Chatterbox, 1905 Part 1

Chatterbox, 1905.

by Various.

CRUISERS IN THE CLOUDS.

I.--THE TWO BROTHERS OF ANNONAY AND THEIR PAPER BALLOON.

In the chimney corner of a cottage in Avignon, a man sat one day watching the smoke as it rose in changing clouds from the smouldering embers to the sooty cavern above, and if those who did not know him had supposed from his att.i.tude that he was a most idle person, they would have been very far from the truth.

It was in the days when the combined fleets of Europe were thundering with cannon on the rocky walls of Gibraltar, in the hope of driving the English out, and, the long effort having proved in vain, Joseph Montgolfier, of whom we have spoken, fell to wondering, as he sat by the fire, how the great task could be accomplished.

'If the soldiers and sailors could only fly,' he thought, 'there would be no difficulty.' He looked at a picture of the Rock lying on the table beside him, and saw many places on its summit very suitable for such flying foes to settle on. 'But, ah! who could give them wings?' He turned to the fireplace, and his eyes fell once more on the column of smoke, silently, silently rising; and yet not so silently as the world might think, for though he had not yet quite understood its meaning, Joseph Montgolfier had been striving for some time past to learn the lesson which he felt sure it was to teach him at last. And to-day the secret came out. Thoughts so active as his did not take long to get from Gibraltar back to the smoke, and they had not been there many minutes when Montgolfier jumped from his seat, and, throwing open the door of the room, called to his landlady. A great idea had occurred to him, and, to carry it out, he required some light, silky material, called taffeta.

This the good landlady quickly supplied, and when she entered the room some time later, she found her lodger holding the taffeta, which he had formed into a bag, over the fire. As the smoke filled it, it certainly showed an inclination to rise, but once out of reach of the warmest glow it toppled over and collapsed on the floor.

The landlady watched the experiments for some time in silence. Then, with a little laugh, she said, 'Ah, M. Montgolfier, why do you not tie the fire to the bag?'

The great inventor had not thought of that; but he did not require to be told twice, and obtaining a little bunch of some inflammable material, he tied it under his bag and set it on fire. The smoke and heat inflated the tiny balloon, and it rose at once to the ceiling. A few minutes later the inventor called for pen and ink, and wrote the following letter:

'Prepare without delay a supply of taffeta and cordage, and you shall see one of the most astonis.h.i.+ng things in the world.'

This hasty note was addressed to M. Stephen Montgolfier at Annonay, near Lyons, and never was a request made that was more likely to be carefully and promptly granted. Stephen Montgolfier, like his brother, had busy thoughts concerning means for rising in the air, and when Joseph returned from Avignon, they set to work with stronger hope of realising their dreams. As they were the largest and best paper-makers in Annonay, they did not lack material for carrying on experiments, and when these experiments had repeatedly resulted in success, they decided that the rest of the world should be admitted into their secret. A large balloon, made of paper and taffeta, should be inflated in the public square, and be allowed to rise before the eyes of any who might gather there to see it. And they carried out this determination on June 5th, 1783. On that day there a.s.sembled at Annonay a number of local celebrities, and no better opportunity could have been chosen.

In the public square a large circular s.p.a.ce was railed off to keep the crowd at a proper distance, and in the centre of this s.p.a.ce rose a wooden platform to accommodate the new cloud-s.h.i.+p and the fire which was to fill it with the power of flight. Never had the brothers Montgolfier had a busier morning; never had the good people of Annonay seen such excitement in their quiet village. The crowd had gathered from far and near, and watched the busy workers round the mysterious platform with widely different thoughts. Some were silent with expectation, some jeered noisily; but, unconscious of praise or laughter, the two brothers directed their little band of workmen, confident of coming triumph.

At last the specially invited guests had all arrived, and when they were accommodated with seats, one of the brothers made a little speech of explanation, ending with the remark that he would apply a torch to the heap of chopped straw and wool beneath the platform. The smoke arising from these different kinds of fuel formed, when combined, he said, the most suitable gas for raising a substance into the air. These diligent brothers, however, had only partly learned the truth as yet, or they would have known that it was the _heat_, and not the _smoke_, which lifted the paper bag.

The torch was put to the straw, the yellow flames leapt up, and the smoke, pa.s.sing through a hole in the platform, entered the open end of the globe-shaped bag, which up to the present had, of course, been lying flat and empty. Instantly a paper dome seemed to rise from the platform.

This continued to grow in size, while the workmen stood round in a ring, each holding a rope which pa.s.sed to the top of the dome. The ropes grew longer and longer as the balloon filled, and it soon became hard work to hold them. But on no account were the men to let go until the word was given.

When at last the paper walls were extended to their uttermost size, the wondering spectators saw a huge ball of some one hundred and ten feet in circ.u.mference, swaying uneasily to and fro with every breath of air, as though straining at its fetters. At last came the word. The ropes were released, and the great body rose rapidly into the air, followed by a thunder of applause. With straining eyes the crowd followed that wondrous flight. Higher and higher, nearer and nearer to the clouds, till what a few moments before was so very imposing in size seemed no bigger than a child's plaything. Then, caught in a current of air, it drifted out of sight for ever.

Such was the launching of the first s.h.i.+p in the new navigation of the clouds. On the place from which it started a handsome monument has been erected, bearing the names of the two builders--Joseph and Stephen Montgolfier--the brothers who always worked together, sharing equally the fame that their discovery brought, and never selfishly seeking for self-advancement. Recent searchings seem to show that the princ.i.p.al honour is due to Joseph, the elder, and, if one of the many stories told in detail (and repeated at the beginning of this article) may be relied upon, surely we ought to also remember with some praise the unknown woman who let lodgings in Avignon.

JOHN LEA.

THE WAY TO WIN.

'I wish I could win one!' a la.s.sie was sighing, When sitting quite still in a meadow one day, And thinking of prizes not won without trying-- Not won by mere wis.h.i.+ng as time slips away.

And as she sat wis.h.i.+ng she heard a hen clucking; She lifted her eyes and that hen she could see, And soon it was rapidly scratching and chucking-- As gay and as busy and glad as could be.

She watched how it struggled to upturn a treasure, A thing it was wis.h.i.+ng for, something to eat, A worm to be dug for with patience and pleasure!

'Twas found, and it gave Henny-Penny a treat!

That worm the hen wished for she could not have eaten Unless she had scratched it right up from the ground; And Mabel had seen that the hen was not beaten-- By carefully _working_ the prize had been found.

So Mabel thought quietly over the matter, And learnt the good lesson, 'No prize can be won By thinking and wis.h.i.+ng, by waiting and chatter!'

And soon she jumped up and to work she begun.

D. H.

FREED IN VAIN.

Prince, the parrot, was a proud and happy bird; he was proud of his gorgeous red and green feathers, of his ability to say 'Pretty Poll' and 'How do?' and, above all, of his fine gilded cage, which stood just inside the breakfast-room window.

But, in an evil hour, Prince, watching the birds which flew to and fro outside the gla.s.s, was struck with a desire for freedom. He thought no more of his splendid feathers, or his handsome cage; but, from morning till night, he wondered how he should get out. There was not wit enough in his parrot brain to make him understand that the cold English garden was not in the least like the flowery forest of his native island.

His chance came one snowy morning; the French window had been opened, after breakfast, that some one might go out and scatter crumbs for the robins. The cage-door happened to be open too. Un.o.bserved, Prince darted swiftly out, and perched amid the leafless boughs of one of the high trees on the lawn.

He was free! but, oh, how cold it was! How wretched he was already beginning to feel! He crouched s.h.i.+vering on a bough; and when the snow began to fall again in large, wet flakes, he was more miserable than he had ever been in all his petted life.

Paralysed with cold and fear, he clung to the tree, too unhappy even to cry out and let people know where he was.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Paralysed with fear, he clung to the bough."]

Poor Prince! he must soon have died if some one had not noticed the empty cage. The alarm was given at once, but it was some time before the bird was seen on his lofty perch.

When they did see him, and everybody called and coaxed 'Poor Prince!

dear Prince!' to come down, he was too stupefied with cold and misery to do as he was told.

At last Tom, the page-boy, volunteered to climb the tree and try to reach Prince. It was rather a dangerous task, as the bark was slippery from the frost and snow; but Tom persevered, and, by dint of much effort, got hold of the parrot.

Prince was restored to his cage, but he had caught a bad cold, and never again held up his head as jauntily, or seemed as proud of himself, as he had done in former days.

C. J. BLAKE.

A KINDLY VISIT.

Willie Mortimer was a cripple, but he did not often complain of his lot, nor, as a rule, did he feel very unhappy about it. His love for drawing and painting was such a resource to him, that when he could hobble on his crutches down to the sh.o.r.e, he was never tired of watching the sea and the boats, and of trying to make sketches which he could work up into pictures at home, as he sat in the window of the little cottage.

But it was a year since the accident which had made the amputation of his leg a necessity, and for the first time Willie's cheerfulness was beginning to forsake him. He could not help noticing how worn and anxious his mother looked, and he knew how hard it was for her to earn enough money, by her plain sewing, to keep up the little house. Until the previous summer she had let lodgings, but she could not manage it when she was nursing Willie, and waiting on him after he left the hospital, and this year no people had applied for her rooms yet.

One of her former lodgers had been an artist, and it was he who, being struck with Willie's talent, had given him instruction, and taught him all he knew about art. But the boy was now thirsting for more knowledge.

If only he could be trained to be an artist! That was his dream, and often he would sit at his little window, looking over the blue waters of the bay, while his eyes would fill with tears as he thought how impossible it was for a little ignorant boy to paint pictures which would have any beauty.