n myself about Thursday on some little
business of my own.

As I was writing this, my servants called me away to see a balloon; I
suppose Blanchard's, that was to be let off from Chelsea this morning. I
saw it from the common field before the window of my round tower. It
appeared about a third of the size of the moon, or less, when setting,
something above the tops of the trees on the level horizon. It was then
descending; and, after rising and declining a little, it sunk slowly
behind the trees, I should think about or beyond Sunbury, at five
minutes after one. But you know I am a very inexact guesser at measures
and distances, and may be mistaken in many miles; and you know how
little I have attended to these _airgonauts_: only t'other night I
diverted myself with a sort of meditation on future _airgonation_,
supposing that it will not only be perfected, but will depose
navigation. I did not finish it, because I am not skilled, like the
gentleman that used to write political ship-news, in that style which I
wanted to perfect my essay: but in the prelude I observed how ignorant
the ancients were in supposing Icarus melted the wax of his wings by too
near access to the sun, whereas he would have been frozen to death
before he made the first post on that road. Next, I discovered an
alliance between Bishop Wilkins's[1] art of flying and his plan of
universal language; the latter of which he no doubt calculated to
prevent the want of an interpreter when he should arrive at the moon.

[Footnote 1: Dr. Wilkins, Bishop of Chester in the reign of Charles II.,
was chiefly instrumental in the foundation of the Royal Society. Among
his works was a treatise to prove that "It is probable there may be
another habitable world in the moon, with a discourse concerning the
possibility of a passage thither." Burnet ("Hist. of his Own Times,"
Anno 1661) says of him, "He was a great observer and promoter of
experimental philosophy, which was then a new thing. He was naturally
ambitious, but was the wisest clergyman I ever knew." He married
Cromwell's sister, and his daughter was the wife of Archbishop
Tillotson.]

But I chiefly amused myself with ideas of the change that would be made
in the world by the substitution of balloons to ships. I supposed our
seaports to become _deserted villages_; and Salisbury Plain, Newmarket
Heath, (another canvass for alteration of ideas,) and all downs (but
_the_ Downs) arising into dockyards for aerial