hapely globe held in leash
by the white network--but bless me! here's more than four pages used up,
and we haven't started yet.

At precisely four o'clock the Professor's cheery voice was heard all
through the square as he sang out, "All aboard!" And his eight companions
responded as soon as they could get through the dense crowd that surged
on every side.

Now the sole remaining rope which held us to the earth was gripped by a
score of eager men.

The order came, "Let go!" The basket was raised a few feet and then
settled slowly back. This made the crowd laugh.

"Throw out two bags!" cried the Professor.

Then--then how grandly we lifted! How the cannon roared and bands added
their noise to the shouts of the hundred thousand people whose faces were
all turned toward our little wicker car!

The writer was sand-man, and following orders, he let out the contents of
another bag which fell in a swift gray stream plump down into the midst
of a little group of young ladies who were seated on a house-top.

If it happens that _this book_ reaches that family, opportunity is now
taken to apologize to those young ladies for thus pouring sand down the
backs of their necks.

Well, we sailed along grandly, soon leaving the city far behind--I forgot
to say that just as we were leaving, a darkey in a white apron came
through the crowd bringing us a hamper of good things. What an appetite
this keen upper air gave us, to be sure! We ate and drank and toasted
everything and everybody.

Pretty soon one of the boys said, (we were all newspaper men, and spoke
of each other as "boys"):

"Listen a moment!"

And we all held our breaths. What supreme silence! the gentle sighing of
the wind among the trees a mile below, the barking of dogs, or subdued
shouts of excited villagers, was all we could hear--but hark!

We were approaching a small town. In the square, through the gathering
twilight, we could discern a crowd, and now there came to us, refined by
distance, the familiar notes, played by the village band, of "Up in a
balloon, boys!"

We passed over the village, and the Professor pulled the valve cord
gently, so we dropped towards the place and cheered in reply.

"Now let's give them a song," said the Professor.

[Illustration: A PLUCKY DOG.]

So he began, and we came in on the chorus:

"Oh! 'twas old Sam Simons,
And young Sam Simons,
Old Sam Simons' son: