“It was a triumph of man over machinery, of man over the brute forces of nature. The flight was a tribute to the young men of the world--of the new generation which has sprung up since the war, determined to subdue the forces of nature--determined in the near future to make the air a great highway for intercourse between your people and ours.” The day set for departure was misty. On arrival at Kinnerly Airdrome Lindbergh found conditions too difficult to fly to Paris. So there he remained that night as the guest of the Royal Air Force. But he had little sleep; for at 3:30 a messenger awakened him with word the weather was clearing. He hopped off at 6:20 A.M. but thirty-eight minutes later, due to low visibility, he came down at Lympnel, England. At eight o’clock a big Handley Page mail and passenger plane flew over. Whereupon Lindbergh quickly went aloft and used the big ship as a guide all the way to Le Bourget. In the afternoon he attended a ceremony at the Swedish Church in Paris and the next morning--Saturday June 5th,--he took-off for Cherbourg at 9:22 accompanied by twenty planes. Just as he was ready to go, Costes and Rignot, the two French aviators who were leaving on their eastward trip in an effort to beat the non-stop record he had established, came over to say good-by and he wished them Godspeed. On the way to Cherbourg Lindbergh ran into wind, rain, hail and fog. He landed there at 11:35 amid what seemed to be the entire population of the port. He was cordially welcomed by the full staff of city officials. After lunch at the Mayor’s château he was motored into the city proper, and at the Gare Maritime a plaque was unveiled commemorating the spot where he had first flown over France on his way to Le Bourget. To avoid pressure of the crowd he jumped upon a Cunard tender at the dock and reached the fast launch of Admiral Burrage which carried him to the _U.S.S. Memphis_, ordered by President Coolidge to bring the flier home. IV WASHINGTON It is probable that when Lindbergh reached America he got the greatest welcome any man in history has ever received; certainly the greatest when judged by numbers; and by far the greatest in its freedom from that unkind emotion which in such cases usually springs from one people’s triumph over another. Lindbergh’s victory was all victory; for it was not internecine, but that of our human species over the elements against which for thousands of centuries man’s weakness has been pitted. The striking part of it all was that a composite picture of past homecoming heroes wouldn’t look any more like Charles Lindbergh did that day of his arrival in Washington than a hitching post looks like a green bay tree.