Harper"s Young People, June 15, 1880.
by Various.
CHARLEY"S BALLOON VOYAGE.
BY FRANK H. TAYLOR.
"Bal-loon! balloon! Oh, Charley! where are you, Charley? There"s a balloon a-comin"."
Charley"s big brother Harry came running excitedly down the road, and vaulted the farm-yard fence in a state of great excitement. "Oh, Charley, come out quick and see the balloon."
Charley was nowhere to be found. He had wandered off hours before to his favorite rock by the brook to have a "good cry." And this was the reason of it: One day, a short time before, he had been into the town of Wayneburg, not many miles distant, with Harry. Charley didn"t often have a chance to go to town, and you may be sure he made the best use of his eyes. The one thing which he remembered above everything else was the big poster-board near the market, covered over every inch of it with bright-colored pictures of leaping horses, trick mules, flying riders jumping through hoops, comical clowns, and, above all, a big balloon just rising out of the crowd, everybody swinging their hats.
For two weeks Charley had talked of nothing, thought of nothing, dreamed of nothing but the coming show, and so, when his mother promised to take him to see it all, he was the happiest little boy in the county. But, alas! Charley"s mother was taken sick just before the circus came, and there was no one else to go with him. Harry was too young and wild to be trusted, she said, and so poor Charley staid at home, and, sitting upon the big gate-post, watched the wagon-loads of people rattling merrily into town, bound for a day"s fun. With swelling heart he wished he was a full-grown man. Then he strayed down by the creek, as I have said, to tell his grief to the fishes.
Harry, who had felt almost as badly as Charley, though he scorned to cry about it, kept on shouting until Charley peeped above the orchard wall to see what was wanted. Then he too spied the balloon. It didn"t look bigger than his top, away up among the fleecy clouds, but it rapidly grew to the size of a pippin, and then over the hill came two or three galloping hors.e.m.e.n, swinging their hats, and shouting as they rode.
Now the balloon began to descend, and shortly disappeared behind the woods back of the house. Charley didn"t know whether to run or stand still, and while he was doubting, the great yellow dome arose into sight again, and this time Charley could see the men in the basket. They were looking down, and calling to the men in the road to take hold of the long drag-rope, and pull them down.
This was not hard to do, as a balloon is so prettily balanced when in the air that in a light wind a little boy like Charley could pull it to the earth. It is not so easy when the balloon is going rapidly. I once saw a plucky dog catch hold of the rope with his teeth, and it jerked him along over fences and through a stubble field on his back, and I guess when he let go he had but very little hair left. Well, they pulled the balloon down, and before the men got out several large stones were put into the basket to hold it down, and the rope was tied to a strong post. One of the men was tall and stoop-shouldered, with a long sandy beard; they called him "Professor" (a queer t.i.tle for a balloon man, is it not?). The second man was tall and good-looking; he belonged to the circus company. And the third was the artist, whose sketches you see in this paper.
After a little, Charley"s mother came to the door, and invited the three strangers into the house, but they preferred to sit on the step; and the Professor took Charley upon his knee, and asked him how he would like to travel in the way they did. How odd! Why, that was the very thing he was wishing for at the moment. He had often watched the birds, and longed for their wings for a little while. The Professor said, "I"ll tell you what we"ll do, Charley; you and I will get into the basket, and tell them to let us up to the end of the rope." Charley"s mother was afraid to allow him to go; but the tall man told her the Professor often took children up that way, where he came down when voyaging. Sometimes he had seen a dozen in the basket at once; so she consented, and shortly they were seated with plenty of stout hands hold of the rope, "paying out,"
as the sailors say. Above the barn they rose, then higher than the big elm. Up, up, until the folks below looked very short and funny, with all their faces turned up to the sky. Charley"s mother didn"t look larger than a doll.
I wish I could tell you all that Charley and the Professor saw as they sat there so high and secure. Away over the hill was the town, and, beyond, a winding river and another village that he had never seen before; indeed, there were several towns in sight. He was sure they must be Boston, New York, and Chicago. He thought he could see the ocean and the Rocky Mountains; but the one was only distant plains, and the other the Catskills, about fifty miles away.
The Professor told Charley a great many things about his voyages. Once he was blown out to sea, and when he had almost given up hope, the rope was overtaken by a sail-boat in pursuit, and he was towed ash.o.r.e; again, he had floated over burning forests, and once came to the earth from the weight of snow on the balloon; and once, too, his balloon was torn in the top of a high tree.
Suddenly a great shout was heard from below, and the Professor looked down. He quickly said to Charley: "Now, my boy, don"t be frightened.
They have made a mistake down there, and let loose the rope. We are going up into the clouds, but I will bring you down all right."
Charley was a brave little fellow, and besides this, he had confidence in the Professor, who seemed to manage his "air-ship," as it is often called, so skillfully. What a great thing it is to have confidence in a leader!
The shouting below was very faint and distant now. They were among the clouds, and in a moment were enveloped in one of them. It was just like a fog. The soft white ma.s.ses rolled and whirled close beside the basket; it was very cool and damp.
In a minute the Professor exclaimed, "Look, Charley! we are above the clouds."
"What a funny smell the clouds have!" said Charley; upon which the Professor laughed heartily, and showed him that the neck of the balloon was open, and some of the gas was flowing out. He explained that the gas took up more room as they arose, until it finally escaped in this way.
Then he pulled on a small rope which was fastened to the top of the balloon, and a rushing sound was heard. This was caused by the escaping gas going through the valve. This interested Charley, who wanted to know the "why" of everything.
When he looked about again, they had once more pa.s.sed through the clouds, and far below were square light and dark spots, which he knew were woods and fields. These kept growing in size, and finally right below appeared a mill where he had often gone with Harry for grist. What a commotion there was among the cattle and pigs and chickens! The miller and his men ran out and caught hold of the rope as it rattled noisily over the roof, pulling them down in the adjoining field. They were greatly astonished to find such a little fellow in the basket. As it was only five miles from where they had started, some of the hors.e.m.e.n who had been there were speedily at the mill. The Professor proposed that they should take the balloon back along the road to the town, which could easily be done. So the drag rope was tied to the axle of a heavy wagon with a number of men riding on it, and the balloon was allowed to float about a hundred feet from the ground. Charley still rode with the Professor in his basket, and so they reached his home. He was the hero of the day, and, to crown all, the town newspaper printed Charley"s story of his trip, just as he told it to them, with his name in capitals at the top of the page.
I would like to be there, behind the door, when Charley gets this paper and sees the pictures. I advise him to cut them out and put them in a frame, and when he looks at them to resolve that he will always be as brave and manly as upon the day of his balloon trip.
A MANLY BOY.
Mr. Thomas Hughes, author of _Tom Brown"s School-Days_ and _Tom Brown at Oxford_, relates many anecdotes of the boyhood of his manly brother George, a year older than himself. Many of the most n.o.ble traits of the boys of whom the author wrote were first exhibited in his brother George.
The two boys were sent to school at an early age, and before they had been there a week George showed the fine stuff he was made of. His young brother"s cla.s.s had a lesson in Greek history to get up, in which a part of the information communicated was that Cadmus was the first man who "carried letters from Asia to Greece." When they came to be examined, the master asked Thomas Hughes, "What was Cadmus?" This mode of putting it puzzled the boy for a moment, when suddenly remembering the word "letters," and in connection with it the man with the leather bag who used to bring his father"s letters and papers, he shouted, "A postman, sir." At first the master looked very angry, but seeing that the answer had been given in perfect good faith, and that the answerer had sprung to his feet expecting promotion to the head of the cla.s.s, he burst out laughing.
Of course all the boys joined in chorus, and when school was over Thomas was christened Cadmus. To this he would have made no great objection, but the blood kindled in his veins when the word was shortened into "Cad." The angrier he grew, the more eagerly some of the boys persecuted him with the hated nickname; especially one stupid fellow of twelve years old or so, who ought to have been two cla.s.ses higher, and revenged himself for his degradation among the youngsters by making their small lives as miserable as he could.
A day or two after, with two or three boys for audience, he shut up little Hughes in a corner of the play-ground, and greeted him with the nickname he knew to be so offensive, "Cad, Cad," until the boy"s wrath was beyond bounds. Suddenly a step was heard tearing down the gravel-walk, and George, in his shirt sleeves, swept into the circle, and sent the tyrant staggering back with a blow in the chest, and then, with clinched fists, bravely confronted him. Bullies are invariably cowards, and Tom Hughes"s persecutor, though three years older, much heavier, and stronger than his a.s.sailant, did not dare to face him. He walked off, muttering and growling, much to the disgust of the boys, who, boy-like, had hoped for "a jolly row;" while George returned to his comrades, after looking round and saying, "Just let me hear any of you call my brother "Cad" again."
It is pleasant to relate that this manly, gallant-spirited fellow was a capital student. He rose from cla.s.s to cla.s.s until he reached the highest, amongst boys two years older than himself, and in the compet.i.tion for prizes was invariably successful.
CAMBRIDGE SERIES
OF
INFORMATION CARDS FOR SCHOOLS.
No. 2.
The Sun as a Worker.
BY
W. J. ROLFE, A.M.
Everybody knows that we are indebted to the sun for light and heat, but this is by no means all that we owe to him; or, rather, this includes a good deal more than we may see at first sight. The sun really does all, or nearly all, the work of the world. We talk of water-power, wind-power, steam-power, animal power, and the like; but all these are only kinds of sun-power. Let us look at them one by one, and see if the sunbeams are not the forces within or behind them all.
Water-power is the force exerted by falling or running water; and running water is falling water. In the most familiar forms of water-wheels, troughs--or buckets, as they are called--are arranged on the rim in such a way that the water runs into those on one side of the wheel near the top, making that side heavier, so that it descends. As the buckets go down, the water runs out of them, but those above are being filled in their turn, so that this side of the wheel is continually weighted with water, while on the other side empty buckets are going up. The wheel may turn mill-stones to grind wheat or corn, or may give motion to machinery for spinning and weaving cotton or wool; but is it the water-wheel that really does the work? "No," you will say; "if we trace back the force that moves the machinery, we find it in the falling water that fills the buckets of the wheel; it is the water-fall that is the real worker." No; it is the sun, which is a force behind the water-fall, as the water-fall is the force behind the wheel. What supplies the water-fall with its never-failing stream? The rain that fills the springs high up among the hills, where a little brook has its source--the rain that feeds the brook as it flows, and other brooks that join it on its way, until it becomes the river that descends in the water-fall. And what is the source of the rain? The sun, whose rays turn the waters of the earth to vapor, and lift them up to the clouds, whence they fall upon the hills. Were it not for the sun the rain would soon cease to fall, the springs in the hills would dry up, the brooks would run out, the river would dwindle away, the roar of the water-fall would die into silence, and the wheel would stop for want of power.
The wind, which is the motive force of windmills and of sailing vessels, is another form of sun-power. The atmosphere has been compared to a great wheel carried round by the heat of the sun. We know that when air is heated it rises, and that the tropical parts of the earth are hotter than the polar regions. In the tropics, therefore, the heated air rises, and the colder air from the poles flows in to fill its place, while the place of the latter is filled by an upper current flowing back from the equator; and this goes on continually, and keeps the great atmospheric wheel turning. Wherever a wind blows, the process is similar: it is the sun that causes the wind, be it zephyr, or gale, or hurricane.
"But," you will say, "the sun does not run our steam-engines; it is artificial heat, not natural heat, that changes the water into steam."
Very true; but how do we get this heat? By burning wood or coal. For the former we are clearly in debt to the sun, which made the trees grow that furnish the fuel; and the coal is the remains of plants that grew long before the creation of man, plants that were as dependent on the sunshine as those that flourish to-day. When we burn coal, the heat we get from it is nothing but the sunbeams that were caught and imprisoned by those ancient plants; our steam-engines use the force that was stored up by the sun millions of years before the steam-engine was invented.
All muscular power, whether of man or of other animals, may be traced to the same source. Animals get their food either from plants or from other animals that have fed upon plants; and the plants owe their existence to the sun. The animal is a machine, like the steam-engine; the food which it eats is the fuel that keeps the machine in action. With every movement we make, a portion of this fuel is burned up in our muscles.
Every beat of our hearts is at the expense of such material; and the material is the gift of the sun. Our very thoughts are indirectly dependent on the sunbeams; for the brain, which is the organ of thought, requires food to maintain its activity, like the muscles and all the other machinery of the body.
There are other kinds of force less familiar than these--as electricity, magnetism, and chemical force--which can also be proved to come indirectly from the sun, but the proof can not be given here. We can detect the work of the sunbeams in the flash of the lightning and the roar of the thunder, in the turning of the compa.s.s-needle to the north, and in all the wonders of chemical science, as certainly as in the growing plant or the running stream.
The only form of force known to us which does not come entirely from the sun is that of the tides. The tidal wave is raised and carried round the earth mainly by the attraction of the moon. The sun, though immensely larger than the moon, is so much farther off that it attracts the waters of the earth much less than the moon does. A tide-mill, which gets its motive power from the rise and fall of the tide, is therefore worked by the moon rather than by the sun.
[_By special arrangement with the author, the cards contributed to this useful series, by_ W. J. ROLFE, A.M., _formerly Head-Master of the Cambridge High School, will, for the present, first appear in_ HARPER"S YOUNG PEOPLE.]