This whimsy, which might seem a raging fever, gave way to the conviction that yes, I might actually make this trip. So, I shut myself away in a reasonably remote country house, and indulged my imagination.
This, then, is how I would travel through the heavens.
I attached a number of vials to myself, full of dew; these reacted to the Sun's rays, so violently that that heat drew them like a laden cloud high into the air. I found myself beyond our atmosphere, the middle region of the air. The power of this attraction made me rise rapidly, however, the higher I rose the further the Moon appeared, further even than it had appeared from my rooms; I broke some of my vials of dew, and floated back down to earth.
My inference was not mistaken, and I fell gently through the air and must make land, I reckoned, around midnight; however, when I touched the ground, the Sun was far above the horizon, and it must have been midday. You can imagine my shock; I knew not what to attribute this miracle to, and had the temerity to think the Good Lord himself had arrested the Sun in its course in honour of my courage, to lend its light to my gallant enterprise.
But what really surprised me was how, despite my rising straight up into the air, I had not returned whence I'd departed. I didn't recognise where I was.
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