he frequent and successful voyages in balloons at last led scientific men to wonder if the ascents might not be used for solving some of nature's riddles, and so conferring benefits on mankind, instead of being undertaken only as pleasure trips. It was to help answer this question that, in 1862, Mr. James Glaisher began a series of balloon voyages. He was by no means the pioneer in this class of enterprise, for many others—both French and English—had been up with the same object some years before. But as Mr. James Glaisher, with his captain, Mr. Coxwell, went higher than any one before or after, his flight ought to be given special attention.

In order to make careful observations, it was necessary to take a large number of delicate instruments, and these were arranged on a board, which rested its ends on either side of the car. Seated before this narrow table, Mr. Glaisher meant to read the secret of the skies. When all was ready, Mr. Coxwell weighed anchor, and a few moments later the city of Wolverhampton, from which they rose, was almost lost in the vast tract of country upon which their eyes rested.

It was the third ascent these gentlemen had made together, and the wonders Mr. Glaisher had witnessed on the two previous occasions must have been more than enough to lead him to seek for more. He had pierced the densest rain-clouds, and had seen the shadow of the balloon on the white upper surface of the clouds surrounded by lovely circular rainbows. He had peeped through holes in these clouds on to the world beneath, which looked more like a misty picture than real meadows and towns and rivers. Such experiences were more beautiful than any tales of fairyland—because they were true.

But to-day he was to have a new and strange journey. At five thousand feet above ground the balloon entered a mass of rain-clouds, one thousand feet thick, and four minutes later they broke through into sunshine. Mr. Glaisher tried to take a photograph of these clouds from above, but the balloon rose too rapidly and kept turning round. At twenty-one thousand feet (or four miles high) Mr. Coxwell found it difficult to breathe, while it needed a great effort to tilt more sand over the edge of the car. Up and up they sailed—four and a half, five, five and a half miles—and the sky grew more and more intensely blue till it became, at last, almost black.

Even now, at a height of twenty-nine thousand feet, when hoar-frost was forming on the sides of the balloon, and the daring travellers were stung with a cold more severe than that of the coldest winter day, the instruments went on observing the wonders of the atmosphere without themselves being observed. Mr. Glaisher, who had for some minutes found a difficulty in seeing the small marks on his instruments, lay back quite insensible against the side of the car. He had not fainted suddenly. First, he tells us, his arms refused to move when he tried to reach the various instruments. Then, as his eyes fell on Mr. Coxwell, who had climbed into the ring to reach the valve-rope, he tried to speak; but the power of speech was gone, and a moment later he lost all consciousness.

The balloon was still ascending, and, to Mr. Coxwell's horror, he found that the terrible cold had turned his hands black, and robbed them of all muscular power. His position was one of great danger, seated as he was in that slender car miles above the earth, and so numbed by the cold that he could not hold the ropes. He reached the valve-cord at last, however, and, seizing it between his teeth, gave it two or three vigorous jerks. The balloon stopped ascending. Hooking his numbed arms over the ring, he dropped safely into the car. As he did so, he noticed that the blue hand of the barometer stood perpendicular. The balloon had ceased to climb at seven miles high!

His efforts to restore Mr. Glaisher were soon successful, and, by the time the earth was again reached, no ill effects from the wonderful adventure were to be felt.

We must mention six other passengers that took part in the journey: these were pigeons. One was liberated at three miles high, but dropped with wide-open wings like a sheet of paper until denser air was reached. A second, at four miles, was evidently a stronger bird, for it flew vigorously round and round, gradually descending. A third, dropped a little higher, fell like a stone; and another, thrown out at four miles, on the way down, took a comfortable perch on the top of the balloon.

This famous flight of Messrs. Coxwell and Glaisher is still a record. No other balloon has ever ascended to so great a height, and, when a similar attempt was made in France by three celebrated aeronauts, two of them lost their lives at a height of five miles, owing to the rarity of the atmosphere they had to breathe.

The illustration of the scene in the balloon, on page 265, is copied from Mr. Glaisher's Travels in the Air, published by Messrs. Macmillan & Co., Ltd., who have kindly given leave for its reproduction.

John Lea.