HOW THE INVENTORS CARRIED ON THE ART OF AVIATION UNTIL IT BECAME THE GREATEST OF ALL SPORTS AND THEN A GREAT INDUSTRY

SO INTERESTED in aviation had our young friend become that he forgot all other inventions in his enthusiasm for flying. He never missed a chance to go to the aviation field, and sometimes his scientist friend would go with him. These days were rare treats indeed, for the boy always learned some new and important points from their conversations.

With them we have seen how the science of aeronautics has been divided into two great departments: balloons, or lighter-than-air fliers, and all other machines that are not maintained in the air by hot air or gas. We have seen also the three great divisions of heavier-than-air aviation—that is, orthopters or wing-flapping machines; helicopters or machines that fly upward through the operation of horizontal screws; and aeroplanes. Lastly we see the three divisions of aeroplanes: gliders; dynamic aeroplanes, or the machines we know to-day; and true bird soaring, the art of flying without artificial power and without the flapping of wings.

But on every side the boy heard people talking of great feats of flying that he knew nothing about.

"Who was Santos-Dumont? What was that first trans-Channel flight? Why do they always talk about the first Rheims meet?" he asked one afternoon as he was returning home from the field with the scientist.

The man could not answer the questions all in one breath, but we will follow his explanation, which extended over many pleasant hours, and see how aviation developed into a mighty sport and industry.

For several years following 1905 the world of aviation was led by Europeans—mostly Frenchmen who readily grasped the principles of the science and made the best and lightest motors that the world has ever seen. The United States, however, was the first nation to experiment with aeroplanes for military purposes, although at present the country is far behind France, England, and Germany in the development of aeroplanes for use in war.

Alberto Santos-Dumont, a daring young Brazilian who a few years earlier had astounded the world with his achievements with dirigible balloons, was the first of the aviators working in Europe to construct a practical man-carrying power flier. Scores of brilliant foreigners were working on the principles for gliders laid down by Lilienthal, but Santos-Dumont, working along the ideas of the scientists who had built power-propelled models, made himself a clumsy biplane equipped with a 50-horsepower motor and actually inaugurated public flights, considering that all done by the Wrights up to that time was experimental and practically in secret.

On August 22, 1906, he made his first flight near Paris. It was brief, but authorities agree that it was the first time in Europe that a power-propelled flier had risen in free flight with a man at the steering wheel since Ader's secret flight in 1892. Two months later he made a public flight of 221 metres in 21 seconds, winning the world's first regularly offered aviation prize. This was the Archdeacon Cup of 2,000 francs authorized by the Aero Club of France for a flight of 100 metres.

Scientists gave these flights more attention than they did the flights of the Wright brothers the year before because they were viewed by many thousands of people and also by men who had studied the science of aviation for years. Besides this, Santos-Dumont made no secret of the construction or workings of his machine as the Wright brothers did. He was already a popular idol through his work with dirigible balloons, and being very rich—the son of a millionaire plantation owner in Brazil—he did not have the same financial incentive for keeping his plans secret. His flights gave the aviators of France tremendous encouragement and it was but a short time until half a dozen aeroplanes, the makes of which are all well known now, were making successful flights and breaking records.

Santos-Dumont called his biplane an aeromobile. The two main planes had perpendicular surfaces enclosing them so that the wings of each side looked like two box kites hitched together side by side, as shown in the picture. The rudder extended to the front and it also looked like a box kite. The pilot sat just in front of the wings and could manipulate his rudder from side to side or up and down. Thus he could steer his machine from right to left, upward or downward. The Brazilian had not solved the problem of keeping his aeromobile from tipping sideways, so he arranged its wings in a dihedral angle, which balanced it fairly well. The starting and alighting device was a set of wheels which we know so well to-day. The biplane contained 65 square feet of plane surface and the total weight was 645 pounds.

Perhaps the most important factor in this machine was an eight-cylinder 50-horsepower Antoinette gasoline motor. This was the first time that this now famous motor was used in an aeroplane and it gave promise at that time of the prize-winning capabilities it later developed. The propeller, which was made of aluminum, was about six feet in diameter, or about two feet less than the diameter of the twin screws in the early Wright biplanes.

Several years before this the Voisin brothers had been taken by the general fever for aviation and in 1907 they finished a practical biplane in which Henri Farman, a former auto racer, and Leon Delagrange, an artist, astonished the world. This early machine is described by one authority as something like a cross between a box kite and a Chanute glider. Extending out behind the two main planes was a rudder like a huge box kite, which was used to steer the machine from right to left. This also helped to keep the biplane from tipping forward or backward. A single horizontal rudder in front steered it upward or downward. These rudders were manipulated by the operator, who sat between the two main planes in front of his engine, by either pushing his pilot wheel forward or backward or by turning it like the steering wheel of an automobile. There was no device for balancing the aeroplane, but the construction kept it on a fairly even keel—or, as the scientist said, it had inherent or automatic stability—i. e., stability automatically gained from the construction of the machine. Also the operator was supposed to swing his body from side to side to aid this. The aeroplane started from and alighted on four wheels set under the main plane and the tail. It had 559 square feet of surface and with the engine weighed 1,100 pounds. The motor was a 50-horsepower Antoinette, which drove a single aluminum propeller.

After preliminary "bird hops" at Issy-les-Mollineaux, Farman on October 26 beat Santos-Dumont's record by flying 771 metres. On January 13, 1908, he won the Deutsch-Archdeacon Cup of 50,000 francs for the first person to make a circular flight of 500 metres. Two months later Delagrange challenged Farman for his world championship, but lost, Farman twice circling the two pylons, or marking poles, that had been set up 500 metres apart, in 3 minutes 31 seconds. The distance covered with turns was 2004.8 metres. Delagrange flew the 500 metres in 2.5 minutes.

Then for the first time in the world's history two men rode in an aeroplane, Delagrange taking his rival behind him and sailing over a part of the course. A month later Delagrange took the distance record from Farman with a flight of 5,575 metres in 9-1/4 minutes.

While these pioneers were winning prizes and breaking records Louis BlÉriot was bringing his aeroplane to a successful stage. He had been working on the problem of aviation since 1900, but had failed with wing flappers and machines like box kites. Finally he had some success with a tandem monoplane like Professor Langley's. The first of his machines of this kind was smashed in a fall, but the second, BlÉriot's seventh flier, flew steadily and was the fastest aeroplane ever developed. Thus BlÉriot at the opening of 1908 had developed his monoplane idea far past the stage Professor Langley ever had developed it. He had increased the size of the forward plane and decreased the size of the rear plane until the great forward wings did all the work of sustaining the machine in the air, while the chief uses of the tail were steering and steadying the machine. Moreover, BlÉriot's was the first machine among the practical European fliers to have a system of wing warping such as the Wright brothers had developed in their wonderful biplane, and such as Glenn Curtiss, another American inventor, was at the same time developing for his machines.

This gave BlÉriot what is called three-rudder control—that is, the vertical rudder at the rear to steer it from right to left, the horizontal rudder, also on the tail, to steer it up or down, and the flexible wing tips to keep it from tipping sidewise. The aspect ratio of the early BlÉriots was low, which gave them greater speed. In other words, the main plane did not have so great a spread as most aeroplanes do, while it was much deeper, and, having less of an entering edge, it could go faster. There were three wheels—two under the main plane and the third under the tail for starting and alighting. The engine was just under and at the front of the main plane, driving a single propeller. This propeller—which is the type most used on monoplanes—is called a tractor propeller because, instead of pushing the aeroplane forward from the rear, it pulls it from the front. The operator sat just to the rear and above the engine so he could look out and over the top of the main plane.

The last day of October, 1908, BlÉriot jumped into international fame with this machine by making a cross-country flight from Toury to Artenay, a total distance of about 17 miles. This was the second cross-country flight ever attempted. The day previous Farman had flown his biplane from ChÂlons to Rheims, nearly 17 miles.

Meanwhile the Wright brothers had been making great progress, as will be seen shortly, and Wilbur Wright had brought a biplane to France to make demonstrations for a French syndicate. He took up quarters at Le Mans in August, 1908. His notable flights broke the world's records for distance and duration. Early in the month he flew 52 miles and was in the air 1 hour and 31 minutes. A few days later he broke the French records for altitude by going up 380 feet, and on the last day of the year won the Michelin prize of 20,000 francs for the longest flight of the year.

In January Wilbur Wright went to Pau, where he opened a school and was joined by his brother Orville, who had just recovered from a historical accident in the United States which will be described shortly. At Pau they made a great many flights and exhibited their aeroplane to thousands and thousands of people from all over the world, including great scientists, military men, statesmen, and many members of the European nobility. Among these was young King Alfonso of Spain, who took such a delight in the machine that he would have made an ascension were it not for the objections of his ministers. King Edward of England also visited the famous brothers, talked with them about their achievements, and witnessed several fine flights. Then Wilbur took his machine to Italy, where King Emanuel attended his exhibitions in Rome. Later in London the two brothers were entertained by the Aeronautical Society of Great Britain and received its gold medal. During this time they won the respect of the whole world of aviation.

"Now to return to the progress made by the intrepid American inventors in our own country, led by the Wright brothers, Glenn Curtiss, A. M. Herring, Dr. Alexander Graham Bell, and his associates, F. W. Baldwin and J. A. D. McCurdy," continued the boy's friend.

"You remember that toward the close of 1905 the Wright brothers suspended their flights near Dayton because it had become necessary for them to spend all their time in business negotiations. In the spring of 1908, after increasing the motor power of their flier, they began tests again because the brothers had agreed to furnish a machine to the United States Signal Corps and another to a French syndicate."

The machine that was to be furnished to the Signal Corps, he explained, had to be able to carry two men and to be able to fly for one hour without stopping, at an average speed of 40 miles an hour. Furthermore, this flight had to be made across country dotted with hills, valleys, and forests. Another of the requirements was that the machine should be able to fly 125 miles without stopping. The Wright brothers agreed to furnish such an aeroplane for $25,000, and Orville Wright went to Fort Myer, Va., near Washington, for the tests.

His preliminary flights were very successful and thousands of Americans flocked to the drill ground to see what was practically the first public exhibition in the United States. About the time that the French aviators were making flights of 1 hour or so Orville Wright flew his machine for one hour and 3 minutes. Repeatedly he took Lieut. Frank P. Lahm or Lieutenant Selfridge for short flights.

On the 17th of September the tragic accident that put a stop to the flights occurred. Orville Wright was flying about 75 feet high with Lieutenant Selfridge as a passenger when one of the propellers hit a stay wire which coiled about the blade, breaking it and making the machine unmanageable. The aeroplane plunged to the ground, throwing the occupants forward. Lieutenant Selfridge suffered injuries from which he died within three hours, while Wright suffered several broken bones. This occurred while Wilbur Wright was at Le Mans, France.

The year before Dr. Alexander Graham Bell, the American inventor, had invited Glenn Curtiss, a bicycle and motor manufacturer, to aid him in equipping with power the fliers that he was constructing with the help of Lieutenant Selfridge, F. W. Baldwin, and J. A. D. McCurdy. They formed the Aerial Experiment Association, which later became famous, and early in March, 1908, began the test of their first aeroplane, which they called the Red Wing. The machine was tried over the ice of Lake Keuka, near Hammondsport, N. Y., and before its makers were ready to fly it went into the air and sailed 300 feet. The Red Wing was of biplane type and mounted on skids, with the propeller and vertical direction rudder at the rear. The horizontal elevating rudder was at the front. The notable feature was the curve of the planes. The upper plane curved from the centre downward, while the lower plane curved from the centre upward, so that the two planes, if they had been a little bit longer, would have met. This curvature was expected to give automatic stability, but the machine was never a great success.

The next machine made by these experimenters was called the White Wing, and made some fair flights. The next was the famous June Bug which was designed by Curtiss and entered by him to contest for the Scientific American Cup for a flight of one kilometre. The test, which was held on the 4th of July, 1908, near Hammondsport, was the first official flight for a prize in America, and was successful in every way, winning the cup with a flight of 200 yards. This biplane had the three-rudder control—that is, a tail at the rear shaped like a box kite to steer it from right to left, two small parallel planes in front to steer it up or down, and a system of flexible wing tips which enabled the operator to maintain a side to side balance.

In 1909 Curtiss made some important improvements over his machine of previous years by replacing the flexible wing tips with ailerons. This was the first time these devices were used in this country, but they had already been introduced in Europe on several machines. There are many kinds of ailerons, but on Curtiss's biplane they were two small horizontal planes fixed between the outer tips of the upper and lower planes. They could be turned so as to keep the aeroplane balanced when making a sharp turn or when struck by a gust of wind.

Curtiss and his partner, A. M. Herring, took the machine to the plains near Mineola, L. I., that summer, and began preliminary flights. They won several rich prizes, including that year's Scientific American Cup for the longest flight of the season. In this Curtiss made an official distance of 24-1/2 miles.

We will leave Mr. Curtiss and his associates for the time being and take up again the work of the Wright brothers, who in the spring of 1909 returned to the United States after their European triumphs. Their laurels were further added to by a medal from the Aero Club of America, presented by President Taft at the White House, and medals from the Federal Government, the state of Ohio, and their home town of Dayton. All this time they were busy making the aeroplane with which they were to resume the final tests for the Government that had been interrupted the previous fall by the death of Lieutenant Selfridge. They arrived at Fort Myer in June, but spent most of that month and a large part of July in preparations and short practice flights. The great crowds, among which were scores of statesmen and politicians, gathered in Washington, became impatient at the delays, but the brothers had waited for a good many years to perfect their biplane and would not risk failure by attempting the official tests in bad weather, with their plane out of tune, or their engine in bad working order.

Finally ten thousand cheering spectators were rewarded by seeing Orville Wright ascend with Lieutenant Lahm as a passenger, and sail for 1 hour and 40 seconds, fulfilling the endurance requirements. The next few days the weather prevented the distance test, but one calm evening just before sunset Orville carried Lieut. B. D. Foulois across hills and valleys to Alexandria and return at an average speed of 42.6 miles per hour. This won the brothers a bonus of $5,000 on the price of the machine because they were to receive $2,500 extra for each mile per hour more than the 40 miles per hour called for in the contract. It was the greatest feat of aviation ever seen in the United States at the time and the ovation tendered the brothers was equal to the occasion. Not once, however, did they lose their heads in the slightest or show any undue enthusiasm over their achievement. Statesmen, army officers, and newspaper men crowded around with congratulations and praises, but the great victory was only what the brothers had expected and they soon were planning improvements on their biplane.

The real meaning of this feat by the Wright biplane, however, was that the United States was the first nation officially to adopt an aeroplane for military purposes. To Americans it seems peculiarly fitting that it was the Wright machine that was adopted because it was the Wright aeroplane, strictly an American product, that was the first practical flier.

Later on Wilbur returned to Fort Myer to finish off his contract by teaching two Signal Corps officers to handle the machine. During this time the aviator changed his biplane by transferring one of the forward elevating planes to the rear, where it was used as a fixed tail to give greater stability from front to rear. This was such a success that it was used in subsequent models, and the present-day Wright biplanes have no forward lifting plane at all—the horizontal plane at the rear serving as the elevator and also as the fore and aft balancer.

In the fall of 1909, after the Fort Myer tests, the brothers again separated, Orville going to Europe, where he achieved more distinction, and Wilbur remaining at home to astonish his countrymen with his exhibitions at the Hudson-Fulton Celebration. He made the first trip around the Statue of Liberty on September 9, starting from and returning to Governor's Island in New York Bay.

In the meantime the European aviators were making even greater strides, and 1909 saw many new aeroplanes take the air to break records of different kinds. Throughout the season there was hardly a day that some record was not broken, or that some previously unknown man did not achieve undying fame for his daring feats.

Aeroplane schools were established and aviation passed from the stage of experimenting into the stage of record making and breaking.

The European governments, particularly France and Germany, were carefully watching progress, and dozens of the pupils in the aviation schools were young officers detailed to learn the art of flying and report on its usefulness in warfare. Also the building of aeroplanes became a great industry and in France thousands of scientists, designers, mechanics, motor experts, and wood-working experts were engaged in turning out machines as fast as they could.

It would be impossible in this brief space to describe all of the important flights of the last few busy years in aviation, which were talked of by the boy and his scientist friend, but a very brief outline of the feats accomplished will show the wonderful progress that has been made. The first great international meet, which was held at Rheims, France, in 1909, did more than anything else up to that time to show the world how far the science had gone and how many good machines there were. So great was the public interest in this meet that before the end of the year meets were arranged and held at Blackpool and Donchester, England; Berlin, Juvisy, France, and Brescia, Italy. The most notable achievements of the year in Europe were the flight across the English Channel by BlÉriot in his graceful monoplane, by which he won the prize of 1,000 pounds offered by the London Daily Mail, the winning of the James Gordon Bennett Cup by Curtiss, the only American to contest for the great honour, and the winning of the Grand Prix by Farman in his biplane. BlÉriot, while practising, before his famous flight across the English Channel, broke many records with his monoplanes, No. XI and No. XII. He was the first man to take two passengers in such a craft, those in the machine besides himself being Santos-Dumont and A. Fournier. The total weight of machine and three men was 1,232 pounds. He also made several cross-country records and received medals from the Aero Club of Great Britain and the Aero Club of France.

BlÉriot's flight over the English Channel was one of the most dramatic that ever has been made by an aviator, as he encountered perils that no birdman ever before had faced. He had as a contestant one of the daring young aviators who has made the history of aviation read like a novel. This was Hubert Latham, who used the Antoinette monoplane, one of the most beautiful machines ever designed, and which is described fully later on. Young Latham had become a popular hero because of his daring feats. The aviators said that he was carrying on an endless battle with the wind, for he seemed to prefer flying high in the air when the wind was so gusty that other aviators were afraid to leave their hangars. He had made several monoplane records for endurance and altitude, and after a notable cross-country flight announced his intention of sailing across the English Channel to collect the 1,000 pounds from the Daily Mail. So he took his graceful monoplane to Calais, and after impatiently waiting for fair weather, soared from the towering cliffs and out over the stormy waters of the English Channel. Thousands cheered his daring and wished him success, but before he had gone more than six miles his motor failed him and he glided to the water. In a few minutes the boat that was sailing below him came up and found him calmly sitting on the upper framework of his machine, which was buoyed up by the great wings. He was looking as unconcerned as if he had been sitting in a motor boat on a lake, and declared he would try again the next day. His machine was wrecked in getting it ashore, however, and BlÉriot made his famous flight before the young man could get it repaired.

The older man had been injured in an accident and was still walking on crutches, with a badly burned foot, when a favourable opportunity for the trans-channel flight came. He was awakened before dawn on the morning of July 25th, and, throwing away his crutches as he got into his machine for a practise spin, he said: "I will show the world that I can fly even if I cannot walk."

At 4:35, just as the sun was rising, he sailed out over the precipice, and Latham, watching him, wept with disappointment at not being able to enter the contest. A torpedo boat destroyer was following him, but soon she dropped behind and he was over the trackless channel without any landmark to guide him. Finally the coast of France dropped out of sight and the intrepid aviator was alone, with nothing but his carefully planned monoplane between him and death in the tossing waters hundreds of feet below.

After ten minutes of this the cliffs of the English coast loomed up ahead, bathed in the early morning sunlight. He saw several boats far below him and followed their course, which brought him to the town of Deal, near which he landed. The first man to greet him was his good friend M. Montaine, but soon after a crowd of Englishmen were crowding about congratulating him on his wonderful achievement. Not to be outdone, young Latham cabled his congratulations.

August saw the beginning of the first great international meet at Rheims. Most of the leading aviators of the world gathered there to contest for the prizes and for fame. Curtiss, BlÉriot, Farman, Latham, Lefabre, Count de Lambert, Paul Tissandier, Louis Paulhan, Le Blanc, Roger Sommer, and Rougier all distinguished themselves and made their names as familiar in this country as they were in France.

Latham, with his apparently fearless disregard of danger, and his great, soaring Antoinette monoplane that looked more like a dragon-fly when up in the air than anything else, was one of the popular idols. Not only did he fly in rough winds but also in heavy rainfall, as did his rival, BlÉriot. Of course there were several bad accidents, but none to compare with the later fatalities.

The winning of the $10,000 Grand Prix de la Champagne for the longest flight was not so spectacular as the next day's great race. Latham had made a record of 96 miles that it was thought would stand. On the day of the finals, Friday, August 27th, Latham again took the air, making a spectacular flight several hundred feet high. At the same time several others were performing evolutions in the air, some high and some low. Farman was flying close to the ground and making but poor time in his slower craft. Finally, after all the others had come to earth, the longest flight having been made by Latham, with 68 miles to his credit, the crowd realized that Farman was making a record. Time after time he passed the grand stand, marking off the miles. It became dark, but the crowd still lingered, and was rewarded finally by seeing him bring his machine softly to the ground in front of the judges' stand, winner of the $10,000, with a record of 190 kilometres. His friends, wild with joy, pulled the exhausted aviator from his seat and carried him off the field on their shoulders.

The next day Curtiss, the only American taking part in the meet (although several Wright biplanes were flown by Frenchmen), brought out his 60-horsepower biplane to try for the speed prize of $5,000 offered by James Gordon Bennett. He made two rounds of the field at a speed of 47.04 miles an hour. BlÉriot then brought out his great 80-horsepower monoplane, but the test flights were discouraging. Finally, after working over his machine all afternoon and trying several propellers, he started at five o'clock and made his first round in much better time than Curtiss had done. He slackened up on the second round, however, and came to earth to find that he had lost to the gallant American. By winning the prize Curtiss was allowed to take the next year's contest to his own country.

There were many other records broken at the other meets held in 1909, but none of them stood long after the 1910 season had got well under way. Altitude, endurance, distance and speed records all were shattered by the ever-increasing army of aviators and the constantly improving machines.

Undoubtedly the most spectacular and daring feat of 1910 was the flight across the Alps by George Chavez, who was born in Paris of Peruvian parents only twenty-three years before his tragic death. In September of that year he set out to win the prize of 70,000 francs offered by the Italian Aviation Society to the first aviator who would fly the 75 miles from Brig to Milan, across the towering peaks and yawning chasms of the Alps. Of the five who entered the contest Chavez was the only one to make a real start. After waiting for several days, during which wind, rain and fog kept him chained to the ground, he finally rose in the air.

In a few minutes he was 7,000 feet above sea level, crossing the famous Simplon Pass, braving the fierce eddies of wind that swirled around the cruel, jagged crags and precipices. Finally he crossed the mountains and glided down the Italian slope to Domodossola. Thousands had gathered to greet his arrival, but as he was sinking gradually to the earth, only thirty feet above the ground, a gust of wind caught the machine, the wings collapsed and the brave young man fell to earth underneath the machinery. He received injuries from which he died four days later. The committee granted him one third of the prize on the basis that he had completed the difficult part of the journey.

No less dangerous was Glenn Curtiss's trip from Albany to New York in his biplane, by which he won the $10,000 prize offered by the New York World. Most of his route lay over wooded hills, the waters of the Hudson River, or the cliffs along its banks, which territory, as any one who has travelled from New York to Albany knows, offers few landing places. Starting with a letter from the Mayor of Albany to the Mayor of New York and followed by a special train on the New York Central he made Camelot, 41 miles from Albany, in about an hour. The next jump was clear to Spuyten Duyvil, the northern boundary of Manhattan, which completed the required 128 miles in a total elapsed time of 2 hours and 32 minutes. His average speed was 50-1/2 miles an hour.

This stage of the journey nearly brought serious disaster to the aviator, for, while passing the famous old mountain Storm King, he was caught by a terrific gust of wind and his machine was twisted sideways so that it dropped suddenly toward the river. By skilful manipulation he righted his biplane and continued.

After a brief pause at Spuyten Duyvil he sailed down the Hudson River and the upper New York Bay to Governor's Island. Every whistle in the harbour, a few million people and the reporters representing the newspaper readers of the whole civilized world, proclaimed his victory over the wind gusts eddying around the palisades and the New York skyscrapers.

In the United States there were many aviators besides Curtiss who were making an effort to win long distance prizes. The New York Times and the Philadelphia Ledger had offered a large purse, supposed to be $10,000, for the first flight from New York to Philadelphia, and on June 13th, a few days after Glenn Curtiss's flight from Albany to New York, Charles K. Hamilton, another young man new to aviation, sailed in his Curtiss biplane the 86 miles from Governor's Island to Philadelphia in 1 hour and 43 minutes, and returned the same day. His average speed was 50-1/2 miles an hour, the same maintained by Curtiss in his Albany-New York trip. These two flights added tremendously to the fame of the Curtiss machines.

The great International Aviation Tournament of 1910, held at Belmont Park in October, was the climax of the season in this country. Of course interest centred around the race for the James Gordon Bennett Cup and prize of $5,000, which had been won the year before at Rheims by Curtiss. The total prizes amounted to $60,000 and practically every standard make of aeroplane was represented. The American aviators came into prominence at this meet, as will be remembered by the feats of Walter Brookins, Arch. Hoxsey, Ralph Johnstone, J. A. Drexel and a dozen others. The English contingent was led by Claude Grahame-White, who had been making himself famous at the Harvard-Boston meet. Of the Frenchmen, Alfred LeBlanc, Hubert Latham, Emiel Aubrun and Count de Lesseps were among the leaders.

Nearly every one nowadays is familiar with the story of how Grahame-White brought out his 100-horsepower BlÉriot monoplane for its first trial and made 100 kilometres at an average speed of 61 miles an hour. Soon after that LeBlanc came out with another 100-horsepower BlÉriot, acknowledged to be one of the swiftest machines ever made at that time, and started on a race around the course at a speed such as the world had never seen before. In the last lap his gasoline gave out, the aeroplane shot downward and was smashed against a telephone pole. LeBlanc was more angry than injured, because he had lost the race, although his speed had been 67 miles an hour, or six miles better than Grahame-White's. Brookins, with the Wright biplane racing machine, started out with high speed, but the engine soon began to miss fire and he too came to earth. Consequently Grahame-White carried off the prize.

The next day the aviators were out to contest for the $10,000 offered by Thomas F. Ryan for the quickest flight from the aviation field to the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbour, 16 miles away, and return. Never before was there such a dramatic race. Together Count de Lesseps and Claude Grahame-White, both in BlÉriot machines, started for the Statue. John Moisant, the American aviator, who only that summer had made the first flight from Paris to London, suddenly determined to win the prize. It took him about five minutes to buy LeBlanc's 50-horsepower BlÉriot monoplane for $10,000, and just as Grahame-White and de Lesseps were returning from their flight Moisant started out. Instead of taking the safer roundabout course, where there were many landing places, this dauntless birdman sailed directly over the church steeples of Brooklyn, cutting through the treacherous air currents at terrific speed, circling the Statue at great altitude and returning by the same route. His time was 43 seconds better than that of Grahame-White, who flew a machine of double the power. The Americans were wild with delight, thinking Moisant had won the prize, but the committee finally gave the award to Count de Lesseps, who made the slowest time, because Grahame-White had fouled the starting post, or pylon, as it is called by aviators, and because Moisant in his desperation to get started had failed to qualify.

But there were other records broken. Ralph Johnstone, flying the small Wright biplane racer, which was equipped with particularly large propellers, broke the altitude record of 9,104 feet which had been set in France by climbing to an altitude of 9,714 feet. The round trip to and from the clouds took him 1 hour and 43 minutes. In connection with the altitude trials, the daring of Johnstone and Hoxsey was particularly notable. Both of these aviators took up their Wright biplanes when the wind was blowing so fiercely that they could hardly turn the pylons. When they got to a great altitude, one time the gale was so terrific that they were carried backward at a speed of nearly 40 miles an hour, and both of them had to land in open country; Johnstone at Holtsville, L. I., 55 miles away, and Hoxsey at Brentwood, half that distance. During these flights both of them had reached altitudes of more than a mile in the air. But these records were not destined to stand long, as will be shown by the table on page 75.

But world's distance and altitude records were being broken in Europe, too, and during the summer of 1910 the record keepers were busy putting new names at the heads of their lists, as will be shown by the table on page 76. The long distance speed race, called the "Circuit de l'Est," which took in a course 488 miles long, of six towns around Paris, aroused as much enthusiasm as any. The prize which was offered by the newspaper Le Matin of Paris was for 100,000 francs. The race started on August 7, with eight contestants, and ended on August 17 with Alfred LeBlanc, in his BlÉriot monoplane, the winner. He had made the distance in six stages at an average speed of 40 miles an hour, flying through rain, fog and wind. Next came Aubrun in a BlÉriot and Weyman in a Farman. Not only was this race one of the severest tests that the aeroplane had ever had, but also it was a trial to the aviators that did a great deal to prove the practicability of the aeroplanes for more serious work than pleasant day sport.

ALTITUDE FLIGHTS IN 1910[A]

DISTANCE AND ENDURANCE FLIGHTS

Then, too, there was the great London to Manchester race for the $50,000 offered by Lord Northcliffe, owner of the London Daily Mail. This was one of the most exciting contests of the year, not only because of the difficulties of the trip, but also because of the nip and tuck finish between the two contestants.

Claude Grahame-White had just purchased a Farman biplane, and hearing that Paulhan was hurrying across the Atlantic from the United States to try for the prize himself, the Englishman announced that he would start as soon as his machine could be set up. He had had but little experience with the biplane, as always before that time he had used a BlÉriot, but nevertheless, in spite of the advice of his friends to wait, Grahame-White started on the 183-mile flight on the morning of April 23d in the teeth of a high wind. According to Grahame-White's own account of the flight he was buffeted about so unmercifully by the wind that several times he thought he would have to descend. At the same time the cold was so intense that he suffered agonies. He reached his first stop at Rugby in safety, though so cold he had to be lifted from his seat, but soon after taking the air again the gale rose to such a pitch that he was forced to land. He went to a hotel to rest and wait for the wind to abate, but while there the gale tipped over his biplane, smashing it so badly that the aviator had to give up and take his machine back to London practically to be rebuilt.

Meanwhile Paulhan had reached England and was rushing his workmen night and day to get his aeroplane set up before Grahame-White could complete his repairs and make a fresh start.

Finally, with the wind still blowing a gale, Paulhan started for Manchester. Grahame-White heard of this at 6:30 in the evening, but manfully started after his competitor and flew 60 miles, when he was finally forced to land in the dark. Determined to remain in the race, he started again about three o'clock in the morning with the intention of trying to catch up with the daring Frenchman. Besides the bitter cold, it was so dark that the Englishman could not see whether he was flying high or low or even toward Manchester. The danger of this kind of flying he knew was very great, because if his engine failed him he would have had to come to earth anywhere he happened to light, as likely on a church steeple or in a lake as on a level spot. Of this famous flight Grahame-White wrote in his book, "The Story of the Aeroplane":

"My start was really something in the nature of a confused jumble. Faint lights swept away on either side as my machine moved across the ground. I could not judge my ascent at all, on account of the darkness. But I elevated as quickly as possible, and got away from the ground smartly.

"Directly I was at a respectable height, I could see the lights of the railway station very distinctly. I headed toward them. Looking directly down, I found that I could distinguish nothing on the ground below me. It was all a black smudge. I flew right over the lights of the railway station—and as I was doing so my engine began to miss fire. It was certainly a very uncomfortable moment—one of the most uncomfortable I have ever experienced.

"But, very fortunately for me, after a momentary spluttering, the engine picked up again, and fired properly. I had begun to sink toward the ground, upon which I knew I could have picked out no landing place in the darkness. As soon as my engine began to do its work again, however, I rose and continued my flight smoothly."

With the dawn came a terrific wind which forced the aviator to land near Polesworth. While waiting for the wind to abate the Englishman and his friends heard Paulhan had reached Manchester and won the prize. Of Paulhan's famous flight, one of the men who was aboard the special train following Paulhan, according to Mr. Grahame-White, said:

"I do not think I have ever seen a machine roll about in the air as his did. He was, we could see, incessantly at work. One wind gust after another struck the machine and it literally reeled under the shock.

"Up and down it went, and from side to side. Paulhan's pluck and determination were remarkable. I do not think that any other man could have kept on with such determination as he displayed. It was a strange thing to see how the wind got worse and worse as the airman flew on."

But these feats that startled the world in 1910 would not cause a ripple of enthusiasm now, since the North American Continent has been crossed by aeroplane; since the trip from Boston to Washington and from St. Louis to New York has been made; since a machine has stayed in the air a whole day, or more than eight and a half hours, since a dozen passengers have been carried half a dozen miles and since the development of the hydro-aeroplane.

Copyright, by Brown Brothers, N. Y.

CHAVEZ ON HIS FATAL FLIGHT ACROSS THE ALPS