1. Outline Lincoln's life, ancestry, etc., as here presented, under the proper heads. Test your outline by trying to group all the facts under their proper headings. This will require careful re-reading of the selection.2. Next take one of your topics and practicethinkingof the items you have included under it. Be ready to speak on any one of your topics at class recitation.3. What major events of Lincoln's life are omitted from this document? Why? (To answer this, refer to your history for the dates of Lincoln's presidency; compare with the date when this was written.)4. Is there anything in the article that sounds the least boastful? Explain lines 25-26 in this connection.5. Who were the Whigs? What was the Missouri Compromise?6. One sentence in this suggests the sly humor of Lincoln. Find it.
1. Outline Lincoln's life, ancestry, etc., as here presented, under the proper heads. Test your outline by trying to group all the facts under their proper headings. This will require careful re-reading of the selection.
2. Next take one of your topics and practicethinkingof the items you have included under it. Be ready to speak on any one of your topics at class recitation.
3. What major events of Lincoln's life are omitted from this document? Why? (To answer this, refer to your history for the dates of Lincoln's presidency; compare with the date when this was written.)
4. Is there anything in the article that sounds the least boastful? Explain lines 25-26 in this connection.
5. Who were the Whigs? What was the Missouri Compromise?
6. One sentence in this suggests the sly humor of Lincoln. Find it.
The Civil War between the North and the South lasted from 1861-1865. Abraham Lincoln was President of the United States at the time, and it was largely due to his wisdom that the great conflict lasted no longer. The Northern armies were generally victorious in the winter and spring of 1865. The nation, however, was suddenly bowed in grief. The President was shot by an assassin on April 14, and died next day.Walt Whitman (1819-1892) at the time was employed in a clerical position in the War Department, and, outside office hours, in nursing wounded soldiers in Washington. He often saw Lincoln, who passed Whitman's house almost every day. The "Good Gray Poet" and the President had a bowing acquaintance; and in one of his books Whitman refers to the dark-brown face, deep-cut lines, and sad eyes of Lincoln. Whitman gave expression to his grief at the country's loss in the following poem, in which he refers to the martyred President as the captain of the Ship of State.
The Civil War between the North and the South lasted from 1861-1865. Abraham Lincoln was President of the United States at the time, and it was largely due to his wisdom that the great conflict lasted no longer. The Northern armies were generally victorious in the winter and spring of 1865. The nation, however, was suddenly bowed in grief. The President was shot by an assassin on April 14, and died next day.
Walt Whitman (1819-1892) at the time was employed in a clerical position in the War Department, and, outside office hours, in nursing wounded soldiers in Washington. He often saw Lincoln, who passed Whitman's house almost every day. The "Good Gray Poet" and the President had a bowing acquaintance; and in one of his books Whitman refers to the dark-brown face, deep-cut lines, and sad eyes of Lincoln. Whitman gave expression to his grief at the country's loss in the following poem, in which he refers to the martyred President as the captain of the Ship of State.
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,The ship has weathered every rack, the prize wesought is won;The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and5daring;But O heart! heart! heart!O the bleeding drops of red,Where on the deck my Captain lies,Fallen cold and dead.10O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugletrills,For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you theshores a-crowding.5For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager facesturning.Here, Captain! dear father!This arm beneath your head!It is some dream that on the deck10You've fallen cold and dead.My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed anddone,15From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!But I, with mournful tread,Walk the deck my Captain lies,Fallen cold and dead.20—Drum Taps.
1. Explain the references to the safe arrival of the ship in port, the ringing of the bells, and the general exultation.2. Re-read the poem carefully. Picture to yourself what each stanza contributes as you read. When you have finished, test yourself to see how much of it you can recall exactly. Complete the memorization by this same process of careful re-reading.3. Whitman had his volume,Drum Taps, practically completed when Lincoln's assassinationoccurred. He held up its publication to include "O Captain! My Captain" and another poem on the death of Lincoln, called "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed." Why is the title of the latter poem appropriate?
1. Explain the references to the safe arrival of the ship in port, the ringing of the bells, and the general exultation.
2. Re-read the poem carefully. Picture to yourself what each stanza contributes as you read. When you have finished, test yourself to see how much of it you can recall exactly. Complete the memorization by this same process of careful re-reading.
3. Whitman had his volume,Drum Taps, practically completed when Lincoln's assassinationoccurred. He held up its publication to include "O Captain! My Captain" and another poem on the death of Lincoln, called "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed." Why is the title of the latter poem appropriate?
By 1781 the French were coöperating with our colonial troops against the armies and navies of the British. Lafayette was in the South helping Greene worry Cornwallis. Rochambeau was working with Washington near New York, to keep Clinton from uniting his forces with those of Cornwallis. De Grasse, in charge of the French fleet, was planning a blow at the British squadron. The stage was thus set for a great military stroke—and Washington readily took up the cue.
By 1781 the French were coöperating with our colonial troops against the armies and navies of the British. Lafayette was in the South helping Greene worry Cornwallis. Rochambeau was working with Washington near New York, to keep Clinton from uniting his forces with those of Cornwallis. De Grasse, in charge of the French fleet, was planning a blow at the British squadron. The stage was thus set for a great military stroke—and Washington readily took up the cue.
Word was received from Lafayette that Cornwallishad moved to Yorktown on the York River, Virginia,close to Chesapeake Bay, and almost at the samemoment the long-expected dispatch arrived from de Grasse,advising Washington that he was just on the point of5sailing for Chesapeake Bay. The instant he received thisnews the American commander realized that his chance hadcome. Cornwallis had evidently brought his army toYorktown that it might coöperate with a British fleet inthe Chesapeake, and by good luck de Grasse was heading10directly for this very spot. A bold, swift stroke might nowend the war, and the plan which Washington immediatelyput in operation was daring to a really perilous degree.
Up to this point all the movements of the French andAmericans had convinced Clinton that an attack would15soon be made against New York. Never for a moment didhe imagine that his opponent would dare leave the Hudsonunguarded and throw his whole army against Cornwallis.The risk of losing West Point and the difficulty of coveringthe hundreds of miles that lay between New York and Yorktownseemed to forbid any such maneuver. Nevertheless,this was precisely what Washington intended to do, andwithin a few days after the receipt of de Grasse's messagehe was hurrying southward with every man he could5possibly spare.
Secrecy and speed were essential to success, for if Clintondiscovered what was happening, he would undoubtedlytry to throw his army between Cornwallis and the Americans,and even though he failed in stopping them he could10easily delay their march until the British force at Yorktownhad time to escape. Washington, therefore, took extraordinarycare to conceal his plans, not only from his foesbut also from his friends. Indeed, Rochambeau was theonly officer who knew where the men were being headed as15they hurried through New Jersey, and so cleverly was theirroute selected that even when Clinton learned of theirmarch he still believed that the Americans, having failedin the attempt on his rear door near King's Bridge, wereabout to swing around and try to get in at the front door20from Staten Island or Sandy Hook.
This was just what Washington wanted him to think,and to deceive him still further, camp kitchens were erectedalong the expected line of march and the troops were sohandled that they seemed to be moving straight to an25attack on New York. But at the proper moment they weresuddenly turned southward at a pace that defied pursuit,and before the true situation dawned on the British commanderthey were almost at the Delaware River. Butthough he had by this time acquired a fairly safe lead,30Washington did not slacken his speed, and with a roar ofcheers from the now excited populace, the dusty columnswere soon pouring through Philadelphia, the Americancommander pushing on ahead to Chester, and sending backword that de Grasse had arrived in Chesapeake Bay andthat not a moment must be lost.
Clinton then made a frantic effort to save the day by5sending Arnold to attack some of the New England towns,thinking that the American commander might hurry backto their rescue. But Washington was first and foremost aman of good, hard common sense, and he knew that allArnold could accomplish would be the destruction of a few10defenseless towns, and to let Cornwallis escape in order toprotect them did not appeal to his practical mind at all.He therefore paid no attention to the traitor's movements,but bent all his efforts on speeding his army southward.
At Chesapeake Bay an exasperating delay occurred, for15there were not sufficient vessels to transport the army overthe water, and for a time the success of the whole expeditionwas threatened. But Washington was in no mood to beblocked by obstacles of this sort. If his troops could notbe ferried down the bay, they must march around it, and20march many of them did, their general obtaining the firstglimpse he had had in six years of his beloved MountVernon as he swept by, and on September 28, 1781, hiswhole force was in front of Yorktown, with success fairlywithin its grasp.25
Meanwhile de Grasse's fleet had fiercely assailed a Britishsquadron which had been sent to the rescue, and after asharp engagement the French had been able to return tothe bay while the British vessels were obliged to retire toNew York, leaving Cornwallis with the York River on one30side of him, the James River on the other, and the ChesapeakeBay at his back, but no ships to carry him to safety.Only one chance of escape now remained, and that was tohurl his whole army through the narrow neck of land immediatelyin front of him and beat a hasty retreat to the south.But Washington had anticipated this desperate move bypositive instructions to Lafayette, and acting upon them the5young marquis rushed a body of French troops from thefleet into the gap, and the arrival of the American armycompletely blocked it.
But, though the enemy was now in his clutch, Washingtonlost no time in tightening his hold, for de Grasse10declared that his orders would not allow him to tarry muchlonger in the Chesapeake, and the failure of the otherattempts to work with the French warned him to take norisks on this occasion.
He therefore instantly set the troops at work with pickaxes15and shovels throwing up intrenchments, behind whichthey crept nearer and nearer the imprisoned garrison, andhe kept them at their tasks night and day, supervisingevery detail of the siege and organizing the labor with suchmethod that not a second of time nor an ounce of strength20was wasted.
Finally, on October 14th—just sixteen days after thecombined armies had arrived on the scene—the commanderin chief determined to hurry matters still furtherby carrying two of the enemy's outer works by assault, and25Hamilton was assigned to lead the Americans and Colonelde Deuxponts the French. A brilliant charge followed,and Washington and Rochambeau, closely watching themovement, saw the Americans scale one of the redoubtsand capture it within ten minutes, while the French soon30followed with equal success. From these two commandingpositions a perfect storm of shot and shell was then loosedagainst the British fortifications, but still Cornwalliswould not yield.
Indeed, he made an heroic attempt to break through thelines on the following night, and actually succeeded inspiking some of the French cannon before he was driven5back; and again on the next night he made a desperateeffort to escape by water, only to be foiled by a terrificstorm. By this time, however, his defenses were practicallybattered to the ground and the town behind them wastumbling to pieces beneath the fire of more than fifty guns.10
In the face of this terrific bombardment further resistancewas useless, and at ten o'clock on the morning of October17, 1781, exactly four years after the surrender of Burgoyne,a red-coated drummer boy mounted on the crumblingramparts and beside him appeared an officer with a white15flag. Instantly the firing ceased, and an American officerapproaching, the flag bearer was blindfolded and conductedto Washington. The message he bore was a propositionfor surrender and a request that hostilities besuspended for twenty-four hours. But to this Washington20would not consent. Two hours was all he would grantfor arranging the terms of surrender. To this Cornwallisyielded, but his first propositions were promptly rejectedby Washington, and it was not until eleven at night thatall the details were finally agreed upon, and Cornwallis,25with over eight thousand officers and men, became prisonersof war.
Two days later the British marched from their intrenchments,their bands playing a quaint old English tune, calledThe World Turned Upside Down, and, passing between30the French and American troops drawn up in line to receivethem, laid down their arms. At the head of thevictorious columns rode Washington, Hamilton, Knox,Steuben, Lafayette, Rochambeau, Lincoln, and many otherofficers, but the British commander, being ill, was notpresent in person, and when his representative, GeneralO'Hara, tendered his superior's sword to Washington, the5commander in chief allowed General Lincoln, who hadonce been Cornwallis's prisoner, to receive it, and thatofficer, merely taking it in his hand for a moment, instantlyreturned it.
Meanwhile horsemen were flying in all directions with10the joyful tidings, and within a week the whole country wasblazing with enthusiasm, while Washington was calmlyplanning to finish the work to which he had set his hand.
(From Frederick Trevor Hill'sOn the Trail of Washington. Used by permission of the publishers, D. Appleton & Company.)1. Make a sketch showing the position of the various armies and navies at the time Washington conceived the bold stroke of trapping Cornwallis, and explain from your map how this stroke was achieved.2. Tell who the following are: De Grasse, Greene, Clinton, Rochambeau, Lafayette, Lincoln, Steuben, Cornwallis, Burgoyne.3. What might have disjointed all Washington's plans? Discuss.
(From Frederick Trevor Hill'sOn the Trail of Washington. Used by permission of the publishers, D. Appleton & Company.)
1. Make a sketch showing the position of the various armies and navies at the time Washington conceived the bold stroke of trapping Cornwallis, and explain from your map how this stroke was achieved.
2. Tell who the following are: De Grasse, Greene, Clinton, Rochambeau, Lafayette, Lincoln, Steuben, Cornwallis, Burgoyne.
3. What might have disjointed all Washington's plans? Discuss.
Where may the wearied eye repose,When gazing on the great,Where neither guilty glory glowsNor despicable state?Yes, one—the first—the last—the best—5The Cincinnatus of the West,Whom envy dared not hateBequeathed the name of Washington,To make men blush there was but one!
—George Gordon Byron.
Our birds and our trees are often honored together on a Bird and Arbor Day. The names of many naturalists might be selected, whose biographies could fittingly be read on such an occasion; but none could be more appropriately chosen than that of John James Audubon, the American pioneer among the scientist lovers of both birds and trees.
Our birds and our trees are often honored together on a Bird and Arbor Day. The names of many naturalists might be selected, whose biographies could fittingly be read on such an occasion; but none could be more appropriately chosen than that of John James Audubon, the American pioneer among the scientist lovers of both birds and trees.
In 1828 a wonderful book,The Birds of America, by JohnJames Audubon, was issued. It is a good illustrationof what has been accomplished by beginning in one's youthto use the powers of observation. Audubon loved andstudied birds. Even in his infancy, lying under the orange5trees on his father's plantation in Louisiana, he listened tothe mocking-bird's song, watching and observing everymotion as it flitted from bough to bough. When he wasolder he began to sketch every bird that he saw, and soonshowed so much talent that he was taken to France to be10educated.
He entered cheerfully and earnestly upon his studies,and more than a year was devoted to mathematics; butwhenever it was possible he rambled about the country,using his eyes and fingers, collecting more specimens, and15sketching with such assiduity that when he left France,only seventeen years old, he had finished two hundreddrawings of French birds. At this period he tells us that"it was not the desire of fame which prompted to thisdevotion; it was simply the enjoyment of nature."20
A story is told of his lying on his back in the woods withsome moss for his pillow and looking through a telescopicmicroscope day after day, to watch a pair of little birdswhile they made their nest. Their peculiar gray plumageharmonized with the color of the bark of the tree, so that it5was impossible to see the birds except by the most carefulobservation. After three weeks of such patient labor,he felt that he had been amply rewarded for the toil andsacrifice by the results he had obtained.
His power of observation gave him great happiness, from10the time he rambled as a boy in the country in search oftreasures of natural history, till, in his old age, he rose withthe sun and went straightway to the woods near his home,enjoying still the beauties and wonders of nature. Hisstrength of purpose and unwearied energy, combined with15his pure enthusiasm, made him successful in his work as anaturalist; but it was all dependent on the habit formedin his boyhood—this habit of close and careful observation;and he not only had this habit of using his eyes buthe looked at and studied things worth seeing, worth20remembering.
This brief sketch of Audubon's boyhood shows the predominanttraits of his character—his power of observation,the training of the eye and hand—that made him in manhood"the most distinguished of American ornithologists,"25with so much scientific ardor and perseverance that no expeditionseemed dangerous or solitude inaccessible whenhe was engaged in his favorite study.
He has left behind him, as the result of his labors, hisgreat book,The Birds of America, in ten volumes, and30illustrated with four hundred and forty-eight colored platesof over one thousand species of birds, all drawn by his ownhand, and each bird represented in its natural size; also aBiography of American Birds, in five large volumes, inwhich he describes their habits and customs. He wasassociated with Dr. Bachman, of Philadelphia, in the preparationof a work onThe Quadrupeds of America, in six5large volumes, the drawings for which were made by histwo sons; and later on he published hisBiography of AmericanQuadrupeds, a work similar to theBiography of AmericanBirds. He died at what is known as Audubon Park,on the Hudson, now within the limits of New York city, in101851, at the age of seventy.
—The True Citizen.
1. Give a brief summation of Audubon's life. What does his name stand for?2. How many birds can you identify by sight? By song? What winter birds do you know? What is the first migrant bird you see in the spring? Name some birds that stay with us the year round.3. If you are interested in birds you will enjoy looking through Chapman'sBird-Life; Burroughs'Wake-Robin; Gilmore'sBirds Through the Year; Blanchan'sBird Neighbors; Miller'sThe First Book of Birds. You should make a list of these in your notebook for summer reading.4. In this connection make up a list of five poems about birds; five about flowers; five about trees. For good reading on trees, see Dorrance'sStory of the Forest.
1. Give a brief summation of Audubon's life. What does his name stand for?
2. How many birds can you identify by sight? By song? What winter birds do you know? What is the first migrant bird you see in the spring? Name some birds that stay with us the year round.
3. If you are interested in birds you will enjoy looking through Chapman'sBird-Life; Burroughs'Wake-Robin; Gilmore'sBirds Through the Year; Blanchan'sBird Neighbors; Miller'sThe First Book of Birds. You should make a list of these in your notebook for summer reading.
4. In this connection make up a list of five poems about birds; five about flowers; five about trees. For good reading on trees, see Dorrance'sStory of the Forest.
Spoken at Arlington to the veterans of the Federal and Confederate armies. There were present men in khaki soon to carry the spirit of America to the battlefields of France.
Spoken at Arlington to the veterans of the Federal and Confederate armies. There were present men in khaki soon to carry the spirit of America to the battlefields of France.
Any Memorial Day of this sort is, of course, a day touchedwith sorrowful memory, and yet I for one do not seehow we can have any thought of pity for the men whosememory we honor to-day. I do not pity them. I envythem, rather, because theirs is a great work for liberty5accomplished and we are in the midst of a work unfinished,testing our strength where their strength already has beentested. There is a touch of sorrow, but there is a touchof reassurance also in a day like this, because we knowhow the men of America have responded to the call of the10cause of liberty, and it fills our minds with a perfect assurancethat that response will come again in equal measure,with equal majesty, and with a result which will hold theattention of all mankind.
When you reflect upon it, these men who died to preserve15the Union died to preserve the instrument which we arenow using to serve the world—a free nation espousingthe cause of human liberty. In one sense that greatstruggle into which we have now entered is an Americanstruggle, because it is in defense of American honor and20American rights, but it is something even greater thanthat; it is a world struggle. It is a struggle of men wholove liberty everywhere and in this cause America willshow herself greater than ever because she will rise to agreater thing.
We have said in the beginning that we planned thisgreat government that men who wish freedom might havea place of refuge and a place where their hope could be5realized, and now, having established such a government,having preserved such a government, having vindicatedthe power of such a government, we are saying to all mankind,"We did not set this government up in order thatwe might have a selfish and separate liberty, for we are10now ready to come to your assistance and fight out uponthe fields of the world the cause of human liberty." Inthis thing America attains her full dignity and the fullfruition of her great purpose.
1. During the World War, President Woodrow Wilson (1856- ) delivered several notable speeches. In fact, his ability to phrase a thought neatly, caused Europe to look upon him as the spokesman of the Allied cause. This extract from his speech in the cemetery at Arlington, Va., is a good example of his finished literary style. Compare it with Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. How are the two alike? How different?2. How long before the delivery of this speech did the United States declare war against Germany? What references to this war are in the speech?3. The cemetery at Arlington is a national burying ground of the fallen heroes of the Civil War. Read the line or lines that refer to them.
1. During the World War, President Woodrow Wilson (1856- ) delivered several notable speeches. In fact, his ability to phrase a thought neatly, caused Europe to look upon him as the spokesman of the Allied cause. This extract from his speech in the cemetery at Arlington, Va., is a good example of his finished literary style. Compare it with Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. How are the two alike? How different?
2. How long before the delivery of this speech did the United States declare war against Germany? What references to this war are in the speech?
3. The cemetery at Arlington is a national burying ground of the fallen heroes of the Civil War. Read the line or lines that refer to them.
ADVENTURELife is a series of experiences. A few of these we call adventures because they are out of the ordinary. If, however, one is keen and alert, every experience is a fresh adventure. And excitement galore can be had by reading about the doings of other people. It is no longer necessary to hunt lions or to be adrift on an ice sheet to get the thrill of those who have experienced these things. Books, pictures, and theaters afford us ample means of enjoying in comfort the hour of high adventure of the other person.
ADVENTURE
Life is a series of experiences. A few of these we call adventures because they are out of the ordinary. If, however, one is keen and alert, every experience is a fresh adventure. And excitement galore can be had by reading about the doings of other people. It is no longer necessary to hunt lions or to be adrift on an ice sheet to get the thrill of those who have experienced these things. Books, pictures, and theaters afford us ample means of enjoying in comfort the hour of high adventure of the other person.
Life is a series of experiences. A few of these we call adventures because they are out of the ordinary. If, however, one is keen and alert, every experience is a fresh adventure. And excitement galore can be had by reading about the doings of other people. It is no longer necessary to hunt lions or to be adrift on an ice sheet to get the thrill of those who have experienced these things. Books, pictures, and theaters afford us ample means of enjoying in comfort the hour of high adventure of the other person.
A Grandstand Seat in the SkyA Grandstand Seat in the Sky(See following page)
"I don't know whether we can make it or not," saidthe pilot. "There's a forty-mile-an-hour wind upaloft, and we're going straight in the teeth of it. Maybewe'll have to turn back."
But we did not turn back, and at times before we had5covered the twenty-two miles separating New York fromthe army's Hazlehurst Field at Mineola, Long Island, Iwished that we might turn round, if only for an instant, thatI might adjust the fur-lined chin strap, the buckle of whichsnapped against my left ear with maddening persistency.10
A half dozen times, perhaps, I had raised my left handcarefully, only to have it flapped back at me as if I wereslapping myself in the face. For we were in the pilot's seatof America's largest bombing plane, grandstand seatswith nothing between us and the show but air, of which15there was a plenty.
Captain Roy N. Francis, one of the best-known Americanpilots, had cautioned me against sticking out my armor hand, because of the nine-foot propeller whirling alongsideof me, and its tips fanned my elbow just two thousand20times a minute as I huddled in the seat with Francis toafford him more room.
You understand I wanted to make myself as small aspossible, so that he might have more space in which tooperate the controls. I had every reason to believe they25required minute attention if we were to remain reboundingabout the skies from wind pocket to wind pocket fivethousand feet above the flying field. I had forgotten ourobjective, which was Manhattan—the dreams of fifteenyears about to be realized.
I particularly wanted to be ricocheting from the crest5of one air wave to another. It was the choice of alternatives,I concluded, for below us the crazy-quilted landscapeof Long Island appeared to be anything but a softplace for landing. And there was a barn directly underus for several minutes—the same barn. I know it was a10barn because it had a fence around it; otherwise it mighthave been a dog's kennel—a lone dog's kennel at that—sotiny was it from our viewpoint.
I know we hung suspended over it for some time. Ihad an opportunity to review my entire past life, my good15deeds, of which there were few that I could recall at themoment, and my misdeeds, of which there were many.I pondered if they would miss me at the office. I thoughtof other offices and other fellows and the nature of theirretrospection, fellows who had been in positions similar20to mine—and I knew where they were, or rather, wherethey were not.
Francis had pointed at me among four other prospectivepassengers standing about the great plane while they tunedup the motors.25
"You there, little fellow, get in here beside me!"
I had shinnied up the stepladder and crawled in besidehim, flattered at the distinction—the others took theirplaces in other cockpits free from controls and instruments—andthen I understood the reason for his choice.30
Our flying suits were lined with fur, and bulky. Thecockpit was narrow at best, and Francis is not a small man.So I huddled as far as possible at the side of the flyer's seat,my side of it. And then: "Keep your paws in, if youdon't want them taken off with that propeller," he hadshouted into my ear. "Sit tight!"
I sat tight. No shrimp ever had as many wrinkles as I.5I pulled my hand in a fraction of an inch, braced my legsagainst nothing in particular, while my back assumed thecharacteristics of a concertina, closed.
He had thrown back the throttle. There was a blastand a roar. I had the same lonesome feeling in the pit of my10stomach that had seized me when I first took the expresselevator in the Woolworth Building.
It occurred to me to win the respect of the pilot by appearingconfident. So I forced myself to peer over the side.The earth was dropping away so fast that it all seemed15like a nightmare. I felt as if I had been dreaming and hadfallen out of bed.
"Grin at him," something told me. I grinned.
A dozen or more icicles immediately crunched betweenmy teeth, pierced the roof of my mouth, and froze my20brain, while leaden drops of water percolated through itand trickled down my spine.
"Keep grinning!" that unconscious self put in again.The advice was useless. I couldn't have closed my mouthhad I wanted to. Finally by bowing my head I shut my25jaws. Oh, for that chin strap which was whacking myface! It would have kept me warm. Despite the heatthrough which we had traveled in reaching HazlehurstField that morning, up here, a mile high, the air was cold.
I stole a sidelong glance at Francis from behind the30heavy goggles which some friendly stranger had fitted overmy helmet. Francis was not looking at me.
Instead of watching and appraising me, as I had thoughthe was half turned round, gazing back along the fuselageor body, of our craft, for what reason I do not know.
I turned in my seat and looked back at the tail. Notseeing anything unusual, I sat back again. And there was5Francis with his head thrown back, gazing at the sky. Hishands and feet were not touching the controls.
Every time we struck an air pocket I shuddered. Forten minutes, minutes which seemed hours, I huddledand shrank and shuddered. That was about all there10appeared to be in the flight for me—huddles, shrinks,and shudders.
That dog kennel of a barn gave me much to think about.The wind was dead against us. Our speedometer registeredninety miles an hour—and the wind pushing us15back at the rate of forty miles left us fifty miles an hourspeed. It seemed like fifty feet to me, until I saw off inthe distance ahead the silvery haze that hangs over NewYork like a mantle of mist. A moment later we made outLong Island Sound, laid out with all its little bays and harbors20just like a pattern of white paper fallen on the extremeedge of a Persian carpet. There were a few specks on it,and from them whisps of smoke drifted up, many timessmaller than pipe smoke.
Bump! A slight jar. I looked at Francis. He was25gazing ahead unconcernedly.
Air pockets. We had dropped twenty feet on twoseparate occasions within the space of a moment. Great!
The machine was still intact. Good old machine! Niceold craft! . . . I felt like patting it on the nose and stroking30its sleek fabric back—that is, if it remained constant.If ever I craved constancy in anything, it was then.
Suddenly I relaxed. A feeling of delightful contentsurged through me. Approaching New York. Above thehaze, out of all the hustle and bustle of the human maelstrom.That look of absolute futility I had seen on thefaces in the subway, on the streets, in the early hours of5morning—these receded from memory. Life was good,after all. It was a wonderful thing if you viewed it correctly.And this was the way to view it.
Reflections of a bright young man being smeared allover the island were things of the past now, as on the right,10as far as we could see, the Bronx stretched away, monotonously,endlessly. I thought how much happier I was upthere, looking at the Bronx, than if I were in the Bronxdown there, looking up at me.
Straight down I made out a Sound steamer. Hell Gate15Bridge, a tiny thing like the toys in shop windows.
But the Bronx got me. I had heard much of the Bronxand once or twice had visited the Zoo. But I never conceivedthe Bronx as a few bushels of building blocks throwndown on a wide green lawn and tumbled about promiscuously.20They were blocks, too, whole city squares, milesand miles of squares.
And there was the Harlem River—and Harlem. Ilooked for the homes of the cliff dwellers. They were notthere. The scenery was as flat as the side of a house.25
Veering slightly to the left, a mere touch from Francisof the auto wheel in front of him, and we were speedingover the upper East Side. Now I knew, or thought I knew,the millions who reside there, more or less in a state ofperpetual congestion. I had often pondered as to where30these millions hung their wash, when they washed. To-dayI learned.
Arranged in crisscross rows, compactly and without wastingan inch of space, that I could see, the roofs of the EastSide were literally covered, literally littered, with clothesof a sameness that made of whole blocks or squares anawning. Here and there a red shirt, the only outstanding5bit of color. At least I chose to assume that it was a shirtbecause I knew that down in those narrow streets, movingabout like minute grains of sand guided only by the confinesof the conventional walls, were people sweltering inthe heat of a summer day, and they needed those shirts10another season.
We dropped lower. We saw between the lines of garments,as we gazed straight downward, a bed, another bed,then a cot, more beds, a chair or two, now and then a bitof green I took to be plants, occasionally a bit of carpet15on the roof—and babies. The ten or fifteen babies whodo not spend their days in the middle of the streets areenjoying the pleasures of their own roof gardens. As faras we could see to the left it was the same—roofs andclothes and babies, divided into squares like cuts of frosted20cake.
We struck Fifth Avenue at 110 Street. To our rightwas Central Park. And it was not as large as the palm ofone's hand. In fact it might have been a bare spot fromwhich a few building blocks had been lifted, evenly and25without disturbing the sharply outlined sides and corners.
There was nothing to be seen of the beautiful drives.The wonderful trees were as clumps of sagebrush, thegathering spots mere splotches of gray in a patch of moldygreen. The lakes and the reservoir were as bits of broken30glass with jagged edges and no reason on earth for theirbeing there.
Below us we did make out a few of the taller buildings,but it required an effort and a prior knowledge of their location.Fifth Avenue, over which we were traveling atninety miles an hour as we tacked across the pathway ofthe wind and sped southward, was like any other street5from that height. One could never recognize it as FifthAvenue, though in front of the Public Library the limousinesforming two thin lines like black threads helped identify it.
The Metropolitan tower was passed far more quickly thanit requires in the telling. I looked ahead to see the wonderful10skyline down toward the Battery with its galaxy of skyscrapers.It was not there. Back over my shoulder I saw42 Street and Broadway. Strange to relate, the greatbuildings on that side of town stood up in bold relief.
We could now take in both the North and East rivers and15all of New York Bay at a single glance. A mile above them,and we were following Broadway to Battery Park. Werecognized the Woolworth tower. But the Statue ofLiberty was far more prominent, standing alone and distinguished,ready to meet all comers.20
The Woolworth Building was a disappointment. I hadthought to see it at its best, gaze at it from all angles; butI became far more interested in the piers that curbed ourlittle island of Manhattan, the ferryboats that plied liketoy ships, leaving scarcely a wake that we could see.25
I recalled that the giantLeviathanwas due in, that noon,with several thousand soldiers. I scanned the bay for it.A moment later, when we had swung around in a wide circleand started back uptown, I saw it. The transport hadbeen under us and we had not seen it. I knew there must30be thousands in Battery Park to greet theLeviathanandher heroes.
After straining my eyes I decided that the tiny specks atcertain spots in the park where there were no trees must ofa surety be human beings. But they were specks.
At this juncture all of us received a shock. The planeheaded against the stiff west wind again, bumped into it5head first, and then keeled halfway over. Try tipping upon one runner of a rocking chair, try balancing yourselfas you go whizzing through space. I realized then that ifone were placed in a rocking chair in the tonneau of amotor car and the car rounded a corner say at thirty or10forty-five miles an hour, one might derive the same sensation.
Our bodies were tugging at the life belts that held usfirmly in our seats. Every muscle in my body was taut.I held my breath. Would we turn over? Would something15snap and send us down? I looked to see where wewould fall. We would have fallen a sheer 5000 feet, directlyon the Woolworth tower, the entire building of whichwas little more than a toy. But we did not fall.
The wind was better to us now, being in the rear. Yet20we did not appear to be making more speed. We driftedalong, apparently. A moment later we were over greenfields again. Far ahead I saw a Long Island train, doubtlessmoving. My gaze wandered momentarily. I lookedfor the train. It was gone. I looked back. It was in25our rear, and still coming in our direction.
It seemed but a matter of a few breaths of piercingly coldair before we were circling Hazlehurst Field. A brief glideand we were coasting on the ground toward the exact spotwe had left. I looked at the watch again.30
We had traveled from New York to the field, a distanceof twenty-two miles, at the rate of two miles and a half aminute. And my picture of Greater New York was thatof a beautiful toy, a diamond sunburst glittering in a settingof purple and gold, a city full of windowpanes and skylightsthat throw back the rays of the sun—but a toy nevertheless,for verily I had beheld a city and had taken it in the5palm of my hand, gazed at it in wonder a moment, and hadthen put it back again.
—Motor Life.(Used by arrangement withMotor Life, New York city)