Attempts are still being made towards aërial navigation. M. Prosper Meller, of Bordeaux, proposes to construct an aërial locomotive 200 mètres in length, 62 wide, and 60 high, the form to be cylindrical, with cone-shaped ends, as best adapted for speed. The outer case is to be varnished leather, which is to be filled with gas, and to contain five spherical balloons. A net, which covers the whole, is to support sixteen helices by ropes, eight on each side; and to these two galleries are to be attached, one for the machinery, the other for passengers. The affair looks well on paper; but there is little risk in saying, that the days of flying machines are not yet come, neither is the scheme for aërial railways--a series of cables stretched from one high building to another--to be regarded as any more promising.
That ship was nought to me, nor I to her, But I pursued her with a lover's look.
A stranger in a foreign land, Soft music met mine ear-- _O Richard, O mon roi_, struck up In flute-notes wild and clear: And scarce had died that plaintive strain, When lo! how could it be? Thy thunder pealed above the tide, 'Britannia rules the sea!' I knew not whence the magic came, But sought the distant shore, And there a stately pageant lay Unseen, undreamt before: A gallant vessel newly dressed With flags and streamers gay, An untried wanderer on the wing, To cleave an untried way.
And joy was with the multitude, And gladness on the earth, The tongue of every living thing Rang with a sound of mirth. All that stern Wisdom could desire, Or Fancy fair engage-- Danger-defying youth was there, And calm experienced age. It seemed as though earth's very best To that brave barque were given-- Science for nature's mysteries, And childlike faith for Heaven.
How strangely is sensation formed, How mingled hope and fear, Since Mirth herself can oft repel And Sadness' self endear! Whence is it that a sigh can soothe, And sweetest sounds may jar? Those wingèd words my thoughts had sent A thousand leagues afar. I listened to the thrilling strain, Unbidden tears would start, The sound fell lightly on the ear, But heavy on the heart. The low breath of the summer wind Seemed but the siren's voice, In vain I chid my coward fears, And struggled to rejoice!