y
it to the Champs de Mars, the open space 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 pass. 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 space 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,
ap