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165
The Aeroplane Speaks. Fifth Edition
·
H. Barber
36
"My
eye!"
ejaculates
the
Wind-screen,
"talk
about
a
view!"
And
indeed
mere
words
will
always
fail
to
express
the
wonder
of
it.
Six
thousand
feet
up
now,
and
look!
The
sun
is
rising
quicker
than
ever
mortal
on
earth
witnessed
its
ascent.
Far
below
is
Mother
Earth,
wrapt
in
mists
and
deep
blue
shadows,
and
far
above
are
those
light,
filmy,
ethereal
clouds
now
faintly
tinged
with
pink.
And
all
about
great
mountains
of
cloud,
lazily
floating
in
space.
The
sun
rises
and
they
take
on
all
colours,
blending
one
with
the
other,
from
dazzling
white
to
crimson
and
deep
violet-blue.
Lakes
and
rivers
here
and
there
in
the
enormous
expanse
of
country
below
refract
the
level
rays
of
the
sun
and,
like
so
many
immense
diamonds,
send
dazzling
shafts
of
light
far
upwards.
The
tops
of
the
hills
now
laugh
to
the
light
of
the
sun,
but
the
valleys
are
still
mysterious
dark
blue
caverns,
crowned
with
white
filmy
lace-like
streaks
of
vapour.
And
withal
the
increasing
sense
with
altitude
of
vast,
clean,
silent
solitudes
of
space.
Lives
there
the
man
who
can
adequately
describe
this
Wonder?
"Never,"
says
the
Pilot,
who
has
seen
it
many
times,
but
to
whom
it
is
ever
new
and
more
wonderful.
Up,
up,
up,
and
still
up,
unfalteringly
speeds
the
Pilot
and
his
mount.
Sweet
the
drone
of
the
Engine
and
steady
the
Thrust
as
the
Propeller
exultingly
battles
with
the
Drift.
And
look!
What
is
that
bright
silver
streak
all
along
the
horizon?
It
puzzled
the
Pilot
when
first
he
saw
it,
but
now
he
knows
it
for
the
Sea,
full
fifty
miles
away!
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