The vicar exposed the counters, and admitted the correctness of the conjuror’s decision.[(55)]
“Ladies and gentlemen,” exclaimed the man of mystery, “I now humbly crave your silent attention, while I exhibit one of the most wonderful examples of my art. Here is a ring,--there a shilling,--and there a glove. I shall presently request each of the three gentlemen before me, to take one of those articles, so secretly as to prevent the possibility of my discovering the choice he may have made. I have here, you perceive, twenty-four counters; one of which I shall give to you, Mr. Seymour; two to you, reverend sir; and three to you, my young philosopher; the remaining eighteen shall remain on the table. Now, gentlemen, I shall retire, and during my absence, you will be so good as to distribute the three articles in any way you may think proper.”
The professor, accordingly, walked off the stage; when Mr. Seymour took the ring; the vicar the shilling; and Tom Seymour the glove. The conjuror, on his return, said that he had one more favour to request, that the person who had the ring should take from the eighteen counters on the table as many as he already possessed; the one with the shilling twice as many; and the person with the glove, four times as many as he before possessed. The conjuror again retired, in order that the distribution might be made without his observing it. On returning, the conjuror, having first cast his eye upon the counters that remained on the table, informed the company that Mr. Seymour had taken the ring, Mr. Twaddleton the shilling, and the young gentleman the glove. The moment the parties assented to this decision, the whole company expressed their satisfaction and astonishment by thunders of applause.
“That is really very ingenious,” observed the vicar.
“How could he perform it?” said Tom: “it is evident that his only guide was the number of counters left on the board.”
“I understand the process by which it was accomplished, and will endeavour, at some future time, to explain it,” replied Mr. Seymour.[(56)]
A number of similar tricks followed, all of which depended upon some algebraical calculation; and the performance was concluded to the entire satisfaction of all present.
The next exhibition was of a very different character: it consisted in a variety of optical representations and illusions. The camera obscura presented a moving picture of the surrounding scene. The phantasmagoria exhibited a variety of ghastly objects, which alternately receding from, and approaching the audience, called forth shrieks of terror and amazement. Amongst the most appalling of these figures, was the headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow, so inimitably described in the Sketch Book: it will be remembered that the body of this trooper having been buried in the church-yard, its ghost was believed to ride forth every night in quest of its head, and that the rushing speed with which he passed along the hollow, like a midnight blast, was owing to his being in a hurry to get back to the church-yard before day-break. This rapid movement was admirably represented in the phantasmagoria: at first the figure appeared extremely diminutive, and at a great distance; but almost immediately its size became gigantic, and it seemed as if within a few feet of the audience, and then suddenly vanished. After an instant of utter darkness, the figure was again visible at a great distance: the schoolmaster, Crane, was also seen belabouring the starveling ribs of his steed, old Gunpowder, and quickening his pace towards the very spot where the spectre was stationed. The whole audience were breathless with horror. Crane arrived at the bridge, over which the headless figure opposed his passage. “Mercy upon us!” cried a faint voice from one of the back seats, “the ghost has found his head, and is carrying it before him on the pommel of his saddle.”--“Hush, hush!” cried another voice; Crane’s horse had taken fright; away he dashed through thick and thin; stones flying and sparks flashing at every bound. Crane’s flimsy garments fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long lank body away over his horse’s head, in the eagerness of his flight. The goblin pressed hard upon him; he was not more than a yard behind him, when he was seen to take up his head, and with gigantic force to hurl it at the pedagogue; it encountered his cranium with a tremendous crash; he was tumbled headlong in the dust; the goblin whisked past like a whirlwind, and the company were once again in total darkness.
“Upon my word,” exclaimed Mr. Seymour, “this is one of the most complete illusions I ever witnessed.”
“It is most ingeniously managed,” said the vicar.