making the 2,000 metres in five minutes to the ground. No work since then on account of bad weather. This morning I attended my first Catholic funeral, that of the commandant of the school who was the victim of a mid-air collision, a very unusual accident. The other machine got down safely though badly smashed. Everybody in camp attended the funeral in the chapel of the Artillery Camp next door. I understood none of the service, but the music by a tenor and a ’cello was excellent. While the cortege was going down the hill to the cemetery, a Nieuport circled overhead very low for half an hour or more and dropped a wreath. It was a very impressive ceremony. I expect to start on triangle and _petit voyage_ in a few days. When they are done, I will be a breveted flier in the French Army. Then comes _perfectionné_ work and acrobacy, so it will be quite a while yet for me. VI August 31, 1917. Dear ----[C]: Here it is almost September and I am still a dog-goned _élève pilote_. Verily, every time I think of how the time passes along without results, I go wild. My complaint is caused by the west wind, which has blown about twenty-five days during the month of August and seems likely to continue well on into September. The only variety is an occasional storm. For the past two weeks I’ve been waiting to start my voyages, two trips to a town forty miles away and back and two other triangular trips about 180 miles long each. When they are done, one becomes a _pilote élève_; and there’s a great if subtle difference when the words are reversed. An _élève pilote_ is the scum of the earth, looked down on by mechanics, pilots, monitors, and everyone else; a _pilote élève_ can wear wings on his collar and is as good as any one else. He is permitted to fly in rough weather, to take chances and is not in so much danger of getting radiated if he gets in trouble. The proper thing to do on a triangle or _petit voyage_ is to have something bust directly over a nice château; make a skilful landing on the front lawn under the eyes of the admiring household and then be an enforced guest for a few days until one is rescued by a truck and mechanics. One has to be very careful where the _panne de moteur_ catches him lest he have to make his landing in a lake or on a forest, which is apt to be a bit awkward. One chap, an American, has been out on a triangle for two weeks, staying at some country place, and there are four others at another school near a big town waiting for weather to return. Reports give us to believe they are having a much better time there than we are here.