I remember very well performing this experiment at an amateur show at the home of Mr. O― H―, of Baltimore, some eighteen years ago, before a company of interested spectators, among whom was the charming daughter of the house, Miss Alice, now the Countess Andrezzi Bernini, of Rome, Italy. My stage was situated in an alcove at one end of the splendid drawing room, and it had a window opening on a side street. My District Messenger boy, hired for the occasion, and privately instructed how to act, was stationed beneath this window, and threatened with all the penalties of Dante’s Inferno if he went asleep at his post. My brother, Walter Dorsey Evans, {221} afterwards a skillful amateur prestidigitateur, acted as my assistant, and adroitly threw the sealed note out of the window to the boy. Great was the surprise of my audience when the door bell rang and the stately butler of the establishment brought into the parlor the messenger boy with his sealed letter. “Where did you get this?” asked the host, as he doubtfully fingered the envelope and examined the address, which read, “To Sahib O― H―, Baltimore, Md.” “Please, sir, an old man dressed in a yellow robe came into the office, and asked that the letter be delivered at once.” “A Mahatma, I presume!” said the lawyer, ironically. “He had no hat on, sir, only a turbot wrapped round his head.” “A turban, I suppose you mean.” “That’s it, sir—a turbing like the Turks wear.” “That will do, young man. You may go.” The boy left. May he be forgiven the lies uttered in my behalf. But all is fair in love, war, and conjuring. He was well tutored what to say in the event of his being questioned, but he performed his part so naturally and lied so artistically and with such a front of brass as to have deceived the most incredulous. I have often speculated upon the subsequent career of that lad. Possibly today he is representing his country abroad in an important diplomatic post, or manufacturing sensational news for the yellow press. Had I been a professional conjurer, I would have hired him on the spot as an assistant. III. Alexander Herrmann was born in Paris, February 11, 1844. Information concerning his family is somewhat meagre. His father, Samuel Herrmann, was a German Jew, a physician, who had come to France to reside, and there married a Breton lady. Sixteen children were born of this union, of whom Carl was the oldest of the eight boys and Alexander the youngest. Samuel Herrmann was an accomplished conjurer, but rarely performed in public. He gave private séances before Napoleon I, who presented him with a superb watch. This timepiece descended to Alexander, and is in possession of his widow. {222}