Redemption

I start with a little introduction in which I trace the history of our show from those given by my great grandfather. I pay tribute to my father, who passed on great-grandfather Carter's boisterous lanternist style to me. I explain that some of great-grandfather Carter's original slides and bits of stage business will be in the performance tonight. Then we start the show, our "Victorian Extravaganza." We pull out the stops. A few of Beale's illustrated stories. Some joyful sing-alongs. And some of great grandfather Carter's wonderful animated slip slides: The roaring tiger. The man with the growing nose. And, of course, the Ratcatcher.

The audience is very appreciative. Afterwards there is a knot of people around us, many reminiscing. Philadelphia was the center of American magic-lantern manufacture and Quakers were prominent in the industry. Many of our audience are old enough to remember something about the lantern or know of someone involved in the business.

One tiny little lady hangs back until the others have dispersed. Then she comes up, addressing me in the Quaker "plain talk."

"I'm so glad to have seen thy show. I feel as though I've finally redeemed myself."

"Redeemed thyself?" I ask, falling into her idiom, one we sometimes used in my childhood. "How can that be?"

"When I was a little girl we lived near thy great-grandfather. My parents took me to see one of his shows when I was about three. I remember the big room; all the strange people. Then everything went dark. A huge tiger leaped on the wall and roared.

"I was terrified. I started to scream. Then the tiger looked right at me. His eyes moved! I screamed and screamed. Finally I had to be taken home. I was in disgrace."

She looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. "That tiger you showed tonight was the same one wasn't it? I saw him look right at me. It's taken me ninety years, but thee'll notice, I didn't scream this time.

"It's taken ninety years, but I've redeemed myself."