The second fault lay with the cords. They would persist in getting entangled. Everyone knows how a dozen cords hanging near together will get entangled with each other on the slightest provocation. Such cords if blown about by a strong wind would be much worse even than when still, and if, as must often be the case with parachutes, they be coiled up, we all know from our own experience that some of them would be almost sure to get knotted and tangled together when, in a sudden emergency, the attempt was made to pull them all out of their coils in a second or two. Just picture to yourself what it means: a dozen coiled cords all close together, themselves all coiled up in loops, suddenly pulled. Something awkward appears almost inevitable. And the result of even one rope going awry may be fatal, for it may prevent the parachute opening out fully, probably giving it a "lop-sided" form incapable of gripping the air effectually and consequently allowing the unfortunate man to fall with a velocity which means certain death. This second cause of failure to open, through entanglement of cordage, has happened in a number of cases, with fatal results. So much for the faults of the old primitive parachute. Now let us consider for a moment the urgent need for a parachute which is free from such faults. The man who goes up in a balloon on a Saturday afternoon feels so sure of his "craft" that he thinks he needs no "lifeboat," yet men in ordinary free balloons have been killed for want of them. The spectators at country fairs no longer appreciate a parachute descent as a great and extraordinary spectacle. But in warfare, with kite balloons by the dozen, with dirigible balloons by the score and aeroplanes by the hundred, the call for parachutes is urgent and irresistible. At all events, Mr. Calthrop found an irresistible call to devote years of close study, unceasing toil and considerable sums of money to the task of perfecting an improved parachute which would always open and open quickly, and whose cords would never get entangled. He has the satisfaction of knowing that by so doing he has provided an appliance that in the air is as reliable as a lifeboat is at sea, and that at all times, and from every kind of aircraft, can be depended upon in case of accident to save the lives of gallant airmen who but for his work would be dashed to death. The Great War has taught us to regard life somewhat cheaply. For years we were more concerned with taking life than with saving it, yet surely to save the life of one's own men is equivalent to taking the lives of one's opponents, so that even from the point of view of warfare the saving of life may be a help towards victory. This is particularly so when the lives saved are those of the choicest spirits, and among the most highly trained. It has been reckoned that to make a fully-trained pilot costs as much as £1500, so that to save but a few, even in their preparatory nights on the training-grounds where so many