There may or may not arise some carping soul to comment unfavorably upon the fact that Miss Ruth Elder, who flew, if not to Europe, at least most of the way to the Azores, has accepted a vaudeville contract at a nice, fat figure, in order that the public may see the first woman to fly nearly to Europe and that she may have a suitable reward. True enough, this is not what Lindbergh did; but Lindbergh was an army officer with a responsibility to his government, and Miss Elder is not. It is impossible for anyone, particularly a young woman, to fly towards Europe without incurring such publicity that an appearance upon the Stage becomes an anti-climax; and even if this were not so, what is the public eye which some people still regard as synonymous with the evil eye--compared to a small but substantial fortune which will enable one to enjoy obscurity for life if it be desired?

Not only in a pecuniary sense is the aviatrix pursuing a wise course. The surest way to kill the insatiable demon of publicity is to give it all it wants and more--to attend receptions, have pictures taken, and appear on the stage until the demand, disgusted with such easy prey, turns to more elusive subjects such as the reticent Mr. Coolidge or the secretive government of Rumania. With her contract in vaudeville finished, as well as her connections with movies, beauty clays, and other such gold mines, Miss Elder may retire, as safe from the headlines as the pilot who flew her plane across the ocean.