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But over these, and twice as large, were staring
Rozier and Arlandes, who, with NEW daring,
In the hushed sight of curious, breathless legions,
First travelled up to hyper-mundane regions;
And Blanchard, who scored sixty good ascensions,
Then died in bed, with purse of poor pretensions;
Of Mrs. B., his wife, who, metal-sinewed,
Her husband's business at th' old stand continued:
Fired rockets off while in the air suspended,
Caught fire herself, and like a stick descended;
Of young Guerin, the little French boy-peasant,
Who, being at a balloon-landing present,
The flying bag, with its hooked anchor, fished for,
Gave him as high a time as boy e'er wished for;
Clung to his waistbands, until fame it earned him,
Then gently to his parents' arms returned him
(Well known he is to balloon history-browsers,
This lad of tender years and sturdy trousers);
Of Thurston, who, his balloon sudden starting
A second trip, when from its basket parting,

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Feared loss of what was costly in the getting,
And risked his life, and sprang into the netting;
And, as the sailor by his life-raft lingers,
Clung, until Death unclasped his freezing fingers;
Of Donaldson, who thought to spurn the ocean,
But found Lake Michigan a fatal potion;
Of Hogan, who, a new-made air-ship trying,
Straightway into eternity went flying;
And many others, Memory does not mention,
Secured this club's pictorial attention.