MY IMPROMPTU ACT.

WHEN I was a young man, and had still my way to make in the world, I was eager to snap up any offer that was made to me. One of my first professional engagements was at a small mining town called Morristown, in South Wales.

In those days--I was twenty-one at the time--I was always anxious to make a big impression, and adopted the then unusual custom of taking my scenery about with me. Arranging that this should be delivered by goods train at the Morristown station, I went on ahead to fix up the final arrangements for my show at the local theatre.

To my surprise, there was nobody to greet me when I arrived. The theatre was like a house of death. I was told afterwards that the whole of the theatre staff, including the orchestra and stage hands, worked in the mines during the day, only starting their professional duties in the evening.

After I had been waiting well over an hour, an aged man put in an appearance. I introduced myself, told him that my scenery was being sent on, and finally asked him if he knew of anyone who let out apartments.

"Yes," he replied, after some deliberation. "My missus does." He gave me the address, and I set out in great haste, for I was anxious to return to the station to inquire after my props. Arrived at the house, which was only a few minutes from the station, I knocked sharply on the door. A large female of gaunt and forbidding appearance answered my summons.

"Ur?" she asked.

"Good morning," I said in my pleasantest manner. "Your husband tells me that you let out rooms. Could you tell me your lowest terms for a week's lodging?"

"Um. Two guineas a week."

"That seems rather dear," I said. "I happen to be a theatrical artist--in fact, I'm appearing at your theatre this week. What are your very lowest terms for theatrical artists?"

"Dirty dogs!" was the startling reply, and the door was slammed violently in my face!

At last, however, I managed to fix up a comfortable room. But my satisfaction was short lived. When I went to the railway station, I was horrified to learn that my scenery had been sent on to another town by mistake. Things looked somewhat serious, and I sought out the manager of the theatre, and explained the whole situation. He received me no more kindly than the landlady.

"Do you know what you are?" he said. "You're a fraud, that's what you are. You never had no scenery; you never had nothing. You've come here on false pretences. I've a good mind to call in the police."

"Rubbish," I returned heatedly. "Go down to the station, yourself and make inquiries."

Taking me at my word, the manager walked down to the station, where my story was confirmed.

"What are we going to do about it?" he asked. "The whole show's ruined, because you were top of the bill."

"You can put me on last," I suggested.

The scenery can't reach here before tomorrow, so I can't do any tricks. But I can do a hypnotism act that ought to satisfy the audience."

"That's no good. They want to see you do magic, and they won't have anything else."

"There's nothing else to be done," I argued. "It's either hypnotism or nothing at all."

"All right, all right," agreed the manager gloomily. "But I warn you--they'll give you a rough time."

I made the most of the short time left at my disposal. My plan of campaign was simple. I visited every public house in the town, and picked out half a dozen men whose appearance seemed to indicated a fondness for drink.

I took the men round to the back of the theatre, and explained what I wanted them to do. They were to be "horses," a term that is used in the profession for a hypnotist's secret confederates. I told them that they would each receive a shilling and as much beer as it was possible to drink if they would follow my instructions.

When I asked for assistants from the audience, my "horses" were to come on to the stage. Each man was then allotted a different task. One had to chew candles, another was to drink paraffin oil, whilst another was to have needles forced through his cheeks--this last is easily done by pressing the flesh and so making it numb--and so on.

I realised that I was taking an enormous risk, but it was the only way out of my difficulty. The men agreed to help me, and we held an impromptu rehearsal there and then. Everything worked very well, and after binding them to secrecy, I asked them to be in the theatre by ten o'clock the same evening.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I said, smiling pleasantly. "Owing to unforeseen circumstances, I regret I shall be unable to go through the advertised performance this evening. However, with your permission, I propose to give you an exhibition of my hypnotic powers." I paused to see how this announcement would be received. There were no comments, so I continued. "For this exhibition, I shall require the assistance of several gentlemen from my audience. Will anyone be kind enough to volunteer?"

At this point my half a dozen "horses" stepped forward, including my regular assistant who was sitting in the stalls. But to my surprise, they were immediately followed by several other men whom I had never seen before. I was quite unprepared for this development, but I called for several more chairs, set them around in a semi-circle, and asked each man to sit down. I found I had fifteen volunteers in all, and I was careful to see that my own assistant was seated on the extreme right. Waving my hands at the latter in what I hoped was a truly impressive manner, I looked him straight in the eyes.

"You are falling asleep," I said in a deep voice. The words were hardly out of my mouth when the assistant fell off his chair, and remained motionless on the ground.

This piece of fooling had a startling effect on the audience. They rose in their seats, and some of the women screamed. The volunteers rushed as one man for the steps that led to the stalls and it was with the greatest difficulty that I persuaded my "horses" to remain on the stage.

The performance continued, and my volunteers played their part well. In turn they ate candles, swallowed oil, and did several other little tricks which I had shown them in the short time at my disposal. When I came to forcing needles through a man's cheeks, several women fainted, and had to be carried out.

Flushed with success, I decided that as a Grand Finale, I would do a mock marriage scene. Putting the "fluence" on my regular assistant, I told him that he was to represent the bridegroom. He gave me a sly wink, which at the moment I was at a loss to understand.

I turned to one of the "horses," made the same mysterious passes with my hands, and explained that he was to be the bride. I was in the middle of my explanation when an ear-splitting shout caused me to turn my head.

A strange sight met my eyes. My assistant had stripped himself of every inch of clothing. Waving his shirt above his head, he pranced across the stage. Suddenly he stopped, and, cupping his hands around his mouth, shouted, "Where's my blushing bride?"

I need hardly say that the performance was stopped immediately. The curtain came down amidst shrieks of laughter. Although I spoke severely to my assistant for his unseemly conduct, in reality I had much to thank him for. I played to crowded houses for the rest of the week, and, in spite of the fact that my scenery arrived on the following day, the manager would not allow me to change my programme. Of course, my assistant's eccentric behaviour was deleted from the subsequent performances!

I was so pleased with the success of the show that I paid my "horses" half a crown and as much beer as they could drink for each performance, and, like good fellows, they did not betray the trust I had put in them. In addition, I was able to fool the police and several medical men who called on me and asked for an explanation of my wonderful hypnotic powers.