eive of its pausing suddenly and remaining, for perhaps a
full minute, poised thus upon its tail--absolutely perpendicular.
Then, the engines switched off, conceive of it falling helplessly,
tail first, reversing suddenly and plunging earthwards, spinning
giddily round and round very like the helpless flutter of a falling
leaf. Then suddenly, the engine roars again, the twisting,
fluttering, dead thing becomes instinct with life, rights itself
majestically on flashing pinions, swoops down in swift and headlong
course, and turning, mounts the wind and soars up and up as light, as
graceful, as any bird.

Other nerve-shattering things they do, these soaring young demigods
of the air, feats so marvellous to such earth-bound ones as
myself--feats indeed so wildly daring it would seem no ordinary
human could ever hope to attain unto. But in and around Paris and at
the front, I have talked with, dined with, and known many of these
bird-men, both English, French and American, and have generally found
them very human indeed, often shy, generally simple and unaffected,
and always modest of their achievements and full of admiration for
seamen and soldiers, and heartily glad that their lives are not
jeopardised aboard ships, or submarines, or in muddy trenches; which
sentiment I have heard fervently expressed--not once, but many times.
Surely the mentality of the flier is beyond poor ordinary
understanding!

It was with some such thought in my mind that with my friend N., a
well-known American correspondent, I visited one of our flying
squadrons at the front. The day was dull and cloudy, and N., deep
versed and experienced in flying and matters pertaining thereto,
shook doubtful head.

"We shan't see much to-day," he opined, "low visibility--_plafond_
only about a thousand!" Which cryptic sentence, by dint of
pertinacious questioning, I found to mean that the clouds were about
a thousand feet from earth and that it was misty. "_Plafond_", by the
way, is aeronautic for cloud strata. Thus I stood with my gaze lifted
heavenward until the Intelligence Officer joined us with a youthful
flight-captain, who, having shaken hands, looked up also and stroked
a small and very young moustache. And presently he spoke as nearly as
I remember on this wise:

"About twelve hundred! Rather rotten weather for our
business--expecting some new machines over, too."

"Has your squadron been out lately?" I enquired (I have the gift of
enquiry larg