Irving s vein of pleasantry is ever welcome as it is unpretentious. I have heard him at the General Theatrical Fund dinner give the toast of “The Army, Navy, and Reserve Forces,” when he said, “There is an Artists’ Corps—I am curious to know why there should not be an Actors’ Corps. _We are accustomed to handle weapons._” On this occasion “friend Toole” had to leave on duty; “whose fine Roman visage,” said his friend, “has beamed on us during dinner—he has been obliged to go away, fortified, I hope, for his arduous labours, but he will return—I know him well—and he will too, I am sure, with a most excellent donation.” He can tell a story or relish a humorous situation with equal effect. In company with Toole, he has often contrived a droll situation or comic adventure.[45] At one period, when he was oppressed with hard work, it was suggested to him that sleeping in the country would be a great restorative after his labours. He much fancied an old house and grounds at Hammersmith, known as “The Grange”; and having purchased it, he laid out a good deal of money in improving and restoring it It had nice old gardens, with summer-house, a good staircase, and some old panelled rooms. To a man with such social tastes, the journey down and the night spent there must have been banishment, or perhaps was found too troublesome. Literary men, artists, and the like do not much relish these tranquil pleasures, though practical men of business do. I am certain most will agree that they leave Fleet Street and the Strand with reluctance and return to it with pleasure. After a few years he was anxious to be rid of what was only a useless toy, and it was offered for sale for, I think, £4,000.[46] CHAPTER XIV. 1888. ‘MACBETH’—‘THE DEAD HEART’—‘RAVENSWOOD.’ The approach of the opening night of ‘Macbeth’ caused more excitement than perhaps any of the Lyceum productions. There was a sort of fever of expectancy; it was known that everything in the way of novelty—striking and sumptuous dress and scenery, elaborate thought and study, and money had been expended in almost reckless fashion. There were legends afloat as to Miss Terry’s marvellous “beetle-green” dress, and the copper-coloured tresses which were to hang down on her shoulders.[47] The scenery was to be vast, solid, and monumental. It was no surprise when it was learned that before the day of performance some £2,000 had been paid for seats at the box-office.