A Balloonist’s Experience.

Cromwell Argus, Volume IV, Issue 184, 20 May 1873, Page 7

A Balloonist’s Experience.

Paissell Puller, a young balloonist, who made an ascent from Rome, New York state, recently, described his trip as follows:—“I stepped into the car at 4 p.m. The words ‘ let go!’ were given, and the beautiful little balloon, Chenango, mounted majestically into the upper regions. I looked around me; the scene had changed. Westward I could see Oneida Lake, looking like an irregular surface of silver. I looked below : the earth had become one vast plain, the predominant colour of which was green, laid out in squares, interspersed with glittering crooked streams, and relieved by the tints of the forests, which at this season of the yfear are of a reddish brown. In a circle of about one hundred miles I could see cities and villages—fairy palaces, they seemed to me, however—some of them looking no larger than my hand. In a few minutes, no living object was distinguishable. I passed through a great white cloud. On emerging from it I saw earth again. It seemed perfectly level ; every object had faded. I heard a faint whistle from a locomotive in the great gulf below. The balloon turned round. I had changed currents of air, and was still rising. I looked at my watch (it was ten minutes past four), and noticed that it was snowing. In five seconds I was above the snow again. The balloon turned again, and I had mounted through another thick range of clouds. I had completely lost sight and hearing of the earth. All was silent. The sun was shining brightly above ; below me, forming an irregular concave surface, were great pearl-coloured clouds, having the appearance of mountains of rock loosely laid together. This view was enchanting, but I could not long enjoy it. Soon 1 found a ringing sensation in my head ; I seemed to be suffocating. I attempted to open one valve. I noticed that the valve cord was stiff with ice. The valve refused to work, and I knew that it was frozen, but something must be done, and quickly. 1 wound both the valve cords about my arms, and sat down, bringing my whole weight upon them. I heard something snap. Little drops of ice came through the balloon, striking against my face, and I knew then that the valve was open. The gas escaped with a whizzing sound, and I knew that 1 was descending. I came down very rapidly, breaking one side of a small tree (tearing the balloon badly) on the farm of Mr Reeves Jones, near New Hertfoi’d, landing at twenty minutes past five. Plenty of assistance was at hand. I could hardly walk for a moment, my feet were so' badly chilled. I cut from the valve solid pieces of ice, half an inch thick. I carried no ballast, anchor, or rope, this trip.”