Others again, little coquettes
with village green, white palings everywhere, bright gravel
roads, and an irrepressible air of brightness and gaiety.
Then there are the rivers, silvery streaks peacefully
winding far, far away to the distant horizon; they and the
lakes the finest landmarks the Pilot can have. And the
forests. How can I describe them? The trees cannot be
seen separately, but merge altogether into enormous irregular
dark green masses sprawling over the country, and sometimes
with great ungainly arms half encircling some town or village;
and the wind passing over the foliage at times gives the forest
an almost living appearance, as of some great dragon of olden
times rousing itself from slumber to devour the peaceful
villages which its arms encircle.
And the Pilot and Observer fly on and on, seeing these
things and many others which baffle my poor skill to describe--
things, dear Reader, that you shall see, and poets sing of,
and great artists paint in the days to come when the Designer
has captured Efficiency. Then, and the time is near, shall
you see this beautiful world as you have never seen it before,
the garden it is, the peace it breathes, and the wonder of it.
The Pilot, flying on, is now anxiously looking for the
railway line which midway on his journey should point
the course. Ah! There it is at last, but suddenly (and
the map at fault) it plunges into the earth! Well the writer
remembers when that happened to him on a long 'cross-
country flight in the early days of aviation.
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