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"THE AERONAUT'S ADDRESS." - Perhaps it is not generally known that Professor Patton is not only a skillful aeronaut, but also as the following verses will show, a highly imaginative poet. As he rose proudly last week from the attractive earth, our citizens will recollect his throwing from the car a shower of bills. These were his valedictory addresses in poetry! Why, there was poetry in their very downward motion. As one thrown from his highest altitude did not reach us before Saturday last, we regret not having been able to lay it before the public earlier. We presume the copyright of it is not yet secured, neither is it yet set to music, so we do not think we are trespassing on the author's right by giving it a place in the Express. At the same time, we assure the author that we give him full credit for every word and sentiment in it. He evidently, according to the first verses, had some presentiment of not getting back again. Listen how he talks to our Petersburg mountains and valleys and girls:
"Adieu ye mountains and ye hills,
Ye verdant vallies too,
Adieu ye rivers and ye rills,
My native land, adieu!

Adieu Columbia's daughter's fair,
While I soar up on high,
To breathe the pure untainted air
And roam along the sky.

Farewell to all whose ardent gaze
May follow in my flight;
While wand'ring thro' yon heavenly maze,
Mine own fair land - good night!

Farewell, I go, my flag's unfurled;
And when I fail your sights;
Or land perchance in some new world,
I'll herald freedmen's rights.

I'll tell how Freedom's sons have bled
And crimson o'er our plains;
I'll point its tenants to the shade
Where WASHINGTON REMAINS!

If nought occurs to change my course,
And favored gales are given;
I'll go to freedom's peaceful source,
And wave my flag in heaven.

I'm floating now in ether bright,
A stranger and alone;
Far, far above the eagle's flight,
My barque has swiftly flown.

May the soft bugle's mellow notes,
Swell on the land and sea;
While o'er the earth my banner floats,
With stars of liberty.

May friendship's golden harps be strung
With pure seraphic love;
May odors o'er our land be flung
While I soar far above.

Farewell, kind friends, weep not for me,
My banner's in my hand;
With it I'd brave the stormy sea-
ADIEU MY NATIVE LAND!"

We are pleased to know that Mr. Patton intends making another ascent shortly again; and wish him every success in any line he may fancy.