CHAPTER V.

BALLOON ASCENSIONS.

Fifty years ago aërial navigation was much more of a novelty, as well as more hazardously executed than it is now. Its most notable instance, down to 1859, was that of John Wise and John La Mountain, who, in July of that year, sailed through the air from St. Louis to Henderson, New York, a distance of 1,150 miles, at the rate of nearly a mile per minute. The first balloon ascension at Columbus was made by Richard Clayton from the Capitol Square on July 4, 1842. In advertising this performance it was stated that Mr. Clayton was one of the "most daring aëronauts in the world," and that on this occasion he would make his thirtieth ascension. "He will take his departure," the announcement pursued, "from a spacious amphitheatre erected for that purpose, at five o'clock P. M. То generate all the necessary quantity of hydrogen gas for the inflation of this stupendous vessel, 2,800 pounds of oil of vitriol, 3,000 pounds of iron, and 15,000 pounds of water have to be used."

Clayton's ascension, we are told, was a beautiful one, and was witnessed by "a vast concourse of people," occupying streets, windows and tops of buildings. "The balloon," the account continues, "rose gracefully from the amphitheater where the process of inflation took place, and the intrepid aëronaut waived an adieu to the congregated thousands as long as he could be distinguished." July 7, Mr. Clayton published the following account of his voyage:

On

Precisely at the time proposed in my advertisement, I took my departure from the earth. The weather was calm, but the atmosphere was extremely hazy. The enclosure from which the ascension was made contained the most respectable and influential citizens of Columbus and its vicinity. As I arose, hats and handkerchiefs were waved, the military gave a salute, and an approving smile beamed from a thousand lovely countenances, giving buoyancy to one's feelings and adding enchantment to the scene. The movement of the balloon was so steady that no sensation of motion was experienced; the earth appeared to gradually fall from my feet and the spectators to dwindle into dwarfs and blend, at last, into masses. A gentle breeze wafted me nearly in a north direction, a little to the right of the Delaware Road. A number of persons on horseback endeavored to keep up with me, who, together with their horses, resembled the toys of children moving with snaillike velocity. On attaining the altitude of half a mile and a distance of five or six miles from the city, I caught a different current of air which bore me in an eastern direction. . .

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