Home Fun

“And there were birds, were there not?”

Hyde (sadly): “The air was thick with them, noble lord.”

“Can you recall the note of the Timbuctoo owl?”

(Figure lost in pondering. Head bent, hand raised to temple in Shakespearean attitude; lifts his face, mouth opened in a wide grin.)

Hyde: “It all comes back.”

“Give us a specimen of the owl.”

(Pause. Dummy thinks hard, and Hyde blows mouthpiece. I then call upon him to imitate the Timbuctoo lion, and Hyde growls through a glass chimney, swayed backwards and forwards, and renders excellent imitation.)

I need not narrate our further conversation. The young bunkum entertainer can concoct something probably far more idiotic himself. He may dish up puns, tell funny tales, ask riddles, &c., and, so long as his patter is bright, amusing, and illustrated by as many funny jerks and head-turnings of his dummy as he can squeeze into the entertainment, he will keep a house party amused for a considerable time.

My figure is not always posed as an unearthed royal mummy from the plains of Timbuctoo. Sometimes I dress him as a coster-boy, chimney-sweep, or gentleman in evening dress. Not infrequently he appears as a clown in tight linen skull-cap and red stockings; and a quick change into my mother’s old dress, renovated by Jane, transforms him from an awkward-limbed hoyden to a demure old lady.

This dressing need not cost the performer anything. He has only to unearth a linen bag, containing remnants and articles of outgrown clothing, to work the miracle. A dummy should have as many different costumes as Queen Elizabeth. They will all come in handy, and add novelty to the entertainment.

If the cost of procuring a dummy is beyond the performer’s purse—as it was beyond mine for quite a considerable time—he may engage a confederate to walk, behave, and talk automatically, conceal his face in mask and wig, and render a clever and ludicrous performance. This, however, needs considerable rehearsing and care.

The Three Old Maids

An item that makes for novelty and change in an evening’s performance is the following:—

Secure three young girls—I don’t mean kidnap them, but use your masculine powers of persuasion. (I find the majority of women folk need little when it’s a matter of dressing up and showing off to hilarious friends.) This is a digression.

Each damsel must have an old woman’s mask, the uglier the better, secured at the back of her head by means of elastics, which are easily hidden by her hair. She must wear a long skirt that conceals her feet, the back part of it covered by a small apron.

Her hands, in mittens, should be clasped behind her over a stick. To hide the edge of the mask, some fluffy headgear is essential, such as a lace fascinator with a rose or two fixed at the side, which is folded crosswise over the back of her shoulders and frames the mask.

Place the three behind a curtain. When all is ready—and the performers should take care to stand perfectly still, for fear of disclosing the masked profiles at the back of their heads—the curtain is drawn, and they sing to a pianoforte accompaniment a verse of “We are three young maids of Lee.”

The onlookers will probably designate this “pretty, but rather tame.” This is where the fun comes in, for no one is prepared for the grand finale. At the end of the verse the maidens step backwards in a row and retire behind the curtain, or turn round with their masks to the audience, their heads thrown well over the hands holding the sticks (Fig. 2). When they are ready the curtain is again drawn, and, amid shrieks of merriment, the last verse is sung by voices as cracked, discordant, and out of tune as possible—“We are three old maids of Lee.” The hands and heads should quiver with old age, the figures be bowed over the sticks. The result is ludicrous to a degree, and never fails to delight the unprepared audience.

I once saw an old dowager duchess, severe in full consciousness of war-paint and feathers, nearly burst the diamond snap of her necklace with laughing at the absurdity of the spectacle presented. Its great advantage is that it is cheap and easy, and can be performed without any rehearsing, by inviting three girls from the audience and spending a few minutes in instructions behind the scenes.

If you do not know them well enough to presume so far upon their good-nature, call up three chums of your own sex, array them in feminine apparel, and the result is even more ludicrous, if more expensive, for in this case you will require wigs to hide their cropped heads for the first verse, and dressing them will need more time.

Bunkum Lectures

I have frequently amused my long-suffering friends and relatives by Bunkum Lectures. For example, one on Toe and Cornology, quite an original science, gives scope for the most idiotic remarks on the characteristic traits portrayed by toes.

For my lecture I have an easel, covered with a block of thin paper perforated at the top, so that the sheets are easily torn off. On these I rapidly sketch in turn different types of toes in chalk.

If the entertainer is unable to draw, he can probably persuade an artist friend to sketch the members required beforehand. In this case the sheets need not be perforated, but simply thrown over the top of the easel as he exhibits the different drawings. An easel is soon constructed, and can be made at home out of soap boxes by the amateur carpenter; or the block of paper may be placed on a music-stand.

I begin my lecture by a short treatise on toes. I show diagrams of (1) the President’s toe, (2) the prelate’s toe, (3) the courtier’s toe, (4) the tyrant’s toe, (5) the toady’s toe, (6) the artisan’s toe, (7) the neurotic toe, (8) the spiteful toe, (9) the cringing toe, (10) the poetic toe, (11) the melancholy toe, (12) the absurd toe, (13) the philanthropic toe, (14) the corn-riddled toe. Here I try to be witty, and remark that some people of an original turn of mind wear their corns on their noses instead of inside their boots.

“The corn is precious—we all need corn; we make a great to-do when our corn is oppressed by taxes, for we cherish it. There is nothing—not even his wife or twin babes—so dear to the heart and necessary to the well-being of man as corn. Corn means bread. Bread is the staff of life. The man with corn (a corn) is grateful for the prop of the staff, so that to have a corn sprouting on your big toe should be no hardship.

“It is a convenience. It is tinned for consumption in your boot, out of reach of Tariff Reformers and Free Traders. It is your own private property. Sometimes it is trodden on maliciously, but it does not vanish on that account. There is something obstinate and bull-necked about the corn—the more it is trodden on the more it asserts itself. It is a hot-house plant. It needs a cover of wool, a roof of boot leather. Under these conditions it thrives like the baby fed on Mellin’s food.

“I can’t understand the fuss the unemployed make. Why should they, when they have such a treasure hidden in their boots? So long as a citizen possesses this luxury he is an independent man. What does he want with foreign corn? Ah, my friends, we have not yet reached the full realization of the tremendous privileges we inherit. The corn may not yet be ripe for cutting, but every day, every hour, sees it nearer that perfection which rejoices the heart of humanity.

“See how beneficent nature has become during the last centuries. The bootless, prehistoric savage had to plant and reap his corn in the barren fields, while we are provided gratis with an abundant supply that is likely to last some of us a lifetime.

“There are, of course, some individuals who have barren, cornless toes, although I am glad to say they are in a very small minority. I have taken pains to secure a correct census of the corn-sprouts that have appeared during the last year, and I find on an average that only 5 per cent. are ignorant of this blessing.

“The uses of a corn crop are too numerous to mention. Its chief function is its use as a barometer. The man setting out with his wife and children to spend a day at the seaside should, before starting on the excursion, consult his booted friend. If it admonishes him severely he should not ignore its voice. Woe betide him if he does! It is less disastrous for him to drown his conscience than shut his heart against the promptings of his corn.

“Should he do so, and act upon his determination to spend a long day on the sands, anticipating a pleasurable bask in the sunshine, dire catastrophe will befall him. Rain descends in bucketfuls upon him, his patient wife, and wailing progeny. They return to town drenched to the skin, and are all laid up with chills, which means a week’s absence from the office—perhaps dismissal by his employer, if he is a clerk, and a long doctor’s bill at the end of the month; and who is to blame? Had the man obeyed the mandates of the faithful vegetable protuberance on his big toe all would have been well.

“The only individual I am inclined to respect and admire is the man who cultivates and is led by his corn in all the important affairs of life. To be without the ripening corn is to miss the greater part of the meaning and poignancy of existence. The possession of this treasure causes a man to thread his way gingerly and tactfully through the city streets. He never blunders or bungles; he is a sensitive, considerate person, who unconsciously avoids treading upon or coveting the abundant crops of others. His corn’s influence is more beneficial than freemasonry or foreign missions.

“To gain the sympathies and interest of a fellow-being when you are in trouble and want his financial aid, don’t plunge into your story at once, but approach him gently with the kindly query, ‘Have you a corn?’ If he replies in the affirmative, you may safely intrust him with your difficulties. If, on the contrary, he negatives your question, recognize at once that he is a man of dormant sympathies, and don’t waste further time upon him. It will be useless. He is a cornless individual, therefore heartless.”

I wind up my discourse with some such remark as this—

“Ladies and gentlemen, turn away from the pernicious tyrants who seek to rob you of your birthright in advertising corn salves and plasters. They are wolves in sheep’s clothing. They are jealous and embittered by the barrenness of their toe pastures which, do what they will, yield no corn.”

The Sharp(?)-Shooter

After this, in order to secure the forgiveness of my hearers for my opinions and oratory, both pure bunkum, I bring a trick to their notice, which I work with Hyde, and of which I am rather proud, because it is quite original and works awfully well, in spite of the fact that it’s as simple as the alphabet. For those who would like to try it, here it is:—

Hyde, hidden behind me, is armed with a paper bag inflated with air. Beforehand I place a used bullet on the floor at the spot at which I intend aiming my pistol.

I employ some patter to remove the growing alarm of my family, and the anxiety expressed for themselves, the furniture, and lastly—my own person.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I say with self-complacency extreme, “I am about to perform a feat with my hands”—(joke—pause—a flutter of laughter). “Thank you,” I say with a polite bow—“the like of which has never been seen—since the making of the world. I will load and fire this revolver, and the bullet will not only make no mark, but there will not even be a flash or smoke. You will hear the sound of the explosion, and I will show you the bullet discharged.

“So that you may see that there is no bunkum in this marvelous achievement, I will hand you the bullet before I place it in the barrel and immediately after I have fired it.” (Here I pass round unused bullet. I then place it in full view of the audience in the barrel.)

I retire to the curtain immediately in front of Hyde, and take aim above the spot where the spent bullet lies. Count aloud “One, two, three!” At three I pretend to pull the trigger, and Hyde brings his hand forcibly on the paper bag, which causes my audience to bounce in their chairs.

Then I cross the platform, stoop, pick up the used bullet, hand it round for inspection, and retire modestly, overcome with glory.

The Ghost

Occasionally I work a ghost in the following way. After some patter, in which I inform the onlookers that I am about to conjure up the shade of some famous character, I extinguish the lights, and withdrawing to a corner of the room, enfold myself in a long black mackintosh or coat that shrouds my head and figure completely.

I strike a match behind the curtain, and, when I have a good spark that will last a few seconds, blow out the flame, and hold the end of the match between my teeth, so that my mouth is lit up (Fig. 3). My lips are drawn in a fiendish grin, and I strike an attitude, accompanied by inhuman moans and drum-beating from Hyde.

When the spark dies, I hide the black garment behind the curtain, and assume the position I occupied before the appearance of the ghost.

Hyde switches on the light, and my shivering onlookers have no key to the riddle.

The apparatus employed by the bunkum entertainer and the cost it entails depend largely upon his own ingenuity. Most of the articles I employ are of my own manufacture. My wigs do not hail from a wig-maker’s, but from the lumber room at the top of our house, where Jane and I shred disused rope, fix it by means of gum or stitches on to pieces of stiff book-muslin, shaped so as to fit the head. If other colors, such as black and red, are required, we resort to aniline dyes, and the result is much satisfaction to ourselves.

CHAPTER XIX
VENTRILOQUISM IN A MONTH

A Practical and Comprehensive Guide to the Art of Valentine Vox

There is one form of entertainment which perhaps makes a stronger appeal to the average boy and young man than almost any other. It would not, in a sense, be wrong to say that ventriloquism is, and has been for a great number of years, the most envied of all accomplishments incidental to the art of the amateur and semi-professional entertainer.

True, ventriloquism for many centuries was regarded as an adjunct to wizardry, and the exponents of black magic, but the great success achieved by the writer of “Valentine Vox,” the central character in which was endowed with the most wonderful and extraordinary powers of voice throwing, brought the subject of ventriloquism at once under general notice, and ever since it has steadily won its way into universal favor, with the result that, at the present time, it easily eclipses in popularity most other forms of amusement.

Despite this, however, the misconceptions existing regarding this branch of vocal phonetics are extraordinarily numerous and widespread, due, perhaps, in a measure to the fact that the amount of valuable written instruction on ventriloquism is so small, while the number of people who have swallowed the fascinating and improbable adventures dealt with in the book just referred to are correspondingly large.

To a very considerable extent, then, it is the object of this chapter primarily to dispose of the many existing fallacies concerning ventriloquism, because by so doing alone is it possible to commence a study of the subject with the hope of attaining proficiency and success.

The first idea which the would-be ventriloquist has to dismiss from his mind is that, by following out a stated course of exercises, he will be able to “throw” his voice or, in other words, to upset the equanimity of peaceable old gentlemen snoring quietly in the furthest corner of the railway carriage—or ruffle the temper of some aged lady by producing facetious remarks concerning her appearance—from a long distance away; not that those who approach this subject have any particular desire to be a disturbing influence to other people, but it is safe to say that more take up ventriloquism with the idea of practical joking than for any other purpose.

In point of truth, the real art of Valentine Vox does not lend itself very easily to the production of such illusions; even when the performer is capable of producing ventriloquial sound, he will discover that the “distant” effect depends almost entirely upon his situation at the moment of utterance, and whether or not those around him are prepared to give the credence he desires to his efforts. In other words, a ventriloquist cannot throw his voice wheresoever he will as if it were sound bottled up only to come out and be heard when it is some distance away; the best he can hope for is to make that sound so deceptive to the ears of his audience that, to them, it seems to come from some one other than the actual speaker.

It cannot, however, be denied that the stock-in-trade of the clever ventriloquist is so unusual and superior to that of his fellow-worker in any other branch of entertainment, that he is capable of producing the most humorous and arresting situations. Moreover, it is a power which once gained can never be lost, and although a ventriloquist may, from various causes, give up the pursuit of his favorite subject for a period of many years, yet he can pick it up again at the point where he left it and find himself still possessed of the same wonderful and extraordinary skill.

All Born Ventriloquists

Unhappily there are other very prevalent misconceptions to be removed before instruction can be either given or undertaken. The marvelous and almost incomprehensible powers attributed by the late Mr. Henry Cockton to his popular character, doubtless gave rise to the idea that ventriloquism was a gift natural only to those possessing unusual formation of the throat and vocal organs. Modern research and investigation, however, have proved that every one is a born ventriloquist, that the power to make sounds appear to emanate at a point remote from the speaker is universal—and that all those who study the subject from a proper and sensible standpoint can easily acquire the art.

Then, again, it has long been supposed by the uninitiated that ventriloquial practice is injurious to the throat, and capable of harming the lungs. Exactly the opposite is the case; the exercises necessitated by the proper study of the art are such as will serve not only to train the vocal organs, but also to induce proper breathing—a practice neglected by many—and to strengthen and invigorate the lungs.

From many years’ personal experience the author can testify to the truth of this fact; he has known a number of young men who, possessing lung and throat troubles, and acting on the foregoing advice, have followed out a practical course of ventriloquial training, and have obtained much material benefit thereby.

Of course it cannot be denied that some possess a natural aptitude for the correct expression of ventriloquial sound, and it is they who make the cleverest exponents. Therefore, from the start it should be assumed that a ventriloquist has only to cultivate the vocal qualifications with which he has been endowed in order to shine as a popular entertainer.

Careful and systematic attention to the instructions subjoined will not only strengthen the throat and respiratory organs, but will also endow any one young man, or young woman, with the power of giving a highly amusing entertainment. Probably many who give this chapter attention will do so with the idea of taking up the subject for the purpose of making a living, and in that respect it may truthfully be said that ventriloquism is one of the most paying forms of entertainment. While the number of conjurors, comic singers, &c., is legion, those capable of giving a really good ventriloquial entertainment are comparatively few, with the result that a clever ventriloquist is always certain of obtaining engagements at fees which he, himself, can fix and command. The popularity of the subject is so widespread that the chances of exhibiting it are increasing every year.

The Initial Stages

Just as the successful illusionist is called upon to devote many many hours of his time to the speedy and finished manipulation of cards, coins, and billiard balls, so the young ventriloquist has an equally uninteresting course to traverse. It is, however, possible for the initial stages of the work to be accomplished in less time than is the case with conjuring, and while the work has to be done all the same, dry and tiresome though it may be, after it is once accomplished the performer can put it behind him for ever.

The primary difficulty to be overcome is incorrect breathing. Possibly nine out of ten, when they come to read this chapter, will discover that their method of breathing is faulty. Most people, from lack of proper instruction and through carelessness, breathe through the mouth—and this fault must be remedied at once.

For ventriloquism, as with singing, breathing must take place through the nostrils. The necessity for this—apart from hygienic reasons—is that because the ventriloquist, particularly when he is performing with a “lay” figure, is called upon to conduct a dual conversation, and the supposed interchange of remarks between him and the automaton is so rapid that mouth breathing would interfere with the continuous flow of words. Only by taking in deep inhalations through the nostrils and filling the lungs to their utmost capacity is it possible to carry on one part of the conversation with moving lips, and the other with the face immutably set.

Breathing Exercises

These should be undertaken regularly every day, preferably early in the morning and in the open air. Stand erect, shoulders drawn well back, arms hanging loosely at the sides, and then, closing the mouth tightly, draw in a deep breath, retaining it for some seconds in the lungs. Not infrequently it happens, that the ventriloquist when performing is called upon to keep a conversation going for quite a minute and a half without the opportunity of recharging the lung cells with a fresh supply of oxygen; from this it will easily be understood how important deep and sustained breathing is.

At first difficulty will be experienced in holding the breath for more than five or six seconds; by the end of a week, after ten minutes’ practice every morning, the chest will be so expanded and strengthened that “half minute breaths” may be taken with ease. Continue the practice of this exercise until only one inhalation and exhalation takes place every forty or fifty seconds. Somewhat dry, indeed, sounds this part of the ventriloquial study; nevertheless it is of the utmost importance, and will well repay the time, trouble, and perseverance devoted to it.

As a number of minor acquirements must be gained before ventriloquial effects can be produced, the breathing exercises may be alternated with the most necessary adjunct of learning to speak without moving the lips.

Automaton—or Man?

It has previously been said that ventriloquism largely partakes of the nature of an illusion, and this effect is produced by the performer uttering sounds without giving visible indications of the fact. Consequently, when the audience have before them two figures, a live and a dummy one, and the mouth of the “dummy” opens and shuts to correspond with the words used, whilst the face of the ventriloquist remains mask-like and passive—the illusion that it is the “automaton,” and not the man who is speaking, is complete.

So important indeed is the ability to do this properly, that speaking without facial movement ranks of equal importance with the placing of the vocal chords in such a position that “distant” effect is given to sound. In fact, one might almost say that a most amusing entertainment can be given without this latter power at all.

Many ventriloquists or polyphonists, as they more correctly designate themselves, rely solely for their entertainment on a “knee” figure and speech without facial expression.

Those who do not aspire to become really first-class and proficient ventriloquists may conclude their instruction at this point, and rest quite assured that they have learned sufficient, at any rate, to give a creditable drawing-room performance.

Naturally the beginner would like to have some idea of the time it would take to gain a practical working knowledge of ventriloquism. Well, the student who would take the trouble and devote sufficient time to the initial and most difficult stages of the work would be in a position to give a very creditable performance long before his painstaking brother who, as fast as he seems to be getting on, will find he has to go back again and again over the early ground.

However, after devoting say a week to the elementary stages, a “knee” figure might be purchased, and within a very few days a private entertainment might safely be entered upon. As, however, the course herewith outlined will take in several different kinds of “voices” for automata, together with the various modifications of the “distant” voice, the student should not expect to gain proficiency under a month. Of course, to give a really finished entertainment consisting of an exhibition of the “near” and “distant” voices, together with instrumental and vocal mimicry equal in skill to the average product of the professional entertainer, many months’ practice are required.

Speaking with Still Lips

A study of the alphabet reveals that difficulties lie in the path of pronouncing certain letters—a, e, i, o, u, c, d, g, h, j, k, l, n, q, r, s, t, x, and z—issue from the mouth quite easily; but b, f, m, p, v, w, y all make a demand upon the muscles of the lips and cheeks. Unfortunately these letters often recur in ordinary speech, and as it is almost impossible to speak them distinctly without facial movement, appropriate vocal substitutes have to be made.

On the border line is “b,” which is generally pronounced by bringing the upper row of teeth down to the under lip and forcing the breath out between the lip and teeth; by giving greater force to the exhalation, and, opening the mouth, it will be found that almost identically the same sound can be gained, and it is this one which has to be used for all words commencing with “v” and “b.” Thus the word “brother” is really pronounced ventriloquially as “vruther”; in the hurry of conversation the substitution passes notice, and the audience hear only the correct word.

For “f” an accentuated aspirate makes a very passable substitution—i.e. “fool” becomes “hool,” “feel” becomes “heel,” and so on.

“m” will be found rather more difficult, but if the lips are formed into an orifice, and the breath drawn sharply in, the sound of the “m” can be made inside the mouth instead of by the lips.

As it is almost an impossibility to sound the initial “p” unless the lips come together, words commencing with it should be studiously avoided. Another plan is to drop the first letter altogether; but the former is the better.

“w” is amenable to a little tongue-twisting, and is accomplished by moving the tongue twice in quick succession to the roof of the mouth making the sound at the back of the throat. This is as regards the letter itself, but words commencing with “w” are quite easy. Practice on “which,” “when,” “what.”

“y,” however, is a fairly certain test, and if you can comfortably manage this without betraying the fact to the looking-glass (before which you should carry out your practice) then you have mastered a great difficulty. A quick exhalation should take place while words commencing with it are being uttered.

Two Kinds of Ventriloquism

Ventriloquism may be divided into two classes—the first and more easy of acquirement known as “near,” i.e. including all those vocal illusions produced with the aid of automata; and “distant,” which takes in the various illusions achieved by what is known as “throwing the voice.”

The most finished exponent of both these branches, of this or any other age, was the great Lieutenant Walter Cole, and he introduced into his entertainment such an exquisite blending of the two styles that his example might well be imitated by other followers of the art.

When carrying on an animated conversation with the “lay” figures placed at near quarters the proceedings would suddenly be interrupted by the low sound of voices coming from afar, and this would gradually increase in volume as the speakers were supposed to draw near, until at last they would be heard outside the very room in which the entertainment was taking place.

This is alluded to now, as showing the latitude which ventriloquism allows its exponents.

Of the two branches, “near” ventriloquism is much the simpler to acquire, although some might hold that, in order to justify the title, “distant” sounds should first be mastered.

For the purpose of adding interest to the work, students are recommended to give precedence to the “near” effects. Briefly, the “near” voices come from the mouth, the “distant” from the throat.

For the former five modified voices are generally used. These are: “The old man,” “the old woman,” “the little boy,” “the little girl,” and “the darky” or “the longshoreman.”

The first is a foundation for the last two. It has been spoken of as the “grunt,” because, being the vocal production of an aged and uneducated man, in its initial stages it much resembles the familiar grunting of a pig.

And here it should be noted that the speech of ventriloquial figures is always harsh and toneless because the efforts to produce the sound in the mouth without moving the lips rob them of that music and modulation invariably associated with the speech of educated persons.

Do not attempt to speak ventriloquially, as you would naturally but slur the endings of your words. Grunt and drag them out slowly, just as do many countrymen and those unacquainted with the rules of proper speech.

To give the sound the necessary depth and loudness, keep the lips slightly apart, the tongue lying loosely in the mouth; then make the grunt, using some vowel sound like “ah!” fairly far back.

To a certain extent the vocal chords will have to be contracted and the chin drawn slightly down into the chest.

At first only a spasmodic jerkiness of the breath will come, but after a little practice “ah!” can be said quite easily, and then other and longer words follow as a matter of course.

The Old Woman’s Voice

Known as the “theek” or “rush” voice, it partakes of the nature of the squeaky, shrill sound produced by a reed instrument. Most people are gifted with the power of singing “falsetto,” and the “theek” voice simply consists of falsetto tones somewhat exaggerated. Either the words “queek” or “theek” may be used for the preliminary practice, the latter perhaps being preferable.

As it is not intended in these chapters to enter into a practical discourse on the anatomy of the throat and vocal chords, technical terms relating to such will be avoided as far as possible. However, the larynx must now be mentioned—this is the part of the throat often spoken of as Adam’s apple, and is the convex portion of the first cartilage of the larynx. It is, then, this part of the larynx that has to be compressed by muscular contraction in order to give the “theek” voice its proper quality; by a slight pressure with the hand on the “apple” you will realize the position which this part of the throat should occupy when muscular contraction takes place.

Now, taking in a deep breath and contracting the larynx, it will naturally curl up the tongue, until the tip presses tightly against the roof of the mouth. Open the lips fairly wide and say the word “theek” in a high-pitched falsetto tone, sustaining the vowel sound as long as you can.

Your first efforts will probably end in dismal failure, but after a few attempts the full sound settles down to the long drawn-out sound of full roundness and tone.

Now you have acquired the “theek” voice, which is also the basis of the voices used with the figures of little boys and little girls.

Very possibly your practice in the elementary stages of ventriloquism will result in a slight soreness of the throat. To alleviate this, and, at the same time, to strengthen the vocal chords, gargle with a weak solution of salt and water, or better still, get a druggist to make up a gargle for you.

Curiously enough, the mere effort of gargling is in itself a valuable aid to the production of ventriloquism, inasmuch as the subject is forced to emit sounds while the water is in the throat, and these will be found to possess quite a “distant” effect.

Having mastered the “grunt” and “theek” voices, use words consisting of vowels, changing the words into sentences as progress is made.

At this point the young ventriloquist is sufficiently well equipped to undertake a public exhibition of his powers, and this being so, it is perhaps better to make mention of ventriloquial figures before the remaining “near” voices are dealt with.

As a matter of fact, the practice of ventriloquism in its earlier stages is not the most interesting of occupations, and not until the beginner awakens to the full realization of his powers—as he does only when he is working with automata—is the real fascination of the art felt.

Ventriloquial Figures

Perhaps it is hardly right to assume that every one has seen a ventriloquial figure; certainly many will be unacquainted with its peculiarities and modes of working.

The dummy is usually a humorous representation of some grotesque character—an old man, with strongly accentuated peculiarities, such as a red nose, wrinkled skin, and big jaws; an old woman, with thin, pointed nose, sharp eyes, and scanty locks; a little boy grinning saucily, and having the appearance of possessing the wisdom of all the ages; the little “miss,” of perky manner; the good-natured, rollicking black man; and the longshoreman, square jowled and cheeky.

The one essential about the ventriloquial figure is that it shall have a moving mouth. In reality the chin is cut away from the face, and the movable portion working on a pivot or string, gives the same effect as when a person is speaking.

There are many different forms of ventriloquial figures, some of which are shown on this page (Figs. 1 and 2), but for the amateur the kind which possesses only a moving mouth is quite suitable.

By means of a little ingenuity and the expenditure of a few cents a movable tuft of hair may be added to the wig, but as the working of this is liable at first somewhat to hamper the manipulation of the automaton, it should perhaps be left until proficiency is more assured. The hole in the back of the head or body permits of the hand of the performer pressing either upon a plate or upon a circle of wire, which in turn moves down the movable mouth, closing automatically by means of a spring. Figs. 3, 4 and 5 respectively show the construction of ventriloquial figure heads and another principle of ventriloquial figure manipulation.

The number of mouth movements made by the figure should, of course, coincide as nearly as possible with the number made by the mouth in ordinary speech; thus a natural effect will be gained.

Placing a “dummy” on each knee, the ventriloquist opens up an amusing conversation. The aim of the figures is to destroy the effect of the performer’s remarks by the interpolation of absurd interruptions. The whole matter resolves itself into a witty dialogue between three or four people, of whom the entertainer is the central character. Such a dialogue should be brisk and sparkling with humor, all vulgarity being carefully eliminated. It is as well to write the dialogue out and learn it by heart.

Ventriloquial Figure Manipulation

Always adhere to a prearranged order of ventriloquial figures. If you commence your entertaining career with the old man on the right knee and the old woman on the left, keep to that arrangement all along. A change will inevitably result in putting the wrong voice into the wrong mouth, and the result will be disastrous.

Bear in mind that all the while the endeavors of the figures are to make you appear ridiculous in the eyes of the audience, and they should turn all your sensible remarks into nonsensical ones, so that the laugh is always against yourself. Of course the audience will join in the laugh against you, and it is the taking of this in the proper spirit that will signalize your success as a ventriloquist.

When putting words into the mouth of an automaton, its face should be turned towards you; inversely, whilst you yourself are talking the automaton should be engaged in looking curiously about him at the audience, as if taking not the slightest interest in your remarks. Suddenly, however, he will snatch the opportunity of scoring off you, to the great enjoyment of his partner, the old woman.

Immediately you have finished speaking in your natural voice, keep your lips absolutely fixed during the time the figure is supposed to be talking.

It is not proposed here to give specimens of ventriloquial dialogue, because the humor of these depends so much upon the natural ability of the performer in presenting the joke or funny story.

Undoubtedly the best plan is to form a cutting-book out of the tit-bits extracted from the humorous periodicals of the day, and to paste them in. In this way a voluminous collection of anecdotes, tales, and riddles will be made, and by a judicious combination and selection of these, enough material can be speedily gained to last months without fear of repetition.

The most entertaining form of presenting riddles is for the “old man” or “little boy,” whichever is being used, to propound them, and the entertainer to give some practical answer to them. The real point of the joke should be brought out by the “lay” figure, to the accompaniment of considerable mirth.

Home-made automata are not recommended, because the cost of purchasing really serviceable “dummies” is so small as not to make it worth while spending a deal of time and trouble, to say nothing of money, on their construction. Moreover, the great point about the “lay figure” is that it should possess a funny face, and such expressions are rather difficult for an amateur to obtain.

Many entertainment emporiums deal largely in ventriloquian outfits, and reliable “dolls” ought to be procured fully dressed for about $5 each.

Voice for “Little Boy”

When a child speaks he almost invariably does so in a high-pitched tone, more or less directing the sound through his nose. This being so, the “theek” voice is the one most suitable for him. The similarity between it and the speech used for the “old woman” may be avoided by speaking in a somewhat lower tone, and in a simpler and more disjointed fashion.

Suppose, for instance, that you ask the little boy a question? Get him to repeat that question after you, and give the answer in short, jerky, broken sentences.

For the “little girl” use a slightly higher tone, without directing the sound through the nose. In her case also the mode of expression must be childish, but with slightly more refinement.

The voice for the “longshoreman” and the “darky” are both of the “grunt” order. For the former, the “old man” voice is used, with the addition of the peculiar “tough” twang; whilst for the latter, employ speech of a much lower and more resonant tone.

Place the chords as when using the “grunt” voice, breathing rather heavily, and force the sound as far back in the throat as possible, at the same time contracting the muscles of the stomach while the breath is being expelled.

The word “yah! yah!” is a very good one upon which to practice, and the vowel sound should be sustained to some length.

The “Distant” Voices

By this time the young ventriloquist should have attained sufficient proficiency in the art of manipulating “knee” figures to feel confident of venturing on the far more difficult and relatively more important “distant” voices.

The real test of ventriloquial power is when the performer is capable of making sounds appear to come from a distance, i.e. so modify his utterances that they appear to the audience to proceed from some point remote both from the entertainer and from themselves.

The basis of real ventriloquism, as apart from polyphony, i.e. “near” effects, is known as the “bee drone,” because the first sound of which the vocal chords are capable when placed in the required position much resembles the droning of a bee in full flight.

The “bee drone” should be practiced in loosely fitting clothing, so that neither the muscles of the throat nor of the chest are unduly hampered.

From a natural, upright position, inhale in a short, jerky manner, making what is best described as a retching noise at the back of the throat. Unpleasant as the practice of this undoubtedly is for the first few minutes, after a short while the noise emitted will settle down to a softly sustained hum. The tongue should lie flat, so that the sound waves produced partly in the larynx and partly in the back of the throat are forced upwards by the action of the abdominal muscles and directed towards the roof of the mouth, the latter acting somewhat as a sounding board—modifying the sound and conveying to the ears of a listener some distance away a “distant” effect.

The continuous practice of the word “ah,” with the vocal chords in the position just described, will speedily produce the necessary droning quality.

It remains now only by a contraction of the throat to regulate the quality of the tone and the distance from which you wish it to appear to come.

From this point progress will be found rapid and satisfactory. The various modifications of the bee drone produce respectively,