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.

It is for this reason that Mr. ARTHUR BALFOUR has sometimes been
called Mr. Arthur Baffler. Puzzling, however, though he may be in many
of his political manifestations, his writings are like a beacon in the
gloom, and some day these simple chatty little booklets will surely
gain the wide public which they deserve. "The Foundation of Bunkers,"
"A Defence of Philosophic Divots" and "Wood-wind and Brassies" should
be read by all who are interested in _belles lettres_. And his latest
volume of essays deals, I believe, with subjects so widely diverse and
yet so enthralling as "Booty and the Criticism of Booty," "Trotsky's
View of Russian World Policy," "Quizzical Research" and "The Freedom
of the Tees."

The real pity is that with all his many and wonderful gifts Mr. ARTHUR
BALFOUR has never felt the fiery enthusiasm of his Hatfield cousins.
He remains, in fact, a salamander among the Sizzles.

K.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Retired Dealer in Pork._ "HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT FOR
IT?"

_Artist._ "FIFTY POUNDS."

_Retired Dealer._ "RIGHT-O. NOW COULD YOU DO ONE OF ME IN A RECLINING
POSITION, TO MATCH?"]

* * * * *

TRIUMPHANT VULGARITY.

[A writer in _The Athenaeum_, discussing modern songs, observes
that in the happy days of the eighteenth century "even the vulgar
could not achieve vulgarity; to-day vulgarity is in the air, and
only the strongest and most fastidious escape its taint." The
accompanying lines are submitted as a modest protest against this
sadly undemocratic and obscurantist doctrine.]

In days of old, when writers bold
Betrayed the least disparity
Between their genius and an age
When frankness was a rarity,
An odious word was often heard
From critics void of charity,
Simplicity or clarity,
Or vision or hilarity,
Who used to slate or deprecate
The vices of vulgari