Mr. B—— simply waved his hand in reply, as the great man Küpper inspired him with a certain amount of awe, which there was no mistaking.
My first ascent from Elberfeld was on July 16th, 1848. It was almost a cloudless day, but not oppressively hot, as a fresh wind blew which made it desirable to call in thirty men to hold the netting.
I had appointed Mr. B—— to be my first lieutenant, and in order to assist me, he had obtained the permission of his pupils, most of whom were present, as much, probably, to see their preceptor in a new capacity, as to patronize me and the balloon.
The recreation grounds where the visitors had assembled, were of an oblong form, and perfectly dry, with gravel beneath. A vast number of tables were arranged in rows, so that families and parties of friends sat each at their own quarters.
The ladies were nearly all knitting or otherwise at work, and during the instrumental performances, gentlemen smoked their cigars, drank coffee, and conversed in a quiet way, which struck one as making a pleasing contrast with some of our out-door gatherings in England.
Mr. Abraham Küpper occupied a central position at a table fronting the balloon, and was surrounded by a choice staff of patrons, who, as the afternoon advanced, preferred sparkling wine to heavier beverage served in seidel glasses.
Mr. B——, who had most heroically stood his ground against the united force of a strong current of wind, which had ever and anon distorted the symmetrical form of the “Sylph,” and blown some of the men over, now sent to me to allow him to retire for one minute, not that he wished to relinquish his post of directing the men, but that he required to speak, for one moment, to Herr Küpper.
On seeing Mr. B—— approach, the noble proprietor who wore a plum coloured dress-coat, and a variegated smoking cap, filled a bumper of hock, so that by the time Mr. B—— had wiped his moist brow, and taken a seat by invitation, he found himself confronted with friends, together with an abundance of pungent snuff and cooling wine.
“I wonder which he will take first,” asked Mr. S——, watching Mr. B——’s movements askance.
“It’s a hundred to one he drinks the wine,” said I, but before I had finished speaking, his glass was empty, and quickly refilled by Herr Küpper, who, with a patronizing pat of the back, called him “gut boy,” alluding not, of course, to his smartness with the wine glass, but to his arduous duties around the balloon, by which he drew forth high encomiums from the spectators, as well as from Herr Küpper and myself.