is was notably the case when he was unfolding his
ideas on the conflicting theories of Individualism and Socialism. If his
conversations on this head could be printed in a book they would make
difficult work even for the most ingenious apologists of Socialism. He
was persuaded that no theory of Socialism could be put into successful
practice without involving the loss of personal freedom, and that
without Individualism there would be no initiative, no audacity, and no
creative energy in the development of an industry. Whenever he was in
conflict with Socialists he would say to them, "Why don't you buy me out
and run the mines yourselves? You have plenty of money in your unions,
and I am quite willing to sell."

There were several strange and interesting movements in his otherwise
quite simple and boyish nature. For example, he had no religious faith
worth speaking about, certainly no dogmatic faith of any kind; but he
always said his prayers. Then he held the theory that old age was a form
of disease, and so avoided, as much as possible, the society of old
people, fearing contagion; the young people with whom he loved to
surround himself, and on whom he delighted to play many practical jokes,
he called his "young germs."

He was entirely free from all forms of snobbishness, and would make fun
of titles and honours and ridicule aristocratic pretensions; yet he went
somewhat painfully out of his way to get a title from his Party when he
retired from the House of Commons, and was justly indignant at the way
this bargain was broken by the Liberal leaders of that day. I think he
wanted a title at that time chiefly to prove to his constituents that he
had faithfully done his duty by them.

He seldom read a book of any account after he came down from Cambridge,
but hardly a day of his life passed that he did not learn by heart a
number of fine sayings which appealed to him in a book of quotations.
These quotations he would fire off at his family till they cried for
mercy, or another set.

He was far happier among his Herefords at Llanwern than in London or in
Cardiff, but he was for ever postponing the day of his retirement from
public life. He kept all his boy's love for birds and animals, and had
real feeling for beautiful things in nature; but the game of life drew
him always towards the city.

At one time he smoked a prodigious number of cigars and drank a bottle
of port every night, but about twenty years before his