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 B? 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 So much has been written of late about Golf 
 and Golfers that I have some hesitation in adding 
 to the literature of the game. 
 
 There is not much in this book which is 
 serious, but, happily. Golf is not always taken 
 seriously ; in fact, most Golf is humorous — in 
 many cases ludicrous. / 
 
 Many of the articles have been written specially 
 for this volume : some are reprinted from College 
 Echoes, the University Magazine : for others, I 
 am deeply indebted to the very great kindness 
 of Mr. Andrew Lang : Mrs. Anstruther Thomson 
 and Messrs. Longmans & Co. have allowed mc to 
 use ' The Devil's Round,' and for the portrait of 
 the Champion I have to thank Mr. Hodge. 
 
 R. BARCLAY. 
 
 St. Mary's College, 
 St. Andrews, N.B. July 1892.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Lines on Golf. By R. F. Murray, . 
 
 The Chelaii's Round. By Andrew Lang, . 
 
 Socrates on the Links. By Andrew Lang, 
 
 Herodotus in Saint /Vndrews. By Andrciu Lang, 
 
 A Song of Life and Goi.f. By Andrew Lang, 
 
 Dr. Johnson on the Links. By Andreio L^ang, 
 
 Ballade of the Duffer. By JV. Cainc, . 
 
 Hugh Kirkcaldy. By K. Barclay, 
 
 The Golfing Ghost. By K. Barelay, 
 
 The Devil's Round. By Mrs. Anslruthcr Thomson, 
 
 Academic Golf. By K. Barelay, 
 
 The Caddies of St. Andrews. By K. JVhyic Gibson, 
 
 Classics for the Clubmen. By Andrc2u Lang, 
 
 Always One Hole Down. By IV. Dalrymple, 
 
 The Home of Golf. By R, Barclay, 
 
 A Visit to Gofftoon. By A. C. Morrison, 
 
 The Graduate in Golf. By R. Barclay, , 
 
 Dictionary of Golf. By D. Irons, .
 
 LINES ON BEING ASKED 
 TO CONTRIBUTE TO THIS BOOK 
 
 By R. F. MURRAY 
 
 Some words on Golf I am desired to utter : 
 I, who care nothing for the noble game, 
 
 Who do not know a niblick from a putter 
 (Perhaps they are the same) ; 
 
 I, who have suffered by the hour together 
 From idle blockheads talking golfer's shop, 
 
 Until I had to introduce the weather 
 Or the potato crop. 
 
 Not that all golfers are such bores to be with ; 
 
 Some, I believe, are reasonable men. 
 Some, whose acquaintance Fate has favoured 
 me with, 
 I would not meet again. 
 A
 
 2 LINES 
 
 And now the terror of their conversation 
 Confines itself no more to living speech. 
 
 Take any paper for an illustration : — 
 Golf is the theme of each. 
 
 The Scotsman and Dispatch a column lavish 
 
 When Old Tom Morris opens a new green ; 
 
 They grudged five lines when Doctor Neil 
 M'Tavish 
 Opened a church at Skene. 
 
 The English papers find the game seductive, 
 The very magazines and the reviews 
 
 Print verse and prose which is, I hope, instructive, 
 For it does not amuse. 
 
 If devotees of football and of cricket 
 
 Should clog the press with innings and with 
 maul, 
 And rabid scribes be always on the wicket, 
 
 Or always on the ball —
 
 LINES 3 
 
 As devotees of golf, with frenz}^ drunker, 
 Riot in type and suffer no control, 
 
 And rabid scribes are always in a bunker, 
 Or always in a hole — 
 
 Would people stand the former like the latter ? 
 An answer to the question might be guessed. 
 
 But since this is a book on Golf, no matter- 
 Silence perhaps is best.
 
 THE CHELAH'S ROUND 
 
 A MODERN ROMANCE 
 
 By ANDREW LANG 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 The odds against John M'Gummidge's winning 
 the Golf Medal were, according to the Professor 
 of Mathematics, ' humanly speaking, incalculable.' 
 M'Gummidge was a Freshman : he was long, 
 lathy, ungainly, and wore spectacles. Never had 
 he been seen on the Links, not even taking 
 solitary exercise with a short spoon. His only 
 companion, a singular figure, was a student from 
 Northern Hindustan. The Bobhachy Lai Rumun 
 deserves a more particular description. The snows 
 of an unknown number of winters flowed over the 
 collar of his gown, while his silver beard (which in
 
 THE CHELA H'S ROUND 5 
 
 rainy weather he tucked into his boots) gave him 
 an aspect particularly venerable, but in no way 
 sporting. Rumour ascribed to the Bobhachy a 
 longevity beyond the aspirations of romance, and 
 it was believed that ever since the days of Akbar 
 he had inhabited a cave in the Northern Hima- 
 layan slopes. A clear, airy, tinkling sound, as of 
 a claret glass lightly touched, which was occasion- 
 ally heard when the Bobhachy was present — 
 especially in Lecture — had in no way endeared 
 him to his teachers. But as he explained that the 
 mystic note was entirely beyond his own control, 
 and merely meant that a Mahatma (or initiated 
 Sage) in Thibet or Afghanistan was anxious to 
 converse with him in the spirit, of course censure 
 was unjust and expostulation fruitless. 
 
 The Bobhachy could not be blamed, though it 
 was remembered that the German Chelah in ]\Ir. 
 Anstey's Fallen Idol said — ' They are not chentle- 
 men in Thibet.' Why the Bobhachy at his tim.e 
 of life (or trance rather) had sought a Northern
 
 6 THE CHELA irS ROUND 
 
 University was variously explained. The most 
 popular theory was that his parents had been too 
 destitute to afford the usual fee for manners in 
 Thibetan Colleges (two annas), and that he was 
 now endeavouring, though late in life, to supply 
 the deficiency of his early education. 
 
 The Bobhachy's mode of existence, like that of 
 his only intimate (M'Gummidge), was solitary and 
 far from gay. A cave under the Castle Rock, and 
 just above high water, was thought to be their 
 inexpensive lodging, and it was reported that they 
 tasted nothing which had ever breathed the breath 
 of life. A handful of pulse, the rain-water from 
 the rock, served to nourish the fire of existence, 
 which, on such fuel, burns ' with a hard gem-like 
 flame,' Bobhachy said. 
 
 Though M'Gummidge was an assiduous attend- 
 ant of philosophical lectures, there were some 
 who whispered that under the teaching of 
 Bobhachy he was really pursuing that mystic or 
 Esoteric Vedanta which has been successfully
 
 THE CHELAN'S ROUND 7 
 
 concealed from European inquisitiveness. In 
 short, he was, perhaps, a ' Chelah,' or pupil of the 
 venerable old Hindu. News of this course of 
 study could not but agitate the parental mind 
 when it was conveyed to the distant shores of 
 St. Kilda, and to the lonely manse where Mr. 
 M'Gummidge the elder tended his little flock. 
 But still more surprise was felt, in golfing circles, 
 when it was known that M'Gummidge had 
 entered for the Medal. Layers never tired of 
 offering odds fabulously long, which were snapped 
 up by the Bobhachy. He was prepared, he said, 
 to pledge even his Cuinmerbiind (almost his only 
 article of dress) rather than not be ' on ' M'Gum- 
 midge to the extent of his available capital. 
 
 Whether the confidence of the patriarchal sage 
 was justified is a question of which curiosity must 
 be content to await the answer.
 
 THE CHELAH'S ROUND 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 The great day of the Medal arrived. The 
 Bobhachy himself carried for M'Gummidge. It 
 was observed that his clubs were by no means 
 new. But few spectators watched the start, 
 M'Gummidge's companion being but an ordinar}^ 
 player, one Jones. The Bobhachy compiled how- 
 ever a business-like tee, and it was noted that 
 M'Gummidge, as he addressed himself to his ball, 
 displayed none of the diffidence of the novice. 
 He lay near the burn, and a sough of the perform- 
 ance reaching the town, the odds fell from 10,000 
 to I to 10 to I against the Chelah. His second 
 lay dead, and he holed out in three. 
 
 Then occurred a circumstance which none who 
 saw it will ever forget. As his partner holed out
 
 THE CHELA WS ROUND g 
 
 in five, the strange mysterious tinkling note 
 sounded on the green, and all eyes were fixed on 
 the Bobhachy. The caddie who carried for Jones 
 (M'Gummidge's companion) put his hand in the 
 hole to take out the balls, and, as I am a living 
 and honourable man, he exclaimed — 
 
 ' O Heaven ! what is this ? ' 
 
 Though two men had holed out, t/iere luas but 
 one ball in the hole. As several credible witnesses 
 had seen M'Gummidge's ball enter the hole, 
 though none but Jones's came out, the Chelah was 
 rated at three. The Bobhachy being pressed for 
 an explanation observed that the Mahatmas in 
 Thibet disapproved of 'Eclipses,' and had probabl)' 
 disintegrated the mysterious matter of which 
 ' Eclipses ' are composed. He then put down a 
 gutta, and M'Gummidge having the honour, 
 stiruck off. His ball, being slightly 'toed,' hit the 
 old station-house, and cannoned back on to the 
 green, where, after considerable search, it was 
 found — in the hole !
 
 lo THE CHELAH'S ROUND 
 
 'Great is Indra ! ' was the only remark of the 
 Bobhachy. ' His throne doubtless has been un- 
 pleasantly warm.' 
 
 The devout Brahmin does indeed believe that 
 the effect of prayer is to heat the throne of Indra, 
 and to make him bestir himself in the cause of 
 the Faithful. However this may be, the im- 
 mediate effect was found in efforts to hedge among 
 the layers of odds. Preying upon each other, in 
 their terror-stricken cupidity, they brought the 
 market round to lOO to i on the Chelah. When 
 news came that he had gone out in thirty- 
 seven (for he came to grief in the Eden, at the 
 high hole, landing badly from the tee on the duck 
 punt moored in the Estuary, where he could not 
 lift his ball, and a 'mashie' had to be used), — when 
 news came to this effect, the Links were crowded. 
 The University, the Artillery, the Town, the Fish- 
 ing population, the Clergy of all denominations, 
 deserted their usual haunts and pursuits : three 
 political meetings hastily broke up, the Cabinet
 
 THE CHELAH'S ROUND \\ 
 
 Ministers and distinguished Fenians who had been 
 addressing them were 'left speaking,' and the whole 
 agitated populace crowded round the Bobhachy, 
 who by this time was talking in a remarkable 
 Dundee accent. 
 
 Why pursue the narrative in detail ? The 
 Chelah's play may have been exaggerated by 
 tradition, ever greedy for the marvellous. The 
 stone bridge is reported to have broken down 
 under the tread of the excited spectators, now 
 swollen by the agricultural multitude. The 
 records of the game, however, demonstrate 
 that M'Gummidge did the round in 71, thereby 
 breaking the record. 
 
 Next morning the town was full of new^spaper 
 reporters. But the Chelah and the Bobhachy were 
 seen no more. Various theories as to the event 
 have been promulgated. According to some, 
 M'Gummidge was merely hypnotised by his dusky 
 companion and caddie. If you can hypnotise an 
 idle boy, so that he is head of his class while the
 
 12 THE CHELAH'S ROUND 
 
 influence lasts, as any one may read in the papers 
 of the Psychical Society, why should you not do 
 as much for a golfer ? Others maintain that the 
 whole affair was glamour. The Indian conjurer 
 who does the mango trick, and makes a tree grow 
 up before your very e}'es from the seed in twenty 
 minutes, must, it is argued, produce a 'collective 
 hallucination ' in the mind of the observer. (See 
 Psychical Society s Proceedings^ 
 
 Others there were who declared that money 
 was uncommonly plentiful on the Links of Leven 
 and Carnoustie after the events which tradition 
 has handed down. They averred that a long 
 white beard, from Nathan's, and a 'Chestnut Bell,' 
 with a melodious tinkle, were found in a room of 
 the Marine Hotel after the departure of two 
 strangers who never paid their lawful debts to 
 that establishment. And they insist that M'Gum- 
 midge was a novice from some obscure provincial 
 'green,' while the Bobhachy was a speculative 
 Club-maker and veteran professional in disguise.
 
 SOCRATES ON THE LINKS 
 
 By ANDREW LANG 
 
 Going down towards the shore lately I met 
 Critias and the beautiful Charmides, for indeed 
 they are seldom apart. Seeing that they carried 
 in their hands clubs not only of wood, but of iron, 
 and even of brass, I conceived that they were 
 bound for the Palaestra. 
 
 ' Hail to you, Critias,' I said ; ' is it permitted 
 to accompany you ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed, Socrates, you may, and you may even 
 carry those clubs for me,' said Critias. 
 
 ' But,' said I, ' is the carrying of clubs an art, 
 or a sport ? ' 
 
 ' An art, if it be done for money,' he said ; ' but 
 a sport, if to oblige a friend, for the things of 
 friends are common.'
 
 1 6 SOCRATES ON THE LINKS 
 
 ' Will you then lend me your putter to knock 
 yonder sophist on the head ? ' I asked ; but he 
 denied it with an oath, 
 
 'Neither then,' said I, *0 best of men, will I 
 carry your clubs, for it does not become one who 
 has not learned an art to practise it.' 
 
 Critias was now building a small altar of sea- 
 sand, on which he placed a white ball, and ad- 
 dressed himself to it in a pious manner, and 
 becomingly. 
 
 ' It is a singularly fine morning,' I remarked ; 
 on hearing which he smote his ball, not rightl)-, 
 nor according to law, but on the top, so that it 
 ran into the road, and there lay in a rut. 
 
 'Tell me, Critias,' I said, 'do you think it be- 
 coming a philosopher, and one who studies the 
 sacred writings even of the extreme Barbarians, 
 to be incapable of self-command, and that in a 
 trifling matter such as whether a ball is hit fairly, 
 or not fairly ? ' 
 
 But he seized an iron club, and glared upon
 
 SOCRATES ON THE LINKS 17 
 
 me so fiercely that I turned to Charmides, 
 who was now about to hit his ball for the 
 second time. 
 
 He observing that it was ' a beautiful lie,' I 
 asked him : ' Charmides, can we say that any lie is 
 really beautiful or noble, or are not nobility and 
 beauty rather the attributes of the True ? ' 
 
 He thereupon struck his ball, but not skilfully, 
 so that it fell into the Ilissus, which did not seem 
 to be his intention, but otherwise. 
 
 ' Socrates,' he said, ' you have made me heel it.' 
 
 'That,' I answered, 'is rather the function of the 
 physician ; and yet no harm may be done, for 
 shall we not say that healing is also an art, and 
 beneficial ? ' 
 
 But by this time they had crossed the Ilissus, 
 walking, one by a bridge of stone, and the other 
 by a bridge of wood, whereas I deemed it more 
 seeming to go round by the road. Hurrying 
 after them, I found them declaring that ' the hole 
 was halved'; and as they again stood up before 
 
 B
 
 1 8 SOCRATES ON THE LINKS 
 
 their balls, with genuflexions as is customary and 
 pious, I said to Critias : ' Then, Critias, if the half, 
 as Hesiod tells us, be better than the hole, is he 
 more truly fortunate, and favoured of the Gods, 
 who wins one half, or two holes, or ' 
 
 But as I was speaking he struck his ball, not far 
 off, but near; into a sand-pit which is in that place, 
 and hard by it is a stone pillar, the altar, perhaps, 
 of some God, or the sepulchre of a hero. 
 
 ' What call you this place, Critias ? ' I said to 
 him, as he smote the sand repeatedly with an iron 
 instrument. 
 
 ' We call it a bunker,' he said. 
 
 ' Is it, then, analogous to what you name a 
 " bunk," or even more so, for have you not 
 observed that when the syllable " er " is added 
 to an adjective, then, as Cratylus says, addition 
 of a sort is predicated ? ' 
 
 By this time he was in another sand-pit, digging 
 eagerly with his iron weapon. 
 
 ' Critias,' I said, ' of three things one. Either a
 
 SOCRA TES ON THE LINKS 19 
 
 wise man will not go into bunkers, or, being in, he 
 will endure such things as befall him with patience, 
 or, having called to his aid certain of the agricul- 
 tural class, he will fill up those cavities, adding a 
 prayer to the local Gods, and perhaps sacrificing 
 a tom-cat ! ' 
 
 But, I having said this, Critias and Charm ides 
 turned upon me with imprecations and niblicks, 
 and, having first rolled me in the gorse bushes, 
 and hurt me very much, they then beat me with 
 the shafts of their clubs, and, next filling my 
 mouth with sand, they bore me along and cast 
 me into the Ilissus, whence I hardly escaped by 
 swimming. 
 
 ' Now, Socrates,' they said, 'is it more becoming 
 a philosopher to speak to a man \\hen he is 
 addressing himself to his ball, or rather, having 
 somewhere found a Professor, to prove to him — he 
 being perhaps an old man or an amiable — that he 
 does not understand his own business?' 
 
 But, by the Dog ! I was in no case to answer
 
 20 
 
 SOCRATES ON THE LINKS 
 
 this question ; rather I have brought an action 
 against Critias and Charmides before the Court of 
 the Areopagus, estimating at several minae the in- 
 juries which I received, as I have already told 
 you .
 
 HERODOTUS IN SAINT ANDREWS 
 
 By ANDREW LANG 
 
 156. The tribes which inhabit Saint Andrews are 
 many, not all wearing the same dress nor using 
 the same speech. Now, contrary to what we 
 know of other nations, the Priests are more numer- 
 ous than the people, being both young and old. 
 Of the young, some wear red cloaks, and others 
 black ; they also wear square caps like the tribes 
 on the Isis, of whom we have spoken elsewhere. 
 They who wear red cloaks are extremely proud, 
 and of those the proudest arc the tribe called 
 Bejants. Now, as to the meaning of the name, 
 many accounts are given ; but that which I prefer 
 I come telling. Of old the chiefs of these tribes 
 were called Regents, but they were o\-erthrown in 
 a sedition. So, as it appears to mc, the Bejants
 
 2 2 HERODOTUS IN SAINT ANDREWS 
 
 are descended from the Regents, for B, in their 
 language, resembles R, and the words are other- 
 wise akin and of similar sound. Hence, there- 
 fore, the Bejants are proud, they having no other 
 reason to show for their haughtiness. 
 
 157. The}- who wear black gowns are more in- 
 structed than the other tribes, having knowledge 
 of the mysteries. Now, the god of this people is 
 the Lynx, which I did not myself see. For in- 
 deed he comes to them very rarely, at intervals, 
 as the Kadis say, of five hundred years. And 
 these say he comes regularly when his father dies, 
 and if he be like the painting of him, he is green, 
 in this differing from other Lynxes. His priest 
 is called ' The Tommoris,' and is greatly revered 
 by all the tribes, dwelling in a small chapel hard 
 by the sea. He, however, offers no sacrifice, 
 nor does he chant hymns, but remains absorbed 
 in contemplation of the L}'nx. There are some 
 who say that the Tommoris, when once he has 
 been chosen, never grows old, nor does he take
 
 HERODOTUS IN SAINT ANDREWS 23 
 
 odds from any one. Others, however, deny this. 
 Some report that he is a Scythian, being de- 
 scended from Tomyris, the Queen of the Massa- 
 getae, whereof I make mention in my Muses. Con- 
 cerning the Tommoris, then, let this be sufficient. 
 158. There is another tribe of Saint Andrews 
 called the Clubmen, who dwell opposite the chapel 
 of the Tommoris, and still nearer the sea. Their 
 manner of life is this : Having built a large 
 house, wherein also is a great hall, the}^ fill it with 
 ladders and paint it with paint, so that it smells 
 grievously, as Homer also says of the skins of the 
 seals. The Clubmen then perform lustrations, 
 setting urns of water in the Hall, but they do not 
 drink of this water. They consider it better to 
 die than to live, as is proved by an inscription in 
 Cadmeian letters, which I myself read : — 
 
 HANGING ACCOMMODATION ROUND THE CORNER. 
 
 There, then, the Clubmen hang themselves, 
 being vexed by the ladders and the paint. Some
 
 24 HERODOTUS IN SAINT ANDREWS 
 
 of the survivors wear scarlet chitons, not made 
 hke the cloaks of the Priests, but otherwise, for 
 they are by no means of the same tribe as the 
 Priests, though they also worship the Tommoris, 
 making him offerings of silver. Among them is 
 a Priest who instructs them in the oaths which it 
 is customary to employ when they lose them- 
 selves in the sands of the desert. Concerning this 
 Priest, it is said that he is acquainted with the 
 oaths of the Barbarians. The Oracle, however, is 
 in the chapel of the Tommoris, who interprets 
 such questions as are asked by the natives. 
 
 159. In respect to animals, dogs are an abomi- 
 nation to the Clubmen. The dogs, therefore, 
 gathering in great numbers outside the house of 
 the Clubmen, can hardly be prevented from enter- 
 ing, behaving like the cats of Egypt on the occa- 
 sion of a fire. The reason why the Clubmen 
 abominate dogs is known to me, and the reason 
 why they sprinkle cayenne pepper on the thresh- 
 old of their dwelling, and to what god ; but it
 
 HERODOTUS IN SAINT ANDREWS 25 
 
 is not fit that I should mention these things in 
 this place. He, however, who has been initiated 
 into the mysteries of the Tommoris knows what 
 I mean. 
 
 160. The Women of the Saint Andreans are 
 somehow wont to be excessively beautiful beyond 
 those in other cities. There is, however, a certain 
 holy place where they arc not permitted to walk. 
 Concerning this they tell a sacred story. When 
 lo came to Saint Andrews in the shape of a cow, 
 she was grazing in the field. Now, one of the 
 Clubmen was endeavouring to strike a ball into a 
 small hole, as is the custom ; and having struck 
 the cow, she instantly became a woman again, 
 whereon the Clubman imprecated a curse upon 
 any woman who entered the sacred place, aver- 
 ring that he had been put off his play by the cir- 
 cumstance which I have mentioned. This, then, 
 became the law, even to this day. 
 
 161. The largest tribe of those which I have 
 not mentioned is called the Kadis. They are
 
 26 HERODOTUS IN SAINT ANDREWS 
 
 the attendants in the chapel of the Tommoris, and 
 are greatly respected by all the tribes, who make 
 them daily offerings of silver. This they do by 
 way of expiation. For, when any men would 
 strike balls in the ground where women are not 
 permitted to enter, the Kadis are obliged to ac- 
 company them, and judge concerning their skill. 
 This they do not willingly, but unwillingly, for 
 the performances of the other tribes are an abomi- 
 nation to the Kadis, who are far more skilful than 
 the rest. To appease them, then, the tribes make 
 offerings of silver. The young Kadis are much 
 more severe than the old, mocking openly at such 
 as are not skilled in their art. The Kadis, more- 
 over, do not wear red robes. 
 
 162. To the north of the Saint Andreans dwell 
 the Dundaei, a strong tribe, but very ignorant and 
 foolish. They are said to be entirely ignorant 
 of the Greek speech, which the Saint Andreans 
 know — some, but not all. The Dundsei then 
 they speak of as Barbarians — reasonabl}-, for the\-
 
 HERODOTUS IN SAINT ANDREWS 27 
 
 are indeed a very foolish people, living after the 
 manner of the Sidonians. Some of them, how- 
 ever, having been instructed by the Saint An- 
 dreans, worship the Lynx. Horatios, the traveller, 
 the son of Hiitchi, having, as he says, visited 
 Saint Andrews, declares that the Lynx is not 
 a beast, but is the place where women are not 
 allowed to enter. He also says in his Periplons, 
 that ' the Links are a noble ruin,' — most manifestly 
 confusing it with the remnants of ancient temples 
 whereof I have spoken. On this matter, then, 
 being at Saint Andrews, I myself consulted the 
 Oracle of the Tommoris. He answered me in 
 the hexameter metre as is usual : — 
 
 ' Stranger, if these be the words of the King, the descendant of 
 
 Hutchi, 
 Him from the shores of the South, and the IIo ! they denominate 
 
 "Westward," 
 Answer him thus, No man, if the Links are indeed but a Ruin, 
 Skelps them with iron as freely as thou — Descendant of Hutchi.' 
 
 Having said this he burned a certain weed in 
 a small vessel, inhaling the smoke, and cursing 
 Horatios the Hutchid.
 
 A SONG OF LIFE AND GOLF 
 
 By ANDREW LANG 
 
 The thing they ca' the stimy o "t 
 
 I find it ilka where ! 
 Ye 'maist lie deid — an unco shot — 
 
 Anither's ba' is there ! 
 Ye canna win into the hole 
 
 However gleg ye be, 
 And aye, where'er my ba' may row 
 
 Some limmer stimics me ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Somebody stimying me, 
 Somebody stimying me ; 
 The grass may grow, the ba' may row ; 
 Some limmer stimies me.
 
 A SONG OF LIFE AND GOLF 29 
 
 I lo'ed a lass, a bonnie lass, 
 
 Her lips an' locks were reid ; 
 Intil her heart I couldna pass : 
 
 Anither man lay deid ! 
 He cam' atween me an' her heart, 
 
 I turned wi' tearfu' e'e, 
 I couldna loft him, I maun part. 
 
 The limmer stimied me ! 
 
 I socht a kirk, a bonny kirk, 
 
 Wi' teind, an' glebe, an' a', 
 A bonny yaird to feed a stirk. 
 
 An' links to ca' the ba' ! 
 Anither lad he cam' an' fleeched, 
 
 A CO nv art it U. P., 
 An' a' in vain ma best I preached, 
 
 That limmer stimied me ! 
 
 Its aye the same in life an' gowf, 
 
 I 'm stimied late an' ear'. 
 This vvarld is but a weary howf, 
 
 I 'd fain be ithervvhere ;
 
 30 A SONG OF LIFE AND GOLF 
 
 But whan auld Deith wad hole ma corp, 
 
 As sure as deith ye '11 see 
 Some coof has played the moudiewarp, 
 
 Rin in, an' stimied me ! 
 
 Chorus (if thought desirable).
 
 DR. JOHNSON ON THE LINKS 
 
 (FRO.M an AUCHINLECK MS.) 
 By ANDREW LANG 
 
 On the morning after our arrival in St. Andrews 
 Dr. Johnson expressed a desire to see the ruins 
 of ecclesiastical antiquity for which this place is 
 famous, or, I should say, infamous. Yielding to 
 a roguish temptation of which I am ashamed, and 
 which even now astonishes me, I determined to 
 practise on the credulity of my venerated friend. 
 I therefore, under pretence of leading Dr. Johnson 
 to the ruins, carried him to that part of the 
 vicinity which is called the Links. It is an un- 
 dulating stretch of grassy land, varied by certain 
 small elevations, which I assured Dr. Johnson 
 covered all the ecclesiastical ruins that time and 
 the licence of the rabble had spared.
 
 32 DR. JOHNSON ON THE LINKS 
 
 He was much moved, and refused to be covered, 
 as on consecrated ground, while he walked along 
 the Links, a course of some two miles. Often he 
 would pause, and I heard him mutter perierunt 
 etiam ruinte. I ventured to ask him his opinion 
 of John Knox, when he replied, in a sensible 
 agitation, ' Sir, he was worthy to be the oppro- 
 brious leader of your opprobrious people.' I was 
 hardly recovered from this blow at my nation, 
 when Dr. Johnson's wig was suddenly and 
 violently removed from his head, and carried to a 
 certain distance. We were unable to account for 
 this circumstance, and Dr. Johnson was just about 
 stooping to regain his property, when a rough 
 fellow, armed with a few clubs, of which some 
 had threatening heads of iron, came up hastily, 
 saying, ' Hoot awa' ! ye maunna stir the hazard.' 
 It appears that his golf-ball, struck by him from 
 a distance, had displaced Dr. Johnson's wig, and 
 was still reposing in its folds. Before I could 
 interfere the fellow had dealt a violent stroke
 
 DR. JOHNSON ON THE LINKS y^, 
 
 at the perruque, whence the ball, soaring in an 
 airy curve, alighted at a considerable distance. 
 I have seldom seen my venerable friend more 
 moved than by this unexpected assault upon his 
 dignity. 'Sir,' said he to the fellow, 'you have 
 taken an unwarranted liberty with one who 
 neither provokes nor pardons insult.' At the 
 same moment he hastily disembarrassed himself 
 of his coat, and appeared in shirt-sleeves, which 
 reminded me of his avowed lack of partiality for 
 clean linen. Assuming an attitude of self-defence, 
 he planted one blow on his adversary's nose, and 
 another in his abdomen, with such impetuosity 
 and science that the rascal fell, and bellowed for 
 mercy. This Dr. Johnson was pleased to grant, 
 after breaking all his weapons. He then resumed 
 his coat, and, with an air of good-humoured 
 triumph, he remarked, ' It is long, sir, since I 
 knocked a man down, and I feel myself the 
 better for the exercise.' 
 
 At this moment we came within view of the 
 C
 
 34 /^/v. JOHNSON ON THE LINKS 
 
 Cathedral towers, and I instantly felt considerable 
 apprehension lest, on discovering my trick, he 
 might bestow on me the same correction as he 
 had just administered to the golfer. I therefore 
 hastily took the opportunity to call his attention to 
 the towers, remarking that they were the remains 
 of certain small chapels, which had suffered less 
 from the frenzy of the rabble than the Cathedral, 
 on whose site, as I told him, we were now walking. 
 Thus I endeaV'Oured to give him a higher, and 
 possibly an exaggerated, idea of the ancient re- 
 sources and ecclesiastical magnificence of my 
 country. 
 
 ' Sir,' he said, 'we will examine later the con- 
 temptible relics which the idiotic fury of your 
 ancestors has spared ; meantime I must have a 
 Roll. It is a long time, sir, since I had a Roll.' 
 He then, to my alarm, ascended the highest of 
 certain knolls or hummocks, laid himself down 
 at full length, and permitted himself to revolve 
 slowly over and over till he reached the level
 
 DR. JOHNSON ON THE LINKS 35 
 
 ground. He was now determined to exercise 
 himself at the game of Golf, which I explained 
 to him as the Scotch form of cricket. Having 
 purchased a ball and club, he threw himself into 
 the correct attitude, as near as he could imitate 
 it, and delivered a blow with prodigious force. 
 Chancing to strike at the same time both the ball 
 and the ground, the head of his club flew off to 
 an immense distance. He was pleased with this 
 instance of his prowess, but declined, on the score 
 of expense, to attempt another experiment. ' Sir,' 
 he said, ' if Goldsmith were here, he would try to 
 persuade us that he could urge a sphere to a 
 greater distance and elevation than yonder gentle- 
 man who has just hit over that remote sand-pit. 
 Knowing his desire for information, I told him 
 that, in Scotch, a sand-pit is called a Bunker. 
 ' Sir,' said he, ' I wonder out of what collnvics of 
 barbarism your people selected the jargon which 
 you are pleased to call a language. Sir, you have 
 battened on the broken meats of human speech,
 
 36 DR. JOHNSON ON THE LINKS 
 
 and have carried away the bones. A sand-pit, 
 sir, is a sand-pit.' 
 
 I was somewhat deadened by this unlooked-for 
 reception of an innocent remark. Meanwhile 
 he had fallen into an abstracted fit, from which 
 I attempted to rouse him, by asking him what 
 he would do if landed on a desert island, with no 
 company but a Cannibal. 
 
 ' Sir,' he said, ' I should consider myself more 
 fortunately situated than when landed on an 
 island, equally uncultivated, with no companion 
 but an inquisitive Scotchman. From a Cannibal, 
 sir, I could learn much. From you I can neither 
 learn anything, nor have I any confidence in my 
 power to communicate to you the elements of 
 civilised behaviour.' 
 
 He burst on this into a hearty fit of laughter, 
 which was concluded by a golf-ball, which 
 suddenly flew, from an incredible distance, into 
 his mouth, and produced an alarming fit of cough- 
 ing. When he had recovered from this paroxysm
 
 DR. JOHNSON ON THE LINKS 37 
 
 he appeared somewhat disinclined for further con- 
 versation, and, on arriving at our inn, he said, 
 ' Sir, do not let us meet again till dinner. Sir, you 
 have brought me to a strange place of singular 
 manners. I did not believe, sir, that in his 
 Majesty's dominions there was any district so 
 barbarous, and so perilous to travellers.' 
 
 Finding him in this mood, and observing that 
 he grasped his staff in a menacing manner, I 
 withdrew to a neighbouring tavern.
 
 BALLADE OF THE DUFFER 
 
 By W. CAINE 
 
 You may sing of the joys of a drive, 
 
 When the ball whistles far through the air 
 I know you are keenly alive 
 
 To the pleasure of hitting it fair. 
 For me, that achievement is rare. 
 
 I strike either space or the tee, 
 But never the ball. I don't care : 
 
 Golf isn't the pastime for me ! 
 
 I never would willingly strive 
 
 By argument, scoffing, or pra}-er, 
 A Golfer, though bad, to deprive 
 
 Of his just and legitimate share 
 Of a game which it's safe to declare 
 
 Will be played till 3000 A.D., 
 When I shall be — goodness knows where : 
 
 Golf isn't the pastime for me !
 
 BALLADE OF THE DUFFER 39 
 
 You say — ' If the long hole in five 
 
 I compass, no joys can compare.' 
 Or again — ' If a loft I contrive 
 
 To make even the Champion stare ; 
 What rapture ! ' Especially where 
 
 Those bunkers lie close to the sea ; 
 I know what it is to be there : 
 
 Golf isn't the pastime for me ! 
 
 l'envoi. 
 
 Prince ! this fact remains : that howe'er 
 The town of St. Andrews, N.B., 
 
 Its praises and glories ma}' blare, 
 Golf isn't the pastime for me !
 
 
 f 
 
 J 1 
 
 / 
 
 '.M 
 
 «^^»-?»i
 
 HUGH KIRKCALDY 
 
 By R. BARCLAY 
 
 On the 6th of October 1891 Hugh Kirkcaldy 
 became champion golfer of the world and hero of 
 St. Andrews. It was a notable performance, — two 
 rounds of as trying a Links as can anywhere be 
 found in 166 strokes. Each round was done in 
 S^ — not by any means his best performance, for 
 he holds the record of the green in y^y when he 
 went out in the abnormally low figure of 33. No 
 one is a greater favourite in golfing circles than 
 ' Hughie.' If Tom Morris be the old gentleman 
 of the professional game, Hugh is the young 
 gentleman. The ladies of St. Andrews affirm 
 that he is a ' nice-looking young man,' and let 
 their judgment be final. Dressed in the most 
 approved style of trousers, with h^is brown boots,
 
 42 HUGH KIRKCALDY 
 
 and a jacket which reminds one of the perennial 
 garment of Mr. J. E. Laidlay — he looks every inch 
 a gentleman. And not only in dress, for his 
 manner is modest and his whole bearing is that of 
 one who is as independent as he is obliging. Of 
 course he would be more than human were he 
 entirely free from the prevailing vanity of the 
 race. The professional golfer is at all times 
 peculiarly careful of his honour, Willie Campbell 
 being asked if ' Mr. Laidlay was a long driver,' 
 replied : ' Ay, he 's a long driver, but he canna 
 drive so far as me ! ' and Hugh is always ready 
 to back himself against ' anything creeping.' 
 But then, of course, he may well do so ; he has 
 established his position by no mere fluke. In the 
 Badminton Golf Book the engraving which ex- 
 emplifies the St. Andrews Swing will easily be 
 recognised as a pictorial representation of Hugh, 
 his fine lithe figure throwing itself gracefully into 
 the stroke. He drives with the ' Bulger,' as so 
 many of the best players do nowadays ; he pos-
 
 HUGH KIRKCALD V 43 
 
 sesses the prettiest lofter imaginable, and uses it in 
 tiie prettiest style, and he holes at all distances 
 with a wooden putter. We cannot but remember 
 the unfortunate result of the great foursome which 
 he and his brother Andrew played with Sayers and 
 Grant ; but it will not be forgotten how brilliantly 
 Hugh played, with his partner most palpably out 
 of form. In fact, for a young golfer his nerve is 
 astonishing. The strain of the championship, 
 however, told upon him when on the following 
 day he engaged in a match with Davie Brown of 
 Malvern, an ex-champion, and lost by six and 
 four on the second round, but he was still able to 
 win the whole four holes of the bye. Hugh is 
 a fatalist. He will tell you how he heard some- 
 thing saying to him for the week previous to the 
 great tussle, ' " Ye 're goin' to win the Champion- 
 ship," and then on Monday it was sayin' again — 
 " Ye 're goin' to win the Championship," and I 
 did it ! ' He is no less of a wit. Speaking 
 to a young member of the University who
 
 44 
 
 HUGH KIRKCALDY 
 
 had just gained a valuable Scholarship, he gave 
 this sage advice — commercial if not educa- 
 tional : ' Dinna gang to Oxford. I was playing 
 gowf there last year, and I went in to a tailor's for 
 a pair o' stretchers. Says I, "What '11 ye mak' 
 them for ? ye ken I 'm no a rich man." " Twa 
 guineas," says the chap in the shop. " Oh thank- 
 ye," says I, " I '11 ca' again." ' 
 
 If all professionals were like Hugh Kirkcaldy, 
 professional golf would be something more 
 honourable than it is to-day.
 
 THE GOLFING GHOST 
 
 By R. BARCLAY 
 
 His name had not been mentioned 
 
 Among the Hst of blest, 
 Who from things mathematical 
 
 Had found eternal rest : 
 His second time attempted, 
 
 But ploughed — I think they say — 
 Yes ! ploughed by cruel Examiners, 
 
 Close to St. Andrews Bay. 
 
 Oh how the perspiration 
 
 Of grief began to pour, 
 As taking up his driver 
 
 He turned towards the shore.
 
 46 THE GOLFING GHOST 
 
 One look around the College — 
 He could not go astray — 
 
 For he saw the white foam dashing 
 In wild St. Andrews Bay. 
 
 Down to the Links he hurried, 
 
 His brow was sad and low : 
 Already — it was pale moonlight — 
 
 He heard the tempest blow : 
 His gown was on his shoulders — 
 
 A scarlet gown, they say — 
 As he faced the raging waters 
 
 Of old St. Andrews Bay. 
 
 He drove from off the teeing-ground 
 
 A never-falling ball : 
 Then rushed among the surges, 
 
 They were a fitting pall ! 
 A corpse was found next morning 
 
 Floating far, far away, 
 Far from the stormy billows 
 
 Of wild St. Andrews Bay.
 
 THE GOLFING GHOST 
 
 There are who tell the story, 
 
 Some Caddies by the shore, 
 How on some wintry evenings, 
 
 When ocean tempests roar, 
 A figure white 's seen golfing 
 
 Golfing, not far away, 
 White as the foaming billows 
 
 Of old St. Andrews Bay. 
 
 47 
 
 ^^^^Eb
 
 THP: DEVIL'S ROUND 
 
 J TALE OF FLEMISH GOLF 
 Mrs. ANSTRUTHER THOMSON 
 
 The following story, translated by Mrs. Anstruther 
 Thomson from Lc Grand C/iolcur, of M. Charles 
 Deulin {Coutcs du Roi Gainbrinus), gives a great 
 deal of information about French and Flemish 
 golf. As any reader will see, this ancient game 
 represents a stage of evolution between golf and 
 hockey. The object is to strike a ball, in as {q.\\ 
 strokes as possible, to a given point ; but, after 
 every three strokes, the opponent is allowed to 
 decJioler^ or make one stroke back, or into a 
 hazard. Here the element of hockey comes in. 
 Get rid of this element, let each man hit his own 
 ball, and, in place of striking to a point — say, the
 
 THE DEVILS ROUND 49 
 
 cemetery gate — let men ' putt ' into holes, and 
 the Flemish game becomes golf. It is of great 
 antiquity. Ducange, in his Lexicon of Lozv 
 Latin, gives C/ioulla, French r//(7///fc' = ' Globulus 
 ligneus qui clava propellitur' — a wooden ball 
 struck with a club. The head of the club was of 
 iron (cf. crossare). This is borne out by a 
 miniature in a missal of 1504, which represents 
 peasants playing choiile with clubs very like 
 niblicks. Ducange quotes various MS. references 
 •^^ 1353' I357> '^'""cl other dates older by a century 
 than our earliest Scotch references to golf. At 
 present the game is played in Belgium with a 
 strangely-shaped lofting-iron and a ball of beech- 
 wood. M. Zola {Gcnniiiai, p. 310) represents his 
 miners playing cholc, or c/ioiilie, and says that 
 they hit drives of more than 500 }'ards. Experi- 
 ments made at Wimbledon with a Belgian club 
 sent over by M. Charles Michel suggest that M. 
 Zola has over-estimated the distance. But M. 
 Zola and M. Deulin agree in making the players 
 
 D
 
 50 THE DEVILS ROUND 
 
 run after the ball. M. Henri Gaidoz adds that a 
 similar game, called sonic, is played in various 
 departments of France. He refers to Laisnel de 
 la Salle. The name cliolc may be connected with 
 German Kolbe, and golf may be the form which 
 this word would assume in a Celtic lans^uag-e. 
 All this makes golf very old ; but the question 
 arises, Are the ' holes ' to which golfers play of 
 Scotch or of Dutch origin ? There are several 
 old Flemish pictures of golf; do any of them 
 show players in the act of 'holing out'? There 
 is said to be such a picture at Neuchatel. 
 
 A. LANG. 
 
 I 
 
 Once upon a time there lived at the hamlet of 
 Coq, near Conde-sur-l'Escaut, a wheelwright called 
 Roger. He was a good fellow, untiring both at 
 his sport and at his toil, and as skilful in lofting 
 a ball with a stroke of his club as in putting
 
 THE DEVIL'S ROUND 51 
 
 together a cartwheel. Every one knows that the 
 game of golf consists in driving towards a given 
 point a ball of cherrywood with a club which has 
 for head a sort of little iron shoe without a heel. 
 
 For my part, I do not know a more amusing 
 game ; and when the country is almost cleared of 
 the harvest, men, women, children, everybod}', 
 drives his ball as you please, and there is nothing 
 cheerier than to see them filing on a Sunday like 
 a flight of starlings across potato-fields and 
 ploughed lands. 
 
 II 
 
 Well, one Tuesday, it was a Shrove Tuesday, 
 the wheelwright of Coq laid aside his plane, and 
 was slipping on his blouse to go and drink his 
 can of beer at Conde^ when two strangers came 
 in, club in hand. 
 
 ' Would you put a new shaft to my club, 
 master ? ' said one of them.
 
 52 THE DEVinS ROUND 
 
 ' What arc you asking me, friends ? A day 
 like this ! I wouldn't give the smallest stroke of 
 the chisel for a brick of gold. Besides, does 
 any one play golf on Shrove Tuesday ? You had 
 much better go and see the mummers tumbling 
 in the high street of Conde.' 
 
 'We take no interest in the tumbling of 
 mummers,' replied the stranger. 'We have 
 challenged each other at golf, and we want to 
 play it out. Come, you won't refuse to help us, 
 you who are said to be one of the finest players 
 of the country ? ' 
 
 ' If it is a match, that is different,' said Roger. 
 
 He turned up his sleeves, hooked on his apron, 
 and in the twinkling of an ej'e had adjusted the 
 shaft. 
 
 'How much do I owe you?' asked the un- 
 known, drawing out his purse. 
 
 ' Nothing at all, faith ; it is not worth while.' 
 
 The stranger insisted, but in vain.
 
 THE DEVILS ROUND 53 
 
 III 
 
 ' You are too honest, i' faith,' said he to the 
 wheelwright, ' for me to be in your debt. I will 
 grant you the fulfilment of three wishes.' 
 
 ' Don't forget to wish what is bcstl added his 
 companion. 
 
 At these words the wheelwright smiled in- 
 credulously. 
 
 ' Are you not a couple of the loafers of 
 Capelette ? ' he asked, with a wink. 
 
 The idlers of the crossways of Capelette were 
 considered the wildest wags in Conde. 
 
 'Whom do you take us for?' replied the un- 
 known in a tone of severity, and with his club he 
 touched an axle, made of iron, which instantly 
 changed into one of pure silver. 
 
 ' Who are you, then,' cried Roger, ' that your 
 word is as good as ready money ? ' 
 
 ' I am St. Peter, and my companion is St. 
 Anthony, the patron of golfers.'
 
 54 THE DEVI US ROUND 
 
 ' Take the trouble to walk in, gentlemen,' said 
 the wheelwright of Coq ; and he ushered the two 
 saints into the back parlour. He offered them 
 chairs, and went to draw a jug of beer in the 
 cellar. They clinked their glasses together, and 
 after each had lit his pipe — 
 
 ' Since you are so good, sir saints,' said Roger, 
 ' as to grant me the accomplishment of three 
 wishes, know that for a long while I have desired 
 three things. I wish, first of all, that whoever 
 seats himself upon the elm-trunk at my door may 
 not be able to rise without my permission. I like 
 company, and it bores me to be always alone.' 
 
 St. Peter shook his head, and St. Anthony 
 nudged his client. 
 
 IV 
 
 ' When I play a game of cards, on Sunday 
 evening, at the " Fighting Cock," ' continued the 
 wheelwright, ' it is no sooner nine o'clock than
 
 THE DEVI US ROUND 55 
 
 the garde-champctre comes to chuck us out. I 
 desire that whoever shall have his feet on my 
 leathern apron cannot be driven from the place 
 where I shall have spread it.' 
 
 St. Peter shook his head, and St. Anthony, 
 with a solemn air, repeated — 
 ' Don't forget what is best', 
 
 ' What is bcst^ replied the wheelwright of Coq 
 nobly, ' is to be the first golfer in the world. 
 Every time I find my master at golf it turns my 
 blood as black as the inside of the chimney. So 
 I want a club that will carry the ball as high as 
 the belfry of Conde, and will infallibly win me my 
 match.' 
 
 ' So be it,' said St. Peter. 
 
 ' You would have done better,' said St. Anthony, 
 ' to have asked for your eternal salvation.' 
 
 ' Bah ! ' replied the other. ' I have plenty of 
 time to think of that ; I am not yet greasing my 
 boots for the long journey.' 
 
 The two saints went out, and Roger followed
 
 56 THE DEVILS ROUND 
 
 them, curious to be present at such a rare game ; 
 but suddenly, near the Chapel of St. Anthony, 
 they disappeared. 
 
 The wheelwright then went to see the mummers 
 tumbling in the high street of Conde. 
 
 When he returned, towards midnight, he found 
 at the corner of his door the desired club. To his 
 great surprise it was only a bad little iron head 
 attached to a wretched worn-out shaft. Never- 
 theless he took the gift of St. Peter and put it 
 carefully away. 
 
 V. 
 
 Next morning the Condeens scattered in crowds 
 over the country, to play golf, eat red herrings, 
 and drink beer, so as to scatter the fumes of wine 
 from their heads, and to revive after the fatigues 
 of the Carnival. The wheelwright of Coq came 
 too, with his miserable club, and made such fine 
 strokes that all the players left their games to see
 
 THE DEVIL'S ROUND 57 
 
 him play. The following Sunday he proved still 
 more expert ; little by little his fame spread 
 through the land. From ten leagues round the 
 most skilful players hastened to come and be 
 beaten, and it was then that he was named the 
 Great Golfer. 
 
 He passed the whole Sunday in golfing, and in 
 the evening he rested himself by playing a game 
 of matrimony at the ' Fighting Cock.' He spread 
 his apron under the feet of the players, and the 
 devil himself could not have put them out of the 
 tavern, much less the rural policeman. On 
 Monday morning he stopped the pilgrims who 
 were going to worship at Notre Dame de Bon 
 Secours ; he induced them to rest themselves 
 upon his causeuse, and did not let them go before 
 he had confessed them well. 
 
 In short, he led the most agreeable life that 
 a good Fleming can imagine, and only regretted 
 one thing — namely, that he had not wished it 
 might last for ever.
 
 58 THE DEVILS ROUND 
 
 VI 
 
 Well, it happened one day that the strongest 
 player of Mons, who was called Paternostre, was 
 found dead on the edge of a bunker. His head 
 was broken, and near him was his niblick, red 
 with blood. 
 
 They could not tell who had done his business, 
 and as Paternostre often said that at golf he 
 neither feared man nor devil, it occurred to them 
 that he had challenged Mynheer van Belzebuth, 
 and that as a punishment for this he had knocked 
 him on the head. Mynheer van Belzebuth is, 
 as every one knows, the greatest gamester that 
 there is upon or under the earth, but the game 
 he particularly affects is golf. When he goes 
 his round in Flanders one always meets him, 
 club in hand, like a true Fleming. 
 
 The wheelwright of Coq was very fond of 
 Paternostre, who, next to himself, was the best
 
 THE DEVILS ROUND 59 
 
 golfer in the country. He went to his funeral 
 with some golfers from the hamlets of Coq, La 
 Cigogne, and La Queue de I'Ayache. 
 
 On returning from the cemetery they went to 
 the tavern to drink, as they say, to the memory 
 of the dead,^ and there they lost themselves in 
 talk about the noble game of golf When they 
 separated, in the dusk of evening — 
 
 *A good journey to you,' said the Belgian 
 players, ' and may St. Anthony, the patron of 
 golfers, preserve you from meeting the devil on 
 the way ! ' 
 
 ' What do I care for the devil .'' ' replied Roger. 
 ' If he challenged me I should soon beat him ! ' 
 
 The companions trotted from tavern to tavern 
 without misadventure ; but the wolf-bell had long 
 tolled for retiring in the belfry of Conde when 
 they returned each one to his own den. 
 
 ^ Boire la cervclk du inort.
 
 6o THE DEVILS ROUND 
 
 VII 
 
 As he was putting the key into the lock the 
 wheelwright thought he heard a shout of mocking 
 laughter. He turned, and saw in the darkness 
 a man six feet high, who again burst out laughing. 
 
 ' What are you laughing at ? ' said he crossly. 
 
 ' At what .'' Why, at the aplomb with which 
 you boasted a little while ago that you would 
 dare measure yourself against the devil.' 
 
 ' Why not, if he challenged me ? ' 
 
 'Very well, my master, bring your clubs. I 
 challenge you ! ' said Mynheer van Belzebuth, 
 for it was himself. Roger recognised him by a 
 certain odour of sulphur that always hangs about 
 his majesty. 
 
 ' What shall the stake be } ' he asked resolutely. 
 
 ' Your soul ? ' 
 
 ' Against what ? ' 
 
 * Whatever you please.'
 
 THE DEVILS ROUND 6i 
 
 The wheelwright reflected. 
 
 ' What have you there in your sack ? ' 
 
 ' My spoils of the week.' 
 
 ' Is the soul of Paternostre among them ? ' 
 
 ' To be sure ! and those of five other golfers ; 
 dead, like him, without confession.' 
 
 ' I play you my soul against that of Pater- 
 nostre.' 
 
 'Done!' 
 
 VIII 
 
 The two adversaries repaired to the adjoining 
 field and chose for their goal the door of the 
 cemetery of Conde.^ Belzebuth teed a ball on 
 a frozen heap, after which he said, according to 
 custom — 
 
 ' from here, as you lie, in how many turns of 
 three strokes will you run in .•• ' 
 
 ' In two,' replied the great golfer. 
 
 ^ They play to points, not holes.
 
 62 THE DEVIL'S ROUND 
 
 And his adversary was not a little surprised, 
 for from there to the cemetery was nearly a 
 quarter of a league. 
 
 'But how shall we see the ball?' continued 
 the wheelwright. 
 
 ' True ! ' said Belzebuth. 
 
 He touched the ball with his club, and it shone 
 suddenly in the dark like an immense glow-worm. 
 
 ' Fore ! ' cried Roger. 
 
 He hit the ball with the head of his club, and 
 it rose to the sky like a star going to rejoin its 
 sisters. In three strokes it crossed three-quarters 
 of the distance. 
 
 'That is good !' said Belzebuth, whose astonish- 
 ment redoubled. ' My turn to play now ! ' ^ 
 
 With one stroke of the club he drove the ball 
 over the roofs of Coq nearly to Maison Blanche, 
 half a league away. The blow was so violent 
 that the iron struck fire against a pebble. 
 
 ^ After each three strokes the opponent has one hit back, or 
 into a hazard.
 
 THE DEVILS ROUND 63 
 
 * Good St. Anthony ! I am lost, unless you come 
 to my aid,' murmured the wheelwright of Coq. 
 
 He struck tremblingly ; but though his arm 
 was uncertain, the club seemed to have acquired 
 a new vigour. At the second stroke the ball went 
 as if of itself and hit the door of the cemetery. 
 
 'By the horns of my grandfather!' cried 
 Belzebuth, it shall not be said that I have been 
 beaten by a son of that fool Adam. Give me my 
 revenge,' 
 
 ' What shall we play for ? ' 
 
 ' Your soul and that of Paternostre against the 
 souls of two eolfcrs.' 
 
 IX 
 
 The devil played up, 'pressing' furiously; his 
 club blazed at each stroke with showers of sparks. 
 The ball flew from Conde to Bon Secours, to 
 Pernwelz, to Leuze. Once it spun away to 
 Tournai, six leagues from there.
 
 64 THE DEVILS ROUND 
 
 It left behind a luminous tail like a comet, and 
 the two golfers followed, so to speak, on its track. 
 Roger was never able to understand how he ran, 
 or rather flew, so fast, and without fatigue. 
 
 In short, he did not lose a single game, and 
 won the souls of the six defunct golfers. Belze- 
 buth rolled his eyes like an angry tom-cat. 
 
 ' Shall we go on ? ' said the wheelwright of 
 Coq. 
 
 ' No,' replied the other ; ' they expect me at 
 the Witches' Sabbath on the hill of Copiemont. 
 
 ' That brigand,' said he aside, ' is capable of 
 filching all my game.' 
 
 And he vanished. 
 
 Returned home, the Great Golfer shut up his 
 souls in a sack and went to bed, enchanted to 
 have beaten Mynheer van Bclzebuth. 
 
 X 
 
 Two years after, the \\heelwright of Coq 
 received a visit which he little expected. An
 
 THE DEVinS ROUND 65 
 
 old man, tall, thin, and yellow, came into the 
 workshop carrying a scythe on his shoulder. 
 
 'Are you bringing me your scythe to haft anew, 
 master?' 
 
 ' No, faith, my scythe is never unhafted.' 
 
 ' Then how can I serve you ? ' 
 
 ' By following me : your hour is come.' 
 
 ' The devil ! ' said the great golfer, ' could you 
 not wait a little till I have finished this wheel ?' 
 
 ' Be it so ! I have done hard work to-day, and 
 I have well earned a smoke.' 
 
 ' In that case, master, sit down there on the 
 causeuse. I have at your service some famous 
 tobacco at seven petards the pound.' 
 
 ' That 's good, faith ; make haste.' 
 
 And Death lit his pipe and seated himself at 
 the door on the elm trunk. 
 
 Laughing in his sleeve, the wheelwright of Coq 
 returned to his work. At the end of a quarter of 
 an hour Death called to him — 
 
 ' Ho ! faith, will you soon have finished '> ' 
 E
 
 66 THE DEVIL'S ROUND 
 
 The wheelwright turned a deaf ear and went on 
 planing, singing — 
 
 ' Attendez-moi sur I'orme ; 
 Vous m'altendrez loiigtemps.' 
 
 ' I don't think he hears me,' said Death. ' Ho ! 
 friend, are you ready ? ' 
 
 ' Va-t-en voir s'ils viennent, Jean, 
 Va-t-en voir s'ils viennent,' 
 
 replied the singer. 
 
 ' Would the brute laugh at me ? ' said Death to 
 himself. 
 
 And he tried to rise. 
 
 To his great surprise he could not detach him- 
 self from the caiiscuse. He then understood he 
 was the sport of a superior power. 
 
 ' Let me see,' he said to Roger, ' What will 
 you take to let me go ? Do you wish me to pro- 
 long your life ten years?' 
 
 ' J'ai (le bon tabac dans ma tabatiere,' 
 
 sang the great golfer.
 
 THE DEVILS ROUND 67 
 
 ' Will you take twenty years ? ' 
 
 ' II pleut, il pleut, bergere ; 
 Rentre tes blancs moutons. ' 
 
 ' Will you take fifty, wheelwright ? — may the 
 devil admire you ! ' 
 
 The wheelwright of Coq intoned — 
 
 * Bon voyage, cher Dumollet, 
 A Saiut-Malo debarquez sans naufrage.' 
 
 In the meanwhile the clock of Conde had just 
 struck four, and the boys were coming out of 
 school. The sight of this great dry heron of a 
 creature who struggled on the caiisciise, like a 
 devil in a holy-water pot, surprised and soon 
 delighted them. 
 
 Never suspecting that when seated at the door 
 of the old, Death watches the young, they thought 
 it funny to put out their tongues at him, singing 
 in chorus : — 
 
 ' Bon voyage, cher Dumollet, 
 A Saint-Malo debarquez sans naufrage.' 
 
 ' Will you take a hundred years ?' yelled Death
 
 68 THE DEVILS ROUND 
 
 'Hein? How? What? Were you not speaking 
 of an extension of a hundred years? I accept 
 with all my heart, master ; but let us understand : 
 I am not such a fool as to ask for the lengthening 
 of my old age. 
 
 ' Then what do you want ? ' 
 
 ' From old age I only ask the experience 
 which it gives by degrees. " Si jeunesse savait, 
 si vieillesse pouvait 1 " sa}'s the proverb. I wish 
 to preserve for a hundred years the strength of a 
 young man, and to acquire the experience of an 
 old one.' 
 
 ' So be it/ said Death ; ' I shall return this day 
 a hundred years.' 
 
 ' Bon voyage, cher Dumollet, 
 A Saint-Malo debarquez sans naufrage.' 
 
 XI 
 
 The great golfer began a new life. At first he 
 enjoyed perfect happiness, which was increased 
 by the certainty of its not ending for a hundred
 
 THE DEVIL'S ROUND 69 
 
 years. Thanks to his experience, he so well 
 understood the management of his affairs that 
 he could leave his mallet and shut up shop.^ 
 
 He experienced, nevertheless, an annoyance he 
 had not foreseen. His wonderful skill at golf 
 ended by frightening the players whom he had 
 at first delighted, and was the cause of his never 
 finding any one who would play against him. 
 
 He therefore quitted the canton and set out on 
 his travels over French Flanders, Belgium, and 
 all the greens where the noble game is held in 
 honour. At the end of twenty years he returned 
 to Coq to be admired by a new generation of 
 golfers, after which he departed to return twenty 
 years later. 
 
 Alas ! in spite of its apparent charm, this exist- 
 ence before long became a burden to him. Besides 
 that, it bored him to win on every occasion ; he 
 was tired of passing like the Wandering Jew 
 through generations, and of seeing the sons, 
 
 ^ Vivre h parte close.
 
 70 THE DEVIL'S ROUND 
 
 grandsons, and great-grandsons of his friends 
 grow old and die out. He was constantly re- 
 duced to making new friendships which were 
 undone by the age or death of his fellows ; all 
 changed around him, he only did not change. 
 
 He grew impatient of this eternal youthfulness, 
 which condemned him to taste the same pleasures 
 for ever, and he sometimes longed to know the 
 calmer joys of old age. One day he caught him- 
 self at his looking-glass, examining whether his 
 hair had not begun to grow white ; nothing 
 seemed so beautiful to him now as the snow on 
 the forehead of the old. 
 
 xn 
 
 In addition to this, experience soon made him so 
 wise that he was no longer amused at anything. 
 If sometimes in the tavern he had a fancy for 
 making use of his apron to pass the night at 
 cards : * What is the good of this excess ? ' whis- 
 pered experience ; ' it is not sufficient to be
 
 THE DEVILS ROUND 71 
 
 unable to shorten one's days, one must also avoid 
 making one's-self ill.' 
 
 He reached the point of refusing himself the 
 pleasure of drinking his pint and smoking his 
 pipe. Why, indeed, plunge into dissipations 
 which enervate the body and dull the brain ? 
 
 TJie wretch went further, and gave up golf ! 
 Experience convinced him that the game is a 
 dangerous one, which overheats one and is emi- 
 nently adapted to produce colds, catarrhs, rheu- 
 matism, and inflammation of the lungs. 
 
 Besides, what is the use, and what great glory 
 is it to be reputed the first golfer in the world ? 
 
 Of what use is glory itself? A vain hope, vain 
 as the smoke of a pipe. 
 
 When experience had thus bereft him one by 
 one of his delusions, the unhappy golfer became 
 mortally weary. He saw that he had deceived 
 himself, that delusion has its price, and that the 
 greatest charm of youth is perhaps its inex- 
 perience.
 
 72 THE DEVIL'S ROUND 
 
 He thus arrived at the term agreed on in the 
 contract, and as he had not had a paradise here 
 below, he sought through his hardly-acquired 
 wisdom a clever way of conquering one above. 
 
 XIII 
 
 Death found him at Coq at work in his shop. 
 Experience had at least taught him that work is 
 the most lasting of pleasures. 
 
 ' Are you ready ? ' said Death. 
 
 ' I am.' 
 
 He took his club, put a score of balls in his 
 pocket, threw his sack over his shoulder, and 
 buckled his gaiters without taking off his apron. 
 
 'What do you want your club for? ' 
 
 'Why, to golf in paradise with my patron 
 St. Anthony. 
 
 ' Do you fancy, then, that I am going to con- 
 duct you to paradise?' 
 
 'You must, as I have half a dozen souls to
 
 THE DEVIL'S ROUND 72, 
 
 carry there that I once saved from the clutches 
 of Belz^buth.' 
 
 * Better have saved your own. Eti route, cher 
 Diimollct ! ' 
 
 The great golfer saw that the old reaper bore 
 him a grudge, and that he was going to conduct 
 him to the paradise of the lost.i 
 
 Indeed, a quarter of an hour later the two 
 travellers knocked at the gate of hell. 
 
 ' Toe, toe ! ' 
 
 ' Who is there ? ' 
 
 ' The wheelwright of Coq,' said the great 
 golfer. 
 
 ' Don't open the door,' cried Belzebuth ; ' that 
 rascal wins at every turn ; he is capable of de- 
 populating my empire.' 
 
 Roger laughed in his sleeve. 
 
 ' Oh ! you are not saved,' said Death. ' I am 
 going to take you where you won't be cold 
 either.' 
 
 ' Noires glaives.
 
 74 THE DEVIL'S ROUND 
 
 Quicker than a beggar would have emptied a 
 poor's box they were in purgatory. 
 
 ' Toe, toe ! ' 
 
 ' Who is there ? ' 
 
 ' The wheehvright of Coq,' said the great 
 golfer, 
 
 ' But he is in a state of mortal sin,' cried the 
 angel on duty. ' Take him away from here — he 
 can't come in.' 
 
 ' I cannot, all the same, let him linger between 
 heaven and earth,' said Death ; ' I shall shunt 
 him back to Coq.' 
 
 ' Where they will take me for a ghost. Thank 
 you ! is there not still paradise?' 
 
 XIV 
 
 They were there at the end of a short hour. 
 ' Toe, toe ! ' 
 ' Who is there ? ' 
 
 ' The wheelwright of Coq,' said the great 
 golfer.
 
 THE DEVIL'S ROUND 75 
 
 ' Ah ! my lad,' said St. Peter half opening the 
 door, ' I am really grieved. St. Anthony told you 
 long ago you had better ask for the salvation of 
 your soul.' 
 
 ' That is true, St. Peter,' replied Roger with a 
 sheepish air. ' And how is he, that blessed 
 St. Anthony? Could I not come in for one 
 moment to return the visit he once paid me ? ' 
 
 ' Why, here he comes,' said St. Peter, throwing 
 the door wide open. 
 
 In the twinkling of an eye the sly golfer had 
 flung himself into paradise, unhooked his apron, 
 let it fall to the ground, and seated himself down 
 on it. 
 
 'Good morning, St. Anthony,' said he with a 
 fine salute. 'You see I had plenty of time to 
 think of paradise, for here we are ! ' 
 
 ' What ! You here ! ' cried St. Anthony. 
 
 ' Yes, I and my company,' replied Roger, open- 
 ing his sack and scattering on the carpet the souls 
 of six golfers.
 
 76 THE DEVIL'S ROUND 
 
 ' Will you have the goodness to pack right oft", 
 all of you ? ' 
 
 ' Impossible ! ' said the great golfer, showing his 
 apron. 
 
 ' The rogue has made game of us,' said St. 
 Anthony. ' Come, St. Peter, in memory of our 
 game of golf, let him in with his souls. Besides, 
 he has had his purgatory on earth.' 
 
 ' It is not a very good precedent,' murmured 
 St. Peter. 
 
 ' Bah ! ' replied Roger, ' if we have a few good 
 golfers in paradise, where is the harm ? ' 
 
 XV 
 
 Thus, after having lived long, golfed much, and 
 drunk many cans of beer, the wheelwright of Coq 
 called the Great Golfer was admitted to paradise ; 
 but I advise no one to copy him, for it is not 
 quite the right way to go, and St. Peter might 
 not always be so compliant, though great allow- 
 ances must be made for golfers. 
 
 Isabel Anstruther Thomson.
 
 ACADEMIC GOLF 
 
 By R. BARCLAY 
 
 Foisted upon St. Andrews by my vvcll-mcaning 
 but misguided parents, I soon discovered that 
 life at a Scottish University was not very hard 
 to endure. True, I had been so kept in subjec- 
 tion in the early years of my existence, that the 
 reaction caused by an independent residence in 
 lodgings may have derived much of its pleasure 
 by comparison with the former state of matters ; 
 but, be that as it may, I had not been long in 
 the place when I made up my mind to pass, my 
 undergraduate years as easily as possible. Pre- 
 viously my athletic record had not been strikingly 
 brilliant : my Football experiences were unpleasant 
 to think of, as I was generally to be found inside 
 the scrimmage, usurping the position of the ball.
 
 78 ACADEMIC GOLF 
 
 and receiving the attention designed for its pro- 
 pulsion towards the opponents' goal. In the way 
 of Cricket, too, I had invariably gone in second 
 wicket down, and as invariably I myself was 
 third wicket down — my modesty and unassuming 
 efforts preventing me from ' troubling the scorers,' 
 as the papers euphemistically remark. It was 
 natural, therefore, that when I made my debut in 
 a new centre of civilisation I should eschew 
 athletics and turn to more indolent forms of 
 amusement. 
 
 For a considerable period I managed to find 
 relaxation in a country walk once a day. When 
 the weather was not propitious, I confined myself 
 to the playing of whist or chess — in both of which 
 games I speedily became proficient, — with an 
 occasional game of billiards with a man from 
 London, who stayed in the rooms next to mine. 
 
 I had heard that St. Andrews boasted Links ; 
 but although I had seen them, they appeared to 
 me only as a vast stretch of turf with infinite
 
 ACADEMIC GOLF 79 
 
 pastoral capacities. In an evil hour I was intro- 
 duced to a fourth year's student, by name 
 Saunders M'Bunker, who, with true Celtic cun- 
 ning, allured me into a shop which I afterwards 
 discovered was Forgan's. There he expressed 
 his admiration for my physique, which he said 
 was that of a man made for Golf. ' In fact,' he 
 said, 'you have a future before you, and you shall 
 buy three of my old clubs.' I smiled sadl}', and 
 with a mild attempt to look wise, I took the 
 weapons in my hand. He said that this action 
 of his would entail a great sacrifice on his part. 
 Unwilling to be the cause of any loss, I paid him 
 ten shillings, and walked off with the clubs. I 
 made for the teeing-ground, where I was speedily 
 joined by my new friend, who began to mention 
 all the feats which he had performed with the driver 
 — a club with a broken face and a plentiful suppl}' 
 of splicing. He had driven a ball across the 
 burn from the tee on five different occasions — at 
 least so he said to me then, although later, in the
 
 8o ACADEMIC GOLF 
 
 presence of a clergyman, he modified the assertion 
 to a considerable degree. He told me how in his 
 first year at College he had killed an unpopular 
 Professor by striking him with a black gutta at a 
 distance of a quarter of a mile, thereby earning 
 the everlasting gratitude of his fellow-students. I 
 wondered to myself how he had escaped hanging, 
 and came to the conclusion that the gallows yet 
 awaited the murderous youth. Other tales equally 
 marvellous he poured into my sympathetic ear, 
 while I employed myself in constructing, under 
 the direction of a bystander, a tee of enormous 
 height. An officious Caddie offered to carry my 
 clubs. I declined, in as haughty a manner as a 
 person who was about to lower all existing 
 records should do. I addressed the ball first 
 with my club, next with my tongue : the first was 
 unsuccessful, the second was profane, for I had 
 dislodged a quantity of earth and left the ball 
 untouched. The Caddie aforementioned was so 
 unfeeling as to laugh. I struggled on, and by
 
 ACADEMIC GOLF 8i 
 
 dint of hard hitting and turf cutting I carved my 
 way to the first hole, which I secured in nineteen. 
 The rest of my round was of a like nature ; the 
 encouragements of other beginners, and the sar- 
 casm of experts, having little or no effect on my 
 play. 
 
 In four months' time I could go round in 120, 
 chiefly owing to the fact that M'Bunker's clubs 
 had collapsed in two days' time after I had 
 acquired them ; and I felt that I was now on the 
 highway to fame. But I got a rebuff which I had 
 not expected. By some untoward freak of fortune 
 I started on a round immediately behind what is 
 commonly called a Professorial Foursome — that 
 is to say, a foursome in which the players are 
 Professors in the University. Duffer as I still 
 was, I could not fail to observe that I was im- 
 mensely superior to these gentlemen. On and on 
 they went, hole by hole, bunker by bunker, while 
 the air was rent with the sound of breaking clubs 
 and the rattle of violent ejaculations. My insight 
 
 F
 
 82 ACADEMIC GOLF 
 
 into life was becoming larger and clearer. Theo- 
 logians hold that religion is the perception of the 
 Infinite — then I was a religious man — I was 
 engaged in perception of the infinite. Reader ! 
 Professorial Golf is the infinite : it refuses to be 
 confined within the narrow limits of rules and the 
 unbending laws of nature. At the fifth hole I 
 was blinded by the loose sand and earth which 
 came flying back towards me, as turf after turf 
 was hurled from the erring cleek. At the eighth 
 hole the course of my ball was interrupted by a 
 large mass of broken shafts, which was piled up 
 in serried confusion. At the turn one of the 
 players walked home, having lost his clubs and 
 his temper. The three remaining Dons in solemn 
 silence struck off — at least they struck ; I cannot 
 speak with certainty about the ' off' My partner 
 and I plodded peacefully behind for some time, 
 until, in a fit of forgetfulness, I drove from the tee 
 at the long hole before the learned men had 
 played their fifth shots. The words which they
 
 ACADEMIC GOLF " 83 
 
 uttered I do not care to repeat here. However, 
 I shelled them from a distance until they reached 
 the home hole, when, having landed all square, 
 they departed. 
 
 I do not know why I was sent down by the 
 Senatus. Rudeness and incivility towards certain 
 Professors were the chief counts in the indictment. 
 But I suspect that the true reason was this, that 
 these dauntless three, enraged at being discovered 
 in their infamous and ineffective essays at Golf, 
 had so contrived to secure silence on my part and 
 salvation of their reputations. 
 
 But I shall not be so easily put down. I scorn 
 to make mention of their names ; but any one 
 caring to investigate the matter may discern the 
 gentlemen on the Links of St. Andrews ; nay, he 
 may even trace them by the long rows of loose 
 turf which mark their victorious career. 
 
 I have left the city for good. M'Bunker tells 
 me in his last letter that a Professorial Handicap
 
 84 ACADEMIC GOLF 
 
 had been arranged. The scratch man won easily 
 in 1 39 ; a learned Principal who had been turned 
 adrift on the Links with unlimited odds has not 
 since been heard of.
 
 CONCERNING THE CADDIES OF 
 ST. ANDREWS 
 
 By R. WHYTE GIBSON 
 
 It is a truism to remark that every gentleman 
 has a peculiar function to perform in the social 
 community, and the Caddie has his. The Caddies 
 are a privileged class, and they make the most of 
 their privileges. This is shown by free criticism 
 and gratuitous advice on all occasions. They are 
 ever ready to impart the fruits of their experience. 
 The Caddies have stood at Forgan's shop and 
 the Golf Hotel (the former has been revolutionised 
 in our time ; the latter has been lately embellished 
 by a work of art — tcinpora inntaiitur, etc.) ; thc)^ 
 have placed themselves there, till these corners arc 
 now their own property, consecrated by the expec- 
 toration of tobacco-juice and the fumes of three- 
 penny cut, discussing the affairs of the empire, 
 or the local politics of the microcosm. There
 
 86 THE CADDIES OF ST. ANDREWS 
 
 they stand, blue with the ' cauld wund ' of the 
 bleak midwinter, or bronzed like Arabs with the 
 ^ ^^.y Strang het' of the summer-time. Their 
 occupation would be pleasant were it not per- 
 chance precarious. Their fortune varies. But 
 they are optimistic, and if business is dull and the 
 hours go slowly by, a 'bit nipple' over the way 
 refreshes the inner man. They are pertinacious 
 in offering their services. When a man arrives 
 at the Club for his first round, he is at once 
 encompassed by these Bulls of Bashan, and 
 bamboozled with their unintelligible jargon of 
 ' Chancees, sir, chancees.' Peace at any price is 
 the order of the day. We have hinted that they 
 are not reserved. We have heard an enthusiast, 
 recently raised to the bench, addressed as follows 
 on missing a shot — ' Sur, )OU 're no playin' the 
 day ava. Hand up your shouthers ; dinna sclaff !' 
 and the recipient of this was not a novice or tyro 
 by any means. We have heard an Oxonian 
 informed in no mild language that ' gouf isna
 
 THE CADDIES OF ST. ANDREWS 87 
 
 crecket : ye needna swing your cloob that wey !' 
 When your ball falls into the burn, the ennbryo 
 Caddie is good enough to try to find it for you by 
 stamping it into the mud ; the old Caddie stoically 
 howks for stray ' baas ' among the whins. We 
 believe the employment in both cases is lucrative. 
 Some of the youths of the unique city recruit 
 their strength by caddying for a few years ; they 
 then devote their latent talents to ' the trades.' 
 The Caddie is no respecter of persons ; once 
 roused, his volubility is prodigious, his inde- 
 pendence striking. We know several who have 
 been Caddies all their lives, and who know every 
 inch of the course, among whom, old ' Skipper,' 
 art thou one ! The Caddie considers he is at all 
 times entitled to 'auld baas' ('See an auld baa 
 fae ye '), while a pair of boots, or other articles 
 of apparel, are never refused. If not altogether 
 respectful, he tries to look resjoectable, and on 
 the whole is a self-important but worthy indi- 
 vidual.
 
 CLASSICS FOR THE CLUBMEN 
 
 By ANDREW LANG 
 
 EcCE, senex Andreanus 
 
 Rubra veste cambricat, 
 Li arenis ut paganus 
 Fodit, frequens et profanus, 
 
 Mala verba vocitat ! 
 Dat Morrisius consilia, 
 ' Carpe arenam multam ; ' ^ millia 
 Mala verba, prava, vilia, 
 Senex, en, vociferat ! 
 
 Non me decet admonere, 
 Magis clam peccata flere 
 Ouam superbia gaudere 
 
 Conscientia admonet ! 
 In Sepulchro Walkingshavi 
 Frustra fodiens juravi, 
 
 Nunc scelestum poenitet. 
 
 ^ ' Tak' plenty o' sand.'
 
 ALWAYS ONE HOLE DOWN 
 
 By W. DALRYMPLE 
 
 Of the many yarns associated with Largs Bay 
 and the Links of Leven, the following is perhaps 
 the most pathetic ; and though it is, as a matter of 
 fact, familiar to several, it is hoped that it may be 
 new to some readers. 
 
 July is proverbially a joyous month, rich in 
 merry sunshine and full of glad promise, and 
 Saturday all over the Christian world the day of 
 the week associated in all minds with happy 
 reminiscences. Yet it was on the second Satur- 
 day of July last year that the following events 
 occurred, the sadness of which is only less 
 remarkable than the horror which they caused. 
 
 It is among the more primitive races that a 
 short, stout man is of the greatest value — for
 
 90 ALWAYS ONE HOLE DOWN 
 
 obvious reasons. Still, on the golf links of 
 civilisation he may not be altogether despised. 
 He is not only the cause of bright and rosy hope, 
 and high and joyous enthusiasm in the hearts of 
 his adversaries ; he is also productive in the breast 
 of his own partner of that feeling of calm and 
 pious resignation which we are so pleased to see 
 in those of our fellows who inspire us with any- 
 thing like affectionate interest. 
 
 A fat little man, with a red face and auburn 
 hair, and a nose poised between eyes which 
 reminded one not a little of those aggravating 
 balls of glass so much affected by the later 
 generation of soda-water men ; such is the hero 
 of this mournful tale, or, if you will, tragedy in 
 real life. 
 
 Where the creature came from, we are now glad 
 to be ignorant. His name is a rare one in our 
 district — Smith ; but as will be gathered from the 
 sequel, he preferred to be remembered by a name 
 closely associated with his unhallowed deeds.
 
 ALWAYS ONE HOLE DOWN 91 
 
 As to his dress the less said the better. In the 
 good old days in France, the corpse of a hanged 
 man was frequently dressed in a clean shirt, 
 should the King happen to pass that way. Had 
 our friend lived in a golfing district in the France 
 of those good old times, it would have been 
 unwise to postpone the presentation of such an 
 article to him until such time as his Majesty went 
 by ! But, to his honour let it be said, he did not 
 insult the memory of Old Philp by appearing in 
 white spats. 
 
 It is not on record that any golfer of experience 
 ever cJiose such a man as partner. He is the 
 result of a toss — a spin with a half-crown, the gift 
 of some dread Fate. And it was in some such 
 way, or, perhaps, in punishment of some uncon- 
 scious crime, that the writer was saddled with our 
 hero. 
 
 When our partnership was sealed, his look of 
 settled gloom became more pronounced, and the 
 tone in which he asked if we preferred red or
 
 92 ALPJ/AVS ONE HOLE DOWN 
 
 black gutta was absolutely debilitating to one 
 who had made the very hastiest of luncheons. 
 
 Yet things went brightly and prosperously for 
 us at the first. Forceps and his cousin Nicodemus 
 were foozling right and left. If Forceps topped 
 his tee shot, Nicodemus carried on the sprightly 
 sport by planting him in the nearest bunker. 
 Did Nicodemus pull round into the railway, 
 Forceps would infallibly send his into the nearest 
 burn, and of these there are no fewer than four on 
 Leven Links. One of us enjoyed the fun im- 
 mensely, but it was not our hero : on the contrary, 
 when we at length came to be five up and six to 
 play, his dejection became worthy only of Dart- 
 moor or a Friendly Girls' Picnic to Auchterarder 
 or Freuchie. 
 
 * Well, Sir,' I said, with what I fondly imagined 
 to be cheering courtesy, 'you certainly have 
 played a stunning game ; just fancy being five up 
 and six to play against Forceps and his cousin 
 Nicodemus ! '
 
 ALWAYS ONE HOLE DOWN 93 
 
 ' Ah, that 's all very well ; but,' he added, with 
 a weary sigh worthy of a spider in a fly-paper 
 manufactory, 'you don't know.' 
 
 This rather pained me, because, though not 
 much of a player myself, I know a great deal 
 about it, and, in fact, have often given invalu- 
 able advice to people who fancy they know a 
 great deal more than I do ; and to be thus told 
 that I did not know was unkind, if not indeed 
 actually offensive. Unwilling, however, to pro- 
 voke any unpleasantness, I mildly remarked : 
 ' How, sir ? ' 
 
 * Ah ! you don't know all,' he repeated, with 
 a groan which reminded me of dentists and 
 cod-liver oil. ' No, sir ! you don't know all.' 
 
 'Look here! If you've committed any crime 
 of unusual atrocity, please don't mention it till 
 this game is over,' I said hastily. ' By the wa}', 
 what's your name.'" for, as a matter of fact, by 
 reason of its extreme rarity in our district, it had 
 for the time escaped my memory.
 
 94 AL WA YS ONE HOLE DO WN 
 
 ' My name is one not unknown in poetry and 
 prose, but principally the latter. I am usually, 
 however, more widely known in the golfing 
 world as the " Man who is always one hole 
 down." ' 
 
 ' Get away ! ' I exclaimed, with a sickly effort 
 at gaiety ; for, though I had never actually met 
 the creature before, I had often heard whispers 
 of his existence, and he undoubtedly spoke in 
 a tone of veracity. 
 
 ' Yes ; always one hole down ! Sometimes 
 more — never less ! It is indeed a doleful doom.' 
 Here he brushed away a tear with his sleeve, 
 and dropped a pace behind. 
 
 * But what about your unlucky partners } can't 
 you make a change just this once — for my sake?' 
 I exclaimed with some unworthy selfishness. 
 ' You know it 's pretty rough on me.' 
 
 'True; but what of myself? Often do I hear 
 the sunny laugh and the merry voice prate and 
 babble of its four — five — six — even of its eighteen
 
 ALWAYS ONE HOLE DOWN 95 
 
 holes up ; and I, always, always one down — and 
 sometimes more !' 
 
 ' Is there no hope of breakinL;- this nefarious 
 spell?' I exclaimed with some disma}-, for Nico- 
 dcmus had just laid a lonc^ putt dead. 
 
 'None!' he rei)lied with a resii^ned look; and 
 he added, with a sluuldcr, '11a! she comes !' 
 
 'Who?' 1 cried with a jump; for he startled 
 us, and there were dozens of liii^hland cattle 
 pasturing;' on the Links, If he meant a cow, 1 
 detcrnn'ned to <;o home at once, or, at all events, 
 escape to the other side of the railway. 
 
 ' She is on the other side of that knoll just now. 
 I hear her ; you will probabl}- see her in the 
 course of five minutes.' 
 
 'Thunder! Is she charging?' I cried in per- 
 fectly excusable anxiety. 
 
 'Charging.^' he echoed, with a long slow moan ; 
 'charging? Alas! she is already charged, primed, 
 and ready for action.' 
 
 There now appeared over the knoll in front
 
 96 AL WA YS ONE HOLE DO WN 
 
 of us a pretty young creature of some four feet 
 six or so, winsomely robed in gray, of a curious 
 shade, with a red jacket and sunshade of the 
 same colour. She was accompanied by two 
 Maltese terriers, whose knowledge of Pears' must, 
 from the delicious white silkiness of their hair, 
 have been profound in the extreme ; and on a 
 chain trotted a pug, with black warty muzzle, 
 and a tail curled in a knot that it would have 
 been the joy of a Coleraine pig to bite. 
 
 ' Ha ! who comes here ? ' cried Forceps and 
 Nicodemus, for they have both a nice taste in 
 such matters. 
 
 ' It is my wife,' said our partner with an ex- 
 tremely depressing mixture of wail, whistle, and 
 whine. ' She always takes a turn out with the 
 dogs, and walks home with me.' 
 
 ' Is that the reason,' I whispered sternly, ' of 
 you know what ? ' 
 
 ' Always one hole down ! ' he murmured. 
 
 And, as a matter of fact, at the end of the game 
 so we were !
 
 THE HOME OF GOLF 
 
 By R. BARCLAY 
 
 In a book about Golf no apology is required for 
 introducing some remarks upon St. Andrews. 
 Golf without St. Andrews would be almost as 
 intolerable as St. Andrews without Golf. For 
 here are the head-quarters of the ' royal, ancient, 
 irritating sport.' Here Tom Morris holds his court, 
 his courtiers, the clubmen and the caddies ; his 
 throne, the evergreen links ; and his scej^tre, a 
 venerable putter. Here the children make their 
 entrance into the world, not with silver spoons in 
 their mouths, but with diminutive golf-clubs in 
 their hands. Here the Champion is as much a 
 hero as the greatest general who ever returned 
 
 G
 
 98 THE HOME OF GOLF 
 
 in triumph from the wars. Here, in short, is 
 an asykim for golfing maniacs and the happy 
 hunting-ground of the duffer, who, armed with 
 a rusty cleek, sallies forth to mutilate the harm- 
 less turf. 
 
 When a man becomes infected with the golfing 
 disease, his first desire of course is to strike the 
 ball with occasional success. Continually and 
 consistently to miss the globe may be enervating, 
 but it cannot be called an encouraging pastime. 
 Then follow loftier aims and aspirations. He 
 perseveres until in a thrice-happy hour he 'gets 
 below the hundred.' But if he be a Foreigner — 
 in the golfing sense — his cup of joy is not yet 
 full. His mind turns towards St. Andrews, and 
 thither he bends his willing steps, or, in more 
 prosaic form, sets out by train. 
 
 He will be struck at once by the unique 
 appearance of the city. It stands in an atmo- 
 sphere of antiquity. When and by whom it was 
 actually formed cannot with certainty be stated,
 
 THE HOME OF GOLF 99 
 
 The popular custom was to lay the blame upon 
 St. Regulus — as the poet has testified : — 
 
 ' 'Tis thought when St, Regulus landed 
 
 The bones of St. Andrew he bare 
 To a cave in a cliff that commanded 
 
 A prospect with capilal air : 
 " The seaweed is capital fare 
 
 For a healthy ascetic," cried he : 
 And he settled contentedly where 
 
 The College now stands by the sea. ' 
 
 All this is very apocryphal, but we have every 
 reason to date its origin from the year 736 A.D. 
 Since then no place in Scotland has seen fiercer 
 conflicts and more sudden catastroi)hes, and witli 
 no exaggeration it has been said that the history 
 of St. Andrews is the history of Scotland. 
 
 In its modern aspect St. Andrews is peculiarl}' 
 placed. Close upon seven thousand persons claim 
 to be inhabitants. If we except the fishermen — of 
 whom there is a large colon}- — the tradespeople, 
 and the University, almost every other body is by 
 
 1 Mr. Andrew ho.ng—'- Ballade 0/ S/, Andrews University.''
 
 loo THE HOME OF GOLF 
 
 profession or practice to be designated a golfer. 
 Of course the other classes aforementioned arc 
 largely represented on the links when leisure 
 permits them, for it is in truth a ' City of Golf.' 
 There are no public works, hence there is little or 
 no smoke : and except when a misguided Town 
 Council cements the streets with coal dust the 
 pavement is as white as Scottish pavement 
 may be. 
 
 The summer visitor finds it difficult to believe 
 that St. Andrews is a University city. The 
 college buildings are there, it is true, but no signs 
 of life are visible. In winter, however, it is far 
 otherwise. From October to April the streets are 
 enlivened by the red gowns of the undergraduates, 
 and arrangements are now being made for the 
 institution of a summer session. The educational 
 record of the city is a noble one, and the University 
 is still doing successful, and often brilliant, work. 
 
 But this is not Golf Let us return to the links 
 — with which none can compare. Here, there, and
 
 THE HOME OF GOLF loi 
 
 everywhere Golf is spreading : almost every day 
 we hear of Tom Morris opening a new green and 
 declaring it (with a faithless regularity) to be ' the 
 finest green in the country' — though he will 
 occasionally modify the statement to this extent, 
 that it is ' second only to St. Andrews.' Whether 
 these remarks are ever made by the cautious old 
 custodian is doubtful : local enthusiasm is prone 
 to exaggerate. There are links which are 
 sporting, and links which are long : links which 
 have good putting greens, and links which have 
 none at all : links which have no hazards, and 
 links which are all hazard : but place any of them 
 beside St. Andrews, and O the difference ! Very 
 inferior golf may secure a good score at Car- 
 noustie, or Leven, or Musselburgh, or Gullane, or 
 Machrihanish, to mention no more, but an^'thing 
 below ninety on St. Andrews means that foozling 
 has been conspicuous by its absence. The driving 
 must be straight, the iron play decided and exact, 
 and mistakes on the putting green cannot be
 
 I02 THE HOME OF GOLF 
 
 ascribed to the turf, which, in summer at least, 
 is truer than most bilHard tables. The bunkers 
 are for the most part traps only for missed shots, 
 and, considering the tremendous amount of traffic, 
 bad lies are proverbially absent. 
 
 In short, St. Andrews is the home and nursery 
 of Golf Here it is that we find the game as it 
 should be played, here alone, if we except North 
 Berwick : for the palmy days of Musselburgh are 
 past, and Prestwick is too select to be considered. 
 For there is Golf as it should not be played — as 
 it cannot be played. Farther down the Fife 
 coast, to seek no more distant ground, there is a 
 links more than usually affected in the summer 
 months by visitors and vagabonds, where, by the 
 natives at least, style is unknown and turf seldom 
 replaced. There are perhaps some half-dozen 
 players of more than average skill who are duly 
 worshipped by the lesser lights of the links : and 
 there are probably not more than a dozen, or, at 
 most, a score, who have seen a professional match
 
 THE HOME OF GOLF 103 
 
 or amateur play of the first class. Their style, if 
 it may be called so, is universally and utterly 
 abject : their clubs are generally more or less 
 curious varieties of the ' Bulger ' arrangement : 
 the half-swing reigns supreme : and there is no 
 resident professional. The green-keeper, an ex- 
 cellent man and a pretty wit, was enlisted (O 
 foolish economy !) from the service of the plough. 
 He makes a new putting green with infinite 
 labour, and leaves the storms and heat of the 
 heavens to convert it into a particularly uninviting 
 bunker. He places the teeing-grounds among 
 whins, and gloats over those who find it most 
 profitable to drive therefrom with their irons. 
 The native golfers, having no one of eminence to 
 imitate, do what seems right in their own eyes, 
 and what, in the eyes of every other body, is 
 patently wrong, their chief amusement on many 
 occasions being to drive blindly and fiercely into 
 some unoffending foursome, crying 'Fore' with 
 unnecessary vehemence as the hindmost of the
 
 t04 THE HOME OF GOLF 
 
 players is being conveyed to the nearest surgeon's. 
 
 All of which is golfing according to , but 
 
 the name of the town must not be mentioned. 
 The inhabitants are many of them strong 
 men. 
 
 In St. Andrews are the hopes of the golfer 
 fixed. The very air seems to be impregnated 
 with the spirit of the game. At the tee with the 
 brave old towers behind, the rolling waters of 
 the Bay to the right, and in front the mounds, and 
 hillocks, and levels of the links, one feels that he 
 has reached the end of his pilgrimage to the 
 Shrine of Golf. A new glamour is thrown about 
 the game: the Golfer's 'spirit leaps within him 
 to be gone before him then': the Swilcan may 
 receive his second or third shot in its liquid 
 shallows : he may foozle on the green under the 
 critical eye of a by-standing professional, but ' his 
 heart's his own, his will is free.' And standing 
 at the end hole with his round half accomplished, 
 he can survey the towers of the ruined Cathedral,
 
 THE HOME OF GOLF 
 
 105 
 
 and the ragged masonry of the Castle, and the 
 grey old city itself with the feelings of one who 
 has found life worth living and Golf a game for 
 men.
 
 I 
 
 A VISIT TO GOFFTOON 
 
 By a. C. MORRISON 
 
 It was evening: on rushed the train with almost 
 h'ghtning rapidity. I recHned comfortably in a 
 third - class compartment, and thought with 
 pleasure of the various joys that were in store 
 for me. By my side lay an umbrella and a 
 sandwich ; but my pocket did not contain the 
 proverbial return ticket ; for it was only at five 
 o'clock on an August evening that I had left the 
 office of Messrs. Smith, Brown, Jones, and Com- 
 pany, with permission to absent myself for a 
 fortnight. In the first excitement attending the 
 great occasion, I seized my travelling bag, that 
 had been carefully packed in the morning, bolted 
 to a station, and took the first train for anywhere. 
 There was only one other passenger in the
 
 A VISIT TO GOFFTOON 107 
 
 compartment ; but my conversational efiforts were 
 most distinctly discouraged. This gentleman was 
 arrayed in tweeds of loud pattern, the design of 
 which I was quite unable to comprehend. I 
 quailed beneath his examining gaze, but at length 
 he closed his eyes. Then, venturing to investigate, 
 I discovered with astonishment that the design 
 of the tweeds consisted of curiously wrought 
 cleeks and irons, with golf-balls judiciously inter- 
 spersed. On the seat there lay a small valise of 
 so remarkable construction that it cannot be 
 described, but it bore the significant label, ' Goff- 
 toon.' 
 
 For three weary hours the engine puffed and 
 whistled ; but at length there was a slackening 
 of speed which told that the terminus was at 
 hand. My companion gathered up his belong- 
 ings, among which was a set of golf-clubs, glanced 
 ferociously at me, and turned to open the door. 
 Undismayed I followed, and stepped on to a 
 platform which was now almost completely dark.
 
 io8 A VISIT TO GOFFTOON 
 
 A porter moved towards me, but after examining 
 me for a moment, he seemed to miss something, 
 for he turned and walked quickly in the opposite 
 direction. 
 
 Above the entrance to the station there was a 
 lamp that shone upon these curious lines, which 
 I was then at a loss to understand— 
 
 ' An entrance into Gofftoon let no one dare to seek, 
 Unless he bear at very least a driver and a cleek.' 
 
 ' Rather a poor joke,' I mentally remarked, but 
 as the wind had begun to blow, and rain had 
 begun to fall, I hurried off in the direction of the 
 town. Presently some one addressed me. * The 
 greens '11 be stiff, an' you'll need an "eclipse " the 
 morn,' was all he said as he passed once more 
 into the darkness. I shouted after him a request 
 to direct me to an hotel. For a moment I got 
 no reply, but at last he announced that it would 
 ' tak' a meenit or twa, and he hadna time, but,' 
 continued the wayfarer, 'ye micht try the first 
 ane ye come to.'
 
 A VISIT TO GOFFTOON 109 
 
 With this gratifying intelligence I proceeded, 
 until I came to a brilliantly illuminated building 
 which bore the sign, 'Player's First-Class Hotel' 
 I rang the bell. Presently a waiter appeared, 
 who in answer to my request for accommodation 
 immediately said — 
 
 ' I 'm afraid we can't put you up, sir ; what 's 
 your round ? ' 
 
 Thinking to humour this golfing maniac, I told 
 
 him I could do in 102. 
 
 ' Won't do, sir,' said the waiter, and the door 
 was immediately slammed in my face. 
 
 Despite this reverse, I was still happy enough 
 to sympathise with the landlord in having such 
 an idiot in his service ; but my eyes had yet to 
 be opened. Without delay I continued my 
 search, and was soon standing in the entrance 
 hall of another hotel. Again, to my complete 
 bewilderment, the question of the monomaniac 
 waiter was repeated ; and I repeated my answer. 
 To my joy it was this time received with satis-
 
 no A VISIT TO GOFFTOON 
 
 faction. I was once more doomed to disappoint- 
 ment, for I had yet an important question to 
 answer. 
 
 * Use an iron or wooden putter, sir ? ' queried 
 the indefatigable boots. 
 
 ' Confound you ! ' I retorted angrily, ' what does 
 that matter to you ? I only want a bed ; I use 
 the wooden putter mostly.' 
 
 ' Very sorry we can't put you up, sir, but this is 
 the " Cleek," and Mr. Iron is very strict in his 
 orders.' 
 
 Wearied with my wanderings, I at length 
 succeeded in satisfying the requirements of the 
 'Bulger Inn.' I reached these quarters in time to 
 share in the remains of a banquet held annually 
 under the auspices of the Gofftoon Branch of the 
 Society for the Propagation of the Bulger. My 
 appetite was not impaired b}- the fact that there 
 was placed before me a soup-tureen in the form of 
 an exaggerated golf-ball : my salt-cellar was the 
 tureen in miniature : the spoon I used was a
 
 A VISIT TO GOFFTOON in 
 
 diminutive putter with the head scooped out. On 
 a table in the corner of the sitting-room I occu- 
 pied there might be seen writing-paper with 
 crossed golf clubs as a heading, pens of the shape 
 of cleeks, and therefore unsuited for writing, to say 
 nothing of two gentleman golfers supporting ink- 
 wells in their unwearied arms. 
 
 On the way to my bedroom I passed the door 
 of the room in which the banquet was proceeding. 
 On it was placarded the following : ' All inter- 
 ested in the bulgerising of the world are now in- 
 vited to enter.' I accepted the invitation, and 
 presently I listened to a gentleman as he proposed 
 the toast of the evening : ' Prosperity to the 
 Bulger.' With these soul-stirring words he con- 
 cluded an eloquent speech : — 
 
 ' Gentlemen, the principles which it is our aim 
 to advance require no poor words of mine to 
 recommend them to the approval of all. Let 
 us struggle ever onward, ever upward ; let us lay 
 aside all that might be prejudicial to the conquer-
 
 112 A VISIT rO GOFFTOON 
 
 ing career of the Bulger ; let us refrain from violent 
 language when the sacred weapon is in our hands : 
 and so, in the time that is to come, our one grand 
 principle, despite the laughter of the ignorant 
 and the sneering of the sceptic, will have a uni- 
 versal application.' (Loud applause.) 
 
 The Chairman at this point observed a stranger 
 in the company, and immediately called upon him 
 to say a few words on the progress of their prin- 
 ciples in other parts of the world. I was the 
 stranger, and as there was no escape possible, I 
 forthwith addressed the meeting : — 
 
 ' Mr. Chairman and gentlemen, my sympathies 
 are with you, as are the sympathies of the world. 
 (Great applause.) I venture, however, somewhat 
 to disagree with the gentleman who has just sat 
 down. (Silence.) 1 cannot conscientiously say 
 that I believe the principle of the bulger — (ominous 
 murmurings)— is applicable to the Cleek.' (Storms 
 of hissing and booing, amid which there came these 
 awful admonitions, ' Sit upon him ! ' ' Put him out!')
 
 A VISrr TO GOFFTOON 113 
 
 I felt that something desperate must be done to 
 retrieve my lost position. I turned towards the 
 chair, and despite a scathing fire of selected 
 missiles more or less hard, I roared at the pitch 
 of my voice, — ' But, gentlemen, when it is applied, 
 the Cleek will be no longer necessary.' Amid the 
 thunderous applause that followed I disappeared. 
 The furnishings of my bedroom were remark- 
 able. The walls were covered with representa- 
 tions of championship matches, and such works 
 
 of art as ' — playing the First Shot with a 
 
 Bulger.' Various suitable admonitions were con- 
 veyed to the reader by means of cardboard and 
 green worsted : ' Tak' tent to be weel up on the 
 green.' ' Tak' plenty o' sand.' ' Never up, never 
 in.' The bedcover had depicted on it golfers in 
 all manner of attitudes — * At the tee,' ' In the 
 bunker,' ' On the green.' On the dressing-table 
 there lay a book of rules with the inscription, 
 ' Visitors are requested to read a small portion 
 every evening before retiring.' The following 
 
 H
 
 114 A VISIT TO GOFFTOON 
 
 announcement might also be read upon the 
 wall : ' Two rounds must be played every day. 
 It is recommended by the authorities that three 
 be attempted. First round begins at 7 A.M. ; 
 second round at i P.M.' 
 
 Notwithstanding these circumstances, 1 slept 
 well, and was awakened by a voice and a knock 
 at my bedroom door. 
 
 'You're late, sir ; first round 's beginning.' 
 
 ' I haven't got my clubs,' I replied. 
 
 ' Very sorry, sir,' the waiter said from without, 
 'but it's against the rules to supply lunch until 
 the scoring-card of the first round has been 
 handed in. I '11 get you a driver and a cleek 
 somewhere.' 
 
 In half an hour I was on the Links, but I did 
 not feel at my ease ; for all around were arrayed 
 in true Gofiftoon checks, whereas I had to remain 
 content with a black jacket, and nether garments 
 of a very mild stripe. It was immediately recog- 
 nised that I was an interloper, and I was treated
 
 A VISIT TO GOFFTOON 115 
 
 accordingly. No caddie would play against mc 
 for less than ten shillings, but a desire for lunch 
 forced me to come to terms. 
 
 My first day in Gofiftoon passed slowly away. 
 In the afternoon I repaired again to the starting- 
 point. After waiting for two hours and a quarter, 
 I felt that I had done my duty, and so wickedly 
 I set myself to construct a score which might 
 qualify me for a further share of the good things 
 of the ' Bulger Inn.' I congratulated myself that 
 the morrow was Sunday ; for on that day I might 
 have an opportunity of considering my embarrass- 
 ing position. I pondered the cost of a correct 
 Gofiftoon outfit, and wondered whether my once 
 having been ignorant and improper would for 
 ever prevent my receiving a welcome. 
 
 To my astonishment I discovered that the 
 people of Gofiftoon were devout. The instruments 
 of daily labour were laid aside when Sundaj' came, 
 and couples perambulated the Links in the morn- 
 ing, engaged in constructing imaginary scores.
 
 ii6 A VISIT TO GOFFTOON 
 
 I repaired in the midst of the inhabitants to 
 the church, and listened with humihty to the 
 preacher as he compared the Hfe of the righteous 
 man to the flight of an 'ecHpse' against the high 
 wind, when it is struck clean from the tee. Each 
 stroke was an effort of the good towards the end 
 which all should strive to attain. In life, he 
 eloquently remarked, there may be bad lies and 
 difficult approaches ; but with faith, perseverance, 
 and courage, these would be overcome, and a 
 rest would at length be found on the Elysian 
 Plains. On the other hand, the life of the wicked 
 might be suitably compared to the waverings of a 
 sixpenny ' gutta ' which could not be fairly driven, 
 but would be tossed about, so to speak, by every 
 wind of doctrine, until at length it would be 
 lost, or, like the wicked, find its destination at 
 the bottom of some pit, from which no iron or 
 niblick could avail to extricate it. 
 
 The congregation issued from the church much 
 edified by the discourse. In the grave)'ard I
 
 A VISIT TO GOFFTOON 117 
 
 stopped to examine the tombstones, on which 
 were many interesting^ inscriptions. Each bore 
 some suitable motto, and a list of the golfing 
 virtues of the departed. 
 
 HERE LIES 
 
 WHO DIED ON THE 1ST APRIL 189O 
 
 HAVING ON THE PREVIOUS DAY 
 
 EXCEEDED THE HUNDRED. 
 
 He was far and sure in his driving : accurate in his 
 
 approach : and deadly in his putting. 
 
 His average round for the five years previous to his 
 
 demise was eighty-five. 
 
 At the bottom of another stone there might be 
 read — 
 
 ' lie played the wiist iron shot to perfection.' 
 
 A third stone had imprinted at the top 
 ' Perseverance' 
 and bore a representation of a golfer vigorously 
 striving to extricate his ball from a hazard. His
 
 ii8 A VISIT TO GOFFTOON 
 
 remarks on that particular occasion were left to 
 the imagination of the reader. 
 
 Presently, as I looked at the work of art, my 
 mind was overshadowed by a cloud, and I found 
 myself sitting on a hard backed chair. The 
 hands of the clock indicated 1.45 A.M., and beside 
 me there lay on the floor my portmanteau and 
 golf clubs, both labelled * St. Andrews.'
 
 THE GRADUATE IN GOLF 
 
 By R. BARCLAY 
 
 I DO not sing of cities 
 As they do in other ditties 
 
 Which are sacred to the warHke and the free, 
 But of one, and at this minute 
 I am resident within it, 
 
 It 's the Academic City by the Sea. 
 
 And in this ancient City 
 There 's a student, who is witty, 
 
 And who 's waiting to be ploughed for his 
 degree. 
 The amount of work 's enormous 
 As the Calendars inform us 
 
 In the Academic City by the Sea.
 
 o THE GRADUATE IN GOLF 
 
 This golf-aspiring student 
 
 (How the players wish he wouldn't) 
 
 Slices turf unless he's playing from the tee, 
 He 's excused : for it 's the fashion 
 To betray a golfing passion 
 
 In the Academic City by the Sea. 
 
 He can't be called a funker, 
 For he '11 play across a bunker 
 
 With the confidence of Hutchinson, H. G. 
 It doesn't matter whether 
 He lies in whin or heather 
 
 In this Academic City by the Sea. 
 
 No cares his soul environ 
 When he polishes his iron 
 
 Which he bought at second hand for 2/3. 
 And he shares his love of Horace 
 With a friendship for Tom Morris, 
 
 In the Academic City by the Sea.
 
 THE GRADUATE IN GOLF i 
 
 He may sometimes sorrow o'er some 
 Extraordinary foursome, 
 
 When the other side 's victorious b\- three, 
 But he'll tell you he was hooking 
 All his drives, while they were fluking 
 
 In this Academic City by the Sea. 
 
 Then in the long vacation, 
 A stern determination 
 
 Bids him practise iron pitches o'er a tree, 
 And though warm the sunshine blazes 
 He will swipe at smiling daisies 
 
 In other places not beside the sea. 
 
 And so while years are moving- 
 He is steadily improving, 
 
 Though he's never any nearer his degree : 
 There is this consideration — 
 He has made his reputation 
 
 As a Golfer in the City by the Sea.
 
 DICTIONARY OF GOLF 
 
 By D. irons 
 
 Beginner .... One who should be ashamed of 
 himself, and generally is. 
 
 Bunker .... Quiet spot to whicli a player re- 
 tires for the purpose of making 
 a few disjointed remarks. 
 
 Burn Institution for adding to the un- 
 certainties of the game, and 
 the certainties of the ball- 
 maker. 
 
 Caddie .... Gentleman of leisure, who for a 
 consideration will consent to 
 sneer at you for a whole round. 
 
 Driver .... Most sympathetic of the tyro's 
 instruments. When its owner 
 loses his head it is apt to do 
 the same. 
 
 Golfer .... Sort of cross between a martyr 
 and a monomaniac.
 
 DICnOXARY 01' GOLF 123 
 
 Good stroke . . . One that lands your opponent 
 
 in a bunker. 
 Hole A cavit}- much smaller than the 
 
 (ordinary bunker, and much 
 
 less enticing- to the ball. 
 Match .... Game arran^^ed with a man )-ou 
 
 can beat. 
 Perfect stroke . . One that plants your opponent's 
 
 ball among the roots of a whin. 
 Round .... A voluntary penance — best test 
 
 of temper known. 
 Round of eighty . . One that is generally done in the 
 
 absence of a marker. 
 Short putt . . . Stroke often missed by a good 
 
 player : by a beginner- — never. 
 Turf Grass carefully preserved by the 
 
 player for the beginner's 
 
 benefit. 
 Uncertainty of the What is suggested to )-ou w hen 
 Game M'Foozle manages to hit the 
 
 ball.
 
 H^ 
 
 Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty, 
 at the Edinburgh University Press.
 
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