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to sink, and there is no victory until made to order. Eventually, designers they are irrevocably sunk. The battle must find us a machine that can be between fleets may last intermittently one unit of an integral fighting fleet infor days, if there is sea-room; and may stead of one of a number of skillful conceivably commence several thou- duelists. sands of miles away from the bases of The underlying necessities of this either belligerent. To get our battle problem have been made plain by the planes into the battle-line, we must carry history of war on land and sea. The them there; and so one more type is manner of applying them to the air has added to the complicated surface fleets not been found. The root of the matof the world, a type as helpless as a col- ter is that in its infancy every known lier, but one which must have great weapon, from a bare-handed man to a size and battle-cruiser speed – the machine-gun, fights dead ahead. Eyes first non-fighting auxiliary to demand and blow are directed against the nearadmission to the fighting-line. A small est enemy directly in front. The first ship will not do, for her landing-deck soldiers, the first ships, and the present must be not-missable at sixty to eighty air-planes have one thing in commonmiles an hour. A slow ship is worse than they fight 'bows on,' have no time to useless, for the air-plane carrier must watch for signals from their commandbe swift enough to lessen materially the ers, and no space on either side to obey relative velocity of the home-coming a command of movement without hinplane by running away from her, and dering their comrades. Edward III also to keep safely out of gunshot be- formed his bowmen into thin lines, prehind the crashing, swaying, hurrying sented the broadside of these formabattle-fleet that she serves and by tions to the enemy, and inaugurated which she is guarded.

controlled volley-fire. Man for man, the There is a third problem upon which chivalry of France fully equaled that of this matter of command of the air de- England, and greatly outnumbered it; pends, which as yet has made little but no Roland, no Bayard, could avail progress toward solution. It is not so against the disciplined storm of arrows, much an air-plane problem as a war: speeding on their deadly errand at the problem, and armies and navies have word of the single commanding brain solved it at terrible cost. The present of the English army. England, too, designs, even the best of them, make an disciplined Spain at sea by an applicaair-battle a matter of individual duels tion of the same principle. The Great and a mêlée, no matter how great the Armada was admirably handled, with air-fleets participating. Tactical forma- consummate seamanship and in strict tion is usually possible only before bat- accord with naval science of centuries; tle. Once joined, battle is man to man, but its tactics were bows-on, ship to plane to plane, and control of a fleet by crush ship with a ramming blow, and a single commander is confined to in- to reduce her by hand-to-hand fighting dividual indoctrination and training on her shattered decks. The English beforehand, must often be suspended relied on broadside gunfire and handiduring contact, and can be resumed only ness. Every phase of that cruelly longafter the fight is over. In other words, drawn-out battle shows a gallant atair-fighting tactics are the land tactics tack bows-on by the Spaniards in line of the Trojan War, the fleet tactics of abreast, met by a single line of closethe Phænicians. Victory depends upon hauled English ships entirely under the supermen, and supermen cannot be control of a single mind, raking ship after ship with the full weight of their live and work for long periods. It is superior broadside guns.

forcing upon the submarine a new methOn land and at sea, fighting is in one od of underwater propulsion, yet to be plane, however; so broadside fire, with found; for an exploding bomb far outits advantages of manœuvring and con- board will cripple the present electric centration of fire and controllability, engine and force the submarine to the is soluble. A flying-machine fighting surface, where she becomes easy prey broadside to the enemy has not been to bomb and shell. found, for the enemy will probably Eight years of devoted, perilous, never be exactly on our own level. We quiet work; seven years of feverish demust find a ship which can fight broad- velopment – that is the history of side up and down, as well as on either aviation; and it is to-day probably the beam.

most far-reaching existing influence on Command of the air once gained, the future history. Gone forever are the steady improvement of existing types sickly, thirsting expeditionary columns, will serve to exploit it to the discomfit- which in the past have punished raiding ure of an enemy. Torpedo-carrying air- sa vages in the jungles and deserts of the planes will harass his surface ships; world at hideous cost. A few men, a few spotting-planes will enable us to crush air-planes, a few days, and the chastisehim with gunfire before he can so much ment is complete. Gone is the immunas see us; bombers can destroy his train ity of colliers and repair-ships lagging and cripple his capital ships with ex- in the wake of the sea-borne fleets; and plosives and gas.

gone is the safety of the island cities. Command of the air — this is the In fifteen years aviation has supervital problem of military aviation; and posed itself upon civilization. Its future in its wake arise problems and neces- is limitless, not predictable. It is daily sities in the path of every activity demonstrating its ability to extend the ashore or afloat. To armies and to cities scope of our economic fabric to lengths it brings the necessity of bomb-shelters undreamed of, and in ways which were that will not fill up with poison-gas, but yesterday fantastic dreams. And it and of accurate anti-air-craft batteries. has already proved its power to destroy To battleships, still panting from the utterly the world as we have built it; long struggle to make themselves rea- has forced us to take sober and urgent sonably immune to torpedoes under thought as to how this mighty and as water, it brings the new necessity to yet irresponsible force may be subordigrow a tough turtle-back impervious to nated to the common good. The industorpedoes from the air, and to rake the trial changes following the introduction open funnels horizontally, or astern, in of steam and electrical machinery are order that their gaping apertures may trifling and infinitesimal in comparioffer no chance for a luckily dropped son with those already following in the bomb to wreck their vitals, and also to wake of mankind's new-found ability screen the glow of their boilers, now to fly. plainly visible from the air on the dark- The future of all the world is in the est night. It makes imperative a still air - a future either glorious or terundiscovered gas-mask, in which sol- rible. Your generation and mine will diers, sailors, yes, and civilians, may decide which it shall be.

BARN ELVES

BY CARY GAMBLE LOWNDES

SOMEHOW, May always reminds you her wine-dark hair deftly coiled, walks of Horace and barns. True, the poet at your side the Spirit of the Farm, rarely mentions the months by name; who is ‘showing you around.' She is but -‘With leaves all a-flicker at rare. Her walk is pheasant-like. Her breath of Spring's advent'- is n't that clothes seem to caress her a perfect May, the beauteous o' the year? model for a picture by the famed artist Thou shun'st me, Chloe, as a fawn seek

of Society, whose Grecian heroines, in ing its timorous dam within the trackless

tailored suits, on pages torn from magamountains, panicky with vain fear of breath zines, adorn her room. They are the inof air, and of the forest. For whether the spiration, perchance, of those curves thorn with its facile leaves shudders to the of grace, the classic carriage, and the caress of the breeze, or the green lizards proud little sway from the waist. Or, stir the brake, at once it trembles both in happily, it is her Devon blood, renascent, heart and knees. But not as a tiger fierce for all its centuries of poverty and strugdo I pursue to rend thee, nor as a Gætulian

gle, that moulds again in her slight lion. Now, at length, a maiden grown, cease

form the lines of haute noblesse. to cling to thy mother.

Among her sisters your eye had inWandering about the farm, some stantly singled her. She understood. mid-May afternoon, you will think of At first she was reserved and dignified, that. You are on a fishing trip — your shy; but now, free companions of the second visit: the first was in November, woods and fields, you wander where you quail-shooting. It is singular that you, will. You watch the broken-winged who never cared much for fishing, wild goose, tied to a post on the lawn should suddenly have decided to try a. and honking disconsolately. You feed place so lacking in game-fish that a the tiny 'just-out' bantams, hunt white perch is a surprise, a 'spot' is an eggs in the tool-shed and the musty event, and a rockfish as big as the cork stalls, and find a guinea's nest under the used on the eighteen-foot fishing-poles weed-grown reaper. You gather armcommon here would cause a riot. All fuls of lilacs, but drop them all to burn the same, with rod, reel, and basket, a tattered last-year's hornet castle. No here you are. You have been here a use telling her that the long-dead horweek, and have n't caught anything but nets are n't 'playing 'possum.' catfish, eels, and yellow-neds.' But You race across the pasture, hurdle there's the farm. You like farming the bars, are introduced to the cows, After all, what's time or fishing com- name a calf, and are presented with a pared with agricultural research? young and very black kitten, which,

The farm, with its old buildings and taking instant fancy to your feet, sticks broom-grassed, piny solitudes, is inter- thenceforth at your heels, making playesting to explore, especially when, in ful pounces at your leggin-cords. Some dove-gray skirt and snowy shirt-waist, how, for all its idiotic attentions, you

one of

like it, with that red ribbon about its 'I stray and sob in the forest: neck.

The throstle sits on the bough;

She springs and sings her purest, You slide back the huge barn doors.

“What ails thee, sad of brow?" Together you mount the worn rungs of the loft-ladder. 'Pioneers! O Pioneers!' “Thy sisters, dear, the swallows, Up, up, you go. Up. Still up. High

Can rede thee true, my child,

Who chose the lattice hollows so high! To the very roof o’ the world

Where erst my darling smiled.' - the great, wide, hollow, odorous barn. “Tand qu'aux bords des fontaines,

You don't like it? I'm sorry. Yes; Ou dans les frais ruisseaux,

it is sad, but sad things are the loveliest Les moutons baign'nt leur laines,

and the farthest from earth. You will Y dansent au préau.

like this one. It is old English. Perhaps 'Eho! ého! ého!

your

Devon ancestors wrote it. Les agneaux vont aux plaines.

Those morioned harriers of the Spanish Eho! ého! ého!

Main grew poetic, sometimes, in the Et les loups sont aux bois.'

alehouse. "Eho! Eho! Eho!' The resonant

“The martins and the swallows echoes, rolling, return the shouted re- Are God Almighty's scholars. frain of the old Burgundian shepherd

The robins and the wrens song. 'Eho! Eho! Ého!' That's the Are God Almighty's friends. first French this barn - and Somebody

*The laverock and the lintie, - have ever heard. Somebody likes it,

The robin and the wren too, and is silent. Off from the gables If you disturb their nests, storm the startled pigeons. Out from

You'll never thrive again. their nests, on beam and rafter, dart the

*For swallows on Mount Calvary twittering swallows. It is pleasant, ly- Plucked tenderly away ing on the hay before the wide window,

From the brow of Christ two thousand awaiting their return. Back they come,

thorns, the proud, iris-necked cock-pigeons,

Such gracious birds are they.' a-rou-cou-coo-ing, a-bookity-boo-ing, What's that? You don't see how I on the sill; the swallows, Spirits of the can shoot a bird? You would n't shoot Loft, hovering stationary in the gray- one, of course. How about that quail framed azure of the window. Brave somebody shot with my gun, last fall? they look, in their new dress-suits, steel. Sitting, too. And right under old Hecblue-backed, white-and-chestnut-front- tor's nose, while he was holding his ed. ‘Now, what,' they twitter, 'what point so patiently! Somebody's so tenin the name of common sense, can this der-hearted she would n't think of gopair of human nuisances be up to, high, ing hunting again. What? She is? And so high, in our domain?'

is going to tramp ten miles of sedge'Eho! Eho! Eho!'

fields, tear her stockings to rags, scratch

her hands, and shoot at anything that “Tell me something about the swal- will sit still long enough? Good for you! lows,' she begs, when the Spirits of the Won't we have a time! We'll be coriLoft are a-nest once more, and all is the reurs de marais, in your canoe, on the silence of the hay. "You know so many river. With old Hector up front, to verses. Tell me one, please. I love watch for falling mallards, we'll follow birds.'

the happy day. I'll be here when the She does n't have to beg very hard. shooting season opens

shooting season opens — it's only six It was on your lips, unvoiced:

months off. I'll bring my sixteen-gauge

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gun and a pair of leather leggins for the bat hangs upside down from a rafter, you.

and is quiet. Eho! Eho! Eho!'

My goodness! But you can see How

you show off! When you were a things!' she exclaims, enthusiastically boy, someone said, “'Fraid cat,'and you chewing a clover-stalk and looking insanely rode your bicycle down certain sidewise at you from under her strawbrownstone front steps, landing on your

filled hair. 'What an eye you've got! head, in the middle of the street, and No wonder you beat father shooting almost beneath the passing car-wheels. partridges last fall.' You hear her mocking laughter yet – ‘Hush, Barn Elf. See that weasel's the cruel, peppermint-sticky little co- head peeping out of the rathole, in quette, your first flame, who dared the corner? Too late. “Pop" goes the you.

weasel. They always do, just when you It is different now. She follows eager- look; it's their way. He's hunting rats. ly, while you. reveal the life of the He won't bother your bantams. If he barn, unveiling a creation of which she

I'll get him if I have to watch has scarcely surmised the existence. all night. Yonder’s a pewee's nest, on She knows the boring-bees; the 'black- the old broom, behind that rafter, by faces'sting, but the white-faces' don't. the west window. It's not finished yet. The 'death-watch' beetle, ticking in There are no swallows on that side of the wall, frightens her, but she likes the the barn. Come over and see. No, the nervous mud-daubers, brown and blue, nests are empty; they've driven all the and exclaims in wonder when she first beauties away. Pewees are democrats. hears their dry, gritty clicking, busily They hate "swallowtails." ; plastering their mud tunnels against She is glad to learn. She does not the inner shingles.

question. Composed, she listens, satisThin wings suddenly flutter overhead.fied with your knowledge. Yet now and 'Oh! oh! A bat! Don't let it get in my then a side-glance at the ladder-openhair!' Down she burrows under the hay ing. Only the faintest flush of cheek, while, crazily flickering to and fro, the only the twitching of the bitten straw, 'leather-bird' darts and twists in the give token of the 'awfulness' unheard semi-twilight.

of — but not undreamed of You stand, with pitchfork raised. 'In the loft so long, all by herself, 'It's gone now. Come out, Barn Elf with the stranger!'

.' She rises, blinking and sneezing, her 'Here comes that horrid bat again! hair loose and full of clinging straws. I'm really afraid. I'm going down this One's gone down her back. What a minute!' time it takes to get it out! How But why so slow about descending? she laughs and shrinks and shudders! What glamour is in the odorous air? What's the matter with your fingers? That little trusting hand, why does it The loosened hair is rearranged and quiver in your hand, like an imprisoned pinned; the errant straw is, at last, re- bird? That paling, dawn-flushed face, covered, and nature-study is resumed; where is its composure now? That slenbut it is useless to expatiate upon bats der form, why does it tremble? Why, and their habits.

half-knowing she knows not what, does 'I think they're awful. I wish every she look at you with eyes so strangely one in the world was dead. I'm going luminous? She is a woman, for all her down if it comes again. There! – Oh! sixteen years. — Deep called unto deep. oh! at each returning swoop. Finally, You can read the whirl of thought with

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