I commenced my performance in the most profound, I might almost say religious, silence, and the attention of the spectators was so great that they seemed petrified. Their fingers alone moving nervously, played with the beads of their rosaries, while they were, doubtlessly, invoking the protection of the Most High. This apathetic condition did not suit me, for I had not come to Algeria to visit a waxwork exhibition. I wanted movement, animation, life in fact, around me. I changed my batteries, and, instead of generalizing my remarks, I addressed them more especially to some of the Arabs, whom I stimulated by my words, and still more by my actions. The astonishment then gave way to a more expressive feeling, which was soon evinced by noisy outbursts. This was especially the case when I produced cannonballs from a hat, for my spectators, laying aside their gravity, expressed their delighted admiration by the strangest and most energetic gestures. Then came--greeted by the same success--the bouquet of flowers, produced instantaneously from a hat; the _cornucopia_, supplying a multitude of objects, which I distributed though unable to satisfy the repeated demands made on all sides, and still more by those who had their hands full already; the _five-franc pieces_, sent across the theatre into a crystal box suspended above the spectators. One trick I should much have liked to perform was the _inexhaustible bottle_, so appreciated by the Parisians and the Manchester “hands;” but I could not employ it in this performance, for it is well known the followers of Mohammed drink no fermented liquor--at least not publicly. Hence, I substituted the following with considerable advantage. I took a silver cup, like those called “punch bowls” in the Parisians cafés. I unscrewed the foot, and passing my wand through it showed that the vessel contained nothing; then, having refitted the two parts, I went to the centre of the pit, when, at my command, the bowl was _magically_ filled with sweetmeats, which were found excellent. The sweetmeats exhausted, I turned the bowl over, and proposed to fill it with excellent coffee; so, gravely passing my hand thrice over the bowl, a dense vapor immediately issued from it, and announced the presence of the precious liquid. The bowl was full of boiling coffee, which I poured into cups, and offered to my astounded spectators. The first cups were only accepted, so to speak, under protest; for not an Arab would consent to moisten his lips with a beverage which he thought came straight from Shaitan’s kitchen; but, insensibly seduced by the perfume of their favorite liquor, and urged by the interpreters, some of the boldest decided on tasting the magic liquor, and all soon followed their example. The vessel, rapidly emptied, was repeatedly filled again with equal rapidity; and it satisfied all demands, like my inexhaustible bottle, and was borne back to the stage still full.