Chapter VI (1)

'Onnesty is the best pollicy, and, 'Evin knows, 'Enery Wilks 'as allus tried 'is levil best to live up to them golden words. But I reckon there is certain excepshuns to the cast-iron 'onnesty of all of us, and every yumin being 'as 'is little weakness. Mine is golf balls.

Tips is well enuff in their way, and I 'ave nuthing at all to say agin them, but the present of a good ball is far more pleesing to the 'art of 'Enery Wilks. Praps it's becos of 'is allmost inkonquerabul pride which shrinks at times from taking munney from them 'oom 'e feels to be 'is equils or hinfeeriors; or praps it grattifies 'is artistick nachure to be given the himplements of that great sience which 'e onderstands so well. Any'ow golf balls is my temptashun, and one which once or twice in the course of my 'onnerabul kareer I 'ave allowed meself to yeeld to.

Some golfers will ercashunally 'and you tuppence or an 'arf-used ball, wif a jenial word of thanks for your attenshuns which is worth more to a proud nachure than the gift itself. And there's uthers 'oo never think of doing nuthink of the sort. Among _them_ is Mister Schwabstein, 'oo is not French or Scotch, as you might think from 'is name, but German, wiv praps a touch of Jentile.

'E's a man what catches the eye on the links, it being 'is constant and hannoying 'abbit to were a peaked yotting cap, large specks, and a white silk coat which was once a good deal whiter. An egsellent sort of person, I dessay, in the 'ome sircle, but 'ardly what you'd call a brillyent success upon the links. They say as 'ow 'e 'as more munney than 'e ritely knows what to do wiv, but I fancy 'e's made it by never giving any of it away. 'Owever, 'Enery Wilks 'as done 'is best to put that rite.

Let me diskribe to you a rarnd which 'e played the uther day wiv Mister 'Erminius Brellett, our litterry member, 'oo allus seems to go out of 'is way to play wiv kurious people. I 'ave taken Mister Schwabstein in charge before, but never 'ave I seen 'is pecooliarities so noticeabul as on that day.

'E took the 'onner, and for about three minutes 'e addressed the ball wiv 'is 'uge, thick, ugly driver, which 'as always rarsed my perfessional hindignashun. 'E swung at last, quite slow like, but wiv all 'is great weight and strength piled into it. I shall never know egsackly what 'e did, becos the tees was dry, and for the moment I was 'arf blinded by the dust. But there was a thud and a krackling snap, and two things was flying through the thick, dusty air. Them two missils was the ball and the 'ead of the driver, and they fell togevver thirty yards from the tee. 'E said somethink which I couldn't catch and didn't want to, and walked rarnd in a slow sircle, smiling to 'isself. 'E's a man 'oo allus smiles. It often seems to me that it is 'is misforchune.

Then Mister Brellett took one of 'is yusual springing drives, which 'appened to come off, and 'e won that fust 'ole on 'is head. Mister Schwabstein kontrived to redooce 'is brassey to fragmints at the second 'ole; and after that he took out 'is niblick, and nuthing wouldn't perswade 'im to put it back. 'E drove wiv that niblick, and 'e played 'is many shots through the green wiv it. And the way that thick strong niblick eat into the turf was enuff to brake the 'art of 'Enery Wilks. We moved slowly forward, leaving be'ind us a line of crewel deep kassims, which nuthink wouldn't fill up. And 'is stile of bunker play was equilly distrucktive.

'Is noshun of getting out was to distroy the wall of the bunker wiv reppeated blows, and then to force 'is ball throo the rewings. I wouldn't 'ave belleeved that meer wood and iron could 'ave done the work that that one German niblick did wivout turning an 'air.

'E only smiled 'is slow smile when Mister Brellett or meself venchured a remmonstrance, and 'e would never pick up 'is ball. 'E persevered wiv each 'ole until at last 'e 'ad pushed the ball into the tin, and then 'e would turn and pat my 'ead wiv 'is large 'and. After the fust time I jenerally dodged, and once 'e turned and patted Mister Brellett's 'ead by accerdent. Like most litterry jents, the latter is rather touchy, and there was neerly trouble; but some'ow, thanks to Mister Schwabstein's apparent onconshusness of offense, it was erverted.

At the thirteenth 'ole Mister Brellett was five up. Mister Schwabstein put down a new ball, wiv a sort of groan, and pulled it wiv 'is niblick right rarnd into the rough. For a long two minnutes we 'unted 'igh and low, but nowhere could we find that ball. If I'd seen it I would 'ave handed it over at once, sich being my boundin dooty. But I never did see it. There was jest one little place in that rough where some'ow it didn't seem worth while looking. We 'ad to erbandon it at last; and Mister Schwabstein lost the 'ole and the match.

Later in the day I wandered down on a sort of ferlorn 'ope to that bit of rough, and kuriously enuff I walked bang on to that ball. There was severil courses open to me. I might 'ave 'anded it over to the orthorities, or I might 'ave kep' it as a memmentoe of Mister Schwabstein's unfaling jenerosity and kortesy. But 'Enery Wilks didn't see 'is way to doing either of them two things. 'E jest disposed of that fine new ball to the very best hadvantage.

* * * * *

GOLFING NOTES

"Denmark is the latest of the Continental nations to receive golf."--_The Tatler._

But golf must have flourished at Denmark in Hamlet's time, judging by the above reproduction of a very ancient mural decoration which has just come to light.

See also quotation _Hamlet_, Act II., Scene 2:--" ... drives; in rage, strikes wide!"]

* * * * *

ENCOURAGEMENT.--_Professional Golfer_ (_in answer to anxious question_). "Weel, no, sir, at your time o' life, ye can never hope to become a _player_; but if ye practise hard for three years, ye may be able to tell good play from bad when ye see it!"]

* * * * *

_Bertie_ (_to caddie, searching for lost ball_). "What are you looking there for? Why, I must have driven it fifty yards further!"

_Diplomatic Caddie._ "But sometimes they hit a stone, sir, and bounce back a terrible distance!"]

* * * * *

_Old Hand._ "Ah, I heard you'd joined. Been round the links yet?"

_New Hand._ "Oh, yes. Went yesterday."

_Old Hand._ "Whot did you go round in?"

_New Hand._ "Oh, my ordinary clothes!"]

* * * * *

GOLFING AMENITIES.

(_Overheard on a course within 100 miles of Edinburgh_).--_Hopeless Duffer_ (_who continually asks his caddy the same question, with much grumbling at the non-success of his clubs_). "And what shall I take now?"

_His Unfortunate Partner_ (_whose match has been lost and game spoilt, at last breaking out_). "What'll ye tak noo! The best thing ye can tak is the fower fifteen for Edinburgh!"]

* * * * *

THE PEDANTRY OF SPORT.--_First Golf Maniac._ I played a round with Captain Bulger the other day.

_Second G.M._ When did you get to know him?

_First G.M._ Oh, about the end of the Gutty Ball period.

* * * * *

_Cheerful Beginner_ (_who has just smashed the Colonel's favourite driver_). "Oh, now I see why you have to carry so many clubs!"]

* * * * *

TEE, TEE, ONLY TEE!

(_Song of the Golf Enthusiast. After Thomas Moore_)

AIR--"_Thee, thee, only thee._"

The dawn of morn, the daylight's sinking,
Shall find me on the Links, and thinking,
Of Tee, Tee, only Tee!
When rivals meet upon the ground,
The Putting-green's a realm enchanted,
Nay, in Society's giddy round
My soul, (like Tooting's thralls) is haunted
By Tee, Tee, only Tee!

For that at early morn I waken,
And swiftly bolt my eggs and bacon,
For Tee, Tee, only Tee!
I'm game to start all in the dark,
To the Links hurrying--resting never.
The Caddie yawns, but, like a lark,
I halt not, heed not, hastening ever
To Tee, Tee, only Tee!

Of chilly fog I am no funker,
I'll brave the very biggest bunker,
For Tee, Tee, only Tee!
A spell that nought on earth can break
Holds me. Golf's charms can ne'er be _spoken_;
But late I'll sleep, and early wake,
Of loyalty be this my token,
To Tee, Tee, only Tee!

* * * * *

Golf caddies are now very much in the public eye. The education of some of them is certainly not all that it should be. "Here's an honour for us!" cried one of them excitedly the other day, as he pointed to a paragraph in the paper headed, "King Alfonso visits Cadiz."

* * * * *

THE SCIENCE OF GOLF

[A certain make of field-glasses is advertised just now as
"suitable for golf-players, enabling them before striking to select
a favourable spot for the descent of their ball." There can be
little doubt that this brilliant hint will be further developed,
with some such results as those outlined in the following
anticipation.]

As I told Jones when he met me at the clubhouse, it was a year or more since I had last played, so the chances were that I should be a bit below form. Besides, I was told that the standard of play had been so raised----

"Raised? I should just think it has!" said Jones. "Why, a year ago they played mere skittles--not what you could properly call golf. Got your clubs? Come along then. Queer old-fashioned things they are, too! And you're never going out without your theodolite?

"Well," I said with considerable surprise, "the fact is, I haven't got one. What do you use it for?"

"Taking levels, of course. And--bless me, you've no inflater, or glasses--not even a wind-gauge! Shall I borrow some for you?--Oh, just as you like, but you won't be able to put up much of a game without them."

"Does your caddie take all those things?" I asked, pointing to the curious assortment of machinery which Jones had put together.

"My caddies do," he corrected. "No one takes less than three nowadays. Good; there's only one couple on the first tee, so we shall get away in half an hour or so."

"I should hope so!" I remarked. "Do you mean that it will be half an hour before those men have played two shots?"

"There or thereabouts. Simkins is a fast player--wonderful head for algebra that man has--so it may be a shade less. Come and watch him; then you'll see what golf is!"

And indeed I watched him with much interest. First he surveyed the country with great care through a field-glass. Then he squinted along a theodolite at a distant pole. Next he used a strange instrument which was, Jones told me, a wind-gauge, and tapped thoughtfully at a pocket-barometer. After that he produced paper and pencil, and was immersed apparently in difficult sums. Finally, he summoned one of his caddies, who carried a metal cylinder. A golf ball was connected to this by a piece of india-rubber tubing, and a slight hissing noise was heard.

"Putting in the hydrogen," explained Jones. "Everything depends upon getting the right amount. New idea? Not very; even a year ago you must have seen pneumatic golf balls--filled with compressed air? Well, this is only an obvious improvement. There, he's going to drive now."

And this he did, using a club unlike anything I had seen before. Then he surveyed the putting-green--about half a mile away--through his glasses, and remarked that it was a fairish shot, the ball being within three inches of the hole. His companion, who went through the same lengthy preliminaries, was less fortunate. In a tone of considerable disgust he announced that he had over-driven the hole by four hundred yards.

"Too much hydrogen," murmured Jones, "or else he got his formulae muddled. Well, we can start now. Shall I lead the way?"

I begged him to do so. He in turn surveyed the country, consulted instruments, did elaborate sums, inflated his ball.

"Now," he said, at length settling into his stance, "now I'll show you."

And then he missed the ball clean.

... Of course he ought not to have used such language, and yet it was a sort of relief to find _something_ about the game which was entirely unchanged.

* * * * *

A LAST RESORT.--_Miss Armstrong_ (_who has foozled the ball six times with various clubs_). "And which of the sticks am I to use now?"

_Weary Caddie._ "Gie it a bit knock wi' the bag!"]

* * * * *

_Caddie_ (_in stage whisper to Biffin, who is frightfully nervous_). "Don't you get nervous, sir. It's all right. I've told every one of 'em you can't play!"]

* * * * *

_Fitzfoozle_ (_a beginner, who is "teaching" a lady on the men's links, and loses a club_). "Pardon me, sir. Have you seen a lady's club anywhere?"

_Admiral Peppercorn_ (_very irate at being delayed, wishes ladies would play on their own course_). "No, sir, but there's a goose club at the 'Pig and Whistle,' I believe. Try that!"]

* * * * *

ROYAL AND ANCIENT RECORDS.--The _Glasgow Evening Times_ displayed the following headings on the occasion of His Majesty's visit to North Berwick:--

VISIT TO THE GOLF COURSE.

A DRIVE THROUGH THE TOWN.

This, of course, constitutes a new record, the old one standing at about 330 yards.

* * * * *

THE GOLFER'S FRIEND AFTER LONG DRIVES--The Tea-Caddy.

* * * * *

GOLF MOTTO.--The "Hole" hog or none.

* * * * *

_Golfer, whose ball has lodged under stone, has had several unsuccessful shots, and finally, with a tremendous stroke, smashed his club._

_Old Man._ "You put me in moind of my old jackass."

_Golfer._ "What d'you mean, you idiot?"

_Old Man._ "Yer've got more strength than knowledge!"]

* * * * *

THE MOAN OF THE MAIDEN

(_After Tennyson_)

Golf! Golf! Golf!
By the side of the sounding sea;
And I would that my ears had never
Heard aught of the "links" and the "tee."

Oh, well for the man of my heart,
That he bets on the "holes" and the play;
Oh, well for the "caddie" that carries
The "clubs," and earns his pay.

He puts his red coat on,
And he roams on the sandy hill;
But oh! for the touch of that golfer's hand,
That the "niblick" wields with a will.

Golf! Golf! Golf!
Where the "bunkers" vex by the sea;
But the days of Tennis and Croquet
Will never come back to me!

* * * * *

VIRGIL ON GOLF.--"Miscueruntque herbas et non innoxia verba." _Georgics_, 3, 283.

* * * * *

TO CORRESPONDENTS.--"An Inexperienced Golfer" writes to inquire whether what he has heard about "the Tee Duty" will in any way affect the "caddies."

* * * * *

WILLING TO COMPENSATE.--_Mrs. Lightfoot._ "Oh, wait a minute, Mr. Sharp--don't drive yet. My husband is still on the green." _Mr. Sharp._ "Never mind. I'll risk it. For if I _do_ bowl him over, why, I'm ready to replace him any time!"]

* * * * *

CAPABLE CADDIES

Rumour has it that a movement is on foot amongst a certain section of the golfing public to ensure that for the future all caddies on English links shall be compelled to furnish satisfactory proof that they are physically and morally qualified for the porterage and cleaning of clubs, and acquainted with the more rudimentary principles of the game. To this end, it is reported, an entrance examination paper is in course of preparation, in which individuals aspiring to official recognition as caddies will be required to obtain a percentage of at least eighty marks. The following questions are said to have been already drafted:--

1. Write your name, legibly if possible, in the top right-hand corner of the sheet.

(Do not trouble to insert your nickname, as it is a matter of
indifference to the examiners whether you are locally known as
"Tiger," "Ginger," or "Bill Bailey.")

2. State your age. If this is less than six, or more than seventy-five years, you may omit the remaining questions and retire at once from the examination.

3. Are you married or single? Give reasons for your answer.

4. Illustrate the finer points of distinction between

(_a_) a niblick and a gutty;

(_b_) a bye and a bulger.

5. Are you a Protectionist or a Total Abstainer?

6. Rewrite the following passage, correcting anything that may strike you as an error or an incongruity:--"In an 18-hole match, X., a scratch player with a handicap of 20, stood dormy 12 at the 17th hole, but while half-way through the final green was unfortunate enough to get badly bunkered behind the tee-box. Being required to play 'two more' to his opponent Y., who had laid himself dead in 6, he only played one of them, thus holing out in 5, and securing a victory by the narrow margin of 4 up and 7 to play."

7. Given that the regulation charge for a round is a shilling, would you consider yourself justified in attempting to exact an extra half-crown for club-cleaning from a player in spectacles, with a handicap of 27 and a wistful expression? (Candidates are advised to say "No" to this question.)

* * * * *

STIMIED.--_Golfer._ "Fore!"

_Tinker._ "What?"

_Golfer._ "Get out of the way!"

_Tinker._ "What for?"

_Golfer._ "I might hit you."

_Tinker._ "Thee'd best _not_, young man!"]

* * * * *

_Licensed Caddy._ "Carry your clubs, sir?"

_Jones_ (_who has chartered a small boy at a cheap rate_). "No, I've got a caddy."

_Licensed Caddy._ "Carry your caddy, sir?"]

* * * * *

"AS SHE IS SPOKE."--(_In the train from Nice._) _Enthusiastic Golfer_ (_to friend, as train stops at Golfe-Juan_): "Oh, here we are! This must be the place. '_Golfe_,' golf. '_Juan_,' _jeu_, play, you know. Yes, this is evidently the station for the links!"

* * * * *

THE NATURAL CREST OF EVERY GOLF CLUB.--The lynx.

* * * * *

FIVE-O'CLOCK "TEES."--Suburban golf.

* * * * *

THE RULING PASSION.--_Laden and perspiring stranger._ "Could you kindly tell me how far it is to the station?"

_Sportsome Native._ "About a full drive, two brassies and a putt."]

* * * * *

THE GOLF WIDOWS

(_After E.B. Browning_)

Do you hear the widows weeping, O my brothers,
Wedded but a few brief years?
They are writing home complaining to their mothers,
And their ink's suffused with tears.
The young lads are playing in the meadows,
The young babes are sleeping in the nest;
The young men are flirting in the shadows,
The young maids are helping them, with zest.
But the young golf widows, O my brothers,
Are weeping bitterly,
They are weeping in the playtime of the others,
While you're swiping from the tee.

Do you ask their grazing widows in their sorrow
Why their tears are falling so?
"Oh--yesterday--to-day again--to-morrow--
To the links you ALWAYS go!
Your golf 'shop,'" they say, "is very dreary,
You speak of nothing else from week to week;
A really patient wife will grow a-weary
Of talk about a concentrated cleek."
Yes, the young golf widows, O my brothers,
Do you ask them why they weep?
They are longing to be back beside their mothers,
While you're playing in a sweep.

And well may the widows weep before you
When your nightly round is done;
They care nothing for a stymie, or the glory
Gained by holing out in one.
"How long," they say, "how long in careless fashion
Will you stand, to drive the Dyke, upon our hearts,
Trample down with nailed heel our early passion,
Turning homeward only when the light departs?
You can hear our lamentations many a mile hence,
Can you hearken without shame,
When our mourning curseth deeper in the silence
Than a strong man off his game?"

* * * * *

"---- HE WOULD HAVE SAID"

_A beautiful stroke missed! A favourite club broken! No words to bring relief!_

_American Friend (in the background, after a long pause)._ "Wa'al, Brown, I guess that's the most profane silence I've ever listened to!"]

* * * * *

* * * * *

SUBTLE.--"Aren't you a little off your game this morning, Mr. Smythe?" "Oh, I'm not playing this morning, Miss Bertha. Only just amusing myself."]

* * * * *

SHOULD MARRIED MEN BE ALLOWED TO PLAY GOLF?

(_Extract from a Golfer's Diary_)

_July 21._--Played Robinson, who would never win a match if it wasn't for his wife. Think that I shall start a links for bachelors only. (Mem.--Suggest to the committee that no married man is allowed to play golf in the mornings or afternoons.)

Hole I. I played perfectly, holing beautiful long putt. Robinson hopeless. One up.

Hole II. R. bunkered. Entirely his own fault. Two up.

Hole III. Holed my approach, allowing for both wind and slope of green; really a grand shot. Caught sight of Mrs. R. as I walked to the next tee. Three up.

Hole IV. Thought that I might have to speak to Mrs. R. at any minute. Missed my drive in consequence. Disgusting! Two up.

Hole V. R. seemed to be looking for his wife instead of attending to what I was saying. My drive lay on a buttercup, and who the deuce can be expected to play off buttercups? One up.

Hole VI. Stymied R. quite perfectly. He pretended to think that we were not playing stymies. We were. Two up.

Hole VII. Saw Mrs. R. looking aimlessly out to sea. These loafing ladies are enough to put any man off his game. Why can't they do something? One up.

Hole VIII. R. may say what he likes, but he waved to his wife. I was also annoyed by his stockings, which I should think Mrs. R. knitted. The sort of useless thing she would do. All square.

Hole IX. Got well away from Mrs. R., and though my caddy coughed as I was approaching I laid my ball dead. Beautiful shot. One up at the turn.

Hole X. Had the hole in my pocket when R. laid his approach dead. Ridiculous luck. All square.

Hole XI. Just as I was driving I saw Mrs. R. still looking at the sea. I complained, but R. took no notice. At any rate she cost me the hole. One down.

Hole XII. Vardon couldn't have played better than I did, and even R. had to say "Good shot!" twice. All square.

Hole XIII. As I was putting I had a feeling in my back that Mrs. R. had arrived at last. Missed my putt and only halved the hole.

Hole XIV. Couldn't see Mrs. R. anywhere. Wondered where on earth she had got to, or whether she was drowned. Of course I lost the hole. One down.

Hole XV. A little dispute, as R. claimed that his ball--which was under a wheelbarrow--was on ground under repair. Absolutely foolish, and I told him so. All square.

Hole XVI. Made a perfect drive, approach and putt. Looked everywhere for Mrs. R. and couldn't see her. One up.

Hole XVII. Completely put off by wondering when I should see Mrs. R. Most unfair. Told my caddy I should report him to the committee. All square.

Hole XVIII. Saw Mrs. R. on a hill half a mile away. Got on my nerves. R. said, "Halloa, there's my wife! I thought she wasn't coming out this morning." Lost the hole and the match, and told the secretary that R.'s handicap ought to be reduced.

* * * * *

"SHE WAS NOT A GOLFER"

_Husband._ "What on earth has happened to my driver?"

_Wife._ "Oh, I couldn't find the hammer, so I used that thing. It wasn't much use, though."]

* * * * *

OUR VILLAGE

The Golf-Club in full swing.]

* * * * *

_She._ "Why, Mr. Smith, you don't mean to say you have taken up golf?"

_Smith (age 78)._ "Yes. I found I was getting a bit too old for lawn tennis!"]

* * * * *

ERRATIC

_Pedestrian (anxious for his safety)._ "Now, which way are you going to hit the ball?"

_Worried Beginner._ "Only wish to goodness I knew myself!"]

* * * * *

* * * * *

SWEET SIMPLICITY

_Diffident Man (who does not know to how much of an ingenue he is talking)._ "Have you been out long, Miss Grace?"

_Miss Grace (consulting her wrist-strap)._ "Oh, about three-quarters of an hour. You see we were asked to come punctually."]

* * * * *

LINES ON THE LINKS

Hard by the biggest hazard on the course,
Beneath the shelter of a clump of gorse,
Secure from shots from off the heel or toe,
I watch the golfers as they come and go.

I see the fat financier, whose "dunch"
Suggests too copious draughts of "fizz" at lunch;
While the lean usher, primed with ginger beer,
Surmounts the yawning bunker and lies clear.

I see a member of the House of Peers
Within an ace of bursting into tears,
When, after six stout niblick shots, his ball
Lies worse than if he had not struck at all.

But some in silent agony endure
Misfortunes no "recovery" can cure,
While others, even men who stand at plus,
Loudly ejaculate the frequent cuss.

An aged Anglo-Indian oft I see
Who waggles endlessly upon the tee,
Causing impatience of the fiercest kind
To speedy couples pressing from behind.

Familiar also is the red-haired Pat
Who plays in rain or shine without a hat,
And who, whenever things are out of joint,
"Sockets" his iron shots to cover point.

Before ten thirty, also after five,
The links with lady players are alive,
At other seasons, by the rules in force,
Restricted to their own inferior course.

One matron, patient in her way as Job,
I've seen who nine times running missed the globe;
But then her daughter, limber maid, can smite
Close on two hundred yards the bounding Kite.

* * *

Dusk falls upon the bracken, bents and whins;
The careful green-keeper removes the pins,
To-morrow being Sunday, and the sward
Is freed from gutty and from rubber-cored.

Homeward unchecked by cries of "Fore!" I stroll,
Revolving many problems in my soul,
And marvelling at the mania which bids
Sexagenarians caracole like kids;

Which causes grave and reverend signiors
To talk for hours of nothing but their scores,
And worse, when baffled by a little ball,
On the infernal deities to call;

Which brightens overworked officials' lives;
Which bores to tears their much-enduring wives;
Which fosters the consumption of white port,
And many other drinks, both long and short.

Who then, in face of functions so diverse,
Will call thee, golf, a blessing or a curse?
Or choose between the Premier's predilection
And Rosebery's deliberate rejection?

Not mine to judge: I merely watch and note
Thy votaries as they grieve or as they gloat,
Uncertain whether envy or amaze
Or pity most is prompted by the craze.

* * * * *

_Foreigner (who has "pulled" badly, and hit his partner in a tender spot),_ "Mille pardons, monsieur! My clob--he deceived me!"]

* * * * *

_Tommy._ "I say, do you know who's winning?"

_Ethel._ "I think uncle must be--I heard him offer to carry auntie's clubs."]

* * * * *

THE HOLE CONCERN

SCENE--_Any golf-club where an alteration of the course is in
prospect._ TIME--_Any time, from dawn to dusk._ CHARACTERS--_Any
number of_ Members, _plus (on this occasion) an_ Inoffensive
Stranger.

_First Member._ (_catching sight of_ Inoffensive Stranger). Look here, Nobbs, you're an impartial judge, we'll have your opinion. What I say is this. If you take the present 4th hole and make it the 13th, putting the tee back ten yards behind the 12th, and carry the lower green fifteen yards to the right, and play the 2nd, 5th and 16th holes in reverse order, keeping clear of the ditch outside the 4th green, you'll bring----

_Second Member._ Oh, that's rubbish. Anybody with a grain of sense would see that you'd utterly ruin the course that way. My plan is to take the first three, the 11th, and the 14th--you understand, Nobbs?--(_slowly and emphatically_) the first three, the 11th, and the 14th.

_Inoffensive Stranger._ Yes?

_Second M._ (_quickly_). And leave 'em as they are. Leave 'em just exactly as they are. Then you do away with the next, make the 3rd into the 7th, and----

_I.S._ (_horribly confused_). But----

_Third M._ Yes, I know--you're thinking of the crossing from the 14th. And you're perfectly right. Simply fatal, that would be; too dangerous altogether. What we really want is a 2nd hole, and my plan would make a splendid one--really sporting, and giving these gentlemen who fancy their play a bit to do.

_Second M._ Don't know about _that_. Tried that patent 2nd hole of yours this morning out of curiosity. Holed it with my third, and might have done it in two, with a bit of luck.

_Third M._ (_whistles expressively_). Oh, _come_! Splendid player you are, and all that--handicap's fifteen, isn't it?--but there aren't _many_ of us who would stand here and say calmly that we'd done a hole of 420 yards in three! _Really_, you know----

_Second M._ 420 yards? 130, you mean.

_Third M._ (_defiantly_). 420, if an inch.

_Second M._ But look here, you told me yourself only yesterday----

_Third M._ (_slightly taken aback_). Oh, ah, yes. I understand now. I _did_ think, at one time, of making the 2nd a short hole. But this is quite a different idea. Miles better, in fact. It flashed across me quite suddenly at dinner-time last night. Sort of inspiration--kind of thing you can't account for--but there it _is_, you see.

_Fourth M._ Well, what you fellows can argue about like this beats me altogether. There's only one _possible_ way of improving the course, and I showed you the plan of it last week. It won't be adopted--not likely. So good, and simple, and inexpensive that the committee won't look at it. Couldn't expect anything else. Anyhow (_with an air of unappreciated heroism_)--I've done _my_ best for the club!

(_Sighs heavily, and picks up a newspaper._)

_Fifth M._ (_brutally_). Oh, _we_ know all about that blessed plan of yours. Now, I'm open to conviction. Mind you, I don't condemn anybody else's scheme. All that _I_ say is, that if a man doesn't see that my plan is the best, he's a dunder-headed jackass, and that's all about it. What do _you_ think, Mr. Nobbs?

_I.S._ (_rather nervously_). Well, really--I hardly know--perhaps----

_First M._ (_compassionately_). Ah, it's those whins below the 17th that are bothering _you_. But if you exchange the 8th and the 10th----

_Second M._ (_abruptly_). Rot!

(_The battle continues. The_ Inoffensive Stranger _stealthily withdraws._ (_Curtain._))

* * * * *

A TOWN MOUSE

_Jones._ "Well, my little man, what are _you_ thinking about?"

_London Boy_ (_who has never been out of Whitechapel before_). "I'm thinkin' it's time yer mother put yer into _trousers_!"]

* * * * *

A MARTYR TO APPEARANCES

_Young Lady._ "I say, caddie, what _does_ Mr. McFadjock do with all these clubs?"

_Caddie (wofully preparing to follow his tyrant)._ "He makes me carry them!"]

* * * * *

LINK(S)ED SWEETNESS

_The Real Caddie_ (_audibly_). "This club is going to ruin--allowing all these ladies to join!"

_Miss Sharp._ "They evidently can't get gentlemen!"]

* * * * *

_Sanguine Golfer._ "Is that on the 'carpet,' caddie?"

_Caddie_ (_as the ball swerves into cottage window_). "Yus, sir; front parlour, sir!"]

* * * * *

THE OLD TYPE OF LINK MAN.

Supper time.]

* * * * *

THE NEW TYPE OF LINK MAN.

Tee time.]

* * * * *

"A THREE-CARD LAY"

Long ago in Sweet September,
Oh! the day I well remember,
I was playing on the Links against the winsomest of maids;
In a "cup" my ball was lying,
And the "divots" round were flying,
And with eyes-a-dance she said to me, "Your iron's the King
of Spades!"

Now a foe, on such occasion,
Of the feminine persuasion,
Fair and twenty to the game a sort of subtlety imparts;
And I felt its potent glamour,
And I answered with a stammer
Shy and nervous, "It was rash of me to play the Queen of Hearts!"

Any further explanation
Of my inward admiration
Very likely had exposed me to the deadliest of snubs!
But a snigger from behind me
Just in time came to remind me
Of the presence of my caddie--and I blessed the Knave of Clubs!

* * * * *

GLORIOUS UNCERTAINTY

SCENE--_At the Golf Club._

_She._ "Good-bye, Major. What's the programme for to-morrow?"

_The Major._ "Oh, either skating or punting, according to the weather."]

* * * * *

GOLF AND GOOD FORM

(_By the Expert Wrinkler_)

Is it good form to golf? That is a question I have been so repeatedly asked of late by correspondents that I can no longer postpone my answer. Now to begin with, I fear there is no doubt that golf is a little on the down grade--socially. Golf is no longer the monopoly of the best set, and I am told that artisans' clubs have actually been started in certain districts. The other day, as I was travelling in Lancashire, a man in the same compartment--with the most shockingly ill-cut trousers I ever saw--said to a friend, "I like 'Oylake, it's 'ealthy, and it's 'andy and within 'ail of 'ome." And it turned out that the chief attraction to him at Hoylake was the golf. Such an incident as this speaks volumes. But I always try to see both sides of every question, and there is unquestionably a great deal to be said in favour of golf. It was undoubtedly played by kings in the past, and at the present moment is patronised by grand dukes, dukes, peers and premiers.

* * * * *

BETWEEN FRIENDS.--_Mr. Spooner, Q.C._ (_a Neophyte_). "This is my ball, I think?" _Colonel Bunting_ (_an adept_). "By Jove, that's a jolly good 'lie'!" _Mr. Spooner._ "Really, Bunting, we're very old friends, of course. But I do think you might find a pleasanter way of pointing out a perfectly unintentional mistake!"]

* * * * *

GOLF AND DRESS.

But the real and abiding attraction of golf is that it mercifully gives more opportunities to the dressy man than any other pastime. Football and cricket reduce everyone to a dead level in dress, but in golf there is any amount of scope for individuality in costume. Take the case of colour alone. The other day at Finsbury Park station I met a friend on his way home from a day's golfing, and I noticed that he was sporting the colours of no fewer than five different clubs. On his cap was the badge of the Camberwell Crusaders; his tie proved his membership of the Bickley Authentics; his blazer was that of the Tulse Hill Nondescripts; his brass waistcoat buttons bore the monogram of the Gipsy Hill Zingari; the roll of his knickerbocker stockings was embroidered with the crest of the Kilburn Incogs. The effect of the whole was, if I may be allowed the word, spicy in the extreme. Of course it is not everyone who can carry off such a combination, or who can afford to belong to so many first-class clubs. But my friend is a very handsome man, and has a handicap of _plus_ two at Tooting Bec.

KNICKERBOCKERS OR TROUSERS.

The burning question which divides golfers into two hostile camps is the choice between knickerbockers and trousers. Personally I favour the latter, but it is only right to explain that ever since I was gaffed in the leg by my friend Viscount ---- when out cub-sticking with the Cottesmore I have never donned knickers again. To a man with a really well-turned calf and neat ankles I should say, wear knickerbockers whenever you get a chance. The late Lord Septimus Boulger, who had very thick legs, and calves that seemed to begin just above the ankles, used to wear knickerbockers because he said it put his opponent off his play. If I may say so without offence, he was a real funny chap, though a careless dresser, and I am told that his father, old Lord Spalding, has never been the same man since his death.

STOCKINGS AND CALVES.

Another advantage of knickerbockers is the scope they afford for the display of stylish stockings. A very good effect is produced by having a little red tuft, which should appear under the roll which surmounts the calf. The roll itself, which should always have a smart pattern, is very useful in conveying the impression that the calf is more fully developed than it really is. I noticed the other day at Hanger Hill that Sir Arlington Ball was playing in a pair of very full knickers, almost of the Dutch cut, and that his stockings--of a plain brown colour--had no roll such as I have described. Then of course Sir Arlington has an exceptionally well-modelled calf, and when in addition a man has L30,000 a year he may be allowed a certain latitude in his dress and his conduct generally.

BOOTS AND SHOES.

The question of footwear at golf is one of considerable difficulty, but there is a general feeling in favour of shoes. My friend the Tooting Bec _plusser_ affects a very showy sort of shoe with a wide welt and a sort of fringe of narrow strips of porpoise hide, which fall over the instep in a miniature cataract. As regards the rival merits of india rubber studs on the soles and of nails, I compromise by a judicious mixture of both. If a waistcoat be worn it should be of the brightest possible colour. I saw Lord Dunching the other day at Wimbledon Park in a charming waistcoat. The groundwork was a rich spinach green with discs of Pompeian red, and the buttons were of brass with his monogram in blue and white enamel in the centre. As it was a cold day he wore a mustard-coloured Harris tweed Norfolk jacket and a sealskin cap. Quite a large crowd followed him, and I heard afterwards that he had raised the record for the links to 193.

QUALIFICATIONS FOR A VALET.

One thing is certain--and that is we cannot all be first-class players. Personally, owing to the accident I have already referred to, I hardly ever play at all, but I always make it a point, if I am going on a visit to any place in the country where I know there are no golf links, to take a few niblicks with me. A bag for clubs only costs a few shillings, and it looks well amongst your other paraphernalia on a journey. In engaging a valet again, always remember to ascertain whether he knows the rules of the "royal and ancient game." I shall never forget my humiliation when down at Lord Springvale's. As I was taking part in a foursome with the Hon. Agrippa Bramble, Lady Horace Hilton, and the second Mrs. Bunkeray, I got stuck in a furze-bush and my man handed me a putter. I could have cried with vexation.

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

CAVENDISH, CHATSWORTH.--As to the treatment of divots, different methods are recommended by different authorities. My plan, and I am not aware of a better, is to put them in my pocket when the caddie is not looking. When thoroughly dried they form an excellent peat for burning, or can be used for bedding out rhododendrons.

"NIL DESPERANDUM," BECKENHAM.--The best stimulant during match play is a beaten-up egg in a claret glass of sloe gin. The eggs are best carried in the pocket of your club-bag.

A. FLUBB, WOKING.--No, it is not good form to pay your caddie in stamps.

ALCIBIADES, WEMBLEY PARK.--If you must play golf on Sunday, I call it nothing short of hypocritical to go down to the links in a tall hat.

* * * * *

A HERO "FIN DE SIECLE."--_Podgers_ (_of Sandboys Golf Club_). "My dear Miss Robinson, golf's the only game nowadays for the _men_. Lawn-tennis is all very well for you _girls_, you know."]

* * * * *

If you should find a stray bull in possession of the links, and who is fascinated by your little red landmarks, don't try and persuade poor Mr. Littleman to drive him away. He is very plucky--but it isn't golf.]

* * * * *

HIS FIRST ROUND.--_Caddie_ (_pointing to direction flag_). "You'd better play right on the flag, sir."

_Curate._ "Thank you very much. But I have very grave doubts as to my ability to hit such a very small mark at this distance!"]

* * * * *

EAR BLINKERS.--A suggestion for caddies of tender age in attendance on hot-tempered Anglo-Indian military gentlemen learning golf.]

* * * * *

EVERY MAN TO HIS TRADE.--_Exasperated Amateur_ (_to fore-caddie, who will_ NOT _go on ahead_). "Go along, man. _Do_ get on towards the next green."

_Caddie._ "Beg parding, Capting. You won't never get him to go no more than twenty yards ahead. 'E's been used to carrying a flag in front of a steam-roller."]

* * * * *

LAYS FROM THE LINKS

I.--THE HISTORY OF A MATCH.

Let A be the Links where I went down to stay,
And B the man whom I challenged to play:--

* * *

C was the Caddie no golfer's without,
D was the Driver I used going "out":
E was the Extra loud "Fore!" we both holloa-ed,
F was the Foozle which commonly followed:
G was the Green which I longed to approach,
H was the Hazard which upset the coach:
I was B's Iron-shot (he's good for a younker),
J was his Joy when I pitched in the bunker.
K was the Kodak, that mischief-contriver,
L was B's Likeness--on smashing his driver:
M was the Moment he found out 'twas taken.
N was his Niblick around my head shaken:
O was the Oil poured on waters so stormy,
P was the Putt which, next hole, made me dormy.
Q was the Quality--crowds came to look on:
R the Result they were making their book on:
S was the Stymie I managed to lay,
T was Two more, which it forced him to play;
U was the Usual bad work he let fly,
V was the Vengeance he took in the bye.

* * *

W the Whisky that night: I must own
X was its quantity--wholly unknown;
Y were the Yarns which hot whisky combine with,
Z was the Zest which we sang "_Auld Lang Syne_".

* * * * *

_Short-sighted Lady Golfer._ "Hi! have you seen a golf-ball fall anywhere here, please?" [_Victim regards ball with remaining eye._]

]

* * * * *

II.--A TOAST.

Fill up your glasses! Bumpers round
Of Scotland's mountain dew!
With triple clink my toast you'll drink,
The Links I pledge with you:
The Links that bind a million hearts,
There's magic in their name,
The Links that lie 'neath every sky,
And the Royal and Ancient Game!

A health to all who "miss the globe,"
The special "stars" who don't;
May thousands thrive to tee and drive
As Jehu's self was wont!
No tee without a caddie--then
The caddies will acclaim!
A health, I say, to all who play
The Royal and Ancient Game!

Long life to all who face the foe,
And on the green "lie dead"!--
An envied lot, as all men wot,
For gallant "lads in red":
Where balls fly fast and iron-shots plough
Win medals, trophies, fame;
Your watchword "Fore!" One cheer--two more--
For the Royal and Ancient Game!

Then "_toe_ and _heel_ it" on the green
(You'll make your partner swear),
But I'll be bound your dance, a round,
With luck will end all square
Win, lose, or halve the match--what odds?
We love our round the same;
Though luck take wing, "the play's the thing,"
The Royal and Ancient Game!

* * *

Then, Royal and Ancient Game, accept
This tribute lay from me;
From me then take, for old sake's sake,
This toast--Long life to thee!
A long, long life to thee, old friend--
None worthier the name--
With three times three, long life to thee,
O Royal and Ancient Game!

* * * * *

_Very mild Gentleman_ (_who has failed to hit the ball five times in succession_). "Well ----"

_Up-to-date Caddy_ (_producing gramophone charged with appropriate expletives_). "Allow me, sir!"

[_Mild Gentleman_ DOES _allow him, and moreover presents him with a
shilling for handling the subject in such a masterly manner._]

]

* * * * *

_First Golfer_ (_to Second Golfer, who is caught in a bunker_). "Well, Jones told me this morning he did this hole yesterday in four."

_Second Golfer_ (_who stammers_). "If Jones s-s-said he did it in four, he was a l-l-l-l----"

_First Golfer._ "Steady, friend, steady!"

_Second Golfer._ "----he was a l-lucky beggar!"]

* * * * *

GOLF-LAND--HOLE BY HOLE

_Match for a suit of oil-skins between Sunny Jack and Dismal Jimmy._

"The rain has beaten all records."--_Daily Papers._

"Play the game."--_Modern motto._

_Hole 1._--Halved in 28. D.J. gets into the current with his 16th (a beauty) and is rescued by life-boat.

_Hole 2._--Abandoned. A green-finder with a divining-rod, which is convertible into an umbrella, states that Primitive Baptists are using the green for purposes of total immersion.

_Hole 3._--Abandoned. A regatta is found to be taking place in the big bunker.

_Hole 4._--Halved in 23. S.J. discovered with life-belt round him which he has stolen from the flag. Reported death of a green-keeper, lost in trying to rescue two caddies from the bunker going to the 11th hole.

_Hole 5._--Abandoned out of sympathy with the green-keeper.

_Hole 6._--Abandoned. S.J. gets his driver mixed in his life-belt, with the result that his braces burst. D.J. claims hole on the ground that no player may look for a button for more than two minutes. Mr. Vardon, umpiring from balloon, disallows claim. Both players take to canoes.

_Hole 7._--D.J.'s canoe upset by body of drowned sheep as he is holing short put. Mr. Vardon decides that corpses are rubs on the green.

_Hole 8._--Abandoned, owing to a fight for life-belt.

_Hole 9._--Halved in 303, Mr. Vardon keeping the score.

_Hole 10._--D.J. saves S.J.'s life. Hole awarded to S.J. by Mr. Vardon out of sympathy. S.J. one up.

_Hole 11._--S.J. saves D.J.'s life and receives the Humane Society's monthly medal and the hole from Mr. Vardon as a reward of courage. S.J. two up.

_Hole 12._--Abandoned. Collection made for the widows of drowned golfers, which realises ninepence. S.J. subsequently returns from a long, low dive.

_Holes 13 and 14._--Won by D.J. in the absence of S.J., who attends funeral water-games in honour of the green-keeper. All square.

_Holes 15 and 16._--Abandoned by mutual consent, whisky being given away by the Society of Free-drinkers. Instant reappearance of the green-keeper.

_Holes 17 and 18._--Unrecorded. Mr. Vardon declares the match halved.

* * * * *

* * * * *

_Short-sighted Golfer_ (_having been signalled to come on by lady who has lost her ball_). "Thanks _very_ much. And _would_ you mind driving that sheep away?"]

* * * * *

_Extract from the rules of a local golf club:_--"RULE V.--The committee shall have the power at any time to fill any vacancy in their body."]

* * * * *

A LESSON IN GOLF

"You won't dare!" said I.

"There is nothing else for it," said Amanda sternly. "You know perfectly well that we must practise every minute of the time, if we expect to have the least chance of winning. If she _will_ come just now--well!" Amanda cocked her pretty chin in the air, and looked defiant.

"But--_Aunt Susannah!_" said I.

"It's quite time for you to go and meet her," said Amanda, cutting short my remonstrances; and she rose with an air of finality.

My wife, within her limitations, is a very clever woman. She is prompt: she is resolute: she has the utmost confidence in her own generalship. Yet, looking at Aunt Susannah, as she sat--gaunt, upright, and formidable--beside me in the dogcart, I did not believe even Amanda capable of the stupendous task which she had undertaken. She would never dare----

I misjudged her. Aunt Susannah had barely sat down--was, in fact, only just embarking on her first scone--when Amanda rushed incontinently in where I, for one, should have feared to tread.

"Dear Aunt Susannah," she said, beaming hospitably, "I'm sure you will never guess how we mean to amuse you while you are here!"

"Nothing very formidable, I hope?" said Aunt Susannah grimly.

"You'll never, never guess!" said Amanda; and her manner was so unnaturally sprightly that I knew she was inwardly quaking. "We want to teach you--what do you think?"

"I think that I'm a trifle old to learn anything new, my dear," said Aunt Susannah.

I should have been stricken dumb by such a snub. Not so, however, my courageous wife.

"Well--golf!" she cried, with overdone cheerfulness.

Aunt Susannah started. Recovering herself, she eyed us with a stony glare which froze me where I sat.

"There is really nothing else to do in these wilds, you know," Amanda pursued gallantly, though even she was beginning to look frightened. "And it is such a lovely game. You'll like it immensely."

"_What_ do you say it is called?" asked Aunt Susannah in awful tones.

"Golf," Amanda repeated meekly; and for the first time her voice shook.

"Spell it!" commanded Aunt Susannah.

Amanda obeyed, with increasing meekness.

"Why do you call it 'goff' if there's an 'l' in it?" asked Aunt Susannah.

"I--I'm afraid I don't know," said Amanda faintly.

Aunt Susannah sniffed disparagingly. She condescended, however, to inquire into the nature of the game, and Amanda gave an elaborate explanation in faltering accents. She glanced imploringly at me; but I would not meet her eye.

"Then you just try to get a little ball into a little hole?" inquired my relative.

"And in the fewest possible strokes," Amanda reminded her, gasping.

"And--is that all?" asked Aunt Susannah.

"Y--yes," said Amanda.

"Oh!" said Aunt Susannah.

A game described in cold blood sounds singularly insignificant. We both fell into sudden silence and depression.

"Well, it doesn't sound _difficult_" said Aunt Susannah. "Oh, yes, I'll come and play at ball with you if you like, my dears."

"_Dear_ Auntie!" said Amanda affectionately. She did not seem so much overjoyed at her success, however, as might have been expected. As for me, I saw a whole sea of breakers ahead; but then I had seen them all the time.

We drove out to the Links next day. We were both very silent. Aunt Susannah, however, was in good spirits, and deeply interested in our clubs.

"What in the world do you want so many sticks for, child?" she inquired of Amanda.

"Oh, they are for--for different sorts of ground," Amanda explained feebly; and she cast an agonised glance at our driver, who had obviously overheard, and was chuckling in an offensive manner.

We both looked hastily and furtively round us when we arrived. We were early, however, and fortune was kind to us; there was no one else there.

"Perhaps you would like to watch us a little first, just to see how the game goes?" Amanda suggested sweetly.

"Not at all!" was Aunt Susannah's brisk rejoinder. I've come here to play, not to look on. Which stick----?"

"_Club_--they are called clubs," said Amanda.

"Why?" inquired Aunt Susannah.

"I--I don't know," faltered Amanda. "Do you Laurence?"

I did not know, and said so.

"Then I shall certainly call them sticks," said Aunt Susannah decisively. "They are not in the least like clubs."

"Shall I drive off?" I inquired desperately of Amanda.

"Drive off? Where to? Why are you going away?" asked Aunt Susannah. "Besides, you can't go--the carriage is out of sight."

"The way you begin is called driving off," I explained laboriously. "Like this." I drove nervously, because I felt her eye upon me. The ball went some dozen yards.

"That seems easy enough," said Aunt Susannah. "Give me a stick, child."

"Not that end--the _other_ end!" cried Amanda, as our relative prepared to make her stroke with the butt-end.

"Dear me! Isn't that the handle?" she remarked cheerfully; and she reversed her club, swung it, and chopped a large piece out of the links. "Where is it gone? Where is it gone?" she exclaimed, looking wildly round.

"It--it isn't gone," said Amanda nervously, and pointed to the ball still lying at her feet.

"What an extraordinary thing!" cried Aunt Susannah; and she made another attempt, with a precisely similar result. "Give me another stick!" she demanded. "Here, let me choose for myself--this one doesn't suit me. I'll have that flat thing."

"But that's a putter," Amanda explained agonisedly.

"What's a putter? You said just now that they were all clubs," said Aunt Susannah, pausing.

"They are all clubs," I explained patiently. "But each has a different name."