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74. BUILDING THE CAMP.

All sorts and conditions of machines and of men were at work on it. The steam shovels removing mountains, gutters being dug as big as trenches, buildings going up and trees coming down as far as one could see — and further — the ideal of the man who said to me, as he looked over the tree-falling, town-rising landscape, "Gosh, it's fine. I am a carpenter here, but I never did no carpentering, 'cept I once did help the carpenters to build a house with my pocketbook; but now I am getting six dollars a day and, well, as it looks like a shower, I guess I won't pay the doctor ten dollars to cure a cold." So we came away in a "jitney."

75. THE CAMP.

THE NEW ARCHITECTURE.

In the center of the new city is something like a long train of box cars — yet when you see their sides you find they are houses. As you look they grow, and from a few holes in the ground till the building is finished takes about forty-five minutes. They are better built than the English munition towns — but they are unbelievable — these cities of fifty thousand inhabitants built while the army was formed. This drawing is but a bit — to right and to left and behind the town stretched — the embodiment of usefulness, respectability — a triumph of ugliness.

76. LAUNCHING THE HYDROPLANES.

PUTTING OUT TO SEA.

Somewhere at an aviation post, every morning early, the aeroplanes start seaward, pushed and coaxed and pulled along like a stubborn mule — and about as beautiful — once they are up and away. After splashing and floundering clumsily, how calm, how graceful, how serene they are as they move in and out amid the clouds in sunlight and shadow, over the summer ship-decked sea.

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77. AEROPLANES

AT REST ON THE PLAIN.

Why again is there such a swing and lift about these lines — because they are right and strong lines — and when the machines stand about how like they are to great clumsy birds — and when they try to start they are, too; but once they have started how beautiful they are.

78. THE BALLOON SHED.

I only know of this one "balloon shed" in the country — probably in design it is out of date, but pictorially it is fine.

79. BUILDING DESTROYERS.

Amid the great ways the little destroyers are built. While the work of building is going on, there seem to be no workmen about, though the noise they make is terrible. The various parts of the ships lie about apparently in confusion, but the crane knows what it wants and where to find it and picks up and carries it to its proper place. It is only when the men knock off that you see what an army is engaged in shipbuilding. And it was too funny to be told as I went about I could not smoke, yet hundreds of drills and riveters are shedding showers of sparks and there is nothing but iron about.

80. MAKING A TURBINE ENGINE.

This is the finest shop, in which the most impressive work of modern times is done, and it is somewhere in America; and as I worked away after five, one man said, "Wot's yer hours, mate?"

81. THE BIGGEST LATHE IN THE WORLD.

Many of the subjects I have chosen are probably the "biggest in the world" and the most impressive, too; that is the reason why I have drawn them. I have seen great lathes and great guns in Europe, but this one is certainly greater than any other.

"You couldn't do that, Fatty," said the man. "Couldn't I," said the other. "You bet I could if I had been at it as long as him." It was the second lathe I have drawn.

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