_À propos_ of _Hamlet_, Irving used to tell a story that was characteristic of his imperturbable self-possession and was no less interesting in the light it throws upon the striking individuality of a youth who afterwards rose to a foremost position in public affairs. It was some few years after his performance of the character in London that Irving found himself in Dublin at a time when the Duke of Marlborough, the father of Lord Randolph Churchill, was Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. _Hamlet_ was the play of the evening, and Lord Randolph, seated alone, occupied the viceregal box. When the second act was ended he went behind the scenes to Irving’s dressing-room and introduced himself to the actor. With an apology that was evidently sincere he expressed his regret that, owing to a reception at the Castle, he was unable to wait for the conclusion of the performance. He declared himself, however, intensely interested with what he had seen, and begged Irving to tell him in a few words, as his time was limited, how the play ended. Irving, as he told me, was at first so taken aback that he thought his visitor was indulging in a humorous sally at the expense of the immortal dramatist, but a quick glance at the young man’s earnest face sufficed to reassure him, and he then told Lord Randolph the outline of that concluding part of the story which his social engagement did not permit him to see represented upon the boards. “When do you play it again?” inquired the young man of the actor. “On Wednesday next,” answered Irving. “I shall be there,” replied Lord Randolph, earnestly; and there assuredly he was from the rise of the curtain to its fall, in rapt attention to every succeeding scene of the tragedy. At the conclusion he again went round to Irving’s room, even more enthusiastic than on the occasion of his previous visit; and, with a naïveté that was, I think, deeply characteristic of that power he afterwards displayed in public affairs--the power of swiftly appropriating the knowledge needful for every successive post he occupied--he made the frank avowal that, since their last meeting, he had read for himself, not only _Hamlet_, but two or three other plays by the same author. “And do you know, Mr. Irving,” he said, “I find them enormously interesting.” Lord Randolph, I think, must have retained to the last his admiration of Irving’s talent as an actor, for I met him several times in later years at those little suppers in the Beefsteak Room of the Lyceum Theatre, which formed so memorable a feature of Irving’s management. Here, indeed, might be met many of the most notable people of the time, and amongst them, an almost constant figure in these pleasant gatherings, Irving’s life-long friend, J. L. Toole. The lasting friendship between these two men, so differently gifted and yet so enduringly allied, forms, I think, a touching tribute to certain great qualities of loyalty resident in them both.