ENVOI 



TO my everlasting shame I must confess to 

 being one of those miserable creatures 

 who must have a finger in every pie, the 

 savour of which appeals to his appetite. 

 Upon my word, if I were given the choice of beginning 

 all over again, I should be on the horns of a pretty 

 dilemma, and were I allowed the choice of one sport, 

 one pastime, and one artistic occupation, and one only of 

 each^ on which I must perforce concentrate all my 

 energies, I could not, for the life of me, come to a 

 decision such as would leave me complacent and 

 content with such choice. 



Were I, for instance, to select as my most attractive 

 trio, race-riding, cricket, and painting, I should have 

 strong yearnings towards angling, rowing, and acting; 

 coursing, dog-breeding and exhibiting, and musical 

 composition ; or hunting, billiards, and lyrical effu- 

 sions ; without being able to rid my mind of leanings 

 towards the more essentially sporting forms of shooting. 

 This kink in my composition betrays the existence 

 of a virulent and chronic complaint known as versa- 

 tility, which is a veritable curse to those whom it 



^1^ T 



