TRANSFORMATION and transposition tricks, which come under the third heading of effects, are generally much more complicated than those tricks which I have already described. Sometimes in a transformation trick you produce an article and transform it by making it vanish and by causing another article to appear in its place. Possibly you may have to reproduce the first article in the course of the trick, in which case you partly expose your own trick. A more finished way is to make the transformation complete by disposing of the first article altogether.

You may have a chemical transformation. The ink-and-water trick is done in this way. This is a simple and effective trick, which can be performed by anyone who will exercise reasonable care in its preparation. The effect is as follows: The conjurer takes four empty tumblers and places them in a row. He then brings forward a large glass jug filled with clear water. To show that the glasses are not prepared in any way, he fills one glass with water and pours it back into the jug. He then pours enough water into each glass to make it half full, but as he does so the audience are considerably surprised to notice that, although the jug from which the performer is pouring contains clear water, two of the glasses receive a black fluid and two clear water.

The secret lies in the preparation of the glasses. My own method is as follows: At the bottom of the first glass I have a teaspoonful of a saturated solution of tannin. The object of filling this glass with water and then pouring it back into the jug is to impregnate the whole of the water with tannin. If this were done before the trick was commenced, the water might have turned cloudy. The second and fourth glasses contain a few "steel drops" or a saturated solution of perchloride of iron. Into the third glass is placed a small quantity of a saturated solution of oxalic acid. When the glasses are thus prepared, the trick is simple.

When the water with the tannin is poured into the second glass, the combined liquids turn black. The same thing happens with the fourth glass. The third glass--containing the oxalic acid--appears to be only water.

So far we have described only half the trick. After the four glasses have been half filled, the first and second glasses are mixed together, and the liquid is seen to be black. Then the contents of the third and fourth glasses are combined, and the result is a clear fluid. Then the mixture of the first and second glasses is poured back into the jug, colouring its contents black: but when the contents of the third and fourth glasses are poured into the jug, the oxalic acid transforms the black liquid into what is apparently clear water. Directly the contents of the last glass are poured into the jug the hand should be passed over it for a second, because the change is not quite instantaneous.

Directly the trick is finished, the tray with the glasses and jug should be taken away, as the water will rapidly become cloudy. Oxalic acid is poisonous, and therefore the jug and glasses should be thoroughly cleansed before they are used for ordinary purposes. The chemicals for this trick are very inexpensive, and if the directions are carefully followed the trick cannot fail.

This trick should always be rehearsed before the conjurer gives it in a town in which he has never before performed it, because the quantities of chemicals that will work the trick properly with the water of one locality will not produce the right results with the water of another. For instance, if the amateur did the trick in Buxton or Harrogate with the same quantities of chemicals that he used in London, he would probably get some effects that would surprise even himself!

Tricks of transformation are often performed with the aid of mechanical devices. One well-known trick is that in which a candle is changed into a bouquet of flowers. The candle is really a hollow tin tube, painted white to resemble a candle. At one end is a piece of real candle, which can be lighted. The bouquet is made of artificial feather flowers, constructed in such a way that they can be folded up and put inside the candle. When the candle is pulled off, under cover of something, the bouquet appears.

Sometimes the transformation is effected by means of a brass cover, which is put over the article with which the trick is to be performed. One can have a small brass cover fitted with a little mechanical arrangement by which an article is concealed in the cover although it is apparently empty. The cover can then be placed over another article, and the mechanical contrivance will pick that article up and hide it in the cover, and at the same time will release the article that has been concealed in the cover. One of the best-known tricks performed by means of mechanical covers is the coffee-and-beans trick. Three vases, which are first shown to be empty, are filled with coffee berries and white beans. Covers are put on the vases, the conjurer waves his magic wand and, taking the covers off again, discloses the three vases filled with hot coffee, hot milk and sugar. This is an elaborate trick, depending for its effectiveness chiefly on the mechanical arrangements in the vases and covers.

Some of the card tricks, in which a card is transformed into a different card, or into another object, are performed with mechanical cards.

When the amateur has got beyond the elementary stage of conjuring he will find that many of the best transformation tricks can be performed by means of sleight-of -hand alone.

Next come tricks of transposition, in which one object seems to travel invisibly from one place to another. As an example of such tricks, I will describe one which I used to perform frequently when I first commenced conjuring. I always found that it made a capital impression on an audience, and I have no doubt if it was done now it would be equally well received, although perhaps some conjurers, who are always reading up tricks which they never perform, would consider it out of date.

I came upon the stage with what appeared to be an ordinary champagne bottle in one hand and an ordinary tumbler in the other. Near the front of the platform were two small tables, on each of which was an ordinary dinner-plate; on the right-hand table was also a small thin funnel. On another table were two cylindrical covers made of cardboard. There was no trick about these, but one was slightly larger than the other, for a reason that will presently be apparent.

I began the trick by telling the audience that I would show them a curious trick with water, and I apologized for my water-bottle, which was the only one I could find handy. I could generally manage to work in a few small jokes about the bottle. For instance, if I was performing in a temperance hall, I would tactfully say that if champagne bottles never contained anything more dangerous than the fluid which I was about to pour from mine the world would be a happier place than it was: I then filled the tumbler with water and put the bottle on the right-hand table. There was only sufficient water in the bottle to fill the tumbler. Then, advancing to the front of the stage with the glass of water in my right hand, I explained that the trick consisted in my throwing the glass of water round the room. I informed the audience that if they would keep still they would not be splashed, and the glass would fly round the room like a pigeon--a tumbler pigeon-and eventually come on to the table at my left hand. I then made a great show of pretending to throw the water, but hesitated each time, because someone was moving. Finally I said that perhaps it would be safer if I attempted the trick with a little less water in the glass, and so I would pour some of the water back into the bottle. Tricks with water, I explained, were always difficult. I knew only one man who could do a good one, and he was a milkman. The glass was then half filled with water, and again I assured the audience that if they would only keep still I should be able to throw the glass round the hall. After a few feints at throwing the glass away from me, I told the audience that I was afraid they were too nervous for that experiment, and I should have to perform it some other way. Taking up the plate on the table on my left hand, I put the glass upon it, and then put them both on the table. "Now," I said to the audience, "I will endeavour to make the glass travel invisibly to the table on my right here, and the bottle on my right hand shall stand in the position now occupied by the glass. To do this, however, I must first render the bottle and glass invisible, and so I will cover them both with these two thin cardboard covers, which I will first pass round for examination, so that you may see for yourselves that there are no secret pockets in them which can contain water, bottle, or glass."

I then passed the cardboard covers round for examination, and after getting a little "rise" out of my audience by pretending to slip something into one of the covers while I was passing the other round for examination, and by leading them to believe that I slipped the article into the cover they examined after it was returned to me, I eventually worked them up to such a pitch of enthusiasm at having caught me in introducing something into the covers that they usually clamoured to have both covers shown to them at once. Then, of course, I handed both covers at once to the audience and thus convinced them that the covers were quite empty. When the covers were returned to me I showed that both of them would fit the bottle and glass, which, my readers will remember, was half filled with water. Having dropped both covers alternately over the bottle and the glass, I left one cover on the bottle and the other on the glass. Making some appropriate action with my hands, I commanded the bottle and the glass to change places. I then lifted the covers, showing the bottle where the glass had been and the glass, half filled with water, in the place occupied by the bottle.

"So far," I would say to the audience, "the trick has been fairly simple. Anyone who has a bottle and a glass can do that. All you have to do is to get a bottle of champagne, empty it--or get somebody to help you to empty it--and then put in a little water. You then get a kitchen tumbler and a couple of cardboard cylinders. In case all of you haven't followed the movement, I will repeat the trick by making the bottle and glass return to their original places."

I then covered the glass and the bottle once more, lifted the covers, and showed the bottle on my right hand and the glass on my left. The covers I threw at once to the audience for their examination.

That was the effect of the trick to the audience. This is the explanation:

The trick was performed with two bottles and two glasses. The bottles were made of tin, japanned to represent ordinary glass bottles. One of the bottles was divided into two compartments--that is to say, the bottom of the bottle was really in the middle. Thus the upper part could contain water, while the bottom half, being hollow, formed a cover for a tumbler. A small tube ran from the mouth of the bottle through the partition in the centre, and had an outlet just underneath it, so that water poured through the little tube ran into the tumbler underneath.

The second bottle was a shell of tin that exactly fitted over the first bottle. Both the bottles had a small hole, just large enough to admit my finger, about two inches from the bottom. The bottles were exactly like each other, and the two holes were in the same position. Thus by putting my finger through the two holes I could press the glass which was under the inner bottle against the side and hold it there Thus holding this combination of two imitation bottles and a solid tumbler, I came on the stage. The imitation bottles had imitation champagne labels on them (I believe these can be obtained from any cheap Italian restaurant.) I first emptied the whole of the contents of the bottle into the glass on my left hand, but when I pretended that I had got too much water, and that I should have to pour some back, I used the little funnel, and thus really poured the water down the little tube and into the glass concealed under the inner bottle. While this was going on, I took care to keep the side in which the holes were away from the audience.

It will be seen that when I poured the water into the bottle I really half-filled the glass below. Here I knocked the bottle on the plate, to prove indirectly that it was of solid glass. What I really allowed them to hear was the knocking of the tumbler under the bottle on the plate. I practised another deception when I first put one cover and then the other over the bottle to show that both fitted. I really put the larger of the two covers over the bottle, and when I took it away I gripped it tightly, and so took away with it the shell bottle. This cover I put over the glass on my left hand. When I moved this cover again I took hold of it very lightly, and thus left the shell bottle over the glass. The other cover--over the bottle that had contained the water--I gripped tightly, and thus took it away, showing the glass that had been underneath it. It will be obvious that to make the bottle and glass return to their original places all I had to do was to grip the left-hand cover tightly, and thus pick up the shell bottle that had been placed over the glass there, and take the other cover up lightly, thus leaving the other bottle over the glass. It will be seen that the shell bottle was then in one of the covers. This cover I dropped over the bottle--in a careless way--and thus got the shell bottle over the other bottle again, and the trick was finished. The covers could, of course, be given for examination.

Another excellent trick of transposition--invented, I believe, by Conradi--is that of the flying lamp. A lighted lamp is taken from a shelf and put on a small glass-topped table. A pistol is fired at the lamp, which immediately vanishes from the table and reappears at the same moment--still alight--on the shelf. This trick, however, is quite beyond the reach of the amateur.

There should be an element of surprise in all transposition tricks, otherwise they are apt to fall rather flat. For instance, it is not enough to say that you are going to make a card leave the pack and fly invisibly through the air into the pocket of a man seated at the other end of the hall in which you are performing. Say that by all means, and carry out your intentions, but do something else as well. It may be remembered that in my well-known rabbit trick I make a watch disappear from a paper cone held by a member of the audience and reappear in the pocket of another member of the audience, but then, in its invisible flight, the watch had got tied round the neck of a rabbit.

A pretty transposition trick with a ring is done in this way. Borrow a ring, hold it in the right hand, and ask a member of the audience to tie your hand up in a serviette. It will then be apparently impossible for you to make the ring pass from the right hand to the left. However, to make the trick still more difficult, you invite a member of the audience to tie your left hand up in a serviette. You then ask anyone to say to which finger of the left hand the ring shall invisibly travel; and when the serviettes have been removed the ring is seen on that particular finger.

The trick is performed with the aid of a little tape-measure, which you have sewn on to the left-hand side of your trousers in such a position that it is concealed by the coat. The measure has a spring in the centre, and after the tape is pulled out to any length it immediately flies back again when the spring is pressed. Before the performer commences this trick he pulls out the measure, passes it diagonally across the back of his waistcoat, carries it down to his right sleeve, and hooks it to his cuff. At the end of the tape is a small swivel hook. When the performer takes the ring he slips it on to this hook, using the serviette as a cover to hide the movement. Then he waits until the member of the audience is about to tie his right hand up in the serviette, and then presses the spring on the left-hand side of his trousers. The ring immediately flies up the sleeve, and so to the measure on the left-hand side of the performer's trousers, where he can easily get possession of it before his left hand is tied up.

Next in order come those tricks in the performance of which there is an apparent defiance of natural laws. Many of these are most effective because they completely mystify the audience. A conjurer can pick up a pistol, load it with powder and a marked bullet, and have it fired at him without hurting him. One secret of this trick is to exchange a real bullet for one made of blacklead, which is then smashed up in the pistol while the performer says that he is ramming it home. The performer slips a real bullet into his mouth, and when the pistol is fired, apparently catches it between his teeth.

A startling trick that comes under this heading is one in which a sword is boldly plunged through a man's body. The point is seen coming out at the back of him, and to prove to the audience that the point of the sword which they see at the back of the man is really the point of the sword which they saw plunged into his body, the performer pulls the sword backwards and forwards. This trick is performed with a thin flexible piece of steel, which looks like a sword. This passes through a tube concealed on the man's body. The tube runs round the man's body. One end of it is just below the bottom button of his waistcoat, and the other is at a point beneath his coat-tails.

The following is a description of a trick of my own, in which I use a glass cylinder and two small pieces of writing-paper. I place one paper on the bottom of the cylinder, and then fill the cylinder with water. I then put the other piece of paper on the top of the cylinder. Then I take my hand away from the bottom of the cylinder and the water remains in it, visible to the audience. Now comes the difficult part of the trick. I take the top piece of paper away and put it back again. Then I take both pieces of paper away and roll the tube on the floor. Having replaced both pieces of paper, I make a hole in the top piece with a hat-pin, when the water and papers fall into a glass bowl. I simply quote this trick as the kind of thing I mean by an apparent defiance of natural laws. This particular trick requires special apparatus, and, as it is rather risky to perform it, it is hardly suitable for the amateur.

A very effective little trick, but one seldom performed now, is done in this way. The conjurer brings forward a glass bowl filled with water. He takes a few handfuls of sand and throws it into the water. The water is then stirred up, and the sand is seen to be thoroughly mixed up with the water. The performer then puts his hand--which he first shows to be empty--into the bowl, and takes out the sand perfectly dry. There are several ways of performing this trick, and, as in most cases, the simplest is the best. Before doing the trick, the conjurer prepares some cakes of sand by frying them in a little tallow grease. These cakes are put in the water under cover of the other sand, and, being greasy, they are impervious to the water. All the performer has to do is to pick them up and crumble them in his hands as he takes them out.

The most marvellous of all tricks showing an apparent defiance of natural laws is that in which the body of a man is made to float in the air on a fully lighted stage. A solid steel hoop is passed over the body to prove to the audience that there is no connection between it and the top of the stage, the bottom, the sides, or the back. The performer also walks right round the suspended figure. This is one of Mr. Maskelyne's greatest triumphs, and is so perfect that even professional conjurers are completely puzzled by it. None of them has ever been able to imitate the trick correctly.

One of the prettiest of the "secret motive power" tricks is known as the "Rising Cards". The apparatus for this trick consists of nothing more complicated than an ordinary black thread, but there are many ways of arranging the thread. One of the best methods for an amateur is to prepare a pack of cards with a thread firmly fastened to the back of one of the front cards, about an inch from the top. The rest of the cards are pierced, and the thread drawn right through all of them. The performer fastens the end of the thread to his bottom waistcoat button, and puts the pack thus prepared in the breast pocket of his coat. He then goes down to the audience with an ordinary pack, and invites two or three members of the audience to choose cards from the pack, and to show them to the people near them. It is quite natural that while the people are thus employed the conjurer should turn his back on his audience so that he shall not see what cards have been chosen. This movement of the conjurer's body, although apparently natural, is really made in order that he may take out his prepared pack of cards from his breast-pocket and substitute them for the pack that he handed to the audience, and from which they have selected cards. The prepared pack is then put into a tumbler with upright sides, and those people who have chosen cards are requested to push them anywhere they like into the pack. The best plan is to have each card pushed into the pack separately, and the conjurer must take care that he conceals the thread with his arm. Then all that he has to do is to move the tumbler slowly away from him, thus tightening the thread, forcing the card upwards, and causing it to rise. This requires a little practice.

The trick of the rising cards is also performed by means of a clockwork pack, which is exchanged for the pack from which the cards have been selected. The clockwork pack is a beautiful piece of apparatus, so cunningly devised that the pack may even be held by a member of the audience whilst the cards are rising.

A more simple trick coming under this heading is known as the "Rising Wand". The performer takes the wand with which he has been performing, and, holding it in his right hand, commands it to rise. The wand instantly obeys the conjurer's commands, which is not surprising, seeing that there is a small hook at one end of the wand, through which the conjurer has passed a loop of black elastic. Having the wand thus prepared, the conjurer draws the elastic up behind the wand and grips the wand tightly. Then, by releasing the finger at the back of the wand, it may be made to rise slowly between the two fingers. If the performer wishes to stop the movement, all he has to do is to press on the wand.

Under the same heading are such elaborate tricks as the talking skull; the mysterious hand, which, on being hooked on to a blackboard, writes down the answer to a sum set by the audience; and one which I have lately introduced, in which a large ball is made to roll up an inclined plane.

Lastly come the tricks known popularly as second-sight or thought-reading tricks. There is a great variety of these interesting experiments. The performer may read a sentence that a member of the audience has secretly written down, or he may apparently transmit his thoughts to another person, or he may find an object hidden by the audience, or he may even give an answer to a question secretly written by a member of the audience. These are only examples of some of the best-known tricks of this kind. Some of these feats can be performed without trickery of any kind, but the people who are thus endowed by nature with a mysterious power are few and far between, and as a rule their performances are much too slow for an audience waiting to be entertained. At various times performers have announced that they are capable of reading other people's thoughts and transmitting their thoughts to others, but in most cases these performers made use of certain methods well known to conjurers and were therefore rightly exposed.

Finally I should like to make it clear that, although in the foregoing chapters I have given away many secrets, the mere knowledge of such secrets will not help the amateur conjurer very far on the road to success. The simplest trick must be practised, suitable patter must be invented, and there must be many rehearsals in which the patter is spoken exactly as though an audience were in front of the conjurer. It is, of course, the conjurer's first business to mystify his audience, but hardly less important is his ability to entertain them. The amateur must take care that his performance does not degenerate into a mere exhibition of manual dexterity or of an ingeniously contrived piece of apparatus. The performer who really says, in effect, to his audience, "See how fast I can palm this card at the back of my hand" is not a conjurer. He is a juggler with cards. The true conjurer will perform the same sleight equally neatly and quickly, but by his look, gesture, the tone of his voice, in short by his acting, he will almost persuade the audience that the card which has vanished has really melted away and cannot be recovered until the performer puts forth his magic power to restore it to its original condition.