immutable path of its orbit," etc, convinced the greater
part of the "intelligent" community that he who used them so flippantly
must be an exceedingly great man. Therefore, he had completely proved
his case. Therefore, the great majority of the ladies and gentlemen that
regularly attend the scientific lectures of the Peabody Institute,
pronounced Barbican's fate and that of his companions to be sealed. Next
morning's newspapers contained lengthy obituary notices of the Great
Balloon-attics as the witty man of the _New York Herald_ phrased it,
some of which might be considered quite complimentary. These, all
industriously copied into the evening papers, the people were carefully
reading over again, some with honest regret, some deriving a great moral
lesson from an attempt exceedingly reprehensible in every point of view,
but most, we are sorry to acknowledge, with a feeling of ill concealed
pleasure. Had not they always said how it was to end? Was there anything
more absurd ever conceived? Scientific men too! Hang such science! If
you want a real scientific man, no wind bag, no sham, take Belfast! _He_
knows what he's talking about! No taking _him_ in! Didn't he by means of
the Monster Telescope, see the Projectile, as large as life, whirling
round and round the Moon? Anyway, what else could have happened? Wasn't
it what anybody's common sense expected? Don't you remember a
conversation we had with you one day? etc., etc.

The _Barbicanites_ were very doleful, but they never though of giving
in. They would die sooner. When pressed for a scientific reply to a
scientific argument, they denied that there was any argument to reply
to. What! Had not Belfast seen the Projectile? No! Was not the Great
Telescope then good for anything? Yes, but not for everything! Did not
Belfast know his business? No! Did they mean to say that he had seen
nothing at all? Well, not exactly that, but those scientific gentlemen
can seldom be trusted; in their rage for discovery, they make a mountain
out of a molehill, or, what is worse, they start a theory and then
distort facts to support it. Answers of this kind either led directly to
a fight, or the _Belfasters_ moved away thoroughly disgusted with the
ignorance of their opponents, who could not see a chain of reasoning as
bright as the noonday sun.

Things were in this feverish state on the evening of the 14th, when, all
at once, Bloomsbury's dispatch arrived in Baltimore. I need not say tha