthusiastic balloonist, and who had devoted a vast amount of pains, originality, and engineering skill to the pursuit of aeronautics, was at this time giving much attention to the flying machine, and was, indeed, one of the assistants in the first successful launching of the zeppelin airship. in concert with mr. w. g. walker, a.m.i.c.e., mr. alexander carried out some valuable and exhaustive experiments on the lifting power of air propellers, 30 feet in diameter, driven by a portable engine. the results, which were of a purely technical nature, have been embodied in a carefully compiled memoir. an air ship now appeared, invented by m. rose, consisting of two elongated vessels filled with gas, and carrying the working gear and car between them. the machine was intentionally made heavier than air, and was operated by a petrol motor of 12-horse power. it was now that announcements began to be made to the effect that, next to the zeppelin air ship, m. santos dumont's balloon was probably attracting most of the attention of experts. the account given of this air vessel by the daily express was somewhat startling. the balloon proper was compared to a large torpedo. three feet beneath this hangs the gasoline motor which is to supply the power. the propeller is 12 feet in diameter, and is revolved so rapidly by the motor that the engine frequently gets red hot. the only accommodation for the traveller is a little bicycle seat, from which the aeronaut will direct his motor and steering gear by means of treadles. then the inclination or declination of his machine must be noted on the spirit level at his side, and the 200 odd pounds of ballast must be regulated as the course requires. a more detailed account of this navigable balloon was furnished by a member of the paris aero club. from this authority we learn that the capacity of the balloon was 10,700 cubic feet. it contained an inner balloon and an air fan, the function of which was to maintain the shape of the balloon when meeting the wind, and the whole was operated by a 10-horse power motor capable of working the screw at 100 revolutions per minute. but before the aerial exploits of santos dumont had become famous, balloons had again claimed public attention. on august 1st captain spelterini, with two companions, taking a balloon and 180 cylinders of hydrogen to the top of the rigi and ascending thence, pursued a north-east course, across extensive and beautiful tracts of icefield and mountain fastnesses unvisited by men. the descent, which was difficult and critical, was happily manoeuvred. this took place on the gnuetseven, a peak over 5,000 feet high, the plateau on which the voyagers landed being described as only 50 yards square, surrounded by precipices. on the 10th of september following the writer was fortunate in carrying out some wireless telegraphy experiments in a balloon, the success of which is entirely due to the unrivalled skill of mr. nevil maskelyne, f.r.a.s., and to his clever adaptation of the special apparatus of his own invention to the exigencies of a free balloon. the occasion was the garden party at the bradford meeting of the british association, admiral sir edmund fremantle taking part in the voyage, with mr. percival spencer in charge. the experiment was to include the firing of a mine in the grounds two minutes after the balloon had left, and this item was entirely successful. the main idea was to attempt to establish communication between a base and a free balloon retreating through space at a height beyond practicable gun shot. the wind was fast and squally, and the unavoidable rough jolting which the car received at the start put the transmitting instrument out of action. the messages, however, which were sent from the grounds at lister park were received and watched by the occupants of the car up to a distance of twenty miles, at which point the voyage terminated. on september 30th, and also on october 9th, of this year, took place two principal balloon races from vincennes in connection with the paris exposition. in the first race, among those who competed were m. jacques faure, the count de la vaulx, and m. jacques balsan. the count was the winner, reaching wocawek, in russian poland, a travel of 706 miles, in 21 hours 34 minutes. m. balsan was second, descending near dantzig in east prussia, 757 miles, in 22 hours. m. jacques faure reached mamlitz, in east prussia, a distance of 753 miles. in the final race the count de la vaulx made a record voyage of 1,193 miles, reaching korosticheff, in russia, in 35 hours 45 minutes, attaining a maximum altitude of 18,810 feet. m. j. balsan reached a greater height, namely, 21,582 feet, travelling to rodom, in russia, a distance of 843 miles, in 27 hours 25 minutes. some phenomenal altitudes were attained at this time. in september, 1898, dr. berson, of berlin, ascended from the crystal palace in a balloon inflated with hydrogen, under the management of mr. stanley spencer, oxygen being an essential part of the equipment. the start was made at 5 p.m., and the balloon at first drifted south-east, out over the mouth of the thames, until at an altitude of 10,000 feet an upper current changed the course to southwest, the balloon mounting rapidly till 23,000 feet was reached, at which height the coast of france was plainly seen. at 25,000 feet both voyagers were gasping, and compelled to inhale oxygen. at 27,500 feet, only four bags of ballast being left, the descent was commenced, and a safe landing was effected at romford. subsequently dr. berson, in company with dr. suring, ascending from berlin, attained an altitude of 34,000 feet. at 30,000 feet the aeronauts were inhaling oxygen, and before reaching their highest point both had for a considerable time remained unconscious. in 1901 a new aeroplane flying machine began to attract attention, the invention of herr kress. a novel feature of the machine was a device to render it of avail for arctic travel. in shape it might be compared to an iceboat with two keels and a long stem, the keels being adapted to run on ice or snow, while the boat would float on water. power was to be derived from a petrol motor. at the same period m. henry sutor was busy on lake constance with an air ship designed also to float on water. then mr. buchanan followed with a fish-shaped vessel, one of the most important specialities of which consisted in side propellers, the surfaces of which were roughened with minute diagonal grooves to effect a greater grip on the air. no less original was the air ship, 100 feet long, and carrying 18,000 cubic feet of gas, which mr. w. beedle was engaged upon. in this machine, besides the propellers for controlling the horizontal motion, there was one to regulate vertical motion, with a view of obviating expenditure of gas or ballast. but by this time m. santos dumont, pursuing his hobby with unparalleled perseverance, had built in succession no less than six air ships, meeting with no mean success, profiting by every lesson taught by failures, and making light of all accidents, great or small. on july 15th, 1901, he made a famous try for the deutsch prize in a cigar-shaped balloon, 110 feet long, 19,000 cubic feet capacity, carrying a daimler oil motor of 15-horse power. the day was not favourable, but, starting from the parc d'aerostation, he was abreast of the eiffel tower in thirteen minutes, circling round which, and battling against a head wind, he reached the grounds of the aero club in 41 minutes from the start, or 11 minutes late by the conditions of the prize. a cylinder had broken down, and the balance of the vessel had become upset. within a fortnight--july 29th--in favourable weather, he made another flight, lasting fifteen minutes, at the end of which he had returned to his starting ground. then on august 8th a more momentous attempt came off. sailing up with a rapid ascent, and flying with the wind, santos dumont covered the distance to the tower in five minutes only, and gracefully swung round; but, immediately after, the wind played havoc, slowing down the motor, at the same time damaging the balloon, and causing an escape of gas. on this santos dumont, ascending higher into the sky, quitted the car, and climbed along the keel to inspect, and, if possible, rectify the motor, but with little success. the balloon was emptying, and the machine pitched badly, till a further rent occurred, when it commenced falling hopelessly and with a speed momentarily increasing. slanting over a roof, the balloon caught a chimney and tore asunder; but the wreck, also catching, held fast, while the car hung helplessly down a blank wall. in this perilous predicament great coolness and agility alone averted disaster, till firemen were able to come to the rescue. the air ship was damaged beyond repair, but by september 6th another was completed, and on trial appeared to work well until, while travelling at speed, it was brought up and badly strained by the trail rope catching in trees. early in the next month the young brazilian was aloft again, with weather conditions entirely in his favour; but again certain minor mishaps prevented his next struggle for the prize, which did not take place till the 19th. on this day a light cross wind was blowing, not sufficient, however, seriously to influence the first stage of the time race, and the outward journey was accomplished with a direct flight in nine minutes. on rounding the tower, however, the wind began to tell prejudicially, and the propeller became deranged. on this, letting his vessel fall off from the wind, santos dumont crawled along the framework till he reached the motor, which he succeeded in again setting in working order, though not without a delay of several minutes and some loss of ground. from that point the return journey was accomplished in eight minutes, and the race was, at the time, declared lost by 40 seconds only. the most important and novel feature in the air ships constructed by santos dumont was the internal ballonet, inflated automatically by a ventilator, the expedient being designed to preserve the shape of the main balloon itself while meeting the wind. on the whole, it answered well, and took the place of the heavy wire cage used by zeppelin. m. de fonvielle, commenting on the achievements of santos dumont, wrote:--"it does not appear that he has navigated his balloon against more than very light winds, but in his machinery he has shown such attention to detail that it may reasonably be expected that if he continues to increase his motive power he will, ere long, exceed past performances." mr. chanute has a further word to say about the possibility of making balloons navigable. he considers that their size will have to be great to the verge of impracticability and the power of the motor enormous in proportion to its weight. as to flying machines, properly so called, he calculates the best that has been done to be the sustaining of from 27 lbs. to 55 lbs. per horse power by impact upon the air. but mr. chanute also argues that the equilibrium is of prime importance, and on this point there could scarcely be a greater authority. no one of living men has given more attention to the problem of "soaring," and it is stated that he has had about a thousand "slides" made by assistants, with different types of machine, and all without the slightest accident. many other aerial vessels might be mentioned. mr. t. h. bastin, of clapham, has been engaged for many years on a machine which should imitate bird flight as nearly as this may be practicable. baron bradsky aims at a navigable balloon on an ambitious scale. m. tatin is another candidate for the deutsch prize. of dr. barton's air ship more is looked for, as being designed for the war office. it is understood that the official requirements demand a machine which, while capable of transporting a man through the air at a speed of 13 miles an hour, can remain fully inflated for 48 hours. one of the most sanguine, as well as enterprising, imitators of santos dumont was a fellow countryman, auguste severo. of his machine during construction little could be gathered, and still less seen, from the fact that the various parts were being manufactured at different workshops, but it was known to be of large size and to be fitted with powerful motors. this was an ill-fated vessel. at an early hour on may 12th of this year, 1902, all paris was startled by a report that m. severo and his assistant, m. sachet had been killed while making a trial excursion. it appears that at daybreak it had been decided that the favourable moment for trial had arrived. the machinery was got ready, and with little delay the air vessel was dismissed and rose quietly and steadily into the calm sky. the daily mail gives the following account of what ensued:-"for the first few minutes all went well, and the motor seemed to be working satisfactorily. the air ship answered the helm readily, and admiring exclamations rose from the crowd.... but as the vessel rose higher she was seen to fall off from the wind, while the aeronauts could be seen vainly endeavouring to keep her head on. then m. severo commenced throwing out ballast.... all this time the ship was gradually soaring higher and higher until, just as it was over the montparnasse cemetery, at the height of 2,000 feet, a sheet of flame was seen to shoot up from one of the motors, and instantly the immense silk envelope containing 9,000 cubic feet of hydrogen was enveloped in leaping tongues of fire.... as soon as the flames came in contact with the gas a tremendous explosion followed, and in an instant all that was left of the air ship fell to the earth." both aeronauts were dashed to pieces. it was thought that the fatality was caused through faulty construction, the escape valve for the gas being situated only about nine feet from the motor. it was announced by count de la vaulx that during the summer of 1901 he would attempt to cross the mediterranean by a balloon, provisioned for three weeks, maintaining communication with the coast during his voyage by wireless telegraphy and other methods of signalling. he was to make use of the "herve deviator," or steering apparatus, which may be described as a series of cupshaped plates dipping in the water at the end of a trail rope. by means of controlling cords worked from the car, the whole series of plates could be turned at an angle to the direction of the wind, by which the balloon's course would be altered. count de la vaulx attempted this grand journey on october 12th, starting from toulon with the intention of reaching algiers, taking the precaution, however, of having a cruiser in attendance. when fifty miles out from marseilles a passing steamer received from the balloon the signal, "all's well"; but the wind had veered round to the east, and, remaining persistently in this quarter, the count abandoned his venture, and, signalling to the cruiser, succeeded in alighting on her deck, not, however, before he had completed the splendid and record voyage of 41 hours' duration. chapter xxvii. the possibilities of balloons in warfare. clearly the time has not yet arrived when the flying machine will be serviceable in war. yet we are not without those theorisers who, at the present moment, would seriously propose schemes for conveying dynamite and other explosives by air ship, or dropping them over hostile forces or fortresses, or even fleets at sea. they go yet further, and gravely discuss the point whether such warfare would be legitimate. we, however, may say at once, emphatically, that any such scheme is simply impracticable. it must be abundantly evident that, so far, no form of dirigible air ship exists which could be relied on to carry out any required manoeuvre in such atmospheric conditions as generally prevail. if, even in calm and favourable weather, more often than not motors break down, or gear carries away, what hope is there for any aerial craft which would attempt to battle with such wind currents as commonly blow aloft? and when we turn to the balloon proper, are chances greatly improved? the eminently practical aeronaut, john wise, as was told in chapter xii., prepared a scheme for the reduction of vera cruz by the agency of a balloon. let us glance at it. a single balloon was to suffice, measuring 100 feet in diameter, and capable of raising in the gross 30,000 lbs. to manoeuvre this monstrous engine he calculates he would require a cable five miles long, by means of which he hoped, in some manner, to work his way directly over the fortress, and to remain poised at that point at the height of a mile in the sky. once granted that he could arrive and maintain himself at that position, the throwing out of combustibles would be simple, though even then the spot where they would alight after the drop of a mile would be by no means certain. it is also obvious that a vast amount of gas would have to be sacrificed to compensate for the prodigal discharge of ballast in the form of missiles. the idea of manoeuvring a balloon in a wind, and poising it in the manner suggested, is, of course, preposterous; and when one considers the attempt to aim bombs from a moving balloon high in air the case becomes yet more absurd. any such missile would partake of the motion of the balloon itself, and it would be impossible to tell where it would strike the earth. to give an example which is often enough tried in balloon travel when the ground below is clear. a glass bottle (presumably empty) is cast overboard and its fall watched. it is seen not to be left behind, but to keep pace with the balloon, shrinking gradually to an object too small to be discerned, except when every now and then a ray of sunlight reflected off it reveals it for a moment as it continues to plunge downwards. after a very few seconds the impression is that it is about to reach the earth, and the eye forms a guess at some spot which it will strike; but the spot is quickly passed, and the bottle travels far beyond across a field, over the further fence, and vastly further yet; indeed, inasmuch as to fall a mile in air a heavy body may take over twenty seconds--and twenty seconds is long to those who watch--it is often impossible to tell to two or three fields where it will finally settle. all this while the risk that a balloon would run of being riddled by bullets, shrapnel, or pom-poms has not been taken into account, and as to the estimate of this risk there is some difference of opinion. the balloon corps and the artillery apparently approach the question with different bias. on the one hand, it is stated with perfect truth that a free balloon, which is generally either rising or falling, as well as moving across country, is a hard object to hit, and a marksman would only strike it with a chance or blundering shot; but, on the other hand let us take the following report of three years ago. the german artillery had been testing the efficiency of a quick-firing gun when used against a balloon, and they decided that the latter would have no chance of escape except at night. a german kite-balloon was kept moving at an altitude of 600 metres, and the guns trained upon it were distant 3,000 metres. it was then stated that after the third discharge of the rapid firing battery the range was found, when all was at once over with the balloon; for, not only was it hit with every discharge, but it was presently set on fire and annihilated. but, in any case, the antique mode of keeping a balloon moored at any spot as a post of observation must be abandoned in modern warfare. major baden-powell, speaking from personal experience in south africa, has shown how dangerous, or else how useless, such a form of reconnaissance has become. "i remember," he says, "at the battle of magersfontein my company was lying down in extended order towards the left of our line. we were perfectly safe from musketry fire, as we lay, perhaps, two miles from the boer trenches, which were being shelled by some of our guns close by. the enemy's artillery was practically silent. presently, on looking round, i descried our balloon away out behind us about two miles off. then she steadily rose and made several trips to a good height, but what could be seen from that distance? when a large number of our troops were ranged up within 800 yards of the trenches, and many more at all points behind them, what useful information could be obtained by means of the balloon four miles off?" the same eminent authority insists on the necessity of an observing war balloon making short ascents. the balloon, in his opinion, should be allowed to ascend rapidly to its full height, and with as little delay as possible be hauled down again. under these conditions it may then be well worth testing whether the primitive form of balloon, the montgolfier, might not be the most valuable. instead of being made, as the war balloon is now, of fragile material, and filled with costly gas difficult to procure, and which has to be conveyed in heavy and cumbersome cylinders, a hot air balloon could be rapidly carried by hand anywhere where a few men could push their way. it is of strong material, readily mended if torn, and could be inflated for short ascents, if not by mere brush wood, then by a portable blast furnace and petroleum. but there is a further use for balloons in warfare not yet exploited. the siege of paris showed the utility of free balloons, and occasions arise when their use might be still further extended. the writer pointed out that it might have been very possible for an aeronaut of experience, by choosing the right weather and the right position along the british lines, to have skilfully manoeuvred a free balloon by means of upper currents, so as to convey all-important intelligence to besieged mafeking, and he proved that it would have sufficed if the balloon could have been "tacked" across the sky to within some fifteen miles of the desired goal. the mode of signalling which he proposed was by means of a "collapsing drum," an instrument of occasional use in the navy. a modification of this instrument, as employed by the writer, consisted of a light, spherical, drum-shaped frame of large size, which, when covered with dark material and hung in the clear below the car of a lofty balloon, could be well seen either against blue sky or grey at a great distance. the so-called drum could, by a very simple contrivance, readily worked from the car, be made to collapse into a very inconspicuous object, and thus be capable of displaying morse code signals. a long pause with the drum extended--like the long wave of a signalling flag--would denote a "dash," and a short pause a "dot," and these motions would be at once intelligible to anyone acquainted with the now universal morse code system. provided with an apparatus of the kind, the writer made an ascent from newbury at a time when the military camps were lying on salisbury plain at a distance of nearly twenty miles to the south-west. the ground wind up to 2,500 feet on starting was nearly due north, and would have defeated the attempt; again, the air stream blowing above that height was nearly due east, which again would have proved unsuitable. but it was manifestly possible to utilise the two currents, and with good luck to zig-zag one's course so as to come within easy signalling distance of the various camps; and, as a matter of fact, we actually passed immediately over bulford camp, with which we exchanged signals, while two other camps lay close to right and left of us. fortune favouring us, we had actually hit our mark, though it would have been sufficient for the experiment had our course lain within ten miles right or left. yet a further use for the balloon in warfare remains untried in this country. acting under the advice of experts in the service, the writer, in the early part of the present year, suggested to the admiralty the desirability of experimenting with balloons as a means of detecting submarine engines of war. it is well known that reefs and shoals can generally be seen from a cliff or mast head far more clearly than from the deck or other position near the surface of the water. would not, then, a balloon, if skilfully manoeuvred, serve as a valuable post of observation? the admiralty, in acknowledging the communication, promised to give the matter their attention; but by the month of june the press had announcements of how the self-same experiments had been successfully carried through by french authorities, while a few days later the admiralty wrote, "for the present no need is seen for the use of a captive balloon to detect submarines." among many and varied ballooning incidents which have occurred to the writer, there are some which may not unprofitably be compared with certain experiences already recorded of other aeronauts. thunderstorms, as witnessed from a balloon, have already been casually described, and it may reasonably be hoped that the observations which have, under varying circumstances, been made at high altitudes may throw some additional light on this familiar, though somewhat perplexing, phenomenon. to begin with, it seems a moot point whether a balloon caught in a thunderstorm is, or is not, in any special danger of being struck. it has been argued that immunity under such circumstances must depend upon whether a sufficiently long time has elapsed since the balloon left the earth to allow of its becoming positively electrified by induction from the clouds or by rain falling upon its surface. but there are many other points to be considered. there is the constant escape of gas from the mouth; there is the mass of pointed metal in the anchor; and, again, it is conceivable that a balloon rapidly descending out of a thunderstorm might carry with it a charge residing on its moistened surface which might manifest itself disastrously as the balloon reached the earth. instances seem to have been not infrequent of balloons encountering thunderstorms; but, unfortunately, in most cases the observers have not had any scientific training, or the accounts which are to hand are those of the type of journalist who is chiefly in quest of sensational copy. thus there is an account from america of a professor king who made an ascent from burlington, iowa, just as a thunderstorm was approaching, with the result that, instead of scudding away with the wind before the storm, he was actually, as if by some attraction, drawn into it. on this his aim was to pierce through the cloud above, and then follows a description which it is hard to realise:--"there came down in front of him, and apparently not more than 50 feet distant, a grand discharge of electricity." then he feels the car lifted, the gas suddenly expands to overflowing, and the balloon is hurled through the cloud with inconceivable velocity, this happening several times, with tremendous oscillations of the car, until the balloon is borne to earth in a torrent of rain. we fancy that many practical balloonists will hardly endorse this description. but we have another, relating to one of the most distinguished aeronauts, m. eugene godard, who, in an ascent with local journalists, was caught in a thunderstorm. here we are told--presumably by the journalists--that "twice the lightning flashed within a few yards of the terror-stricken crew." once again, in an ascent at derby, a spectator writes:--"the lightning played upon the sphere of the balloon, lighting it up and making things visible through it." this, however, one must suppose, can hardly apply to the balloon when liberated. but a graphic description of a very different character given in the "quarterly journal of the royal meteorological society" for january, 1901, is of real value. it appears that three lieutenants of the prussian balloon corps took charge of a balloon that ascended at berlin, and, when at a height of 2,300 feet, became enveloped in the mist, through which only occasional glimpses of earth were seen. at this point a sharp, crackling sound was heard at the ring, like the sparking of a huge electrical machine, and, looking up, the voyagers beheld sparks apparently some half-inch thick, and over two feet in length, playing from the ring. thunder was heard, but--and this may have significance--only before and after the above phenomenon. another instructive experience is recorded of the younger green in an ascent which he made from frankfort-on-the-maine. on this occasion he relates that he encountered a thunderstorm, and at a height of 4,400 feet found himself at the level where the storm clouds were discharging themselves in a deluge. he seems to have had no difficulty in ascending through the storm into the clear sky above, where a breeze from another quarter quickly carried him away from the storm centre. this co-existence, or conflict of opposite currents, is held to be the common characteristic, if not the main cause, of thunderstorms, and tallies with the following personal experience. it was in typical july weather of 1900 that the writer and his son, accompanied by admiral sir edmund fremantle and mr. percival spencer, made an evening ascent from newbury. it had been a day of storms, but about 5 p.m., after what appeared to be a clearing shower, the sky brightened, and we sailed up into a cloudless heaven. the wind, at 3,000 feet, was travelling at some thirty miles an hour, and ere the distance of ten miles had been covered a formidable thunder pack was seen approaching and coming up dead against the wind. nothing could be more evident than that the balloon was travelling rapidly with a lower wind, while the storm was being borne equally rapidly on an upper and diametrically opposite current. it proved one of the most severe thunderstorms remembered in the country. it brooded for five hours over devizes, a few miles ahead. a homestead on our right was struck and burned to the ground, while on our left two soldiers were killed on salisbury plain. the sky immediately overhead was, of course, hidden by the large globe of the balloon, but around and beneath us the storm seemed to gather in a blue grey mist, which quickly broadened and deepened till, almost before we could realise it, we found ourselves in the very heart of the storm, the lightning playing all around us, and the sharp hail stinging our faces. the countrymen below described the balloon as apparently enveloped by the lightning, but with ourselves, though the flashes were incessant, and on all sides, the reverberations of the thunder were not remarkable, being rather brief explosions in which they resembled the thunder claps not infrequently described by travellers on mountain heights. the balloon was now descending from a double cause: the weight of moisture suddenly accumulated on its surface, and the very obvious downrush of cold air that accompanied the storm of pelting hail. with a very limited store of ballast, it seemed impossible to make a further ascent, nor was this desirable. the signalling experiments on which we were intent could not be carried on in such weather. the only course was to descend, and though this was not at once practicable, owing to savernake forest being beneath us, we effected a safe landing in the first available clearing. as has been mentioned, mr. glaisher and other observers have recorded several remarkable instances of opposite wind currents being met with at moderate altitudes. none, however, can have been more noteworthy or surprising than the following experience of the writer on whit monday of 1899. the ascent was under an overcast sky, from the crystal palace at 3 p.m., at which hour a cold drizzle was settling in with a moderate breeze from the east. thus, starting from the usual filling ground near the north tower, the balloon sailed over the body of the palace, and thence over the suburbs towards the west till lost in the mist. we then ascended through 1,500 feet of dense, wetting cloud, and, emerging in bright sunshine, continued to drift for two hours at an average altitude of some 3,000 feet; 1,000 feet below us was the ill-defined, ever changing upper surface of the dense cloud floor, and it was no longer possible to determine our course, which we therefore assumed to have remained unchanged. at length, however, as a measure of prudence, we determined to descend through the clouds sufficiently to learn something of our whereabouts, which we reasonably expected to be somewhere in surrey or berks. on emerging, however, below the cloud, the first object that loomed out of the mist immediately below us was a cargo vessel, in the rigging of which our trail rope was entangling itself. only by degrees the fact dawned upon us that we were in the estuary of the thames, and beating up towards london once again with an cast wind. thus it became evident that at the higher level, unknown to ourselves, we had been headed back on our course, for two hours, by a wind diametrically opposed to that blowing on the ground. two recent developments of the hot-air war balloon suggest great possibilities in the near future. one takes the form of a small captive, carrying aloft a photographic camera directed and operated electrically from the ground. the other is a self-contained passenger balloon of large dimensions, carrying in complete safety a special petroleum burner of great power. these new and important departures are mainly due to the mechanical genius of mr. j. n. maskelyne, who has patented and perfected them in conjunction with the writer. chapter xxviii. the constitution of the air. some fair idea of the conditions prevailing in the upper air may have been gathered from the many and various observations already recorded. stating the case broadly, we may assert that the same atmospheric changes with which we are familiar at the level of the earth are to be found also at all accessible heights, equally extensive and equally sudden. standing on an open heath on a gusty day, we may often note the rhythmic buffeting of the wind, resembling the assault of rolling billows of air. the evidence of these billows has been actually traced far aloft in balloon travel, when aeronauts, looking down on a wind-swept surface of cloud, have observed this surface to be thrown into a series of rolls of vapour, which were but vast and veritable waves of air. the interval between successive crests of these waves has on one occasion been estimated at approximately half a mile. we have seen how these air streams sometimes hold wide and independent sway at different levels. we have seen, too, how they sometimes meet and mingle, not infrequently attended with electrical disturbance through broad drifts of air minor air streams would seem often literally to "thread" their way, breaking up into filaments or wandering rills of air. in the voyage across salisbury plain lately described, while the balloon was being carried with the more sluggish current, a number of small parachutes were dropped out at frequent intervals and carefully watched. these would commonly attend the balloon for a little while, until, getting into some minor air stream, they would suddenly and rapidly diverge at such wide angles as to suggest that crossing our actual course there were side paths, down which the smaller bodies became wafted. on another occasion the writer met with strongly marked and altogether exceptional evidence of the vehemence and persistence of these minor aerial streamlets. it was on an occasion in april weather, when a heavy overcast sky blotted out the upper heavens. in the cloud levels the wind was somewhat sluggish, and for an hour we travelled at an average speed of a little over twenty miles an hour, never higher than 3,000 feet. at this point, while flying over hertfordshire, we threw out sufficient ballast to cause the balloon to rise clear of the hazy lower air, and coming under the full influence of the sun, then in the meridian, we shot upwards at considerable speed, and soon attained an altitude of three miles. but for a considerable portion of this climb--while, in fact, we were ascending through little less than a mile of our upward course--we were assailed by impetuous cross currents, which whistled through car and rigging and smote us fairly on the cheek. it was altogether a novel experience, and the more remarkable from the fact that our main onward course was not appreciably diverted. then we got above these currents, and remained at our maximum level, while we floated, still at only a moderate speed, the length of a county. the descent then began, and once again, while we dropped through the same disturbed region, the same far-reaching and obtrusive cross-current assailed us. it was quite obvious that the vehement currents were too slender to tell largely upon the huge surface of the balloon, as it was being swept steadily onwards by the main wind, which never varied in direction from ground levels up to the greatest height attained. this experience is but confirmation of the story of the wind told by the wind gauges on the forth bridge. here the maximum pressure measured on the large gauge of 300 square feet is commonly considerably less than that on the smaller gauge, suggesting that the latter must be due to threads of air of limited area and high velocity. further and very valuable light is thrown on the peculiar ways of the wind, now being considered, by professor langley in the special researches of his to which reference has already been made. this eminent observer and mathematician, suspecting that the old-fashioned instruments, which only told what the wind had been doing every hour, or at best every minute, gave but a most imperfect record, constructed delicate gauges, which would respond to every impulse and give readings from second to second. in this way he established the fact that the wind, far from being a body of even approximate uniformity, is under most ordinary conditions irregular almost beyond conception. further, that the greater the speed the greater the fluctuations, so that a high wind has to be regarded as "air moving in a tumultuous mass," the velocity at one moment perhaps forty miles an hour, then diminishing to an almost instantaneous calm, and then resuming. "in fact, in the very nature of the case, wind is not the result of one simple cause, but of an infinite number of impulses and changes, perhaps long passed, which are preserved in it, and which die only slowly away." when we come to take observations of temperature we find the conditions in the atmosphere above us to be at first sight not a little complex, and altogether different in day and night hours. from observations already recorded in this volume--notably those of gay lussac, welsh, and glaisher--it has been made to appear that, in ascending into the sky in daytime, the temperature usually falls according to a general law; but there are found regions where the fall of temperature becomes arrested, such regions being commonly, though by no means invariably, associated with visible cloud. it is probable, however, that it would be more correct not to interpret the presence of cloud as causing manifestation of cold, but rather to regard the meeting of warm and cold currents as the cause of cloud. the writer has experimented in the upper regions with a special form of air thermometer of great sensibility, designed to respond rapidly to slight variations of temperature. testing this instrument on one occasion in a room of equable warmth, and without draughts, he was puzzled by seeing the index in a capillary tube suddenly mounting rapidly, due to some cause which was not apparent, till it was noticed that the parlour cat, attracted by the proceedings, had approached near the apparatus. the behaviour of this instrument when slung in the clear some distance over the side of the balloon car, and carefully watched, suggests by its fitful, sudden, and rapid changes that warmer currents are often making their way in such slender wandering rills as have been already pictured as permeating the broader air streams. during night hours conditions are reversed. the warmer air radiated off the earth through the day has then ascended. it will be found at different heights, lying in pools or strata, possibly resembling in form, could they be seen, masses of visible cloud. the writer has gathered from night voyages instructive and suggestive facts with reference to the ascent of air streams, due to differences of temperature, particularly over london and the suburbs, and it is conceivable that in such ascending streams may lie a means of dealing successfully with visitations of smoke and fog. one lesson taught by balloon travel has been that fog or haze will come or go in obedience to temperature variations at low levels. thus thick haze has lain over london, more particularly over the lower parts, at sundown. then through night hours, as the temperature of the lower air has become equalised, the haze has completely disappeared, but only to reassert itself at dawn. a description of the very impressive experience of a night sail over london has been reserved, but should not be altogether omitted. glaisher, writing of the spectacle as he observed it nearly forty years ago, describes london seen at night from a balloon at a distance as resembling a vast conflagration. when actually over the town, a main thoroughfare like the commercial road shone up like a line of brilliant fire; but, travelling westward, oxford street presented an appearance which puzzled him. "here the two thickly studded rows of brilliant lights were seen on either side of the street, with a narrow, dark space between, and this dark space was bounded, as it were, on both sides by a bright fringe like frosted silver." presently he discovered that this rich effect was caused by the bright illumination of the shop lights on the pavements. london, as seen from a balloon on a clear moonlight night in august a year ago (1901), wore a somewhat altered appearance. there were the fairy lamps tracing out the streets, which, though dark centred, wore their silver lining; but in irregular patches a whiter light from electric arc lamps broadened and brightened and shone out like some pyrotechnic display above the black housetops. through the vast town ran a blank, black channel, the river, winding on into distance, crossed here and there by bridges showing as bright bands, and with bright spots occasionally to mark where lay the river craft. but what was most striking was the silence. though the noise of london traffic as heard from a balloon has diminished of late years owing to the better paving, yet in day hours the roar of the streets is heard up to a great height as a hard, harsh, grinding din. but at night, after the last 'bus has ceased to ply, and before the market carts begin lumbering in, the balloonist, as he sails over the town, might imagine that he was traversing a city of the dead. it is at such times that a shout through a speaking trumpet has a most startling effect, and more particularly a blast on a horn. in this case after an interval of some seconds a wild note will be flung back from the house-tops below, answered and re-answered on all sides as it echoes from roof to roof--a wild, weird uproar that awakes suddenly, and then dies out slowly far away. experiments with echoes from a balloon have proved instructive. if, when riding at a height, say, of 2,000 feet, a charge of gun-cotton be fired electrically 100 feet below the car, the report, though really as loud as a cannon, sounds no more than a mere pistol shot, possibly partly owing to the greater rarity of the air, but chiefly because the sound, having no background to reflect it, simply spends itself in the air. then, always and under all conditions of atmosphere soever, there ensues absolute silence until the time for the echo back from earth has fully elapsed, when a deafening outburst of thunder rises from below, rolling on often for more than half a minute. two noteworthy facts, at least, the writer has established from a very large number of trials: first, that the theory of aerial echoes thrown back from empty space, which physicists have held to exist constantly, and to be part of the cause of thunder, will have to be abandoned; and, secondly, that from some cause yet to be fully explained the echo back from the earth is always behind its time. but balloons have revealed further suggestive facts with regard to sound, and more particularly with regard to the varying acoustic properties of the air. it is a familiar experience how distant sounds will come and go, rising and falling, often being wafted over extraordinary distances, and again failing altogether, or sometimes being lost at near range, but appearing in strength further away. a free balloon, moving in the profound silence of the upper air, becomes an admirable sound observatory. it may be clearly detected that in certain conditions of atmosphere, at least, there are what may be conceived to be aerial sound channels, through which sounds are momentarily conveyed with abnormal intensity. this phenomenon does but serve to give an intelligible presentment of the unseen conditions existing in the realm of air. it would be reasonable to suppose that were an eye so constituted as to be able to see, say, cumulus masses of warmer air, strata mottled with traces of other gases, and beds of invisible matter in suspension, one might suppose that what we deem the clearest sky would then appear flecked with forms as many and various as the clouds that adorn our summer heavens. but there is matter in suspension in the atmosphere which is very far from invisible, and which in the case of large towns is very commonly lying in thick strata overhead, stopping back the sunlight, and forming the nucleus round which noisome fogs may form. experimenting with suitable apparatus, the writer has found on a still afternoon in may, at 2,000 feet above kingston in surrey, that the air was charged far more heavily with dust than that of the london streets the next day; and, again, at half a mile above the city in the month of august last dust, much of it being of a gross and even fibrous nature, was far more abundant than on grass enclosures in the town during the forenoon of the day following. an attempt has been made to include england in a series of international balloon ascents arranged expressly for the purpose of taking simultaneous observations at a large number of stations over europe, by which means it is hoped that much fresh knowledge will be forthcoming with respect to the constitution of the atmosphere up to the highest levels accessible by balloons manned and unmanned. it is very much to be regretted that in the case of england the attempt here spoken of has rested entirely on private enterprise. first and foremost in personal liberality and the work of organisation must be mentioned mr. p. y. alexander, whose zeal in the progress of aeronautics is second to none in this country. twice through his efforts england has been represented in the important work for which continental nations have no difficulty in obtaining public grants. the first occasion was on november 8th, 1900, when the writer was privileged to occupy a seat in the balloon furnished by mr. alexander, and equipped with the most modern type of instruments. it was a stormy and fast voyage from the crystal palace to halstead, in essex, 48 miles in 40 minutes. simultaneously with this, mr. alexander dismissed an unmanned balloon from bath, which ascended 8,000 feet, and landed at cricklade. other balloons which took part in the combined experiment were two from paris, three from chalais meudon, three from strasburg, two from vienna, two from berlin, and two from st. petersburg. the section of our countrymen specially interested in aeronautics--a growing community--is represented by the aeronautical society, formed in 1865, with the duke of argyll for president, and for thirty years under the most energetic management of mr. f. w. brearey, succeeding whom as hon. secs. have been major baden-powell and mr. eric s. bruce. mr. brearey was one of the most successful inventors of flying models. mr. chanute, speaking as president of the american society of civil engineers, paid him a high and well-deserved compliment in saying that it was through his influence that aerial navigation had been cleared of much rubbish and placed upon a scientific and firm basis. another community devoting itself to the pursuit of balloon trips and matters aeronautical generally is the newly-formed aero club, of whom one of the most prominent and energetic members is the hon. c. s. rolls. it had been announced that m. santos-dumont would bring an air ship to england, and during the summer of the present year would give exhibitions of its capability. it was even rumoured that he might circle round st. paul's and accomplish other aerial feats unknown in england. the promise was fulfilled so far as bringing the air ship to england was concerned, for one of his vessels which had seen service was deposited at the crystal palace. in some mysterious manner, however, never sufficiently made clear to the public, this machine was one morning found damaged, and m. santos-dumont has withdrawn from his proposed engagements. in thus doing he left the field open to one of our own countrymen, who, in his first attempt at flight with an air ship of his own invention and construction, has proved himself no unworthy rival of the wealthy young brazilian. mr. stanley spencer, in a very brief space of time, designed and built completely in the workshops of the firm an elongated motor balloon, 75 feet long by 20 feet diameter, worked by a screw and petrol motor. this motor is placed in the prow, 25 feet away from, and in front of, the safety valve, by which precaution any danger of igniting the escaping gas is avoided. should, however, a collapse of the machine arise from any cause, there is an arrangement for throwing the balloon into the form of a parachute. further, there is provided means for admitting air at will into the balloon, by which the necessity for much ballast is obviated. mr. spencer having filled the balloon with pure hydrogen, made his first trial with this machine late in an evening at the end of june. the performance of the vessel is thus described in the westminster gazette:--"the huge balloon filled slowly, so that the light was rapidly failing when at last the doors of the big shed slid open and the ship was brought carefully out, her motor started, and her maiden voyage commenced. with mr. stanley spencer in the car, she sailed gracefully down the football field, wheeled round in a circle--a small circle, too--and for perhaps a quarter of an hour sailed a tortuous course over the heads of a small but enthusiastic crowd of spectators. the ship was handicapped to some extent by the fact that in their anxiety to make the trial the aeronauts had not waited to inflate it fully, but still it did its work well, answered its helm readily, showed no signs of rolling, and, in short, appeared to give entire satisfaction to everybody concerned--so much so, indeed, that mr. stanley spencer informed the crowd after the ascent that he was quite ready to take up any challenge that m. santos dumont might throw down." within a few weeks of this his first success mr. spencer was able to prove to the world that he had only claimed for his machine what its powers fully justified. on a still september afternoon, ascending alone, he steered his aerial ship in an easy and graceful flight over london, from the crystal palace to harrow. chapter xxix. conclusion. the future development of aerostation is necessarily difficult to forecast. having reviewed its history from its inception we have to allow that the balloon in itself, as an instrument of aerial locomotion, remains practically only where it was 120 years ago. nor, in the nature of the case, is this to be wondered at. the wind, which alone guides the balloon, is beyond man's control, while, as a source of lifting power, a lighter and therefore more suitable gas than hydrogen is not to be found in nature. it is, however, conceivable that a superior mode of inflation may yet be discovered. now that the liquefaction of gases has become an accomplished fact, it seems almost theoretically possible that a balloonist may presently be able to provide himself with an unlimited reserve of potential energy so as to be fitted for travel of indefinite duration. endowed with increased powers of this nature, the aeronaut could utilise a balloon for voyages of discovery over regions of the earth which bar man's progress by any other mode of travel. a future andree, provided with a means of maintaining his gas supply for six weeks, need have no hesitation in laying his course towards the north pole, being confident that the winds must ultimately waft him to some safe haven. he could, indeed, well afford, having reached the pole, to descend and build his cairn, or even to stop a week, if he so desired, before continuing on his way. but it may fairly be claimed for the balloon, even as it now is, that a great and important future is open to it as a means for exploring inaccessible country. it may, indeed, be urged that andree's task was, in the very nature of the case, well nigh impracticable, and his unfortunate miscarriage will be used as argument against such a method of exploration. but it must always be remembered that in andree's case the rigours of climate which he was compelled to face were the most serious of all obstacles to balloon travel. the extreme cold would not only cause constant shrinkage of the gas, but would entail the deposition of a weight of moisture, if not of snow, upon the surface of the balloon, which must greatly shorten its life. it would be entirely otherwise if the country it were sought to explore were in lower latitudes, in australia, or within the vast unknown belt of earth lying nearer the equator. the writer's scheme for exploring the wholly unknown regions of arabia is already before the public. the fact, thought to be established by the most experienced aeronauts of old times, and already referred to in these pages, that at some height a strong west wind is to be found blowing with great constancy all round the globe, is in accordance with the view entertained by modern meteorologists. such a wind, too, may be expected to be a fairly fast wind, the calculation being that, as a general rule, the velocity of currents increases from the ground at the rate of about three miles per hour for each thousand feet of height; thus the chance of a balloon drifting speedily across the breadth of arabia is a strong one, and, regarded in this light, the distance to be traversed is certainly not excessive, being probably well within the lasting power of such a balloon as that employed by andree. if, for the sake of gas supply, aden were chosen for the starting ground, then 1,200 miles e.n.e. would carry the voyager to muscat; 1,100 miles n.e. by e. would land him at sohar; while some 800 miles would suffice to take him to the seaboard if his course lay n.e. it must also be borne in mind that the arabian sun by day, and the heat radiated off the desert by night, would be all in favour of the buoyancy of the balloon. but there are other persistent winds that, for purposes of exploration, would prove equally serviceable and sure. from time immemorial the dweller on the nile has been led to regard his river in the light of a benignant deity. if he wished to travel down its course he had but to entrust his vessel to the stream, and this would carry him. if, again, he wished to retrace his course, he had but to raise a sail, and the prevalent wind, conquering the flood, would bear him against the stream. this constant north wind, following the nile valley, and thence trending still southward towards uganda, has been regarded as a means to hand well adapted for the exploration of important unsurveyed country by balloon. this scheme has been conceived and elaborated by major b.f.s. baden-powell, and, so far, the only apparent obstacle in the way has proved the lack of necessary funds. it will be urged, however, that for purposes of exploration some form of dirigible balloon is desirable, and we have already had proof that where it is not sought to combat winds strongly opposed to their course such air ships as santos-dumont or messrs. spencer have already constructed acquit themselves well; and it requires no stretch of imagination to conceive that before the present century is closed many great gaps in the map of the world will have been filled in by aerial survey. but, leaving the balloon to its proper function, we turn to the flying machine properly so called with more sanguine hopes of seeing the real conquest of the air achieved. it was as it were but yesterday when the air ship, unhampered by huge globes of gas, and controlled by mechanical means alone, was first fairly tried, yet it is already considered by those best able to judge that its ultimate success is assured. this success rests now solely in the hands of the mechanical engineer. he must, and surely can, build the ship of such strength that some essential part does not at the critical moment break down or carry away. he may have to improve his motive power, and here, again, we do not doubt his cunning. motor engines, self-contained and burning liquid fuel, are yet in their infancy, and the extraordinary emulation now existing in their production puts it beyond doubt that every year will see rapid improvement in their efficiency. we do not expect, nor do we desire, that the world may see the fulfilment of the poet's dream, "argosies of magic sails" or "airy navies grappling in the central blue." we would not befog our vision of the future with any wild imaginings, seeking, as some have done, to see in the electricity or other hidden power of heaven the means for its subjugation by man; but it is far from unreasonable to hope that but a little while shall pass, and we shall have more perfect and reliable knowledge of the tides and currents in the vast ocean of air, and when that day may have come then it may be claimed that the grand problem of aerial navigation will be already solved. 