Any one not in the secret perusing the above catalogue would naturally 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.