The Spokane press. [volume] (Spokane, Wash.) 1902-1939, 1910-09-27
FIRST WOMAN WRITER
TO FLY LIKE A BIRD
CONTINUED from page one.)

pie standing in the fields gazing up
in establishment. They looked as If
their faces had been laid flat on
the crowns of their heads, by some
droll mistake.
A gossamer ship to sail the path
less sky! And the sky was not I'M
like the ocean. The wind spray"
broke in my face. The foam of the
breeze dubbed about my ears.
There was no sound but the harsh
whir of the engine, like the buzz
of huge beetle on whose back |
was riding.
Below the country changed from
the fields dotted with tiny houses
to the still water of the bay, gray
AID FIRST WOMAN -. -. sscE
with the reflectio nof the mists.
Little boats bobbed here and there,
anchored in their element, while l
plunged on through mine.
The broad beaches were con-
tracted by the perspective of dis
lance, into scarcely enough sand
for child's playground. The water
Tapped at them, leaving them white
with foam.
All that was solid or familiar
now seemed distant, so remote. 1t
was impossible to believe that | had
been in the air but minute. And
suddenly everything grew even
more remote.
For, without warning, the mists
closed about the biplane, and shut
off all the world. On the fragile
little ship we were alone in space.
On every yside there was nothing
but filmy mist, scarcely firm
enough to be felt as it brushed
against my face. We were winging
our way between the earth and sky
in a solid cloud Of mist.
We were lost in the mist. No
landmark was visible. nothing any
where but. the soft film. 1t was as
if the biplane, plunging through the
fog, had been submarine boat
blowing through the depths of the
ocean, so completely immersed
were we in the fog and so shut out
from all else Of the world.
The firm earth now was nothing
but remembrance, and the I'M
reality of flying through the soft
mists in which we were lost was
the only reality. AS | gazed into it,
the mist seemed firm. One could
be persuaded thatNt was solid. The
tiny forward wheel of the biplane,
still carrying the impetus gained at
the start, spun around as If it were
rolling over a boulevard instead Of
whirling uselessly 400 feet above
the earth.
5 >xih W xXFwI,y w. xrdm
The moment was overfull of SEN
sations. Something appealed to
every sense. The rarified air
brought with 1t rarified thought.
Flying, it seems to me, is good for
the soul The mist seemed to be an
alchemy which dissolved the phys
ical. leaving only the spirit. On we
flew, the cracking of the beetles
wings incessant.
Then, as suddenly as the biplane
had entered the mist. it shot out
again with mighty downward
sweep. Once more the open marshy
land lay beneath me. with, its lush.
grass and crooked streams and here
and there, close to the earth, birds
darted.
Now the biplane flew steadily up
ward, again it swooped with such
force that 1t seemed my body must
continue to fall downward, drawn
down by an irresistible magnet.
Swooping, rising, dipping. on went
the biplane like the seagulls that
play at tag on the shore. Suddenly
below the upturned faces reap
peared.
A last downward swoop, the
wheels of the machine touched the
spongy earth. and with a bobbing
glide. We stopped
The flight was finished.