In the world of commerce a gain of fifteen hours in the receipt of letters from Europe may have important consequences. The experiment of the French Line was to be only a beginning in speeding Atlantic mails. It is yet planned to launch planes when steamships are 800 miles from the port of destination. With a following wind the amphibian plane piloted by Commander Demougeot flew at the rate of 130 miles an hour and made the distance of over 400 miles to Quarantine in three hours and seventeen minutes. In such weather as prevailed it could have been catapulted from the Ile de France with no more hazard when she was 800 miles away, or about one-fourth of the distance between Havre and New York. Ten years ago the experiment of hurrying mail to shore in a plane from a surface ship 400 miles out at sea would not have been attempted. So great has been the improvement in airplane design that what the Ile de France has done will soon become the regular order. It is not wildly speculative to think of dispatching a plane after a liner on a well-traveled route in these days of excellent radio communication. It would be well to use for that purpose amphibian or seaplanes carrying fuel enough to take them all the way across the Atlantic if necessary. It is conceivable that ocean flight between Europe and the United States will be the sequel to a ship-and-plane system of mail delivery, the distances covered by the plane becoming longer and longer until the steamship can be dispensed with altogether. And last, just an item of news, gleaned from “Time”: Broker’s Amphibian Between his summer home on Buzzard’s Bay, Mass., and his brokerage offices in Manhattan, Richard F. Hoyt commutes at 100 miles an hour. He uses a Loening amphibian biplane, sits lazily in a cabin finished in dark brown broadcloth and saddle leather, with built-in lockers containing pigskin picnic cases. Pilot Robert E. Ellis occupies a forward cockpit, exposed to the breezes. But occasionally Broker Hoyt wishes to pilot himself. When this happens he pulls a folding seat out of the cabin ceiling, reveals a sliding hatch. Broker Hoyt mounts to the seat, opens the hatch, inserts a removable joystick in a socket between his feet. Rudder pedals are already installed in front of the folding seat. He has thus created a rear cockpit, with a full set of controls. Broker Hoyt becomes Pilot Hoyt. With such excerpts, from the newspapers and the magazines of every day, one could go on endlessly, for aviation is woven ever closer into the warp of the world’s news. Ours is the commencement of a flying age, and I am happy to have popped into existence at a period so interesting. WILMER STULTZ—Pilot Born April 11, 1900. He enlisted in 1917 for duration of the war. Joined the 634th Aero Squadron at San Antonio, Texas, and later served at Middletown, Pa. Discharged March, 1919. On August 4, 1919, married Mildred Potts, of Middletown.