An hour was then spent in solos, duets, quartettes, choruses, etc. Then Dr. Jones made a speech of a few moments' length, in which he gave an account of the leading incidents of their wonderful trip. He especially dwelt upon the planting of the aluminum flagstaff at the North Pole, and when he assured them that the flag of our Union, as they sat in that comfortable opera-house, was flying at the peak of that superlatively splendid shaft at the very apex of the earth, the emotions of the assemblage could not be restrained, and they broke forth in thunders of applause.
Their return to the ship was a triumphal procession. The streets were packed with people who waited to see them ascend to their cabin.
Early the following morning the wind had shifted to the northwest, and the anchors were hoisted immediately. How beautiful the little town and surrounding country appeared to the aeronauts in the early morning light from their one thousand feet elevation.
"I had no conception of the beauty of this world until I saw it from the balcony of the Silver Cloud," observed Professor Gray.
"There is but one trouble in this beautiful world, and that is with its inhabitants," replied Dr. Jones. "We should have the restoration of Eden immediately if all men would but serve God and observe the Golden Rule. Not another tear or sigh would ever be seen or heard again upon earth. But O the pity of it! Man, willfully blind, goes stumbling on through the short span of life, blighted and blighting everything about him with unbelief. Full of misery and heartaches here, he goes into Eternity to stand at the bar of God, naked and undone, and hears the fearful sentence, 'Anathema Maranatha!' or 'Cursed and banished from God!' And all this in the lovely world that lies spread out before us this morning like the primitive Garden of the Lord, fresh as it came from His bountiful hand. It fills my soul with sadness when I think of our infinite foolishness. I do not wonder that Jesus wept over Jerusalem."
The whole company were assembled upon the balcony, and drew in long inspirations of the balmy morning air.
"What a panorama!" cried Mrs. Jones. "I am forever spoilt for living a terrestrial life again. We are Children of the Skies, and those low vales are well enough for those who are contented therewith. But this is our native element!" and she spread her hands toward the upper blue. "Why, if I were to be confined to that humdrum existence again, I should be like—like—"
"—a fish out of water," suggested Fred.
"Now that is real mean," pouted Mrs. Jones. "I was trying to give expression to the inspiration excited by this lovely scene in the form of poesy, but you have spoilt it all with your prosaic comparison."
"I am just too sorry for any use at all," returned Fred, looking anything but regretful. "But, really now, Mrs. Jones, how could you possibly express the idea better?"