The fields of wheat, &c. were beautifully defined, and the
clearness of the atmosphere threw a sort of varnish (if I may use the term)
over the whole face of nature. We had the Thames in view the whole of the
time, which appeared like a rivulet of silver; but below Kingston Bridge,
about half an hour after our ascent, the setting sun _gilded_ its surface
with magnificent effect. The boats appeared like little pieces of cork.
The Penitentiary, at Millbank, had the resemblance of a twelfth cake cut
into quarters; St. Paul's and the Tower of London could be distinctly seen,
the light falling happily upon their proportions. Old and New London
Bridges, were like two feeble efforts of the works of man; and here we saw
the triumph of nature over art, and the littleness of the great works of
man. At one time, on nearing Battersea Bridge, we observed a small, black
streak ascending from the surface of the Thames, which we concluded to be
the smoke from a Richmond steam packet. At that time the course of the
balloon was south-east, although the smoke above alluded to was driven
towards the west. The air being so serene we felt no motion in the car,
and we could only know we were quietly moving, from seeing the grappling
irons (which hung from the car) pass over the earth rapidly from field
to field; whilst the scene seemed to recede from our view like a moving
panorama. At our greatest altitude a solemn stillness prevailed, and I
cannot describe its awful grandeur and my excitement.
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