THE MAGIC KETTLE.

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Volume XIV, Issue 813, 5 October 1905, Page 18

THE MAGIC KETTLE.

Owing to the impossibility of obtaining dates at the theatre, the Auckland season of Professor Andrews and the Magic Kettle will be limited to two performances, which will be given at His Majesty’s Theatre next Saturday afternoon and evening. Of the performance

the Napier “ Daily Telegraph” says that Professor Andrews does not take his kettle seriously. From the moment of his entry on the stage he proceeds, with its assistance, to play practical jokes with the audience. One obliging gentleman lends his hat and another his handkerchief. The handkerchief is not clean, and the Professor proceeds to wash it. The kettle is lifted steaming from the hob, the hat is filled with liquid air, the handkerchief is dipped in it and comes out clean and dry, and there is nothing the matter with the hat. An indiarubber ball is placed in a cubicle, the contents of the kettle are poured on it, and in a second or two it is taken out and smashed on the floor as brittle as glass. There is nothing the matter with the cubicle. Fresh blooming flowers are given a whiff of the air, and in an instant are transformed to a state of frozen beauty. It is wonderful. The Professor proceeds to make ice-cream. He has all the ingredients ready to hand, and the cream and the sugar are boiled on liquid air and in a moment dished up cold. The audience testified that, after it was down, there was nothing the matter with the ice-cream. They could also testify that a glass of whisky after being treated by the liquid air process, was harder than the glass that held it. Freezing under the liquid air system is a matter of lightning changes. A piece of

raw, juicy steak placed on the kettle for a moment or two becomes so hard as a brick. The power of the air forces a wooden plug from an empty iron tube like a shot from a gun. Then the kettle changes its magic tactics. Placed on a block of ice it begins to boil, and with the volume of steam issuing from its spout does what it is quite justified in doing—blows its own trumpet. By way of a little by-play the Professor lit a cigar at the escaping vapour and it broke out into a flame, and then filling a glass of liquid air he wished the audience luck and swallowed it—and there was nothing the matter with the Professor. Just how all this is done is a mystery. At the conclusion of the performance the kettle was handed round for inspection, and was found to be coated with a covering of snow. Professor Andrews explained that it contained about 740 feet of ordinary atmosphere, the liquid air being about 300 degrees below zero. It costs about £5 to fill the kettle for each performance, and a special plant with its engineer is now stationed in Wellington for the manufacture of liquid air.” With the company is Alma, a clever magician and sleight-of-hand artist. Perhaps his most marvellous illusion is “ Uda, Goddess of the Air,” which must be seen to be believed. The English Pierrot Entertainers provide plenty of

fun, the Trinity Choir boys, the Misses Elsa Dwyer and Elsie Peerless, vocalists, and Messrs. N. G. Gehde and F. H. Stokes, pianists, also contribute to rhe programme. The entertainment is one which, from all accounts, should certainly be seen.