I know of no bird from which lessons in practical flight can be better obtained than from the Secretary bird. As one sees him stalking along with stately gait across the veld in South Africa, he reminds one rather of a very large pied pheasant, but with longer legs and an eagle–like head. But now let us gallop straight towards him and note carefully his successive actions. At first, he raises his head in a proud and offended manner, but then recognising the undoubted physical superiority of the mounted man, he hurries his steps and runs in an ungainly fashion, almost as if afraid. Then he slowly opens and extends his great wings till they are widely stretched outwards. His appearance then irresistably recalls to mind with grim sadness the scene, so impressed on my memory, of poor Pitcher's last attempts to solve the mysteries of flight.

At the first meeting of the Aeronautical Society of Great Britain in June, 1866, the author read a paper “On Aerial Locomotion and the Laws by which Heavy Bodies impelled through Air are Sustained.” Since that date, the writer has only occasionally reverted to the subject, but has never been convinced that flight is impossible for man, considering the apparent ease with which large birds traverse the air.

The power required to maintain the flight of the screw vanes mentioned in the paper (now extensively used for flying-shot practice), was estimated at the rate of three-horse power for each hundred pounds raised. This is widely in excess of the reality, because when the first force that causes ascension is exhausted, the instrument in its subsequent descent, acts as a mere dirigible parachute. This is a most extravagant means of absorbing power. For example, a man weighing 150 lbs. attached to a parachute having this number of square feet, descending 1,300 feet per minute, will be expending six-horse power on the yielding air.