Author. Why, you don't mean to say there are two Arthur Balfours, do you?
Editor. I do.
Author. Aren't you thinking of the two Winston Churchills?
Editor. No, I'm not.
Author. Well, perhaps I'd better begin again.
Mr. Arthur Balfour.
Born, as one might say, with a silver niblick in his mouth and possessed of phenomenal intellectual attainments, Mr. Arthur Balfour (the one on the other page) was not long in settling down to his main life-work, which has been the laying out of University golf curricula.
[Is that better?—Editor. Much.]
In spite of this preoccupation he has found time for a remarkable number of hobbies, such as politics, music and the study of refrigerating machines, though the effect of all these various activities is sometimes a little confusing for those with whom he works. When consulted on a burning topic of the hour he may, for instance, be on the point of inventing a new type of ice-bucket, so that the interviewer is forced to go out quickly and fetch his fur overcoat before he can talk in comfort. Or he may be playing, like Sherlock Holmes, on his violin, and say, "Just wait till I've finished this sonata." And by the time it's finished the bother about Persia or Free Trade is quite forgotten. Or, again, Mr. Balfour may be closeted with Professor Vardon, Doctor Ray or Vice-Chancellor Mitchell at the very moment when the Nicaraguan envoy is clamouring at the door.