“We now near the confines of the clouds, and dip swiftly into the thickest of them; we experience a decided chill, and hear the rustling of the collapsing balloon, which is now but one-third full, but cannot see it, so dense is the mass of vapour. One, two, three, or more minutes pass, and we are still in the cloud. How thick it must be, considering the rapidity of the descent! Presently we pass below, and the earth is visible. There is a high road intersecting green pastures; a piece of water looking like polished steel presents itself; a farmhouse, with stacks and cattle, is directly under us. We see the sea-coast, but at a distance. An open country lies before us. A shout comes up, and announces that we are seen, and all goes well, save the rapidity of our descent, which has been caused by that dark frowning cloud which shut us out from the sun’s rays, and bedewed us with moisture. Mr Coxwell, however, is counteracting it by means of the ballast, and streams out one bag, which appears to fly up instead of falling down; now another is cast forth, but still it goes up, up. A third reduces the wayward balloon within the bounds of moderation, and Mr Coxwell exultingly exclaims that ‘he has it now under perfect command, with sand enough, and to spare.’
“Delighted to find the balloon is thus checked, as it is favourable to good readings of the several instruments at this elevation, I work as quickly as I can, noticing also the landscape below; rich mounds of green foliage, fields of various shades of green, like a tessellated pavement in motion; with roads, rivers, rivulets, and the undulatory nature of the ground varying the scene every instant. Should our passage be over a town, it is like a model in motion; and all is seen with a distinctness superior to that from the earth; the line of sight is through a purer and less dense medium; everything seems clearer, though smaller; even at the height of four miles above Birmingham we distinguished the New Street Station and the streets.
“We have been descending slowly for a little time, when I am challenged to signify when I can close my observations, as yonder, about two miles distant, is a fine park, where Mr Coxwell’s eye seems to wander with something like a desire to enter it. I approve of the spot, as it is in every way suitable for a descent. The under-current, which is oftentimes stronger than the upper, is wafting us merrily in that direction. We are now only a few hundred feet above the surface. ‘Put up your instruments,’ cries Mr Coxwell, ‘and we will keep on this level until you are ready.’
“A little more sand is let out, and I pack up the instruments quickly in their wadded cases. ‘Are you all right?’ inquires the aeronaut. ‘All right,’ I respond; ‘look out then, and hold fast by the ropes, as the grapnel will stop us in that large meadow, with the hedgerow in front.’
“There, sure enough, we land. The cattle stand at bay affrighted, their tails are horizontal, and they run wildly away. But a group of friends from among the gentry and villagers draws up near the balloon, and although some few question whether we belong to this planet, or whether we are just imported from another, yet any doubt upon this point is soon set at rest, and we are greeted with a hearty welcome from all when we tell our story, how we travelled the realms of space, not from motives of curiosity, but for the advancement of science, its applicability to useful purposes, and the good of mankind.”
In commenting on the several ascents thus combined in one description, Mr Glaisher gives us various pieces of information which are highly interesting. The clouds, he says, on which the sun was shining brightly, each moment opened up to view deep ravines, and shining masses appeared like mountain ranges, some rising perpendicularly from rolling seas or plains, with summits of dazzling brightness, some pyramidal, others undulatory, with deep shadows between.
While passing over London on one occasion at night, at the height of about one mile, he heard the hum of the great city, and saw its lights. The river looked dull, but the bridges that spanned it, and the many miles of straight, intersecting, and winding streets were distinctly visible.
In referring to sound, he tells us that, on different occasions, at a height of 11,800 feet above the earth, a band was heard playing. At between four and five thousand feet a railway whistle and the shouting of people were heard, and at 10,070 feet the report of a gun. A dog was also heard barking at a height of two miles. At a height of 19,000 feet the hands and lips were observed, during one ascent, to be of a dark bluish colour. At four miles the palpitations of the heart were audible, and the breathing was affected. Considerable difficulty was experienced in respiration at higher elevations. From his various observations he found that the effect of high elevation is different upon the same individuals at different times, and believed that, up to heights less than three miles—to which persons of ordinary self-possession might ascend—delicate and accurate scientific observations might be made with ease, but at heights approaching to four miles, such observations could not be made so well, because of the personal distress of the observer, and on approaching to five miles above the earth it required the exercise of a strong will to take any observations at all.
The most wonderful and alarming of the experiences of Mr Glaisher appear to have occurred to him and his companion, Mr Coxwell, during an ascent made from Wolverhampton on the 5th September, when they reached the enormous elevation of between six and seven miles.
They felt no particular inconvenience until after passing above the fifth mile. When at a height of 26,000 feet, Mr Glaisher could not see the column of mercury in the tube; then the fine divisions on the scale of the instrument became invisible. Shortly afterwards he laid his arm on the table, and on attempting again to use it found that the limb was powerless. He tried to move the other arm, and found that it also was paralysed. He then tried to shake himself, and succeeded in shaking his body, but experienced the curious sensation of having no legs! While in this condition he attempted to look at the barometer, and, while doing so, his head fell on his left shoulder. Struggling to get out of this lethargic state, he found that he could still shake his body, although he could not move either arms or legs. He got his head upright for an instant, but it dropped again on his shoulder, and he fell backwards, his back resting against the side of the car, and his head on its edge.