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the sandy wastes of Aldershot, and so forth. The

Downs escarpment was set with gigantic slow-moving



wind-wheels. Save where the broad Eadhamite

Portsmouth Road, thickly dotted with rushing shapes,



followed the course of the old railway, the gorge of the

Wey was choked with thickets.



The whole expanse of the Downs escarpment, so far

as the grey haze permitted him to see, was set with



wind-wheels to which the largest of the city was but a

younger brother. They stirred with a stately motion



before the south-west wind. And here and there were

patches dotted with the sheep of the British Food



Trust, and here and there a mounted shepherd made a

spot of black. Then rushing under the stern of the



aeropile came the Wealden Heights, the line of

Hindhead, Pitch Hill, and Leith Hill, with a second row of



wind-wheels that seemed striving to rob the downland

whirlers of their share of breeze. The purple heather



was speckled with yellow gorse, and on the further

side a drove of black oxen stampeded before a



couple of mounted men. Swiftly these swept behind,

and dwindled and lost colour, and became scarce



moving specks that were swallowed up in haze.

And when these had vanished in the distance



Graham heard a peewit wailing close at hand. He

perceived he was now above the South Downs,



and staring over his shoulder saw the battlements

of Portsmouth Landing Stage towering over the



ridge of Portsdown Hill. In another moment there

came into sight a spread of shipping like floating



cities, the little white cliffs of the Needles dwarfed and

sunlit, and the grey and glittering waters of the narrow



sea. They seemed to leap the Solent in a moment,

and in a few seconds the Isle of Wight was running



past, and then beneath him spread a wider and wide

extent of sea, here purple with the shadow of a cloud,



here grey, here a burnished mirror, and here a spread

of cloudy greenish blue. The Isle of Wight grew



smaller and smaller. In a few more minutes a strip of

grey haze detached itself from other strips that were



clouds, descended out of the sky and became a coast-

line--sunlit and pleasant--the coast of northern



France. It rose, it took colour, became definite and

detailed, and the counterpart of the Downland of



England was speeding by below.

In a little time, as it seemed, Paris came above the



horizon, and hung there for a space, and sank out of

sight again as the aeropile circled about to the north



again. But he perceived the Eiffel Tower still

standing, and beside it a huge dome surmounted by a



pinpoint Colossus. And he perceived, too, though he did

not understand it at the time, a slanting drift of smoke.



The aeronaut said something about "trouble in the

underways," that Graham did not heed at the time.



But he marked the minarets and towers and slender

masses that streamed skyward above the city



windvanes, and knew that in the matter of grace at least

Paris still kept in front of her larger rival. And even



as he looked a pale blue shape ascended very swiftly

from the city like a dead leaf driving up before a gale.



It curved round and soared towards them growing

rapidly larger and larger. The aeronaut was saying



something. "What?" said Graham, loath to take his

eyes from this. "Aeroplane, Sire," bawled the



aeronaut pointing.

They rose and curved about northward as it drew



nearer. Nearer it came and nearer, larger and larger.

The throb, throb, throb--beat, of the aeropile's



flight, that had seemed so potent and so swift,

suddenly appeared slow by comparison with this



tremendous rush. How great the monster seemed, how

swift and steady! It passed quite closely beneath



them, driving along silently, a vast spread of

wirenetted translucent wings, a thing alive. Graham had a






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