“Yes; such as our great aim--the aim of all the ages, I may call it. What does Bishop Wilkins say, sir? Why, he says, (I doubt not but that flying in the air may be easily effected by a diligent and ingenious artificer.) ‘Diligent,’ I may say, I have been; as to ‘ingenious,’ I leave the verdict to others.” “Was that Peter Wilkins you were quoting?” asked Barton, to humor his man. “Why, no sir; the Bishop was not Peter. Peter Wilkins is the hero of a mere romance, in which, it is true, we meet with women--_Goories_ he calls them--endowed with the power of flight. But _they_ were born so. We get no help from Peter Wilkins: a mere dreamer.” “It doesn’t seem to be so easy as the Bishop fancies?” remarked Barton, leading him on. “No, sir,” cried Winter, all his aches and pains forgotten, and his pale face flushed with the delight of finding a listener who did not laugh at him. “No, sir; the Bishop, though ingenious, was not a practical man. But look at what he says about the _weight_ of your flying machine! Can anything be more sensible? Borne out, too, by the most recent researches, and the authority of Professor Pettigrew Bell himself. You remember the iron fly made by Begimontanus of Nuremberg?” “The iron fly!” murmured Barton. “I can’t say I do.” “You will find a history of it in Bamus. This fly would leap from the hands of the great Begimontanus, flutter and buzz round the heads of his guests assembled at supper, and then, as if wearied, return and repose on the finger of its maker.” “You don’t mean to say you believe _that_?” asked Barton. “Why not, sir; why not? Did not Archytas of Tarenturn, one of Plato’s acquaintances, construct a wooden dove, in no way less miraculous? And the same Regimontanus, at Nuremberg, fashioned an eagle which, by way of triumph, did fly out of the city to meet Charles V. But where was I? Oh, at Bishop Wilkins. Cardan doubted of the iron fly of Regimontanus, because the material was so heavy. But Bishop Wilkins argues, in accordance with the best modern authorities, that the weight is no hindrance whatever, if proportional to the motive power. A flying machine, says Professor Bell, in the _Encyclopodia Britannica_--(you will not question the authority of the _Encyclopodia Britannica_?)--a flying machine should be ‘a compact, moderately heavy, and powerful structure.’ There, you see, the Bishop was right.” “Yours was deuced powerful,” remarked Barton. “I did not expect to see two limbs of you left together.” “It _is_ powerful, or rather it _was_,” answered Winter, with a heavy sigh; “but it’s all to do over again--all to do over again! Yet it was a noble specimen. ‘The passive surface was reduced to a minimum,’ as the learned author in the _Encyclopodia_ recommends.” “By Jove! the passive surface was jolly near reduced to a mummy. _You_ were the passive surface, as far as I could see.”