The Evening of a Chrismas Conjurer

Evening Post, Volume LXXIV, Issue 150, 21 December 1907, Page 11

The Evening of a Chrismas Conjurer

By Professor Hoffmann, Author of " Modem Magic," 010. (All Bights Beserved.)

It was 'our village School Treat that did it. But for that unlucky festival I should never have thought of coming out as a conjurer, and I should still be a happy man. I have always had an ambition to shine, in a modest way, as a drawingroom entertainer, but I have never been properly appreciated. I have a nice light tenor voice, but our Pimpleton people have not a very elevated taste in music ; and Binks, "our local basso, was always sure of an encore for growling out, "I Fear no Foe," while my more delicate rendering of "My Pretty Jane," or "Beau.ty'3 Eyes" fell comparatively flat. I used to do a little in the reciting way, but I gave it up, because I found that people (especially the'other reciters) laughed more at my serious than my humorous recitations. There is a lot of jealousy in. Pimpleton. So matters stood till the day of the School Treat. One of the attractions was a conjurer. Professor Potterini. His shirt-front might have been whiter, and his lauguagc more grammatical, but his performance caused roars of delight. lie took off his gloves. Nobody saw where they went to, but they went. He brought eg£© out of an empty bag, cackling the while as well as the hen could have doneit herself. He produced a cannon ball from the doctor's hat, and asked him if all his pills were as large as that, alter which ho 1 cooked a. pudding in. the hat. Ho, extracted a half crown from a small boy's car, and dropping it into a glass, made it jump aboat and tell fortunes. He finished up by exhibiting a wonderful box, which he said had been handed down from William the Conqueror. After showing chat it was empty, he closed it for a moment, rapped on the lid with his wand, and when he opened it again, it was found full of toys nnd sweets, which he distributed to the children.. I saw my opportunity. "Blithers, my boy," I said to myself, ''you have found your vocation. You shall come out as an amateur conjurer, and you will defy competition, for, you will be the only one in I'inipleton." I interviewed the conjurer after his performance. I found that his name in private life was Potts, and that by daylight he was va hairdresser. He had taken up conjuring as a hobby (he called it "an 'obbj," by the way), and was glad - to earn an occasional guinea by giving a magical "show." I invited him to dine with me. In the confidential mood engendered by a bottle of fruity port from the grocer's round the corner, he told ma all his secrets, lie explained how each of his tricks was done, and gave mo practical illustrations of" "the quickness oT the 'and deceiving the heye," as ho put it. When we parted, we were on the moat intimate terms, his last words being, "Goo' night, ol' man, goo' night. You take my tip, an' pracli'sh a bit, an' you'll make a firshpate conjurer." ■ I rashly believed him. I told the'locnl bookseller to get me every book he could discover about conjuring. I expected two or three, but be sent me seventeen, and they cost me sis weeks of my hard-earned salary. I rend a, little bit of each, but I got confused, and finally decided to adopt pretty nearly Professor Potterini's own programme. I practised diligently, and* gave nightly rehearsals before a select company, consisting of my mother and the cat. My mother assured me that my -performance was wonderful, and that she couldn't imagine in the least how any of my tricks wero done. I thought if she couldn't, nobody else would, but I made- hardly enough allowance for the fact that the dear "old lady is extremely short-sighted, and inclined' to doze of an evening. In fact she used now and then to drop off two or three times in the course of a cingl© trick, under ■which circumstances she could hardly be severely critical. In time my opportunity came. An amateur concert was to be given at Christmas in aid of a deserving local charity (the Old Women's Flannel Petticoat Fund) and everybody that was any body in Pimpleton was to be there. I volunteered a little magic, which was eagerly accepted. My performance was to come on midway in the programme. Everybody was so anxious to get to the conjuring that nobody ir the first part was encored. Even Biliks failed to obtain his usual iccall for "The Yeoman's Wedding," and left the room in a huff. My turn enmc. The chairman, Sir Guy ITarbuckle, announced sonorously, "Our talented townsman, Mr. Benjamin Blitheis, will now give vs 'on exhibition of Magic and Mystery." I came forward, wand in hand, and made my bow. There was tremendous applause, which became even greatei when I- stepped to the reaiof the platform, and removed a screen which had previously concealed my table, jind the objects upon it. The most noticeable of those wero'a bright tin saucapjn, a. tall celery gla^s, and n walnut box like an over-grown tea-caddy, this last containing a election of goodies, to bo distributed at the close of the entertainment. j In my introductory speech I told the a-.idience that if they watched me carefully, they would see exactly how everything was" done. (I did not intend that they should, but I feel nnw that it is tempting Providence to make remarks of that kind). I continued, "I shall vow take off my gloves, and they will immediately disappear." The first did so, but the second, instead of "vanishing" as the fust had done, hung down ignomini-ou.-!y fiom my coat-cuff, and the applause subsided.

'Iho trirk is easy enough, and 1 hsd rehearsed it- scores of limes wjkboui a lutth. A piece of elastic, attached io the Inaec-button at back, is brought down c.uli f-lctive, and, somewhat slietched, h I'cil or stitched to the wrist portion of the <>love. When the glove, thus pie. l>ired, is taken off, if it be held i?i a straight line with the sleeve (see Fig. 1), and then u-lea.sed, it will Jly \w it like a flash. The reason of my failuie was that I h.id not kept the hand in the propel position, and the glove had to turn i corner, which it declined to do. I proceeded 'ii chceifully as T could to my uoxt- hide, which va* to be that of cooking a cake in a, h.it, liist smprising t'uo speeUUois by finding a turnip in it. The turnip v.t.s an idc;i of my mm. I thought it would nave mure loc.il colour, gO to speak, than a camion ball. The

vegetable was concealed behind ilia box I have mentioned. A hole, three inches in depth, and large enough to admit the finger, wa.'i bored in it. I had only to rest the hat "for a moment on the top of the box, and insert my middle linger in the hole (see Fig. 2). By then drawing away the hat to the rear, and at the same time bending the linger, (he turnip would pass gently into the hat.

But "vaulting ambition doth o'erleap itself." I had scoured the country for the veiy biggest turnip I could find. I had secured a monster, and felt sure the trick would bring down the house. But, as luck would have it,' the, hat offered was that of Peicy Popjoy, the son of our local M.P., Avho has about the smallest head in Pimplotou. Resting the hat on the top of the bos I aeked him if he had any objection to-my growing a few vegetables jn it. He said he had. I replied, "I'm sorry for that, for there is one in it already." As I spoke, 1 made the appropriate movement. The turnip should lmve silently crept into (he hat, but it didn't. It was just a shade-too large. and ir stuck midway, half ir,, half out. I fried to make believe that it had como out of the hat, bufc it was a vain attempt; everybody in the room had seen .where it did come from, and there was a horrible silence, instead of the anticipated applause. I had intended to use the same hat for my magic cookery, but here again a hat of decent size was necessary, so I returned Mr. Popjoy his headgear, at the same time trying to raise a laugh at his expense by offering him the turnip, and asking, "Will you take this home with you, sir?" It is your property." "Thanks, old chap," he said, "you may keep it for your honesty." There- was a laugh, but it was at me. I now proceeded to find a half-crown under a little boy's chin. This is easy enough, only requiring neatness and confidence. You hold the coin clipped edgc•wiso between the first and second fingers (Fig. 3).

Under these conditions, the hand may be kept pcifec-Uy open, and 60 long as its back is kept towards the spectators, the coin cannot be "seen. When you wish to produce it, you have only to give it an upward tilt with the thumb, when it appears between the thumb and forefinger. This I managed neatly enough. Tho next step was to drop it into the celery giass. Before doing so, I 'transferred it, ostensibly, from the right hand to the left, wherein was a similar coin, which I had just secretly picked up from the \able; and which had a long thread attached to it. It -was this latter coin that was actually dropped into \he. glass. Tho .thread passed through screw-eyes- in one of the hinder legs of tho table, and along the platform to a corner, wheie my brother Peter was seated. Peter was instructed, at proper ' moments, to pull ' the thread slightly, thereby lifting the coin an inch or so in tho gluss. When the pull was Slackened it would fall again with a chink. Three chinks wore interpreted to mean "Yes," and one chink "No;" while a succession of chinks indicated corresponding numbers. I informed the audience that this was a highly intelligent coin, and that any information it gave might be implicitly relied on. I began by asking it how many children Farmer Oates, who Avas seated in the front row. had. The coin answered "correctly "three." I then asked, "And how many his this gentleman?" indicating Mr. Stebbins, the vicar's churchwarden, who was seated next. The' answer should have been "five," but Peter somehow lost his count, and tho coin rapped out "six." Mrs. Stebbhifs, 'after a reproachful glance at her spouse, burst into' tears and left the room. After a moment's pause, Stebbius got up, and addressing me, said. "'lf I wasn't a Christian man, I'd punch your silly head"; after which he too left the room. I tried to explain that I was not responsible lor the behaviour of the coin ; but this only msdo matters worse. Tho vicar got up and said, "No doubt this is intended as a joke, but it is in very bad taste. I think, Mr. Blithers, you had better proceed with some other trick," I tried to apologise, but words bailed me. I turned the coin out of the glass upon the table. To add to my discomfiture, it rolled off and hung by the thread?' and Peter did not mend matters by hauling it visibly on to the table- again. 1 still had a fnint hope of regaining public confidence by my magic cookery. I said, "I must again ask the loan of a hat; a large hat." Sir Guy who had chuckied maliciously over the discomfiture of Mr. Stebbins, handed me his own. "Here you are," he said. "Mine's a big one. But no laiks with it, mind." 1 assuicd him that 1 would take the greatest possible care of it, and I fully intended to do so--1 must now explain the intended trick, which was worked by the aid of tho saucepan already mentioned. This was in four pails (see Fig. 4), which I •will call respectively -\, U, C, and 1). A is the saucepan proper, and has no specially s»vo a wire bead encircling it outside, about onc-tliiid of the way down. B is an outer covering, fitting easily over A, and butting above the m iie head above mentioned. Whether B is on or off. the appearance of the saucepan is the .same. 0 is a shallow pan. fitting loosely into the mouth of A and D is the lid, which tightly wilhin C To prepare for the luck, a vhito handkeichief, slightly juoisteued with apirit6 of wine, is placed

TH:rijt"Lcn.TTtr^!_Vu.^??.TTr*'*-TT'"M*T.niyTfU'lt TiiwigninffTTr^'m' fits tightly within C. A is (hen in&ried A cake of suitable shape and pisviously warmed is placed inside A, and C placed in position above it. The lid B is laid on the table beside the rest. A plate, with flour, sugnr, and other ingredients for a cake, is also upon the tablo .

All these I had duly prepared. I borrowed a lady's handkerchief, and dropped it into the hat. I oxplained that for lack of a stove ,1 .purposed to use Sir Guy's hat, the handkerchief, serving as fuel. Sir Guy looked anxious but said nothing. I lowered the saucepan into the hat, as if to see if it would fit, keeping B from falling oft' by the pressure of the fingers (as in Fig". 5), and then took it out again, leaving B behind, resting on the boxrowed handkerchief. The next step was to show the ingredients for the cake and pour then into the saucepan, in reality into the shallow pan C. I then clapped the cover on. Lighting a match, I took out of the hot apparently the borrowed handkerchief, but in reality my own substitute: set fire to it and dropped it in again. It blazed up merrily, and Sir Guy looked apoplectic. I held the saucepan over the flames for a few moments', arid then extinguished them by lowering the saucepan into the hat. V\ fhen I removed it, I brought away B'with it .as at first. Declaring the cake .was now "done." I renioved the lid with a flourish (the pan C coming away with it) and produced the cake, which I cut up and 'gave to Peter to hand round. At last I had scored a genuine success. With a sslf-sati&n'ed smile, I took out the borrowed handkerchief, and handed the hat back to Sir Guy. Oh, horror! I had been too liberal with my spirits of wine,, and the llames, instead of confining themselves to their propei limits in the centre of the hat, had licked the sides, scorching and blackening the lining. The hat was ruined. Sir Guy is a big man, and noted"for Bis violent temper. "You clumsy fool!" he roared, rising from his seat, and grasping the big stick he always carries. I don't know how the concert ended. I made a rush for the door, and took a country walk till everybody who had been present wtas in bed. I rose at five tho next morning, and after' a hasty breakfast, I left Simpleton or ever. I have booked my passage to Manitoba, and I start to-monov.'. HOME TO THE HILLS. To you who bide in paven streets, Or in the crowded marts, There comes a, call that half entreats Admittance ,to your, hearts. Yea, those who scoff and those who pray, With holy thoughts it fills— And 0! it always seems to say "Back, children, to the hills !" Back, children, to the ranges, Beside the singing streams, Where Fashion scarcely changes, And Nature lives in dreams; Where all the peaks ,are clad" in A hazy summer gown — The best place Ato be glad in — Oh, children, leave the. town! To you who watch the- vessels plough Across the deep, green seas; To you who wipe a grimy brow In clanging factories: To you —l &ay it comes to you Where dockets, butts, and bills Are scattered round, and whisx^ers "To The eveilasting hills!" Back, children, from the highways Where, weaned, you must cumb; Back, children, from the byways That shelter dirt and crime ; • , For loving ones will meet you To let the slip-rails down, And,joyful words will greet you — Oh, children, leave tlie town! To you who pen', or paint, or preach, Behind grey cheerless walls, To you who left the Bush to teach " In culture's sacred halls, To you, the victors of ,to-day "Because of dauntless wills, An echo comes from far away: "Home, children, to tho hills!" Back to the dark cool shadows, Home to the primal joys; Back to the Eldorados Wo knew a 6 girls and boys; Back to the dear Bush people — Tho big plain men and brown; Quit lift and stair and steeple — Oh, children, leave the town! To you who always longed to roam, Whose guiding star above Has ever pointed out from home, It is the call of Love; To you it Tolls above tlic-.roar — All other calls it stills: "Come, loved ones, come for evermore — Back, children, to the hills!" Back, rovers, to your birth-place, And tread the country lanes; Back, exiles, to that mirth-place Where only Nature reigns! Back, comrades, to the ranges That wear tho Sun-God's crown — Oh, leave the grey street's changes — Back, 'children, from the town ! —Gilrooney, Sydney Stock and Station Journal. THE MOUNTAIN BROOK. Hark, how tho water's inmble fingers play, With master touch, acioss Iho pebble keys! Now the Foft musio lingers ou its way, And with some quaint reluctant mood agrees ; And now, in swift and purling laughter, calls Like gypsy voices down tho waterfalls. Below, in mellow tones from underground The deep vibrations of a drum arc heard ; Thru silver notes of fife and bugle sound, And through tho rapids hurried wars arc slirrod, Till bonding ferns restrains the merry din And calm tlic lyric that they tremble in. Who loves iho mountain brook will joinnoy far, ' That ho may Inuo his heart and clearly 101 l How rich in song ils limpid waters arc, What listening cais the maples have an well : Sco how ihcir bright autumnal leaves dosee ml Like fiowpro bestowed upon their singing frisml! —Stephen 1. Livingston. Surinsfield Republican.