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456, like a spider in the midst of its web. The rudder was in the rear again, while the guide-rope hung from the front of the keel.

When I had finished its construction, in April, 1901, the Scientific Commission of the Deutsch Prize encouraged me to continue my experiments by awarding me, for my labors of 1900, the interest on the 100,000 francs, which had not been won by any one during the preceding year. To encourage other experimenters, I left this sum (4,000 francs) at the disposition of the Aëro Club, to found a new prize. I made its conditions very simple:

‘‘The Santos-Dumont prize shall be awarded to the aëronaut, a member of the Aëro Club, who, between May 1 and October 1, 1901, starting from the Parc d’Aërostation of Saint-Cloud, shall turn round the Eiffel Tower and come back to the starting-point, at the end of whatsoever time, but without touching ground, and without other agency than the motive power carried on board the balloon.

‘‘If the Santos-Dumont prize is not won in 1901, it shall remain open for the following year—and so on, until the problem is solved.’’

I did not wish to complicate such a trial. I was sure that even under the most favorable conditions, it would be a great deal to come back to the starting-point after having reached a post determined in advance—an exploit, indeed, unheard of before 1901.

The conditions also left the competitors free to choose the state of the air most favorable to them.

The Aëro Club signified its approval by deciding to give its highest reward to the one who should win the prize I had founded. Since then the 4,000 francs have remained in the treasury of the club; one competitor only has been entered; and he has not tried to fulfill the conditions.

As I had excluded myself from trying for my own prize, I wished at least to show that these were possible. This I did for the first time, July 13, 1901, after a practice-flight the day before. At 4.30 p.m. I had my air-ship brought to the Longchamps race-course. I did not take time to ask permission from the Jockey Club which, however, a few days later, placed this admirable open space at my disposition for future trials. Ten times in succession I made the circuit of Longchamps, stopping each time at a point which I had designated beforehand. After these first evolutions, which altogether made up a distance of about 35 kilometers (22 miles), I set out for Puteaux; and, after an excursion of some 3 kilometers, done in nine minutes, I came back again to Longchamps.

I was now so satisfied with the results that I began looking for the Eiffel Tower. It had disappeared in the mists of the morning; but its direction was fairly known to me, and I steered toward it as well as I could. In ten minutes I had come to within 200 meters ($$\frac{1}{8}$$ mile) of the Champ de Mars. There one of the cords managing my rudder broke; and I was obliged to navigate diagonally downward and land in the Trocadero Gardens. A ladder was brought to me; and a few men at my request held it upright. I climbed up to its highest round and repaired the damage. Then I started off again, turned hastily round the Eiffel Tower, and came back to Longchamps after a trip, which, including the stop, had lasted one hour and six minutes. After a few minutes rest, I took a flight over to my Aërodrome, crossed the Seine at an altitude of 200 meters, and brought back my air-ship to its habitation.

The next day, July 13th, in presence of the committee, which had been regularly convoked, I set out at 6.41 A.M. I turned round the Eiffel Tower in the tenth minute, and came back against a head-wind to the Parc d’Aërostation, which I reached at the fortieth minute at an altitude of 200 meters, after a terrific struggle with the element. Just at this moment my capricious motor stopped and the air-ship drifted until it fell, with comparatively little damage and without the least scratch to myself, on the tallest chestnut tree in the park of M. Edmond de Rothschild. This was near the hotel of Princesse Ysabel, Comtesse d’Eu, who sent up to me in my tree a champagne lunch, with an invitation to come and tell her the story of my trip.

When my story was over, she said to me: ‘‘Your evolutions in the air made me think of the flight of our great birds of Brazil. I hope that you will succeed for the glory of our common country.’’

And now I come to a terrible day—August 8, 1901. At 6.30 a.m., I started for the Eiffel Tower again, in the presence of the committee, duly convoked. I turned the goal at the end of nine minutes, and took my way back to Saint-Cloud; but my balloon was losing hydrogen through the automatic valves, the spring of which had been accidentally weakened; and it shrank visibly. All at once, while over the fortifications of Paris, near La Muette, the screw-propeller touched and cutthe suspension-cords, which were sagging