Chatterbox, 1905 Part 20

News, like sound, travels fast; and the applause which greeted the ascent of the Montgolfier balloon at Annonay had hardly ceased when it seemed to reach the ears of the people in Paris, and put the whole town in quite a flutter of excitement. Some of those who had been present at the great experiment wrote an account of it to their friends in Paris, who at once began to make arrangements for inviting the Montgolfiers to send up another balloon from the capital. But these arrangements took too long to satisfy the impatience of the people of Paris, and they were better pleased when M. de Saint-Fond opened a subscription to pay expenses for a separate experiment.

No one in all France had heard of the event at Annonay with more interest and delight than a certain M. James Alexander Caesar Charles, a young and clever scientist who took great pleasure in showing people the wonderful things he had discovered. When Franklin brought lightning out of the clouds with a kite, M. Charles followed the road thus pointed out to him, and soon found new wonders which he had a great talent for explaining. Thus, though he might not be a great original discoverer, he was quick to see in what direction truth lay, and was able to lead those who were less learned than himself. What wonder, then, that the people of Paris were full of expectation when they heard that M. Charles had put away his electrical studies to devote his attention to balloons?

Sufficient money having been collected he set to work with the a.s.sistance of two brothers named Robert, and constructed an 'envelope'

of silk, which, when filled, would make a balloon twelve feet two inches in diameter. This was very small when compared with the giant of Annonay, but the gas that M. Charles was going to use would make it thirteen times stronger. 'You see,' said he, 'the air that the Montgolfiers use is twice as light as the atmosphere. I shall use inflammable gas' (as hydrogen was then called), 'which is fourteen times lighter; though to retain this it will be necessary to paint the silk with rubber dissolved in turpentine.'

But if the gentlemen who sat around the platform at Annonay had gathered to see this baby balloon inflated they would have grown very weary, for it took nearly four days. Every morning outside Charles's house a notice was hung up to inform the eager crowds how the wonderful little giant was growing; and at last it became necessary for mounted police to protect his door, so great was the crush. Then, on the twenty-sixth of August, though the balloon was not quite full, it was decided to carry it to the Champs de Mars, the open s.p.a.ce from which the ascent was to be made. There the filling could be completed. But as not even a king, travelling in state, would be likely to draw such excited throngs as this balloon, arrangements were made for moving the silk bag in the middle of the night. First, all the tools which would be required at the launching were sent in advance; then, at two o'clock in the morning, the procession set out. A strong body of mounted soldiers accompanied the waggon on which the half-filled balloon was placed, while in front of it marched a body of men carrying torches. The journey was only two miles long, yet in that short distance the cavalcade was greeted with enough applause to satisfy the most ambitious. All vehicles encountered _en route_ were drawn aside, and the drivers doffed their caps as they watched it pa.s.s. As the balloon swayed solemnly from side to side, an imaginative on-looker might have fancied that it was acknowledging these respectful salutations.

In due course the scene of action was safely reached and the filling process continued. As the gas had to be made from sulphuric acid and iron filings, it naturally took some time, but when the clocks of Paris were striking five on the evening of August 27th, 1783, Charles's cloud-cruiser was ready for the voyage. The bells had hardly done chiming when a cannon-shot was heard. It was the signal for departure.

The thousands of spectators heard it with a thrill of interest, and as its echoes reverberated over Paris, the watchers of the high towers of Notre Dame, and the military school, directed their telescopes to the Champs de Mars. One of the guests was Stephen Montgolfier, for though Charles might add improvements to others' inventions, he always acknowledged to whom the first honour belonged.

In spite of the heavy rain that was falling, the balloon shot into the air with great rapidity, and in the s.p.a.ce of a minute or two disappeared behind a cloud. The moment it vanished another cannon was fired as though in farewell, but the watchers (richly dressed gentlemen and fine ladies) regardless of the weather, continued to keep their eyes upon the clouds, and were surprised to see it once more, far above them, sailing in the direction of Gonesse, fifteen miles away. Here in a field it settled, three-quarters of an hour after leaving Paris, and--met its doom. The country people, imagining it to be a large and unknown bird, approached in fear, until one, bolder than the rest, stabbed it with a pitchfork, when the sighing sound, made by the out-rus.h.i.+ng gas, only confirmed their conviction that it was endowed with life. In vain did the village _cure_ try to dissuade them, and when at last the silk bag lay flat and 'lifeless' on the ground, they tied it to a horse's tail and set him galloping through the field. With wild excitement they followed in chase, till hardly a shred of poor M. Charles's carefully-built balloon remained to be trodden on.

When the country folk were so ignorant as this, we can hardly be surprised to read that the Government soon found it advisable to make Montgolfier's discovery widely known, so as to allay 'the terror which it might otherwise excite among the people.'

JOHN LEA.

MY GARDEN CONCERT.

I hear a splendid concert in my garden every day, When the breezes find by grove and lawn some instrument to play; They shake the s.h.i.+ny laurel with the clatter of the 'bones,'

And from the lofty sycamore draw deeper 'cello tones, And giving thus the signal that the concert should begin, The brook beside the pebbled path strikes up its mandoline.

Then all the garden wakes to sound, for not a bird is mute: The robin pipes the piccolo; the blackbird plays the flute; While high upon a cedar-top a thrush with bubbling throat Lifts up to this accompaniment her clear soprano note.

Then by-and-by there softly sounds, beside some flowering tree The oboe of the dancing gnat, the cornet of the bee.

Such tiny notes--and yet with ease their cadence I can trace, While over-head some pa.s.sing rook puts in his noisy ba.s.s, Or from a green and shady copse, a daisied field away, I hear the jarring discords of a magpie and a jay.

The Wind conducts the orchestra, and as he beats the time The flood of music sinks and swells in melody sublime; Till, when the darkness deepens and the sun sets in the West, They all put up their instruments and settle down to rest; And when I seek my slumber, like the daisy or the bird, My rest is all the better for the concert I have heard.

THE LEGEND OF HELFENSTEIN.

A German version of an old story.

In former times there ruled at Olmutz, in Moravia, a Duke who allowed himself, when in anger, to do many cruel things. One day, Bruno, his falconer, came trembling before his master and announced to him that the finest of the falcons was dead. When the Duke heard this, he flew into a pa.s.sion, and commanded his servants to chastise the man severely. Bruno, however, succeeded in escaping the intended punishment, and hid himself in the thick forest which extends from Olmutz to the Oder valley. There he lived by hunting, and occupied himself with charcoal-burning.

It happened one day that as Bruno, armed with bow and arrow and battle-axe, was going through the forest, he suddenly heard the well-known hunting-cry of the Duke. He quickly hid himself behind an oak-tree, in order that his master should not discover him, and saw, to his horror, that his master was pursued by a wild bison. The Duke would have lost his life, if Bruno, with his battle-axe, had not courageously attacked the furious animal and given it a mortal wound. Deeply touched, the Duke thanked the deliverer of his life for his proved fidelity, and bade him ask any favour he pleased.

Bruno did so. He asked to be allowed to possess as much land as he could encircle with the skin of the dead bison. Smilingly, the Duke promised to grant the request.

The falconer began to cut the skin into small strips, and with them encircled the whole hill upon which he had saved his prince's life. The Duke was highly pleased with this proof of Bruno's cleverness as well as courage, made him into a knight, and put him in a position of honour at his court. Bruno became dearer to his master every day, and rendered him many and great services. In later times he built a castle on the hill, which, in memory of the Duke's deliverance, he called Helfenstein.

W. Y.

CHASED BY SEAGULLS.

Seagulls are a very distinct tribe of birds, mostly lovers of the sea, yet from time to time showing themselves inland. They look larger than they really are, owing to their having a quant.i.ty of down and feathers, the wings being also long and the head large. They are equipped with a strong and straight bill, by means of which they devour a great variety of food. They will occasionally go out to sea hundreds of miles from land, but they are not welcome sights to the mariner, for he usually regards them as signs that bad weather is approaching. The most familiar species is the common seagull, white and grey, with greenish legs.

One of the peculiarities of the seagull is its habit of das.h.i.+ng in parties after any object that attracts its notice. This now and then furnishes amus.e.m.e.nt to men and boys who are strolling along the Thames banks or bridges. Supplying themselves with bits of bread or fragments of meat, they fling these upon the river, and watch the birds eagerly pursue the food.

Seagulls will also give chase to birds of other species they may come across. Not long ago the Cunard steamer _Campania_, from New York, was nearly due south of Nova Scotia, when the look-out observed a bird close at hand flying rapidly. In fact, it went faster than the s.h.i.+p, which was then moving twenty-four statute miles an hour. A great number of seagulls were chasing the fugitive, but could not make enough speed to catch it. At length the bird settled upon the deck, wearied, and proved to be a fine specimen of the snowy owl.

The snowy owl is a species chiefly found in the Arctic Circle, especially about Greenland and Iceland. It is a hardy bird, and has its nest among the rocks. The bill is hooked like a hawk's, having round the base a few stiff feathers. Its plumage is snowy white touched with some brown.

J. R. S. C.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "A great number of seagulls were chasing the fugitive."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'You shall go,' said the captain, 'if I lose every pa.s.senger.'"]

THE CAPTAIN AND THE INVALID.

A fine instance of moral courage occurred not long ago at a small seaport. The captain of a little pa.s.senger-boat, a tall, sun-browned man, stood on his craft superintending the labours of his men, when the boat train came in, and about twelve minutes after, a party of half-a-dozen gentlemen came along, and, deliberately walking up to the captain, thus addressed him:--

'Sir, we wish to go by this boat, but our further progress to-day depends upon you. In the train we have just left there is a sick man, whose presence is extremely disagreeable to us. We have been chosen as a committee by the pa.s.sengers, to ask that you will deny this man a pa.s.sage on your boat; if he goes, we remain here.'

By this time others had come from the train.

'Gentlemen,' said the captain, 'I have heard the pa.s.sengers through your committee. Has the invalid any representatives here? I wish to hear both sides of the question.'

To this unexpected inquiry there was not a single answer. Without a pause, the captain crossed to the car, and, entering, beheld a poor, emaciated, worn-out creature, who was obviously very weak and ill.

The man's head was bowed in his hands, and he was weeping. The captain advanced and spoke kindly to him.

'Oh, sir,' said the invalid, looking up, his face lit up with hope and expectation, 'are you the captain, and will you take me? The pa.s.sengers shun me, and are so unkind. You see, sir, I am dying; but if I can live to see my mother, I shall die happy. She lives at B----, sir, and my journey is more than half performed. I am a poor printer, and the only child of her in whose arms I would wish to die.'

'You shall go,' said the captain, 'if I lose every pa.s.senger for the trip.'

By this time the whole crowd of pa.s.sengers were grouped around the gangway, with their baggage piled on the pier, waiting for the decision of the captain, before engaging their pa.s.sage.

A moment more, and that decision was made known, for they saw him coming from the cars with the sick man cradled in his strong arms. Pus.h.i.+ng directly through the crowd with his burden, he ordered a mattress to be put in the cabin, where he laid the invalid with all the care of a parent.