Here the learned counsel exhausted his law and rhetoric in making out there was really nothing to patent, for who could catch hold of a ghost? And more legal technicalities were advanced and argued than I can remember at this distance of time—viz., twenty-six years ago. However, his Lordship again asked, “Have you anything more to urge on this point?” and received the same reply, “No, my Lord, we have not.” The Chancellor then replied _in extenso_, exposed all the sophistries of the arguments, and whilst complimenting the counsel on his learning and the care which he had bestowed upon the case, said again that there was nothing in the arguments that militated against the sealing of the Patent. Of course, they could take action at common law, and try the case before the judges appointed to try such cases if they thought proper, and, supported by affidavits resulting from a trial at common law, could bring the case again before him. There was one point which the Lord Chancellor alluded to. He said: “Great stress had been laid on the impossibility of patenting a mere intangible nothing, viz., a ghost; but as he understood, the Defendant did not patent the shadowy result called the Ghost, but an apparatus for ‘Exhibiting Dramatic and other Performances,’ and without this apparatus no ghost could be rendered visible to an audience.” His lordship then continued: “I will now hear you on the novelty of the proposed invention, which your affidavits declare is not new, but an imitation of something already exhibited.” The learned counsel now made various statements, supported apparently by affidavits from persons who alleged that they had seen the ghost a long time before, and, in fact, had used the very same apparatus I had employed or words to that effect. For instance, an old playbill emanating from the Old Tivoli Gardens, Margate—not perhaps the most refined place of entertainment, in fact, no ladies appeared to visit the place say, in 1851, when I heard a lady in tights discourse a song the burthen of which was— “Take care, John Bull, or else you’ll be done In the Great Exhibition of ’51.” The playbill was laid upon his Lordship’s table, who, taking hold of it, asked, “Is this the playbill alluded to?” and threw it on the floor. I suppose the counsel was not attending to some point of etiquette, and ought to have produced his playbill in the form of a High Chancery Court affidavit. The playbill alluded to a ghost that was to be shown, and counsel again called attention to their plan of the ghost apparatus, which he was instructed to say was the same or very similar to that used by Defendant. The affidavit of some other dramatic professional was also brought forward with several others; but all things come to an end, and at last the same distinct question rang out: “Have you anything more to urge on this question of novelty?” with the answer as before. “No, your Lordship.”