The Birmingham age-herald., 1911-10-12

l MIX. LlNCOLN BEACHEY A lot of people may live a long life,
 without getting all together more than one thrill that touches one's first ecstatic
 wonder-when an airship skins lightly
 over the ground, then kicking the earth
 gently back into it's place, rises and scars
 off into space.
 But if you were out at the fair grounds
 yesterday, you know.
 It's a sensation one can't cataog with
 any of the other thrilling moments of | life
 It stands alone as the nightingale l When I edged over 10 the side of Mir. Beachey's machine I felt perfectly sure that he heard me when 1 said in a polite little voice that I didn't believe he or anybody else could ever get that foolish
 looking mosquito framed hotbed on
 wheels to go up,
 But, ah HE did.
 The wonder of it quite transcends any thing this unmagninative ball we call EARTH has to offer. Yesterday morning as MT. Beachey scared over the country in his neat little,
 pretty little Curtiss invention a bird | zigzagged across his path and came with nervous, jerlSy, little flights down from the divine ether hitherto exclusively marked:
 Private Road; No Trespassing."
 And glanced in dumb witted curiosity, then quietly took a seat on Vulcan, the Iron Mans Arm, and sat looking at the queer goings on up In the air.
 T suppose you are asked millions of foolish questions,' I said to MT. Beachey, when he had had come back to earth after a successful voyage, "but really now just one more, with apologies to MT. Goldberg-this is the 17,192nd. Do you er-er- mind?"
 "Oh, no, not a bit," said MT Beachey l In a perfectly resigned manner Ut is always the same thing. Is it cold up in the air? How does it feel to leave the earth and fly? Am I nervous for fear the machine will fall with me? And | "If we take up aviation, l '"Try to reach a constellation, twill we experience palpitation, Through excessive elevaton?" And what do you say when you are |
 q could not say what I would like" :" was the reply. Tt might not make CT CT family reading, don't you know. But it's all the same. They make you say something else on the write-up." I I kept perfectly stil-just like I wasn t a real, rightly, newspaper person-sawed wood and said nothing; then presently:
 How disgusting.' I chirped up. "Of 1 course-er-er- it must be strange, l though, up in the er-er- air?'
 An aviator doesn't stop to think of those things said Mir. Beachey, prompt | ly defending. 'When one is 11,642 feet above the earth" (Mr. Beachey holds this l record) 'it is no time to think of what one might encounter. It's not time when man can give his mind over to anything but the petrol tank and keeping 1 his eye on what he's got on hand" "Of course" I affirmed, cheerfully, "and why should you think about the earth, anyway? I guess you usually find l it when you come back just about the | same as when you left it." "Frequently." said Mir. Beachey, pa- l tiently.
 What is that little tin can looking ar rangement in the corner?" I asked, noth- ing daunted.
 "Its an oil can," replied Mir. Beachey. 'E'rom which the official greaser makes the wheels go round' suggested And the little canopy chair, cradle looking effect?" I surmised. "The seat where the aviator sits," MT. Beachey informed. "While he is up in the ar?" l ques- | toned.
 "Well-er- now really, one wouldn't ex- actly use 1t as a rest room in library" l said the aviator. | Isn't it perfectly lovely to fy,"'I I asked after a pause
 "Its quite elevating," said MT. Beachey, and then apologized. 1 Just at this moment a little soubrette nose, who had paid her good 10 cents to see the "Aeroplane" came sauntering in, softly humming to herself a flying ma chine song which Miss Blanche Ring re- galed us with, about flirting with Mars and skipping the stars un up, in her aero plane, and l kept as still as a mouse and 1 listened:
 "Er- err have you ever seen anything very err CT startling up in the air?'
 she asked presently. 'Only CT CT CT air." replied MT. Beachey solemnly. l And at this I made by exit, story in hand, hoping that the distinguished avia-
 tor hadn't suspected that I dine daily on bread. earned by honest Journalism, of which he had early in the game ex- pressed an opinion. Ladies: I want your liberal patron age for high class photographs. For | engagements phone Bell 176. H. T. Morton. 117h North Nineteenth street. l ---.s.---------