Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103, October 8, 1892

Excerpt

AT A HYPNOTIC SÉANCE.

SCENE—A Public Hall in a provincial town. The Hypnotist—a tall, graceful, and handsome young man, in well-fitting evening clothes—has already succeeded in putting most of his subjects to sleep, and is going round and inspecting them critically, as they droop limply on a semicircle of chairs, in a variety of unpicturesque attitudes. The only Lady on the platform is evidently as yet in full possession of her senses.

First Female Spectator (to Second). MARIA MANGLES do take a time sending off, don't she?

Second F.S. (also a friend of Miss MANGLES). Yes, that she do—it gives her such a silly look, sitting there, the on'y one with her senses about her!

First F.S. It's all affectation—she could shut her eyes fast enough if she liked!

Second F.S. The 'Ipnotiser's coming round to her now—she'll have to go off now. (With a not unpleasurable anticipation.) I expect he'll make her do all manner o' ridic'lous things!

First F.S. Well, it will be a lesson, to her against making' herself so conspicuous another time. I shan't pity her.

The Hyp. (after a brief colloquy with Miss MANGLES). I see I am not likely to succeed with this Lady; so, with many thanks to her on behalf of myself and the audience for coming forward, I will detain her no longer.

[Applause, amidst which Miss M. descends to her seat in the body of the hall, with a smile of conscious triumph.

First F.S. (disappointed). I don't see what she's done to clap their hands about, myself!

Second F.S. Nor I neither—taking up his time all for nothing—depend upon it she wouldn't have gone up if he hadn't been so nice-looking!

First F.S. I wouldn't like to think that of her myself; but, anyhow, she didn't get much by it, did she? He soon sent her packing!

Male Spectator (to a Woman in front of him). Evening, Mrs. MIDGELLY—I see they've got your good man up on the platform.

Mrs. M. He will go, Mr. BUDKIN! He's gone up every night the 'Ipnotiser's been here, and says he feels it's going to do him good. So this evening I said I'd come in too, and judge for myself. What good he expects to get, laying there like a damp dishclout, I don't know!

[Meanwhile the Hypnotist has borrowed a silver-handled umbrella from the audience, and thrust it before the faces of one or two loutish-looking youths, who immediately begin to squint horribly and follow the silver-top with their noses, till they knock their heads together.

Mr. Budkin (to Mrs. MIDGELLY). He's going to give your husband a turn of it now.

[The umbrella-handle is applied to Mr. M., a feeble-looking little man with a sandy top-knot; he grovels after the silver-top when it is depressed, and makes futile attempts to clamber up the umbrella after it when it is held aloft.

Mrs. M. (severely). I haven't patience to look at him. A Kitten 'ud have had more sense!

The Hyp. (calling up one of the heavy youths). Can you whistle, Sir? Yes? Then whistle something. (The Youth whistles a popular air in a lugubrious tone.) Now you can't whistle—try....