"Ladies and gentlemen," I begin, addressing with that same old salute that has been spoken millions of times from the platform, "I will now try my volunteers as a class. You may think, in fact you do think, that these gentlemen are hired subjects. One of them is there I point out Albert but the rest, I assure you, are not".

Turning to my subjects I ask them if they, with the exception of Albert. have ever been hypnotized. They assure me that they have not.

Continuing I say: "You will favor me for a minute or so by remaining as quiet as possible. It is necessary to have the surroundings quiet to place these subjects under hypnosis, which, really, is but a rapidly induced form of natural sleep".

The chairs are arranged in the form of a semi-circle, each chair being about four feet away from the one next to it. In the rear I have a couple of fancy standards on which to place my cataleptic subject.

Stepping to one side of the stage, I direct the subjects thus: "Close your eyes and place both feet firmly on the floor. Now place your hands on your thighs. When I count, keep your eyes closed until I tell you to try to open them. Then you may try as hard as you can. but they will be tight, very tight. Don't look at the one next to you, but listen to mc. give me your attention! I will count to ten and tell you to try to open your eyes, but they will be tight, fast together. It will be impossible to open them. One, two, three, four - tighter and tighter - Ave, six, seven, eight, nine, ten and they are tight; try hard, but they won't open!"

They struggle bravely. Two open their eyes, but I notice that one of these had some difficulty in so doing. The gallery whistles and applauds with all its might. The gallery is with me, and what critics they are! The balcony and parquet titter and look on it as very funny, no matter what the cause.

Here I have at least four good subjects, and possibly five. So I have them open their eyes and try again. This time the five are under safely and the other presents that idiotic grin of he who has conquered. No matter where you go there is always the smart one, the cheerful idiot who is greater than the show. The audience feels sorry for him. The audience will always be with the professor if the show is worth their while. The face of this conquering one is red and he is excited. Before him everything dances. He must keep up his blase front or the audience will think that his will power is also weak! Popular delusion, that!

The actual time that I have taken since the moment I stepped on the stage is just eight minutes. In the next twelve, therefore, I must give the audience enough to make merry over for the rest of the evening.

"Now I am going to snap my fingers. When I do you will all open your eyes and you will be a lot of school girls snowballing each other. Of course you will know just how little girls throw and you will do the same. You will have a good time until I wave my hand and then you will be riveted to the door, forgetting everything; your minds will be blanks!"

I step to one side to give all parts of the house a good view of the antics that will he faithfully fulfilled by these overgrown boys. As I snap my finger. Harry and Albert open their eyes immediately and are in the somnambulistic state in a second. The other three come out of it slower, looking around in a dazed manner.

"Hurry up, girls," I say. "There are the others playing snow ball. Get to work. See, they are throwing them at you!"

One jumps up quickly, and with Albert and Harry, he commences to pack the imaginary snow and throw it in an awkward manner over his shoulder. The two remaining subjects are now on the floor, up to their knees in snow, as they believe, throwing it as though their very lives depended upon it! They scream and scurry back, squealing and laughing to the tops of their voices! Truly it is an interesting sight. The audience are roaring and the gallery would do justice to a national jubilee. The little critics up in the "heaven" are cheering and laughing themselves hoarse. This stimulates the snowball party.

One now rushes up to another and picks up great handfuls of snow and rubs it in the other's neck. This brings forth new applause, and the show is at its height. Back in the wings are the vaudeville artists, from Mme. Silba, the prima donna, to Kelly & Kelly, the knockabout team. A grotesque set, they, painted and clothed in queer costumes. But they enjoy it, and I am thus afforded a scene denied the audience.

Chairs are overturned and the schoolgirls are panting and gasping as they exclaim "Oh. dear! Oh, mercy!" and other things characteristic of their sex.

Stepping forward I wave my hand. In an instant the five are rigidly fastened to the floor. Harry is on his knees with his hands clasped together as though packing a snowball. Albert is on his feet with his hands thrown back as though ready to heave a large ball of snow at one of his companions. One of the others is sitting on the stage gazing vacantly at the roaring audience. Another has his hand partly thrown back ready to cast a snowball and the fifth one is in the act of brushing some snow out of his collar.

There they stand like graven images, fastened to the floor, devoid of expression, as sober as so many sphinxes!

Before the audience is through cheering I again wave them to silence.

"You are now in an airship," I say. "On either side of you is a high railing and the big wings are far above you. We are going at the rate of eighty miles an hour and we are a mile above the land. I want you to all be careful and not fall out, for you have to guide the ship and bring it safely to port.

"We are now going over Chicago. Far below, if you look carefully over the sides, you can sec the city and the glitter of Lake Michigan. To the northward you can see Milwaukee and the intermediate cities. You have a magnificent view. The day is clear and there is not a cloud in sight. But be sure and be careful, as you would fall and be dashed to pieces if you lost your balance".