“Well, Caspar,” answered the botanist, “I am not going to stand up for the classics, as you are well aware. Although I have taught you a little of their lore, it was when I had nothing to do, and you were equally idle; otherwise I should have considered that both of us were wasting time. You already know my opinions on that subject—which are: that a knowledge of what is usually termed ‘the classics’ is of about as much use to a reasoning man as might be an equally profound knowledge of Chinese mnemonics. The time I have spent in the study of the dead languages has been sheer waste; and all I have learnt wont raise us a foot higher here. My knowledge of Jupiter and Juno is not likely to gain us the means of getting out of our difficulty, no more than my acquaintance with Mercury will help me to a pair of wings. So a truce to classical ideas, and let us see whether scientific ones may not serve us better just now. You have a quick invention, brother Caspar; can you think of anything—I mean anything within our reach—that would make the air-bag of a balloon?”
“But could you make the balloon, if you had the stuff?” inquired Caspar, still in doubt whether any other than an experienced aeronaut could construct so wonderful a machine.
“Pooh!” replied the philosopher, “the making of a balloon is almost as easy as making a soap-bubble. Any air-tight bag, filled with heated atmosphere, becomes a balloon. The question is, what weight it can be made to carry—including the materials out of which it may be constructed.”
“But how are you to get the heated air into it?”
“Simply by making a fire under an aperture left open below.”
“But would not this air soon become cold again?”
“Yes; and then the balloon would sink back to the earth from the air inside getting cooled, and becoming as heavy as that without. Of course,” continued the philosopher, “you are aware that heated air is much lighter than the ordinary atmosphere; and that is why a balloon filled with the former, rises, and will continue rising, till it has reached that elevation, where the rarefied atmosphere is as light as the heated air. Then it can go no further, and the weight of the balloon itself will bring it down again. A bladder of ordinary air sunk in water, or a corked bottle, will illustrate this point to your comprehension.”
“I comprehend it well enough,” rejoined Karl, rather piqued at being treated too much à l’enfant by his learned brother. “But I thought that, in a balloon, it was necessary to keep a fire constantly burning—a sort of grate or fire-basket suspended below. Now, even if we had the silk to make the great spherical bag, how could we make a fire-basket without iron?”
“We should not need the fire-basket you speak of. That is only required, when you design to keep your balloon some length of time in the air. If you only wish to make a short ascent, once filling the bag with hot air is sufficient; as it would be for us here. Even if we wanted a suspended grate, surely, brother, you have enough ingenuity to get over such a trifling difficulty as that?”
“Well, I’m not so sure that I could. How would you get over it?”