These are but a few of the records which serve to illustrate the progress in cross-country flying during that year of strenuous and world-wide popular demonstrations. But the bare numerical statement of facts can give no conception of the delight and exultation aroused in millions of souls who witnessed or learned of these marvelous human achievements. They were the advancing triumph of a proud and fortunate generation, happy in realizing one of the fondest dreams of the ages. Often during one of these cross-country flights the aëroplane was accompanied by a swift railway train whose passengers were delirious with enthusiasm. The entire route was thronged with people assembled from afar. It was a general holiday for all the fortunate cities and villages along the way. Mills and factories blew their whistles and forgot the serious business of life, homes were deserted, schools were dismissed; the whole population for the time congregated in the open; bearded mechanics in their aprons, bare-armed housewives holding their children aloft, girls and boys with wondering eyes, all shouting, waving banners, throwing up hats, and hailing with tumultuous demonstration that strange and huge-winged creature gliding from horizon to horizon with the steadiness, precision and directness of a mighty projectile. But beyond stating the records of this season of aërial wonders, only a passing notice can be given to some of the more conspicuous events. The most famous overland voyages of the season 1910 began with the race for the London _Daily Mail_ prize of $50,000, offered by Lord Northcliffe for the first person who should fly from London to Manchester, 183 miles within twenty-four hours, with not more than two stops. An Englishman, Claude Grahame-White, comparatively new in the pilot’s art, was first to undertake that difficult and perilous adventure. Starting from London, without competitor, on April 24th, he flew in his Farman biplane, from London to Rugby, thence to Hademore, about halfway to Manchester, landing at a quarter past nine o’clock at night, after a four-hour trip, and hoping to reach Manchester next day. But during the night his aëroplane, which was left in the open, was damaged by the wind, thus necessitating repairs and a new start. On April 27th, while he was strenuously mending and adjusting his biplane for a new start, Louis Paulhan, who the day previously had arrived from France with a Farman biplane to enter the contest, was also vigorously setting up and adjusting his machine.