the title of this chapter, as the memory must be developed beyond its
ordinary tension by constant practice to give that ease and quickness
without which second sight, or ‘clairvoyance,’ is but a sorry
exhibition. It is wonderful, however (as all matters relating to our
organisation are), what little spur memory needs to meet any strain put
upon it. Generally, ‘Where there’s a will there’s a way.’
[Illustration]
This exceedingly clever and subtle mode of conveying by words or letters
what is in the mind of one person to the comprehension of another is not
an invention of yesterday, though it has now attained to great
perfection. It was introduced into England by the Italian conjurer
Pinetti at the Haymarket Theatre in the year 1784. He announced that
Signora Pinetti, seated in one of the front boxes with a handkerchief
over her eyes, would ‘guess’ at everything imagined or proposed to her
by the audience. The clever French magician, Robert Houdin, took up the
trick, and ‘worked’ it with his son; and our own Scotch ‘professor,’
Anderson, followed in his wake, the ‘Wizard of the North’s’ daughter
being the clairvoyante in this case. Robert Heller was also a capital
exponent of second sight, with the assistance of his sister; and the
Taylors, father and son, a few years ago astonished the lieges with
their most befogging entertainment at the Polytechnic. Then M. Heriott
and ‘Little Louie’ were perhaps the most noted in this peculiar line of
business, the latter phenomenon startling even those who understood the
system by her marvellous aptitude, and the precocity that could cram
such a mass of intricate knowledge into so small a head.
We have stated that clairvoyance lies between two persons. These are,
first, the interlocutor, _who sees the articles_ hereafter to be
described by the person in collusion with him; and, secondly, the latter
gifted being, who, with eyes bandaged, can yet grasp mentally, through
the medium of the questions put, the nature of the answers to be given.
Of course, all eyes are attracted to the clairvoyante, and all attention
deliberately turned thereto, though the most difficult position is
really occupied by the one asking the questions, he having to decide
instantly as to his choice of words, and put them in such a natural,
unstudied, and off-hand style--and so quickly withal--as to effectually
_nonplus_ those unlearned in the art and mystery.
Most public performers work with a code of their own, merely taking the
idea, or ground-work, which past professors have laid down; and they
elaborate and add to their word signals from day to day as the
necessities of their position are thrust upon them. The best way, also,
for any ‘going in’ for this fascinating bit of innocent deception is to
adopt the same course, and when their code is, as nearly as they can
imagine, perfect, to study and practise diligently, and make sure they
are sufficiently ‘well-up’ and _glib_ in their respective parts, so as
to guard against being made a laughing-stock, and exposing the method at
the same time. The interlocutor should be able to put the questions
without hesitation or mistake (as, in the latter case, he runs the
clairvoyante off the rails also), and with such _nonchalance_ as to put
the spectators off their guard.
Memory, of course, plays an important part in the matter, but not quite
to the extent one might at first imagine. One hundred signals would
exhaust the list of ordinary articles carried about the person; and a
system of _grouping_--to be explained hereafter--will simplify the code,
and yet more effectually mystify an audience, as presenting less variety
in the questions put. After you have a large collection of miscellaneous
articles coded (and you can never have _too_ many, if well chosen),
numbers--signalled by means of letters, not words--and an _alphabet_ for
the spelling of surnames, etc., will require great attention; but
patience and perseverance will surmount all obstacles, and without these
you had better not attempt second-sight at all.
As we have said, most persons who ‘go in’ for public clairvoyance
compile a code of their own, and hence, after giving what we consider
the best under the circumstances, we shall mention those of two public
performers, who have given to the world their systems, one through the
pages of a leading American magazine (_Scribner’s_), the other written
by Mr. Washington Irving Bishop, who published a book on Second Sight,
containing a _résumé_ of his own professional signals; and as both of
these differ from the following, and from each other in most important
respects, they will be treated separately, so that the reader may elect
which system to pursue before entering upon the (at first toilsome, but
afterwards pleasant) path of laws.
We will now proceed to give examples of an easy code for miscellaneous
articles: following which we will have a system of grouping, a code for
numbers, and an alphabet; and we shall conclude with the application of
all these.
In the miscellaneous articles let us understand that ‘Tell’ indicates
articles of attire; ‘What,’ those taken from the pockets; ‘Do,’ those
carried in the hands; ‘Can’ and ‘Will,’ jewellery, and other articles of
adornment; and ‘Anything,’ various articles not enumerated in the
foregoing.
‘TELL.’--ARTICLES OF ATTIRE.
Tell me what this is.--A coat.
Tell me what this is, please.--A lady’s jacket.
Tell me this now.--An overcoat.
Tell me this now, please.--A shawl.
Tell me now.--A mackintosh.
Tell me now, please.--A waterproof cloak.
Tell this.--A hat.
Tell this, please.--A bonnet.
Tell me this.--A glove.
Tell me this, please.--A cuff.
Etc., etc., etc.
‘WHAT.’--ARTICLES FROM THE POCKETS.
What is this?--A pocket-book.
What is this, please?--A needle-case.
And what is this?--A letter-case.
And what is this, please?--A card-case.
What now?--An almanack.
What now, please?--A diary.
Now what?--A gentleman’s address card.
Now what, please?--A lady’s ditto.
Now what is this?--A railway ticket.
Now what is this, please?--A return ditto.
What is this now?--A season ditto.
What is this now, please-?--A tramcar ditto.
What have I now?--A co-operative store ditto.
What have I now, please?--Court plaister.
And now what?--A railway key.
And now what, please?--A Chubb.
What have I here?--A key.
What have I here, please?--A bunch of keys.
What name has this?--A cigarette.
What name has this, please?--A cigarette-case.
What name has it?--Cigarette paper.
What name has it, please?--Cigarette-holder.
What is this for?--A cigar.
What is this for, please?--A cigar-case.
What is this for, now?--Tobacco.
What is this for now, please?--Tobacco-pouch.
What here?--Bryant and May’s matches.
What here, please?--Wax-vestas.
What is here?--A pen-knife.
What is here, please?--A clasp-knife.
Etc., etc., etc.
‘DO.’--ARTICLES CARRIED.
Do you know this?--Umbrella.
Do you know this, please?--Parasol.
Do you see this?--Opera-glass.
Do you see this, please?--A scent-bottle.
Do you know what this is?--A travelling-bag.
Do you know what this is, please?--A reticule.
Do you notice this?--A walking-stick.
Do you notice this, please?--A fan.
Do you know what this is for?--A cane.
Do you know what this is for, please?--A vinaigrette.
Etc., etc., etc.
‘CAN’ AND ‘WILL.’--JEWELLERY, FLOWERS, ETC.
Can you tell this?--A watch.
Can you tell this, please?--A medal.
Can you name this?--A coin.
Can you name this, please?--A token.
Can you tell now?--A locket
Can you tell now, please?--A necklet
Now can you tell?--Bangles.
Now can you tell, please?--A bracelet
Can you see this?--An Albert chain.
Can you see this, please?--A lady’s chain.
Can you find this out?--A sleeve-link.
Can you find this out, please?--A stud.
Will you tell this?--A seal or charm.
Will you tell this, please?--A brooch.
Will you name this?--A ring.
Will you name this, please?--A keeper.
Will you tell now?--Ear-rings.
Will you tell now, please?--Sleepers.
Now will you tell?--A breast-pin.
Now will you tell, please?--A scarf-pin.
Will you look here?--A pencil-case.
Will you look here, please?--A flower.
Will you look now?--A bouquet.
Will you look now, please?--A bouquet-holder.
Will you find this out?--A fern.
Will you find this out, please?--Maiden-hair fern.
Etc., etc., etc.
‘ANYTHING.’
Anything in it?--A portrait
Anything in it, please?--A child’s portrait.
Anything in it now?--Hair.
Anything in it now, please?--Papers.
Anything in this?--Money.
Anything in this, please?--A bank-note.
Anything on it?--A crest.
Anything on it, please?--Initials.
Anything here?--A bill.
Anything here, please?--A letter.
Etc., etc., etc.
Having treated of such miscellaneous articles as will generally be found
in any assemblage of persons, we may now proceed to the system of
_grouping_, which will greatly facilitate the working of the process. We
give below examples, capable, of course, of great extension.
MONEY.
1. Can you tell the coin?--A sovereign.
2. Do you know the coin?--Half-a-sovereign.
3. Name the coin.--A five-shilling piece.
4. Name the coin, please.--Half-a-crown.
5. Please name the coin.--A florin.
6. Tell me the coin.--A shilling.
7. What coin?--A sixpence.
8. What coin, please?--A fourpenny-piece.
9. What coin is it?--A threepenny-piece.
10. What coin is it, please?--A penny.
11. What is the coin?--A halfpenny.
12. What is the coin, please?--A farthing.
The same questions may be put as to
METALS. | COUNTRIES.
|
1. Gold. | 1. France.
2. Silver. | 2. Russia.
3. Copper. | 3. Turkey.
4. Brass. | 4. Spain.
5. Bronze. | 5. Italy.
6. Iron or steel. | 6. Germany.
7. Tin. | 7. Manilla.
8. Lead. | 8. Cuba.
9. Aluminium. | 9. Scotland.
Etc., etc.
PRECIOUS STONES. | DRESS MATERIALS.
|
1. Diamond. | 1. Silk.
2. Garnet. | 2. Velvet.
3. Ruby. | 3. Sealskin.
4. Topaz. | 4. Poplin.
5. Amethyst. | 5. Dimity.
6. Sapphire. | 6. Linen.
7. Blood-stone. | 7. Cloth.
8. Emerald. | 8. Lace.
9. Cornelian. | 9. Ribbon.
Etc., etc.
FLOWERS. | WHAT MADE OF.
|
1. Rose. | 1. Glass.
2. Camellia. | 2. Ebonite.
3. Primroses. | 3. Horn.
4. Violets. | 4. Ivory.
5. Geranium. | 5. Bone.
6. Snowdrops. | 6. Talc.
7. Lily of the Valley. | 7. Pearl.
8. Blue-bell. | 8. Meerschaum.
9. Heart’s-ease. | 9. Parchment.
Etc., etc.
COLOURS. | RINGS.
|
1. White. | 1. Wedding.
2. Black. | 2. Engaged.
3. Blue. | 3. Mourning.
4. Green. | 4. Scarf.
5. Yellow. | 5. Snake.
6. Violet. | 6. Masonic.
7. Scarlet. | 7. Signet.
8. Purple. | 8. Key.
9. Brown. | 9. Split.
Etc., etc.
Christian names, towns, animals, fishes, shape, etc., can also be
arranged in the same manner.
The next process, after committing such grouped subjects to memory, is
to study a code for numbers, which you will easily acquire in one
lesson, the only difficulty you will find being in the rapid application
of it. The numbers will be represented by letters thus:--
1. t. d.
2. n.
3. m.
4. r.
5. l.
6. h.
7. k; hard c; hard g.
8. f. w. v.
9. b. p.
0. s. z.
If one figure only is required the interlocutor will ask for the
_figure_; if two figures he will ask for the _number_; if three he will
precede his question with ‘good,’ and the clairvoyant will know that he
has entered into hundreds. If there are four figures he will say, ‘Very
good,’ and that will indicate thousands; if five, ‘Very good, sir,’ or
‘madam,’ equivalent to tens of thousands. For six figures ‘good again,’
hundreds of thousands; and ‘If you please’ will act as a full stop.
Example: ‘Tell me now, if you please, what figures there are here?’--_t
m n_ (132) precede the full stop of ‘If you please,’ and the
interlocutor has dropped the ‘good,’ which would have warned the
clairvoyant that three figures had to be deciphered. Again, ‘There are
figures here. Very good. Find the numbers, can you?’ ‘Yes,’ says the
clairvoyant, taking the first four initial letters after ‘Very good;’
‘eight thousand one hundred and twenty-seven;’ and great is the marvel
of the audience thereat.
The last and most difficult problem of all appertaining to our
subject--though, luckily, the most easily dispensed with for private
performance--is the abstruse _Alphabet_, by which the clairvoyant may
learn the name of a person or gain other particulars in a way quite
unsuspected by the spectators. This is managed by taking B to represent
A, C to stand for B, and so on, always being one letter in advance of
the ordinary alphabet, save in the variations noted below. Thus--
A in the code will be B
B in the code will be C
C in the code will be D
D in the code will be E
E in the code will be F
F in the code will be G
G in the code will be H
H in the code will be I
I & J in the code will be K
K in the code will be L
L in the code will be M
M in the code will be N
N in the code will be O
O in the code will be P
P in the code will be Q
Q in the code will be R
R in the code will be S
S in the code will be T
T in the code will be U
U in the code will be V
V in the code will be W
W in the code will be A
X in the code will be Easy.
Y in the code will be Very easy.
Z in the code will be Plain.
To illustrate this, say the interlocutor has an address card with
‘William Brown’ printed upon it; he would first ask the Christian name
by the grouping process, and then, to get at the surname might say,
‘Come, speak plainly at once, if you please, the gentleman’s name?’ C S
P A O is translated into BROWN by the above system, and the answer is
correct. This transposition of letters, as we have said, is very
difficult, but if once acquired, brings the reward of being eminently
puzzling with it.
In addition to all here set forth, the ‘cue’ is frequently given to the
clairvoyant in a very simple manner as, ‘Is it large or small?’ ‘It is
small.’ ‘Plain, or with stones?’ ‘There are stones in it.’ ‘Is it gold?’
‘No; only gilt.’ ‘Does this belong to a gentleman or a lady?’ ‘To a
lady.’ Besides this, intonations, dwellings upon certain words, a
hesitating cough, or an apparently chance remark let fall to one of the
audience, conveys much to the initiated, and allows of that variation
which is so necessary in public exhibitions to prevent persons getting
at the secret. One very old and extremely useful form of
question--generally used at the close of an entertainment--is the
_Sequence_, the interlocutor touching various articles worn or held in
his immediate neighbourhood, and rapidly receiving replies from the
clairvoyant, though his questions are of the simplest. This is done by
numbering a set of such general articles as are sure to be met with.
Thus, if it is wet weather, overcoats and umbrellas will be plentiful;
if fine, sticks, parasols, and fans will be in the ascendant. Let three
or four codes be arranged for these, so as to vary the sequence and
avoid detection, thus:--
NO. 1.--FOR A FINE DAY. | NO. 2.--FOR A WET DAY.
|
1. Tell this?--A hat. | 1. Tell me this?--A glove.
2. And this?--A parasol. | 2. And this?--A cloak.
3. And this?--A programme. | 3. And this?--An umbrella.
4. And this?--An opera-glass. | 4. And this?--A locket.
5. This?--A stick. | 5. This?--A hat.
6. This?--A flower. | 6. This?--An eye-glass.
7. This?--An eye-glass. | 7. This?--An opera-glass.
8. This?--A breast-pin. | 8. This?--A chain.
9. This?--A fan. | 9. This?--A programme.
10. This?--A chain. | 10. This?--A breast-pin.
11. This?--A glove. | 11. This?--A ring.
12. And this?--A head. | 12. And this?--A head.
At a drawing-room entertainment such articles as we have here provided
for would be quite out of place, as your visitors are not likely to
carry their cloaks, hats, canes, or even opera-glasses with them. In
such cases you can arrange with your clairvoyant five minutes before
performance in what sequence you will take the more prominent articles
on or about those ‘in front.’
A ‘head’ is chosen as the _finale_, so as to bring the curtain down with
_éclat_, as the interlocutor can ask, ‘How many hairs are there on it?’
and the ready answer of, say, ‘Three thousand five hundred and
sixty-five,’ will cause a hearty laugh. Besides this, all through the
‘business’ the person who interrogates will endeavour to amuse as well
as to mystify his audience, to which end what is professionally known as
his ‘patter’ (talk) is interlarded with ‘wheezes’ (jokes), and seemingly
impromptu wit often of the most studied and built-up character. Some
public performers also employ confederates, who lend an added wonder by
producing very curious and out-of-the-way documents or other things, all
of which, having been carefully studied beforehand, the clairvoyant can
give full particulars of. The practice is, however, reprehensible; the
art is sufficiently puzzling without such adventitious aids, and the
secret is sure to leak out, when those who have been unable to fathom
the business will jump to the conclusion that much more is due to
confederacy than has really been the case.
Having gone through the drudgery, the hard study necessary to the full
comprehension of the art, we now reach a stage when it may be put into
practice, and can do nothing better than give an imaginary performance
to show the application of the principles previously laid down.
A nice little speech will introduce yourself and confederate, the usual
way being to modestly disclaim the supernatural for the wonders you are
about to work. Suppose your assistant to be a young lady, she is
blindfolded, and you proceed to business by requesting assistance from
the spectators by the loan of any article they would wish to be
described by your clairvoyante.
Then you go to work at once:--
Will you name this?--It is a ring.
Name the kind of ring?--It is a mourning ring.
Anything on it, please?--Yes, initials.
Be sure, if you please, and say what they are?--A. R.
Quite right. Can you tell this?--It is a watch.
Silver or gold?--Gold.
Anything on it?--Yes, there is a crest.
Quite correct. Now, the time, if you please, by it?--Twenty-one minutes
to one.
Very good. Can you name this?--Yes, it is a coin.
What coin?--A sixpence.
The date, if you please? (The clairvoyante knows it is of this century,
as only two letters are given.)--Eighteen hundred and eleven.
Can you tell this, please?--It is a medal.
Please name the metal?--Bronze.
Does she know? If you please to ask the young lady I have no doubt she
will tell you the campaign it is for, sir. (Here the interlocutor, in
speaking to the owner of medal, has given the cue to the clairvoyante by
_d s k_, which stand for CRI.) When the question is put, she says, ‘It
is a Crimean medal.’
Now, there is an initial here; tell me that.--M.
Look now, if you please, at the number of the regiment.--The
fifty-second.
Will you look here, please?--You now have a flower.
What flower?--Lily of the valley.
What name has this?--It is a cigarette.
What is here?--A pen-knife.
Now, how many blades are there?--Two.
Very easy. Pray view only here, if you please, and tell me the name
engraved upon the handle?--The name is _Young_.
What material is the handle made of?--Pearl.
What is this?--A pocket-book.
Anything here, please?--There is a letter inside.
Quite correct. If you please, tell me the initials of the person to whom
it is addressed?--P. B.
What is this, now?--A railway season ticket.
Can you tell the month it expires in?--Here the clairvoyante takes _c_
for the seventh month and answers ‘July.’
Very good. Be so kind, now, if you please, as to give us the number of
it?--Nine thousand and seventy-two.
Will you tell this, please?-It is a brooch.
Anything in it, please?--A child’s portrait.
Anything in it, now, at the back?--Yes, hair.
What colour is it?--Brown.
What is this for?--To smoke. It is a cigar; you can have it.
Is that right, sir? Thank you! What kind of cigar is it?--A Manilla.
Do you know what this is for?--That would also suit you; it is a cane!
Thank you, miss, you are very kind! Tell this.--That is a hat.
[Illustration: ANYTHING IN IT?]
Can you tell the colour?--White.
And this?--A parasol.
Name the colour.--Blue.
Name the material of the handle, please.--Ivory.
And this?--That is a programme.
And this?--An opera-glass.
This?--A stick.
This?--A flower.
Do you know what flower?--Yes; a camellia.
This?--An eye-glass.
This?--A breast-pin.
This?--A fan.
This?--A chain.
Find the carat?--The clairvoyante knows that _f_ stands for 8, and
answers ‘Eighteen.’
This?--That is a glove.
Do you know the colour?--Black.
And this?--A head.
Anything in it?--No.
And so the curtain comes down with a hearty laugh at the unfortunate
wight whose cranium is thus stigmatised as empty!
TWO OTHER SYSTEMS.
An ‘Ex-conjurer,’ who has treated of The Secret of Second Sight in
_Scribner’s_, says he was inducted into its mysteries twenty years since
by a Polish Jew who claimed to have invented the system; or, at least,
he had ‘treamed it’ (dreamed it), and that it was he who gave the code
to Robert Heller. As to the first of these statements, the inventing, or
‘treaming’ it, we know that the Polish Jew perverted the truth,
‘Clairvoyance’ having been practised with success before he was born:
for the second, we shall find from a portion that has gone before and
some to follow that Heller’s code differed widely from ‘Ex-conjurer’s,’
whose system may be described as the triplet and spelling code. For the
triplets he gives a long list of numbered articles, arranged
alphabetically, such as follow:--
1. Accordion, Album, Almanack.
2. Anchor, Apple, Apron.
3. Awl, Bag, Badge.
4. Ball, Bandana, Beads.
5. Bill of Exchange, Bodkin, Bonnet.
Etc., etc.
For the first article in the triplet the performer merely gives the cue
to the number; to the second he adds _here_, and to the third _that_.
To work in with these he has also a numbered alphabet, both letters and
figures being represented by certain words as below:--
Come represents A and 1
Look „ B „ 2
Hurry up, or Tell me „ C „ 3
Make haste, or Tell us „ D „ 4
Well „ E „ 5
Please „ F „ 6
Say „ G „ 7
Answer, Call, or Called „ H „ 8
Now „ I „ 9
Let me know „ J „ 10
Can you see „ K „ 11
Try „ L „ 12
Right away „ M „ 13
Do you know „ N „ 14
Go on „ O „ 15
Let us hear „ P „ 16
At once „ Q „ 17
See „ R „ 18
Look sharp „ S „ 19
Let us know „ T „ 20
Quick „ U „ 21
Will you look „ V „ 22
Do you see „ W „ 23
Be smart „ X „ 24
I’d like to know „ Y „ 25
What is it „ Z „ 26
There „ 0
I want to know „ 100
This code ‘Ex-conjurer’ illustrates. ‘_Do you see_ (W) what is this?
_Come_ (A), _Let us know_? (T), _Hurry up_ (C), _Answer_ (H).’ Surely
this seems much too roundabout a way of getting at such an ordinary
article as a _watch_! Nor does that of triplets offer great advantages,
besides which the words or phrases chosen to represent letters and
numbers come in awkwardly--and even offensively to an English ear--as
will be apparent in the following extracts:--
‘Suppose a glove is offered. This is the first article of the fortieth
triplet. The question would be “_Tell us_ (4) what this is, _there_
(0).”
‘Should the second article in the fifteenth triplet be offered, the
question would be either, “_Here_, what’s this? _Go on_ (15);” or,
“_Come_ (1), what’s this _here_? Well (5)?” and the answer in either
case a _button-hook_.’
The best thing about ‘Ex-conjurer’s’ paper is the suggestive ‘tag,’ or
speech at the end of the performance. Our aspirants for ‘clairvoyant’
fame may be able to take a hint from it:--
‘Now, how is this done? Well, I don’t mind telling you, with the express
understanding that it goes no farther. It is neither mesmerism,
spiritism, ventriloquism, rheumatism nor any other ism. It is brought
about by the action of arcane-dynamics, subjectively submitted to the
action of the passive agent, and the result, as you have seen, is a
stentonophonic reproduction of the original idea. I’m afraid it’s not
yet quite clear to some of you. Well, then, in other words, it’s a
system of mental telephony. When an article is offered to me, I seize
it; and then my assistant, he sees it. Ah! you smile--you understand it;
but, remember, not a word outside as to how it is done!’
The real second-sight, as practised by such eminent professors of the
art as Houdin and Heller, is greatly superior to ‘Ex-conjurer’s’ code,
and is contained partly in our instructions, and more exhaustively in a
work recently published. In this the code for figures is arranged
exactly in the same way as that given by us; with the addition that the
word ‘Quick’ is used to give notice of fractions. Then if the
interlocutor says, ‘Tell, now!’ the blindfolded wonder-worker knows the
initials indicate 1 and 2; therefore, by aid of the preliminary warning,
he (or she) ascertains that 1/2 is meant. Thus, if one-seventh had to be
signalled, after ‘Quick!’ the cue might be given by saying, ‘Tell
correctly, if you please, what other numbers are there.’
The work now under consideration, in addition to a code for spelling
words the same as we have given, has also codes for money, coins, cards,
colour, dates, etc., quite different from those in the preceding pages,
and well worth perusal before any particular system is fixed upon.
The book concludes with an observation that an exhibitor of second sight
will as likely as not tell you that this or that system is not the one
by which his ‘clairvoyant’ reads mentally; and here the professor may
speak quite truly. Nevertheless--and this point cannot be too frequently
insisted upon, because abnormal, and even supernatural, power is
frequently spoken of in connection with second sight--there is nothing
in the mystery that cannot be solved with a little patience and
perseverance; and you may feel satisfied that by a code and by that
alone--word-signals carefully studied and rehearsed between the
clairvoyant and the interlocutor--do all the seeming wonders come to
pass.
‘UNCONSCIOUS COUNTING.’
We cannot more suitably conclude this chapter than by referring to an
ingenious article some time ago on ‘unconscious counting’ in the
_Gartenlaube_, in which the writer, Herr W. Preyer, points out that the
ability possessed by any one of ordinary intelligence to distinguish
three, four, or even five objects at a glance, and without being
conscious of counting them, may by practice be perfected to such a
degree that it becomes quite as easy to count ten objects as it is to
count three, and that it is possible to give the exact number up to
thirty objects at a single glance. As an example of the latter
attainment, the writer points to the well-known arithmetician Dase, who
died in 1861, and who declared that he could count thirty objects of
the same kind as quickly and easily as other people could count three
or four. The truth of the assertion was often proved when Dase, with
lightning rapidity, gave the correct number of a herd of sheep, of the
books in a library, or the window-panes in a large house. The test of
how far any one can count at a glance is easily made by putting several
small objects, such as coins, pins, or matches, under a sheet of paper,
then lifting the paper for a second and looking at the objects, and,
after covering them again, give an estimate as to the number. At first
it will be found difficult to fix the number if there are more than from
three to five objects, but the eye becomes very soon accustomed to
distinguish between larger numbers, so that after a short time eight or
nine objects will be counted by the eye with the same facility. Care
should, however, be taken that the counting is not done consciously, for
that would take far too much time; the number of objects should only be
valued.
The mistakes which are at first frequently made in this guessing game
will become rarer and rarer, and almost anybody can become an expert in
rapid counting up to ten objects; after that it becomes more difficult.
The sensation, says Herr Preyer, of a person practised in unconscious
counting, when looking attentively at larger numbers of objects, is that
their number shoots rapidly through the head. To acquire this method of
counting black spots should be made on white square pieces of cardboard,
first symmetrically and in small numbers, as, for instance, the
following:--
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Afterwards their number may be increased and their position altered. It
will also be good practice to open a book, cover part of the page,
rapidly look at the lines left uncovered, and to guess at their number.
It is astonishing how soon the eye gets accustomed to the numbers. The
more advanced ‘unconscious counter’ should practise on spots not
regularly arranged, which is much more difficult at first. Herr Preyer
concludes his interesting article with the remark that unconscious
counting, like all other oft-repeated processes, such as lifting the hat
as a token of salutation, becomes at last an entirely mechanical
process.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER LVIII.--SPIRITUALISM AT HOME.
BY DR. STRADLING.
Spiritualism does not in reality mean conjuring; of course you all know
that. But the term has now come to be familiarly applied to a certain
class of performances, without any pretence of supernatural aid or
deceit, and arose in this way. Some twenty-five years ago several
people--the celebrated Davenport Brothers among them--appeared in this
country and America, and gave entertainments at which they exhibited
some very extraordinary and, at that time, novel effects of a magical
character, the leading features being their release from cords which had
been bound, knotted, and sealed upon them by members of the audience,
leaving the knots and seals unbroken; causing inanimate objects to fly
about and musical instruments to sound when it appeared impossible for
any one to have touched them; and divining numbers and sentences which
had been written down privately, unseen by them.
These things they professed to do, not by their own skill and dexterity,
but by the aid of ‘spirits’ over whom they declared themselves to have
control; and the whole was accompanied with a lot of nonsense in the
shape of luminous ‘manifestations’ in the air when the gas was turned
out (for darkness was indispensable), and ‘spirit-writings’ on slates
and sheets of cardboard--messages, supposed to come from the unseen
world, scrawled in a shocking bad hand that any boy would be ashamed of!
Nevertheless, a great deal that was done was new and very clever, and
had it only been honestly acknowledged to be the result of
sleight-of-hand, the performers would certainly have earned and well
deserved the reward of success.
But though people go to see conjuring perfectly prepared and willing to
be deceived--if that can be called deception which is openly avowed to
be misleading--they do not like to have their common sense insulted by
irreverence, such as these spiritualists were guilty of in pretending to
call up the dead; and a strong feeling of indignation soon set in
against the imposture and all who practised it.
Clever as the exhibitions were, also, one or two slips were made which
were fatal to them, though it does not ruin a straightforward conjurer
to have a trick accidentally discovered now and then. For instance, on
one occasion, a dreadful fiery hand, pale and deathly, though glowing
with light, was seen sweeping through the air, high overhead, rushing
from end to end of the room with a swiftness that no being could have
possessed unless provided with wings, and at times descending to give
somebody a cold, clammy touch on the cheek. One, bolder than the rest,
had the courage to seize this hand, and, in spite of all opposition,
insisted on retaining it until the gas was turned up, when the
spirit-hand was found to consist of an old white kid glove, stuffed with
damp tow and rubbed with phosphorus, suspended at the end of a cord, and
waved overhead by means of a long fishing-rod, which folded up in short
joints adapted for the ‘medium’s’ pocket!
Furthermore, professional conjurers were put on their mettle, and very
quickly showed that they could do, not only the same things, but much
more wonderful ones of a similar character in the full glare of the
gaslight, without any aid from spirits. The mysterious cabinet, which
took such a prominent part in the Davenports’ programme, was soon
robbed of its mystery; and in 1865 Professor Pepper--whose name
you will remember in connection with ‘Pepper’s Ghost’ at the
Polytechnic--invented and patented a piece of apparatus, such as the
spiritualists had never dreamed of, called the ‘Cabinet of Proteus.’
The ‘mediums’ have long since retired into comparative obscurity, and
now limit their manifestations to displays in private; but they still
have a number of followers who are ready to believe that what occurs at
these gatherings is really the work of invisible spirits, because they
do not see how else it can be done. I heard a famous conjurer say the
other day, at the close of his entertainment, ‘If I have been able to
deceive and perplex you; if I, telling you beforehand that the effects I
was about to produce are the result of mere trickery and quickness of
hand, challenging your detection in the full light of the room, have
succeeded in making you, watchful and alert to find me out, imagine that
black was white, and have convinced you that seeing is _not_ always
believing, how much more might a skilful impostor mystify a lot of
superstitious people, already frightened out of their wits by fear, in a
dark chamber with accomplices!’
When, therefore, we read now of a spiritualistic _séance_ given in
public, or of Messrs. Maskelyne and Cooke’s spirit manifestations, we
understand the term to have reference to feats of that description,
which originated in the above manner; and in telling you how you may
exhibit a little ‘Spiritualism at Home’ to your friends, you will now
see that I do not intend that you should even pretend to have anything
to do with supernatural causes, but only to perform some very
astonishing tricks on the same principle as you have been taught to make
a halfpenny vanish and reappear.
Modern effects of this kind, as they are presented on the stage, demand,
as a rule, not only great dexterity and years of practice, but the use
of elaborate and costly apparatus and the help of skilled assistants.
All sorts of ingenious mechanism, for which patents are often taken
out--electricity, pneumatics, chemistry, optics, magnetism, and nearly
every science and art--are pressed into the service, and the floor, the
walls, the platform, and the ceiling may be riddled with wires and traps
and springs, for anything you know to the contrary; or the lady and
gentleman--or even the little boy or girl--sitting beside you may be
confederates. Now, if you will carefully carry out the directions which
I am about to give you, you will be able to do the following
things--founded on the very essence of professed spiritualism--viz., the
rope-tying, the ringing of bells and beating of tambourines without
visible agency, mysterious writing, and secret reading--in your own or
anybody’s room, in the presence of any number of spectators, in the full
light, without preparation, without practice, without assistants or
accomplices, without sleight-of-hand, and without any apparatus, except
(for one trick) a very simple article, which any boy can make for
himself in a few minutes.
Let me first describe the _effect_ of the performance, without any
explanation as to how it is done--that is to say, as it will appear to
your audience. You give some one a piece of ordinary tape or ribbon,
which they can examine as closely as they please. One end of this
ribbon, which is about two feet and a half long, is now tied firmly
around your wrist. Placing your hands behind your back, you then allow
the other end to be fastened around the other wrist in like manner. Thus
your hands are tied behind your back, each being secured separately, to
prevent the possibility of either slipping out, and the knots, or ends,
are then sealed with sealing wax and stamped with a crest or private
mark for identification afterwards. Sitting on a chair at the farther
end of the room, with your back turned to the company, you pass your
arms over the back of the chair, so that all may see the ribbon and
seals; and while in this position you invite a spectator to step forward
and tie his handkerchief around the cross-bar of the back of the chair,
including the ligature which joins your two wrists, knotting the
handkerchief tightly and sealing it as well.
So that you are now practically tied to the chair, with your hands
fastened together behind you. Two of your audience then hold up a
table-cloth or open newspaper in front of you as a temporary screen--of
course giving their word not to look behind while so doing; a few bars
of mysterious music are played on the piano; in a minute, at a signal
from you, the newspaper is snatched away, and you are seen sitting in
precisely the same attitude and bound as before, but with your coat
removed and lying across your knees! Knots and seals are all discovered
on examination to be firm and intact, nor does the cross-bar or any
other portion of the chair ‘unship.’
No assistant could have approached you without being seen, and your coat
can be passed round, to show that there is nothing peculiar in its
construction. You can, if you please, be screened once more for a
minute, and put it on again, and the second time you may be found
standing beside the chair, entirely free from it, yet having your hands
secured as tightly as ever behind your back, and leaving the sealed and
knotted handkerchief undisturbed around the cross-bar. This, performed
in a dark cabinet, was Ira Davenport’s great feat.
But you may elaborate this much further, and just as easily give some
‘manifestations’ which are truly astounding. The principle which lies at
the bottom of it all is very little known, even among professional
wizards, and not one person in ten thousand would as much as guess at
it. Your hands are tied and secured to the chair in the same manner as
last described; but now, in addition, you have your legs and ankles
bound to the legs of the chair, and a rope or strap passed around your
body. Perfect strangers may do all the tying, and everything is sealed.
This time you had better have a regular screen--a sheet or tablecloth
thrown across a clothes-horse makes the best possible--and let it be so
arranged that, while hiding your body, it leaves your feet visible. They
can therefore _see_ for themselves that you never move from the chair
for a single instant, even if it were possible to do so. Handkerchiefs
around the ankles will be better seen than cords or ropes. The screen
must stand well out in the room, so that there may be no suspicion of a
confederate ‘lending you a hand’ from any door. On a small table,
concealed by the screen, but _quite out of your reach_, even if your
hands were free, are placed a bell, a tambourine, an umbrella, and a
slate or sheet of blank paper.
A few seconds after the clothes-horse has been pulled in front of
you--or rather _behind_ you and in front of the audience, for you are
sitting with your back towards them--the bell is heard to ring
violently, and the umbrella, _open_, rises above the screen, dancing up
and down in time to the music of the piano, presently hitching itself on
the top rail. Then your coat comes flying over, and the tambourine is
thumped and rattled, the bell never ceasing to ring energetically.
Finally you give a shout, as agreed upon, the screen is quickly drawn
aside, the bell and tambourine are seen to fall from _somewhere_--where,
nobody can tell--and roll clashing and clattering over the floor before
the eyes of all. The umbrella is open, your coat is off, the slate or
paper is covered with writing. Yet not a single knot is untied nor a
single seal broken: you are in exactly the same position as at first,
and none of the articles show any trace of wax or thread. Bear in mind,
too, that the spectators have had your feet, the legs of the chair, and
those of the table, in full view the whole time, and will have seen that
none of them moved in the slightest degree.
The mysterious reading or calculation may be done in conjunction with
this, or as a trick by itself. When you have the method which forms its
foundation, you can arrange its effect in a dozen different ways,
according to your fancy. Perhaps the best and least complicated form is,
before you are tied up, to pass round half a dozen slips of paper or
cardboard, with a lead pencil, requesting each of the six people to whom
they are distributed to write a number--any number they please--thereon
in legible figures, secretly. The slips are collected in an envelope,
fastened, and brought to you, and you entrust them to the ‘best
arithmetician’ in the room, when the rest of the audience have decided
who that lucky individual may be, to be opened and added together,
without declaring their total or mentioning a word about them, whilst
you are behind the screen. Then the number discovered on the sheet of
paper or slate will prove to be the exact amount, or the tambourine may
fly over and fall before them with the sum total mysteriously inscribed
upon it--even before the arithmetician has added the numbers together.
Or, as I say, this may constitute an experiment of itself, and the total
may be found on a card hitherto blank, or written inside the lining of
somebody’s hat, which is placed upon the owner’s head and retained there
before the slips are even passed round. Or, before the total is
declared, it may be written down privately by the one who has made the
addition, the cards burnt, and the ashes rubbed on the performer’s bare
arm; when, in the midst of the bluish smudge they produce, the amount
will appear in figures of inky blackness.
So much for ‘Spiritualism at Home,’ as viewed from the ‘front.’ Now come
behind the scenes and learn the _modus operandi_. It will not involve a
very lengthy description.
The whole of the coat-stripping, bell-ringing, tambourine-beating,
umbrella-opening, and other manœuvres executed under shelter of the
screen depend upon the fact that it is actually possible to remove one
hand from the tape or ribbon which is bound around the wrist and to
replace it again without untying the knot! To understand this, just tie
one end of a piece of cord around anything--say, the leg of a chair;
that will, no doubt, be firm and secure enough. But now proceed to
fasten the other end round the other leg, and you will perceive, on
considering the matter, that you have _only one end to tie with_,
instead of two as before. The other end is fixed, and cannot be made
use of, so that, tie as you will, you can only form a series of
loops--in nautical phrase, ‘half-hitches’--around one straight piece.
What is the consequence? Why, that these loops, being nothing more than
so many rings strung on the line which comes from the other leg of the
chair, can be slid backwards and forwards along it. When you have tied
the second leg up tightly and neatly, and to all appearance as securely
as the other, you have only to slip these rings, or knots, back towards
the first leg, to allow of the second being drawn out, and on replacing
it again you slide them back against it as firm as ever, having untied
nothing.
This is precisely what you do with the last-tied wrist behind the
screen, except that it is much more easily accomplished in this case
than with the leg of a chair, because you can relax the long piece, and
so give yourself more space by bringing the hands a little nearer to
each other. It is difficult to comprehend this from a written
description, and a diagram would be of little use to illustrate it, but
you will see it readily on following out the successive steps just
mentioned.
Let us go through the trick for the sake of noting one or two little
points which require some care. Tape is better than string or rope, and
ribbon is best of all, because, from the silk in its composition, it is
slippery, and will glide smoothly, without requiring to be tugged, or
being in danger of getting ‘jammed.’ The first wrist is tied before you;
the manner in which it is done does not concern you, though you could,
if need be, ‘capsize’ an ordinary knot--reef or granny--and convert it
into the same condition as that applied to the second wrist. This,
however, will be quite unnecessary. Nevertheless, you had better observe
the mode in which this first knot is tied, for this reason: it would be
possible for some skilful person--a sailor, for instance--to put a
‘clove hitch,’ or some other nautical complication, around the second
wrist, which could not be manipulated in the way described. You are not
likely to meet with anybody who will treat you so, and of course, in
speaking of knots, one means the ordinary arrangements, such as nine
hundred and ninety-nine people out of a thousand will tie.
But if you _should_ find somebody who is clever and ill-natured enough
to try to baffle you, let him tie away to his heart’s content on the
first wrist, then, ‘to show there is no deception or confederacy,’ move
on to some one else for the second. The best way is always to go to a
lady; probably she will only tie a simple bow at first, which you will
pull open at once, making a great merit of scorning to take advantage of
such a thing, and requesting, for your own satisfaction, to be secured
in a manner which will leave no doubt in the minds of the audience,
etc., etc. The second wrist is tied behind your back, and when both are
thus encircled a straight piece, about one foot in length, will connect
the two hands.
But how about the seals? You will perceive that the knots in both cases
lie close against the flesh, and it is only possible to put on the
merest dot of wax--_and this on the loops themselves_--without burning
the skin. Thus they will carry the seal unbroken with them as they slip
backwards and forwards. But since there is, even so, a chance of your
getting scorched, it is better in every way to request that an end of
about two inches long be left in each case--you can adjust it yourself
with the first wrist, as a pattern for the second--explaining your
reason, and have this sealed down to the long piece which intervenes.
You can have the end of it sewn as well if you like. The more you are
apparently hampered by precautions and impossibilities the more
wonderful and impressive the feat becomes, and it must be evident to all
that the knots cannot be untied when the ends are made fast without
breaking the seals.
The handkerchief around the cross-bar of the chair, like the
ankle-fetters and ropes around the body in the more elaborate version of
the trick, are merely for the sake of effect, and are of no consequence
to you at all; but be sure to draw just as much attention to these as
the other, and lay as great stress on their being sealed.
Now I think you see how to proceed. Directly you are hidden by the
newspaper catch hold of the knots last tied with the fingers of the
opposite hand, and slide them gently outwards from the wrist towards the
seal. This will enlarge the loop by a good inch or an inch and a
half--more than enough to enable you to withdraw the hand. The arms are
now free from one another, the ribbon with the enlarged loop at the end
of it dangling from the first-tied wrist. This is pulled through the
loop of the handkerchief, the coat quickly removed, and the whole
process then simply reversed--the arms brought together behind the chair
again, ribbon passed through loop of handkerchief, hand passed into the
noose, and knots slipped back to the skin, tighter than ever. Putting on
the coat is managed just in the same way. If you want to appear freed
from the chair, do not pass the ribbon within the handkerchief in
replacing your hand; or you may produce a most puzzling result, if you
like, by twisting it around the cross-bar instead.
Do not be ‘flurried’ or over-eager. Remember, if you took half an hour
about it the performance would be just as mysterious and incapable of
explanation. You may, however, _apparently_ shorten the time employed in
its execution by asking some young lady to oblige you with a little
appropriate music as soon as the screen is raised. ‘Something very
solemn and soothing--a little slower, if you please; thank you, that
will do nicely’--working away all the time. ‘Now then, who’s got a
watch? You have, sir? Has it a second-hand? Now, kindly tell me when one
minute has expired,’ and so on, according to the amount of delay you
require. Always take care that there is no light behind you, or the
screen will become transparent; and place your chair where you will not
be reflected in any looking-glass.
But the bell-ringing and tambourine-beating, combined with this, will
absolutely astonish your friends, for this is what fills the public with
greater wonder than anything else, even when performed by professional
conjurers amidst all the appliances of a regular stage. For this you
will want some instrument which can lie folded up inside your waistcoat
(not coat); it must therefore be not more than a foot long when not in
use, but capable of being expanded to such a length as will enable you
to reach the articles on the table with it while still sitting on your
chair--the distance is not likely to be more than four feet at the
outside. Indeed, it is not necessary to have it so much, for everybody
will be able to see that you do not move from the chair. This may
consist either of a sort of fishing-rod of four pieces, or a jointed rod
made to fold up by hinges on the same principle as a pocket foot-rule,
so that the joints bend in one direction, but are stiff in the other. If
either of these is used, there must be a crook at the end to hook up the
umbrella and tambourine, and the bell must have a loop of string
attached to it, unless you choose to have a line running through an eye,
as with a regular fishing-rod, and angle for the articles with a noose.
Much better, to my thinking, is that little bit of apparatus--commonly
sold with boxes of toy-soldiers-known as ‘lazy-tongs.’ It is formed, as
I dare say you know, by a number of =[X]=-shaped slips of wood, joined
together at the extremities in a sort of lattice (=[XXXX]=). The rivets
are loosely fixed, so that by pressing the arms of the end =[X]=
together the whole shoots out to its full length, and, by separating
them again, the ‘tongs’ fold up. You will see the same action
exemplified in those ornamental lattice-fences which are made to
surround flower-pots in a drawing-room. By means of this, the things on
the table can not only be hooked, but pinched up if required, and can be
rattled about there before they come near your hands. If writing-paper
is used instead of a slate, a pellet of bees’-wax or a drawing-pin must
be fixed at the end of the tongs.
Having freed your wrist as before, get hold of the bell first and seize
the handle between your teeth, where you retain it the whole time,
ringing it by shakes and nods of your head. Next bring over the umbrella
and open it, causing it to appear above the screen and dance as
described; you may even shoot it out beyond the side of the screen on
the lazy-tongs, far beyond your arms’ reach, ‘even if they were not tied
behind your back.’ Hang the umbrella on the top rail of the
clothes-horse, and divest yourself of your coat, flinging it over. Then
fetch the tambourine, ringing the bell as hard as you can all the while.
Beat time to the piano for a few moments, making the umbrella dance
again in unison. The tongs must hang on your arm when not wanted, for do
not forget that the audience have a full view of the floor, and that if
you drop anything you cannot pick it up again. To drop the lazy-tongs
would reveal the secret entirely, but the other articles do not matter
so much. Now if you are going to do any writing, get the paper or slate,
the pencil will be in your waistcoat-pocket, and you can use the
tambourine as a desk. Finally, tuck the latter under your chin, and roll
the edge of the bell to and fro upon it while you tie yourself up again;
give a shout, as the prearranged signal for somebody to remove the
screen, releasing the bell and tambourine at the same instant. Down they
fall, and go rolling and jingling over the floor before the spectators,
and there you are, bound and strapped, as close a prisoner as ever!
I said you could do all this without practice, and so you can, since
there is no sleight-of-hand or dexterity involved. But you had better
rehearse once or twice privately before giving an exhibition, to see
that you have everything in working order; by so doing you will acquire
confidence, and produce your effects one after the other in a much
shorter space of time, while you may hit on many others. For instance,
if your table is one of those small, light, ornamental affairs resting
on a single stem, you might cause it to rock violently by means of your
tongs, and to ‘walk’ from one edge of the screen to the other, the
audience being able to watch the motion of its feet. If you like you may
even have your elbows secured to the back of the chair, and will still
be sufficiently at liberty to do all but take your coat off. The great
thing is to make all the effects fit in with one another compactly.
Some years ago a noted conjurer introduced a feature into his
entertainment which, for a time, startled the public. He allowed himself
to be handcuffed by any policeman present who would fetch a pair of
Government handcuffs for the purpose; these were locked, and the key
retained by the constable or some other member of the audience. The
performer then stepped behind a curtain, and presently came out, still
manacled, but minus his coat. But after a bit it suddenly occurred to
some one that all the Scotland Yard handcuffs issued to the police were
made on the same pattern, and that the magician had only to unlock them
with a duplicate key kept in a little pocket at the back of his
waistcoat!
Now for the ‘Mysterious Addition,’ or ‘Spirit-writing.’ Six small pieces
of cardboard or paper are distributed, and those to whom they are given
are requested to pencil some number consisting of any figures they
please. Let these people be separated as much as possible, ostensibly to
show that there is no collusion, but really to prevent any comparing of
notes; enjoin strict secrecy, too, as to the numbers written, for
similar reasons. Let somebody collect the folded slips in one of those
small envelopes such as are used for ‘Your change, with thanks,’ in
shops, fasten it, and bring it to you. You go back to your table and lay
it carelessly thereon, bringing forward your piece of ribbon instead, as
though to save time; and while the first knot is being tied you ask, Who
is the best arithmetician in the room? This being decided, you go back
and get the envelope before the second wrist is tied, giving it to him
with a pencil and plate, and bidding him, when he has added the six
numbers together, to say nothing, but make a private memorandum of the
amount, burn the slips on the plate, and keep the ashes for you.
In laying the little envelope ‘carelessly’ on the table, where you have
your ribbon, candle, matches, plates, rope, sealing-wax, etc., in
readiness, you are careless or careful enough to place it so that it
shall be hidden by the rim of the plate, side by side with another
little envelope of precisely similar appearance, also concealed by the
margin of the plate. This second envelope contains six slips of paper or
card, too, and on these you have written--in pencil, and in different
‘hands’--six numbers, the total of which is known to you. Let us suppose
that you have put 209, 23, 1000, 7, 51, and 346; the sum of these is
1636, and is discovered to be such by the arithmetician--who, of course,
is not chosen from among the six, ‘to prevent any deception,’ but is
wholly independent of them--when you hand him this second envelope
instead of the genuine one. Behind the screen, therefore, you have only
to write 1636 on the slate or tambourine, which will be found to tally
with his memorandum. Or, if you are doing this trick by itself, paint
1636 on your arm in glycerine with a fine brush, and let it dry in
before commencing. This being transparent, will be quite invisible till
the ashes are rubbed in, when the number will stand out jet black. You
can vary this in a dozen ways, by writing the number and concealing it
somewhere beforehand, since the amounts which the audience put down on
_their_ slips do not affect _you_ at all. In every case it is well to
have the slips burnt, and you can ask to have the numbers restricted
within the hundreds--that is, in three figures--on the plea that it will
otherwise be tedious to add up. Make your own amounts rather larger than
those given above by way of example.
Of course no comparisons are made, or, even if any two or three did
compare, no one can dispute the accuracy of the total, for no one knows
what the numbers were beyond his or her own figures; and the addition is
beyond suspicion when made by a representative whom the audience choose
for themselves. But, you will ask, how is the first envelope concealed
when you take up the plate to receive the ashes? Simply by having two
plates, as though to provide against contingencies, and giving the
upper one, using the other to stand the candlestick upon if you like,
and pushing it back a few inches casually to cover what was behind it.
If you prefer it, you may take out your handkerchief and draw it lightly
over your arm after it is bared while the slips are being collected;
then throw it casually on the table beside the plate to serve as a mask;
or you may have a few spare handkerchiefs ready on the table and
dispense with the plate as a means of concealment altogether. You will
draw attention to the fact that you have handkerchiefs wherewith you may
be secured if nobody will lend them, but that of course you prefer to
use borrowed ones. Conjuring tables with traps and shelves are utterly
unnecessary for small articles which cannot be seen by those seated a
little way off if the smallest projection intervenes.
Always have everything ready and in its place before commencing. If you
have to leave the room for anything in the middle of a trick your
audience suspect something, and the effect is spoiled. Make a list:
candle in candlestick, matches, sealing-wax, ribbon, scissors (for
cutting the knots at the conclusion), rope, strap, chair, tablecloth or
newspaper, screen, bell, umbrella, slate, tambourine, lazy-tongs,
pencil, small envelope, slips, plates, duplicate envelope. The last need
give you no anxiety, you can have it in your match-box, if you please,
and coolly put it in the desired position while standing with your back
to the people, ‘setting’ your table before commencing.
Talking of ‘spirit-writing’ reminds me of an anecdote--a problem put
before me the other day by a post-office boy which might well have
perplexed the cleverest of conjurers. I was sending a paper which I had
just written to the Editor of the _Boy’s Own Paper_, but was uncertain
about the amount of postage, so I stepped into the office to have it
weighed and get stamps. Manuscript for the press goes at book-post rate
if the ends are left open, and ‘Manuscript’ is marked on the wrapper.
‘Printed matter?’ asked the youthful and conscientious official
(evidently a new hand) to whom I handed the document, as he prepared to
put it in the scales.
‘No; manuscript,’ I replied. ‘But it’s all the same; book-post tariff
covers it.’
The boy was obviously not quite satisfied on this point, for, having
weighed the packet, he referred to a big book, doubtfully.
‘Twopence-halfpenny,’ he presently decided; ‘it will go for
twopence-halfpenny, _provided there’s no writing inside_!’
SECTION XI.
DIVERSIFIED DIVERSIONS.
YOUNG DOBBS’ HAT.
[_A tragic story for Magic Lantern or Shadow Show._]
[Illustration: 1. When Dobbs was a little boy, he was not so particular
with his hats as he was when he grew up to young-manhood. For instance,
on the very day he wore his first tall one he encountered a magnificent
specimen of the cabbage butterfly.]
[Illustration: 2. Now he much wanted a cabbage butterfly to complete his
collection, so he made straight at it. In the pursuit his hat suffered.]
[Illustration: 3. So did he when he got home! As for the butterfly, I
have every reason to believe it died a natural death some time later.]
CHAPTER LIX.--FIRE-BALLOONS AND GAS-BALLOONS: HOW TO MAKE AND USE THEM.
BY THE LATE DR. SCOFFERN.
I.--THE PRINCIPLE OF BALLOONING.
Every boy at some time or other, I suppose, has felt himself
irresistibly drawn towards the subject of toy-balloons; but first
unaided experiments in that direction seldom prove altogether
satisfactory, or maybe even pleasant. It is my intention, therefore, to
go into the matter thoroughly and practically, explaining all about
fire-balloons, and telling you at once how to make and use them.
If a thing--anything--be placed in the midst of any other thing lighter
than itself, and if thing number two be not a solid, but either a liquid
or a gas, both which permit of motion in any direction, then thing
number one will ascend.
If you want to have this demonstrated, just plunge a cork down into
water and see what happens. If instead of a cork you were to take a lump
of iron--say a cannon ball--then the very idea of such a heavy material
floating would seem to you ridiculous. It will float, nevertheless, not
in water, truly, but in any fluid of greater weight than itself.
Quicksilver, otherwise called mercury, is such a fluid, and the very
experiment I have supposed you to perform for curiosity is actually
turned to practical account by artillerists when they wish to ascertain
whether a cannon ball is equally heavy on every part of corresponding
size around the centre. If not equally heavy, then spots marked upon it
will not float upwards equally well. If any particular spot insists on
turning downwards, then the result proves that one side of the round
cannon ball (please excuse the word side, a sphere really has no sides)
is heavier than the rest.
But to return to our balloons. Well, please remember the globe on which
we live is surrounded by an atmosphere--air we call it--and also please
understand this atmosphere has weight; consequently it follows that
anything lighter than the atmosphere will ascend in the atmosphere. In
this we have the whole theory of balloons and ballooning.
The air has weight,--yes, more than you have been accustomed to think,
perhaps. Just take the pen or pencil and mark out a piece of paper one
square inch. Having marked out this, you are to understand that the air
presses upon it with a force of about fifteen pounds. I say _about_, for
the reason that atmospheric pressure is not always exactly the same.
Sometimes it presses rather more, at other times rather less than
fifteen pounds, but still the variation is not great.
Thus, air has weight, and you also know that air, being a fluid, permits
objects to move about in it, so it follows that if we can find anything
number two lighter than the air, it will ascend in the air. We shall
look in vain amongst liquids and solids for thing number two, all being
heavier than air; but of gases lighter than air there exist several. Why
not use them? We can use some of them, and we presently will; but it
stands to reason that we can no more use a gas for lifting a weight up
into air without first putting the gas into a bag, than we can use a
horse for carriage-draught without first putting a collar round his
neck, then attaching shaft and traces: no, indeed, not so well even,
because in a case of emergency a carriage might be fixed to the horse’s
tail!
The very simplest form of balloon is a soap-bubble. Most of us have
probably at some time or other amused ourselves by blowing soap-bubbles,
without perhaps troubling ourselves to understand the whys and
wherefores of the case.
Why is it that a soap-bubble blown with air from the lungs ascends? You
will tell me perhaps that it ascends because the air which comes from
the lungs is of a lighter ‘nature’ than the atmosphere No, indeed,
instead of having a lighter it has a heavier nature. Though air which
comes out of the lungs is by ‘nature’ _heavier_ than air which goes into
the lungs, yet at the same time it is warmer, and for the reason of that
warmth it remains during the existence of the warmth practically
lighter.
This circumstance being remembered, you will at once understand why it
is that a soap-bubble, even if it lives--so to put the case--long
enough, does not continue to ascend as a balloon would have continued,
but first slackens in its upward course, then descends, the reason of
descent being the cooling of the air within it. If you had been clever
enough to measure that soap-bubble twice, first at the very moment of
rising, next at the last moment of setting, you would have found the
warmer bubble to have been the larger.
If you were to blow a thin bag full of air, you would not expect it to
ascend, on the supposition, that is to say, that the bagged air and the
free air are of one and the same temperature; but if you could manage to
make the bagged air hot, and keep it hot, then you would get lifting
power. This is exactly what is done in the Montgolfier, or fire-balloon.
The reason of this seems very simple when one comes to think about it,
yet the Brothers Montgolfier, inventors of the fire-balloon, did not
exactly see the true science of the balloon that bears their name. They
appeared to have reasoned somewhat in the following manner. A wreath of
smoke ascends, therefore smoke must be lighter than air; therefore a bag
filled with smoke, and kept full of smoke, should also ascend, supposing
the bag to be made of sufficiently light materials.
If the Montgolfiers had said, instead of smoke, hot air, they would have
truly represented the fact.
They made a bag of canvas, and they lined it with paper. Under the neck
of this bag they hung a sort of fire-grate, and underneath this, but
within reach of it, a car. Impressed as they were with the smoky notion,
one of their first cares was to feed the fireplace with some variety of
fuel that would yield abundant smoke. Chopped straw, slightly damped and
mixed with wool, was one of the favoured combustibles.
Fire, or Montgolfier balloons, large enough to take up sky travellers,
are no longer used; air-balloons, or, as it would be more proper to call
them, gas-balloons, being more convenient and at the same time more
safe. Toy fire-balloons are, however, still made and let off as a pretty
firework, and I shall now describe the best and easiest ways of making
them.
II.--FIRE-BALLOONS AND THEIR CONSTRUCTION.
They may be constructed of any size; but an overgrown fire-balloon,
according to my experience, is seldom satisfactory, and never returns
value for the money expended in making it. As a boy I was a great
fire-balloon maker. I have made them of various sizes; at length,
however, coming to the conclusion that three sheets of tissue-paper,
pasted end to end, then cut into shape and joined, make a balloon quite
large enough to manage, and also large enough for every ornamental
purpose.
‘Cut into shape,’ did I not say the paper was to be? Well, what sort of
a shape? Perhaps I need not tell you that a perfectly globular bag will
hold more than any other shaped bag you could make out of a given
quantity of paper. A peeled orange or lemon will give the very best idea
of the general shape of the gussets of a balloon. Speaking generally,
the narrower you cut the gussets of your balloon the neater will be your
turn out; but of course, if narrow gussets be employed, more of them
will be needed than if you employed wide gussets. Neatness of
manufacture is of no account when brought to bear on a toy firework
that, after a few moments of ascent, reveals itself to lookers-on merely
as a patch of moving light.
[Illustration: Fig. 1.]
[Illustration: Fig. 2.]
After many trials, I came to the conclusion that when using
tissue-paper, three sheets pasted narrow edge to narrow edge, eight
gussets were enough. Occasionally, however, I would slightly elongate
each gusset by attaching one of the little corners _a_ or _b_, and
fixing it at _c_. Of course the pieces _a_ and _b_ have to be cut away
in any case, else the necessary gussets could not be made.
With regard to the exact shape of a finished balloon, always remember
that the more nearly globular it is the more gas or air will it hold,
and the more stable will be its flight. Assuming you to have pasted end
to end three sheets of tissue-paper, with the little bit (_c_) added to
the top part over and above, I recommend you to divide, mentally at
least, the three sheets and bit added, rectangle, into four parts. Of
these the two middle parts need not be cut or trimmed at all. All the
trimming needful can be done on the two end parts. Another thing--do not
give any care to bringing the crown, or summit, of the balloon to a
point. You will have to paste on what we call a round summit, or crown,
at any rate, under which circumstance your bringing all the gussets to
one terminal point is of no consequence. In cutting out the gussets,
this is best done on the double, which will ensure symmetry.
You will tell me, perhaps, there is a sort of regularity about my
preliminary work that does not please the eye. You would like, perhaps,
to make a graceful balloon like Fig. 3.
Better not. Do you not see what would happen when you came to set light
to the fuel suspended under the mouth of the balloon? The flame would
almost certainly strike against the paper of the narrow neck, and
presently the whole balloon would be in a blaze.
Having cut out your gussets, the next thing is to join them. First as to
cement. Use thin paste or gum water, which you please, and employ a
camel-hair, or better, a sable-brush, to spread it. Half an inch lap is
quite enough; and when the necessary paper junction has been made, I
like to dry my work at once by means of a laundress’s smoothing iron.
Taking this precaution, you will have no sticking at spots where
sticking ought not to be.
A final word now about the best way of bringing the edges of your
gussets together. The line diagram here given will make all
comprehensible: _a_ and _b_ represent, we will say, two gussets.
[Illustration: Fig. 3.]
[Illustration: Fig. 4.]
[Illustration: Fig. 5.]
[Illustration: Fig. 6.]
The edge of _a_ is alone to be gummed or pasted to about half an inch
wide; the corresponding edge of _b_ is then to be bent down upon the
cemented edge of _a_, and dried at once with the laundress’s hot iron;
not laid naked upon the paper, but having a thickness of flannel
interposed. Proceeding thus all round, you will at last finish your
balloon all but the crown pieces and mouth stiffener. For a balloon of
the dimensions recommended, I would advise you to paste on a crown piece
of about a foot diameter. Don’t make it of tissue-paper, but of soft
whitey brown paper, and in the middle of it paste a loop of calico,
something similar to the loop of a saucepan lid. The utility of this
will be found out when you come to let off your balloon.
As a mouth stiffener I prefer a circle of thick iron or brass wire to
anything else. About three inches from the balloon-mouth had better be
strengthened by a layer of calico, which being gashed or scalloped (Fig.
5), pasted and turned over the wire hoop, makes all firm. As to
dimensions of mouth, I consider a circle of eighteen inches’ diameter
quite big enough, and boys will please remember that three times and
about one-seventh of a diameter makes the circumference of a circle.
Having made your balloon, the next thing to do, as it would seem, is to
let it off.
Not exactly. You expect your balloon to lift a weight--fireworks
probably--which I will describe how to manage by-and-by. It will be
necessary, then, to learn by experiment how much weight it will carry;
otherwise, when the time of letting off arrives, you may fail
altogether, and be much disappointed.
The weight-carrying experiment must be performed in a room, to avoid
air-currents, and, as a preliminary, some sort of car must be attached
to the balloon for the purpose of holding the weights. The car may be of
various shapes, but as good a shape as any is this:--
[Illustration: Fig. 7.--CAR.]
It may be made out of cardboard, or, if you like, of wire. You need not
be particular about any sort of elegance. Fire-balloons are designed to
be sent on their travels at night, when any sort of ornament or elegance
lavished on the car would not be seen.
The usual flame for heating the air in a paper balloon is spirits of
wine. Methylated spirit does very well, and is much cheaper than pure
spirits of wine. I do not recommend this source of flame when the
balloon comes to be actually let off, as you will by-and-by see; but for
our present experiment I do recommend it. You must make a note of the
weight of spirits of wine presently to be used, and, if you do not
happen to have scales and weights handy, you may take it for granted
that a sherry wineglass full weighs about an ounce.
Ascertain, too, how much the car weighs. Probably, when the time comes
for letting off the balloon, you will not require the car, so you should
have ascertained its weight, that you may supply a weight equivalent, in
the shape of fireworks, for example.
[Illustration: Fig. 8.--CHAMBER TRIAL OF THE BALLOON.]
Two boys will be wanted for performance of the chamber experiment; one
to stand upon a chair or stool, so as to be able to lift the crown of
the balloon, the other to manage the flame department--to do what
engineers would call the stoking (Fig. 8).
The spirit, you will remember, is not to be burned loosely, but absorbed
by something or other. Sponge is the absorptive medium usually employed,
though some operators use cotton wick. On the present occasion of
chamber experiment I recommend you to employ sponge. The very coarsest
sponge will do as well as the finest and most expensive. Such a piece as
most oilmen sell under the name of ‘slate sponge,’ and generally for a
penny, will do quite well for the chamber experiment.
Let me now give you boys a piece of advice, and do not consider it of
small value. It is of enormous value, being the value of the difference
between success and failure. I do not only mean success or failure in
the experiment you are about to perform, but any experiment. The advice
is this:--Attend well to detail. Before you set about performing any
experiment take care that you have provided, and arranged well to hand,
everything necessary to the performance of the experiment. Do not say to
yourself, this, that, or the other is a trifle, and as a trifle neglect
it. In all experimental work, having once determined in your own mind
the various things and arrangements necessary, nothing amongst them can
be a trifle. Well, to the point. Provide yourself, by loan if your
pocket-money does not run so far, with some handfuls of farthings. This
little coin will be about the most convenient thing you can use for
seeing how much weight your balloon will take up. You are ready. Well,
No. 1, as I will call you, lay hold of the crown of the balloon, then
jump on a stool or chair, lifting the entire balloon up in such way that
the mouth of it may be conveniently disposed for what has to be done by
No. 2.
Previous arrangements having been made, it will be well, to avoid
accidents, for No. 2 to partially inflate the balloon by a fan. Were
this precaution not taken, it might happen that flame driven against the
tissue-paper might set it on fire. Those who have not tried the
experiment little know what power there is in a fan to set up and keep
going a current of air. Sometimes people revive a sluggish fire by
hanging a sheet of paper in front of it, but a far better application of
the paper is to squeeze it into a rough fan and begin fanning. My
attention was first called to this fire-fanning process when, travelling
in Andalusia, I wanted some chocolate in a hurry, at a lonely wayside
_posada_. A damsel, fan in hand, lighted a bit of charcoal with a paper
spill, laid it on the stove grating, put other charcoal round it, the
chocolate-pot over all, and began fanning.
You are now ready to learn how much weight your balloon will carry. You
will have attached the car, of course. You will have laid your bit of
sponge on the tin pan already attached, and you will have remembered to
steady the sponge and keep it from falling out by passing a little iron
binding wire over the surface of it, and attaching the wire to the tin
pan. All this having been done, you are to pour the spirits of wine upon
the sponge and set fire to it. Presently the balloon, becoming charged
with hot air, will fill out and rise. When risen, be prepared with your
money--farthings. Throw in farthing upon farthing until your balloon not
only can carry no more, but comes down. Let it come down, and let the
spirit flame burn quite out. Any attempt at blowing it out would
probably set the balloon in a blaze.
You have gained now the information required; you have learned what
weight, when the serious time of letting off arrives, your balloon will
carry. Count the farthings and make a memorandum of their weight. There
is no particular mystery in the choice of farthings; they are cheap
enough, and they are small enough. Sovereigns and half-sovereigns will
do quite well, and if you are sufficiently ‘warm’ in pocket-money, you
may employ them instead of farthings, over which they present the
advantage of recording the actual weight. A sovereign newly minted
weighs one hundred and twenty-three grains and a small fraction; a
half-sovereign half that weight. Taking one sovereign with another, you
may assume one hundred and twenty-three grains to be the weight of each.
Here, by the way, I may mention that, having weighed hundreds of
sovereigns for the sake of a lazy experiment, I never yet met with two
of exactly the same weight.
[Illustration: Fig. 9.--LETTING OFF THE BALLOON.]
A fire-balloon is a pretty device of itself, but it becomes much better
worth looking at when it is made to take up fireworks, so I will now
give some instructions about these fireworks. I cannot recommend you to
make the fireworks yourselves, but to buy them ready made and arrange
them in suitable devices. You will want a few feet of Bickford’s fuse,
and the same of quickmatch. Both may be obtained of Messrs. Brock, of
Cheapside and the Crystal Palace.
[Illustration: Fig. 10.--BICKFORD’S FUSE.]
[Illustration: Fig. 11.]
Bickford’s fuse is much used by miners for exploding their charges. For
this purpose it is invaluable, a given length burning a given time, so
that the miner knows exactly what his fuse must be in order to afford
him the time necessary for escaping to a safe distance before his charge
goes off. It is invaluable to you boy balloonists in another way. The
prettiest balloon firework effects are those which are not lighted at
the time when you let off your balloon, but which take fire apparently
of themselves after the balloon has gained a considerable elevation.
Bickford’s fuse enables you to accomplish this in a manner you will soon
understand.
Looked at casually, Bickford’s fuse might be taken for a piece of black
cord, something in size like this (Fig. 10). The outside is of woven
material made waterproof. The middle contains an inflammable wick,
burning regularly to time.
If you were to pass through a length of Bickford’s fuse transversely a
thread fixed at its upper end, and having a weight attached to the other
end, and if then you were to light the fuse at one end, you see what
would happen. The fire would creep along until, coming to the thread, it
would burn the latter, and the weight would fall. It is many years since
I had occasion to work with Bickford’s fuse, so I forget its rapidity of
burning. It does not signify; when you have got your fuse you can try an
experiment with any convenient length, timing the rapidity of burning by
a watch.
Quickmatch consists of a paper tube with a rapidly inflammable wick
running through it, the intention being that flame applied to one end of
the match shall flash to the other, and instantaneously. The actual
fireworks I recommend you to get are some blue-lights, some Roman
candles, a few Catherine wheels, crackers, and maroons. The Roman
candles you will only require to pick to pieces for the sake of the
stars they contain, so if you could get the stars you would not want the
candles. Mr. Brock, I think, would supply you with stars of various
colours. He uses small pill-boxes for holding the star material.
I have now to explain to you a few fireworks for your balloon.
[Illustration: Fig. 12.]
1. _Fixed piece of blue-lights._--Having selected a cork of suitable
size, bore its circumference with as many holes not going to the middle
as you design to have blue-lights. Each excavation made will receive the
blank end of a blue-light, just as a candlestick receives the end of a
candle, so that when finished, supposing you to have used four
blue-lights, you will have made something like this (Fig. 12).
[Illustration: Fig. 13.]
On observing the blue-lights which you have purchased, each will be
found to have attached to it at the burning end a screw of soft paper,
usually blue. This I hardly need tell any English boy is touch-paper,
made by saturating soft paper with solution of nitre and drying.
Firework cases are usually finished off with touch-paper, so that they
may ignite immediately. When you send up such an arrangement of
blue-lights as just described, the proposition will be to ignite them
all at once with a flash, and after the lapse of a period of time which
must be left to your own discretion. Quickmatch spread from end to end
of each blue-light, and there secured, either by thread or else a slip
of paper pasted loopwise over it, will accomplish the first, and a
suitable length of Bickford’s fuse the second. All this is obvious, but
a diagram is given (Fig. 13). Hardly necessary is it to tell you that we
want no car when using this device. A wire being passed through the
middle of the cork hooked at one end, for attachment to hooked cross
wires, and bent at the other end so that it shall not slip through the
cork, are also obvious matters.
You will observe that I have represented the quickmatch as actually
running through the Bickford transversely. This is the surest plan in
this and all similar cases, because the walls of the Bickford are so
thick that some time must elapse before they burn quite through.
Transverse perforation and stretching out of the Bickford can easily be
done, the walls of the fuse being very tough. Though my remarks have
been directed to blue-lights only, yet obviously the arrangement applies
to any other variety of tint.
[Illustration: Fig. 14.]
2. _Dropping firework devices._--Some of the prettiest balloon firework
effects are those which do not light until they have separated from the
balloon and fallen through a varying distance, according to your
arrangement. I shall not expect to find that you think it necessary to
inquire how all this may be managed after what I have written about
Bickford fuse and quickmatch. However, some few remarks about a certain
convenience of arrangement may not come amiss. Suppose, then, that you
have launched your balloon carrying several devices--we will assume it
to carry six. You want the first of these devices to part company with
the balloon, and shortly after ignite in falling, all to time. You want
the successive five to part company with the balloon also to time.
Obviously a length of Bickford fuse will accomplish all this, but there
are inconvenient as well as convenient ways of arranging all. A
convenient way is this (Fig. 14).
When I have told you this diagram represents a thing made of wire, and
you are so to use it that a fall shall take place at every corner, you
will see that all can be managed by Bickford fuse.
Amongst the fireworks that are effective when thus falling are small
blue-lights, squibs, crackers, maroons, stars, but more especially
catherine wheels. All explosive fireworks give a shock when
exploded--maroons a great shock. Never, then, use a balloon-attached
firework in such manner as that it shall explode whilst attached to the
balloon, the steadiness of which it would certainly affect--perhaps
cause a tongue of flame to come in contact with the paper and set it on
fire. A wirework arrangement such as our diagram represents is only
intended to carry six successive devices, and for the devices that have
been noted you will most likely find that about half-a-dozen will make
up the total weight your balloon can carry. But there are certain
lighter fireworks, of which considerably more than six may be carried;
for example, stars. If you take a star and enclose it in a tissue-paper
bag, together with a very little--say half a saltspoonful of mealed, or
powdered, gunpowder; then, if you tie the mouth of the bag round a short
length of quickmatch, you see what must happen when the flame of a
Bickford fuse sets the free end of the quickmatch alight. You will rig
up the stars with their bags on wire cross-work as already described,
but you will arrange that the successive ignitions follow a spiral
course, like that of a loosely-coiled watch spring.
I think I have told you as much as can be profitable about the making of
fire-balloons, so a few words now about parachutes. People who ascend in
the cars of large balloons sometimes vary the display by cutting
connection with the balloon itself when at a certain height, and coming
down by aid of a parachute. Parachutes used on these occasions are
somewhat elaborate things, bearing a general resemblance to an umbrella
deprived of its stick and ribs, having a cord attached to the spot where
the terminal of each rib, if present, would have been, these cords all
converging to join at their lower ends with a car.
[Illustration: Fig. 15.]
The parachute I shall describe for your fire-balloons is a more simple
affair, and is made as follows:--Provide yourself with two sheets of
soft whitey-brown paper, some twine, and some paste. Lay one sheet flat
on a table, and then extend diagonally from corner to corner two lengths
of twine which must project at least six inches beyond each corner. It
may be wanted to project even more, but in that case each cord terminal
may be easily lengthened to the desired extent by tying the necessary
additional length of twine to it. Now spread a film of thin paste evenly
by a brush over the sheet of paper and twine, and then close the second
sheet of paper in exact correspondence with the first, as represented in
the diagram.
Be particular, in sticking the two sheets of paper together, to avoid
formation of air bubbles. This can only be done by making the pasting
together successive and not instantaneous--that is to say, do not lay
the second sheet of paper flat down upon the first sheet all at once,
but having begun to effect the attachment at any one edge, follow on
deliberately to the opposite edge, patting the two sheets well together
with a soft pocket-handkerchief.
The way of using such a parachute hardly needs explanation. The
projecting lengths of twine having been brought together, are attached
to a car, and the whole suspended to your balloon, from which you intend
that it shall separate and begin to fall, on your balloon attaining the
desired elevation. This detachment can easily be effected by Bickford’s
fuse. Here, whilst I think of it, never attempt to ignite a Bickford
fuse with anything else than the flame of a port-fire or a blue-light.
The chief beauty of any firework device consists in working to exact
time. A Bickford fuse cannot readily be set on fire with a match-flame.
You may crack many lucifers over the job without succeeding; your
balloon, that ought to be off on its travels, all the time kept waiting.
[Illustration: Fig. 16.]
What will you put in the car? I shall leave this pretty much to your own
taste. Some sort of weight there must be to pull the parachute down. I
have heard of some boys who for ornament peopled the car with little
figures of comical men, cut out of cardboard. I don’t see myself the
sense of it. Fire-balloons are usually let off at night, when the little
caricatures would almost need a spyglass to see them even before the
balloon set out on its explorations. Balloons once off nobody could see
the little men at all. However, do as you like, boys; here are two
notions of such caricature men.
Attention! The point up to which you and I have been working is near. We
are going to let off the balloon. When we were making our chamber trial,
you will remember we used methylated spirit for fuel, absorbing it by a
sponge. You may use the same sort of fuel now if you please, but as for
myself I much prefer the good flare of cotton lamp-wick saturated with
tallow, and sprinkled with either benzoline or turpentine, so that it
may burst into flame without delay at the first touch of other flame.
Not only does tallow burn with a far brighter light than spirits of
wine, but the flame is more lasting. However, boys, I say again--do as
you like. So now farewell to fire-balloons. I will now proceed to tell
you how to make and fill so-called air-balloons, though gas-balloons
would be a name more fitting. They are not of themselves illuminative,
as fire-balloons are, but they will take up any fireworks you please,
according to their weight-carrying capabilities.
III.--ON GASES AND GAS-BALLOONS.
[Illustration]
Having got fire-balloons out of hand, I will now have some words with
you about air-balloons, usually so called, though ‘gas-balloons’ would
be a more appropriate designation. Before describing how to make an
air-balloon, suppose we gossip a little about the science of the thing.
Of gases there are many sorts, as you will become aware when a little
advanced in your chemistry. Atmospheric air is a mixture of two gases,
as probably you know--four measures of nitrogen to one of oxygen,
roughly speaking; though were we describing the composition of
atmospheric air in an exhaustive manner, we should have to chronicle the
presence of numerous other gases besides oxygen and nitrogen, and some
vapours; all, however, in quantities so extremely small that we need
take no account of them here. Some gases are lighter than atmospheric
air, some heavier, but it is evident that those only which are lighter
can be employed for ballooning. The very lightest of all gases is
hydrogen, which therefore is the very best gas for filling balloons. It
is seldom now employed, however, coal-gas being usually substituted, on
account of its being ready to hand, so to say, in every place where
coal-gas illumination is practised.