s brother and co-worker, Orville, a
disposition just such as was necessary to strengthen and support him
in his great research; a disposition more vivacious and more
enthusiastic than his, and one which acted as a balance to his own
gravity. The method of these brothers in first attacking a mass of
data, most of it contradictory--and a large amount of it of little
intrinsic value--and then framing their own research on lines which
they discussed and studied with methodical care, forms a model of
sound judgment for workers in any complex field. Their kite
experiments, their gliders, their refusal to hasten their steps unduly
in the fitting of an engine to their machine, reveal again their
discretion, and that judgment which never failed them. Perseveringly
and unswervingly, exhibiting doggedness without obstinacy, and with
their work illuminated always by the highest intelligence, they moved
surely from stage to stage; and at last, when they fitted a motor to
their machine, such was their knowledge of the air, and of the control
of their craft when in flight, that they were able to make this
crucial step, from a glider to a machine driven by power, without any
breakage of their apparatus or injury to themselves.

The same self-control marked them when, having demonstrated that men
can ascend in a power-driven machine, and steer such a craft at will,
they dismantled their apparatus and commenced their negotiations with
foreign Governments. Wilbur Wright, too, when he came to France to
give his first public demonstrations, provided by his methods a model
for aviators, either present or future. He resisted all temptations to
make injudicious flights. If he considered the weather conditions at
all unsuitable he said that he would not ascend, no matter who might
have come to see him fly, and that settled the question once and for
all. He was deaf to all pleadings, to all proffered advice. When
conditions were perfectly suitable, and then only, would he have his
craft brought from its shed.

The same meticulous care, in every flight he made, marked his
preparation of his machine. Motor, controls, propeller-gearing, every
vital part, received its due attention; and this attention was never
relaxed, no matter how frequently he flew, nor how great was his
success. An observer of one of his early flights at Le Mans has given
us an impression that is typical of this unremitting care. There was a
question of some small adjustment