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tremely complex business, in spite of the first impression that it should be a very simple affair. The matter will be before the Legislatures of every State in the Union in 1911. The Nation's political conscience has shown many signs of a reawakening in the past few years. It may be that a widespread protest against gerrymandering will be heard when the legislators juggle with majorities to retain the dominant party's sway in every State. Both of the great parties have been equally guilty in the past, and probably will be in the future. But the wave of political morality which has recently swept the country has been curiously non-partisan for the most part. The weight of public opinion can accomplish and has accomplished marvels in this country, and once let the great bulk of the voters understand how they are cheated out of their votes, and there is likely to be a storm of protest which would put an end at least to the more barefaced cases of gerrymandering, instances of which can be found in almost every State in the Union. In the past, most apportionment Acts have been passed without any considerable manifestation of public interest. Election districting is a somewhat technical subject, and the average voter has seldom been willing to give the time and study necessary for an understanding of the districting even of his own locality. He leaves it to the politicians, and the politicians have plenty of time and know that it is well worth their while to make an earnest study of majorities in relation to election districts. When their opportunity comes, the result is the gerrymander, and the voter who "hasn't time" has only himself to blame if his vote has been stolen from him.

As in the case of so many ills in our body politic, the most promising remedy would appear to be publicity. If the nonpartisan press and organizations working for clean politics would undertake a campaign of education while the apportion

ment acts are pending in the various State Legislatures, if they would bring before the eyes of the voters maps of the districts, present and proposed, calling attention to obvious examples of gerrymandering and significant majorities-in other words, if the great mass of the intelligent, honest voters could once be made to understand how they are tricked-the legislators would be likely to hesitate long before juggling with the suffrage. Locking the stable door after the horse has escaped is a popular but rather futile form of energy, and the time for action is while the apportionment bills are pending in the State Legislatures and before they become laws. It is well to remember the fruitless results of many long fights in the courts against notorious gerrymanders.

In this Congressional apportionment year I suggest for the consideration of voters the following little political catechism:

How many Representatives did each of the parties elect in my State last autumn? What was the total vote for Representatives cast by each party in my State?

How many voters of each party did it take to elect a Representative?

Are the borders of the Congressional districts in my State extremely irregular? What Congressional district do I live in? Are the borders of my Congressional district extremely irregular?

Do I live in a gerrymandered district?

If I live in a gerrymander, what is the gressional district in this year's apportionState Legislature going to do with my Con

ment?

What am I going to do about it?

The election statistics may be obtained in any comprehensive annual almanac for this year; the maps for the entire country are contained in the Congressional Directory. Both statistics and maps for your State and county should be accessible at your party's county headquarters.

The apportioning of the Congressional districts in 1911 is close upon us. If the voters are in a mood to protest, let the State legislators hear from their constituents.

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By H. Percy Shearman

OVEMBER the nineteenth was the day set for the début into the aerial world of the Williams Aeronautical Society. Aeronaut Leo Stevens had kindly placed at the disposal of the society his eighty-two-thousand cubic foot balloon, the Cleveland, with his services as pilot, for the maiden trip of the club. The Society was represented in the basket by R. O. Starrett, of New York; K. T. Price, of Chicago; George G. Ernst, of New York, and myself.

When I sprang out of bed at 6:30 on the eventful morning, I at once made for the window to observe the weather. A strong northwest wind was blowing the snowflakes fast and straight along the main street of North Adams. The hills which lined the valley were completely obscured by heavy snow-clouds. A few factory hands were hurrying to their work with bent heads and turned-up coat collars. It was truly a wild morning for an aerial trip. We had, however, been keenly anticipating this event for the past three weeks, and were determined to go, hail or shine. Fortunately for us, we had a pilot who was as keen for the air as we were, who was game to the backbone, and, more important still, as after events proved, one who had an abundance of experience to draw from in times of emergency.

On arriving at the grounds, where we had laid out the balloon the night before, we saw the gas company's men already at work sweeping the snow off the cover

ings. At 7:30 the gas was turned on, and the limp, flat mass of linen and silk began to rise from the ground as if suddenly imbued with life. At first nothing but a few blister-like mounds, which gradually filled out to a low, dome-shaped mass, then slowly and silently, as if a living thing growing into being, the huge Cleveland rose from the ground, tugging impatiently at the ring of weighty sand-bags which seemed like an army of grooms holding on to the monster steed till her master was ready to fly with her on her aerial ride. The wind was blowing in strong gusts, and the huge balloon, towering up above us, plunged around like a gigantic bucking broncho as we endeavored to hitch on the car. Luckily we had about a hundred fellows from college to hold her down, or we never would have got away. She gave these men for over an hour a rougher grueling than ever they had experienced on the gridiron. First she would carry them this way and then that, as if they had been so many puppets, throwing them off their feet, sweeping them before the basket like so much chaff, or bowling them over like so many ninepins. One man, knocked down under the basket, was badly trampled before he could be extricated. Collars were torn off, caps trodden under foot, and, in spite of the cold, beads of perspiration stood out on their faces. But, fortunately for us, they held on like grim death till, having adjusted the ballast to a nicety, and waiting for a

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favorable moment when the huge, swaying sphere was veering to windward, Pilot Stevens gave the word to let go. With a yell from the panting crowd, we shot up, taking a slanting direction as the wind caught us, narrowly missing the chimney of an adjacent house.

Never will I forget the magnificence of the view that burst on my sight as we mounted up; burst is the only word to describe it. One second we were on the ground, the next soaring over the city, with the balloon grounds nothing but a patch. beneath us covered with black specks. It was the very suddenness with which we were launched into the upper air that rendered the encircling view beneath us so striking. This vast panorama of house-dotted valley flanked by tier after tier of snow-clad hills, in such striking contrast to the puny views of earth just left behind, literally took my senses

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THE FIRST HALF-HOUR AT THE GAS PLANT

by storm. Like one from whose eyes the bandage has suddenly been snatched did I gaze down at the bewilderingly magnificent vista stretched out beneath. The last time I had viewed these Berkshire hills from the basket was on a beautiful evening in June. Then the hills and valleys had been clothed in mossy green. The song of a robin floated up from the leafy depths beneath, accompanied by the merry piping of the frogs engaged in their evening concert. Now all was changed. Not a speck of green was to be seen. The rugged hills and flattened valleys seized in winter's icy grip were now white, interspersed here and there with dark patches of

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bare woods or jutting rock. Mother Earth had laid aside her summer robes of green and donned her winter furs of snowy ermine. Yet that same touch of the infinite was present.

Suspended ten thousand feet in midair, leaning over the side of the basket, one sees the earth stretched out beneath like a rolling ocean, knowing no limit but that of human vision and seeming to melt into one with the lowering arch of the vaulted heavens. Unless one has actually hung beneath the gas-bag noiselessly floating betwixt heaven and earth, and with his own eyes has striven in vain to fathom the infinite blue of the ether ocean above, and trace that far-away mystical region where earth ends and sky begins, as the historian gazes into the dim ages of the past to distinguish betwixt shadowy tradition and concrete history, he will

SILENTLY THE MASS GREW INTO BEING

scarcely be able to conceive the stupendous grandeur of such a scene as we beheld at this moment.

This is one of the things that make ballooning the king of sports. It is an exhilarating sensation to be comfortably ensconced in a large touring car, speeding along over a level stretch of road-granted, of course, an absence of bicycle cops. But to float over the world in a balloon, passing over rivers, valleys, cities, and mountains as if they never existed; to leave the earth behind in the ever-deepening abyss of sheer space; to mount up even into the very midst of the blue of the vaulted heavens, with the clouds spread out beneath, white with reflected light; to have nothing above but the eternal sun, and only the wandering winds as companions; to be taken up thus to the

pinnacle of Nature's temple and see her kingdoms stretched out beneath, inspires one with such a feeling of exaltation as is hard for any one not having experienced it to conceive.

But there are other occupations on a balloon trip than contemplating the scenery. We were soon busy with map and compass in charting our course. By means of the compass we got our general direction, southeast, and located our course on the map. We made our "get-away" from North Adams at 10:40A.M. At 10:55 we sailed over Charlemont with our barograph registering an altitude of 7,500 feet, having covered the distance of twentyone miles in fifteen minutes, which gave us a mean speed of eighty miles an hour. Before starting Professor Milham, of the Department of Meteorology and

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