Since last I wrote a regular letter, considerable has taken place. First, I am now at Pau, having finished up Avord. Have sent postcards to Father right along to keep track of movements. After _brevet_ was over, I did not take the customary permission of forty-eight hours, but went straight to work on Nieuport, D. C. (double command). One cannot learn a great deal riding with an instructor--only about enough to keep from smashing in landing, because one never knows when the instructor is messing with the controls, when it’s one’s self. There are five kinds of Nieuports--differing mainly in size, the smaller being faster and more agile in the air, better adapted to eccentric flying. They are 28, 23, 18, 15, 13 (the baby Nieuport). At Avord I had about a week of D. C. on 28 and 23 (the numbers refer to size of wings) with several days of no work. Then some days on 23 alone and finally on 18 alone. The landings are a bit different from those of the machines I had been flying as they are faster and the machines are quite nose-heavy. In the air the nose-heavy feature makes them “fly themselves”--that is, according to the speed of the motor the machine will rise and climb or _piqué_ and descend, with never a touch from the pilot. If the weather is not very bad, the Nieuport will correct itself automatically from all displacements. But in landing the nose-heavy feature causes a great many _capotages_. If the landing isn’t done about right with the tail low--over she goes on her nose or all the way onto her back. It is a very common occurrence and has become almost a joke. When a pupil capotes, everybody kids him--no one hurries over to see if he is hurt, not at all; he climbs out from under, usually cursing, and in ten minutes the truck is out to salvage the wreck. It is astounding the way smashes are taken as a matter of course. Yesterday one chap in landing hit another machine, demolishing both but not touching either pilot. Being worth some $15,000 or $25,000, but no one seemed to worry--it’s very much a matter of course. The monitor was a little peeved because he will be short of machines for a few days, but that was all. I’ve seen as many as ten machines flat on their backs or with tails high in the air, on one field at the same time. For myself, I haven’t capoted or busted any wood since the Blériot days. But I’m knocking on the wooden table now. On several occasions it has been only luck that saved me, as I’ve made many rotten landings. Well, to get back to the diary. After finishing at Avord, I waited around for two days to get papers fixed up, requested and obtained permission and then decided not to use it and left straight for Pau after fond farewells to the friends I’ve been with for three and a half months. Looking back, I didn’t have such a bad time at Avord after all, though I did get terribly tired of the living conditions.