itement, which made him yearn to be
young again with another long life to live that he might see what should
be after him on the earth. What bold things men would attempt! Today two
daring Frenchmen, Pilatre de Rozier of the Royal Academy and his
friend the Marquis d'Arlandes, would ascend in a balloon freed from the
earth--the first men in history to adventure thus upon the wind. The
crowds gathered to witness the event opened a lane for Franklin to pass
through.

At six minutes to two the aeronauts entered the car of their balloon;
and, at a height of two hundred and seventy feet, doffed their hats
and saluted the applauding spectators. Then the wind carried them away
toward Paris. Over Passy, about half a mile from the starting point, the
balloon began to descend, and the River Seine seemed rising to engulf
them; but when they fed the fire under their sack of hot air with
chopped straw they rose to the elevation of five hundred feet. Safe
across the river they dampened the fire with a sponge and made a gentle
descent beyond the old ramparts of Paris.

At five o'clock that afternoon, at the King's Chateau in the Bois de
Boulogne, the members of the Royal Academy signed a memorial of the
event. One of the spectators accosted Franklin.

"What does Dr. Franklin conceive to be the use of this new invention?"

"What is the use of a new-born child?" was the retort.

A new-born child, a new-born republic, a new invention: alike dim
beginnings of development which none could foretell. The year that
saw the world acknowledge a new nation, freed of its ancient political
bonds, saw also the first successful attempt to break the supposed bonds
that held men down to the ground. Though the invention of the balloon
was only five months old, there were already two types on exhibition:
the original Montgolfier, or fireballoon, inflated with hot air, and
a modification by Charles, inflated with hydrogen gas. The mass of the
French people did not regard these balloons with Franklin's serenity.
Some weeks earlier the danger of attack had necessitated a balloon's
removal from the place of its first moorings to the Champ de Mars at
dead of night. Preceded by flaming torches, with soldiers marching
on either side and guards in front and rear, the great ball was borne
through the darkened streets. The midnight cabby along the route stopped
his nag, or tumbled from sleep on his box, to kneel on the pavement and
cross himself against the