He went to church with President and Mrs. Coolidge. Accompanied by his mother he laid a wreath upon the tomb of the Unknown Soldier in the great memorial amphitheatre in Arlington Cemetery. He drove to Georgetown and visited the wounded soldiers at Walter Reed Hospital. He attended a celebration in honor of the 150th anniversary of the American flag, for which services were held on the steps of the Capitol and presided over by Charles Evans Hughes. It was at this last ceremony that Lindbergh received the Cross of Honor. His response to the honor was brief and typically to the point. He declared that credit for his flight should “not go to the pilot alone but to American science and genius which had given years of study to the advancement of aeronautics.” “Some things should be taken into consideration in connection with our flight that have not heretofore been given due weight. That is just what made this flight possible. It was not the act of a single pilot. It was the culmination of twenty years of aeronautical research and the assembling together of all that was practicable and best in American aviation. It represented American industry. “In addition to this consideration should be given the scientific researches that have been in progress for countless centuries. All of this should have consideration in apportioning credit for the flight. Credit should go not alone to the pilot, but to the other factors that I have briefly enumerated. I thank you.” This was the day well worthy of what Lindbergh had done and what he stood for. And again, by the spiritual values it comprised, it struck the inspirational note which had dominated almost everything the lad has done or said from the moment of his landing at Le Bourget to the moment of this writing. Is it any wonder that the populace responded as it did? V NEW YORK On Monday morning, June 13, Lindbergh rose at dawn and reached the Mayflower Hotel at 6:45 A.M. for breakfast with the National Aeronautical Association, which conferred a life membership upon him. He reached Bolling Field outside Washington at about 7:30 A.M. Here rose the only incident to mar his otherwise flawless happiness in the welcome he had received. His plane refused to “mote.” It didn’t actually rebel. But there was sufficient irregularity in its engine to discourage him from risking delay when New York City was almost every minute voicing its impatience that he hurry to the celebration awaiting him there. A pursuit plane was quickly obtained from an army field and he was soon in the air with his escort of more than a score of ships. The course of the group led them over Baltimore, Wilmington and Philadelphia. Eyewitnesses later reported that demonstrations took place at every one of these places as the air cavalcade went by. Of course those in the planes, thousands of feet in the air and deafened by the roar of their motors, heard nothing of the bells and whistles that saluted them as they passed.