The late Gustave Hamel, whose tragic fate has been so heavy a blow to aviation, lost control of a Bleriot when rounding a pylon in the 1911 race. The machine side-slipped, and struck ground at 90 miles an hour. So tremendous was the shock that the motor, torn from its supports, went rolling far away across the ground, and the body of the craft was reduced to a tangled wreckage. Hamel, like Leblanc, was projected from his driving seat by the impact. He slid out upon one wing, rolled across this, and then went sprawling over the turf. Had he not been thrown clear, had he remained within the hull and been pinned amidst its fragments, it is almost certain that he would have been killed; but as it was--striking neither his head nor limbs against any obstruction--he sustained a slight concussion and nothing more, and was soon flying again. An air-race which is more popular than any other, and is seen each year by millions of spectators, is the Aerial Derby. This was established in 1912, and it was arranged that it should follow within a week after the great horse-race which takes place on Epsom Downs. For 81 miles, making a complete circuit of London, ran the course of the first year’s race, the turning-points being such towers or large buildings as might catch the airman’s eye. There were seven competitors, six of them with monoplanes, and the winner was T. O. M. Sopwith, who flew the course in a 70-h.p. Bleriot in a few minutes less than an hour and a half. Machines, then, were not so reliable as they are now; nor were pilots so expert; and there were quaint happenings in this first race. Verrier, who flew a Maurice-Farman biplane, took up with him a photographer, so that views might be obtained from the air; but fog was encountered and heavy cloud-banks, and the airman lost his way. For hours he flew without any idea where he was going, and once in the distance he caught sight of the sea. Eventually, just as dusk had begun to fall, he groped his way back to Hendon--which is the starting and finishing point of each year’s race. Moorhouse, another of the racers, lost his way also, wandering away over Sevenoaks; while Valentine, uncertain as to his direction, landed to make inquiries, and had an amusing experience. A smooth field presented itself, and towards this he planed, noticing that a solitary man was standing in it. From him, after he had alighted, Valentine sought to obtain guidance; but the man, dumbfounded by the advent of the machine, which had swooped suddenly towards him out of the empty air, seemed to lose all power of speech. He stood in the field and merely waved his arms, amazement written upon his face; and, after trying in vain to make sense of his gestures, Valentine had to fly farther on and alight again.