Summary

Carlton Twenty Years of Spoof and Bluff

Almost the first question a stranger is invariably asked on his arrival in, say, New York, or Boston, or Philadelphia, is whether he doesn’t consider New York, or Boston, or Philadelphia, as the case may be, the finest and most beautiful city he was ever in.
For my part I always used to answer the questions in the affirmative, no matter where I might be, but my own private opinion is that Los Angeles is far and away the most beautiful of American cities. It was while I was performing there, by the way, that I had my first and only experience of tuna-fishing.
Source: Gutenberg

Carlton Twenty Years of Spoof and Bluff

I used to perform feats of the so-called thought-reading variety that were as genuine as such feats ever are. The fat chap used to try to imitate them. There was, for instance, the trick of walking blindfold into a room, and finding an article that had previously been hidden.
One day when there were a lot of us together in my dressing-room at the Hippodrome, Sheffield, I turned the conversation on to my assistant’s wonderful telepathic gifts, flattering him to the top of his bent. Previously, I had put the others up to it, and they one and all clamoured for an exhibition of his powers.
Source: Gutenberg

Carlton Twenty Years of Spoof and Bluff

Fatty pulled the bandage from his eyes, and stood triumphant, his big, round, simple face beaming with pleasure and pride.
“I didn’t think I could do it,” he cried. “I didn’t think it was in me. I’m a marvel.”
But I pretended to be in doubt.
“Some of you chaps are having a lark with us,” I said.
“No! No, we’re not. It’s all fair and aboveboard; isn’t it, Fatty?” they cried.
And Fatty, of course, assured me on his word of honour as a man and a gentleman that he did not even know what was the article he had to find. Which was quite true. And neither did we in the beginning.
Source: Gutenberg

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