One of the most beautiful effects produced upon the stage is the

change from day to night or from night to day. Of these the former

is the more striking, and a description of it will serve to explain

the principle of both. In order to produce the proper effect the

back drop is made nearly double the height of the usual scenes.

The upper half of it is painted to represent a sunset sky, and the

lower half to represent moonlight. It is hung so that the upper half

alone is visible. The scenery of the distance is then painted upon a

separate piece, which is “profiled”; that is, the irregular line of

the horizon made by trees, mountains, or houses, is sharply cut out

with a circular saw. This piece is placed immediately in front of

the sky drop. A few feet further in front is hung what is known as a

cut gauze drop. This has sides and top of canvas painted as the case

requires; while the centre is filled with fine gauze, which lends an

aerial effect to the distance. Red “mediums” are employed to give a

soft, sunset glow to the scene. At the proper moment, the back drop

is very slowly and steadily hauled up, while the red “mediums” are

slowly turned off and green ones turned on. The moon is made in the

night half of the sky drop, and rises with it. When it rises above

the distant horizon the green “mediums” are turned on to their full

power and the green calcium light is brought into play. The effect of

this change, when carefully managed, is always very beautiful, and is

sure to draw forth applause from the audience.

Moonrise, in a scene where there is no change from daylight to

darkness, is often produced with a muslin drop and a “moon box.” The

muslin drop is painted to represent the sky, the clouds being painted

on strips of canvas cut in the required shape and sewn on. The moon

is made with a box on one side of which a circular hole is cut. Over

this hole is pasted a piece of white muslin. A couple of wires serve

to draw the moon upward. Of course the white illuminated circle shows

plainly through the muslin sky, but disappears when passing behind

the canvas clouds. By having another piece of muslin painted red

and imperceptibly fading to white, placed at the back of the drop

in the moon’s path, the orb of night can be made to appear red at

the horizon and gradually change to pale yellow as it sails slowly

upward. Floating clouds are easily imitated by hanging in front

of the sky drop a gauze drop upon which are sewn muslin or canvas

clouds, and moving the whole slowly.

An ocean of heaving waters is made in this way: Each bounding wave is

cut out separately. The first row is set up with a distance of three

or four feet between each billow; and the second row is set so as to

show in the openings left by the first. Small boys furnish the motive

power. The waves are rocked back and forth, not from side to side;

and the effect is very good. The noise of water rolling upon a beach

is well imitated in a simple manner. A box of light wood is lined

with tin. By putting two or three ounces of bird-shot into this and

causing it to roll around, the desired sound is produced.

Fire scenes are sometimes dangerous; but with proper care they may

be rendered comparatively safe. That they are not so hazardous as

is generally supposed by the uninitiated beholder may be learned

from the following description:--One of the most familiar fire

scenes is that which occurs in the “Streets of New York,” in which

a three-story house burns down, the roof caving in, the shutters

falling, and the walls breaking with a wonderful appearance of

realism. The house is painted on three separate pieces, the top one

of which is swung from the flies; this constitutes the roof. Upon

the second is painted half the wall, and it is joined to the bottom

piece in an irregular zigzag line. The simple dropping in succession

of these pieces to the stage produces the falling of roof and wall.

The fire itself is represented by chemical red fire and powdered

lycopodium used separately, the former to give a red glow and the

latter to represent flames. The shutters, which are to fall, are

fastened to the scene with a preparation called “quick watch.” This

is made of powder, alcohol, and a lamp wick. The window frames and

sashes are made of sheet iron, covered with oakum soaked in alcohol

or naphtha. These sashes and frames are not fastened to the canvas

scene at all, but are placed a short distance behind it on platforms.

The quickest possible touch of flame ignites the oakum, and, in a

moment, the fire runs round the sash, and nothing apparently is

left but the blackened and charred wood. Steam is used to represent

the smoke that issues from the crannies in the walls of the burning

building; and an occasional crash, followed by the ignition of a

little powder to produce a sudden puff of smoke, gives the spectator

the idea of a falling rafter. Behind the entire scene is placed a

very large endless towel, upon which is painted a mass of flames.

This is kept in constant upward motion, and, when viewed through an

open window in the house, gives a good idea of the supposed furnace

raging within.

_Selecting a Play._--The following excellent list of plays adapted

for amateurs was published in the _Queen_ some years since.

IN 3 OR MORE ACTS. M. F. REMARKS.

Babes in the Wood 7 4

Don Cæsar de Bazan 9 2 Drama.

Game of Speculation 9 4

Heir at Law 10 3

Jealous Wife 12 5

John Bull 14 3

Ladies’ Battle 5 2 Robertson’s translation.

Love Chase 10 7

New Men and Old Acres 11 5

Palace of Truth 6 5

Plot and Passion 7 2 Drama.

Pygmalion and Galatea 5 4

Rivals 8 4 Five acts.

Society 11 5

Still Waters Run Deep 9 3 Can be acted in a drawing-room.

Most of the above are beyond the talent and stage resources of any

but the strongest amateur companies.

IN 2 ACTS. M. F. REMARKS.

Bachelor of Arts 8 2 Good comedy.

Charles XII. 7 2 Very good dress piece.

Charles II. 4 2 Popular comedy and dress piece.

Court Cards 5 4

Follies of a Night 6 2

House and the Home 3 3

Jacobite 3 3

Liar 4 3

Little Treasure 5 3 Very pathetic.

My Heart’s Idol 7 3

Not a Bad Judge 9 2 Capital for amateurs.

Our Wife 7 2 Good dress piece.

Paul Pry 7 2

Secret Agent 8 3 The best dress piece for

amateurs.

Sweet Hearts 2 2

Time Tries All 6 2

Who Killed Cock Robin? 2 2

Wonderful Woman 6 3 Very popular.

Woodcock’s Little Game 4 3 Capital light comedy.

IN 1 ACT.

Area Belle 3 2

As Like as Two Peas 3 2 A little vulgar.

A.S.S. 3 2

B.B. 4 2

Bamboozling 6 3

Betsy Baker 2 2

Birthplace of Podgers 7 3

Boots at the Swan 4 4 Very sparkling.

Book the Third 2 1 French _Proverbe._

Box and Cox 2 1

Box and Cox Married 3 3

Brown and the Brahmins 4 7 Burlesque.

Comical Countess 3 1

Conjugal Lesson 1 1 A little vulgar.

Cool as a Cucumber 3 2

Cozy Couple 2 2

Creatures of Impulse 4 3 Burlesque.

Cup of Tea 4 1 French _Proverbe._

Cut off with a Shilling 2 1

Day After the Wedding 3 2

Dead Shot 5 2

Deaf as a Post 4 4

Dearest Mama 4 3

Delicate Ground 2 1 Light comedy.

Diamond Cut Diamond 7 1

Done on Both Sides 3 2 Acts well in a drawing-room.

Double Bedded Room 3 3

Doubtful Victory 3 2

Dumb Belle 3 2

Eclipsing the Sun 3 2

Eton Boy 3 2

Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady 6 2 Pretty dress piece.

Fitz Smyth 6 2 Funny.

Give a Dog a Bad Name 2 2

Grimshaw Bradshaw Bagshawe 4 2 Funny.

Happy Pair 1 1 Sparkling _Proverbe_.

He Lies Like Truth 5 2 Very funny.

He’s a Lunatic 3 2 Very amusing.

His Excellency 4 2

Household Fairy 1 1 _Proverbe._

Ici on Parle Français 3 4 Popular, but difficult.

Irish Tutor 4 2

John Dobbs 5 2 Capital for amateurs.

Lend me Five Shillings 5 2 Funny.

Little Toddlekins 3 8 Almost the best farce for

amateurs.

Loan of a Lover 4 2

Love and Rain 1 1 Pretty _Proverbe_.

Love Laughs at Locksmiths 6 6

Mad as a Hatter 5 2

Morning Call 1 1 _Proverbe._

Mummy 6 2

My Heart’s Idol 7 3

My Preserver 5 5

Nice Firm 8 2

Nice Quiet Day 5 3

Night at Notting Hill 3 2 Funny.

Nine Points of the Law 4 3

No. 1 round the Corner 2 0 Good two-character piece.

Only a Halfpenny 2 2 Funny.

Our Clerks 8 4

Pacha of Pimlico 6 2 Funny extravaganza.

Perfection 3 2 Easy and pretty little piece.

Phenomenon in a Smock Frock 4 2 Mathews’ piece.

Pipkin’s Rustic Retreat 5 3

Poor Pillicoddy 2 3 Very funny.

Pork Chops 3 1 Extravaganza.

Quiet Family 4 4

Raising the Wind 6 3 Capital old farce.

Regular Fix 6 4 Very good light comedy.

Retained for the Defence 5 1 Difficult.

Rifle, and How to Use it 4 3

Rough Diamond 4 2 Popular farce.

School for Coquettes 3 3

Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing 7 4 Pretty drama.

Slasher and Crasher 5 2

Slowtop’s Engagements 2 2 Light comedy.

Spectre Bridegroom 7 2 One of the most telling of

farces.

Spitalfields Weaver 4 1 Telling.

Taming a Tiger 3 0

Thumping Legacy 7 1 Very funny.

To Oblige Benson 3 2

To Parents and Guardians 17 3

To Paris and Back for £5 9 7 Funny, but a little vulgar.

Too Much for Good Nature 4 7

Trying it On 3 3 Very good indeed for a

drawing-room.

Turkish Bath 5 2

Turn Him Out 3 2

Tweedleton’s Tail Coat 4 2

Twice Killed 6 3

Two Bonnycastles 3 3

Two Flats and a Sharp 1 2 Pretty comedy.

Two in the Morning 2 0 Best farce for two males.

Uncle’s Will 2 1 Very sparkling.

Unwarrantable Intrusion 2 0

Under the Rose 2 2 Good.

Vandyke Brown 3 3 Good farce.

Whitebait at Greenwich 3 2 Popular, but difficult.

Who Speaks First? 3 2

Your Life’s in Danger 3 3

First catch your actors, then choose your play. In other words, fit

your available square men into a square piece, and do not try and

pare them down to the exigencies of a round one. As a rule dramatic

talent and ambition is more common among the emotional than among

the sterner sex. Women, too, adapt themselves more easily to any

part. Also, their range of parts is narrower. It is easier to make

people laugh than to cry, and they also prefer being amused to being

harrowed. Of course low comedy is just as difficult as a higher line,

but a feeble imitation passes muster better than in the serious

parts. Englishmen are less averse to playing the fool in a fool’s

part than risking an exhibition of deeper feeling. It is easy,

therefore, to group your lesser lights round the central low comedy

man, reflecting his genial glow, more or less, according to their

several abilities, and to graft upon the whole a farce. A farce need

not be vulgar. A farce, too, like charity, covers a multitude of sins

in the way of dress, properties, or scenery. Almost any incongruity

of the former is allowable, and any makeshift or hitch in the latter

can be carried off by a ready wit. But supposing comic talent to

be altogether absent in your company, you will probably find the

“old man” element predominating. The younger, better looking, and

more stalwart the individual the more convinced he will be that his

strong point is the impersonation of old men. Yet old men’s parts are

difficult. The very make up in anything but the broadest farce is a

work of art in itself, and the gait, the tone of voice, the laugh,

the down sitting, and the up-rising must never be lost sight of for a

moment. Usually, too, the old man character is an adjunct rather than

the central figure in a piece, and does not bear upon his shoulders

the burden and heat of the day. Yet in skilful hands it is capable of

unlimited expansion, and with weaker vessels can, at worst, but sink

to the level of low comedy.

Of all the parts most difficult to fill that of the lover is the

worst. Like good tenors, there are not enough stage lovers brought

into the world. Englishmen are so shy, so afraid of making themselves

ridiculous by exhibiting sentiment and emotion. They are not given to

making love particularly prettily in real life, much less upon the

boards. The result in amateur circles is generally a stick. All the

same, the lover is an absolute necessity in most plays, and must be

procured somehow or other.

A judicious weighing of the strong points of each member of your

company, and a nice balancing of their weak ones, must decide

you finally in the choice of the piece to be acted. Take into

consideration which characters have much to do together, and whether

the weaker one can be pulled through by the stronger. The performance

is sure to hang fire if a pair of feeble knees have the stage all

to themselves for long, making each other and the audience nervous.

On the other hand, if your company is much of a muchness, choose a

“level” piece in which the parts are fairly equally divided. If the

opposite is the case, give your best actors the strong parts, and

subordinate the others to them.

Make up your mind from the beginning that some one is sure to

consider him or herself ill-suited and ill-used. Women are greater

sinners in this respect than men--more vain, more jealous. But if

a piece, however small, is to “go,” each one must subordinate his

own importance and his own part to the general effect. The cleverer

the actor the more he will make of the smallest part. Nevertheless,

the fact remains that private theatricals are productive of more

quarrelling and bad blood than any other known form of social

amusement. For this reason a stage manager, pure and simple, is

absolutely essential. His word must be law and his rule of iron. He

must give an eye to the general effect; he must order the sitting

down and the getting up, and the crossing, and especially see

that there is plenty of the former. He must see that when several

characters are on the stage together they group well, do not get

behind each other, and balance on the stage. At full rehearsals he

should see that, if it is not practicable to rehearse on the stage

itself, they take place on a square as large as the stage, and with

each piece of furniture and property in its right place; also that

the correct exits and entries are adhered to. This prevents amateurs

feeling strange when they come to a final dress rehearsal on the

stage itself. Any special little scenes between two characters can be

gone over and over again privately.

Finally, having got your ingredients together, do not aim too high.

The more plot, the more action in a piece, the easier it is to act.

Beware of plays which read well, are full of smart dialogue--they

require very finished acting.

A “dressed” or costume piece, though more trouble to get up, is more

attractive than one of modern time. But when feasible, evening dress

refines a modern play very much. Powder must be carefully put on, or

after much heat and action, the performer assumes merely a grizzled

aspect. In a dressed piece do not neglect the smallest details, and

take care the female and male characters are dressed in the same

period. In an outdoor scene, avoid an open parasol or umbrella as you

would poison. It shades the face unless very dexterously manipulated.

Let ladies look well to their “chaussure,” and the length, and

especially the hang of the short skirts. These ought to be round,

nothing looks so bad as a dab behind, showing the lining from the

front.

“Making up” is a very delicate matter in a room where the audience

is so near. It is generally overdone. Rouge is usually put on too

low, it ought never to come below the cheek bone. Many people do not

need to pencil their eyebrows at all, and a mere dab of black on

the lower lid is better than a continuous line. When this latter is

used, however, it is becoming to continue it a very little beyond

the junction of the two lids towards the temples. For a bucolic part

of either sex, a nice fat rosy cheek can be made by adding a little

cotton wool judiciously rouged. Remember an “old man” does not want

his eyes blacked at all.

Now, to touch on a few faults of amateurs.

Firstly, there is a tendency to play too much to the front of the

stage. Do not be afraid of the stage; use it all. Do not come on and

stand front face to the audience, addressing your remarks to them

instead of to the character with whom you are conversing. Turn well

away for your asides, or they sound ridiculous, and give the other a

similar chance of making his. Remember, it is no crime to take a turn

up the stage, with your back to the audience, and say a sentence,

with your head well thrown back over your shoulder.

A second most important point is not to run your sentences together.

Divide them well, giving each its particular character and its full

value. Pause between them. Each word tells, and is put there for

a purpose. And here let me beseech the amateur prompter to have

some mercy on his victims, and not to hound them on, if they stop a

moment, as if their lives depended on their getting the words out.

This brings me to a vital point, that of playing slowly enough.

Amateurs can hardly do “business” of any kind--such, for instance, as

writing a letter--too slowly.

Do not be ashamed of over-acting; it is better than under-acting a

part. Learn your cues with your part, and insist on getting them

correctly. Amateurs cannot take too much trouble.

One word as to elocution. Find out the pitch of your voice which

carries best, and which is at the same time the most natural and

the least exertion to you. You cannot fail then to be heard, always

providing you remember not to drop your voice at the end of a

sentence, and not to clip the final consonants of words.

A few practical hints, to close, as to stage and scenery. Do not

attempt to put a piece with much action and several characters

on to a small stage. The result is simply ridiculous. The stage

_must_ be raised, but a foot or so is enough in any ordinary-sized

drawing-room. If it is too high, the players’ heads appear too near

the ceiling. If possible, keep the front row of audience at least

five feet from the footlights. Take care these latter are not too

strong, but have plenty of lamps fixed on the back of the front

wings and over the curtain inside. For this reason wings, though

more trouble to set up, are preferable to a box scene. They also

obviate the necessity of practicable doors, which do not shut or

open properly, and never look real. It looks better to cut off the

corners of the stage at the back, or, at any rate, to make the side

narrow towards the back. Any trouble devoted to details of furnishing

and setting the stage is well repaid by the effect; but of course

the size and quantity of furniture must be ruled by the size of the

stage. In an evening room scene, take care the lamps or candles are

in the centre of the stage. Outdoor scenes are very difficult to

manage on a temporary stage. A back painted scene is necessary, and

in a room painted scenes look so coarse.

Any carpenter can run up a temporary stage in a drawing room, from a

slight sketch, in a day, without doing any damage to the walls. The

curtain ought to be rehearsed as much as the play, till it goes up

and down or pulls aside without a hitch. (E. E. C.)

=Tricks and Illusions.=--Much amusement may be derived from the

practice of conjuring tricks and illusions, and such entertainments

are not without an educational value, as they excite curiosity and

develop a desire in young minds to acquire knowledge, and induce an

exercise of the reasoning faculties in endeavouring to learn how they

are performed.

_Sleight of Hand._--The following notes on sleight of hand tricks are

taken from a chapter in _A Curious Company_, by that entertaining

writer, Max Adeler.

“Before beginning to explain the _modus operandi_ of the impromptu

illusionist, let me just tabulate eight golden rules, which you must

always bear in mind if you hope for anything like success.

“1. Never look at your hands, unless to attract attention to one of

them.

“2. Cultivate the art of chattering freely, with as much original wit

as you can invent, or plagiarise without fear of detection.

“3. Never tell a lie that you cannot stick to, and illustrate if

necessary. You can always ward off an explanation for a few instants

whilst you remove the chances of discovery, and you will find as

you get on that you can boldly do the most outrageously transparent

things _coram populo_, without being found out or observed.

“4. Your hands must always work _together_, never be easy with one

hand and constrained with the other; unless you can by no other means

distract the attention of some horribly sharp person from one hand,

when an awkward movement of the other will often divert his undesired

watchfulness.

“5. Cultivate the art of scoring off rude people, who ask awkward

questions. If any one _thinks_ he has discovered ‘the way it’s

done’ (but not the right way), _let_ him think so, and swagger his

astuteness, and his desire to slip through to New Zealand will be

all the greater when you prove him wrong. _Sæpe interereunt aliis

meditantes necem._ If you are really found out beyond recovery, don’t

try to carry it off; throw yourself at _once_ on the generosity of

the discoverer or discoverers, and ask him or her not to expose you;

remember you are only an amateur, and not getting your living.

“6. _Never_ go on an instant after you detect the least signs among

the audience of ‘having had enough of it.’

“7. When doing anything quite harmless, make a great _unostentatious_

parade of your innocence; your audience will be all the more ready to

take you on trust when you are taking them in.

“8. Never perform a trick in public which you have not amply

rehearsed in private.

“Your dress will of course, as a rule, be the ordinary evening

dress, and unless you have a great reputation as a prestidigitateur,

no alteration is required. However, a little pocket an inch deep,

contrived in and hidden by the seam of the trousers just where the

tips of the fingers fall when the hand is naturally lowered to the

side is a great convenience for getting rid of small articles when

palmed, or for producing them suddenly by the same means. Otherwise,

the natural movement of getting at one’s handkerchief, &c., will

answer the same purpose, if neatly and unostentatiously done. It is

as well to turn up the coat-sleeves, for though they are _never_ used

in legerdemain, it is impossible to disabuse people of the notion

that they are.

“These maxims (which are, after all, the chief art to be acquired

by the amateur conjuror) having been digested, let us turn to the

considerations of the principles and practice of the science of

legerdemain. These may be summed up thus: Every conjuring trick

or illusion, not involving the use of a stage, apparatus, and

accomplices, is performed in, and has for its foundation one of three

proceedings; these are, (1) The Palm, (2) The Pass, (3) The Slip, and

the motive power of the trio is the same, and is expressed in one

word, viz. ‘cheek.’

“1. _Palming_, is the art of holding in one hand any article (coin,

card, &c.) unknown and unseen by the spectators, or of retaining in

one hand anything which, by the ‘pass’ has apparently left it.

“2. _Passing_, is the art of so palming any article that it is

_apparently_ transferred to some other receptacle, or altering the

position of the cards in a pack unseen by the audience.

“3. _Slipping_, is the art of moving, altering the position of, or

getting possession of any _single_ card without being detected, and,

“4. _Cheek_ is--[3].

“Coin Sleights.--Palming.--1. Place a penny or florin across the

middle joints of the second and third fingers of either hand, as

at _a_, Fig. 99, reproduced from illustrations by Miss Dora Noyes;

on slightly bending the hand in an easy and natural manner, the

coin will be clipped, as at _b_, by the fleshy part of the other

two joints, and the hand may be turned over, and in fact placed in

any position, so long as the back of the hand is presented to the

audience. This is a useful palm on an emergency, as when people

suspect that the coin is in the palm of the hand it may be shown

empty, the top joints of the fingers hiding the coin thus held.

[Illustration: 99. Coin and Card Sleights.]

“2. Place the coin between the joint of the thumb and the hand, and

on slightly bending the thumb the coin will be held flat. This is

most useful for changing, described further on, but as an ordinary

concealment of a coin it is too dangerous except for small coins

which the thumb is large enough to hide.

“3. The principal palm (from which the manipulation derives its

name) is as follows: Place the coin so that one edge just touches

the highest of the three marked lines that cross the palm of the

hand, rather towards the thumb. On slightly bending the hand the coin

will be retained; you will find it difficult at first, but practice

will show you the exact spot, where the difficulty is reduced to a

minimum. If you take the coin flatwise between the thumb, the tips of

the second and third fingers, by naturally closing the fingers over

and clasping them tight in the palm of the hand, the coin will be

brought into the exact position, so that if you pick up a coin, by a

sudden outward sweep you can cover this movement, and on recovering

the hand the coin will be palmed and the hand apparently empty.

“Other means of holding a coin _en cache_ will naturally present

themselves when these have been thoroughly mastered.

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