(A) J A D McCurdy racing against automobile, Daytona Beach. (B) Lieutenant T. G. Ellyson, U. S. N. (C) Mr. and Mrs. W. B. Atwater, pupils at San Diego. When the flight nears its end and the machine flies low over the aviation field, the fences and trees there seem in a moment to be rushing to meet one. The planes are pointed downwards, the machine descends, is caught up again by the control, and glides along level with the ground, skimming just above the grass. The wind moves it a little side wise, perhaps, but the pilot, with the rudder, straightens the machine around until it points right into the wind's eye and the wheels are parallel with the direction of the machine over the ground. The control now causes the machine to come lower until the wheels strike the ground it rolls along bounces a little over the rough field the brake is set, and the machine comes to a stop. The aviator jumps down, the passenger climbs out with somewhat less agility, perhaps, and expresses his very hearty thanks, the plane is turned around, the propeller started, and the machine flies off again, leaving the passenger to tramp slowly through the grass, contemplating the insignificance of the human creature who is forced to walk humbly along the ground. You may remember that the first time you descended from an automobile and began to walk, you seemed to yourself to be only marking time. This new experience, though of the same nature as that, is far more impressive; not alone the difference in speed, but the whole character of the motion the altitude, the rushing wind, the sense of something long awaited and now realised sets the sensation of flight apart from any other, and makes him who once experiences it resolved to repeat the experience as soon and as often as possible. The passenger is at once the object of eager inquiries as to how he felt, and he usually makes it his business to express his satisfaction whenever asked and sometimes without being asked, so there is little wonder that aviators are besieged by applicants for rides. A few months ago a lady who had been a passenger in an aeroplane was certain to get her picture in the papers; now there are so many that it would be difficult even to keep a record of them. Now that we are coming to regard the aeroplane seriously, more from the practical and less from the grandstand side, it may be noted without fear of loss to gate receipts, that its dangers have been greatly exaggerated. Rational flight is hardly any more hazardous than motor speeding, steeple chasing, and many other sports, not to mention football! Engines stop and planes split, but steering gear breaks and horses stumble. Danger lurks everywhere, but we disregard it because the chances are long in our favour.