Of course, here I have Albert and Harry. They really don't care what I do, for they are seeing the country and having what they call a good time. They are up on the stage every night with one object in view. and that is to fulfill the suggestions that are given them. These vary to a certain degree each night, but the enactment is always the same; there is always an intense interest evinced that cannot be mistaken.

I have about four minutes left. This is just time enough for me to give my cataleptic exhibition, for which I use my all 'round star, Albert.

At a wave of the hand, the cakewalkers stand perfectly still.

"Come over here, boys, hurry up," I say, and they follow me to the footlights. I then pair them off and tell them that they are each one Romeo and Juliet, respectively. While they are embracing their companions I snap my fingers vigorously and they awaken amid the deafening shouts of the audience. The audience don't care now whether it is fake or genuine. They have seen something that made them laugh right heartily for several minutes and they are satisfied with that.

I wave the boys to their respective seats and the stage attendants bring forth the padded, gilded horses on which the cataleptic subject will rest during his state of rigidity.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I say, stepping forward with my subject. "I have here Master Albert Turner, who has traveled with me in the old world and the new. This is the gentlemen I buried for a period of eight days in Richmond, Virginia, four years ago. At that time he remained in a cataleptic state during the entire sleep, When I awakened him, after his being exhumed, he was none the worse for the experiment, and has since that time been buried at different places and for varying periods of time. I will now place Master Turner in the cataleptic state and place his head on one support and his feet on another. While he is in this state he is unconscious of his surroundings or of what is going on about him. He does not realize that he is in this condition and there are never any ill-effects following. While he is in this state of catalepsy or rigidity, I will stand upon his chest".

This is where the nervous women shrink back and do not care to look. There are many expressions of sympathy on the faces of the audience, and the professor poses as somewhat of a villain. Nevertheless, the hypnotic show without catalepsy is not of much account.

I bring my subject forward. Standing him directly in view of the audience, I am now ready to place him in the cataleptic state.

"Now," I begin, in a voice that can be heard distinctly in all parts of the house, "You will place your arms at your sides and your heels together. Keep your head erect and your eyes closed ; that's right!"

In a good subject like Albert it is but necessary to tell him that he is asleep and rigid and the act is done; but that isn't what the audience want. I could not make a substantial impression that way. There must be about it the element of mystery or it loses its flavor.

"You are getting rigid, very rigid, stiffening right out. Your eyes are closed tightly and you cannot open them. Rigid; rigid. Sleep, forget everything - rigid!" And his muscles are bound like bars of iron.

I have made passes and give him the harsh professional look.

If a man ever intends to be in earnest he must be severely so in the hypnotic show when the act calls for dramatic color. He must be the being of the powerful will - which may not always be the case. There arc many hypnotists who seem to posses no will, judgment or ordinary sense. Yet, the public says that they do and the public must be pleased.

Do not try to force your opinions on the public. But, when you have learned to give them their opinions fantastically clothed, you will reap the harvest they have sown for you. The public must be pleased. One P. T. Barnum once said that the public wants to be humbugged. They do to a certain extent. That is, they - and especially the Americans - want to be entertained. They look for variety and not for reform. The world has a light vein and always will have it. The philosopher caters to knowledge and cares not what the world thinks, but the really wise man knows that he must live and if he can do so comfortably by giving the world something it is eternally crying for, so much the better for that same wise man.

FIRST STAGS OF CATALEPTIC TRST.

As I am thus soliloquizing, do not imagine that the audience is suffering from my remarks. I impose that horrible thing on you alone, gentle reader, for your benefit. I tell you what appears to me to be the best tiling as I live out my stage life on paper, just as I have done it many times in reality. The student will understand the proceedings of the entertainment as I have put my speeches in quotations and my nets in explanatory phrases.

There are distinctly two classes of people who patronize the theatre - the one seeking entertainment and the one posing as a blatant ass under the cloak of a critic. Plainly, the man who enjoys Shakespearean plays and then goes to the vaudeville just to let every one around him know that he knows a good thing when he sees it, and that he is not seeing it then; plainly, I say, that man or woman is a fool! He who goes to the vaudeville house should go there knowing that he gets a sort of a melodrama-comedy-operatic hash! Knowing that, he should have but one object in view - enjoyment. And that, I am pleased to say, is the class you, as a vaudeville entertainer, be you "Prof." or "Mme.," will have to entertain for your brief period of twenty minutes.

Two stage assistants come forward, one grasping Albert by the feet and the other taking him by the back of his head. They tip him backward and place him on the supports, or horses. The back of his head, up near his bump of friendship, rests on the cushioned horse, and his heels, right near the tendon of Archilles, rest on the other horse.

"Rigid, rigid," I repeat, making sweeping passes down him from his head to his feet. "You are rigid as iron, you cannot bend, you feel no unpleasant sensations: sleep, rigid, sleep!" And I step upon his stomach. He does not bend and a murmur goes around the hall. It would be the same if they saw it twenty times a year instead of about once every three years. They wonder and then applaud.

Just to make it more sensational I continue thus: "You will now relax slightly and bent toward the floor, but as soon as I say rigid you will again straighten." He does as I command, and when it seems as though no power of his own could ever get him back, I repeat the magic word, and, behold! he is back so suddenly that I find it hard to keep my balance.

Stepping down from him, the assistants again place him on his feet and I approach him, making downward passes. "You will relax immediately and there will be no feeling of soreness in your muscles. You are relaxed and all right. Open your eyes".

As he does so I lead him forward for his share of the applause. He likes this. Any boy would like it, and he is also glad that his act is finished.

"Gentlemen," I say, turning to those who have volunteered as my subjects, "I thank you very much for your courtesy," and I hand them each a check that will entitle them to admittance the next night.

This is an important feature. This thing will appear before them all the next day. They will swear that they will not go upon the stage another night to be made fools of, but as surely as night comes they think of it all, look at the little check that will entitle them to a good seat, and they go. They see me in my act and when I call for volunteers the next night, they will be there, and - well, the battle within them will rage for a few seconds and they will come up. They know that a "new bunch*' is at the theatre and they like to appear before the footlights first rate!

But I am forgetting. Harry has gone down into the audience with the rest of them. He will go out afterward unless he wants to see the remaining acts. I step forward and smilingly thank the audience with a bow and retire as gracefully as possible behind the wings. Of course, as my act was well done, I receive my share of applause, and if it is hearty and genuine I will acknowledge it by another bow.

But I am forgetting. The street scene is again shoved into place and Clifford & Franklin are doing a rag-time promenade before the footlights, padded and painted for their character stunt!

A great thing this theatrical life. For a time, at least, I believe that I like it better than the country stands, for a man is not the object of universal comment in the city. In the little towns - but well, I may appear in them next season just for a change. It will do me good, for a fellow does get some of the conceit taken out of him in vaudeville life, and then, too, the life in urban theatrical circles usually grates on the nerves, a "Prof." is supposed to be a good fellow among the other boys, and he can't always do that and write cheques, nor take moonlight walks on the board walk at Atlantic City, or brave the Cave of the Winds at The Falls when summer comes around!