ts are allowed;
while another and an important element of safety lies in the fact
that no flying is permitted at the schools unless weather conditions
are favourable. It is now a fair contention that, provided a man
exercises judgment, and ascends only in weather that is reasonably
suitable, there is no more danger in flying an aeroplane than in
driving a motor-car.

Much depends of course on the dexterity of the pupil, and particularly
on his manual dexterity--on what is known, colloquially, as "hands."
Some men, even after they have been carefully taught, are apt to
remain heavy and clumsy in their control. Others, though, seem to
acquire the right touch almost by instinct; and these are the men who
have in them the making of good pilots. Horsemen refer to "hands" when
they speak of a man who rides well; and in flying, if a man is to
handle a machine skilfully, there is need for that same instinctive
delicacy of touch.

Nowadays, when a pupil joins a well-established flying school, he
finds that everything is made easy and pleasant for him. Most men
enjoy very thoroughly the period of their tuition. A friendly regard
springs up between the pupils and their instructors, and men who have
learned to fly, and are now expert pilots, bear with them very
pleasant reminiscences of their "school" days. But there were times,
and it seems already in the dim and distant past, when learning to fly
was a strange, haphazard, and hardly pleasant experience; though it
had a sporting interest certainly, and offered such prospects of
adventure as commended it to bold spirits who were prepared for
hardship, and had a well-filled purse. The last requirement was very
necessary. In the bad old days, amusing days though they were without
doubt, no fixed charge was made to cover such breakages, or damage to
an aeroplane, as a pupil might be guilty of during his period of
instruction. These items of damage--broken propellers, planes, or
landing gear--were all entered up very carefully on special bills, and
presented from time to time to the dismayed novice; and a man who was
clumsy or impetuous found learning to fly an expensive affair. There
was a pupil who joined a school soon after Bleriot's crossing of the
Channel by air. It was a monoplane school; and the monoplane, unless a
man is careful and very patient, is not an easy machine to learn to
fly. This beginner was not patient; he was indeed more than usually
impetuous. His landings, in