Leeming had lately examined the cliffs of Dover, and whether, as he surveyed the shores of France from chalky England, he thought a trip to the land of the Gaul' was too venturous for a goose we know not; but the feat was relinquished, and the good people of Dover and Calais were denied the pleasure of beholding an ærial race between Mr. Leeming and a sea-gull for the point of destination. After this introduction of Mr. Leeming, in his national greatness, to Mr. Conant, his worship recurred to the original subject, and asked Mr. Leeming if he had his 'wings' about him. Mr. Leeming said it was a question he should not answer. 'Because if you have,' said Mr. Conant, 'you may fly out of the office as soon as you please, after you have paid five shillings for being drunk.' Mr. Leeming paid the five shillings; and so much had the adventure awakened curiosity to the suggested voyage, that the spectators could not divest themselves of the hope of seeing Mr. Leeming fly from the step of the office-door to a neighbouring chimney-pot; in this, however, they were deceived, as he preferred walking out." Whether Mr. Leeming proposed "to fly" from Dover cliffs or not is of little consequence, but a person at Dover who meditated and perhaps achieved the experiment, deemed it inexpedient to be considered the Frial of Marlborough-street, and by public announcement, disclaimed the identity. His appearance at that police office was after his return from Calais. He was on his way home to Newman-street, in "tipsy dance," when in the imperative mood, he inquired his way of a watchman, who, preferring the suaviter in modo, lodged him in the house appointed for the reception of many who indulge too freely in "life in London." The constable inquired "who are you?" "If you cannot perceive I am a great man with a mere look," said the Erial, "I shall not tell you: I will have you all punished." The result as we have seen, was the proceedings before Mr. Conant. For the visit to Vauxhall mentioned in The Times, he made due preparation. His dress was a close jacket of blue and silver; theatrical "trunks," or short breeches, reaching to within two or three inches above the knee; white silk stockings of twenty shillings the pair; blue kid shoes; a double frill or ruff, edged with lace round the neck; and wristbands trimmed with lace. His entrance into the gardens without a hat, surprised and astonished the waiters, who ran across to each other inquiring "who is he?" They imagined him a distinguished foreigner, but as he walked the gardens unrecognised their curiosity ceased. During the performances he was little noticed, for being uncovered, the company presumed he was some performer awaiting his turn to exhibit; but when the amusements had ceased, one or two visiters begged to know whom they had the honour of addressing. He answered, “you'll find out by and bye." Inquiries becoming troublesome, and a crowd of gazers pressing on, he suddenly broke through, and sustained the character of Ærial, by a“ light fantastic toe" sort of flight, from one part of the ground to another, till having arrived at the saloon and rotunda escape was impossible. From a private pocket he handed the printed card copied in The Times paragraph, with another 'inscribed, "THE NEW DISCOVERY challenges the whole World, and artists individually, to find a man, or even design, that can in any way, in form or shape, be compared to him." The distribution of three or four hundred of these challenges were, in general, satisfactory answers; and when he intimated an inclination to walk, a passage was made, through which he passed with the most dignified deportment he could assume, while the company followed huzzaing. A gentleman required a ring for him; it was instantly complied with, and the Ærial put himself into various positions, with the intent of displaying his transcendant form in the attitudes of ancient statues; that which seemed to give the most lively satisfaction to himself and his increasing audience was the gladiator, wherein he is represented by the engraving to this article. He maintained it with painful perseverance and patient endurance, while the perspiration poured down his face, and the spectators shrieked with laughter and amazement. This achievement was the height of his ambition; at its conclusion he withdrew to a couch, whereon he duly reclined in a studied attitude, to the admiration of thousands, who, tempted by the "Wonderful Discovery," flocked in from the supper rooms to gaze. Lood cries and shouts of " encore," roused him from temporary repose; but it was not to indulge the anxious desire, for he walked apparently undisturbed by the distinction he had obtained, and entering a box called for “ wine, mighty wine." Draughts of this were succeeded by potations of rack-punch, while loud calls upon him were unanswered; allegations derogatory to his dignity were noticed by looks of indignation and contempt; "he spoke not, he moved not," till increased throng and uproar raised his indignation, when a person withdrew him from the gardens, put on his cloak, and the Ærial retired delighted with his reception.. Perusing the papers on the morrow, and not finding accounts respecting his Vauxhall adventure, he found an advertisement of a song dedicated to the duke of .York, printed in blue and white: "They are my colours," said the Erial," they are the colours of an ærial,-the duke is an ærial." Elated by this conception, he bought another new pair of silk stockings, and accomplished another visit to Vauxhall the same evening, where being immediately recognised by some who had seen him the evening before, he was soon surrounded. On this occasion he adventured a challenge, with an offer of 500l. to any one who would match himself against him for beauty. Being pushed and pursued he sprung on the supper-table of a company, to the loss or great damage of his second pair of silks, and went home on foot by daylight, amidst the grins of unappreciating people passing to their labour. On the night of the juvenile fete, as the duke of Cambridge was to be present with his son, the Ærial once more visited Vauxhall. Unhappily, the duke and the young prince were the attracting objects. Deserted in his utmost need, By those his former fancies fed, the Ærial retired to a box, and, through the medium of the waiters, consoled himself from their beaufets so effectually, that before supper time he was better qualified to represent an attendant in a bacchanal procession, than the celestial character he assumed. Imagining that certain smiles indicated a deadly jealousy of his superhuman structure, and dreading assassination from the hands of the envious, he manifested his feelings in an undaunted manner, and was overpowered in a scuffle. Being unable to walk from excess of devotion to the rosy deity, he was deposited in one of the cloak rooms, and left to reon awaking and sallying forth pose : into the gardens he was astonished to find the place deserted; and, for lamp-light, the No. 47. 66 glare of the sun. His cloak and purse were not to be found; remonstrance and entreaty were alike vain; he was assured he should have both when they were recoverable, but not then, and he found it convenient to accept the best substitute the place afforded. To be content, where discontent avails not, is a philosophical rudiment, and therefore he philosophically submitted to be assisted by the waiters into a moth-eaten, moth-eaten, mouldy, ragged watchman's scarlet frieze cloak, with "R. G. V. H.,” denoting Royal Gardens, Vauxhall," worked in large worsted letters on the back; and in this attire he wandered, “ not unseen,” to his dormitory at a few miles distance. The particular compliments he received by the way are not relatable. After a few hours' rest, he made personal application at Vauxhall for his cloak and purse, and both were returned to him, accompanied by an assurance from them that he must not appear there again. Undaunted by so unexpected a return for the patronage he had vouchsafed towards the gardens, and conceiving that the proprietors ought not to sustain the injury his absence would inflict on them, he laid out another pound in a fourth pair of hose, and again, " in silk attire,” covered by a cloak, presented himself at the door, but he had scarcely advanced from paying his entrance money when constables hurried him out, and he was not allowed to re-enter. This was the last appearance of the Ærial at Vauxhall. Conceiving that the managers of the theatres would gladly avail themselves of his attractive powers, he habited himself as before described, and announced himself at their doors as "The Ærial;" but they were "not at home," nor were they "at home" to his subsequent calls. Such gross inattention to their interests was inconceivable; for it seems he coveted no other remuneration than "to walk across the stage and back again, and receive the plaudits of the audience." He affirms that he appeared on the boards of the Manchester theatre, and that the people hooted because he would not deign to remain long enough for the gratification of their extreme curiosity. Though convinced that no one ever appeared to such advantage as he does, in the dress wherein he has already appeared in public, yet he walks en deshabille on ordinary occasions, lest he should suffer violence from the fathers, brothers, and lovers of the British ladies, who, according to his own affirmation, are ready to throw themselves at his feet upon the least encouragement. He says he is determined to ally himself to her alone, if she can be found, who knows herself to be a Venus as he knows himself to be an Adonis. He is of opinion that he is "winning each heart and delighting each eye;" and he calls himself "the immortal Mr. L." It was suggested to him as possible, that as no income resulted from his outgoings, his property might be expended. His answer was to this effect:" When I am at the last extremity I can marry any lady I please with thirty thousand pounds." If he should find himself mistaken in his conceptions before matters have pro, ceeded so far, those to whom his flights have rendered him a public character will soon forget his extraordinary assumptions, and he will find a common station more conducive to his personal quiet. He is unknown to the writer of this article, who, nevertheless, is so well informed respecting him as to be persuaded that when Mr. L.'s feverish excitement is over, his talents merely require diligent culti vation in a different direction to ensure this. A man is in less danger who thinks too meanly, than he who thinks too highly of himself. It is easier to be comfortable in a lower sphere, than to reach an ele vated one and live happy in it. Letter from the Ærial. When this sheet was going to press a letter was received; which, being properly authenticated, is here subjoined, with the words in italics as marked in the original. To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. November 16, 1825. I conceive that nothing but my "death," or at least "the beautiful leg," will atone to the world for my little indiscretions. If you expect me to appeal to the public, I answer, that I have been without father and mother eleven years nearly, though now only twenty-five years old, and measuring five feet two inches and a half, and in the hands of guardians, though not wanting money, four of whom it took to put me in the watchhouse, and I answer that I would rather be hanged if "the most liberal nation of the earth" wishes it. You have observed that the company shrieked with laughter and amazement. Now I say I was the only one who shrieked with laughter, as I should at another hoax on the public. You might have spared me the trouble of answering you, if you had not introduced a most immutable picture of my conduct. You have represented me as the individual courting excessive censure or praise; but I must here be puppy enough to talk of general opinion, and say, that notwithstanding the pretended christian burial of me by the newspapers, it still appears by each and every of them that in the end the magistrate had no just cause to hate me. Besides acquiring experience from disappointment, and Mr. Chantry who sent for me, I had a dream which clearly convinced me I should not part with the cast. I have no occasion to mention the Your most obedient servant, No. 61, Berwick Street, Soho. Having inserted this letter here the matter ends, for nothing remains to be said. It being within the purpose of the Every-Day Book to observe on the phenomena of the times, Mr. Leeming, as "the Arial," was included, but not until he had been previously in print from the character he assumed. His present letter speaks for itself. He admits "little" indiscretions: among these "little" ones a large one was, what he terms, his "hour" on the public; but his visits to the artists are of another character. There exists no feeling towards him, on the part of and he advises him, for his own sake, to the editor of this work, but a kind one; study to be quiet.' Happy the man whose wish and care, In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire; Blest, who can unconcern'dly find He is in the church of England calendar and the almanacs. By Romish writers he is called "the Great St. Martin, the glory of Gaul." They say that he was born in Lower Hungary, about 316, and becoming a soldier, a beggar requested alms, when having no money he drew his sword, and cutting his cloak into two pieces, gave half to the beggar, and wrapped himself up in the other; whereupon Christ appeared to him the next * Morning Advertiser, Nov. 15, 1824. night, in the half he had given away, asked him if he knew it, and said to angels that surrounded him, "Martin has given me this garment." This occasioned him to leave the army and enter the church, and he was made an exorcist by St. Hilary. Turning hermit, he lived on roots and wild herbs, and unawares ate a quantity of hellebore sufficient to kill an unprivileged person. After this, one of his disciples fell ill of a fever, and died suddenly without baptism; "whereupon," says Alban Butler," feeling in himself a divine impulse to work a miracle," he stretched himself upon the body, and prayed till the deceased came to life. She said her soul had been before the divine tribunal, and been sentenced to a dark dungeon;but that on two angels representing St. Martin was praying for her coming back, she was ordered to be restored to the body and raised to life. "Another time the saint restored to life, in the same manner, a slave who had hanged himself." In 371, he was chosen bishop of Tours, and is said to have lived in a narrow hole in the side of a rock. Near to it was a chapel with an altar, over a tomb, but St. Martin would, not visit it, because, although the person buried was represented to have been a martyr, he was not assured that the relics were genuine. He went, however, one day with some of his clergy, and prayed for information, whereupon on his left hand, " he saw near him a pale ghost of a fierce aspect, whom he commanded to speak; the ghost told his name, and it appeared that he had been a robber who was executed for his crimes, whom the people honoured as a martyr; none but St. Martin saw him, the rest only heard his voice; he thereupon caused the altar to be removed. After the rectification of this trifling mistake, he went on raising the dead, casting out devils, and receiving revelations; but as he grew older "it cost him more difficulty, and longer prayers, to cast out devils than formerly." He died in 397, and his shrine worked the usual miracles. This account of St. Martin is abstracted from the rev. Alban Butler's life of him. Hall. Mr. Brand relates, that rustic families in Northumberland clubbed at Mar tinmas to buy a cow or other animal; the union for this purchase is called a "mart." After the animal was killed, they filled the entrails with a kind of pudding meat, consisting of blood, suet, groats, &c. which being formed into little sausage links, were boiled and sent about as presents. These are called "black-puddings" from their colour. There is also noticed a kind of entertainment in Germany, called the "feast of sausages," which was wont to be celebrated with great joy and festivity. The day is a great festival on the continent: new wines then begin to be tasted, and the hours are spent in carousing. An old author says, that the great doings on this occasion almost throughout Europe in his time, are derived from an ancient Athenian festival, observed in honour of Bacchus, upon the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth days of the month Anthesterion, corresponding with our November. Another says, that the eleventh month had a name from the ceremony of " tapping their barrels on it;" when it was customary to make merry. It is likewise imagined by Dr. Stukeley, in his "Itinerary" concerning Martinsal-hill, thus: "I take the name of this hill to come from the merriments among the northern people, called Martinalia, or drinking healths to the memory of St. Martin, practised by our Saxon and Danish ancestors. I doubt not but upon St. Martin's day, or Martinmass, all the young people in the neighbourhood assembled here, as they do now upon the adjacent St. Ann's-hill, upon St. Ann's day." He adds, that "St. Martin's day, in the Norway clogs, (or wooden almanacs) is marked with a goose: for on that day they always feasted with a roasted goose: they say, St. Martin, being elected a bishoprick, hid himself, (noluit to Tusser Redivivus. episcopari) but was discovered by that Dr. Forster, so often cited, ob- no dars the celebration of this day is In some of the old church calencalled "The Martinalia, a genial feast; wines are tasted of and drawn from the lees; Bacchus is the figure of Martin."t "Time's Telescope," for 1814, cites some extracts from a little ballad, entitled "Martilmasse Day :" It is the day of Martilmasse, Cuppes of ale should freelie passe ; |