“Then there was the Greek who flew before Nero in the circus; but he, I admit, had a bad fall, as Seutonius recounts. That character of Lucian’s, who employed an eagle’s wing and a vulture’s in his flight, I take to be a mere figment of the satirist’s imagination. But what do you make of Simon Magus? He, I cannot doubt, had invented a machine in which, like myself, he made use of steam or naphtha. This may be gathered from Arnobius, our earliest authority. He mentions expressly _currum Simonis Magi et quadrigas igneas_, the chariot of Simon Magus and his _vehicles of flame_--clearly the naphtha is alluded to--which vanished into air at the word of the Apostle Peter. The latter circumstances being miraculous, I take leave to doubt; but certainly Simon Magus had overcome the difficulties of aerial navigation. But, though Petrus Crinitus rejects the tradition as fabulous, I am prepared to believe that Simon Magus actually flew from the Capitol to the Aventine! “‘The world knows nothing of its greatest men,’” quoted Barton. “Simon Magus has been the victim, sir, of theological acrimony, his character blackened, his flying machine impugned, or ascribed, as by the credulous Arnobius, to diabolical arts. In the dark ages, naturally, the science of Artificial Flight was either neglected or practised in secret, through fear of persecution. Busbequius 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.