THE FUTURE OF AIR-SHIPS.
I.
SUPPOSE that I consider it quite possible to visit the North Pole in an air-ship? Suppose I predict that at no distant date aerial cruisers will threaten fleets, make war on submarine boats, and stampede army divisions?
Suppose I tell you that I hope, as early as the coming summer, to give something to the impetus remaining needful to the aerial effort that will bring such things to pass in Europe? That I fully expect, before the particular experiment be finished, to go cruising for a week at a time over Europe in an air-ship that will not need to touch earth each night because it will be in itself a floating house?
You might reply that such looking into the future is easy. But looking into the past is also a kind of looking into the future. When eight years ago I first proposed to attach an explosive petroleum motor beneath a balloon filled with inflammable gas, the world cried out against the project.
After I had proved the safety of the automobile motor in the air, I declared that I would build an air-ship capable of making steering-way against moderate winds. I was at once accused of being as ignorant of mechanics as of aeronautics ; the elongated balloon would double on itself ; and the system would be carried off by the first breeze. To add to the discouragement, the balloon of my second air-ship did double on itself, and I was carried by the wind from the Jardin d'Acclimatation to the Plain of Bagatelle.
Years passed. I built other air-ships. I navigated over Paris; I made evolutions above the Champ de Mars ; I accomplished trips to points indicated in advance; I returned to my starting points. In a word, I enjoyed great pleasure in my air-ships, which I saw to be practical. Yet the accusation that I would be helpless in the wind pursued me ; and I heard it from so many authoritative lips that it is a wonder I did not come to fear it myself such is the world's power of suggestion over the individual.
Then I navigated the air between St. Cloud and the Eiffel Tower against a time limit believed to be prohibitory—not once but twice ; not twice, but three times. On October 19th, 1901. I made the eleven kilometres plus the turning of the Tower in 29 minutes 30 seconds. Was it done in a profound calm? No;
