n a paper
'Montgolfier;' his car, suspended below the chafing-dish, and
ballasted with combustible materials, caught fire; Olivari fell,
and was killed! Mosment rose, at Lille, on a light tray; an
oscillation disturbed his equilibrium; Mosment fell, and was
killed! Bittorf, at Mannheim, saw his balloon catch fire in the
air; and he, too, fell, and was killed! Harris rose in a badly
constructed balloon, the valve of which was too large and would
not shut; Harris fell, and was killed! Sadler, deprived of
ballast by his long sojourn in the air, was dragged over the town
of Boston and dashed against the chimneys; Sadler fell, and was
killed! Cokling descended with a convex parachute which he
pretended to have perfected; Cokling fell, and was killed! Well,
I love them, these victims of their own imprudence, and I shall
die as they did. Higher! still higher!"

All the phantoms of this necrology passed before my eyes. The
rarefaction of the air and the sun's rays added to the expansion
of the gas, and the balloon continued to mount. I tried
mechanically to open the valve, but the unknown cut the cord
several feet above my head. I was lost!

"Did you see Madame Blanchard fall?" said he. "I saw her; yes, I!
I was at Tivoli on the 6th of July, 1819. Madame Blanchard rose
in a small sized balloon, to avoid the expense of filling, and
she was forced to entirely inflate it. The gas leaked out below,
and left a regular train of hydrogen in its path. She carried
with her a sort of pyrotechnic aureola, suspended below her car
by a wire, which she was to set off in the air. This she had done
many times before. On this day she also carried up a small
parachute ballasted by a firework contrivance, that would go off
in a shower of silver. She was to start this contrivance after
having lighted it with a port-fire made on purpose. She set out;
the night was gloomy. At the moment of lighting her fireworks she
was so imprudent as to pass the taper under the column of
hydrogen which was leaking from the balloon. My eyes were fixed
upon her. Suddenly an unexpected gleam lit up the darkness. I
thought she was preparing a surprise. The light flashed out,
suddenly disappeared and reappeared, and gave the summit of the
balloon the shape of an immense jet of ignited gas. This sinister
glow shed itself over the Boulevard and the whole Montmartre
quarter. Then I saw the unhappy woman rise, try twice to close
the appendage of the balloon, so as to