He scouts the idea of danger, goes about his preparations deliberately, and promises himself a good time. As the upper currents, setting due east, will not permit his return by the same route, he proposes to pack up the City of New York, and take the first steamer for home. "The air-ship will carry weight. Its cubical contents of 725,000 feet of gas suffice to lift a weight of 22½ tons. With outfit complete its own weight will be 3½ tons. With this weight 19 tons of lifting power remain, and there is accordingly room for as many passengers as will care to take the venture. We understand, however, that the company is limited to eight or ten. Mr. Lowe provides sand for ballast, regards his chances of salvation as exceedingly favourable, [Page 115] places implicit faith in the strength of his netting, the power of his machinery, and the buoyancy of his lifeboat, and altogether considers himself secure from the hazard of disaster. If he accomplish his voyage in safety, he will have done more than any air navigator has yet ventured to undertake. If he fail, the enterprise sinks the snug sum of 20,000 dollars. Wealthy men who are his backers, sharing his own enthusiasm, declare failure impossible, and invite a patient public to wait and see." A night ascent witnessed at any of the public gardens is certainly a stirring scene, particularly if the wind is rather high. On approaching the balloon, swayed to and fro by the breeze, it seems almost capable of crushing the bold individual who would venture beneath it; seen as a large dark mass in the yet dimly-lighted square, it appears to be incapable of control; when the inflation is completed, the aeronaut, all importance, seats himself in the car, and blue lights, with other fireworks, display the victim who is to make a "last ascent," or perhaps _descent_. Finally the word is given, the ropes are cast off, and the bulky chariot rises majestically to the sound of the National Anthem. The crowd see no more, but the next day's _Times_ reports the end of the aerial journey.