THE M.P. WHO DOES MAGIC.

MR. Frederick Montague, who is the present Under Secretary for Air, is a very capable conjurer. Many years ago, he was giving a performance before some working men at Mildmay Park, and it had been arranged that he should be on the stage for a quarter of an hour.

Montague, being a young man who had his way to make, was anxious to make a good impression, and accordingly took a good deal of care in the preparation of his tricks. Amongst other things, he intended to show a clock which stopped at any number asked by the audience, a spirit hand which rapped on a glass panel, and a mystic ball which floated in the air. All these effects were controlled by thin pieces of cotton which were placed across the stage.

The conjurer's two tables had been placed in the wings whilst a double turn--a musical and acrobatic act--occupied the stage. As a sort of grand finale, one of the pair made a great flying leap into the wings. This roused great applause, and incidentally knocked over poor Montague's two tables.

Telling an assistant to carry them on to the stage, he collected his apparatus from the floor and hurried on amidst the plaudits of the audience. Unfortunately he happened to step into the three cottons which controlled his clock, spirit hand, and ball. The cottons immediately snapped. To the conjurer's horror, the hand of the clock started to whizz round at a terrifying pace, the spirit hand tapped out continually on the glass panel, and the ball ascended high into the air above the audience.

Montague swallowed hard, and decided to do his best with the rest of his illusions. But the stage hand who had carried on his tables had unfortunately placed them wrong side to the audience. Consequently, all the conjurer's secret traps and effects were in full view.

He did not notice this, and proceeded with his programme as if nothing untoward had happened. But when he came to the climax of his trick, he was horrified to find that the table had been reversed. To make matters worse, the audience had observed his plight, and laughed unmercifully.

Little more need be said. Montague's turn lasted exactly two minutes. When he came off, the manager approached him with outstretched hand.

"Mr. Montague," he said, "your show was great. It's brought the house down. But why couldn't you make it last longer?"