MY FIRST AND LAST BALLOON ASCENSION.

Otago Witness, Issue 2103, 14 June 1894, Page 42

MY FIRST AND LAST BALLOON ASCENSION.

In the year 1886 I was a student at the Academic Julian in Paris. One Sunday afternoon, while wandering about tbe city in search of amusement, my eye was caught by the advertisement of a balloon ascension which was to take place on the following Sunday, under the auspices of the Sooiete dcs Aeronautes.

Thinking that here might be found amusement, or the chance of a new experience, I wrote t) the society, asking on what conditions I would be permited to accompany the aeronaut. I received a courteous reply stating that if I would pay for the extra amount of gas required to levitate my person to the clouds I might go.

The next Sunday .afternoon, therefore, found me at the enclosed field near the Champ-de-Mars from which I was to take my first leave of earth. . . .

Into the basket we stepped, and after many hand-shakings the ropes were cast off.

We did not ri3e, and being informed that we must leave behind either a sand-bag or my heavy winter overcoat, I heroically sacrificed the latter. Standing in the basket, I tossed it to a friend, when, presto 1 he as well as the rest of the world sank out of sight. At that moment I sat down. I can still recall the howl of derision, and delight which greeted this commonplace act.

The cries of the spectators were succeeded, by a most profound silence, broken only by the fearsome creaking of the willow basket as my companion leaned from side to side.

I was soon aware of another sound, to which my ears seemed slowly to become attufied — the low, muffled roar of the great city, which produced a continued note almost as pure as a musical tono, but lower in pitch than any note of the musical scale.

The barometer soon showed an elevation j of half a mile, and, looking over the side of the car (I was still seated on the floor), I saw the whole of Paris pass beneath me — the public buildings, the Madeleine with its bright copper-green roof, the toy cathedral of Notre Dame on its little island. The distance was so great tbat all giddiness was gone, and the roar of the city was hushed. Throwing out much of our store of sand, we rose into great cumulus clouds. The barometer indicated a height of two miles ; the air had ths pure but thin feeling of an alpine mountain top. There was no sight, no noise save the patter of the feet of two pigeons on the summit of the balloon. They had refused to leave us, and, after hovering like land birds about a ship, had settled on our rigging. The mist coDgealed on the fabric, trickled down the ropes, and made us so many pounds heavier that it soon became apparent that we could not surmount the cloud. In the utter silence of the heights the novice, awed by the sublimity of the situation, has no thought of danger. The vast, sightless, silent void in which the bubble hung self-poised impressed the mind with a sense, not of violence, but of calm. Yet danger there was, and that most imminent. Anxiously scanning the barometer, my companion announced that we were falling. Seizing a bag of tissue papers, he threw a handful from the car. Instantly they disappeared, but above us. We were rushing down to the city at an angla of about 453 eg. Now the two pigeons left the balloon, and even this slight diminution of weight gave us a short respite. As we approached the earth we struck the ground breeze, which we saw would carry us nearly the entire leDgth oE the city. Qaickly divesting ourselves of our coats and waistcoats, we took a rapid inventory of the pitifully small remainder of ballast, with a view to keeping the air ship afloat as long as possible.

To a novice who has ever gone down a toboggan-slide, the horror of that rush over tbe spires and chimneys of the great city may be dimly shown if he c?n imagine hi 3 sensations increased a thousandfold. Collision witha buildingmeantaimostsnre death, while the speed was so great that landing in a boulevard was an impossibility. The roar of one- street as it grew less distinct was quickly followed by the roar of the next, as the excited and interested Parisians watched our flight. Several times we avoided collision only by throwing out a coat, basket, or bottle, ths balloon each time taking a slight jound and clearing the obstacle.

At last, without hats, coat?, or waistcoats, we approached the river. If we could only cross ie there was a possibility of landing in a field on the other side. My companion, suggested that we climb into the ring and unbutton tbe car and let ih drop. The car weighed over 201b, and, released of its weight, the balloon might mount to an elevation of offer half a mile, which was quite high enough to kill anyone who might fall out of the barrel-hoop on which my friend suggested that we should sit and sail through space. I declined with much warmth, and said that a descent into, the river would be much safer. He thought otherwise, as he could not swim.

We were then nearly over the boulevard that skirted the river, and, calculating the

distance, whioh was perhaps 500f fc, my companion excitedly pulled the rent-rope, and a great tear was opened in the balloon. The ■ pear-shaped neck collapsed upward, the_ bag took the form of a parachute, and, deprived of almost all our gas, we dropped swiftly to the boulevard. i A telegraph lino of about 10 wires followed the river, and through these we smashed, breaking one line after another. We struck tbe sidewalk with enough force to prostrate and stun us both. On recovering I found myself surrounded by a crowd of the canaille of the barriers, who were excitedly tearing the wreck of the balloon under pretence of offering assistance. Hastily folding up the remains of our balloon, we threw it into the basket and carried it to a wine shop, followed by a rabble that made violent demands for payment for imaginary service?. As we were hatless and coatless, we thought it best to remain in our temporary asylum, and to send to town for these necessaries. They arrived late that evening, and, after a cartain amount of health drinking, I bade farewell to my aerial conductor and departed with the resolution that this my first should be my last balloon ascension, — Robert V. V. Sewell, in the Century.