quius speaks of a Turk at
Constantinople who attempted something in this way; but he (the Turk, I
mean), was untrammelled by ecclesiastical prejudice. But why should we
tarry in the past? Have we not Mr. Proctor with us, both in _Knowledge_
and the _Cornhill_? Does not the preeminent authority, Professor
Pettigrew Bell, himself declare, with the weight, too, of the
_Encyclopodia Britannica_, that 'the number of successful flying models
is considerable. It is not too much to expect,' he goes on, 'that the
problem of artificial flight will be actually solved, or at least much
simplified.' What less can we expect, as he observes, in the land of
Watt and Stephenson, when the construction of flying machines has been
'taken up in earnest by practical men?'"

"We may indeed," said Barton, "hope for the best when persons of your
learning and ingenuity devote their efforts to the cause."

"As to my learning, you flatter me," said Winter. "I am no scholar; but
an enthusiast will study the history of his subject Did I remark that
the great Dr. Johnson, in these matters so sceptical, admits (in a
romance, it is true) the possibility of artificial flight? The artisan
of the Happy Valley expected to solve the problem in one year's time.
'If all men were equally virtuous,' said this artist, 'I should with
equal alacrity teach them all to fly.'"

"And you will keep your secret, like Dr. Johnson's artist?"

"To _you_ I do not mind revealing this much. The vans or wings of my
machine describe elliptic figures of eight."

"I've seen them do _that_, said Barton.

"Like the wings of birds; and have the same forward and downward stroke,
by a direct piston action. The impetus is given, after a descent in
air--which I effected by starting from a height of six feet only--by
a combination of heated naphtha and of india rubber under torsion. By
steam alone, in 1842, Philips made a model of a flying-machine soar
across two fields. Penaud's machine, relying only on india rubber under
torsion, flies for some fifty yards. What a model can do, as
Bishop Wilkins well observes, a properly weighted and proportioned
flying-machine, capable of carrying a man, can do also."

"But yours, when I first had the pleasure of meeting you, was not
carrying you at all."

"Something had gone wrong with the mechanism," answered Winter, sighing.
"It is always so. An inventor has many things to contend against.
Remember Ark-wright, and how he was puzzled hopele