Another illusion in which the looking-glass plays a part is that of the Decapitated Princess. Instead of a table, a chair is used. The head stands upright upon two swords, which rest on the arms of the chair. A mirror, placed at an angle of forty-five degrees, reaching from the front part of the arms to the back edge of the seat, reflects the bottom of the chair, thereby inducing the spectators to believe that they see the back of the chair; _ergo_, the seat is empty. Of course, this seat is covered with like material as that of the back of the elaborately carved throne chair. The glass conceals the trap at the back, through which the lady sticks her head and part of her body. She wears about her neck a lace collar, so arranged as to rest nicely on the two Swords. [Illustration: THE DECAPITATED PRINCESS. (From Hopkins’ _Magic_, etc. Sci. Amer. Co.)] {330} I first saw this interesting illusion exhibited in a _café chantant_ in Paris. The fat, thick-necked, little Frenchman, who presented the trick to the audience, reminded me of one of those human-headed bulls carved upon the walls of Assyrian palaces and temples. His hair and beard were oiled and curled. He bellowed out the marvels of his decapitated Princess, and flirted the skirts of his long Prince Albert coat like an animal lashing flies off its flanks with its tail. According to this Chevalier d’Ananias, the Princess lost her charming little powdered head during the reign of Robespierre I; it “sneezed into the basket” of the guillotine one fine morning while the knitting women sat around the scaffold and plied their needles and tongues. “Down with the Aristocrats!” Thanks to an eminent surgeon, who begged the head from the executioner, it was restored to life by hypnotic power. The surgeon handed it down to his descendants. Finally it came into possession of the showman, by what means the gentleman did not relate. A few days after the above exhibition, I saw the poor little Princess eating cabbage soup in a second-class _cabaret_. Her manager was with her. Her head was on her body at the time. {331} TREWEYISM. “Le mime-comédien Trewey est un prestidigitateur merveilleus, créateur vraiment surprenant d’ombres chinoises avec l’unique secours de ses mains. On peut dire que Trewey est de ceux qui ont agrandi le cercle de la fantasmagorie et en ont fait un des astres les plus vagabonds de la fantaisie.”—DOM BLASIUS: _L’Intransigeant_. I. My favorite character in French fiction is Alexander Dumas’ inimitable D’Artagnan, _le mousquetaire par excellence_, who comes out of Gascony with nothing but a rusty suit of clothes on his back, an ancestral sword at his side, his father’s blessing, and a bony sorrel horse under him, to seek his fortune in the world. Aided by his good rapier, his wonderful _sang froid_, splendid audacity and versatile talents, he elbows his way to the foot of a throne, to become captain of the Grand Monarque’s bodyguard, and eventually a marshal of France.