king and one of the two on my down trip, "Wrap up and put cotton in your is" advised the pilot, looking. skyward, "I'm going to ty above them." The mountains, 1 thought he meant.
Up, up and up we went, smoothly, gradually. Everything was a daze ling, blinding white. Why, we are in. the clouds! Three thousand feet, then four, then five, then six, then seven thousand. The engines purred. We hardly seemed to move. All above was blue sky....and below: as far as eye could see a billowing sea of clouds, cottony white. Every once in a while through a. slivor-Uke break miles below could be. seen the top of a mountain, or a cloud's: shadow on the water. This T thought, is heaven, Beauty and Hunger Then suddenly I remembered. 1 was hungry. T' had no breakfast, No lunch, and so in the midst of all this blue and white beauty at 7,000 feet in the sky I ate not one—but a T hope this never ends 1 breathed. But it did. We were coming down, slowly, and then we were at Wen-
We flew high and smoothly and almost without motion again, this time in a cloudless sky over range after range of mountains. Down below spread Ningpo like some huge prehistoric monster, flattened some avalanche that later had been seraped away. Winding, wide - rib bons of brown streams through fat green and belge patches with here and there a bright rectangle of yel low mustard signalled that Shanghai was near-by.
Amidst The Junks Then over the dull grey yellow of Hangchow Bay that merged with sky
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.