A little-winged dragon above Oxford Street

"It was a winter's day, and I was looking at the gaily dressed windows of a shop in Oxford Street; its windows, filled with the little orange-trees and flowers of the Mayfair Flower Workers, attracted me and I stayed admiring them, jostled a little by the crowd of people who were continually passing by. The roadway also was thronged with motors and with motor omnibuses and — drawn up near the pavement where I stood I noticed more particularly — a small old-fashioned brougham that was painted dark blue, and that was drawn by a white horse. The next thing that I remember is that my attention was attracted upwards, and I remained for some time spell-bound, watching the curious, rather uncertain, flight of a dragon — a dragon with very short red wings, who was pulling an aerial car at some little height above the rest of the traffic and some way above the heads of the people in the crowded street. 'The dragon isn't nearly strong enough for the car he has got to pull, ' I exclaimed ; 'his wings are absurd little things, not nearly big enough for the job — why, a good aeroplane would be better than that!' The dragon was certainly rather feeble, but it kept up its jerky flight bravely along Oxford Street, and finally turned down Regent Street, where I lost sight of it."