The San Francisco call., 1905-05-07


watching with delight the pass
age OF clouds across the sky and
seeing those clouds resting. as 1t
were. on the mountain tops. I
asked to be taken to the noun
tain tops. because I thought that II
only could get there L could take hold
OF the clouds and fly; that could grasp
them and they would carry me with
them / think my interest In aerial
navigation dates back to that time"
And to-day the little child. grown to
a manhood with which much of the
child remains. has given to man the
wings OF a bird, has solved the most
fascinating problem in the world, the
problem OF flying.
Man need be no longer an earth
creeping. earth-keeping thing, envying
the birds Of the air. He, too. may
cleave the blue and be no longer at
the mercy OF the air currents to be
waited hither and thither like bit of
vagrAnt thistledown; he can fly in the
teeth ef the wind, across the wind and
with the wind, as he pleases. thanks to
Professor Montgomery-thanks to that
little child OF long ago, whose wonder
ing eyes looked out across the dark
ling Californian canyons. whose poetic
fancy leaped to grasp the feecy
clouds that paused upon the mountain
tops and go with them on their limit
less flights.
From childhood's radiant dream to
manhood's realization there's been
long, hard road to traveI-the straight,
hot, dusty road Of patient endeavor,
paved with error, failure, discourage
,nent. the long, long road OF detail
conquered step by step. Travelled and
rstraced and Travelled again.
II Is so hard a task to do even the
days work bravely and honestly; how
had this been possible I asked
TITS not thinking of the road you
come by. but always Of the end, that
makes q thing possible. Otherwise"
and he shook his head.
Such is the power of an idea.
The professor perched upon one un-
comfortable spindling chair and L upon
another in the parlor of Santa Clara
College-the unfailingly chill, bare. in
hospitable parlor Of the exclusively
masculine habitation.
He is a rotund. gentle. shy little man
OF such monastic aspect that instinc-
cry. He laughed. a pleased. modestly,
deprecating laugh that gave an upward
curve like unto the points of the cres-
cent moon TO his habituaIly straight
Tipped mouth. a mouth sensitive,
ascetic. compressed, telling a story of
repression, patience, unwavering pur-
pose and sweetest kindliness.
'No,'' he said, not Father; I'm not
Of the order. although people, strang-
ers, often call me Father and many let
tiers come TO me addressed that way
because live here, I suppose"
But no, it isn't the background Of
Santa Clara College. nor yet the clean
shaven face that makes Father" come
trippingly from the tongue
There is besides a benignity, an
aloofness, that steadfastness and re-
captivity and limpidity Of gaze that
never lie in the restless eyes that seek
the neeting dollar, and above all there
Is the round, full. bald head, the splen-
did. dome-like head with its height
chiefly above the ears. 1t is the Jesuit
ical head-the distinguishing mark of
the big Drained men who have made
their order powerful Should 1 meet
him on Market street, instead of in
the clustered quiet Of Santa Clara
College. and he take off his hat to me.
my impulse still would be to greet him
with Father"
The world has a right to expect
something OF q man with a head like
that
Tn not a flying machine crank" he
discIaims at once. I've not devoted
my whole life TO the development Of
y-~NA&A<e>>Se.>>>>.