Houdini holds a beaker for a giant robotic mad scientist, from Cine-Mundial, 1918.

From The Charm by Walter Besant & Walter Pollock, illustrated by Chris Hammond & A. Jule Goodman, 1896.

From Le Journal Amusant, 1906.

Houdini menaced by a robot, from Cine-Mundial, 1918.

Reblog if you have ever produced a rabbit from thin air while surrounded by germs.  From Le Chariviari, 1884.

From Cine-Mundial, 1932.

From Queen Nature's Fairy Helpers by Alice Edgerton, 1921.

We're delighted that our mystical spell for a wishing well (which debuted in Fiddler's Green magazine, no.4) inspired a magical presentation by renowned mentalist Mark Edward for his book of mysterious séance magic, Total Darkness.

Today's card tricking oboe who improvises nonsense phrases is from The Martlet, 1974.  (Magicians, especially, will have noticed the extra joke embedded in this: how the oboe has cheated in his card trick.)  That last panel, with the nonsense phrases, touches upon an occult secret that modern stage magicians have now forgotten, to the detriment of their careers.  Nonsense phrases, like the babbled syllables of the Ancient Egyptian wizards, the priestesses of the Delphic oracle, and the stage magicians of old (when "abracadabra" wasn't a cliché) profoundly affect the brain by instilling an altered state of consciousness.  Dr. Raymond Moody recently published his findings on the influence of nonsense and further explained why he has clients read a page of a Dr. Seuss book as preparation for a mind-bending experience within a Psychomanteum (Moody's version of the Necromanteion of Acheron).  Yes, a magician (whether on stage or in an occult setting) who utters hocus pocus gives those present a more extraordinary experience, from within their own brains.  Though the oboe magician in the comic panel cheats at its own card tricks, it knows how to perform genuine magic.  See Magic Words: A Dictionary.

In fairness, Buddhism has always said it's all an illusion.  From Spook Crooks by Julien J. Proskauer, 1932.

Due to smoking ordinances and fire codes, now only street magicians have smoke up their sleeves.  From Siren, 1930.

From Monmouth's 1910 yearbook.