fly some time. So did Darius Green, and people were still skeptical.
As he looked up at it, the engineer said: "Hang it all, that dashed old
thing will fly one day, but I shall probably not live to see it."

He was only thirty at that time, and it was such a few years after that
it did fly, and no time at all, once it rose in the air to stay there,
before it crossed the Channel. It is wonderful to think that after
centuries of effort the thing flew in my time--and that I am sitting in
my garden to-day, watching it sail overhead, like a bird, looking so
steady and so sure. I can see them for miles as they approach and for
miles after they pass. Often they disappear from view, not because they
have passed a horizon line, but simply because they have passed out of
the range of my vision-? becoming smaller and smaller, until they seem
no bigger than a tiny bird, so small that if I take my eyes off the
speck in the sky I cannot find it again. It is awe-compelling to
remember how these cars in the air change all military tactics. It will
be almost impossible to make any big movement that may not be discovered
by the opponent.

Just after breakfast my friend from Voulangis drove over in a great
state of excitement, with the proposition that I should pack up and
return with her. She seemed alarmed at the idea of my being alone, and
seemed to think a group of us was safer. It was a point of view that
had not occurred to me, and I was not able to catch it. Still, I was
touched at her thoughtfulness, even though I had to say that I proposed
to stay right here. When she asked me what I proposed to do if the army
came retreating across my garden, I instinctively laughed. It seems so
impossible this time that the Germans can pass the frontier, and get by
Verdun and Toul. All the same, that other people were thinking it
possible rather brought me up standing. I just looked at the little