The Ocala evening star. [volume] (Ocala, Fla.) 1895-1943, 1922-02-08

VINO iets H4HlScI get CAosS ny 10 AoAty
with his nose and eyes to the grind
stone. sometimes just keeps them
there from habit unless something like
you comes along to wake him up-"
You seIf-made men Mr. Cans, are
sometimes like homemade flying ma
chimes. After you got wings. yea
don't know how to use EN-"
,nh bet I've been sleeping. Miss
Leila. hut I'm awake now and-and
you woke me-"
plying, Mr.. GAM, In like any other
principle where"
Now just don't you begin to Get
right away from the subject ef-you
and me like you did last night, Miss
Della, when you wouldn't let me say
what I've got In my heart TO-"
Its you who changed the subject,
Mr.. CAM. We were talking about air
planes and l was trying to tell you
that We were standing on the edge OF
the air age. We've finished with the
Stone age and the Iron age and all
the other ages and new we are ready
for the"
But, Miss Della, what / got i'm my
heart to tell you is more important
"These are no limits to the airplane,
Mr.. CAM, that's what makes II the
greatest of all inventions. Mountains,
seas. valleys and rivers won't be any
more of an obstacle to men hereafter
than a relief map In to you, II yen
wave your hand over It."
81 worked In an aero ONCE for six
months, Mr.. CAM. I've heard them
talk frst-hand and seen what the boys
ing. Why, l know a boy right this
minute who Ia putting the finishing
touches to a biplane out In his back
shed that not only Is going to do the
fanciest flying this world has ever
seen. but II ever he can get Ii before
the public, Ia going to give the gov
eminent the thrill of it's life In nation
al defense. I know another fellow,
too. Ed Waller Of Dayton, is"
Man wasn't made for flying. Miss
Della, or the Almighty would have
given him wings. just like he wasn't
made for water or he'd have fms"
And he wasn't made for roller
skating or the Almighty would have
given him casters, is that your idea.
Mr.. Ganz?''
Where I'd like to see you, Miss Del
la, is in a little nest right down here
close to earth in little elegantly fur
nished, Steamboat and janitor service
f1at-for-two on the south side Of Chi
cago."
You're like mommy and papa, you
haven't the vision of an owl In the
sun. That's what's the matter with all
of you. All your noses are worn off at
the end from the grindstone. You've
never dreamed a dream. You've never
sat in an airplane and felt it give that
little pulling lift that clears the
ground, and suddenly felt yourself
Swimming up past the swallows to the
sky. Oh. Oh. OH
But, Miss Della. / know a young
man got consumption from such high
air as that. He
Its the boys with the dreams and
the imagination and the fifth dimen-
sion in thinking. Mr.. CAM, not the
grindstoners, who have given the
world the jolts and modern convent
ences. Take Bjorn Bjorstedt, the first
man to volplane in the great exhibit
flights at Great Neck. There's fel-
low who slept on park benches and
ate from door to door, SO he could put
every cent in perfecting that engine
of his. Take Arch Meyer, the fellow
was telling you about. That boy could
make easy money ia any business he
made up his mind to, but what does
he do, give up his dream? He does
not. He's going to demonstrate by
fancy flying and housekeeping the
loop four times his first exhibit, that
his heavy machine ID the most prac-
tical-"
But to get back, little Cutey, to
that nest for two. Don't think, Miss
Della, this pain in my left side In
sciatica. It's just like, Miss Della, you
had taken a little arrow and stabbed
me right through the heart"
What / was trying to show you,
Mr. CAM. is that you're wrong about
flying. If you were to get yourself
interested in the greatest invention
of all time and put UP purse now
and then for fancy flying. TO help
along the boys who are grinning back
at death and making the history of
the airplsne, you'd get SO wrapped up
in the vitals that make a heavier-than-
air-machine fly, and-that maybe
you'd forget your own vitals, Mr..
CAM. Just try to imagine yourself
flying at night, Mr.. CAM, with the air
like ink around you. and
The night air is bad for me. Miss
Della. my joints
Night air ~ cried Miss Della.
thrusting her face forward as If she