there saw the strange house-like oar of the "Giant" balloon in which
Nadar, the photographer and aeronaut, had lately made, with his wife and
others, a memorable and disastrous aerial voyage. Readers of Jules Verne
will remember that Nadar figures conspicuously in his "Journey to the
Moon." Quite a party of us went to the Palace to see the "Giant's" car,
and Nadar, standing over six feet high, with a great tangled mane of
frizzy flaxen hair, a ruddy moustache, and a red shirt _a la_ Garibaldi,
took us inside it and showed us all the accommodation it contained for
eating, sleeping and photographic purposes. I could not follow what he
said, for I then knew only a few French words, and I certainly had no idea
that I should one day ascend into the air with him in a car of a very
different type, that of the captive balloon which, for purposes of
military observation, he installed on the Place Saint Pierre at
Montmartre, during the German siege of Paris.

A time came when my father disposed of his interest in the _Illustrated
Times_ and repaired to Paris to take up the position of Continental
representative of the _Illustrated London News_. My brother Edward, at
that time a student at the Ecole des Beaux Arts, then became his
assistant, and a little later I was taken across the Channel with my
brother Arthur to join the rest of the family. We lived, first, at
Auteuil, and then at Passy, where I was placed in a day-school called the
Institution Nouissel, where lads were prepared for admission to the State
or municipal colleges. There had been some attempt to teach me French at
Eastbourne, but it had met with little success, partly, I think, because
I was prejudiced against the French generally, regarding them as a mere
race of frog-eaters whom we had deservedly whacked at Waterloo. Eventually
my prejudices were in a measure overcome by what I heard from our
drill-master, a retired non-commissioned officer, who had served in the
Crimea, and who told us some rousing anecdotes about the gallantry of