“Contact,” came back the echo from the pilot as he switched on. A lusty heave of the propeller, and the engine was started. For a moment the machine was held back, while the pilot listened to the deep throbbing of the motor, and then, satisfied with its running, he waved his hand, and we began to “taxi” rapidly across the aerodrome to the starting-point. The starting-point varies almost every day, as the rule is to start facing the wind. Then we turned, the pilot opened the throttle wide, and a deep roar behind us betokened the instant response of the engine. With the propeller doing its 900 revolutions a minute we were soon travelling over the ground at 40 m.p.h. The motion got smoother, and on looking down I found to my surprise that we were already some thirty feet above the ground. A slight movement of the elevator, and we started to climb in earnest. A couple of circuits and we were 700 feet up. The pilot looked round and signalled to me to put my hands on the controls. I did so, and then--apparently to test my nerves--he started doing some real sporting “stunts,” dives, steep-banks, and so on--in fact, everything but looping the loop. However, it did not occur to me at the time to be nervous, I was enjoying it so much. And so at last the pilot, who kept casting furtive glances at me, was satisfied, and taking her up to 1,000 feet put her on an even keel, and took both his hands off the controls, putting them on the sides of the nacelle and leaving poor little me to manage the “’bus.” This I did all right, keeping her horizontal and jockeying her up with the ailerons when one of the wings dropped a little in an air pocket. On reaching the other side of the “’drome” he retook control, turned her, and let me repeat my performance. Then, again taking control, the pilot, after a few more stunts, throttled down till his engine was just “ticking over,” and did a _vol plané_ from 1,000 feet into the almost invisible aerodrome. A gentle landing in the growing darkness and rising fog, a swift “taxi” along the ground to the open hangar, and my first lesson in aerial navigation was concluded. The teaching methods may be considered rather abrupt, but they are those adopted now by all the flying schools. The pupil is taken up straight away on a dual-control machine to a height of about 1,000 feet, and then is allowed to lean forward and amuse himself with the second set of controls, any excessive mistake being corrected by the pilot. After a time he is allowed to turn unaided, to do complete circuits unaided, and finally to land the machine unaided. If he does this successfully he is sent “solo,” and after a few “solos” is sent up for his “ticket” or Royal Aero Club Certificate. At the time of writing I am doing circuits unaided, but I hope, weather permitting, to have come down unaided by the time this appears in print.--_Reprinted from the School Journal._ * * * * *