were to be deceived. The arrival of the Prince of Wales,
however, put them in a better humour, and in less than two hours after
the appointed time, Vincent Lunardi carried out his promise. He would
not risk a longer delay. Though the balloon was only two-thirds full of
gas, and he had to disappoint a friend who had arranged to sail with
him, he gave the signal and weighed anchor.

The grumblings of the fickle crowd turned to roars of applause, as the
balloon rose slowly over the house-tops. The noisiest and the roughest
there forgot the jests they had made at Lunardi's expense. And Vincent
Lunardi forgot them, too, for his worry was over, and his long labour
rewarded.

He had made his balloon without any valve at the top, and in order to
descend, had fitted it with long oars, shaped like lacrosse sticks.
These he now began to work in order that the vast crowds, who had not
been near enough to see him embark, might know that he was in the car.
But scarcely had he placed his hands upon them, when one of the oars
snapped off, and returned to the earth. It was instantly broken into
fragments by the crowd, the pieces being kept as relics by those who
were fortunate enough to secure them.

Lunardi then gave himself up to the enjoyment of his voyage, and watched
the great city spread beneath him till it became no more than a doll's
town.

Over the common of North Mimms Lunardi again plied his oars, and landed,
with the assistance of some country folk, in a field called Etna. Here
he released a cat which he had brought from London. It had felt the
coldness of the upper air considerably. A dog and some pigeons had also
accompanied him, and with these he continued his journey, finally
landing at Ware. A stone erected on the spot tells, to this day, the
story of his adventure.

As regards his mention of the oars, it has been pointed out that, since
Lunardi had to throw out ballast when rising the second time from Etna
field, it is hardly likely that his descent was due alone to the working
of the oars. It must have been through loss of gas, and he deceived
himself in thinking otherwise.

London was delighted at the news of his voyage. George III., who had
broken off an important state conference to peep through his telescope
at the wonderful balloon, afterwards allowed the young Italian to kiss
his hand at a brilliant levee. Military honours were bestowed upon him,
and with fewer obstacles in his way he now made fresh flig