The “Albatross.” like a huge coleopter, glided gently over the mighty city. She took the line of the boulevards, then brilliantly lighted by the Edison lamps. Up to her there floated the rumble of the vehicles as they drove along the streets, and the roll of the trains on the numerous railways that converge into Paris. Then she glided over the highest monuments as if she was going to knock the ball off the Pantheon or the cross off the Invalides. She hovered over the two minarets of the Trocadero and the metal tower of the Champ de Mars, where the enormous reflector was inundating the whole capital with its electric rays. This aerial promenade, this nocturnal loitering, lasted for about an hour. It was a halt for breath before the voyage was resumed. And probably Robur wished to give the Parisians the sight of a meteor quite unforeseen by their astronomers. The lamps of the “Albatross” were turned on. Two brilliant sheaves of light shot down and moved along over the squares, the gardens, the palaces, the sixty thousand houses, and swept the space from one horizon to the other. Assuredly the “Albatross” was seen this time—and not only well seen but heard, for Tom Turner brought out his trumpet and blew a rousing tarantaratara. At this moment Uncle Prudent leant over the rail, opened his hand, and let his snuff-box fall. Immediately the “Albatross” shot upwards, and past her, higher still, there mounted the noisy cheering of the crowd then thick on the boulevards—a hurrah of stupefaction to greet the imaginary meteor. The lamps of the aeronef were turned off, and the darkness and the silence closed in around as the voyage was resumed at the rate of one hundred and twenty miles an hour. This was all that was to be seen of the French capital. At four o’clock in the morning the “Albatross” had crossed the whole country obliquely; and so as to lose no time in traversing the Alps or the Pyrenees, she flew over the face of Provence to the cape of Antibes. At nine o’clock next morning the San Pietrini assembled on the terrace of St. Peter at Rome were astounded to see her pass over the eternal city. Two hours afterwards she crossed the Bay of Naples and hovered for an instant over the fuliginous wreaths of Vesuvius. Then, after cutting obliquely across the Mediterranean, in the early hours of the afternoon she was signaled by the look-outs at La Goulette on the Tunisian coast. After America, Asia! After Asia, Europe! More than eighteen thousand miles had this wonderful machine accomplished in less than twenty-three days! And now she was off over the known and unknown regions of Africa! It may be interesting to know what had happened to the famous snuff-box after its fall?