“At Allahabad I saw a juggler who made a specialty of this trick. Having explained to the spectators what he proposed to do, he allowed them to select a spot on the turf in the open air where the trick should be performed. Here he stationed himself with a basket with a hinged lid at his feet, a little boy at his side, and a sharp sword in one hand. He wore nothing but a breech clout. The company surrounded the conjurer in a circle so close that there was no possibility for any person to pass it without detection. The juggler placed the child in the basket, closed the lid, and began muttering a seeming incantation. While still praying he wound a large white cloth about his arm, and suddenly threw it over the basket, binding one end. He then drew the cloth towards him, brought it up around his waist and tucked the end in his clout, leaving a portion to hang down in front in graceful folds. This much done, he plunged the sword through the basket. As the child’s agonizing cries were heard, the man drew back the sword all dripping with blood. Again and again was the sword thrust into the basket, the child’s heart-rending screams growing fainter and fainter until they ceased altogether. The Fakir asked that the basket be examined. It was opened and found to be empty. A gleeful shout was heard. The spectators looked in the direction from whence it came, and there sat the child on the limb of a small {247} tree, waving his arms and seeming as happy as a bird. I paid the thaumaturgist two rupees (one dollar) and the secret of the trick was explained to me. I marveled at first that the man was willing to reveal the mystery for so small a sum, but I soon discovered that only those who wore the Indian juggler’s costume, the breech clout, could perform it. The trick is done in this way: When the cloth is spread the boy slips out of the basket under the friendly cover of the linen, and crawls under the Fakir. Grasping a strap about the man’s waist, he draws himself up between the juggler’s legs. The cloth when brought about the Fakir’s waist hides the little fellow, who, from his unexpected retreat, utters the piercing shrieks of the dying child. With a sponge saturated with a red liquid the conjurer produces the blood stains. When the people rush forward to look into the basket, the boy slips from his place of concealment and makes his presence manifest wherever he has been directed to go.” [Illustration] {248}