Two improvements have recently been made in this trick, which, though trifles in themselves, greatly heighten the effect. Upon a performance of the trick as already described, it is not uncommon to find some person, more acute than the average, guess that there is a ring in the handkerchief. The first of the improvements we have mentioned is designed to make the ring no longer a fixture, and yet to insure bringing it into the right position when necessary. This is effected by stitching the two handkerchiefs together, not only round the edge, as already explained, but also as shown by the dotted line in [Fig. 203]. This confines the ring to the triangular enclosure, a e d, within which, however, it is allowed to move freely, not being attached to the handkerchief in any way. If the handkerchief is held by the two corners a d (which should be distinguished by a mark of coloured silk or worsted, so as to be readily identified by the performer) the ring will take its proper place in the middle, as shown in the figure. If, on the other hand, the handkerchief be held by either the corners a b or c d, the ring will forthwith run into the angle a d e or d a e, as the case may be, and the handkerchief, if grasped a little below this particular corner, may be twisted or pulled through the hands ropewise, proving, with apparent conclusiveness, that there is no ring or shape concealed in it.
The second improvement is to have ready on the servante a small piece of sponge, recently dipped in water. This is picked up by the right hand of the performer as he places the genuine glass on the servante. When he has moved away from his table, at the moment of requesting his volunteer assistant to take the glass, he places the right hand for a moment under cover of the handkerchief, and squeezes the sponge, the water that immediately pours from it being, apparently, accidentally spilt, and so negativing any possible doubt on the part of the spectators that the glass is really in the handkerchief. With these two additions the trick is one of the most effective that can possibly be performed, whether in a drawing-room or on the public stage.
The Bowls of Water and Bowls of Fire produced from a Shawl.—After the explanation of the last trick, the reader will form a tolerably good guess at the means of performing this, which has puzzled thousands, and is still one of the most popular feats in the répertoire of the conjuror.
The performer comes forward with a shawl in his hand, which he spreads out and exhibits on both sides, to show (as is really the fact) that there is no preparation about it. The spectators being satisfied on this point, and the orchestra playing the “Ghost Melody” or other appropriate accompaniment, he swings the shawl about in time to the music, finally throwing it over his left shoulder and arm, the arm being held square before him. The arm now gradually sinks down, and the form of some solid object is seen defined beneath the shawl, which, being removed, reveals a glass bowl brimming with water, and with gold fish swimming about in it. This is repeated a second and a third time, the performer sometimes discarding the shawl, and borrowing a pocket-handkerchief among the audience for the production of the last bowl.
The bowls used are saucer-shaped, measuring six to eight inches in diameter, and one and a half to two inches in depth. Each is closed by an india-rubber cover, after the manner of the tumbler in the last trick. Thus secured, they are concealed about the person of the performer. The precise mode of concealment varies a little. Where three bowls are to be produced, one is generally carried beneath the coat-tails, in a sort of bag open at the sides, suspended from the waist, and the other two in pockets, opening perpendicularly, inside the breast of the coat or waistcoat, one on each side.
Sometimes, by way of variation, bowls of fire are produced. The bowls are in this case of thin brass. They have no covers, but the inflammable material (tow moistened with spirits of wine) is kept in position by wires crossing the bowl at about half its depth, and is ignited by a wax match, struck against the inside of the bowl under cover of the shawl and immediately dropped into the bowl, when the contents instantly burst into a blaze. Some bowls have a mechanical arrangement for igniting the tow, but we ourselves much prefer the simple bowls above described.
It was originally the practice to throw the shawl over a small round table, immediately removing it, and exhibiting the bowl upon the table. Modern performers discard the table, and produce the bowls in the midst of the audience.
The Bowl of Ink changed to clear Water, with Gold Fish Swimming in it.—The performer brings forward a goblet-shaped glass vase, six or eight inches in height, nearly full of ink. To prove that the ink is genuine, he dips a playing-card into it, and brings it up with the lower half stained a deep black. Next, taking a ladle, he ladles out a portion of the liquid, and pours it on a plate, which is handed round for inspection. He next borrows a handkerchief from one of the audience, and covering the vase with it, announces that, by the exercise of his magic power, he will transform the ink in the vase to water. On removing the handkerchief, this transformation is found to be accomplished, while a couple of gold fish, placidly swimming about in the bowl, sufficiently prove that the trick is not performed, as might be imagined, by means of some chemical reagent.
The explanation, though by no means obvious, is very simple. The liquid in the vase is plain water; but a bottomless black silk lining, fitting the vase, and kept in shape by a wire ring round its upper edge, gives it the appearance of ink to a spectator at a little distance. In removing the handkerchief, the performer clips with it the wire ring, bringing away the lining within the handkerchief, and revealing the clear water in the glass.
But the reader will naturally inquire, “How, then, are the blackened card and the genuine ink ladled out on the plate accounted for?”