conclude that the descriptions referred to pictorial art of some kind
or other. But such is by no means the case. The visitor, on being
admitted, finds, in place of the expected pictures, shelves or tables
on which are arranged sundry very commonplace objects, each bearing
a numbered ticket. On close examination he finds that the numbers
correspond with those in the catalogue, and that No. 1, “Horse Fair”
(_Fare_), is represented, after a realistic fashion, by a handful of
oats and a wisp of hay. No. 2, which he expected to find a spirited
marine sketch, is in reality only a tooth-brush lying beside a
jack-plane; while the supposed companion picture, “Caught in a Squall
off Yarmouth,” is represented by a red herring. No. 4, “The Last of
Poor Dog Tray,” is a sausage, and the exhibitor particularly begs that
no gentleman will on any account whistle while passing this picture.
No. 5, “He will return, I know he will,” presumably the agonized cry
of a forsaken maiden, is in reality a poor-rate collector’s paper,
marked “Fifth application.” No. 6 is represented by a numbered ticket
only, with no object attached to it. The exhibitor explains that “The
Midnight Hour” has not yet arrived, but that any gentleman who likes to
wait till it does (which will be at twelve o’clock punctually) is very
welcome to do so. The “Heroes of Waterloo,” Wellington and Blucher,
No. 7, are represented by a couple of the boots known by those
distinguished names. 8, “True to the Core,” is a rosy-cheeked apple.
9 is a coil of watch-spring. 10, “Tears, Idle Tears,” on which the
exhibitor feelingly expatiates as a noble example of the imaginative
in art, is—an onion! The space dedicated to No. 11 is occupied by the
numbered ticket only, the exhibitor explaining that “The Midnight
Assassin” (who is stated to be a large and lively _flea_) has strolled
away, and is wandering at large about the room; and he adds an entreaty
that any lady or gentleman who may meet with him will immediately
return him to his place in the collection. “The Dripping Well” (No. 12)
proves to be of the description more usually known as a dripping-_pan_.
“Family Jars,” by Potter, is found to consist of a pickle-jar and
jam-pot. No. 14, “Never Too Late to Mend,” is a boot patched all
over; while 15, “Past Healing,” is its fellow, too far gone to admit
of like renovation. “The First Sorrow” is a broken doll. “Saved” is
a money-box, containing twopence-halfpenny, mostly in farthings. The
next is a vacant space, over which the exhibitor passes with the casual
remark, “No. 18, as you will observe, is unfortunately _Lost_.” No. 19,
“First Love,” is a piece of taffy. 20, “The Death of the Camel,” is
a straw, labeled “The last,” and the exhibitor explains that this is
_the_ identical straw that broke the camel’s back. “His First Cigar”
is a mild Havana of brown paper. “A Good Fellow Gone” is suggested,
rather than represented, by an odd glove. Nos. 23, 24 are represented
by two small mirrors, which are handed to a lady and a gentleman
respectively, with a few appropriate remarks as to the extreme success
of the likenesses, coupled with critical remarks as to the “expression”
in each case. “Our Churchwardens” are a pair of long clay pipes. No.
26, “Portraits of the Reigning Sovereigns of Europe,” are represented
by a few cancelled foreign postage stamps. “The Monsters of the Deep,”
in No. 27, are represented by a periwinkle and a shrimp. “The Last
Man” (No. 28) is at present missing from his place in the collection,
but the exhibitor explains that he will be seen going out just as the
exhibition closes. The “Contribution from the Sheepshanks Collection”
(29) is a couple of mutton-bones; while “The Light of Other Days” (30)
is an old-fashioned lantern and tinder-box. “The Meet (_meat_) of Her
Majesty’s Hounds” is a piece of dog-biscuit. No. 32 is a leaky can of
water. “The Maiden’s Joy” (obviously) is a wedding-ring. “The Fall” is
a lady’s veil. No. 35, “Motherhood,” is the gem of the collection, and
should be kept carefully hidden (say by a handkerchief thrown over it)
until the company have had time to read and appreciate Mr. Calverley’s
graceful lines, when the veil is removed, and behold—an egg! No. 36,
“A Friendly Party on Hampstead Heath,” is represented by three toy
donkeys. “Borrowed Plumes” are represented by a lady’s false front.
“Out for the Night” is an extinguished candle. “Something to Adore”
is a rusty bolt. “The Wearied Grinder” is a back tooth of somebody’s,
very much the worse for wear. “Repentance” (No. 41) is represented by
a smashed hat and a bottle of soda-water. “Maggie’s Secret” is a gray
hair, labeled “Her first.” No. 43, “Somebody’s Luggage,” consists of
a broken comb and a paper collar. “Eusebius” is a pair of spectacles.
“Happy Childhood” is indicated by a lithe and “swishy” cane. When
the company arrive at No. 46, the corresponding object is apparently
missing. The exhibitor refers to his notes, and says, “46—46? I see
they have written down against No. 46, ‘The Exhibitor,’ but I don’t
see quite what they mean. Suppose we pass on to the curiosities,
ladies and gentlemen.” No. 47 is merely some smashed crockery, and
No. 48 a pewter quart-pot. No. 49 is again a vacant space, and the
exhibitor explains that ‘The Last of the Mohicans’ has just gone home
to his tea, and has taken his skull with him. No. 50 is, as its name
implies, a group of marbles (of the school-boy character). No. 51 is
a paper bag of peas, and, being too full, has “bust.” “The Puzzle”
(No. 52) is an old Guide-book. “The Instantaneous Kid Reviver” is a
baby’s feeding-bottle; and “The Earnest Entreaty” is the request of
the exhibitor that the visitors will recommend the collection to their
friends.
If the “showman” be possessed of a good fund of talk and a dash of dry
humor, the fun of the collection may be still further enhanced by his
explanations and criticism of the various objects. Poor Artemus Ward’s
celebrated lecture is an excellent model to copy; indeed, many of his
“bits” may be stolen bodily with very satisfactory result. Even without
the aid of a showman, the comparison of the poetical descriptions and
the sober reality will produce a good deal of fun; but, in this case,
the various _blanks_ or vacant spaces to be filled up by explanation
must necessarily be omitted—a good many telling items being thereby
sacrificed.
CONJURING WITH COIN.
Coin-conjuring, like card-conjuring, has its own peculiar sleights,
which it will be necessary for the student to practice diligently
before he can hope to attain much success in this direction.
The first faculty which the novice must seek to acquire is that of
“palming”—_i. e._, secretly holding an object in the open hand by the
contraction of the palm. To acquire this power, take a half-crown,
florin, or quarter (these being the most convenient in point of size),
and lay it on the palm of the open hand. Now close the hand very
slightly, and if you have placed the coin on the right spot (which a
few trials will quickly indicate), the contraction of the palm around
its edges will hold it securely, and you may move the hand and arm in
any direction without fear of dropping it. You should next accustom
yourself to use the hand and fingers easily and naturally, while still
holding the coin as described. A very little practice will enable you
to do this. You must bear in mind while practicing always to keep the
inside of the palm either downward or toward your own body, as any
reverse movement would expose the concealed coin.
PASSES.
Being thoroughly master of this first lesson, you may proceed to
the study of the various “passes.” All of the passes have the same
object—viz., the apparent transfer of an article from one hand to the
other, though such article really remains in the hand which it has
apparently just quitted. As the same movement frequently repeated would
cause suspicion, and possibly detection, it is desirable to acquire
different ways of effecting this object. It should be here mentioned
that the term “palming,” which we have so far used as meaning simply
the act of _holding_ any article, is also employed to signify the act
of _placing_ any article in the palm by one or other of the various
passes. The context will readily indicate in which of the two senses
the term is used in any given passage.
PASS 1.—Take the coin in the right hand, between the second and third
fingers and the thumb, letting it, however, really be supported by the
fingers, and only steadied by the thumb. Now move the thumb out of the
way, and close the second and third fingers, with the coin balanced
on them, into the palm. If the coin was rightly placed in the first
instance, you will find that this motion puts it precisely in the
position above described as the proper one for palming; and on again
extending the fingers, the coin is left palmed. When you can do this
easily with the hand at rest, you must practice doing the same thing
with the right hand in motion toward the left, which should meet it
open, but should close the moment that the fingers of the right hand
touch its palm, as though upon the coin which you have by this movement
feigned to transfer to it. The left hand must thenceforward remain
closed, as if holding the coin, and the right hand hang loosely open,
as if empty.
PALMING.
In the motion of “palming” the two hands must work in harmony, as in
the genuine act of passing an article from the one hand to the other.
The left hand must therefore rise to meet the right, but should not
begin its journey until the right hand begins its own. Nothing looks
more awkward or unnatural than to see the left hand extended, with
open palm, before the right hand has begun to move toward it.
PASS 2.—This is somewhat easier than Pass 1, and may sometimes be
usefully substituted for it. Take the coin edgeways between the first
and third fingers of the right hand, the sides of those fingers
pressing against the edges of the coin, and the middle finger steadying
it from behind. Carry the right hand toward the left, and at the same
time move the thumb swiftly over the face of the coin till the top
joint passes its outer edge, then bend the thumb, and the coin will be
found to be securely nipped between that joint and the junction of the
thumb with the hand. As in the last case, the left hand must be closed
the moment the right hand touches it; and the right must thenceforth
be held with the thumb bent slightly inward toward the palm, so that
the coin may be shielded from the view of the spectators. This is an
especially quick mode of palming, and if properly executed the illusion
is perfect.
PASS 3.—Hold the left hand palm upward, with the coin in position.
Move the right hand toward the left, and let the fingers simulate the
motion of picking up the coin, and instantly close. At the same moment
slightly close the left hand, so as to contract the palm around the
coin, and drop the hand, letting it hang loosely by your side.
THE VANISHING TRICK.
A word of caution may here be desirable. These “passes” must by no
means be regarded as being themselves _tricks_, but only as processes
to be used in the performance of tricks. If the operator, after
pretending to pass the coin, say, from the right hand to the left, and
showing that it had vanished from the left hand, were to allow his
audience to discover that it had all along remained in his right hand,
they might admire the dexterity with which he had in this instance
deceived their eyes, but they would henceforth guess half the secret of
any trick in which palming was employed. If it is necessary immediately
to reproduce the coin, the performer should do so by appearing to find
it in the hair or whiskers of a spectator, or in any other place that
may suit his purpose, remembering always to indicate beforehand that
it has passed to such a place, thereby diverting the general attention
from himself. As the coin is already in his hand, he has only to drop
it to his finger-tips as the hand reaches the place he has named, in
order, to all appearance, to take it from thence.
The various passes may be employed not only to cause the disappearance
of an article, as above described, but to secretly exchange it for a
substitute of similar appearance. These exchanges are of continual use
in conjuring; indeed, we may almost say that three parts of its marvels
depend on them. Such an exchange having been made, the substitute
is left in sight of the audience, while the performer, having thus
secretly gained possession of the original, disposes of it as may be
necessary for the purpose of the trick.
With this brief practical introduction, we proceed to describe a few of
the simpler tricks with coins.
HEADS OR TAILS.
You borrow a quarter, and spin it, or invite some other person to spin
it, on the table (which must be without a cloth). You allow it to spin
itself out, and immediately announce, without seeing it, whether it has
fallen head or tail upward. This may be repeated any number of times
with the same result, though you may be blindfolded, and placed at the
further end of the apartment.
The secret lies in the use of a quarter of your own, on one face
of which (say on the “tail” side) you have cut at the extreme edge
a little notch, thereby causing a minute point or tooth of metal to
project from that side of the coin. If a coin so prepared be spun on
the table, and should chance to go down with the notched side upward,
it will run down like an ordinary coin, with a long continuous “whirr,”
the sound growing fainter and fainter till it finally ceases; but if
it should run down with the notched side downward, the friction of
the point against the table will reduce this final whirr to half its
ordinary length, and the coin will finally go down with a sort of
“flop.” The difference of sound is not sufficiently marked to attract
the notice of the spectators, but is perfectly distinguishable by an
attentive ear. If, therefore, you have notched the coin on the “tail”
side, and it runs down slowly, you will cry “tail;” if quickly, “head.”
If you professedly use a borrowed coin, you must adroitly change it for
your own, under pretence of showing how to spin it, or the like.
ODD OR EVEN; OR, THE MYSTERIOUS ADDITION.
You take a handful of coins, and invite another person to do the same,
and to ascertain privately whether the number he has taken is odd or
even. You request the company to observe that you have not asked him
a single question, but that you are able, notwithstanding, to divine
and counteract his most secret intentions, and that you will, in proof
of this, yourself take a number of coins and add them to those he has
taken, when, if his number was odd, the total shall be even; if his
number was even, the total shall be odd. Requesting him to drop the
coins he holds into a hat, held on high by one of the company, you drop
in a certain number on your own account. He is now asked whether his
number was odd or even; and, the coins being counted, the total number
proves to be, as you stated, exactly the reverse. The experiment is
tried again and again, with different numbers, but the result is the
same.
The secret lies in the simple arithmetical fact, that if you add an odd
number to an even number, the result will be _odd_; if you add an odd
number to an odd number, the result will be _even_. You have only to
take care, therefore, that the number you yourself add, whether large
or small, shall always be odd.
TO RUB ONE DIME INTO THREE.
This is a simple little parlor trick, but will sometimes occasion a
good deal of wonderment. Procure three dimes of the same issue, and
privately stick two of them with wax to the under side of a table,
at about half an inch from the edge, and eight or ten inches apart.
Announce to the company that you are about to teach them how to make
money. Turn up your sleeves, and take the third dime in your right
hand, drawing particular attention to its date and general appearance,
and indirectly to the fact that you have no other coin concealed
in your hands. Turning back the table-cover, rub the dime with the
ball of the thumb backward and forward on the edge of the table. In
this position your fingers will naturally be below the edge. After
rubbing for a few seconds, say, “It is nearly done, for the dime is
getting hot;” and, after rubbing a moment or two longer with increased
rapidity, draw the hand away sharply, bringing away with it one of the
concealed dimes, which you exhibit as produced by the friction. Leaving
the waxed dime on the table, and again showing that you have but one
coin in your hands, repeat the operation with the remaining dime.
THE CAPITAL Q.
Take a number of coins, say from five-and-twenty to thirty, and arrange
them in the form of the letter Q, making the “tail” consist of some
six or seven coins. Then invite some person (during your absence from
the room) to count any number he pleases, beginning at the tip of the
tail and traveling up the _left_ side of the circle, touching each
coin as he does so; then to work back again from the coin at which he
stops (calling such coin _one_), this time, however, not returning down
the tail, but continuing round the opposite side of the circle to the
same number. During this process you retire, but on your return you
indicate with unerring accuracy the coin at which he left off. In order
to show (apparently) that the trick does not depend on any arithmetical
principle, you reconstruct the Q, or invite the spectators to do so,
with a different number of coins, but the result is the same.
The solution lies in the fact that the coin at which the spectator ends
will necessarily be _at the same distance from the root of the tail as
there are coins in the tail itself_. Thus, suppose that there are five
coins in the tail, and that the spectator makes up his mind to count
eleven. He commences from the tip of the tail, and counts up the left
side of the circle. This brings him to the sixth coin beyond the tail.
He then retrogrades, and calling that coin “one,” counts eleven in the
opposite direction. This necessarily brings him to the fifth coin from
the tail on the opposite side, being the length of the tail over and
above those coins which are common to both processes. If he chooses
ten, twelve, or any other number, he will still, in counting back
again, end at the same point.
The rearrangement of the coins, which is apparently only intended to
make the trick more surprising, is really designed, by altering the
length of the tail, to shift the position of the terminating coin. If
the trick were performed two or three times in succession with the
same number of coins in the tail, the spectators could hardly fail to
observe that the _same_ final coin was always indicated, and thereby to
gain a clue to the secret. The number of coins in the circle itself is
quite immaterial.
THE WANDERING DIME.
Have ready two dimes, each slightly waxed on one side. Borrow a dime,
and secretly exchange it for one of the waxed ones, laying the latter,
waxed side uppermost, on the table. Let any one draw two squares of
ordinary card-board. Take them in the left hand, and, transferring them
to the right, press the second waxed dime against the centre of the
undermost, to which it will adhere. Lay this card (which we will call
_a_) on the table, about eighteen inches from the dime which is already
there, and cover such dime with the other card, _b_. Lift both cards a
little way from the table, to show that the dime is under card _a_, and
that there is (apparently) nothing under card _b_. As you replace them,
press lightly on the centre of card _a_. You may now make the dime
appear under whichever card you like, remembering that, if you wish the
dime _not_ to adhere, you must bend the card slightly upward in taking
it from the table; if otherwise, take it up without bending.
THE MAGIC COVER AND VANISHING PENNIES.
For the purpose of this trick you require half a dozen cents, of which
the centre portion has been cut out, leaving each a mere rim of metal.
Upon these is placed a complete cent, and the whole are connected
together by a rivet, running through the whole thickness of the pile.
When placed upon the table, with the complete coin upward, they have
all the appearance of a pile of ordinary pennies, the slight lateral
play allowed by the rivet aiding the illusion. A little leather cap
(shaped something like a fez, with a little button on the top, and
of such a size as to fit loosely over the pile of cents), with an
ordinary die, such as backgammon is played with, complete the necessary
apparatus.
You begin by drawing attention to your magic cap and die, and in order
to exhibit their mystic powers, you request the loan of half a dozen
cents (the number must, of course, correspond with that of your own
pile). While they are being collected, you take the opportunity to slip
the little cap over your prepared pile, which should be placed ready
to hand behind some small object on the table, so as to be unseen by
the spectators. Pressing the side of the cap, you lift the pile with
it, and place the whole together in full view, in close proximity to
the die. The required cents having been now collected, you beg all to
observe that you place the leather cap (which the spectators suppose
to be empty) fairly over the die. Taking the genuine coins in either
hand, you pretend, by one or other of the “passes,” to transfer them
to the other. Holding the hand which is now supposed to contain the
coins immediately above the cap, you announce that they will at your
command pass under the cap, from which the die will disappear to make
room for them. Saying, “One, two, three! Pass!” you open your hand, and
show that the coins have vanished; and then, lifting up the cap by the
button, you show the hollow pile, covering the die and appearing to
be the genuine coins. Once more covering the pile with the cap, you
announce that you will again extract the coins, and replace the die;
and to make the trick still more extraordinary, you will this time
pass the coins right through the table. Placing the hand which holds
the genuine coins beneath the table, and once more saying, “One, two,
three! Pass!” you chink the coins, and, bringing them up, place them on
the table. Again picking up the cap, but this time pressing its sides,
you lift up the hollow pile with it, and disclose the die. Quickly
transferring the cap, without the pile, to the other hand, you place it
on the table, to bear the brunt of examination, while you get rid of
the prepared coins.
THE PEPPER-BOX, FOR VANISHING MONEY.
This is a small tin box, of the pepper-box or flour-dredger shape,
standing three to four inches high. The “box” portion (as distinguished
from the lid) is made double, consisting of two tin tubes sliding the
one within the other, the bottom being soldered to the inner one only.
By pulling the bottom downward, therefore, you draw down with it the
inner tube, telescope fashion. By so doing you bring into view a slit
or opening at one side of the inner tube, level with the bottom, and of
such a size as to let a half-dollar pass through it easily. The lid is
also specially prepared. It has an inner or false top, and between the
true and false top a loose bit of tin is introduced, which rattles when
the box is shaken, unless you at the same time press a little point of
wire projecting from one of the holes at the top, and so render it,
for the time being, silent. The box is first exhibited with the inner
tube pushed up into its place, and the opening thereby concealed. A
marked coin is borrowed, but either before or after the coin is placed
therein, as may best suit his purpose, the performer secretly draws out
the inner tube a quarter of an inch or so, thus allowing the coin to
slip through into his hand. As he places the box on the table, a very
slight pressure suffices to force the tube up again into its original
position, and close the opening. Having made the necessary disposition
of the coin, the performer takes up the box and shakes it, to show
(apparently) that the coin is still there, pressing on the little point
above mentioned when he desires it to appear that it has departed, and
immediately opening the box to show that it is empty. The pepper-box
will not bear minute inspection, and is in this particular inferior to
the rattle box.
A NEST OF BOXES.
This consists of half a dozen circular wooden boxes, one within the
other, the outer box having much the appearance, but being nearly
double the size, of an ordinary tooth-powder box, and the smallest
being just large enough to contain a quarter. The series is so
accurately made that, by arranging the boxes in due order, one within
the other, and the lids in like manner, you may, by simply putting on
all the lids together, close all the boxes at once, though they can
only be opened one by one.
These are placed, the boxes together and the lids together, anywhere
so as to be just out of sight of the audience. If on your table, they
may be hidden by any more bulky article. Having secretly obtained
possession, by either of the means before described, of a coin which is
ostensibly deposited in some other piece of apparatus, you seize your
opportunity to drop it into the innermost box, and to put on the united
lids. You then bring forward the nest of boxes (which the spectators
naturally take to be one box only), and announce that the twenty-five
cent piece will at your command pass from the place in which it has
been deposited into the box which you hold in your hand, and which you
forthwith deliver to one of the audience for safe keeping. Touching
both articles with the mystic wand, you invite inspection of the first
to show that the money has departed, and then of the box, wherein it
is to be found. The holder opens the box, and finds another, and then
another, and in the innermost of all, the marked coin. Seeing how
long the several boxes have taken to open, the spectators naturally
infer that they must take as long to close, and (apart from the other
mysteries of the trick) are utterly at a loss to imagine how, with the
mere moment of time at your command, you could have managed to insert
the coin, and close so many boxes. If you desire to use the nest for a
coin larger than a quarter, you can make it available for that purpose
by removing beforehand the smallest box.
THE BALL OF BERLIN WOOL.