e manufacture of gun-metal, which he, of course,
gave to the government at Washington for use in their several
arsenals and shops.

"Now," he said to his guests, "you have done me a great favor.
I will return it. Your company is obliged by the contract to
deliver this immense order within a limited time. They are going
to make an enormous amount of money out of it. You strike and
demand what you think is right, and you will get it immediately."

The gun company made a huge profit but had to share some of it
with their workers. It was an early instance of the introduction
of profit-sharing, which has now become common all over the world.

One of the most interesting Englishmen, whom I saw much of both
in London and in the United States, was Sir Henry Irving. The world
of art, drama, and history owes much to him for his revival of
Shakespeare. Irving was a genius in his profession, and in private
life perfectly delightful.

He gave me a dinner and it was, like everything he did, original.
Instead of the usual formal entertainment, he had the dinner at
one of the old royal castles in the country, which had become a
very exclusive hotel. He carried us out there in coaches.

The company of authors, playwrights, and men of affairs made the
entertainment late and the evening memorable. Returning home
on the top of the coach, the full moon would appear and reappear,
but was generally under a cloud. Irving remarked: "I do much
better with that old moon in my theatre. I make it shine or
obscure it with clouds, as the occasion requires."

I received a note from him at the time of his last visit to the
United States, in which he said that a friend from the western part
of the country was giving him a dinner at Delmonico's to precede
his sailing in the early morning on his voyage home. The company
was to be large and all good friends, and he had the positive
assurance that there would be no speaking, and wished I would come.

The dinner was everything that could be desired. The company was
a wonderful one of distinguished representatives of American life.
The hours passed along rapidly and joyously, as many of these
original men contributed story, racy adventure, or song.

Suddenly the host arose and said: "Gentlemen, we have with us
to-night--" Of course, that meant an introductory speech about
Irving and a reply from the guest. Irving turned to me, and in
his deepest and most tragic Macbeth voice said: "