“At least,” said he, “that cannon will not hurt anybody, which is already very astonishing on the part of a cannon.  But as to your engines that destroy, burn, smash, and kill, don’t talk to me about them!”

It is necessary to report here a proposition made by J.T.  Maston.  When the secretary of the Gun Club heard Barbicane and Nicholl accept Michel Ardan’s proposition he resolved to join them, and make a party of four.  One day he asked to go.  Barbicane, grieved at having to refuse, made him understand that the projectile could not carry so many passengers.  J.T.  Maston, in despair, went to Michel Ardan, who advised him to be resigned, adding one or two arguments ad hominem.

“You see, old fellow,” he said to him, “you must not be offended, but really, between ourselves, you are too incomplete to present yourself in the moon.”

“Incomplete!” cried the valiant cripple.

“Yes, my brave friend.  Suppose we should meet with inhabitants up there.  Do you want to give them a sorry idea of what goes on here, teach them what war is, show them that we employ the best part of our time in devouring each other and breaking arms and limbs, and that upon a globe that could feed a hundred thousand millions of inhabitants, and where there are hardly twelve hundred millions?  Why, my worthy friend, you would have us shown to the door!”

“But if you arrive smashed to pieces,” replied J.T.  Maston, “you will be as incomplete as I.”

“Certainly,” answered Michel Ardan, “but we shall not arrive in pieces.”

In fact, a preparatory experiment, tried on the 18th of October, had been attended with the best results, and given rise to the most legitimate hopes.  Barbicane, wishing to know the effect of the shock at the moment of the projectile’s departure, sent for a 32-inch mortar from Pensacola Arsenal.  It was installed upon the quay of Hillisboro Harbour, in order that the bomb might fall into the sea, and the shock of its fall be deadened.  He only wished to experiment upon the shock of its departure, not that of its arrival.

A hollow projectile was prepared with the greatest care for this curious experiment.  A thick wadding put upon a network of springs made of the best steel lined it inside.  It was quite a wadded nest.

“What a pity one can’t go in it!” said J.T.  Maston, regretting that his size did not allow him to make the venture.

Into this charming bomb, which was closed by means of a lid, screwed down, they put first a large cat, then a squirrel belonging to the perpetual secretary of the Gun Club, which J.T.  Maston was very fond of.  But they wished to know how this little animal, not likely to be giddy, would support this experimental journey.

The mortar was loaded with 160 lbs. of powder and the bomb.  It was then fired.

The projectile immediately rose with rapidity, described a majestic parabola, attained a height of about a thousand feet, and then with a graceful curve fell into the waves.