A VOYAGE IN THE PARIS EXHIBITION CAPTIVE BALLOON.

Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume 3, Issue 270, 18 February 1879, Page 2

A VOYAGE IN THE PARIS EXHIBITION CAPTIVE BALLOON.

The Parisians are at the present time availing themselves l largely •of «a pleasure' which just now their capital; alone .affords, .namely, the*.opportunity of quitting this planet for a while and spending .a little,, time in space t Every day, from half-past', twelve until about seven o'clock, crowds of people flock into the court-yard of the 4 ' ruined Tuileries, and pay a franc each to enter an enclosure within which a " captive balloon"'hasits habitation. The French Government, with an equal eye to its own interest aud to the pleasure and instruction of the French citizens,; has let;a portion of tliis otherwise useless and unprofitable land at a rental of £4000 a year to M. Henry Giffard," theweUVknown French : aeronaut. I A piece of ground between the fire-stained i and roofless walls of the Palace of the Tuileries and,, the, ( Arc da darropsel has been boarded off: from the rest of the square 5 , and contains a cafe and resturant; without which nothing can be done in Paris, and has besides been J prettily planted with, shrubs and flowers. From the middle of this space rises the captive balloon, weather permitting, every half-hour between one o'clock and sunset. It< ascehdsfrdrn a.pit or ainphitheathre surrounded by steps, and into the centre'of the hollow the car of the balloon descends, when the intending voyager walks into this car along a gangway/ as though he were going on board, , ship. ...■'....'. ' '' ' I ' . The balloon' differs from its predeces-J sors in several particulars.. First, it-is completely t spherical; next, it does not part with the gas with f wlneh it- has.been , I filled ; and, lastly, if, is iiot ofsilk. The material of which it is constructed is a composite otfe, impermeable to gas, reasonably light, and nearly as tough as copper of, the thickness. It consists of no fewW tliriii seven sheets ' or tissues Tjonsolidatedj td^etlWr..;« Thefiret' tissue is a strong muslin, then comes a layer of indiarubber, next a sheet of linen, then indiarubber again, afterwards. ,a second sheet of linen, theh a coating of vulcanized indiarubber, and over r thM ; ariotfie-f'tissue'of is treated with boiled liriseedjoil. and varnished^, J&e whole being covered with white zinc paint," which imparts to the balloon a bright; metallic lus.tre.. The balloon,is forty-yards in diameter, and, therefore,* -over. 360 feet in circumference. The network "which ■ covers it has the pqritsjepliqed; ;iqtp each other at the junctions so as to avoid knots, which might injure the fabrio'beheatli. •* When ■ once the bal!6on> is down and moored to the earth it. is so strongly held that a' high wind produces no apparent deflection. The cable:itself is three and a half inches in diameter, and tapers ; : gradually, towards J; ;the, r part ■ attachedto the .earth, in order to render a breakage, if one , slioWld occur, more likely' at that end, so as to leave the balloon with, all the weight of the cable as ballast, and also to $e*ve as-a guide, rope in : the j event of the baHobri j|afetting ; awiy.'i iThei cable, which is about,6so yards'ih length, passes through a tunnel underneath the place to which the balloon.descends to a* ingantic windlass nineteen feet iong,. and fifteen feet or m(jre incjrcumference • [thiswindlass is furrowed with channels to fit the t cord, and is turned D 3' two steam i engines •when the balloon is-beiog dragged dpwn. In its ascent it has itself sufficient power* to turn the windlass arid work the steam engines the reverse way, they having, of course, no steam in them then. The completion and execution of the Whole are due to M. Giffard, who started a captive balloon in England at Cremorne in 1869. That," however, was not a success, and the receipts for the whole period of The captive's stay in England were less than one day's earnings in Paris at the present time. ■ The balloon of the Tuileries ascends I only when there is very little wind or rain; and b.a.yjng selected a fine sunny afterno?»nj % jjenter . the enclosure and take a ticket for the ascent.,". Jsa,ch ticket bears a number,' and, unless" the visitor is successful in obtaining an early number he may x have to wait from one to three hours for his turn to go up. My number, as it happens, is called about four o'clock, and I immediately step across the. gangway and enter the car, which is capable of holdine:' fifty people, but usually takes about thirty. On this occasion we are twenty-seven in number; including amongst our passengers three Japanese gentlemen in their native ccstiune, several English, French, and Americana, and four ladies. There are, besides., .two experienced aeronauts on board, who. always accompany the 'balloon. Beneath the floor- . ing of the car are coils of rope, anchors, hooks, bags' of ballast, and other- things which might be requisite in case of the balloon slipping ,her, cable and starting on an unpremeditated voyage through the clouds. As soon as we have taken our places and are gazing over the edge of the car at the multitude of spectators in the enclosure the gangway is withdrawn, the door of the car fastened with a latch, and .secured with stout leather

straps; the balloon then descends for an instant to slacken the holding ropes and enable the sailors to cast them off, the band plays, and immediately afterwards we see the earth apparently receding from under our feet, whilst we ourselves seem to remain perfectly stationary, and are unconscious of any movement whatever. Overhead, between us and the blue sky, hangs the huge shining ball, too near, however, for us to see as much as half of its dimensions. The earth continues to depart from us in perfect tranquillity, and the squares, streets, and buildings rapidly contract in size, seeming, in fact, to get squeezed together. The line of the horizon is raised all round, the cable itself dwindles to an almost invisible thread, sounds from below grow fainter and fainter, and only the ball overhead seems substantial and permanent. A flight of birds passes near the balloon, but apparently without taking any interest in it. For some time, and until we are too high to trace it any longer, we can see the shadow of the balloon, apparently with a halo of light round its edge, passing over the houses. There are tio seats in the car, and each person moves about at pleasure, examining the prospect in each direction by turns. One observes with interest and surprise the strange aspect of familiar objects When seen from our pre-eminently bird's-eye point of view. The diminution in height of lofty buildings is a notable instance of this; churches, monuments, and the many structures' that one is accustomed to regard as considerable elevations, such as the Pantheon, Notre Dame, and the new Opera House, are speedily dwarfed into nothingness. On this occasion a gentle breeze wafts us over the the Rue de Rivoli, and the view all round is intensely interesting. The day remains perfect for the purpose, the air clear, and the, sun bright. The various Boulevards can he traced along their whole extent, and beyond them the lines of the fortifications. The prospect widens in every direction, until it takes in the whole range of hills surrounding the great Paris basin. One striking, feature is, of course, the Seine, which gleams like a silver ribbon, and is distinctly visible in all its windings, dotted with the steamers, which even at our greatest elevation, we can trace on its surface. We continue to rise for eleven or twelve minutes, towards the end of which time .the air becomes perceptibly clearer and colder. This is not attended with any inconvenience in the way of difficulty of breathing, singing in the ears, or otherwise. An aneroid barometer attatched to the cordage enables us to see at .any minute the exact elevation attained, and the move-ment of the hand is more rapid than that of the long hand of a clock. The height we at last reach is about 1800 feet, or five times that of St. Paul's Cathedral, and the various noises from the busy world below reach our ears even at this height. After a few minutes, alas, too few, one of the aeronauts waves a tricolour flag over the edge of the car, and the descent doubtless commences, through personally we are as yet unaware of it, and a glance at the barometer alone apprises us of our earthward motion. From first to last, perhaps, one of the most notable sensations which the balloon voyager experiences is that of complete tranquillity and absence of apparent move men t_whether he is ascending, remaining stationary, or descending the feeling is the same, there is no rustling made by the wind, no creaking of the cordage, no vibration, nor any perceptible motion in the air—all is etill except the subdued hum from below, and the cheerful chattering of our fellow-travellers, whose intetest is continually increased as they discern some new feature or familiar landmark.

The descent occupies about the same time as the ascent; the band plays again as we near the ground, and the people in the court-yard of the Tuileries shout to their aerial friends and wave their hats and handkerchiefs when they are near enough to be recognized. We are soon at our moorings, and as we once more, set foot on earth, each passenger is presented with a medal commemorative of the ascent.