great. Even Paulhan-the great Paulhan-was steering an erratic course as if seeking to avoid strong winds. Now rising, now falling, he made his wife and friends fear for his safety. It was plainly a great battle with the wind. Onwards he flew, gaining sped over the special train, which was checked once or twice at junctions.

Though Paulhan did not know it, Grahame-White had descended, and there was no longer a struggle between man and man but only between one man and the wind. The last seventy miles to Manchester were covered in something over an hour and a half, and then Paulhan descended through a ground mist by the side of the railway, within five miles of the Manchester office of the Daily Mail. The prize was his $50,000! He was so cold and so exhausted by the strain of the battle with the wind that he had to be assisted from his seat and led to the railway station. The prize had been hard earned, and Paulhan frankly avowed that but for fear of Grahame-White he would never have flown in such a wind.

Grahame-White, though he had lost,

had lost gallantly. The daring and hazardous flight through the dark must have told on his nerves. Just at that hour of the morning man's courage is at its lowest ebb, so much so that Napoleon would never have his men on the march at that hour. Grahame-White also found his speed reduced by the wind getting between the two surfaces of the fabric on the tail of the machine, the wet having loosened the fabric and allowed the joints to open. joints to open. Against this combination he could not fight, and he had descended before even Paulhan rose on the last stage of the journey, the gap having been reduced to seven miles.

In these contests the English were beaten all around, but Lord Northcliffe's great object had been attained. The nation had been awakened and no longer showed apathy towards aviation, but great enthusiasm. The flights of Paulhan and Grahame-White over the big towns that lie between London and Manchester had shown to millions the greatest marvel of the age. They never had seen a flying machine before. They believed it capable of flying in calm

weather, but having seen two machines flying over them faster than the railway train on the tracks, they were convinced of the future of flight. Through wind and rain-and both are plentiful in the sea-girt island with its valleys leading towards the Midlands where the currents meet and blow in every direction-these two machines had accomplished flights that surpassed all others not only for the distance flown but also on account of the difficult nature of the country over which they passed. There is no country in which flying from town to town

is more difficult than in England, no country so populous, no country with such variable atmospheric conditions.

Lord Northcliffe's generosity to aviation has, however, not been exhausted. He has offered another prize of $50,000 to be competed for during the second. week of July next year. It is to be an open competition around a circuit of England and the Lowlands of Scotland, a distance of 1,000 miles. The winner will be the one who completes the course in the shortest time. May it be won by the best man, be he Briton or any other!

HOUGH Esau G. Cartwright died less than a hundred years ago he has already become a mythical figure. It is written of him that when, at the age of a hundred and twelve, he finally yielded his last breath, hardly one of the organs which made up his decrepit body had originally belonged to him-that arms and legs, eyes, stomach, hair and arteries had all been filched or purchased from some other man or animal. He has been described as a weird patchwork of diverse mechanisms all skillfully brought into gear with the marvelous brain which always set Cartwright apart from and above his fellows.

As a simple matter of fact, when old Cartwright came to the end the great research institute which he founded had just begun the wonderful work in surgical grafting which now makes it possible if no longer legal-to prolong human life indefinitely. It is, to be sure, true that in his ninety-sixth year, his right arm being entirely crippled with rheumatism, he found a lusty young emigrant to whom a hundred thousand dollars was full recompense for the loss of everything below his right elbow. But that was one of the first cases of limb grafting on the human subject and, though it was on the whole successful, it had some curious and embarrassing results. The muscles of that new and illiterate right arm had to be trained to write. Once the trick had been mastered and bank cashiers had become familiar

with the revised signature the new right hand showed an alarming willingness to sign checks, which required constant watchfulness on the part of its present owner. Heretofore Cartwright had been distinguished by a suave and cautious diplomacy in dealing with those who attacked him. Now, when provocation offered, the bellicose right fist doubled itself up, threateningly, and Cartwright earned a new reputation as a man of domineering, not to say, violent manner.

It is also truthfully recorded that when the sight of Cartwright's left eye became obscured, the cornea of a rabbit cleared up the world for him. Otherwise he died as he was born-so far as his physical make-up is concerned-except for the cellular changes which, in the natural course of life, make a man over every seven years.

Cartwright's real work in the world was to furnish funds for hastening the evolution of human society. In that he was as much an unconscious instrument as any lesser man. And it is more than doubtful, had he really possessed the prophetic foresight which folk lore ascribes to him, whether he would have poured out his money so freely. For, whatever his faults, he sincerely believed that the work he was doing would make for the happiness of the human race. He died, of course, bitterly disappointed, in the midst of chaos, without getting even a glimpse of that Utopia which is not even yet entirely attained.

Cartwright was the first among men

to monopolize one of the great, natural resources of the world. He chose oil, because of the expensive and complicated machinery required to handle and refine the raw product and make it ready for the market. In the splendid struggle to make his control complete he sent wagons carrying kerosene for lamps into the most remote corners of the country. And, as he thus gathered quick millions of dollars, he necessarily and at the same time, made reading a universal habit among the people of the United States.

In the old days it took the mighty will of a Lincoln to walk ten or twelve miles, after a hard day's work, to borrow Euclid, Shakespeare or the Bible and, still later, to spend the midnight hours, stretched on the puncheon floor, painfully spelling out the pages by the light of a flickering pine knot. Now, thanks to the business genius of Esau Cartwright, a kerosene lamp blazed in every hut and a flood of cheap magazines and cheaper newspapers filled the universal mind with undigested thought and vague ambition. Cartwright, as near omniscience as a man may be, was the first to sense the popular unrest. He had already covered the country with a wonderful organization which, as he fondly conceived, was able and ready to meet any emergency. Sitting at the center of the web he called in his publicists and educators and laid the case before them. From their united counsels came the sage message that a little learning is a dangerous thing. The people are upset by casual and superficial misinformation and ignorant or malicious instruction. The way to quiet them is to make their knowledge sounder, their perception clearer, their advisers more rational and lucid. With the courage and decision which marked him, Cartwright acted without delay. In every village he set up and endowed a free public library. In half a dozen great centers he established universities, with faculties of learned men gathered from all over the world. At the start the effect was tremendous. Young men and women, eager and ambitious, flocked to his universities. Children and adults passed in swarms in and out of the marble palaces which housed the Cartwright libraries. The name and the fame of Cartwright was blazoned in every one of the cheap news

papers. The cheap magazines printed stories of his life and photographs of him in a hundred attitudes. A thousand babies were given his inspiring name. Journalists secured and printed his views on every conceivable topic. Being, after all, but human, Cartwright presentlyand quite unconsciously-began to lose all sense of his finite limitations. The splendid self-confidence, which had always marked him, degenerated into a swollen and diseased self-satisfaction and conceit. There was no subject on which he did not offer a final opinion, carelessly contradicting, if so it happened, men who had given their lives to the study of the question at issue.

Taking advantage of the public absorption in the higher education, Cartwright's business organization made good its hold on the rivers of the country, putting in hydro-electric power plants at a thousand water-falls and spinning a web of transmission wires which brought plenty of cheap power within reach of every village and almost every farm. At the same time, by way of putting a gag in the mouth of critical clamor, he voluntarily reduced the period of work in every one of the Cartwright enterprises to six out of each twenty-four hours. And so irresistible was the Cartwright influence that, within a year, the six hour day became almost universal. The few who clung to the old eight hour schedule were denounced as reactionaries, while the chorus in praise of Cartwright rose to a higher pitch.

Then as unexpected as a bolt from the blue came a swift reaction. Strangely and painfully enough it was apparently begun by certain of the professors in the universities which Cartwright, himself, had endowed. They delivered lectures and wrote books attacking the methods. of their benefactor and each of the university towns became a center of destructive fanaticism. The old man's council of educators and publicists gave the matter profound consideration and came to the conclusion that the disaffected professors were the victims of their environment. They were brilliant men, working for salaries which barely. met the cost of living, and they were driven into dissatisfaction and revolt by the facts that their tenure of office was