THE CONQUEST OF TIME AND SPACE 



ther partook of the motion of the lifting air around me, I 

 should sustain my position. The wind itself tends to 

 direct this motion; but then it must be remembered 

 that my chief object in the air is to overcome the ten- 

 dency of turning to the right or left, because I know that 

 behind or under me lies the hill from which I started, 

 and with which I would come in rough contact if I 

 allowed myself to attempt this circle-sailing. I have, 

 however, made up my mind, by means of either stronger 

 wind or by flapping the wings, to get higher up and 

 farther away from the hills, so that sailing round in 

 circles, I can follow the strong, uplifting current, and 

 have sufficient air-space under and around me to com- 

 plete with safety a circle, and lastly to come up against 

 the wind again to land." 



Before he was ready to make this attempt, however, 

 Lilienthal was killed by a fall caused by a treacherous 

 gust of wind which tilted his machine beyond his con- 

 trol and hurled him to the ground. 



Again the expectant world of aerial navigators was 

 thrown into despondency by the happening of the long 

 expected — expected, and yet not expected; for Lilien- 

 thal had made so many daring flights under so many 

 trying conditions, always managing to alight safely, 

 that a feeling of confidence had succeeded that of 

 distrust. It was almost like a bolt from a clear sky, 

 therefore, when the news was flashed around the world 

 that Lilienthal was no more. But science has never yet 

 been daunted by the fear of death. Like a well-formed 

 battle-line in which the place of the fallen is always 

 quickly filled, there is always a warrior-scientist ready 



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