An intimate friend of the late Alexander Hermann, the last of a long line of Hermanns who have been eminent in the history of the art, has asserted that Alexander Hermann was wont to insist that the conjurer must possess three qualifications for the practise of his profession. The first of these is dexterity; the second is dexterity; and the third is also dexterity. Now, there is a sense in which this assertion is true; but it may be easily misapprehended. A conjurer needs to be dexterous, altho more than one master of modern magic, notably Robert Heller, has not been pre-eminent in the possession of this qualification. A moderate degree of dexterity is essential, and perhaps more than a moderate degree; but dexterity is not the prime requisite, which is rather the dramatic instinct, or, perhaps, it had better be called the dramaturgic imagination, that can hit on a new idea and build it up into a plot, and thus devise an experiment in magic completely satisfactory to the artistic sense. What the master of the magic art never forgets is that dexterity is not an end in itself; it is only one of the means by the aid of which the marvel may be wrought. There are, to-day, performers of a surpassing skill in the manipulation of cards and coins, capable of feats which would have been the despair of Robert-Houdin and of Robert Heller; and some of them are so enamored of their own dexterity that in their eagerness for its exhibition they lose sight of unity and totality. As a result of this lapse from the loftier standards of their art they present a disconcerting huddle of sleights of hand until the amazed spectators lose all sense of progression, as these bewildering effects tumble over one another without any attempt at climax. Such a performance is an empty display of difficulty conquered for its own sake; it is only a sequence of "stunts"; it is mere vanity and vexation of spirit. It is like the favorite Scotch dish, the haggis, which is said to supply only "confused feeding."