WE ARE now passing over the little hamlet of Uri, and the voice of a cuckoo-clock tells us the hour, as it pipes up in the breeze its five double notes.

“The temperature is very even,” remarks the captain, “and there is no danger of it rising or falling unexpectedly, at least not for an hour or more. We might as well travel with the guide-rope, and skip along close to the earth.”

He slips the line overboard and lowers it carefully to the ground.

The guide-rope, though a mere cable, about two hundred feet in length, is a very delicate accessory to a balloon, and the most important after the anchor. When in operation, one end of the rope is attached to the basket, and a quarter or a fifth of its length is allowed to drag on the surface of the earth, where it regulates automatically the air-ship’s aerostatic equilibrium.

If the balloon has a tendency to fall, an additional portion of the guide-rope drops upon the ground. Instantly the “Rolla” is relieved of that much weight, and soon resumes its former altitude.

On the other hand, should its tendency be to rise, the extra amount of rope that it hauls up with it means for the “Rolla” a few pounds more to carry, and it gradually falls back to its original position.

It has also the serious advantage of saving gas, and sand ballast as well.

“That modest young fellow you met at dinner the other night,” remarks the captain, “uses the guide-rope with great success as part of the steering-gear of his new aeronef, the ‘Santos-Dumont V.’ We all expect to hear within a few weeks that Santos-Dumont has solved the great problem of aerial navigation.”

The farmers who can not understand this new method of locomotion are all eager to tug at the guide-rope, thinking we have decided to land.

“Mais non! Laissez donc!” shouts the owner; “nous nous promenons, tout simplement.”

The children, who are playing scarecrow with the ravenous birds in the orchards, scream with astonishment and delight. An old woman folds her hands over her mouth like a megaphone, and asks:

“Ou diable allez-vous donc?”

“A la lune!”

“Ha! Ha! Bon Voyage!”

A flock of sheep stampedes at the sight of our shadow moving upon the earth, and disappears in a cloud of dust.

We glide peacefully over meadows and swamps, clearing hedges and trees, dragging the guide-rope behind us. As we pass over a lake in the park of an ideal country seat, we see the “Rolla” reflected in the clear waters below.

Even at this moderate height, the farms look like children’s playhouses, with their curly little lambs, their wooden horses, and painted cows; and as we approach a curve on the railroad track, a train puffs by like a mechanical toy, and whistles a friendly salute. Here the captain calls my attention to a dark line of clouds in the north west.

Yesterday’s Herald predicted a depression within the next twenty-four hours; evidently a storm is creeping up behind us. But the same wind is driving us on, and we hope to keep out of its reach, even if we have to rise up in the heavens above it.

“If our balloon obeys as it should, we will soon have some fun,” says the captain, as we reach the first trees of a thick forest.

The “Rolla” is so sensitive that by merely hauling in a few yards of the guide-rope, we gently descend on the tops of the trees, lightly skipping from one to the other; we brush by an elm, a poplar, or an ash, and as we pass, pick their fresh green leaves.

This weird performance is fascinating beyond words. I have never heard of a “promenade” on the crest of a forest, and I wonder now and then if I am dreaming.

Such accuracy of movement is only possible with a very small balloon, in the early hours of the day, and with a perfectly even temperature. Of course, it is always dangerous, as a slight mistake would instantly lead to a hopeless disaster.

Suddenly, while crossing a deep ravine, the coolness of the air drags us down. The rocky banks of the torrent are upon us.

As I open my mouth to offer a mild objection; a hatful of ballast goes overboard; we instantly shoot up in the air, and, before I can realize what has occurred, the barometer marks six and seven thousand feet.

“C’est d’en haut qu’on apprÉcie bien les choses humaines et il faut avoir passÉ sur les points ÉlevÉs pour connaÎtre la petitesse de celles que nous voyons grandes.”

Alf. de Vigny.