Balloon ascents on a scale of peril hitherto unattempted will be the
features of this month. Madame Poitevin will go up from Cremorne Gardens
attached to the bottom of the car of the Globe Balloon by six penn'orth
of wafers only. The veteran Green, by the announcement of his 8000th
ascent, suspended by warranted unsafe cords, will prove that, in spite
of his vast age and experience, he is not yet old enough to know better.
A gentleman from one of the East-end gardens will be indicted by the
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals—for attempting an
ascent on a live donkey. The Magistrate will dismiss the case, very
properly, by sending both parties to the pound together.
The principles of aërial navigation will not yet be discovered. A man of
consummate genius, however, will turn the invention of the balloon to
considerable account. He will hire one as a family residence in order to
dodge the Income Tax. He will send down ironical messages to the
commissioners by means of parachutes.
The usual cheap excursion trips will commence for the season—the
competition between companies leading to still further reduction of
fares. Passengers will be booked through to Paris and back, first class
for eighteenpence (half the fare to be refunded in case of
sea-sickness); with the privilege of speaking to the man at the wheel;
hotel expenses for a week; the use of a courier; tickets for all the
balls at the Tuileries; instruction in the French language; the cross of
the Legion of Honour; and the right of smuggling.