It was into my front garden that the Ourang-outang descended in a parachute, in 1836. I then said nothing of the annoyance caused by the mob rushing into my lawn and scrambling for fragments of the machine, of the destruction effected among my crockery by the animal attempting to escape through my scullery, nor of the alarm which his sudden appearance in the dining-room excited in the bosoms of myself and family.
I thought the Balloon mania had reached its highest pitch—no such thing, sir. After that, came the Nassau Balloon, which used to take a dozen people up at once exactly over my house, about once a week; till a terrible dream haunted me of seeing the whole party discharged into my premises.
Then, Balloons with Fireworks, waking me up every other night, and gazing at one of which, out of window, I received a severe blow in the eye from a firework-case, descending fifteen hundred feet perpendicularly.
My next alarm was occasioned by a hamper of champagne, which, during a "perilous descent," when a valve gave way, some intrepid aeronaut pitched through my roof at midnight.
Now, folks go up on horseback. Can I walk at ease in my garden, and know that the veteran Green is three miles above me, performing equestrian feats in the air? Pray, sir, exert your influence in my behalf, or we shall shortly hear of a "Terrific Ascent in a Cab," to be eclipsed by "First Ascent of the Monster Balloon, taking up the Pimlico Omnibus."
