IN THE CLOUDS.
And they engaged in a literary conversation. Meanwhile
young Godard continued to manage the balloon. A distant
noise resembling the rustling of paper attracted the attention
of the voyageurs. A black whirlwind passed before us, then
came back again underneath the balloon. It was a flight of
swallows, deserting already our northern clime. Perhaps a
troop of little invalids going southward. In the midst of
them an old dame completely dressed in black, with white
lace upon her head, a grave air, and the embonpoint of an old
dowager. All the band made a halt, ejecting piercing cries
at the sight of our balloon. The old dame held a council
of war, then the little savages flew twice around the balloon,
screeching all the time, and then the whole covey disap-
peared with all possible swiftness.
The air had now become lukewarm, and the noises of the
city came up to us borne along with its noxious vapors.
Paris appeared again to our eyes; we were above the Bastile.
The humidity of the air had impregnated our balloon and we
re-descended.
It was necessary to once more throw out some ballast.
Dofia Sol claimed the pleasure of opening the sack, and of
covering with gravel the impudent genius of Liberty. An
English familv, who were taking the air on the balcony of
theColumn de" Juillet, was blinded by our ballast. The papa
looked with an angry air at the elegant genius of Liberty,
thinking this to be a naughty pleasantry on his part! But
the latter, his leg in the air, his arm crooked upward, con-
tinued his graceful posings with an air of indifference alto-
gether French-y! The sack emptied, we went up again with
rapidity; then, having encountered a current more brisk, the
balloon began to move along with a corresponding swiftness,
but which tous seemed extreme, considering the slowness
with which we had traveled until now. The city rolled
away from under us, obscured by the shades of evening. The
streets seemed to me to be long adders, the boulevards im-
mense boa-constrictors in repose.
La Villette,8 at a distance, with its immense gas-reservoirs,
resembled a calcined cemetery. The balloon halted for an
instant, hovering above a bizarre monument. One might
call it a gigantic wheel. Clairin, taking a view of it through
a spy glass, recognized the prison of La Eoq nette. * It was
the hour of the promenade. All the poor devils looked upward
at the balloon, this son-of-the-air, emblem of the most abso-
lute liberty. Their eyes were fixed upon our balloon, their
arms listlessly hanging at their sides. Dofia Sol regarded
them through the glass, and expressed aloud the various sen-
sations which agitated her. One of the condemned, walking
in a narrow yard, leaned himself against the wall, and began
to weep. Who knows! Perhaps he expected death soon, he,
who saw up there above him, life, the sun, liberty.
We renewed then our flight toward the heavens. The
voyageurs were a little sad. The wind driving us, we passed
over the cemetery of Pre Lachaise.10 Georges Clairin and
Dofia Sol saluted" in passing the tombs of their friends; the
young woman stripped the leaves from the bouquet at her
breast, and the white petals fell at hazard in the field of re-
pose.    A great white vail enveloped majestically the ceme-
8   " La Villette, au loin, avec ses cloches  gaz."La Villette is the su
burb of Paris where most of the great gas-works are located, and is
noticeable for the immense gas reservoirs, or receivers, which the
French call, because of their shape, " cloches  gaz "bells with gas.
9   " La Roquette."This famous prison, situated in the Rue Ro-
quette, close to the main entrance of Pre Lachaise, bears a striking re-
semblance in its outline to an immense wheel. It was here that the
Communards, in 1871, while in possession of the city government,
cruelly murdered a large number of hostages, including thelArchbishop
of Paris and many other distinguished clergymen, also some promi-
nent officers of the French army. All the public executions at Pans
take place in the roadway just in front of the prison of La Roquette.
> " Le cimetire du Pre Lachaise."-Largest cemetery in Paris, so
called from Father Lachaise, who gave for this purpose the tract of
land which formed oririnally the cemetery, now much enlarged.
It has received in its sacred soil the remains of more than four mill-
ions of whom some of the most famous are: in literatureBalzac,
Molire, Mme. de Stal, Alfred de Musset, La Fontaine, Bazin, Saint-
Simon-'in science  Arago, Verriers; among adresses Madame
Rachel'- in musicRossini, Thalberg, Lefebre-Wely, Scribe; of war-
riorsGenerals Ney, Kleber, Kellermann, and thousands of others: in
statescraftAdolphe Thiers, late president of the republic, Ledru-Rol-
lin, Talleyrand. .
J1 To "salute" the graves of one's friend is a common custom
among the French. When they go to visit a cemetery, and happen
to pass bv the tomb of any friend, the gentleman always lifts his hat
respectfully and says tenderly: "Je te salue!" (" Isalute thee! ) Ihe
ladies cross themselves and breathe a prayer for the repose ot the soul
tery. The balloon entered into the folds of this vail, and
traveled on again making some little circuits. Twenty
minutes after, leaving again its boundaries, we perceived Vin-
cennes.12 It was half-past six o'clock and hunger began to
make itself felt to us in the car. As a chair of wood merely,
my stomach demanded nothing; but the three voyageurs were
not of the same constitution. One unhooked the little basket
with the big belly. Dona Sol seated herself at the bottom
of the car, and prepared the sandwiches of foie gras. Louis
Godard standing up, a bottle of champagne in his hand, made
the cork fly out, which thereupon lost itself in the ethereal re-
gions. The detonation re-echoed from cloud to cloud,a foaming
jet escaped from the bottle, a flake which disappeared with
long dashes of white foam, and went away to carry drunken-
ness into the heavens. Then all the clouds began to attempt
a little vaulting, kissing one another, striking each other,
bumping together, and we were entirely enveloped in their
celestial drunkenness.
Georges Clairin, with pencil in hand, fixed upon his al-
bum the strange scene of this dinner at a height of 2,300
meters in the air. Dona Sol placed the cloth; to each a tiny
napkin, a sandwich of foie gras and aglass. The young lady
had a little silver goblet. The sky was superb, and the
weather had put on again its most brilliant robe. The din-
ner passed very gayly. They made two courses of it: the
first of sandwiches of foie gras, the second of foie gras upon
sandwiches. Then a succulent dessert composed of oranges,
and that was all. They toasted the health of Monsieur Gif-
fard; they drank to the future of balloons, to glory, the arts,
to "that which has been, is, and shall be;" then the bottle,
thrown up in the air, fell waltzing into the lake of Vin-
cennes. The swans affrighted, beat their wings, the lake
wrinkled its eyebrows; then, the bottle having gone down to
the bottom, there was a calm.
It was a moment of vague sadness.
" Poor bottle," murmured Dona Sol, " it reminds me of
an old comedienne. Sparkling and heady she has given us
her all; and ungrateful and weary of her, we cast her from
us, without regret, into eternal oblivion!"
"Ah! bah! Live while you live, since death is at the
end!" cried Georges Clairin.
" Ah," but you are not gay, you others," remarked Louis
Godard. "Sad thoughts are not the sort for this kind of voy-
age. You will charge the balloon, and we shall descend.
Throw out some ballast! Throw out ballast! Oh! devil take
the thoughts philosophic!"
The voyageurs, laughing at this whim, opened the cage to
the black butterflies." We had to empty a new sack. Ill
luck willed it that the ballast should fall entirely upon a
wedding party picnicking out on the grass. We had de-
scended with so great rapidity that we found ourselves only
500 meters from the earth. " That heavy shower of pebbles
was received by the picnickers with a shout of horror. At
the first moment the furious bride turned toward a little boy
of seven or eight years, who was peaceably playing at horse
astride an umbrella, and applied to the little chap a vigorous
box on the ears. We meanwhile were taking views of the
scene through our glasses. Dona Sol, vexed by this injus-
tice, threw out upon the wedding party the tin box which
had held the departed foie-gras. "    All the wedding party
12   " Vincennes," one of the most charming suburbs of Paris, about
an hour's ride by train from the Louvre, is famous for its hois, its an-
cient fortress and dungeons, its "autumnal maneuvers," at which
from two to three hundred thousand troops display their training, and
for its ftes every Sunday in the summer and autumn months.
13   " Ouvrirent la cage aux papillons noirs,"" opened the cage to the
black butterflies,"a whimsical expression for " opened the bags of bal-
last."
14  " Tartine de foie gras,"A pti made of dough stuffed with the
fat livers of geese which have been confined and over-fed for weeks be-
fore killing, in order that their livers may become exceedingly fat and
tender.__________________________________________
of their dead. The most impressive sight one ever witnesses in Paris
is the passing of a funeral procession through the rues or boulevards.
No matter if it be the corpse of a poor ouvrier borne on the simple
bier used in the " sixth class funerals," every man and boy who sees it
pass at once lifts his hat and remains uncovered till the corpse has gone
by tlie same as he would do in the case of a magnificent funeral de la
premire classe, with its gorgeous funeral car covered wiih masses of
flowers decorated with armorial bearings and a coronet, and drawn by
six superb horses all in black drapery, and with mourning plumes wav-
ing from their heads. Even the miserable drunken cocliers on their box
lift their varnished hats as they drive by, and remain uncovered for a
moment with an air of respectful sympathy quite refreshing to see,
and that almost makes us forgive their obstreporous conduct to stran-
' gers who fall into their clutches.
I