house."

Off ran Mr. Opie, who was no less a personage than the manager of the
theatre, leaving Dumps fully persuaded that he had been closeted with
a lunatic.

Shortly afterwards he saw a man very busy pasting bills against a wall
opposite his window, and so large were the letters that he easily
deciphered, "THE CELEBRATED MR. LISTON IN TRAGEDY. This evening THE
STRANGER, the Part of THE STRANGER BY MR. LISTON." Dumps had never seen
the inimitable Liston, indeed comedy was quite out of his way. But now
that the star was to shine forth in tragedy, the announcement was
congenial to the serious turn of his mind, and he resolved to go.

He ate an early dinner, went by times to the theatre, and established
himself in a snug corner of the stage box. The house filled, the hour
of commencement arrived, the fiddlers paused and looked towards the
curtain, but hearing no signal they fiddled another strain. The audience
became impatient; they hissed, they hooted, and they called for the
manager: another pause, another yell of disapprobation, and the manager
pale and trembling appeared, and walked hat in hand to the front of the
stage. To Dumps's great surprise it was the very man who visited him in
the morning. Mr. Opie cleared his throat, bowed repeatedly, moved his
lips, but was inaudible amid the shouts of "hear him." At length silence
was obtained, and he spoke as follows:--

"Ladies and Gentlemen,

"I appear before you to entreat your kind and considerate forbearance;
I lament as much, nay more than you, the absence of Mr. Liston; but, in