When we got back to the doctor's Mdlle. Titiens and myself stayed to dinner. During the repast Giuglini, who had been looking forward to his plate of meat, came into the room exhibiting on a very small plate a very small piece of meat. "Look what they have given me, Thérèse," he said to Titiens. "I am afraid to eat it," he added, in a tone of irony; "it might give me an indigestion." My firm belief is that if I could have got both Giuglini's legs into his trousers the day that he arrived in London I should have saved him. Living something like his ordinary life, among his old companions, he would have had at least a chance of getting well. Thus matters went on until the London season of 1865 opened, which took place on the Saturday night of the Easter week. I had made a series of improvements throughout the theatre, by reducing considerably the number of the private boxes, and enlarging those I retained. I likewise removed the twelve proscenium boxes, ten each side of the stage, thereby advancing the drop curtain some 16 feet nearer the public. This gave me much more room behind the scenes. Amongst the new singers I introduced was Miss Laura Harris, who afterwards, as Mdme. Zagury, achieved brilliant success throughout the whole of Europe; also Mdlle. Ilma de Murska, a lady who at once took high rank from her phenomenal vocal qualities. I also presented Signor Foli, a young artist, who was engaged at the Italian Opera in Paris, and who soon became a public favourite; likewise Signor Rokitanski, another eminent basso. Despite the blow I had received in the loss of Giuglini I went to work with renewed energies, and presented to the public Beethoven's _Fidelio_, with a magnificent cast, including Titiens, the incomparable "Leonora." I, moreover, mounted in great style Mozart's _Flauto Magico_, Titiens being the "Pamina," Ilma de Murska the "Queen of Night," Sinico the "Papagena," and Santley the "Papageno;" whilst the subordinate parts were all undertaken by principal artists. During the last act an accident occurred, which might have been very serious, inasmuch as the house was crowded from the stalls right up to the back of the gallery. In preparing for the final scene some of the gauze, which had been used for clouds during the evening, caught fire over the gas battens. Instantly the alarm was given, when one of the flymen, at the risk of his neck, flung himself across the stage, balancing himself on a "batten" (a narrow strip of wood, some forty feet long), while he cut the ropes with his knife, causing the burning gauze to fall down on to the stage, where it was extinguished by the firemen. Mr. Santley, who was undertaking the _rôle_ of the "Bird-catcher," remained on the stage unmoved. He walked forward to the audience, and addressed them in these eloquent words-- "Don't act like a lot of fools. It's nothing."