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the thermometer stood at 57° F., but in ten minutes it sank to 21°. When he started the sun had set, but when he attained the extreme height it was again visible. "I was," he said, "the only illuminated object, all the rest of nature being plunged in darkness.” This ascension is important, as it first proved the existence of counter-currents in the atmosphere.

In the same year M. Blanchard, with Dr. Jeffries, an American physician, crossed from Dover to Calais in two hours and one-half. The voyagers were several times in great danger, bat especially when nearing the French coast. They were met with great consideration, and M. Blanchard received twelve thousand livres from the king. M. Pilatre de Rozier attempted to rival Blanchard by crossing in the opposite direction. In order to avoid the dangers encountered by the latter, he fastened a small Montgolfier balloon to the car. Scarcely had he risen three thousand feet, when the upper balloon took fire from the lower : a fearful explosion followed, and the aeronaut was soon afterwards found in a fearfully mangled condition. This was the first fatal accident—there have been many since.

Previous to 1821 few aerial voyages were made. The manufacture of hydrogen was expensive, and balloons were so clumsily constructed that none but foolhardy men would risk their lives in them. In that year Mr. Green, who during his life made more than two hundred ascensions, conceived that light carburetted hydrogen, or illuminating gas, would answer equally well, and be far less expensive. His experiments were successful, and gave a wonderful impetus to the science.

PARACHUTES. It has been long known that an umbrella held over the head greatly retards the rate of falling, and that a contrivance of the sort has been much used by vaulters in the East. The disaster to M. Pilatre led M. Blanchard to experiment with an umbrella-shaped parachute, or “guard in falling." To this he attached a dog, which, though dropped from a great height, reached the ground unhurt. In 1802 M. Garnerin descended safely from an immense elevation by aid of a parachute twenty-three feet in diameter. In 1837 Mr. Cocking attempted a descent in a peculiar parachute of his own invention, one hundred and seven feet in circumference, but was killed, the apparatus being too feebly constructed. Owing to an impression fast gaining ground among aeronauts, that, in bursting, the balloon itself forms a parachute, these protectors are seldom used. Mr. Wise, one of the most intrepid voyagers, has twice tested this theory. On the first occasion the balloon burst at the height of eleven thousand feet, and, immediately assuming the umbrella shape, descended at a uniform rate of speed. At the second trial the mass of the balloon collected on the side, and threatened destruction to the voyager. It, however, “caught the wind as a sail," and descended uniformly.


In the early days of ballooning, when ascensions were the privilege of few, aeronauts saw strange sights and experienced peculiar sensations. One old voyager reported that birds, when dropped from a balloon, fly round for a few minutes as though bewildered, and then return. The truth is, birds drop vertically until they distinguish some object, after which they descend in a spiral. Another asserted that, after he rose to a great height, his head became so small that his hat fell down over his face. Per contra, another philosopher said that his head became so large as to burst open his hat. Of the two, we prefer the latter account, as more in accordance with probability. Perhaps the most astonishing experience on record is that of a scientific man, well advanced in years, who took a lonely voyage to a great elevation. His wrinkled face and hands filled out, and appeared to regain the freshness and beauty of youth. Unfortunately, the rejuvenation disappeared as he descended to denser strata, and the elixir of life remains undiscovered.

The best description of an aeronaut's sensations is that of Mr. Glaisher, the English meteorologist, whose late ascensions have rendered his name familiar to us all. “On the 5th of September, 1862, at one o'clock P. M., the ascension commenced. They reached two miles in height at twentyone minutes past one o'clock, and reached the fifth mile ten minutes before two, when the thermometer had fallen to 2° F. Up to this time Mr. Glaisher bad taken observations with comfort ; soon, however, both observers breathed with difficulty, their sight became dim, and their hands almost useless, so as to be unable to write. Mr. Glaisher became insensible, and Mr. Coxwell felt that insensibility was coming over himself. Becoming anxious to open the valve, he found his hands failed him, and he instantly seized the line between his teeth and pulled the valve two or three times, until the balloon began to descend. In the course of a few minutes Mr. Glaisher revived, and by the time he reached the earth his faintness had entirely disappeared.” During this extraordinary voyage, in comparison with which all others sink into utter insignificance, the aeronauts must have attained the altitude of six miles,

UTILITY OF THE SCIENCE. Thus far aerostation has proved of little utility. Advantage has been taken of it to solve meteorological questions, but the results have not equalled the expectations. The oscillatory motion of the balloon renders delicate experimentation impossible, and, after passing a height of four miles, the personal distress of the observer is so great, that careful investigation is entirely out of the question. During the last decade of the eighteenth century the French government maintained a corps of balloonists in connection with the army. In June, 1794, just before the battle of Fleurus, M. Contel ascended twice, and procured such valuable information that, on the following day, Gen. Jourdan gained a decisive victory over the Austrians. Balloons were also used, to some extent, in more recent European wars. At the beginning of the late civil war our government employed balloons, but soon abandoned them as entirely useless.

For fifty years it has been a favorite notion with some that eventually balloons will supersede steamships, and that voyages now requiring many days will be performed in a few hours. It is certain that balloons may be thus used, if the wind be favorable ; for a few years ago La Mountain, with two companions, made a voyage of upwards of a thousand miles. Numerous other voyages, varying in length from fifty to two or three hundred miles, have been successfully performed, and the speed in several instances exceeded the best ever made by a passenger-train on a railroad. The main difficulty to be overcome is the resistance of the wind. Within a few years several plans have been published which appear feasible. The late Gen. Mitchel advised the construction of a machine in which the propelling power should be the revolution of large spiral fans worked by steam. He estimated that fans twenty feet long, and made of copper, would propel a vessel weighing six tons. The principle is not new, and is exhibited in a little toy of which many thousands are in use. In France an enterprising aeronaut recently tested an apparatus by which he proved it possible to move against currents of wind, and to ascend or descend without recourse to the valve. The principle upon which he works has not been made public.

The most plausible method yet presented appears to be that of Dr. Andrews. In 1849 he constructed his first aerial ship, eighty feet long, twenty feet wide, and ten feet deep. No thorough experiment was made with this vessel. In 1862, having become convinced of the uselessness of the present form of balloon in army reconnoitering, he made drawings, and wrote a description of his invention, and offered the whole to the government. Receiving no encouragement, he made a public exhibition of his apparatus at Perth Amboy, in 1863. The form was that of three cigars secured at their longitudinal equators, and supporting, by one hundred and twenty cords, a car sixteen feet below. The ascension was successful. The vessel rose in a spiral, at the rate of one hundred and twenty miles per hour, and appeared to move as easily against the wind as with it. A short time since Dr. Andrews made a second ascension, but was not so successful as on the first occasion, the ropes connected with the steering apparatus having become disarranged. Enough, however, was gained to show the feasibility of the plan. The motive power is simply gravitation. When a sheet of paper is thrown into the air it does not fall vertically, but in the direction of least resistance ; it slides down. The air-ship is constructed on the same principle. When the aeronaut wishes to ascend, he throws the ballast towards the stern, and the vessel, instead of rising vertically like a common balloon, slides upward, all the time moving forward. When he desires to descend, the ballast is thrown toward the bow and gas is suffered to escape, and the ship slides downward. Thus, by a succession of ascents and descents, the navigator goes forward, the time and distance being limited only by the supply of gas and ballast.


” late treatise on school government, to that class of speakers and writers who oppose the practice of flogging in school. We are left to the meager self-explanation of the paragraph in which this expression occurs for a discovery of the author's meaning. Brevity so distinguishes that paragraph, that a passing wit-hunter would, on seeing it, pause and make eager search therein, in the full assurance that at last he had bit upon the very body wherein dwells the soul of wit. Its length just suffices to enable the author to say that, of course, the opposition of "shallow theorists” to the practice of flogging pupils is not worthy of consideration.

We could wish that he might be mistaken in his estimate of those who oppose this practice. We are acquainted with not a few interested in school affairs-teachers, school officers, and others—who oppose the prac- . tice, and yet are reputed as experienced, and wise, and practical, and successful. We do not wish now to have our opinion concerning them changed. And, besides, we earnestly desire that the dismal talk which the practice has occasioned in all generations since schools were established might die away in ours—a practice which pupils have always regarded with such abhorrence, that there has ever largely existed in the minds of the young a peculiar dislike for the teacher, arising from associating the rod with his occupation. Dislike for the teacher engenders dislike for study, and even if the latter exist not, there remains an indisposition to receiving instruction from a disagreeable person. The first requisite in teaching is the gaining of the pupil's good-will. The reriest ruffian in a school becomes manageable when the teacher secures his good-will. In most cases he is not a raffian anywhere but in school. And he is a ruffian there because he enters under the influence of the traditional notion that he will be flogged if he does wrong. Deeply seated in the nature of man is an aversion to being struck. A blow is felt to be an insult. It degrades. It assumes that one cannot be reached by the way of reason, like a human being, but must be reached by the way of bodily pain, like a brute. The pupil may not be able to state bis thoughts, but he feels that he is treated as a brute. not beat that out of him. You may say that he is struck because he is irrational, but the striking makes him less rational. It may, in its way,

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finally prevent a recurrence of an offence, but not through reason humanly, but through fear brutishly. Add the aversion rises and makes the striker its object. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred it does. In the hundredth case the pupil recognizes in the teacher what is really existent, a spirit of good-will prompting him, however mistakenly to the pupil's mind, to inflict the blows for the pupil's good. It is on account of this that pupils are found who afterwards regard with friendliness teachers who have whipped them. But we believe it to be the hundredth case the thousandth, perhaps. In the ninety-nine, or the nine hundred and ninetynine, the pupil dislikes, yes, hates, his flogger. And the dislike communicates itself to the minds of other pupils, even those who are never flogged. It is the old Roman spirit that deemed a blow an indignity, and made every Roman citizen feel with the one who might have been struck. It is the spirit of Paul when he retorted to the High Priest who had commanded that he should be smitten on the mouth, "God shall smite thee, thou whited wall!" Undegraded humanity sympathizes with Paul.

The customary practice of flogging pupils, then, fosters in the minds of the young a general feeling of dislike for teachers—a most serious obstacle to success in teaching. A teacher, it is true, has the opportunity of displacing the dislike when in their turn the young come in contact with him ; but if he does not-if he still fosters its development—he is lessening his own value to his employers by closing up the avenues by which instruction is conveyed to the pupil's mind.

And all this, assuming moderation in the use of the rod. But if we consider the conditions under which the rod is used in school, we shall see that the cases of indiscriminate whipping must needs be certain and frequent. The conditions are such as the combined wisdom of centuries seeks to prevent, in other spheres, as productive of wrong and cruelty. The offended party punishes the offender. Now, taken as an abstract question, not the teacher but his law is the object offended by the transgressor, and it is from this point of view that speakers and writers upon the subject of corporal punishment have so calmly and benignantly assumed that the pain is inflicted in a loving, parental sort of way, and is followed by smiles from the whipper, and affectionate acknowledgments from the whipped. We fear that this is an impracticable mode of treating the subject. Talk as you will, teachers, in too large a measure, are wont to regard a transgression of their rules as an affront to themselves. They are wont to have the feelings of an offended party, and, thus, to be placed in the offended party's position. Aggravation is found in the circumstance that in the school-room the teacher is an absolute monarch, and absolute monarchy, with offences to the monarch, leads to abuse. But, even ordinarily, conventional wisdom asserts that justice is in general sure to be perverted if the management of the offender's case is intrusted to the one offended--that passion, in such a case, is too dangerously apt to rule, not judgment; re

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