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MR. PUNCH'S 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.
Designed to present a collection of volumes, each one complete on its own, showcasing the best of our national humor, contributed by top comic artists and the leading comedians of the time to "Punch," from its start in 1841 up to today.
THE GOLFERS DREAM
The Golfer's Dream
MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES
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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 |
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PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"
THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.
The Punch Humor Library
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
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 [Pg 6] 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.
There are few hobbies that bring their followers as much innocent joy as "the royal and ancient" game of golf. No outdoor sport makes a newcomer feel more completely out of their depth, as golf seems ridiculously easy to the observer and absurdly hard for the inexperienced player. It’s clear that there’s no better way to humble someone than to put them on the tee for the first time, hand them a driver, and ask them to hit a little rubber ball 200 yards in a specific direction. This situation sets the stage for great fun, and you can be sure that Mr. Punch hasn’t been oblivious to the humor found on the golf course. Even though golf has a royal and ancient heritage, it has become truly accessible in modern times, and its rising popularity in recent years is remarkable. Although the timeline of golf's current trend is relatively short, it doesn’t seem to be fading anytime soon. Mr. Punch has clearly found the game to be rich in humor, as his talented writers and artists have contributed a wealth of illustrations and plenty of written content beyond what could fit into this volume. Back when croquet was as popular as golf is today—the era of Leech and Keene—there could have easily been a volume dedicated solely to that sport. However, it’s interesting to note that if you compare those old croquet illustrations and jokes with the material in this volume, you’ll come away with the strong belief that today’s humor is far superior to that of Leech and Keene's time. Although both artists were great draftsmen, Leech in particular often paired his impressive drawings with rather weak jokes. The standard of humor has significantly improved in recent years, and Mr. Punch's Golf Tales is a solid testament to that.
MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES
"GOLFERS AS I 'AVE KNOWN"
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.
Golfers, in my own mind, I divide into three categories: those who hit the ball, those who scratch it, and those who do neither but turn around and want to hit or scratch anyone who is small and handy. The first category is very rare, the second is quite common, and thank heavens, the third can generally be avoided by those who know the ropes. Like myself.
Any himprovement in golfers, as a clars, is doo to the 'uge morril hinfluence of us caddies, 'oom [Pg 8] 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.
Any improvement in golfers, as a class, is due to the huge moral influence of us caddies, whom [Pg 8] some pretend to look down on. Much can be done, even with the most hardened (and some of those golfers are dreadfully hardened), by firmness and example. "Show them from the first that you'll stand no nonsense," is always my advice when the younger caddies gather around me for guidance. I’m older than I look, as the saying goes, and I’m looked up to quite a bit. If, as I often hear, there’s less language and more golf on these links, it’s due in no small part to the one who pens these lines. Who’s honored name is Henry 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.
I rarely lower myself to talk to the offenders, for several reasons I won’t go into, but I have other methods. There’s sniffing, for instance. A lot can be achieved with a judicious sniff, which can be adapted for any situation. Or there’s a short, hard, dry laugh, but that isn’t always effective. Generally, I rely on my sniff, my smile, and my gaze. Few of them can handle the last when I decide to turn it on. Not that I strongly object to a little honest cursing; it’s injustice and false accusations that I won’t tolerate.
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.
There are methods to deal with them as needed, but don't think that just because I'm sometimes cold, hard, and stern, I can't be gentle with those who require gentleness. Not at all! Henry Wilks is the guy to whom old gentlemen in need of careful nursing should be entrusted by their wives and caregivers. I'm not talking about old tigers whose staple food is a lot of red pepper, who turn on you like maniacs if you innocently blow your nose, and who report you before you even know if you're standing on your head or your heels. No, I'm not referring to gentlemen like those! Henry Wilks has very little use for such uncontrolled creatures. In his opinion, they shouldn't be allowed out in public without a leash. But I'm talking about those whose passions have mellowed, rather than increased, to gentle, harmless old fellows, who will almost eat out of your hand, as the saying goes, and one of those is Mr. 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.
He's over sixty now, always kind, polite, and respectful, but he has no more talent for golf than a giraffe. Sometimes I think, with a kind disposition, that the old guy would be younger if he took the game less seriously. But Henry Wilks has little to blame himself for; at least he has done what he can to help old Giggs. His wife came down to the Club House with him last Tuesday, just as nice an old lady as he is a gentleman. She pulled me aside and spoke confidentially while the old man was fussing and fussing about his clubs. It seems she had heard of me and only good things at that. 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.
"'Enery," she says, "my husband has set his heart, as you know, on getting around the course in under a hundred and thirty strokes. It's starting to take a toll on his health, the strain and disappointment, and I want it to stop. He's going around alone with you now, since the course is clear, and I want," she says, "I want you to make sure he does it!" she says.
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.
Well, nobody except one ignorant, jealous, prejudiced schoolmaster has ever dared to call Henry Wilks a fool. I understood her meaning in an instant, and I tipped my cap, calm and confident. "Don't worry, ma'am," I said in my polite way. "It'll be done today, if Henry Wilks is still around," I said.
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.
She nods and smiles and slips a tip into my hand, and then old Giggs finishes worrying about his clubs and we get started. The old guy hands me his card to keep, and I talk to him, friendly 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.
"I'll keep the score, sir," I said. "Don’t worry about your strokes at all. What you need to do is concentrate on your game. We're going to do it today," I said. He heard me with a slightly sad smile, and I lived up to those comments. He would ask me at the end of a hole, which he had worked hard on, how many strokes he had taken, but I would never tell him. I just kept him going with kind, jealous praise. Even after that hole where he hit me with his ball from the tee, even though I was standing well behind him, and had been in each bunker two times or more, I gave him a word of hope. It was niblick play and hope all around the blooming course. And at the end, when I totaled his card, would you believe his score was a hundred and twenty-nine? I sent him home to his wife, as pleased as any child. Some, I suppose, would have counted his score as a hundred and nineteen or even less, but Henry Wilks has always known the virtue of moderation.
Caddie (visiting). "What kind o' player is he?"
Caddie (visiting). "What kind of player is he?"
Caddie (engaged). "'Im? He just plays as if it was for pleesure!"
Caddie (engaged). "'Him? He just plays like it's for fun!"
McFoozler (after a steady sequence of misses). "Ah--er--is there a limit for these links?"
McFoozler (after a steady sequence of misses). "Uh—is there a limit to these links?"
Policeman. "Where did you get that bag?"
Police officer. "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!"
Bill Sykes (angrily). "There you go! Is it really fair, in a free country, that a guy can't even enjoy a quiet hundred bucks without the cops getting involved?"
Jones has recently taken up golf. He is already proficient in one department—the art of addressing the ball.
Jones has recently started playing golf. He's already skilled in one area—the technique of addressing the ball.
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.
There are some people who take their golf way too seriously for their level of skill, like that poor old Mr. Giggington, whom I've told you about, and then there are others who don’t take it seriously enough. Under this topic, I put Mr. Herminius Brellett. He’s what they call a literary guy in private life, and without wanting to be too harsh, I have to say I believe it. Honestly, if I didn’t know he was literary, I would occasionally leave after hearing him talk and swear he was completely mad! But Chawley Martin, one of our caddies, who once spoke quite friendly with a reporter about a biking accident caused by Chawley’s unfortunate passion for trick riding, says that all these poor writers are the same. So you and I should just pity them. As for his golf, eccentric doesn't even begin to describe it. He stands with both feet close together, jumps high into the air with an enormous swing, and hits the ball before he lands again. The astonishing thing is that he actually hits it about once out of three times, and when he does, it goes like crazy. It just shows there are no rules for some people's golf. But the sad part is that he’s quite proud of his style instead of trying to fix it under my tutelage.
"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.
"I'm a visionary, a pioneer of golf, 'Henry," he said to me recently. "How I play it today, the rest of the narrow-minded creatures will play it tomorrow," he said.
"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.
"Let's hope not, sir," I said, quite respectfully and really meaning it; because, if you think about it, a course full of Mister Herminius Brelletts would be a hideous sight. He glared at me for a moment, looking quite dangerous, and then he started to laugh. With his liver, which he’s always complaining about, and his strange half-irritable, half-maniacal temperament, I can tell you he takes some handling. But Henry Wilks knows his Herminius 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 [Pg 20] 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.
"Your one chance of fame, you wretched child," he says, and I found his style of speaking just a little grating, "will depend on the fact that you carried the clubs of Erminius Brellett, pioneer of golf and [Pg 20] underrated writer of immortal books," he says. Well, you can't argue with a man like that. You can only humor him with respectful silence and be ready all the time to dodge if his manner turns homicidal 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.
'E took on Mr. Washer the other day, a guy neither he nor I really like. At least, I can speak for myself. He's one of those pompous, strutting types who thinks he's great at golf, but isn't. I heard him challenge Mr. Brellett to play a round for half a crown, and anyone with even a basic understanding of human nature like Henry Wilks could tell they didn't get along. I had a little bet on the match myself, along with old Washer's caddy, though I wasn’t very hopeful. However, when Henry Wilks puts his money on the line, as the saying goes, he’s tough 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 [Pg 22] 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.
But things started off badly for us. I could see how Mr. Brellett was worried about something, and on top of that, he was actually trying to play a careful, scientific game. Oh, man, it was awful, I can tell you! We were hardly hitting the ball, and old Washer, as pleased as a turkey but much less decorative, was playing way above himself. For a guy like me, who had staked more than he could afford, it was heartbreaking. We lost five holes right off the bat, and then Mr. Brellett muttered to me half-heartedly and half to himself 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.
"It's all that stupid name!" he says. "If I could only think of that, I'd be all right. A woman’s name for a character in my new book. Henry, what’s the name of your young lady?" he says, joking around. Well, love isn’t really my thing; my ambitions don’t allow me to get involved with women, but a guy has to keep his options open. I won’t say I haven’t been chased more than most, but somehow that’s never been one of my temptations. However, to please her more than myself, I let one of them, just a schoolgirl, walk out with me sometimes. She means well, I do believe, but I’ve always thought her name is against her.
"Hervangeline's 'er nime, Mister Brellett," I ses, deprerkating like. "But she can't 'elp it," I ses.
"Hervangeline's her name, Mr. Brellett," I say, downplaying it. "But she can't help it," I say.
"By Jewpiter!" 'e 'owls. "Hervangeline's the [Pg 27] very nime I've been 'unting for. And now I'll win this match!" 'e ses.
"By Jupiter!" he exclaims. "Hervangeline's the [Pg 27] exact name I've been searching for. And now I'll win this match!" he says.
"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.
"You'll win it for sure, sir," I said earnestly. "But for heaven's sake, stop playing scientific! Play the old game like you're supposed to, sir," I said.
"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 believe you're right, Henry," he says, thoughtfully; and then we get to the tee and watched old Washer hit his usual straight, short ball. Then Mr. Brellett grabs his club, takes his usual wicked, humorous stance, springs high into the air with a half-stifled yell, and, by golly, drives a ball that even the pro himself would be proud of! It knocked the cowardly heart out of old Washer, that tremendous drive; and he's a man who only plays his best when he's winning easily. They had a nasty lead, but we stuck to them like glue, hitting a terrific shot once out of three, or even more often, and we won in the end quite handsomely 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.
I remember buying bull's-eyes for Hervangeline with that two pence because, in a way, she had a part in winning it. However, with an unusual generosity for women, she insisted on sharing them with Henry Wilks, whose skillful leadership had truly won the match.
"Keep your head still" is the first rule in golf, and Binks means to do so.
"Keep your head still" is the first rule in golf, and Binks intends to do just that.
Short-sighted Old Lady (to little Binks, who is going to the golf-links). "How much will you charge me to mend this umbrella?"
Short-sighted Old Lady (to little Binks, who is going to the golf links). "How much are you going to charge me to fix this umbrella?"
Trials of a Novice.—"Something must be wrong. That's the third time running I've used this club!"
Novice Trials.—"Something's not right. That's the third time in a row I've used this club!"
! ! ! !
! ! ! !
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!"
Lily (from Devonshire, visiting her Scottish cousin Margy in St. Andrews, N.B.). "Isn't it strange how fashion works, Margy? Can you believe a game like golf has made it all the way up here!"
THE HANDY CADDY
It was so handy when going out golfing.
It was super convenient for going out to play golf.
It made such a capital caddy.
It created such a great bag.
And jones could indulge in expletives without being a bad example.
Jones could swear without being a bad influence.
If the weather suddenly turned off cold he had only to help himself to a top coat;
If the weather suddenly turned cold, he just had to grab a coat;
& If it rained to an umbrella and sou'wester.
If it rained, you would need an umbrella and a raincoat.
Also it gave quite a park-like appearance to jones' back garden.
It also made Jones' backyard look just like a park.
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.
Overall, 'Enery Wilks doesn't have much use for women. Except, of course, as playthings and relaxation after work. As such, I regard Hervangerline, whom I've mentioned. That is, when her mood is calm. At those times, when she isn’t trying to be funny or acting foolish, the girl can listen, with due respect, while he he loves so much relaxes. It’s her privilege to see 'Enery Wilks take off his stern, cold mask. Yes, I tolerate Hervangerline, but I have little use for other women.
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.
Speaking quite frankly, I can find little to commend in the excessive behavior of these links, but there is one of their recent innovations in particular that fills me with cold rage. This is the rule allowing lady members to play on the course, except on Saturday and Sunday.
Lord knows as 'ow the men is bad enuff to deal wif. 'Eadstrong, vain, irriterble and pig-'eaded [Pg 30] 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.
Lord knows how bad the men are to deal with. Stubborn, vain, irritable, and pig-headed, they mostly are, but oh! Honestly, if they aren't fair angels, wings and all, compared to those dreadful, unreasonable women! Unreasonable is the one word I can use to describe them. And that doesn't do them justice.
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.
With a man, to some extent, you do know where you stand. You know from experience how far you can go with him before he hits you on the side of the head. But with women, no experience will help you. Because there are no rules about 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.
Lord knows how I started out with the idea of pleasing them. I said to Hervangerline, the evening I heard about it, "We're going to have ladies on the course, kid," I said. "Your Henry will have to smarten himself up a bit for their sake," I said. Like a woman, she started to sniff.
"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 [Pg 34] 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 [Pg 35] than 'is years. But, apparriently, both I and Hervangerline was rong—iddeously rong.
"You take care, 'Enery Wilks," she says warningly. "You take care of those designing hustlers. There are plenty who will be after you, I know it well. For some women," she says, sort of sarcastically, "some women will go after anything in trousers," she says. Well, I wear knickers myself as a general rule, but I knew what she meant. And, though of course I hid it from her, pretending to be contemptuous, I found her words quite pleasing. I thought to myself, complacently, how some of these lady members might show a preference for that one caddy of ours who is polished, courteous, and older than his years. But apparently, both I and Hervangerline were wrong—hideously wrong.
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.
Fer it's no good lying to myself, anyway, since I haven't been a complete success so far with our lady members. I can't explain why that is, but that's the situation. There's a prejudice against me that's kept alive by the relentless, vengeful comments from Miss Trigsie Kornish and Mrs. Josephus Askins. And this is how that prejudice started.
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 showed up one morning and said they were going to play a game and share a cart between them. And to my absolute dismay, they chose Henry Wilks. Not that it was surprising they did that; if I were in their position, I would have picked him too. I have to be honest and say there was nothing about their appearance that made me dislike them. Mrs. Askins is very young and pleasant-looking, even though she is married, and Miss Kornish is on the darker side and carries herself with a bit of flair. No, their looks were just fine; it was just their awful habit of cheating that caused the trouble.
They started as frendly as love-birds, but by the second 'ole the fur was beginning to stand [Pg 37] 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.
They started off as friendly as lovebirds, but by the second hole, the tension was starting to rise. It was their awful, uncontrollable eagerness that caused it. On the third green, Mrs. Askins asks Miss Kornish how many rounds she’s played, and she replies, nine, quite cheerfully. Now both Mrs. Askins and I knew perfectly well that Miss Kornish had actually played ten; in fact, I could see that Mrs. Askins thought it was eleven. They bicker a bit about it, gradually becoming more heated, and then Mrs. Askins appeals to me, and I give it in her favor, trying very hard to keep it pleasant. Miss Kornish glares at me like a cat that you've accidentally hit with a brick while it’s taking a stroll, completely unaware; but she doesn’t say much, and we move on.
Two 'oles later it all 'appens agin, only this time it's Missis 'Askins 'oo 'as kondescended to [Pg 38] 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.
Two hours later, it all happens again, only this time it’s Mrs. Askins who has condescended to [Pg 38] reduce her score. They rage around on the green, and then Miss Kornish appeals to me, and the truth compels me to award the hole to her. This time it’s Mrs. Askins who glares at me as though she’d like to cut off my young life. But Henry Wilks can take 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?
So we go on again, with the air getting heavier, and three holes later they both appeal to me because both are cheating. It was a tough position for a young guy just wanting to please. However, I decided to give poor old Truth another chance, though I had my doubts. So I said to them quite respectfully that both their scores are inaccurate and should I keep them both in the future?
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 [Pg 40] tears even to my proud eyes, and I almost beleeve as 'ow I grovvellel before them. It 'urts me to remember it.
Oh man, I wish I could forget what happened back then! In an instant, those two young women became friends again and directed all their anger and bitterness at Henry Wilks. They unleashed their words on me, and it felt like I was being hit with barbed wire and nettles. They called me an "impudent little boy," me, the chosen hero of the younger caddies, and all I could do was gasp and tremble. Their cruel threats brought tears to my proud eyes, and I almost believe that I groveled before them. It hurts 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.
When they finally wore themselves out, they wrapped up their argument as if they had never had a bad thought about each other, and I quietly slipped behind them, dazed and silent, like a puppy that’s been kicked.
And that's—that's what comes of edmitting
wimmen to a golf corse!
And that's— that's what happens when you let women on a golf course!
"THE BOGEY COMPETITION"
"THE BOGEY CHALLENGE"
Little Albert (always thirsting for knowledge). "Uncle, do they pronounce that ricochaying or ricochetting?"
Little Albert (always thirsting for knowledge). "Uncle, do they say ricochaying or ricochetting?"
1. "Carry your clubs, guvnor, for sixpence!"
1. "Carry your clubs, mate, for sixpence!"
"No, thanks, I don't require a caddie."
"No, thanks, I don't need a caddie."
2. "Carry yer clubs for fourpence, boss!"
2. "Carry your clubs for four pence, boss!"
"Go away, boy, I'll carry 'em myself."
"Go away, kid, I can handle it myself."
3. "Carry 'em for thrippence, mister"
3. "I'll carry them for three pence, sir."
(no response).
(no response).
4. A smash!
4. A hit!
5. (After the smash). "I say, captain, I'll carry your clubs for nothin', jist for the fun of the thing!"
5. (After the smash). "Hey, captain, I'll carry your clubs for free, just for the fun of it!"
MR. PUNCH'S PATENT CADDIE CAR
Mr. Punch's Caddy Car
Golf is now being played on the Norman Coast
Golf is now being played on the Normandy Coast.
Golf is being played very much in Egypt
Golf is really popular in Egypt right now.
A NEW DISEASE—THE GOLF TWIST
A NEW DISEASE—THE GOLF TWIST
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.
The caddie mentioned above (during his third round with Colonel Foozle, who always brings along two dozen clubs just for appearances) starts to question whether he truly fits into the idle classes, as suggested in the newspapers.
"HOW'S THAT, UMPIRE?"
"HOW'S THAT, REF?"
Golf Player. "Now then, what are you grinning at, boy? Don't you know where the ball is?"
Golf Player. "So, what are you smiling about, kid? Don't you know where the ball is?"
Caddie. "Yus, sir, I know, sir. Please, sir, that there dun cow 've swallered it!"
Caddie. "Yes, sir, I know, sir. Please, sir, that dumb cow must have swallowed it!"
Scene—Country Police Court
Scene—Rural Police Court
Magistrate. "My boy, do you fully realise the nature of an oath?"
Magistrate. "My boy, do you really understand what it means to take an oath?"
Boy. "Well, I oughter, considerin' the times I've caddied for yer!"
Boy. "Well, I guess I should, considering all the times I've carried your clubs!"
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 and Griggs, who have gone away for a weekend getaway, have wandered onto the golf course and have been watching the colonel, who has been stuck in a bunker for the past ten minutes—and the language!!
Miggs. "What's he doing?"
Miggs. "What’s he up to?"
Griggs. "I dunno. Think he's trying to kill something."
Griggs. "I don't know. I think he's trying to kill something."
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.
Yumin nature is a curious thing. I don't know if this thought has occurred to others, but I see the truth of it more clearly every day. You can study a man for weeks and think you know him inside out, and then, when you try to make use of his peculiarities, they aren't working that day, or else some little annoying detail ruins your carefully laid plans. Such 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 [Pg 46] 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.
Mister Glenwistle is an older gentleman now, but in his day, he was a famous explorer. Geography never being my strong suit, I don't know exactly where he went exploring or why he did it. Chawley Martin, who is usually his caddie, is my source of information, and some days he claims that Mister Glenwistle would have reached the Pole if his boots hadn't given out, while at other times, he insists that it was Africa he visited. I don’t know myself; maybe the old gentleman has been to both regions in his time. But anyway, everyone agrees that once he lived for nearly three weeks on an old poodle dog—which is a horrifying thought.
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.
Such an experience must leave its mark on any man, no matter how strong. It has left its mark on Mr. Octavius Glenwistle. Every hair has vanished from his scalp, and his face is a sort of dark brick color with light eyebrows. He still suffers from sunstroke, and Chawley Martin has to carry a large red umbrella around the golf course to protect his head.
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.
I don’t know if it’s the heat or his constant guilt over that poor loyal poodle, but Mr. Glenwistle is really struggling with his absentmindedness. He has been known to swing his big red umbrella at the tee and try to hit with that, and Charlie Martin always has to keep a careful eye on him to see what he’ll do next. He hates to be disturbed when he’s in one of his dazed moods, and he tends to swear a lot in some foreign language, which Charlie thinks is Eskimo; but still, Mr. Octavius Glenwistle is a gentleman through and through. His appearance is handsome, and it doesn’t give him any pleasure to report an innocent 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.
One Sunday recently, he came down with a friend for a whole day's golf. Chawley Martin, as usual, was his caddie, and I took care of managing the friend. Everything went well in the morning, except that Mr. Glenwistle drifted off into a sort of dream on the seventh green and had to be roused by Chawley. He might have spoken to the boy in Eskimo when he gently touched him on the arm, but it sounded worse—much worse.
'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."
However, we come back to the clubhouse, red umbrella and all, like Robinson Crusoe, and they go in for lunch. While they're still diving into the food like there's no tomorrow, Chawley Martin and I, having eaten our own light meal, sit down near the clubhouse and start polishing their clubs. We begin talking about the great science of golf, getting quite animated after a bit, and finally, to illustrate his own mistaken theory, Chawley gets up on his hind legs. He takes Mr. Glenwistle's best driver from his bag and shows me what he calls "a full swing, with every ounce of weight and wrist and muscle packed 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.
I was afraid of how it would be. The length of the club got the better of him. He hit the unfortunate ground a cruel blow, and there was a nasty crack. He sits down beside me with a gasp, and we look at Mister Glenwistle's pet driver with the head almost off.
"What's to be done, 'Enery?" 'e ses, after a sort of sickly pawse.
"What's to be done, 'Enery?" he says, after a sort of queasy pause.
Fer my part I'd been thinking 'ard, me brain being better than most.
Fer my part I'd been thinking hard, my 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.
"There's three options available to you, Chawley, my friend," I said quietly. "You can take out a guy right now and not come back—that's one; or you can tell Mister G. that you've been messing around with his clubs—that's another," I said, and waited for his response.
"Let's 'ear the third," he ses gloomily.
"Let's hear the third," he says 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.
"Deceit is repulsive to my nature," I say. "But you're different, Chawley. You could take advantage of his absentmindedness and let him think he broke it himself. Hold it out to him with a kind of charming smile when he comes, and say that you’re afraid it will have to be repaired after all. It’s a fair sporting chance," I say.
"'Enery, you're a fair marvel!" 'e ses, after [Pg 52] pondering fer a minute. "I'll try it on," he ses. And so we left it.
"'Henry, you're really something!" he says, after [Pg 52] thinking for a minute. "I'll give it a shot," he says. 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.
I didn't see the meeting between Mister Glenwistle and his well-meaning caddie, because my client sent me to get him a ball, but when I came back, I noticed that Chawley was sniffing a bit, and his big, prominent ears were red. He seemed a little off with me, but after they had finished driving, I asked him what had happened.
"'E just boxed me ears," Chawley ses, "and told me as 'ow 'e'd repport me if I lied to 'im agen," 'e ses.
"'He just boxed my ears,' Chawley says, 'and told me how he'd report me if I lied to him again,' he says."
Fer once I was reely taken aback.
Fer once I was really 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.
"I can't figure it out, Chawley," I said. "Where was his usual absentmindedness? It just goes to show that you can't rely on anything in this world! Did you do what I told you, with the winning smile and everything?" I asked him.
"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.
"Yes, I did," he said, sounding irritated. "But it turns out that his meddling friend happened to look out from the clubhouse when I was showing you that swing and saw everything. Next time, you can keep your winning smiles and your foolish advice to yourself, Henry Wilks!" he said.
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!"
I didn't answer him, remembering how his huge, protruding ears were tingling, but I said to myself, "So much for human gratitude, Henry Wilks!"
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.
Mr. Mothdriver, the well-known but forgetful golf-naturalist, always carries a butterfly net in his golf bag—because he agrees with Mr. Horace Hutchinson that some of the best insect specimens can be collected while playing the royal and ancient game.
Brer Rabbit. "I suppose you haven't seen such a thing as a golf-ball about anywhere, have you?"
Brer Rabbit. "I guess you haven't come across a golf ball anywhere, have you?"
First Enthusiast. "I say, will you play another round with me on Thursday?"
First Enthusiast. "Hey, do you want to play another round with me on Thursday?"
Second Enthusiast. "Well, I'm booked to be married on that day—but it can be postponed!"
Second Enthusiast. "Well, I'm set to get married on that day—but it can be delayed!"
The Golf Stream.—Flows along the eastern coast of Scotland during the summer and autumn.
The Gulf Stream.—Flows along the eastern coast of Scotland during the summer and fall.
(Vide Report of British Association—Section V.).
(Vide Report of British Association—Section V.).
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!"
True Enjoyment.—Non-Golfer
(middle-aged, a bit heavyset, who wants to play and has been told it’s healthy and fun). "I just don’t understand where the excitement in this game is!"
Caddie. "Eh, mon, there's more swearing used over golf than any other game! D'ye no ca' that excitement?"
Caddie. "Hey, man, there's way more swearing in golf than in any other sport! Don’t you feel that excitement?"
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.
A bit of success in golf, as I've noticed, generally makes a guy want more. Like a young girl's craving for chocolates. I don’t know if you remember that nice old Mr. Giggington, whom I told you about. Under my skillful guidance, and with the aid of a little innocent shenanigans, he managed to wander around these links in one hundred and twenty-nine. Well, ever since that surprising triumph, he has been eager for new challenges to conquer, 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."
"I want to meet someone, 'Enery, as I can beat," he kept saying, quite stubbornly. "I don't pretend that I'm brilliant, but on my good days, I do think there's worse."
"You keep on practising steddy, sir," was my invariable words, "and one of these days we shall see you winning cups and medils."
"You keep practicing steadily, sir," were my constant words, "and one of these days we'll see you winning trophies and medals."
As nice and kind an old jentleman as ever smashed a club is Mister Giggington, but I allus [Pg 56] '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.
As nice and kind an old gentleman as ever smashed a club is Mr. Giggington, but I always have to handle him like eggs to prevent him from losing heart. I didn't think that even Henry Wilks would be able to satisfy his harmless ambition, but the other day I saw my chance.
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.
It was a Tuesday morning, and the course was quite deserted, except for Mr. G., who was waiting to start a practice round with his patient teacher. That’s me. Then a new member came along who was eager for a game, and as soon as I set my eyes on him, something instinctive, I suppose, seemed to tell me that here was the man I had been waiting for.
'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 [Pg 58] 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.
He was French, and I won’t try to write his name, the sound of which I never really caught. He was a small, dark-skinned, jaunty man, and his clothes were a bit brighter and more cheerful-looking than what you see in England. He wore, among other things, a deer-stalker hat with a feather stuck in it. But his manners were truly beautiful. It was quite a sight to see him click his heels together and bow to my employer, and in no time they had settled their match. I had hinted to Mister G. that he must insist on having a stroke and hole, and that’s how they arranged it. I never learned what the [Pg 58] Frenchman’s handicap was, but if the Champion himself had offered to give strokes to him, he would have eagerly accepted the offer. And yet there was really nothing offensive 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.
I could see how poor old Mister G. was trembling with a kind of suppressed excitement, and I whispered to him that he must stay steady and use the niblick whenever possible. The niblick, from long practice in the bunkers, is his 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.
My friend, Chawley Martin, was the Frenchman's caddy, and he took the opportunity to point out to me that it seemed like we were in for something warm. I gave the kid one of my looks, and then we waited while his employer took his turn. That gentleman danced up to the tee, swinging around his head the longest and bendiest driver I have ever seen, and he didn't bother to address the ball at all. He just lunged at it and hit it with all his strength, and something whistled past Chawley's head as he stood a little behind the tee box. The Frenchman had sliced it at right angles, and for all I know, his ball is still in the air. Certainly, we never saw it again.
That slite misforchune appeered to egsite and [Pg 60] 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.
That slight misfortune seemed to exist and [Pg 60] demoralize Chawley's employer, who may have been quite a brilliant player in his day, and I can say right away that he never really found his game. On the other hand, it seemed to give new life and vigor to Mister G. Our opponent was apparently trying hard to make every hole a brilliant one, but we were quite content to win them steadily in 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 [Pg 62] sort of dissolve into small peaces. But we was two up by then and our tails was 'igh in air.
We had our misfortunes, of course. His dearest friend could hardly say how Mr. G.'s game is a long one, and each bunker seems to have a sort of magnetic attraction for his ball, but while the Frenchman's brassie remained unbroken, we knew there was always a chance for the hole. For half the round, it stood the cruel strain and then it didn’t break. It just seemed to sort of dissolve into small pieces. But we were two up by then, and our spirits were high in the 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 [Pg 64] 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.
As for the Frenchman, his methods at times were really surprising. After that first drive, Chawley laid himself down flat when his employer drove, but even in that position, it didn't seem hardly safe. That long, thin, bendy driver sent the ball to all heights and all angles, but never once in a straight line. After a while, he discarded it and gave a fair, honest trial to every club in his bag in turn. I would never have been surprised to see him drive desperately with his putter, but even then Chawley wouldn't have dared say anything. He was quite a pleasant, gentlemanly little man, but it didn't do to [Pg 64] argue with him. He began to scream and stamp at once, and Chawley saw pretty soon that it was best and safest to let him play his 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.
It was on the fifteenth green that the great match ended. Mr. Giggington's courage and stamina had been amazing for his age, but the strain and the joyful excitement were starting to weigh on him. The Frenchman tried to make a thirty-yard putt to save the hole and missed by about forty yards. But he accepted his defeat like a champ. They shook hands on the green, and he said it warmed his heart to think about the glory that his friendly rival had achieved. I believe there were tears in the old gentleman's eyes. He turned to me, and I thought he was going to shake my hand, but instead, he slipped a coin into it, which was just about as good.
'E 'll never make a golfer, but 'Enery Wilks
will allus be pleesed and proud to gide 'im rarnd
the course.
'E 'll never make a golfer, but 'Enery Wilks will always be pleased and proud to guide 'im around the course.
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!"
A Strong Passion.—Mr. Meenister MacGlucky (of the Free Kirk, after having given in more than usual to an expression "a little too intense"—despairingly). "Oh! Yeah! Ah, w-e-el! I'll have to give it up!"
Mr. Elder MacNab. "Wha-at, man, gie up gowf?"
Mr. Elder MacNab. "What, man, give up golf?"
Mr. Meenister MacGlucky. "Nae, nae! Gie up the meenistry!"
Mr. Minister MacGlucky. "No, no! Give up the ministry!"
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?"
A Fake.—"Farmers always complaining? Well, suppose your pigs had the fever, and your sheep had the flu, if your crops were drowning in eighteen inches of water, and your rent was overdue—what would you do?"
"I? I'd give it up and start a golf club!"
"I? I'd quit and start a golf club!"
INGRATITUDE
Ungratefulness
Brown. "Why doesn't Walker stop to speak? Thought he knew you!"
Brown. "Why doesn't Walker stop to chat? I thought he knew you!"
Smith. "Used to; but I introduced him to the girl he married. Neither of them recognises me now!"
Smith. "I used to know him; but I introduced him to the girl he married. Neither of them recognizes me now!"
GOLF
"Putting" on the "links" "Putting" on the "greens" |
The "tee" and the "caddie" The "tee" and the "caddy" |
A showy manner of handling the "clubs" A flashy way of dealing with the "clubs" |
A full drive A complete drive |
A beautiful "iron" shot A stunning "iron" shot |
The "spoon" The "spoon" |
The "cleek" The "cleek" |
"Holed out" "Hit it in the hole" |
A MORNING PERFORMANCE
Morning Show
FORE!
Fore!
"Now, sir, be judge yourself, whether I in any just term am affin'd to love the Moor."
"Now, sir, you can judge for yourself if I have any valid reason to love the Moor."
[Othello, Act I., Sc. 1.]
[Othello, Act 1, Scene 1.]
'Onnesty is the best pollicy, and, 'Evin knows, 'Enery Wilks 'as allus tried 'is levil best to live up to them golden words. But I reckon there is [Pg 66] certain excepshuns to the cast-iron 'onnesty of all of us, and every yumin being 'as 'is little weakness. Mine is golf balls.
'Honestly is the best policy, and, as Evan knows, Henry Wilks has always tried his level best to live up to those golden words. But I think there are certain exceptions to the unwavering honesty of all of us, and every human being has his 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.
Tips are fine in their own way, and I have nothing against them, but receiving a good golf ball brings much more joy to the heart of Henry Wilks. Maybe it’s because of his nearly unconquerable pride, which sometimes makes him reluctant to take money from those he sees as his equals or inferiors; or maybe it satisfies his artistic nature to be given the tools of a great skill that he understands so well. Anyway, golf balls are my temptation, one I’ve given in to once or twice during my honorable career.
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.
Some golfers will occasionally give you a couple of coins or a used ball, along with a friendly word of thanks for your attention, which means more to a proud nature than the gift itself. And there are others who never think of doing anything like that. Among them is Mr. Schwabstein, who is not French or Scottish, as you might think from his name, but German, with perhaps a touch of Gentile.
'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.
He's a man who catches the eye on the golf course, always wearing a peaked yachting cap, big polka dots, and a white silk coat that used to be a lot whiter. An excellent sort of person, I suppose, in his home circle, but hardly what you'd call a brilliant success on the course. They say he has more money than he really knows what to do with, but I suspect he’s made it by never giving any of it away. However, Henry Wilks has done his best to set that right.
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.
Let me describe to you a round that he played the other day with Mister Herminius Brellett, our literary member, who always seems to go out of his way to hang out with curious people. I have taken Mister Schwabstein under my wing before, but I've never noticed his peculiarities as much as I did 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 [Pg 70] 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.
He took the honor, and for about three minutes, he addressed the ball with his huge, thick, ugly driver, which has always raised my professional indignation. He swung at last, quite slowly, but with all his great weight and strength behind it. I shall never know exactly what he did, because the tees were dry, and for the moment, I was half blinded by the dust. But there was a thud and a crackling snap, and two things were flying through the thick, dusty air. Those two missiles were the ball and the head of the driver, and they fell together thirty yards from the tee. He said something I couldn't catch and didn't want to hear, and walked around in a slow circle, smiling to himself. He’s a man who always smiles. It often seems to me that it’s his misfortune.
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.
Then Mr. Brellett took one of his usual springing drives, which happened to go well, and he won that first hole on his head. Mr. Schwabstein managed to reduce his brassiness to fragments at the second hole; and after that, he took out his niblick, and nothing would persuade him to put it back. He drove with that niblick, and he played his many shots through the green with it. The way that thick strong niblick dug into the turf was enough to break the heart of Henry Wilks. We moved slowly forward, leaving behind us a line of cruel deep divots, which nothing would fill up. And his style of bunker play was equally destructive.
'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.
'His idea for getting out was to break down the wall of the bunker with repeated hits, and then to push his ball through the openings. I wouldn't have believed that mere wood and iron could have accomplished what that one German club did without causing a fuss.'
'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.
He only smiled his slow smile when Mr. Brellett or I made a protest, and he would never pick up his ball. He kept going with each hole until he finally pushed the ball into the tin, and then he would turn and pat my head with his big hand. After the first time, I generally dodged, and once he turned and accidentally patted Mr. Brellett's head. Like most literary gentlemen, the latter is rather sensitive, and there was nearly trouble; but somehow, thanks to Mr. Schwabstein's apparent unconsciousness of offense, it was averted.
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 [Pg 74] 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.
At the thirteenth hole, Mister Brellett was five up. Mister Schwabstein put down a new ball with a bit of a groan and hit it with his niblick right into the rough. For a long two minutes, we searched high and low, but we couldn’t find that ball anywhere. If I had seen it, I would have handed it over immediately, as that was my duty. But I never did see it. There was just one small spot in that rough where it didn’t seem worth looking. We had to give up in the end, and Mister Schwabstein lost the hole 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.
Later in the day, I wandered down with a bit of a forlorn hope to that rough area, and oddly enough, I stumbled right onto that ball. I had several options available to me. I could have handed it over to the authorities, or I could have kept it as a memento of Mr. Schwabstein's unfailing generosity and courtesy. But Henry Wilks didn't see himself doing either of those things. He just made the most of that fine new ball.
GOLFING NOTES
"Denmark is the latest of the Continental nations to receive golf."—The Tatler.
"Denmark is the newest of the European countries to embrace golf."—The Tatler.
But golf must have flourished at Denmark in Hamlet's time, judging by the above reproduction of a very ancient mural decoration which has just come to light.
But golf must have thrived in Denmark during Hamlet's time, judging by the reproduction of a very old mural decoration that has just been discovered.
See also quotation Hamlet, Act II., Scene 2:—" ... drives; in rage, strikes wide!"
See also quotation Hamlet, Act II., Scene 2:—" ... drives; in rage, strikes wide!"
Encouragement.—Professional Golfer (in answer to anxious question). "Weel, no, sir, at your time o' life, ye can never hope to become a player; but if ye practise hard for three years, ye may be able to tell good play from bad when ye see it!"
Support.—Professional Golfer (in response to worried question). "Well, no, sir, at your age, you can never expect to become a player; but if you practice hard for three years, you might be able to tell good play from bad when you see it!"
Bertie (to caddie, searching for lost ball). "What are you looking there for? Why, I must have driven it fifty yards further!"
Bertie (to caddie, searching for lost ball). "What are you looking there for? I must have hit it fifty yards farther!"
Diplomatic Caddie. "But sometimes they hit a stone, sir, and bounce back a terrible distance!"
Diplomatic Caddie. "But sometimes they hit a rock, sir, and bounce back really far!"
Old Hand. "Ah, I heard you'd joined. Been round the links yet?"
Old Hand. "Oh, I heard you joined. Have you been to the course yet?"
New Hand. "Oh, yes. Went yesterday."
New Hand. "Oh, yes. Went yesterday."
Old Hand. "Whot did you go round in?"
Old Hand. "What did you go around in?"
New Hand. "Oh, my ordinary clothes!"
New Hand. "Oh, my regular clothes!"
Golfing Amenities. (Overheard on a course within 100 miles of Edinburgh).—Hopeless Duffer (who continually asks his caddy the same question, with much grumbling at the non-success of his clubs). "And what shall I take now?"
Golfing Amenities. (Overheard on a course within 100 miles of Edinburgh).—Hopeless Duffer (who keeps asking his caddy the same question, complaining a lot about how poorly his clubs are performing). "So, what should I use 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!"
His Unfortunate Partner (whose match has been lost and game spoiled, finally breaking out). "What will you take now! The best thing you can take is the four-fifteen to Edinburgh!"
The Pedantry of Sport.—First Golf Maniac. I played a round with Captain Bulger the other day.
The Precision of Sports.—First Golf Maniac. I played a round with Captain Bulger the other day.
Second G.M. When did you get to know him?
Second G.M. When did you meet him?
First G.M. Oh, about the end of the Gutty Ball period.
First G.M. Oh, around the end of the Gutty Ball era.
Cheerful Beginner (who has just smashed the Colonel's favourite driver). "Oh, now I see why you have to carry so many clubs!"
Cheerful Beginner (who just broke the Colonel's favorite driver). "Oh, now I get why you need to carry so many clubs!"
TEE, TEE, ONLY TEE!
Air—"Thee, thee, only thee."
The dawn of the morn, the daylight's sinking,
The dawn of the morning, the sunlight’s fading,
Shall find me on the Links, and thinking,
Shall find me on the Links, and thinking,
Of Tee, Tee, only Tee!
Of Tee, Tee, only Tee!
When rivals meet upon the ground,
When competitors face each other on the field,
The Putting-green's a realm enchanted,
The putting green is magical,
Nay, in Society's giddy round
No, in Society's dizzy circle
My soul, (like Tooting's thralls) is haunted
My soul, (like Tooting's followers) is haunted
By Tee, Tee, only Tee!
By Tee, Tee, just Tee!
For that at early morn I waken,
For that at early morning I wake,
And swiftly bolt my eggs and bacon,
And quickly eat my eggs and bacon,
For Tee, Tee, only Tee!
For Tee, Tee, just Tee!
I'm game to start all in the dark,
I'm ready to begin everything in the dark,
To the Links hurrying—resting never.
To the Links rushing—never resting.
The Caddie yawns, but, like a lark,
The caddie yawns, but, like a lark,
I halt not, heed not, hastening ever
I don't stop, I don't pay attention, I'm always rushing.
To Tee, Tee, only Tee!
To Tee, Tee, just Tee!
Of chilly fog I am no funker,
Of chilly fog, I'm not scared,
I'll brave the very biggest bunker,
I'll take on the largest bunker,
For Tee, Tee, only Tee!
For Tee, it's all about Tee!
A spell that nought on earth can break
A spell that nothing on earth can break
Holds me. Golf's charms can ne'er be spoken;
Holds me. The charms of golf can never be spoken;
But late I'll sleep, and early wake,
But I'll sleep late and wake up early,
Of loyalty be this my token,
Of loyalty, let this be my sign,
To Tee, Tee, only Tee!
To Tee, Tee, just 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."
Golf caddies are now very much in the spotlight. Some of their education definitely leaves a lot to be desired. "What an honor for us!" one of them exclaimed excitedly the other day as he pointed to a newspaper article titled, "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.]
[A certain brand of binoculars is now marketed as "perfect for golfers, helping them pick a good spot for their ball's landing before they swing." It's clear that this smart concept will be developed further, resulting in outcomes like those mentioned in the prediction that follows.]
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——
As I told Jones when he met me at the clubhouse, it had been over a year since I last played, so I was likely a bit out of practice. Plus, I heard that the level of play had really improved—
"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?"
"Raised? I should think it has!" said Jones. "A year ago, they were just playing skittles—not what you'd really call golf. Got your clubs? Come on then. They’re pretty weird old-fashioned things too! And you're not 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?"
"Well," I said, clearly surprised, "the truth is, I don't have one. What do you even 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."
"Measuring levels, obviously. And—wow, you don't have a pump or any glasses—not even a wind meter! Should I lend you some?—Oh, it’s up to you, but you won't be able to do much without them."
"Does your caddie take all those things?" I asked, pointing to the curious assortment of machinery which Jones had put together.
"Does your caddie carry all that stuff?" I asked, pointing to the strange collection of equipment that Jones had assembled.
"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."
"My caddies do," he corrected. "No one takes less than three these days. Good; there's only one couple on the first tee, so we should be able to tee off in about half an hour."
"I should hope so!" I remarked. "Do you mean that it will be half an hour before those men have played two shots?"
"I hope so!" I said. "Are you saying it will take those guys half an hour to play 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!"
"There or thereabouts. Simkins is a quick player—he's got a great mind for algebra—so it might be a bit 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 [Pg 82] 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.
And I watched him with a lot of interest. First, he carefully scanned the area through a binocular. Then he squinted through a theodolite at a distant pole. Next, he used a strange device that Jones told me was a wind gauge, and he thoughtfully tapped at a pocket barometer. After that, he took out paper and a pencil, and seemed to be deep in some complicated calculations. Finally, he called over one of his caddies, who carried a metal cylinder. A golf ball was attached to it with a piece of rubber tubing, and a faint 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."
“Adding the hydrogen,” Jones explained. “It all depends on getting the right amount. Is this a new idea? Not really; even a year ago, you must have seen pneumatic golf balls—filled with compressed air? Well, this is just a clear upgrade. There, he’s about 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.
And he did just that, using a club I had never seen before. Then he looked at the putting green—about half a mile away—through his glasses and noted that it was a decent shot, the ball being just three inches from the hole. His friend, who went through the same lengthy prep, was less lucky. With a tone of major frustration, he said that he had hit the ball past 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?"
"Too much hydrogen," Jones whispered, "or he messed up his formulas. Anyway, we can start now. Should I take the lead?"
I begged him to do so. He in turn surveyed the country, consulted instruments, did elaborate sums, inflated his ball.
I begged him to do it. He then looked over the area, checked the tools, did detailed calculations, and pumped up his balloon.
"Now," he said, at length settling into his stance, "now I'll show you."
"Okay," he said, finally getting into position, "now I'll show you."
And then he missed the ball clean.
And then he completely missed the ball.
... 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.
... Of course he shouldn't have used that kind of language, but it was a bit of a relief to discover something about the game that was completely unchanged.
Royal and Ancient Records.—The Glasgow Evening Times displayed the following headings on the occasion of His Majesty's visit to North Berwick:—
Royal and Ancient Archives.—The Glasgow Evening Times featured the following headlines during His Majesty's visit to North Berwick:—
A Drive Around Town.
This, of course, constitutes a new record, the old
one standing at about 330 yards.
This obviously sets a new record, with the previous one being around 330 yards.
The Golfer's Friend after Long Drives—The Tea-Caddy.
The Golfer's Friend After Long Drives—The Tea-Caddy.
Golf Motto.—The "Hole" hog or none.
Golf Motto.—It’s all or nothing.
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?"
A Final Option.—Miss Armstrong (who has messed up the ball six times with different clubs). "So, which club am I supposed to use now?"
Weary Caddie. "Gie it a bit knock wi' the bag!"
Weary Caddy. "Give it a little knock with the bag!"
Caddie (in stage whisper to Biffin, who is frightfully nervous). "Don't you get nervous, sir. It's all right. I've told every one of 'em you can't play!"
Caddie (in a quiet whisper to Biffin, who is really nervous). "Don't be nervous, sir. It's fine. I've told everyone that you can't play!"
Fitzfoozle (a beginner, who is "teaching" a lady on the men's links, and loses a club). "Pardon me, sir. Have you seen a lady's club anywhere?"
Fitzfoozle (a beginner, who is "teaching" a woman on the men's course, and loses a club). "Excuse me, sir. Have you seen a lady's club around here?"
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!"
Admiral Peppercorn (very annoyed at being delayed, wishes the ladies would play on their own course). "No, sir, but I think there's a goose club at the 'Pig and Whistle.' Give that a try!"
Golfer, whose ball has lodged under stone, has had several unsuccessful shots, and finally, with a tremendous stroke, smashed his club.
Golfer, whose ball is stuck under a rock, has taken several unsuccessful shots, and finally, with a huge swing, broke his club.
Old Man. "You put me in moind of my old jackass."
Old Man. "You remind me of my old donkey."
Golfer. "What d'you mean, you idiot?"
Golfer. "What do you mean, you idiot?"
Old Man. "Yer've got more strength than knowledge!"
Old Man. "You've got more strength than smarts!"
THE MOAN OF THE MAIDEN
Golf! Golf! Golf!
Golf! Golf! Golf!
By the side of the sounding sea;
By the edge of the noisy ocean;
And I would that my ears had never
And I wish my ears had never
Heard aught of the "links" and the "tee."
Heard anything about the "links" and the "tee"?
Oh, well for the man of my heart,
Oh, well, for the man I love,
That he bets on the "holes" and the play;
That he bets on the "holes" and the game;
Oh, well for the "caddie" that carries
Oh, well for the "caddie" that carries
The "clubs," and earns his pay.
The "clubs," and gets paid.
He puts his red coat on,
He puts on his red coat,
And he roams on the sandy hill;
And he wanders on the sandy hill;
But oh! for the touch of that golfer's hand,
But oh! for the feel of that golfer's hand,
That the "niblick" wields with a will.
That the "niblick" uses with determination.
Golf! Golf! Golf!
Golf! Golf! Golf!
Where the "bunkers" vex by the sea;
Where the "bunkers" annoy by the sea;
But the days of Tennis and Croquet
But the days of Tennis and Croquet
Will never come back to me!
Will never come back to me!
Virgil on Golf.—"Miscueruntque herbas et
non innoxia verba." Georgics, 3, 283.
Virgil on Golfing.—"They mixed in herbs and harmless words." 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."
To Reporters.—"A New Golfer" writes to ask if what he has heard about "the Tee Duty" will have any impact on the "caddies."
Willing to Compensate.—Mrs. Lightfoot. "Oh, wait a minute, Mr. Sharp—don't drive yet. My husband is still on the green."
Ready to Compensate.—Mrs. Lightfoot. "Oh, hold on a second, Mr. Sharp—don't take off just 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!"
Mr. Sharp. "It's fine. I'll take the chance. Because if I do knock him down, I'm prepared to take his place anytime!"
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:—
Rumor has it that there's a movement happening among a certain group of golf enthusiasts to ensure that from now on, all caddies on English courses must provide satisfactory proof that they are physically and morally fit for carrying clubs and cleaning them, and that they understand the basic principles of the game. To achieve this, it’s reported that an entrance exam is being prepared, where individuals wanting official recognition as caddies will need to score at least eighty percent. The following questions are said to have already been drafted:—
1. Write your name, legibly if possible, in the top right-hand corner of the sheet.
1. Please write your name clearly, if you can, in the top right corner of the page.
(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.")
(Don't worry about adding your nickname; it doesn't matter to the examiners if you're locally called "Tiger," "Ginger," or "Bill Bailey.")
2. State your age. If this is less than six, or [Pg 90] more than seventy-five years, you may omit the remaining questions and retire at once from the examination.
2. State your age. If it’s under six or over seventy-five years old, you can skip the rest of the questions and leave the exam immediately.
3. Are you married or single? Give reasons for your answer.
3. Are you married or single? Explain why you chose that option.
4. Illustrate the finer points of distinction between
4. Explain the subtle differences between
(a) a niblick and a gutty;
(a) a niblick and a gutty;
(b) a bye and a bulger.
(b) a bye and a bulger.
5. Are you a Protectionist or a Total Abstainer?
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."
6. Rewrite the following passage, correcting anything that may seem like an error or an inconsistency:—"In an 18-hole match, X, a scratch player with a handicap of 20, was dormy 12 at the 17th hole. However, halfway through the final green, he unfortunately got stuck in a bunker behind the tee box. Since he needed to play 'two more' than his opponent Y, who had made par in 6, he only played one, finishing in 5 and winning by the narrow margin of 4 up with 7 holes remaining."
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
[Pg 92]
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.)
7. Since the fee for a round is a shilling, do you think it's fair to try to charge an additional half-crown for [Pg 92] club-cleaning from a player wearing glasses, who has a 27 handicap and a longing look? (Candidates are advised to say "No" to this question.)
"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!"
"As She Speaks."—(On the train from Nice.)
Excited Golfer (to friend, as the train stops at Golfe-Juan):
"Oh, here we are! This has to be the place. 'Golfe,' golf. 'Juan,' jeu, play, you know. Yes, this is definitely the station for the course!"
The Natural Crest of every Golf Club.—The lynx.
The Natural Crest of every Golf Club.—The lynx.
Five-o'clock "Tees."—Suburban golf.
5 O'Clock Tees.—Suburban golf.
Stimied.—Golfer. "Fore!"
Stuck.—Golfer. "Fore!"
Tinker. "What?" Golfer. "Get out of the way!"
Tinker. "What?" Golfer. "Move!"
Tinker. "What for?" Golfer. "I might hit you."
Tinker. "Why?" Golfer. "I might hit you."
Tinker. "Thee'd best not, young man!"
Tinker. "You'd better not, young man!"
Licensed Caddy. "Carry your clubs, sir?"
Golf Caddy. "Need help with your clubs?"
Jones (who has chartered a small boy at a cheap rate). "No, I've got a caddy."
Jones (who has hired a young boy at a low cost). "No, I've got a caddy."
Licensed Caddy. "Carry your caddy, sir?"
Licensed Caddy. "Need help with your bag, sir?"
The Ruling Passion.—Laden and perspiring stranger. "Could you kindly tell me how far it is to the station?"
The Driving Force.—Heavily loaded and sweating stranger. "Could you please tell me how far the station is?"
Sportsome Native. "About a full drive, two brassies and a putt."
Sportsome Native. "About a complete drive, two long clubs, and a putt."
THE GOLF WIDOWS
By the side of the sounding sea;
By the edge of the noisy sea;
Do you hear the widows weeping, O my brothers,
Do you hear the women crying, my brothers,
Wedded but a few brief years?
Wedded for only a few short years?
They are writing home complaining to their mothers,
They are writing home to complain to their moms,
And their ink's suffused with tears.
And their ink is filled with tears.
The young lads are playing in the meadows,
The young boys are playing in the fields,
The young babes are sleeping in the nest;
The little babies are sleeping in the nest;
The young men are flirting in the shadows,
The young guys are flirting in the shadows,
The young maids are helping them, with zest.
The young maids are enthusiastically helping them.
But the young golf widows, O my brothers,
But the young golf widows, oh my brothers,
Are weeping bitterly,
Crying hard,
They are weeping in the playtime of the others,
They are crying during the playtime of others,
While you're swiping from the tee.
While you're swinging from the tee.
Do you ask their grazing widows in their sorrow
Do you ask their grieving widows about their grief?
Why their tears are falling so?
Why are they crying like this?
"Oh—yesterday—to-day again—to-morrow—
"Oh—yesterday—today—tomorrow—"
To the links you always go!
To the links you always visit!
Your golf 'shop,'" they say, "is very dreary,
Your golf shop," they say, "is really dull,
You speak of nothing else from week to week;
You talk about nothing else from week to week;
A really patient wife will grow a-weary
A truly patient wife will grow tired
Of talk about a concentrated cleek."
Of talk about a focused group.
Yes, the young golf widows, O my brothers,
Yes, the young golf widows, oh my brothers,
Do you ask them why they weep?
Do you ask them why they're crying?
They are longing to be back beside their mothers,
They can’t wait to be back with their moms,
While you're playing in a sweep.
While you're playing in a sweep.
And well may the widows weep before you
And it's no surprise that the widows cry in front of you.
When your nightly round is done;
When your night shift is over;
They care nothing for a stymie, or the glory
They don't care at all about getting stuck or the glory.
Gained by holing out in one.
Earned by scoring a hole-in-one.
"How long," they say, "how long in careless fashion
"How long," they say, "how long in a careless way
Will you stand, to drive the Dyke, upon our hearts,
Will you stand to break down the walls around our hearts,
Trample down with nailèd heel our early passion,
Trample down with nailed heel our early passion,
Turning homeward only when the light departs?
Turning home only when the light fades?
You can hear our lamentations many a mile hence,
You can hear our cries from many miles away,
Can you hearken without shame,
Can you listen without shame,
When our mourning curseth deeper in the silence
When our grief curses deeper in the silence
Than a strong man off his game?"
Than a strong man out of his element?"
"A BEAUTIFUL DRIVE."
"A Scenic Drive."
"—— HE WOULD HAVE SAID"
"—— HE'D HAVE SAID"
A beautiful stroke missed! A favourite club broken! No words to bring relief!
A beautiful shot missed! A favorite club broken! No words to bring comfort!
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!"
American Friend (in the background, after a long pause). "Wow, Brown, I think that's the most awkward silence I've ever heard!"
Subtle.—"Aren't you a little off your game this morning, Mr. Smythe?"
Subtle.—"Aren't you a bit out of sorts this morning, Mr. Smythe?"
"Oh, I'm not playing this morning, Miss Bertha. Only just amusing myself."
"Oh, I'm not playing this morning, Miss Bertha. Just keeping myself entertained."
SHOULD MARRIED MEN BE ALLOWED TO PLAY GOLF?
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.)
July 21.—Played against Robinson, who would never win a match if it weren't for his wife. I think I should create a golf course exclusively for bachelors. (Note: Suggest to the committee that no married man should be allowed to play golf in the mornings or afternoons.)
Hole I. I played perfectly, holing beautiful long putt. Robinson hopeless. One up.
Hole I. I played flawlessly, sinking a beautiful long putt. Robinson was struggling. I’m one up.
Hole II. R. bunkered. Entirely his own fault. Two up.
Hole II. R. in the bunker. Totally 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 III. I holed my approach, taking into account both the wind and the slope of the green; it was really a great shot. I spotted Mrs. R. as I walked to the next tee. I’m 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 IV. I thought I might have to talk to Mrs. R. at any moment. I missed my drive because of that. Disgusting! Two up.
Hole V. R. seemed to be looking for his wife instead of attending to what I was saying. My [Pg 100] drive lay on a buttercup, and who the deuce can be expected to play off buttercups? One up.
Hole V. R. appeared to be searching for his wife instead of paying attention to what I was saying. My [Pg 100] drive landed on a buttercup, and who on earth 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 VI. R. was completely blocked. He acted like he thought we weren’t playing stymies. But 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 VII. I saw Mrs. R. staring out at the sea, lost in thought. These idle women are enough to throw 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 VIII. R. can say whatever he wants, but he waved to his wife. I was also bothered by his socks, which I assume Mrs. R. knitted. The kind of pointless 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 IX. I got a good distance away from Mrs. R., and even though my caddy coughed as I was getting close, I put my ball right on target. It was a great 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 X. I had a hole in my pocket when R. made his approach shot perfectly. What ridiculous luck. All tied up.
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 XI. Just as I was hitting my drive, I saw Mrs. R. still staring at the sea. I mentioned it, but R. didn’t pay attention. Either way, 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 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 XIII. As I was putting, I felt that Mrs. R. had finally arrived. I missed my putt and only tied 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 XIV. I couldn't see Mrs. R. anywhere. I wondered where she had gone, or if she had 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 XV. There was a small argument because R. said that his ball—which was under a wheelbarrow—was on ground being repaired. Totally ridiculous, and I told him that. All square.
Hole XVI. Made a perfect drive, approach and putt. Looked everywhere for Mrs. R. and couldn't see her. One up.
Hole XVI. I made a perfect drive, approach, and putt. I looked everywhere for Mrs. R. but couldn’t find 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 XVII. Totally frustrated wondering when I’d see Mrs. R. So unfair. I told my caddy I’d 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.
Hole XVIII. Saw Mrs. R. on a hill half a mile away. She got on my nerves. R. said, "Hey, 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 should be reduced.
"SHE WAS NOT A GOLFER"
"She wasn't a golfer."
Husband. "What on earth has happened to my driver?"
Husband. "What in the world happened to my driver?"
Wife. "Oh, I couldn't find the hammer, so I used that thing. It wasn't much use, though."
Wife. "Oh, I couldn't find the hammer, so I used that thing. It wasn't very helpful, though."
OUR VILLAGE
OUR COMMUNITY
The Golf-Club in full swing.
The golf club is buzzing.
She. "Why, Mr. Smith, you don't mean to say you have taken up golf?"
She. "Really, Mr. Smith, you can't be serious about taking up golf?"
Smith (age 78). "Yes. I found I was getting a bit too old for lawn tennis!"
Smith (age 78). "Yes. I realized I was getting a bit too old for playing lawn tennis!"
ERRATIC
UNRELIABLE
Pedestrian (anxious for his safety). "Now, which way are you going to hit the ball?"
Pedestrian (worried about his safety). "So, which way are you planning to hit the ball?"
Worried Beginner. "Only wish to goodness I knew myself!"
Worried Beginner. "I just wish I knew myself better!"
SWEET SIMPLICITY
Sweet Simplicity
Diffident Man (who does not know to how much of an ingénue he is talking). "Have you been out long, Miss Grace?"
Shy Guy (who has no idea how naive he sounds). "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."
Miss Grace (checking her watch). "Oh, about forty-five minutes. You see, we were asked to arrive on time."
LINES ON THE LINKS
Hard by the biggest hazard on the course,
Hard by the biggest hazard on the course,
Beneath the shelter of a clump of gorse,
Beneath the cover of a bunch of gorse,
Secure from shots from off the heel or toe,
Secure from shots from the heel or toe,
I watch the golfers as they come and go.
I watch the golfers as they come and go.
I see the fat financier, whose "dunch"
I see the wealthy investor, whose "dunch"
Suggests too copious draughts of "fizz" at lunch;
Suggests drinking too much "fizz" at lunch;
While the lean usher, primed with ginger beer,
While the slim usher, ready with ginger beer,
Surmounts the yawning bunker and lies clear.
Surpasses the wide-open bunker and lies flat.
I see a member of the House of Peers
I see a member of the House of Lords.
Within an ace of bursting into tears,
Within moments of bursting into tears,
When, after six stout niblick shots, his ball
When, after six strong niblick shots, his ball
Lies worse than if he had not struck at all.
Lies are worse than if he hadn't attacked at all.
But some in silent agony endure
But some endure in silent agony.
Misfortunes no "recovery" can cure,
Misfortunes no "recovery" can fix,
While others, even men who stand at plus,
While others, even men who are doing well,
Loudly ejaculate the frequent cuss.
Shout out the frequent curse.
An aged Anglo-Indian oft I see
An old Anglo-Indian man I often see
Who waggles endlessly upon the tee,
Who endlessly fidgets on the tee,
Causing impatience of the fiercest kind
Creating intense impatience
To speedy couples pressing from behind.
To fast couples pushing from behind.
Familiar also is the red-haired Pat
Familiar too is the red-haired Pat
Who plays in rain or shine without a hat,
Who plays in rain or shine without a hat,
And who, whenever things are out of joint,
And who, whenever things are messed up,
"Sockets" his iron shots to cover point.
"Sockets" his iron shots to cover point.
Before ten thirty, also after five,
Before 10:30, but also after 5,
The links with lady players are alive,
The connections with female players are strong,
At other seasons, by the rules in force,
At other times, according to the current rules,
Restricted to their own inferior course.
Restricted to their own lower path.
One matron, patient in her way as Job,
One matron, as patient in her way as Job,
I've seen who nine times running missed the globe;
I've seen who missed the globe nine times in a row;
But then her daughter, limber maid, can smite
But then her daughter, flexible girl, can strike
Close on two hundred yards the bounding Kite.
Close to two hundred yards, the bounding Kite.
Dusk falls upon the bracken, bents and whins;
Dusk settles over the ferns, grass, and gorse;
The careful green-keeper removes the pins,
The careful greenskeeper takes out the pins,
To-morrow being Sunday, and the sward
To-morrow being Sunday, and the sward
Is freed from gutty and from rubber-cored.
Is freed from gutta-percha and from rubber cores.
Homeward unchecked by cries of "Fore!" I stroll,
Homeward, without being interrupted by shouts of "Fore!" I walk,
Revolving many problems in my soul,
Revolving many issues in my heart,
And marvelling at the mania which bids
And amazed by the frenzy that compels
Sexagenarians caracole like kids;
Sixty-year-olds frolic like kids;
Which causes grave and reverend signiors
Which causes serious and respected gentlemen
To talk for hours of nothing but their scores,
To spend hours talking about nothing but their scores,
And worse, when baffled by a little ball,
And worse, when confused by a small ball,
On the infernal deities to call;
On the hellish gods to summon;
Which brightens overworked officials' lives;
Which brightens the lives of overworked officials;
Which bores to tears their much-enduring wives;
Which bores their long-suffering wives to tears;
Which fosters the consumption of white port,
Which encourages the drinking of white port,
And many other drinks, both long and short.
And many other drinks, both tall and short.
Who then, in face of functions so diverse,
Who, then, in the face of such diverse functions,
Will call thee, golf, a blessing or a curse?
Will I call you, golf, a blessing or a curse?
Or choose between the Premier's predilection
Or choose between the Premier's preference
And Rosebery's deliberate rejection?
And Rosebery's intentional refusal?
Not mine to judge: I merely watch and note
Not my place to judge: I just observe and take note.
Thy votaries as they grieve or as they gloat,
Your followers as they mourn or as they celebrate,
Uncertain whether envy or amaze
Unsure if envy or awe
Or pity most is prompted by the craze.
Or pity most is prompted by the craze.
Foreigner (who has "pulled" badly, and hit his partner in a tender spot), "Mille pardons, monsieur! My clob—he deceived me!"
Foreigner (who has "pulled" badly and hit his partner in a sensitive spot), "My apologies, sir! My club—he tricked me!"
Tommy. "I say, do you know who's winning?"
Tommy. "Hey, do you know who's winning?"
Ethel. "I think uncle must be—I heard him offer to carry auntie's clubs."
Ethel. "I think uncle must be—I heard him say he would 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.Scene—Any golf club where a course change is anticipated.
Time—Any time, from dawn to dusk.
Characters—An unspecified 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——
First Member (noticing Inoffensive Stranger). Hey, Nobbs, you're an unbiased judge, we want your take on this. What I'm saying is, if you move the current 4th hole to the 13th position, shift the tee back ten yards behind the 12th, and move the lower green fifteen yards to the right, plus play the 2nd, 5th, and 16th holes in reverse order while avoiding 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.
Second Member. Oh, that's nonsense. Anyone with a bit of common sense would realize that you'd completely mess up the course like that. My plan is to take the first three, the 11th, and the 14th—you get it, Nobbs?—(slowly and emphatically) the first three, the 11th, and the 14th.
Inoffensive Stranger. Yes?
Harmless 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——
Second M. (quickly). And just leave them as they are. Leave them exactly like that. Then you get rid of the next one, turn the 3rd into the 7th, and——
I.S. (horribly confused). But——
I.S. (super 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.
Third M. Yes, I know—you’re thinking about the crossing from the 14th. And you’re absolutely right. That would be a complete disaster; way too dangerous. What we actually need is a 2nd hole, and my plan would create a great one—truly engaging, offering these gentlemen who enjoy a challenge something to tackle.
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.
Second M. Not sure about that. I tried that patent second hole of yours this morning just out of curiosity. I made it in three strokes and could 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——
Third M. (whistles expressively). Oh, come! You're a fantastic player and all that—handicap's fifteen, right?—but there aren't many of us who would just stand here and say, without a care, that we completed a 420-yard hole in three! Honestly, you know——
Second M. 420 yards? 130, you mean.
Second M. 420 yards? You mean 130.
Third M. (defiantly). 420, if an inch.
Third M. (defiantly). 420, for sure.
Second M. But look here, you told me yourself only yesterday——
Second M. But wait, you said just 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.
Third M. (slightly surprised). Oh, um, yes. I get it now. I did consider, at one point, turning the 2nd into a short hole. But this is a whole different concept. Much better, actually. It hit me pretty suddenly at dinner last night. It was kind of an inspiration—something you can’t really explain—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!
Fourth M. I really don’t understand how you guys can argue about this. There’s only one practical way to improve the course, and I showed you the plan for it last week. It probably won't get accepted—not a chance. It's too good, straightforward, and cheap for the committee to even consider it. I couldn’t have expected anything different. Anyway (with a sense of unrecognized heroism)—I’ve done my best for the club!
(Sighs heavily, and picks up a newspaper.)
(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 [Pg 116] jackass, and that's all about it. What do you think, Mr. Nobbs?
Fifth M. (brutally). Oh, we know all about that great plan of yours. Now, I'm open to being convinced. Just so you know, I don't judge anyone else's ideas. All I’m saying is, if someone can't see that my plan is the best, they're a complete idiot, and that's just how it is. What do you think, Mr. Nobbs?
I.S. (rather nervously). Well, really—I hardly know—perhaps——
I.S. (kind of nervously). Well, honestly—I barely know—maybe——
First M. (compassionately). Ah, it's those whins below the 17th that are bothering you. But if you exchange the 8th and the 10th——
First M. (compassionately). Ah, it's those thorny bushes below the 17th that are bothering you. But if you switch the 8th and the 10th——
Second M. (abruptly). Rot!
Rot!
(The battle continues. The Inoffensive Stranger
stealthily withdraws. (Curtain.))
(The battle continues. The Inoffensive Stranger
quietly slips away. (Curtain.))
A TOWN MOUSE
City Mouse
Jones. "Well, my little man, what are you thinking about?"
Jones. "So, kid, what are you thinking?"
London Boy (who has never been out of Whitechapel before). "I'm thinkin' it's time yer mother put yer into trousers!"
London Boy (who has never been out of Whitechapel before). "I'm thinking it's time your mother put you into trousers!"
A MARTYR TO APPEARANCES
A MARTYR TO LOOKS
Young Lady. "I say, caddie, what does Mr. McFadjock do with all these clubs?"
Young Lady. "Hey, caddie, what does Mr. McFadjock do with all these clubs?"
Caddie (wofully preparing to follow his tyrant). "He makes me carry them!"
Caddie (sadly getting ready to follow his boss). "He makes me carry them!"
LINK(S)ED SWEETNESS
Linked sweetness
The Real Caddie (audibly). "This club is going to ruin—allowing all these ladies to join!"
The Real Caddie (audibly). "This club is going to go downhill—letting all these women in!"
Miss Sharp. "They evidently can't get gentlemen!"
Miss Sharp. "Clearly, they can't find any gentlemen!"
Sanguine Golfer. "Is that on the 'carpet,' caddie?"
Sanguine Golfer. "Is that on the green, caddie?"
Caddie (as the ball swerves into cottage window). "Yus, sir; front parlour, sir!"
Caddie (as the ball swerves into the cottage window). "Yes, sir; front parlor, sir!"
THE OLD TYPE OF LINK MAN.
THE OLD TYPE OF LINK MAN.
Supper time.
Dinner time.
THE NEW TYPE OF LINK MAN.
THE NEW TYPE OF LINK MAN.
Tee time.
Tee time.
"A THREE-CARD LAY"
Long ago in Sweet September,
A long time ago in September,
Oh! the day I well remember,
Oh! the day I clearly remember,
I was playing on the Links against the winsomest of maids;
I was playing on the golf course against the most charming of girls;
In a "cup" my ball was lying,
In a "cup," my ball was sitting,
And the "divots" round were flying,
And the "divots" were flying around,
And with eyes-a-dance she said to me, "Your iron's the King of Spades!"
And with dancing eyes, she said to me, "Your iron's the King of Spades!"
Now a foe, on such occasion,
Now an enemy, on such an occasion,
Of the feminine persuasion,
Of the female gender,
Fair and twenty to the game a sort of subtlety imparts;
Fair and twenty to the game adds a kind of subtlety;
And I felt its potent glamour,
And I felt its powerful charm,
And I answered with a stammer
And I replied, hesitating
Shy and nervous, "It was rash of me to play the Queen of Hearts!"
Shy and nervous, "I shouldn't have acted like the Queen of Hearts!"
Any further explanation
Any additional clarification
Of my inward admiration
Of my deep admiration
Very likely had exposed me to the deadliest of snubs!
Very likely had exposed me to the harshest of rejections!
But a snigger from behind me
But a snicker from behind me
Just in time came to remind me
Just in time came to remind me
Of the presence of my caddie—and I blessed the Knave of Clubs!
Of my caddie's presence—and I was grateful for the Knave of Clubs!
GLORIOUS UNCERTAINTY
Awesome Uncertainty
Scene—At the Golf Club.
Scene—At the golf club.
She. "Good-bye, Major. What's the programme for to-morrow?"
She. "Goodbye, Major. What's the plan for tomorrow?"
The Major. "Oh, either skating or punting, according to the weather."
The Major. "Well, it’s either skating or punting, depending on the weather."
GOLF AND GOOD FORM
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.
Is it considered acceptable to play golf? That's a question I've been asked so often lately by various people that I can't keep avoiding it any longer. To start, I’m afraid there’s no doubt that golf is somewhat losing its appeal—socially. Golf isn't just for the elite anymore, and I’ve heard that clubs for tradespeople have actually been established in some areas. The other day, while I was traveling in Lancashire, a man in my train compartment—wearing the most poorly cut trousers I’ve ever seen—said to a friend, "I like Hoylake; it's healthy, convenient, and close to home." It turned out that the main reason he liked Hoylake was for the golf. Incidents like this say a lot. However, I always try to consider both sides of every issue, and there’s definitely a lot to be said in favor of golf. It was certainly played by kings in the past, and right now, it's supported by grand dukes, dukes, peers, and prime ministers.
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.
But the real and lasting appeal of golf is that it generously offers more chances for style than any other sport. Football and cricket level everyone out in terms of dress, but golf allows for plenty of personal expression in attire. Take color, for example. The other day at Finsbury Park station, I ran into a friend returning from a day of golfing, and I noticed he was rocking the colors of no fewer than five different clubs. His cap featured the badge of the Camberwell Crusaders; his tie showed he was a member of the Bickley Authentics; his blazer belonged to the Tulse Hill Nondescripts; his brass waistcoat buttons displayed the monogram of the Gipsy Hill Zingari; and the roll of his knickerbocker stockings was embroidered with the crest of the Kilburn Incogs. The overall look was, if I may say, incredibly striking. Of course, not everyone can pull off such a combination, or afford to be part of so many elite clubs. But my friend is very good-looking, and he 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.
The burning question that splits golfers into two opposing sides is the choice between knickerbockers and trousers. Personally, I prefer the latter, but it’s only fair to mention that ever since I was jabbed in the leg by my friend Viscount —— while on a cub-sticking outing with the Cottesmore, I've never worn knickers again. For someone with well-defined calves and neat ankles, I'd say, wear knickerbockers whenever you can. The late Lord Septimus Boulger, who had very thick legs and calves that seemed to start just above the ankles, used to wear knickerbockers because he claimed it threw off his opponent’s game. If I may say so without causing offense, he was quite a character, though not very stylish, and I’ve heard that his father, old Lord Spalding, has never been the same since his passing.
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 [Pg 128] 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.
Another advantage of knickerbockers is how they allow for stylish stockings to be showcased. A nice effect can be created by having a little red tuft that peeks out from under the roll at the top of the calf. The roll itself, which should always feature a trendy pattern, is great for giving the impression that the calf is more toned than it actually is. I noticed recently at Hanger Hill that Sir Arlington Ball was wearing a pair of very full knickers, almost in the Dutch style, and his stockings—which were a plain brown—didn't have the roll I mentioned. Of course, Sir Arlington has an exceptionally well-shaped calf, and when a man makes £30,000 a year, he can afford a bit of leeway in his clothing and behavior overall.
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 [Pg 130] 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.
The question of what to wear on your feet while golfing is quite tricky, but most people agree that shoes are the way to go. My friend from Tooting Bec wears some really flashy shoes with a wide welt and a fringe made of narrow strips of porpoise hide that drape over the top of his foot like a little waterfall. When it comes to the debate over rubber studs versus nails on the soles, I go for a smart mix of both. If you're wearing a vest, it should be as bright as possible. I saw Lord Dunching the other day at Wimbledon Park in a lovely vest. The base color was a deep spinach green with disc patterns in Pompeian red, and the buttons were brass featuring his monogram in blue and white enamel at the center. Since it was a chilly day, he wore a mustard-colored Harris tweed Norfolk jacket and a sealskin cap. A pretty large crowd followed him, and I heard later that he set a new record for the course at 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." [Pg 132] 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.
One thing is for sure—we can’t all be top players. Personally, because of the accident I mentioned before, I hardly ever play at all, but I always make it a point to bring a few clubs with me whenever I visit a place in the country where I know there are no golf courses. A bag for clubs only costs a few bucks, and it looks good with your other gear while traveling. When hiring a valet again, always check if he knows the rules of the "royal and ancient game." [Pg 132] I’ll never forget my embarrassment when I was at Lord Springvale's. While playing a foursome with the Hon. Agrippa Bramble, Lady Horace Hilton, and the second Mrs. Bunkeray, I got stuck in a gorse bush and my guy handed me a putter. I could have cried from frustration.
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.
Cavendish, Chatsworth.—When it comes to dealing with divots, various experts suggest different approaches. My method, and I haven't found a better one, is to slip them into my pocket when the caddie isn't watching. Once dried out, they make great fuel for burning or can be used as bedding for 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.
"Don't despair," Beckenham.—The best energy booster during a match is a battered egg in a glass of sloe gin. It's best to keep the eggs in your club bag's pocket.
A. Flubb, Woking.—No, it is not good form to pay your caddie in stamps.
A. Flubb, Woking.—No, it's not appropriate to pay your caddie with 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.
Alcibiades, Wembley Park.—If you have to play golf on Sunday, I think it’s nothing but hypocritical to head to the course wearing a tall hat.
Between Friends.—Mr. Spooner, Q.C. (a Neophyte). "This is my ball, I think?"
With Friends.—Mr. Spooner, Q.C. (a Neophyte). "This is my ball, right?"
Colonel Bunting (an adept). "By Jove, that's a jolly good 'lie'!"
Colonel Bunting (an expert). "Wow, that's a really great '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!"
Mr. Spooner. "Honestly, Bunting, we've been friends for a long time, of course. But I really think you could find a nicer way to mention a completely accidental mistake!"
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."
A Hero "End of the Century."—Podgers (of Sandboys Golf Club). "My dear Miss Robinson, golf is the only sport for the guys these days. Lawn tennis is fine for you women, you know."
If you should find a stray bull in possession of the links, and who is fascinated by your little red landmarks, don't try and persuade poor Mr. Littleman to drive him away. He is very plucky—but it isn't golf.
If you come across a stray bull on the course, and it's intrigued by your little red markers, don't try to convince poor Mr. Littleman to shoo him away. He's quite brave—but it’s not golf.
His First Round.—Caddie (pointing to direction flag). "You'd better play right on the flag, sir."
His First Round.—Caddie (pointing to the direction flag). "You should aim straight at 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!"
Curate. "Thank you so much. But I seriously doubt my ability to hit such a tiny target from this distance!"
Ear Blinkers.—A suggestion for caddies of tender age in attendance on hot-tempered Anglo-Indian military gentlemen learning golf.
Ear Plugs.—A tip for young caddies working for hot-tempered Anglo-Indian military men learning to play golf.
Every Man to his Trade.—Exasperated Amateur (to fore-caddie, who will NOT go on ahead). "Go along, man. Do get on towards the next green."
Every person to their trade.—Frustrated Amateur (to fore-caddie, who won't NOT go ahead). "Come on, man. Please move on to 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."
Caddie. "Sorry, Captain. You'll never get him to go more than twenty yards ahead. He's been used to carrying a flag in front of a steamroller."
LAYS FROM THE LINKS
I.—The History of a Game.
Let A be the Links where I went down to stay,
And B the man whom I challenged to play:—
Let A be the Links where I went to stay,
And B the guy 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.
C was the caddy no golfer can do without,
D was the driver I used when going out:
E was the extra loud "Fore!" we both shouted,
F was the foozle that often followed:
G was the green that I longed to reach,
H was the hazard that upset the coach:
I was B's iron shot (he's good for a young player),
J was his joy when I hit it into the bunker.
K was the Kodak, that troublemaker,
L was B's likeness—after he smashed his driver:
M was the moment he realized it was taken.
N was his niblick around my head shaken:
O was the oil poured on turbulent waters,
P was the putt that, on the next hole, made me dormy.
Q was the quality—crowds came to watch:
R was the result they were keeping track of:
S was the stymie I managed to set,
T was two more shots, which it forced him to play;
U was the usual bad shot he let fly,
V was the vengeance he took on the side.
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".
W the Whisky that night: I have to admit
X was its amount—totally unknown;
Y were the stories that hot whisky mixes with,
Z was the excitement as we sang "Auld Lang Syne".
II.—Cheers.
Fill up your glasses! Bumpers round
Fill up your glasses! Cheers all around!
Of Scotland's mountain dew!
Of Scotland's mountain brew!
With triple clink my toast you'll drink,
With a triple clink, you'll drink to my toast,
The Links I pledge with you:
The connections I make with you:
The Links that bind a million hearts,
The connections that join a million hearts,
There's magic in their name,
Their name has magic.
The Links that lie 'neath every sky,
The links that lie beneath every sky,
And the Royal and Ancient Game!
And the Royal and Ancient Game!
A health to all who "miss the globe,"
A toast to everyone who "misses the globe,"
The special "stars" who don't;
The special "stars" who don’t.
May thousands thrive to tee and drive
May thousands succeed in golfing and driving.
As Jehu's self was wont!
As Jehu used to do!
No tee without a caddie—then
No tee without a caddy—then
The caddies will acclaim!
The caddies will celebrate!
A health, I say, to all who play
A toast to everyone who plays!
The Royal and Ancient Game!
The Royal and Ancient Game!
Long life to all who face the foe,
Long live everyone who confronts the enemy,
And on the green "lie dead"!—
And on the green "lie dead"!—
An envied lot, as all men wot,
An envied lot, as everyone knows,
For gallant "lads in red":
For brave "guys in red":
Where balls fly fast and iron-shots plough
Where balls zoom by and iron shots dig in
Win medals, trophies, fame;
Win medals, trophies, and fame;
Your watchword "Fore!" One cheer—two more—
Your shout is "Fore!" One cheer—two more—
For the Royal and Ancient Game!
For the Royal and Ancient Game!
Then "toe and heel it" on the green
Then "toe and heel it" on the green
(You'll make your partner swear),
(You'll have your partner swear),
But I'll be bound your dance, a round,
But I’ll bet your dance, a circle,
With luck will end all square
With luck, everything will balance out.
Win, lose, or halve the match—what odds?
Win, lose, or tie the match—what does it matter?
We love our round the same;
We love our round the same;
Though luck take wing, "the play's the thing,"
Though luck takes flight, "the play's what matters,"
The Royal and Ancient Game!
The Royal and Ancient Sport!
Then, Royal and Ancient Game, accept
Then, Royal and Ancient Game, accept
This tribute lay from me;
This tribute is from me;
From me then take, for old sake's sake,
From me then take, for old times' sake,
This toast—Long life to thee!
Cheers to a long life!
A long, long life to thee, old friend—
A long, long life to you, old friend—
None worthier the name—
None more worthy of the name—
With three times three, long life to thee,
With three times three, may you live long,
O Royal and Ancient Game!
O Royal and Ancient Sport!
Short-sighted Lady Golfer. "Hi! have you seen a golf-ball fall anywhere here, please?"
Short-sighted Lady Golfer. "Hey! Have you seen a golf ball drop around here, please?"
[Victim regards ball with remaining eye.]
[i]Victim looks at the ball with their remaining eye.[/i]
Very mild Gentleman (who has failed to hit the ball five times in succession). "Well ——"
Very mild Gentleman (who has failed to hit the ball five times in a row). "Well ——"
Up-to-date Caddy (producing gramophone charged with appropriate expletives). "Allow me, sir!"
Modern Caddy (creating a gramophone filled with suitable swear words). "Let me help you, sir!"
[Mild Gentleman DOES allow him, and moreover presents him with a shilling for handling the subject in such a masterly manner.]
[Mild Gentleman DOES allow him, and also gives him a shilling for discussing the topic so expertly.]
First Golfer (to Second Golfer, who is caught in a bunker). "Well, Jones told me this morning he did this hole yesterday in four."
First Golfer (to Second Golfer, who is stuck in a bunker). "Well, Jones told me this morning he got through this hole in four yesterday."
Second Golfer (who stammers). "If Jones s-s-said he did it in four, he was a l-l-l-l——"
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!"
First Golfer. "Easy, buddy, easy!"
Second Golfer. "——he was a l-lucky beggar!"
Second Golfer. "——he was a lucky guy!"
GOLF-LAND—HOLE BY HOLE
"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 1.—Halved in 28. D.J. catches the wave with his 16th (a great shot) and is saved by the lifeboat.
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 2.—Abandoned. A green-finder with a divining rod, which can also be turned into an umbrella, claims that Primitive Baptists are using the green for total immersion purposes.
Hole 3.—Abandoned. A regatta is found to be taking place in the big bunker.
Hole 3.—Abandoned. A boat race is happening 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 4.—Halved in 23. S.J. found himself with a life-belt around him that he had taken from the flag. It was reported that a green-keeper died while trying to rescue two caddies from the bunker on the way to the 11th hole.
Hole 5.—Abandoned out of sympathy with the green-keeper.
Hole 5.—Left alone out of respect for the green-keeper.
Hole 6.—Abandoned. S.J. gets his driver [Pg 142] 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 6.—Abandoned. S.J. mixes his driver with his life vest, causing his suspenders to break. D.J. argues that no player is allowed to search for a button for more than two minutes. Mr. Vardon, officiating from a balloon, rejects the claim. Both players hop into 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 7.—D.J.'s canoe tipped over after hitting the floating body of a drowned sheep while he was making a short putt. Mr. Vardon determines that corpses are obstacles on the green.
Hole 8.—Abandoned, owing to a fight for life-belt.
Hole 8.—Closed, due to a struggle over the life belt.
Hole 9.—Halved in 303, Mr. Vardon keeping the score.
Hole 9.—Tied in 303, Mr. Vardon keeping track of 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 10.—D.J. saves S.J.'s life. Hole given to S.J. by Mr. Vardon out of sympathy. S.J. is 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 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 for courage. S.J. is 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.
Hole 12.—Abandoned. A collection was taken for the widows of drowned golfers, which raised nine pence. S.J. then comes back 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 13 and 14.—Won by D.J. while S.J. is away at the water games held in memory of the green-keeper. All tied.
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 15 and 16.—Called off by agreement, whisky being provided for free by the Society of Free-drinkers. The green-keeper shows up again right away.
Holes 17 and 18.—Unrecorded. Mr. Vardon declares the match halved.
Holes 17 and 18.—Unrecorded. Mr. Vardon says the match is a tie.
FORE and AFT
Front and Back
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?"
Short-sighted Golfer (having been signalled to come on by lady who has lost her ball). "Thanks so much. And could you please move that sheep away?"
Extract from the rules of a local golf club:—"Rule V.—The committee shall have the power at any time to fill any vacancy in their body."
Extract from the rules of a local golf club:—"Rule 5.—The committee has the authority to fill any vacancy in their group at any time."
A LESSON IN GOLF
"You won't dare!" said I.
"You wouldn't dare!" I said.
"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.
"There’s no other choice," Amanda said firmly. "You know we have to practice every single minute if we want any chance of winning. If she does come right now—well!" Amanda lifted her chin high and looked defiant.
"But—Aunt Susannah!" said I.
"But—Aunt Susannah!" I said.
"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.
"It's really time for you to go and meet her," said Amanda, interrupting my protests; and she stood up 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——
My wife, despite her limitations, is a really smart woman. She's quick: she's determined: she has complete confidence in her own leadership. Yet, when I looked at Aunt Susannah, as she sat—thin, upright, and imposing—next to me in the dog cart, I couldn't imagine even Amanda managing the enormous task she had taken on. She would never dare——
I misjudged her. Aunt Susannah had barely [Pg 148] 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.
I underestimated her. Aunt Susannah had just [Pg 148] sat down—she was really only starting on her first scone—when Amanda barged in where I definitely should have been cautious.
"Dear Aunt Susannah," she said, beaming hospitably, "I'm sure you will never guess how we mean to amuse you while you are here!"
"Dear Aunt Susannah," she said, smiling warmly, "I bet you can't guess how we're going to keep you entertained while you're here!"
"Nothing very formidable, I hope?" said Aunt Susannah grimly.
"Anything too serious, 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?"
"You'll never, ever guess!" said Amanda; and her vibe was so unnaturally cheerful that I could tell she was really nervous inside. "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 think I'm a bit too 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.
I should have been completely speechless from such a rude comment. But not my brave wife.
"Well—golf!" she cried, with overdone cheerfulness.
"Well—golf!" she exclaimed, with exaggerated excitement.
Aunt Susannah started. Recovering herself, she eyed us with a stony glare which froze me where I sat.
Aunt Susannah jumped. Once she composed herself, she stared at us with a cold glare that froze me in my seat.
"There is really nothing else to do in these wilds, you know," Amanda pursued gallantly, though even she was beginning to look frightened. [Pg 150] "And it is such a lovely game. You'll like it immensely."
"There’s really nothing else to do out here, you know," Amanda said bravely, although she was starting to look scared. [Pg 150] "And it’s such a fun game. You’ll love it."
"What do you say it is called?" asked Aunt Susannah in awful tones.
"What do you call it?" Aunt Susannah asked in a terrible tone.
"Golf," Amanda repeated meekly; and for the first time her voice shook.
"Golf," Amanda echoed quietly; and for the first time, her voice trembled.
"Spell it!" commanded Aunt Susannah.
"Spell it!" said Aunt Susannah.
Amanda obeyed, with increasing meekness.
Amanda complied, growing more submissive.
"Why do you call it 'goff' if there's an 'l' in it?" asked Aunt Susannah.
"Why do you call it 'goff' if there's an 'l' in it?" Aunt Susannah asked.
"I—I'm afraid I don't know," said Amanda faintly.
"I—I'm sorry, I don't know," Amanda said quietly.
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.
Aunt Susannah sniffed in disdain. Still, she asked about the game, and Amanda provided a long explanation in shaky tones. She looked at me with desperation, but I wouldn’t meet her gaze.
"Then you just try to get a little ball into a little hole?" inquired my relative.
"Wait, so you just try to get a small ball into a tiny hole?" asked my relative.
"And in the fewest possible strokes," Amanda reminded her, gasping.
"And in the fewest possible strokes," Amanda reminded her, out of breath.
"And—is that all?" asked Aunt Susannah.
"And—is that it?" asked Aunt Susannah.
"Y—yes," said Amanda.
"Y-yes," said Amanda.
"Oh!" said Aunt Susannah.
"Wow!" said Aunt Susannah.
A game described in cold blood sounds singularly insignificant. We both fell into sudden silence and depression.
A game talked about so unemotionally seems completely unimportant. We both suddenly fell silent and felt down.
"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."
"Well, it doesn't sound difficult" said Aunt Susannah. "Oh, yes, I'll come and play ball with you if you want, 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.
"Dear Auntie!" Amanda said warmly. She didn't seem as thrilled about her success as one might expect. As for me, I saw a whole ocean of challenges ahead; but then again, I'd always seen them.
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.
We drove out to the Links the next day. We were both pretty quiet. Aunt Susannah, on the other hand, was in a great mood and really interested in our clubs.
"What in the world do you want so many sticks for, child?" she inquired of Amanda.
"What do you want with all those sticks, kid?" she asked 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.
"Oh, they're for—different types of terrain," Amanda said weakly, shooting a panicked look at our driver, who had clearly heard and was laughing in an annoying way.
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.
We both quickly glanced around us when we arrived. Luckily, we were early, and fortune smiled on us; no one else was there.
"Perhaps you would like to watch us a little [Pg 154] first, just to see how the game goes?" Amanda suggested sweetly.
"Maybe you'd like to watch us for a bit [Pg 154] first, just to see how the game works?" Amanda suggested kindly.
"Not at all!" was Aunt Susannah's brisk rejoinder. "I've come here to play, not to look on. Which stick——?"
"Not at all!" Aunt Susannah replied quickly. "I've come here to play, not to watch. Which stick—?"
"Club—they are called clubs," said Amanda.
"Club—that's what they're called," Amanda said.
"Why?" inquired Aunt Susannah.
"Why?" asked Aunt Susannah.
"I—I don't know," faltered Amanda. "Do you Laurence?"
"I—I don't know," Amanda hesitated. "Do you, Laurence?"
I did not know, and said so.
I didn't know, and I said that.
"Then I shall certainly call them sticks," said Aunt Susannah decisively. "They are not in the least like clubs."
"Then I will definitely call them sticks," Aunt Susannah said firmly. "They are nothing like clubs."
"Shall I drive off?" I inquired desperately of Amanda.
"Should I drive away?" I asked Amanda desperately.
"Drive off? Where to? Why are you going away?" asked Aunt Susannah. "Besides, you can't go—the carriage is out of sight."
"Drive off? Where to? Why are you leaving?" Aunt Susannah asked. "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.
"The way you start is called driving off," I explained slowly. "Like this." I drove nervously, feeling her gaze on me. The ball went about a dozen yards.
"That seems easy enough," said Aunt Susannah. "Give me a stick, child."
"That seems simple enough," Aunt Susannah said. "Hand me a stick, kid."
"Not that end—the other end!" cried Amanda, as our relative prepared to make her stroke with the butt-end.
"Not that end—the other end!" shouted Amanda, as our relative got ready to take her shot 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.
"Wow! Isn't that the handle?" she said happily; then she turned her club around, swung it, and chopped a big chunk out of the course. "Where did it go? Where did it go?" she shouted, looking around frantically.
"It—it isn't gone," said Amanda nervously, and pointed to the ball still lying at her feet.
"It—it's not gone," Amanda said nervously, pointing 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."
"What an incredible thing!" exclaimed Aunt Susannah; and she tried again, with exactly the same result. "Give me another stick!" she insisted. "Let me pick for myself—this one doesn’t work for me. I’ll take that flat one."
"But that's a putter," Amanda explained agonisedly.
"But that's a putter," Amanda explained, frustrated.
"What's a putter? You said just now that they were all clubs," said Aunt Susannah, pausing.
"What's a putter? You just said they were all clubs," Aunt Susannah said, pausing.
"They are all clubs," I explained patiently. "But each has a different name."
"They're all clubs," I explained patiently. "But each one has a different name."
"You don't mean to say you give them names like a little girl with her dolls?" cried Aunt [Pg 157] 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.
"You can't be serious that you name them like a little girl names her dolls?" Aunt [Pg 157] Susannah exclaimed. "That's such a childish game!" She laughed loudly. "Anyway," she said with that stubbornness that some of her friends call by a different name, "I’m sure this will be much easier to play with!" She took the putter and somehow managed to hit the ball a long way.
"Oh, splendid!" cried Amanda. Her troubled [Pg 158] 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.
"Oh, awesome!" Amanda exclaimed. Her worried brow relaxed a bit, and she tried to follow suit, but with only fair success. Aunt Susannah noted that her ball had gone farther than either of ours and held onto her putter tightly.
"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.
"It's a better game than I thought it would be from your description," she admitted. "Oh, I definitely think I’ll come to enjoy it. I need to come and practice every day." We exchanged a look filled with silent dread, and Aunt Susannah, after a few decent shots, successfully made her final putt. "What’s next?" she asked.
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.
I quickly set up her ball on the second tee, but luck in golf is famously unpredictable. She swung her club and missed completely. She swung again and hit the ground.
"Why can't I do it?" she demanded, turning fiercely upon me.
"Why can't I do it?" she asked, spinning around to face me angrily.
"You keep losing your feet," I explained deferentially.
"You keep losing your balance," I explained respectfully.
"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!"
"Spare me your awful slang, Laurence!" she exclaimed, turning back to me like a whirlwind. "If you think I’ve lost my temper—which is ridiculous!—then at least have the guts to say it in plain English!"
"Oh, no, Aunt Susannah!" I said. "You don't understand——"
"Oh, no, Aunt Susannah!" I said. "You don't get it——"
"Or want to," she snapped. "Of all silly games——"
"Or want to," she snapped. "Of all the ridiculous 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."
"I mean you misunderstood me," I said, shaking. "Your foot slipped, and that messed up your shot. You should have studs in your boots, like we do."
"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!"
"Oh!" Aunt Susannah said, still somewhat upset. But she finally managed to knock her ball out and send it into a bunker. At that moment, Amanda suddenly grabbed my arm. "Oh, Laurence!" she said in a chilling whisper. "What are we going to do? Here comes 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.
The worst had happened. The most volatile guy in the club, the oldest member, the best player, the biggest stickler for etiquette, was on our heels; and Aunt Susannah, with a fierce and determined look, was trying to get her ball up the bunker, only to see it roll back again.
"Dear Auntie," said Amanda, in her sweetest voice, "you had much better take it out."
"Dear Auntie," Amanda said in her sweetest voice, "you should really take it out."
"Is that allowed?" inquired our relative suspiciously.
"Is that allowed?" our relative asked suspiciously.
"Oh, you may always do that and lose a stroke!" I assured her eagerly.
"Oh, you can always do that and end up losing a point!" 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!"
"I won't even think about losing a stroke!" Aunt Susannah said firmly. "I'll get it out of this ditch by any means necessary, even if I have to spend all day on it!"
"Then do you mind waiting one moment?" I said, with the calmness of despair. "There is a player behind us——"
"Could you please wait a moment?" I said, with a calmness that masked my despair. "There’s a player behind us—"
"Let him stay behind us! I was here first," said Aunt Susannah; and she returned to her bunker.
"Let him stay behind us! I was here first," said Aunt Susannah, and she went back 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.
The Links rose up in a small hill right behind us, so our successor couldn't see us until he got to the first hole. I stood with my eyes fixed on the spot where he might show up. I imagined, like a bad dream, the harsh comments that would make it into the Suggestion Book. I wished for a quick and easy end.
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 [Pg 164] Susannah looked hard at each other. Then he began to hurry down the slope, while she started briskly up it.
At the moment Colonel Bartlemy's red face appeared on the horizon, Aunt Susannah, flushed but undeterred, paused for a moment to catch her breath from the hard work. He had noticed her. Amanda closed her eyes. As for me, I would have run away without hesitation if there had been anywhere to go. The Colonel and Aunt Susannah stared at each other intently. Then he began to hurry down the slope while she started up it briskly.
"Miss Cadwalader!" said the Colonel.
"Miss Cadwalader!" the Colonel said.
"Colonel Bartlemy!" cried Aunt Susannah; and they met with effusion.
"Colonel Bartlemy!" exclaimed Aunt Susannah; and they greeted each other warmly.
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 saw Amanda's eyes open wide with amazed interest. I knew exactly that she had picked up on a past romance and was already figuring out the best wedding outfit for Aunt Susannah. A desperate hope filled me that, in that case, the Colonel's feelings might turn out to be stronger than his passion for golf. They were walking down to us slowly, and the topic of their conversation reached my shocked ears.
"I'm afraid you don't think much of these Links, after yours," Colonel Bartlemy was saying anxiously. "They are rather new——"
"I'm afraid you don't think much of these links after yours," Colonel Bartlemy said anxiously. "They are pretty 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!"
"Oh, I've played on much worse," said Aunt Susannah, glancing around with a careful eye. "Let me think—I haven't seen you since you won at Craigmory. Congrats!"
"Approbation from Sir Hubert Stanley!" purred the Colonel, evidently much gratified. "You will be here for the twenty-seventh, I hope?"
"Approval from Sir Hubert Stanley!" purred the Colonel, clearly quite pleased. "I hope you’ll be here for the twenty-seventh?"
"Exactly what I came for," said Aunt Susannah calmly.
"Exactly what I came for," Aunt Susannah said 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.
"Even though I have no idea what our ladies will think about playing against the Cranford Champion!" chuckled the Colonel; and then they finally acknowledged our presence. We had never realized before just how small one can 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, what am I supposed to say? You must think we're so foolish!" I said sadly to her, when the Colonel was out of earshot searching for his ball. "We’re such inexperienced players ourselves—and of course we never imagined——"
Aunt Susannah twinkled at me in a friendly manner. "There's an ancient proverb about eggs and grandmothers," she remarked cheerfully.
Aunt Susannah smiled at me warmly. "There's an old saying about eggs and grandmothers," she said happily.
"There should be a modern form for golf-balls and aunts—hey, Laurence?"
"There should be a modern version for golf balls and aunts—right, 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.
Amanda didn’t win the prize brooch; Aunt Susannah did, despite a big disadvantage, and gave it to her. She doesn’t wear it often—maybe because rubies don’t look good on her, or maybe because the memories attached to it are too painful.
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.]
[The sudden drop in popularity of ping-pong, which once drew many golfers away from the more prestigious sport, has created a noticeable emptiness for these former players. Some of them, feeling a bit ashamed, are unsure about going back to what they originally loved. The conclusion of the following lines should inspire this group of wayward enthusiasts.]
Just for a celluloid pillule he left us,
Just for a small movie clip he left us,
Just for an imbecile batlet and ball,
Just for a foolish game of bat and ball,
These were the toys by which Fortune bereft us
These were the toys that Fortune took away from us.
Of Jennings, our captain, the pride of us all.
Of Jennings, our captain, the pride of us all.
Shopmen with clubs to sell handed him rackets,
Shopkeepers with clubs to sell handed him rackets,
Rackets of sand-paper, rubber and felt,
Rackets made of sandpaper, rubber, and felt,
Said to secure an unplayable service,
Said to guarantee an unbeatable service,
Pestilent screws and the death-dealing welt.
Pestilent screws and the deadly welt.
Oft had we played with him, partnered him, sworn by him,
Oftentimes we played with him, teamed up with him, and made promises to him,
Copied his pitches in height and in cut,
Copied his pitches in height and cut,
Hung on his words as he delved in a bunker,
Hung on his words as he delved into a bunker,
Made him our pattern to drive and to putt.
Made him our model for driving and putting.
Benedick's with us, the major is of us,
Benedick's with us, the major is with us,
Swiper the county bat's still going strong;
Swiper the county bat is still going strong;
He alone broke from the links and the clubhouse,
He was the only one who broke away from the chains and the clubhouse,
He alone sank in the slough of ping-pong.
He alone got stuck in the mess of ping-pong.
We have "come on"—but not his the example;
We have "come on"—but not by his example;
Sloe-gin has quickened us—not his the cash;
Sloe gin has energized us—not his the money;
Holes done in 6 where a 4 would be ample
Holes made in 6 where a 4 would be enough
Vexed him not, busy perfecting a smash.
Vexed him not, focused on perfecting a smash.
Rased was his name as a decadent angel,
Rased was his name as a fallen angel,
One more mind unhinged by a piffulent game,
One more mind affected by a ridiculous game,
One more parlour-hero, the worshipped of school-girls
One more lounge hero, adored by schoolgirls.
Who once had a princely "plus 5" to his name.
Who once had a royal "plus 5" to his name.
Jennings is gone; yet perhaps he'll come back to us,
Jennings is gone, but maybe he'll return to us.
Healed of his hideous lesion of brain,
Healed of his terrible brain injury,
Back to the links in the daytime; at twilight
Back to the links during the day; at dusk
Back to his cosy club corner again.
Back to his cozy spot in the club again.
Back for the medal day, back for our foursomes,
Back for medal day, back for our doubles,
Back from the tables' diminishing throng,
Back from the dwindling crowd at the tables,
Back from the infantile, ceaseless half-volley,
Back from the childish, nonstop half-volley,
Back from the lunatic lure of ping-pong.
Back from the crazy allure of ping-pong.
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."
The Polite Response.—(The Major-General waiting to drive, to a girl carrying a baby, who blocks the way). "Now, please move along with that baby."
Girl. "Garn! Baby yerself, playing at ball there in your knickerbockers an' all!"
Girl. "Wow! Look at you, playing ball in your shorts and everything!"
A GOLF TOURNAMENT IN YE TIME OF YE ROMANS
A GOLF TOURNAMENT IN THE TIME OF THE ROMANS
From a rare old frieze (not) in ye British Museum.
From a rare old frieze not in the British Museum.
"Anyway, it's better to break one's——clubs than to lose one's —— —— temper!!"
"Anyway, it's better to break someone's —— clubs than to lose someone's —— —— temper!!"
A Place for Everything.—Obstructive Lady (in reply to the golfer's warning call). "The whole world wasn't made for golf, sir."
A place for everything.—Obstructive Lady (in reply to the golfer's warning call). "The entire world wasn’t created for golf, sir."
Youngster. "No; but the links wis. 'Fore!"
Kid. "No; but the links wis. 'Fore!"
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.
Unfortunate situation for Mr. Pottles, whose reckless driving has just hit the irritable old Colonel Curry right in the ribs while he was out for his daily jog.
Aunt Jabisca (pointing to earnest golfer endeavouring to play out of quarry). "Dear me, Maud, what a respectably dressed man that is breaking stones!"
Aunt Jabisca (pointing to an earnest golfer trying to play out of a quarry). "Goodness, Maud, what a well-dressed man he is breaking stones!"
Suggestion for a rainy day. Spillikins on a grand scale.
Suggestion for a rainy day: giant pick-up sticks.
GOLF À LA WATTEAU—AND OTHERWISE
GOLF À LA WATTEAU—AND MORE
Major Brummel (comparing the length of his and his opponent's "drives"). "I think I'm shorter than Mr. Simkins?"
Major Brummel (comparing the length of his and his opponent's "drives"). "I believe 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!"
Small Caddie (a newcomer, feeling really flattered to be asked, as he thinks, to judge their looks). "Yeah, sure, and fatter too, sir!"
[Delight of the gallant Major.]
[Joy of the brave Major.]
ARRY AT GOLF.
Arrive at Golf.
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!"
Miss Dora (to Major Putter, who is playing an important match and has just lost his ball). "Oh, Major, please come and take your awful ball away from my little dog. He won't let me touch it, and I know he must be damaging his teeth!"
Tennis Player (from London). "Don't see the fun o' this game—knockin' a ball into a bush, and then 'untin' about for it!"
Tennis Player (from London). "I don’t get the fun of this game—hitting a ball into a bush and then hunting around for it!"
THE AMERICAN HUSBAND.
THE AMERICAN SPOUSE.
THE ENGLISH WIFE.
THE ENGLISH WIFE.
A TOO-FEEBLE EXPLETIVE
A weak curse
MacSymon. "I saw you were carrying for the professor yesterday, Sandy. How does he play?"
MacSymon. "I noticed 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'?"
Sandy. "Hey, that guy will never get it right. Do you know what he says when he messes up a ball?"
MacSymon. "No. What does he say?"
MacSymon. "No. What does he mean?"
Sandy. "'Tut-tut!'"
Sandy. "Tut-tut!"
THE LINKS
'Tis a brilliant autumn day,
It's a beautiful autumn day,
And the breeze has blown away
And the breeze has blown away
All the clouds that lowered gray;
All the gray clouds that hung low;
So methinks,
So I think,
As I've half an hour to spare,
As I have half an hour to kill,
I will go and take the air,
I’m going to go outside and get some fresh air,
While the weather still is fair,
While the weather is still nice,
On the Links.
On the Golf Course.
I admire the splendid view,
I love the amazing view,
The delicious azure hue
The tasty blue color
Of the ocean and—when, whew!
Of the ocean and—when, wow!
With a crack,
With a crack,
Lo! there drops a little ball
Lo! there drops a little ball
Which elects to break its fall
Which chooses to break its fall
By alighting on the small
By landing on the small
Of my back.
Of my back.
In the distance someone cries
Someone is crying in the distance.
Some remark about my eyes,
Something about my eyes,
None too pleasant, I surmise,
Not very pleasant, I guess,
From the tone;
From the vibe;
So away my steps I turn
So, I walk away.
Till a figure I discern,
Until I see a figure,
Who is mouching by the burn
Who is hanging out by the creek
All alone.
All by myself.
He has lost a new "Eclipse,"
He has lost a new "Eclipse,"
And a little word that slips
And a little word that sneaks
From his sulky-looking lips
From his pouty lips
Tells me true
Tell me the truth.
That, besides the missing ball,
That, besides the lost ball,
Which is gone beyond recall,
Which is beyond recall,
He has lost—what's worst of all—
He has lost—what's the worst part of all—
Temper, too.
Chill out, too.
I conclude it will be best
I conclude it would be best
If I leave him unaddressed,
If I leave him ignored,
Such a melancholy quest
Such a sad journey
To pursue;
To chase;
And I pass to where I spy
And I move to where I see
Clouds of sand uprising high
Sand clouds rising high
Till they all but hide the sky
Till they nearly hide the sky
From the view.
From the perspective.
They proceed, I understand,
They go ahead, I get it,
From a bunker full of sand,
From a sand bunker,
Where a golfer, club in hand,
Where a golfer, club in hand,
Freely swears
Curses freely
As he hacks with all his might,
As he swings with all his strength,
Till his countenance is quite
Until his face is completely
As vermilion as the bright
As bright as vermilion
Coat he wears.
Coat he's wearing.
I observe him for a while
I watch him for a bit.
With a highly-tickled smile,
With a big smile,
For it is the queerest style
For it's the weirdest style
Ever seen:
Ever seen it?
He is very short and stout,
He is very short and stocky,
And he knocks the ball about,
And he hits the ball around,
But he never gets it out
But he never takes it out
On the green.
On the field.
Still I watch him chop and hack,
Still, I watch him chop and hack,
Till I hear a sudden crack,
Till I hear a sudden crack,
And the club-head makes a track
And the clubhead creates a path
In the light—
In the spotlight—
There's a startled cry of "FORE!"
There's a surprised shout of "FORE!"
As it flies, and all is o'er!—
As it flies, and everything is done!—
I remember nothing more
I don't remember anything else.
Till to-night,
Until tonight,
When I find myself in bed
When I'm in bed
With a lump upon my head
With a bump on my head
Like a penny loaf of bread;
Like a cheap loaf of bread;
And methinks,
I think,
For the future I'll take care
For the future, I'll be careful.
When I want a little air,
When I need some fresh air,
That I won't go anywhere
I'm not going anywhere.
Near the Links.
Close to the Links.
THE MISERIES OF A VERY AMATEUR GOLFER
THE STRUGGLES OF A NOVICE 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!
He’s really shy, and unfortunately, he has to drive off in front of the lady champion and a big crowd. He puts in a huge effort. The ball goes at least five yards!
Golfer. "And what's your name?"
Golfer. "What's your name?"
Caddie. "They ca' me 'breeks, but ma maiden name is Christy."
Caddie. "They call me 'breeks, but my maiden name is Christy."
"Mummy, what's that man for?"
"Mom, what's that man for?"
Distinction without Difference.—Sensitive Golfer (who has foozled). "Did you laugh at me, boy?"
Distinction without difference.—Sensitive Golfer (who has messed up). "Did you laugh at me, kid?"
Caddie. "No, sir; I wis laughin' at anither man."
Caddie. "No, sir; I was laughing at another guy."
Sensitive Golfer. "And what's funny about him?"
Sensitive Golfer. "What's so funny about him?"
Caddie. "He plays gowf awfu' like you, sir!"
Caddie. "He plays golf just like you, sir!"
Jones cannot see his ball anywhere, although he is positive it fell about there somewhere.
Jones can’t find his ball anywhere, but he’s sure it dropped around here somewhere.
NEVER HAVE A CADDIE WITH A SQUINT!
They told me he was skilful, and assiduous, and true,
They said he was skilled, hardworking, and loyal,
They told me he had "carried" for the bravest and the best.
They said he had "carried" for the bravest and the best.
His hair was soldier-scarlet, and his eyes were saucer blue,
His hair was bright red, and his eyes were a deep blue,
And one seemed looking eastward, whilst the other fronted west.
And one looked east, while the other faced west.
His strabismus was a startler, and it shook my nerve at once;
His strabismus was shocking, and it rattled my nerves immediately;
It affected me with dizziness, like gazing from a height.
It made me feel dizzy, like looking down from a high place.
I straddled like a duffer, and I wavered like a dunce,
I sat awkwardly and hesitated like a fool,
And my right hand felt a left one, and my left felt far from right.
And my right hand felt like a left one, and my left felt completely off.
As I watched him place my ball with his visual axes crossed,
As I watched him set my ball with his eyes crossed,
The very sunshine glimmered, with a queer confusing glint,
The sunlight sparkled with a strange, confusing gleam,
I felt like a sick lubber on Atlantic surges tossed—
I felt like a sick slug tossed around by the Atlantic waves—
Oh! never have a caddie with a squint!
Oh! never have a caddy with a squint!
I'm an "irritable duffer"—so my enemies declare,—
I'm an "irritable old fool"—or so my enemies say,—
That is I'm very sensitive, and play a modest game.
That means I'm really sensitive and play it cool.
A very little puts me off my stroke, and, standing there,
A tiny thing can throw me off my game, and, standing there,
With his boot-heels at right angles, and his optics much the same,
With his boot heels at right angles and his eyes looking much the same,
He maddened me—no less, and I felt that all success
He drove me crazy—no doubt about it, and I felt that all success
Against bumptious young McBungo—was impossible that day.
Against arrogant young McBungo—it was impossible that day.
I'd have parted with a fiver to have beaten him. His dress
I'd have given five bucks to have beaten him. His outfit
Was so very very swagger, and his scarlet cap so gay.
Was so very swagger, and his bright red cap so cheerful.
He eyed my cross-eyed caddie with a supercilious smirk,
He looked at my cross-eyed caddie with a condescending smirk,
I tried to set my features, and my nerves, like any flint;
I tried to steady my expression and my nerves, like a piece of flint;
But my "knicker'd" knees were knocking as I wildly set to work.
But my knees were shaking as I frantically got to work.
Oh! never have a caddie with a squint!
Oh! never have a caddie with a squint!
I tried to look away from the spoiler of my play,
I tried to look away from the spoiler of my play,
But for fiendish fascination he was like a squinting snake;
But for a wicked allure, he was like a squinting snake;
All the muffings man can muff I contrived to muff that day;
All the muffins a man can muff, I managed to muff that day;
My eyes were all askew and my nerves were all ashake.
My eyes were all out of focus and my nerves were all rattled.
I seemed to squint myself, and not only with my eyes,
I felt like I was squinting, and not just with my eyes,
My knees, my hands, my elbows, with obliquity were rife.
My knees, my hands, my elbows, were all twisted and sore.
McBungo's sleek sham sympathy and sinister surprise
McBungo's polished fake sympathy and creepy surprise
Made almost insupportable the burden of my life.
Made the burden of my life almost unbearable.
He was so beastly friendly, and he was so blazing fair,
He was so incredibly friendly, and he was so exceptionally good-looking,
So fulsomely effusive with suggestion, tip, and hint!
So excessively overflowing with suggestion, advice, and hints!
And all the while that caddie stood serenely cock-eyed there.
And all the while that caddie stood calmly, a bit off-center there.
Oh! never have a caddie with a squint!
Oh! never have a caddie with a squint!
Miss Binks was looking on! On that maiden I was gone,
Miss Binks was watching! I was done for with that girl,
Just as she was gone on golf, in perfervid Scottish style.
Just as she was obsessed with golf, in passionate Scottish style.
On my merits with McBungo I should just about have won,
On my own with McBungo, I should have just about won,
But my shots to-day were such as made even Effie smile;
But my shots today were good enough to even make Effie smile;
Oh, the lumps of turf I lifted! Oh, the easy balls I missed!
Oh, the chunks of grass I picked up! Oh, the easy shots I missed!
Oh, the bunkers I got bogged in! And at last a gentle scorn
Oh, the bunkers I got stuck in! And finally, a slight scorn
Curled the lips I would have given my pet "Putter" to have kissed.
Curled my lips, I would have given anything to have kissed my pet "Putter."
Such a bungler as myself her loved links had never borne;
Such a clumsy person like me had never experienced her loved connections.
And all the while McBungo—the young crocodile!—bewailed
And all the while McBungo—the young crocodile!—cried out
What he called my "beastly luck," though his joy was plain as print,
What he referred to as my "terrible luck," even though his happiness was obvious.
Whilst that squint grew worse and worse at each shot of mine which failed.
While that squint got worse and worse with each of my missed shots.
Oh! never have a caddie with a squint!
Oh! Never have a caddy with a squint!
In "playing through the green" with my "brassie" I was seen
In "playing through the green" with my "brassie," I was seen
At most dismal disadvantage on that miserable day;
At the worst disadvantage on that gloomy day;
He pointed through the rushes with cock-eyed, sardonic spleen,—
He pointed through the reeds with a twisted, sarcastic anger,—
I followed his squint guidance, and I struck a yard away;
I followed his narrowed gaze, and I hit a yard away;
But, oh! 'twas worst of all, when I tried to hole the ball.
But, oh! it was the worst of all when I tried to hit the ball.
Oh, the ogre! How he squinted at that crisis of the game!
Oh, the ogre! How he glared at that critical moment in the game!
His hideous strabismus held me helpless, a blind thrall
His terrible squint had me powerless, completely entranced.
Shattered my nerves completely, put my skill to open shame.
Shattered my nerves completely, put my skills to open shame.
That squint would, I am sure, have upset the solar system—
That squint would, I'm sure, have thrown off the solar system—
Oho! the impish impudence, the gruesome goggle-glint!
Oho! the cheeky audacity, the creepy gleam in the eyes!
The low, malicious chuckle, as he softly muttered, "Missed 'im!"
The low, wicked laugh, as he quietly said, "Missed him!"
No, never have a caddie with a squint!
No, never have a caddy with a squint!
Yet all the same McBungo did not get that rich Miss Binks,
Yet still, McBungo did not end up with that wealthy Miss Binks,
Who was so sweet in every way, especially on golf.
Who was so nice in every way, especially when it came to golf.
He fancied he had cut me out that day upon those links,
He thought he had excluded me that day on the golf course,
But although he won the game—at golf, his love-game came not off.
But even though he won the game—at golf, his romantic pursuit didn't succeed.
He and that demon caddie tried between them very hard
He and that demon caddie really tried their best.
To shame me in the eyes of that dear enthusiast,
To embarrass me in front of that dear fan,
But—well, my clubs she carries, whilst McBungo, evil-starred,
But—well, she carries my clubs, while McBungo, cursed by fate,
Was caught by a Scotch vixen with an obvious optic cast!
Was caught by a Scottish vixen with a noticeable eye misalignment!
That's Nemesis, I say! And she will not let him play
That's Nemesis, I say! And she won't let him play.
At the game he so adores. True she's wealthy as the Mint.
At the game he loves so much. It's true she's as rich as can be.
At golf, with Effie, I have passed many a happy day,
At golf, with Effie, I have spent many joyful days,
But—we never have a caddie with a squint!
But—we never have a caddy with a squint!
A caddie who's a duffer, or a caddie who gets drunk;
A caddy who's a beginner or a caddy who gets drunk;
A caddie who regards all other caddies as his foes;
A caddie who sees all other caddies as his enemies;
A caddie who will snigger when you fumble, fail or funk;
A caddie who will chuckle when you mess up, fail, or hesitate;
A caddie who will whistle, or seems ever on the doze;
A caddie who will whistle or always seems to be dozing off;
A caddie who's too tiny, or too big and broad of bulk;
A caddie who’s too small, or too large and bulky;
A caddie who gets playing with your clubs upon the sly;
A caddie who secretly plays with your clubs;
A caddie who will chatter, or a caddie who will sulk;
A caddie who will talk a lot, or a caddie who will be moody;
All these are calculated a golf devotee to try;
All these are meant for a golf enthusiast to attempt;
All these are most vexatious to a golfer of repute;
All of this is really frustrating for a well-known golfer;
And still more so to a novice. But just take a friendly hint!
And even more so for a beginner. But here’s a friendly tip!
Take a caddie who's a duffer, or a drunkard, or a brute,
Take a caddie who's inexperienced, or a drunk, or a bully,
But never try a caddie with a squint!!!
But never hire a caddie with a squint!
Another Lenten Sacrifice.—Golf Caddie (to Curate). "High tee, sir?"
Another Lenten sacrifice.—Golf Caddie (to Curate). "Tee it high, sir?"
Curate. "No; put it on the ground. I give up sand during Lent."
Curate. "No; place it on the ground. I give up sand for Lent."
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?"
Voice from the Hill. "Alright, you young coward, don’t just stand there all day. Why don’t you take it away from the dog?"
Boy (to young lady, who has been unfortunate enough to upset Colonel Bunker). "You'd better ride on before 'e gets 'is breath, miss!"
Boy (to the young lady, who has unfortunately upset Colonel Bunker). "You should probably ride on before he catches his breath, miss!"
Young Lady. "Why?"
Young Lady. "Why not?"
Boy. "I've 'eard 'im play golf!!!"
Boy. "I've heard him play golf!!!"
A GROWL FROM GOLFLAND
Bores there are of various species, of the platform, of the quill,
Bores come in different types, such as the platform type and the quill type,
Bores obsessed by Christian Science or the Education Bill,
Bores obsessed with Christian Science or the Education Bill,
But the most exasperating and intolerable bore
But the most frustrating and unbearable bore
Is the man who talks of nothing but the latest "rubber core."
Is the guy who only talks about the latest "rubber core."
Place him in the Great Sahara, plant him on an Arctic floe,
Place him in the Great Sahara, set him on an Arctic ice floe,
Or a desert island, fifteen thousand miles from Westward Ho!
Or a desert island, fifteen thousand miles from Westward Ho!
Pick him up a twelvemonth later, and I'll wager that you find
Pick him up a year later, and I bet you'll find
Rubber filling versus gutty still and solely on his mind.
Rubber filling versus gutty was still the only thing on his mind.
O American invaders, I accept your beef, your boots,
O American invaders, I acknowledge your conflict, your footwear,
Your historical romances, and your Californian fruits;
Your historical romances and your California fruits;
But in tones of humble protest I am tempted to exclaim,
But in tones of modest protest, I feel the urge to exclaim,
"Can't you draw the line at commerce, can't you spare one British game?"
"Can't you set boundaries when it comes to business, can't you give up one British game?"
I am but a simple duffer; I am quite prepared to state
I’m just an average person; I’m totally willing to say
That my lowest round on record was a paltry 88;
That my lowest score on record was just 88;
That my partner in a foursome needs the patience of a Job,
That my partner in a foursome needs the patience of Job,
That in moments of excitement I am apt to miss the globe.
That in moments of excitement I tend to miss the world.
With my brassy and my putter I am very far to seek,
With my driver and my putter, I have a long way to go,
Generally slice to cover with my iron and my cleek;
Generally slice to cover with my club and my iron;
But I boast a single virtue: I can honestly maintain
But I have one quality I can take pride in: I can genuinely keep
I've escaped the fatal fever known as Haskell on the brain.
I've escaped the deadly fever known as Haskell on the brain.
A golf case was recently before the Court of Appeal. Why not a Golf Court on the links?
A golf case was recently presented to the Court of Appeal. Why not a Golf Court on the course?
GOLF VICTOR!
Sir Golf and Sir Tennis are fighting like mad—
Sir Golf and Sir Tennis are fighting like crazy—
Now Sir Tennis is blown, and Sir Golf's right above him,
Now Sir Tennis is out of breath, and Sir Golf is right above him,
And his face has a look that is weary and sad,
And his face looks tired and sad,
As he hastily turns to the ladies who love him,
As he quickly turns to the women who adore him,
But the racket falls from him, he totters, and swirls,
But the racket falls from him, he stumbles, and spins,
As he hears them cry, "Golf is the game for the girls!"
As he hears them shout, "Golf is the sport for girls!"
The girls crave for freedom, they cannot endure
The girls long for freedom; they can't stand
To be cramped up at tennis in courts that are poky
To be stuck playing tennis in tiny courts that are cramped
And they are all of them certainly, perfectly sure
And they are all definitely, perfectly sure.
That they'll never again touch "that horrible croquet,"
That they'll never play "that awful croquet" again,
Where it's quite on the cards that they may play with papa,
Where it's very likely that they might play with dad,
And where all that goes on is surveyed by mamma,
And where all that happens is watched by mom,
To golf on the downs for the whole of the day
To play golf on the downs all day long
Is "so awfully jolly," they keep on asserting,
Is "so incredibly cheerful," they keep insisting,
With a good-looking fellow to teach you the way,
With a handsome guy to show you the ropes,
And to fill up the time with some innocent flirting,
And to pass the time with some harmless flirting,
And it may be the maiden is woo'd and is won,
And it might be that the young woman is courted and has found her partner,
Ere the whole of the round is completed and done.
Ere the entire round is finished and complete.
Henceforward, then, golf is the game for the fair—
Henceforth, golf is the game for the fair—
At home, and abroad, or in pastures colonial,
At home, overseas, or in colonial lands,
And the shouts of the ladies will quite fill the air
And the ladies' shouts will completely fill the air.
For the links that will turn into bonds matrimonial,
For the connections that will become marriage bonds,
And for husbands our daughters in future will seek
And in the future, our daughters will look for husbands.
With the powerful aid of the putter and cleek!
With the strong support of the putter and cleek!
BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.
BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.
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