le for Holland to present himself before the audience in such a
plight as he had been reduced to. An apology was made "for the sudden
indisposition of Mr. Holland," and the public were informed that "Mr.
De Camp had kindly undertaken to go on for the part." Whether Dowton
ever discovered his real persecutors is not stated. The story, indeed,
may not be true, or it may be much rouged and burnt-corked, as are so
many theatrical anecdotes, to conceal its natural poverty and weakness
of constitution. But it is an amusing legend in any case.

The melodrama of "The Corsican Brothers," first produced in England at
the Princess's Theatre in 1852, and splendidly revived at the Lyceum
by Mr. Irving in 1880, reawakened the public interest in the ghosts of
the theatre; and the spectre that rose from the stage as from a
cellar, and crossing it, gained his full stature gradually as he
proceeded, was for some time a great popular favourite, though
burlesque dogged his course, and a certain ridicule always attended
his exertions. The fidgety musical accompaniment brought from Paris,
and known as "The Ghost Melody," by M. Varney, excited much
admiration, while the intricate stage machinery involved in the
production of the apparition of Louis dei Franchi gave additional
interest to the performance. Of late years the modern drama has made
scarcely any addition to our stock of stage ghosts. The ingenious
invention known as the Spectral Illusion of Messrs. Dircks and Pepper
obtained great favour at one time, and awakened some interest upon the
subject of theatrical phantoms. But it soon became clear that the
public cared for the Illusion, and not for the Spectre. They were
concerned about the mechanism of the contrivance, not awed by the
supernatural appearances it brought before them. When once you begin
to inquire by what process a ghost is produced, it is clear you are
not moved by its character as a spectre merely. Puppets lose their
power to please when the spectators are bent upon detecting the wires
by which they are made to move.

The old melodramatic stage ghost--the spectre of "The Castle Spectre"
school of plays--the phantom in a white sheet with a dab of red paint
upon its breast, that rose from behind a tomb when a blow was struck
upon a gong and a teaspoonful of blue fire was lighted in the wings,
probably found its last home in the travelling theatre long known as
"Richardson's." Expelled from the regular theatre, it became