GOING UP.

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 38, 3 December 1920, Page 7

GOING UP.

Squeezing myself into the small seat reserved for the passenger, I looked anxiously up at theprofile beside me — the profile of the man to whom I was shortly to entrust my life, my safety. I saw a sternset mouth, a hawk-like eye, a general air of alertness and self-confidence, and toolc courage. He was intent on the levers of his machine. Not a tremor passed over his countenance. Though this going up meant much to me, it was evidently nothing to him— a matter of every day. Strong, well-built, how the uniform became him, I reflected ; and the ribbons on his oreast testified to many feats of courage and endurance. He pressed a lever. I shut my eyes. We began to go up. A sound as of the rushing of many waters ulled my ears, and I felt as if I were leaving all I cared for behind me. The noise ceased. He liad shut off the power. What was nappening ? a. opened my eyes and found he was speaking, but could make nothing of the words. Still I knew all was well, for he again pressed the lever, and we went up, up, with the same rush of sound, and the same amazing sensation of leaving body and soul on the earth beneath. Once more we stopped, and he spoke rapidly. This time I clutched the arms of the seat, rose to my feet, listening eagerly to catch the words he was saying— "Tearoomcarpetsgramophonesbootsand. shoesunderskirts ' ' The last were the words I liad waited for. "Thank you," I said, giving him a gratcful look as I stepped out of the lift.