He protected his head with a small blanket, which he passed for examination, and this protection seemed excusable, considering that he had to do at least seven shows a day.

A strong man from the audience did the real work of the act by swinging the heavy sledge-hammer on the stone, as shown in the accompanying illustration.

Usually the stone would be riven by a single blow; but if it was not, Wells would yell, "Harder! harder! hit harder!" until the stone was broken.
The last I saw of Billy was during one of my engagements at the Palace Theater, New York.

He was then soliciting orders for some photograph firm, the halcyon days of his big money having faded to a memory.

But he had been a good showman and his was one of the best liked working acts in the Curio, as the dime-museum profession was called.
Of all the acts of this nature that I have ever seen I think the most foolhardy was that of an under-sized Italian who lay on his back on the floor and let fall from his hands, extended upward at arm's length heavy weights upon his chest--the silly fool! I said as much to him--and some other things too.