“You know it is but a joke,” I repeated. “Return me the gold, and I will astonish you by transforming it into silver once more.”
“By St. Patrick, you had better not do that.”
“Yes, you must give me back the gold.”
“I would not part with it if Priest McDermott bid me.”
Finding my efforts to procure the money a failure, I resorted to artifice by exciting his fears of my power to do good or evil. I assured him that unless he returned the piece of gold, he would be a miserable man all his life; for it was Satan’s coin, who was always in search of his own, and would take him away with the gold.
“Och, shure, yer honour, the Holy Father will save Mike, and if ye want any more silver quarters to change into goold, come to Michael MacCarty. He is the man for you.” And with these consoling words he walked rapidly away, leaving me minus my half-eagle, while the storekeeper laughed immoderately at the magician being outwitted by a son of the Emerald Isle.
All Louisville became cognizant of “the joke,” as they called it, and hugely enjoyed it at my expense; but I could not see it.
THE NEW TRICK OF MELTING MONEY.
In our former works have been given revelations by means of which the disappearance of coins can be accomplished. The present act of prestidigitation is quite new, and never before discovered by magicians to their audiences.
Performance.—A drinking-glass having been passed around amongst the audience, that the absence of mechanism may be generally manifest, Mr. Hanky Panky borrows a half-crown and a handkerchief, and pours some pure water (which may be tasted) into the glass, held by one of the company. Though this essence of the New River has no corrosive properties perceptible to the tongue, Mr. Panky confidently asseverates that it is bewitched into the power of annihilating silver.