Without a moment’s pause they drifted over the Channel into the gathering darkness. Before them rose a huge wall of vapor and black clouds standing on the bosom of the sea; behind them the twinkling lights and the music of breakers rolling on a hospitable shore. Presently they were immersed in a region of absolute silence and impenetrable darkness. At times this deep stratum would slowly dissolve, revealing a glimpse of the dusky ocean and a passing ship; then some huge wreath of vapor would involve them in bottomless gloom, without perspective, without apparent motion, without a sound to cheer or mark their dubious course. Now to avoid the risk of settling too near the sea, as Blanchard and Jeffries had done, they were preparing to let down the guide-rope with floating ballast attached, when suddenly they emerged from the pall of darkness, and were greeted by the glittering lights of Calais, and the gentle sound of waters dashing upon the beach. They had crossed the Channel in one hour, and were soaring serenely three thousand feet above the ocean, not having to lower the guide-rope to preserve their elevation. Now came the preparations for a night voyage over an obscurely defined land route. A simple rope one thousand feet long without ballast was allowed to trail beneath them. A lamp was lit. Coffee was heated by the slacking of quicklime. An ample store of viands and wine was spread on the board in the middle of the car. The strenuous period of thought and labor was past, and now three hungry men sat leisurely at dinner, after a fast of twelve long hours. However sparing of bones and bottles, which later might serve as ballast, they were not economical of food and wine that evening. For the present they had only to live and be happy as bachelors. Muffled in soft garments, well fed, abundantly served with divine beverages, hot or cold; what finer picture of masculine comfort and delight?