I'll go to see my love, and kiss Her pretty face, her sweet complexion, At least she will not talk of this Election. * * * * * "YOU ARE MOST APT TO PLAY THE SIR." _Othello_, Act ii., Sc. i. Friday, July 19, 1895, memorable in annals of British stage as a day set apart for one of the greatest triumphs of the Drama. Sir HENRY IRVING, fresh from the honours of Royal Windsor, received a further distinction at the hands and hearts of his "brothers and sisters" in that profession for which he has done so much. Squire BANCROFT was the eloquent spokesman for the enthusiastic audience of comedians and tragedians which filled the Lyceum; yet before and behind the footlights there was not a suggestion of histrionics. Unlike, too, the great unpaying, who have the dulness of their _order_, the guests of Friday were remarkable for the tremendous energy of their goodwill. If this theatre had not long been seasoned to the sounds of vociferous cheering, the demonstration might "have brought down the house" literally. _Mr. Punch_ takes this opportunity of joining in the demonstration, and drinks to Sir HENRY IRVING. May the Knight of the cheerful countenance prosper according to his deserts. And, if that wish is realised, the lessee of the Lyceum will be one of the happiest men on record. * * * * * STAMBULOFF. Grim mockery of fate! The assassin's knife Once more hath power upon a patriot's life. One steel-armed miscreant, with one felon blow, May lay the moulder of a nation low. Masterful man and fiery patriot, still Is that strong heart, relaxed that iron will. Yet there's more honour for the brave at rest, After vain struggle and abortive quest, Than for the ungrateful herd who dare not rise To the full height of perilous destinies, The Northern Bear his distant quarry nosing, Or the Coburger in gay Carlsbad glosing. * * * * * R. PEEL FROM MR. G.--Mr. GLADSTONE, writing to Sir ROBERT PEEL, who had been addressing the Fazeley branch Lodge of Oddfellows, said, "_In our small community we have four separate lodges, and I have associated myself with them all._" Mr. G. may now adopt as his signature, not the initials "G. O. M.," but the new one of "O. F. O.," or "Odd Fellow Out." No doubt, with his love of retirement and study, the Grand Old Odd-Fellow often says, sighingly, to himself, "O for a Lodge in some great Wilderness!" * * * * * To Dr. W. G. Grace on his 47th Birthday. Many happy returns of the day! Old Time on his record should nick it, Long, long may he umpire your play. Here's wishing you luck at the wicket, Long life,--for one "century," say,-- And a hundred more of 'em at Cricket! * * * * * [Illustration: BLASÉ. "WELL, PAPA, HOW DID YOU ENJOY THE PLAY TO-NIGHT?"