Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 103. October 10, 1892. AT A HYPNOTIC SEANCE. 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. [Illustration: "I do. Lovely creature!"] [_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.