“Oh, good Heavens, madam!” the conjurer exclaimed, “I believe you have killed my Piarot--you zall have squeezed him too moch. Piarot--Piarot!” he added, tossing the bird in the air, “Piarot, answer to me. Ah, madam, he is dezidedly dead. What zall my wife say when she sees Bosco arrive wizout his Piarot: quite zurely I zall be beaten by Madame Bosco.” (I must observe, here, that all I describe is literally true.) This bird was interred in a large box, whence, after fresh conjurations, a living bird came out. This new victim was fated to suffer shorter agony. It was thrust alive into the barrel of a large pistol, and Bosco, holding a sword in his hand, begged a spectator to fire at the point of the weapon he held out to him. The pistol was fired, and a third victim was seen spitted on the point of the sword. Antonio rose. “Let us go,” he said, “for I am turning sick.” I have seen Bosco several times since then, and each time I studied him carefully, not only to try and explain the cause of the great fashion he enjoyed, but also to be able to compare the various opinions expressed about this celebrated man. Here are some deductions drawn from my observations. Bosco’s performances generally please a large number, for the public suppose that, through some inexplicable address, the bird-murders are simply feigned, and, tranquil, on this point, they indulge in all the pleasure caused by the talent of the conjurer and the originality of his accent. Bosco has a quaint and full-sounding name, adapted to become popular, and no one knows better than he how to take advantage of it. Neglecting no opportunity for notoriety, he performs at any hour of the day, whatever may be the quality and number of the spectators. In a coach, at a table d’hôte, in cafés or shops, he never fails to give some specimen of his skill, by juggling a coin, a ring, and so on. The witnesses of these little improvised performances consider themselves bound to return Bosco’s politeness, by attending his public performance. They have formed the acquaintance of the celebrated conjurer, and are obliged to sustain the reputation of their new friend. Hence, they urge all their acquaintances to go also, puff off the performance, and thus the room is always full. It must also be mentioned that numerous accomplices help Bosco’s popularity materially. Each of them, it is known, is instructed to hand the magician a handkerchief, shawl, watch, &c., which he has in double. This allows him to pass them with an appearance of magic or skill, into a cabbage, a loaf, a box, or any other object. These accomplices, while aiding in the conjurer’s experiments, have a great interest in securing their success: for their self-love finds its profit in the success of the mystification. Besides, they have no objection to accept some of the applause as their due: hence, the magician has as many admirers as accomplices, and the influence a dozen intelligent prompters can exert in a room is well known.