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ARTHUR JAMES BALFOUR knew a man who painted all his sitters with just a suspicion of himself in each. A portrait of a well-known London doctor looked so much like a German that he was asked if he were of German blood. "No," he replied, "but that portrait was painted by a German."

These examples do not explain the strange happening to Mr. Balfour's portrait. It suddenly began to look like his secretary, Mr. Short. The nose, especially, took the form of the secretary's nose. Almost in affright I tried to alter it, but could not, and by dint of looking Mr. Balfour began to look like Mr. Short. The two men were not at all alike—one was short, the other tall. They both wore small moustaches, the only point of resemblance. I have sometimes noticed, however, that a secretary, either consciously or unconsciously, will imitate a man he admires—in gait, manner, voice, and the dressing of the hair or the cut of the collar.

When the sitting was over I went into the adjoining room and talked with Mr. Short, and while I talked examined him closely to see if he might by a rare chance bear any likeness to Mr. Balfour. I found, to my chagrin, that he was not unlike the picture, but not a bit like Mr. Balfour. I have never known where to attach the blame these coincidences—upon myself, or Mr. Short, or Mr. Balfour. But I never returned to finish the work—it remains as it then was.

I have always admired Mr. Balfour for his unchanging conservatism, his persistent unionism, and his British patriotism. The great shock of August 1914 seemed to unhinge most minds among leaders in the nations. The majority, in the peoples themselves, stood the shock and met it with resolution and courage. Mr. Balfour led them