RS.

[Illustration: A Peep at Northern Italy.]

[Illustration: "The sailor-pupil climbed into the car."]

CRUISERS IN THE CLOUDS.

VII.--BALLOONS AT THE SIEGE OF PARIS IN 1870.

Towards the close of the war between France and Germany, in 1870, the
German troops lay so closely round the walls and fortifications of Paris
that all communication with the outside world was cut off. No letters
could be sent to friends, and no letters from friends could be received,
for, once outside the walls of the town, they would surely fall into the
hands of the enemy. But the post office was anxious to continue doing
its duty, and the Government felt bound to find some means for sending
out and receiving official dispatches. The only way to accomplish this
was by the use of balloons. Paris had always been very busy with
balloons, but, when inquiries were made, it was found that there were
not more than six in all the city, and these were far too old and worn
out to use. Balloons must, therefore, be made, said the authorities, and
two gentlemen, named Godard and Yon, were requested to begin the work at
once. As railway stations were not wanted for trains in Paris at that
particular time, the two largest were chosen in which to build balloons.
Henceforth their 'trains' would journey silently through the sky instead
of noisily over the iron roads.

Needles and cotton and calico were all carried in large quantities to
the Gare du Nord and the Gare d'Orleans (as the two stations are
called), and in less than four months sixty balloons were built and
dispatched.

Some people in Paris, however, were so anxious to try the experiment
that they could not wait for the new balloons, but used an old one,
called the 'Neptune,' and M. Durnof, a daring aeronaut, made a flying
dash in it out of Paris. Those who witnessed his adventure say that the
old Neptune bounded almost straight up into the air, and fell beyond the
enemy's camp in much the same manner. It was as though a large cannon
ball had been fired (only very slowly) from the streets of Paris.

The successful path of the Neptune was soon followed. M. Gambetta, the
great statesman, stepped into the car of the 'Armand Barbes' on the
morning of October 7th, and, after many narrow escapes from the enemy's
guns, landed safely among friends. Three days later a pretty
grey-feathered pigeon settled in Paris, bringing in one of its quills
the story of his journey.

But among the many w