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"I should be very happy, aunt; but Brighton is almost by Beachey Head; and if I could get so far, I could not expect to be welcome in such a smart place as that poor scrubby midshipman as I am." Mrs.
Any advance was now out of the question; the "massing" ice prevented that, and threatened them daily. At length it was decided to run for shelter to Beachey Island, and in Erebus and Terror Bay the expedition was made as snug as possible for the winter.
An attempt was made to communicate with Sir E. Belcher on Beachey Island, but it failed, and another winter in the ice had to be faced. Some men preferred to leave the ship, but they returned after a while.
Not contented with what had been done, and was being done, by Parry and others in the North, Franklin undertook to conduct a second expedition, which Captain Beachey was appointed to meet by going round Cape Horn, and through Behring's Strait to the eastward, so as to unite with Franklin, who hoped to come overland.
The great possibilities as well as the dangers connected with aviation were brought out in the meet at Chicago during August, 1911, where two aviators lost their lives. C. P. Rodgers, in a Wright machine, remained in the air twenty-six and one-half hours out of the possible thirty-one and one-half hours. Lincoln Beachey set a new world's record by ascending 11,642 feet.
She was called Miss Beachey in the household, a name which was received by the servants at least as a quite proper and natural name; a great deal more sensible than Forno-Populo. Her position, however, in the little party was a quite peculiar one. The Contessa took her for granted in a way which silenced all inquisitive researches.
They landed here in 1790, fifteen men, and twelve women. Nine of the men were mutineers; all the others were Otaheitans. Captain Beachey visited the island in 1825, and found about sixty persons on it, the descendants of Captain Bligh's men. Pitcairn's Isle is a little spot not more than seven miles in circumference, with an abrupt rocky coast.
"Well," drawled Carl, "I have fairly good authority. Walter MacMonnies, for instance, and he is probably the best flier in the country to-day, except for Lincoln Beachey." "Oh yes, he's a good flier," said Phil, contemptuously, with a shadowy smile for Ruth.
Roman Porchester was just what mediaeval Porchester was, a great fortress, not a "city," nor a village, but a port similar to the others that lined the Saxon shore from the Wash to Beachey Head. Of what became of the place in Saxon times we are entirely ignorant.
Somehow I'd just as soon be alive and exploring the Amazon with old Forrest as dead after "brilliant feats of fearless daring." Go to it, kids, good luck, only test your supporting wires, and don't try to rival Lincoln Beachey, he's a genius. Glad got a secretary for a couple days to handle all this mail. Hundreds of begging letters and mash notes from girls since I won the big prize.
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