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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Punch's Golf Stories, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mr. Punch's Golf Stories
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: J. A. Hammerton
+
+Release Date: January 27, 2012 [EBook #38683]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Steven Brown and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
++======================================================================+
+|                                                                      |
+| Transcriber's notes                                                  |
+|                                                                      |
+| Illustrations have been moved to directly below the article          |
+| they refer to and some pages of this work have been moved from the   |
+| original sequence to enable the contents to continue without         |
+| interruption. The page numbering remains unaltered.                  |
+|                                                                      |
+| Text printed in italics in the original is represented here between  |
+| underscores, as in _text_.                                           |
+|                                                                      |
+| Text printed in small capitals in the original work have been        |
+| changed to ALL CAPITALS.                                             |
+|                                                                      |
++======================================================================+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: GOLF STORIES]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR
+
+Edited by J.A. HAMMERTON
+
+
+Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the
+cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic
+draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its
+beginning in 1841 to the present day.
+
+
+MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES
+
+
+[Illustration: GOLFER]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE GOLFER'S DREAM]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES
+
+TOLD BY HIS MERRY MEN
+
+AND ILLUSTRATED BY
+
+    PHIL MAY, GEORGE DU MAURIER, L. RAVEN-HILL, F.H. TOWNSEND, HARRY
+    FURNISS, E.T. REED, BERNARD PARTRIDGE, F. PEGRAM, A.S. BOYD, A.T.
+    SMITH, A. WALLIS MILLS, DAVID WILSON, C.E. BROCK, GUNNING KING, C.
+    HARRISON, G.L. STAMPA, TOM BROWNE AND OTHERS
+
+
+[Illustration: GOLFER]
+
+_WITH 136 ILLUSTRATIONS_
+
+PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH
+
+THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR
+
+_Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_
+
+LIFE IN LONDON
+COUNTRY LIFE
+IN THE HIGHLANDS
+SCOTTISH HUMOUR
+IRISH HUMOUR
+COCKNEY HUMOUR
+IN SOCIETY
+AFTER DINNER STORIES
+IN BOHEMIA
+AT THE PLAY
+MR. PUNCH AT HOME
+ON THE CONTINONG
+RAILWAY BOOK
+AT THE SEASIDE
+MR. PUNCH AFLOAT
+IN THE HUNTING FIELD
+MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
+WITH ROD AND GUN
+MR. PUNCH AWHEEL
+BOOK OF SPORTS
+GOLF STORIES
+IN WIG AND GOWN
+ON THE WARPATH
+BOOK OF LOVE
+WITH THE CHILDREN
+
+[Illustration]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE HUMOUR OF GOLF
+
+
+There are few pastimes that supply their followers with more innocent
+merriment than is afforded by "the royal and ancient." Certainly no
+outdoor game can make the neophyte feel more utterly worm-like in his
+ability, for it is the peculiar quality of golf to appear to be absurdly
+easy to the onlooker and preposterously difficult to the unpractised
+player. It may be taken that there is no better way of reducing a man's
+self-conceit than to place him on the teeing ground for the first time,
+present him with a driver and invite him to strike a little rubber-cored
+ball to a distance of 200 yards in a given direction. Consequently we
+have here most excellent material for fun; and you may depend upon it
+MR. PUNCH has not had his eyes long shut to the humours of the links.
+Despite the royalty and antiquity of golf, it has been thoroughly
+democratised in modern times, and its popularity, in the wide
+proportions to which it has attained, is chiefly a matter of recent
+years. Despite the shortness of the period that is represented by what
+we may call the vogue of golf--a vogue that is by no means in danger of
+passing--MR. PUNCH has evidently found the game so rich in fun that his
+merry knights of the pen and the pencil have contributed to his pages as
+many pictures as to illustrate very lavishly this volume and a good deal
+more literary matter than could be used. In the days when croquet was as
+popular as golf is to-day--the days of Leech and Keene--doubtless a
+volume could have been drawn from PUNCH devoted entirely to that sport.
+But it is worthy of note that an examination of these old croquet
+pictures and jokes for a comparison of them with the contents of the
+present volume leaves one with the conviction that the humour of the
+present day is infinitely superior to the humour of the days of Leech
+and Keene. Admirable draughtsmen though these artists were, both of
+them, but Leech particularly, were often content to let their masterly
+drawings appear with the feeblest jokes attached. The standard of humour
+has been immensely raised of late years, and MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES is
+no bad evidence of that.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES
+
+"GOLFERS AS I 'AVE KNOWN"
+
+(_By a Caddie_)
+
+[Illustration: MR. PUNCH]
+
+Golfers I divides in me own mind into three clarses; them as 'its the
+ball, them as skratches it, and them as neither 'its nor skratches the
+blooming ball but turns rarnd and wants to 'it or skratch anyone as is
+small and 'andy. The first clars is very rare, the second is dreadfull
+plentifull, and the third, thank 'evins, can jeneraly be kep clear of by
+them as knows the ropes. Sich as meself.
+
+Any himprovement in golfers, as a clars, is doo to the 'uge morril
+hinfluence of us caddies, 'oom some pretends to look down on. Much can
+be done, even wif the most 'ardened (and some of them golfers is
+dreadfull 'ardened), by firmness and hexample. "Show 'em from the fust
+as you'll stand no nonsense," is allus my words when the yunger caddies
+gathers ararn me fer hadvice. Me being older than me years, as the sying
+is, and much looked up to. If, as I often 'ears say, there's less of
+langwidge and more of golf upon these 'ere links, it's doo in no small
+part to 'im 'oo pens these lines. 'Oo's 'onnered nime is 'Enery Wilks.
+
+I seldom demmeans meself to speak to the kulprits, for severil reasons
+which I shall not go into, but I 'ave other meffods. There's sniffing,
+fer instance. Much can be done by jerdishous sniffing, which can be
+chinged to soot all cases. Or there's a short, 'ard, dryish larf, but
+that ain't allus sife. As a blooming rule, I rellies upon me sniff, me
+smile and me eye. There's few of them as can meet the last when I chuses
+to turn it on. Not as I objecs very strongly to a little 'onnest
+cussing; it's hinjustice and false haccusashun as I will not stand.
+
+Sich are me meffods to them as needs 'em, but don't think, becos at
+times I'm cold like and 'ard and stern, that I cannot be jentle wif them
+as call fer jentleness. No blooming errer! 'Enery Wilks is the lad to
+'oom old gents in need of keerfull nussing should be hintrusted by their
+wives and keepers. I'm not allooding now to old tigers 'oos stiple food
+is red pepper in 'uge quantitties, 'oo turn upon yer like blooming
+manniacks if yer blows yer nose quite inercent, and 'oo report yer
+before yer know if you're standing on yer 'ead or yer 'eels. No, I'm not
+allooding to old gentlemen like them! 'Enery Wilks 'as very little use
+fer sich unguvverned creetures. In 'is erpinyun they should not be let
+abrord without a chine. But I am allooding to them 'oos pashuns age 'as
+tamed, insted of blooming well hincreesed, to jentle 'armless old
+fellers, 'oo will almost eat out of yer 'and, as the sying is, an sich a
+one is Mister Perceval Giggington.
+
+Over sixty 'e is, and allus kind and civvil and respeckfull, but 'e 'as
+no more haptitood fer golf than a jeerarf. Sometimes I thinks, musing
+kindly like, as 'ow the old cove 'ud be yunger if 'e took the gime less
+seerius. But 'Enery Wilks 'as little to reproche 'imself about; 'e, at
+least, 'as done what 'e could to 'elp old Giggs. 'Is wife came down to
+the Club 'Ouse wif 'im larst Toosday, jest as nice an old lidy as 'e's a
+gent. She drew me on one side and spoke konfidenshul like, while the old
+man was fussing and bleeting about 'is clubs. It seems as she'd 'eard of
+me, and 'eard nuthing but good. Which is only right.
+
+"'Enery," she ses, "me 'usband 'as set 'is 'art, as you well know, on
+going rarnd the course in under an 'undred and thirty strokes. It's
+beginning to tell on 'is 'ealth, the strine and diserpointment, and I
+wants it stopped. 'E's going rarnd allone wif you now, as the course is
+clear, and I wants," she ses, "_I wants you to see as 'e does it!_" she
+ses.
+
+Well, nobody, excep one ignerrant, gellous, preggerdiced skoolmaster,
+'as ever dared to call 'Enery Wilks a fool. I took 'er meaning in a
+moment, and I touched me cap, quiet and konfident like. "Mike yer mind
+easy, mum," I ses in my korteous way. "It shall be done, this very day,
+if 'Enery Wilks is spared," I ses.
+
+She nods and smiles and slips a bob into me 'and, and then old Giggs
+finishes wurrying abart 'is clubs and we makes a start. The old 'un
+'ands 'is card to me to keep, and I speaks to 'im, kind like but firm.
+
+"I'll keep the score, sir," I ses. "Don't yer wurry abart yer strokes at
+all. What you've got to do is to koncentrite yer mind upon yer gime. For
+we're a-goin to do it to-day," I ses. 'E 'ears me wif a little sorrerful
+smile, and I lived up to them remarks. 'E'd arsk me at the end of an
+'ole, that 'e'd fairly bitten along, 'ow many 'e'd taken, but I would
+never tell 'im. I jest kep 'im upon 'is legs wif kindly, jerdishous
+praise. Even after that 'ole where 'e'd strook me wif 'is ball from the
+drive, although standing well be'ind 'im, and been in each bunker twice
+or more, I give 'im a word of 'ope. It was niblick play and 'ope all
+rarnd the blooming course. And at the end, when I added up 'is card,
+strike me pink if 'is score weren't an 'undred and twenty-nine! And I
+sent 'im 'ome to 'is wife, as pleased as any child. There's some, I
+dessay, as would 'ave made 'is score an 'undred and nineteen or even
+less, but 'Enery Wilks 'as allus known the virtew of modderation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Caddie (visiting)._ "What kind o' player is he?"
+
+_Caddie (engaged)._ "_'Im?_ He just plays as if it was for pleesure!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_McFoozler (after a steady sequence of misses)._
+
+"Ah--er--is there a _limit_ for these links?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Policeman._ "Where did you get that bag?"
+
+_Bill Sykes_ (_indignantly_). "There you are! Nice thing, in a free
+country, that a man can't have a quiet hundred up without the police
+interfering!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+Jones has recently taken up golf. He is already proficient in one
+department--the art of addressing the ball.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+II.
+
+There's some as takes their golf too seerius fer their strength, like
+that pore old Mister Giggington, of 'oom I've told yer, and there's some
+as don't take it seerius enuff. Under this 'eading I places Mister
+'Erminius Brellett. 'E's what they call a litterry cove in privit life,
+and, wifout wishing to be undoolly 'arsh, I must say as I beleeves it of
+'im. Strike me pink, if I didn't know as 'e was litterry, I should go
+away sometimes after 'earing 'im talk, and swear a hinfer-mashun of
+loonacy agin 'im! But Chawley Martin, one of our caddies, 'oo once spoke
+quite hintermate and friendly like wif a reporter feller, in connecshun
+wif a biking accerdent caused by Chawley's unforchernate pashun fer
+trick riding, ses as 'ow all these pore riters is alike. So you and me
+should only pitty them. As fer 'is golf, exsentrick ain't the word fer
+it. 'E stands wif both 'is feet quite klose together, springs 'igh into
+the air wif a tremenjus swing, and strikes the ball afore 'e comes to
+earth agin. The erstonishing thing is that 'e does strike it abart once
+in three, and when 'e does it goes like old Gewillikins. It just shows
+as there ain't no rules abart some peeple's golf. But the sad part is as
+'e's quite proud of 'is stile, insted of laberring to kerrect it under
+my tewishun.
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+"Keep your head still" is the first rule in golf, and Binks means
+to do so.]
+
+"I'm a mishonnery, a pyoneer of golf, 'Enery," 'e ses to me quite
+recent. "'Ow I plays it to-day, the rest of the silly 'ide-bound
+creetures will play it to-morrow," 'e ses.
+
+"Let's 'ope not, sir," I ses, quite respeckfull and reely meaning the
+words; fer, if yer think of it, a course full of Mister 'Erminius
+Brelletts would be an 'iddeous sight. 'E glared at me fer a moment quite
+dangerous, and then 'e began to larf. What wif 'is livver, at which 'e's
+allus cussing, and 'is kurious 'arf-irriterble, 'arf-manniackal temper,
+I can tell yer 'e takes some 'andling. But 'Enery Wilks knows 'is
+'Erminius Brellett by this time.
+
+"Your one chawnce of fime, you retched child," 'e ses, and I found 'is
+stile of speaking jest a little gorling, "will rest on the fact that you
+karried the clubs of 'Erminius Brellett, pyoneer of golf and
+unerpreshiated riter of himmortal books," 'e ses. Well, yer can't argue
+wif a man like that. Yer can only yumour 'im by respeckful silence, and
+be reddy all the time to dodge if 'is manyer turns 'ommersidal all of a
+sudden.
+
+'E took on Mister Washer the other day, a member 'oom both 'e and I 'ave
+little liking fer. At least, I can arnser fer meself. Fer 'e's one of
+your pompus, strutting sort of fellers, 'oo thinks 'e's good at golf,
+but ain't. I 'eard 'im chalenge Mister Brellett to play a rarnd fer
+'arf-a-crown, and a less skilful stoodent of yuman nachure than 'Enery
+Wilks could 'ave told as they didn't love each other. I 'ad a privit
+tuppence on the match meself, wif old Washer's caddy, although not very
+'opeful. 'Owever, when 'Enery Wilks' money is down, as the sying is,
+'e's 'ard to beat.
+
+But things went badly wif us from the start. I could see as 'ow Mister
+Brellett was wurried abart somethink, and in addition to that 'e was
+acktaly trying to play a keerful, sientifick gime. Oh, lumme, it was
+orful, I can tell yer! We was skarcely touching a ball, and old Washer,
+as pleesed as a turkey-kock but far less hornimental, was playing right
+above 'isself. Fer a man like meself, 'oo'd staked above 'is means, it
+was 'art-breaking. We lost five 'oles bang orf, and then Mister
+Brellett spoke 'arf to me and 'arf to 'isself as we walked to the sixth
+tee.
+
+"It's all that cussed nime!" 'e ses. "If I could only think of that, I'd
+be orlright. A female nime fer a kerrecter in my new book. 'Enery,
+what's the nime of your yung woman?" 'e ses, joking like. Well, love
+ain't much in my line, me ambishuns not letting me 'amper meself wif
+wimmen, but still a feller 'as to keep 'is 'and in. I won't say as I
+'aven't been more run after than most, but some'ow that ain't one of my
+temptashuns. 'Owever, more to pleese 'er than meself, I lets one of
+them, jest a school kiddy, walk out wif me at times. She means well, I
+do believe, but I've allus reckoned as 'ow 'er nime's agin 'er.
+
+"Hervangeline's 'er nime, Mister Brellett," I ses, deprerkating like.
+"But she can't 'elp it," I ses.
+
+"By Jewpiter!" 'e 'owls. "Hervangeline's the very nime I've been 'unting
+for. And now I'll win this match!" 'e ses.
+
+"You'll win it orlright, sir," I ses, ernest like. "But, for 'evin's
+sake, stop playing sientifick! Play the old gime as you're pyoneer on,
+sir," I ses.
+
+"I beleeve as 'ow you're right, 'Enery," 'e ses, thoughtful like; and
+then we come to the tee and watched old Washer drive 'is yusual
+straight, shortish ball. Then Mister Brellett grips 'is club, takes 'is
+yusual wicked, himmoril stance, springs 'igh into the air wif an
+'arf-styfled yell, and, by Gewillikins, drives sich a ball as the pro.
+'isself might 'ave been proud on! It knocked the kowardly 'art out of
+old Washer, did that tremenjus drive; and 'e's a man as only plays 'is
+best when 'e's winning easy. They 'ad a narsty lead, but we stuck to 'em
+like wax, 'itting a turriffick ball once out of three, or even oftener,
+and we won at last quite 'andsomely by three and two.
+
+I remember as I bought bull's-eyes fer Hervangeline wif that 'ere
+tuppence, becos in a meshure, as you may say, she'd 'ad an 'and in the
+winning of it. 'Owever, wif a jenerosity unyusual in wimmen, she
+hinsisted on sharing 'em wif 'Enery Wilks, 'oos skilful leedership 'ad
+reely won the match.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Short-sighted Old Lady_ (_to little Binks, who is going to the
+golf-links_). "How much will you charge me to mend this umbrella?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+TRIALS OF A NOVICE.--"_Something_ must be wrong. That's the third time
+running I've used this club!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+! ! ! !
+
+_Lily_ (_from Devonshire, on a visit to her Scotch Cousin Margy in St.
+Andrews, N.B._). "What a strange thing fashion is, Margy! Fancy a game
+like golf reaching up as far north as this!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE HANDY CADDY
+
+_Why Jones sold his Big St. Bernard and substituted a Tame Caribou,
+which a friend brought him home from Canada._
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+IT WAS SO HANDY WHEN GOING OUT GOLFING.
+
+IT MADE SUCH A CAPITAL CADDY.
+
+AND JONES COULD INDULGE IN EXPLETIVES WITHOUT BEING A BAD EXAMPLE
+
+IF THE WEATHER SUDDENLY TURNED OFF COLD HE HAD ONLY TO HELP HIMSELF TO A
+TOP COAT;
+
+& IF IT RAINED TO AN UMBRELLA AND SOU'WESTER.
+
+ALSO IT GAVE QUITE A PARK-LIKE APPEARANCE TO JONES' BACK GARDEN.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+III.
+
+Taking it all in all, 'Enery Wilks 'as very little use for wimmen.
+Excep, of course, as playthings and rellaxashuns after toil. As sich I
+regards Hervangerline, of 'oom I've told yer. That is, when 'er mood is
+dosile. At sich times, when she is not trying to be yumourous or
+utherwise acting the goat, the child can listen, wif doo respekt, whilst
+'im she loves so well unbends 'isself. It is 'er privviledge to see
+'Enery Wilks remove 'is stern cold marsk. Yuss, I tollerates
+Hervangerline, but I 'ave little use fer uther wimmen.
+
+Speaking quite frenkly, I can find little to kommend in the hexeckertive
+of these 'ere links, but there is one of their resent hinnervashuns in
+pertickler that fills me wif cold rage. This is the rule permitting lidy
+members to play on the course, excep' on Satterday and Sunday.
+
+Lord knows as 'ow the men is bad enuff to deal wif. 'Eadstrong, vain,
+irriterble and pig-'eaded they mostly is, but oh! strike me pink and
+purple, if they ain't fair angels, wings and all, kompared to those
+dredfull, onreasoningable wimmen! Onreasoningable is the one word as I
+can use to deskribe them. And that don't do 'em justise.
+
+Wif a man, to some eggstent, you do know where you are. You do know from
+eggsperiense 'ow fur you may go wif 'im, before 'e katches you a clump
+on the side of the 'ead. But wif wimmen no eggsperiense will 'elp yer.
+Becos there ain't no rules abart them.
+
+Lord knows as 'ow I started out wif the idear of pleesing 'em. I ses to
+Hervangerline, the evening I 'eard abart it, "We're going to 'ave lidies
+on the course, kid," I ses. "Your 'Enery will 'ave to smarten 'isself up
+a bit fer their dear sakes," I ses. Womanlike she begun to snif.
+
+"You take care, 'Enery Wilks," she ses worningly. "You take care of them
+desining 'ussies. There's many of 'em as will be after you, I knows it
+well. Fer some wimmen," she ses, sort of sarkastic, "some wimmen will go
+after anythink in trarsers," she ses. Well, I wears nickers meself as a
+general rule, but I knowed what she meant. And, though of course I 'id
+it from her, pertending to be kontemptewous, I found 'er words quite
+pleesing. I thort to meself, komplasent like, as 'ow some of these lidy
+members might show a prefferrence fer that one of our caddies as is
+pollished and korteous and older than 'is years. But, apparriently, both
+I and Hervangerline was rong--iddeously rong.
+
+Fer it's no good konseeling from meself, at anyrate, as 'ow I 'aven't
+been a komplete success so fur wif our lidy members. Why sich should be
+the case I cannot tell, but there it is. There's a preggerdise agin me
+as is kep' alive by the ontiring, revengfull tungs of Miss Trigsie
+Kornish and Missis Jossephus 'Askins. And this is 'ow that preggerdise
+begun.
+
+They come along one morning and say as 'ow they're going to play a
+rarnd, and they'll share a caddy between them. And to my ondying greef
+they picked on 'Enery Wilks. Not as there was anythink surprising in
+their doing that. In their place I'd 'ave picked on 'im meself. And I'm
+bound in justise to say as there was nothing in _their_ appeerance to
+set me agin them. Missis 'Askins is very yung and plessant-looking,
+although she _is_ married, and Miss Kornish is darkish and carries
+'erself wif a sort of swing. No, their looks was rite enuff; it was only
+their dredfull 'abit of cheating as made the trubble.
+
+They started as frendly as love-birds, but by the second 'ole the fur
+was beginning to stand up stiff upon their backs. It was their orful
+onguvernabul keenness as did it. On the third green Missis 'Askins asks
+Miss Kornish 'ow many she's played, and she tells 'er, nine, quite brisk
+like. Now both Misses 'Askins and meself _knew_ quite well as
+'ow Miss Kornish 'ad played ten; indeed, I could see as ow Misses
+'Askins thort it were eleven. They rangles a bit abart it, growing
+gradewally more 'eated, and then Misses 'Askins erpeals to me, and I
+gives it in 'er favour, trying very 'ard to rap it up plessant like.
+Miss Kornish glares at me like a cat 'oom you've mannidged to 'it wif a
+brick whilst it's taking a stroll quite inercent and leshurely; but she
+doesn't say much and we goes on.
+
+Two 'oles later it all 'appens agin, only this time it's Missis 'Askins
+'oo 'as kondescended to redooce 'er score. They rages rarnd upon the
+green, and then Miss Kornish erpeals to me, and truth kompels me to
+erward the 'ole to 'er. This time it's Missis 'Askins 'oo glarnces at me
+as though she'd like to cut orf my yung life. But 'Enery Wilks can stand
+a lot of that.
+
+So we goes on agin, wif the air growing 'eavier like, and three 'oles
+later they both erpeals to me, fer both is cheating. It was an 'ard
+posishun fer a yung feller as is only wishfull to pleese. 'Owever, I
+desided to give pore old Truth another chawnce; although misdoubtfull.
+So I ses to them quite respeckfull like, as 'ow both their scores is
+inakkerite and should I keep them both in fuchure?
+
+Oh Lumme, I'd like to forgit what 'appened then! All in a moment those
+two young wimmen grew frendly agin to each other and konsentrited all
+their rage and spite on 'Enery Wilks. They fell upon me wif their tungs,
+and I felt as though I was being 'it wif barbed wire and nettels. They
+called me "impudent little boy," me the chosin 'ero of the yunger
+caddies, and I could only garsp and trimble. Their crewel thretts
+brought tears even to my proud eyes, and I almost beleeve as 'ow I
+grovvellel before them. It 'urts me to remember it.
+
+When at last they 'ad tired themselves out, they finished their rarnd as
+though they 'ad never 'ad an unkind thort towards each other, and I
+slunk be'ind them, dased and silent, like a puppy 'oos been kicked.
+
+And that's--that's what comes of edmitting wimmen to a golf corse!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "THE BOGEY COMPETITION"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Little Albert_ (_always thirsting for knowledge_).
+"Uncle, do they pronounce that rico_chay_ing or rico_chet_ting?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+1. "Carry your clubs, guvnor, for sixpence!"
+
+   "No, thanks, I don't require a caddie."
+
+2. "Carry yer clubs for fourpence, boss!"
+
+   "Go away, boy, I'll carry 'em myself."
+
+3. "Carry 'em for thrippence, mister"
+
+   (no response).
+
+4. A smash!
+
+5. (_After the smash_).
+
+   "I say, captain, I'll carry _your_ clubs for nothin', _jist for
+   the fun of the thing_!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: MR. PUNCH'S PATENT CADDIE CAR]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Golf is now being played on the Norman Coast]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Golf is being played very much in Egypt]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A NEW DISEASE--THE GOLF TWIST]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+The above caddie (in the course of his third round with Colonel Foozle,
+who always takes out a collection of two dozen clubs, if only for the
+look of the thing) begins to doubt if he, the caddie, really belongs to
+the idle classes, as stated in the papers.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+"HOW'S THAT, UMPIRE?"
+
+_Golf Player._ "Now then, what are you grinning at, boy? Don't you know
+where the ball is?"
+
+_Caddie._ "Yus, sir, I know, sir. Please, sir, that there dun cow 've
+swallered it!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+SCENE--_Country Police Court_
+
+_Magistrate._ "My boy, do you fully realise the nature of an oath?"
+
+_Boy._ "Well, I oughter, considerin' the times I've caddied for yer!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Miggs and Griggs, who have got away for a week-end holiday, have
+strayed on to the golf links, and have been watching the colonel, who
+has been bunkered for the last ten minutes--and the language!!_
+
+_Miggs._ "What's he doing?"
+
+_Griggs._ "I dunno. Think he's trying to kill something."]
+
+
+IV.
+
+Yumin nachure is a kurius thing. I dunno whether this thort 'as okkurred
+to other peeple, but I sees the truth of it more clearly every day. You
+may studdy a man fer weeks and think as 'ow you know 'im inside out, and
+then, when you try to make some use of 'is pecooliarities, they ain't
+working that day, or else some little hannoying trifle spiles your well
+lade skeems. Sich was the sad case of Mister Hoctavius Glenwistle and my
+friend Chawley Martin.
+
+Mister Glenwistle is an oldish jentleman now, but in 'is day 'e 'as been
+a famus eggsplorer. Jeograffy never being my strong point, I dunno
+egsackly where 'e went eggsploring, or why 'e did it. Chawley Martin,
+'oo's jenerally 'is caddie, is my hinformant, and some days 'e will 'ave
+it that Mister Glenwistle would once 'ave reached the Pole if 'is boots
+'adn't guv out, and at other times 'e hinsists that it was Africer that
+'e visited. I dunno, meself; per'aps the old jentleman 'as been to both
+them regins in 'is time. But any'ow all is agreed that once 'e lived for
+nearly three weeks upon an oldish poodle dawg--which is an orfull
+thort.
+
+Sich an eggspeerience must leeve its mark upon any man, 'owever strong.
+It 'as left its mark upon Mister Hoctavius Glenwistle. Every blade of
+'air 'as vannished from 'is skalp, and 'is face is a sort of dark brick
+colour wif light eyebrows. 'E still suffers from sunstroke, and Chawley
+Martin 'as to carry a large red umbereller round the links to pertect
+'is 'ead.
+
+I dunno whether it's the sunstroke, or whether it's 'is ondying remorce
+for that pore faithfull poodle, but Mister Glenwistle suffers terrible
+from absentmindedness. 'E 'as been known to swing up 'is great, red
+umbereller upon the tee and try to drive wif that, and Chawley Martin
+allus 'as to watch 'im keerfull to see what 'e'll be up to next. 'E
+'ates to be disturbed when in one of 'is mooning fits, and is apt to
+swear terrible in some forrin' langwidge, which Chawley thinks is
+Eskimo; but still 'e's a jentleman all over, is Mister Hoctavius
+Glenwistle. 'Is tips is 'andsome, and it don't give 'im no pleshure to
+repport an 'armless lad.
+
+One Sunday lately 'e came down wif a frend for an 'ole day's golf.
+Chawley Martin, as yusual, was 'is caddie, and I ondertook the
+manidgement of the frend. All went well in the morning, excep' that
+Mister Glenwistle fell into a sort of dream upon the seventh green and
+'ad to be rarsed by Chawley. It may 'ave been Eskimo that 'e spoke to
+the boy when 'e'd touched 'im jently on the arm, but it sounded
+wuss--much wuss.
+
+'Owever, we comes back at one to the club-'ouse, red umbereller and all,
+like _Robbinson Crewso_, and they goes into lunch. Whilst they're still
+laying into the grub like winking, I and Chawley Martin, 'aving eaten
+our own frugil meal, sit down near the 'club-'ouse and begin to polish
+up their clubs. We fell a-talking about the great science of golf,
+getting quite 'eated in a little while, and at last Chawley, to
+illerstrate 'is own mistakin theery, gets upon 'is 'ind legs. 'E takes
+Mister Glenwistle's best driver from 'is bag and shows me what 'e calls
+"a full swing, wif every ounce of weight and rist and mussel crammed
+into it."
+
+I was afeard 'ow it would be. The length of the club mastered 'im. 'E
+'it the onoffending turf a crewel blow, and there was a narsty crack. 'E
+sits down beside me wif a garsp, and we looks at Mister Glenwistle's pet
+driver wif the 'ead 'arf off.
+
+"What's to be done, 'Enery?" 'e ses, after a sort of sickly pawse.
+
+Fer my part I'd been thinking 'ard, me brain being better than most.
+
+"There's three courses open to you, Chawley, me lad," I ses quietly.
+"You can do a guy at once, and not come back--that's one; or you can
+tell Mister G. as you've been fooling wif 'is clubs--that's another," I
+ses, and waited fer 'is risponse.
+
+"Let's 'ear the third," he ses gloomily.
+
+"Deceat is aborrent to my nachure," I ses. "But you're made diferent,
+Chawley. You could make use of 'is absentmindedness and let 'im think as
+'e broke it 'isself. 'Old it out to 'im wif a sort of winning smile,
+when 'e comes, and say as 'ow you're afrade it will 'ave to be mended
+after all. It's a fair sportin' chawnce," I ses.
+
+"'Enery, you're a fair marvel!" 'e ses, after pondering fer a minute.
+"I'll try it on," he ses. And so we left it.
+
+I didn't see the meeting between Mister Glenwistle and 'is well-meaning
+caddie, becos my klient sent me to get him a ball, but when I came back
+I seed as 'ow Chawley was sniffing slightly, and 'is large outstanding
+ears was reddened. 'Is manner was coldish like to me, but when the two
+'ad drivin, I asked 'im what 'ad 'appened.
+
+"'E just boxed me ears," Chawley ses, "and told me as 'ow 'e'd repport
+me if I lied to 'im agen," 'e ses.
+
+Fer once I was reely taken aback.
+
+"I can't make it out, Chawley," I ses. "Where was 'is yusual
+absentmindedness? It just shows as 'ow you can't depend on nuthing in
+this world! Did you do as I told you, winning smile and all?" I asks
+'im.
+
+"Yuss, I did," 'e ses, snappish like. "But it seems as 'ow 'is
+interfeering frend 'appened to look out of the club-'ouse when I was
+showing you that swing, and seed it all. Anuther time you can keep your
+winning smiles and your fat-'eaded hadvice to yourself, 'Enery Wilks!"
+'e ses.
+
+I didn't answer 'im, remembering 'ow 'is 'uge progecting ears was
+tingling, but I ses to meself, "So much, 'Enery Wilks, for yumin
+gratitood!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+Mr. Mothdriver, the famous, yet absent-minded, golf-naturalist,
+invariably carries a butterfly-net in his golf-bag--for he agrees with
+Mr. Horace Hutchinson that some of the best entomological specimens can
+be captured in the course of playing the royal and ancient game.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Brer Rabbit._ "I suppose you haven't seen such a thing as a golf-ball
+about anywhere, have you?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_First Enthusiast._ "I say, will you play another round with me on
+Thursday?"
+
+_Second Enthusiast._ "Well, I'm booked to be married on that day--_but
+it can be postponed_!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+THE GOLF STREAM.--Flows along the eastern coast of Scotland during the
+summer and autumn.
+
+(Vide _Report of British Association--Section V._).]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+REAL ENJOYMENT.--_Non-Golfer_ (_middle-aged, rather stout, who would
+like to play, and has been recommended it as healthy and amusing_).
+"Well, I cannot see where the excitement comes in in this game!"
+
+_Caddie._ "Eh, mon, there's more swearing used over golf than any other
+game! D'ye no ca' that excitement?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+V.
+
+A little success at golf, as I've notised, jenerally makes a man wish
+for more. Like the appertite of a young girl for chocerlates. I dunno if
+you remember that nice old Mister Giggington, of 'oom I told you. Under
+my skillfull gidance, and with the ade of a little inercent 'anky-panky,
+'e kontrived to wander rarnd these 'ere links in an 'undred and
+twenty-nine. Well, ever since that serprising triemph, 'e 'as been
+'ungering for fresh feelds to konker, as you might say.
+
+"I want to meet someone, 'Enery, as I can beat," 'e kep' saying, quite
+truckewlent like. "I don't pretend as 'ow I'm brillyent, but on my day I
+do fancy that there's wuss."
+
+"You keep on practising steddy, sir," was my invariable words, "and one
+of these days we shall see you winning cups and medils."
+
+As nice and kind an old jentleman as ever smashed a club is Mister
+Giggington, but I allus 'ave to 'andle 'im like eggs to prevent 'im
+losing 'art. I didn't think as 'ow even 'Enery Wilks would be able to
+grattify 'is 'armless ambishun, but the uther day I saw my chawnce.
+
+It was a Toosday morning, and the course was quite disserted, excep' for
+Mister G., 'oo was waiting to start a practice rarnd wiv 'is pashunt
+teecher. Which is me. And then a new member come along 'oo was wishfull
+for a game, and dirrectly I set eyes on 'im, somethink, hinstink, I
+suppose, seemed to tell me that 'ere was the man for 'oom I 'ad been
+waiting.
+
+'E was French, and I shall not attempt to rite 'is name, the 'ang of
+which I never reely kawt. 'E was a small, darkish, jornty man, and 'is
+garmints was a little briter and more cheerfull-looking than you see in
+England. 'E wore, among uther things, a deer-storker 'at wiv a fevver
+stuck in it. But 'is manners was reelly bewtifull. It was quite a site
+to see 'im click 'is 'eels togevver, and bow to my himployer, and in a
+minute they 'ad fixed their match. I 'ad 'inted to Mister G. that 'e
+must hinsist on 'aving a stroke an 'ole, and that was 'ow they settled
+it. I never lerned what the Frenchman's 'andicap was, but if the
+Champyon 'isself 'ad offered to take strokes from 'im 'e would 'ave
+closed gladly wiv the offer. And yet there was reelly nuthing erfensive
+about the little man.
+
+I could see as 'ow pore old Mister G. was trimbling wiv a sort of
+serpressed egsitement, and I wispered to 'im that 'e must play steddy
+and use the niblick whenever possibul. The niblick, from long practice
+in the bunkers, is 'is club.
+
+Me frend, Chawley Martin, was the Frenchman's caddie, and 'e took
+ercasion to remmark to me that we seemed in for somethink warmish. I
+checked the boy wiv one of my glawnces, and then we waited while 'is
+hemployer took the 'onner. That jentleman danced up to the tee, waving
+rarnd 'is head the longest and the bendiest driver that I 'ave ever
+seen, and 'e didn't trubble to address the ball at all. 'E just sprung
+at it and 'it it wiv all 'is might, and somethink fairly wistled past
+Chawley's 'ead as 'e stood a little be'ind the tee box. The Frenchman
+'ad sliced at rite angels, and for anythink I know 'is ball is still in
+the air. Certingly, we never saw it agin.
+
+That slite misforchune appeered to egsite and dimmoralise Chawley's
+himployer, 'oo may 'ave been quite a brillyent player on 'is day, and I
+may say at once that 'e never reelly found 'is game. On the uther 'and
+it seemed to put new life and vigger into Mister G. Our erponent was
+appariently trying 'ard to do each 'ole in a brillyent one, but we was
+quite content to win them in a steddy nine.
+
+We 'ad our misforchunes, of course. 'Is deerest frend wouldn't 'ardly
+say as 'ow Mister G.'s game is a long one, and each bunker seems to 'ave
+a sort of magnettick attrackshun for 'is ball, but whilst the
+Frenchman's brassey remained unbroken we knew that there was allus a
+chawnce for the 'ole. For 'arf the rarnd it stood the crewel strane and
+then it didn't break. It jest seemed to sort of dissolve into small
+peaces. But we was two up by then and our tails was 'igh in air.
+
+As for the Frenchman, 'is meffods at times was reelly serprising. After
+that first drive Chawley lade 'isself down flat when 'is hemployer
+drove, but even in that posishun it didn't seem 'ardly safe. That long,
+thin, bendy driver sent the ball to all 'ites and all angels, but never
+once in a strate line. After a wile 'e diskarded it, and guv a fair,
+'onnest trial to every club in 'is bag in turn. I should never 'ave been
+serprised to see 'im drive desperit like wiv 'is putter, but even then
+Chawley wouldn't 'ave dared say nuthink. 'E was quite a plessant,
+jentlemanly little man, but it didn't do to argue wiv 'im. 'E begun to
+scream and stamp at once, and Chawley saw pretty soon that it was best
+and safest to let 'im play 'is own game.
+
+It was on the fiftienth green that the great match was ended. Mister
+Giggington's pluck and stamminer 'ad been amasing for 'is age, but the
+strane and the joyfull egsitement was beginning to tell on 'im. The
+Frenchman tried to bring off a thirty-yard putt to save the 'ole, and
+failed by some forty yards. But 'e took 'is defeet like a nero. They
+shook 'ands on the green and 'e said that it warmed 'is 'art to reflect
+on the glory that 'is frendly foe 'ad won. I beleeve as 'ow there was
+tears in the old jentleman's eyes. 'E turned to me and I quite thort 'e
+was going to grasp my 'and, but instead of that 'e put a bob into it
+which was pretty near as good.
+
+'E 'll never make a golfer, but 'Enery Wilks will allus be pleesed and
+proud to gide 'im rarnd the course.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+A RULING PASSION.--_Mr. Meenister MacGlucky_ (_of the Free Kirk, after
+having given way more than usual to an expression "a wee thing
+strong"--despairingly_). "Oh! Aye! Ah, w-e-el! I'll hae ta gie 't up!"
+_Mr. Elder MacNab._ "Wha-at, man, gie up gowf?" _Mr. Meenister
+MacGlucky._ "Nae, nae! Gie up the meenistry!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+A POSER.--"Farmers always grumbling? Well, supposin' your pigs were
+down wi' th' fever, an' your sheep had got th' influenza, if your crops
+were drownded in eighteen inches o' water, an' your rent were
+overdue--what would you do?"
+
+"I? I'd give it up and start a golf club!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+INGRATITUDE
+
+_Brown._ "Why doesn't Walker stop to speak? Thought he knew you!"
+
+_Smith._ "Used to; but I introduced him to the girl he married. Neither
+of them recognises me now!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+GOLF
+
+(_As "Put" by D. Crambo Junior._)
+
+[Illustration:
+
+"Putting" on the "links"
+
+The "tee" and the "caddie"
+
+A showy manner of handling the "clubs"
+
+A full drive
+
+A beautiful "iron" shot
+
+The "spoon"
+
+The "cleek"
+
+"Holed out"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A MORNING PERFORMANCE]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+FORE!
+
+"Now, sir, be judge yourself, whether I in any just term am affin'd to
+love the Moor."
+
+                                             [_Othello_, Act I., Sc. 1.]
+
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VI.
+
+'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._
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Cheerful Beginner_ (_who has just smashed the Colonel's favourite
+driver_). "Oh, now I see why you have to carry so many clubs!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Golfer]
+
+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 formulæ
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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.)
+
+  *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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.
+
+[Illustration: Punch]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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 nailèd 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?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+"---- 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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "A BEAUTIFUL DRIVE."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+"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."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+OUR VILLAGE
+
+The Golf-Club in full swing.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Punch]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+SWEET SIMPLICITY
+
+_Diffident Man (who does not know to how much of an ingénue 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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Foreigner (who has "pulled" badly, and hit his partner in a tender
+spot),_ "Mille pardons, monsieur! My clob--he deceived me!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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._))
+
+[Illustration: Punch]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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_!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Sanguine Golfer._ "Is that on the 'carpet,' caddie?"
+
+_Caddie_ (_as the ball swerves into cottage window_). "Yus, sir; front
+parlour, sir!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+THE OLD TYPE OF LINK MAN.
+
+Supper time.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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 £30,000
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+A HERO "FIN DE SIÈCLE."--_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."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+EAR BLINKERS.--A suggestion for caddies of tender age in attendance on
+hot-tempered Anglo-Indian military gentlemen learning golf.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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_".
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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!
+
+[Illustration: Punch]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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._]
+
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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.
+
+[Illustration: Punch]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: FORE and AFT]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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."
+
+"You don't mean to say you give them names like a little girl with her
+dolls?" cried Aunt Susannah. "Why, what a babyish game it is!" She
+laughed very heartily. "At any rate," she continued, with that
+determination which some of her friends call by another name, "I am sure
+that this will be easier to play with!" She grasped the putter, and in
+some miraculous way drove the ball to a considerable distance.
+
+"Oh, splendid!" cried Amanda. Her troubled brow cleared a little, and
+she followed suit, with mediocre success. Aunt Susannah pointed out that
+her ball had gone farther than either of ours, and grasped her putter
+tenaciously.
+
+"It's a better game than I expected from your description," she
+conceded. "Oh, I daresay I shall get to like it. I must come and
+practise every day." We glanced at each other in a silent horror of
+despair, and Aunt Susannah after a few quite decent strokes,
+triumphantly holed out. "What next?" said she.
+
+I hastily arranged her ball on the second tee: but the luck of golf is
+proverbially capricious. She swung her club, and hit nothing. She swung
+it again, and hit the ground.
+
+"_Why_ can't I do it?" she demanded, turning fiercely upon me.
+
+"You keep losing your feet," I explained deferentially.
+
+"Spare me your detestable slang terms, Laurence, at least!" she cried,
+turning on me again like a whirlwind. "If you think I have lost my
+temper--which is absurd!--you might have the courage to say so in plain
+English!"
+
+"Oh, no, Aunt Susannah!" I said. "You don't understand----"
+
+"Or want to," she snapped. "Of all silly games----"
+
+"I mean you misunderstood me," I pursued, trembling. "Your foot slipped,
+and that spoilt your stroke. You should have nails in your boots, as we
+have."
+
+"Oh!" said Aunt Susannah, only half pacified. But she succeeded in
+dislodging her ball at last, and driving it into a bunker. At the same
+moment, Amanda suddenly clutched me by the arm. "Oh, Laurence!" she said
+in a bloodcurdling whisper. "_What_ shall we do? Here is Colonel
+Bartlemy!"
+
+The worst had happened. The hottest-tempered man in the club, the oldest
+member, the best player, the greatest stickler for etiquette, was hard
+upon our track; and Aunt Susannah, with a red and determined
+countenance, was urging her ball up the bunker, and watching it roll
+back again.
+
+"Dear Auntie," said Amanda, in her sweetest voice, "you had much better
+take it out."
+
+"Is that allowed?" inquired our relative suspiciously.
+
+"Oh, you may always do that and lose a stroke!" I assured her eagerly.
+
+"I shan't dream of losing a stroke!" said Aunt Susannah, with decision.
+"I'll get it out of this ditch by fair means, if I have to spend all day
+over it!"
+
+"Then do you mind waiting one moment?" I said, with the calmness of
+despair. "There is a player behind us----"
+
+"Let him stay behind us! I was here first," said Aunt Susannah; and she
+returned to her bunker.
+
+The Links rose up in a hillock immediately behind us, so that our
+successor could not see us until he had reached the first hole. I stood
+with my eye glued to the spot where he might be expected to appear. I
+saw, as in a nightmare, the scathing remarks that would find their way
+into the Suggestion Book. I longed for a sudden and easy death.
+
+At the moment when Colonel Bartlemy's rubicund face appeared over the
+horizon, Aunt Susannah, flushed but unconquered, drew herself up for a
+moment's rest from toil. He had seen her. Amanda shut her eyes. For
+myself, I would have run away shamelessly, if there had been any place
+to run to. The Colonel and Aunt Susannah looked hard at each other. Then
+he began to hurry down the slope, while she started briskly up it.
+
+"Miss Cadwalader!" said the Colonel.
+
+"Colonel Bartlemy!" cried Aunt Susannah; and they met with effusion.
+
+I saw Amanda's eyes open, and grow round with amazed interest. I knew
+perfectly well that she had scented a bygone love affair, and was
+already planning the most suitable wedding-garb for Aunt Susannah. A
+frantic hope came to me that in that case the Colonel's affection might
+prove stronger than his zeal for golf. They were strolling down to us in
+a leisurely manner, and the subject of their conversation broke upon my
+astonished ears.
+
+"I'm afraid you don't think much of these Links, after yours," Colonel
+Bartlemy was saying anxiously. "They are rather new----"
+
+"Oh, I've played on many worse," said Aunt Susannah, looking round her
+with a critical eye. "Let me see--I haven't seen you since your victory
+at Craigmory. Congratulations!"
+
+"Approbation from Sir Hubert Stanley!" purred the Colonel, evidently
+much gratified. "You will be here for the twenty-seventh, I hope?"
+
+"Exactly what I came for," said Aunt Susannah calmly.
+
+"Though I don't know what our ladies will say to playing against the
+Cranford Champion!" chuckled the Colonel; and then they condescended to
+become aware of our existence. We had never known before how exceedingly
+small it is possible to feel.
+
+"Aunt Susannah, what am I to say? What fools you must think us!" I
+murmured miserably to her, when the Colonel was out of earshot looking
+for his ball. "We are such raw players ourselves--and of course we never
+dreamt----"
+
+Aunt Susannah twinkled at me in a friendly manner. "There's an ancient
+proverb about eggs and grandmothers," she remarked cheerfully.
+
+"There should be a modern form for golf-balls and aunts--hey, Laurence?"
+
+Amanda did not win the prize brooch; but Aunt Susannah did, in spite of
+an overwhelming handicap, and gave it to her. She does not often wear
+it--possibly because rubies are not becoming to her: possibly because
+its associations are too painful.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+THE RETORT COURTEOUS.--(_The Major-General waiting to drive, to girl
+carrying baby, who blocks the way_). "Now then, hurry on please with
+that baby." _Girl._ "Garn! Baby yerself, playing at ball there in
+your knickerbockers an' all!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+A GOLF TOURNAMENT IN YE TIME OF YE ROMANS
+
+_From a rare old frieze (not) in ye British Museum._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+"Anyway, it's better to break one's ---- clubs than to lose one's ----
+---- temper!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+A PLACE FOR EVERYTHING.--_Obstructive Lady (in reply to the golfer's
+warning call)._ "The whole world wasn't made for golf, sir."
+
+_Youngster._ "No; but the links _wis_. 'Fore!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+Unenviable position of Mr. Pottles, whose record drive has just landed
+fairly in the ribs of irascible old Colonel Curry, out for his
+constitutional canter.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Aunt Jabisca (pointing to earnest golfer endeavouring to play out of
+quarry)._ "Dear me, Maud, what a respectably dressed man that is
+breaking stones!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+Suggestion for a rainy day. Spillikins on a grand scale.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: GOLF À LA WATTEAU--AND OTHERWISE]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Major Brummel (comparing the length of his and his opponent's
+"drives")._ "I think I'm shorter than Mr. Simkins?"
+
+_Small Caddie (a new hand, greatly flattered at being asked, as he
+thinks, to judge of their personal appearance)._ "Yes, sir, and fatterer
+too, sir!"
+
+[_Delight of the gallant Major._]
+
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: ARRY AT GOLF.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Miss Dora (to Major Putter, who is playing an important match, and has
+just lost his ball)._ "Oh, Major, do come and take your horrid ball
+away from my little dog. He won't let me touch it, and I know he must
+be ruining his teeth!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LOST GOLFER
+
+
+[The sharp decline of ping-pong, whose attractions at its zenith seduced
+many golfers from the nobler sport, has left a marked void in the
+breasts of these renegades. Some of them from a natural sense of shame
+hesitate to return to their first love. The conclusion of the following
+lines should be an encouragement to this class of prodigal.]
+
+    Just for a celluloid pillule he left us,
+        Just for an imbecile batlet and ball,
+    These were the toys by which Fortune bereft us
+        Of Jennings, our captain, the pride of us all.
+    Shopmen with clubs to sell handed him rackets,
+        Rackets of sand-paper, rubber and felt,
+    Said to secure an unplayable service,
+        Pestilent screws and the death-dealing welt.
+    Oft had we played with him, partnered him, sworn by him,
+        Copied his pitches in height and in cut,
+    Hung on his words as he delved in a bunker,
+        Made him our pattern to drive and to putt.
+    Benedick's with us, the major is of us,
+        Swiper the county bat's still going strong;
+    He alone broke from the links and the clubhouse,
+        He alone sank in the slough of ping-pong.
+
+    We have "come on"--but not his the example;
+        Sloe-gin has quickened us--not his the cash;
+    Holes done in 6 where a 4 would be ample
+        Vexed him not, busy perfecting a smash.
+    Rased was his name as a decadent angel,
+        One more mind unhinged by a piffulent game,
+    One more parlour-hero, the worshipped of school-girls
+        Who once had a princely "plus 5" to his name.
+    Jennings is gone; yet perhaps he'll come back to us,
+        Healed of his hideous lesion of brain,
+    Back to the links in the daytime; at twilight
+        Back to his cosy club corner again.
+    Back for the medal day, back for our foursomes,
+        Back from the tables' diminishing throng,
+    Back from the infantile, ceaseless half-volley,
+        Back from the lunatic lure of ping-pong.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Tennis Player (from London)._ "Don't see the fun o' this
+game--knockin' a ball into a bush, and then 'untin' about for it!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE AMERICAN HUSBAND]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE ENGLISH WIFE]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+A TOO-FEEBLE EXPLETIVE
+
+_MacSymon._ "I saw you were carrying for the professor yesterday, Sandy.
+How does he play?"
+
+_Sandy._ "Eh, yon man'll never be a gowffer. Div ye ken what he says
+when he foozles a ba'?"
+
+_MacSymon._ "No. What does he say?"
+
+_Sandy._ "'_Tut-tut!_'"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LINKS
+
+
+    'Tis a brilliant autumn day,
+    And the breeze has blown away
+    All the clouds that lowered gray;
+                So methinks,
+    As I've half an hour to spare,
+    I will go and take the air,
+    While the weather still is fair,
+                On the Links.
+
+    I admire the splendid view,
+    The delicious azure hue
+    Of the ocean and--when, _whew_!
+                With a crack,
+    Lo! there drops a little ball
+    Which elects to break its fall
+    By alighting on the small
+                Of my back.
+
+    In the distance someone cries
+    Some remark about my eyes,
+    None too pleasant, I surmise,
+                From the tone;
+    So away my steps I turn
+    Till a figure I discern,
+    Who is mouching by the burn
+                All alone.
+
+    He has lost a new "Eclipse,"
+    And a little word that slips
+    From his sulky-looking lips
+                Tells me true
+    That, besides the missing ball,
+    Which is gone beyond recall,
+    He has lost--what's worst of all--
+                Temper, too.
+
+    I conclude it will be best
+    If I leave him unaddressed,
+    Such a melancholy quest
+                To pursue;
+    And I pass to where I spy
+    Clouds of sand uprising high
+    Till they all but hide the sky
+                From the view.
+
+    They proceed, I understand,
+    From a bunker full of sand,
+    Where a golfer, club in hand,
+                Freely swears
+    As he hacks with all his might,
+    Till his countenance is quite
+    As vermilion as the bright
+                Coat he wears.
+
+    I observe him for a while
+    With a highly-tickled smile,
+    For it is the queerest style
+                Ever seen:
+    He is very short and stout,
+    And he knocks the ball about,
+    But he never gets it out
+            On the green.
+
+    Still I watch him chop and hack,
+    Till I hear a sudden crack,
+    And the club-head makes a track
+                In the light--
+    There's a startled cry of "FORE!"
+    As it flies, and all is o'er!--
+    I remember nothing more
+                Till to-night,
+
+    When I find myself in bed
+    With a lump upon my head
+    Like a penny loaf of bread;
+                And methinks,
+    For the future I'll take care
+    When I want a little air,
+    That I won't go anywhere
+                Near the Links.
+
+
+[Illustration: Punch]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+THE MISERIES OF A _VERY_ AMATEUR GOLFER
+
+He is very shy, and unfortunately has to drive off in front of the lady
+champion and a large gallery. He makes a tremendous effort. The ball
+travels at least five yards!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Golfer._ "And what's your name?"
+
+_Caddie._ "They ca' me 'breeks, but ma maiden name is Christy."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration: "Mummy, what's that man for?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+DISTINCTION WITHOUT DIFFERENCE.--_Sensitive Golfer (who has foozled)._
+"Did you laugh at me, boy?"
+
+_Caddie._ "No, sir; I wis laughin' at anither man."
+
+_Sensitive Golfer._ "And what's funny about him?"
+
+_Caddie._ "He plays gowf awfu' like you, sir!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+Jones cannot see his ball anywhere, although he is positive it fell
+about there somewhere.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Caddie]
+
+NEVER HAVE A CADDIE WITH A SQUINT!
+
+(_A Lay of the Links_)
+
+
+    They told me he was skilful, and assiduous, and true,
+        They told me he had "carried" for the bravest and the best.
+    His hair was soldier-scarlet, and his eyes were saucer blue,
+        And one seemed looking eastward, whilst the other
+        fronted west.
+    His strabismus was a startler, and it shook my nerve at once;
+        It affected me with dizziness, like gazing from a height.
+    I straddled like a duffer, and I wavered like a dunce,
+        And my right hand felt a left one, and my left felt far
+        from right.
+    As I watched him place my ball with his visual axes crossed,
+        The very sunshine glimmered, with a queer confusing glint,
+    I felt like a sick lubber on Atlantic surges tossed--
+        Oh! never have a caddie with a squint!
+
+    I'm an "irritable duffer"--so my enemies declare,--
+        That is I'm very sensitive, and play a modest game.
+    A very little puts me off my stroke, and, standing there,
+        With his boot-heels at right angles, and his optics much
+        the same,
+    He maddened me--no less, and I felt that all success
+        Against bumptious young McBungo--was impossible that day.
+    I'd have parted with a fiver to have beaten him. His dress
+        Was so very very swagger, and his scarlet cap so gay.
+    He eyed my cross-eyed caddie with a supercilious smirk,
+        I tried to set my features, and my nerves, like any flint;
+    But my "knicker'd" knees were knocking as I wildly set to work.
+        Oh! _never_ have a caddie with a squint!
+
+[Illustration: Golfer]
+
+    I tried to look away from the spoiler of my play,
+        But for fiendish fascination he was like a squinting snake;
+    All the muffings man can muff I contrived to muff that day;
+        My eyes were all askew and my nerves were all ashake.
+    I seemed to squint myself, and not only with my eyes,
+        My knees, my hands, my elbows, with obliquity were rife.
+    McBungo's sleek sham sympathy and sinister surprise
+        Made almost insupportable the burden of my life.
+    He _was_ so beastly friendly, and he _was_ so blazing fair,
+        So fulsomely effusive with suggestion, tip, and hint!
+    And all the while that caddie stood serenely cock-eyed there.
+        Oh! _never_ have a caddie with a squint!
+
+    Miss Binks was looking on! On that maiden I was gone,
+        Just as she was gone on golf, in perfervid Scottish style.
+    On my merits with McBungo I should just about have won,
+        But my shots to-day were such as made even Effie smile;
+    Oh, the lumps of turf I lifted! Oh, the easy balls I missed!
+        Oh, the bunkers I got bogged in! And at last a gentle scorn
+    Curled the lips I would have given my pet "Putter" to have kissed.
+        Such a bungler as myself her loved links had never borne;
+    And all the while McBungo--the young crocodile!--bewailed
+        What he called my "beastly luck," though his joy was plain as
+        print,
+    Whilst that squint grew worse and worse at each shot of mine
+    which failed.
+        Oh! never have a caddie with a squint!
+
+[Illustration: Lady Golfer]
+
+    In "playing through the green" with my "brassie" I was seen
+        At most dismal disadvantage on that miserable day;
+    _He_ pointed through the rushes with cock-eyed, sardonic spleen,--
+        I followed his squint guidance, and I struck a yard away;
+    But, oh! 'twas worst of all, when I tried to hole the ball.
+        Oh, the ogre! _How_ he squinted at that crisis of the game!
+    His hideous strabismus held me helpless, a blind thrall
+        Shattered my nerves completely, put my skill to open shame.
+    That squint would, I am sure, have upset the solar system--
+        Oho! the impish impudence, the gruesome goggle-glint!
+    The low, malicious chuckle, as he softly muttered, "Missed 'im!"
+        No, _never_ have a caddie with a squint!
+
+    Yet all the same McBungo did _not_ get that rich Miss Binks,
+        Who was so sweet in every way, especially on golf.
+    He fancied he had cut me out that day upon those links,
+        But although he won the game--at golf, his love-game came
+        not off.
+    He and that demon caddie tried between them very hard
+        To shame me in the eyes of that dear enthusiast,
+    But--well, my clubs she carries, whilst McBungo, evil-starred,
+        Was caught by a Scotch vixen with an obvious optic cast!
+    _That's_ Nemesis, I say! And she will not let him play
+        At the game he so adores. True she's wealthy as the Mint.
+    At golf, with Effie, I have passed many a happy day,
+        But--we never have a caddie with a squint!
+
+    A caddie who's a duffer, or a caddie who gets drunk;
+        A caddie who regards all other caddies as his foes;
+    A caddie who will snigger when you fumble, fail or funk;
+        A caddie who will whistle, or seems ever on the doze;
+    A caddie who's too tiny, or too big and broad of bulk;
+        A caddie who gets playing with your clubs upon the sly;
+    A caddie who will chatter, or a caddie who will sulk;
+        All these are calculated a golf devotee to try;
+    All these are most vexatious to a golfer of repute;
+        And still more so to a novice. But just take a friendly hint!
+    Take a caddie who's a duffer, or a drunkard, or a brute,
+        _But never try a caddie with a squint!!!_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+ANOTHER LENTEN SACRIFICE.--_Golf Caddie (to Curate)._ "High tee, sir?"
+
+_Curate._ "No; put it on the ground. I give up sand during Lent."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Voice from the Hill._ "Now then, you young coward, don't stand about
+all day. Why don't you _take it away_ from the dog?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Boy (to young lady, who has been unfortunate enough to upset Colonel
+Bunker)._ "You'd better ride on before 'e gets 'is breath, miss!"
+
+_Young Lady._ "Why?" _Boy._ "_I've 'eard 'im play golf!!!_"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A GROWL FROM GOLFLAND
+
+
+    Bores there are of various species, of the platform, of the quill,
+    Bores obsessed by Christian Science or the Education Bill,
+    But the most exasperating and intolerable bore
+    Is the man who talks of nothing but the latest "rubber core."
+
+    Place him in the Great Sahara, plant him on an Arctic floe,
+    Or a desert island, fifteen thousand miles from Westward Ho!
+    Pick him up a twelvemonth later, and I'll wager that you find
+    Rubber filling _versus_ gutty still and solely on his mind.
+
+    O American invaders, I accept your beef, your boots,
+    Your historical romances, and your Californian fruits;
+    But in tones of humble protest I am tempted to exclaim,
+    "Can't you draw the line at commerce, can't you spare one
+    British game?"
+
+    I am but a simple duffer; I am quite prepared to state
+    That my lowest round on record was a paltry 88;
+    That my partner in a foursome needs the patience of a Job,
+    That in moments of excitement I am apt to miss the globe.
+
+    With my brassy and my putter I am very far to seek,
+    Generally slice to cover with my iron and my cleek;
+    But I boast a single virtue: I can honestly maintain
+    I've escaped the fatal fever known as Haskell on the brain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+A golf case was recently before the Court of Appeal. Why not a Golf
+Court on the links?]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+GOLF VICTOR!
+
+
+    Sir Golf and Sir Tennis are fighting like mad--
+        Now Sir Tennis is blown, and Sir Golf's right above him,
+    And his face has a look that is weary and sad,
+        As he hastily turns to the ladies who love him,
+    But the racket falls from him, he totters, and swirls,
+        As he hears them cry, "Golf is the game for the girls!"
+
+               *       *       *
+
+    The girls crave for freedom, they cannot endure
+        To be cramped up at tennis in courts that are poky
+    And they are all of them certainly, perfectly sure
+        That they'll never again touch "that horrible croquet,"
+    Where it's quite on the cards that they may play with papa,
+    And where all that goes on is surveyed by mamma,
+
+    To golf on the downs for the whole of the day
+        Is "so awfully jolly," they keep on asserting,
+    With a good-looking fellow to teach you the way,
+        And to fill up the time with some innocent flirting,
+    And it may be the maiden is woo'd and is won,
+        Ere the whole of the round is completed and done.
+
+    Henceforward, then, golf is the game for the fair--
+        At home, and abroad, or in pastures colonial,
+    And the shouts of the ladies will quite fill the air
+        For the links that will turn into bonds matrimonial,
+    And for husbands our daughters in future will seek
+        With the powerful aid of the putter and cleek!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Finis]
+
+BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Punch's Golf Stories, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES ***
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mr. Punch's Golf Stories.
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+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Punch's Golf Stories, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mr. Punch's Golf Stories
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: J. A. Hammerton
+
+Release Date: January 27, 2012 [EBook #38683]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Steven Brown and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_cover" id="Page_cover">[Cover]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 30%">
+<a href="images/p000.png">
+<img src="images/p000.png" width="100%" alt="GOLF STORIES" /></a>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<h3>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">Some pages of this work have been moved from the
+original sequence to enable the contents to continue without
+interruption. The page numbering remains unaltered.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1>MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES</h1>
+
+<h3>PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR</h3>
+
+<h4>Edited by <span class="smcap">J.A. Hammerton</span></h4>
+
+
+<p>Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the
+cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic
+draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its
+beginning in 1841 to the present day.</p>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20%">
+<a href="images/p001.png">
+<img src="images/p001.png" width="100%" alt="Mr. Punch" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p002.png">
+<img src="images/p002.png" width="100%" alt="THE GOLFERS DREAM" /></a>
+<p class="center">THE GOLFERS DREAM</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
+<h2>MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES</h2>
+
+<table summary="contributors">
+<tr>
+<td>
+TOLD BY HIS MERRY MEN<br />
+<br />
+AND ILLUSTRATED BY<br />
+<br />
+PHIL MAY, GEORGE DU MAURIER,<br />
+L. RAVEN-HILL, F.H. TOWNSEND,<br />
+HARRY FURNISS, E.T. REED, BERNARD<br />
+PARTRIDGE, F. PEGRAM, A.S. BOYD,<br />
+A.T. SMITH, A. WALLIS MILLS,<br />
+DAVID WILSON, C.E. BROCK,<br />
+GUNNING KING, C. HARRISON,<br />
+G.L. STAMPA, TOM BROWNE AND OTHERS<br />
+<br />
+</td>
+<td>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%">
+<a href="images/p003.png">
+<img src="images/p003.png" width="100%" alt="Mr. P. is a Golfer" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="center"><i>WITH 136 ILLUSTRATIONS</i><br />
+<br />
+PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"<br />
+<br />
+<hr class="short" />
+<h4>THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.</h4>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Punch Library of Humour</span></h3>
+
+<div class="center">
+<i>Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages
+fully illustrated</i><br />
+<br />
+LIFE IN LONDON<br />
+<br />
+COUNTRY LIFE<br />
+<br />
+IN THE HIGHLANDS<br />
+<br />
+SCOTTISH HUMOUR<br />
+<br />
+IRISH HUMOUR<br />
+<br />
+COCKNEY HUMOUR<br />
+<br />
+IN SOCIETY<br />
+<br />
+AFTER DINNER STORIES<br />
+<br />
+IN BOHEMIA<br />
+<br />
+AT THE PLAY<br />
+<br />
+MR. PUNCH AT HOME<br />
+<br />
+ON THE CONTINONG<br />
+<br />
+RAILWAY BOOK<br />
+<br />
+AT THE SEASIDE<br />
+<br />
+MR. PUNCH AFLOAT<br />
+<br />
+IN THE HUNTING FIELD<br />
+<br />
+MR. PUNCH ON TOUR<br />
+<br />
+WITH ROD AND GUN<br />
+<br />
+MR. PUNCH AWHEEL<br />
+<br />
+BOOK OF SPORTS<br />
+<br />
+GOLF STORIES<br />
+<br />
+IN WIG AND GOWN<br />
+<br />
+ON THE WARPATH<br />
+<br />
+BOOK OF LOVE<br />
+<br />
+WITH THE CHILDREN<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%">
+<a href="images/p004.png">
+<img src="images/p004.png" width="100%" alt="Mr. P. with dog." /></a>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%">
+<a href="images/p005.png">
+<img src="images/p005.png" width="100%" alt="Punch with books." /></a>
+</div>
+
+<h2>THE HUMOUR OF GOLF</h2>
+
+<p>There are few pastimes that supply their followers with more
+innocent merriment than is afforded by "the royal and ancient."
+Certainly no outdoor game can make the neophyte feel more
+utterly worm-like in his ability, for it is the peculiar quality of
+golf to appear to be absurdly easy to the onlooker and preposterously
+difficult to the unpractised player. It may be taken
+that there is no better way of reducing a man's self-conceit than
+to place him on the teeing ground for the first time, present him
+with a driver and invite him to strike a little rubber-cored ball
+to a distance of 200 yards in a given direction. Consequently we
+have here most excellent material for fun; and you may depend
+upon it <span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span> has not had his eyes long shut to the
+humours of the links. Despite the royalty and antiquity of
+golf, it has been thoroughly democratised in modern times, and
+its popularity, in the wide proportions to which it has attained,
+is chiefly a matter of recent years. Despite the shortness of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>
+the period that is represented by what we may call the vogue
+of golf&mdash;a vogue that is by no means in danger of passing&mdash;<span class="smcap">Mr.
+Punch</span> has evidently found the game so rich in fun that
+his merry knights of the pen and the pencil have contributed to
+his pages as many pictures as to illustrate very lavishly this
+volume and a good deal more literary matter than could be
+used. In the days when croquet was as popular as golf is
+to-day&mdash;the days of Leech and Keene&mdash;doubtless a volume could
+have been drawn from <span class="smcap">Punch</span> devoted entirely to that sport.
+But it is worthy of note that an examination of these old croquet
+pictures and jokes for a comparison of them with the contents
+of the present volume leaves one with the conviction that the
+humour of the present day is infinitely superior to the humour
+of the days of Leech and Keene. Admirable draughtsmen
+though these artists were, both of them, but Leech particularly,
+were often content to let their masterly drawings appear with
+the feeblest jokes attached. The standard of humour has been
+immensely raised of late years, and <span class="smcap">Mr. Punch's Golf
+Stories</span> is no bad evidence of that.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20%;">
+<a href="images/p006.png">
+<img src="images/p006.png" width="100%" alt="Punch in Tent" /></a>
+</div>
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES</h2>
+
+<h5>"GOLFERS AS I 'AVE KNOWN"</h5>
+
+<div class="center">(<i>By a Caddie</i>)</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20%;">
+<a href="images/p007.png">
+<img src="images/p007.png" width="100%" alt="Mr. Punch bows." /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>Golfers I divides in me own mind into three clarses; them as 'its the
+ball, them as skratches it, and them as neither 'its nor skratches the
+blooming ball but turns rarnd and wants to 'it or skratch anyone as is
+small and 'andy. The first clars is very rare, the second is dreadfull
+plentifull, and the third, thank 'evins, can jeneraly be kep clear of by
+them as knows the ropes. Sich as meself.</p>
+
+<p>Any himprovement in golfers, as a clars, is doo to the 'uge morril
+hinfluence of us caddies, 'oom <span class="pagenum">
+<a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> some pretends to look down on.
+Much can be done, even wif the most 'ardened (and some of them golfers
+is dreadfull 'ardened), by firmness and hexample. "Show 'em from the
+fust as you'll stand no nonsense," is allus my words when the yunger
+caddies gathers ararn me fer hadvice. Me being older than me years, as
+the sying is, and much looked up to. If, as I often 'ears say, there's
+less of langwidge and more of golf upon these 'ere links, it's doo in no
+small part to 'im 'oo pens these lines. 'Oo's 'onnered nime is 'Enery
+Wilks.</p>
+
+<p>I seldom demmeans meself to speak to the kulprits, for severil reasons
+which I shall not go into, but I 'ave other meffods. There's sniffing,
+fer instance. Much can be done by jerdishous sniffing, which can be
+chinged to soot all cases. Or there's a short, 'ard, dryish larf, but
+that ain't allus sife. As a blooming rule, I rellies upon me sniff, me
+smile and me eye. There's few of them as can meet the last when I chuses
+to turn it on. Not as I objecs very strongly to a little 'onnest
+cussing; it's hinjustice and false haccusashun as I will not stand.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Sich are me meffods to them as needs 'em, but don't think, becos at
+times I'm cold like and 'ard and stern, that I cannot be jentle wif them
+as call fer jentleness. No blooming errer! 'Enery Wilks is the lad to
+'oom old gents in need of keerfull nussing should be hintrusted by their
+wives and keepers. I'm not allooding now to old tigers 'oos stiple food
+is red pepper in 'uge quantitties, 'oo turn upon yer like blooming
+manniacks if yer blows yer nose quite inercent, and 'oo report yer
+before yer know if you're standing on yer 'ead or yer 'eels. No, I'm not
+allooding to old gentlemen like them! 'Enery Wilks 'as very little use
+fer sich unguvverned creetures. In 'is erpinyun they should not be let
+abrord without a chine. But I am allooding to them 'oos pashuns age 'as
+tamed, insted of blooming well hincreesed, to jentle 'armless old
+fellers, 'oo will almost eat out of yer 'and, as the sying is, an sich a
+one is Mister Perceval Giggington.</p>
+
+<p>Over sixty 'e is, and allus kind and civvil and respeckfull, but 'e 'as
+no more haptitood fer golf than a jeerarf. Sometimes I thinks, musing
+kindly like, as 'ow the old cove 'ud be yunger if 'e took the gime less
+seerius. But 'Enery Wilks 'as little to reproche 'imself about; 'e, at
+least, 'as done what 'e could to 'elp old Giggs. 'Is wife came down to
+the Club 'Ouse wif 'im larst Toosday, jest as nice an old lidy as 'e's a
+gent. She drew me on one side and spoke konfidenshul like, while the old
+man was fussing and bleeting about 'is clubs. It seems as she'd 'eard of
+me, and 'eard nuthing but good. Which is only right.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'Enery," she ses, "me 'usband 'as set 'is 'art,
+as you well know, on going rarnd the course in
+under an 'undred and thirty strokes. It's
+beginning to tell on 'is 'ealth, the strine and
+diserpointment, and I wants it stopped. 'E's
+going rarnd allone wif you now, as the course is
+clear, and I wants," she ses, "<i>I wants you to see
+as 'e does it!</i>" she ses.</p>
+
+<p>Well, nobody, excep one ignerrant, gellous,
+preggerdiced skoolmaster, 'as ever dared to call
+'Enery Wilks a fool. I took 'er meaning in a
+moment, and I touched me cap, quiet and konfident
+like. "Mike yer mind easy, mum," I ses in
+my korteous way. "It shall be done, this very
+day, if 'Enery Wilks is spared," I ses.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She nods and smiles and slips a bob into me
+'and, and then old Giggs finishes wurrying abart
+'is clubs and we makes a start. The old 'un
+'ands 'is card to me to keep, and I speaks to 'im,
+kind like but firm.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll keep the score, sir," I ses. "Don't yer
+wurry abart yer strokes at all. What you've got
+to do is to koncentrite yer mind upon yer gime.
+For we're a-goin to do it to-day," I ses. 'E 'ears
+me wif a little sorrerful smile, and I lived up to
+them remarks. 'E'd arsk me at the end of an 'ole,
+that 'e'd fairly bitten along, 'ow many 'e'd taken,
+but I would never tell 'im. I jest kep 'im upon
+'is legs wif kindly, jerdishous praise. Even after
+that 'ole where 'e'd strook me wif 'is ball from the
+drive, although standing well be'ind 'im, and been
+in each bunker twice or more, I give 'im a word
+of 'ope. It was niblick play and 'ope all rarnd
+the blooming course. And at the end, when I
+added up 'is card, strike me pink if 'is score
+weren't an 'undred and twenty-nine! And I sent
+'im 'ome to 'is wife, as pleased as any child.
+There's some, I dessay, as would 'ave made 'is
+score an 'undred and nineteen or even less, but
+'Enery Wilks 'as allus known the virtew of
+modderation.<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p009.png">
+<img src="images/p009.png" width="100%" alt="Caddie (visiting)." /></a>
+<p class="center">Caddie (visiting). &quot;What kind o&#39; player is he?&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center">Caddie (engaged). &quot;&#39;Im? He just plays as if it was for pleesure!&quot;</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80% ;">
+<a href="images/p011.png">
+<img src="images/p011.png" width="100%" alt="McFoozler" /></a>
+<p class="center"><i>McFoozler (after a steady sequence of misses).</i> &quot;Ah--er--is there a <i>limit</i> for these links?&quot;</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80% ;">
+<a href="images/p013.png">
+<img src="images/p013.png" width="100%" alt="Bill Sykes" /></a>
+<p class="center"><i>Policeman.</i> &quot;Where did you get that bag?&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center"><i>Bill Sykes (indignantly).</i> &quot;There you are! Nice thing, in a free country,
+that a man can&#39;t have a quiet hundred up without the police interfering!&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p015.png">
+<img src="images/p015.png" width="100%" alt="addressing the ball" /></a>
+<p class="center">Jones has recently taken up golf. He is already proficient in one
+department&mdash;the art of addressing the ball.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="center">II.</div>
+
+<p>There's some as takes their golf too seerius fer
+their strength, like that pore old Mister Giggington,
+of 'oom I've told yer, and there's some as
+don't take it seerius enuff. Under this 'eading I
+places Mister 'Erminius Brellett. 'E's what
+they call a litterry cove in privit life, and, wifout
+wishing to be undoolly 'arsh, I must say as I
+beleeves it of 'im. Strike me pink, if I didn't
+know as 'e was litterry, I should go away sometimes
+after 'earing 'im talk, and swear a hinfer-mashun
+of loonacy agin 'im! But Chawley
+Martin, one of our caddies, 'oo once spoke quite
+hintermate and friendly like wif a reporter feller,
+in connecshun wif a biking accerdent caused by
+Chawley's unforchernate pashun fer trick riding,
+ses as 'ow all these pore riters is alike. So you
+and me should only pitty them. As fer 'is golf,
+exsentrick ain't the word fer it. 'E stands wif
+both 'is feet quite klose together, springs 'igh into
+the air wif a tremenjus swing, and strikes the ball
+afore 'e comes to earth agin. The erstonishing
+thing is that 'e does strike it abart once in three,
+and when 'e does it goes like old Gewillikins. It
+just shows as there ain't no rules abart some
+peeple's golf. But the sad part is as 'e's quite
+proud of 'is stile, insted of laberring to kerrect it
+under my tewishun.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p>"I'm a mishonnery, a pyoneer of golf, 'Enery,"
+'e ses to me quite recent. "'Ow I plays it to-day,
+the rest of the silly 'ide-bound creetures will play
+it to-morrow," 'e ses.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's 'ope not, sir," I ses, quite respeckfull
+and reely meaning the words; fer, if yer think of
+it, a course full of Mister 'Erminius Brelletts
+would be an 'iddeous sight. 'E glared at me fer a
+moment quite dangerous, and then 'e began to
+larf. What wif 'is livver, at which 'e's allus
+cussing, and 'is kurious 'arf-irriterble, 'arf-manniackal
+temper, I can tell yer 'e takes some 'andling.
+But 'Enery Wilks knows 'is 'Erminius Brellett
+by this time.</p>
+
+<p>"Your one chawnce of fime, you retched child,"
+'e ses, and I found 'is stile of speaking jest a little
+gorling, "will rest on the fact that you karried the
+clubs of 'Erminius Brellett, pyoneer of golf and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>
+unerpreshiated riter of himmortal books," 'e ses.
+Well, yer can't argue wif a man like that. Yer
+can only yumour 'im by respeckful silence, and
+be reddy all the time to dodge if 'is manyer turns
+'ommersidal all of a sudden.</p>
+
+<p>'E took on Mister Washer the other day, a
+member 'oom both 'e and I 'ave little liking fer.
+At least, I can arnser fer meself. Fer 'e's one of
+your pompus, strutting sort of fellers, 'oo thinks
+'e's good at golf, but ain't. I 'eard 'im chalenge
+Mister Brellett to play a rarnd fer 'arf-a-crown,
+and a less skilful stoodent of yuman nachure than
+'Enery Wilks could 'ave told as they didn't love
+each other. I 'ad a privit tuppence on the match
+meself, wif old Washer's caddy, although not very
+'opeful. 'Owever, when 'Enery Wilks' money is
+down, as the sying is, 'e's 'ard to beat.</p>
+
+<p>But things went badly wif us from the start. I
+could see as 'ow Mister Brellett was wurried abart
+somethink, and in addition to that 'e was acktaly
+trying to play a keerful, sientifick gime. Oh, lumme,
+it was orful, I can tell yer! We was skarcely
+touching a ball, and old Washer, as pleesed as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>
+a turkey-kock but far less hornimental, was
+playing right above 'isself. Fer a man like
+meself, 'oo'd staked above 'is means, it was 'art-breaking.
+We lost five 'oles bang orf, and then
+Mister Brellett spoke 'arf to me and 'arf to 'isself
+as we walked to the sixth tee.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all that cussed nime!" 'e ses. "If I
+could only think of that, I'd be orlright. A
+female nime fer a kerrecter in my new book.
+'Enery, what's the nime of your yung woman?"
+'e ses, joking like. Well, love ain't much in my
+line, me ambishuns not letting me 'amper meself
+wif wimmen, but still a feller 'as to keep 'is 'and
+in. I won't say as I 'aven't been more run after
+than most, but some'ow that ain't one of my
+temptashuns. 'Owever, more to pleese 'er than
+meself, I lets one of them, jest a school kiddy,
+walk out wif me at times. She means well, I
+do believe, but I've allus reckoned as 'ow 'er
+nime's agin 'er.</p>
+
+<p>"Hervangeline's 'er nime, Mister Brellett," I
+ses, deprerkating like. "But she can't 'elp it,"
+I ses.</p>
+
+<p>"By Jewpiter!" 'e 'owls. "Hervangeline's the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>
+very nime I've been 'unting for. And now I'll
+win this match!" 'e ses.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll win it orlright, sir," I ses, ernest like.
+"But, for 'evin's sake, stop playing sientifick!
+Play the old gime as you're pyoneer on, sir,"
+I ses.</p>
+
+<p>"I beleeve as 'ow you're right, 'Enery," 'e ses,
+thoughtful like; and then we come to the tee and
+watched old Washer drive 'is yusual straight,
+shortish ball. Then Mister Brellett grips 'is club,
+takes 'is yusual wicked, himmoril stance, springs
+'igh into the air wif an 'arf-styfled yell, and, by
+Gewillikins, drives sich a ball as the pro. 'isself
+might 'ave been proud on! It knocked the kowardly
+'art out of old Washer, did that tremenjus
+drive; and 'e's a man as only plays 'is best
+when 'e's winning easy. They 'ad a narsty lead,
+but we stuck to 'em like wax, 'itting a turriffick
+ball once out of three, or even oftener, and we won
+at last quite 'andsomely by three and two.</p>
+
+<p>I remember as I bought bull's-eyes fer Hervangeline
+wif that 'ere tuppence, becos in a meshure,
+as you may say, she'd 'ad an 'and in the winning of
+it. 'Owever, wif a jenerosity unyusual in wimmen,
+she hinsisted on sharing 'em wif 'Enery Wilks,
+'oos skilful leedership 'ad reely won the match.
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p017.png">
+<img src="images/p017.png" width="100%" alt="&quot;Keep your head still&quot;" /></a>
+<p class="center">&quot;Keep your head still&quot; is the first rule in golf, and Binks
+means to do so.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p019.png">
+<img src="images/p019.png" width="100%" alt="Short-sighted Old Lady" /></a>
+<p><i>Short-sighted Old Lady</i> (<i>to little Binks, who is going to the
+golf-links</i>). &quot;How much will you charge me to mend this umbrella?&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p021.png">
+<img src="images/p021.png" width="100%" alt="Trials of a Novice." /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">Trials of a Novice.</span>&mdash;&quot;Something must be wrong. That&#39;s the
+third time running I&#39;ve used this club!&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p023.png">
+<img src="images/p023.png" width="100%" alt="Lily from Devonshire" /></a>
+<p class="center"> ! ! ! !</p>
+<p class="center"><i>Lily (from Devonshire, on a visit to her Scotch Cousin Margy
+in St. Andrews, N.B.).</i> &quot;What a strange thing fashion is, Margy! Fancy a
+game like golf reaching up as far north as this!&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
+
+<h4>THE HANDY CADDY</h4>
+
+
+<div class="center"><i>Why Jones sold his big St. Bernard and substituted a tame Caribou,
+which a friend brought him home from Canada.</i></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%">
+<a href="images/p024-1.png">
+<img src="images/p024-1.png" width="100%" alt="Handy Caddy 1" /></a>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">It was so handy when going out golfing.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%">
+<a href="images/p024-2.png">
+<img src="images/p024-2.png" width="100%" alt="Handy Caddy 2" /></a>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">It made such a capital caddy.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%">
+<a href="images/p025-1.png">
+<img src="images/p025-1.png" width="100%" alt="Handy Caddy 3" /></a>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">And jones could indulge in expletives
+without being a bad example.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%">
+<a href="images/p025-2.png">
+<img src="images/p025-2.png" width="100%" alt="Handy Caddy 4" /></a>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">If the weather suddenly turned
+off cold he had only to help himself to a top coat;</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%">
+<a href="images/p026-1.png">
+<img src="images/p026-1.png" width="100%" alt="Handy Caddy 3" /></a>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">&amp; If it rained
+to an umbrella and sou'wester.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%">
+<a href="images/p026-2.png">
+<img src="images/p026-2.png" width="100%" alt="Handy Caddy 4" /></a>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Also it gave quite a park-like appearance
+to jones' back garden.</span></p>
+<br />
+</div>
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="center">III.</div>
+
+<p>Taking it all in all, 'Enery Wilks 'as very
+little use for wimmen. Excep, of course, as
+playthings and rellaxashuns after toil. As sich I
+regards Hervangerline, of 'oom I've told yer.
+That is, when 'er mood is dosile. At sich times,
+when she is not trying to be yumourous or utherwise
+acting the goat, the child can listen, wif
+doo respekt, whilst 'im she loves so well unbends
+'isself. It is 'er privviledge to see 'Enery Wilks
+remove 'is stern cold marsk. Yuss, I tollerates
+Hervangerline, but I 'ave little use fer uther
+wimmen.</p>
+
+<p>Speaking quite frenkly, I can find little to
+kommend in the hexeckertive of these 'ere links,
+but there is one of their resent hinnervashuns in
+pertickler that fills me wif cold rage. This is the
+rule permitting lidy members to play on the course,
+excep' on Satterday and Sunday.</p>
+
+<p>Lord knows as 'ow the men is bad enuff to deal
+wif. 'Eadstrong, vain, irriterble and pig-'eaded
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
+they mostly is, but oh! strike me pink and
+purple, if they ain't fair angels, wings and all,
+kompared to those dredfull, onreasoningable
+wimmen! Onreasoningable is the one word as
+I can use to deskribe them. And that don't do
+'em justise.</p>
+
+<p>Wif a man, to some eggstent, you do know
+where you are. You do know from eggsperiense
+'ow fur you may go wif 'im, before 'e katches you
+a clump on the side of the 'ead. But wif wimmen
+no eggsperiense will 'elp yer. Becos there ain't
+no rules abart them.</p>
+
+<p>Lord knows as 'ow I started out wif the idear
+of pleesing 'em. I ses to Hervangerline, the
+evening I 'eard abart it, "We're going to 'ave
+lidies on the course, kid," I ses. "Your 'Enery
+will 'ave to smarten 'isself up a bit fer their dear
+sakes," I ses. Womanlike she begun to snif.</p>
+
+<p>"You take care, 'Enery Wilks," she ses
+worningly. "You take care of them desining
+'ussies. There's many of 'em as will be after you,
+I knows it well. Fer some wimmen," she ses, sort
+of sarkastic, "some wimmen will go after anythink
+in trarsers," she ses. Well, I wears nickers
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34a" id="Page_34a">[Pg 34]</a></span>
+meself as a general rule, but I knowed what she
+meant. And, though of course I 'id it from her,
+pertending to be kontemptewous, I found 'er
+words quite pleesing. I thort to meself, komplasent
+like, as 'ow some of these lidy members
+might show a prefferrence fer that one of our
+caddies as is pollished and korteous and older
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35a" id="Page_35a">[Pg 35]</a></span>
+than 'is years. But, apparriently, both I and
+Hervangerline was rong&mdash;iddeously rong.</p>
+
+<p>Fer it's no good konseeling from meself, at
+anyrate, as 'ow I 'aven't been a komplete success
+so fur wif our lidy members. Why sich should
+be the case I cannot tell, but there it is. There's
+a preggerdise agin me as is kep' alive by the
+ontiring, revengfull tungs of Miss Trigsie Kornish
+and Missis Jossephus 'Askins. And this is 'ow
+that preggerdise begun.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36a" id="Page_36a">[Pg 36]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>They come along one morning and say as
+'ow they're going to play a rarnd, and they'll
+share a caddy between them. And to my ondying
+greef they picked on 'Enery Wilks. Not as
+there was anythink surprising in their doing that.
+In their place I'd 'ave picked on 'im meself.
+And I'm bound in justise to say as there was
+nothing in <i>their</i> appeerance to set me agin them.
+Missis 'Askins is very yung and plessant-looking,
+although she <i>is</i> married, and Miss Kornish is
+darkish and carries 'erself wif a sort of swing.
+No, their looks was rite enuff; it was only their
+dredfull 'abit of cheating as made the trubble.</p>
+
+<p>They started as frendly as love-birds, but by
+the second 'ole the fur was beginning to stand
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>
+up stiff upon their backs. It was their orful
+onguvernabul keenness as did it. On the third
+green Missis 'Askins asks Miss Kornish 'ow many
+she's played, and she tells 'er, nine, quite brisk
+like. Now both Misses 'Askins and meself <i>knew</i>
+quite well as 'ow Miss Kornish 'ad played ten;
+indeed, I could see as ow Misses 'Askins thort it
+were eleven. They rangles a bit abart it, growing
+gradewally more 'eated, and then Misses 'Askins
+erpeals to me, and I gives it in 'er favour, trying
+very 'ard to rap it up plessant like. Miss Kornish
+glares at me like a cat 'oom you've mannidged to
+'it wif a brick whilst it's taking a stroll quite
+inercent and leshurely; but she doesn't say much
+and we goes on.</p>
+
+<p>Two 'oles later it all 'appens agin, only this
+time it's Missis 'Askins 'oo 'as kondescended to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>
+redooce 'er score. They rages rarnd upon the
+green, and then Miss Kornish erpeals to me,
+and truth kompels me to erward the 'ole to 'er.
+This time it's Missis 'Askins 'oo glarnces at me
+as though she'd like to cut orf my yung life. But
+'Enery Wilks can stand a lot of that.</p>
+
+<p>So we goes on agin, wif the air growing 'eavier
+like, and three 'oles later they both erpeals to me,
+fer both is cheating. It was an 'ard posishun fer
+a yung feller as is only wishfull to pleese. 'Owever,
+I desided to give pore old Truth another chawnce;
+although misdoubtfull. So I ses to them quite
+respeckfull like, as 'ow both their scores is
+inakkerite and should I keep them both in
+fuchure?</p>
+
+<p>Oh Lumme, I'd like to forgit what 'appened
+then! All in a moment those two young wimmen
+grew frendly agin to each other and konsentrited
+all their rage and spite on 'Enery Wilks. They
+fell upon me wif their tungs, and I felt as though
+I was being 'it wif barbed wire and nettels. They
+called me "impudent little boy," me the chosin
+'ero of the yunger caddies, and I could only
+garsp and trimble. Their crewel thretts brought
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40a" id="Page_40a">[Pg 40]</a></span>
+tears even to my proud eyes, and I almost beleeve
+as 'ow I grovvellel before them. It 'urts me to
+remember it.</p>
+
+<p>When at last they 'ad tired themselves out, they
+finished their rarnd as though they 'ad never 'ad
+an unkind thort towards each other, and I slunk
+be'ind them, dased and silent, like a puppy 'oos
+been kicked.</p>
+
+<p>And that's&mdash;that's what comes of edmitting
+wimmen to a golf corse!
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p029.png">
+<img src="images/p029.png" width="100%" alt="THE BOGEY COMPETITION" /></a>
+<p class="center">&quot;THE BOGEY COMPETITION&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p031.png">
+<img src="images/p031.png" width="100%" alt="Little Albert" /></a>
+<p class="center">Little Albert (always thirsting for knowledge). &quot;Uncle, do
+they pronounce that rico<i>chay</i>ing or rico<i>chet</i>ting?&quot;</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p032-1.png">
+<img src="images/p032-1.png" width="100%" alt="Carry your clubs 1" /></a>
+<p class="center">1. &quot;Carry your clubs, guvnor, for sixpence!&quot;</p>
+<p class="center">&quot;No, thanks, I don&#39;t require a caddie.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%">
+<a href="images/p032-2.png">
+<img src="images/p032-2.png" width="100%" alt="Carry your clubs 2" /></a>
+<p class="center">2. &quot;Carry yer clubs for fourpence, boss!&quot; </p>
+<p class="center">&quot;Go away, boy, I&#39;ll carry &#39;em myself.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p033-1.png">
+<img src="images/p033-1.png" width="100%" alt="Carry your clubs 3" /></a>
+<p class="center">3. &quot;Carry &#39;em for thrippence, mister&quot;</p>
+<p class="center">(no response).</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%">
+<a href="images/p033-2.png">
+<img src="images/p033-2.png" width="100%" alt="Carry your clubs 4" /></a>
+<p class="center">4. A smash!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34b" id="Page_34b">[Pg 34]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p034.png">
+<img src="images/p034.png" width="100%" alt="Carry your clubs 5" /></a>
+<p class="center">5. (After the smash). &quot;I say, captain, I&#39;ll carry
+your clubs for nothin&#39;, jist for the fun of the thing!&quot;</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35b" id="Page_35b">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p035.png">
+<img src="images/p035.png" width="100%" alt="MR. PUNCH&#39;S PATENT CADDIE CAR" /></a>
+<p class="center">MR. PUNCH&#39;S PATENT CADDIE CAR</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36b" id="Page_36b">[Pg 36]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%;">
+<a href="images/p036.png">
+<img src="images/p036.png" width="100%" alt="Golf is now being played on the Norman Coast" /></a>
+<p class="center">Golf is now being played on the Norman Coast</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%;">
+<a href="images/p037.png">
+<img src="images/p037.png" width="100%" alt="Golf is being played very much in Egypt" /></a>
+<p class="center">Golf is being played very much in Egypt</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p039.png">
+<img src="images/p039.png" width="100%" alt="A NEW DISEASE&mdash;THE GOLF TWIST" /></a>
+<p class="center">A NEW DISEASE&mdash;THE GOLF TWIST</p><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40b" id="Page_40b">[Pg 40]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p040.png">
+<img src="images/p040.png" width="100%" alt="Colonel Foozle." /></a>
+<p>The above caddie (in the course of his third round with
+Colonel Foozle, who always takes out a collection of two
+dozen clubs, if only for the look of the thing) begins to
+doubt if he, the caddie, really belongs to the idle classes,
+as stated in the papers.</p><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p041.png">
+<img src="images/p041.png" width="100%" alt="&quot;HOW&#39;S THAT, UMPIRE?&quot;" /></a>
+<p class="center">&quot;HOW&#39;S THAT, UMPIRE?&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p>Golf Player. &quot;Now then, what are you grinning at, boy? Don&#39;t you
+know where the ball is?&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p>Caddie. &quot;Yus, sir, I know, sir. Please, sir, that there dun
+cow &#39;ve swallered it!&quot;</p><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p042.png">
+<img src="images/p042.png" width="100%" alt="Scene&mdash;Country Police Court" /></a>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>Country Police Court</i></p>
+<br />
+<p>Magistrate. &quot;My boy, do you fully realise the nature of an oath?&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p>Boy. &quot;Well, I oughter, considerin&#39; the times I&#39;ve caddied for yer!&quot;</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p043.png">
+<img src="images/p043.png" width="100%" alt="Miggs and Griggs" /></a>
+<br />
+<p><i>Miggs and Griggs, who have got away for a week-end holiday,
+have strayed on to the golf links, and have been watching
+the colonel, who has been bunkered for the last ten minutes&mdash;and
+the language!!</i></p>
+<br />
+<p>Miggs. &quot;What&#39;s he doing?&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p>Griggs. &quot;I dunno. Think he&#39;s trying to kill something.&quot;</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="center">IV.</div>
+
+<p>Yumin nachure is a kurius thing. I dunno
+whether this thort 'as okkurred to other peeple,
+but I sees the truth of it more clearly every day.
+You may studdy a man fer weeks and think as
+'ow you know 'im inside out, and then, when you
+try to make some use of 'is pecooliarities, they
+ain't working that day, or else some little hannoying
+trifle spiles your well lade skeems. Sich was
+the sad case of Mister Hoctavius Glenwistle and
+my friend Chawley Martin.</p>
+
+<p>Mister Glenwistle is an oldish jentleman now,
+but in 'is day 'e 'as been a famus eggsplorer.
+Jeograffy never being my strong point, I dunno
+egsackly where 'e went eggsploring, or why 'e did
+it. Chawley Martin, 'oo's jenerally 'is caddie, is
+my hinformant, and some days 'e will 'ave it that
+Mister Glenwistle would once 'ave reached the
+Pole if 'is boots 'adn't guv out, and at other times
+'e hinsists that it was Africer that 'e visited. I
+dunno, meself; per'aps the old jentleman 'as been
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
+to both them regins in 'is time. But any'ow all is
+agreed that once 'e lived for nearly three weeks upon
+an oldish poodle dawg&mdash;which is an orfull thort.</p>
+
+<p>Sich an eggspeerience must leeve its mark upon
+any man, 'owever strong. It 'as left its mark
+upon Mister Hoctavius Glenwistle. Every blade
+of 'air 'as vannished from 'is skalp, and 'is face is
+a sort of dark brick colour wif light eyebrows. 'E
+still suffers from sunstroke, and Chawley Martin
+'as to carry a large red umbereller round the links
+to pertect 'is 'ead.</p>
+
+<p>I dunno whether it's the sunstroke, or whether
+it's 'is ondying remorce for that pore faithfull
+poodle, but Mister Glenwistle suffers terrible from
+absentmindedness. 'E 'as been known to swing
+up 'is great, red umbereller upon the tee and try
+to drive wif that, and Chawley Martin allus 'as to
+watch 'im keerfull to see what 'e'll be up to next.
+'E 'ates to be disturbed when in one of 'is mooning
+fits, and is apt to swear terrible in some forrin'
+langwidge, which Chawley thinks is Eskimo; but
+still 'e's a jentleman all over, is Mister Hoctavius
+Glenwistle. 'Is tips is 'andsome, and it don't give
+'im no pleshure to repport an 'armless lad.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>One Sunday lately 'e came down wif a frend for
+an 'ole day's golf. Chawley Martin, as yusual,
+was 'is caddie, and I ondertook the manidgement
+of the frend. All went well in the morning, excep'
+that Mister Glenwistle fell into a sort of dream
+upon the seventh green and 'ad to be rarsed by
+Chawley. It may 'ave been Eskimo that 'e spoke
+to the boy when 'e'd touched 'im jently on the
+arm, but it sounded wuss&mdash;much wuss.</p>
+
+<p>'Owever, we comes back at one to the club-'ouse,
+red umbereller and all, like <i>Robbinson Crewso</i>,
+and they goes into lunch. Whilst they're still
+laying into the grub like winking, I and Chawley
+Martin, 'aving eaten our own frugil meal, sit down
+near the 'club-'ouse and begin to polish up their
+clubs. We fell a-talking about the great science
+of golf, getting quite 'eated in a little while, and
+at last Chawley, to illerstrate 'is own mistakin
+theery, gets upon 'is 'ind legs. 'E takes Mister
+Glenwistle's best driver from 'is bag and shows
+me what 'e calls "a full swing, wif every
+ounce of weight and rist and mussel crammed
+into it."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p>I was afeard 'ow it would be. The length of the
+club mastered 'im. 'E 'it the onoffending turf a
+crewel blow, and there was a narsty crack. 'E
+sits down beside me wif a garsp, and we looks at
+Mister Glenwistle's pet driver wif the 'ead 'arf off.</p>
+
+<p>"What's to be done, 'Enery?" 'e ses, after a
+sort of sickly pawse.</p>
+
+<p>Fer my part I'd been thinking 'ard, me brain
+being better than most.</p>
+
+<p>"There's three courses open to you, Chawley,
+me lad," I ses quietly. "You can do a guy at
+once, and not come back&mdash;that's one; or you can
+tell Mister G. as you've been fooling wif 'is clubs&mdash;that's
+another," I ses, and waited fer 'is
+risponse.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's 'ear the third," he ses gloomily.</p>
+
+<p>"Deceat is aborrent to my nachure," I ses.
+"But you're made diferent, Chawley. You
+could make use of 'is absentmindedness and let
+'im think as 'e broke it 'isself. 'Old it out to
+'im wif a sort of winning smile, when 'e comes,
+and say as 'ow you're afrade it will 'ave to be
+mended after all. It's a fair sportin' chawnce,"
+I ses.</p>
+
+<p>"'Enery, you're a fair marvel!" 'e ses, after
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>
+pondering fer a minute. "I'll try it on," he ses.
+And so we left it.</p>
+
+<p>I didn't see the meeting between Mister Glenwistle
+and 'is well-meaning caddie, becos my klient
+sent me to get him a ball, but when I came back
+I seed as 'ow Chawley was sniffing slightly, and 'is
+large outstanding ears was reddened. 'Is manner
+was coldish like to me, but when the two 'ad
+drivin, I asked 'im what 'ad 'appened.</p>
+
+<p>"'E just boxed me ears," Chawley ses, "and
+told me as 'ow 'e'd repport me if I lied to 'im
+agen," 'e ses.</p>
+
+<p>Fer once I was reely taken aback.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't make it out, Chawley," I ses. "Where
+was 'is yusual absentmindedness? It just shows
+as 'ow you can't depend on nuthing in this world!
+Did you do as I told you, winning smile and all?"
+I asks 'im.</p>
+
+<p>"Yuss, I did," 'e ses, snappish like. "But it
+seems as 'ow 'is interfeering frend 'appened to look
+out of the club-'ouse when I was showing you
+that swing, and seed it all. Anuther time you
+can keep your winning smiles and your fat-'eaded
+hadvice to yourself, 'Enery Wilks!" 'e ses.</p>
+
+<p>I didn't answer 'im, remembering 'ow 'is 'uge
+progecting ears was tingling, but I ses to meself,
+"So much, 'Enery Wilks, for yumin gratitood!"
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p045.png">
+<img src="images/p045.png" width="100%" alt="Mr. Mothdriver." /></a>
+<p>Mr. Mothdriver, the famous, yet absent-minded, golf-naturalist,
+invariably carries a butterfly-net in his golf-bag&mdash;for he agrees with
+Mr. Horace Hutchinson that some of the best entomological specimens
+can be captured in the course of playing the royal and ancient game.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p047.png">
+<img src="images/p047.png" width="100%" alt="Brer Rabbit" /></a>
+<p><i>Brer Rabbit</i>. &quot;I suppose you haven&#39;t seen such a thing
+as a golf-ball about anywhere, have you?&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p049.png">
+<img src="images/p049.png" width="100%" alt="Golf Enthusiasts." /></a>
+<br />
+<br />
+<p><i>First Enthusiast</i>. &quot;I say, will you play another round
+with me on Thursday?&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Second Enthusiast</i>. &quot;Well, I&#39;m booked to be married on
+that day&mdash;<i>but it can be postponed!</i>&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p051.png">
+<img src="images/p051.png" width="100%" alt="The Golf Stream" /></a>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Golf Stream</span>.&mdash;Flows
+along the eastern coast of Scotland during the summer and autumn.</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center">(Vide <i>Report of British Association&mdash;Section V.</i>).</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p053.png">
+<img src="images/p053.png" width="100%" alt="Real Enjoyment" /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">Real Enjoyment</span>.&mdash;<i>Non-Golfer</i>
+(<i>middle-aged, rather stout, who would like to play, and has been recommended
+it as healthy and amusing</i>). "Well, I cannot see where the excitement comes in in this game!"
+<br />
+<br />
+</p>
+<p><i>Caddie.</i> "Eh, mon, there's more swearing used over
+golf than any other game! D'ye no ca' that excitement?"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="center">V.</div>
+
+<p>A little success at golf, as I've notised,
+jenerally makes a man wish for more. Like the
+appertite of a young girl for chocerlates. I dunno
+if you remember that nice old Mister Giggington,
+of 'oom I told you. Under my skillfull gidance,
+and with the ade of a little inercent 'anky-panky,
+'e kontrived to wander rarnd these 'ere links in an
+'undred and twenty-nine. Well, ever since that
+serprising triemph, 'e 'as been 'ungering for fresh
+feelds to konker, as you might say.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to meet someone, 'Enery, as I can
+beat," 'e kep' saying, quite truckewlent like. "I
+don't pretend as 'ow I'm brillyent, but on my day
+I do fancy that there's wuss."</p>
+
+<p>"You keep on practising steddy, sir," was my
+invariable words, "and one of these days we shall
+see you winning cups and medils."</p>
+
+<p>As nice and kind an old jentleman as ever
+smashed a club is Mister Giggington, but I allus
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
+'ave to 'andle 'im like eggs to prevent 'im losing
+'art. I didn't think as 'ow even 'Enery Wilks
+would be able to grattify 'is 'armless ambishun,
+but the uther day I saw my chawnce.</p>
+
+<p>It was a Toosday morning, and the course was
+quite disserted, excep' for Mister G., 'oo was waiting
+to start a practice rarnd wiv 'is pashunt teecher.
+Which is me. And then a new member come
+along 'oo was wishfull for a game, and dirrectly I
+set eyes on 'im, somethink, hinstink, I suppose,
+seemed to tell me that 'ere was the man for 'oom
+I 'ad been waiting.</p>
+
+<p>'E was French, and I shall not attempt to rite
+'is name, the 'ang of which I never reely kawt. 'E
+was a small, darkish, jornty man, and 'is garmints
+was a little briter and more cheerfull-looking than
+you see in England. 'E wore, among uther
+things, a deer-storker 'at wiv a fevver stuck in it.
+But 'is manners was reelly bewtifull. It was quite
+a site to see 'im click 'is 'eels togevver, and bow
+to my himployer, and in a minute they 'ad fixed
+their match. I 'ad 'inted to Mister G. that 'e
+must hinsist on 'aving a stroke an 'ole, and that
+was 'ow they settled it. I never lerned what the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>
+Frenchman's 'andicap was, but if the Champyon
+'isself 'ad offered to take strokes from 'im 'e would
+'ave closed gladly wiv the offer. And yet there
+was reelly nuthing erfensive about the little man.</p>
+
+<p>I could see as 'ow pore old Mister G. was
+trimbling wiv a sort of serpressed egsitement, and
+I wispered to 'im that 'e must play steddy and use
+the niblick whenever possibul. The niblick, from
+long practice in the bunkers, is 'is club.</p>
+
+<p>Me frend, Chawley Martin, was the Frenchman's
+caddie, and 'e took ercasion to remmark to
+me that we seemed in for somethink warmish. I
+checked the boy wiv one of my glawnces, and
+then we waited while 'is hemployer took the
+'onner. That jentleman danced up to the tee,
+waving rarnd 'is head the longest and the bendiest
+driver that I 'ave ever seen, and 'e didn't trubble
+to address the ball at all. 'E just sprung at it and
+'it it wiv all 'is might, and somethink fairly wistled
+past Chawley's 'ead as 'e stood a little be'ind the
+tee box. The Frenchman 'ad sliced at rite angels,
+and for anythink I know 'is ball is still in the air.
+Certingly, we never saw it agin.</p>
+
+<p>That slite misforchune appeered to egsite and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>
+dimmoralise Chawley's himployer, 'oo may 'ave
+been quite a brillyent player on 'is day, and I may
+say at once that 'e never reelly found 'is game.
+On the uther 'and it seemed to put new life
+and vigger into Mister G. Our erponent was
+appariently trying 'ard to do each 'ole in a
+brillyent one, but we was quite content to win
+them in a steddy nine.</p>
+
+<p>We 'ad our misforchunes, of course. 'Is deerest
+frend wouldn't 'ardly say as 'ow Mister G.'s
+game is a long one, and each bunker seems to 'ave
+a sort of magnettick attrackshun for 'is ball, but
+whilst the Frenchman's brassey remained unbroken
+we knew that there was allus a chawnce
+for the 'ole. For 'arf the rarnd it stood the crewel
+strane and then it didn't break. It jest seemed to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62a" id="Page_62a">[Pg 62]</a></span>
+sort of dissolve into small peaces. But we was two
+up by then and our tails was 'igh in air.</p>
+
+<p>As for the Frenchman, 'is meffods at times was
+reelly serprising. After that first drive Chawley
+lade 'isself down flat when 'is hemployer drove,
+but even in that posishun it didn't seem 'ardly
+safe. That long, thin, bendy driver sent the ball
+to all 'ites and all angels, but never once in a
+strate line. After a wile 'e diskarded it, and guv a
+fair, 'onnest trial to every club in 'is bag in turn.
+I should never 'ave been serprised to see 'im drive
+desperit like wiv 'is putter, but even then Chawley
+wouldn't 'ave dared say nuthink. 'E was quite a
+plessant, jentlemanly little man, but it didn't do to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64a" id="Page_64a">[Pg 64]</a></span>
+argue wiv 'im. 'E begun to scream and stamp at
+once, and Chawley saw pretty soon that it was
+best and safest to let 'im play 'is own game.</p>
+
+<p>It was on the fiftienth green that the great match
+was ended. Mister Giggington's pluck and stamminer
+'ad been amasing for 'is age, but the strane
+and the joyfull egsitement was beginning to tell on
+'im. The Frenchman tried to bring off a thirty-yard
+putt to save the 'ole, and failed by some forty
+yards. But 'e took 'is defeet like a nero. They
+shook 'ands on the green and 'e said that it
+warmed 'is 'art to reflect on the glory that 'is
+frendly foe 'ad won. I beleeve as 'ow there was
+tears in the old jentleman's eyes. 'E turned to
+me and I quite thort 'e was going to grasp my
+'and, but instead of that 'e put a bob into it
+which was pretty near as good.</p>
+
+<p>'E 'll never make a golfer, but 'Enery Wilks
+will allus be pleesed and proud to gide 'im rarnd
+the course.
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p055.png">
+<img src="images/p055.png" width="100%" alt="A Ruling Passion" /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">A Ruling Passion</span>.&mdash;<i>Mr. Meenister MacGlucky</i>
+(<i>of the Free Kirk, after having given way more than usual to an expression
+"a wee thing strong"&mdash;despairingly</i>). "Oh! Aye! Ah, w-e-el! I'll hae ta gie 't up!" </p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Mr. Elder MacNab.</i> "Wha-at, man, gie up gowf?" </p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Mr. Meenister MacGlucky.</i> "Nae, nae! Gie up the meenistry!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p057.png">
+<img src="images/p057.png" width="100%" alt="A Poser" /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">A Poser</span>.&mdash;"Farmers always grumbling? Well, supposin'
+your pigs were down wi' th' fever, an' your sheep
+had got th' influenza, if your crops were drownded in
+eighteen inches o' water, an' your rent were overdue&mdash;what
+would you do?"</p>
+<br />
+<p>"I?&nbsp;&nbsp; I'd give it up and start a golf club!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p059.png">
+<img src="images/p059.png" width="100%" alt="INGRATITUDE" /></a>
+<p class="center">INGRATITUDE</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Brown.</i> "Why doesn't Walker stop to speak? Thought he knew you!"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Smith.</i> "Used to; but I introduced him to the girl he
+married.&nbsp;&nbsp;Neither of them recognises me now!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span><br /></p>
+
+<h3>GOLF</h3>
+<div class="center">(<i>As "Put" by D. Crambo Junior.</i>)</div>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table summary="links" width="90%">
+<tr>
+<td align="center">
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p060-1.png">
+<img src="images/p060-1.png" width="100%" alt="Putting on the links" /></a>
+<p class="center">&quot;Putting&quot; on the &quot;links&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+</td>
+
+<td align="center">
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p060-2.png">
+<img src="images/p060-2.png" width="100%" alt="The tee and the caddie" /></a>
+<p class="center">The &quot;tee&quot; and the &quot;caddie&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="center">
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p061-1.png">
+<img src="images/p061-1.png" width="100%" alt="A showy manner of handling the clubs" /></a>
+<p class="center">A showy manner of handling the &quot;clubs&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+</td>
+<td align="center">
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p061-2.png">
+<img src="images/p061-2.png" width="100%" alt="A full drive" /></a>
+<p class="center">A full drive</p>
+</div>
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="center">
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%">
+<a href="images/p061-3.png">
+<img src="images/p061-3.png" width="100%" alt="A beautifuliron shot" /></a>
+<p class="center">A beautiful &quot;iron&quot; shot</p>
+</div>
+
+</td>
+<td align="center">
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p061-4.png">
+<img src="images/p061-4.png" width="100%" alt="The spoon" /></a>
+<p class="center">The &quot;spoon&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="center">
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p061-5.png">
+<img src="images/p061-5.png" width="100%" alt="The cleek" /></a>
+<p class="center">The &quot;cleek&quot;</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+
+<td align="center">
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p061-6.png">
+<img src="images/p061-6.png" width="100%" alt="Holed out" /></a>
+<p class="center">&quot;Holed out&quot;</p>
+
+</div>
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+
+</table>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62b" id="Page_62b">[Pg 62]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%;">
+<a href="images/p062.png">
+<img src="images/p062.png" width="100%" alt="A MORNING PERFORMANCE" /></a>
+<p class="center">A MORNING PERFORMANCE</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p063.png">
+<img src="images/p063.png" width="100%" alt="FORE!" /></a>
+<p class="center">FORE!</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center">"Now, sir, be judge yourself, whether I in any just term
+am affin'd to love the Moor."</p>
+<br />
+<p class="right">[<i>Othello</i>, Act I., Sc. 1.]</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64b" id="Page_64b">[Pg 64]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="center">VI.</div>
+
+<p>'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
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>
+certain excepshuns to the cast-iron 'onnesty of all
+of us, and every yumin being 'as 'is little weakness.
+Mine is golf balls.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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 <i>them</i> is Mister Schwabstein, 'oo
+is not French or Scotch, as you might think from
+'is name, but German, wiv praps a touch of
+Jentile.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>'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
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>
+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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'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.</p>
+
+<p>'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.</p>
+
+<p>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
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>
+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.</p>
+
+<p>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.
+<br />
+<br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3>GOLFING NOTES</h3>
+
+<p class="center">"Denmark is the latest of the Continental nations to receive golf."&mdash;<i>The Tatler.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p065.png">
+<img src="images/p065.png" width="100%" alt="Golfing Notes" /></a>
+<p class="center">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.</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center">See also quotation <i>Hamlet</i>, Act II., Scene 2:&mdash;" ... drives; in
+rage, strikes wide!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p067.png">
+<img src="images/p067.png" width="100%" alt="Encouragement" /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">Encouragement</span>.&mdash;<i>Professional
+Golfer</i> (<i>in answer to anxious question</i>).&nbsp;"Weel, no, sir, at your time o' life, ye
+can never hope to become a <i>player</i>;
+but if ye practise hard for three years, ye may be able to tell good play from bad when ye see it!"
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p069.png">
+<img src="images/p069.png" width="100%" alt="Bertie to caddie" /></a>
+<p><i>Bertie</i> (<i>to caddie, searching for lost ball</i>). "What
+are you looking there for? Why, I must have driven it fifty yards further!"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Diplomatic Caddie.</i> "But sometimes they hit a stone, sir, and bounce back a terrible distance!"
+</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p071.png">
+<img src="images/p071.png" width="100%" alt="Old Hand vs. New Hand." /></a>
+<br />
+<p><i>Old Hand.</i> &quot;Ah, I heard you'd joined.&nbsp;&nbsp;Been round the links yet?&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>New Hand.</i> &quot;Oh, yes. Went yesterday.&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Old Hand.</i> &quot;Whot did you go round in?&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>New Hand.</i> &quot;Oh, my ordinary clothes!&quot;</p>
+
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p073.png">
+<img src="images/p073.png" width="100%" alt="Golfing Amenities." /></a>
+<br />
+<p><span class="smcap">Golfing Amenities</span>. (<i>Overheard on a course
+within 100 miles of Edinburgh</i>).&mdash;<i>Hopeless Duffer</i> (<i>who
+continually asks his caddy the same question, with much grumbling at the non-success of his clubs</i>).
+&nbsp;"And what shall I take now?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>His Unfortunate Partner</i> (<i>whose match has been lost and game spoilt, at last breaking
+out</i>).&nbsp;"What'll ye tak noo! The best thing ye can tak is the fower fifteen for Edinburgh!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The Pedantry of Sport.</span>&mdash;<i>First Golf
+Maniac.</i> I played a round with Captain Bulger
+the other day.</p>
+
+<p><i>Second G.M.</i> When did you get to know
+him?</p>
+
+<p><i>First G.M.</i> Oh, about the end of the Gutty Ball period.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span><br /></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p075.png">
+<img src="images/p075.png" width="100%" alt="Cheerful Beginner" /></a>
+<p class="center"><i>Cheerful Beginner</i> (<i>who has just smashed the Colonel's favourite
+driver</i>). &quot;Oh, now I see why you have to carry so many clubs!&quot;
+</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p076.png">
+<img src="images/p076.png" width="100%" alt="Tee, Tee, Only Tee!" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<h3>TEE, TEE, ONLY TEE!</h3>
+
+<div class="center">(<i>Song of the Golf Enthusiast.&nbsp;&nbsp;After Thomas Moore</i>)<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Air</span>&mdash;"<i>Thee, thee, only thee.</i>"
+<br />
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The dawn of the morn, the daylight's sinking,</p>
+<p>Shall find me on the Links, and thinking,</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>
+<p class="i4">Of Tee, Tee, only Tee!</p>
+<p>When rivals meet upon the ground,</p>
+<p class="i2">The Putting-green's a realm enchanted,</p>
+<p>Nay, in Society's giddy round</p>
+<p class="i2">My soul, (like Tooting's thralls) is haunted</p>
+<p class="i4">By Tee, Tee, only Tee!<br /><br /></p>
+<p>For that at early morn I waken,</p>
+<p>And swiftly bolt my eggs and bacon,</p>
+<p class="i2">For Tee, Tee, only Tee!</p>
+<p>I'm game to start all in the dark,</p>
+<p class="i4">To the Links hurrying&mdash;resting never.</p>
+<p>The Caddie yawns, but, like a lark,</p>
+<p class="i2">I halt not, heed not, hastening ever</p>
+<p class="i4">To Tee, Tee, only Tee!<br /><br /></p>
+<p>Of chilly fog I am no funker,</p>
+<p>I'll brave the very biggest bunker,</p>
+<p class="i2">For Tee, Tee, only Tee!</p>
+<p>A spell that nought on earth can break</p>
+<p class="i4">Holds me. Golf's charms can ne'er be <i>spoken</i>;</p>
+<p>But late I'll sleep, and early wake,</p>
+<p class="i2">Of loyalty be this my token,</p>
+<p class="i4">To Tee, Tee, only Tee!<br />
+<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>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."<br />
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3>THE SCIENCE OF GOLF</h3>
+
+<blockquote><p>[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.]</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>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&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Raised? I should just think it has!" said
+Jones. "Why, a year ago they played mere
+skittles&mdash;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?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," I said with considerable surprise, "the
+fact is, I haven't got one. What do you use it
+for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Taking levels, of course. And&mdash;bless me,
+you've no inflater, or glasses&mdash;not even a wind-gauge!
+Shall I borrow some for you?&mdash;Oh, just
+as you like, but you won't be able to put up much
+of a game without them."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p>"Does your caddie take all those things?" I
+asked, pointing to the curious assortment of
+machinery which Jones had put together.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I should hope so!" I remarked. "Do you
+mean that it will be half an hour before those
+men have played two shots?"</p>
+
+<p>"There or thereabouts. Simkins is a fast
+player&mdash;wonderful head for algebra that man has&mdash;so
+it may be a shade less. Come and watch
+him; then you'll see what golf is!"</p>
+
+<p>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
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>
+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.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;filled
+with compressed air? Well, this is only
+an obvious improvement. There, he's going to
+drive now."</p>
+
+<p>And this he did, using a club unlike anything I
+had seen before. Then he surveyed the putting-green&mdash;about
+half a mile away&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"Too much hydrogen," murmured Jones, "or
+else he got his formulæ muddled. Well, we can
+start now. Shall I lead the way?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I begged him to do so. He in turn surveyed
+the country, consulted instruments, did elaborate
+sums, inflated his ball.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," he said, at length settling into his
+stance, "now I'll show you."</p>
+
+<p>And then he missed the ball clean.</p>
+
+<p> ... Of course he ought not to have used such
+language, and yet it was a sort of relief to find
+<i>something</i> about the game which was entirely
+unchanged.<br /></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Royal and Ancient Records</span>.&mdash;The <i>Glasgow
+Evening Times</i> displayed the following headings
+on the occasion of His Majesty's visit to North
+Berwick:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="center">VISIT TO THE GOLF COURSE.<br />
+<span class="smcap">A Drive Through the Town.</span></div>
+
+<p>This, of course, constitutes a new record, the old
+one standing at about 330 yards.<br /></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The Golfer's Friend after Long Drives</span>&mdash;The Tea-Caddy.<br /></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Golf Motto.</span>&mdash;The "Hole" hog or none.<br /></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p079.png">
+<img src="images/p079.png" width="100%" alt="A Last Resort" /></a>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">A Last Resort</span>.&mdash;<i>Miss Armstrong</i>
+(<i>who has foozled the ball six times with various clubs</i>). &quot;And which of the
+sticks am I to use now?&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center"><i>Weary Caddie.</i> &quot;Gie it a bit knock wi' the bag!&quot;</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p081.png">
+<img src="images/p081.png" width="100%" alt="Caddie to Biffin" /></a>
+<p class="center"><i>Caddie</i> (<i>in stage whisper to Biffin, who is frightfully nervous</i>).
+&quot;Don't you get nervous, sir. It's all right.
+I've told every one of 'em you can't play!&quot;</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p083.png">
+<img src="images/p083.png" width="100%" alt="Fitzfoozle" /></a>
+<p><i>Fitzfoozle</i> (<i>a beginner, who is &quot;teaching&quot; a lady on the men's links, and loses a club</i>).
+&quot;Pardon me, sir. Have you seen a lady's club anywhere?&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Admiral Peppercorn</i> (<i>very irate at being delayed, wishes ladies would play on their own course</i>).
+&quot;No, sir, but there's a goose club at the 'Pig and Whistle,' I believe. Try that!&quot;
+</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p085.png">
+<img src="images/p085.png" width="100%" alt="Golf ball under stone" /></a>
+<p><i>Golfer, whose ball has lodged under stone, has had several
+unsuccessful shots, and finally, with a tremendous stroke,
+smashed his club.</i></p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Old Man.</i> &quot;You put me in moind of my old jackass.&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Golfer.</i> &quot;What d'you mean, you idiot?&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Old Man.</i> &quot;Yer've got more strength than knowledge!&quot;</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h3>THE MOAN OF THE MAIDEN</h3>
+
+<div class="center">(<i>After Tennyson</i>)</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Golf! Golf! Golf!</p>
+<p class="i2">By the side of the sounding sea;</p>
+<p>And I would that my ears had never</p>
+<p class="i2">Heard aught of the "links" and the "tee."<br /><br /></p>
+<p>Oh, well for the man of my heart,</p>
+<p class="i2">That he bets on the "holes" and the play;</p>
+<p>Oh, well for the "caddie" that carries</p>
+<p class="i2">The "clubs," and earns his pay.<br /><br /></p>
+<p>He puts his red coat on,</p>
+<p class="i2">And he roams on the sandy hill;</p>
+<p>But oh! for the touch of that golfer's hand,</p>
+<p class="i2">That the "niblick" wields with a will.<br /><br /></p>
+<p>Golf! Golf! Golf!</p>
+<p class="i2">Where the "bunkers" vex by the sea;</p>
+<p>But the days of Tennis and Croquet</p>
+<p class="i2">Will never come back to me!</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Virgil on Golf.</span>&mdash;"Miscueruntque herbas et
+non innoxia verba." <i>Georgics</i>, 3, 283.<br /></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">To Correspondents.</span>&mdash;"An Inexperienced
+Golfer" writes to inquire whether what he has
+heard about "the Tee Duty" will in any way
+affect the "caddies."<br /></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p087.png">
+<img src="images/p087.png" width="100%" alt="Mrs. Lightfoot" /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">Willing to Compensate.</span>&mdash;<i>Mrs. Lightfoot.</i>
+&quot;Oh, wait a minute, Mr. Sharp&mdash;don't drive yet. My
+husband is still on the green.&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Mr. Sharp.</i> &quot;Never mind. I'll risk it. For if I <i>do</i> bowl him over,
+why, I'm ready to replace him any time!&quot;
+</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h3>CAPABLE CADDIES</h3>
+
+<p>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:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>1. Write your name, legibly if possible, in the
+top right-hand corner of the sheet.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>(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.")</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>2. State your age. If this is less than six, or
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>
+more than seventy-five years, you may omit the
+remaining questions and retire at once from the
+examination.</p>
+
+<p>3. Are you married or single? Give reasons
+for your answer.</p>
+
+<p>4. Illustrate the finer points of distinction
+between</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>(<i>a</i>) a niblick and a gutty;</p>
+
+<p>(<i>b</i>) a bye and a bulger.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>5. Are you a Protectionist or a Total Abstainer?</p>
+
+<p>6. Rewrite the following passage, correcting
+anything that may strike you as an error or an
+incongruity:&mdash;"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."</p>
+
+<p>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
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>
+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.)<br /></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">As She is Spoke.</span>"&mdash;(<i>In the train from Nice.</i>)
+<i>Enthusiastic Golfer</i> (<i>to friend, as train stops at Golfe-Juan</i>):
+"Oh, here we are! This must be the
+place. '<i>Golfe</i>,' golf. '<i>Juan</i>,' <i>jeu</i>, play, you
+know. Yes, this is evidently the station for the
+links!"<br /></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The Natural Crest of every Golf Club.</span>&mdash;The lynx.<br /></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Five-o'clock "Tees."</span>&mdash;Suburban golf.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20%;">
+<a href="images/p092.png">
+<img src="images/p092.png" width="100%" alt="Mr. Punch reading" /></a><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p089.png">
+<img src="images/p089.png" width="100%" alt="Stimied." /></a>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Stimied.</span>&mdash;<i>Golfer.</i> &quot;Fore!&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center"><i>Tinker.</i> &quot;What?&quot; <i>Golfer.</i> &quot;Get out of the way!&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center"><i>Tinker.</i> &quot;What for?&quot; <i>Golfer.</i> &quot;I might hit you.&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center"><i>Tinker.</i> &quot;Thee'd best <i>not</i>, young man!&quot;</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p091.png">
+<img src="images/p091.png" width="100%" alt="Licensed Caddy." /></a>
+<p class="center"><i>Licensed Caddy.</i> "Carry your clubs, sir?"</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center"><i>Jones</i> (<i>who has chartered a small boy at a
+cheap rate</i>). "No, I've got a caddy."</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center"><i>Licensed Caddy.</i> "Carry your caddy, sir?"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p093.png">
+<img src="images/p093.png" width="100%" alt="The Ruling Passion." /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">The Ruling Passion.</span>&mdash;<i>Laden and perspiring stranger.</i>
+"Could you kindly tell me how far it is to the station?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Sportsome Native.</i> "About a full drive, two brassies and a putt."</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span><br /></p>
+
+<h3>THE GOLF WIDOWS</h3>
+
+<div class="center">(<i>After E.B. Browning</i>)</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">By the side of the sounding sea;</p>
+<p>Do you hear the widows weeping, O my brothers,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wedded but a few brief years?</p>
+<p>They are writing home complaining to their mothers,</p>
+<p class="i2">And their ink's suffused with tears.</p>
+<p>The young lads are playing in the meadows,</p>
+<p class="i2">The young babes are sleeping in the nest;</p>
+<p>The young men are flirting in the shadows,</p>
+<p class="i2">The young maids are helping them, with zest.</p>
+<p>But the young golf widows, O my brothers,</p>
+<p class="i2">Are weeping bitterly,</p>
+<p>They are weeping in the playtime of the others,</p>
+<p class="i2">While you're swiping from the tee.</p>
+<br />
+<p>Do you ask their grazing widows in their sorrow</p>
+<p class="i2">Why their tears are falling so?</p>
+<p>"Oh&mdash;yesterday&mdash;to-day again&mdash;to-morrow&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">To the links you <span class="smcap">always</span> go!</p>
+<p>Your golf 'shop,'" they say, "is very dreary,</p>
+<p class="i2">You speak of nothing else from week to week;</p>
+<p>A really patient wife will grow a-weary</p>
+<p class="i2">Of talk about a concentrated cleek."</p>
+<p>Yes, the young golf widows, O my brothers,</p>
+<p class="i2">Do you ask them why they weep?</p>
+<p>They are longing to be back beside their mothers,</p>
+<p class="i2">While you're playing in a sweep.</p>
+<br />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>
+<p>And well may the widows weep before you</p>
+<p class="i2">When your nightly round is done;</p>
+<p>They care nothing for a stymie, or the glory</p>
+<p class="i2">Gained by holing out in one.</p>
+<p>"How long," they say, "how long in careless fashion</p>
+<p class="i2">Will you stand, to drive the Dyke, upon our hearts,</p>
+<p>Trample down with nailèd heel our early passion,</p>
+<p class="i2">Turning homeward only when the light departs?</p>
+<p>You can hear our lamentations many a mile hence,</p>
+<p class="i2">Can you hearken without shame,</p>
+<p>When our mourning curseth deeper in the silence</p>
+<p class="i2">Than a strong man off his game?"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20%;">
+<a href="images/p096.png">
+<img src="images/p096.png" width="100%" alt="&quot;A BEAUTIFUL DRIVE.&quot;" /></a>
+<p class="center">&quot;A BEAUTIFUL DRIVE.&quot;</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p095.png">
+<img src="images/p095.png" width="100%" alt="HE WOULD HAVE SAID" /></a>
+<p class="center">&quot;&mdash;&mdash; HE WOULD HAVE SAID&quot;</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center"><i>A beautiful stroke missed! A favourite club broken!
+No words to bring relief!</i></p>
+<br />
+<p class="center"><i>American Friend (in the background, after a long pause).</i>
+"Wa'al, Brown, I guess that's the most profane silence I've ever listened to!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p097.png">
+<img src="images/p097.png" width="100%" alt="Subtle." /></a>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Subtle.</span>&mdash;"Aren't you a little off your game this morning, Mr. Smythe?"</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center">"Oh, I'm not playing this morning, Miss Bertha. Only just amusing myself."</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3>SHOULD MARRIED MEN BE ALLOWED TO PLAY GOLF?</h3>
+
+<div class="center">(<i>Extract from a Golfer's Diary</i>)</div>
+
+<p><i>July 21.</i>&mdash;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.&mdash;Suggest
+to the committee that no married man is
+allowed to play golf in the mornings or afternoons.)</p>
+
+<p>Hole I. I played perfectly, holing beautiful
+long putt. Robinson hopeless. One up.</p>
+
+<p>Hole II. R. bunkered. Entirely his own fault.
+Two up.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>Hole IV. Thought that I might have to speak
+to Mrs. R. at any minute. Missed my drive in
+consequence. Disgusting! Two up.</p>
+
+<p>Hole V. R. seemed to be looking for his wife
+instead of attending to what I was saying. My
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
+drive lay on a buttercup, and who the deuce can
+be expected to play off buttercups? One up.</p>
+
+<p>Hole VI. Stymied R. quite perfectly. He pretended
+to think that we were not playing stymies.
+We were. Two up.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>Hole X. Had the hole in my pocket when R.
+laid his approach dead. Ridiculous luck. All
+square.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102a" id="Page_102a">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hole XII. Vardon couldn't have played better
+than I did, and even R. had to say "Good shot!"
+twice. All square.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hole XV. A little dispute, as R. claimed that his
+ball&mdash;which was under a wheelbarrow&mdash;was on
+ground under repair. Absolutely foolish, and I
+told him so. All square.</p>
+
+<p>Hole XVI. Made a perfect drive, approach and
+putt. Looked everywhere for Mrs. R. and couldn't
+see her. One up.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20%;">
+<a href="images/p104.png">
+<img src="images/p104.png" width="100%" alt="Punch" /></a><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p099.png">
+<img src="images/p099.png" width="100%" alt="&quot;SHE WAS NOT A GOLFER&quot;" /></a>
+<p class="center">"SHE WAS NOT A GOLFER"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Husband.</i> "What on earth has happened to my driver?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Wife.</i> "Oh, I couldn't find the hammer, so I used that thing.
+It wasn't much use, though."</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p101.png">
+<img src="images/p101.png" width="100%" alt="OUR VILLAGE" /></a>
+<p class="center">OUR VILLAGE</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center">The Golf-Club in full swing.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102b" id="Page_102b">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p102.png">
+<img src="images/p102.png" width="100%" alt="Mr. Smith" /></a>
+<p><i>She.</i> "Why, Mr. Smith, you don't mean to say you have taken up golf?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Smith (age 78).</i> "Yes. I found I was getting a bit too old for lawn tennis!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p103.png">
+<img src="images/p103.png" width="100%" alt="ERRATIC" /></a>
+<p class="center">ERRATIC</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Pedestrian (anxious for his safety).</i> "Now, which way are you going to hit the ball?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Worried Beginner.</i> "Only wish to goodness I knew myself!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p105.png">
+<img src="images/p105.png" width="100%" alt="SWEET SIMPLICITY" /></a>
+<p class="center">SWEET SIMPLICITY</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Diffident Man (who does not know to how much of an
+ingénue he is talking).</i> "Have you been out long, Miss
+Grace?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Miss Grace (consulting her wrist-strap).</i> "Oh, about
+three-quarters of an hour. You see we were asked to come punctually."</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>LINES ON THE LINKS</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Hard by the biggest hazard on the course,</p>
+<p>Beneath the shelter of a clump of gorse,</p>
+<p>Secure from shots from off the heel or toe,</p>
+<p>I watch the golfers as they come and go.</p>
+<br />
+<p>I see the fat financier, whose "dunch"</p>
+<p>Suggests too copious draughts of "fizz" at lunch;</p>
+<p>While the lean usher, primed with ginger beer,</p>
+<p>Surmounts the yawning bunker and lies clear.</p>
+<br />
+<p>I see a member of the House of Peers</p>
+<p>Within an ace of bursting into tears,</p>
+<p>When, after six stout niblick shots, his ball</p>
+<p>Lies worse than if he had not struck at all.</p>
+<br />
+<p>But some in silent agony endure</p>
+<p>Misfortunes no "recovery" can cure,</p>
+<p>While others, even men who stand at plus,</p>
+<p>Loudly ejaculate the frequent cuss.</p>
+<br />
+<p>An aged Anglo-Indian oft I see</p>
+<p>Who waggles endlessly upon the tee,</p>
+<p>Causing impatience of the fiercest kind</p>
+<p>To speedy couples pressing from behind.</p>
+<br />
+<p>Familiar also is the red-haired Pat</p>
+<p>Who plays in rain or shine without a hat,</p>
+<p>And who, whenever things are out of joint,</p>
+<p>"Sockets" his iron shots to cover point.</p>
+<br />
+<p>Before ten thirty, also after five,</p>
+<p>The links with lady players are alive,</p>
+<p>At other seasons, by the rules in force,</p>
+<p>Restricted to their own inferior course.</p>
+<br />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>One matron, patient in her way as Job,</p>
+<p>I've seen who nine times running missed the globe;</p>
+<p>But then her daughter, limber maid, can smite</p>
+<p>Close on two hundred yards the bounding Kite.</p>
+<br />
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<br />
+<p>Dusk falls upon the bracken, bents and whins;</p>
+<p>The careful green-keeper removes the pins,</p>
+<p>To-morrow being Sunday, and the sward</p>
+<p>Is freed from gutty and from rubber-cored.</p>
+<br />
+<p>Homeward unchecked by cries of "Fore!" I stroll,</p>
+<p>Revolving many problems in my soul,</p>
+<p>And marvelling at the mania which bids</p>
+<p>Sexagenarians caracole like kids;</p>
+<br />
+<p>Which causes grave and reverend signiors</p>
+<p>To talk for hours of nothing but their scores,</p>
+<p>And worse, when baffled by a little ball,</p>
+<p>On the infernal deities to call;</p>
+<br />
+<p>Which brightens overworked officials' lives;</p>
+<p>Which bores to tears their much-enduring wives;</p>
+<p>Which fosters the consumption of white port,</p>
+<p>And many other drinks, both long and short.</p>
+<br />
+<p>Who then, in face of functions so diverse,</p>
+<p>Will call thee, golf, a blessing or a curse?</p>
+<p>Or choose between the Premier's predilection</p>
+<p>And Rosebery's deliberate rejection?</p>
+<br />
+<p>Not mine to judge: I merely watch and note</p>
+<p>Thy votaries as they grieve or as they gloat,</p>
+<p>Uncertain whether envy or amaze</p>
+<p>Or pity most is prompted by the craze.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p107.png">
+<img src="images/p107.png" width="100%" alt="Foreign Golfer" /></a>
+<p><i>Foreigner (who has "pulled" badly, and hit his partner in
+a tender spot),</i> "Mille pardons, monsieur! My clob&mdash;he deceived me!"
+</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p109.png">
+<img src="images/p109.png" width="100%" alt="Auntie and Uncle" /></a>
+<p><i>Tommy.</i> "I say, do you know who's winning?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Ethel.</i> "I think uncle must be&mdash;I heard him offer to carry auntie's clubs."</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3>THE HOLE CONCERN</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>
+<span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>Any golf-club where an alteration of the course is in prospect.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Time</span>&mdash;<i>Any time, from dawn to dusk.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Characters</span>&mdash;<i>Any number of</i> Members, <i>plus (on this occasion) an</i> Inoffensive Stranger.
+</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>First Member</i> (<i>catching sight of</i> 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&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Second Member.</i> 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&mdash;you understand,
+Nobbs?&mdash;(<i>slowly and emphatically</i>) the first
+three, the 11th, and the 14th.</p>
+
+<p><i>Inoffensive Stranger.</i> Yes?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Second M.</i> (<i>quickly</i>). 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&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>I.S.</i> (<i>horribly confused</i>). But&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Third M.</i> Yes, I know&mdash;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&mdash;really
+sporting, and giving these gentlemen who fancy
+their play a bit to do.</p>
+
+<p><i>Second M.</i> Don't know about <i>that</i>. 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.</p>
+
+<p><i>Third M.</i> (<i>whistles expressively</i>). Oh, <i>come</i>!
+Splendid player you are, and all that&mdash;handicap's
+fifteen, isn't it?&mdash;but there aren't <i>many</i> of us
+who would stand here and say calmly that we'd
+done a hole of 420 yards in three! <i>Really</i>, you
+know&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Second M.</i> 420 yards? 130, you mean.</p>
+
+<p><i>Third M.</i> (<i>defiantly</i>). 420, if an inch.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Second M.</i> But look here, you told me yourself
+only yesterday&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Third M.</i> (<i>slightly taken aback</i>). Oh, ah, yes. I
+understand now. I <i>did</i> 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&mdash;kind of thing you can't account
+for&mdash;but there it <i>is</i>, you see.</p>
+
+<p><i>Fourth M.</i> Well, what you fellows can argue
+about like this beats me altogether. There's only
+one <i>possible</i> way of improving the course, and I
+showed you the plan of it last week. It won't be
+adopted&mdash;not likely. So good, and simple, and
+inexpensive that the committee won't look at it.
+Couldn't expect anything else. Anyhow (<i>with an
+air of unappreciated heroism</i>)&mdash;I've done <i>my</i> best for
+the club!</p>
+
+<p>(<i>Sighs heavily, and picks up a newspaper.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><i>Fifth M.</i> (<i>brutally</i>). Oh, <i>we</i> 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>I</i> say is, that if a man doesn't
+see that my plan is the best, he's a dunder-headed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>
+jackass, and that's all about it. What do <i>you</i>
+think, Mr. Nobbs?</p>
+
+<p><i>I.S.</i> (<i>rather nervously</i>). Well, really&mdash;I hardly
+know&mdash;perhaps&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>First M.</i> (<i>compassionately</i>). Ah, it's those whins
+below the 17th that are bothering <i>you</i>. But if you
+exchange the 8th and the 10th&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Second M.</i> (<i>abruptly</i>). Rot!</p>
+
+<p>(<i>The battle continues. The</i> Inoffensive Stranger
+<i>stealthily withdraws.</i> (<i>Curtain.</i>))<br /></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20%;">
+<a href="images/p116.png">
+<img src="images/p116.png" width="100%" alt="Punch Reading" /></a><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p111.png">
+<img src="images/p111.png" width="100%" alt="A TOWN MOUSE" /></a>
+<p class="center">A TOWN MOUSE</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Jones.</i> "Well, my little man, what are <i>you</i> thinking about?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>London Boy</i> (<i>who has never been out of Whitechapel before</i>).
+"I'm thinkin' it's time yer mother put yer into <i>trousers</i>!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p113.png">
+<img src="images/p113.png" width="100%" alt="A MARTYR TO APPEARANCES" /></a>
+<p class="center">A MARTYR TO APPEARANCES</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Young Lady.</i> "I say, caddie, what <i>does</i> Mr. McFadjock do with all these clubs?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Caddie (wofully preparing to follow his tyrant).</i> "He makes me carry them!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p115.png">
+<img src="images/p115.png" width="100%" alt="LINK(S)ED SWEETNESS" /></a>
+<p class="center">LINK(S)ED SWEETNESS</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>The Real Caddie</i> (<i>audibly</i>). "This club is going to ruin&mdash;allowing
+all these ladies to join!"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Miss Sharp.</i> "They evidently can't get gentlemen!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p117.png">
+<img src="images/p117.png" width="100%" alt="Sanguine Golfer." /></a>
+<p><i>Sanguine Golfer.</i> "Is that on the 'carpet,' caddie?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Caddie</i> (<i>as the ball swerves into cottage window</i>). "Yus, sir; front parlour, sir!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p118.png">
+<img src="images/p118.png" width="100%" alt="THE OLD TYPE OF LINK MAN." /></a>
+<p class="center">THE OLD TYPE OF LINK MAN.</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center">Supper time.</p>
+<br />
+
+<hr />
+
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p119.png">
+<img src="images/p119.png" width="100%" alt="THE NEW TYPE OF LINK MAN." /></a>
+<p class="center">THE NEW TYPE OF LINK MAN.</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center">Tee time.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3>"A THREE-CARD LAY"</h3>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i8">Long ago in Sweet September,</p>
+<p class="i8">Oh! the day I well remember,</p>
+<p>I was playing on the Links against the winsomest of maids;</p>
+<p class="i8">In a "cup" my ball was lying,</p>
+<p class="i8">And the "divots" round were flying,</p>
+<p>And with eyes-a-dance she said to me, "Your iron's the King of Spades!"</p>
+<br />
+<p class="i8">Now a foe, on such occasion,</p>
+<p class="i8">Of the feminine persuasion,</p>
+<p>Fair and twenty to the game a sort of subtlety imparts;</p>
+<p class="i8">And I felt its potent glamour,</p>
+<p class="i8">And I answered with a stammer</p>
+<p>Shy and nervous, "It was rash of me to play the Queen of Hearts!"</p>
+<br />
+<p class="i8">Any further explanation</p>
+<p class="i8">Of my inward admiration</p>
+<p>Very likely had exposed me to the deadliest of snubs!</p>
+<p class="i8">But a snigger from behind me</p>
+<p class="i8">Just in time came to remind me</p>
+<p>Of the presence of my caddie&mdash;and I blessed the Knave of Clubs!</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p121.png">
+<img src="images/p121.png" width="100%" alt="GLORIOUS UNCERTAINTY" /></a>
+<p class="center">GLORIOUS UNCERTAINTY</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>At the Golf Club.</i></p>
+<br />
+<p><i>She.</i> "Good-bye, Major. What's the programme for to-morrow?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>The Major.</i> "Oh, either skating or punting, according to the weather."</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3>GOLF AND GOOD FORM</h3>
+
+<div class="center">(<i>By the Expert Wrinkler</i>)</div>
+
+<p>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&mdash;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&mdash;with the most
+shockingly ill-cut trousers I ever saw&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p>
+
+<h4>GOLF AND DRESS.</h4>
+
+<p>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 <i>plus</i> two at Tooting Bec.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p>
+
+<h4>KNICKERBOCKERS OR TROUSERS.</h4>
+
+<p>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 &mdash;&mdash; 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.</p>
+
+<h4>STOCKINGS AND CALVES.</h4>
+
+<p>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
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>
+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&mdash;of
+a plain brown colour&mdash;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 £30,000 a year he may be
+allowed a certain latitude in his dress and his
+conduct generally.</p>
+
+<h4>BOOTS AND SHOES.</h4>
+
+<p>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 <i>plusser</i> 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
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>
+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.</p>
+
+<h4>QUALIFICATIONS FOR A VALET.</h4>
+
+<p>One thing is certain&mdash;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."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
+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.</p>
+
+<h4>ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.</h4>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Cavendish, Chatsworth.</span>&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">"Nil Desperandum," Beckenham.</span>&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">A. Flubb, Woking.</span>&mdash;No, it is not good form
+to pay your caddie in stamps.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alcibiades, Wembley Park.</span>&mdash;If you must
+play golf on Sunday, I call it nothing short of
+hypocritical to go down to the links in a tall hat.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p123.png">
+<img src="images/p123.png" width="100%" alt="Between Friends" /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">Between Friends.</span>&mdash;<i>Mr. Spooner, Q.C.</i> (<i>a Neophyte</i>).
+"This is my ball, I think?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Colonel Bunting</i> (<i>an adept</i>). "By Jove, that's a jolly good 'lie'!"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Mr. Spooner.</i> "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!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p125.png">
+<img src="images/p125.png" width="100%" alt="A Hero &quot;Fin de Siècle.&quot;" /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">A Hero "Fin de Siècle."</span>&mdash;<i>Podgers</i> (<i>of Sandboys Golf
+Club</i>). "My dear Miss Robinson, golf's the only game
+nowadays for the <i>men</i>. Lawn-tennis is all very well for
+you <i>girls</i>, you know."</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p127.png">
+<img src="images/p127.png" width="100%" alt="Stray Bull" /></a>
+<p class="center">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&mdash;but it isn't golf.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p129.png">
+<img src="images/p129.png" width="100%" alt="His First Round" /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">His First Round.</span>&mdash;<i>Caddie</i> (<i>pointing to direction flag</i>).
+"You'd better play right on the flag, sir."</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Curate.</i> "Thank you very much. But I have very grave doubts as to my ability to hit such a very small
+mark at this distance!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:50% ">
+<a href="images/p131.png">
+<img src="images/p131.png" width="100%" alt="Ear Blinkers." /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">Ear Blinkers.</span>&mdash;A suggestion for caddies of tender age
+in attendance on hot-tempered Anglo-Indian military gentlemen learning golf.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p133.png">
+<img src="images/p133.png" width="100%" alt="Every Man to his Trade." /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">Every Man to his Trade.</span>&mdash;<i>Exasperated Amateur</i> (<i>to fore-caddie, who will</i>
+<span class="smcap">NOT</span> <i>go on ahead</i>). "Go along, man. <i>Do</i> get on towards the next green." </p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Caddie.</i> "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."</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>LAYS FROM THE LINKS</h3>
+
+
+<h4>I.&mdash;<span class="smcap">The History of a Match.</span></h4>
+
+<p>
+Let A be the Links where I went down to stay,<br />
+And B the man whom I challenged to play:&mdash;<br /></p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>C was the Caddie no golfer's without,<br />
+D was the Driver I used going "out":<br />
+E was the Extra loud "Fore!" we both holloa-ed,<br />
+F was the Foozle which commonly followed:<br />
+G was the Green which I longed to approach,<br />
+H was the Hazard which upset the coach:<br />
+I was B's Iron-shot (he's good for a younker),<br />
+J was his Joy when I pitched in the bunker.<br />
+K was the Kodak, that mischief-contriver,<br />
+L was B's Likeness&mdash;on smashing his driver:<br />
+M was the Moment he found out 'twas taken.<br />
+N was his Niblick around my head shaken:<br />
+O was the Oil poured on waters so stormy,<br />
+P was the Putt which, next hole, made me dormy.<br />
+Q was the Quality&mdash;crowds came to look on:<br />
+R the Result they were making their book on:<br />
+S was the Stymie I managed to lay,<br />
+T was Two more, which it forced him to play;<br />
+U was the Usual bad work he let fly,<br />
+V was the Vengeance he took in the bye.<br /></p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>W the Whisky that night: I must own<br />
+X was its quantity&mdash;wholly unknown;<br />
+Y were the Yarns which hot whisky combine with,<br />
+Z was the Zest which we sang "<i>Auld Lang Syne</i>".<br /><br /></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p>
+
+<h4>II.&mdash;<span class="smcap">A Toast.</span></h4>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Fill up your glasses! Bumpers round</p>
+<p class="i4">Of Scotland's mountain dew!</p>
+<p>With triple clink my toast you'll drink,</p>
+<p class="i4">The Links I pledge with you:</p>
+<p>The Links that bind a million hearts,</p>
+<p class="i4">There's magic in their name,</p>
+<p>The Links that lie 'neath every sky,</p>
+<p class="i4">And the Royal and Ancient Game!</p>
+<br />
+<p>A health to all who "miss the globe,"</p>
+<p class="i4">The special "stars" who don't;</p>
+<p>May thousands thrive to tee and drive</p>
+<p class="i4">As Jehu's self was wont!</p>
+<p>No tee without a caddie&mdash;then</p>
+<p class="i4">The caddies will acclaim!</p>
+<p>A health, I say, to all who play</p>
+<p class="i4">The Royal and Ancient Game!</p>
+<br />
+<p>Long life to all who face the foe,</p>
+<p class="i4">And on the green "lie dead"!&mdash;</p>
+<p>An envied lot, as all men wot,</p>
+<p class="i4">For gallant "lads in red":</p>
+<p>Where balls fly fast and iron-shots plough</p>
+<p class="i4">Win medals, trophies, fame;</p>
+<p>Your watchword "Fore!" One cheer&mdash;two more&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">For the Royal and Ancient Game!</p>
+<br />
+<p>Then "<i>toe</i> and <i>heel</i> it" on the green</p>
+<p class="i4">(You'll make your partner swear),</p>
+<p>But I'll be bound your dance, a round,</p>
+<p class="i4">With luck will end all square</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>
+<p>Win, lose, or halve the match&mdash;what odds?</p>
+<p class="i4">We love our round the same;</p>
+<p>Though luck take wing, "the play's the thing,"</p>
+<p class="i4">The Royal and Ancient Game!</p>
+<br />
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+<p>Then, Royal and Ancient Game, accept</p>
+<p class="i4">This tribute lay from me;</p>
+<p>From me then take, for old sake's sake,</p>
+<p class="i4">This toast&mdash;Long life to thee!</p>
+<p>A long, long life to thee, old friend&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">None worthier the name&mdash;</p>
+<p>With three times three, long life to thee,</p>
+<p class="i4">O Royal and Ancient Game!</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20%;">
+<a href="images/p138.png">
+<img src="images/p138.png" width="100%" alt="Punch and Judy Show." /></a><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p135.png">
+<img src="images/p135.png" width="100%" alt="Short-sighted Lady Golfer." /></a>
+<p class="center"><i>Short-sighted Lady Golfer.</i> "Hi! have you seen a golf-ball fall anywhere here, please?"</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center">[<i>Victim regards ball with remaining eye.</i>]</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p137.png">
+<img src="images/p137.png" width="100%" alt="Very mild Gentleman" /></a>
+<p><i>Very mild Gentleman</i> (<i>who has failed to hit the ball five times in succession</i>). "Well &mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Up-to-date Caddy</i> (<i>producing gramophone charged with appropriate expletives</i>). "Allow me, sir!"</p>
+<br />
+<p class="right">[<i>Mild Gentleman</i> <span class="smcap">DOES</span> <i>allow him, and moreover presents him with a
+shilling for handling the subject in such a masterly manner.</i>]</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p139.png">
+<img src="images/p139.png" width="100%" alt="Golfer in bunker." /></a>
+<p><i>First Golfer</i> (<i>to Second Golfer, who is caught in a bunker</i>).
+"Well, Jones told me this morning he did this hole yesterday in four."</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Second Golfer</i> (<i>who stammers</i>). "If Jones s-s-said he did it in four, he was a l-l-l-l&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>First Golfer.</i> "Steady, friend, steady!"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Second Golfer.</i> "&mdash;&mdash;he was a l-lucky beggar!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3>GOLF-LAND&mdash;HOLE BY HOLE</h3>
+<div style="margin-left: 2em;">
+<i>Match for a suit of oil-skins between Sunny Jack and Dismal Jimmy.</i><br />
+<br />
+"The rain has beaten all records."&mdash;<i>Daily Papers.</i><br />
+<br />
+"Play the game."&mdash;<i>Modern motto.</i></div>
+
+<p><i>Hole 1.</i>&mdash;Halved in 28. D.J. gets into the
+current with his 16th (a beauty) and is rescued
+by life-boat.</p>
+
+<p><i>Hole 2.</i>&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p><i>Hole 3.</i>&mdash;Abandoned. A regatta is found to be
+taking place in the big bunker.</p>
+
+<p><i>Hole 4.</i>&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p><i>Hole 5.</i>&mdash;Abandoned out of sympathy with the
+green-keeper.</p>
+
+<p><i>Hole 6.</i>&mdash;Abandoned. S.J. gets his driver
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>
+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.</p>
+
+<p><i>Hole 7.</i>&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p><i>Hole 8.</i>&mdash;Abandoned, owing to a fight for life-belt.</p>
+
+<p><i>Hole 9.</i>&mdash;Halved in 303, Mr. Vardon keeping
+the score.</p>
+
+<p><i>Hole 10.</i>&mdash;D.J. saves S.J.'s life. Hole awarded
+to S.J. by Mr. Vardon out of sympathy. S.J.
+one up.</p>
+
+<p><i>Hole 11.</i>&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p><i>Hole 12.</i>&mdash;Abandoned. Collection made for the
+widows of drowned golfers, which realises ninepence.
+S.J. subsequently returns from a long,
+low dive.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Holes 13 and 14.</i>&mdash;Won by D.J. in the absence
+of S.J., who attends funeral water-games in honour
+of the green-keeper. All square.</p>
+
+<p><i>Holes 15 and 16.</i>&mdash;Abandoned by mutual consent,
+whisky being given away by the Society of Free-drinkers.
+Instant reappearance of the green-keeper.</p>
+
+<p><i>Holes 17 and 18.</i>&mdash;Unrecorded. Mr. Vardon
+declares the match halved.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20%;">
+<a href="images/p144.png">
+<img src="images/p144.png" width="100%" alt="Punch riding on dog." /></a>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%;">
+<a href="images/p141.png">
+<img src="images/p141.png" width="100%" alt="FORE and AFT" /></a>
+<p class="center">FORE and AFT</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p143.png">
+<img src="images/p143.png" width="100%" alt="Short-sighted Golfer." /></a>
+<p class="center"><i>Short-sighted Golfer</i> (<i>having been signalled to come on by
+lady who has lost her ball</i>). "Thanks <i>very</i> much.
+And <i>would</i> you mind driving that sheep away?"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p145.png">
+<img src="images/p145.png" width="100%" alt="Rule V." /></a>
+<p class="center"><i>Extract from the rules of a local golf club:</i>&mdash;"<span class="smcap">Rule V.</span>&mdash;The committee
+shall have the power at any time to fill any vacancy in their body."</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3>A LESSON IN GOLF</h3>
+
+<p>"You won't dare!" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"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 <i>will</i>
+come just now&mdash;well!" Amanda cocked her
+pretty chin in the air, and looked defiant.</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;<i>Aunt Susannah!</i>" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;gaunt,
+upright, and formidable&mdash;beside me in the dogcart,
+I did not believe even Amanda capable of the
+stupendous task which she had undertaken. She
+would never dare&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>I misjudged her. Aunt Susannah had barely
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
+sat down&mdash;was, in fact, only just embarking on her
+first scone&mdash;when Amanda rushed incontinently in
+where I, for one, should have feared to tread.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Aunt Susannah," she said, beaming
+hospitably, "I'm sure you will never guess how
+we mean to amuse you while you are here!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing very formidable, I hope?" said Aunt
+Susannah grimly.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;what do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think that I'm a trifle old to learn anything
+new, my dear," said Aunt Susannah.</p>
+
+<p>I should have been stricken dumb by such a
+snub. Not so, however, my courageous wife.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;golf!" she cried, with overdone cheerfulness.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Susannah started. Recovering herself,
+she eyed us with a stony glare which froze me
+where I sat.</p>
+
+<p>"There is really nothing else to do in these
+wilds, you know," Amanda pursued gallantly,
+though even she was beginning to look frightened.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>
+"And it is such a lovely game. You'll like it
+immensely."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>What</i> do you say it is called?" asked Aunt
+Susannah in awful tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Golf," Amanda repeated meekly; and for the first time her voice shook.</p>
+
+<p>"Spell it!" commanded Aunt Susannah.</p>
+
+<p>Amanda obeyed, with increasing meekness.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you call it 'goff' if there's an 'l'
+in it?" asked Aunt Susannah.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I'm afraid I don't know," said Amanda
+faintly.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you just try to get a little ball into a
+little hole?" inquired my relative.</p>
+
+<p>"And in the fewest possible strokes," Amanda
+reminded her, gasping.</p>
+
+<p>"And&mdash;is that all?" asked Aunt Susannah.</p>
+
+<p>"Y&mdash;yes," said Amanda.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Aunt Susannah.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A game described in cold blood sounds singularly
+insignificant. We both fell into sudden silence
+and depression.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it doesn't sound <i>difficult</i>" said Aunt
+Susannah. "Oh, yes, I'll come and play at ball
+with you if you like, my dears."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Dear</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"What in the world do you want so many sticks
+for, child?" she inquired of Amanda.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, they are for&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you would like to watch us a little
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
+first, just to see how the game goes?" Amanda
+suggested sweetly.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all!" was Aunt Susannah's brisk
+rejoinder. "I've come here to play, not to look
+on. Which stick&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Club</i>&mdash;they are called clubs," said Amanda.</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" inquired Aunt Susannah.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't know," faltered Amanda. "Do
+you Laurence?"</p>
+
+<p>I did not know, and said so.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I shall certainly call them sticks," said
+Aunt Susannah decisively. "They are not in the
+least like clubs."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I drive off?" I inquired desperately of
+Amanda.</p>
+
+<p>"Drive off? Where to? Why are you going
+away?" asked Aunt Susannah. "Besides, you
+can't go&mdash;the carriage is out of sight."</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"That seems easy enough," said Aunt
+Susannah. "Give me a stick, child."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not that end&mdash;the <i>other</i> end!" cried Amanda,
+as our relative prepared to make her stroke with
+the butt-end.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"It&mdash;it isn't gone," said Amanda nervously,
+and pointed to the ball still lying at her feet.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;this one doesn't suit me. I'll have
+that flat thing."</p>
+
+<p>"But that's a putter," Amanda explained
+agonisedly.</p>
+
+<p>"What's a putter? You said just now that
+they were all clubs," said Aunt Susannah, pausing.</p>
+
+<p>"They are all clubs," I explained patiently.
+"But each has a different name."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean to say you give them names
+like a little girl with her dolls?" cried Aunt
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157a" id="Page_157a">[Pg 157]</a></span>
+Susannah. "Why, what a babyish game it is!"
+She laughed very heartily. "At any rate," she
+continued, with that determination which some of
+her friends call by another name, "I am sure
+that this will be easier to play with!" She
+grasped the putter, and in some miraculous way
+drove the ball to a considerable distance.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, splendid!" cried Amanda. Her troubled
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>
+brow cleared a little, and she followed suit, with
+mediocre success. Aunt Susannah pointed out
+that her ball had gone farther than either of ours,
+and grasped her putter tenaciously.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a better game than I expected from your
+description," she conceded. "Oh, I daresay I
+shall get to like it. I must come and practise
+every day." We glanced at each other in a silent
+horror of despair, and Aunt Susannah after a few
+quite decent strokes, triumphantly holed out.
+"What next?" said she.</p>
+
+<p>I hastily arranged her ball on the second tee:
+but the luck of golf is proverbially capricious.
+She swung her club, and hit nothing. She swung
+it again, and hit the ground.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Why</i> can't I do it?" she demanded, turning
+fiercely upon me.</p>
+
+<p>"You keep losing your feet," I explained
+deferentially.</p>
+
+<p>"Spare me your detestable slang terms,
+Laurence, at least!" she cried, turning on me
+again like a whirlwind. "If you think I have
+lost my temper&mdash;which is absurd!&mdash;you might
+have the courage to say so in plain English!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, Aunt Susannah!" I said. "You
+don't understand&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Or want to," she snapped. "Of all silly
+games&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean you misunderstood me," I pursued,
+trembling. "Your foot slipped, and that spoilt
+your stroke. You should have nails in your boots,
+as we have."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Aunt Susannah, only half pacified.
+But she succeeded in dislodging her ball at last,
+and driving it into a bunker. At the same
+moment, Amanda suddenly clutched me by the
+arm. "Oh, Laurence!" she said in a bloodcurdling
+whisper. "<i>What</i> shall we do? Here
+is Colonel Bartlemy!"</p>
+
+<p>The worst had happened. The hottest-tempered
+man in the club, the oldest member, the best
+player, the greatest stickler for etiquette, was hard
+upon our track; and Aunt Susannah, with a red
+and determined countenance, was urging her
+ball up the bunker, and watching it roll back
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Auntie," said Amanda, in her sweetest
+voice, "you had much better take it out."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Is that allowed?" inquired our relative
+suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you may always do that and lose a
+stroke!" I assured her eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't dream of losing a stroke!" said Aunt
+Susannah, with decision. "I'll get it out of this
+ditch by fair means, if I have to spend all day
+over it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then do you mind waiting one moment?" I
+said, with the calmness of despair. "There is a
+player behind us&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Let him stay behind us! I was here first,"
+said Aunt Susannah; and she returned to her
+bunker.</p>
+
+<p>The Links rose up in a hillock immediately
+behind us, so that our successor could not see us
+until he had reached the first hole. I stood with
+my eye glued to the spot where he might be
+expected to appear. I saw, as in a nightmare, the
+scathing remarks that would find their way into
+the Suggestion Book. I longed for a sudden and
+easy death.</p>
+
+<p>At the moment when Colonel Bartlemy's
+rubicund face appeared over the horizon, Aunt
+Susannah, flushed but unconquered, drew herself
+up for a moment's rest from toil. He had seen
+her. Amanda shut her eyes. For myself, I
+would have run away shamelessly, if there had
+been any place to run to. The Colonel and Aunt
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
+Susannah looked hard at each other. Then he
+began to hurry down the slope, while she started
+briskly up it.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Cadwalader!" said the Colonel.</p>
+
+<p>"Colonel Bartlemy!" cried Aunt Susannah;
+and they met with effusion.</p>
+
+<p>I saw Amanda's eyes open, and grow round
+with amazed interest. I knew perfectly well that
+she had scented a bygone love affair, and was
+already planning the most suitable wedding-garb
+for Aunt Susannah. A frantic hope came to me
+that in that case the Colonel's affection might
+prove stronger than his zeal for golf. They were
+strolling down to us in a leisurely manner, and
+the subject of their conversation broke upon my
+astonished ears.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid you don't think much of these
+Links, after yours," Colonel Bartlemy was saying
+anxiously. "They are rather new&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I've played on many worse," said Aunt
+Susannah, looking round her with a critical eye.
+"Let me see&mdash;I haven't seen you since your
+victory at Craigmory. Congratulations!"</p>
+
+<p>"Approbation from Sir Hubert Stanley!"
+purred the Colonel, evidently much gratified.
+"You will be here for the twenty-seventh, I
+hope?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly what I came for," said Aunt
+Susannah calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Though I don't know what our ladies will say
+to playing against the Cranford Champion!"
+chuckled the Colonel; and then they condescended
+to become aware of our existence. We
+had never known before how exceedingly small it
+is possible to feel.</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Susannah, what am I to say? What
+fools you must think us!" I murmured miserably
+to her, when the Colonel was out of earshot looking
+for his ball. "We are such raw players ourselves&mdash;and
+of course we never dreamt&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Susannah twinkled at me in a friendly
+manner. "There's an ancient proverb about eggs
+and grandmothers," she remarked cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p>"There should be a modern form for golf-balls
+and aunts&mdash;hey, Laurence?"</p>
+
+<p>Amanda did not win the prize brooch; but
+Aunt Susannah did, in spite of an overwhelming
+handicap, and gave it to her. She does not often
+wear it&mdash;possibly because rubies are not becoming
+to her: possibly because its associations are too
+painful.<br /></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h3><a name="THE_LOST_GOLFER" id="THE_LOST_GOLFER"></a>THE LOST GOLFER</h3>
+
+<p>[The sharp decline of ping-pong, whose attractions at its
+zenith seduced many golfers from the nobler sport, has left
+a marked void in the breasts of these renegades. Some of
+them from a natural sense of shame hesitate to return to
+their first love. The conclusion of the following lines
+should be an encouragement to this class of prodigal.]</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Just for a celluloid pillule he left us,</p>
+<p class="i4">Just for an imbecile batlet and ball,</p>
+<p>These were the toys by which Fortune bereft us</p>
+<p class="i4">Of Jennings, our captain, the pride of us all.</p>
+<p>Shopmen with clubs to sell handed him rackets,</p>
+<p class="i4">Rackets of sand-paper, rubber and felt,</p>
+<p>Said to secure an unplayable service,</p>
+<p class="i4">Pestilent screws and the death-dealing welt.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>
+<p>Oft had we played with him, partnered him, sworn by him,</p>
+<p class="i4">Copied his pitches in height and in cut,</p>
+<p>Hung on his words as he delved in a bunker,</p>
+<p class="i4">Made him our pattern to drive and to putt.</p>
+<p>Benedick's with us, the major is of us,</p>
+<p class="i4">Swiper the county bat's still going strong;</p>
+<p>He alone broke from the links and the clubhouse,</p>
+<p class="i4">He alone sank in the slough of ping-pong.</p>
+<br />
+<p>We have "come on"&mdash;but not his the example;</p>
+<p class="i4">Sloe-gin has quickened us&mdash;not his the cash;</p>
+<p>Holes done in 6 where a 4 would be ample</p>
+<p class="i4">Vexed him not, busy perfecting a smash.</p>
+<p>Rased was his name as a decadent angel,</p>
+<p class="i4">One more mind unhinged by a piffulent game,</p>
+<p>One more parlour-hero, the worshipped of school-girls</p>
+<p class="i4">Who once had a princely "plus 5" to his name.</p>
+<p>Jennings is gone; yet perhaps he'll come back to us,</p>
+<p class="i4">Healed of his hideous lesion of brain,</p>
+<p>Back to the links in the daytime; at twilight</p>
+<p class="i4">Back to his cosy club corner again.</p>
+<p>Back for the medal day, back for our foursomes,</p>
+<p class="i4">Back from the tables' diminishing throng,</p>
+<p>Back from the infantile, ceaseless half-volley,</p>
+<p class="i4">Back from the lunatic lure of ping-pong.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p147.png">
+<img src="images/p147.png" width="100%" alt="The Retort Courteous." /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">The Retort Courteous.</span>&mdash;(<i>The Major-General waiting to drive, to girl carrying baby, who
+blocks the way</i>). "Now then, hurry on please with that baby."</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Girl.</i> "Garn! Baby yerself, playing at ball there in your knickerbockers an' all!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p149.png">
+<img src="images/p149.png" width="100%" alt="A ROMAN GOLF TOURNAMENT." /></a>
+<p class="center">A GOLF TOURNAMENT IN YE TIME OF YE ROMANS</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center"><i>From a rare old frieze (not) in ye British Museum.</i></p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p151.png">
+<img src="images/p151.png" width="100%" alt="Lost temper." /></a>
+<p class="center">"Anyway, it's better to break one's&mdash;&mdash;clubs than to lose one's &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; temper!!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p153.png">
+<img src="images/p153.png" width="100%" alt="A Place for Everything." /></a>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">A Place for Everything.</span>&mdash;<i>Obstructive Lady (in reply to the golfer's warning call).</i> "The whole
+world wasn't made for golf, sir."</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center"><i>Youngster.</i> "No; but the links <i>wis</i>. 'Fore!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p155.png">
+<img src="images/p155.png" width="100%" alt="Horse at canter." /></a>
+<p class="center">Unenviable position of Mr. Pottles, whose record drive has just landed fairly in the ribs of irascible old
+Colonel Curry, out for his constitutional canter.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157b" id="Page_157b">[Pg 157]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p157.png">
+<img src="images/p157.png" width="100%" alt="Aunt Jabisca" /></a>
+<p><i>Aunt Jabisca (pointing to earnest golfer endeavouring to play
+out of quarry).</i> "Dear me, Maud, what a respectably
+dressed man that is breaking stones!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p159.png">
+<img src="images/p159.png" width="100%" alt="Rainy day." /></a>
+<p class="center">Suggestion for a rainy day. Spillikins on a grand scale.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p161.png">
+<img src="images/p161.png" width="100%" alt="GOLF À LA WATTEAU" /></a>
+<p class="center">GOLF À LA WATTEAU&mdash;AND OTHERWISE</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p163.png">
+<img src="images/p163.png" width="100%" alt="Major Brummel." /></a>
+<p><i>Major Brummel (comparing the length of his and his opponent's "drives").</i> "I think I'm shorter
+than Mr. Simkins?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Small Caddie (a new hand, greatly flattered at being asked, as he thinks,
+to judge of their personal appearance).</i> "Yes, sir, and fatterer too, sir!"</p>
+<br />
+<p class="right">[<i>Delight of the gallant Major.</i>]</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p165.png">
+<img src="images/p165.png" width="100%" alt="ARRY AT GOLF." /></a>
+<p class="center">ARRY AT GOLF.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p167.png">
+<img src="images/p167.png" width="100%" alt="Miss Dora." /></a>
+<p><i>Miss Dora (to Major Putter, who is playing an important match,
+and has just lost his ball).</i> "Oh, Major, do come and take your horrid
+ball away from my little dog. He won't let me touch it, and I know he must be ruining his teeth!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p169.png">
+<img src="images/p169.png" width="100%" alt="Tennis Player." /></a>
+<p class="center"><i>Tennis Player (from London).</i> "Don't see the
+fun o' this game&mdash;knockin' a ball into a bush, and then
+'untin' about for it!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p170.png">
+<img src="images/p170.png" width="100%" alt="THE AMERICAN HUSBAND." /></a>
+<p class="center">THE AMERICAN HUSBAND.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p171.png">
+<img src="images/p171.png" width="100%" alt="THE ENGLISH WIFE." /></a>
+<p class="center">THE ENGLISH WIFE.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p173.png">
+<img src="images/p173.png" width="100%" alt="A TOO-FEEBLE EXPLETIVE." /></a>
+<p class="center">A TOO-FEEBLE EXPLETIVE</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>MacSymon.</i> "I saw you were carrying for the professor yesterday, Sandy. How does he&nbsp;play?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Sandy.</i> "Eh, yon man'll never be a gowffer. Div ye ken what he says when he foozles a ba'?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>MacSymon.</i> "No. What does he say?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Sandy.</i> "'<i>Tut-tut!</i>'"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3>THE LINKS</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis a brilliant autumn day,</p>
+<p>And the breeze has blown away</p>
+<p>All the clouds that lowered gray;</p>
+<p class="i12">So methinks,</p>
+<p>As I've half an hour to spare,</p>
+<p>I will go and take the air,</p>
+<p>While the weather still is fair,</p>
+<p class="i12">On the Links.</p>
+<br />
+<p>I admire the splendid view,</p>
+<p>The delicious azure hue</p>
+<p>Of the ocean and&mdash;when, <i>whew</i>!</p>
+<p class="i12">With a crack,</p>
+<p>Lo! there drops a little ball</p>
+<p>Which elects to break its fall</p>
+<p>By alighting on the small</p>
+<p class="i12">Of my back.</p>
+<br />
+<p>In the distance someone cries</p>
+<p>Some remark about my eyes,</p>
+<p>None too pleasant, I surmise,</p>
+<p class="i12">From the tone;</p>
+<p>So away my steps I turn</p>
+<p>Till a figure I discern,</p>
+<p>Who is mouching by the burn</p>
+<p class="i12">All alone.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>He has lost a new "Eclipse,"</p>
+<p>And a little word that slips</p>
+<p>From his sulky-looking lips</p>
+<p class="i12">Tells me true</p>
+<p>That, besides the missing ball,</p>
+<p>Which is gone beyond recall,</p><p>
+He has lost&mdash;what's worst of all&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i12">Temper, too.</p>
+<br />
+<p>I conclude it will be best</p>
+<p>If I leave him unaddressed,</p>
+<p>Such a melancholy quest</p>
+<p class="i12">To pursue;</p>
+<p>And I pass to where I spy</p>
+<p>Clouds of sand uprising high</p>
+<p>Till they all but hide the sky</p>
+<p class="i12">From the view.</p>
+<br />
+<p>They proceed, I understand,</p>
+<p>From a bunker full of sand,</p>
+<p>Where a golfer, club in hand,</p>
+<p class="i12">Freely swears</p>
+<p>As he hacks with all his might,</p>
+<p>Till his countenance is quite</p>
+<p>As vermilion as the bright</p>
+<p class="i12">Coat he wears.</p>
+<br />
+<p>I observe him for a while</p>
+<p>With a highly-tickled smile,</p>
+<p>For it is the queerest style</p>
+<p class="i12">Ever seen:</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>He is very short and stout,</p>
+<p>And he knocks the ball about,</p>
+<p>But he never gets it out</p>
+<p class="i12">On the green.</p>
+<br />
+<p>Still I watch him chop and hack,</p>
+<p>Till I hear a sudden crack,</p>
+<p>And the club-head makes a track</p>
+<p class="i12">In the light&mdash;</p>
+<br />
+<p>There's a startled cry of "FORE!"</p>
+<p>As it flies, and all is o'er!&mdash;</p>
+<p>I remember nothing more</p>
+<p class="i12">Till to-night,</p>
+<br />
+<p>When I find myself in bed</p>
+<p>With a lump upon my head</p>
+<p>Like a penny loaf of bread;</p>
+<p class="i12">And methinks,</p>
+<br />
+<p>For the future I'll take care</p>
+<p>When I want a little air,</p>
+<p>That I won't go anywhere</p>
+<p class="i12">Near the Links.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20%;">
+<a href="images/p178.png">
+<img src="images/p178.png" width="100%" alt="Punch" /></a><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p175.png">
+<img src="images/p175.png" width="100%" alt="THE MISERIES OF A VERY AMATEUR GOLFER" /></a>
+<p class="center">THE MISERIES OF A <i>VERY</i> AMATEUR GOLFER</p>
+<br />
+<p>He is very shy, and unfortunately has to drive off in front of the lady champion and a large gallery. He
+makes a tremendous effort. The ball travels at least five yards!</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p177.png">
+<img src="images/p177.png" width="100%" alt="Breeks." /></a>
+<p><i>Golfer.</i> "And what's your name?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Caddie.</i> "They ca' me 'breeks, but ma maiden name is Christy."</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%;">
+<a href="images/p179.png">
+<img src="images/p179.png" width="100%" alt="Mummy, what&#39;s that man for?" /></a>
+<p class="center">&quot;Mummy, what&#39;s that man for?&quot;</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p180.png">
+<img src="images/p180.png" width="100%" alt="Distinction without Difference." /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">Distinction without Difference.</span>&mdash;<i>Sensitive Golfer (who has foozled).</i> "Did you laugh at me, boy?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Caddie.</i> "No, sir; I wis laughin' at anither man."</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Sensitive Golfer.</i> "And what's funny about him?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Caddie.</i> "He plays gowf awfu' like you, sir!"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p181.png">
+<img src="images/p181.png" width="100%" alt="Jones." /></a>
+<p class="center">Jones cannot see his ball
+anywhere, although he is positive it fell about there somewhere.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/p182.png">
+<img src="images/p182.png" width="100%" alt="Caddie with a Squint" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a name="NEVER_HAVE_A_CADDIE_WITH" id="NEVER_HAVE_A_CADDIE_WITH"></a>NEVER HAVE A CADDIE WITH A SQUINT!</h3>
+
+<div class="center">(<i>A Lay of the Links</i>)
+
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>They told me he was skilful, and assiduous, and true,</p>
+<p class="i4">They told me he had "carried" for the bravest and the best.</p>
+<p>His hair was soldier-scarlet, and his eyes were saucer blue,</p>
+<p class="i4">And one seemed looking eastward, whilst the other fronted west.</p>
+<p>His strabismus was a startler, and it shook my nerve at once;</p>
+<p class="i4">It affected me with dizziness, like gazing from a height.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>
+<p>I straddled like a duffer, and I wavered like a dunce,</p>
+<p class="i4">And my right hand felt a left one, and my left felt far from right.</p>
+<p>As I watched him place my ball with his visual axes crossed,</p>
+<p class="i4">The very sunshine glimmered, with a queer confusing glint,</p>
+<p>I felt like a sick lubber on Atlantic surges tossed&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i8">Oh! never have a caddie with a squint!</p>
+<br />
+<p>I'm an "irritable duffer"&mdash;so my enemies declare,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">That is I'm very sensitive, and play a modest game.</p>
+<p>A very little puts me off my stroke, and, standing there,</p>
+<p class="i4">With his boot-heels at right angles, and his optics much the same,</p>
+<p>He maddened me&mdash;no less, and I felt that all success</p>
+<p class="i4">Against bumptious young McBungo&mdash;was impossible that day.</p>
+<p>I'd have parted with a fiver to have beaten him. His dress</p>
+<p class="i4">Was so very very swagger, and his scarlet cap so gay.</p>
+<p>He eyed my cross-eyed caddie with a supercilious smirk,</p>
+<p class="i4">I tried to set my features, and my nerves, like any flint;</p>
+<p>But my "knicker'd" knees were knocking as I wildly set to work.</p>
+<p class="i8">Oh! <i>never</i> have a caddie with a squint!</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20%;">
+<a href="images/p183.png">
+<img src="images/p183.png" width="100%" alt="duffer" /></a>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I tried to look away from the spoiler of my play,</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>
+<p class="i4">But for fiendish fascination he was like a squinting snake;</p>
+<p>All the muffings man can muff I contrived to muff that day;</p>
+<p class="i4">My eyes were all askew and my nerves were all ashake.</p>
+<p>I seemed to squint myself, and not only with my eyes,</p>
+<p class="i4">My knees, my hands, my elbows, with obliquity were rife.</p>
+<p>McBungo's sleek sham sympathy and sinister surprise</p>
+<p class="i4">Made almost insupportable the burden of my life.</p>
+<p>He <i>was</i> so beastly friendly, and he <i>was</i> so blazing fair,</p>
+<p class="i4">So fulsomely effusive with suggestion, tip, and hint!</p>
+<p>And all the while that caddie stood serenely cock-eyed there.</p>
+<p class="i8">Oh! <i>never</i> have a caddie with a squint!</p>
+<br />
+<p>Miss Binks was looking on! On that maiden I was gone,</p>
+<p class="i4">Just as she was gone on golf, in perfervid Scottish style.</p>
+<p>On my merits with McBungo I should just about have won,</p>
+<p class="i4">But my shots to-day were such as made even Effie smile;</p>
+<p>Oh, the lumps of turf I lifted! Oh, the easy balls I missed!</p>
+<p class="i4">Oh, the bunkers I got bogged in! And at last a gentle scorn</p>
+<p>Curled the lips I would have given my pet "Putter" to have kissed.</p>
+<p class="i4">Such a bungler as myself her loved links had never borne;</p>
+<p>And all the while McBungo&mdash;the young crocodile!&mdash;bewailed</p>
+<p class="i4">What he called my "beastly luck," though his joy was plain as print,</p>
+<p>Whilst that squint grew worse and worse at each shot of mine which failed.</p>
+<p class="i8">Oh! never have a caddie with a squint!</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20%;">
+<a href="images/p186.png">
+<img src="images/p186.png" width="100%" alt="Lady Golfer" /></a><br />
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In "playing through the green" with my "brassie" I was seen</p>
+<p class="i4">At most dismal disadvantage on that miserable day;</p>
+<p><i>He</i> pointed through the rushes with cock-eyed, sardonic spleen,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">I followed his squint guidance, and I struck a yard away;</p>
+<p>But, oh! 'twas worst of all, when I tried to hole the ball.</p>
+<p class="i4">Oh, the ogre! <i>How</i> he squinted at that crisis of the game!</p>
+<p>His hideous strabismus held me helpless, a blind thrall</p>
+<p class="i4">Shattered my nerves completely, put my skill to open shame.</p>
+<p>That squint would, I am sure, have upset the solar system&mdash;</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>
+<p class="i4">Oho! the impish impudence, the gruesome goggle-glint!</p>
+<p>The low, malicious chuckle, as he softly muttered, "Missed 'im!"</p>
+<p class="i8">No, <i>never</i> have a caddie with a squint!</p>
+<br />
+<p>Yet all the same McBungo did <i>not</i> get that rich Miss Binks,</p>
+<p class="i4">Who was so sweet in every way, especially on golf.</p>
+<p>He fancied he had cut me out that day upon those links,</p>
+<p class="i4">But although he won the game&mdash;at golf, his love-game came not off.</p>
+<p>He and that demon caddie tried between them very hard</p>
+<p class="i4">To shame me in the eyes of that dear enthusiast,</p>
+<p>But&mdash;well, my clubs she carries, whilst McBungo, evil-starred,</p>
+<p class="i4">Was caught by a Scotch vixen with an obvious optic cast!</p>
+<p><i>That's</i> Nemesis, I say! And she will not let him play</p>
+<p class="i4">At the game he so adores. True she's wealthy as the Mint.</p>
+<p>At golf, with Effie, I have passed many a happy day,</p>
+<p class="i8">But&mdash;we never have a caddie with a squint!</p>
+<br />
+<p>A caddie who's a duffer, or a caddie who gets drunk;</p>
+<p class="i4">A caddie who regards all other caddies as his foes;</p>
+<p>A caddie who will snigger when you fumble, fail or funk;</p>
+<p class="i4">A caddie who will whistle, or seems ever on the doze;</p>
+<p>A caddie who's too tiny, or too big and broad of bulk;</p>
+<p class="i4">A caddie who gets playing with your clubs upon the sly;</p>
+<p>A caddie who will chatter, or a caddie who will sulk;</p>
+<p class="i4">All these are calculated a golf devotee to try;</p>
+<p>All these are most vexatious to a golfer of repute;</p>
+<p class="i4">And still more so to a novice. But just take a friendly hint!</p>
+<p>Take a caddie who's a duffer, or a drunkard, or a brute,</p>
+<p class="i8"><i>But never try a caddie with a squint!!!</i></p>
+<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p185.png">
+<img src="images/p185.png" width="100%" alt="Another Lenten Sacrifice." /></a>
+<p><span class="smcap">Another Lenten Sacrifice.</span>&mdash;<i>Golf Caddie (to
+Curate).</i> "High tee, sir?"</p>
+<br />
+<p><i>Curate.</i> "No; put it on the ground. I give up sand during Lent."</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p187.png">
+<img src="images/p187.png" width="100%" alt="Voice from the Hill." /></a>
+<p><i>Voice from the Hill.</i> "Now then, you young coward,
+don't stand about all day. Why don't you <i>take it away</i> from the dog?"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<a href="images/p189.png">
+<img src="images/p189.png" width="100%" alt="Colonel Bunker." /></a>
+<p class="center"><i>Boy (to young lady, who has been unfortunate enough to upset Colonel Bunker).
+</i> "You'd better ride on before 'e gets 'is breath, miss!"</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center"><i>Young Lady.</i> "Why?"</p>
+<br />
+<p class="center"><i>Boy.</i> "<i>I've 'eard 'im play golf!!!</i>"</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3>A GROWL FROM GOLFLAND</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Bores there are of various species, of the platform, of the quill,</p>
+<p>Bores obsessed by Christian Science or the Education Bill,</p>
+<p>But the most exasperating and intolerable bore</p>
+<p>Is the man who talks of nothing but the latest "rubber core."</p>
+<br />
+<p>Place him in the Great Sahara, plant him on an Arctic floe,</p>
+<p>Or a desert island, fifteen thousand miles from Westward Ho!</p>
+<p>Pick him up a twelvemonth later, and I'll wager that you find</p>
+<p>Rubber filling <i>versus</i> gutty still and solely on his mind.</p>
+<br />
+<p>O American invaders, I accept your beef, your boots,</p>
+<p>Your historical romances, and your Californian fruits;</p>
+<p>But in tones of humble protest I am tempted to exclaim,</p>
+<p>"Can't you draw the line at commerce, can't you spare one British game?"</p>
+<br />
+<p>I am but a simple duffer; I am quite prepared to state</p>
+<p>That my lowest round on record was a paltry 88;</p>
+<p>That my partner in a foursome needs the patience of a Job,</p>
+<p>That in moments of excitement I am apt to miss the globe.</p>
+<br />
+<p>With my brassy and my putter I am very far to seek,</p>
+<p>Generally slice to cover with my iron and my cleek;</p>
+<p>But I boast a single virtue: I can honestly maintain</p>
+<p>I've escaped the fatal fever known as Haskell on the brain.</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p191.png">
+<img src="images/p191.png" width="100%" alt="Court of Appeal." /></a>
+<p class="center">A golf case was recently before the Court of Appeal. Why
+not a Golf Court on the links?</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+
+<h3>GOLF VICTOR!</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Sir Golf and Sir Tennis are fighting like mad&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">Now Sir Tennis is blown, and Sir Golf's right above him,</p>
+<p>And his face has a look that is weary and sad,</p>
+<p class="i4">As he hastily turns to the ladies who love him,</p>
+<p>But the racket falls from him, he totters, and swirls,</p>
+<p>As he hears them cry, "Golf is the game for the girls!"</p>
+<br />
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<br />
+<p>The girls crave for freedom, they cannot endure</p>
+<p class="i4">To be cramped up at tennis in courts that are poky</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>
+<p>And they are all of them certainly, perfectly sure</p>
+<p class="i4">That they'll never again touch "that horrible croquet,"</p>
+<p>Where it's quite on the cards that they may play with papa,</p>
+<p>And where all that goes on is surveyed by mamma,</p>
+<br />
+<p>To golf on the downs for the whole of the day</p>
+<p class="i4">Is "so awfully jolly," they keep on asserting,</p>
+<p>With a good-looking fellow to teach you the way,</p>
+<p class="i4">And to fill up the time with some innocent flirting,</p>
+<p>And it may be the maiden is woo'd and is won,</p>
+<p>Ere the whole of the round is completed and done.</p>
+<br />
+<p>Henceforward, then, golf is the game for the fair&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">At home, and abroad, or in pastures colonial,</p>
+<p>And the shouts of the ladies will quite fill the air</p>
+<p class="i4">For the links that will turn into bonds matrimonial,</p>
+<p>And for husbands our daughters in future will seek</p>
+<p>With the powerful aid of the putter and cleek!</p>
+<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/p192.png">
+<img src="images/p192.png" width="100%" alt="Finis" /></a>
+<p class="center">BRADBURY, AGNEW, &amp; CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+</body>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Punch's Golf Stories, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mr. Punch's Golf Stories
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: J. A. Hammerton
+
+Release Date: January 27, 2012 [EBook #38683]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Steven Brown and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
++======================================================================+
+|                                                                      |
+| Transcriber's notes                                                  |
+|                                                                      |
+| Illustrations have been moved to directly below the article          |
+| they refer to and some pages of this work have been moved from the   |
+| original sequence to enable the contents to continue without         |
+| interruption. The page numbering remains unaltered.                  |
+|                                                                      |
+| Text printed in italics in the original is represented here between  |
+| underscores, as in _text_.                                           |
+|                                                                      |
+| Text printed in small capitals in the original work have been        |
+| changed to ALL CAPITALS.                                             |
+|                                                                      |
++======================================================================+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: GOLF STORIES]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR
+
+Edited by J.A. HAMMERTON
+
+
+Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the
+cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic
+draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its
+beginning in 1841 to the present day.
+
+
+MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES
+
+
+[Illustration: GOLFER]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE GOLFER'S DREAM]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES
+
+TOLD BY HIS MERRY MEN
+
+AND ILLUSTRATED BY
+
+    PHIL MAY, GEORGE DU MAURIER, L. RAVEN-HILL, F.H. TOWNSEND, HARRY
+    FURNISS, E.T. REED, BERNARD PARTRIDGE, F. PEGRAM, A.S. BOYD, A.T.
+    SMITH, A. WALLIS MILLS, DAVID WILSON, C.E. BROCK, GUNNING KING, C.
+    HARRISON, G.L. STAMPA, TOM BROWNE AND OTHERS
+
+
+[Illustration: GOLFER]
+
+_WITH 136 ILLUSTRATIONS_
+
+PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH
+
+THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR
+
+_Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_
+
+LIFE IN LONDON
+COUNTRY LIFE
+IN THE HIGHLANDS
+SCOTTISH HUMOUR
+IRISH HUMOUR
+COCKNEY HUMOUR
+IN SOCIETY
+AFTER DINNER STORIES
+IN BOHEMIA
+AT THE PLAY
+MR. PUNCH AT HOME
+ON THE CONTINONG
+RAILWAY BOOK
+AT THE SEASIDE
+MR. PUNCH AFLOAT
+IN THE HUNTING FIELD
+MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
+WITH ROD AND GUN
+MR. PUNCH AWHEEL
+BOOK OF SPORTS
+GOLF STORIES
+IN WIG AND GOWN
+ON THE WARPATH
+BOOK OF LOVE
+WITH THE CHILDREN
+
+[Illustration]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE HUMOUR OF GOLF
+
+
+There are few pastimes that supply their followers with more innocent
+merriment than is afforded by "the royal and ancient." Certainly no
+outdoor game can make the neophyte feel more utterly worm-like in his
+ability, for it is the peculiar quality of golf to appear to be absurdly
+easy to the onlooker and preposterously difficult to the unpractised
+player. It may be taken that there is no better way of reducing a man's
+self-conceit than to place him on the teeing ground for the first time,
+present him with a driver and invite him to strike a little rubber-cored
+ball to a distance of 200 yards in a given direction. Consequently we
+have here most excellent material for fun; and you may depend upon it
+MR. PUNCH has not had his eyes long shut to the humours of the links.
+Despite the royalty and antiquity of golf, it has been thoroughly
+democratised in modern times, and its popularity, in the wide
+proportions to which it has attained, is chiefly a matter of recent
+years. Despite the shortness of the period that is represented by what
+we may call the vogue of golf--a vogue that is by no means in danger of
+passing--MR. PUNCH has evidently found the game so rich in fun that his
+merry knights of the pen and the pencil have contributed to his pages as
+many pictures as to illustrate very lavishly this volume and a good deal
+more literary matter than could be used. In the days when croquet was as
+popular as golf is to-day--the days of Leech and Keene--doubtless a
+volume could have been drawn from PUNCH devoted entirely to that sport.
+But it is worthy of note that an examination of these old croquet
+pictures and jokes for a comparison of them with the contents of the
+present volume leaves one with the conviction that the humour of the
+present day is infinitely superior to the humour of the days of Leech
+and Keene. Admirable draughtsmen though these artists were, both of
+them, but Leech particularly, were often content to let their masterly
+drawings appear with the feeblest jokes attached. The standard of humour
+has been immensely raised of late years, and MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES is
+no bad evidence of that.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES
+
+"GOLFERS AS I 'AVE KNOWN"
+
+(_By a Caddie_)
+
+[Illustration: MR. PUNCH]
+
+Golfers I divides in me own mind into three clarses; them as 'its the
+ball, them as skratches it, and them as neither 'its nor skratches the
+blooming ball but turns rarnd and wants to 'it or skratch anyone as is
+small and 'andy. The first clars is very rare, the second is dreadfull
+plentifull, and the third, thank 'evins, can jeneraly be kep clear of by
+them as knows the ropes. Sich as meself.
+
+Any himprovement in golfers, as a clars, is doo to the 'uge morril
+hinfluence of us caddies, 'oom some pretends to look down on. Much can
+be done, even wif the most 'ardened (and some of them golfers is
+dreadfull 'ardened), by firmness and hexample. "Show 'em from the fust
+as you'll stand no nonsense," is allus my words when the yunger caddies
+gathers ararn me fer hadvice. Me being older than me years, as the sying
+is, and much looked up to. If, as I often 'ears say, there's less of
+langwidge and more of golf upon these 'ere links, it's doo in no small
+part to 'im 'oo pens these lines. 'Oo's 'onnered nime is 'Enery Wilks.
+
+I seldom demmeans meself to speak to the kulprits, for severil reasons
+which I shall not go into, but I 'ave other meffods. There's sniffing,
+fer instance. Much can be done by jerdishous sniffing, which can be
+chinged to soot all cases. Or there's a short, 'ard, dryish larf, but
+that ain't allus sife. As a blooming rule, I rellies upon me sniff, me
+smile and me eye. There's few of them as can meet the last when I chuses
+to turn it on. Not as I objecs very strongly to a little 'onnest
+cussing; it's hinjustice and false haccusashun as I will not stand.
+
+Sich are me meffods to them as needs 'em, but don't think, becos at
+times I'm cold like and 'ard and stern, that I cannot be jentle wif them
+as call fer jentleness. No blooming errer! 'Enery Wilks is the lad to
+'oom old gents in need of keerfull nussing should be hintrusted by their
+wives and keepers. I'm not allooding now to old tigers 'oos stiple food
+is red pepper in 'uge quantitties, 'oo turn upon yer like blooming
+manniacks if yer blows yer nose quite inercent, and 'oo report yer
+before yer know if you're standing on yer 'ead or yer 'eels. No, I'm not
+allooding to old gentlemen like them! 'Enery Wilks 'as very little use
+fer sich unguvverned creetures. In 'is erpinyun they should not be let
+abrord without a chine. But I am allooding to them 'oos pashuns age 'as
+tamed, insted of blooming well hincreesed, to jentle 'armless old
+fellers, 'oo will almost eat out of yer 'and, as the sying is, an sich a
+one is Mister Perceval Giggington.
+
+Over sixty 'e is, and allus kind and civvil and respeckfull, but 'e 'as
+no more haptitood fer golf than a jeerarf. Sometimes I thinks, musing
+kindly like, as 'ow the old cove 'ud be yunger if 'e took the gime less
+seerius. But 'Enery Wilks 'as little to reproche 'imself about; 'e, at
+least, 'as done what 'e could to 'elp old Giggs. 'Is wife came down to
+the Club 'Ouse wif 'im larst Toosday, jest as nice an old lidy as 'e's a
+gent. She drew me on one side and spoke konfidenshul like, while the old
+man was fussing and bleeting about 'is clubs. It seems as she'd 'eard of
+me, and 'eard nuthing but good. Which is only right.
+
+"'Enery," she ses, "me 'usband 'as set 'is 'art, as you well know, on
+going rarnd the course in under an 'undred and thirty strokes. It's
+beginning to tell on 'is 'ealth, the strine and diserpointment, and I
+wants it stopped. 'E's going rarnd allone wif you now, as the course is
+clear, and I wants," she ses, "_I wants you to see as 'e does it!_" she
+ses.
+
+Well, nobody, excep one ignerrant, gellous, preggerdiced skoolmaster,
+'as ever dared to call 'Enery Wilks a fool. I took 'er meaning in a
+moment, and I touched me cap, quiet and konfident like. "Mike yer mind
+easy, mum," I ses in my korteous way. "It shall be done, this very day,
+if 'Enery Wilks is spared," I ses.
+
+She nods and smiles and slips a bob into me 'and, and then old Giggs
+finishes wurrying abart 'is clubs and we makes a start. The old 'un
+'ands 'is card to me to keep, and I speaks to 'im, kind like but firm.
+
+"I'll keep the score, sir," I ses. "Don't yer wurry abart yer strokes at
+all. What you've got to do is to koncentrite yer mind upon yer gime. For
+we're a-goin to do it to-day," I ses. 'E 'ears me wif a little sorrerful
+smile, and I lived up to them remarks. 'E'd arsk me at the end of an
+'ole, that 'e'd fairly bitten along, 'ow many 'e'd taken, but I would
+never tell 'im. I jest kep 'im upon 'is legs wif kindly, jerdishous
+praise. Even after that 'ole where 'e'd strook me wif 'is ball from the
+drive, although standing well be'ind 'im, and been in each bunker twice
+or more, I give 'im a word of 'ope. It was niblick play and 'ope all
+rarnd the blooming course. And at the end, when I added up 'is card,
+strike me pink if 'is score weren't an 'undred and twenty-nine! And I
+sent 'im 'ome to 'is wife, as pleased as any child. There's some, I
+dessay, as would 'ave made 'is score an 'undred and nineteen or even
+less, but 'Enery Wilks 'as allus known the virtew of modderation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Caddie (visiting)._ "What kind o' player is he?"
+
+_Caddie (engaged)._ "_'Im?_ He just plays as if it was for pleesure!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_McFoozler (after a steady sequence of misses)._
+
+"Ah--er--is there a _limit_ for these links?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Policeman._ "Where did you get that bag?"
+
+_Bill Sykes_ (_indignantly_). "There you are! Nice thing, in a free
+country, that a man can't have a quiet hundred up without the police
+interfering!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+Jones has recently taken up golf. He is already proficient in one
+department--the art of addressing the ball.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+II.
+
+There's some as takes their golf too seerius fer their strength, like
+that pore old Mister Giggington, of 'oom I've told yer, and there's some
+as don't take it seerius enuff. Under this 'eading I places Mister
+'Erminius Brellett. 'E's what they call a litterry cove in privit life,
+and, wifout wishing to be undoolly 'arsh, I must say as I beleeves it of
+'im. Strike me pink, if I didn't know as 'e was litterry, I should go
+away sometimes after 'earing 'im talk, and swear a hinfer-mashun of
+loonacy agin 'im! But Chawley Martin, one of our caddies, 'oo once spoke
+quite hintermate and friendly like wif a reporter feller, in connecshun
+wif a biking accerdent caused by Chawley's unforchernate pashun fer
+trick riding, ses as 'ow all these pore riters is alike. So you and me
+should only pitty them. As fer 'is golf, exsentrick ain't the word fer
+it. 'E stands wif both 'is feet quite klose together, springs 'igh into
+the air wif a tremenjus swing, and strikes the ball afore 'e comes to
+earth agin. The erstonishing thing is that 'e does strike it abart once
+in three, and when 'e does it goes like old Gewillikins. It just shows
+as there ain't no rules abart some peeple's golf. But the sad part is as
+'e's quite proud of 'is stile, insted of laberring to kerrect it under
+my tewishun.
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+"Keep your head still" is the first rule in golf, and Binks means
+to do so.]
+
+"I'm a mishonnery, a pyoneer of golf, 'Enery," 'e ses to me quite
+recent. "'Ow I plays it to-day, the rest of the silly 'ide-bound
+creetures will play it to-morrow," 'e ses.
+
+"Let's 'ope not, sir," I ses, quite respeckfull and reely meaning the
+words; fer, if yer think of it, a course full of Mister 'Erminius
+Brelletts would be an 'iddeous sight. 'E glared at me fer a moment quite
+dangerous, and then 'e began to larf. What wif 'is livver, at which 'e's
+allus cussing, and 'is kurious 'arf-irriterble, 'arf-manniackal temper,
+I can tell yer 'e takes some 'andling. But 'Enery Wilks knows 'is
+'Erminius Brellett by this time.
+
+"Your one chawnce of fime, you retched child," 'e ses, and I found 'is
+stile of speaking jest a little gorling, "will rest on the fact that you
+karried the clubs of 'Erminius Brellett, pyoneer of golf and
+unerpreshiated riter of himmortal books," 'e ses. Well, yer can't argue
+wif a man like that. Yer can only yumour 'im by respeckful silence, and
+be reddy all the time to dodge if 'is manyer turns 'ommersidal all of a
+sudden.
+
+'E took on Mister Washer the other day, a member 'oom both 'e and I 'ave
+little liking fer. At least, I can arnser fer meself. Fer 'e's one of
+your pompus, strutting sort of fellers, 'oo thinks 'e's good at golf,
+but ain't. I 'eard 'im chalenge Mister Brellett to play a rarnd fer
+'arf-a-crown, and a less skilful stoodent of yuman nachure than 'Enery
+Wilks could 'ave told as they didn't love each other. I 'ad a privit
+tuppence on the match meself, wif old Washer's caddy, although not very
+'opeful. 'Owever, when 'Enery Wilks' money is down, as the sying is,
+'e's 'ard to beat.
+
+But things went badly wif us from the start. I could see as 'ow Mister
+Brellett was wurried abart somethink, and in addition to that 'e was
+acktaly trying to play a keerful, sientifick gime. Oh, lumme, it was
+orful, I can tell yer! We was skarcely touching a ball, and old Washer,
+as pleesed as a turkey-kock but far less hornimental, was playing right
+above 'isself. Fer a man like meself, 'oo'd staked above 'is means, it
+was 'art-breaking. We lost five 'oles bang orf, and then Mister
+Brellett spoke 'arf to me and 'arf to 'isself as we walked to the sixth
+tee.
+
+"It's all that cussed nime!" 'e ses. "If I could only think of that, I'd
+be orlright. A female nime fer a kerrecter in my new book. 'Enery,
+what's the nime of your yung woman?" 'e ses, joking like. Well, love
+ain't much in my line, me ambishuns not letting me 'amper meself wif
+wimmen, but still a feller 'as to keep 'is 'and in. I won't say as I
+'aven't been more run after than most, but some'ow that ain't one of my
+temptashuns. 'Owever, more to pleese 'er than meself, I lets one of
+them, jest a school kiddy, walk out wif me at times. She means well, I
+do believe, but I've allus reckoned as 'ow 'er nime's agin 'er.
+
+"Hervangeline's 'er nime, Mister Brellett," I ses, deprerkating like.
+"But she can't 'elp it," I ses.
+
+"By Jewpiter!" 'e 'owls. "Hervangeline's the very nime I've been 'unting
+for. And now I'll win this match!" 'e ses.
+
+"You'll win it orlright, sir," I ses, ernest like. "But, for 'evin's
+sake, stop playing sientifick! Play the old gime as you're pyoneer on,
+sir," I ses.
+
+"I beleeve as 'ow you're right, 'Enery," 'e ses, thoughtful like; and
+then we come to the tee and watched old Washer drive 'is yusual
+straight, shortish ball. Then Mister Brellett grips 'is club, takes 'is
+yusual wicked, himmoril stance, springs 'igh into the air wif an
+'arf-styfled yell, and, by Gewillikins, drives sich a ball as the pro.
+'isself might 'ave been proud on! It knocked the kowardly 'art out of
+old Washer, did that tremenjus drive; and 'e's a man as only plays 'is
+best when 'e's winning easy. They 'ad a narsty lead, but we stuck to 'em
+like wax, 'itting a turriffick ball once out of three, or even oftener,
+and we won at last quite 'andsomely by three and two.
+
+I remember as I bought bull's-eyes fer Hervangeline wif that 'ere
+tuppence, becos in a meshure, as you may say, she'd 'ad an 'and in the
+winning of it. 'Owever, wif a jenerosity unyusual in wimmen, she
+hinsisted on sharing 'em wif 'Enery Wilks, 'oos skilful leedership 'ad
+reely won the match.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Short-sighted Old Lady_ (_to little Binks, who is going to the
+golf-links_). "How much will you charge me to mend this umbrella?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+TRIALS OF A NOVICE.--"_Something_ must be wrong. That's the third time
+running I've used this club!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+! ! ! !
+
+_Lily_ (_from Devonshire, on a visit to her Scotch Cousin Margy in St.
+Andrews, N.B._). "What a strange thing fashion is, Margy! Fancy a game
+like golf reaching up as far north as this!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE HANDY CADDY
+
+_Why Jones sold his Big St. Bernard and substituted a Tame Caribou,
+which a friend brought him home from Canada._
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+IT WAS SO HANDY WHEN GOING OUT GOLFING.
+
+IT MADE SUCH A CAPITAL CADDY.
+
+AND JONES COULD INDULGE IN EXPLETIVES WITHOUT BEING A BAD EXAMPLE
+
+IF THE WEATHER SUDDENLY TURNED OFF COLD HE HAD ONLY TO HELP HIMSELF TO A
+TOP COAT;
+
+& IF IT RAINED TO AN UMBRELLA AND SOU'WESTER.
+
+ALSO IT GAVE QUITE A PARK-LIKE APPEARANCE TO JONES' BACK GARDEN.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+III.
+
+Taking it all in all, 'Enery Wilks 'as very little use for wimmen.
+Excep, of course, as playthings and rellaxashuns after toil. As sich I
+regards Hervangerline, of 'oom I've told yer. That is, when 'er mood is
+dosile. At sich times, when she is not trying to be yumourous or
+utherwise acting the goat, the child can listen, wif doo respekt, whilst
+'im she loves so well unbends 'isself. It is 'er privviledge to see
+'Enery Wilks remove 'is stern cold marsk. Yuss, I tollerates
+Hervangerline, but I 'ave little use fer uther wimmen.
+
+Speaking quite frenkly, I can find little to kommend in the hexeckertive
+of these 'ere links, but there is one of their resent hinnervashuns in
+pertickler that fills me wif cold rage. This is the rule permitting lidy
+members to play on the course, excep' on Satterday and Sunday.
+
+Lord knows as 'ow the men is bad enuff to deal wif. 'Eadstrong, vain,
+irriterble and pig-'eaded they mostly is, but oh! strike me pink and
+purple, if they ain't fair angels, wings and all, kompared to those
+dredfull, onreasoningable wimmen! Onreasoningable is the one word as I
+can use to deskribe them. And that don't do 'em justise.
+
+Wif a man, to some eggstent, you do know where you are. You do know from
+eggsperiense 'ow fur you may go wif 'im, before 'e katches you a clump
+on the side of the 'ead. But wif wimmen no eggsperiense will 'elp yer.
+Becos there ain't no rules abart them.
+
+Lord knows as 'ow I started out wif the idear of pleesing 'em. I ses to
+Hervangerline, the evening I 'eard abart it, "We're going to 'ave lidies
+on the course, kid," I ses. "Your 'Enery will 'ave to smarten 'isself up
+a bit fer their dear sakes," I ses. Womanlike she begun to snif.
+
+"You take care, 'Enery Wilks," she ses worningly. "You take care of them
+desining 'ussies. There's many of 'em as will be after you, I knows it
+well. Fer some wimmen," she ses, sort of sarkastic, "some wimmen will go
+after anythink in trarsers," she ses. Well, I wears nickers meself as a
+general rule, but I knowed what she meant. And, though of course I 'id
+it from her, pertending to be kontemptewous, I found 'er words quite
+pleesing. I thort to meself, komplasent like, as 'ow some of these lidy
+members might show a prefferrence fer that one of our caddies as is
+pollished and korteous and older than 'is years. But, apparriently, both
+I and Hervangerline was rong--iddeously rong.
+
+Fer it's no good konseeling from meself, at anyrate, as 'ow I 'aven't
+been a komplete success so fur wif our lidy members. Why sich should be
+the case I cannot tell, but there it is. There's a preggerdise agin me
+as is kep' alive by the ontiring, revengfull tungs of Miss Trigsie
+Kornish and Missis Jossephus 'Askins. And this is 'ow that preggerdise
+begun.
+
+They come along one morning and say as 'ow they're going to play a
+rarnd, and they'll share a caddy between them. And to my ondying greef
+they picked on 'Enery Wilks. Not as there was anythink surprising in
+their doing that. In their place I'd 'ave picked on 'im meself. And I'm
+bound in justise to say as there was nothing in _their_ appeerance to
+set me agin them. Missis 'Askins is very yung and plessant-looking,
+although she _is_ married, and Miss Kornish is darkish and carries
+'erself wif a sort of swing. No, their looks was rite enuff; it was only
+their dredfull 'abit of cheating as made the trubble.
+
+They started as frendly as love-birds, but by the second 'ole the fur
+was beginning to stand up stiff upon their backs. It was their orful
+onguvernabul keenness as did it. On the third green Missis 'Askins asks
+Miss Kornish 'ow many she's played, and she tells 'er, nine, quite brisk
+like. Now both Misses 'Askins and meself _knew_ quite well as
+'ow Miss Kornish 'ad played ten; indeed, I could see as ow Misses
+'Askins thort it were eleven. They rangles a bit abart it, growing
+gradewally more 'eated, and then Misses 'Askins erpeals to me, and I
+gives it in 'er favour, trying very 'ard to rap it up plessant like.
+Miss Kornish glares at me like a cat 'oom you've mannidged to 'it wif a
+brick whilst it's taking a stroll quite inercent and leshurely; but she
+doesn't say much and we goes on.
+
+Two 'oles later it all 'appens agin, only this time it's Missis 'Askins
+'oo 'as kondescended to redooce 'er score. They rages rarnd upon the
+green, and then Miss Kornish erpeals to me, and truth kompels me to
+erward the 'ole to 'er. This time it's Missis 'Askins 'oo glarnces at me
+as though she'd like to cut orf my yung life. But 'Enery Wilks can stand
+a lot of that.
+
+So we goes on agin, wif the air growing 'eavier like, and three 'oles
+later they both erpeals to me, fer both is cheating. It was an 'ard
+posishun fer a yung feller as is only wishfull to pleese. 'Owever, I
+desided to give pore old Truth another chawnce; although misdoubtfull.
+So I ses to them quite respeckfull like, as 'ow both their scores is
+inakkerite and should I keep them both in fuchure?
+
+Oh Lumme, I'd like to forgit what 'appened then! All in a moment those
+two young wimmen grew frendly agin to each other and konsentrited all
+their rage and spite on 'Enery Wilks. They fell upon me wif their tungs,
+and I felt as though I was being 'it wif barbed wire and nettels. They
+called me "impudent little boy," me the chosin 'ero of the yunger
+caddies, and I could only garsp and trimble. Their crewel thretts
+brought tears even to my proud eyes, and I almost beleeve as 'ow I
+grovvellel before them. It 'urts me to remember it.
+
+When at last they 'ad tired themselves out, they finished their rarnd as
+though they 'ad never 'ad an unkind thort towards each other, and I
+slunk be'ind them, dased and silent, like a puppy 'oos been kicked.
+
+And that's--that's what comes of edmitting wimmen to a golf corse!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "THE BOGEY COMPETITION"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Little Albert_ (_always thirsting for knowledge_).
+"Uncle, do they pronounce that rico_chay_ing or rico_chet_ting?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+1. "Carry your clubs, guvnor, for sixpence!"
+
+   "No, thanks, I don't require a caddie."
+
+2. "Carry yer clubs for fourpence, boss!"
+
+   "Go away, boy, I'll carry 'em myself."
+
+3. "Carry 'em for thrippence, mister"
+
+   (no response).
+
+4. A smash!
+
+5. (_After the smash_).
+
+   "I say, captain, I'll carry _your_ clubs for nothin', _jist for
+   the fun of the thing_!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: MR. PUNCH'S PATENT CADDIE CAR]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Golf is now being played on the Norman Coast]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Golf is being played very much in Egypt]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A NEW DISEASE--THE GOLF TWIST]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+The above caddie (in the course of his third round with Colonel Foozle,
+who always takes out a collection of two dozen clubs, if only for the
+look of the thing) begins to doubt if he, the caddie, really belongs to
+the idle classes, as stated in the papers.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+"HOW'S THAT, UMPIRE?"
+
+_Golf Player._ "Now then, what are you grinning at, boy? Don't you know
+where the ball is?"
+
+_Caddie._ "Yus, sir, I know, sir. Please, sir, that there dun cow 've
+swallered it!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+SCENE--_Country Police Court_
+
+_Magistrate._ "My boy, do you fully realise the nature of an oath?"
+
+_Boy._ "Well, I oughter, considerin' the times I've caddied for yer!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Miggs and Griggs, who have got away for a week-end holiday, have
+strayed on to the golf links, and have been watching the colonel, who
+has been bunkered for the last ten minutes--and the language!!_
+
+_Miggs._ "What's he doing?"
+
+_Griggs._ "I dunno. Think he's trying to kill something."]
+
+
+IV.
+
+Yumin nachure is a kurius thing. I dunno whether this thort 'as okkurred
+to other peeple, but I sees the truth of it more clearly every day. You
+may studdy a man fer weeks and think as 'ow you know 'im inside out, and
+then, when you try to make some use of 'is pecooliarities, they ain't
+working that day, or else some little hannoying trifle spiles your well
+lade skeems. Sich was the sad case of Mister Hoctavius Glenwistle and my
+friend Chawley Martin.
+
+Mister Glenwistle is an oldish jentleman now, but in 'is day 'e 'as been
+a famus eggsplorer. Jeograffy never being my strong point, I dunno
+egsackly where 'e went eggsploring, or why 'e did it. Chawley Martin,
+'oo's jenerally 'is caddie, is my hinformant, and some days 'e will 'ave
+it that Mister Glenwistle would once 'ave reached the Pole if 'is boots
+'adn't guv out, and at other times 'e hinsists that it was Africer that
+'e visited. I dunno, meself; per'aps the old jentleman 'as been to both
+them regins in 'is time. But any'ow all is agreed that once 'e lived for
+nearly three weeks upon an oldish poodle dawg--which is an orfull
+thort.
+
+Sich an eggspeerience must leeve its mark upon any man, 'owever strong.
+It 'as left its mark upon Mister Hoctavius Glenwistle. Every blade of
+'air 'as vannished from 'is skalp, and 'is face is a sort of dark brick
+colour wif light eyebrows. 'E still suffers from sunstroke, and Chawley
+Martin 'as to carry a large red umbereller round the links to pertect
+'is 'ead.
+
+I dunno whether it's the sunstroke, or whether it's 'is ondying remorce
+for that pore faithfull poodle, but Mister Glenwistle suffers terrible
+from absentmindedness. 'E 'as been known to swing up 'is great, red
+umbereller upon the tee and try to drive wif that, and Chawley Martin
+allus 'as to watch 'im keerfull to see what 'e'll be up to next. 'E
+'ates to be disturbed when in one of 'is mooning fits, and is apt to
+swear terrible in some forrin' langwidge, which Chawley thinks is
+Eskimo; but still 'e's a jentleman all over, is Mister Hoctavius
+Glenwistle. 'Is tips is 'andsome, and it don't give 'im no pleshure to
+repport an 'armless lad.
+
+One Sunday lately 'e came down wif a frend for an 'ole day's golf.
+Chawley Martin, as yusual, was 'is caddie, and I ondertook the
+manidgement of the frend. All went well in the morning, excep' that
+Mister Glenwistle fell into a sort of dream upon the seventh green and
+'ad to be rarsed by Chawley. It may 'ave been Eskimo that 'e spoke to
+the boy when 'e'd touched 'im jently on the arm, but it sounded
+wuss--much wuss.
+
+'Owever, we comes back at one to the club-'ouse, red umbereller and all,
+like _Robbinson Crewso_, and they goes into lunch. Whilst they're still
+laying into the grub like winking, I and Chawley Martin, 'aving eaten
+our own frugil meal, sit down near the 'club-'ouse and begin to polish
+up their clubs. We fell a-talking about the great science of golf,
+getting quite 'eated in a little while, and at last Chawley, to
+illerstrate 'is own mistakin theery, gets upon 'is 'ind legs. 'E takes
+Mister Glenwistle's best driver from 'is bag and shows me what 'e calls
+"a full swing, wif every ounce of weight and rist and mussel crammed
+into it."
+
+I was afeard 'ow it would be. The length of the club mastered 'im. 'E
+'it the onoffending turf a crewel blow, and there was a narsty crack. 'E
+sits down beside me wif a garsp, and we looks at Mister Glenwistle's pet
+driver wif the 'ead 'arf off.
+
+"What's to be done, 'Enery?" 'e ses, after a sort of sickly pawse.
+
+Fer my part I'd been thinking 'ard, me brain being better than most.
+
+"There's three courses open to you, Chawley, me lad," I ses quietly.
+"You can do a guy at once, and not come back--that's one; or you can
+tell Mister G. as you've been fooling wif 'is clubs--that's another," I
+ses, and waited fer 'is risponse.
+
+"Let's 'ear the third," he ses gloomily.
+
+"Deceat is aborrent to my nachure," I ses. "But you're made diferent,
+Chawley. You could make use of 'is absentmindedness and let 'im think as
+'e broke it 'isself. 'Old it out to 'im wif a sort of winning smile,
+when 'e comes, and say as 'ow you're afrade it will 'ave to be mended
+after all. It's a fair sportin' chawnce," I ses.
+
+"'Enery, you're a fair marvel!" 'e ses, after pondering fer a minute.
+"I'll try it on," he ses. And so we left it.
+
+I didn't see the meeting between Mister Glenwistle and 'is well-meaning
+caddie, becos my klient sent me to get him a ball, but when I came back
+I seed as 'ow Chawley was sniffing slightly, and 'is large outstanding
+ears was reddened. 'Is manner was coldish like to me, but when the two
+'ad drivin, I asked 'im what 'ad 'appened.
+
+"'E just boxed me ears," Chawley ses, "and told me as 'ow 'e'd repport
+me if I lied to 'im agen," 'e ses.
+
+Fer once I was reely taken aback.
+
+"I can't make it out, Chawley," I ses. "Where was 'is yusual
+absentmindedness? It just shows as 'ow you can't depend on nuthing in
+this world! Did you do as I told you, winning smile and all?" I asks
+'im.
+
+"Yuss, I did," 'e ses, snappish like. "But it seems as 'ow 'is
+interfeering frend 'appened to look out of the club-'ouse when I was
+showing you that swing, and seed it all. Anuther time you can keep your
+winning smiles and your fat-'eaded hadvice to yourself, 'Enery Wilks!"
+'e ses.
+
+I didn't answer 'im, remembering 'ow 'is 'uge progecting ears was
+tingling, but I ses to meself, "So much, 'Enery Wilks, for yumin
+gratitood!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+Mr. Mothdriver, the famous, yet absent-minded, golf-naturalist,
+invariably carries a butterfly-net in his golf-bag--for he agrees with
+Mr. Horace Hutchinson that some of the best entomological specimens can
+be captured in the course of playing the royal and ancient game.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Brer Rabbit._ "I suppose you haven't seen such a thing as a golf-ball
+about anywhere, have you?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_First Enthusiast._ "I say, will you play another round with me on
+Thursday?"
+
+_Second Enthusiast._ "Well, I'm booked to be married on that day--_but
+it can be postponed_!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+THE GOLF STREAM.--Flows along the eastern coast of Scotland during the
+summer and autumn.
+
+(Vide _Report of British Association--Section V._).]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+REAL ENJOYMENT.--_Non-Golfer_ (_middle-aged, rather stout, who would
+like to play, and has been recommended it as healthy and amusing_).
+"Well, I cannot see where the excitement comes in in this game!"
+
+_Caddie._ "Eh, mon, there's more swearing used over golf than any other
+game! D'ye no ca' that excitement?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+V.
+
+A little success at golf, as I've notised, jenerally makes a man wish
+for more. Like the appertite of a young girl for chocerlates. I dunno if
+you remember that nice old Mister Giggington, of 'oom I told you. Under
+my skillfull gidance, and with the ade of a little inercent 'anky-panky,
+'e kontrived to wander rarnd these 'ere links in an 'undred and
+twenty-nine. Well, ever since that serprising triemph, 'e 'as been
+'ungering for fresh feelds to konker, as you might say.
+
+"I want to meet someone, 'Enery, as I can beat," 'e kep' saying, quite
+truckewlent like. "I don't pretend as 'ow I'm brillyent, but on my day I
+do fancy that there's wuss."
+
+"You keep on practising steddy, sir," was my invariable words, "and one
+of these days we shall see you winning cups and medils."
+
+As nice and kind an old jentleman as ever smashed a club is Mister
+Giggington, but I allus 'ave to 'andle 'im like eggs to prevent 'im
+losing 'art. I didn't think as 'ow even 'Enery Wilks would be able to
+grattify 'is 'armless ambishun, but the uther day I saw my chawnce.
+
+It was a Toosday morning, and the course was quite disserted, excep' for
+Mister G., 'oo was waiting to start a practice rarnd wiv 'is pashunt
+teecher. Which is me. And then a new member come along 'oo was wishfull
+for a game, and dirrectly I set eyes on 'im, somethink, hinstink, I
+suppose, seemed to tell me that 'ere was the man for 'oom I 'ad been
+waiting.
+
+'E was French, and I shall not attempt to rite 'is name, the 'ang of
+which I never reely kawt. 'E was a small, darkish, jornty man, and 'is
+garmints was a little briter and more cheerfull-looking than you see in
+England. 'E wore, among uther things, a deer-storker 'at wiv a fevver
+stuck in it. But 'is manners was reelly bewtifull. It was quite a site
+to see 'im click 'is 'eels togevver, and bow to my himployer, and in a
+minute they 'ad fixed their match. I 'ad 'inted to Mister G. that 'e
+must hinsist on 'aving a stroke an 'ole, and that was 'ow they settled
+it. I never lerned what the Frenchman's 'andicap was, but if the
+Champyon 'isself 'ad offered to take strokes from 'im 'e would 'ave
+closed gladly wiv the offer. And yet there was reelly nuthing erfensive
+about the little man.
+
+I could see as 'ow pore old Mister G. was trimbling wiv a sort of
+serpressed egsitement, and I wispered to 'im that 'e must play steddy
+and use the niblick whenever possibul. The niblick, from long practice
+in the bunkers, is 'is club.
+
+Me frend, Chawley Martin, was the Frenchman's caddie, and 'e took
+ercasion to remmark to me that we seemed in for somethink warmish. I
+checked the boy wiv one of my glawnces, and then we waited while 'is
+hemployer took the 'onner. That jentleman danced up to the tee, waving
+rarnd 'is head the longest and the bendiest driver that I 'ave ever
+seen, and 'e didn't trubble to address the ball at all. 'E just sprung
+at it and 'it it wiv all 'is might, and somethink fairly wistled past
+Chawley's 'ead as 'e stood a little be'ind the tee box. The Frenchman
+'ad sliced at rite angels, and for anythink I know 'is ball is still in
+the air. Certingly, we never saw it agin.
+
+That slite misforchune appeered to egsite and dimmoralise Chawley's
+himployer, 'oo may 'ave been quite a brillyent player on 'is day, and I
+may say at once that 'e never reelly found 'is game. On the uther 'and
+it seemed to put new life and vigger into Mister G. Our erponent was
+appariently trying 'ard to do each 'ole in a brillyent one, but we was
+quite content to win them in a steddy nine.
+
+We 'ad our misforchunes, of course. 'Is deerest frend wouldn't 'ardly
+say as 'ow Mister G.'s game is a long one, and each bunker seems to 'ave
+a sort of magnettick attrackshun for 'is ball, but whilst the
+Frenchman's brassey remained unbroken we knew that there was allus a
+chawnce for the 'ole. For 'arf the rarnd it stood the crewel strane and
+then it didn't break. It jest seemed to sort of dissolve into small
+peaces. But we was two up by then and our tails was 'igh in air.
+
+As for the Frenchman, 'is meffods at times was reelly serprising. After
+that first drive Chawley lade 'isself down flat when 'is hemployer
+drove, but even in that posishun it didn't seem 'ardly safe. That long,
+thin, bendy driver sent the ball to all 'ites and all angels, but never
+once in a strate line. After a wile 'e diskarded it, and guv a fair,
+'onnest trial to every club in 'is bag in turn. I should never 'ave been
+serprised to see 'im drive desperit like wiv 'is putter, but even then
+Chawley wouldn't 'ave dared say nuthink. 'E was quite a plessant,
+jentlemanly little man, but it didn't do to argue wiv 'im. 'E begun to
+scream and stamp at once, and Chawley saw pretty soon that it was best
+and safest to let 'im play 'is own game.
+
+It was on the fiftienth green that the great match was ended. Mister
+Giggington's pluck and stamminer 'ad been amasing for 'is age, but the
+strane and the joyfull egsitement was beginning to tell on 'im. The
+Frenchman tried to bring off a thirty-yard putt to save the 'ole, and
+failed by some forty yards. But 'e took 'is defeet like a nero. They
+shook 'ands on the green and 'e said that it warmed 'is 'art to reflect
+on the glory that 'is frendly foe 'ad won. I beleeve as 'ow there was
+tears in the old jentleman's eyes. 'E turned to me and I quite thort 'e
+was going to grasp my 'and, but instead of that 'e put a bob into it
+which was pretty near as good.
+
+'E 'll never make a golfer, but 'Enery Wilks will allus be pleesed and
+proud to gide 'im rarnd the course.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+A RULING PASSION.--_Mr. Meenister MacGlucky_ (_of the Free Kirk, after
+having given way more than usual to an expression "a wee thing
+strong"--despairingly_). "Oh! Aye! Ah, w-e-el! I'll hae ta gie 't up!"
+_Mr. Elder MacNab._ "Wha-at, man, gie up gowf?" _Mr. Meenister
+MacGlucky._ "Nae, nae! Gie up the meenistry!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+A POSER.--"Farmers always grumbling? Well, supposin' your pigs were
+down wi' th' fever, an' your sheep had got th' influenza, if your crops
+were drownded in eighteen inches o' water, an' your rent were
+overdue--what would you do?"
+
+"I? I'd give it up and start a golf club!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+INGRATITUDE
+
+_Brown._ "Why doesn't Walker stop to speak? Thought he knew you!"
+
+_Smith._ "Used to; but I introduced him to the girl he married. Neither
+of them recognises me now!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+GOLF
+
+(_As "Put" by D. Crambo Junior._)
+
+[Illustration:
+
+"Putting" on the "links"
+
+The "tee" and the "caddie"
+
+A showy manner of handling the "clubs"
+
+A full drive
+
+A beautiful "iron" shot
+
+The "spoon"
+
+The "cleek"
+
+"Holed out"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A MORNING PERFORMANCE]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+FORE!
+
+"Now, sir, be judge yourself, whether I in any just term am affin'd to
+love the Moor."
+
+                                             [_Othello_, Act I., Sc. 1.]
+
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VI.
+
+'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._
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Cheerful Beginner_ (_who has just smashed the Colonel's favourite
+driver_). "Oh, now I see why you have to carry so many clubs!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Golfer]
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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.)
+
+  *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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.
+
+[Illustration: Punch]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+"---- 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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "A BEAUTIFUL DRIVE."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+"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."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+OUR VILLAGE
+
+The Golf-Club in full swing.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Punch]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Foreigner (who has "pulled" badly, and hit his partner in a tender
+spot),_ "Mille pardons, monsieur! My clob--he deceived me!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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._))
+
+[Illustration: Punch]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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_!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Sanguine Golfer._ "Is that on the 'carpet,' caddie?"
+
+_Caddie_ (_as the ball swerves into cottage window_). "Yus, sir; front
+parlour, sir!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+THE OLD TYPE OF LINK MAN.
+
+Supper time.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+EAR BLINKERS.--A suggestion for caddies of tender age in attendance on
+hot-tempered Anglo-Indian military gentlemen learning golf.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+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_".
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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!
+
+[Illustration: Punch]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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._]
+
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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.
+
+[Illustration: Punch]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: FORE and AFT]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_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."
+
+"You don't mean to say you give them names like a little girl with her
+dolls?" cried Aunt Susannah. "Why, what a babyish game it is!" She
+laughed very heartily. "At any rate," she continued, with that
+determination which some of her friends call by another name, "I am sure
+that this will be easier to play with!" She grasped the putter, and in
+some miraculous way drove the ball to a considerable distance.
+
+"Oh, splendid!" cried Amanda. Her troubled brow cleared a little, and
+she followed suit, with mediocre success. Aunt Susannah pointed out that
+her ball had gone farther than either of ours, and grasped her putter
+tenaciously.
+
+"It's a better game than I expected from your description," she
+conceded. "Oh, I daresay I shall get to like it. I must come and
+practise every day." We glanced at each other in a silent horror of
+despair, and Aunt Susannah after a few quite decent strokes,
+triumphantly holed out. "What next?" said she.
+
+I hastily arranged her ball on the second tee: but the luck of golf is
+proverbially capricious. She swung her club, and hit nothing. She swung
+it again, and hit the ground.
+
+"_Why_ can't I do it?" she demanded, turning fiercely upon me.
+
+"You keep losing your feet," I explained deferentially.
+
+"Spare me your detestable slang terms, Laurence, at least!" she cried,
+turning on me again like a whirlwind. "If you think I have lost my
+temper--which is absurd!--you might have the courage to say so in plain
+English!"
+
+"Oh, no, Aunt Susannah!" I said. "You don't understand----"
+
+"Or want to," she snapped. "Of all silly games----"
+
+"I mean you misunderstood me," I pursued, trembling. "Your foot slipped,
+and that spoilt your stroke. You should have nails in your boots, as we
+have."
+
+"Oh!" said Aunt Susannah, only half pacified. But she succeeded in
+dislodging her ball at last, and driving it into a bunker. At the same
+moment, Amanda suddenly clutched me by the arm. "Oh, Laurence!" she said
+in a bloodcurdling whisper. "_What_ shall we do? Here is Colonel
+Bartlemy!"
+
+The worst had happened. The hottest-tempered man in the club, the oldest
+member, the best player, the greatest stickler for etiquette, was hard
+upon our track; and Aunt Susannah, with a red and determined
+countenance, was urging her ball up the bunker, and watching it roll
+back again.
+
+"Dear Auntie," said Amanda, in her sweetest voice, "you had much better
+take it out."
+
+"Is that allowed?" inquired our relative suspiciously.
+
+"Oh, you may always do that and lose a stroke!" I assured her eagerly.
+
+"I shan't dream of losing a stroke!" said Aunt Susannah, with decision.
+"I'll get it out of this ditch by fair means, if I have to spend all day
+over it!"
+
+"Then do you mind waiting one moment?" I said, with the calmness of
+despair. "There is a player behind us----"
+
+"Let him stay behind us! I was here first," said Aunt Susannah; and she
+returned to her bunker.
+
+The Links rose up in a hillock immediately behind us, so that our
+successor could not see us until he had reached the first hole. I stood
+with my eye glued to the spot where he might be expected to appear. I
+saw, as in a nightmare, the scathing remarks that would find their way
+into the Suggestion Book. I longed for a sudden and easy death.
+
+At the moment when Colonel Bartlemy's rubicund face appeared over the
+horizon, Aunt Susannah, flushed but unconquered, drew herself up for a
+moment's rest from toil. He had seen her. Amanda shut her eyes. For
+myself, I would have run away shamelessly, if there had been any place
+to run to. The Colonel and Aunt Susannah looked hard at each other. Then
+he began to hurry down the slope, while she started briskly up it.
+
+"Miss Cadwalader!" said the Colonel.
+
+"Colonel Bartlemy!" cried Aunt Susannah; and they met with effusion.
+
+I saw Amanda's eyes open, and grow round with amazed interest. I knew
+perfectly well that she had scented a bygone love affair, and was
+already planning the most suitable wedding-garb for Aunt Susannah. A
+frantic hope came to me that in that case the Colonel's affection might
+prove stronger than his zeal for golf. They were strolling down to us in
+a leisurely manner, and the subject of their conversation broke upon my
+astonished ears.
+
+"I'm afraid you don't think much of these Links, after yours," Colonel
+Bartlemy was saying anxiously. "They are rather new----"
+
+"Oh, I've played on many worse," said Aunt Susannah, looking round her
+with a critical eye. "Let me see--I haven't seen you since your victory
+at Craigmory. Congratulations!"
+
+"Approbation from Sir Hubert Stanley!" purred the Colonel, evidently
+much gratified. "You will be here for the twenty-seventh, I hope?"
+
+"Exactly what I came for," said Aunt Susannah calmly.
+
+"Though I don't know what our ladies will say to playing against the
+Cranford Champion!" chuckled the Colonel; and then they condescended to
+become aware of our existence. We had never known before how exceedingly
+small it is possible to feel.
+
+"Aunt Susannah, what am I to say? What fools you must think us!" I
+murmured miserably to her, when the Colonel was out of earshot looking
+for his ball. "We are such raw players ourselves--and of course we never
+dreamt----"
+
+Aunt Susannah twinkled at me in a friendly manner. "There's an ancient
+proverb about eggs and grandmothers," she remarked cheerfully.
+
+"There should be a modern form for golf-balls and aunts--hey, Laurence?"
+
+Amanda did not win the prize brooch; but Aunt Susannah did, in spite of
+an overwhelming handicap, and gave it to her. She does not often wear
+it--possibly because rubies are not becoming to her: possibly because
+its associations are too painful.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+THE RETORT COURTEOUS.--(_The Major-General waiting to drive, to girl
+carrying baby, who blocks the way_). "Now then, hurry on please with
+that baby." _Girl._ "Garn! Baby yerself, playing at ball there in
+your knickerbockers an' all!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+A GOLF TOURNAMENT IN YE TIME OF YE ROMANS
+
+_From a rare old frieze (not) in ye British Museum._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+"Anyway, it's better to break one's ---- clubs than to lose one's ----
+---- temper!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+A PLACE FOR EVERYTHING.--_Obstructive Lady (in reply to the golfer's
+warning call)._ "The whole world wasn't made for golf, sir."
+
+_Youngster._ "No; but the links _wis_. 'Fore!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+Unenviable position of Mr. Pottles, whose record drive has just landed
+fairly in the ribs of irascible old Colonel Curry, out for his
+constitutional canter.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Aunt Jabisca (pointing to earnest golfer endeavouring to play out of
+quarry)._ "Dear me, Maud, what a respectably dressed man that is
+breaking stones!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+Suggestion for a rainy day. Spillikins on a grand scale.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: GOLF A LA WATTEAU--AND OTHERWISE]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Major Brummel (comparing the length of his and his opponent's
+"drives")._ "I think I'm shorter than Mr. Simkins?"
+
+_Small Caddie (a new hand, greatly flattered at being asked, as he
+thinks, to judge of their personal appearance)._ "Yes, sir, and fatterer
+too, sir!"
+
+[_Delight of the gallant Major._]
+
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: ARRY AT GOLF.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Miss Dora (to Major Putter, who is playing an important match, and has
+just lost his ball)._ "Oh, Major, do come and take your horrid ball
+away from my little dog. He won't let me touch it, and I know he must
+be ruining his teeth!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LOST GOLFER
+
+
+[The sharp decline of ping-pong, whose attractions at its zenith seduced
+many golfers from the nobler sport, has left a marked void in the
+breasts of these renegades. Some of them from a natural sense of shame
+hesitate to return to their first love. The conclusion of the following
+lines should be an encouragement to this class of prodigal.]
+
+    Just for a celluloid pillule he left us,
+        Just for an imbecile batlet and ball,
+    These were the toys by which Fortune bereft us
+        Of Jennings, our captain, the pride of us all.
+    Shopmen with clubs to sell handed him rackets,
+        Rackets of sand-paper, rubber and felt,
+    Said to secure an unplayable service,
+        Pestilent screws and the death-dealing welt.
+    Oft had we played with him, partnered him, sworn by him,
+        Copied his pitches in height and in cut,
+    Hung on his words as he delved in a bunker,
+        Made him our pattern to drive and to putt.
+    Benedick's with us, the major is of us,
+        Swiper the county bat's still going strong;
+    He alone broke from the links and the clubhouse,
+        He alone sank in the slough of ping-pong.
+
+    We have "come on"--but not his the example;
+        Sloe-gin has quickened us--not his the cash;
+    Holes done in 6 where a 4 would be ample
+        Vexed him not, busy perfecting a smash.
+    Rased was his name as a decadent angel,
+        One more mind unhinged by a piffulent game,
+    One more parlour-hero, the worshipped of school-girls
+        Who once had a princely "plus 5" to his name.
+    Jennings is gone; yet perhaps he'll come back to us,
+        Healed of his hideous lesion of brain,
+    Back to the links in the daytime; at twilight
+        Back to his cosy club corner again.
+    Back for the medal day, back for our foursomes,
+        Back from the tables' diminishing throng,
+    Back from the infantile, ceaseless half-volley,
+        Back from the lunatic lure of ping-pong.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Tennis Player (from London)._ "Don't see the fun o' this
+game--knockin' a ball into a bush, and then 'untin' about for it!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE AMERICAN HUSBAND]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE ENGLISH WIFE]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+A TOO-FEEBLE EXPLETIVE
+
+_MacSymon._ "I saw you were carrying for the professor yesterday, Sandy.
+How does he play?"
+
+_Sandy._ "Eh, yon man'll never be a gowffer. Div ye ken what he says
+when he foozles a ba'?"
+
+_MacSymon._ "No. What does he say?"
+
+_Sandy._ "'_Tut-tut!_'"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LINKS
+
+
+    'Tis a brilliant autumn day,
+    And the breeze has blown away
+    All the clouds that lowered gray;
+                So methinks,
+    As I've half an hour to spare,
+    I will go and take the air,
+    While the weather still is fair,
+                On the Links.
+
+    I admire the splendid view,
+    The delicious azure hue
+    Of the ocean and--when, _whew_!
+                With a crack,
+    Lo! there drops a little ball
+    Which elects to break its fall
+    By alighting on the small
+                Of my back.
+
+    In the distance someone cries
+    Some remark about my eyes,
+    None too pleasant, I surmise,
+                From the tone;
+    So away my steps I turn
+    Till a figure I discern,
+    Who is mouching by the burn
+                All alone.
+
+    He has lost a new "Eclipse,"
+    And a little word that slips
+    From his sulky-looking lips
+                Tells me true
+    That, besides the missing ball,
+    Which is gone beyond recall,
+    He has lost--what's worst of all--
+                Temper, too.
+
+    I conclude it will be best
+    If I leave him unaddressed,
+    Such a melancholy quest
+                To pursue;
+    And I pass to where I spy
+    Clouds of sand uprising high
+    Till they all but hide the sky
+                From the view.
+
+    They proceed, I understand,
+    From a bunker full of sand,
+    Where a golfer, club in hand,
+                Freely swears
+    As he hacks with all his might,
+    Till his countenance is quite
+    As vermilion as the bright
+                Coat he wears.
+
+    I observe him for a while
+    With a highly-tickled smile,
+    For it is the queerest style
+                Ever seen:
+    He is very short and stout,
+    And he knocks the ball about,
+    But he never gets it out
+            On the green.
+
+    Still I watch him chop and hack,
+    Till I hear a sudden crack,
+    And the club-head makes a track
+                In the light--
+    There's a startled cry of "FORE!"
+    As it flies, and all is o'er!--
+    I remember nothing more
+                Till to-night,
+
+    When I find myself in bed
+    With a lump upon my head
+    Like a penny loaf of bread;
+                And methinks,
+    For the future I'll take care
+    When I want a little air,
+    That I won't go anywhere
+                Near the Links.
+
+
+[Illustration: Punch]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+THE MISERIES OF A _VERY_ AMATEUR GOLFER
+
+He is very shy, and unfortunately has to drive off in front of the lady
+champion and a large gallery. He makes a tremendous effort. The ball
+travels at least five yards!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Golfer._ "And what's your name?"
+
+_Caddie._ "They ca' me 'breeks, but ma maiden name is Christy."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration: "Mummy, what's that man for?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+DISTINCTION WITHOUT DIFFERENCE.--_Sensitive Golfer (who has foozled)._
+"Did you laugh at me, boy?"
+
+_Caddie._ "No, sir; I wis laughin' at anither man."
+
+_Sensitive Golfer._ "And what's funny about him?"
+
+_Caddie._ "He plays gowf awfu' like you, sir!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+Jones cannot see his ball anywhere, although he is positive it fell
+about there somewhere.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Caddie]
+
+NEVER HAVE A CADDIE WITH A SQUINT!
+
+(_A Lay of the Links_)
+
+
+    They told me he was skilful, and assiduous, and true,
+        They told me he had "carried" for the bravest and the best.
+    His hair was soldier-scarlet, and his eyes were saucer blue,
+        And one seemed looking eastward, whilst the other
+        fronted west.
+    His strabismus was a startler, and it shook my nerve at once;
+        It affected me with dizziness, like gazing from a height.
+    I straddled like a duffer, and I wavered like a dunce,
+        And my right hand felt a left one, and my left felt far
+        from right.
+    As I watched him place my ball with his visual axes crossed,
+        The very sunshine glimmered, with a queer confusing glint,
+    I felt like a sick lubber on Atlantic surges tossed--
+        Oh! never have a caddie with a squint!
+
+    I'm an "irritable duffer"--so my enemies declare,--
+        That is I'm very sensitive, and play a modest game.
+    A very little puts me off my stroke, and, standing there,
+        With his boot-heels at right angles, and his optics much
+        the same,
+    He maddened me--no less, and I felt that all success
+        Against bumptious young McBungo--was impossible that day.
+    I'd have parted with a fiver to have beaten him. His dress
+        Was so very very swagger, and his scarlet cap so gay.
+    He eyed my cross-eyed caddie with a supercilious smirk,
+        I tried to set my features, and my nerves, like any flint;
+    But my "knicker'd" knees were knocking as I wildly set to work.
+        Oh! _never_ have a caddie with a squint!
+
+[Illustration: Golfer]
+
+    I tried to look away from the spoiler of my play,
+        But for fiendish fascination he was like a squinting snake;
+    All the muffings man can muff I contrived to muff that day;
+        My eyes were all askew and my nerves were all ashake.
+    I seemed to squint myself, and not only with my eyes,
+        My knees, my hands, my elbows, with obliquity were rife.
+    McBungo's sleek sham sympathy and sinister surprise
+        Made almost insupportable the burden of my life.
+    He _was_ so beastly friendly, and he _was_ so blazing fair,
+        So fulsomely effusive with suggestion, tip, and hint!
+    And all the while that caddie stood serenely cock-eyed there.
+        Oh! _never_ have a caddie with a squint!
+
+    Miss Binks was looking on! On that maiden I was gone,
+        Just as she was gone on golf, in perfervid Scottish style.
+    On my merits with McBungo I should just about have won,
+        But my shots to-day were such as made even Effie smile;
+    Oh, the lumps of turf I lifted! Oh, the easy balls I missed!
+        Oh, the bunkers I got bogged in! And at last a gentle scorn
+    Curled the lips I would have given my pet "Putter" to have kissed.
+        Such a bungler as myself her loved links had never borne;
+    And all the while McBungo--the young crocodile!--bewailed
+        What he called my "beastly luck," though his joy was plain as
+        print,
+    Whilst that squint grew worse and worse at each shot of mine
+    which failed.
+        Oh! never have a caddie with a squint!
+
+[Illustration: Lady Golfer]
+
+    In "playing through the green" with my "brassie" I was seen
+        At most dismal disadvantage on that miserable day;
+    _He_ pointed through the rushes with cock-eyed, sardonic spleen,--
+        I followed his squint guidance, and I struck a yard away;
+    But, oh! 'twas worst of all, when I tried to hole the ball.
+        Oh, the ogre! _How_ he squinted at that crisis of the game!
+    His hideous strabismus held me helpless, a blind thrall
+        Shattered my nerves completely, put my skill to open shame.
+    That squint would, I am sure, have upset the solar system--
+        Oho! the impish impudence, the gruesome goggle-glint!
+    The low, malicious chuckle, as he softly muttered, "Missed 'im!"
+        No, _never_ have a caddie with a squint!
+
+    Yet all the same McBungo did _not_ get that rich Miss Binks,
+        Who was so sweet in every way, especially on golf.
+    He fancied he had cut me out that day upon those links,
+        But although he won the game--at golf, his love-game came
+        not off.
+    He and that demon caddie tried between them very hard
+        To shame me in the eyes of that dear enthusiast,
+    But--well, my clubs she carries, whilst McBungo, evil-starred,
+        Was caught by a Scotch vixen with an obvious optic cast!
+    _That's_ Nemesis, I say! And she will not let him play
+        At the game he so adores. True she's wealthy as the Mint.
+    At golf, with Effie, I have passed many a happy day,
+        But--we never have a caddie with a squint!
+
+    A caddie who's a duffer, or a caddie who gets drunk;
+        A caddie who regards all other caddies as his foes;
+    A caddie who will snigger when you fumble, fail or funk;
+        A caddie who will whistle, or seems ever on the doze;
+    A caddie who's too tiny, or too big and broad of bulk;
+        A caddie who gets playing with your clubs upon the sly;
+    A caddie who will chatter, or a caddie who will sulk;
+        All these are calculated a golf devotee to try;
+    All these are most vexatious to a golfer of repute;
+        And still more so to a novice. But just take a friendly hint!
+    Take a caddie who's a duffer, or a drunkard, or a brute,
+        _But never try a caddie with a squint!!!_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+ANOTHER LENTEN SACRIFICE.--_Golf Caddie (to Curate)._ "High tee, sir?"
+
+_Curate._ "No; put it on the ground. I give up sand during Lent."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Voice from the Hill._ "Now then, you young coward, don't stand about
+all day. Why don't you _take it away_ from the dog?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+_Boy (to young lady, who has been unfortunate enough to upset Colonel
+Bunker)._ "You'd better ride on before 'e gets 'is breath, miss!"
+
+_Young Lady._ "Why?" _Boy._ "_I've 'eard 'im play golf!!!_"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A GROWL FROM GOLFLAND
+
+
+    Bores there are of various species, of the platform, of the quill,
+    Bores obsessed by Christian Science or the Education Bill,
+    But the most exasperating and intolerable bore
+    Is the man who talks of nothing but the latest "rubber core."
+
+    Place him in the Great Sahara, plant him on an Arctic floe,
+    Or a desert island, fifteen thousand miles from Westward Ho!
+    Pick him up a twelvemonth later, and I'll wager that you find
+    Rubber filling _versus_ gutty still and solely on his mind.
+
+    O American invaders, I accept your beef, your boots,
+    Your historical romances, and your Californian fruits;
+    But in tones of humble protest I am tempted to exclaim,
+    "Can't you draw the line at commerce, can't you spare one
+    British game?"
+
+    I am but a simple duffer; I am quite prepared to state
+    That my lowest round on record was a paltry 88;
+    That my partner in a foursome needs the patience of a Job,
+    That in moments of excitement I am apt to miss the globe.
+
+    With my brassy and my putter I am very far to seek,
+    Generally slice to cover with my iron and my cleek;
+    But I boast a single virtue: I can honestly maintain
+    I've escaped the fatal fever known as Haskell on the brain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:
+
+A golf case was recently before the Court of Appeal. Why not a Golf
+Court on the links?]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+GOLF VICTOR!
+
+
+    Sir Golf and Sir Tennis are fighting like mad--
+        Now Sir Tennis is blown, and Sir Golf's right above him,
+    And his face has a look that is weary and sad,
+        As he hastily turns to the ladies who love him,
+    But the racket falls from him, he totters, and swirls,
+        As he hears them cry, "Golf is the game for the girls!"
+
+               *       *       *
+
+    The girls crave for freedom, they cannot endure
+        To be cramped up at tennis in courts that are poky
+    And they are all of them certainly, perfectly sure
+        That they'll never again touch "that horrible croquet,"
+    Where it's quite on the cards that they may play with papa,
+    And where all that goes on is surveyed by mamma,
+
+    To golf on the downs for the whole of the day
+        Is "so awfully jolly," they keep on asserting,
+    With a good-looking fellow to teach you the way,
+        And to fill up the time with some innocent flirting,
+    And it may be the maiden is woo'd and is won,
+        Ere the whole of the round is completed and done.
+
+    Henceforward, then, golf is the game for the fair--
+        At home, and abroad, or in pastures colonial,
+    And the shouts of the ladies will quite fill the air
+        For the links that will turn into bonds matrimonial,
+    And for husbands our daughters in future will seek
+        With the powerful aid of the putter and cleek!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Finis]
+
+BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Punch's Golf Stories, by Various
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