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At 2 o'clock today, the Dixie Clipper slipped away from its Port Washington berth to scull out on the water at the far end of the bay. Here this beautiful creation of man's mastery of the skies hove to to face the prevailing winds.

The perspective from a climbing height seems to make us travel slowly, but in reality we are travelling and moving away from new York in a northeasterly direction at the rate of about 150 miles per hour. Still climbing, our motors droned a humming noise. Cotton in our ears? Don't be silly. This is 1939. The ship is the advanced spirit of 1945. The walls are so insulated against motor noises that one can talk with his fellow passenger in an ordinary tone of voice.

An hour later and we are passing over Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard. Man, is it a beautiful sight. We are traveling at, I would say, about 7,000 ft., the sky above is just as blue as one could hope for and below we have a solid mass of clouds. Life aboard the plane has settled down as much as one would settle down on the Normandie or the Queen Mary, and people are getting acquainted. Menus and passenger lists are being passed around for the various autographs. I couldn't imagine a finer or a more interesting group of people than we have on this trip. And to add to it all, my old captain, Captain Sullivan with whom I  travelled to China and back, is master of the ship today. He has become one of the crowd, and he is as interesting as the rest of the passengers.

I wish you were here to see the exquisite appointments of the various cabins. The public rooms, and the upholstery are works of art of the decorator's guild. The ship is perfectly vibrationless, and is insulated to the point where you can speak in an ordinary voice. A couple of bridge games are in progress. We have a couple of boys who like to play chess, and the letter writing, of course, is about as popular as ever. At 7 o'clock  dinner was served and what a dinner it was. We had a six course affair, with breast of chicken, asparagus, strawberry shortcake, and, of course, after dinner coffee. The passengers are gradually retiring, it is now about 10 o'clock, and they have been reiring since about 9. Of course, the beds, bedrooms, and berths are about as fine as the best hotels could afford; white, fluffy, soft, downy; dressing rooms that would be the envy of many a fine hotel.

The ship seems to continue on an even level,never swerving one inch sideways. Word has just come through by wireless that Louis knocked out his opponent in the fourth round, which, you see, gives us about the same news that one would get if one were on terra firma. We are going to be in Horta about 7 o'clock in the morning. We are on time, flying at about 160 miles per hour. It is now past midnight, and, of course, that makes it about 3 o'clock our time. Dawn is breaking in the far distance, and the captain tells me that it won't be long before it will be broad daylight.

Well, here it is morning again, and it is certainly hard for me to realize that we left New York just about 17 hours ago. Here I am out in the broad Atlantic, suspended in the air, right in the neighborhood of the Azores.