We soon found ourselves driving out to sea
      at the rate of not less, certainly, than fifty or sixty miles an
      hour, so that we came up with Cape Clear, at some forty miles to
      our North, before we had secured the rod, and had time to think
      what we were about. It was now that Mr. Ainsworth made an
      extraordinary, but to my fancy, a by no means unreasonable or
      chimerical proposition, in which he was instantly seconded by Mr. Holland—viz. : that we should take advantage of the strong gale
      which bore us on, and in place of beating back to Paris, make an
      attempt to reach the coast of North America. After slight
      reflection I gave a willing assent to this bold proposition,
      which (strange to say) met with objection from the two seamen
      only. As the stronger party, however, we overruled their fears,
      and kept resolutely upon our course. We steered due West; but as
      the trailing of the buoys materially impeded our progress, and we
      had the balloon abundantly at command, either for ascent or
      descent, we first threw out fifty pounds of ballast, and then
      wound up (by means of a windlass) so much of the rope as brought
      it quite clear of the sea. We perceived the effect of this
      manoeuvre immediately, in a vastly increased rate of progress;
      and, as the gale freshened, we flew with a velocity nearly
      inconceivable; the guide-rope flying out behind the car, like a
      streamer from a vessel. It is needless to say that a very short
      time sufficed us to lose sight of the coast. We passed over
      innumerable vessels of all kinds, a few of which were endeavoring
      to beat up, but the most of them lying to. We occasioned the
      greatest excitement on board all—an excitement greatly relished
      by ourselves, and especially by our two men, who, now under the
      influence of a dram of Geneva, seemed resolved to give all
      scruple, or fear, to the wind. Many of the vessels fired signal
      guns; and in all we were saluted with loud cheers (which we heard
      with surprising distinctness) and the waving of caps and
      handkerchiefs. We kept on in this manner throughout the day, with
      no material incident, and, as the shades of night closed around
      us, we made a rough estimate of the distance traversed. It could
      not have been less than five hundred miles, and was probably much
      more. The propeller was kept in constant operation, and, no
      doubt, aided our progress materially. As the sun went down, the
      gale freshened into an absolute hurricane, and the ocean beneath
      was clearly visible on account of its phosphorescence. The wind
      was from the East all night, and gave us the brightest omen of
      success. We suffered no little from cold, and the dampness of the
      atmosphere was most unpleasant; but the ample space in the car
      enabled us to lie down, and by means of cloaks and a few
      blankets, we did sufficiently well. “P.S. (by Mr. Ainsworth.) The last nine hours have been
      unquestionably the most exciting of my life. I can conceive
      nothing more sublimating than the strange peril and novelty of an
      adventure such as this. May God grant that we succeed! I ask not
      success for mere safety to my insignificant person, but for the
      sake of human knowledge and—for the vastness of the triumph. And
      yet the feat is only so evidently feasible that the sole wonder
      is why men have scrupled to attempt it before. One single gale
      such as now befriends us—let such a tempest whirl forward a
      balloon for four or five days (these gales often last longer) and
      the voyager will be easily borne, in that period, from coast to
      coast. In view of such a gale the broad Atlantic becomes a mere
      lake. I am more struck, just now, with the supreme silence which
      reigns in the sea beneath us, notwithstanding its agitation, than
      with any other phenomenon presenting itself. The waters give up
      no voice to the heavens. The immense flaming ocean writhes and is
      tortured uncomplainingly. The mountainous surges suggest the idea
      of innumerable dumb gigantic fiends struggling in impotent agony. In a night such as is this to me, a man _lives_—lives a whole
      century of ordinary life—nor would I forego this rapturous
      delight for that of a whole century of ordinary existence. “_Sunday, the seventh_. [Mr. Mason’s MS.] This morning the gale,
      by 10, had subsided to an eight or nine—knot breeze, (for a
      vessel at sea,) and bears us, perhaps, thirty miles per hour, or
      more. It has veered, however, very considerably to the north; and
      now, at sundown, we are holding our course due west, principally
      by the screw and rudder, which answer their purposes to
      admiration. I regard the project as thoroughly successful, and
      the easy navigation of the air in any direction (not exactly in
      the teeth of a gale) as no longer problematical. We could not
      have made head against the strong wind of yesterday; but, by
      ascending, we might have got out of its influence, if requisite. Against a pretty stiff breeze, I feel convinced, we can make our
      way with the propeller. At noon, to-day, ascended to an elevation
      of nearly 25,000 feet, by discharging ballast. Did this to search
      for a more direct current, but found none so favorable as the one
      we are now in. We have an abundance of gas to take us across this
      small pond, even should the voyage last three weeks. I have not
      the slightest fear for the result. The difficulty has been
      strangely exaggerated and misapprehended. I can choose my
      current, and should I find _all_ currents against me, I can make
      very tolerable headway with the propeller. We have had no
      incidents worth recording. The night promises fair. P.S. [By Mr. Ainsworth.] I have little to record, except the fact
      (to me quite a surprising one) that, at an elevation equal to
      that of Cotopaxi, I experienced neither very intense cold, nor
      headache, nor difficulty of breathing; neither, I find, did Mr.
      Mason, nor Mr. Holland, nor Sir Everard. Mr. Osborne complained
      of constriction of the chest—but this soon wore off. We have
      flown at a great rate during the day, and we must be more than
      half way across the Atlantic. We have passed over some twenty or
      thirty vessels of various kinds, and all seem to be delightfully
      astonished. Crossing the ocean in a balloon is not so difficult a
      feat after all. _Omne ignotum pro magnifico. Mem:_ at 25,000 feet
      elevation the sky appears nearly black, and the stars are
      distinctly visible; while the sea does not seem convex (as one
      might suppose) but absolutely and most unequivocally
      _concave_. (*1)

      “_Monday, the 8th_.