Wednesday morning, the fourth of the meet, was heavy with black clouds, which presaged unfavorable weather. The winds were light, but still nothing transpired till late in the afternoon to break the monotony of waiting. During this long interval the crowd could amuse itself with gossip, refreshments and music, and with an occasional flight of lesser moment. About four o’clock Paulhan set forth in a six-mile wind to try for the Grand Prix de la Champagne. His lumbering Voisin had a speed of hardly more than thirty miles an hour, but it was driven by a very reliable 50-horse Gnome 7-cylinder motor, whose body spins round a fixed crank, carrying the propeller with it. No one at first expected a very long flight. The wind rose, sometimes exceeding 20 miles an hour, tossing the young pilot terribly, and once throwing him so far within the course that he must turn a complete circle in order to round the corner post, or pylon. But he kept right on, so long as there remained a drop of fuel. He first broke Wilbur Wright’s best record, by 23 minutes, then Sommer’s recent record, by 6 minutes, finally landing, at half past six o’clock, with a new world’s record of 82 miles in 2 hours, 43 minutes and 24⅘ seconds. The people were frantic with excitement; they clapped their hands and waved thousands of handkerchiefs; they rent the air with tremendous applause as he was borne toward the grand stand on the shoulders of his clamorous comrades. Others at the same time had been flying with varied fortune. During Paulhan’s long demonstration, Fournier had encountered a miniature whirlwind, turned over in the air, at a great height, and crashed sidewise to the ground, with some injury to his nose, and with much damage to the wings and tail of his machine. Latham, wishing to lower his circuit time, flew thrice around the course, but without improvement. During his flight, a splendid rainbow appeared, which together with the _Antoinette_ dragon fly soaring high aloft with Latham on its back, produced an impressive spectacle.