m'
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE GOLFING PILGRIM
 
 THE 
 
 GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 ON MANY LINKS 
 
 BY 
 
 HORACE G. HUTCHINSON 
 
 METHUEN & CO. 
 
 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 1898
 
 MS"? 
 
 tr 
 
 PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 Portions of this Pilgrimage have been published before in Golf, the 
 Golfing Annual, Harper, Blackwood, and Murray, and two incidents 
 are borrowed from Macmillan and the Cornhill. For the leave to use 
 all these the writer's thanks are due and gratefully given. 
 
 958455
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 The Prologue 
 The Pilgrim at the Shrine 
 Mecca out of Season 
 The Pilgrim at Home 
 The Pilgrim Abroad 
 The Life of the Links 
 A Tragedy by the Way 
 Scraps from the Scrip 
 Early Pilgrims in the West 
 The Golfer in Art . 
 An Interesting Relic 
 
 PAGE 
 I 
 
 5 
 ' 26 
 
 36 
 68 
 IJ7 
 132 
 140 
 177 
 250 
 265
 
 THE PROLOGUE 
 
 FELLOW-PILGRIMS 
 
 IF any golfer ever reads the " Pilgrim's Progress," 
 it is scarcely possible for him to help regretting 
 that John Bunyan was not a golfer. There, at hand, 
 or beneath his feet, would have been found such 
 a wealth of allegory. Even the poor ordinary 
 golfer, who has given names to the features of links, 
 has seemed inspired with some small measure of 
 his genius. At the " long hole going out," do we 
 not struggle on to the blessed " Elysian Fields " 
 after cruel peril of " that parlously named bunker 
 Hell," in which lurk monsters of many shapes, 
 from Giant Despair to ApoUyon the Destroyer ? 
 But the imagery has not been half exhausted. 
 That very company to which John Bunyan intro- 
 duces us, do we not meet them all, and recognise 
 them as old friends upon the links ? Who does 
 not know, only too well, Mr Talkative — talkative 
 in season and out of season, on the stroke, and in 
 the club ? Who has not laughed in cruel triumph, 
 with Mr Faint-heart as his opponent ? And who 
 
 A
 
 2 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 has not cursed him, by all the gods of Golf, when 
 mated with him as a partner. And Feeble-mind, 
 and Presumption and Simple, do we not know them 
 all ? We only wish we could catch the last-named 
 a little more often. And there is Mr Obstinate 
 and Mr Pliable, and the " man with the muck- 
 rake " or putter, who goes crawling round all the 
 bunkers when he might win a splendid crown — or 
 at least half-a-crown — by boldly flying over them. 
 And Mr Despondency is always with us, and all 
 his family, namely, Mr Never-up, Mr Bad-lie, Mr 
 Hard-luck, and Mr " I can't hole it." And besides 
 all these there is Mr Heel and Mr Toe, Mr Pull 
 and Mr Slice, Mr Top and Mr Sclaff, and Mr 
 Bafif, to say nothing of Mr Miss-the-Globe, whom 
 we all know. They are a noble company to go 
 golfing with, and all our friends. And amongst 
 them we may now and then find a Mr Great-heart, 
 a Mr Far-and-sure, and Mr Lay-them-dead, with 
 whom we may struggle on through all the valleys 
 of humiliation, and win the match at last. There 
 are also Mr Filthy-lucre, Mr Match-maker, and Mr 
 Cannot-count, but these we need not reckon in the 
 rank of friends. We may pass them by, if we 
 cannot redeem them, and leave them to some giant 
 or monster or Slough-of-Despond. Mr Facing- 
 both-ways we meet on every putting green. " Oh, 
 I'm so sorry," he says, as he lays you a stimy.
 
 THE PROLOGUE 3 
 
 " Serve him jolly well right " you know is what his 
 true face is expressing. " He's had all the luck so 
 far ; time I had some," This Mr Facing-both- 
 ways has a less courteous brother (his is a very 
 large family), who says in like circumstances, " Oh, 
 it isn't a stimy, — there's lots of room — you can't 
 miss it." You believe him just as much as you 
 believe the dentist, who tells you that " it won't 
 hurt." As soon as you have played and missed it, 
 you will very likely hear him say to his partner, 
 " Oh, I knew he couldn't hole it ; I don't think it 
 was on." Then he comes up to you with all the 
 sympathy of the crocodile and says, " It's great 
 rubbish, you know ; stimies ought to be abolished ; 
 don't you think so ? " After that it is a thousand to 
 one you miss your tee-shot. There is a great deal 
 to be done in little ways of this sort, and it is thus 
 that Mr Golfer Wiseman lays up his inheritance. 
 
 John Bunyan was a tinker, so he ought to have 
 been able to strike the ball a good blow. At all 
 events he would have made the sparks fly out of 
 a good many golfers we know of. Mr Facing- 
 both-ways is an interesting study when he gets a 
 very vain golfer into his toils, and what golfer is 
 not very vain ? He beats you, and then he says, 
 "Well, you know, you ought to have won that 
 match. You did win it really, you know ; you'd 
 be certain to win it another time. Morally speak-
 
 4 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 ing you did win it, but, yes, you owe me half-a- 
 crown." So you go out and play him a second 
 round, with the result that you soon owe him 
 another. See him again with a very long driver 
 opposed to him. He comes up to the long driver 
 as they approach the tee, and says to him, indiffer- 
 ently, " By Jove, I saw young Jehu "—our long- 
 driving friend's especial rival in length of carry — 
 " drive a tremendous ball here yesterday. It went 
 right on and on over that far hill yonder " — he points 
 to one about a quarter of a mile off. As a matter 
 of fact, young Jehu was not playing Golf yesterday, 
 so of course Mr Facing-both-ways never saw him, 
 nor could any human Jehu drive as far as the said 
 hill, but our long driver does not realise this, and 
 grunts and puffs and presses to show Mr Facing- 
 both-ways how much further he can drive than 
 young Jehu's "boasted force," and of course misses 
 the ball almost altogether, and Mr Facing-both- 
 ways is happy. 
 
 There is also another dreadful bad character at 
 Golf, whom John Bunyan does not mention, Mr 
 For-ever Scribbling-about-it. We wish to goodness 
 we could hear rather less of him, but he goes all 
 the journey with us.
 
 THE PILGRIM AT THE SHRINE 
 
 A POTTERING, old man's game, that golf!" 
 says, in scorn, the cricketer. 
 
 " I like St Andrews," a lady told me lately. " I 
 like it for the children ; golf's such a nice game 
 for children ! " 
 
 Now, do you, O golfing pilgrim, under stress 
 of such criticism, endure it with that equanimity 
 which is so essential a quality if you would become 
 worthy of the great name you bear — nay, rather 
 accept it as the highest, though involuntary, testi- 
 mony to the merits of the pursuit you love, to that 
 Royal and Ancient Game which, as these would-be 
 carpers testify, you may play even from the cradle 
 to the grave. And as to whether it is a game with 
 any claims on youth and strength, I will appeal to 
 you, O Cricketer, to mark the enthusiasm with 
 which it is pursued by many highly graced with 
 these good gifts. I will beg you to look at the 
 exhibition of them, as every muscle of the human 
 frame is strained to smite that ridiculously elusive 
 little lump of gutta-percha, the potent source of so 
 many joys and sorrows, which we call " golf ball." 
 
 Whenever you ask a professional teacher of this
 
 6 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 wonderful game for all ages and all seasons how 
 his latest novice is progressing, the stereotyped 
 answer upon these occasions is a laconic "most 
 surprisin' ! " — a formula which, while it sounds most 
 flattering, may be construed much according to 
 your fancy. There can, however, be no possible 
 doubt about the construction of this expression as 
 applied to the progress in England, during recent 
 years, of the Royal and Ancient Game of Scot- 
 land. It is probable that twenty years ago there 
 were not as many Englishmen with any adequate 
 idea of the game as there now are Golf Clubs well 
 established in England. It is true that the annals 
 of the Blackheath Club go farther back than those 
 of any other Golf Club in England or Scotland ; 
 but in England, Blackheath stood alone. Black- 
 heathens of to-day will perhaps pardon the sug- 
 gestions that this may in some measure account 
 for the slow progress of the game in England, for, 
 at Blackheath, golf is pleasure under difficulties, 
 such as flintstones, nursery-maids, lamp-posts, and 
 perambulators. Yet, when golf was inaugurated 
 at Westward Ho ! where the new life of English 
 golf started, the old Club came nobly forward to 
 foster the youngling, presenting to the Westward 
 Ho ! Club one of its earliest challenge prizes — 
 yclept the " Blackheath Badge," whence he who 
 wins it earns, t/>so facto, the proud title of " Black-
 
 AT THE SHRINE 7 
 
 heath Badger" for the ensuing year. Then fol- 
 lowed the institution of the Royal Liverpool Club 
 at Hoylake, and, in their turn, a host of others. 
 
 Yet, in spite of all competition, and the fact 
 that it is far from faultless as a golf links, there is, 
 still, no place to the golfer like St Andrews. Be 
 driven in desperation, by the hard lies and bumps 
 which insult your ball, to take refuge at Car- 
 noustie, more accessible now that the Tay Bridge 
 is built than in the days when, as an old golfer 
 said on that troublous journey, "You need to be 
 awful sober to travel in this country ; " go, I say, 
 to Carnoustie, one of the best golfing greens on 
 the east of Scotland ; go to Hoylake, where the 
 greens, when in condition, are so true and glassy 
 that the ball of the skilful "putter" seems to steer 
 its way towards the hole by motive intelligence of 
 its own, like those ships of the Phzeacians which 
 Homer tells us of; go to Sandwich, where are 
 mighty " carries " that appal the heart — go even to 
 Westward Ho ! whereof it is but my duty, seeing 
 it is my native heath, to put on record my con- 
 viction that it is the finest green in the whole wide 
 world ; — go where you will, the soul of the golfer 
 that is in you will hanker to be back among the 
 rubs and hardships of the royal and ancient links. 
 
 What is it in the place ? Who can say ? 
 
 Well, partly it is that Nature has so laid down
 
 8 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 the bunkers that the holes can conveniently be 
 placed at such distances apart that they can be 
 just reached by two — or three, as the case may be 
 — good shots by a fairly skilful player. But there 
 is a far subtler influence than this at work. The 
 breath of the genius loci is upon you and around 
 you ; and as you draw near St Andrews, whether 
 in the train, whence you look forth upon the 
 golfers on the links beside you, or on the drive 
 from Leuchars, in course of which the grey old 
 towers of the historical University town show 
 themselves in their best aspect, there steals upon 
 you the indefinable spell of this all-pervading 
 genius loci, who is the patron saint of golf 
 
 What " Lord's " is to cricket, St Andrews is to 
 golf On his first visit to St Andrews the young 
 golfer feels as if he were setting his foot on 
 Olympus, with all the demigods holding holiday in 
 their high places. There he meets the heroes whose 
 names have been to him words to conjure with ; 
 meets them in the flesh, those great ones of the 
 generations before him. There he may chance to 
 find that golfer who took out all the professionals 
 of a past day, and beat them, one by one ; an- 
 nouncing, as the final and great result of this ever- 
 famous achievement, that "the way to beat a 
 professional is never to let him get a hole up" He 
 will meet men renowned in theology, in letters, in
 
 AT THE SHRINE 9 
 
 arms ; will meet them upon the terms of friend- 
 ship, if not always of equality, on which men meet 
 in the rivalry of golf. 
 
 How absorbing is the interest there taken in the 
 royal and ancient game ! The question of the day 
 is not how the Eastern question has been settled, 
 not what are the latest amenities that have passed 
 in "the first legislative assembly in the world," but 
 who has won such and such a match ? It is not con- 
 fined to sex, to age, or to station. Youth and beauty, 
 grey hairs and fustian jackets jumble forward to wit- 
 ness the final putt, while eager eyes look forth from 
 the Club window and from every window round. 
 
 " What sort of man is So-and-so ? " the stranger 
 will ask, coming to St Andrews ; and will be 
 sorely puzzled when, instead of information anent 
 the social qualities of the So-and-so indicated, he 
 hears in reply : " Oh, I can give him about a half." 
 
 Yes, it is that — the absorbing interest that is 
 taken in it — that makes golf what it is at St 
 Andrews; makes it what it is nowhere else. 
 There is a deal of human nature in the golfer. 
 Indeed, there is no pursuit, perhaps, which brings 
 human weaknesses so readily to the surface, none 
 which so imperatively demands coolness and 
 command of temper. 
 
 The safety valves which the golfer has invented 
 for getting rid of excess of this latter combustible
 
 10 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 are numerous and ingenious. Some break their 
 clubs over their knee, others throw them in pursuit 
 of the ball. There was one gentleman^ whose 
 caddie used to carry amongst his set of clubs an 
 old umbrella, and when his master got into a 
 "bunker" would hand him his "niblick," as he 
 descended into the Avernus, and placing the old 
 gamp in a corner of the bunker, would retire to 
 watch the course of events. Events, under these 
 circumstances, might shape themselves into either 
 of two courses. If the gentleman got his ball out 
 of the bunker with the first stroke, the caddie 
 came forward, gathered up the umbrella, and the 
 game proceeded. But if the ball did not come 
 forth on the first intent, then, by perilously ac- 
 quired experience, the caddie knew his master's 
 disposition to tend towards destruction with the 
 niblick of the first object that his attention 
 favoured. This, under due precautions, taken as 
 described, would be the umbrella; after the de- 
 molition of which the rage would have come out 
 of the golfer without injury to any sentient thing. 
 Then, besides the golfer irascible, you will find 
 the golfer despondent ; he of whom you will be 
 told " he cannot play a losing game ; you have 
 only to win the first two holes and you are bound 
 
 1 For information in this regard, see the section on *' Early 
 rilgrinis in llie West."
 
 AT THE SHRINE li 
 
 to beat him." Win the first two holes and keep 
 them is always a good rule at golf. 
 
 Then there is the golfer excuseful — he who 
 takes it as a personal matter that a lark should 
 sing in the firmament while he misses his putt. As 
 many types, in fact, as there are in human nature, 
 and possibly a few more, are brought into salient 
 prominence in course of playing this most royal and 
 ancient game of golf ; it would tax the analytical 
 genius of an Aristotle to even name them all. 
 
 Nor less diverse or noteworthy are the physical 
 styles in which the golfer makes his addresses to 
 the little ball which is so hard to hit. From the 
 Club window you look forth upon a whole forest 
 of golf clubs, weirdly gesticulating in response to 
 cataleptic movements of the human frame. In the 
 accompanying diagram the figure R. H. U. is not 
 hurling the heavy hammer, as might be supposed, 
 but is at precisely the same crisis of the golfing 
 swing as the figure J. H. J. Figures A. F. M. and 
 J, E. L. do but illustrate a slight difference in opinion 
 among the very elite of the golfing faculty as to 
 the ideal attitude for the putt. Even the figure 
 H. S.C.E. is not an illustration of the creature known 
 to naturalists as the Praying Mantis, nor of the 
 Leaf Insect, but an accurate representation of the 
 human form divine as contorted by one of our 
 most excellent and consistent golfers in the agonies
 
 12 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 of addressing himself to a driving stroke. There 
 is, indeed, a golfer who has met with some share of 
 success, and whose figure I should indicate by the 
 letters H. G. H., to whose contortions, if what one 
 hears be true, those here portrayed are not a cir- 
 cumstance : yet as I have never seen him play a 
 stroke, I am compelled to acknowledge myself 
 unable to do him justice. 
 
 Then, besides its styles and its tempers, St 
 Andrews has its seasons. About midsummer the 
 "boy" season is at its height. St Andrews is a 
 great place for education (did not that famous lady 
 who was in a class by herself at a certain Cam- 
 bridge Tripos, acquire some, at least, of her eru- 
 dition at St Andrews .-•), and in the summer 
 weather the name of boy at St Andrews is legion 
 — boy light-heartedly scalping divots from the turf 
 with a profusion that no links of more truly golfing 
 — i.e. of more sandy — quality could withstand. 
 From among these boys will arise the medal 
 winners of the future. Do they not even now 
 rate all and sundry in strict accordance with their 
 altitude on the golfing scale ? How well I can 
 remember, as a boy, at Westward Ho ! the awe and 
 reverence with which I and my contemporaries used 
 to look upon the medal winner even in that corner 
 of the golfing world ! How proud we would be 
 for days did he but shake hands with us or speak
 
 J. H. J. 
 
 R. H. U. 
 
 A. F. M 
 
 J. E. L.
 
 14 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 to us ; and if he deigned to praise our stroke, our 
 cup was indeed full to overflowing ! Possibly we 
 were specially gifted as hero-worshippers; but I 
 rather fancy the quality is common to most boys 
 — and happy that it is so. 
 
 Then, after a time, the boys go home, to enliven 
 the family circle, and the " visitor " season sets in, 
 the season par excellence. Then it is, in August 
 and September, that there is congestion on the 
 links — parties waiting in large coveys at the High 
 Hole, sitting on those seats which a beneficent 
 committee set up for us in the year of Jubilee ; for 
 golfers from every links in Scotland and England 
 have come to the golfing Mecca to do homage to St 
 Andrew's shrine. In and out between the parties, 
 with no recognised existence — no number, that is to 
 say, on the starter's list — dodge occasional survivals 
 of the " boy " season, carrying their lives in their 
 hands, together with the two decrepit clubs which 
 form their stock-in-trade, in hot pursuit of a care- 
 worn ball almost invisible from age and ill-usage. 
 Forcibly do they bring to mind that system of 
 " running a wild cat " which is in vogue on Ameri- 
 can railways, and consists in driving a train which 
 dodges from station to station, without recognised 
 hours of arrival and departure, whenever the line 
 is unoccupied. 
 
 Among the visitors there is distinguishable a 
 strong legal element, dignitaries of the Scottish
 
 AT THE SHRINE 15 
 
 bench and bar giving gratuitous judgment and 
 counsel on the subject of a ticklish putt. 
 
 Indifferent to most things on earth, or elsewhere, 
 the keenness of the caddies in the game of golf is 
 marvellous. On summer evenings'at St Andrews 
 you may see them congregated about the short 
 holes in front of the Club, following, with absorbed 
 interest, a putting match between two, or four, of 
 their number, until it is too dark to see ball or 
 hole. As you dress yourself in the morning you 
 see them driving practice shots down towards the 
 burn. But the great lounge of the caddies is the 
 corner by the Golf Hotel, where the road turns 
 down from Golf Place — how the very names pro- 
 claim the all-importance of the royal and ancient 
 game ! There the caddies analyse the comparative 
 failings of their respective masters, with a keen 
 partisanship which does not preclude the utmost 
 freedom of discussion. The golf caddie has prob- 
 ably unequalled opportunities as a student of 
 human nature, yet it is perhaps less from the use 
 he makes of these than from his very unusual 
 facility of graphic description that his conversation, 
 if not from every point of view strictly edifying, is 
 full of entertainment of a certain sort. 
 
 Wishing to identify, on the links, a certain 
 gentleman who was known to him only by name, 
 a golfer once enquired of his caddie what manner 
 of looking man Mr So-and-so was. " Eh, weel, he's
 
 i6 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 jest a bull-neckit, hog-backit, bandy-leggit chiel, 
 and shapes fine for a gowfer," was the answer ; and 
 for terseness and vigour it is inimitable. 
 
 A caddie once testified to his master's merits in 
 these terms : " He's a fine free-spoken gentleman ; 
 but, whiles, blasphemious ; " and inasmuch as the 
 remark in the mouth of this particular critic trans- 
 gressed so flagrantly the spirit of the proverb about 
 glass houses and the throwing of stones, a further 
 question was put with the view of eliciting the 
 caddie's views upon the moral heinousness of 
 profane swearing. 
 
 " Sweerin' ? " said he, " ou aye, it's awfu' wucked ; 
 but," said he, suddenly abandoning the position of 
 the stern moralist, for a more aesthetic standpoint 
 of criticism — "but it's a gran' set-off to the con- 
 vairsation." 
 
 Other recorded answers afford amusement from 
 the insight they give of the caddie's theory of social 
 custom and professional etiquette. Thus one, when 
 asked who such and such a person was, replied : 
 " I no rightly ken his name, but he's a Major 
 something — at least he's no a real major, but he 
 married a major's widow and took the title." 
 
 Perhaps we are no more accurately informed of 
 the value of distinctions in their social level, for 
 when a caddie was asked if such and such, another 
 fellow caddie, had no other profession but that of
 
 ATTHESHRINE 17 
 
 club carrying, he briskly replied : "Ou aye, he has 
 that — he breaks stones." 
 
 The " visitor " season is the caddie's harvest 
 time. He then makes money rapidly and spends 
 it royally — with the result that in the winter, when 
 the golf languishes, he is often in sore straits. 
 Besides the wage for carrying and for playing, if 
 he be anything of a player, the professional golfer 
 makes money in job work in the club-makers' 
 shops. Moreover, as he starts upon the round of 
 instruction with a Tiro, he will often brandish a 
 club attractively before his victim. 
 
 " That looks a nice club you've got," remarks the 
 latter, affably falling into the snare. 
 
 " Aye, it's a gran' club," says the other indiffer- 
 ently. 
 
 Tiro takes it and waggles it, knowingly. In 
 truth it is a good weapon, with a fine steely shaft, 
 thorough-bred looking head, and good balance — 
 such an one as the professional knows well how 
 to make for himself, and how to use, when made. 
 
 " What will you take for it .'' " says Tiro at 
 length, hardening his heart. 
 
 " 'Deed, and I'm no' thinkin' o' sellin' it, for I can 
 drive with it fine; but," as with an afterthought, "if 
 ye like to gie me a sovereign for it, ye shall have it." 
 
 The deal is concluded. 
 
 After a few struggles with the new purchase 
 
 B
 
 i8 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 Tiro begins to suspect that it does not suit his 
 style as well as that of his mentor. A few more 
 efforts, and he gives expression to a conviction 
 that it is the worst club that man was ever called 
 upon to play with. 
 
 Mentor, with virtuous indignation, gives sub- 
 stantial proof of its excellence by offering to buy 
 it back for five shillings — with which offer Tiro 
 incontinently closes, and is at peace. 
 
 But after a few more " tee-shots " — two hundred 
 yards on part of Mentor, distance quite inconsider- 
 able on part of Tiro — the latter commences again 
 to cast longing eyes upon this magic wand of Jehu. 
 Another sovereign passes into the possession of 
 Mentor, and the club again into that of Tiro — 
 only, as before, to be exchanged for a crown after 
 a few more howls of exasperation. A club has 
 been known thus to change hands three times in 
 the course of one round, to the mutual advantage 
 of the novice and the professor : for to the latter 
 it represents facilities for much prospective whisky, 
 while the former has purchased the invaluable con- 
 viction that it is not the club that makes the golfer. 
 
 The visitor season and the harvest season of the 
 caddie culminate together, in the Autumn Medal 
 Day. The last Wednesday in the month of Sep- 
 tember has, from time almost immemorial, been 
 the date of the autumnal meeting of the Royal
 
 AT THE SHRINE 19 
 
 and Ancient Golf Club of St Andrews. It is on 
 that day that the men:ibers of this, the premier, 
 club compete for the medal given them by King 
 William IV. — a challenge trophy which goes to 
 him who makes the lowest score in a single round 
 of the links. It is on that day, too, that the 
 captain - elect of the club plays himself into de 
 facto captaincy by striking off a ball from the tee 
 in front of the club-house ; and it is on the even- 
 ing of that day that the dinner is held in the club- 
 house, with quaint ceremonies that recall old days. 
 It is in this latter feature, rather than in the im- 
 portance of the actual medal competition, that the 
 meeting - day of the Royal and Ancient Club is 
 notable. Championships, both open and amateur, 
 no doubt redound with greater glory to their 
 winners, but there hovers over this St Andrews 
 meeting the spirit of a vanished past, when men 
 moved and golfed and had their being after a more 
 stately wise, before our modern fuss and flurry and 
 irreverence had pervaded the world. As the hour 
 approaches at which the captain shall drive off, a 
 crowd begins to gather in front of the club-house 
 to witness the annual event. Small boys collect 
 at a certain distance from the tee ; for the captain 
 will at first drive off a single shot only, thus form- 
 ally " playing over the links and winning Queen 
 Adelaide's medal," as the secretary will ceremoni-
 
 20 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 ously announce at the dinner in the evening ; and 
 the ball thus formally driven off is a prize to these 
 youngsters — a prize which the captain himself will 
 very probably redeem from the youngster who has 
 possessed himself of it in the scrimmage, to hand 
 it down, under a glass case, to his posterity, as the 
 ball with which he won the captaincy of the Royal 
 and Ancient Club. Now, at this proud moment, 
 while the captain is awaiting the stroke of the 
 clock to drive off, and the municipal officer, in 
 a singular uniform, is holding on to the cord 
 attached to the cannon which he will fire at the 
 instant of the captain's stroke — this moment is one 
 in which the captain may find occasion for self- 
 examination, and possibly for a rebuke on his 
 fondest vanities. For it may be that he may 
 imagine himself a fine golfer and a far driver, 
 whereas these little caddies, expectant of his ball, 
 have grouped themselves at a very moderate dis- 
 tance from the tee, implying that they expect but 
 little of him in the way of length of drive. But 
 he may well comfort himself with the thought that 
 they are calculating on a natural nervousness to 
 spoil his stroke : for it must need a man of iron 
 nerve to hit his best with all the highest golfing 
 talent and criticism regarding him, to say nothing 
 of the imminent roar of a cannon, the soundness 
 of whose metal is not above suspicion.
 
 AT THE SHRINE 21 
 
 But the stroke, for better or worse, is struck ; 
 the cannon roars ; the boys scrimmage ; the crowd 
 applauds. Then the captain tees up another ball, 
 and strikes off again, partnered by the late captain 
 whom his previous stroke has just deposed, to try 
 to win King William I V.'s medal as well as Queen 
 Adelaide's. It seldom happens, however, that the 
 captain is chosen for great prowess in golf. Com- 
 monly, he is a territorial magnate, or, at least, a 
 Fife laird ; and these terms are not necessarily 
 synonyms for first - class golfer. Therefore the 
 crowd of spectators will seldom follow him out 
 on his round. They will hang about the club- 
 house until the first couple that includes a prob- 
 able medal-winner starts from the tee, according 
 to his number in the ballot. Him they will pay 
 the compliment of following, intent on his every 
 stroke, even all the way round the course until the 
 finish, if he continue to play well. But if, on the 
 other hand, he fare evilly, they begin dropping off 
 from him, as rats desert the sinking ship, until he 
 who set out with a great following returns, like 
 Goldsmith's traveller, " unfriended, melancholy, 
 slow," shorn of his retinue. All the day long 
 knots of spectators will be seen following their 
 favourites, and as the last couple holes out the 
 last hole, the gun roars again to tell the world 
 that the meeting is finished.
 
 22 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 Somebody has won the medal. Everybody is 
 explaining how, but for such and such a piece of 
 unparalleled ill-fortune, he might have been the 
 " somebody " ; but it is hard to get a hearing. 
 Somebody has won, though ; that is the great 
 thing, after all. Somebody who will find him- 
 self in a great bunker in the evening, when he 
 has to return thanks, at the dinner, before the 
 assembled captains, supported by the silver club 
 and insignia of office and champagne. " He begs 
 
 to assure of his appreciation of the honour. 
 
 Feels he has been extraordinarily lucky." — (" No ! 
 no ! ") " Sure no one is more surprised than him- 
 self" ("Question ! ")— and that is the end of the 
 medal-day and of the " visitor " season. 
 
 Last year the winner of the proud distinction, 
 King William IV. 's medal, was Mr Leslie Balfour- 
 Melville. It is encouraging to all of us who are 
 approaching the middle term of life to find the 
 medal won by a player whose years are between 
 forty and fifty. But it is to be said that Mr 
 Balfour-Melville's middle age, if so it may be 
 called, is more athletic than the youth of most of 
 us, and probably he plays golf rather better to-day 
 than he ever played it. His winning score was 
 82, a good though not a remarkable score. Mr 
 Laidlay was a stroke more, and there were many 
 between those figures and ninety. So in the
 
 ATTHE SHRINE 23 
 
 evening, at the dinner, it fell to Mr Balfour-Mel- 
 ville's lot, as it had often fallen before, to hear his 
 name called out by the secretary as winner of the 
 medal, and to be summoned to the captain's chair 
 to have the medal slung by a fair blue ribbon 
 about his neck. Following him went Mr Laidlay, 
 to be invested similarly with the order of the 
 second medal. Then came the ordinary drinking 
 of patriotic toasts and the good health of "golf 
 and golfing societies," and, thereafter, observance 
 of a singular custom. Among the insignia of the 
 Royal and Ancient Club is a silver club, very 
 massive. It is hung about with silver golf balls, 
 and the custom is for each captain to hang to it a 
 ball with his name engraved thereon. And if 
 there be any new members at the dinner who have 
 not performed the ceremony before, it is their duty 
 to advance to the captain's chair, and there, beneath 
 the benediction of the reverend A. K. H. B., honor- 
 ary chaplain to the Royal and Ancient Club, to kiss 
 the silver ball which the captain has hung upon the 
 club, in token of loyalty to the club's traditions and 
 homage to the authority of the captain. 
 
 So, after the visitors have departed, like locusts 
 at a change of wind, then there sets in what you 
 may call the " fisherman " season. Gentlemen 
 gaily encircled in blue jerseys, crimson braces and 
 an atmosphere strongly flavoured by brine and
 
 24 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 herring, whack along a thing that does duty for a 
 ball, with tortuous shafted things that do duty, 
 and not badly either, for clubs, in a jovial, breezy 
 manner that contrasts strongly with the atrabilious 
 methods of the golfers of the medal week. Such, 
 and a few residents, have the royal and ancient 
 links virtually to themselves, and St Andrew 
 mourns — possibly less than we think — the pil- 
 grims who have been offering their labour of love at 
 his shrine. Yes, for even as we take our pleasurable 
 part in the golf at St Andrews, we cannot but 
 realise, if we reflect at all, which, mercifully, we do 
 but seldom, that it cannot be now what once it was. 
 In days of old a select society from the King- 
 dom of Fife, who not only all knew each other, 
 but whose families had been bound in friendship's, 
 if not in kinship's, bands, for years, used to meet 
 in the Union Parlour — and how is it now? A 
 modern Club, "replete with every modern con- 
 venience," and differing from an hotel only in the 
 fact that you pay for your attendance and your 
 writing-paper by the year instead of by the piece, 
 is filled with Tom, Dick, and Harry from every 
 part of the United Kingdom. This is indeed the 
 golden age of Toms and Dicks and Harrys ; and 
 let us who are of the nicknamed crew, while we 
 gratefully recognise the blessings that are ours, 
 yet fail not to appreciate that our gain is drawn
 
 ATTHESHRINE 25 
 
 from the loss of those whom, by disthiction, we will 
 call Thomases, Richards, and Henrys. Only on my 
 last visit to St Andrews a local magnate told me, 
 with conscious pathos, that there were "seventy 
 folk in the new hotel, and only twa gowfers ! " 
 
 Great Stephenson ! — or whoever was the in- 
 ventor of railways — have we come to this ! Can- 
 not even the ancient University city, where the 
 golfer holds high holiday, escape ? — spite Firth of 
 Forth and Firth of Tay and North British Rail- 
 way Company, all in combination to make it hard 
 of access. True it is, they have now bridged over 
 these Firths ? true they have a new station at St 
 Andrews, far more inconvenient than the last — 
 but yet we might have hoped that the shrine of 
 St Andrew might have been invaded, if by the 
 foreigner at all, then only by the devotee of golf. 
 
 Let us, at all events, as our sacrilegious niblicks 
 cleave his hallowed soil, endeavour to fasten such 
 fittinsT reverence in our hearts as shall not scare 
 the genius loci utterly away from the shade of the 
 grey towers of the city and the pleasant places of 
 the links — let us draw near to St Andrews, with 
 its historical and venerable associations, in a some- 
 what different spirit from that in which we go 
 down to the sea to listen to the nigger minstrels 
 and the German bands of our Margates and 
 our Ramsgates.
 
 MECCA OUT OF SEASON 
 
 OF the very many golfers who make an occa- 
 sional pious pilgrimage to the great golfing 
 Mecca, comparatively few are at all acquainted with 
 its aspects in the winter months. The majority 
 would as soon think of Labrador as the East Coast 
 of Fife between November and May, but should 
 any venture so far from a south country fireside, 
 he will find himself in a St Andrews which he 
 will scarcely recognise as the St Andrews of the 
 medal week. Even when stranded at Leuchars 
 Junction to await indefinitely the caprice of the 
 train from Dundee, he will be sensible of a subtle 
 difference. Suggestions of the golf links strike 
 him as so conspicuously absent. He does not see 
 the inevitable men armed with shooting boots and 
 golf clubs — all is unfriendly. He betakes himself 
 to the waiting-room, wherein among fellow-sufferers, 
 who sit around the fire with the sad patience char- 
 acteristic of the Scot, he strives to bear his wrongs 
 in silence. The train at length comes — and with 
 it the first flavour of the St Andrews of the un- 
 timely pilgrim's dreams — in the familiar face of 
 
 a6
 
 MECCA OUT OF SEASON 27 
 
 the guard, who must know so well the course 
 between St Andrews and Leuchars. The pilgrim 
 gets a first glimpse of the sand-hills of the links as 
 the train reaches Guard Bridge, so called one may 
 naturally suppose because no one but the guard 
 gets out there. He only gets out to wonder why 
 they are stopping, then in and off again. The 
 train goes leisurely beside the links, and the pilgrim 
 has ample opportunity to feast his longing eyes on 
 the hallowed land. He often has cursed, by all the 
 gods of Golf, this very train as it has passed him 
 putting at that " corner o' the Dyke " and whistled 
 with real Scottish accent, peculiarly incensing — 
 has even ventured an exasperated remonstrance to 
 the engine-driver, who replies with mechanical in- 
 sult, turning on a little whistle of his engine to say 
 a steamy " Pooh " ! In the haste of a missed putt, 
 many a golfer has sworn that St Andrews has 
 more trains than Clapham Junction. But at the 
 moment, to the travel-worn, untimely pilgrim, it 
 seems otherwise. Nor, though his train puffs and 
 whistles, is there a golfer to put off. It is all 
 deserted. Occasional couples, a wretched flotsam 
 of that great " Golf Stream," which on his last visit 
 flowed over all, straggle upon a high and dry 
 waste of links and bunkers. Where is the great 
 Golf stream ? It is gone with the swallows, nor 
 till the May medal meeting will again be seen.
 
 28 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 The pilgrim fares on. In the abysmal depths 
 of the new station he encounters a hungry crowd of 
 clamorous caddies, " a mass meeting of the unem- 
 ployed." He leaves his clubs as a hostage in the 
 hands of one of the banditti, and is fain to escape 
 with his life and his portmanteau to the shelter of 
 the Cross-key omnibus, which will convey him to 
 the club and the house of his pilgrimage. The 
 club is in the hands of the painter and the decora- 
 tor, and the pilgrim's first exploit is to transfer a 
 moist portion of the decorations to his own new 
 ulster. The air is biting and eager. The provi- 
 dent pilgrim is swathed in many layers of cardigan 
 jacket and Shetland wool. He feels as if he had 
 several new inches of fat between himself and the 
 familiar golfing coat. The joyous freedom of the 
 ideal swing is hard to realise. Other troubles vex 
 his soul. The holes are stuck away in odd corners, 
 to rest the " proper greens," as they are well called 
 in contrast, the present greens being most improper, 
 most bumpy, most vexatious. Sometimes they 
 are not on the green at all. But, however remote, 
 the professional adviser who carries his clubs will 
 always direct him to play on the old lines. His 
 conceptions are based on previous conditions, and 
 do not move with the holes (as migratory birds go 
 over the sea on the paths they knew when it was 
 land). The caddie is himself a bird, mostly of ill
 
 MECCA OUT OF SEASON 29 
 
 omen, whose conversation one at times might wish 
 more parrot-hke — less tainted by the evidence of 
 original observation. Candour is its most particular 
 charm, and when his candour busies itself with the 
 pilgrim's achievement, the latter grows doubtful of 
 the absolute merit of truth. " That was a good 
 one, Jock ? " you will perhaps suggest in despera- 
 tion, after waiting in vain for the more grateful 
 unsolicited praise. " Ah — het's the first shot ye've 
 struck at a' these three days." And the pilgrim's 
 retrospect darkens as he realises that in the truth 
 of the answer lies its sting. His master's perform- 
 ances are the test by which the candid caddie 
 gauges merit. " Him a gowfer ! He canna play a 
 dom — he's no muckle better than yoursel'." And 
 yet that caddie has, maybe, passed his standards, 
 and often written in his copy-book that "compari- 
 sons are odious." So thinks the pilgrim, reflecting 
 further on the observation of a golfing scribe, 
 " that part of a caddie's duty is to conceal his just 
 contempt of your game." Yet there are com- 
 pensations, for though the links be nearly deserted 
 and gray as the very sea itself, at least there is no 
 congestion — no sitting to the number of six couples 
 together at the high hole, while parties in front 
 play out the short hole, a very weariness of the 
 flesh — as often happened in the golden summer. 
 There is no need to put down one's name over-
 
 30 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 night, on a doubtful chance of getting started at 
 noon. The pilgrim has free and unimpeded field 
 for the drives he will talk about, and can retire 
 unobserved to a solitary bunker, with his niblick 
 and his caddie, to have explanations with his ball, 
 of which no one will hear him boast. 
 
 The east wind, too, is neither so bleak nor so 
 continuous as it has been painted. In this the 
 climate has suffered sad calumny. Even from of 
 old it was so, for from a fragment of a lost book 
 of Herodotus — dedicated to one of the graces — 
 discovered by Mr Andrew Lang in the library of 
 Trinity College, Dublin, it appears that the historian 
 visited St Andrews, of which he gives the following 
 among other particulars : " The wind blows so hard 
 from the east that ships are unable to leave the 
 harbour, except during the feast of the medal week, 
 at which time it blows so hard from the opposite 
 direction that ships are not able to enter the 
 harbour. Now some attribute this prevalence of 
 the east wind to the dryness of certain lectures. 
 But in this, as it seems to me, they say what is 
 unworthy of belief, for whereas these lectures are 
 most severe during but some few months in the 
 year, the wind blows from the east during the 
 whole year, except at the time called the feast of 
 the medal week." Herodotus, however, was im- 
 posed upon in this, as he was in other matters,
 
 MECCA OUT OF SEASON 31 
 
 for the wind blows from the east about a third 
 part of the year, and that not continuously, but, as 
 the Americans say, " in samples." But he is right 
 in saying it often confines the ships in the harbour, 
 and then, when the easterly storm cone is nailed to 
 the mast, a va-JriKog ly\o% fares forth upon the links, 
 with a rolling gait, as if making heavy weather of 
 it, and bulky with its whole available wardrobe 
 on its back. A fine free flavour of ozone and salt 
 water, with a little piquancy of fish, these mariners 
 exhale, and a fine free game of golf they play. 
 Some of them hit very hard and very crooked, but 
 they are handicapped by wearing a multitude of 
 clothes, over all of which pass their braces sup- 
 porting voluminous blue pants. They do not golf 
 well, but they know the game. They are courteous 
 and sympathetic to the pilgrim, and should the 
 professionals get up a big match among them- 
 selves, the fishermen will follow — a silent, eager 
 crowd. It will amaze the southern pilgrim. He 
 has been used to associate sailors with a " yeo, 
 heave ho," and a noise and commotion. But these 
 Scots roll on over the billowy links in silent appre- 
 ciation of the play. They stand respectfully 
 motionless on the stroke. No better behaved 
 gallery could be. They are seen but little at 
 the time of the feast of the medal week, not so 
 much because the fury of the wind is so great, as
 
 32 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 Herodotus says, as to prevent the ships from 
 entering the harbour, but because if they do come 
 in they are speedily away again after the herring 
 — which pays better than the golf-ball. In a 
 gallery of fifty fishermen who watch a golf match 
 no two will have their hands out of their pockets, 
 and the one who has is regretting the necessity of 
 filling his pipe. Links and professionals are alike 
 free and unoccupied in these winter months, yet it 
 is not at this time that the good scores are made. 
 Muscles are too stiff. Cold wrists will not work 
 for the delicate approach strokes. It is the long 
 summer evenings after the day's work of carrying 
 clubs is over, and the wind has sunk to rest, as it 
 usually does on the east coast of Fife at that hour, 
 that the professionals go out in parties of two or 
 three or four, and on a fine clear green do the good 
 scores. 
 
 In winter the teeing-grounds are often advanced, 
 and the holes thus shortened, but the queer catchy 
 positions in which they are pitched more than 
 makes up for this. And though the pilgrim will 
 find a clear course over the links in general, yet, 
 as he comes home again the last few holes will be 
 black with schoolboys, released at twelve o'clock 
 to cut divots from the links, an occasion of righteous 
 wrath to the most pious pilgrim. The congestion 
 strikes him more forcibly in contrast with the
 
 MECCA OUT OF SEASON 33 
 
 rapid circulation on the links far out. He feels 
 
 like a Cunarder which has had a clear run over 
 
 several thousand miles of ocean, and finds herself 
 
 bothered by coasters as she approaches her haven. 
 
 At these final holes boys are a frequent hazard. 
 
 Death from Golf balls ought to be common with 
 
 them, but there appears to be a special schoolboy's 
 
 providence, and their numbers do not appreciably 
 
 decrease. On a Saturday afternoon great is the 
 
 mustering of townsmen and gownsmen, the scarlet 
 
 gown for the time laid aside with the studies of 
 
 divinity for the graver studies of the dynamics of 
 
 the Golf-ball. For in the golfing Mecca, in the 
 
 winter months, a deal of theology, scholarship, 
 
 and the like trifles, mingle with the Golf. Even 
 
 the conversation between the strokes is mixed — 
 
 is not pure Golf. " The Elohist says," — " There 
 
 he's in the bunker " — " The text is very corrupt, 
 
 Shilleto suggests as an emendation " — " Better try 
 
 the niblick. They've been repairing the greens, 
 
 and old Tom Morris says there's nothing like 
 
 saund." Will not the gods of Golf take vengeance 
 
 on such slipshod work as this, until the indignant 
 
 caddie will remonstrate with, " Eh, ye're no givin' 
 
 yer mind to it at all," and the pilgrim with shame 
 
 confesses that he was wandering in the trivial 
 
 bye-paths of Biblical and scholarly criticism. To 
 
 make amends to him he takes his long-suffering
 
 34 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 caddie into his confidence, and tells him that once 
 in the summer he went round in 99 — to which the 
 caddie, obviously incredulous, contents himself 
 with replying with habitual candour, "Eh, ye'U 
 never do that again." Such a response might 
 almost drive the pilgrim to worse things than 
 scholarship, maybe mathematics — of which we 
 may observe by-the-bye that the science of arith- 
 metic should be mastered before proceeding to 
 the art of Golf. 
 
 Thus have we considered the winter pilgrim 
 under the usual conditions of keen, dry, easterly 
 wind. Shall we consider him under the conditions 
 of a links submerged in snow, cooped in a club 
 redolent and generous of wet paint } or shall we 
 not rather leave him unconsidered in those fearful 
 aspects? But there are days, many of them, 
 among the most easterly months of February and 
 March when the sun will be shining, and it will 
 be balmy as the land of the blessed. The snow 
 will still show on the distant Grampians, so that 
 " my father," that " frugal swain," would find poor 
 feeding for his flock. Lochnagar — seventy miles 
 distant — is visible in its white robe in a gap 
 between the Sidlaws, but the skylarks are singing 
 bravely overhead, and everything is full of the 
 promise of spring. The few fellow golfers the 
 pilgrim will find will be not of the old familiar
 
 MECCA OUT OF SEASON 35 
 
 types — the man who is always off his game, the 
 man who, when he sits down to dinner, announces 
 his intention of taking the next train away from 
 St Andrews, having previously made a bonfire of 
 his Golf clubs, but who by the time dessert comes 
 on has backed himself to do the round in 90. 
 These are not here — instead there are strange 
 faces of men who do not appear in the fashionable 
 season of Golf— men of a beautiful humility and 
 self-depreciation, with whom therefore the pilgrim 
 only makes a match on terms very advantageous 
 to the stranger. "Who is he?" the exasperated 
 pilgrim may ask his caddie, as for the fourth time 
 in succession the stranger (is he perchance that 
 mysterious stranger man of Waldo's, from the 
 African Farm ?) lays himself dead with his iron. 
 But the caddie only murmurs : " I dinna ken wha' 
 he is at a'. He says he's a beginner. He says 
 he's a meenlster. I think he's a leear."
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOMP: 
 
 Sweet saint, whose spirit haunts the course 
 And broods o'er every hole, 
 Who lends the driver vital force 
 And calms the putter's soul. 
 
 Thou giv'st me, to my life's last hour, 
 A golfer's fame divine ; 
 I boast thy gift, a driver's power, 
 If I can putt 'tis thine. 
 
 THERE is no doubt about this saint, nor 
 about the home of his brooding. St 
 Andrew, on the links to which he lends his 
 name, is the gentleman referred to; and if he 
 does not give a deal of fame to all to whom 
 he lends the driver's vital force and the rest of 
 it, he is, at all events, made very famous by 
 the grand course of which he is the genius loci. 
 During the recent boom of golf, golfers, and golf 
 links, many new courses have been discovered 
 and laid out ; and now and again of some pecu- 
 liarly excellent one, the phrase has been spoken, 
 "As good as St Andrews, by Jove!" 
 
 It was the highest meed of praise that could 
 be given, and in itself evidence to the surpassing 
 36
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOME ^y 
 
 quality of the classic green. And when these new 
 courses, of which this great thing was said, were in 
 process of making or had lately been completed, 
 the golfing mind was for a while in a state of some 
 perplexity. It was not quite sure, now and again, 
 whether the phrase was not, perchance, a just 
 criticism. It sat, as it were, in suspended judg- 
 ment, as over the literary work of some contem- 
 porary or the achievements of a living statesman. 
 It did not quite know how to class them. But 
 now that our little Britain is fairly begirt with golf 
 links, and that they have been for a while estab- 
 lished, we are able to reckon up their qualities 
 with a just and unimpassioned mind ; and the re- 
 sult of this mature criticism is to show that, though 
 many of these newer links are indeed very good, 
 the phrase was never quite justified of any of them. 
 None of them, after all, is quite as good as St 
 Andrews. 
 
 There is no doubt that much of its peculiar 
 merit lies in the fact that its putting-greens arc 
 so very good when you get to them, and that 
 they are so well guarded by hazards — that is to 
 say, are so difficult to get at. This difficulty 
 makes each stroke a stroke of interest. It is 
 equally true of the strokes from the tee that, in 
 most cases, you have a definite course to steer, a 
 definite hazard to avoid.
 
 38 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 The character of the Sandwich course is that it 
 is a course of magnificent " carries." Every shot 
 from the tee has to carry a great bunker. This 
 is very attractive, and we think St Andrews would 
 gain in interest if there were more " carries " there. 
 But, on the other hand, there can be no question 
 of the gain that Sandwich would reap if it had a 
 few of the dangerous side hazards of St Andrews. 
 Too often at the English green, so long as you 
 hit hard and high, the direction signifies little. 
 The lies through the green are none too good 
 either at St Andrews or at Sandwich, nor again 
 at Hoylake. At Prestwick they are good ; but 
 for the best quality of golf in this particular, one 
 has to go to another English links — Westward 
 Ho ! Westward Ho ! is the first real links on which 
 golf was played in England. Previously, Scots- 
 men had played such golf as was possible on the 
 common at Blackheath, and in the neighbourhood 
 of Manchester, but the first sandy seaside links 
 laid out for golf in England was this common, 
 called the Northam Burrows, close by the water- 
 ing - place which took its name from Charles 
 Kingsley's jolly book. There the lies through 
 the green are so perfect that a man finds himself 
 with a perpetually teed ball, and has no need 
 whatever of a brassey. Both at Sandwich and 
 at Westward Ho ! the greens are finely guarded
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOME 39 
 
 by hazards ; but neither quite equals St Andrews 
 in this quality, and at neither of the English links 
 do the greens, when reached, compare with the 
 St Andrew^s ones. A while ago one would have 
 claimed for an English green — namely, Hoylake 
 — the best greens in the golfing world ; but their 
 glory, at the moment of writing, is rather under 
 eclipse. Of course we trust it may be only a 
 temporary lapse ; but in the meantime we know 
 none to vie with St Andrews. The Prestwick 
 greens are fine, and the whole character of the 
 golf on this western course is of the highest 
 quality. It has good, bold bunkers — a mighty 
 range of sand hills intersecting the course is well 
 worthy its awesome name of Himalayas; — its lies 
 are excellent, its greens are good, and the whole 
 surface freely undulating : but when all is said, 
 it does not charm the golfing fancy with the 
 attraction that St Andrews exercises. 
 
 These beautiful putting-greens of St Andrews 
 are a lesson to the golfing world. About ten 
 years ago they were anything but good. Then 
 the Green Committee sunk a well at each hole 
 and made them what they are — the biggest and 
 truest ever seen. 
 
 But St Andrews has now got two courses, and 
 that gives her a further advantage over her rivals ; 
 for when the old course becomes too golf-worn.
 
 40 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 she can close it for a while and make the world 
 play on the new course. The new course is 
 good : but golfers are conservative, and love to 
 dig in the bunkers where their fathers swore and 
 laboured. 
 
 It has been said often enough that it seems a 
 necessary condition of a first-class golf course 
 that it should be terribly difficult of access. St 
 Andrews has been put much nearer the world 
 by the Forth Bridge, which improves its access 
 from Edinburgh, and by the Tay Bridge, which 
 reduces one's sufferings in reaching it from the 
 north. Formerly, one used to suffer terribly in 
 those ferry-boats which plied across the great 
 estuaries. But, nowadays, when we reach St 
 Andrews our sufferings are worse. In the months 
 of August and September, when we have to wait 
 while six or seven couples play out the short 
 hole, we greatly regret those ferry-boats, in which 
 there was a chance of drowning golfers. Golf 
 has become too popular to be pleasant at these 
 great resorts. 
 
 For pleasure, one has to seek a medium. 
 Macrihanish is said to be a very fine links ; 
 and " Old Tom " Morris came back from South 
 Uist saying that there he had seen the best 
 golf links in the world. It was perfectly safe 
 saying, for the only three people who had ever
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOME 41 
 
 been to South Uist were not in St Andrews to 
 contradict him. But a golf links, however good, 
 is no use by itself, for you want some golfers to 
 play with, and you want a roof over your head 
 when you are not golfing. Now St Andrews 
 supplies you with a very good roof over your head, 
 for the club-house fulfils all its purposes ; and, 
 moreover, the old university town is full of storied 
 interest. Its ruins are almost uniquely fine, while 
 as for golfers it errs in the opposite extreme to 
 South Uist and Macrihanish. At North Berwick 
 the course has lately been extended, with very good 
 results. It is now a course worthy of a champion- 
 ship meeting, whereas formerly, if we may say so 
 with abject apologies both to North Berwick and 
 to the ladies, it was rather worthy of a ladies' 
 championship. It was very short ; but if it was 
 very short, it had the merit, in a very marked 
 degree, of well-guarded holes ; and the consequence 
 was that every man who learned his golf at North 
 Berwick is a master of the pitching mashie. North 
 Berwick is a pleasant place to stay at, with less of 
 historical interest than St Andrews, but with a 
 prettier sea-scape. Its club is less satisfactory, 
 and its links are perhaps equally crowded ; but 
 then there are compensations, like that which St 
 Andrews enjoys in its alternative course. There 
 is an alternative course at North Berwick, but it is
 
 42 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 not greatly patronised. Within an easy drive or 
 bicycle-ride, however, there is a nice selection of 
 courses — Gullane, Muirfield, LufFness and Archer- 
 field are all easily accessible, and a game on 
 any one of them makes a pleasant change. At 
 Prestwick, similarly, you may make a change by 
 playing on the neighbour links of Troon. It is 
 possible to play the first nine holes at Prestwick, 
 walk the half mile or so which separates the Troon 
 and Prestwick courses, then play the last nine 
 holes of Troon, lunch at the Troon Club House, 
 then play the first nine holes of Troon, walk the 
 intervening half-mile again, then play the Prest- 
 wick last half — and so you are at home again. 
 But Prestwick has not the good accommodation of 
 St Andrews and North Berwick. You will gene- 
 rally need to live in Ayr, and come out by the 
 train — a journey of a few minutes only. 
 
 In selecting a golf links for your pleasure this 
 question of accommodation is a large factor. At 
 St Andrews, and maybe at North Berwick, you 
 have golf at the doors of your hotel ; occasionally 
 an errant ball will invade your area. At Carnoustie 
 you may lodge virtually on the first tee ; and so, 
 too, at Hoylake. There are (qw of our English 
 links that are so favoured. Both at Westward Ho ! 
 and Sandwich you have a little walk or (preferably) 
 drive to and from your work. But Littlestone is a
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOME 43 
 
 good links, though in an unbeautiful country, 
 namely the Weald of Kent, where an iron shot 
 from the last hole may break a window-pane. 
 Bembridge, in the Isle of Wight, has an excellent 
 little course, but from your hotel you have to cross 
 in a row-boat a small arm of the sea to reach it. 
 All these details of access are minor troubles, no 
 doubt, but they make a certain difference to your 
 comfort. In the Channel Islands and on the Con- 
 tinent you are always a little distance from your 
 golf, unless indeed you go and live in the Hotel de 
 Panorama, which is fairly on the links of St Briac, 
 where the Dinard Golf Club plays. But from 
 Dinard itself you have to drive out several kilo- 
 metres. The links, when you reach them, are 
 worth all the trouble, of the proper sandy sort, 
 erring a little on the side of being too sandy, but 
 giving you beautiful sea-scapes of the bold Brittany 
 coast. At Pau and Biarritiz you have a drive of 
 something like a mile from your hotel ; a little 
 over a mile maybe in the former case and a little 
 under in the latter. Both these are, from a golfing 
 point of view, inland courses, with a loamy or 
 clayey rather than a sandy soil. The soil of Pau 
 is actually the lighter of the two, though it is many 
 miles from the sea, whereas Biarritz is thundered 
 on by all the billows of the Atlantic. But the 
 golf course is high up above sea level ; certainly
 
 44 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 no product of alluvial deposit. At Pau, on the 
 other hand, there are evidences that the river Gave 
 at one time overran all the plain of Bill^res on 
 which men play golf to-day, and in times of flood 
 it partially overspreads them even now. At Jersey 
 a quarter of an hour in the train takes you from 
 St Helier's to the club-house, and at Guernsey 
 you reach the links by a service of tram-car and 
 diligence. There is no mistake, however, about 
 these two Channel Island courses ; both are of the 
 right sandy kind and give good golf, but all these 
 considerations pertain more rightly to the scrip of 
 the Pilgrim when he goes abroad. 
 
 Who that has tried the change does not know 
 the delight of leaving an inland course, which 
 bakes to a brick in the summer and becomes a 
 morass in winter, for a seaside links, where the 
 turf is always springy under the foot in the driest 
 weather, and, no matter how it rains, you can go 
 out in patent-leather boots and return dry-foot as 
 soon as it stops ? Your ball never gets clogged 
 and coated with black mud ; the green is never 
 mountainous with worm casts ; all is so clean that 
 you might eat your dinner off it. A number of us 
 are compelled to take most of our golf in the 
 neighbourhood of London, inevitably on courses 
 of the inland quality. We get good fun out of it, 
 no doubt, and keep our hands in practice, but
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOME 4S 
 
 know quite well all the time that it is not the real 
 thing. But how infinitely better than no golf at 
 all ! And to what delightful places in the neigh- 
 bourhood of our smoky metropolis are we thus 
 taken, which otherwise we probably should not 
 visit at all — Wimbledon Common, with its charm- 
 ing ravines and extended landscape; Chorley- 
 wood, undulating and breezy ; Richmond Park, 
 with its sylvan and purely English loveliness ; and 
 Mitcham Common, of less varied beauty, but 
 perhaps the best golf, and certainly the handiest 
 of them all! Or, further afield, there are the 
 courses of Woking and Byfleet and Guildford, 
 all in the midst of the loveliest surroundings, and 
 at each of these, even, it is easy to have two full 
 rounds, and more, between breakfast and dinner in 
 town. There are hosts of others, which it is per- 
 haps invidious to leave unnamed ; but the name of 
 golf courses and golfers is legion. 
 
 We had almost forgotten to speak of Portrush 
 and Newcastle links and Dollymount, all in 
 Ireland. Certainly it would have been another 
 flagrant injustice to Ireland to have omitted them, 
 for they put themselves into the first class of golf 
 links by their own golfing merit, and one can 
 nowhere find golf in more beautiful surroundings. 
 At Portrush, sixty miles north of Belfast, you lodge 
 on the shores of the Irish Channel, and arc close
 
 46 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 beside your golf, which leads you out towards the 
 enchanted land of the Giant's Causeway, and the 
 Bushmills, where they make the whiskey. 
 
 The charm of visiting one of these golf-grounds 
 where the soil is of the real sandy quality is 
 greatly increased by finding the game so very 
 much more easy. The grass of the links turf curls 
 round into itself again in such a way that the ball 
 is generally found lying on the grass — above it. 
 On the pastoral ground of our inland courses we 
 find our ball lying in the grass, among the blades, 
 with many of them interposed between the ball 
 and the club's face. It is quite obvious how 
 much more difficult is the latter lie. And, again, 
 nothing is so potent as a means of making one 
 recognise the great part played by earthworms 
 (as insisted on at length by Darwin) in modifying 
 the surface of the ground as a course of golf on 
 inland greens. The horrid little heaps of sticky 
 earth that the worms throw up seem ubiquitous, 
 and, insignificant as they look, can give you as 
 bad a lie as you can find in the Sandwich "Hades," 
 the Musselburgh "Pandy" (a euphonism for pan- 
 demonium), or the St Andrews bunker crudely 
 and briefly named " Hell." There seems a virtual 
 tautology in these infernal titles for the worst 
 bunkers that the respective links can afford, but 
 many golf links have their especial hazards.
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOME 47 
 
 Where will you find but at Westward Ho ! those 
 great clumps of rushes, like bundles of assegais, 
 tall as a man's head ? And, apart from their 
 hazards, the difference that has been noted in the 
 nature of soils means that a slightly different 
 stroke has to be played, especially in the iron 
 approaches, on the different courses. Where the 
 ground is very hard, as often at Musselburgh and 
 St Andrews, and always in summer on the inland 
 greens, the iron will not go down into the turf as 
 kindly as in the softer soils. It is necessary to hit 
 the ball more cleanly, to avoid scrupulously taking 
 even half an inch of turf behind the ball ; and on 
 visiting a strange green this is one of the first 
 qualities of difference with which the stranger has 
 to become familiar before he can hope to play 
 on it what he is pleased to call his game. It is 
 necessary for him to study, too, the way in which 
 the ball runs when it pitches ; for besides the very 
 obvious fact that the ball runs further after a 
 pitch on hard than on soft ground, there is a more 
 subtle difference in the way in which different soils 
 take the "cut" which every player — though the 
 novice perhaps involuntarily rather than of con- 
 scious intent — puts on the ball when playing an 
 approach stroke with the iron or mashie. And, 
 finally, it is necessary for him " to get into the 
 strength of the putting greens," as the phrase goes.
 
 48 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 All these little differences add to one's pleasure, 
 as they add to the variety of the game, in visiting 
 different courses ; and while there are some few 
 golfers who seem to play equally well on every 
 course, there are not a few who are comparatively 
 useless when playing off their own green. 
 
 And there exist also differences more subtle, 
 which no study of the soil can explain to us — 
 differences in the golfing traditions, so to call 
 them, of our various links, so that on one we are 
 almost obliged, despite ourselves, to play at, rather 
 than to play, golf, so gravely has the game fallen 
 from its best estate, while at another the very 
 atmosphere is charged with all the stately manner 
 of the old Scottish school, and we take our part 
 in the solemn pageant as if to the manner born. 
 Unquestionably it is every golfer's duty to go once 
 at least to St Andrews at the meeting-time, to 
 hear the gun fired, while, before expectant multi- 
 tudes, the captain hits off the first ball, formally 
 opening the medal competition and gaining for 
 himself the medal which was Queen Adelaide's 
 gracious gift. It is all very royal ; and then, in 
 the evening, the ceremonial at the dinner, when 
 the medal-winners are invested with their honours, 
 is very ancient. You begin to see that you have 
 in golf a link with a very remote past ; that you 
 are reviving manners and customs that are gone.
 
 THE PFLGRIM AT HOME 49 
 
 St Andrews presents golf to you in this aspect 
 most perfectly of all, though others (and notably 
 the famous old club at Blackheath) preserve 
 something of the same spirit. The course that 
 you should visit in order to make experiment of 
 the opposite extreme — of that game which is to 
 golf as " bumble-puppy " is to whist — had better 
 be left unnamed. The selection would be in- 
 vidious and tend to unpopularity ; and the selec- 
 tion would be very difficult, for such courses are 
 numerous. And you may please yourself as to 
 which class of golfers you will stand in rank with. 
 Of course, between the two extremes is an in- 
 finitely varying series of clubs which have more 
 of the one spirit or of the other. As a rule, the 
 ancient tradition is carried to the better links, and 
 it is on those courses where one golfs with diffi- 
 culty that the stately amenities are most disre- 
 garded, as well as the simple rules. 
 
 The best of golf is confined to the sea-side, but 
 not necessarily the most beautiful. The pilgrim 
 to the lake country, in the neighbourhood of 
 Windermere, may find golf grounds that give as 
 lovely views as Prestwick, which has all the 
 beauties of the Clyde estuary for its surroundings, 
 or Nairn, on the shores of the Moray Firth. The 
 last-named, its latitude considered, has a winter 
 climnte of extraordinary mildness; and, indeed, 
 
 D
 
 50 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 throughout Scotland, the actual winter is far less 
 abominable than it is represented. At Prestwick 
 and all the western greens the climate is mild 
 enough, and on the east its keenness is tempered 
 by its bracing dryness. But it is when the winter 
 is turning into spring, with cold boisterous winds, 
 and goodness only knows what visitations in the 
 shape of snow or sleet or hail, that you may well 
 wish yourself elsewhere — say on the milder shore 
 of Westward Ho ! or the yet softer air of the Isle 
 of Wight or the Channel Islands. Pau, Biarritz, 
 or Cannes is perhaps preferable at these seasons ; 
 but your Scottish autumn and summer are perfect, 
 with just that leaven of occasional evil days that 
 makes you appreciate your general blessedness, 
 and with a keen nip in the air that makes you 
 eager alike for your golf and for your dinner. 
 The golfing pilgrim may ring the changes pleas- 
 antly between the south of France and East 
 Neuk of Fife, and play perpetually the royal and 
 ancient game which knows no close season. 
 
 As a commentary, in lighter vein, on the above 
 general review of our golf links, I would add the 
 following account of a famous golfing pilgrimage, 
 confined, however, to the English greens, which 
 has been furnished to me, most kindly, by one of 
 the players who took part in it. The narrator takes 
 up his pleasant parable to the following effect : —
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOME 51 
 
 My friend and Tellow-pilgrim, James Mac- 
 pherson, is one of the golfers known in the North 
 as " pawkie," that is to say, his game is characterised 
 by an unerring steadiness and unambitious length 
 of drive, combined with a putting style of great 
 deadhness. I, on the other hand, am a Jehu in 
 driving compared with my friend, but my shots are 
 apt to deviate disastrously from the true line in 
 my driving, and in putting to resemble the course 
 of true love in seldom running smooth. There 
 are thus compensations in our rival styles which 
 result in our making an excellent match. James's 
 appears to me a wretched unambitious style, while 
 he is ever ready with the formula to apply to my 
 play of " Eh, it's maybe a verra fine game that o' 
 yours, but ye'U acknowledge, am thinking, that 
 it's no the gowf." (I need hardly observe that 
 James is one of those Scotchmen who peculiarly 
 pride themselves on the purity of an English pro- 
 nunciation). 
 
 Of course James knows that I shall acknowledge 
 nothing of the sort, but yet it is not within the 
 power of either to get away from the other, so 
 that he should be able to claim for his own style a 
 definite superiority. Under these circumstances 
 we determined to take a holiday and make such a 
 pilgrimage to all the main golfing greens of 
 England as should put our comparative merits
 
 52 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 once for all to a crucial test. Two rounds of 
 eighteen holes, or their equivalent, were to be 
 played at each locality, and he who was up at the 
 end of the tour was for ever after to be held the 
 better man, and the loser was to accept with such 
 resignation as he might any criticisms which the 
 victor, in the arrogance of his triumph, might 
 please to pass upon his style or execution. 
 
 Starting from north of the Tweed, our first 
 passage of arms was, naturally, to take place at 
 Hoylake. Blundellsands, Formby, Leasowe, Wal- 
 lasey — the links are many in the Liverpool district, 
 but none of them compete seriously with the 
 ancient fame of the Royal Liverpool Club's course 
 at Hoylake. 
 
 " No better potted shrimps did I ever taste ! " I 
 exclaimed, as we stepped from our lodgings after 
 breakfast to commence the great contest. 
 
 " Eh, mon, and will ye be talking of shrimps at 
 such a time as this ! " said James, in grave rebuke, 
 deeply impressed by the gravity of the occasion. 
 
 Maybe it was ill-timed levity, and its Nemesis 
 overtook me, for all that I put my hand to went 
 wrong at Hoylake. Stumps of old posts, the relics 
 of a disused racecourse, appeared in close prox- 
 imity to my ball as soon as it stopped rolling. 
 Corners of fields, which you may not play out of, 
 stretched themselves to supernatural proportions
 
 THE P.ILGRIM AT HOME 53 
 
 to take my devious drives in their embrace. 
 Hedges, rabbit holes, and ditches with black 
 tenacious mud, which flanked the course — I made 
 acquaintance with them all. 
 
 Meanwhile, James, trundling his ball in igno- 
 minious security along the centre of the course, 
 viewed all these hazards with a purely platonic 
 and scarce sympathetic interest He arrived at 
 the putting green, as a rule, some two strokes 
 before me. And oh, what putting greens they 
 are — at their best they are the very best ; so 
 good indeed that one almost shrinks from setting 
 down his nail-clad boot upon them ; but then, as 
 I had usually played two more, my interest in 
 them was scarce less platonic than James' in the 
 hedges, the ditches, and the fields. Seven up was 
 James — no less — when we left our quarters at 
 Hoylake for the long weary journey down to 
 Westward Ho ! Why are golf links so difficult to 
 get to ? After all, perhaps it is as well ; and when 
 you are waiting while five couples drive off before 
 you, you are aware that there used to be com- 
 pensations in the difficulties of ferry, of tramcar, 
 and of railway — about an hour in all from 
 Liverpool, I think — which used to beset the 
 golfing pilgrim's progress to Hoylake. 
 
 "A pottering, old man's course, I call it, that 
 Hoylake," I said to James.
 
 54 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 " A real golfing course — a verra fine test of 
 the real game of gowf," said he. I knew he would 
 say that. 
 
 It was in the train that I interrupted him to 
 make this remark about the Hoylake course. 
 He thought I was asleep, and was surreptitiously 
 looking in the Stores List, which he brought out 
 of his bag, to see on what he should spend the 
 money he was going to win from me. Wait a 
 bit, Mr James ! Seven up, I thought to myself, 
 is nothing with so many to play. 
 
 My word, it was a different pair of shoes at 
 Westward Ho ! No old man's course that, I can 
 tell you. There are parts of it a man needs to be 
 pretty active to walk over, much more to drive 
 over. It is in many respects like Prestwick, In 
 my opinion there is no such delightful place for 
 golfing in the world as Westward Ho ! The 
 course abounds in fine long sporting " carries," 
 which are far more suited to my style of play than 
 James's. I succeeded in not only knocking off 
 all the holes he had won at Hoylake, but even got 
 two to the good on my own account. 
 
 " A fine sporting course, and the best lies 
 through the green I ever did see," was my verdict 
 upon Westward Ho ! 
 
 " Ou, aye," said James, dourly. "A fine green 
 for a great slashing driver, but no a test of the
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOME 55 
 
 real game of gowf." I should like to have a 
 definition of that " real game of gowf," according 
 to my friend, James Macpherson. 
 
 Now we were fairly beset by an embarras de 
 richesse in knowing what green to select after 
 leaving Westward Ho ! We had already passed 
 by Malvern and Minihinhampton, and, lower 
 down, Burnham ; and now we heard of golf in 
 Cornwall, at Torquay, at Exmouth, at Bourne- 
 mouth, at Portsmouth, at Hayling Island, and at 
 Eastbourne ; to say nothing of all the inland and 
 metropolitan greens. We determined, however, 
 as being, from all we heard, most worthy our 
 attention, to pay a visit to Bembridge, in the Isle 
 of Wight. I must say that James fairly caught 
 me out on the way up. I felt so confident about 
 the result of the match that I picked up his Stores 
 List and began absently glancing at it, when I 
 fancied him deep in the Times. I quite started 
 when he quietly asked me, 
 
 " And what are ye needing } " 
 
 " Ah ! " said I. " Oh, yes ! I was just thinking 
 of buying my wife a Westphalian ham." 
 
 " Ou, aye," said James. "And ye're a good 
 thoughtful husband, but I'm thinking ye'U no 
 likely find Westphalian hams among the silver 
 candelabra." I must pay James the compli- 
 ment of confessing that he is by no means
 
 56 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 so simple as his appearance would lead you to 
 suppose. 
 
 James had a little the better of me at Bern- 
 bridge. It is not a rough bit of common, as at 
 most links, that you have to cross to get to the 
 green from the hotel at Bembridge, but a rough 
 bit of the harbour, in a boat. It was only about 
 five minutes' row, but I arrived at the other side 
 feeling queerish. Then I pulled my first tee shot 
 very badly into the harbour. The tide was out, 
 and, after a long search over some soft mud, we 
 at length found the ball inside a dead and derelict 
 dog. Dead, indeed, but faintly expresses him, he 
 had been dead so long. 
 
 After this, I naturally lost a hole or two, but 
 subsequently pulled myself together, and we left 
 Bembridge with no appreciable advantage on 
 either side in the great match. 
 
 Bembridge is very good golf indeed, what there 
 is of it ; but there is not enough. The space is 
 so restricted that even to accommodate nine holes 
 an arrangement something on the lines of the cat's 
 cradle has to be resorted to, so that not only do 
 you play the same hole very often, but you so 
 often hear the same people calling " Fore ! " that 
 you feel oppressed, when you get back, by an idea 
 of the same thing happening to you all day long. 
 
 ' A very good links when there is nobody on
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOME 57 
 
 it," was the verdict on which, for once, James 
 and I were fairly agreed. And now for a drive 
 inland to Wimbledon and to Blackheath, the 
 time-honoured pleasure grounds of the golfers 
 of the Metropolis. And herein I must plead 
 guilty to an opinion which is a heresy and a 
 paradox, for, in my judgment, Blackheath is a 
 better golf links than Wimbledon. You have, 
 perhaps, greater comfort at Wimbledon — a more 
 commodious club-house. I am speaking of the 
 club-house of the Royal Wimbledon, which is a 
 secession from the London Scottish Club. Into 
 the rights and wrongs of that secession one need 
 not enter to recognise the present fact of the 
 superiority, from the point of view of the golfer's 
 comfort, of the Royal Wimbledon club - house. 
 The London Scottish, however, are building 
 themselves a new club - house, so perhaps the 
 superiority will be all the other way soon. 
 Then, as compared with Blackheath, you have 
 eighteen holes at Wimbledon to Blackheath's 
 seven. But then there are — goodness only knows 
 how many ! — more people playing the Wimbledon 
 eighteen than the Blackheath seven ; and twenty 
 golfers will get more fun out of seven holes than 
 a hundred golfers will out of eighteen, other things 
 being equal. But other things are not equal, for 
 the Blackheath seven are longer than any other
 
 58 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 seven consecutive holes that ever were seen. 
 Moreover, the putting greens are well placed, 
 so as to make the roads available as good 
 hazards, and the lies through the green are as 
 good as those at Wimbledon. At Wimbledon, 
 you can only play three days a week ; but what 
 gives it its preponderance in popular estimation 
 over Blackheath is, doubtless, that it is available 
 for play on Saturday afternoons — the principal 
 London holiday; whereas Blackheath is on that 
 day delivered over to winter footballers and 
 summer cricketers. 
 
 The golfer, worthy of that great name, can 
 scarcely approach Blackheath without a rever- 
 ential feeling for its historical associations. As 
 a golf club, its annals go further back than those 
 of any other club in the world — beyond those 
 even of the Royal and Ancient itself For years 
 it stood alone in England. Some five-and-twenty 
 years ago, it lent a fostering hand, under the 
 direction of the late lamented Mr George Glennie, 
 to the then budding plant of golfing promise — 
 the Royal North Devon Club at Westward Ho ! 
 It gave the Westward Ho ! Club one of its first 
 challenge prizes, the Blackheath Badge. Then, 
 golf being thus given an English start, the Royal 
 Liverpool Club at Hoylake soon came into ex- 
 istence — a club to which the golfing world owe
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOME 59 
 
 thanks for the initiative movement in founding 
 the Amateur Championship meetings. After- 
 wards, the members of the London Scottish Rifle 
 Vokmteers Corps started to play golf round their 
 Iron Hut at Wimbledon, and Wimbledon has 
 now itself a mighty foster-child, in the links near 
 Sandwich and the club called the St George's. 
 Excuse this slight historical digression, and let 
 us return to the great match. 
 
 Now, golfing readers, you will have noticed 
 often, I am sure, that there are some days when 
 all one's putts run bumpy. Well, it was like that 
 with me when we played at Wimbledon. They 
 are not by nature bumpy putting-greens, and I 
 do not wish to be understood as implying that 
 James's ball did not get just as much bumped 
 as mine did; but all his bumps seemed to be 
 towards the hole, while all mine seem.ed to be 
 away from it, and that makes a good deal of 
 difference. To make matters worse, there was 
 one hole up a narrow ride between high whins 
 — they call it the "racecourse," but when you 
 come to drive at it, it hardly looks broad enough 
 for "two shelties" abreast. Well, that hole, of 
 course, I might have given James without play- 
 ing it. Wimbledon is a wonderfully wild, breezy, 
 natural place to be so near London, and it must 
 do the metropolitans a power of good to carry
 
 6o THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 back some of that air into the city with them. 
 Still, that did not affect the score of the match — 
 namely, four up to James — when we started to 
 sample the soil, so sacred from its venerable as- 
 sociations, but so gravelly when you jerk your 
 irons into it, of Blackheath. 
 
 At Blackheath you require to have a fore-caddie 
 to run ahead with a red flag, as if you were a 
 traction engine, and wave away nursemaids and 
 perambulators, and such things; and you get 
 lots of new experiences in the way of lamp- 
 posts and benches, and iron railings. The caddies, 
 too, are a species to themselves, clad in long 
 frock coats originally made for men about a 
 foot taller than the present owner — all except 
 one, a worthy of some six feet three inches in 
 an Eton jacket. They have no sense of the 
 fitness of things. The putting greens are not 
 at all bad, and there are two of the longest 
 holes I ever saw. Poor James, I felt quite sorry 
 for him. The longest hole of all was in the 
 teeth of a strong wind, and when James at 
 length arrived at it, he looked quite faint and 
 pale, and said he felt as if he had been driving 
 ever since he was a little boy. Superiority of 
 driving is an overwhelming advantage at Black- 
 heath, and I ought to have done even better 
 than I did. As it was, however, I managed to
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOME 6i 
 
 pull down the four holes of James' advantage 
 and to stand one up on the long match when 
 we had finished at Blackheath. Sandwich was 
 the next place set down on our programme, 
 and I had promised myself a terrific massacre 
 of poor James in this terrific course. We were 
 comfortably housed at the "Bell," and a walk 
 or drive of something less than a mile took us 
 to the glorified farmhouse which does service 
 as an excellent club-house. The course was in 
 fine condition, and the carries were all that I 
 could have wished them to be ; but that, cruelly 
 enough, was the very thing that put me wrong. 
 I was just a little off my driving, but, of course, 
 I was bound to attempt the carries, and in 
 many instances fell just short and made a most 
 costly failure. The unenterprising James, on the 
 other hand, went round each bunker, on the line 
 indicated for short drivers by the blue flags, 
 and the ultimate and most exasperating result 
 of the day's golf on this long-driving course 
 was that I, a long driver, had actually lost five 
 holes to the short-driving James. I consider 
 that it says great things for the impartiality of 
 my judgment that I am able, nevertheless, to 
 recognise the excellence of the Sandwich green. 
 The next scene in the drama was fixed to be laid 
 at Felixstowe, and I warn all whom it may con-
 
 62 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 cern not to attempt, as we did, to get to Felixstowe 
 on a Sunday. There were no direct trains that 
 we could discover to Felixstowe, so we went 
 by train to Harwich, which is on the other side 
 of the river — so they told us. Well, that is 
 quite true, but there are rivers mid rivers, and 
 this was an estuary some three miles wide. As 
 the ferry boat was not going to run any njore 
 that day, we chartered a mariner to take us 
 over in a row boat. He disembarked us and 
 our kit on the pier head, which was quite de- 
 serted, on the other side, and we then asked him 
 how far it was to the Bath Hotel. 
 
 " Two miles," he answered. 
 
 " Oh ! And how can we get our bags and 
 things up there t " 
 
 " I do not know," he said, and rowed away. 
 
 We sat there with our bags on the pier head, 
 in the gathering twilight, till, to our joy, we 
 heard the whistle of a belated yokel, with whose 
 help we dragged our belongings over a cause- 
 way, through sloughs of despond, until we came 
 to a small inn, where we chartered a cart to 
 take us to our hotel. The green, as we dis- 
 covered next morning, is a fairish one — not so 
 good as Westward Ho! or Hoylake, but better 
 than Wimbledon or Blackheath, or any of the 
 inland greens. It has few features. It is rather
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOME 63 
 
 a characterless green, and our play thereon 
 partook of the neutral tint of the surroundings. 
 There was absolutely nothing between us at 
 Felixstowe, James was four up on the whole 
 contest, and we had but three stages left of the 
 great match, which was to determine for all 
 time to come our relative merits. It was an 
 exciting time, and gave neither of us much 
 ground for boasting. James had, indeed, doucely 
 observed as we left London : " Ye didna buy 
 your wife yon Westphalian ham, I'm thinking," 
 but when I countered him with the observation 
 that " Tu quoque, you omitted your contem- 
 plated purchases at the stores," we relapsed 
 into a mutually respectful silence. 
 
 James had persuaded me to set down Yarmouth 
 as the next place on our programme. I had a 
 leaning, myself, to Cromer and Sherringham, but 
 James represented that these, though excellent 
 greens, were of an inland nature in their soil, 
 though well within view of the sea. Of Yar- 
 mouth we had reports which were unquestionable. 
 I do not think I was ever more surprised than on 
 my first view of the town of the bloater. I had 
 figured to myself a fishing village, its cottage 
 walls festooned with drying bloaters, exhaling an 
 odour of fish in decomposition, combined with the 
 briny flavour of ozone. Instead of which, we
 
 64 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 beheld a noble city, a harbour in the centre of the 
 town — Dutch fashion — concerts on the pier, and 
 excellent hotels. A drive of a mile along a 
 good road brought us to the links. There were 
 few players, but the turf Avas real good golfing 
 material, lots of sand — too much, James said — 
 and eighteen holes of fair length. The club house 
 is a fine building, amply sufficient for all pur- 
 poses. Well, James and I fared forth, under the 
 respectful admiration of some blue-jerseyed toilers 
 of the deep, and what a time I had with him ! 
 For the links are sandy, as I have said, so that if 
 you do not get good " carry " on your ball you do 
 not go far. Now James's drives are mostly " run," 
 so that they went very little way indeed, and you 
 may picture my triumph when I found myself at 
 the end of the day one hole to the good on the 
 whole match. 
 
 One hole to the good and seventy-two to play 
 is not a very substantial pull ; but no one could 
 have been more full of confidence than I when we 
 started for the very last stage but one of our 
 match over the Royal West Norfolk Club's links 
 at Brancaster, There is an annoying drive of 
 seven miles from Hunstanton before we reach the 
 links ; but we stayed at the most comfortable 
 Dormy House in Brancaster itself, whence a half 
 mile would take us to the club-house and the
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOME 65 
 
 front tee. It is a cruelly punishing course — less 
 dangerous for the tee shot than Sandwich, but the 
 second shots and approaches to the hole infinitely 
 more severe. I had the better of James on this 
 severe green to the extent of four holes — I should 
 have won many more — and started five up, al- 
 together, for the last stage of the long match 
 on the Northumbrian links of Alnmouth. Here, 
 again, we were in the midst of a little nucleus 
 of links — Ryton, Seaton-Carew, and several others 
 claiming our attention. Yet, since Alnmouth 
 appeared the chief golfing seat of the vicinity, 
 it was here that we decided upon enacting the 
 ultimate crisis of our great golfing drama. Ex- 
 citement ran high. As I have said, I was full of 
 confidence ; yet, explain it how you will, I lost 
 hole after hole of my advantage as we pursued 
 our way over the grassy — too grassy — links of 
 Alnmouth. There are only nine holes, but you 
 can lodge with comfort beside the putting green 
 of the last one, and, take it on the whole, it is golf 
 of a quality not to be despised. Nevertheless, I 
 made nothing of it. At lunch time, not only had 
 I lost my holes of vantage, but James was actually 
 one ahead upon the match. We conversed but 
 little during lunch. The first round following saw 
 no change in our position. Once I had James all 
 even, but again he retrieved his one point to the 
 
 E
 
 66 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 good. As we descended for the last time of all 
 the mighty hill which is the main feature of the 
 links, he still led me, with two holes to the good, 
 and the springy step of a victor. And then 
 Nemesis, the Nemesis which waits upon pride, 
 fell upon him. At the two succeeding holes he 
 was unfortunate. I won them both. All even, 
 and but one to play, upon our whole great match ! 
 If the eyes of Europe had been on us it had not 
 been one whit more exciting. 
 
 I led off with a fair drive and James topped 
 the shot. At last I held him in my clutch. No 
 more shall he ever pass his strictures on my style 
 of play ! I have him. 
 
 On the putting green James lays a stealthy long 
 one dead. Yet I have two to win it, and I am 
 but ten yards from the hole. Only to hole in 
 two, and the great match is mine. It is a gift. 
 
 I approach my ball to putt it. I am about to 
 strike, when — what golfer does not know it? — a 
 sense of the enormous responsibility overcomes 
 me, a film comes across my eyes, I putt hurriedly, 
 I am weak. Two yards at least are left for me to 
 hole. I glance at James. He looks pale, but is 
 composed, with tight-pressed lips. After careful 
 study I address my ball. I strike it. " It's in, 
 it's in — it's — no ! That blade of grass ! " On the 
 very edge of the hole it has arrested it The
 
 THE PILGRIM AT HOME ^7 
 
 match is halved. "James, take home that blade 
 of grass, enshrine it in a golden diamond-studded 
 casket, for that blade of grass has saved you the 
 great match." 
 
 Thus was the great match halved, and all the 
 golfing and all the travelling were in vain. In 
 vain, save for the enjoyment we had, for the 
 cheery welcomes we met, for the store of health 
 we laid in. And so, really, not in vain at all. If 
 any should feel tempted to a golfing tour of like 
 description, I have put on record this rough sketch 
 of our experiences to aid them — a sort of golfing 
 guide book — in knowing to what sort of land, 
 from a golfing pilgrim's standpoint, their progress 
 may be leading them.
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 
 
 Caelum non animam mutant 
 
 IT is surely fair to presume that no golfer goes 
 abroad for the winter with any object other 
 than to seek a climate for himself or some member 
 of his household. A man of much experience 
 told the writer that he knew no woman " whose 
 health permitted her to live in the home which 
 her husband provided for her." Be this as it 
 may, it is certain that the British householder is 
 occasionally driven to exchange the hardships 
 of coal famines and London fogs for the some- 
 times greater severities of the winter of the South 
 of France. We say " sometimes greater severi- 
 ties " advisedly, for fresh in our memory, at the 
 moment of writing, is the winter of 1893-94, which 
 saw 20° of frost, on the Fahrenheit thermometer, 
 in such resorts of the British climate-hunter as 
 Pau and Biarritz. The truth is, the weather of 
 the Basses Pyrenees is not to be relied on. Now 
 and again a winter is uninterruptedly delightful ; 
 but these are exceptions occurring in a series of 
 winters, of which each will comprise one or more 
 
 68
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 69 
 
 cold " snaps " of a week or two. The merit of 
 the climate is that the cold " snaps " are brief, and 
 that when the sun shines the heavens delight you 
 with a more than British blueness. While it lasts, 
 however, the cold is more severe than the cold of 
 an ordinary winter at home ; it takes you more 
 by surprise, by reason of the suddenness of its 
 attack ; it takes you at a disadvantage, because 
 coal-fires are hard to come by, and it is difficult 
 to heat the houses to the degree of British home- 
 warmth. If it should catch you unawares without 
 warm winter clothing, it is more than likely to 
 search out weak joints in your harness. 
 
 No doubt the Riviera is better. On the warm 
 days of the Basses Pyrenees the habituh will deny 
 it. Gathering themselves together on the terrace 
 before the Gassion at Pau, and gazing at the snow- 
 clad Pic du Midi, or on the plage at Biarritz 
 admiring the tumbling breakers, they will fall to 
 congratulating one another as proudly as if the 
 glorious sunshine were the creation of their own 
 efforts, " What the deuce does a fellow want to 
 go to the Riviera for, when he can get such 
 weather as this here ? " But when the storm 
 cone is hoisted, and the scud comes racing up 
 over the lowering sky from the sea, with a falling 
 glass and falling thermometer, they will bethink 
 themselves in silent or in profane sorrow, accord-
 
 70 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 ing to their manner, of the blue Mediterranean 
 and the palm-trees of Cannes. 
 
 For there, too, they might be playing golf as 
 well, in a sense, as at Pau or Biarritz. In a sense, 
 far better, for at Cannes it is an easier game to 
 play — a game with fewer difficulties ; a shorter 
 course, with fewer of " those horrid bunkers " ; 
 a very gentlemanly style of golf, in fact — so 
 gentlemanly as to be almost ladylike. The 
 ladies golf there, zealously, under the gracious 
 patronage of the Russian Grand Duke ; and 
 since the train now stops to set down golfers at 
 La Napoule, the course is easy of access. To 
 the plain golfer of the east of Fife there may 
 seem to be a little too much of grace and of 
 high dignities about it ; but, after all, golf levels 
 non-golfing distinctions. There is no law of 
 hereditary precedence about getting into the hole. 
 
 But at Cannes, no less than elsewhere on the 
 Riviera, the golfer who is compelled to take 
 thought about the temperature must be espe- 
 cially watchful in the sunset hours. From four 
 to six is the time of danger, when the air strikes 
 most chilly on the tender chest or lung. Later 
 the temperature rises again. Moreover, when 
 it is dark the golfer will naturally wrap his 
 tweeds about him, whereas the sunset, in its gay 
 beauty, insidiously invites him to go unprotected.
 
 THE PIUGRIM ABROAD 71 
 
 Nevertheless, when all is said, Cannes is a better 
 wintering-place, regarding the winter months 
 strictly, than the golf resorts of the Basses 
 Pyrenees ; and since there is golf there — of 
 such quality as one may at least be grateful 
 for on the Riviera — it may be said at once that 
 the winter campaign of the climate-hunting 
 golfer can nowhere else be as well begun. The 
 accommodation, as everybody knows, is excellent, 
 even if it be rather dear; but when it includes 
 such a measure of warmth and sunshine, per- 
 haps it is not excessive. So for December and 
 January the golfer will do well at Cannes, and 
 by early February he may be bethinking him- 
 self of a change of quarters — not a change for the 
 better, so far as the quarters go, but a change 
 to better golf About the first of February the 
 climate of Pau is becoming trustworthy. 
 
 If a man is in a hurry, on leaving the Riviera, 
 to arrive in the neighbourhood of the French 
 Atlantic seaboard, the train service between 
 Marseilles and Bordeaux is one of the best in 
 France. It is more interesting, however, and in 
 point of distance shorter, to crawl along from 
 Toulouse, beside the upper waters of the Garonne, 
 and to come down on Pau through the Hautes 
 Pyrenees. Here you may pass by Luchon, may 
 branch off to Bigorre, may find yourself in the
 
 72 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 neighbourhood of Lourdes, where they will 
 perform any miracle upon you, even to the ex- 
 tent of curing you of missing short putts. 
 
 In Pau you will find a quality of softness in 
 the atmosphere which even the greater warmth 
 of Cannes did not supply. You will dwell, most 
 probably, in one of those great and good hotels, 
 the Gassion or the France, which stand on the 
 high terrace from which you look out over the 
 rushing Gave and away on over numberless 
 billows of foothills, rising higher and higher till 
 they lead the eye to the shining snow-peaks of 
 the Pyrenees, culminating in the lofty isolation 
 of the Pic du Midi. Or — there is always an 
 alternative — for a week the whole landscape 
 may be wrapped in haze, and you may have 
 no visible evidence of a mountain within a 
 thousand miles of you. By preference, however, 
 let us take the more pleasing alternative. Then, 
 after the " little breakfast," which you will 
 supplement, if you are wise, with something 
 certainly not less solid than an ceuf a la coque, 
 you will stroll along the terrace, westward, past 
 the famous Chateau Henri IV., whose wonder- 
 ful tapestries you will reserve for the consolation 
 of your eyes on a weeping day, when the vent 
 du sud has brought a curtain of rain to shroud 
 from you the beauties of the Pyrenees. And
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 73 
 
 so you win your way into the wood on the 
 hillside, and along its winding footway, which 
 gives lovely peeps of the mountains between 
 the tree-stems, down to the links on the level 
 plain of Billeres. Here you find a club-house 
 more picturesque than most of the buildings 
 designed or adapted for such uses, with a 
 verandah, and a balcony opening from the 
 ladies' club-rooms above. At a little distance 
 is Lloyd's club-making shop, surrounded by a 
 mass meeting of the unemployed caddies, who 
 will clamour in pleasant Bearnaise for your 
 custom. Among these sabotted and berretted 
 oiseaux ^ — many of them sad rascals, it is too 
 likely, in the degeneracy inevitable in those of 
 the lower humanity who consort with the 
 golfer or the horse — are to be found some 
 sterling good players. The plain of Billeres lies 
 low, on a level almost with the river Gave. 
 South of the river the lower ranges of the 
 Pyrenees begin to rise immediately. Doubtless 
 it is by reason of its situation that it is so 
 peculiarly windless. The golfer, starting on his 
 round from the club-house, and playing out for 
 the first hole or two along the side of the 
 river — into it, if he pulls his ball — recognises at 
 
 ^ A plural of oisif, often in use in old provincial French = 
 "loafers."
 
 74 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 once this peculiar quality. There is a peace in 
 the atmosphere — a peace which is inexpressibly 
 soothing to the irritated nerves (no man ought 
 to lose his temper or to miss short putts at 
 Pau), but a peace which is not altogether whole- 
 some to one who comes direct from the golf 
 links of our keen east coast. However, the 
 judiciously spent interval at Cannes will have 
 prepared the system for a grateful assimilation 
 of the peace. The quality of the golf is in 
 harmony with the soothing conditions of the 
 climate. The lies are excellent, the turf more 
 beautiful than we are accustomed to find it in 
 links which do not skirt the sea, — wonderfully 
 beautiful when we consider that we are out of 
 our own country, which is the best turf pro- 
 ducer in the world. Until we come to the four 
 last holes, the absence of hazard assists the 
 general suggestion of this all-pervading peace. 
 The verdant plain is dotted with occasional 
 thorny bushes, at which, when our ball gets 
 into them, we should swear in any other 
 climate. There are some bluff escarped faces, 
 with the holes perched on plateaux above them ; 
 there is a hole among apple-trees ; and, having 
 accomplished these, we drive over, or into, the 
 plot, valuable from its gutta-percha deposits, of 
 a peasant of the country ; and so, over another
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 75 
 
 field, fenced by high hedges, back again to the 
 smiling plain and the glancing river. Despite 
 the comparative absence of hazard in these 
 first fourteen holes, they are not to be done in 
 a very low score, for they are long, though 
 there is a certain sameness in their features 
 or lack of feature. The last four holes amply 
 atone for this — they are full of expression. For 
 the first of them you may go straight, if you 
 please, over Lloyd's shop, over several other 
 outhouses, over the mass meeting of the oiseaux, 
 over a branch of the Gave — but you will need 
 to be a greater than Douglas Rolland to carry 
 them all. Nevertheless, over this branch of the 
 Gave you must go, or give up the hole and all 
 the honours pertaining to it. If you face at 
 right angles to the direct, heroic line to the 
 hole, you may cross the river with a half iron 
 shot ; but the bolder and nearer you drive to 
 the straight line the shorter will be your approach 
 stroke. For the last hole of all you again cross 
 this limb of the Gave, with a full iron shot — a 
 distance much the same as that of the St 
 Andrews short hole going out. The two holes, 
 intermediate, the sixteenth and seventeenth, 
 bristle with brambles, while the latter, in 
 addition, presents peculiar facilities for a visit 
 to the river.
 
 'je THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 By all which efforts you have well earned your 
 dejefiner, well cooked and served in the club- 
 house, and thereafter, a smoke in the shade of 
 the verandah, with the unequalled panorama of 
 the Pyrenees before you. Here you will discuss 
 the bad luck which attended you on your round, 
 and when your friends are weary of this theme, 
 you will be told the story of the foundation of 
 the club — how, with the immortal exception 
 of Blackheath, it is the most ancient golf club 
 south of the Tweed, in all the world as known 
 to the moderns. The writer having claimed an 
 uncle as one of the original founders of the club 
 at Pau, a waggish friend informed him that it 
 was rare to meet a man whose uncle had not 
 founded the Pau Golf Club. The truth is, that 
 a little colony of Scottish and English gentle- 
 men finding themselves at Pau, sorely in need 
 of occupation, and with the plain of Billeres be- 
 fore their eyes, betook themselves to golf as 
 naturally as ducks to water, and established the 
 club which now flourishes so pleasantly. In the 
 club parlour hangs a picture of three surviving 
 founders — Archdeacon Sapte, Colonel Hutchin- 
 son and Major Pontifex — to whose likenesses 
 the golfer will turn grateful eyes. 
 
 Inured by the training of Cannes to the atmo- 
 sphere of peace, and invigorated by the di^'eAncr,
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD jy 
 
 the golfer may again tempt fortune among the 
 buissons, the escarpments, the apple - trees, the 
 hedges and the ramifying Gave. Only, on his 
 return from this afternoon round, let him be- 
 ware, for here too, as on the Riviera, the sunset 
 hours are the most treacherous. He may walk 
 homeward again through the grove, or, more 
 likely, may prefer to drive in one of the closed 
 hack-carriages which he will find in attendance. 
 For the homeward walk is up-hill, and this is 
 not the " caller " air of the kingdom of Fife. In 
 the English Club he may find whist or games 
 of greater hazard, or billiards, either French or 
 English, or literature equally polyglot. He will 
 find multitudes of his compatriots — always a con- 
 sideration to the English innocent abroad — and 
 many fellow-countrymen of the original immortal 
 "Innocents." 
 
 The climate throughout February is nearly sure 
 to be a joy to him. If he please, he may vary his 
 golf by hunting with the Pau hounds, who prob- 
 ably show the best sport of any pack out of 
 England. He may make expeditions into the 
 Pyrenees, with the object of shooting izards — the 
 Pyrenean chamois — who are an elusive quarry. 
 If he be exceptionally fortunate, he may even 
 achieve the glory of shooting a bear. But by 
 the end of February it is likely that he will
 
 78 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 begin to find the peace rather too much for 
 him. A disinclination to a second round, which 
 he had never known in the keen air of Scotland, 
 will be beginning to warn him that the too kindly 
 climate is relaxing his energies. He will sigh for 
 a keen breeze to revive his vigour, and will listen, 
 with the ear of longing, to the frequent dictum 
 of the habitu^ of Pau, that "it always blows a 
 gale at Biarritz." He bethinks him that it 
 would be good for his lungs, good for his 
 muscles, good for his appetite, good, finally, for 
 his golf, to taste once more the flavour of a 
 gale — and the final consideration decides him. 
 The journey is not a great one. Three hours 
 or so, according to the caprices of the train 
 service, should take him to Bayonne, whence a 
 further train voyage, or a drive of something 
 over three miles, will land him at Biarritz and 
 the caves of ^olus. In the ^olian qualities he 
 may chance to be disappointed — the bags of all 
 the winds are not always opened at Biarritz, as 
 the reports which he heard at Pau had seemed 
 to indicate — but he is not likely to fail to notice 
 a salutary ozone-laden breath off the sea, which 
 is refreshment after the great peace of the plain 
 of Billeres. He may even comment on this to 
 a habitui of Biarritz, and in that case will be an- 
 swered by an " Oh, Pau ! My dear fellow, one
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 79 
 
 cannot breathe there," which should induce re- 
 flection on human nature and on the inestimable 
 blessing of contentment with one's lot. At 
 Biarritz he will find hotels as good as those 
 at Pau, and somewhat cheaper. Indeed, he will 
 recognise that his expenses — other things, such 
 as his thirst, being equal — have been in a de- 
 creasing scale with each move, — Pau cheaper 
 than Cannes, Biarritz cheaper again than Pau. 
 There is satisfaction in this, as in the more 
 generous, more free air that he inhales gratis. 
 He will repair to the club of his compatriots, 
 which he will find similar to that of Pau, though 
 smaller ; and again, in its designation, he may- 
 note a suggestion of greater liberality. At Pau, 
 it was the "English" Club — here, with apprecia- 
 tion of the delicate susceptibilities of an island 
 adjacent to England, it is yclept the " British " 
 Club ; in which name the Scotsman too may 
 have enough Caledonian patriotism to rejoice. 
 In place of the snow - clad Pyr^n6es, his view 
 shows him a tumbling race of white - crested 
 billows — as fine a sea as any on the Atlantic 
 coast. He will mount an open fly — with the 
 mental observation that the flies of Pau were 
 like the plain of Billeres itself, shut in — and be 
 driven a short mile, up-hill, to the golf links. 
 He will reverse the order of the going which
 
 8o THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 was his habit at Pau. There he habitually 
 walked to the links, and drove from them, be- 
 cause they were down-hill from the town. Here 
 he will by preference drive to them, and walk 
 down — always choosing to walk in the direction 
 of the less resistance. Moreover, in the more 
 vigorous air he will find the walking less fatigu- 
 ing. At the same time, he will reflect, if he 
 be wise, that the climate of Biarritz, which he 
 may trust now that it is March, was scarcely 
 to be depended on, equally with that of Pau, in 
 February. 
 
 From the high ground, if the day be clear, 
 he may still see the Pyr6n6es and the Pic du 
 Midi, but at so great a distance that his driver, 
 who would preferably talk Basque, tells him in 
 French, which he has a difficulty in understand- 
 ing, that it would promise better for the weather 
 if the snow-clad peaks were not visible. The 
 club-house he will find to be a building of less 
 glory, beauty and comfort than that of Pau, 
 though answering its purpose adequately. 
 
 The links of Biarritz and of Pau do not 
 compare well ; they are too dissimilar. While 
 the features of the latter are their length, 
 their flatness, the excellence of their lies and 
 their comparative immunity from hazards — 
 the links of Biarritz are remarkable for their
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 8i 
 
 boldness, their undulations and their numer- 
 ous difficulties, which are not always avoided 
 when the ball lies on what ought to be the 
 good green of the course. The putting-greens 
 themselves are good enough ; it is the green be- 
 tween the holes which might be better. In com- 
 pensation, as it were, for its greater difficulty, the 
 Biarritz course is considerably shorter than that of 
 Pau, and, in consequence, it is an easier course to 
 the good golfer — a course which the good golfer 
 will accomplish in fewer strokes than he would 
 require at Pau. On the other hand, for the weak 
 or erratic golfer it will be found more difficult, by 
 reason of the vileness of the lies on parts of the 
 course, and by reason of the ubiquity of hazard. 
 Wherefore Biarritz may be said to be the better 
 school for golf-— a school in which the golfer must 
 learn, perforce, to play all his clubs ; whereas at 
 Pau, in a way of speaking, he might play all 
 round with his putter, always, however, excepting 
 from this statement the last four holes. The 
 golfer whose ball cleaves, like the serpent, to the 
 earth will make no way at Biarritz. The drives 
 must be good, carrying shots, the iron approaches 
 must pitch well up to the hole. Consider, for 
 example, the second hole, and tremble. The well- 
 struck tec-shot will put you within ironing range 
 of the hole. Others have ironed there before 
 
 F
 
 82 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 you, so your troubles may be complicated by an 
 evil lie. Without that complication they are 
 sufficient. First there is a hedge, then a road, and 
 then another hedge, and the hole is just beyond 
 the second hedge. These troubles do not face 
 you fairly, but slant away from you, running up 
 close beside the hole, so that you have to pitch 
 the ball "like a poached egg," as Mr Alfred 
 Lyttelton puts it, to get at all near the hole. And 
 you dare not harden your heart and resolve to be 
 past, for if you are much past — five-and-twenty 
 yards past — you are over the edge of a tremen- 
 dous sea-cliff hundreds of feet high, and both ball 
 and hole are irretrievable. When you have putted 
 out this hole successfully, you tee off on the edge 
 of the chasm which used to be a famous feature 
 of Biarritz links. The sea thunders away at the 
 chasm's floor, and across it, from brink to brink, 
 you had to go, for disaster was fatal, and there 
 was no way round — no way, at least, that was 
 worth ^the going. But, after all, the chasm should 
 have appalled only to the very faint-hearted, or 
 the very feeble. A stout half-iron shot would 
 have sent the ball across. It was only the frown- 
 ing aspect of the sheer cliffs that made it terrible, 
 and in point of difficulty it was not a circumstance 
 to the approach to the old second hole. 
 
 In the inception of golf at Biarritz, nine holes
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 83 
 
 were the extent of the course. Latterly it has 
 been enlarged to eighteen, and there remain some 
 which are still a little " in the rough." These are 
 those holes of which the Pau golfer asked, aghast, 
 " What ! d'you call this a golf links ? I call it a 
 grouse-moor ! " 
 
 The covert is being worn away ; there is 
 scarcely heather enough now to give a very good 
 screen for a covey, but there is enough to give a 
 very bad lie for a golf-ball. Still, what is educa- 
 tion but a series of adversities? In the keener 
 air of Biarritz the golfer is equal to " howking " a 
 ball out of a lie before which he would have sat 
 down and wept in the midst of the great peace of 
 the plain of Billeres. The grouse-moorish holes 
 are full of interest ; indeed, of the entire course 
 of the Biarritz links one may say that there is not 
 a stroke which is without its special interest ; and 
 that is a deal to say — more than one can say of 
 Pau, though there the lies are so much better. 
 On the older half of the course the turf is as good 
 as is to be found on any links which are not of 
 the real seaside sort. The principal hazards are 
 hedges, ditches, roads, bunkers in which there is 
 real sand, as if the links were of the seaside 
 quality, and deep holes which the golfer calls 
 punch-bowls, and which, one is told, were gravel- 
 pits in their original purpose. There is no
 
 84 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 symptom of gravel in them now. When it is said 
 that these links are not of the real seaside kind 
 there appears need of a word of explanation, since 
 the Atlantic thunders beside them, and often 
 swallows an erratic golf-ball. These links are 
 truly enough beside the sea, but they are not 
 seaside links in the golfer's sense — not seaside 
 links in the sense in which the links of St 
 Andrews, Prestwick, Westward Ho ! Sandwich, 
 and the rest of them are so called. All these 
 famous links occur near the estuary of some river, 
 and undoubtedly are the work of what geologists 
 call alluvial deposit, aided by the action of the 
 wind in blowing up sand-dunes ; so that all their 
 turf is short and springy, with its roots in sand. 
 Biarritz links are not like these. Their turf is of 
 the consistency of down turf, — very similar in soil, 
 only without the chalk, to the Eastbourne links, 
 which also are close beside the sea, and yet are 
 not seaside links according to the golfer's phrase. 
 Nevertheless, they are sufficiently good for the 
 golfer to disport himself thereon with pleasure 
 and with profit — profit primarily to his golf, and 
 secondarily to his health, which, after all, is a 
 consideration. 
 
 For, though he will not find himself in so un- 
 redeemed a cave of .^olus as his friends at Pau 
 would have had him believe, he will yet meet with
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 85 
 
 plenty of bracing breezes to freshen his energies 
 after the relaxation of the climate of Pau. He 
 will find a refreshing dejeuner quite good enough 
 for the hungry golfer, if he be careful in the 
 ordering of it beforehand, in the club-house; he 
 will find in Willie Dunn a very obliging and fairly 
 efficient club-maker ; and, unless he be a dweller 
 on the highest branches of the golfing tree, he will 
 find more than his match in one or two of the 
 bigger caddies. The quickness with which even 
 the least of these little urchins picks up the duties 
 incidental to the honourable profession of club- 
 carrying is strong testimony to the alert intelli- 
 gence of their nation, and they show an aptitude 
 for playing the game which is characteristic of so 
 athletic and game-loving a race as the Basques. 
 Sunday is their great practising day. Though 
 the liberal-minded golfer will sometimes so far 
 forget his insular scruples as to play on the 
 Sabbath, yet the majority willingly take this 
 one holiday out of seven. The flags are not set 
 out, so that a fore-caddie is a necessity. The 
 club-house, however, is open, and a few indefatig- 
 able spirits pursue the game. Nevertheless the 
 links are for the most part vacant, and the caddies, 
 sometimes with their female relatives in attend- 
 ance, emulate the week-day example of their 
 masters. Many will be playing with clubs of their
 
 86 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 own manufacture — a springy shaft thrust into a 
 block of wood for the head ; and even with these 
 rude weapons they make better practice than is 
 often achieved by the masters. They have begun 
 at the right age, and it may be that a future 
 champion is studying, in sabots and berret, on 
 the Hnks of Biarritz. 
 
 Both at Pau and Biarritz the golfer will find 
 fairly good short links for ladies. At Pau, after 
 the first of April — absit any kind of suspicion 
 of ome7i from the inauspicious date — ladies are 
 allowed to play on the long links after four 
 o'clock, but at Biarritz this high privilege is only 
 accorded by special leave of the committee. At 
 Biarritz, as at Pau, the golfer may vary his regular 
 occupation by hunting. It is not the hunting of 
 Leicestershire, for the country presents an alter- 
 native of very small fields and immense sandy- 
 floored pine forests, but it may serve as a change. 
 The month of March is rather late for any sport 
 in the way of shooting ; but fair trout fishing may 
 be obtained by a little " roughing it " in the way 
 of sleeping in rude hostelries in the neighbourhood 
 of Irun. But always there are interesting expedi- 
 tions to be made into the beautiful Pyrenean 
 country — to Cambo, or, across the Spanish border, 
 to Fontarabia, or San Sebastian ; and if the golfer 
 have a turn for military history, he may study
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 87 
 
 on the spot the scene of much of Wellington's 
 masterly strategy in the Peninsular war. He 
 may play tennis, if it pleases him, in the oldest 
 tennis court in the world — the model of all our 
 tennis courts — the trinquet court, as it is called, 
 at Bayonne. But, above all, he will not fail to 
 visit St Jean de Luz, and to take his golf clubs 
 with him, for there too is a golf links. It is 
 only of nine holes, of later inception than the 
 Biarritz links, and not equal to these in excel- 
 lence ; nevertheless, it makes an amusing change 
 in the middle of a month's golf. There is no 
 club-house on the links, so the golfer who has 
 come over by road or train will do wisely to 
 take dejeHjier at the Hotel d'Angleterre, which 
 is all on his way from the station to the links. 
 He will find caddies who stand in need of much 
 instruction in the game, and their education is 
 rendered the more troublesome by the circum- 
 stance that their language is the undiluted 
 Basque. The St Jean de Luz links, though 
 they are small, are by no means of the sort 
 which a man can play over with a putter. The 
 tee-shots require to be driven with a good length 
 of carry, for the ground undulates steeply, and 
 there is no run on the ball. One tee-shot pre- 
 sents features like those of the Biarritz chasm. 
 The chasm, in fact, embraces a far wider arc
 
 88 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 of sea, if one drive at all straight for the hole, 
 but affords a better chance of circumnavigation 
 by the inland route. 
 
 Towards the end of March the golfer will find 
 days at Biarritz in which a solar topee is .a grateful 
 style of head-dress, though the sun's rays strike 
 with less power than in the frying-pan of the 
 plain of Billeres. Nevertheless, they will scorch 
 him sufficiently to make him think with some 
 regret, tempered by a wholesome memory of 
 certain days when the British March is lion-like, 
 of the keener breezes of the East Neuk of Fife. 
 The wholesome memory, however, will give him 
 pause before he takes passage for London in the 
 Peregrine or Hirondelle from Bordeaux, or pur- 
 chases a through ticket via Paris. Then a friend 
 will not do him a bad turn if he suggest to him 
 that there is such a place as Dinard, and within 
 three or four miles of it the links named St Briac, 
 which are better than any he has yet tried in 
 France. The sea-coast of Brittany is surely a 
 good half-way house for the golfer about April, 
 between the ardent sun of the Basses Pyrenees 
 and the east winds of Great Britain. The course 
 to Dinard, however, is not too clearly marked, 
 unless the golfer be fortunate enough to hit on 
 a good fore-caddie in the person of someone who 
 has already made the journey from Biarritz. The
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 89 
 
 indicateur points to Bordeaux inflexibly as the 
 first stage. After that there is a puzzling choice 
 between going by way of Paris, by way of Tours, 
 or by way of Nantes. Other things being equal, 
 and Paris possessing no pressing attractions, the 
 last line — via Nantes — is certainly the best. It 
 is also the cheapest. It is a safe rule to travel 
 with in France, that you save money whenever 
 you avoid Paris. 
 
 A second safe rule is to avoid, if possible, night 
 travelling on any except the great arterial lines 
 of France. Bordeaux to Nantes scarcely falls 
 within this category, though the train service is 
 good, and the golfer will do wisely to accomplish 
 the journey by daylight. With this view he will 
 spend a night at Bordeaux, where an excellent 
 opera-house will perhaps have attractions for 
 him. We may indicate to the golfer that he 
 will find an excellent restaurant attached to the 
 Hotel de Bayonne ; but as for his lodging we 
 are at a loss to give him counsel, for a hotel 
 which will meet his British requirements is hard 
 to come by. However, it is but for a night, and 
 that a short one, for he must be in the train by 
 8.25 the next morning, to get through, with any 
 comfort, to Nantes. This hour means an earlier 
 start than would appear, for the French railway 
 companies have a masterly way of setting down
 
 90 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 their station where it best suits the main purposes 
 of the line, without any very studious regard for 
 landing the traveller conveniently near his hotel. 
 Thus, at Biarritz he will have driven more than 
 two miles to the station, and again the same fate 
 will overtake him at Bordeaux, with the aggrava- 
 tion of cobble-stoned streets to drive over. Nantes 
 is but little better. He will arrive a few minutes 
 past five, after a journey through a flat and 
 uninteresting country, gradually exchanging the 
 land of the vineyard for the land of the apple 
 orchard. At Nantes, the Hotel de France is 
 good. They understand the arts of cooking, 
 of comfort, and of charging. There are those 
 who prefer the Hotel des Voyageurs, where the 
 last art is not practised in so great perfection, 
 though still they are adepts at the minor ones. 
 Certainly the rattle of the carriages, which seems 
 almost night long, on the cobbles of the great 
 square at Nantes, before the Hotel de France, 
 is a trial to the wearied nerves of the traveller. 
 
 The next morning the start, sufficiently early 
 still, is not so intolerable as from Bordeaux. The 
 9.20 train, going by way of Redon, will bring 
 the golfer to Dinard in the course of the day — 
 late for dinner certainly ; too late for dinner prob- 
 ably, but the exact hour depends on the varying 
 arrangements of the local train services. There
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 91 
 
 is a merit, which the golfer will now begin to 
 recognise, if he did not so before, in these trains 
 of France; they are not rapid, but they arrive 
 with a wonderful exactness. The great loco- 
 motives resemble the " mills of God," in the 
 slowness and the exceeding sureness of their 
 grinding. The distance from Nantes to Dinard 
 is roughly about half that between Nantes and 
 Bordeaux, yet the journey, as will be seen, takes 
 longer. In truth, on this, the last day of his 
 pilgrimage, the golfer will spend as much time 
 out of the train as in it. At Redon he will 
 have an hour or so in which to breakfast. At 
 Rennes he will have yet longer, and may in- 
 spect the big town, and see multitudes of soldiery. 
 At Dol he will spend an unprofitable half-hour; 
 and at Dinan, where, probably, he will dine, he 
 may be interested in seeing the quaint nooks 
 of what is perhaps the most typical and pictur- 
 esque town of old Brittany. 
 
 The links on which the men of Dinard play 
 golf are not precisely at Dinard. They are 
 nearer the town of St Briac, and are more 
 strictly, though still not exactly, known as the 
 St Briac links. In point of fact they are be- 
 tween St Briac and St Lunaire. If, in Dinard, 
 you ask a cab-driver how far it is to le golf, he 
 will tell you "eight kilometres." This, after
 
 92 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 deduction for cab-driver's measurement and con- 
 version into English, means about four miles. 
 In the season your cab-driver will charge you 
 some six francs for taking you there and back, 
 by which is meant that he will not do it for less ; 
 if you were to pay him on the scale of his first 
 demand, without mardiander-'wig with him, you 
 would not do the journey without the expense 
 of gold. In winter he will take you there and 
 back for three francs. Even this moderate ex- 
 pense is unnecessary thrice in the week, for a 
 diligence runs on alternate week days, starting 
 soon after one. Thus it will be seen that the 
 ordinary golfer of Dinard is a one round man ; 
 it is possible, however, to stir him up to a 
 better sense of his duty in grasping golfing 
 opportunity. 
 
 The golfer need not stay in Dinard. There 
 is a hotel almost at the first tee — within a 
 quarter iron-shot of the golf club-house. Com- 
 monly it is closed in winter, but, for a party of 
 golfers, no doubt they would open it for a month. 
 Or again, there is a better hotel nearer St Lunaire, 
 about a mile — a short mile — from the club-house. 
 This latter hotel is absolutely on the ladies' 
 links, so the members of the golfer's family 
 ought to be well satisfied, if they too play 
 golf. In Dinard there are more varied delights
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 93 
 
 — a nice, social club, very good gravelled lawn 
 tennis courts, a certain society, and shops. 
 There is boating, too, in the mouth of the 
 river. But it is possible to boat at St Lunaire ; 
 and, after all, a small party, sufficient unto 
 itself for its society, might find in the unre- 
 straint of the out-of-town hotels charms which 
 would more than compensate for the dear 
 delights of Dinard. The golfer would find him- 
 self installed among the sand hills, with golf 
 links all around him, with an unimpeded view 
 of a bluer than British sea and a bolder than 
 British coast, with just a stretch of dunes for 
 his children to run over before they come to 
 the pleasant sea sands — dunes inadequately clad 
 with the bent grass out of which the skylarks 
 will arise, and wind their way up to heaven to 
 sing a song of thankfulness for Brittany. It is 
 not without purpose that we call these sand 
 hills inadequately clad with the bent grass. In 
 a heavy gale of late 1893, the sand was torn 
 off them and strewed in a thick bunkery 
 mattress over all the ladies' links. Previously, 
 these ladies' links had been the best of all such 
 places reserved for ladies which the writer has 
 seen. Since the storm, parts of them are 
 ruined, temporarily — and it is difficult to say 
 what chance there is of their recovery. The
 
 94 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 remainder, which was protected by sand-hills, 
 clad with a closer garment, has escaped, and 
 is as good as ever. 
 
 If the golfer stay in Dinard his first drive to 
 the links will charm him by the views it un- 
 folds to him of the sea, studded with the many 
 islets which make this coast so hard of navi- 
 gation. Stretching to Cape Frehel he will see 
 all the arc of the beautiful bay with its infinite 
 indentations. His golfing soul will receive the 
 peculiar inspiration, which Pau and Biarritz alike 
 had failed to give, of approaching his golfing 
 business over land which is real links, real 
 sand hills, real bunkers. Quite unexpectedly 
 he will find himself beside the club-house, for 
 it lies cunningly sheltered from the east by 
 a rising bank of ground, and all the way from 
 Dinard the east wind has been at the golfer's 
 back. 
 
 He will find the accommodation of the club- 
 house ample, if not luxurious ; for though no 
 luncheon can be obtained without previous 
 orders, he may make up for this at the hotel 
 close by — if it be open. He can always get 
 tea, however, after the afternoon round ; and 
 for the most part he will fall in with the native 
 manner, and content himself with one after- 
 dtjefiner round. A balcony outside the first floor
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 95 
 
 club-room is a good look-out place whence he 
 can watch the incoming couples and the trials 
 and sorrows of most of the round. 
 
 And, let it be said at once, this course on 
 which he looks out is something altogether dif- 
 ferent from Pau or Biarritz. It has claims to be 
 considered a first-class links. It is links — really 
 sandy ground, too sandy since the storm of last 
 year, which has visited parts of it with only a 
 little less severity than that with which it visited 
 the ladies'. Moreover, the rain has beaten upon it 
 and the wind blown upon it until between them 
 they have worked little holes in the putting 
 greens, which now look small-pocked. But the 
 spring growth is putting all this, which is a 
 winter vexation, to rights again ; and, winter 
 or summer, there is not a hole on the course 
 which is without its interest. The worst hole 
 is the last, as happens curiously often on golf 
 links, yet its faults are all negative — it is too 
 featureless. At present the links are too short. 
 They might be much bettered in the laying out. 
 It may be said that there is no good attempting 
 to lay out a first-class course when so few of 
 the golfers are even third-class ; but, on the 
 other hand, one cannot expect to attract a better 
 kind of golfer unless the course be laid out 
 for the best. In the long run it never pays to
 
 96 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 cater for incapacity — it is no real kindness even 
 to the incapable. 
 
 Nevertheless, taken as they are, the links are 
 good — the best in France, so far as France as 
 a land of golf is yet exploited. They have 
 characteristics, too, which suggest the golf links 
 of the North. Often there is a keenness in the 
 air which may inspire the golfer by its likeness 
 to that which has grown only too familiar to 
 him on links of the British east coast ; the sea 
 of the Channel looks as if it belonged to the 
 piece of water which beats on the shores by 
 Bembridge and Hayling Island ; all appearances 
 conspire to remind him that he is drawing nearer 
 home. 
 
 The links are divided into two parts by the 
 rib of ground which shelters the club-house. 
 It is not until the sixth hole that one comes 
 in front of the club-house, and commences to 
 play over the expanse stretching westward 
 from it. Of this earlier part, the second hole 
 and the fifth are so good that it is difficult to 
 name better holes on any links. Indeed, it is 
 easier and briefer to name the holes which are 
 inferior : thus, the first is of little interest, beyond 
 the chance of hitting a Frenchman or his wife, if 
 the drive be far enough across the rib to reach the 
 road. The third hole is rather flat and unprofit-
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 97 
 
 able, and we have already given scant praise to 
 the last. Of the rest, no one can be called any- 
 thing but good, and some, notably the eleventh, 
 are excellent. One selects the eleventh for 
 special praise by reason of its length, for it needs 
 a drive and a good long cleek-shot to reach it. 
 This is about the greatest length of any hole on 
 the course. Most of them, in all other respects 
 admirable, err on the side of being too short — err 
 in being of that worst of lengths, a drive and iron. 
 Both drive and iron shot, however, are full of 
 interest, the sand-bunkers lying in wait for topped 
 tee-shots, and the holes being well guarded by 
 hazards of bunker or whin. The twelfth, again, 
 is a very good hole. It is perched out on a corner 
 abutting the sea. A very long tee-shot will reach 
 it ; but he who would attempt it in one carries his 
 fate in his hands, for if he fail to hit a very good 
 ball, he will be lost among the rocks of the shore. 
 The safer way is to the left, inland. It is a path 
 of roses in the season, for the little white low- 
 growing blossoms cluster in the sandy soil ; but 
 a bed of roses is too soft lying for the golfer's 
 comfort. Excellent, again, is the fourteenth hole, 
 and yet more so the sixteenth, both of which 
 require a very justly played second to find the 
 green. The seventeenth is one of the shortest 
 short holes, and one of the best on any green, 
 
 G
 
 98 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 perched up at a quarter iron-shot distance, with 
 a steep sandy face on the near side, so that you 
 must be up ; the putting-green itself at a gentle 
 slope up away from you, and rather heavy with 
 sand, so that if you play a well-lofted or well-cut 
 stroke you can stop the ball close to the hole, 
 though it be only two yards beyond the face of 
 broken sand. It is a very cleverly planted little 
 hole. 
 
 There are too many " blind " approaches. This, 
 however, could perhaps not be avoided in view of 
 the undulating nature of the whole ground — and, 
 after all, it is only the stranger whose ignorance 
 is thus handicapped. The course is rather too 
 short, rather too sandy, and the putting-greens 
 rather in need of more attention than the club is 
 able to give them; but, taken for all in all, they 
 are the best links in France, and from the whole 
 number of links in Great Britain it is doubtful if 
 one could name a dozen to be placed on a list of 
 merit before them. Moreover, there are many 
 links in Great Britain which are less accessible 
 from its metropolis, for St Malo is within eleven 
 hours of Southampton, and St Malo is divided 
 from Dinard only by an estuary, across which the 
 ferry-boats run half-hourly. 
 
 Should " staleness " overtake the golfer, he may 
 spend an interesting day or two in a visit to Mont
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 99 
 
 St Michel, which is a place unlike almost any 
 other. He will find the Breton caddie as quick 
 and pleasant as the specimens which are grown 
 in the country of the Bearnais or the Basques ; 
 and he may read, if he be a pious Englishman, 
 sad omens of the times in the fact that Free- 
 mantle, the club professional, has abandoned his 
 original calling as professor of cricket to turn 
 professor of golf, which he practises, as well as 
 professes, with a success that is altogether praise- 
 worthy. 
 
 Without going into historical details, it may be 
 sufficient to say that there are, in the neighbour- 
 hood of the French coast, certain islands named 
 the " Channel Islands," belonging to England, and 
 of which the most considerable is Jersey — Jersey, 
 where the pears and the cabbage-stalk walking- 
 sticks come from. Jersey is a very good halting- 
 place on the way from Dinard to England. The 
 crossing from Jersey to England is commonly very 
 much dreaded ; indeed, we have heard a sailor 
 say that he had been all round the world and 
 had never been sea-sick except when crossing from 
 Southampton to Jersey. Nevertheless, it is quite 
 possible to be sea-sick on this passage without 
 having been all round the world, and again it is 
 quite possible to make the passage on a sea as 
 smooth as a pond. He that ventures abroad must
 
 lOO THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 take his chance, and at all events one has a better 
 chance in breaking up the crossing into little bits 
 than in taking it all on one voyage. As the 
 golfer, having embarked at St Malo, gets clear out 
 into the open sea, it may happen that a stranger 
 will refer to his golf-clubs as an excuse for 
 addressing him with the information that if he 
 will cast his eye eastward along the coast, beyond 
 the cluster of houses which forms the watering- 
 place of Parame, he will see a stretch of ground 
 which are the Parame golf links. The stranger 
 will express surprise that a golfer should be 
 leaving Dinard without paying them a visit. The 
 golfer will reply that he had indeed heard of them 
 — had heard that in order to achieve such a visit 
 it would be necessary for him to take a train from 
 St Servan, and, after reaching Param6, to drive 
 yet four miles farther, in any conveyance that he 
 might find, and that the conclusive piece of infor- 
 mation given to him was to the effect that the 
 Param^ links were not a sufificient reward for so 
 much trouble. To this the stranger will reply, 
 that these observations are due to the jealousy 
 which the people of Dinard feel towards the 
 people and attractions of St Malo and St Servan ; 
 that there is an excellent auberge at the edge of 
 the Param^ links, where one can get a very fair 
 defeilner ; and that the links, though sandy, are by
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD loi 
 
 no means such as Dinard detractors would de- 
 scribe them. The " though sandy " is a saving 
 concession which dispels the gently rising regrets 
 of the golfer who had left the links of Parame 
 unvisited, and he is able to devote himself with a 
 free heart to the task of grappling with all the 
 demons of sea-sickness. These are in their highest 
 spirits and best energy in the ever-vexed neigh- 
 bourhood of those rocks the " Minquiers " — 
 "Minkies" in the mouth of the English tar — 
 which, in days of less perfect chartography, were 
 a harvest-field of death to the sailors of these 
 coasts and islands. The French name of the 
 western-most of these rocks, signifying "the 
 reaper," is full of a very grim meaning. By 
 this time the eye of the golfer, if he be able to lift 
 it, may discern the whole extent of the southern 
 coast-line of the little island, even to the neigh- 
 bourhood of the golf links, which, it needs not to 
 say, will be to him its chief attraction. 
 
 St Helier, where the golfer will probably stay, 
 is a town which has no less than three daily 
 papers, so there can be no question of its pros- 
 perity. It rejoices in the utmost freedom of trade, 
 so that a man can smoke and drink at extraor- 
 dinarily low prices ; and no custom-house official in- 
 vades the sanctity of his portmanteau in a search 
 for dynamite or Tauchnitz editions. Neverthe-
 
 102 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 less, he will find himself again in a land where 
 they speak his native tongue, in a land of English 
 newspapers and cookery and of penny stamps. 
 In the town there is a good club ; but to reach 
 the golf links it is best to make use of the rail- 
 way which runs eastward along the coast to 
 Grouville. There are trains about once an hour, 
 and though they stop at intervals so frequent 
 as to remind the golfer of the "Metropolitan 
 and District," they achieve the journey in twenty 
 minutes. The platform of the station is but the 
 distance of a short putt from the golf club-house, 
 which is as comfortable as could be wished. The 
 newcomer is beset by the usual horde of small 
 banditti, each impressing him with their indi- 
 vidual merits as carriers of clubs. Some of 
 them talk the two languages, but most seem 
 to understand English better, and will stare 
 with some amazement at the golfer demanding, 
 as he infallibly will on coming from the Con- 
 tinent, his petit far. It will take him some two 
 or three rounds to realise, after his late experi- 
 ences of caddies of the sabotted and berretted 
 kind, that it is possible for these British urchins 
 to understand the meaning of the "light iron." 
 Recollection will be brought back to him by 
 gentler means if he happen to fall upon one of 
 the bilingual kind. Under either guise, how-
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 103 
 
 ever, and in whatever tongue they speak of it, 
 these little boys of Jersey know something about 
 the game. They understand its details and its 
 spirit. In fact, the golfer will not long have 
 been at Jersey before he will have discovered 
 himself to be in a land where they have the 
 traditions — the "doctrine," golfice speaking — as 
 they have it not in any of the places, save Pau, 
 of his earlier pilgrimage. Partly, no doubt, this 
 impression is conveyed by the sound of the 
 English tongue, which seems more suited than 
 the gay accents of France to the stern purposes 
 of Scotland's game ; but partly, too, it is due 
 to the fact that golf has a more serious hold 
 on the inhabitant of Jersey than on the sojourner 
 of Cannes, Biarritz, or Dinard. At these latter 
 places it is a new thing : it has not yet im- 
 pressed the local devotees with a sense of its 
 gravity. But in Jersey they have been play- 
 ing golf for years and years, and not been play- 
 ing it badly. Vardon, who has made a good 
 show in the professional competitions of Eng- 
 land and Scotland, lived and learned on the 
 Jersey links ; and has a brother, less known to 
 fame, who is his equal. The amateur talent is 
 on a far higher level than on any Continental 
 golf links. Pau may perhaps equal it — certainly 
 will not surpass it — during its winter season ; but
 
 104 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 in Jersey the golfer is resident and indigenous : 
 in Pau, he is only imported and migratory. 
 
 In point of fact, Jersey, as a land of golf, has 
 the respectability and conservatism which comes 
 of age alone. Golf was played at Jersey while 
 Westward Ho ! Wimbledon, Blackheath and Pau 
 were the only golf clubs in existence south of 
 London ; wherefore the golfer will not be sur- 
 prised to find himself in a country where the 
 best traditions and manners of the game are 
 reverently cherished and observed. He will find 
 himself in a climate differing little from that of 
 Dinard, for though the Jersey winter is mild, 
 the spring east wind can nip shrewdly. In the 
 twenty minutes which the train takes to go the 
 very few miles to the course, he will have oppor- 
 tunity for observing pear trees in fine bloom, 
 cabbages with stalks like barge poles, and cows 
 of the true Jersey breed, on the landward side 
 of the track. Seaward, he may see a jagged 
 rock field, leading out towards those " Minquiers," 
 in whose neighbourhood he may have confided 
 so many secret sorrows to the sea, and finally 
 the coast of France, dim and low-lying in the 
 distance. On close approach to the club-house, 
 the castle of Mont Orgueil will come in view, 
 like a Mont St Michel in miniature. 
 
 The links, less bold, and with less picturesque
 
 THE riLGRIM ABROAD 105 
 
 views of bold seascape than those of Dinard, 
 are nevertheless of the right sandy soil and of 
 far better lies. This latter quality is, no doubt, 
 largely due to their greater age as golf links ; 
 for of all known rollers, beaters and levellers of 
 the ground, none is so good as the human foot, 
 in sufficient frequency. The grass grows nice 
 and short, and the driver, where required, may 
 be taken for the second shot. The hazards, of 
 sand and whin, are of the real golfing kind. 
 You confess yourself at once, with gratitude, on 
 a golf links. At the first hole there is no sand ; 
 you drive over patchy whins, and after a further 
 struggle with the mashie you are there. The 
 second hole is good golf; the first drive per- 
 fectly simple, the second endangered by a fort, 
 if the ball be pulled, by a bunker — one of the 
 best on the links — if it be short, and by a steep 
 bank beyond the hole if it be strong. The fort 
 again presents itself as a hazard for the tee- 
 shot to the fourth. A pull into it loses the 
 hole as fatally as a visit to the station-master's 
 garden at St Andrews. On the right lies the 
 sea-shore, and the stretch of good ground be- 
 tween is mighty narrow. Moreover, from the 
 corner of the fort to the beach runs a road, by 
 which men have hauled sand and seaweed, mak- 
 ing big ruts, and it needs a stout shot to carry
 
 io6 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 it. The second shot is almost equally hazard- 
 ous, the hole lying near the sea beach, and 
 rifle-butts threatening a pulled ball with heavy 
 penalties. Then follow two holes which Rolland 
 would reach with comfort. Therefore they should 
 be threes. But those who are not Rollands are apt 
 to press to reach them, and with the aid of a 
 shallow bunker, just before the former hole, and a 
 keen plateau green, are likely enough to turn one 
 of the possible threes into a five. The seventh is 
 the longest hole. It cannot be reached in two, 
 and is a very sound hole in five. The eighth 
 and ninth are the normal drive and iron shot. 
 The tenth is aggravated by a railway on the 
 right hand to catch a heeled tee shot, or, again, 
 to catch the devious approach, for the hole is 
 very near the wire fence. One could play from 
 the railway with ease ; but the wisdom of the 
 legislature has ordained that a ball wandering 
 thither should be treated as lost. Next is a 
 "blind" short hole. And here let it be said 
 at once that there are too many blind shots 
 on this excellent links of Jersey, and let it be 
 said without prejudice to any objector who says 
 that this is only when the tee is in a certain 
 place, and so forth. That may be true, but 
 one has to speak of courses as one finds them, 
 and not as they are arranged perhaps for cer-
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 107 
 
 tain weeks during the year, or at special 
 meeting times. After this, one comes to a 
 long hole which sometimes is set upon a high 
 place, upon which it is almost impossible to 
 persuade the ball to remain — too high a test of 
 golf, in fact. From this elevation, or a neigh- 
 bouring one, you drive off, often into the 
 middle of a football match, and begin describ- 
 ing the letter Z as you zigzag backwards and 
 forwards, playing holes of a drive and cleek 
 shot, or drive and mashie shot, until the end. 
 
 If the spring is early, the golfer may find 
 the links covered with wild flowers and low- 
 growing thyme, among which the bees will be 
 buzzing and humming. The numbers of bumble 
 bees so struck some golfer that he presented the 
 club with the " Bumble-bee " medal, which is 
 one of its permanent challenge prizes. Amongst 
 the thyme the lies are very tolerable, but 
 scarcely first-rate, and the nature of the ground, 
 just a little too sandy, aggravates the difficulty. 
 A good shot sometimes misses its reward, and 
 finds its resting-place in a sandy pocket which 
 has no right to exist. No doubt it is good 
 practice to have to play out of these sandy 
 drifts, but a better definition of hazard is to be 
 desired. Over these links of Grouvillc broods, 
 as has been said, a portion of the spirit of the
 
 io8 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 classic saint of golf; nevertheless, in bigness 
 and diversity of incident they do not compare 
 with the links of Dinard, whose outlines you 
 can almost make out, on a clear day, when rain 
 is coming. Neither is their beauty on the same 
 grand scale. It is all quieter, more peaceful, 
 more homely. 
 
 After you have "done" the golf links, you 
 have fairly well " done " the island. The other 
 Channel Islands offer good sea fishing ; but the 
 coast off Jersey is shoal, and nsh are as scarce 
 at St Helier as at most seaside places. One 
 cannot go on eating the big pears for ever, nor 
 all the year round, and the joy of walking with 
 a long cabbage stalk for a stick is one that 
 palls. But you can go in a boat, or walk at low 
 tide, to the fort named the Hermitage, opposite 
 the Grand Hotel ; you may have a look over 
 the Gorey Castle ; you may even take the 
 Great Western Railway and run out to visit St 
 Aubin and Corbiere. And when you have 
 done these things, you will be filled with a sense 
 of satisfaction that they are accomplished and 
 are not to do again. But if the golfer be a 
 flower lover, his eyes and heart may have a feast 
 of beauty and interest in the wild flowers which 
 he may find in walks or drives over the island, 
 or in masses in the shops of the market women.
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 109 
 
 Amongst those who live on an island you 
 reasonably expect to find a certain insular pre- 
 judice, especially when the island of their 
 habitation is so small an one as Jersey. Never- 
 theless, even among the conservative golfing 
 men of Jersey you may have heard it said, in 
 whispers, that the Guernsey links were better. 
 It has happened to few, perhaps, to have even 
 heard that golf was played in Guernsey; but 
 such ignorance is merely due to the local pre- 
 judice of those who live in our greater island. 
 
 Apart from the golf, it is pleasant to make a 
 half-way house of Guernsey on the way home. 
 Your boat from Jersey starts at ten minutes to 
 eight, if you choose the Southampton route ; at 
 twenty minutes past eight, if you elect to travel 
 by Weymouth. Either hour is too early. You 
 realise it more distinctly when you find yourself, 
 after a hurried breakfast, on an unsympathetic 
 sea, and by the time you have reached Guernsey 
 — a run of an hour and a half— you are quite 
 ready to be at the end of your journey. You 
 cannot escape Guernsey. All the boats from 
 Jersey to England call there, and take on board 
 a few passengers, and an extraordinary number 
 of baskets filled with fruit or flowers or vege- 
 tables for the home market. Will it be believed 
 that thirty-two miles of glass houses for the
 
 no THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 growing of early tomatoes, potatoes, and other 
 products were put up in the course of one year 
 alone? 
 
 As an unsupported statement it will not be 
 
 believed ; the writer is not prepared to vouch 
 
 for it, though it has been given him as a sober 
 
 fact of statistics. But so soon as ever the 
 
 visitor finds himself outside the houses of Peter's 
 
 Port, and on his road to the golf links, he will 
 
 be prepared to accept any statement whatsoever 
 
 with regard to the extent of glass on the island. 
 
 A waggonette conveys the golfer, at fixed and 
 
 extraordinarily low charges, to the scene of his 
 
 joys and sorrows, some three miles from the 
 
 town ; and after a mile or so has been traversed, 
 
 he will find himself driving on a road which 
 
 might easily be thought to have the sea close 
 
 on either side of it, so continuous is the glint 
 
 of the sun off the perpetual glass-houses. At 
 
 the present rate of progress it may readily be 
 
 computed how soon the island will be converted 
 
 into one immense Crystal Palace, and shortly 
 
 before that era there will be a very heavy 
 
 premium on straight driving. On reaching the 
 
 club-house, which supplies all that the simple 
 
 soul of the golfer should require, you will be 
 
 surrounded by a troop of caddies clamouring 
 
 a chorus, in which shrill voices of little girls
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD in 
 
 will bear a part. It is a discovery, on the part 
 of the Guernsey golfer, that the girl-caddie gives 
 more attention to your needs, more sympathy 
 to your misfortunes, than that most savage of 
 of all wild animals, as Plato calls him, the boy. 
 It is a significant fact, which should not be 
 overlooked by advocates of women's rights. If 
 a small girl is competent to be a golf-caddie, 
 of what may not the grown woman be capable ? 
 These caddies, the male and the female alike, 
 speak of preference a language of which you may 
 say with equal truth that it is French or English ; 
 for neither Frenchmen nor Englishmen can under- 
 stand it. They can understand your English, 
 however, and can answer you in a form of that 
 language which is within the comprehension of 
 the simple. The first use which they will make 
 of this means of communication is to tell you 
 that you have to walk nearly half a mile to the 
 first tee. This is the more annoying, because the 
 walk is over ground which is clad in whins, looking 
 as if they were providentially put there for the 
 trial of the golfer's soul. But the commoner is of 
 a stiff-necked generation, whether he be called 
 potwalloper, or squatter, or "parishioner," which 
 is his title in Guernsey — a title which gives him 
 an interest in those whins, and the right of pastur- 
 incr his cattle. With the true instinct of the
 
 112 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 commoner, he puts as much value on the whin- 
 bushes as if they bore Jersey pears. And the 
 second use which the caddie will make of his 
 power of communicating with his master, will be to 
 tell him that he is not allowed to play his ball out 
 of the whins into which he has topped it off the 
 first tee. This is fiendishly exasperating, but the 
 rule has to be observed — lose one and drop behind. 
 Then you drive into the big high-perched bunker 
 before the hole, and have doubts of your enjoy- 
 ment of the Guernsey links. The doubts soon 
 vanish. When you have given up the hole, and 
 are at peace again, you find yourself looking out 
 over a most glorious seascape, which extends to 
 three-quarters of your horizon. The cliffs are bold 
 and rugged, and rocks in the sea relieve its blue, 
 and break it into foam. The golf-course sweeps 
 down from you, and then away up on your right 
 hand, in a fine natural curve of beauty. The 
 highest bends are crowned by great outcropping 
 boulders of grey rocks as big as a church ; smaller 
 slabs jut from the tops of lower hills, here and 
 there forming a natural imitation of Stonehenge, 
 but they are so grouped together that straight 
 driving will avoid them. Your hazards are varied 
 by whins, with the blighting rule attaching to 
 them ; by sand-bunkers ; by the sea and its 
 beach, on the north ; by a huge walled enclosure
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 113 
 
 on the highest ground of all, an enclosure en- 
 closing emptiness. It is said that it was the 
 encampment of the Russian troops, our allies who 
 came to govern Guernsey for us in 18 15, when all 
 the British troops that we could spare — and a few 
 more perhaps — were busy trying to catch "the 
 little corporal." Since then we have changed 
 friends, have stood shoulder to shoulder with 
 France, and our front towards Sebastopol. From 
 that, again, it is something of a jump to the recent 
 demonstration at Toulon ; yet the wall still stands, 
 square and huge and grey, on the height of the 
 bare links, like a Russian column on the steppes. 
 All which historical facts and reflections are of less 
 importance to the golfer than that if his ball go 
 into the enclosure it has to be considered as lost. 
 
 This, again, is an exasperation ; but before the 
 wall is reached, and afterwards, the character of 
 the golf offers charming compensations. The lies 
 are perfect : St Andrews cannot furnish anything 
 to compare with them. The holes are full of 
 interest, and each has its individual interest. 
 There is no tautology, and there is but one cross. 
 The putting-greens are natural, and excellent. 
 There are many " blind " holes which will bother 
 the visitor, but they are of no account to the 
 hahitii^, who could find his way round in the dark. 
 For in Guernsey the habitue is a very ardent golfer, 
 
 H
 
 114 THE GOLFIxNG PILGRIM 
 
 though golf is a very late invention in the island. 
 The ardour is not confined to a sex, for the ladies 
 play at large over the long links. As in the 
 neighbouring Jersey, there is no ladies' links ; but 
 whereas at Jersey ladies only play golf under 
 sufferance, and pain of being passed at every 
 putting-green, at Guernsey they golf on terms of 
 something like equality. They have tea in the 
 drawing-room of the club. Instructed by their 
 discovery of the capacity of the feminine intellect 
 for golf-caddying, the Guernseymen have given 
 the lady golfer a recognised position. 
 
 The visitor, if he admit the assumption that 
 the male golfer is the nobler animal, will see 
 reason in the difference of treatment of ladies in 
 the two islands respectively. The Jersey links are 
 often athrong with golfers, and the course crosses 
 frequently. In Guernsey golfers are few, com- 
 paratively, and there is room and to spare for 
 every one. 
 
 Of course, to a golfer who is playing badly the 
 scene of his sorrow cannot be a pleasant one ; but 
 it is inconceivable that to any other than him the 
 links of Guernsey can give anything but the purest 
 joy. They are so bold and breezy. The great 
 rock-masses springing straight out of the green 
 hill-crests are wonderfully charming in effect. 
 They are just the sort of rocks which we see in
 
 THE PILGRIM ABROAD 115 
 
 the Biblical pictures illustrating the phrase " the 
 shadow of a great rock in a weary land " ; or again 
 such as we see in illustrated books of African 
 travel, so that our fancy involuntarily looks for 
 a lion waiting on the top of them for his prey to 
 pass below. But there are no lions in Guernsey; 
 were it not so, golfers would be even fewer. 
 
 If the golfing pilgrim be not delighted with 
 the links of Guernsey, he must be very hard to 
 please. True, the drive out, whether all the way 
 by waggonette, or by a complex connection of 
 waggonette and electric tram, is troublesome ; but 
 what worthy golf links is not intolerably hard of 
 access ? The electric car itself may be a novelty. 
 There is but one other which we know in connec- 
 tion with a golf links — at Portrush, namely ; and 
 it only connects with the Giant's Causeway. The 
 wire of the Portrush cars runs close to the ground, 
 and the incautious golfer may receive a shock. 
 At Guernsey the wire is overhead ; there are no 
 such risks. 
 
 These Channel Islands extend to the migratory 
 golfer the right hand of most liberal hospitality. 
 There is a pleasant social club at Peter's Port, of 
 which he may be made a temporary member. 
 The sea-fishing is excellent ; the views, the flowers, 
 and the vegetables are lovely ; alcohol and to- 
 bacco are very cheap : what can the golfer lack to
 
 ii6 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 make him happy ? If he need a change, he may 
 even try golf in Alderney, where there is a soldiers' 
 links, which abound in incident. 
 
 Beyond this, on the road to England, are no 
 more links, for as yet they play no golf on the 
 Casquettes. Four hours in the steamer will bring 
 the golfer within the Needles, with a store of 
 sunny golfing reminiscences which will fill with 
 envy the souls of those who have golfed through 
 the British winter. He will have served as one 
 item the more to convince the foreigner of the 
 inveterate lunacy of the Anglo-Saxon race ; but 
 he will have spent months of a perpetual spring at 
 his favourite pastime, and learned how to ask for 
 the " light iron " in French.
 
 INCIDENTAL ITEMS 
 THE LIFE OF THE LINKS 
 
 WESTWARD HO ! 
 
 THERE is a life on the links which has 
 nothing in common with the golfer, nor 
 he with it. He goes amongst it, and it passes 
 him by on the other side. He exists, for it, only 
 as an annoyance ; and if it is regarded by him 
 at all, it is in that light, mutually, that he views 
 it. Perhaps it is right, for the golfer, that this 
 should be as it is, that he should be all con- 
 centration upon the great game ; and yet it 
 seems that he misses much of beauty and interest 
 and inspiration, much of which he might avail 
 himself without interfering with the great pur- 
 poses of his match. For those beautiful dumb 
 things make no demand, they do not say " look 
 at us!" They but go their own way, fulfilling 
 their life, playing to no gallery — even as the 
 eolfer should — with an indifference that seems 
 born of a conscious superiority. " We do not 
 say ' look at us,' but if you do not look, with- 
 
 117
 
 ii8 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 out our asking, what a fool you must be ! " 
 That is what they seem to say. Are they not 
 right? Is it not almost as interesting and 
 beautiful a thing as golf itself, this myriad-hued, 
 myriad-wise moving life which works out its 
 little day with such cheerful, such trustful, such 
 inspired industry — working to an end which 
 neither it nor the golfer knows ? The golfer is 
 hostile to it all, no doubt, but it exists there, 
 in spite of him. It does not exist as richly as 
 it did before his coming, nevertheless there is 
 wealth enough of it, and to spare, to give him 
 joy. It is a place well famed in story — this 
 links — this Northam Burrows over which Mrs 
 Leigh looked from the windows in Burrough 
 House to watch for the homecoming of Amyas's 
 ship. Across the estuary of the united Taw 
 and Torridge (up which his ship would sail, 
 past Appledore Pool and on to Bideford Bridge), 
 the yellow sand-hills, gleaming through the haze, 
 show the outline of the Braunton Burrows where 
 they buried the children's effigies ; and, beyond 
 the sand-hills, rises the slate grey roof beneath 
 which dwelt the maid of Sker. 
 
 I have chosen this links of Westward Ho ! 
 to illustrate an incidental interest of the golfer's 
 pilgrimage, not out of arrogance, because it was 
 the course on which I learned my golf, nor
 
 THE LIFE OF THE LINKS 119 
 
 deeming it more richly endowed with life than 
 other links, but simply because it is most 
 familiar to me and because I believe that I can 
 best sketch a picture there that may serve as 
 a type of the life that exists on every golf links. 
 
 If the golfer be one of the earliest starters he 
 may find a heron which has flapped its heavy 
 way from beyond Fremington, still standing, as 
 he has stood from daybreak, motionless in the 
 shallow, muddy waters of Goosey Pool — motion- 
 less as a sentinel, save for occasional deadly 
 lunges of the bayonet-bill, transfixing a small 
 eel or stickleback or frog. Then there is a 
 chuck into the air, a catch in the way most 
 easy for the swallowing, and, with a gurgle or 
 two in the throat of the heron, the eel's per- 
 sonality is lost for ever. In the old days, 
 before the golfer came there, the wild duck 
 used to resort in numbers to this pond ; and 
 the stream flowing from it, the stream so readily 
 recipient of a " topped " first tee shot, was the 
 favourite resort of a dab-chick. A grey phala- 
 rope, too, a rare bird, has been seen — alas, been 
 killed — on it. The golfer will not see these 
 to-day; only, if he heel his ball badly, he may 
 scare from beneath the stone bridge a blue 
 flash, which goes travelling down, very swift 
 and straight over the surface of the stream —
 
 120 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 a kingfisher. It is summer, and a wheatear 
 jerks himself out of the dry main ditch which 
 runs from the stream almost right across the 
 Burrows to the Pebble Ridge. He runs quickly 
 along, then flies low and swiftly ; thinks he will 
 pass a certain molehill ; changes his mind with 
 quick-turning motion ; alights on it, jerking his 
 tail, jerking his head, jerking himself, finally, 
 altogether off the molehill again as you approach, 
 and so on, by similar methods of progression, 
 to the next hummock. On the left are wide 
 patches of low, greyish, sun-dried rushes. In 
 winter they stood rich-green and ankle-deep in 
 water, and snipe and jack-snipe sheltered in 
 them. Now they are crisp with the drought, 
 and no birds in them but skylarks and pipits, 
 which have nests at their roots. As you go 
 out to the Pebble Ridge the soil becomes more 
 and more sandy, the grass more yellow, every- 
 thing drier. The wheatear has ceased to go before 
 you, for the ditch, with the necessity for it, has 
 ceased. In some hole in that ditch he has his 
 nest, with sky-blue eggs, or young ones prob- 
 ably, as the season is advanced, but it would 
 take too long in the middle of a golf match to 
 find it. The caddies will show you a pipit's 
 nest, horse-hair lined, under the eave of a 
 sand-bunker, later on. The third hole is at the
 
 THE LIFE OF THE LINKS 121 
 
 foot of the Pebble Ridge, where the old hut 
 was. A pair of wagtails are leading about a 
 small following of greyer, more monotonous 
 images of themselves, chirping and peeping about 
 the stones of the ridge for the flies and hoppers 
 that have come out to bake themselves. A 
 stone-chat is scudding about, perching on the 
 pinnacles of the ridge, flicking his tail, and 
 scolding uneasily in a way that tells one that 
 somewhere in the neighbourhood, under some 
 warm pebble, his mate, less dark as to back, 
 less ruddy as to front, is sitting on eggs or 
 fledglings. 
 
 After the third hole you turn westward, and 
 go parallel to the line of the great blue ridge 
 of pebbles. The water has almost dried up 
 from the marshy pond on the left, and a few 
 small waders of the sandpiper or dotterel sort 
 are busy in search of sand worms. After a hole 
 or two you get into more sandhills and more 
 serious country. The sand burns hotly and 
 glares whitely. The sheep are lying panting, 
 with tongues out, in the shadow of the bunkers, 
 their woolly sides heaving painfully. They arc 
 so loth to move that they lie still, regarding 
 you with anxious eyes, till you could almost 
 clutch them, then rush off in a distressful hurry 
 that makes you hot. Great lambs, more than
 
 122 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 big enough to crop for themselves, rush after 
 the long-suffering mothers and aggressively pre- 
 tend to be babies. In one of the bunkers the 
 caddie shows you the pipit's nest, whence the 
 little brown bird flies with quick, low, evasive 
 flight. It is hung up, insecurely, beneath a 
 wisp of dried grass roots, which hangs, like a 
 bunch of woman's hair, over the bunker's edge. 
 Farther on, amongst the sand-hills, the pipits are 
 numerous, rising in broken imitation of the up- 
 rising skylark who sings himself straight up out 
 of the waving, yellow bent with which the sand- 
 hills are clad, up, up, till he is lost in the 
 radiance, has passed the portals of Heaven, 
 still sending down his notes as he goes higher 
 and higher into the Presence. But his mate is 
 sitting in her close nest under the curl of the 
 bent grass, and down he comes again, dropping 
 out of the heavens, still singing his gratitude, 
 finishing by a slantwise run down, as if along 
 a slack wire, and so to the summit of a sand- 
 hill, still singing, it may be, and running over 
 the ground with crested head proudly erect. 
 The air is full of the skylark choir. Overhead 
 and seaward the gulls keep passing, deftly 
 shearing their white way across the blue sky. 
 Little flecky clouds are floating up over the 
 far Exmoor hills ; for the rest, the sky is an
 
 THE LIFE OF THE LINKS 123 
 
 untroubled blue. The foam of the breakers 
 gleams where they toss unceasingly on the bar, 
 and the white sails on the bay fleck the blue 
 of the sea, as the seagulls fleck the blue of 
 heaven. The ground is a carpet of wild thyme 
 and many low-growing flowers. The hive bees 
 are murmuring over it, visiting innumerable 
 honey cups ; the humble bees, less frequent, 
 but more noisy, come buzzing about your head, 
 indignant at the intrusion. Occasionally a bee 
 passes, taking a straight, purposeful line, a " bee- 
 line," for its home. Little blue butterflies flicker 
 by and settle, living gems of brightest turquoise 
 blue. Folding their wings, the many mottled 
 hues of the under wings are almost more chastely 
 beautiful. Two meet, and a little dalliance be- 
 gins of quick circling round each other. Some- 
 times they part quickly, sometimes the dalliance 
 goes on, leading them higher and higher into 
 the sky, until they are nearly lost to sight in 
 the blue air. Then one breaks away ; drifting 
 aimlessly on a light current, a hundred feet off; 
 the other sinks to the flowers, as if wearied by 
 his ascent. Is it a game they play to see whose 
 turquoise-tinted wings are the more endurant of 
 the air climbing.? Among the blue butterflies 
 two kinds of day-flying moths are moving, the 
 " gamma," with the alphabetical sign on its sober
 
 124 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 wings, darting quickly, checking suddenly, and 
 hovering, humming-bird-like, as he sips the 
 nectar of a flower. With them some six-spot 
 burnets, feebly flying, like rubies in the bright- 
 ness of their splendid nether wing. 
 
 Swiftly scudding across the great belt of high 
 rushes has come a peacock butterfly. Disdaining 
 to settle on the lowly carpet, he hurries past. 
 We may well know how he comes to be there, 
 for on the way to the seventh hole it was not 
 impossible to find one's ball in a thick clump 
 of sting nettles. The leaves of the nettles were 
 cut out in patterns even less regular than their 
 own outline. Searching sting nettles is not 
 pleasant, but had we undertaken it we might 
 have found multitudes of black, spiny cater- 
 pillars, of whom one has found his apotheosis 
 in the butterfly who is going scornfully over the 
 lowly flowers of the links. 
 
 The eighth hole leads us, by way of a narrow 
 passage, between the sandy desert and the sea. 
 There, in the winter, we may have scared a little 
 flock of light-brown birds, showing a bar of white 
 on the wing as they made a hurried short flight. 
 They were snow-buntings, not a common bird 
 so far south. It is a bare, inhospitable shore, at 
 that time, for the strangers. In the winter, too, 
 there will be pools, often frozen over, in the
 
 THE LIFE OF THE LINKS 125 
 
 great rush-bed landward of the seventh green. 
 You may put up snipe and jack-snipe, possibly 
 even a string of teal. The teal will string up- 
 ward, .straggling through the sky, and straight 
 away from you. The snipe will rise with a 
 scold, and begin zigzagging up — towards you, if 
 you have flushed him down wind, up, and up, 
 and up, in wider zigzags, eventually going into 
 the rush-bed again, with a slanting dive, half a 
 mile or more from you. The jack-snipe will 
 imitate all these antics except the scold, in 
 little. In winter, too, there are numbers of 
 thrushes and blackbirds in the great rushes. 
 You come on the thrushes' snail-breaking stones 
 constantly. In the summer there are not many 
 — only a few near the haunts of birds which 
 have nested where a bramble has overgrown a 
 rush-clump and made a thick tangle. A wren 
 may be creeping about in these tangles, and the 
 pipits will dart out away from you, and in, back 
 again, on the " blind " side of the clump. 
 
 The rushes are terrible, with points like asse- 
 gais, always hard and dry at the extreme tips, 
 however juicy-full of sap below. Some patches 
 grow taller than a man's head. It is easy pick- 
 ing one's way through, for there are continual 
 open spaces, round and about the clumps, where 
 a lucky golf ball may find a perfectly good lie;
 
 126 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 but the rush-points have a nasty acrid juice in 
 them, grey and dry though they look, which 
 makes a wound smart painfully if they pierce 
 you. All the heads have a constant stoop to 
 the eastward, away from the prevalent west 
 wind. One stem out of every ten bears a 
 yellow-white cocoon of the burnet moth. Some 
 cocoons are already empty, with the hole bored 
 in them through which the perfect moth has 
 escaped to flutter out helplessly over the flower- 
 carpet. On the desert of sand beyond the 
 seventh hole are frequent plants of the blue- 
 leaved euphorbia, but no searching has found 
 on them the caterpillars of the rare euphorbia- 
 hawk - moth, though they are said to feed on 
 the euphorbia of the Braunton Burrows opposite. 
 Amidst the clumps of the rushes you may per- 
 haps catch a fleeting glimpse of a vanishing 
 brown form, and your caddie, with a glad shout, 
 will declare it to be " the old hare " — the de- 
 finite article sufficiently attesting that the species 
 is not numerous. 
 
 After the ninth hole you bear away, past an- 
 other big patch of the great rushes, to the more 
 open common. The gleam of the high tidal 
 water of Appledore Pool shines as if from a 
 mirror, on which the coasting vessels pass, in- 
 ward or outward bound. In the neighbourhood
 
 THE LIFE OF THE LINKS 127 
 
 of the outlying rush - patch one has seen the 
 weasels, a whole family, two parents and a half- 
 dozen of young, which evade, with marvellous 
 agility — lithe bodies darting this way and that 
 — the attempts of caddies to do them to death 
 with clubbed niblicks. Eventually all are likely 
 to make good their escape to the friendly covert 
 of the rushes. The greens and yellows of the 
 open common are dotted darkly with molehills. 
 No doubt there is a great deal of subterranean 
 life going on in the dark streets of the city 
 whose principal buildings are roofed by those 
 dark earth-lumps ; but the golfer does not see 
 all that. Starlings rise from pecking busily 
 round and about the molehills. Some are 
 darker than the majority. These dark ones 
 are parent birds leading a troop of greyish 
 youngsters. Rooks are digging away in the 
 soft soil, for the surface of this dark earth is 
 always damp; we are leaving the most sandy 
 part of the links. There are rooks both old 
 and young. The youngsters may be known by 
 the all - black bill ; they have not yet entered 
 upon the virile life - work of digging, whereby 
 the feathers have been worn from the base of 
 each adult beak, leaving a white scaly callosity. 
 They stand as helpless as children, occasionally 
 uttering a weak, pettish " caw," while the parents
 
 128 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 dig busily. When father or mother brings back 
 a beakful of wire-worm or fat grub, the babies 
 open wide bills, "cawing" and fluttering high- 
 shouldered wings in gratitude as the old one 
 shovels the food down their gullets. The star- 
 lings grow uneasy as the golfers approach. One 
 mounts a sheep's back, for a better survey of 
 the situation, a proceeding which does not dis- 
 turb the placid old ewe's cropping, but makes 
 her big lamb gaze up at the bird wonderingly. 
 A little further, the ground is alive with quickly- 
 moving grey forms, sandpipers and ringed plover, 
 all moving one way with quick little runs and 
 sudden stops. One wonders what they can find 
 to peck at as they stop. The sandier ground 
 was covered with innumerable white snails, a 
 favourite food of the mallard, but too well 
 armoured in their shells for the soft bills of 
 the small waders. Suddenly, as if at the bugle 
 call, the grey forms begin running a little more 
 quickly, rise in the air, sweep away with a flash 
 of silvery breasts, wheel up into the sky with 
 a plaintive cry, scud swiftly away down the 
 wind to a more remote feeding ground. These 
 birds seem always there, no matter the season. 
 Frequently, too, you may see a small flock of 
 golden plover, very tame, eyeing the golfer with 
 the curiosity of their species, but, doubtless, per-
 
 THE LIFE OF THE LINKS 129 
 
 fectly discriminating between a golf club and a 
 gun. Early in the year, before the nesting time, 
 there is often a little troop of whimbrel (the 
 small curlew). Commonly they are as wild as 
 the curlews themselves, of whom they are most 
 perfect smaller editions, but in the season at 
 which their thoughts lightly turn to love they 
 are so intent on matrimonial arrangements that 
 the golfer may come, unregarded, within a putt 
 of them. In the cold weather, big flocks of 
 linnets fly up in a quick - rising cloud off the 
 ground, and jerk themselves along in the air 
 with a chirrup at each jerk. At all times and 
 seasons there is multitudinous life on the wide 
 stretch of common which is on the golfer's left 
 as he comes to the fourteenth hole. The fif- 
 teenth leads back over the big bunker, diving 
 again into the sandier section. On the left is 
 a rushy hollow, whence the wind, blowing pre- 
 valently from the west, will sometimes waft an 
 unsavoury odour from the carcase of an unfor- 
 tunate sheep. A pair of crows rise, reluctant 
 and sluggish, from feasting on this rich banquet. 
 Likely enough they have hastened the fate of 
 the poor sheep, as it lay moribund and help- 
 less, by digging into its dying eyes with iron 
 beak. There is no mercy in the ways of Nature. 
 And so the golfer turns back again, for the 
 
 I
 
 I30 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 concluding holes, homeward across the grey- 
 green and yellow-green levels of the common, 
 where a few starved horses and cows seek their 
 famine rations. The little horned sheep fare 
 better, since they are able to nibble up the 
 close grass. Sometimes a cow, driven stark 
 wild by flies and thirst, comes charging across 
 the common from the sandy desert-land, where 
 she has been lying in the shade of a bunker- 
 clifl", galloping, with tail in air and tossing head, 
 for the stream or pond. 
 
 Overhead, at the same phase of tide each 
 day, will come three cormorants, leaving the 
 tidal estuary for the rocks off the westward 
 cliffs. They are as regular in their ways as the 
 kestrel, who makes, twice daily, his round of the 
 fields among which the golf- house stands. He 
 repeats the same circuit constantly, hovering 
 over the more likely spots, stooping down very 
 close to the ground now and then, in the hope 
 of spying a vole or beetle, occasionally swoop- 
 ing right down on an unfortunate insect or tiny 
 furry thing. But he is soon on the wing again, 
 wind hovering. For his resting-place he chooses 
 the bare top of a tree. In the hedge and field 
 around the golf - house one could see, at any 
 time for a few weeks, some two years ago, a 
 pathetic comedy — a wagtail, busy all the day
 
 THE LIFE OF THE LINKS 131 
 
 in collecting food for a single big, unnatural 
 nursling, who constantly pursued her, a young 
 cuckoo, whose maw it seemed as if the active 
 little foster-mother could never fill. 
 
 All this, and very much more, every golfer 
 may see. It is doubtful if more than a very 
 few see any of it.
 
 A TRAGEDY BY THE WAY 
 
 THERE is no use telling who his master was, 
 for it might vex some poor sensitive soul 
 beyond the Styx, and to no purpose ; but for 
 himself, he was a most familiar figure on the links 
 — tall, bent, somewhat one-sided — an infirmity 
 that increased with years and rheumatism — with 
 an angular face, clean-shaven (twice a week), 
 with a Scotch bonnet stuck awry above it, and a 
 short clay pipe insecurely held in the corner of his 
 mouth, for lack of teeth. Presumably he had not 
 been always thus. Doubtless there had been a 
 time when he was a barelegged gossoon scamper- 
 ing blithely with naked feet, and again a time 
 when he was a spruce young man, a favourite with 
 the lassies maybe ; but if such times had ever 
 been, it was extremely hard to picture them 
 to one's mental vision, and " Slow-back " himself 
 never referred to them. It was impossible to 
 picture him other than he was when first we knew 
 him — shambling in gait, crooked of aspect, clad 
 in long trousers and inadequately short coat, with 
 13a
 
 A TRAGEDY BY THE WAY 133 
 
 a woollen scarf about his neck, and booted at such 
 length that it seemed absurd to suppose his toes 
 could reach the end of their coverings. He was 
 a reserved man, and appeared to be without 
 relatives. We did not trouble to inquire about 
 his lodging, but every morning he was to be seen 
 sittinsf on the bench that the older caddies occu- 
 pied, smoking his pipe and waiting for his master 
 to come, with the clubs, from the Club-house. 
 Then he would " carry " the two statutory rounds 
 of the links, and disappear again until the follow- 
 ing morning. How he spent his Sundays we 
 never thought of asking, but no one appeared 
 ever to have seen him on the Day of Rest. 
 
 All this was in the years before the " boom " in 
 golf which led to the game becoming the pos- 
 session of all and sundry. Books had not been 
 written about the game, and all the available 
 maxims were carried in the heads of those who, 
 like " Slow-back," made a profession either of 
 playing or of carrying clubs. The maxims were, 
 substantially, three: "Slow-back," "Keep your 
 eye on the ball," and " Don't press." To these 
 might have been added a fourth, " Be up " ; but 
 this' applied more particularly to the short game, 
 and it was the first of the maxims, concerned with 
 the more glorious business of the drive, that was 
 destined to exercise an important influence on
 
 134 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 " Slow-back's " life. There is no doubt, of course, 
 that he had another name than this sobriquet ; 
 but it happened to none of us ever to learn it, 
 and the manner in which he obtained his appella- 
 tion was as follows : His master was never more 
 than an indifferent player at the best. He was 
 conscious of his deficiencies, but rather than 
 attribute them to what were, perhaps, their truer 
 causes, of faulty eyesight or inadequate muscle, 
 preferred to refer them to neglect of some of 
 the important maxims of the golfing art, and 
 especially to that first-quoted one of " Slow- 
 back ! " He conceived that he had contracted a 
 fatal habit of hurrying the club away, in the back 
 stroke, from the ball, and that this initial error 
 was responsible for all the subsequent miss-hits 
 and toppings with which the club visited the ball 
 on its descent. Maybe he was right ; but in any 
 case, the means by which he strove to clear him- 
 self of this fatal tendency was to make his caddie 
 ejaculate the magic words of monition, "Slow- 
 back ! " each time that he prepared to raise his 
 club for the driving stroke. The result, it has 
 to be admitted, was not wholly satisfactory; one 
 can say no more than that his execution might 
 conceivably have been worse in the absence of 
 the warning. 
 
 Thus it went on for several years. At the end
 
 A TRAGEDY BY THE WAY 135 
 
 of that time it happened that " Slow-back's " 
 master— for already the caddie had earned the 
 nickname by which alone we knew him — was 
 called away for three weeks or so by the death 
 of a near relative. Then "Slow-back" carried 
 clubs for another master. But the habit that he 
 had formed during these years of ejaculating his 
 monitory " Slow-back ! " as his master raised the 
 club was not to be denied. Still, at the conclu- 
 sion of each address to the ball, he uttered the 
 solemn words, then found himself covered with 
 most pitiful confusion at the rebuke which his 
 uncalled-for interference had merited. For a 
 stroke or two, putting great restraint upon him- 
 self, he succeeded in keeping his soul in silence ; 
 but at the next the inevitable exclamation broke 
 from him again, to the distraction and despair of 
 the sufferer to whom it was addressed. During 
 the three weeks of his master's absence several 
 golfers made trial of " Slow-back's " services, for 
 he was an excellent caddie, saving his single 
 idiosyncrasy, and regarded with a certain affec- 
 tion as being somewhat of a " character " besides. 
 But none could suffer him long. One after 
 another had to give him up, after being reduced 
 to impotence and despair by his raven-like croak. 
 At length his legitimate master returned, and 
 " Slow-back " was a man again.
 
 136 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 A few more years dragged their length to a 
 close, and then the hand of Death fell, this time 
 on no near relative of his master, but on the 
 master himself. " Slow-back," in a new suit of 
 mourning, followed him to the grave, and came 
 back, still wearing his apparel of grief, to sit 
 during the afternoon on his accustomed bench, 
 with the other caddies. In the morning he beset 
 himself to find a new engagement. He was in 
 receipt of a small pension from his late master, 
 in recognition of so many years of faithful service, 
 but the sum did not suffice to give him indepen- 
 dence. He was soon engaged, for the links were 
 thronged with players. This time his employer 
 was a new-comer, who knew nothing of " Slow- 
 back's " peculiarity. He was nearly stunned with 
 surprise at what he deemed the caddie's insolence 
 on his first utterance 'of the inevitable words. 
 He said nothing, however, on the first offence ; 
 but when it was repeated, expostulated in un- 
 measured terms. To his surprise his rebuke 
 brought " Slow-back " to the verge of tears. 
 Then, partly by his opponent, and partly by 
 the opponent's caddie, the situation was ex- 
 plained. He found himself able to mingle a 
 measure of pity with his wrath, but throughout 
 the round the ejaculation, many times repeated, 
 in the speaker's own despite, spoiled his intended
 
 A TRAGEDY BY THE WAY 137 
 
 stroke, and led to the immediate payment of the 
 caddie and rejection of his further services. 
 Several times during the ensuing weeks did now 
 one, and now another, in ignorance or in pity, 
 engage the unfortunate man to carry clubs, but 
 in no case could his idiosyncrasy be endured 
 beyond the limits of a single round. He made 
 efforts that were absolutely heroic to overcome 
 it, swathing the woollen comforter around his 
 mouth until asphyxiation threatened him ; but 
 through all the folds of stuff came, with a 
 muffled lugubriousness, the hateful exclamation 
 which the man would have given worlds to have 
 withheld. Do what he would he could not rid 
 himself of this damnosa hcereditas, bequeathed to 
 him, along with his slender pension, by his de- 
 parted master. Gradually he grew to recognise 
 the hopelessness of his condition, and ceased even 
 to seek employment. He spent his days sitting 
 dejectedly on the accustomed seat, growing thinner 
 and more gaunt as poverty set its grip more 
 firmly upon him, grateful if now and again one 
 of his friends on the bench would give him 
 a fill of tobacco for his seldom - replenished 
 pipe. 
 
 At length he ceased to frequent the links alto- 
 gether. For some days no one seemed to notice 
 his absence. Then it was noted that " Slow-back "
 
 138 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 had disappeared, and we began to ask questions 
 about him. His cronies knew nothing, only that 
 he had not been down to the links for a day or 
 two. We inquired where he lodged, and with 
 some difficulty found the locality. It was up a 
 steep stair in a little house of a back street. 
 His landlady told us that she feared he was 
 not well. For some days he had not left the 
 house, and had eaten next to nothing : said his 
 stomach refused food, and that he had no 
 appetite. We asked her whether she thought 
 he lacked for money, but the woman said No, 
 basing her information on the fact that he had 
 kept his small rent paid up. 
 
 When we went in it appeared at once that he 
 was very bad ; he lay on the bed terribly wasted, 
 scarcely more than the skeleton of a man. We 
 asked whether he had seen a doctor, and being 
 told No, sent off for one at once. He seemed 
 to recognise us, and a strange smile of pleasure 
 struggled across his thin features. He even tried 
 to speak, but the only word that we could distin- 
 guish was his terrible ejaculation of '* Slow-back," 
 though whether he was trying to speak of him- 
 self thus by his familiar sobriquet^ or whether he 
 deemed himself still " carrying " for his old master 
 on the links, we could not tell. Then he relapsed 
 into silence, and seemed to sleep.
 
 A TRAGEDY BY THE WAY 139 
 
 At length the doctor came. He took but one 
 glance at the poor figure on the bed, passed his 
 hand beneath the clothes, and laid it for a moment 
 over the heart. Then he turned to us with a grave 
 face. " Slow-back " was dead !
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 
 
 THERE is a certain practice of those nice 
 barelegged little girl caddies of the Island 
 of Guernsey on which I found it necessary to take 
 the opinion of an eminent Scottish divine of St 
 Andrews. He is a person celebrated for his 
 breadth of view, and, indeed, his attitude towards 
 the present question went far in itself to prove 
 that breadth, for otherwise he must incontinently 
 have dismissed the matter as pertaining to the 
 Devil, or to the Pope, which, in the mouth of 
 many of his brethren, would be only synonyms. 
 But he did no such thing : he argued the matter 
 out, dispassionately, on its merits. 
 
 The question arose in this way : We were all 
 familiar with the methods of the ordinary Scottish 
 caddie. We knew him, especially, that he was 
 to be watched with peculiar care as we came to 
 the last holes of the evening round, in the gloam- 
 ing; for he had a habit, often detected, of in- 
 serting into the ground, between the opponent's 
 ball and the hole, a green-painted pin, invisible 
 among the grass, but which yet opposed the 
 140
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 141 
 
 passage of the ball into the hole as effectually as 
 a chevaiix-de-frise resists the charge of a squadron. 
 The ball broke itself on that salient pin ; the 
 player damned " that wiry blade of grass " ; the 
 caddie, as he picked his own master's ball from 
 the hole, trod in the pin, and the episode was 
 ended. That was a form of physical obstacle to 
 the passage of the ball into the hole with which 
 we were perfectly familiar — might even have been 
 guilty of a personal familiarity with it, though we 
 did not confess as much, in days long past ; for 
 it has happened, in some period in their lives, even 
 to eminent Scottish divines, to have been boys, 
 and boys are for ever mischievous. 
 
 This matter in question, however, was raised 
 by the action of a girl — not by the action of one 
 girl only, moreover, but by the action common to 
 many girls — to so many girls, in fact, as carry 
 clubs for the golfers of the Island of Guernsey. 
 They make very charming httle caddies, pic- 
 turesque, with their bare legs and feet in the 
 summer, talking a taking lingo, too, in which 
 Gallicisms and golfing Scotticisms mingle plea- 
 santly, with a piquant accent. And they are 
 sympathetic — much more sympathetic than the 
 boy-caddie of Great Britain. This may be partly 
 a question of nationality, but partly also, no doubt, 
 it is a question of sex. I consulted the eminent
 
 142 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 Scottish divine on this side of the question also, 
 but he put it hurriedly by him in a shamedfaced 
 fashion. On the main question submitted to him, 
 however, he deliberated seriously. The facts were 
 these : As soon as the master of one of these girl 
 caddies had holed his putt, and it became the 
 turn of the opponent to play, the caddie would 
 spit — prettily, in no offensive fashion — upon the 
 ground, and describe a cross, with her forefinger, 
 in the air, above the line of the proposed putt, to 
 obstruct the passage of the ball into the hole. 
 
 Now, was this fair.'' It is evident that, on a 
 question of this nature, one required the judgment 
 of a theologian, no less than of one versed, merely 
 as a layman, in the laws of Golf. For this sug- 
 gested an interference not contemplated even in 
 the most recently accepted rules of Golf, as revised 
 by Lord Kingsburgh and his committee. Certainly 
 it seemed like invoking the assistance of a person 
 other than the player or his caddie, and this is 
 expressly forbidden by the rules. But, on the 
 other hand, where was this person, and who was 
 to prove that he had interfered, or even that he 
 was an agency included in the philosophy of Lord 
 Kingsburgh and the other wise men .-' The pin, in 
 the physical method of interfering with the run of 
 the ball, remained as evidence, but there was no 
 sign left of the crossing of the air, and if any
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 143 
 
 unworthy agency had been invoked it vanished, 
 leaving no trace, not even a smell of brimstone. 
 And yet it seemed scarcely right to deny all 
 power whatsoever to the invocation. The theo- 
 logian whom I took into council scarcely thought 
 it right to go as far as this : he admitted that 
 "there might be something in it." Even on the 
 merely rationalistic analysis, it is not without its 
 force. We all know how it affects a man's stroke 
 if he be led to imagine an inequality, which has 
 absolutely no existence in fact, on the line of his 
 putt : how much more fatally efficacious must be 
 the suggestion that the devil bars his path ! It is 
 scarcely reasonable to doubt that the devil often 
 does. There is no other rationally acceptable 
 hypothesis on which some of the missed putts 
 can be explained. On this point it might be 
 well to consult " Old Tom." 
 
 c But is his agency one that is tacitly, if not 
 expressly, contemplated in the rules; and is it a 
 breach of the rules to invoke his assistance, or to 
 repel his services (in whichsoever significance we 
 are to regard the invocation), in the manner 
 practised by the little girl-caddics of Guernsey? 
 It is a matter on which I have been able to 
 receive no satisfactory assurance even from the 
 eminent theological and golfing faculty which I 
 have consulted ; but it is a matter that it concerns
 
 144 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 the golfer of Guernsey, for the sake no less of his 
 soul than of his Golf, to look into very shrewdly. 
 
 All that the Scottish divine would say, by way 
 of committal, was that, if it came to a close match, 
 he would prefer to put his faith on the pin. 
 
 Despite all our boasted advance in science it 
 is very difficult indeed not to believe, whatever 
 the Divine may say, that the devil has some- 
 thing to do with the game, especially with the 
 short game, which is just the insidious kind of 
 business that he would meddle in. 
 
 A golfing maxim-maker has observed that 
 " Driving is an art, iron play is a science, but 
 putting is an inspiration." It is a very felicitous 
 set of definitions. One has only heard it bettered 
 once by the man who wrote, " Putting is the 
 Devil." Of course, that is only another way of 
 saying the same thing. Often one's putting 
 suffers from *' influenza " — a mysterious disease, 
 which no one can diagnose — so that it is 
 simplest to call it " influenza," in the tongue 
 of mediaeval Italy (where such manifestations 
 were frequent), in English, "influence," the 
 "influence," or "in-flowing" of diabolic cur- 
 rents. So that, practically speaking, influenza 
 and inspiration are as alike as two golf balls, 
 the only generally-accepted difference being that 
 they come from different shops ; and so, to say
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 145 
 
 that " Putting is an inspiration," differs from 
 saying that it is "the devil" only in that the 
 latter seems to define the source of inspira- 
 tion. 
 
 When you have studied carefully a putt of 
 that troublesome yard- and- a-half distance, and 
 succeeded at length in holing it, then you say 
 to yourself, "Putting is an inspiration." But 
 when your friend, who is watching golf for the 
 first time, comes up, and says, " What nonsense 
 taking all that bother about a thing like that ! 
 Here, give me the ball," and knocks it in from 
 the same distance, or a little further, with his 
 umbrella, then you observe at once, " Putting 
 is the devil." There is no doubt of it. It 
 cannot be an art or a science, for the more a 
 man learns about golf the worse he putts, as a 
 rule. Therefore it must be an inspiration; and 
 no reasonable human golfer really doubts the 
 source of the inspiration. When a man first 
 begins golf he generally putts wonderfully ; and 
 ladies always putt remarkably well, which again 
 supports the inspiration theory and the suggested 
 source. 
 
 We may take instances. One would not like 
 to adduce instances of special inspiration ; but 
 instances in which inspiration is noticeably 
 lacking may be held up to the brightest light. 
 
 K
 
 146 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 One knows the venerable story of the letter 
 which the late Mr Wolfe-Murray addressed to 
 "The Misser of Short Putts, Prestwick." It 
 was taken, quite straight, to " Old Tom " Morris. 
 Now no one could possibly conceive " Old 
 Tom's " being inspired from the source sug- 
 gested. No one more removed from possible 
 influence from such a source can be imagined. 
 His case lends a very decided support to the 
 theory. Mr John Ball, jun., is another famous 
 misser of short putts. (Of course it is always 
 to be remembered that the missed short putt 
 is observed and focussed in the " fierce light 
 that beats upon a champion." The missed short 
 putts of the average golfer escape the recording 
 angel's book ; but, for all that, good golfers do 
 putt badly.) Now, with the exception of " Old 
 Tom," there probably is no golfer whom one 
 would so little suspect of inspiration from Black 
 Art sources as Mr John Ball. We may put 
 him next to Tom Morris as an instance in 
 support. 
 
 Another very fine golfer, who would be in- 
 vincible altogether if he could get one of the 
 inspired to putt for him, is Mr Leslie Balfour- 
 Melville. He is even more remote from the 
 inspiration (it is impossible to be more remote 
 from its source) than either of the above named.
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 147 
 
 Tom Morris and Mr Ball, taking each at his 
 best, used to lose strokes and holes on the 
 putting green ; but usually because they could 
 not hole the short ones, not because they could 
 not lay the long ones dead. " Here the veteran 
 laid a long putt stone dead, but subsequently 
 missed it," wrote the shorthand recording angel, 
 with humour that probably was unconscious. 
 The veteran often used to do that. Now he is 
 no longer at his best, alas! though, for his age, 
 a wonder, so he does not miss the short ones 
 as he used to. But Mr Ball is still at his 
 best, virtually speaking — still good enough, at all 
 events, to miss short putts, and to beat anyone 
 he wants to. But these ex-champions could 
 always hole the long putts. It was only at the 
 short ones that they failed, even at their very 
 best. Mr Balfour Melville, perhaps, would have 
 been better than either of them had he had but 
 a share of the "influenza" or inspiration. But 
 he lacked it even more than they, for at times 
 he could neither lay the long ones dead nor 
 hole the short ones. It only shows how com- 
 plete is his mastery over the art of driving and 
 science of iron play that he should have done 
 such great things without a breath of the in- 
 spiration. 
 
 Mr Alfred Lyttelton has declared that the
 
 148 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 man who wins a hole on the putting green " is 
 guilty of a mean and ungentlemanly act." But 
 it is obvious that he is something even worse 
 — he is guilty of receiving aid from diabolical 
 sources, and in the Middle Ages, in the green 
 youth of the game, would have been most pro- 
 perly punished at the stake, had his methods 
 been understood. 
 
 The inspiration is not a constant, but a 
 capricious stream, so that those who have it in 
 the fullest measure are sometimes left uninspired 
 for a while. Then it manifests its returning 
 presence, by new channels sometimes, such as 
 putting over a daisy on the line, instead of 
 straight at the hole ; there is no end to its 
 ways of entrance, and the spell that was 
 effective yesterday may be valueless to-day. 
 Some days no spell is of value — then it is best 
 to go home to bed and consult a doctor about 
 it, who will call it "microbes," for that is more 
 modern than " influenza," and men of science 
 are past the age of animism, though, of course, 
 golfers are not. 
 
 They are perfectly capable however of con- 
 ceiving in theory that dynamical laws control the 
 flight of the golf ball, and are happy to read, if 
 not to comprehend, all that Professor Tait has 
 written on the subject, and to imitate, if not to
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP i49 
 
 equal, Mr F. G. Tait's practical application of 
 the paternal theories. They are apt to speculate, 
 perhaps none too acutely, on the operation of the 
 law of motion, and amongst its details none seemed 
 fashioned to perplex them more than the function 
 of the " undercut." 
 
 " Why is it," I asked the other day, " that it is 
 so much easier to pitch a full iron shot dead than 
 a half-iron shot ? Why are the half-shots so much 
 more apt to run, after pitching, than the full, 
 though they be cut never so shrewdly ? " I had 
 often asked this question before, and the answer 
 had always been, " Yes ; funny thing, by Jove ! 
 It is so, certainly ; but can't quite make out 
 why." 
 
 So one had begun to put this problem down in 
 the number of those " things that no fellow can 
 understand." And then, on the occasion of which 
 I write, a pilgrim in our company answered, quite 
 casually, " Oh ! of course it is quite simple why it 
 is so. You hit the full shots a quicker, sharper 
 blow, that makes the club go through after the 
 ball better, and so puts more under-spin on, 
 presuming that the ball be hit below the 
 centre." 
 
 There seems to be nothing amiss with this as an 
 account of the matter, though the answer did not 
 seem to cause the answerer a moment's thou^jht or
 
 ISO THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 pain ; and though, in all the weighty treatises that 
 we read and write — or, does anybody read them ? 
 — about the great and good game, the point does 
 not seem to have been attacked at all. Probably 
 there is no general doubt about the fact — that it is 
 easier to pitch a full iron shot, or full mashie shot, 
 comparatively dead than a half-iron shot or half- 
 mashie shot. Certainly, to most people it is easier ; 
 but that is not to say that there may not be 
 singular exceptions who can pitch the ball deader 
 off the half than off the full shot. There are 
 paradoxical exceptions to every rule that is 
 worth stating, and for every one real exception 
 there are a score of persons who believe them- 
 selves to be exceptions. The reason of the 
 deader fall of the full shot, however, has always 
 hitherto seemed obscure to the present writer ; 
 therefore, it is possible that it may also have 
 been obscure to others, who will be grateful 
 perhaps for a little light thrown upon it. The 
 writer does not answer for the quality of the 
 light; it may be only a Will-o'-the-wisp, and 
 no true light or account at all ; but, at all 
 events, it seems to fulfil certainly one condition 
 of a workable hypothesis, namely, that it ex- 
 plains the effects. If any other hypothesis will 
 explain them equally well, I am sure we shall 
 all greet it with gratitude. There is, I think a
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 151 
 
 certain interest in understanding the " why " of 
 a ball's behaviour, though whether the under- 
 standing of the theory will result in our being 
 able to better our practice is quite another 
 matter. Often in these matters ignorance is 
 bliss, and a little knowledge a dangerous thing, 
 to the golfer; but the reasonable human being 
 (quite another person) likes to know reasons, 
 and, after all, it is not impossible that he, 
 understanding that it is helpful to dead pitch- 
 ing to hit the ball sharply under the centre, 
 may help us to achieve the dead pitching in 
 practice. 
 
 Observation, I fancy, confirms the deduction. 
 Taylor, for instance, who pitches his ball very 
 dead off his mashie, seems to strike the ball 
 more sharply than most strike it. Sayers, on 
 the other hand, seems to get the same result 
 of a dead pitch by other methods, namely, by 
 clubs so lofted that the ball goes very high and 
 has very little way on when it pitches. Of 
 course, other things being equal, the ball which 
 has least way on — which describes the steepest 
 parabola — will fall the deadest. But then, other 
 things are not always equal ; for instance, the 
 amount of cut on a ball sent up to the hole by 
 Taylor, and one scuffled along with a sort of 
 putt with the iron by the ordinary duffer. The
 
 152 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 queer thing about Taylor's approaches is that 
 they fall so dead, although they fly compara- 
 tively so low ; and if anyone can suggest a 
 better theory to account for it than that of my 
 friend which I have quoted above, I think many 
 of us will be obliged to him. I wonder if, after 
 reading this, we shall all go out and approach 
 like Taylor? At all events it seems to me that 
 my friend's answer started a good hare, if any- 
 one will catch him. 
 
 And besides these questions of science which 
 the pursuit of Golf is apt to raise in the mind of 
 the philosophic pilgrim, he will not fail to recog- 
 nise the value of the game, or, at all events, its 
 force, as an ethical factor. 
 
 At one time St Anthony kept a pig. This he 
 did because he found that the trials of ordinary 
 life were insufficient for him. He tried his virtue 
 yet more highly by living in the uncongenial 
 companionship of this rude animal — for it was not 
 a learned pig. It is a significant fact that this 
 happened a very long while ago, when St Andrew 
 was the patron saint of Golf 
 
 On coming down to days which, in view of the 
 antiquity of the Royal and Ancient game, are but 
 as yesterday — the date of " Les Contes du Rot 
 Cavibrinus" — we there find the Golf of the period 
 (under the name of " CJioIel' as played in French
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 153 
 
 Flanders) flourishing beneath the protection no 
 longer of St Andrew, but of St Anthony. And 
 the great point is this— that had the change taken 
 place earlier St Anthony could have had no pos- 
 sible use for his pig. The pig, as we all know, 
 is a difficult animal to drive— " especially when 
 there's many of him — very." This is a dictum 
 which has become historical. But the difficulty 
 is as nothing compared to the difficulty of driv- 
 ing, in the way it should go, a golf ball. If St 
 Anthony had taken to Golf a little earlier he 
 would not have wanted his pig. He would have 
 found Golf a sufficient substitute for all other ways 
 and means of exasperation, of mortification, and 
 of crosses. If there be a use in adversity there 
 must be a use in Golf, and a moment's considera- 
 tion will compel us to elevate the so-called game 
 to the horrid position of a " moral factor." 
 
 But there is no doubt that we may overestimate 
 the value of adversity, though this is more often 
 done in precept than in practice; and on the 
 principle of one man's meat being poison to 
 another, the effects of adversity are different on 
 different temperaments. And it is so in Golf. 
 The "moral factor" is liable to abuse, and its 
 results differ. There are persons who even go 
 so far as to argue that its general effect is not 
 moral — that the temper is injured, rather than
 
 154 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 improved, by the practice of Golf. They illustrate 
 their pernicious theory by pointing to kindred 
 games, such as billiards, and they assert that 
 players are far more tetchy, more particular about 
 " silence on the stroke," more furious if people in 
 the gallery move or light a pipe, than they used 
 to be before Golf, which so imperatively demands 
 perfect concentration, became an element of daily 
 life. They point, too, to the fact that the bats- 
 man pauses when anyone in the pavilion at 
 Lord's moves within a radius of thirty feet behind 
 the bowler's arm ; and this they say was never 
 done in the good old days before men caught the 
 hyperaesthesia of Golf Also, they say that the 
 golfer carries this hyperaesthesia into all the 
 details of his daily life, and that his wife, 
 his cook, and his dog all suffer from his missed 
 putts. 
 
 Now, there is nothing in a philosophical disser- 
 tation such as this which is more to be deprecated 
 than dogmatism. All this may be true, but there 
 is another view which it is possible to hold and 
 to support by cogent argument, namely, that as 
 the game of Golf is indisputably the most vexa- 
 tious of all the ills that flesh is heir to, it makes 
 such smaller annoyances as the talking, moving, 
 match-striking spectator of a billiard match, the 
 disturbance behind the bowler's arm, the exasper-
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP i55 
 
 ating wife, the unpunctual cook, or the dog who 
 makes night hideous by baying the moon, sink 
 into utter insignificance. The extraordinary thing 
 about this argument is that there really is some 
 truth in it. It is not altogether whimsical. Every 
 golfer probably admits that Golf is not the most 
 important avocation in life ; yet when he is en- 
 gaged on it it at once assumes that position, and 
 there is no pursuit which has such capabilities of 
 raising the temper. This is a postulate ; but it is 
 one which is not likely to be denied. The very un- 
 importance of the issues enhances the aggravation. 
 You know that it is so very foolish to get angry 
 over such a matter as putting a little lump of 
 guttapercha, approximately globular, into a small 
 hole in the ground. Surely this is a thing that 
 cannot greatly affect the progress of humanity? 
 And that you — a person of fair, average intelli- 
 gence — can be incensed over such a matter is the 
 most incensing thing of all. It is impossible that 
 one should bother about it. 
 
 Yet it is impossible not to. At all games men 
 get angry. There once was a man who grew so 
 evil-tempered over games that he gave them all up 
 and played nothing but patience, and even that 
 enraged him so, when it did not come right, that 
 often, when he left off, he was not on speaking 
 terms with himself And if this is possible at
 
 156 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 patience, how much more possible — how much 
 more inevitable even — is it to grow angry at Golf? 
 There are so many causes of vexation, so many 
 things to be angry with ; there is the way the ball 
 falls, the kick it gets, the lie it gets. Then there 
 is your caddie and your opponent, and his caddie, 
 and, if it be a foursome, your partner, and twice as 
 many possibilities of vexation from your opponent. 
 Also there are the parties in front and the parties 
 behind, and casual — very casual — spectators. 
 Finally, there is the worst offender of all — your- 
 self After all, the only righteous wrath is wrath 
 with self, and the patience player may have been 
 justified. 
 
 So the chances of vexation are infinite, and one 
 or other is always to the fore. Also, in this game 
 of Golf, there is plenty of time for them to take 
 full effect, and sink deep and rankUng into your 
 soul. It is not the sudden death of cricket or 
 tennis — a stroke, a profane cry of pain, and there 
 is the end of it. It is a slow, lingering, torture- 
 some death, in which the sad wounds are continu- 
 ally made to smart afresh by the crocodilian salt 
 tears of your opponent, the insidious venom of 
 your partner's sympathy, the incisive surgery of 
 your caddie's comment. So when all this has 
 been endured, can it be but that the golfer must 
 go to his home purged of all his evil tempers, as
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 157 
 
 if he had passed through a very fiery furnace ? 
 What is left that can anger him after such an 
 ordeal as this ? But here it is that the difference 
 is seen in the effects of adversity. The noblest 
 nature of all, which can despise and throw off 
 from it even such poisoned arrows of offence as 
 these, must necessarily endure all minor scourges 
 with lofty scorn. But these are heroes — perhaps 
 mythical. Of mortal golfers there are two classes, 
 whereof the one fails to keep its woes pent in its 
 bosom, and must needs give them voice, which 
 is a frequent subject of subsequent regret. This 
 class exclaims, " Tut, tut, tut ! " or words to that 
 effect, after the bad stroke, however occasioned. 
 But there is another class which does not vent 
 itself in these dreadful exclamations. It keeps 
 the escape valve of its wrath closely shut down, 
 but it is simmering away with a fearful pressure 
 underneath. On this latter class — the simmerers 
 — the effect of the adversity is dubious. They 
 may come back with nerves on the twitch, hyper- 
 sensitive of the minor annoyances of life, and for 
 them Golf may be indeed no " moral factor." 
 But of the others — those who open the valve to 
 steam forth in fiery " Tut, tut, tuts " — the effect 
 is beyond all doubt. Their wrath flies freely to 
 dissipate itself in the pure air of the links, and 
 their heart is left light to meet their lesser trials.
 
 158 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 And this latter class is in a great majority, so 
 that adversity and Golf may triumphantly vindi- 
 cate their uses. 
 
 After all — and this is a point which is very 
 likely to escape the golfer — adversity and Golf 
 are not absolutely synonymous. There is, when 
 all is said, a small margin even of pleasure in the 
 game — it is in this that it differs from other 
 " moral factors " — for occasionally it happens to 
 almost everybody to win a match, or at least a 
 hole. So that by none need it be altogether 
 neglected, and it is abundantly evident that to 
 the many it must be invaluable as a means of 
 teaching them to keep their temper. 
 
 Whether this is worth the learning is quite a 
 subsidiary question. " You, Sammy, as a bache- 
 lor," said Mr Weller, senior (or words to the 
 same effect), " cannot be expected to know any- 
 thing of the ways of women. When you have 
 been married as long as I have, you may perhaps 
 know more about them ; but whether it is worth 
 while to go through so much to learn so little, 
 as the charity schoolboy said when he had finished 
 the alphabet, is a werry open question." 
 
 And that is the dubious position in which the 
 science of Golf stands towards the art of keeping 
 the temper. 
 
 There are certain matters of etiquette, rather
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 159 
 
 than of rule, that are governed, slightly differently, 
 by the custom of different greens. To learn the 
 whole of these is beyond the power even of the 
 most scrupulous of pilgrims ; and chief of these 
 points of etiquette, in its variation and its import- 
 ance, is perhaps the term of mercy that is 
 extended, at each locality, to the "Sitting 
 Hen." 
 
 When Dr Johnson was not abusing something 
 nearer home, he solaced himself by abuse of 
 Scotland. The poor Bozzy was once moved to 
 remonstrate, "After all, sir," he dared to say, 
 " after all, we must remember, must we not, that 
 God made Scotland." 
 
 It was a brave stroke, and at first sight the 
 answer is not obvious to the ordinary man. But 
 it did not trouble Dr Johnson. 
 
 " Yes, sir," he replied, instantly ; " but we 
 must also remember that He made it for Scots- 
 men." 
 
 The next move is yet to seek. The published 
 gambit ends here. 
 
 Much of Dr Johnson's dissatisfaction with Scot- 
 land is explained when we consider that he never 
 seriously adopted Golf As a professional lexico- 
 grapher, he was no doubt the man to have edited 
 the rules, and to have supported his emendations 
 against the attacks of Englishmen. For, of the
 
 i6o THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 rules, as at piesent constructed, if one (the gentle- 
 man of Auchinleck, or another) had dared to point 
 out to him that their origin was — not, indeed, 
 divine — but the tradition of those who had 
 played the game for centuries — that is to say, 
 of Scotsmen — he would, doubtless, have retorted 
 in his old manner, " Yes, sir ; but we must also 
 remember that it is for Scotsmen that they were 
 handed down." 
 
 For this makes a deal of difference. If there 
 is a quality of the Scot which even Dr Johnson 
 might have excepted from the universal ban, it 
 is his patient long-sufferance and forbearance 
 under hardship and wrong. This is doubtless 
 why the game of Golf is so well suited to the 
 Scottish genius, and why one is sceptical if they 
 will ever play Golf equally well in Ireland — 
 except in Ulster. 
 
 But now the English pilgrim, less long-suffering, 
 is sitting in the shadow of a great cloud. He has 
 studied — at least a few of him have — the rules 
 published by the Royal and Ancient Club, and 
 finds a clause therein which conjures horrid 
 visions. Under the old dispensation greens were 
 blocked. We sat, and we watched, and we 
 waited, and we swore, while M 'Foozle and all 
 his tribe crawled, snail-like, over the links. 
 But we knew there was a bright time coming.
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP i6i 
 
 So soon as ever M'Foozle and his companion 
 had played their second strokes we could take 
 a great, glad shot at them, emphasised by a 
 blood-curdling, premonitory " Fore ! " For that 
 was the beneficent rule — you were not to drive 
 into parties in front unless first {nisi prius) they 
 had played their seconds. But now, within the 
 last half dozen years — by all that's scarce suffer- 
 able by the Scot, intolerable to the Sassenach, 
 aud infuriating to the Celt — the rule has been 
 made absolute, we are not allowed to drive into 
 them at all ! Imagination darkened with the 
 fearful prospect of waiting, helpless and hope- 
 less, upon the tee, while the golfer who had 
 taken to himself the methods of the sitting hen 
 brooded in halcyon security over his ball until 
 the abortive, addled result had at length been 
 hatched ; then he pursued it, as a hen chases 
 an unmanageable duckling, and we took in fresh 
 microbes of influenza and pneumonia while he 
 once more gathered it deliberately beneath his 
 wing. 
 
 When a hen wants to sit, the remedy is to 
 make her sit longer than she wishes — to shut 
 her up — just as they give the confectioners' boys 
 sugar-plums until they hate them, or as you tie 
 up a sheep-worrying dog to an aggressive old 
 ram. But a golfer, even one who has adopted 
 
 L
 
 i62 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 the methods of the sitting hen, does not thereby 
 forfeit his rights as a British subject (though he 
 ought to have), and if we treated him on the 
 lines of the sheep-worrier or fowl he would 
 have us up for false imprisonment. Moreover, 
 it is doubtful if it would be any real discipline 
 for him to be shut up — even indefinitely — so 
 long as a golf ball was his companion. 
 
 Yet we are not delivered over absolutely to 
 his mercy ; for — mark this — the clause which 
 bids us spare him is not a rule, though in the 
 old days of chaos it was confounded with rules. 
 It is but a maxim of courtesy, and as such, 
 under the new dispensation, it finds its place. 
 We are at least thus far advanced since the 
 chaotic age : it is not open to the opponent, 
 as heretofore, to claim the hole from us because 
 we have driven into the sitter. But is there 
 any degree of offending — any length of sitting 
 — which can justify us in the breach of such a 
 maxim .'' We think there is. Even here, in a 
 warm comfortable room, we can record this as 
 our honest opinion ; and when we have waited 
 a quarter of an hour, in a bitter wind and rain, 
 upon the lethargic sitter, there can be no doubt 
 that we shall be absolutely convinced of it ; 
 which point of casuistry is to be approached 
 with the following test — if we see the sitter
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 163 
 
 brooding over his ball with a clear field a hole 
 or two before him, and behind him a telescoped 
 muddle of exasperated golfers, then cry " Fore ! " 
 and spare not. For this is indeed no breach of 
 courtesy. In such extreme cases the obligation 
 becomes reversed. It is in no rules or code of 
 courtesy, but in a far older book, that no man 
 may annoy his fellow-man too unconscionably ; 
 that we are but poor worms, but that it is a 
 long worm that has no turning. And if the 
 sitting hen continue to brood over the nest egg 
 regardless of the sufferings of fellow-creatures, 
 he must expect that the sufferer will turn 
 and rend him — speedily if the sufferer be 
 a Celt, after a certain sober interval if he be 
 a Sassenach, and eventually even if he be a 
 Scot. 
 
 Wherefore let the sitting hen take warning, 
 nor arrogate to himself, with much cackling, an 
 indefeasible position, in virtue of the clause in 
 his favour in the new rules ; but let him be 
 assured that after a time human nature will 
 assert itself and proclaim its prior existence to 
 maxims of golfing courtesy, even though it be a 
 Scottish nature, and it is for Scotsmen that the 
 rules were made. Either the halcyon period of 
 brooding must not be indefinitely prolonged, or 
 the brooder must let others go past him. Other-
 
 i64 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 wise of a surety the sitter will be slain as he 
 sits, and a jury of good golfers will hold the 
 homicide justifiable. 
 
 How long and how often a man should be 
 allowed to sit before he is shot is a question 
 which perhaps does not admit of a general 
 answer. Each case must probably be judged 
 on its individual merits and by the degree of 
 tolerance that it is customary to give the sitter 
 on the green whereon for the moment it so 
 happens that he sits. 
 
 Golfing trials of patience, however, are like 
 the making of books — of them there is no end. 
 The Golfing Pilgrim, in the course of his 
 pilgrimage, is sure to be accused some time or 
 other, though he be a Caesar's wife for guilt- 
 lessness, of the heinous vanity of the hunting of 
 the pot, and this, be it observed, is an offence 
 with which the Scotsman is especially fond of 
 charging the Sassenach golfer. 
 
 An English young lady, once returned from 
 a visit to Scotland. She remarked to her 
 friends at home on the wonderful extension of 
 the game of golf. " It is played every- 
 where now," she said ; " it has even spread to 
 Scotland." 
 
 In the winter of our discontent, when the 
 eround was frozen so hard that club-shafts
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 165 
 
 snapped, a compassionate friend told us this 
 tale to cheer our ennui. Poor Scotland ! She 
 had been badly treated, that year. An English- 
 man — one and the same Sassenach — had won 
 both amateur and open championships ; but 
 there was hope for her even then, for, as the 
 young lady assured us, she was learning to play 
 golf, and since she has had many a signal ven- 
 geance, wresting from England the championships 
 of her own game. Yet she has criticised, very 
 hardly, young England's methods of playing 
 golf. No doubt she has been right. She says 
 hard things and witty things about "the cult 
 of the biscuit box," and the English golfer 
 selling his soul somewhat even below its value 
 — Sassenach thing, though it be — for a few 
 points more in the handicap. There is some 
 truth in Scotland's criticism, no doubt, but it is 
 not all truth. She has rather gone ahead of the 
 truth. The Englishman does hunt the pot a 
 little more than is good for him, it may be. He 
 would be more ideal, as a golfer, if he were 
 content to play the game for its honour and its 
 glory and its half-crown. Sir Walter Simpson 
 has suggested the formation of a club — an 
 esoteric society — whose formula of initiation 
 should contain, amongst many others, the follow- 
 ing strange oaths and self-denying ordinances :
 
 t66 the golfing PILGRIM 
 
 That its members should play for no pot, and 
 should play at least three matches a year for 
 not less than five pounds each. It is this last 
 proviso that fills us with surprise. This, surely, 
 is not Scotch. " English, quite English, you 
 know," this reckless plunging appears. 
 
 But, after all, what is it that Scotland has 
 to criticise? The English golfer is a pot hunter, 
 Caledonia says. Let us discuss the manners, if 
 he has any, of the English golfer. He sits in 
 a club in the West End, or his office, in which 
 there is sometimes leisure, in the city, and in 
 foggy weather or holiday time it strikes him 
 that God made the country — including golf links 
 — and that man made the town. So he looks 
 in his Golf for the notices of meetings of 
 the different clubs of which he is a member, 
 and then, having focussed one which fits in 
 with the fog or holiday, he makes his arrange- 
 ments forthwith for pouncing down upon the 
 most suitable carcase. Then he goes down, in 
 a flock with other eagles, and fights with them 
 horribly over the carrion. This is the concep- 
 tion that the Scotsman has of the manners and 
 mannerlessness of the Sassenach golfer. But, 
 really, it is not all quite true. It is true that 
 golfers collect in flocks over the carcase, but, 
 indeed, it is not merely, or even mainly, the
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 167 
 
 carrion that attracts them. They go, not nearly 
 so much to rend the carcase, as to enter into 
 a friendly rivalry with the other eagles who 
 are gathered together — not a rivalry in which 
 the carcase is the ultimate prize, but a rivalry 
 to which their incentive is the valueless (to 
 gross hearts) bay leaf of glory. For consider 
 the nature of the unholy grail whose pursuit is 
 so condemned by Scotland. The ordinary golfing 
 prize is no precious article of vertu or objet de 
 luxe. Its worth is, generally, about a fiver. How 
 many fivers does the golfer not expend in the 
 pursuit? What a shockingly bad investment of 
 capital it is, if he really does all this travelling 
 and staying at hotels and purchase of golf clubs 
 and golf balls — to say nothing of the minor 
 matter of compounding with what he is pleased 
 to call his conscience — if the object of it all is 
 a very problematical five pound pot. It really 
 is a little in the nature of an insult to the finance 
 of the Sassenach to attribute to him such methods 
 as these. They are far enough removed from 
 those of Caledonia, and compare indifferently 
 even with the precipitous ways of Argentina 
 and her friends. 
 
 There was once a golfer who won a second 
 prize in a half-crown sweepstake. He realised 
 a sum of seven and sixpence. He asked the
 
 i68 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 committee of the club for permission to " add 
 to it, and buy something that he could keep." 
 (He did not often win second prizes in sweep- 
 stakes.) The committee accorded their gracious 
 permission, and the golfer added to the original 
 seven and sixpence fifty-nine pounds twelve and 
 sixpence. For sixty pounds he then bought a 
 golden eagle, of solid silver, as large as life, and 
 shows it with remarkable condescension as •' my 
 golf prize." 
 
 Surely ^there is nothing of the taint of filthy 
 lucre love in such a proceeding as this. It is 
 a vanity so innocent as to be clearly amiable. 
 
 So that it seems that we have a case for 
 submitting to Caledonia, and justification in 
 asking her to reconsider her verdict about the 
 Sassenach and his pot-hunting — more especially 
 as, with her native canniness, she has left her- 
 self that back door out of her dilemmas — the 
 attitude of " not proven," in which, nevertheless, 
 as Charles Lamb tells us, her sons are so un- 
 willing to abide. For when we come to make 
 any valuation and careful scrutiny, we find 
 that the golfing "pot," as a thing of value, 
 will " slowly and silently vanish away." In 
 fact, Caledonia, the pot " was a Boojum, you 
 
 see." 
 
 Any golfer will tell you so. Any who has
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 169 
 
 been engaged in this fascinating and, as we 
 maintain, almost perfectly innocent chase, will 
 join us in giving evidence that the " pot," even 
 when we have got him for our very own, will 
 always slowly and silently melt and vanish away, 
 engulphed in expenses, so as to leave, proportion- 
 ately, a profit account of 7s. 6d. against a loss of 
 some £S9y 12s. 6d. ; and if this is so of the pots 
 which we win, how much more of those even 
 more numerous ones which we pursue and miss. 
 These, yet more undeniably, are " Boojums " 
 unredeemed. 
 
 There are many valuable challenge prizes, it is 
 true, but these are the most veritable "Boojums" 
 of all. They live in the strong room of a bank 
 or in the house of the man who has been un- 
 fortunate enough to win them, and who trembles 
 every night lest the fire is coming down to 
 burn them, or the burglar to enterprise them 
 away. 
 
 Occasionally, a really valuable prize is given to 
 keep. It were much better that there should be 
 none of these. But most of them are not under 
 handicap conditions, so they demoralise, compara- 
 tively speaking, a few — not that great English 
 golfing army against whose rank and file Scotland 
 has levelled her scathing criticism that they have 
 been sworn into the service of the " pot."
 
 170 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 In the course of our pilgrimage we have en- 
 joyed some rather interesting, if idle, discussion 
 as to which, in the world of golf, is the most trying 
 hole. It is to be premised that the world of Golf 
 is limited to the world of reasonably good Golf, 
 for if the world of unreasonable Golf be included 
 there is a certain hole, on a course that shall be 
 nameless, for which the record minimum is 15. 
 And yet this would scarcely, after all, come under 
 the description of a severe hole, for the purposes 
 of the discussion raised. This is evident, for 
 among those holes that are mentioned as the 
 most severe is the Himalayas hole at Prestwick — 
 by no means a long one. Therefore it appears 
 that what is meant is a hole that presents great 
 opportunities for disaster ; not a hole that takes 
 many strokes to reach. Now there are no oppor- 
 tunities of disaster in this hole we know of for 
 which the minimum is 15, for there is no hazard 
 throughout the entire six hundred yards or more 
 of its length — or, it is only another way of look- 
 ing at the same fact, its whole length is con- 
 tinuous hazard. At all events, after the tee shot 
 you only want one other club all the way 
 through — the niblick— not excepting the putting 
 green. 
 
 So much depends on the way of looking at 
 things — the point of view ! And this is why we
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 171 
 
 hear men make such startlingly divergent state- 
 ments about this or that hole or h'nks. It all 
 depends on the point of view from which they 
 consider it : from one point of view a hole that 
 we ought to do in 3 may be a peculiarly danger- 
 ous one, by reason of the dire penalties that may 
 be entailed by any inaccuracy, while a hole for 
 which 6 is an extremely good figure may be 
 simplicity itself from the point of view of the 
 man who is considering perils by bunker. As 
 an instance "of the former class take a certain 
 cleek-shot hole at Archerfield, or, since Archer- 
 field is a private green, and not familiar to the 
 general, take any one of several of the holes 
 on the old North Berwick green, before its ex- 
 tension. For an instance of the other kind of 
 hole, the hole that is not bad in 7, and yet is 
 a simple hole, it only needs to mention the long 
 hole at Blackheath. 
 
 And what is true of holes is necessarily true 
 of links — which are, after all, but the hole multi- 
 plied by eighteen. There is a character of links 
 as of holes, and one hears disputes arise, as to 
 the relative difficulty of links, between two players 
 equally qualified, as it would seem, to judge, just 
 because they do not recognise fully enough that 
 their difference of opinion comes from the difTer- 
 ence in the character of the greens discussed.
 
 173 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 The discussion of the relative difficulty of links 
 is perhaps interesting and idle too, but there is 
 a measure of purpose in it, for if any man, about 
 to visit a new course, shall learn a fact or two 
 about its character from the discussion, he may 
 learn, at the same time, what kind of strokes he 
 ought to practise in order to negotiate the charac- 
 teristic features of the strange green. Thus it 
 will boot a man but little to waste his energies 
 on bringing to a high pitch of perfection his 
 running-up strokes with the putter when he is on 
 the point of visiting a green where no approach- 
 ing can be brought to any perfection without high 
 pitching. 
 
 Men argue till they are purple in the face and 
 sultry in the temper about the relative difficulties 
 of Sandwich and St Andrews,— the Sassenach, 
 as a rule, declaring that you can play all round 
 the St Andrews course (granted that you ever 
 cross the Burn) with a putter, while the Scot 
 is equally fervent in asseveration that Sandwich 
 (once you have driven a decent tee shot and 
 carried its bunkers) presents no further diffi- 
 culty, whereas, says he, see how each hole at 
 St Andrews is guarded. Those discussions are 
 always the most heated and longest lived, in 
 which each side is right. Therefore, this mode 
 of quarrelling will endure for ever, for, obviously
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 173 
 
 if a man cannot drive the Sandwich bunkers, 
 the course must be very much more difficult 
 for him than the St Andrews course. At St 
 Andrews there is a complete absence of bunkers 
 to be carried from the tee ; the accurate ap- 
 proach stroke is the important feature. Thus 
 it often happens that a man makes a good 
 score at St Andrews, though he be badly off 
 his driving — instances are not far to seek in 
 recent medal competitions of the Royal and 
 Ancient — but it is scarcely conceivable that the 
 same anomaly could occur at Sandwich. At 
 Sandwich he might do better to be a little "off" 
 his approaching, by which deficiency he would, 
 at St Andrews, suffer a deal more than from 
 weakness of the drive. The old North Berwick 
 course was an extreme instance of premium at- 
 taching to the approach play. It may almost 
 be said that the Golf consisted of nothing else. 
 You approached, or failed to approach, most of 
 the holes from the tee. 
 
 The severest course of all will of necessity be 
 that which taxes very highly both the approach- 
 ing and the driving — and in the approaching 
 must be understood as included such approach- 
 ing as is done with clubs as long as a driver, 
 not merely the short approaches. Of all the 
 courses within the writer's knowledge, he is in-
 
 174 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 clined to think Brancaster the most severe in 
 both these characters, needing good driving, to 
 be followed by strong and accurate second 
 strokes. The lengths of the holes are good — 
 it beats Sandwich in this particular. It re- 
 quires a good carrying ball from the tee in 
 most instances ; and in almost every case the 
 approach to the hole is guarded not merely by 
 a bunker, but by a precious bad and deep one. 
 The greens are not quite as good, perhaps, as 
 the Sandwich greens (let us be just, since odious 
 comparisons have been provoked), certainly not 
 so good as the very excellent greens of St 
 Andrews. 
 
 Another characteristic difference, seldom recog- 
 nised, depends on the gradients. Some courses 
 are a deal flatter than others, and on the flatter 
 greens a low ball will take you over the ground 
 as well as a higher one. This is a truth and a 
 truism in a calm ; but, supposing a high wind, a 
 low ball will take you over the ground, not only 
 as well, but a deal better. But it will not serve 
 you where you have to drive over great sand- 
 hills, as at Sandwich, at Prestwick, and, often, 
 at Brancaster. Westward Ho !, Muirfield, and St 
 Andrews seldom need the driving of a high ball. 
 Carnoustie more often requires it ; Luffness and 
 Gullane seldom, despite the " GuUane hill " ; and
 
 SCRAPS FROM THE SCRIP 175 
 
 the flattest of all, perhaps — where " wind-cheaters " 
 may be driven with best effect — is Hoylake. 
 Along its flat surfaces it seldom boots to drive 
 the ball more than a few feet above the ground ; 
 and at the autumn meeting, in 1896, when Mr 
 John Ball returned the wonderful score, which 
 surprised even himself, of ^6 in half a gale 
 of wind, he explained it to the writer by saying 
 that he "happened to be driving the right 
 sort of ball for the day — never above six feet 
 from the ground." At Hoylake you can do 
 this ; but at Sandwich, Prestwick, Newcastle 
 (County Down), and so on, these very low rak- 
 ing shots will not carry the sandhills. You are 
 bound to put the ball into the air. Therefore, 
 these latter greens are far harder, relatively, to 
 play in a high wind than the flatter greens ; 
 and this, too, is a feature of comparison that 
 commonly escapes notice. Unfortunately for 
 most of us, Mr John Ball very often, both on 
 the flat greens and the mountainous, "happens 
 to be driving the right sort of ball for the 
 day." 
 
 Thackeray is credited with the generous ob- 
 servation that " no dinner is bad, though some 
 dinners are better than others " ; but we claim 
 a mental reservation that he must have abused 
 his dinner now and then. However that may
 
 176 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 be, it is certain that, though no links are easy, 
 yet some are easier than others ; and it may 
 be a help to those who cannot agree about the 
 comparative hardships to analyse links into their 
 component features, and so find out the simple 
 factors that make up their difficulty.
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS IN THE WEST 
 
 TN the following chapters I have endeavoured 
 J- to give a picture of the spirit in which Golf 
 was accepted in England, after being intro- 
 duced on the glorious links of Westward Ho ! I 
 say this without any detraction from the honour 
 due to Blackheath as the oldest club, not only in 
 England, but the world. The game, however, 
 remained stationary there, and did not win prose- 
 lytes as it did when Englishmen first began to 
 play it on a seaside hnks. I need scarcely say 
 that the personages and details of the picture are 
 purely fanciful. Nothing, for instance, could bear 
 less resemblance to the winning personality of the 
 late young John Allan than the grotesque imag- 
 inary figure of "Old Blobb," yet I believe that 
 I have drawn a fairly faithful sketch of the venera- 
 tion with which we at Westward Ho ! regarded 
 the traditions of St Andrews, incarnated for us 
 in poor John Allan, as, for the persons of my 
 fiction in " Old Blobb." 
 
 There is no doubt that, under Providence, 
 England is indebted for her Golf to Colonel 
 
 M 177
 
 178 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 Burscough. Pebblecombe was the first links on 
 which Golf was played in England, for Blackheath 
 is not a links. Soon after we started the Pebble- 
 combe Golf Club, Colonel Burscough, who had 
 seen something of the game in Scotland, had a 
 professional down from St Andrews. He lodged 
 the man in a very nasty little cottage on his 
 property. There was a pond of greenish stagnant 
 water near the door, and some of us even ventured 
 to suggest to the Colonel that it was scarcely a fit 
 habitation for so good a golfer. The Colonel, 
 however, declared that it was quite good enough 
 for a "jammed scoundrel like Old Blobb," and that 
 we did not know what we were talking about. 
 
 Curiously enough, " Old Blobb," as the Colonel 
 alway called him (he was years younger than the 
 Colonel, and Blobb was not his name), seemed 
 quite pleased with his new home, and he and his 
 wife and two small boys lived there with great 
 satisfaction, and they all loved the Colonel very 
 dearly. 
 
 The Colonel, I ought to say, was a widower, 
 retired from the Indian Service. He had lost an 
 eye in his country's cause, but it was replaced by 
 an excellent imitation in glass. His face was 
 extremely red ; his hair and moustache strikingly 
 white. His whole appearance was all that could 
 be imagined that is most military — stout and up-
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 179 
 
 right. He had a volcanic temper, and a heart of 
 gold. His habitual costume was a tweed suit of 
 many colours, knickerbockers very loose and long 
 over the knee, stockings of a fine bold pattern, 
 and white spats. His cap was usually cocked at 
 an angle over the glass eye, giving an appearance 
 of remarkable ferocity. 
 
 The Colonel lived with Robert, his orphan 
 nephew, at the manor house of Little Pipkin, 
 some three miles out of Pebblecombe. It might 
 therefore be thought that " Old Blobb " was rather 
 far from the scene of his labours, but the Colonel's 
 zeal left nothing to be desired ; for every morning, 
 without fail — rain or shine — he would be seen 
 driving into Pebblecombe in a dogcart, with "Old 
 Blobb" on the seat beside him and the groom 
 behind. Then, during most of the morning, the 
 Colonel and "Old Blobb" would walk the links 
 together, condemning mole-hills and levelling 
 sheep-tracks, with the view of making of these 
 links a perfect work of art. 
 
 " It's been jammedly neglected, this links, 
 Blobb," he used to say, impressively, about once 
 every half-hour — "jammedly neglected; but I 
 mean to make it the finest links in the world." 
 To which " Old Blobb " invariably answered 
 gravely, taking his pipe from his mouth for the 
 occasion, " Ou aye."
 
 i8o THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 We had no regular club-house in Pebblecombe 
 then — early Victorian Golf was very primitive in 
 England — only just a room in a farmhouse border- 
 ing the links. I remember that it had a stone 
 floor sprinkled with sand ; but we could keep our 
 clubs and coats there, and drink whisky, and tell 
 each other what bad luck we had had — so what 
 did we want more ? But in those early days we 
 did not drink so much whisky. We had just the 
 same bad luck, however. It was largely " Old 
 Blobb" that taught us to drink whisky. To do 
 him justice, he was a very sober little man him- 
 self; but he told us that all good golfers drank 
 whisky, so we began to drink whisky too. 
 
 We were wonderfully unsophisticated. We had 
 a walk of about a mile over a rough common, 
 from the farmhouse with the sanded floor, to 
 the first tee. We used to trudge out there, 
 bending our backs to meet the wind, often with 
 a storm of hail pelting us. Then, when we 
 arrived, we would throw down our overcoats 
 beside the last hole and off we would go. We 
 had to leave our coats there, lying on the 
 ground, all the while we played the eighteen 
 holes ; but they were always safe. 
 
 Of course there were no flags in the holes, 
 but we knew about where the holes should be. 
 When we came within fair range, one or other
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS i8[ 
 
 would run on (it was seldom that we were able 
 to get caddies) and stick in one of his Golf 
 clubs as a signal post, then run back again and 
 play at it. The first couple to play over the 
 course for the day were expected to put in 
 crows' feathers, or any like marks for the benefit 
 of their followers. 
 
 Nobody used to play with an iron putter, nor 
 did people approach much with the iron ; but 
 we had a nice gradation of spoons. We began 
 with a driver, which we also called a play club. 
 Next to the driver was a grassed club — very 
 like the driver, but with its face very slightly 
 laid back — then came a long spoon, then a mid 
 spoon, then a short spoon, and then a bafting 
 spoon, or bafty. " Old Blobb " used to en- 
 courage us to play with all these clubs, though 
 he did not use nearly so many himself. But 
 we felt that we should be guilty if we failed to 
 possess ourselves of one of this finely graduated 
 series, and that Blobb would speak with less 
 respect of what we used most respectfully to 
 call our "game." It would have needed a very 
 delicate eye to distinguish between some of the 
 varieties — the driver, the grassed club, and the 
 long spoon — but we were extremely dogmatic 
 in those days of extreme ignorance. 
 
 " Sir, I maintain that you ought to have taken
 
 i82 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 the grassed club," we would say to a partner 
 who had failed us. 
 
 "Not at all, sir. I insist that that was a lie 
 for a long spoon." 
 
 When we came in we used to lay the case 
 before Blobb, with a considerable difference in 
 our several descriptions of the lie. Blobb was 
 a very diplomatic man. He used to listen to 
 the one party with a bland smile, wagging his 
 head with immense intelligence. When the 
 speaker had finished, Blobb would take his pipe 
 from his mouth and say, with a chuckle, " Ou 
 aye." Then it was the turn of the other party. 
 Blobb listened with the same bland smile and the 
 same wise wagging of the intelligent head, and at 
 the end he again took his pipe from his mouth 
 and said " Ou aye," with identical intonation. 
 
 Then the parties left him, perfectly satisfied, 
 but with an added element of discord between 
 them, for each was utterly convinced that " Old 
 Blobb " had agreed with him only to the con- 
 fusion of the absurd contentions of the other. 
 It was Blobb's great merit, as an oracle, that 
 he so seldom expressed an opinion. Nobody 
 could point to an occasion on which he could 
 say that Blobb had been wrong. It did not 
 occur to us that it was equally difficult to find 
 an occasion on which Blobb had been right.
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 183 
 
 His attitude through life was one of inspired 
 neutrality and non-committal. 
 
 Personally, Blobb was not an attractive man. 
 He was extraordinarily like a gnome. Indeed, 
 he had spent much of his life underground, min- 
 ing in the neighbourhood of Musselburgh, and 
 very probably he had brought up with him 
 some queer power of terrestrial magnetism. His 
 head was very large and square, his body also 
 square, and about the same size as his head. 
 His legs were thin and bowed. His hair was 
 remarkably black and straight, but rather scanty, 
 and this applied equally to his beard and mous- 
 tache. His face had rather the appearance of 
 having a large claret mark all over it, but his 
 features were not ill-formed, and his large eyes 
 were open, honest and kindly. Mrs Blobb and 
 the little Blobbs loved him affectionately. 
 
 Such was Blobb, and we took him as our con- 
 science. Misshapen as the little creature was, he 
 was a remarkably fine golfer. We all thought 
 him the very finest golfer in the world, and 
 nothincf that Blobb told us tended to disabuse 
 us of this opinion. Moreover, he had been to St 
 Andrews, and we had a veneration that was 
 almost superstitious for a man who had been 
 there. Not only had Blobb been there, but 
 he had scarcely been anywhere else.
 
 i84 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 " Have you ever been to London, Blobb ? " 
 Colonel Burscough told us that he had asked 
 him, before he brought the little man to Pebble- 
 combe. 
 
 " NaV' Blobb had answered, simply (they were 
 at St Andrews then), — " Na', but I've been to 
 Musselbrae, an' I've been to Pairth." 
 
 Blobb could talk familiarly, as of personal ac- 
 quaintance, of " Old Tom " and " Young Tommy," 
 and Admiral this and Sir Robert that — names 
 which inspired us with reverence for Blobb — that 
 he should ever have even spoken to the great 
 originals. As it seemed, however, he had done 
 far, far more than this — he had played Golf with 
 them — it had even happened to him, occasionally, 
 to have beaten them. But chiefly he regaled us 
 with stories of their wonderful feats of driving or 
 steadiness, adding a little postscript of his vic- 
 tories over them, upon which victories his previous 
 generosity in praise shed a glorious lustre. 
 
 We modelled ourselves upon "Old Blobb" in 
 all possible particulars. We imitated, very in- 
 effectually, his swing. When a golfing problem 
 presented itself, we said to ourselves, " Now, how 
 would ' Old Blobb ' play this ? What club would 
 he take to it .? " 
 
 Even when we did not put the question to our- 
 selves thus directly there was always an uncon-
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 185 
 
 scious reference in our minds to " Old Blobb's " 
 opinion. Sometimes we startled ourselves in dis- 
 covering this result of our introspection ; and we 
 confessed as much, sotto voce, to one another. We 
 even carried into other departments of life this 
 sincerest flattery of " Old Blobb." In church (he 
 always attended church) on Sunday morning, with 
 his wife and the two little Blobbs, all singing 
 lustily, I found myself copying " Old Blobb's " 
 manner of holding his hymn-book, and his general 
 attitude. We consulted "Old Blobb" on the 
 correct cut of golfing garments, the number of 
 nails which it was advisable to have in one's 
 boots, and the way in which it was best to have 
 those boots made. I really think we often, in 
 secret, grieved that we were not made in the 
 extraordinary proportions which distinguished 
 "Old Blobb." 
 
 Before "Old Blobb" came among us we had 
 always looked to Colonel Burscough as our great 
 oracle. For the Colonel had been to St Andrews 
 too — as he took very good care to let us know — 
 but of course he had not had the remarkable advan- 
 tage possessed by Blobb of having been born and 
 bred there. But in everything the Colonel was 
 careful to speak of St Andrews as the standard, 
 with an implied superiority which we fully ad- 
 mitted, to us who had not been there.
 
 i86 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 " They say at St Andrews," the Colonel would 
 observe impressively, when his partner in a four- 
 some was short in his putt, " that the hole will not 
 come to you." 
 
 " ' Never up, never in,' as they say at St 
 Andrews," was another ever-ready axiom which 
 he often applied on the same very familiar 
 occasion. 
 
 But, of course, as oracle, he, immediately on the 
 appearance of " Old Blobb," took second place. 
 We all felt it to be very generous and large-minded 
 of the Colonel to have been at the trouble of 
 bringing " Old Blobb " all the way from Scotland 
 for the general behoof, when he must have known 
 how much he was doing to eclipse his own glory. 
 Of course, we never uttered any such sentiments, 
 but unconsciously they were at the heart of each 
 of us, and tended to raise, if that were possible, our 
 opinion of the Colonel. 
 
 You must not suppose that we played with 
 feather balls. That age was past before Golf got 
 any hold on England, save for Blackheath. We 
 began in the early gutta-percha age. The "mashie," 
 of course, had not yet been heard of, and we even 
 looked upon a man with some suspicion — as a 
 Radical — who used a niblick. It was then com- 
 paratively lately that the niblick had been evolved 
 out of the sand iron.
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 187 
 
 " Old Blobb " supplied us with clubs. He had 
 brought a great many down with him, and we 
 bought them all up directly, and showed them to 
 each other with grave pride, quoting the rare 
 eulogiums, which nothing but his own play, or 
 something for which he wanted a purchaser, 
 could win from his lips. 
 
 " ' Old Blobb ' told me that he thought this was 
 the finest shaft of all those he brought with him 
 from St Andrews," you would hear a member say 
 as he exhibited a new driver. 
 
 On comparison, we found that " Old Blobb " 
 had said this of a good many of the clubs he had 
 sold us ; but this did not diminish his credit as an 
 oracle, for each one of us believed that to him 
 " Old Blobb " had spoken the truth, and each was 
 secretly a little flattered to have been taken, as 
 it were, into the oracle's confidence for the delu- 
 sion of the less favoured. 
 
 Professor Fleg mentioned to " Old Blobb " that 
 the same form of praise which he had bestowed 
 on a recent purchase of the Professor's had also 
 been bestowed on a weapon in the hands of 
 Captain Saxby. 
 
 " A weel. Professor," " Old Blobb " replied, " he's 
 just a puir sailor buddy, ye ken ; het's no just fair 
 to launch him oot wi'oot confidence i' his timbers." 
 
 Colonel Burscough actually had a shaft which
 
 i88 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 had been made by Hugh Philp, the prince of all 
 club-makers. We all considered it a great favour 
 when the Colonel handed us this club and allowed 
 us to " waggle " it for our edification and instruc- 
 tion. No one among us dared to criticise the 
 club. We should have thought great scorn of 
 the man whose sense of criticism was not utterly 
 overpowered by his joy in the creation. The 
 awe-struck ejaculation of a single adjective, such 
 as " Marvellous ! " or " Miraculous ! " was the 
 utmost to which we could trust ourselves, as we 
 handed the club back, with reverent care, to the 
 Colonel. As St Andrews was the standard to 
 which the Colonel referred everything in Golf, so 
 did this club of the Colonel's become our standard 
 of excellence by which we measured less ideal 
 efforts. 
 
 If " Old Blobb," as occasionally happened when 
 he was playing very well, so far favoured us as to 
 take from our hand a club recently bought from 
 his stock, and after a knowing waggle, to remark, 
 " Eh, het's a braw club, yon," then we would 
 sometimes presume to answer, " Yes, Blobb, there 
 is a spring in it near the whipping, something like 
 the Colonel's club, don't you think ? " (there was 
 no need to specify the club further). And Blobb 
 would always reply, " Ou, aye, het's that," and 
 then relapse into his taciturnity.
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 189 
 
 I have since grown to know that the ckibs 
 which " Old Blobb " sold us were most parlous 
 bad ones. They were not particularly badly 
 made, though even in this they were not ideal, 
 but the material was abominable, the wood was 
 green, the horn was always cracking, the lead was 
 always coming out, the glue was always giving 
 way. But we never knew that they were bad 
 clubs — it is one of those lost illusions which I 
 regret, that "Old Blobb" supplied us with the 
 very best clubs, next to the masterpieces of Hugh 
 Philp, that a golfer ever handled. Now we know 
 better, and we do not play with " Old Blobb's " 
 clubs, — but neither, alas ! do we play with so 
 much pleasure. 
 
 At first " Old Blobb " had not very much to do 
 in the way of making clubs, for it took us some 
 little time, though the clubs were such as they 
 were, to use up the stock he had brought with 
 him ; but he used to perform wonderful surgical 
 operations on the broken limbs and heads in a 
 little shed adjoining the cottage at Little Pipkin. 
 He used to trudge away home in the evening, 
 laden with a bundle of cripples, which used to 
 come up fairly active in the morning. He rather 
 encouraged a disposition which was very strong 
 in all of us to keep an old club going so long as 
 it could look a ball fairly in the face at all. It
 
 190 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 involved less cost of raw material, so that all the 
 pay went to the workman. He was almost a 
 genius at this kind of club cobbling. He would 
 fix in a loose lead with a screw. If the horn 
 was coming off, pushed out by the wet getting 
 in between horn and wood, he would rivet it 
 again by driving tin tacks into the pegs by way 
 of wedges. In all such things as leather faces 
 and long splices he was unequalled. 
 
 Now and again, on great occasions and under 
 strenuous persuasion, he would make a club for 
 one of us. Then (it was not part of the bargain, 
 but it was tacitly understood on both sides that 
 it was the graceful and proper thing to do), we 
 used to go over to Little Pipkin for the special 
 purpose of seeing " Old Blobb " at work on our 
 club. The room used to smell very strongly of 
 pitch, used for the twine which whipped head 
 and staff together, and of melted gutta percha. 
 These were the salient smells — the associations 
 which endeared it to us as golfers. But there 
 were also the ordinary smells arising from " Old 
 Blobb's" tobacco and from the green oozy pond 
 just outside. In this room we used to stand 
 and watch " Old Blobb " fashion the club, from 
 the earliest processes of planing down the shaft 
 and shaping the head, down to the running in 
 of the lead, the joining of head and shaft to-
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 191 
 
 gether, and the fixing of the horn. The vigil 
 was a solemn thing— a kind of silent prayer, 
 such as a savage might breathe while the arrow- 
 maker was chipping the flints for his arrow- 
 heads. Sometimes "Old Blobb" would let us 
 take the half-finished club in our hands to see 
 how it felt. It was a pure formality. We never 
 dared, or indeed cared, to make any adverse 
 criticism, for we knew that "Old Blobb" would 
 have disregarded it. 
 
 When the club was finished we used to walk 
 back very proudly to Pebblecombe with it, taking 
 tremendous care not to touch the still liquid 
 varnish on the pitched twine. But sometimes 
 " Old Blobb " did not so far favour us as to 
 work on our club, even when we had taken the 
 trouble to come out from Pebblecombe. He 
 would say, perhaps : " Eh, but I've an awfu' 
 sicht o' ba's to mak' the noo," and he would 
 sit on his bench turning with finger and thumb 
 the ball, which was held in a semi-circular 
 wooden concavity, while he plied with the other 
 hand a hammer, of which one side of the head 
 was worked out into a broad chisel-like tail. 
 With this he could nick a ball all over most 
 symmetrically in two-and-a-half minutes. All 
 balls were hand-hammered in those days, one 
 at a time.
 
 192 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 And the gutta-percha was as bad as the clubs. 
 The ball used to flatten visibly after each drive. 
 " Old Blobb " would not allow us to say this. 
 He insinuated that it was all our fancy. With 
 the balls that he played with he was remark- 
 ably cunning, for he always examined them 
 carefully before teeing them, so as to place 
 them with their most salient bump facing [the 
 club-head. In this way he would beat a ball 
 quite round again after it had looked like a 
 potato. It was but another of the great gifts 
 which we revered in "Old Blobb." 
 
 We used to have superstitions about golf balls. 
 Occasionally we got hold of one which seemed 
 to know by instinct its way into the hole. 
 Then we would pocket it affectionately and 
 carry it about with us for weeks, and put it 
 down just for a hole or two at the very crisis 
 of the match until it got black with age and 
 careworn, and had long ceased to be fit to 
 play with. But this, too, we had learned from 
 " Old Blobb," so that our conscience was at 
 peace about it. 
 
 Certainly Colonel Burscough had gone down 
 in our estimation, as an oracle, since the appear- 
 ance of " Old Blobb." In another way, how- 
 ever, he commanded from us even an added 
 respect — he knew Blobb so intimately well !
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 193 
 
 About five days a week, upon an average, they 
 used to play in singles, " Old Blobb " giving 
 the Colonel a stroke a hole. On these occasions 
 all was not always peace between them, though 
 it is true that the war was all on one side. But 
 often the Colonel, in his volcanic wrath, would 
 seize " Old Blobb " by the coat collar and 
 throw him upon the ground and stamp upon 
 him. "Old Blobb" never made the slightest 
 remonstrance. He lay quite still till the 
 Colonel had done with him, then he rose up 
 and shook himself like a little dog, whom a 
 big dog has charged and rolled over, and the 
 match continued as if nothing had happened. 
 Of course it was no action on Blobb's part 
 which called down this condign punishment — it 
 was merely his own bad play that roused the 
 Colonel's wrath. He admitted it himself. He 
 never pretended that he blamed Blobb at all ; 
 only he punished him for playing so much 
 better than he could play. It never seemed to 
 occur to either of them that " Old Blobb " could 
 have any cause for complaint about it. Indeed 
 we used to think that he took it rather as a 
 compliment. 
 
 One day when the Colonel was playing very 
 badly, and " Old Blobb " was a good many 
 holes up, the former said he believed that the 
 
 N
 
 194 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 clothes Blobb wore had something to do with 
 it: ," It's that jammed coat of yours, I beHeve, 
 Blobb ; take it off, and let me see if I can 
 play in it." 
 
 Of course Blobb said, " Ou aye." So they 
 exchanged coats and played out the round so. 
 The Colonel was very much taller than Blobb, 
 but the little man was so fearfully and wonder- 
 fully made that his coat was not much too 
 narrow for the Colonel's swelling chest. But 
 then it was indescribably too short. It was so 
 short that it did not look like a coat at all. 
 It was shorter for the Colonel than the shortest 
 of Eton jackets looks on the biggest and fattest 
 prefect. 
 
 On the other hand,, the Colonel's coat, while 
 it lay fairly well on " Old Blobb's " square 
 shoulders, hung straight down, like a monk's 
 gown without the cincture, to his heels. His 
 foot just came out from under it when he 
 stepped forward, then disappeared again beneath 
 it. He looked marvellously like Noah in some 
 of those wooden figures of the inmates of the 
 ark. But the Colonel did not win the match. 
 
 Of course the Colonel was our best player, 
 after " Old Blobb." No one ever dreamed of 
 questioning that. When we started for any 
 match the " honour " was always accorded to
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS i95 
 
 the Colonel "as an old St Andrews player." 
 In point of fact he had not played much at 
 St Andrews, but it was just so much more than 
 any of the others. 
 
 The Pebblecombe course in those days was 
 rather a sociable one. It turned this way and 
 that, so that you were constantly seeing some- 
 thing of the other players. It was not like some 
 of those all-round-in-a-circle links, where you have 
 no company but your own match from start to 
 finish. We had nice opportunities of seeing each 
 other's play— and we were very critical. "Poor 
 old Saxby," we would say, " he will never play so 
 long as he goes on in that cramped style of his. 
 I asked ' Old Blobb ' yesterday if it were not so 
 and he said ' Ou aye.' " 
 
 Or perhaps it would be Professor Fleg whose 
 performance we were watching — then " Too much 
 science," we would say, "too much science. I 
 really think our learned friend a little overdoes 
 it. I spoke about him only this morning to ' Old 
 Blobb,' and he said, ' Ou, aye.' " 
 
 For Professor Fleg had taken the game up in a 
 very remarkable way. He was a very learned 
 man, but anatomy was his special branch of 
 knowledge. All his life had been devoted to 
 science, and he proposed to approach the game 
 of Golf from a scientific standpoint, deducing its
 
 196 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 practice from first principles. We were not alto- 
 gether sure about Professor Fleg in this matter; 
 it all seemed a little unorthodox. Our first prin- 
 ciple, a fully sufficing one, was incarnated in " Old 
 Blobb," and we could not understand the necessity 
 of looking further ; indeed, we thought it distinctly 
 wrong. We had to make allowances for Mr Fleg, 
 however, in this as in other things. He did not go 
 to church, and this we could only overlook in con- 
 sideration of the long study he had given to bodies, 
 and its probable materialising influence on the soul. 
 But though we were thus far tolerant, we let him 
 fully understand how truly thankful each and all 
 of us were that we were not learned men. With 
 this implied rebuke we satisfied our consciences. 
 
 And now we had to adopt a similar attitude 
 towards Professor Fleg's method of learning Golf. 
 He had in his room a very fine human skeleton, 
 nicely hinged and jointed. He would inveigle 
 "Old Blobb" up to this study of his, and there 
 get the little man to attitudinise, golf club in 
 hand, while the Professor bent into a more or 
 less similar position the creaking limbs of the 
 skeleton. 
 
 " I propose, my dear sir," the Professor had said 
 to " Old Blobb," in his manner of the grand old 
 school of courtesy, " I propose to take up each 
 club in turn, and so become master of the game
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 197 
 
 in detail. I shall commence, my dear sir, with 
 the putter." 
 
 So « Old Blobb " said " Ou, aye," and got him- 
 self into position for putting ; and the skeleton 
 creaked piteously while the Professor tortured it 
 into an attitude somewhat resembling Blobb's, and 
 finally the Professor wedged himself down, too, 
 into a like attitude, and there were the three — the 
 gnome, the skeleton, and the sage — as if they had 
 all begun to "putt" at the word of command. 
 " Will you be kind enough to inform me, my 
 dear sir," the Professor would then say to Blobb, 
 "whether the figure is now in the correct 
 attitude." 
 
 And Blobb would say, " Ou, aye," and the Pro- 
 fessor would let him go. But after he was gone 
 the Professor would prolong the seance, tete-a-tete 
 with the skeleton, often for an hour or more. By 
 the morning he had tortured the figure into an 
 entirely new attitude, and had evolved an equally 
 new theory about putting, deduced from first prin- 
 ciples, which he communicated with very great 
 courtesy and at vast length to " Old Blobb." 
 "Old Blobb" said " Ou, aye," and the Professor 
 came among us and told us that he had discovered 
 the secret of putting, which Blobb, " a man of more 
 than average intelligence, my dear sir," had fully 
 comprehended (when explained), and with which
 
 198 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 he had cordially agreed. Was it to be wondered 
 at that we congratulated ourselves on our tolerance 
 that we accepted these radical tendencies as the 
 forgiveable and inevitable accompaniment of vast 
 learning ? 
 
 But there was one among those whose swings 
 we watched as they approached us on the round 
 who rather baffled our criticism. This was young 
 Robert Burscough. We used to see his ball go 
 skimming away, as if it had wings, over bunkers 
 which we could never hope to carry. We used to 
 watch this wonderingly. The wretch was such a 
 stripling — his little wrist looked as if it must break 
 if it tried to waggle a full-sized club ; yet the ball 
 flew like a swallow from his driver. We none of 
 us quite knew how well the boy did play. We did 
 not take him into any of our matches. "It is 
 not a boy's game," Colonel Burscough said 
 when we proposed taking Bob into a match. 
 "You never see a boy playing in a match at 
 St Andrews." 
 
 So Bob Burscough was ostracised as a golfer, 
 though he was a nice boy. But he used to play 
 with " Old Blobb " in the evenings. Then we used 
 to ask " Old Blobb " how he played, and " Old 
 Blobb " used to reply, " Eh, he's the makin's o' a 
 gran' player, yon " — but as there were few of us 
 on whom Blobb had not passed a like eulogium
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 199 
 
 this did not indicate very exactly his place in our 
 golfing hierarchy. 
 
 Still, that he could drive farther than most of us 
 was undeniable. If one of us wished to make an 
 opponent press a little we used to say, "I saw 
 young Bob Burscough drive a tremendous ball 
 here yesterday ; he carried that further bed of 
 rushes," But, as a rule, we made it our study to 
 ignore his driving. We left off looking at him, 
 finding, instead, some great preoccupation close 
 at hand. When we spoke of him at all we said, 
 " A boy is always so uncertain in the short game," 
 Afterwards I found out that this was diametrically 
 opposed to facts ; but I don't think we were to be 
 blamed for knowing no better, because none of us 
 had ever seen a boy play. 
 
 One night there was a dinner party at Mrs 
 Eccleston's, Our dinner parties were quite small, 
 homely gatherings. We all knew each other. The 
 carving was done on the dinner-table. 
 
 Mrs Eccleston was a widow, but her husband 
 had been dead so long that she had ceased to 
 mourn very fiercely for him. Indeed, he must 
 have found many compensations in going to any 
 other world than that in which Mrs Eccleston 
 existed. Miss Mary Eccleston, however, her 
 daughter, was charming. 
 
 Of course our talk was principally of Golf
 
 200 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 "Who do you think is the best player here 
 —I mean, of course, after Mr Blobb?" Miss 
 Eccleston asked, with the charming insolence 
 of youth. 
 
 " My dear, my dear," said Mrs Eccleston, bowing 
 and mincing with innumerable affectations from 
 the head of the table, " what can you be thinking 
 of? Surely you do not forget that the Colonel" 
 — with a bow to Colonel Burscough, who sat on 
 her right hand — " has been to St Andrews ! " Her 
 emphasis upon the saint's name was most im- 
 pressive." 
 
 " ' Old Blobb ' told me that Bob could beat him 
 any day," said Miss Mary sturdily, rather forgetting, 
 in the spirit of combativeness, her best company 
 way of talking. 
 
 " ' Old Blobb,' my dear Mary! " said Mrs Eccles- 
 ton, with a shudder of horror, " That horrid man ! 
 I am sure nothing that that man said could pos- 
 sibly be true." 
 
 "Oh, jam it all, my dear Madam," the Colonel 
 exclaimed, generously bursting out when he heard 
 his old friend thus attacked, " Jam it all, you must 
 not say that. He's a most excellent fellow, I 
 assure you, my dear Madam, though — hum — heh 
 — ha, what in the world he meant by saying that, I 
 cannot conceive. Are you sure, my dear Miss 
 Mary," he continued, turning to Miss Eccleston,
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 201 
 
 "are you sure that that is what our old friend 
 said ? Did you not misunderstand the words, 
 eh?" 
 
 " Oh, no, Colonel Burscough ; really I am sure 
 I didn't. You see it is so very seldom that Old 
 — I mean that Mr Blobb — says anything, that it 
 is quite easy to remember all he says." 
 
 " I should think it is — yes. Hum, yes, jammed 
 old scoundrel ! " the Colonel muttered under his 
 breath. 
 
 There was a very painful little pause when this 
 interchange of remarks was over. We all felt 
 considerably shocked — first that anybody should 
 have dared even to report such words as coming 
 from Blobb's mouth, and, secondly, we were much 
 shocked to find that it was possible for anyone to 
 speak of " Old Blobb " as Mrs Eccleston had 
 spoken of him. Of course we knew that she 
 was an affected, foolish woman, but still, to dare 
 
 to speak so of " Old Blobb " ! It was beyond 
 
 words. Perhaps it was most painful of all to poor 
 Bob Burscough, who was dining, and who sat 
 through the discussion silent and ashamed, and 
 with burning cheeks. We wondered what he 
 would say about it to Miss Eccleston afterwards, 
 for they were great friends ; and we wondered, 
 too, what the Colonel would say to "Old Blobb" 
 about it.
 
 202 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 At first we all told each other that Miss 
 Mary must have been mistaken about the words. 
 Then a horrid doubting spirit crept in to take 
 the heart out of this wholesome conviction, and 
 we began to wonder whether " Old Blobb," by- 
 some accident, in a rare moment of thought- 
 lessness, really might have said so. Finally 
 the most horrid doubt of all suggested itself 
 — could " Old Blobb " not only have said it, but 
 could it, even by the barest possibility, be 
 true .'' 
 
 This was indeed the ultimate phase of scepti- 
 cism. After this, what belief could we possess 
 unmarred ? 
 
 The day of this dinner party at Mrs Eccles- 
 ton's marked an epoch. From that day we 
 began to watch Bob Burscough's play more 
 openly. If "Old Blobb" could have suggested 
 such a comparison as Miss Eccleston had in- 
 dicated, what shame need we feel in seeing 
 the boy perform feats which we could not 
 rival ? The more we observed of his game, 
 the more horridly reasonable did that, our last 
 phase of scepticism, appear. It was not diffi- 
 cult to believe that "Old Blobb" might really 
 have said of him that his uncle "would not be 
 in it." 
 
 Then we began to palliate this horrid view by
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 203 
 
 telling each other that Bob's talent must be in- 
 herited. " Wonderful ! " we would exclaim, as 
 we saw his ball soar over the bunkers, "wonder- 
 ful ; he must get it from his uncle." 
 
 Then we used to compliment the Colonel 
 vicariously on his nephew's skill. " It is easy to 
 see whose pupil he has been," we used to say, 
 until the Colonel began to take a pride in Bob's 
 prowess which he had never shown before. He 
 used to take him into matches sometimes, gene- 
 rally as his partner, always, however, striking off 
 at the holes which gave the longest carries and 
 giving Bob the short ones. It never suggested 
 itself to us that any other arrangement would 
 be proper. The only chance that any of us 
 had against such a combination, however, lay 
 in taking "Old Blobb " into partnership. Then 
 we generally managed to win. Indeed, we had 
 a belief that it was, humanly speaking, almost 
 impossible for Blobb to be beaten, even in a 
 foursome, and he did much to justify it. He 
 would say, "Eh, I'm thinkin', Mr So -and -So, 
 thet you and me'd mak' just a gran' match wi' 
 the Cornel and Maister Robert." 
 
 It was not always the same Mr So-and-So to 
 whom Blobb made this suggestion. At the time 
 we did not realise the principles on which he 
 made his selection ; but I have since suspected
 
 204 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 that it was on the principle of selection of the 
 fittest. I am pretty sure that he carefully 
 watched to see which of us were playing fairly 
 steadily, and would choose as a partner the man 
 who was playing most nearly what he considered 
 his "game." 
 
 Miss Mary Eccleston took a remarkable interest 
 in the games in which Bob was concerned. This 
 gave no particular occasion for comment, because 
 they had been like brother and sister since they 
 were quite little things. But Miss Eccleston had 
 been told that at St Andrews there were ladies' 
 links. She asked Colonel Burscough if this were 
 not the case, and when he had answered in the 
 affirmative she told him that he could never 
 rightly call Pebblecombe the " St Andrews of the 
 South " — a name which in moments of somewhat 
 irreverent levity he had been heard to give it — 
 until he had provided it with a ladies' links. 
 Miss Eccleston was a great favourite with the 
 Colonel, and she did not allow him peace till he 
 had promised that a links should be laid out under 
 the Argus eye of Blobb. Blobb was something of 
 a ladies' man, and his heart had been captured by 
 Miss Eccleston through the medium of certain 
 baskets of fruit and tins of beef tea, which the 
 young lady had been in the habit of personally 
 conducting to the cottage in Little Pipkin, when
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 205 
 
 the little Blobbs were convalescent from the scarlet 
 fever. 
 
 Now, hitherto, amongst us there had reigned 
 comparative peace. We had been of the number 
 of those happy people whose annals are dull. But 
 with the establishment of the ladies' links there 
 came a great spirit of discord ; Miss Eccleston 
 laid siege to old Blobb, and soon induced him to 
 give a great deal of time to the laying-out of the 
 ladies' links. Hence there arose rows and rumours 
 of rows amongst those of the men who said 
 that Blobb was not working as he ought to 
 work upon the long links. The ladies' links, in 
 fact, became a great casus belli, and in some un- 
 fortunate instances the arena of the contest ; 
 but the bitterest feud of all, which was there 
 fought out, had its origin, singularly, in a 
 monkey. 
 
 The monkey was the property of Professor Fleg. 
 Professor Fleg was an anatomist — a comparative 
 anatomist, it should be observed. It was with the 
 view of studying the comparative structure of man 
 and his forefather that Mr Fleg first became the 
 proud owner of Mr Johnson. Mr Johnson was the 
 monkey's name, and Mr Johnson was a married 
 man — there was also a Mrs Johnson. Mr Johnson 
 was not beautiful, but he was better — he was good. 
 He was an affectionate husband, in the absence of
 
 2o6 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 any rival to Mrs Johnson in his affection, and in 
 fact he had so many merits that it appeared to Mr 
 Fleg not impossible that, with patience — which is 
 always needed for that great study — he might 
 learn to play Golf Professor Fleg went further, 
 he not only said that Mr Johnson might learn 
 to play Golf, but he maintained that the style, the 
 purely natural style, which Mr Johnson would 
 evolve, would necessarily be the ideal (because 
 the natural primitive and unspoiled) style in 
 which man, his degenerate descendant, ought to 
 golf. 
 
 " You will observe, my dear sir," said Mr Fleg, 
 " that my friend, Mr Johnson, is what I may term 
 the natural man. He is physically unspoiled by 
 our nineteenth century civilisation." (He had not 
 even had a chance of reading the Badminton book 
 on Golf) "Doubtless we shall see in him the 
 perfect, because the perfectly natural, golfer. It 
 remains only in doubt whether I shall be able 
 to impart to him a knowledge of the intri- 
 cacies and the beauties of the Royal and Ancient 
 Game." 
 
 We all had so profound a confidence in the 
 Professor's knowledge and skill, that we doubted 
 not of his ability to impart these great truths to 
 Mr Johnson. We even envied the latter the ad- 
 vantages he enjoyed from his close and constant
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 207 
 
 companionship with Mr Fleg. But at first the 
 pupil made but ungrateful progress. Mr Johnson 
 was immensely pleased with the little club which 
 Old Blobb, by the Professor's direction, had made 
 for him, but he used it for every possible purpose 
 except the right one. He used it as a walking- 
 stick, as a toothpick, as an assegai. Once it 
 inspired him with such sudden rage (which seems 
 very human when we consider that the instrument 
 was a golf club) as to make him forget his usual 
 virtue and courtesy, and give his wife a very severe 
 beating with it — apparently for no sufficient cause. 
 Professor Fleg undertook the responsibility of 
 interfering between man and wife, and for a 
 while Mr Johnson was not permitted the use or 
 the abuse of his golf club. 
 
 The truth is that domestic matters in the 
 Johnson family were nearing a crisis, and about 
 a fortnight after the beating, Mrs Johnson had 
 a baby. This innocent baby was the first occasion 
 of one of the bitterest feuds which has ever 
 vexed the tranquillity of Pebblecombe. 
 
 Mrs Eccleston, a woman of kind heart but 
 infinite afi'ectations, had taken into that which 
 did duty with her for a brain the idea that it 
 would be an artistic success if she were to be 
 seen lavishing all sorts of petits soins upon that 
 curious imitation of humanity, the baby Johnson.
 
 2o8 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 For she belonged to that large class of women 
 who are always thinking of the stage-effect of 
 their actions, playing more or less consciously 
 to a gallery — the class of women who want to 
 write a book or keep a bonnet shop or a livery 
 stable. She was always trying to appear literary 
 or cultured or philanthropic — anything, in fact, 
 which she was not ; and into each of these 
 motives there really did mingle a slight taste 
 for the pursuits which she affected, impart- 
 ing a measure of security which made the affec- 
 tation so much the more specious. It was 
 in the spirit of mingled self-consciousness and 
 philanthropy that she " took up " little Master 
 Johnson. She assured Mr Fleg that it was 
 impossible, nay, even almost indelicate, to suppose 
 that a bachelor, even though he were a professor 
 of anatomy, could know how to deal with the 
 peculiar domestic circumstances beneath his roof. 
 She spent much of her time — more perhaps than 
 Mr Fleg fully appreciated — in running in and 
 out of his house, to see to the wants of little 
 Master Johnson. It was in vain that Mr Fleg 
 suggested the impolicy of such interference with 
 the maternal methods of Mrs Johnson. "Are 
 the many thousand years of evolution to go 
 for nothing," Mrs Eccleston plaintively asked, 
 " that Mrs Johnson should be considered equally
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 209 
 
 capable, as a mother, with a woman of the 
 nineteenth century ? " 
 
 This was an appeal to Mr Fleg's love of 
 science to which he could oppose nothing but 
 the most courteous hints, to all of which Mrs 
 Eccleston, who was fond of the society of " a 
 man of intellectual attainments," as she rightly 
 described Mr Fleg, presented a sweet, wilful 
 blindness which nothing could perturb. There- 
 fore Mr Fleg, sorely tried by the perpetual 
 sweetness of Mrs Eccleston's presence in his 
 house, could bethink him of no better plan 
 than to make a present to the kind lady of 
 the cause of all her kind assiduity. So, little 
 Master Johnson, having arrived, most pre- 
 cociously, at such an age as to be able to feed 
 himself, Mr Fleg determined to give him away 
 to the lady who took so great an interest in 
 him. This he was the more ready to do, be- 
 cause Mr Johnson began to show a jealous 
 disposition, and to resent the natural affection 
 which, as he seemed to think, Mrs Johnson had 
 sufficiently lavished upon their child. The 
 offer was made to Mrs Eccleston in such a 
 way that she could not fail to express her 
 appreciative acceptance of it, and Mr Fleg at 
 length thought that he saw his way towards 
 regaining peace both for his own domestic 
 
 O
 
 2IO THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 circle and for that of his Johnson dependents, 
 when circumstances, most unkindly, suggested 
 to him a joke. 
 
 It so happened that neither Mr nor Mrs 
 Johnson was the possessor of a tail. Some 
 bare six inches — scarcely enough to measure 
 a stimie — was the utmost extent of caudal 
 appendage which they could boast of between 
 them. It therefore appeared somewhat in the 
 nature of a reflection upon the parents that 
 young Master Johnson should have been ushered 
 into this vale of tears and bunkers with a fine 
 prehensile tail some eighteen inches long. Mr 
 Fleg had often spoken gravely of this curious 
 fact, and had reflected upon it with particular 
 severity on the eve of the day upon which 
 Master Johnson was to be given over to his 
 self-appointed stepmother, Mrs Eccleston. It 
 so chanced that Master Johnson was in the 
 room while these severe observations were in- 
 cautiously passed by Mr Fleg, and whether he 
 had overheard, with pain, the tenour of the 
 strictures, and of his own will determined to 
 rid himself of the compromising appendage, or 
 whether it were the result of some unexplained 
 operation of nature, it is certain that on the 
 following morning he presented himself to Mr 
 Fleg's astonished vision absolutely tailless. Mr
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 211 
 
 Fleg scarcely knew whether to be pleased or 
 distressed, but he rang the bell for the house- 
 maid, and observed in his usual courteous way : 
 " Master Johnson has been so unfortunate as to 
 lose his tail. Would you, please, be so very 
 kind as to see if you can find it ? " 
 
 The girl went off on her Bo-peep mission, 
 and presently returned with the missing append- 
 age, in a perfect state of preservation, in her 
 hand. Whereupon Mr Fleg sat down and wrote 
 a note to Mrs Eccleston, in which he said, " I 
 send you a small instalment of the monkey. 
 The rest shall follow in the course of the 
 day." 
 
 This note he enclosed in a small packet con- 
 taining Master Johnson's tail, and sent it off to 
 Mrs Eccleston's villa. 
 
 Now this joke, which, if humble, was, at all 
 events, most innocent, made Mrs Eccleston 
 very angry. She was a lady who seldom saw 
 a joke, except of her own making, and this fact 
 it was Mr Fleg's duty to have considered. But 
 he incautiously overlooked it, with that neglect of 
 detail which is characteristic of some great minds, 
 and the monkey's tail was sent. Mrs Eccleston's 
 refined mind was filled with horror. When 
 her daughter endeavoured to soothe her, telling 
 her that it was all meant as a joke, she did
 
 212 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 but respond, severely, that " it was a joke in 
 the worst possible taste." She affected to deem 
 herself personally insulted by Mr Fleg, and not 
 even the due arrival of the rest of Master 
 Johnson went any appreciable length towards 
 pacifying her delicate wrath. Never, thereafter, 
 did she treat Mr Fleg with anything but the 
 most distant politeness, and the seed of discord 
 thus sown by the tail of the monkey was 
 destined to bear fruit upon the ladies' links. 
 
 As soon as the ladies' links were opened they 
 became a very popular resort — more especially for 
 the young people of both sexes. Of the most 
 assiduous in their study of the game of Golf 
 among the beautiful sandhills were Miss 
 Eccleston and young Burscough. Unhappily 
 for the young man, he chanced to be a great 
 friend of Mr Fleg. It was but natural, therefore, 
 that Mr Fleg should often join in their matches, 
 and should also, sometimes, play single matches, 
 in which he got greatly worsted, with Miss 
 Eccleston herself. This, in the condition of 
 Mrs Eccleston's feelings, induced by the receipt 
 of Master Johnson's tail, was sufficient to make 
 the whole game of Golf, as played by Miss 
 Eccleston, to be viewed with abhorrence by the 
 young lady's mother. That good lady, there- 
 fore, from the depths of her delicate sofa
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 213 
 
 cushions, issued her absolute veto against any 
 more of these matches with young Mr Burs- 
 cough; and when the daughter suggested that 
 as a rule they were played under the surely 
 sufficient chaperonage of Professor Fleg, the 
 mention of this learned name did but serve to 
 add fuel to the maternal wrath. Mrs Eccleston 
 even went so far as to hint at the impropriety 
 of Mr Fleg's playing in single matches with 
 her daughter, and signified her intention of 
 personally speaking to that famous man upon 
 the subject. 
 
 So Mr Fleg, greatly to his surprise, for the 
 lady had of late been treating him with excessive 
 coolness, received a summons from Mrs Eccleston, 
 which informed him that she would be glad to see 
 him on a certain named afternoon. It happened 
 to be a day and an hour on which Mr Fleg was 
 engaged to play at Golf with Miss Eccleston, but 
 it appeared to him, in his exceeding courtesy, 
 scarcely right to allow a previous engagement 
 with the daughter to stand in the way of the 
 summons from the mother. 
 
 Mr Fleg opened the interview, rather infelicit- 
 ously, by an inquiry after the health of Master 
 Johnson. Mrs Eccleston answered him in a tone 
 which suggested that the welfare of Master John- 
 son was a matter to be arranged between herself
 
 214 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 and Providence, and that even verbal interference 
 on the part of Mr Fleg was nothing less than an 
 impertinence. The professor then proceeded to 
 refer, in touching terms, to the grief of Mrs John- 
 son at the loss of her son, and this occasion was 
 skilfully seized by Mrs Eccleston as a masked 
 advance towards her point of attack. 
 
 " Ah, Mr Fleg," she said, with a deep sigh, from 
 the depths of the sea-green cushions on which she 
 was reclining, " you can know little, indeed, of 
 the anxieties and sorrows which beset a mother's 
 heart." 
 
 " Naturally, my dear madam," Mr Fleg rejoined, 
 " my experience of such emotions is not personal. 
 I trust, however " 
 
 " Ah, there you are wrong, Mr Fleg — so wrong," 
 the lady interrupted him, with an approach to 
 vivacity. " Had you but an inkling, but the 
 faintest notion of the anxiety which wrings a 
 mother's heart, you could never be so cruel as to 
 subject it to the pain you do." 
 
 " I, my dear madam, I ! " said Mr Fleg, in sore 
 distress and perplexity. 
 
 " Ah, Mr Fleg, you men but little know the 
 hopes, the sentiments, which you lightly arouse 
 in a young girl's heart." 
 
 " Young girl, my dear madam ? " 
 
 "Ah, Mr Fleg, must I be explicit.? Is it
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 215 
 
 necessary that I put the dots on all the i's ? Do 
 you not, Mr Fleg, frequently play Golf— in single 
 matches sometimes — with my daughter on the 
 ladies' links ? " 
 
 " Certainly, my dear madam ; but " 
 
 " But, Mr Fleg— but do you think nothing of 
 the hopes — the emotions so easily aroused in a 
 trusting young heart? " 
 
 " Emotions ! I ! My dear madam ! Arouse 
 emotions ? " 
 
 " Alas, Mr Fleg, can you doubt it ? " 
 " But, my dear madam, my years, my grey 
 hairs, my exceeding shortness of sight — surely all 
 these put a gulf which the most far-reaching sus- 
 picions could never cross between myself and 
 
 your daughter. As for emotions " 
 
 " Ah, Mr Fleg, you forget your intellectual 
 attainments," said Mrs Eccleston, with a very deep 
 sigh, as though these were the devil's engines for 
 the snaring of maidens' affections. 
 
 " Really, my dear madam," replied Mr Fleg, 
 with somewhat less than his usual courtesy, 
 "really I had failed to realise that a knowledge 
 of anatomy was likely to exercise a fatal fascina- 
 tion upon a young lady's heart. For the future I 
 will be more careful. I wish you good-day, Mrs 
 Eccleston." 
 
 Thus, with the invention of the ladies' links
 
 2i6 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 there was introduced into our golfing midst 
 a spirit of discord which had before been alien 
 to it. 
 
 Almost concurrently with the appearance of 
 Master Johnson there came among us another 
 new thing — a St Andrews man. We had known 
 little heretofore of St Andrews men. Colonel 
 Burscough, it is true, had played golf at St 
 Andrews, and for this we regarded him with all 
 proper veneration ; but he was not, in the full 
 sense of the word, a St Andrews man. He 
 had not been born and bred on those classic 
 links, as had our new guide, philosopher, and 
 friend, Mr Fraserburgh. I think I am disclosing 
 no confidences in saying that our common feeling, 
 as we watched his play, was surprise that one 
 who had enjoyed so great advantages could play 
 so badly. He partially accounted for this, how- 
 ever, by explaining that the nature of his pro- 
 fessional work was such as to keep him much 
 in Edinburgh, away from the city of the great 
 links. His profession was that of Writer to the 
 Signet, an honourable title which we but dimly 
 understood, supposing it to have reference to 
 some form of literary work in the service of the 
 Crown — a subordinate post, perhaps, to that of 
 Poet Laureate. In appearance he was a small, 
 ferrety-eyed man, with sandy hair and whiskers ;
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 217 
 
 but the prominent feature of his face was a 
 peculiarly bulbous nose, which looked as if it 
 had been coloured with much artistic care and 
 Scottish whisky. 
 
 But while we observed his golfing execution 
 with a criticism of whose audacity we were pain- 
 fully conscious, we regarded his methods with 
 unmixed reverence. For of these methods many 
 were quite new to us. Especially were we im- 
 pressed by his treatment of his caddie, which 
 struck us as a remarkable combination of defer- 
 ence and ferocity. Hitherto we had been accus- 
 tomed to play the game in our own way, taking 
 the club which seemed best in our own eyes, and 
 altogether conducting the game on our own re- 
 sponsibility, or with an occasional reference to 
 the methods of Old Blobb or Colonel Burscough. 
 But now, greatly to our astonishment, we saw this 
 golfer, whom we all regarded with the awe due to 
 a St Andrews man, gravely consulting upon his 
 stroke with his small, ten-year-old caddie. He 
 would solemnly ask, and defer to, the opinion of 
 this little rascal, released for the time being from 
 the Voluntary school, with regard to the club he 
 ought to use for an approach stroke, or even 
 such a delicate matter as the line of a curving 
 putt. At first the caddie was no less surprised 
 than ourselves, and being more or less dumb
 
 2i8 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 with awe of the great man, and speaking in a 
 broad South-Country dialect which had no affinity 
 to Mr Fraserburgh's trans-Tweedish speech, it 
 was with difficulty that they arrived at anything 
 definite, even in the way of a misunderstanding. 
 Therefore, when Mr Fraserburgh would ask : 
 " What club am I to take, boy ? " the caddie 
 would first look at him in mute amazem^ent. 
 Then, when by dint of loud and frequent repeti- 
 tion the question had found a home in his small 
 intellect, he would say, " I don't know." 
 
 " Don't know," Mr Fraserburgh would repeat, 
 with fiery Gaelic wrath, " is it a cleek or an iron 
 shot ? " 
 
 Then the boy, comprehending the alternatives, 
 would search for both the weapons mentioned 
 and timidly offer to Mr Fraserburgh that which 
 came to his small hand first. After which Mr 
 Fraserburgh, having made an indifferent stroke 
 would say to his opponent, " I knew it was a 
 cleek shot, but my confounded caddie made me 
 take the iron." 
 
 "Made me take the iron !" It was a new and 
 a blessed idea to us — this of making the caddie 
 responsible for our misdeeds. We were quick to 
 recognise the virtue of the new phrase, and to 
 make it our own. Henceforward this form of 
 explanation was a frequent one at Pebblecombe.
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 219 
 
 We seldom of our own unskilfulness now made a 
 bad stroke. We learned, with gratitude, to say- 
 that " the caddie had given us a wrong club." 
 
 But there were other things in the same regard 
 that were taught us by Mr Fraserburgh. Hitherto 
 we thought that we had done well if we contrived 
 to make our caddies keep comparative silence and 
 very comparative immobility upon the stroke. 
 For Mr Fraserburgh it was not sufficient that 
 the caddie should be immobile. He must be 
 immobile on a certain spot, like a piece at chess. 
 If the caddie stood behind his arm it was cause 
 for his righteous indignation and for the caddie's 
 summary removal. Not only so, but he told us 
 that it was no less baulking to have to speak 
 to the boy and request his removal than it was 
 to have him standing upon the offending spot. 
 All these minutiae were a subject of our zealous 
 study. Hereafter the caddie's life was no longer 
 the peaceful thing that it had been before. For 
 we grew to be mighty particular about the exact 
 position, relatively to ourselves as we played a 
 stroke, in which the caddie should stand. Nor 
 was this all, but each developed some special and 
 individual taste, one being unable to play if the 
 boy stood to his front at all ; another finding 
 the striking of the golf ball an impossible thing 
 if the caddie stood anywhere behind him. So
 
 220 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 that these little boys had not only to learn the 
 whole duty of the caddie, but, in addition, the 
 special duties required by the exigencies of each 
 individual's temperament ; and our nervous appre- 
 hensions of the misconduct of the caddies in- 
 creasing and becoming more sensitive through 
 indulgence, as ever happens, we soon grew to 
 expect of these small boys more than boy-nature 
 is capable of satisfying, to the end that the 
 carrying of golf clubs became little less trying to 
 the youthful brain than the ordinary curriculum 
 of the Voluntary school. Hence arose murmur- 
 ings and a newly-found love of learning in the 
 boys, together with a difficulty in obtaining 
 caddies, so that some of us were occasionally 
 driven to the humiliating straits of carrying our 
 own clubs. 
 
 But the strain thus put upon their intellects 
 developed a wonderful cuteness and aptitude for 
 the game in these small rascals, so that Mr 
 Fraserburgh's treatment had its compensations 
 for them. " Ice-cream," a boy who had thoroughly 
 merited this fiovi de guerre by undauntedly de- 
 vouring thirty-six penny ices and a whole week's 
 pay at a sitting, was especially attached to Colonel 
 Burscough's service, and soon became quite an 
 indispensable adjunct to the gallant gentleman's 
 golf. He would even rate his master severely
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 221 
 
 when he was off his game, and an exhortation 
 of "Come, come, old man, this won't do," on the 
 occasion of the Colonel's missing a nine-inch 
 putt, became historical. "Ice-cream," partly 
 because of his distinguished position as Colonel 
 Burscough's henchman, grew to hold some sort 
 of monitorial authority over the other caddies. 
 He it was who, when " The Bengal Tiger " (a 
 very small and puny boy, so called from the 
 felinely striped neck-comforter which he was in 
 the habit of wearing) threw down Capt. Lazenby's 
 clubs, saying, " I be going home ; there's goose 
 for dinner " — " Ice-cream " it was who took upon 
 himself to chastise the offender for this gross 
 crime. "Ice-cream" undoubtedly was a born 
 leader of men. 
 
 Thus, painfully, under Mr Fraserburgh's in- 
 fluence, our caddies grew in golfing intelligence, 
 and in a very just contempt for the frequent 
 imbecilities of our play. Ourselves, too, gained 
 much from the inestimable boon of listening to 
 the many comparisons which Mr Fraserburgh 
 drew — naturally to our disadvantage — between 
 Golf and its surroundings at Pebblecombe and 
 at St Andrews. 
 
 "It is maist deleterious," he would say, "to an 
 auld St Andrews player like myself to see nane 
 aboot him with the true St Andrews swing. You
 
 222 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 will obsairve that I have the true St Andrews 
 swing. I'm no' saying," he would modestly add, 
 " that there's nane at St Andrews that could na' 
 beat me, even at my best ; but play he well or ill, 
 ye'U always know a St Andrews man, supposing 
 that ye have any golf experience, the first moment 
 that ye see him swing." 
 
 The weighty words, and a sense of our own in- 
 adequacy, sank heavily into our hearts. If there 
 were any to whom it occurred to think that, St 
 Andrews swing or no, young Burscough could give 
 Mr Fraserburgh close upon a stroke a hole, at all 
 events the reflection was allowed to die in silence. 
 
 "An' is it no' true, Mr Fraserburgh," Old Blobb 
 responded, "het the caddies at St Aundries are 
 fine, clever buddies, an'll no', by the veriest oustest 
 of a chaunce, pit t' wrang club intil yer haun' ? " 
 
 " Oh, aye, Blobb, it's verra true." 
 
 "An' is it no' true, Mr Fraserburgh, het t' 
 whusky at St Aundries is o' t' finest an' maist 
 pooerfu' quarlity ? " 
 
 " Oh, aye, Blobb " — with rising enthusiasm — 
 " it's verra, verra true." 
 
 " An' is it no' true, Mr Fraserburgh," Blobb pur- 
 sued, after one solemn, capacious wink at the rest 
 of the company, "het the rats an' mice at St 
 Aundries are t' maist ferocerous arnimals i' t' 
 warld.?"
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 223 
 
 "Oh, aye, Blobb, it's true, it's true," Mr 
 Fraserburgh said, with ecstatic excitement. " It's 
 true — though I did na' know ye knew it. The 
 rats and mice at St Andrews, sir" — and Mr 
 Fraserburgh turned his nose to us defiantly, 
 as though he challenged contradiction — " the 
 rats and mice at St Andrews are the largest 
 and most voracious of their kind in the known 
 world." 
 
 But no one contradicted him. Colonel Burs- 
 cough only inquired whether these were real or 
 only alcoholic vermin, and then we all sighed 
 heavily, for we knew that he was embarking for 
 a long, long voyage upon his favourite old story 
 about the imaginary mongoose. 
 
 At the very outset, however, he was mercifully 
 interrupted. Mr Fraserburgh, with his nose a few 
 tinges warmer, inquired volcanically whether the 
 Colonel presumed to doubt his word. 
 
 " Begad, no, sir," the Colonel returned. " I 
 would have believed you if you had said the 
 same of the lions and tigers of St Andrews. No 
 gentleman ever doubts another's word, no matter 
 how many lies he tells." 
 
 " Lies ! sir, lies ! " Mr Fraserburgh exclaimed, 
 with terrible excitement. " Do you mean to tell 
 me I tell lies, sir .-• " 
 
 " Certainly not, sir," returned Colonel Burscough.
 
 224 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 " All I said was that I would not doubt your word 
 if you did." 
 
 " I don't understand you, sir. You have cast 
 reflections on the honour of a Scotsman and of a 
 St Andrews man." 
 
 " To you as the representative of Scotland and 
 of St Andrews," said the Colonel, drawing himself 
 up very stiffly, " I beg to tender my apologies for 
 anything that I have said derogatory to the dig- 
 nity of either ; and " — with sudden collapse of his 
 majestic style of address — "and you may go to 
 h for a little red-headed lawyer." 
 
 The Scotsman's fury was propitiated by the 
 deference paid to his home and country ; his 
 keen Gaelic sense of humour was touched by 
 the Colonel's breakdown from the heights of 
 grandiosity. His small eye twinkled apprecia- 
 tive of his repartee, as he said, turning to the 
 consolation of his whisky and water : " Na, na, 
 Cornel, I'll no' go there. I'll go somewhere 
 where there's less chance of meeting yourself" 
 The Colonel joined in the laugh, and all was 
 peace where a moment before we had been 
 threatened with bloody war. 
 
 By the time that Mr Fraserburgh came among 
 us we had advanced far beyond the primitive 
 simplicity of a room in the farmhouse beside 
 the common, and the crows' feathers dimly
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 225 
 
 marking the holes. We no longer threw down 
 our unnecessary coats, exposed to all the winds 
 of heaven, at the first tee. We had subscribed 
 for the purchase of a gold medal, which we 
 played for once a year, in the autumn ; and on 
 these occasions of annual enterprise it was not 
 enough that we should cast superfluous coats 
 unguarded on the ground. So at first we hired 
 a bathing-machine to give shelter on such occa- 
 sional meetings. Later we went to the extrava- 
 gance of purchasing a tent, and soon after the 
 arrival on our South-Country scene of Mr Fraser- 
 burgh, we blossomed into the full magnificence 
 of a corrugated iron hut. Here, with a man 
 in charge dispensing whisky, we took our royal 
 leisure when Golf was over, explaining to each 
 other the hardness of our luck — how but for 
 some accident which could be ascribed to no- 
 thing short of diabolical intervention, we should 
 have made the finest round which ever had been 
 chronicled. Here we joined with Mr Fraser- 
 burgh in a new chorus, of which he was in- 
 structor and precentor, about the "disgraceful 
 state of the putting - greens." But before we 
 made use of our new house of refuge for these 
 homely purposes, it had seemed right that we 
 should inaugurate our corrugated iron magnifi- 
 cence by a ceremonial dinner in the edifice 
 
 P
 
 226 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 which we now proudly spoke of as " the club- 
 house." 
 
 The materials for this function were carried 
 out from Pebblecombe in many donkey carts 
 to the spot where our club-house stood pictur- 
 esquely situated among the sand - hills. We 
 dined well, as befitted the greatness of the 
 occasion, and drank many loyal, patriotic and 
 golfing toasts. The name of Mr Fraserburgh 
 was coupled with that of St Andrews, " the 
 golfing metropolis," and his health drunk with 
 prodigious enthusiasm. Mr Fraserburgh re- 
 sponded with much feeling, and so overcome 
 was he by his emotion, that at the close of 
 his speech he failed to seat himself securely on 
 his chair, and rolled off, with much detriment 
 to his best dress coat, upon the floor. On this, 
 Colonel Burscough, who, of course, was in the 
 chair, shouted loudly to those on either side 
 of Mr Fraserburgh to " tee him up again." 
 This, however, was found to be impossible, as 
 the gentleman persisted in his preference for 
 the floor, so there he was permitted to remain 
 until the close of the proceedings, which ter- 
 minated soon afterwards. 
 
 In the course of the dinner it had been deter- 
 mined that the new era of our club — its corru- 
 gated iron age, as one may call it — should be
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 227 
 
 inaugurated, on the morrow, by a very great 
 match — the Burscoughs versus United Scotland 
 as represented by Mr Fraserburgh and Old 
 Blobb. The match was first mooted during the 
 fish course. By the time the cheese was on 
 the table it had been arranged as a definite 
 fixture, and with the dessert many bets were 
 recorded on the result. On the first blush it 
 had appeared that the redoubtable Scotsmen 
 must inevitably have the best of it. 
 
 Who could withstand the indomitable prowess 
 of Old Blobb, the imperturbable cunning of Mr 
 Fraserburgh } ]Mr Fraserburgh, himself, indeed, 
 gave a grudging acknowledgment of their prob- 
 able superiority, for when the Colonel in his 
 hearty way called out, " Why, jam it all, Fraser- 
 burgh, it's a certainty for you ; you'll have to 
 lay us two to one," Mr Fraserburgh had an- 
 swered, in words which have since become his- 
 toric : " Na, na, Cornel ; Gowf is not a game to 
 be degraded to the vice of gambling, like your 
 horse-racing, your pigeon-shooting and the rest. 
 It is a game to be played amongst gentlemen 
 for the pure love of the sport. Besides," he 
 added, and therein showed his belief in the 
 prowess of himself and his partner — "besides, 
 there is no two to one in it, but Fll lay ye sax 
 tofower."
 
 228 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 Later in the evening, however, and especially 
 when notice was taken of Mr Fraserburgh's re- 
 cumbent position, the betting, which was on the 
 mildest scale, somewhat fluctuated, until slight 
 odds were actually laid against "the gentleman 
 on the floor." And when this great night was 
 over, and we were all bethinking ourselves of 
 the walk home over the Common, it appeared 
 quite impossible to make Mr Fraserburgh realise 
 the necessity of returning for the present to the 
 shelter of any other roof than the corrugated 
 iron one. He explained to us that the effort 
 of speaking had been rather much for him, and 
 that he would be greatly obliged if we would 
 leave him to walk home by himself in the 
 moonlight an hour or so later. We did not 
 venture to disregard his express wishes, and 
 there Mr Fraserburgh remained, the lonely 
 guardian of that lonely corrugated iron build- 
 ing, while the rest of us, with some trouble, 
 stumbled, in twos and threes, homeward to our 
 beds. 
 
 "Mind you're in time for the match to- 
 morrow," Colonel Burscough had shouted, as 
 we left him ; and the fearless answer had come 
 back from the darkness, with tolerable distinct- 
 ness, " I shall be there." 
 
 But when the morrow came and we called,
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 229 
 
 about ten o'clock, for Mr Fraserburgh at his 
 lodging, the appalling news was told that no 
 sign of him had been seen that night. Never- 
 theless, we all went forth with confidence, rely- 
 ing on that undaunted answer, " I shall be 
 there," out over the Common towards the club- 
 house and the first tee, to witness the great 
 match. And, "there," sure enough, Mr Fraser- 
 burgh was — but in what figure for his game of 
 Golf.^ In the snowy shirt front, somewhat 
 crumpled, and the dress clothes, slightly soiled, 
 of the previous night ! Seldom had a more 
 singular spectacle been seen than Mr Fraser- 
 burgh, with admirable sang froid, practising a 
 few preliminary putts in this costume, which, in 
 the broad light of day, strongly suggested the 
 Christy Minstrel. No, he had not been home, 
 he said, had spent an excellent night beneath 
 the corrugated iron roof, had breakfasted well, 
 but plainly, off dry biscuits and whisky, was in 
 every way prepared and eager to do himself 
 justice in the great match. His valiant nose 
 showed no pallor from the discomfort of his 
 night, his ferrety eyes were as keen as ever. 
 Old Blobb looked at his partner with taciturn 
 disfavour. He was perhaps less unused than 
 most of us to see his yoke-fellow in a golf 
 match present himself in these conditions.
 
 230 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 It needs not to be said that the honour of 
 driving off the first ball was, by unanimous 
 consent, accorded to our president, Colonel Burs- 
 cough ; neither need it be told that a goodly- 
 crowd of onlookers was collected together, at- 
 tracted by the greatness of the occasion. Until 
 the putting-green of the first hole was reached, 
 no remarkable feature presented itself. Either 
 side had played faultless Golf. It was young 
 Burscough's turn to play the approach putt, 
 and here the first symptom of the young 
 fellow's not unnatural nervousness was apparent. 
 He went forward doubtfully to examine the 
 nature of the ground. 
 
 " It's roughish, isn't it ? " he asked of the Colonel, 
 timorously. 
 
 " Yes, it's roughish a bit, and then again its 
 keen," the Colonel replied, " whatever you do be 
 up, and, for Heaven's sake," he added impres- 
 sively, " don't be more than a foot past the hole." 
 
 Now, whether the heroic nature of this counsel 
 cast despair of its achievement into the young 
 man's soul, instead of the confidence which it was 
 intended to inspire, or whether it was, as he ex- 
 plained, " that confounded blade of grass," which, 
 none but himself could plainly see — at all events, 
 the result was that the ball did but go some two- 
 thirds of the way towards the hole.
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 231 
 
 The Colonel was filled with gloomy indignation. 
 As a just retribution upon a partner who had 
 treated him in such a manner, it was his habit 
 to make but the merest semblance of an effort 
 to hole out with the next stroke. He went wide 
 of the mark, and Old Blobb having laid Mr 
 Fraserburgh stone dead, the first hole went to 
 the Scotsmen. 
 
 " Confounded young fool," the Colonel ejacu- 
 lated. " I told you, whatever you did, to be up." 
 
 For several holes following young Burscough 
 played, for him, exceedingly badly, in spite of 
 the solicitous and sagacious counsel which the 
 Colonel repeatedly pressed upon him. They 
 were now two down, and, approaching the fifth 
 hole, young Burscough took in hand his iron. 
 
 " Iron 1 " his partner exclaimed, in high scorn, 
 " what are you doing with your iron ? You'll 
 never reach that with your iron." 
 
 " What club would you advise ? " young Burs- 
 cough asked, with a beautiful submission which 
 might have suggested suspicion. 
 
 " Take your long spoon, and I doubt if you'll 
 get up with that the way you're playing." 
 
 So, with that, young Burscough took his spoon. 
 He set his teeth, and swung with the first really 
 free, fearless swing he had given that da)-. The 
 ball flew away like a rocket. Straight it went
 
 232 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 over the flag, which, in these days of our glory 
 had superseded the old crows' feathers, and on and 
 on it went as if it never were going to stop, ending 
 some hundred or so yards beyond the hole. Then 
 Colonel Burscough never said a word. He gave 
 a look at his young partner — a look of terrific 
 ferocity, which was answered by a bland smile, 
 and, " I always take the club you tell me." Then 
 he smothered his wrath and walked after the ball 
 to drive it back again. 
 
 This little episode marked the turning of the 
 match. That hole was lost, and the Burscoughs 
 were three down, but, after that, young Burscough 
 got his nerve, and all his strokes were pictures. 
 The Colonel said not another word to him of 
 advice. Gradually they regained their lost 
 ground, though the Scotsmen struggled dourly. 
 At the eleventh hole the match was all even. 
 Then, as Mr Haggard says, a strange thing 
 happened. As the Colonel was studying, with 
 his usual stern deliberation, the line of a two- 
 foot putt, some one in the crowd of spectators, 
 a stranger to most of us but a friend of one of 
 the party, exclaimed in a shrill voice, which had 
 an unmistakable American accent : " She has the 
 mange in her hind leg, which detracts consider- 
 ably from her appearance." 
 
 The Colonel withdrew hurriedly, and in visible
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 233 
 
 wrath, from the post of observation of his putt. 
 Several shocked " hushes " from the onlookers 
 in the oftender's immediate neighbourhood did 
 not appear to the Colonel to be a sufficient 
 rebuke of the crime. He sternly addressed the 
 offender : "I do not know to whom you may 
 be referring-, sir, but I would tell you that even 
 that unfortunate malady is no excuse for your 
 mentioning it upon the stroke." 
 
 " Very sorry, I'm sure," the American answered, 
 " I was only speaking of a dog." 
 
 " Then let me tell you, sir, that no dogs, not 
 even mangy ones, arc permitted upon a golf 
 course," the Colonel excitedly replied. 
 
 " But, gracious me ! " said the stranger, " I have 
 brought no dog. I did only mention one." 
 
 " Then let me tell you again, sir, that the 
 moment you selected for its mention was an ex- 
 ceedingly ill-chosen one. Probably, as a foreigner, 
 you know nothing whatever of the game of 
 Golf." 
 
 " No, sir," returned the American, unabashed. 
 " It is a form of lunacy from which I have not 
 yet suffered. I have had chicken-pox, I have 
 had measles, I have even had philanthropy ; but, 
 thank goodness, I have never yet had Golf." 
 
 Then let me tell you, sir, yet again, that the 
 time will come when every man of an Engh'sh-
 
 234 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 speaking nation (and I include the American 
 nation)," said the Colonel, with majestic irony, 
 "will suffer from what you are pleased to call 
 this form of lunacy." And, having satisfied his 
 soul with this tremendous prophecy, since amply 
 fulfilled, the Colonel returned, amid an awful 
 silence, to his putt, which, after some further 
 study, he failed to hole. 
 
 This disaster, which put the Scotsmen again 
 one ahead, was soon atoned for by the tran- 
 scendent play of young Burscough, and all went 
 smoothly until the sixteenth hole, at which point 
 the Burscoughs were one to the good. Here, how- 
 ever, another unpleasant little incident occurred. 
 Colonel Burscough's study of his putt was, at this 
 crisis, prolonged even beyond its wont — so much 
 so as to be unendurable to the nerves, now greatly 
 excited, of Mr Fraserburgh. 
 
 " Come, come, Cornel," the Scotsman exclaimed, 
 as the Colonel, for the third time, went to the 
 back of the hole to make sure of his line. " Come, 
 come, Cornel, putt it out." 
 
 Colonel Burscough withdrew himself from the 
 hole with majestic dignity. " Confound it, sir ! " 
 he said, "I shall putt it out when I like, and 
 how I like, and with what club I like. You hold 
 your tongue, sir." 
 
 After which he addressed himself, yet again,
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 235 
 
 to the stroke, and holed the ball with the courage 
 of a lion. 
 
 One up and two to play ! And the last two 
 holes being halved, the Burscoughs won this 
 never-to-be-forgotten match by one. 
 
 This match had revealed, amongst other re- 
 velations, the astounding fact that young 
 Burscough was a better player than Old Blobb. 
 Mr Fraserburgh said so himself, pointing his 
 assertion by many an illustration of Old Blobb's 
 deficiencies in the great match. Hereafter, it 
 began to be a recognised fact that young Burs- 
 cough was the best player in Pebblecombe, and 
 we had a notion that he was the best in the 
 world. Therefore they turned the match about. 
 Colonel Burscough playing with Old Blobb and 
 Mr Fraserburgh with young Burscough. It was 
 all the same, however — young Burscough's side 
 won the great majority of the matches. 
 
 For a while the Colonel ascribed this result 
 to supernatural agency. " It was all luck," he 
 said, with an emphasis on " luck " which made 
 it seem much as though he had said " the devil." 
 
 Later, this theory became exhausted. He could 
 not believe in such persistent working, in one 
 line, of luck or the devil. He then began to 
 ascribe it to bribery, " Old Blobb sells you," he 
 said, " that's the worst of these professional
 
 236 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 fellows — they're always ready to sell their 
 matches." 
 
 The puzzle was to find the buyer. If Old 
 Blobb was venal, who was it that bribed him ? 
 To whom was it worth while? For there was 
 seldom more than a half-crown on the match. 
 But, of course, we never presumed to put these 
 questions to the Colonel. We listened with re- 
 spectful silence. 
 
 After a while, however, these matches fell 
 through — not so much by reason of Old Blobb's 
 scandalous venality as because of a tremendous 
 row between the Colonel and Mr Fraserburgh, 
 which began, so to speak, in a sardine tin. It 
 probably was the only sardine tin on the whole 
 of the Pebblecombe links, so there is every 
 reason to suppose that it was especially put 
 there by the evil one in order to engender strife. 
 For it lay in a little ragged patch of rushes, 
 and close behind it lay the Colonel's ball. 
 There were no sardines in the tin, but that is 
 a detail. 
 
 The Colonel was stooping down to remove 
 it when Mr Fraserburgh called out, "What are 
 ye going to do. Cornel ? " 
 
 " I am going to remove this biscuit tin, sir." 
 
 " And I maintain, Cornel, that ye are lying 
 in a hazard an' have na right to move yon
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 237 
 
 tin — and it's no' a biscuit tin, but a sardine tin, 
 at ony rate." 
 
 A few minutes were spent in pursuing the 
 side issue of the original purpose of the tin. 
 This was determined by Old Blobb's going 
 down upon his knees, sniffing sagaciously at the 
 tin, and pronouncing with confidence " Push ! " 
 
 " There now, Cornel," said Mr Fraserburgh, 
 triumphantly, having scored this first point in 
 his favour. " May I ask, if ye please, on what 
 grounds ye propose to remove this sardine tin ? " 
 
 " On the ground, sir, that it is in the way." 
 
 The very simplicity of the answer made Mr 
 Fraserburgh very angry indeed. With question 
 and answer they went on from hot to hotter 
 words. Old Blobb paced apprehensively around 
 them, doubtful how to act, and wondering 
 whether it would be safer to run home. Young 
 Burscough lay on the ground and rolled about 
 in the ecstasies of his laughter. Eventually 
 Colonel Burscough seized the stumbling block, 
 the sardine tin, and threw it furiously and 
 crookedly at Mr Fraserburgh's head. Then he 
 played his ball, in triumph, while Mr Fraser- 
 burgh, calling to his caddie, marched home with 
 his nose very high in the air and warm in 
 colour. After this, for a long while, they were 
 not on speaking terms, and we all regretted the
 
 238 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 breach of harmony and the cessation of these 
 interesting matches. 
 
 About the same time came the first institution 
 among us of handicap prizes. They owed their 
 origin entirely to the ingenuity of Colonel Burs- 
 cough, who knew that their invention would 
 grievously vex the Gaelic soul of Mr Fraser- 
 burgh. The Colonel himself disapproved of 
 handicap prizes, but this disapproval was not 
 nearly so strong as his approval of any measure 
 that could annoy Mr Fraserburgh. So we began 
 to have biscuit boxes and butter dishes and 
 monthly medals, and selling lotteries, and many, 
 many things which were an abomination to Mr 
 Fraserburgh. Personally he never competed for 
 these honours. 
 
 " Na, sir," he would sternly say, " Gowf is not 
 charity." Another reason for his non-competing, 
 which he did not mention, was the enormous 
 handicap he would have required to make him 
 win. 
 
 There came among us, too, men who bet 
 large sums upon a match — and paid them. 
 Distinguished city men came for an occasional 
 holiday to golf at Pebblecombe. Once we even 
 had a member of Parliament. The city men 
 introduced ingenious ways of betting. They 
 would lay ten shares in the Great Desert of
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 239 
 
 Sahara and Central African Railway Company, 
 Limited, against fifteen shares, not fully paid 
 up, in the East Lincolnshire and Fen Countries 
 Irrigation Company, Limited. They spoke of 
 these great investments with a strange familiarity, 
 under the terms of " Sarahs " and " Lincolns." 
 Then they invented the plan of purchasing back 
 from an adversary who might be a hole or two 
 ahead his holes of vantage. For instance, if 
 the layer of " Sarahs " were three up and nine 
 to play, the layer of " Lincolns " might, with 
 proportional justice, say, " I'll give you four 
 ' Lincolns ' and we'll call it all even." 
 
 Such were the fin de siecle modes of betting 
 which were introduced among us about the time 
 of the invention of the Eclipse golf ball. 
 
 Young Burscough was the first to play with 
 one of these balls. It will be remembered that 
 one of their peculiarities is to fly silently off 
 the club, like a thief in the night. He happened 
 to be playing with the Colonel when he made 
 the first experiment with the new ball. He 
 had said nothing of it to the Colonel, who, as 
 the first flew off, looked suspiciously at the 
 flying sphere but made no remark. At the 
 second tee shot, however, he could no longer 
 keep silence. "What is the matter with that 
 ball, sir .-' " he sternly inquired.
 
 240 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 " Nothing particular," the young man replied ; 
 " it is just a new sort of ball they have sent me 
 to try." 
 
 " New sort of ball, sir ! why, jam it all, it's 
 rank cheating. You didn't hit that ball at all 
 — you know you didn't — it made no noise, 
 and yet it flew off the club as if you had hit 
 it perfectly. It's not a fair ball to play with." 
 
 When the hole was finished the Colonel 
 looked at the novelty with curious disgust. He 
 was very silent during the round, but when 
 they had returned to the Iron Hut, and young 
 Burscough was discussing the merits of the ball 
 with some friends, the Colonel observed again, 
 " I tell you, sir, it's not fair playing Golf with 
 a ball like that. No gentleman, sir, plays Golf 
 with a lump of putty." 
 
 For the ball was rather soft, and gave some 
 grounds for this description, and the appropriate- 
 ness of the epithet was so fully recognised that 
 from this remark of the Colonel's the term 
 " putty ball " came into general use as a de- 
 signation of the Eclipse patent. 
 
 So, now that we have brought the history of 
 our club so late down as to the days of putty 
 balls and great handicap prizes, we are treading 
 closely on the threshold of contemporary golfing 
 history as written in the chronicles of the
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 241 
 
 Badminton Library and other great books. It 
 remains only to relate how that great sundering 
 of hearts which took place over the disunited 
 caudal appendage of Master Johnson was 
 mended, and the heartstrings rejoined, by the 
 medium of a piece of rope's end. 
 
 Amongst the golfers who came into our circle 
 was one by name Mr Lazenby. This gentle- 
 man was a brother of Mrs Eccleston. Further, 
 he was of a round full figure, a puffy face, and 
 a melancholy disposition — a little troubled with 
 some fatty sort of degeneration of the heart — 
 just such a man, in fact,'^ as one imagines 
 Hamlet to have been. In the case of Mr 
 Lazenby, however, there was no Ophelia — at 
 Pebblecombe, at least. Golf was his Ophelia, 
 his only love, the subject of all his thoughts 
 by day and of all his dreams at night. His 
 soliloquies, his ecstasies, and his melancholia, 
 all had regard to the great and ancient game. 
 He was fully conscious of this himself, and 
 sometimes spoke of his absorption with a 
 touching mixture of self-pity and of pride. A 
 short putt missed at a crucial point in a match 
 would be with him, in mental vision, during 
 whole days of torture. But he never broke his 
 clubs or indulged in the violent manifestations 
 of grief which were the safety valves of Colonel 
 
 Q
 
 242 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 Burscough's volcanic wrath. Mr Lazenby's 
 sorrow was too deep and too subtle for these 
 gross remedies — it was beyond medicament, it 
 preyed upon him and ate into his inmost soul, 
 to the detriment both of bodily and mental 
 health. Mrs Eccleston was seriously concerned 
 for her brother's welfare. 
 
 And now there came on a very great match, 
 long arranged, between Mr Lazenby and Old 
 Blobb, on the one side, against the two Burs- 
 coughs on the other, Mr Lazenby was not 
 a player of very high class, inferior, probably, 
 to Colonel Burscough. It was thought, amongst 
 those who knew, that there was but slight 
 chance for Mr Lazenby. Nevertheless, he had, 
 at the first, expressed himself with confidence 
 as to the result. As the day drew near, how- 
 ever, he began to grow less satisfied. He was 
 in a vein of unsteady play. His nights were 
 made miserable by his anxiety, his face grew 
 more pallid and flabby, his step more vacillating. 
 The day before the great match Mrs Eccleston, 
 going into his bedroom, after he had gone 
 forth to Golf (for he was staying in her house) 
 was horrified to perceive, lying upon the floor, 
 a long coil of stout rope. Not for one single 
 instant did Mrs Eccleston deceive herself as to 
 the purpose for which this deadly coil was in-
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 243 
 
 tended. She knew well the melancholy bent 
 of her brother's mind, and the terrible strain 
 which the only too probable loss of the morrow's 
 golf match would put upon it. Already he had 
 taken his fatal measures. Even now Mrs 
 Ecclcston saw him pendent, over her mental 
 horizon, his neck encircled by the fatal noose. 
 In her anguish of spirit the poor lady could 
 think of no adviser better than her old friend 
 (now, since the Johnson episode, somewhat 
 estranged) Professor Fleg. Again, therefore, the 
 Professor received the lady's gracious summons, 
 and again, with his usual courtesy, he punctually 
 obeyed it. 
 
 "Mr Fleg," she said, very sadly, from the 
 depths of her sofa cushions, "you see a woman 
 in very great trouble." 
 
 "Indeed, my dear madam," the Professor 
 answered, with some trepidation, owing to a 
 vivid recollection of a former interview, " I 
 sincerely regret to hear it. May I be permitted 
 to inquire its nature ? " 
 
 "Ah, my dear Mr Fleg, you know my 
 affection, my anxiety for my dear brother. Can 
 nothing, do you think, be done to save him ? " 
 
 " Save him, my dear madam — from what, may 
 I ask?" 
 
 " Ah, Mr Fleg, from this fatal golf match." And
 
 244 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 then Mrs Eccleston proceeded, at great length, to 
 lay before Mr Fleg her fears, grounded upon the 
 unassailable evidence of that terrible piece of rope. 
 
 " But, my dear madam," Mr Fleg asked, when 
 the lady's moving narrative was finished, "have 
 you any reason to suppose that the rope of which 
 you speak is destined for any such deadly purpose?" 
 
 "Ah, Mr Fleg, I know my dear brother so well 
 — know so well the effect of this dreadful game 
 upon his curious disposition." 
 
 " But could you not conceal or destroy the rope, 
 my dear madam .-* " Mr Fleg naturally inquired. 
 
 " Again, Mr Fleg, I must repeat to you, I know 
 my poor brother's disposition far, far too well. 
 Once he has determined on a course of action he 
 is like — like — what shall we say, Mr Fleg ? " 
 
 " ' A mule,' my dear madam ? " Mr Fleg court- 
 eously suggested. 
 
 " Let us rather say ' adamant,' Mr Fleg," the 
 lady corrected him. " At all events, I perceive 
 that you understand my meaning. How, I ask 
 you — you, a man of commanding intellect — how 
 are we to save him } " 
 
 Mr Fleg took his leave, promising to call again 
 later in the day, by which time he hoped to have 
 thought out a means for Mr Lazenby's preserva- 
 tion. He was doubtful whether the rope might 
 not, after all, have denoted some less deadly pur-
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 245 
 
 pose than that which Mrs Eccleston had surmised. 
 Nevertheless, he was not without his apprehen- 
 sions. He had suggested that Mr Lazenby 
 might have some boxes to cord, but had been 
 checkmated by the answer that the gentleman 
 always travelled with portmanteaux. On his way 
 home he met the Pebblecombe doctor. 
 
 " Have you happened to have seen Mr Lazenby 
 lately, my dear sir .? " he asked the medicine man. 
 
 " Lazenby ; yes, by Jove," said the doctor, who 
 was a jovial little man, " saw him day before 
 yesterday. Getting jolly fat, ain't he ? Eats too 
 much, drinks too much, sleeps too much — told 
 him so myself. That old Golf of yours " (the 
 doctor was not a golfer), " not enough exercise 
 for a man of his habit. Advised him to get a 
 skipping rope and skip for a quarter of an hour 
 every morning when he gets out of his bath. 
 Jolly pretty sight he must be — ha ! — ha ! — fine 
 study in comparative anatomy. Good morning, 
 Professor." 
 
 The Professor made no answer, but stood 
 thoughtfully, with an expression which was as 
 nearly a wink as a very learned man can be 
 expected to get it. Then he walked away deli- 
 cately, like Agag, revolving subtle schemes in his 
 head. 
 
 He had been very sincerely vexed by the gulf
 
 246 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 which had been set by Mrs Eccleston between 
 those two young people, who had bid fair to 
 make so fine a pair of lovers, young Burscough 
 and Miss Eccleston. Then he wended his delicate 
 way back in the direction of Mrs Eccleston's villa. 
 
 " There is but one way that I can see, my dear 
 madam," he said, " for the preservation of your 
 brother's most valuable life — that is that he should 
 win this great golf match." 
 
 " Ah yes, Mr Fleg," the lady responded very 
 sadly. " Alas ! how is that to be done ? Young 
 Mr Burscough is so magnificent a player." 
 
 " But, my dear madam," Mr Fleg resumed, 
 with finesse — " but young Mr Burscough might 
 perhaps be persuaded to play, for the nonce, less 
 magnificently." 
 
 " But how, Mr Fleg — I do not understand you 
 — you would not have the young man poisoned .■' 
 Bad as he is " 
 
 " Good gracious, no, madam ! " said Mr Fleg, 
 much horrified. " Poisoned, good gracious no — un- 
 less it were," he continued, regaining his courtierly 
 tones, " that he should be poisoned by the exceed- 
 ing sweetness of the manner of your request." 
 
 " My request, Mr Fleg ? " 
 
 " My meaning is, my dear madam, that you 
 should lay the case — the sad case— before young 
 Mr Burscough, and request him, in the interests
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 247 
 
 of humanity and of your favour, to permit your 
 brother to win this match in which he takes so 
 keen an interest." 
 
 " But to ask a favour of that — of that young 
 man, Mr Fleg ! " 
 
 " Of my friend, my dear madam," Mr Fleg 
 answered, venturing to correct the tone of the 
 lady's speech. 
 
 " Quite so, Mr Fleg — of your friend." 
 
 " Consider, my dear madam, the horror of the 
 circumstances. Supposing that on entering your 
 brother's bedroom your were to find him " 
 
 " Oh ! spare me, Mr Fleg," the lady interrupted, 
 with some vivacity. " Yes, yes ; indeed I will. 
 I will ask young Mr Burscough myself." 
 
 "And consider, also, if you please, my dear 
 madam, that this is a great favour which you will 
 be asking. It is no little matter. Think of the 
 light in which your brother would view it were 
 one to ask him to give up, of set purpose, his 
 chance in so great a match." 
 
 " It is true— indeed, it is true, Mr Fleg. Surely, 
 though, the young man will not be so iron-hearted 
 as to refuse." 
 
 " That, my dear madam, must entirely depend 
 upon your powers of persuasion," said Mr Fleg, 
 in a gallant way, which left no doubt about his 
 opinion of those powers. Then he took his leave,
 
 248 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 and proceeded to give his instructions to young 
 Burscough. 
 
 Young Burscough was at first very averse to 
 the part which Mr Fleg proposed to him. " What 
 good am I to get out of kidding and losing this 
 match to please the old lady? I don't care 
 whether old Lazenby skips, or hangs himself, or 
 what he does." 
 
 Mr Fleg expressed his horror at such inhuman 
 sentiments, and further said : " It will be for you, 
 my dear sir, to make your bargain with the lady. 
 If I might be permitted to suggest, I might per- 
 haps hint that permission to play Golf, on all 
 convenient occasions, with Miss Eccleston upon 
 the ladies' links, might be not an unfair remunera- 
 tion for a few topped tee shots." 
 
 Young Burscough started, and turned red with 
 joy as the whole meaning of the Professor's 
 stratagem came to his stupid young brain. 
 
 " By Jove ! Mr Fleg, you're a regular Mac — 
 Mac what's his name? some Scotch name — 
 Machiavelli. You're a regular brick — by Jove, 
 you are ! " 
 
 " I thank you, my dear sir. I should doubt, how- 
 ever, whether Machiavelli had ever before been, 
 even indirectly, dubbed with that soubriquet." 
 
 In the afternoon young Burscough had an in- 
 terview with Mrs Eccleston. Later in the evening
 
 EARLY PILGRIMS 249 
 
 the young man walked out over the sands with 
 Miss Eccleston, and it was said in Pebblecombe 
 that they had been unrebuked. 
 
 The following day was the date fixed for the 
 great match. Colonel Burscough played exceed- 
 ingly well, which made the young man's task all 
 the harder ; but the Colonel's wrath against his 
 young partner was excessive, for Mr Lazenby and 
 Old Blobb won the match on the last hole by i. 
 
 Never saw such a thing in my life as that 
 boy, sir," the Colonel said, describing the match. 
 " Why, jam it all, he topped two tee shots running; 
 and at the last hole, when he had the match for 
 the taking, he foozled his iron shot right into the 
 bunker. It's the way with all boys, sir ; you can't 
 trust 'em. They ought to be destroyed." 
 
 So Blobb and Mr Lazenby won the match, and 
 Lazenby did not hang himself He skips about 
 every morning after his bath so noisily that Mrs 
 Eccleston has had to inquire the meaning of it 
 all. But still she believes that the original pur- 
 pose for which he had destined that rope was the 
 fatal one of her first surmise ; and now she speaks 
 of its use as a peaceful skipping-rope with a pious 
 reference to the turning of swords into reaping- 
 hooks, as foretold in Scripture. 
 
 And young Burscough and Miss Eccleston play 
 Golf, almost daily, upon the ladies' links.
 
 THE GOLFER IN ART 
 
 NATURALLY the pious pilgrim will desire 
 to see the object of his piety enshrined in 
 the most worthy manner possible through the 
 medium of those arts of representation whose 
 province is as wide as the scope of human interest. 
 And yet we are not quite certain whether, even 
 yet, we have seen it so handled to the full extent 
 of its possibilities. We have seen it treated dra- 
 matically — poitr rire, as by Mr Arthur Roberts 
 or incidentally, as by Mr Barrie, if we mistake 
 not. Elsewhere the golfer may have appeared 
 on the stage and escaped our notice : it is only a 
 wonder that we have not had more of him. He has 
 not left music quite alone ; golfing songs have been 
 many in number. Mercifully, perhaps, he has not 
 yet invaded the sphere of operatic music, though 
 the notion suggests possibilities — of tender treat- 
 ment, as he addresses himself to the short putt 
 with a sniorzando movement, followed by the 
 fifiale fiirioso when the putt is missed. And 
 throughout the action the dreadful stimy motive, 
 suggested or realised, might recur hauntingly — 
 250
 
 THE GOLFER IN ART 251 
 
 the idea is not copyright ! It would be a hard 
 thing to say, after so much has been written about 
 him, that he plays no part at all in literary art ; 
 yet the hard saying is very nearly the true one. 
 We know of no golfer, as such, artistically por- 
 trayed, unless it be perhaps in that old story from 
 the Contes dit Roi Cainbriniis^ named Le Grand 
 Choleur, of which we have spoken before. And, 
 after all, chole is not Golf, though possibly a lineal 
 ancestor. The great Golf novel, like the great 
 American novel, has yet to be written, and we 
 may confess to a secret doubt whether, even then, 
 it will be read. 
 
 But there is one art — an older and more primi- 
 tive art than any of these, probably — in which the 
 golfer has figured often, and figures more and 
 more frequently as he becomes more popular — 
 the limner's art. We find him in many of the 
 pictures of the old Dutch artists, a familiar figure 
 to Van der Veyde and to Van de Neer. (We 
 know that Holland was an old home of Golf — 
 possibly even its nursery — for does not a protec- 
 tionist Act of the Scottish Parliament forbid the 
 importation of Dutch-made golf balls ?) In most 
 of the Dutch pictures the golfer is portrayed play- 
 ing on the ice. But this is not always the case, 
 and in a small drawing of an interior, by Rem- 
 brandt \vc believe, a glimpse through the open
 
 252 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 door shows us the figure of a golfer playing on 
 the lawn before the house. Earlier than the time 
 of these Dutchmen, however, we find the golfer 
 depicted occasionally in old missals. That which 
 is prefixed to Mr Andrew Lang's historical intro- 
 duction to the game in the Badminton Library 
 book is an instance ; though in the case of this 
 particular illustration it is not impossible for the 
 sceptical critic to suggest that the game might 
 equally well be hockey. It may be that the 
 designer suffered under a similar confusion of 
 ideas about the two games to that which pos- 
 sessed many Englishmen until about a decade 
 or so ago. But there exists another missal, 
 which the indefatigable Mr Lang routed out of 
 the British Museum comparatively lately, in which 
 Golf, almost exactly as we know it, is, beyond all 
 question, the game portrayed. Curiously enough 
 one of the performers seems to be kneeling down 
 to putt, and it looks as if one of his opponents, 
 moved to just indignation, were expostulating with 
 him on such a gross breach of golfing etiquette, 
 though on what rule of present-day Golf he could 
 convict him we are rather at a loss to know. For 
 the most part, these old Dutchmen, and the rest of 
 them, are not playing with any very dashing driving* 
 Of course, they suffered under the inestimable dis- 
 advantage of living before the days of the Badmin-
 
 THE GOLFER IN ART 253 
 
 ton book. All allowance is to be made for them. 
 Still, it is singular that few of the rather grot- 
 esque figures portrayed on the Dutch tiles and 
 elsewhere seem to have got much beyond the 
 half-swing. Certainly, this seems to show want 
 of enterprise on their part, which may be taken 
 as a significant coincidence with the decadence 
 of their naval strength. Of the pictures that 
 survive to us of Golf since it made its home 
 in Scotland, it is very noticeable that few of 
 them depict the golfer in the act of making 
 the stroke. Most of the artists seem confined 
 by the classic tradition, and portray rest in pre- 
 ference to movement. Charles I. is receiving 
 the news of the Irish rebellion on the Leith 
 links, but he is breaking off his game to read 
 the letter. Modern golfing manners would dis- 
 approve of such disturbing intelligence being 
 imparted in the course of the game. The 
 messenger should have waited till it was over. 
 Many other pictures are familiar to us — the 
 gentleman with his club over his shoulder, with 
 the three -corner -hatted caddie behind, and no 
 lack of a subtle humour in the lines of cither 
 face. Then there is he with the epaulettes and 
 golf clubs, and many others ; but in none of 
 them do we see the swing depicted. The man 
 was the picture, not the style. Mr Clark has
 
 254 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 indeed reproduced for us the quaint figure of 
 the " Cock o' the Green," so early out on the 
 links that he has had but time to tuck in his 
 nightgown and clap on his hat over his night- 
 cap ; and he is addressing himself to the ball. 
 But this is evidently something in the nature of 
 caricature, rather than of sober portraiture. In 
 none of the graver pictures do we see the game 
 in progress. There is indeed one most animated 
 picture, in which action is everywhere — that 
 picture of putting out at the old Ginger -beer 
 Hole at St Andrews, wherein players and spec- 
 tators are crowding forward, more irrepressibly 
 than even a St Andrews gallery of to-day, and 
 endeavouring by all manner *of excited gesture 
 to affect the laws of dynamics by which the ball 
 is taken towards the hole. But even there the 
 stroke has been already played, the ball has 
 left the club, and the volition of the player 
 has no more influence over it; even this short 
 putt we are not allowed to see in course of 
 execution. It detracts considerably from the 
 interest of this picture, in which many of the 
 figures are portraits, that we cannot readily be- 
 lieve that the crowding and animated gestures 
 are a true representation of a scene in a game 
 which we have always learned to associate — 
 especially in the days of the older school — with
 
 THE GOLFER IN ART 255 
 
 all that is courteous and dignified in demeanour; 
 and the bench and the ginger beer are so singu- 
 larly close to the hole ! — but perhaps the artist 
 had to compress his space for the purposes of 
 his picture. 
 
 Thus, in all the older pictures it will be seen 
 that the swing was not regarded as a suitable 
 subject for representation, except in the missals 
 and in those paintings of the Dutchmen in 
 which the golfer only appears as an auxiliary 
 incident. 
 
 Exception might have been taken in the in- 
 stance of the drawing by Raphael, shown in the 
 gallery at Venice, depicting a nude figure swinging 
 a rude club at something. The something might 
 well have been a ball, and in that sense the action 
 was taken by those who were good enough to 
 make the tracing of the figure in question, and 
 in that sense it was published and discussed by 
 the present writer. Later, it happened to him to 
 see a photograph of this drawing, taken previously 
 to the tracing, and showing the faint but indubit- 
 able outlines — which, perhaps, photography alone 
 could reveal — of a bullock's head. The beast's 
 head, beyond question, is the object of the club- 
 man's aim. To lay a bullock, not a golf ball, 
 dead, was the purpose of the mighty swing, 
 which imitated so perfectly the swing of a golf
 
 256 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 club. As a study, even for golfing purposes, 
 the recognition of this very different aim makes 
 the figure scarcely less interesting, though de- 
 priving it of any place in the history of Golf, or 
 of any allied game. 
 
 It is singular that a pose lending itself passably 
 well to the purposes of the painter or the sculptor 
 should have escaped the attention of artists so 
 long. It is not necessary to go back to the 
 Discoholos of Myron or to the " Gladiator " of 
 Agasias, to find imitations of athletic poses 
 plastically reproduced. Mr Hamo Thornycroft 
 has a fine figure of a youth, bent back, with 
 the gathered-up knitting of the muscles prepara- 
 tory to "putting the stone." The pose may 
 lack grace, but certainly is vigorously suggestive 
 of the power about to be exerted. Similarly in 
 the golfing drive, there is a moment, at the top 
 of the swing, when the attitude of a fine driver, 
 if not disclosing lines of perfect grace, suggests 
 vividly enough the force with which the club is 
 about to be brought back towards the ball. It 
 is a moment well worth a sculptor's catching, 
 yet no sculptor fully qualified to do it justice 
 has, so far as we know, given it attention. 
 Figures we have indeed seen plastically repre- 
 senting this moment, but none of them inspired 
 with the vivid movement of which this moment
 
 THE GOLFER IN ART 257 
 
 of rest is so suggestive. Some we have seen 
 modelled with sufficient knowledge of the sculp- 
 tor's art, but inadequate appreciation of the art 
 of the golfer. Others we have observed deficient 
 in the converse sense, and some inadequate in 
 both. Though the writer has endeavoured to 
 model figures in this movement himself — he 
 cannot find, even in them, reason to restrict the 
 general nature of this criticism. 
 
 But the golfing swing has another moment 
 than that which we call the " top of the swing," 
 that lends itself even more kindly to the sculptor's 
 purposes, namely, the end of the swing. Here we 
 do not see, indeed, the suggestion of power about 
 to be applied, as in the former instance ; but we 
 do see the suggestion of power just recently 
 exerted, and, moreover, with certain players, the 
 pose is remarkably a graceful one. This pose has 
 lately attracted the attention of the modeller, and 
 a very charming figure has been the result. It has 
 a drawback, however, and that is, that the attitude 
 is not immediately convincing. For a moment we 
 are disposed to imagine ourselves regarding a re- 
 presentation of a left-handed golfer about to make 
 his swing down upon the ball. The next instant, 
 when that false impression has been corrected, we 
 see the figure for what it is, composing itself grace- 
 fully, with pleasantly flowing lines of limb, and, in 
 
 R
 
 258 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 the case of female figures, drapery, and the face 
 turned forward expectantly, to view the flight of 
 the ball. 
 
 This, if we mistake not, is the most artistically 
 pleasing moment of the golfing swing. It is un- 
 fortunate that we are not able to regard it as the 
 most characteristic. It is a moment to which, 
 as we watch the course of a game, we pay little 
 attention ; we are commonly absorbed in anxiously 
 following the ball's flight. Instantaneous photo- 
 graphy, however, has often fixed it for us, some- 
 times with the most fortunate, as sometimes with 
 the least flattering, results. 
 
 Other attitudes, more than equally representa- 
 tive, do not so readily suggest themselves for 
 artistic treatment. To the initiated there is a 
 grace in the manner in which a finished player 
 addresses himself to the approach stroke, but 
 this is a grace that is suggested by association 
 only. The golfer who understands the game per- 
 ceives, by the player's way of standing to the ball 
 and wielding the club, a guarantee that the stroke 
 in prospect will be executed gracefully. To one 
 who has not this special knowledge the lines of 
 the figure in this attitude do not commend them- 
 selves as revealing peculiar grace — we have even 
 heard the attitude most irreverently spoken of. 
 Neither is there a large share of classic beauty in
 
 THE GOLFER IN ART 259 
 
 the commended pose of putting : all these useful 
 details of the short game demand a certain crouch- 
 ing attitude which seldom sits so gracefully on a 
 man as on ihtfeHdce. The full driving stroke is 
 the athletic glory of the game, and the supreme 
 incident which the artist, in whatever medium, will 
 be most concerned to portray. 
 
 If in these remarks I have dwelt at length on 
 the point of view of the artist whose medium is 
 the plastic clay, I hope this length of discussion 
 will be forgiven me in virtue of the consideration 
 that the whole is greater than its part — the round 
 greater than the flat. No factor that will deter- 
 mine the painter in his choice of subject is alien to 
 the sculptor so long as the former is confining his 
 consideration to form alone ; but the sculptor in 
 the round has to consider his composition from 
 every possible point of view, while the painter 
 is concerned only with that outline which he 
 represents on the flat. 
 
 As a subject of pictorial art the golfer has 
 chiefly, of course, occupied the attention of the 
 caricaturists. Mr Harry Furniss has considered 
 him. Major " Shortspoon " has depicted him 
 — sometimes by way of portraiture, singly or 
 in groups, sometimes as a merely incidental 
 feature of a landscape, and sometimes again in 
 a lighter vein whose spirit matches that of Mr
 
 26o THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 Furniss. Finally, Mr T. Hodge, the chief 
 illustrator of the Badminton Book, has treated 
 the golfer with a peculiarly subtle and appre- 
 ciative humour. Others, too, have found the 
 golfer a fitting subject for their humorous fancy, 
 as Mr Ralston, Mr Hillingvvorth, and several 
 of the artists of Punch. Ptmch's appreciations, 
 however, have scarcely been worthy of the 
 greatest and oldest of comic illustrated papers 
 dealing with the greatest and oldest of games. 
 
 Perhaps it can seldom be said that portraiture 
 is a true example of the golfer in art. Such a 
 portrait as that of Mr Whyte-Melville, in the 
 club-house at St Andrews, has a golfing interest 
 of association merely. No golfing action is de- 
 picted. It is merely the portrait of a gentle- 
 man, who happened to be very well known as 
 a golfer, who wears a red coat, and has the 
 Swilcan Burn and St Andrews Club House for 
 the accessories of his portrait. There is art, 
 indeed, of a higher order, in such a picture as 
 this, but the golfer, as such, is scarcely its subject- 
 matter. Nor can we say even so much as this 
 of those strange groups of golfers compounded 
 by the separate photographing of each unit and 
 the pasting together and subsequent photo- 
 graphing off, on one large plate, of the aggre- 
 gation. In this there is certainly a grotesque
 
 THE GOLFER IN ART 261 
 
 likeness of each individual, grotesque by virtue 
 of the utter absence of all art, all composition, 
 all proportion, all perspective. It is a reversion 
 to the infantile days of Persian group painting. 
 Something more we may indeed say, though 
 perhaps no great deal, for the generality of 
 those groups which have been taken, at first 
 hand, by the camera. But we must make a 
 great distinction between the generality of all 
 such ^ groupings and a certain picture executed 
 by Messrs Dickenson & Foster of Bond Street. 
 This is a golfing group representing most of 
 the best known players of the Royal and 
 Ancient Club gathered around the house on 
 the occasion of Mr A. J. Balfour's driving off 
 the first ball, as captain. Though the artist's 
 hand has no doubt been held by the primary 
 necessity of producing good portraiture, the 
 total effect is artistic in every sense, and ex- 
 hibits, moreover, if not the game in progress, 
 at all events an interesting moment of expecta- 
 tion before the actual firing of the gun and 
 striking of the ball. Photography has been 
 used as an aid to the artist in his attitudes and 
 portraits, but it has not been allowed to have 
 the master hand. The same firm has produced 
 an excellent portrait in oils of " Old Tom " 
 Morris.
 
 262 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 Instantaneous photography and the ubiquity 
 of the camera have been in many ways of great 
 assistance to the artist, enabling him to take 
 notes with wonderful quickness and, with a 
 certain reservation, exactness. So long as the 
 artist recognises the necessary reservation the 
 camera is invaluable to him. As soon as ever 
 he allows himself to forget, or lose sight of it, 
 it becomes an evil influence that cannot be 
 over-estimated. It distorts, with an insidious 
 subtlety that is all its own. As Mr Bagehot 
 
 divided modes of falsehood into "lies, d d 
 
 lies, and statistics," so false drawing might be 
 
 put into categories of "bad drawing, d d 
 
 bad drawing, and photography." No artist, 
 probably, that has ventured to attempt any 
 except miniature work from a photograph will 
 dispute the justice of this — though it may seem 
 a paradox to the irreflective — or have failed to 
 realise the inimitably convincing falsity with 
 which the camera exaggerates that which is 
 near, and diminishes that which is afar. Photo- 
 graphy is to the artist an excellent servant, 
 but the worst possible of masters — invaluable 
 for note taking, but its notes to be constantly 
 subjected to the most watchful supervision and 
 correction. 
 
 Some very pleasing pictures have been pro-
 
 THE GOLFER IN ART 263 
 
 duced by Mr Douglas Adams, named " The 
 Tee Shot" and "The Putting Green." Possibly 
 these are not the precise titles ; but they in- 
 dicate the character of each representation. 
 These are correctly described, too, as having 
 Golf for their primary subject, though the land- 
 scape — the ground driven over — is perhaps a 
 more important and striking part of the picture 
 than the little group of golfers. With the treat- 
 ment, in the case of the short game picture, we 
 have no fault to find ; but, where the drive is 
 the principal object, we may confess ourselves 
 aggrieved that the painter did not take a few 
 liberties with the style of his model, if the 
 picture truly represents it ; for, though he has 
 shown us the drive as it is often done, he 
 might equally easily have shown it to us rather 
 better done. No doubt the model was at fault ; 
 but then, whose fault was the selection of the 
 model } Major Shortspoon, among his larger 
 efforts, has one or two of similar style to Mr 
 Adams' pictures, though in almost every case 
 they have the added interest that their figures 
 are portraits. A year or two ago a girl caddie, 
 in red Tam o' Shanter, if we mistake not, was 
 shown in the Academy ; but even in this, the 
 golfing interest was rather incidental than 
 primary.
 
 264 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 Messrs Dickenson & Foster's portrait group 
 is so well composed and executed, and the 
 colours of various golfing dress are made to 
 harmonise so successfully, that the result is a 
 very artistic whole. But the picture in which 
 the golfer in art receives his most adequate 
 treatment, so far as we have yet met him, is 
 one which Mr Dollman painted, and which was 
 exhibited at the Fine Art Gallery in Bond 
 Street. It is a figure picture emphatically, 
 though St Andrews is seen in the distance. 
 It deals with a golfing question that has greatly 
 troubled the minds of many, especially in Edin- 
 burgh, within the last months, yet for all that, 
 the date of the subject treated is some three 
 hundred years back. Herein the player is de- 
 picted in the very act of Golf, heart and soul 
 absorbed in his putt. The old costumes, which 
 have been a matter of careful study, lend a 
 charm to the picture, which has at once much 
 topical interest and a very high degree of 
 artistic merit. But the aspects of Golf are 
 very many, and so are the methods of art. 
 The painter and the sculptor may work at the 
 golfer till they are tired, they need have not the 
 least fear of exhausting the opportunities that, 
 properly considered, he may be induced to 
 afford them. There is work for them yet to do.
 
 AN INTERESTING RELIC 
 
 PROFESSOR FLEG'S methods with the 
 golf club were remarkable. He was in 
 every way a remarkable man, and in every de- 
 partment of his life a methodical man. If he 
 ever erred, it was, as in the present instance, 
 by regarding all things as capable of being 
 brought into the domain of exact science ; for 
 it was in this attitude that he approached the 
 game of Golf, which is scarcely susceptible of 
 such treatment. 
 
 The occasion has now become historical on 
 which he sought the counsel of the wizard — the 
 great medicine man — of Golf, in the following 
 terms: — "I like, my dear sir, to do everything 
 methodically. All through my life I have 
 approached things in that way, and I have 
 not yet been completely beaten, if I may say 
 so, by anything. Now I am taking up the 
 game of Golf club by club — each club in turn. 
 Hitherto I have devoted my attention solely 
 to the driver. I now propose to make my- 
 self thorough master of the iron. Would you 
 
 265
 
 266 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 therefore have the kindness to show me, my 
 dear sir, exactly in what manner you hold your 
 hands while playing an iron stroke ? " 
 
 Such are the methods of a conquering intellect ; 
 but the club-by-club system did not exhaust the 
 peculiarities of Professor Fleg's fashion of master- 
 ing the game of Golf. For he put himself into 
 what he conceived to be the position indicated 
 by the best authorities and illustrated by 
 diagrams in many highly scientific treatises on 
 the game, and had in attendance the Pebble- 
 combe carpenter, who then and there constructed 
 around the Professor's feet a wooden framework. 
 This framework the Professor's caddie (a long- 
 suffering and much-to-be pitied person) carried 
 round with the Professor whenever that great 
 man engaged in the game of Golf, and planted 
 it upon the teeing ground, so that, if, as sometimes 
 occurred, the Professor topped the ball or other- 
 wise misconducted himself with regard to it, he 
 could at least be sure of erring on the most 
 approved methods. 
 
 Now Colonel Burscough was not a man of 
 science, and greatly preferred hitting the ball in 
 a style which the most charitable critic could not 
 call orthodox to missing it in the correct fashion 
 affected by Mr Fleg. " Brute force, my dear sir, — 
 no science," was Mr Fleg's whispered soliloquy
 
 AN INTERESTING RELIC 267 
 
 (for even in soliloquy his speech was studiously 
 courteous) whenever the Colonel in his attitude of 
 Philistine drove beyond the limits of the Professor's 
 highly-cultured power. And this frequently hap- 
 pened, for the Colonel's physique was better 
 adapted than that of Mr Fleg to the complex 
 purposes of the noble game. Nevertheless Mr 
 Fleg's scientific perseverance was rewarded by a 
 steady though gradual improvement such as did 
 not attend Colonel Burscough's more rough and 
 ready methods. Therefore in the many matches 
 that they played together, though Colonel Burs- 
 cough had always up to a certain point had the 
 upper hand, yet his advantage grew less with 
 every match, until there were critics to prophesy 
 (under their breath, be it said, and far, very far, 
 behind the Colonel's back) that the day would 
 eventually come when science would make its 
 power felt and the Man of Learning come in a 
 hole ahead of the Man of War. 
 
 In prospect of that day all Pebblecombe held 
 its breath in an awful silence, for it was shrewdly 
 thought that on such a day as that it would be 
 evil for any who came within reach of the warrior's 
 wrath. For though the Colonel's methods with 
 the golf club differed absolutely from those of Mr 
 Fleg, they were not one whit less remarkable. 
 The game of Golf is one which demands peculiar
 
 268 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 equanimity of temper and the long-suffering 
 patience which is so eminently characteristic of 
 the Scot. Now, excellent man as Colonel Burs- 
 cough was, equanimity of temper was not one of 
 his natural gifts. A game of Golf with the Colonel 
 was therefore a mixed form of pleasure — a fearful 
 joy. A measure of amusement was assured, but 
 it had need to be amusement carefully disguised, 
 for golf clubs are formidable weapons in the 
 hands of an angry man. When things were 
 going well all was sweetness and light; but golf 
 links are treacherous places with dire pitfalls, 
 named bunkers, into which the ball sidles like 
 an ant into the lair of the ant-lion. In the 
 first bunker Colonel Burscough was as good as 
 gold ; in the second he began to talk in Hindo- 
 stani ; and in the third he sometimes grew a little 
 angry. Then his caddie, who knew him well, 
 would hand the Colonel his niblick, and place 
 in a convenient corner of the bunker an old 
 umbrella, which he always carried with him to 
 perform the office of a scapegoat. For if the 
 Colonel failed to extricate his ball from the 
 bunker on the first attempt his mood grew dan- 
 gerous. The niblick strokes fell faster until the 
 ball flew from the bunker, and the Colonel, being 
 now very angry indeed, would look around him 
 for some object upon which his wrath could spend
 
 AX INTERESTING RELIC 269 
 
 itself. Whereon he would see the umbrella, to 
 which, as having "caught his eye," he would at 
 once attribute his calamities, and summarily ex- 
 ecute it at the edge of the niblick. The caddie, 
 having kept himself in the background until the 
 extreme fury of the Colonel's wrath had spent 
 itself, would come up with discreet humility to 
 receive the tail end only of the storm, and to 
 retrieve the umbrella which had been the vicarious 
 sufferer in his stead. 
 
 The occasions on which the Colonel had sworn 
 once and for ever to abandon the game of golf 
 are almost beyond counting. He would wave 
 his hand with tragic pathos towards the links 
 of Pebblecombe and declare with sad solemnity 
 — " This place has seen me for the last time " ; 
 and in this black mood he would remain till 
 dinner. With the soup, however, life began to 
 wear a brighter aspect, with the joint he began 
 to repent him of his determination, and Avith 
 the dessert he was ready to play any man in 
 the world, on any terms that were at all reason- 
 able, on the very next day. 
 
 But besides these numerous occasions on which 
 he had set no outward and visible seal to his 
 immutable resolve, there were other greater ones 
 on which he had confirmed himself therein by 
 a solemn burning of his ships — his entire set
 
 270 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 of golf clubs. Twice he had built a small bon- 
 fire on the edge of the links and then and there 
 made a solemn holocaust of his clubs, his balls, 
 his red coat and all his golfing paraphernalia. 
 Many times also he had broken all his clubs 
 over his knee, that he might never be tempted 
 again to play the game which cost him so much 
 mental anguish : but always on the morrow 
 morning he had appeared at the club-maker's 
 with an order for a new set. 
 
 So that now these two methods of treatment 
 were familiar to Pebblecombe — the Ordeal by 
 Dichotomy (or division in two), as Mr Fleg 
 humorously named the club-breaking plan, and 
 the Ordeal by Fire, which was the Professorial 
 name for the holocaust — for it was the Colonel's 
 constant contention that his clubs were possessed 
 by some malign witchcraft so that they would 
 not hit the ball. There remained yet another 
 in the Colonel's repertory— namely, the Ordeal 
 by Water, — and this was put into execution on 
 the day on which the Colonel was first beaten 
 in a match with Mr Fleg. For the day which 
 all Pebblecombe expected in fear and trembling 
 came at last. The methods of science proved 
 triumphant, and Mr Fleg, with a proud flush 
 on his brow, and not without a tremor at his 
 heart, walked into the Golf Club one up against
 
 AN INTERESTING RELIC 271 
 
 the Colonel at the eighteenth hole, having added 
 insult to injury by laying an iniquitous stymie 
 at the very end when the Colonel was lying 
 dead at the hole and certain of a half. 
 
 There is no measure in the good gifts of Pro- 
 vidence. To many it would have seemed that 
 the blessedness of having at length attained the 
 mastery over one who had so often beaten him 
 would be enough to fill the cup of happiness for 
 any ordinary professor of anatomy to the brim. 
 But Mr Fleg was no ordinary professor, and fate 
 dealt with him in no ordinary way. About a 
 twelvemonth after this first and epoch-making 
 victory, he began to make some very singular 
 and interesting discoveries. 
 
 There is on the beach at Pebblecombe a stretch 
 of bluish grey mud, of no very great extent. It 
 is far out upon the sand — so far that only at the 
 lowest tides is it uncovered. It happened that 
 on a Sunday Mr Fleg was once walking in a 
 pensive. Sabbatical mood along the sands by the 
 sea. The tide was unusually far out, and this 
 mud was uncovered. Mr Fleg prodded the mud 
 thoughtfully with his stick, and suddenly began 
 to consider it with greater interest. It contained 
 woody fibres in a fair state of preservation — 
 the fibre in many instances of quite large tree 
 trunks,
 
 2'j2 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 Now there are people to whom this fibre would 
 have said nothing, unless possibly decayed cabbage^ 
 or something unpleasantly suggestive of that 
 kind. But it was crammed full of meaning to 
 such a mind as Mr Fleg's, It said a submerged 
 forest — and a submerged forest included remains 
 of the denizens of that forest, of who could say 
 what interest and antiquity! For a moment Mr 
 Fleg's imagination peopled its once mighty shade 
 with quite impossible denizens — pterodactyls, 
 icthyosauri, megatheriums. Then his archaeo- 
 logical sense smiled at the anachronisms into 
 which his scientific fervour had launched him, 
 and he corrected himself with softly-spoken so- 
 liloquy — " Cave-bear, my dear sir, cave-man, at 
 the earliest ; more probably old British ox and 
 Irish elk ; almost certainly modern fauna." 
 
 Then his anatomical imagination saw himself 
 constructing out of a liunieriis or tibia mighty 
 ruminants of primeval days. Mr Fleg went 
 home that Sabbath evening in a state which in 
 any other man the vulgar might have ascribed 
 to the effects of alcohol. To say he was in a 
 fever of wild excitement is to give not the 
 faintest suggestion of his mental condition. To 
 say that he was covered from head to foot in 
 blue mud is to express but feebly his outward 
 aspect ; for never had Mr Fleg so bitter reason
 
 AN INTERESTING RELIC 273 
 
 to bewail his shortsightedness, which, fortified 
 with double spectacles as he was, compelled 
 him to go upon his hands and knees, grovelling 
 almost like a serpent, in order to make a close 
 enough examination to reveal the treasures of 
 which he was in search. 
 
 Suffice it to say that he returned in a state 
 of general disorder, which was a pain to the 
 faithful whom he met on their way to evening 
 church, but with a scientific joy without bounds 
 in his heart, and a small piece of the decayed 
 horn of a deer in his pocket. Nor would he 
 ever have ceased from his search until the shades 
 of night had come upon him, had not the jealous 
 sea come lapping up to him and driven him 
 back step by step over the mud until its nearest 
 limit was swallowed by the envious waves. Then 
 Mr Fleg went slowly home with the one treasure- 
 trove in his pocket, and elsewhere, impartially 
 upon him, the blue mud. 
 
 After this auspicious beginning Mr Fleg bought 
 a nautical calendar which gave information of 
 the behaviour of the tides ; and whenever the 
 sea was sufficiently far out to discover even a 
 portion, — and for a few minutes only, — of the 
 precious blue mud, he would neglect the royal 
 and ancient game of Golf itself to go down with 
 a coadjutor, in whom he had inspired a small 
 
 s
 
 274 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 share of his own enthusiasm, and dig and delve 
 in this dirty clay. 
 
 And to tell truth, he made several inter- 
 esting discoveries in the shape of bits of 
 bone and horn and flint arrow-heads and a 
 portion of a human skull. Then he would sit 
 hours into the night poring over his bits of 
 bone, examining them through a microscope, 
 comparing them with the descriptions and 
 pictures in certain very large and heavy books, 
 containing fearful representations of huge 
 skeletons of animals such as no living man has 
 been so unfortunate as to meet. Then on a 
 vast sheet of paper he would begin, with pencil 
 and scale and compasses, to map out a huge 
 skeleton of his own devising — leaving only a 
 little gap, generally somewhere down upon the 
 shin-bone, into which, when all the rest was 
 finished, he would fit the little bit of brown 
 bone which was the basis of the whole mighty 
 superstructure, and would say proudly. " Such, 
 my dear sir, was the creature who roamed in 
 the primeval forest of which we see here to-day 
 the few submerged and wonderfully preserved 
 remains." 
 
 Sometimes it would be only a tooth that 
 would supply him with the data for the con- 
 struction of a whole mighty skeleton — so great.
 
 AN INTERESTING RELIC 275 
 
 so inconceivable to lesser minds are the achieve- 
 ments of science and the knowledge of men so 
 richly endowed as Professor Fleg. 
 
 But even as it was in the days of old, when 
 that hero of Henry s First Latin Book, Balbus, 
 feasted the town at twenty sesterces a head and 
 there were still found some, as historians tell 
 us, who laughed — so too now, in Pebblecombe, 
 there were found persons so unappreciative of 
 the great discoveries of science as to scoff while 
 Mr Fleg drew his majestic skeletons. 
 
 Chief, perchance, among the scoffers was 
 Colonel Burscough, as kind-hearted a volcanic- 
 tempered man as ever lived, yet a British 
 Philistine to the very backbone of him. 
 
 The Colonel would stand before the fire with 
 his hands behind his back in Professor Fleg's 
 study, examining, with head thrown back, the 
 Professor's latest masterpiece in constructive 
 anatomy. So he would stand for a while in 
 silence — then take the cheroot from his lips to 
 say with all the air of eulogy — "Jammed extra- 
 ordinary imagination you must have, Fleg — eh .^ " 
 
 " Imagination ! my dear sir," Mr Fleg would 
 reply, permitting the slighest note expressive of 
 the shock which the word bore with it to modify 
 the habitual courtesy of his address. " Imagina- 
 tion ! Pardon me, my dear sir, if I venture, with
 
 276 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 all deference, to take exception to the term you 
 are good enough to employ with reference to 
 that drawing. I assure you there is no imagina- 
 tion used or needed in the construction of such 
 a skeleton on such convincing evidence as the 
 splendid molar which you see restored to its ap- 
 propriate jaw. It is, my dear sir, as capable of 
 scientific demonstration as any one of Euclid's 
 
 theorems. Let me refer you " Here the 
 
 Professor began turning over the leaves of one 
 of his ponderous volumes, with a running fire of 
 extracts and commentary, while Colonel Burs- 
 cough took a seat in the armchair and began 
 wondering how he had lost his last match. 
 
 When Professor Fleg had triumphantly vin- 
 dicated himself, the Colonel would rise from 
 the chair, examine the molar as if he were com- 
 paring it with the essence of all the scientific 
 reading to which he had not listened, and say, 
 " Yes, Fleg — you are right, of course. Jammed 
 like an old sheep's tooth though, after all — 
 eh?" 
 
 Mr Fleg courteously admitted that there was 
 some superficial resemblance, and began to talk 
 to the Colonel — as to one professionally in- 
 terested in small artillery — about the flint arrow- 
 heads. 
 
 The more important of his discoveries — if one
 
 AN INTERESTING RELIC 277 
 
 may speak so of a matter in which every dis- 
 covery was of great import — Mr Fleg communi- 
 cated from time to time to a certain learned 
 journal which no one in Pebblecombe, except 
 himself, was able to read with intelligent appre- 
 ciation. Hitherto, however, Mr Fleg had been 
 fortunate enough to make no discovery which 
 ran counter to the deductions of other scientists. 
 With the flint arrow-heads he found the skull 
 of the cave-man, the bones of the cave-bear, the 
 horns of the great Irish elk, and the remains of 
 ether creatures, all of whom, as is well known, 
 lived together in love and unity. 
 
 Then, unheralded by any miraculous premoni- 
 tion or unusual circumstance, the sun dawned — 
 quite in its ordinary manner — upon a day which 
 was to be credited with a discovery at once 
 epoch-making and epoch-breaking — a discovery 
 perhaps the most portentous of any that had 
 been known since men began to read the world's 
 history that is written in its stones and cla}-. 
 Among the mass of decaying vegetable fibre and 
 blue mud — of a consistency somewhat thicker 
 than chewed tobacco — among the relics of the 
 cave-man, the cave -bear and the elk, Mr Fleg 
 came upon something that beyond question was 
 a lump of iron ! 
 
 Possibly every reader may not at once appro-
 
 2/8 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 ciate the tremendous, the appalling significance of 
 
 this discovery. But remember the circumstances. 
 
 Remember that this lump of metal, more than 
 
 a pound in weight, was found among the flint 
 
 arrow-heads, among the remains of creatures the 
 
 history of whose life was part of the story of 
 
 the world when it was very young — when, in 
 
 fact, it was in its stone age. So at least it 
 
 had ever been supposed. Science had given its 
 
 united voice in favour of the opinion that the 
 
 cave-man, and these animals who were found to 
 
 be of his time, had existed in the very infanc}^ 
 
 of the age of stone — that his weapons were at 
 
 best of flint, and those not of a high finish. 
 
 Science had asked sympathy for the cave-man 
 
 in his apparently unequal fight with the great 
 
 denizens of the forest in which he lived. But 
 
 now — what did this discovery say ? No less a 
 
 thing than this — that Science had been mistaken 
 
 in the matter from first to last — that all previous 
 
 theories must be cast to the wind (for one 
 
 negative condemns an hypothesis, no matter by 
 
 how many affirmatives it be supported) — that 
 
 the comparatively sophisticated age of iron must 
 
 be put back perhaps thousands of years in the 
 
 world's story — must be put away back into the 
 
 fancied simplicity of the age of stone. With this 
 
 iron weapon ^(for doubtless it was in the manu-
 
 AN INTERESTING RELIC 279 
 
 facture of weapons of offence that Tubal Cain, 
 in the early struggle for existence, first exercised 
 his art) — with this fairly adequate iron weapon 
 the cave - man, who had so long and so nefari- 
 ously usurped our sympathy, might have felled 
 to the earth perhaps no less mighty a quarr}' 
 than the Great Irish Elk itself! 
 
 In such manner did Mr Fleg expound his theme 
 to his admiring listeners while he held, in a hand 
 that trembled with infinitely more sense of the 
 preciousness of its burden than if it had borne a 
 nugget of like size, the miraculous iron weapon 
 that he had delved from the blue mud. True, the 
 exact nature and outline of the weapon were as 
 yet somewhat shrouded in mystery, and in what 
 Mr Fleg referred to as " ferric oxide, my dear sir, 
 or rust," but it was abundantly evident, from its 
 mass and rough shape, that it had been intended 
 for a hitting weapon of some kind. 
 
 Next day, by special messenger, Mr Fleg sent 
 this wonderful relic to a shop in London, with 
 which he had had frequent dealings, and where he 
 could trust the care and knowledge of the work- 
 men, with orders that the ferric oxide should be 
 removed with such skill and science as these 
 specialists had at their command. Meanwhile 
 he wrote off to all the scientific and leading 
 papers in the country, giving an account of the
 
 28o THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 discovery, with photographs of the weapon in its 
 rough state (encrusted with mud), and minute 
 descriptions of the nature of the clay and other 
 relics in whose company it had been found. 
 
 A perfect storm of correspondence followed, 
 both in the public prints and in the shape of 
 private communications, to the Professor — so 
 that he found himself obliged temporarily to 
 engage a special clerk, to answer at his dictation 
 the mass of his correspondents. 
 
 Meanwhile all Pebblecombe, and Mr Fleg 
 particularly, held his breath in expectation of 
 the return, cleansed of its swathing of "ferric 
 oxide, my dear sir, or rust," of the weapon 
 which had dealt such a blow to all the previous 
 hypotheses of Science. 
 
 Mr Fleg was playing Golf when he received a 
 telegram informing him that the relic, restored so 
 far as might be to its first form, was that day 
 being despatched again by special messenger from 
 London — to speak exactly, Mr Fleg was in a 
 bunker. In an instant all the familiar horrors 
 of that situation were dissipated. He gave up 
 the hole to Colonel Burscough, with whom he 
 was playing, and felt scarcely a pang of regret. 
 He neglected his methodical grasp of the driver, 
 he forgot about the wooden foot-framework, which 
 lay idle in his caddie's hand, while Colonel Burs-
 
 AN INTERESTING RELIC 281 
 
 cough with immense joy won from him hole after 
 hole. At the end of the round he paid to the 
 Colonel their statutory wager of half-a-crown 
 without his usual harmless necessary joke, " Look 
 upon it, my dear sir, I would beg you, in the 
 light simply of a loan," and hurried the 'Colonel 
 greatly in his preparations for leaving the Golf 
 Club and walking back to Pebblecombe. 
 
 On the walk Mr Fleg was silent and abstracted. 
 At the door of his house he was trembling with an 
 overpowering nervousness. " My friend," he said 
 to the Colonel, as the latter was about to leave 
 him (it was the preface to some very momentous 
 statement when Mr Fleg abandoned his usual style 
 of address, as " my dear sir," for the yet more 
 impressive cordiality of " my friend "), " my friend, 
 I would beg of you a favour. I would beg of you 
 to come in with me and be present with me on 
 this, which is immensely the greatest moment of 
 my life. There will be awaiting me, as I conceive, 
 within this little villa, a treasure which shall alter 
 the reading of nearly all the history of the world's 
 creation — an iron weapon coeval with the cave- 
 dweller." Will you be with me, my friend, at 
 this great moment of my life, when I shall see 
 my treasure trove in something approaching its 
 original shape .'' " 
 
 "Why, yes, of course, Fleg; jammed interest-
 
 282 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 ing, you know. Great privilege, I mean to say. 
 Assure you I feel it so." 
 
 The savant grasped his friend's hand with 
 grateful pressure, and the two entered the house 
 together. The servant told Mr Fleg that a 
 young man from London had delivered a parcel, 
 with careful instructions for its safety and wel- 
 fare. Mr Fleg led the way into his study, and 
 there beneath the approving figures of the giant 
 skeletons rested, in an ordinary deal box, on an 
 ordinary mahogany table, the iron weapon of 
 the cave-man. Then Mr Fleg rang the bell for 
 hammer and chisel. His nervousness was some- 
 thing pitiable to see. He could not sit still 
 while the tools were brought. His hand 
 trembled so that he could not use them to 
 any effect when they came. 
 
 "Here, let me!" 
 
 Colonel Burscough took them from him and 
 began to work and hammer on the box in 
 angry vigour. Mr Fleg seated himself in an 
 armchair at the other end of the room, and 
 burying his face in his hands rocked himself 
 back and forward in the agony of his suspense. 
 He could not bear to look. 
 
 There was a sound of crashing wood and rend- 
 ing metal. Then there was comparative silence 
 while the Colonel rummaged in the shavings and
 
 AN INTERESTING RELIC 283 
 
 paper with which the box was stuffed. Mr Fleg 
 no longer groaned. His suspense had become 
 too intense for any expression, and he re- 
 mained motionless, without a sound, awaiting 
 Colonel Burscough's word that the relic was 
 revealed. 
 
 The waiting seemed very long. Mr Fleg 
 grasped an arm of his chair with either hand, 
 and in a semi-catalepsy of the muscles fastened 
 his eyes rigidly upon Colonel Burscough's face 
 to read the feelings evoked by the first sight of 
 the wondrous relic. 
 
 For the Colonel's expression had undergone a 
 singular change. 
 
 The silence grew deeper and more painful, and 
 to Mr Fleg it began to seem that Colonel Burs- 
 cough, the room, the relic, everything, were far, 
 far away. He was mocked by a sense of dream- 
 like unreality. 
 
 And the change on Colonel Burscough's face 
 responded likewise to a vision of things far away 
 — far distant both in time and place. He felt 
 himself transported back to a certain day a 
 twelvemonth since, and to a painful scene of 
 his humiliation upon the Pcbblccombe links — 
 the day on which he had first suffered defeat 
 at the learned hands of Mr Fleg. The whole 
 scene was before him. The day was a particu-
 
 284 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 larly warm and sunny one. The bees hummed 
 over the wild flowers, the sand-flies buzzed in 
 the bunkers. Warmth and flies are fearful aggra- 
 vations to the wrath of an angry man. And 
 Colonel Burscough, on this particularly beautiful 
 summer's day, saw himself a very angry man 
 indeed — angry so much beyond his wont that 
 his anger found no expression ; it was at silent 
 white heat. He took his clubs from his caddie 
 with an unusual gentleness that had meaning. 
 He handled them with the caressant ferocity of 
 a cat playing with a mouse. He strode over 
 the great ridge of pebbles which keeps back the 
 sea at Pebblecombe and down on to the sands. 
 It was low tide. No one was in the immediate 
 neighbourhood ; but he well knew that in ambush 
 on the top of the pebble ridge, peering over, were 
 all the members there present of the Royal Pebble- 
 combe Golf Club, and all the club-makers, caddies, 
 ground-men, and all who were in any capacity 
 whatsoever associated with the royal and ancient 
 game in the vicinity. And each looked over with 
 all his two eyes, as carefully as though he had 
 been stalking a tiger, and gazed at the Colonel, 
 who had seated himself on the foot of the 
 ridge. 
 
 The Colonel took off his boots. And though 
 none of the watchers might know what this be-
 
 AN INTERESTING RELIC 285 
 
 tokened, they held a collective silence and looked 
 with all their eyes. 
 
 The Colonel took off his clothes — that is to say, 
 very nearly all — retaining only such as a per- 
 functory regard for decency forbade him to part 
 with. Then he walked out, carrying his clubs 
 over the sand. 
 
 And all the while he was conscious of the 
 watchers, who watched him in silence as he 
 walked, walking with the deliberate purpose of 
 a man whose mind is firmly fixed. He did not 
 pause an instant when he reached the sea. He 
 went straight in, and presently the breakers were 
 dashing now over his hips, now over his shoulders. 
 If he went deeper he would have to swim. Once 
 he stumbled badly, but contrived to recover him- 
 self; then he drew himself to his full height in the 
 water and raised his right hand high out of it. 
 And in his right hand was a golf club. He 
 whirled this golf club once round his head, as a 
 cowboy twirls his lasso — then launched it out, 
 far as ever he could throw it, into the sea. 
 
 Then he reached down for another, under his 
 left arm — even as an archer reaches for the 
 arrows in his quiver — and hurled that one after 
 the first. 
 
 Again and yet again, and again he did this — 
 until the whole set of nine clubs had been hurled
 
 286 THE GOLFING PILGRIM 
 
 beyond the furthest breaker. Then he turned and 
 strode back out of the surf, the blackness of his 
 mood a trifle tempered by the completeness of 
 the sacrifice. And thus was consummated the 
 third and last of the great ordeals — the Ordeal 
 by Water. 
 
 Such was the vision that passed before the 
 Colonel's dreamy eyes while he gazed upon Mr 
 Fleg's wondrous relic, and while Mr Fleg grasped 
 convulsively the two arms of his chair. 
 
 At length to Mr Fleg's expectancy the very 
 silence grew full of menacant voices. He could 
 endure no longer. 
 
 " Well ? " he gasped. 
 
 Then Colonel Burscough roused himself from 
 his abstraction, and he too said " Well ! " — but 
 without the interrogation. 
 
 Then he paused again ; but after a moment he 
 resumed, speaking very solemnly — " Fleg, do you 
 remember that day on which you first beat me in 
 a golf match .■* " 
 
 Did he remember it .-' Would he ever forget 
 it ? Mr Fleg thought the Colonel was about 
 to draw some fruitful comparison between that 
 great red letter day in the professorial life and 
 this. " Indeed, my friend, I remember it well," 
 Mr Fleg gasped from the chair. 
 
 "And on that day, Fleg, I waded far out into
 
 AN INTERESTING RELIC 287 
 
 the sea. I threw my golf clubs from me — for 
 ever, as I thought — into the Atlantic." 
 
 " I know, I know, my friend," said Mr Fleg 
 moved, in this the day of his brightest triumph, 
 to deepest sympathy for that, the blackest day of 
 defeat, for his friend. 
 
 " I slipped," the Colonel continued. " For a 
 moment I thought I was drowned " 
 
 " I remember," Mr Fleg murmured, with yet 
 warmer sympathy. 
 
 " But I recovered myself by sticking one of my 
 clubs down through the sea upon the treacherous 
 mud on which I slipped. I recovered myself, but 
 the club broke short off at the head." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Mr Fleg vaguely. 
 
 " It was the niblick, Fleg — and I had thought 
 never to see that niblick-head again. But here — 
 steel yourself, Fleg, I fear this may be a blow to 
 you — it is no cave-man's weapon, this, Fleg ; only 
 a bunker-man's — this iron weapon of your Stone 
 Age is that very niblick. Here is the inscrip- 
 tion, legible on it still — James Wilson, Maker, 
 St An drew sT
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
 TURNBULL AND SPEAKS, 
 
 EDINBURGH
 
 A. CATALOGUE OF BOOKS 
 
 AND ANNOUNCEMENTS OF 
 
 METHUEN AND COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS : LONDON 
 
 36 ESSEX STREET 
 
 W.C. 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 FORTHCOMING BOOKS, 
 
 2 
 
 POETRY, ..... 
 
 8 
 
 BELLES LETTRES, .... 
 
 9 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BOOKS, .... 
 
 II 
 
 HISTORY, ...... 
 
 12 
 
 mOGRAPHY, ...... 
 
 14 
 
 TRAVEL, ADVENTURE AND TOPOGRAPHY, 
 
 15 
 
 NAVAL AND MILITARY, 
 
 17 
 
 GBNERAL LITERATURE, . . . . 
 
 18 
 
 SCIENCE, ..... 
 
 19 
 
 TECHNOLOGY, ..... 
 
 20 
 
 PHILOSOPHY, ..... 
 
 20 
 
 THEOLOGY, ...... 
 
 21 
 
 FICTION, ...... 
 
 23 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS, . . . . 
 
 34 
 
 THE PEACOCK LIBRARY, 
 
 34 
 
 UNIVERSITY EXTENSION SERIES, 
 
 35 
 
 SOCIAL QUttSTIONS OF TO-DAY 
 
 36 
 
 CLASSICAL TRANSLATIONS . . . . 
 
 37 
 
 EDUCATIONAL BOOKS, . . . . 
 
 37 
 
 APRIL I 898
 
 April 1898. 
 
 Messrs. Methuen's 
 
 ANNOUNCEMENTS 
 
 I ♦ I 
 
 Poetry 
 
 THE POEMS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. Edited 
 with an Introduction and Notes by GEORGE Wyndham, M.P. 
 Demy %vo. Btcckram, gilt top. los. 6d. 
 
 This edition contains the 'Venus,' 'Lucrece' and Sonnets, and is prefaced with an 
 elaborate introduction of over 140 pp. The text is founded on the first quartos, 
 with an endeavour to retain the original reading. A set of notes deals with 
 the problems of Date, The Rival Poets, Typography, and Punctuation ; and the 
 editor has commented on obscure passages in the light of contemporary works. 
 The publishers believe that no such complete edition has ever been published. 
 
 Travel and Adventure 
 
 THREE YEARS IN SAVAGE AFRICA. By LIONEL Decle, 
 With an Introduction by H. M. Stanley, M.P. With 100 Illus- 
 trations and 5 Maps. Demy%vo. 21s. 
 
 Few Europeans have had the same opportunity of studying the barbarous parts of 
 Africa as Mr. Decle. Starting from the Cape, he visited in succession Bechuana- 
 land, the Zambesi, Matabeleland and Mashonaland, the Portuguese settlement on 
 the Zambesi, Nyasaland, Ujiji, the headquarters of the Arabs, German East 
 Africa, Uganda (where he saw fighting in company with the late Major ' Roddy' 
 Owen), and British East Africa. In his book he relates his experiences, his 
 minute observations of native habits and customs, and his views as to the work 
 done in Africa by the various European Governments, whose operations he was 
 able to study. The whole journey extended over 7000 miles, and occupied 
 exactly three years. 
 
 EXPLORATION AND HUNTING IN CENTRAL 
 AFRICA. By Major A. St. H. Gibbons, F.R.G.S. With 8 full- 
 page Illustrations by C. Whymper, photographs and Map. Demy 
 %vo. iSj'. 
 This is an account of travel and adventure among the Marotse and contiguous tribes, 
 with a description of their customs, characteristics, and history, together with the 
 author's experiences in hunting big game. The illustrations are by Mr. Charles 
 Whymper, and from photographs. There is a map by the author of the hitherto 
 unexplored regions lying between the Zambezi and Kafukwi rivers and from i8' 
 to 15° S. lat. 
 
 WITH THE MOUNTED INFANTRY AND MASHONA- 
 LAND FIELD FORCE, 1896. By Lieut. -Colonel Alderson. 
 With numerous Illustrations and Plans. Demy %vo. \os. 6d. 
 This is an account of the military operations in Mashonaland by the officer who 
 commanded the troops in that district during the late rebellion. Besides its 
 interest as a story of warfare, it will have a peculiar value as an account of the 
 services of mounted infantry by one of the chief authorities on the subject.
 
 Messrs. Methuen's Announcements 3 
 campaigning on the upper nile and niger. 
 
 By Lieut. Seymour Vandeleur. With an Introduction by Sir G. 
 GoLDiE. With four Maps, Illustrations and Plans. Large Cr. 8vo. 
 10s. 6d. 
 
 A narrative of service (i) in the Equatorial Lakes and on the Upper Nile in 1895 and 
 1856 ; and (2) under Sir George Goldie in the Niger campaign of January 
 1897, describing the capture of Bida and Ilorin, and the French occupation of 
 Boussa. The book thus deals with the two districts of Africa where now the 
 French and English stand face to face. 
 
 THE NIGER SOURCES. By Colonel J. Trotter, R.A. 
 
 With a Map and Illustrations. Crown 8vo. ^s. 
 
 A book which at the present time should be of considerable interest, being an 
 account of a Commission appointed for frontier delimitation. 
 
 LIFE AND PROGRESS IN AUSTRALASIA. By Michael 
 
 Davitt, M.P. With two Maps. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 This book, the outcome of a recent journey through the seven Australasian colonies, 
 is an attempt to give to English readers a more intimate knowledge of a continent 
 colonised by their own race. The author sketches the general life, resources, 
 politics, parties, progress, prospects, and scenery of each colonj'. He made a 
 careful examination of the West Australian goldfields, and he has paid special 
 attention to the development of practical politics in the colonies. The book is 
 full of anecdotes and picturesque description. 
 
 History and Biography 
 
 A HISTORY OF THE ART OF WAR. By C. W. Oman, 
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 A 2
 
 Id Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
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 Messrs. Methuen's 1.ist ii 
 
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 j2 Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
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 Messrs. Methuen's List 13 
 
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 A history of Florence under the domination of Cosimo, Piero, and Lorenzo de 
 Medicis. 
 
 J.Wells. A SHORT HISTORY OF ROME. By J. Wells, 
 M. A., Fellow and Tutor of Wadham Coll., Oxford. With 4 Maps. 
 Crown ^vo. ^s. 6d. 
 
 This book is intended for the Middle and Upper Forms of Public Schools and for 
 
 Pass Students at the Universities. It contains copious Tables, etc. 
 'An original work written on an original plan, and with uncommon freshness and 
 vigour. ' — Speaker. 
 
 0. Browning. A SHORT HISTORY OF MEDIEVAL ITALY, 
 A.D. 1250-1530. By Oscar Browning, Fellow and Tutor of King's 
 College, Cambridge. Second Edition. In Two Volumes. Crown 
 8vo, 5 J. eacA, 
 
 Vol. I. 1250-1409. — Guelphs and Ghibellines. 
 
 Vol. II. 1409- 1 530. —The Age of the Condottieri. 
 
 'Mr. Browning is to be congratulated on the production of a work of immense 
 labour and learning.' — Westminster Gazette. 
 
 O'Grady. THE STORY OF IRELAND. By Standish 
 O'Grady, Author of ' Finn and his Companions.' Cr. Sz'o. 2s. 6d. 
 Most delightful, most stimulating. Its racy humour, its original imaginings, 
 make it one of the freshest, breeziest volumes.'— Met/iodist Times.
 
 14 Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 Biography 
 
 S. Baring Gould. THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONA- 
 PARTE. By S. Baring Gould. With over 450 Illustrations in 
 the Text and 12 Photogravure Plates. Large quarto. Gilt top. 36^-. 
 
 'The best' biography of Napoleon in our tongue, nor have the French as good a 
 biographer of their hero. A book very nearly as good as Southey's " Life of 
 Nelson." ' — Manchesier Guardian. 
 
 'The main feature of this gorgeous volume is its great wealth of beautiful photo- 
 gravures and finely-e.xecuted wood engravings, constituting a complete pictorial 
 chronicle of Napoleon I.'s personal history from the days of his early childhood 
 at Ajaccio to the date of his second interment under the dome of the Invalides in 
 Paris.' — Daily Telegrapli. 
 
 'Particular notice is due to the vast collection of contemporary illustrations.' — 
 Guardian. 
 
 ' Nearly all the illustrations are real contributions to history.'— IVesiminster Gazette. 
 
 Morris Fuller. THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF JOHN 
 DAVENANT, D.D. {1571-1641), Bishop of Salisbury. By MORRIS 
 Fuller, B.D, De»iy%vo. 10s, 6d. 
 ' A valuable contribution to ecclesiastical history.' — Birmingham Gazette. 
 
 J. M. Rigg. ST. ANSELM OF CANTERBURY : A Chapter 
 IN THE History of Religion. By J. M. Rigg. Demy 8vo. 'js. 6d. 
 
 'Mr. Rigg has told the story of the great Primate's life with scholarly ability, and 
 has thereby contributed an interesting chapter to the history of the Norman period.' 
 — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 F. W. Joyce. THE LIFE OF SIR FREDERICK GORE 
 
 OUSELEY. By F. W. Joyce, M.A. With Portraits and Illustra- 
 tions. Crown 8vo. "js. 6d. 
 
 ' This book has been undertaken in quite the right spirit, and written with sympathy, 
 insight, and considerable literary skill.' — Times. 
 
 W. G. Collingwood. THE LIFE OF JOHN RUSKIN. By 
 
 W. G. Collingwood, M.A. With Portraits, and 13 Drawings by 
 
 Mr. Ruskin. Second Edition. 2 vols, 8vo. 32^. 
 
 ' No more magnificent volumes have been published for a long time.' — Times. 
 ' It is long since we had a biography with such delights of substance and of form. 
 Such a book is a pleasure for the day, and a joy for eva.'— Daily Chronicle. 
 
 0. Waldstein. JOHN RUSKIN : a Study. By Charles 
 Waldstein, M.A., Fellow of King's College, Cambridge. With a 
 Photogravure Portrait after Professor Herkomer. Post 8vo. Ss, 
 
 A thoughtful, impartial, well-written criticism of Ruskin's teaching, intended to 
 separate what the author regards as valuable and permanent from what is transient 
 and erroneous in the great master's writing.' — Daily Chronicle,
 
 Messrs. Methuen's List 15 
 
 Dannesteter. THE LIFE OF ERNEST RENAN. By 
 Madame Darmesteter. With Tortrait. Seco7id Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 A biography of Renan by one of his most intimate friends. 
 
 ' A polished gem of biography, superior in its kind to any attempt that has been made 
 of recent years in England. Madame Darmesteter has indeed written for English 
 readers " Tlie Life of Ernest Renan."' — AthenaiifH. 
 
 ' It is a fascinating and biographical and critical study, and an admirably finished 
 work of literary art.' — Scotsman. 
 
 * It is interpenetrated with the dignity and charm, the mild, bright, classical grace of 
 form and treatment that Renan himself so loved ; and it fulfils to the uttermost 
 the delicate and difficult achievement it sets out to accomplish.' — Academy. 
 
 W. H. Hutton. THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. By 
 W. H. Hutton, M.A. With Portraits. Crown %vo. '^s. 
 ' The book lays good claim to high rank among our biographies. It is excellently, 
 even lovingly, written.' — Scotsman. ' An excellent monograph.' — Times. 
 
 Travel, Adventure and Topography 
 
 Johnston. BRITISH CENTRAL AFRICA. By Sir H. H. 
 Johnston, K.C.B. With nearly Two Hundred Illustrations, and 
 Six Maps. Second Edition. Cro^vn ^to. 30J. net. 
 
 ' A fascinating book, written with equal skill and charm — the work at once of a 
 literary artist and of a man of action who is singularly wise, brave, and experi- 
 enced. It abounds in admirable sketches from pencil.' — IVesttninster Gazette. 
 
 ' A delightful book . . . collecting within the covers of a single volume all that is 
 known of this part of our African domains. The voluminous appendices are of 
 extreme value. ' — Manchester Guardian. 
 
 ' The book takes front rank as a standard work by the one man competent to write 
 it.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 ' The book is crowded with important information, and written in a most attractive 
 style ; it is worthy, in short, of the author's established reputation.' — Standard. 
 
 Prince Henri of Orleans. FROM TONKIN TO INDIA. By 
 
 Prince Henri of Orleans. Translated by Hamley Bent, M.A. 
 
 With 100 Illustrations and a Map. Second Edition. Crown ^to, 
 gilt top. 2$s. 
 The travels of Prince Henri in 1895 from China to the valley of the Bramaputra 
 
 covered a distance of 2100 miles, of which 1600 was through absolutely unexplored 
 
 countrj'. No fewer than seventeen ranges of mountains were crossed at altitudes 
 
 of from 11,000 to 13,000 feet. The journey was made memorable by the discovery 
 
 of the sources of the Irrawaddy. 
 'A welcome contribution to our knowledge. The narrative is full and interesting, 
 
 and the appendices give the work a substantial value.' — Times. 
 ' The Prince's travels are of real importance ... his services to geography have been 
 
 considerable. The volume is beautifully illustrated.' — Aihemeum. 
 'The story is instructive and fascinating, and will certainly make one of the books 
 
 of 1898. The book attracts by its delightful print and fine illustrations. A nearly 
 
 moAe.\\iodkoiU3.\e\.'— Pall Mall Gazette. 
 'An entertaining record of pluck and travel in important regions.'— Z>(z//;)' Chronicle. 
 ' The illustrations are admirable and quite beyond praise.' — Glasgow Herald. 
 ' The Prince's story is charmingly told, and presented with an attractiveness which 
 
 will make it, in more than one sense, an outstanding book of the season.'— 
 
 Birmingham Post, 
 'An attractive book which will prove of considerable interest and no little value. A 
 
 narrative of a remarkable journey.' — Literature. 
 'China is the country of the hour. All eyes are turned towards her, and Messrs. 
 
 Mcthucn have opportunely selected the moment to launch Prince Henri's work.'— 
 
 Liverpool Daily Post.
 
 i6 Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 R. S. S. Baden-Powell. THE DOWNFALL OF PREMPEH. 
 A Diary of Life in Ashanti, 1895. By Colonel Baden-Powell. 
 With 21 Illustrations and a Map. Demy Zvo. \os. 6d. 
 ' A compact, faithful, most readable record of the campaign.'— X'a/Zj' News. 
 
 R. S. S. Baden-PoweU. THE MATABELE CAMPAIGN 1896. 
 By Colonel Bapen-Powell. With nearly 100 Illustrations. Second 
 Edition. Detny Zvo. \<,s. 
 ' As a straightforward account of a great deal of plucky work unpretentiously done, 
 this book is well worth reading. The simplicity of the narrative is all in its 
 favour, and accords in a peculiarly English fashion with the nature of the subject.' 
 Thiies. 
 
 Captain Hinde. THE FALL OF THE CONGO ARABS. 
 
 By L. HiNDE. With Plans, etc. Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. ^ 
 The book is full of good things, and of sustained interest.' — St. James's Gazette. 
 ' A graphic sketch of one of the most exciting and important episodes in the struggle 
 for supremacy in Central Africa between the Arabs and their_ Europeon rivals. 
 Apart from the story of the campaign, Captain Hinde's book is mainly rem.ark- 
 able for the fulness with which he discusses the question of cannibalism. It is, 
 indeed, the lonly connected narrative— in English, at any rate— which has been 
 published of this particular episode in African history.' — Times. 
 
 W. Crooke. THE NORTH-WESTERN PROVINCES OF 
 INDIA : Their Ethnology and Administration. By W. 
 Crookk. With Maps and Illustrations. Demy 8w. \os. 6d. 
 ' A carefully and well-written account of one of the most important provinces of the 
 Empire. In seven chapters Mr. Crooke deals successively with the land iri its 
 physical aspect, the province under Hindoo and Mussulman rule, the province 
 under British rule, the ethnology and sociology of the province, the religious and 
 social life of the people, the land and its settlement, and the native peasant in his 
 relation to the land. The illustrations are good and well selected, and the map is 
 excellent.' — Manchester Guardian. 
 
 A. Boisragon. THE BENIN MASSACRE. By Captain 
 
 BoiSRAGON. With Portrait and Map. Second Edition. Crown %vo. 
 
 35. 6.7. 
 
 ' If the story had been written four hundred years ago it would be read to-day as an 
 English classic' — Scotsman. ^ , . . 
 
 ' If anything could enhance the horror and the pathos of this remarkable book it is 
 the simple style of the author, who writes as he would talk, unconscious of his 
 own heroism, with an artlessness which is the highest art.'— Patt Matt Gazette. 
 
 H. S. Cowper. THE HILL OF THE GRACES : OR, the Great 
 
 Stone Temples of Tripoli. By H. S. Cowper, F.S.A. With 
 Maps, Plans, and 75 Illustrations. De!?iy Svo. los. 6d. 
 'The book has the interest of all first-hand work, directed by an intelligent man 
 towards a worthy object, and it forms a valuable chapter of what _ has now 
 become quite a large and important branch of antiquarian research.' — Times. 
 
 Kinnaird Rose. WITH THE GREEKS IN THESSALY. 
 
 By W. Kinnaird Rose, Reuter's Correspondent. With Plans and 
 23 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 W. B. Worsfold. SOUTH AFRICA. By W. B. Worsfold, 
 M.A. With a Map. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 ' A monumental work compressed into a very moderate compass.' — IVorld.
 
 Messrs. Metiiuen's List 17 
 
 Naval and Military 
 
 G. W. Steevens. NAVAL POLICY : By. G. W. Steevens. 
 
 Demy %vo. 6s. 
 
 This book is a description of the British and other more important navies of the world, 
 with a sketch of the lines on which our naval policy might possibly be developed. 
 'An extremely able and interesting work.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 D. Hannay. A SHORT HISTORY OF THE ROYAL NAVY, 
 
 From Early Times to the Present Day. By David Hannay. 
 Illustrated. 2 Vols. Demy Zvo. "js. 6d. each. Vol. I., 1200-168S. 
 
 ' We read it from cover to cover at a sitting, and those who go to it for a lively and 
 
 brisk picture of the past, with all its faults and its grandeur, will not be disappointed. 
 
 The historian is competent, and he is endowed with literary skill and style.' — 
 
 Standard. 
 'We can warmly recommend Mr. Hannay 's volume to any intelligent student of 
 
 naval historj'. Great as is the merit of ISIr. Hannay's historical narrative, the 
 
 merit of his strategic exposition is even greater.' — Times. 
 'His book is brisk and pleasant reading, for he is gifted with a most agreeable 
 
 style. His reflections are philosophical, and he has seized and emphasised just 
 
 those points which are of interest.' — Graphic. 
 
 Cooper King. THE STORY OF THE BRITISH ARMY. By 
 Lieut. -Colonel Cooper King, of the Staff College, Camberley. Illus- 
 trated. Demy Zvo. "js. 6d. 
 
 An authoritative and accurate story of England's military progress.' — Daily Mail. 
 'This handy volume contains, in a compendious form, a brief but adequate sketch of 
 the story of the British army.' — Daily News. 
 
 R. Southey. ENGLISH SEAMEN (Howard, Clifford, Hawkins, 
 Drake, Cavendish). By Robert Southey. Edited, with an 
 Introduction, by David Hannay. Second Edition. CrownSvo. 6s. 
 
 'Admirable and well-told stories of our naval history.' — Army and Navy Gazette. 
 ' A brave, inspiriting book.' — Black and White. 
 
 W. Clark RusselL THE LIFE OF ADMIRAL LORD COL- 
 
 LINGWOOD. By W. Clark Russell, With Illustrations by 
 
 F. Brangwyn. Third Edition. Cro7cn Svo. 6s. 
 
 'A book which we should like to see in the hands of every boy in the country.' — 
 
 St. James's Gazette. ' A really good book.' — Saturday Review. 
 
 E. L. S. Horsburgh. THE CAMPAIGN OF WATERLOO. 
 
 By E, L. S. Horsburgh, B.A. With Plans. Crown Zvo. 51. 
 'A brilliant essay — simple, sound, and thorough.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 H. B.George. BATTLES OF ENGLISH HISTORY. ByH. B. 
 George, M.A., Fellow of New College, Oxford. With numerous 
 Plans. Third Edition. Crown ivo. 6s. 
 'Mr. George has undertaken a very useful task— that of making military affairs in- 
 telligible and instructive to non-military readers— and has executed it with laud- 
 able intelligence and industry, and witli a large measure of success.' — Times. 
 
 A3
 
 i8 Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 General Literature 
 
 S. Baring Gould. OLD COUNTRY LIFE. By S. Baring 
 
 Gould. With Sixty-seven Illustrations. Large Crown 2>vo. Fifth 
 
 Edition. 6s. 
 
 ' " Old Country Life," as healthy wholesome reading, full of breezy life and more- 
 
 ment, full of quaint stories vigorously told, will not be excelled by any book to be 
 
 published throughout the year. Sound, hearty, and English to the core.' — IVorld. 
 
 S. Baring Gould. HISTORIC ODDITIES AND STRANGE 
 
 EVENTS. By S. Baring Gould. Fo^irth Edition. Crown^vo. (>$. 
 
 'A collection of exciting and entertaining chapters. The whole volume is delightful 
 reading.' — Tunes. 
 
 S. Baring Gould. FREAKS OF FANATICISM. By S. Baring 
 Gould. Third Edition. Crown %vo. ds. 
 ' Mr. Baring Gould has a keen eye for colour and effect, and the subjects he has 
 chosen give ample scope to his descriptive and analytic faculties. A perfectly 
 fascinating book.' — Scottish Leader. 
 
 S. Baring Gould. A GARLAND OF COUNTRY SONG : 
 
 English Folk Songs with their Traditional Melodies. Collected and 
 arranged by S. Baring Gould and H. F. Sheppard. Demy i^io. 6s. 
 
 S. Baring Gould. SONGS OF THE WEST: Traditional 
 Ballads and Songs of the West of England, with their Traditional 
 Melodies. Collected by S. Baring Gould, M.A., and H. F. 
 Sheppard, M.A. Arranged for Voice and Piano. In 4 Parts 
 Paris I., II., III., 35. each. Part IV., t^s. In one Vol., French 
 morocco, i^s. 
 ' A rich collection of humour, pathos, grace, and poetic fancy.' — Saturday Review. 
 
 S. Baring Gould. YORKSHIRE ODDITIES AND STRANGE 
 
 EVENTS. Fourth Edition. Crown %vo, 6s. 
 
 S. Baring Gould. STRANGE SURVIVALS AND SUPER- 
 STITIONS. With Illustrations. By S. Baring Gould. Croivn 
 Svo. Second Edition. 6s. 
 
 S. Baring Gould. THE DESERTS OF SOUTHERN 
 
 FRANCE. By S. Baring Gould. 2 vo/s. Demy Svo. 325. 
 
 Cotton Minchin, OLD HARROW DAYS. By J. G. Cotton 
 
 MiNCHlN. Crown 8vo. Second Edition, ^s. 
 
 ' This book i? an admirable record.' — Daily Clu-onicle. 
 
 ' Mr. Cotton INIinchin's bright and breezy reminiscences of ' Old Harrow Days' will 
 delight all Harrovians, old and young, and may go far to explain the abiding 
 enthusiasm of old Harrovians for their school to readers who have not been privi- 
 leged to be their schoolfellows.' — Times. 
 
 W. E. Gladstone. THE SPEECHES OF THE RT. HON. 
 
 W. E. GLADSTONE, M.P. Edited by A. W. Hutton, M. A., 
 
 and H. J. Cohen, M.A. With Portraits. 2>vo. Vols. IX. and X, 
 I2s. 6d. each.
 
 Messrs. Methuen's List 19 
 
 J. Wells. OXPORD AND OXFORD LIFE. By Members of 
 the University. Edited by J. Wells, M.A., Fellow and Tutor of 
 Wadham College. Crown 8vo. 3^. 6c/. 
 ' We congratulate Mr. Wells on the production of a readable and intelligent account 
 of Oxford as it is at the present time, written by persons who are possessed of a 
 close acquaintance with the system and life of the University.' — Athenaeum. 
 
 J.Wells. OXFORD AND ITS COLLEGES. By J. Wells, M. A.,' 
 Fellow and Tutor of Wadham College. Illustrated by E. H. New. 
 Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 35-. Leather, a^. 
 
 This is a guide— chiefly historical — to the Colleges of Oxford. It contains numerous 
 illustrations. 
 
 'An admirable and accurate little treatise, attractively illustrated.' — World. 
 
 'A luminous and tasteful little volume.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 ' Exactly what the intelligent visitor wants.'— Glas^oiv Herald. 
 
 C. G. Robertson. VOCES ACADEMICS. By C. Grant 
 Robertson, M.A., Fellow of All Souls', Oxford. Wit/i a Frontis- 
 piece. Pott. 8vo. 3x. dd. 
 ' Decidedly clever and amusing.' — Athenauyn. 
 
 ' The dialogues are abundantly smart and amusing.' — Glasgcnv Herald. 
 ' A clever and entertaining little book.'— Pa// Mull Gazette. 
 
 L. Whibley. GREEK OLIGARCHIES : THEIR ORGANISA- 
 TION AND CHARACTER. By L. Whibley, M.A., Fellow 
 of Pembroke College, Cambridge. Crowti %vo. 6s. 
 'An exceedingly useful handbook : a careful and well-arranged study.' — Times. 
 
 L. L. Price. ECONOMIC SCIENCE AND PRACTICE.' 
 By L. L. Price, M.A., Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford. Crown 
 %vo. 6s. 
 
 ' The book is well written, giving evidence of considerable literary ability, and clear 
 mental grasp of the subject under consideration. ' — /J''«/«r« Morning News. 
 
 J. S. Shedlock. THE PIANOFORTE SONATA: Its Origin 
 and Development. By J. S. Shedlock. Crorvn2)VO. 55. 
 'This work should be in the possession of every musician and amateur. A concise 
 and lucid history of the origin of one of the most important forms of musical 
 composition. A very valuable work for reference.' — Athcnaum. 
 
 E.M. Bowden. THE EXAMPLE OF BUDDHA: Being Quota- 
 tions from Buddhist Literature for each Day in the Year. Compiled 
 by E. M. Bowden. Third Edition. \6mo. zs. 6d. 
 
 Morgan-Browne. SPORTING AND ATHLETIC RECORDS. 
 By II. Mokgan-Browne. Crown 8vo. is. paper ; 2s. cloth. 
 Should meet a very wide demand.' — Daily Afail. 
 'A very careful collection, and the first one of its kind.' — Manchester Guardian. 
 'Certainly the most valuable of all books of its kind.' — Birmingham Gazette. 
 
 Science 
 
 Freudenreich. DAIRY BACTERIOLOGY. A Short Manual 
 for the Use of Students. By Dr. Ed. von Freudenreich. 
 Translated by J. R. AiNSWORTH Davis, B.A. Crown 8vo. 2s.6d.
 
 20 Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 Chalmers Mitchell. OUTLINES OF BIOLOGY. By P, 
 
 Chalmers Mitchell, M.A., Illustrated. Crown %vo. 6j. 
 
 A text-book designed to cover the new Schedule issued by the Royal College of 
 Physicians and Surgeons. 
 
 G.Massee. A MONOGRAPH OF THE MYXOGASTRES. By 
 
 George Massee. With 12 Coloured Plates. Royal Zvo. iSs. net. 
 'A work much in advance of any book in the language treating of this group of 
 organisms. Indispensable to every student of the Myxogastres. ' — Nature. 
 
 Technol 
 
 ogy 
 
 Stephenson and Suddards. ORNAMENTAL DESIGN FOR 
 WOVEN FABRICS. By C. Stephenson, of The Technical 
 College, Bradford, and F. Suddards, of The Yorkshire College, 
 Leeds. With 65 full-page plates, and numerous designs and diagrams 
 in the text. Demy Zvo. "]$. 6d. 
 
 ' The book is very ably done, displaying an intimate knowledge of principles, good 
 taste, and the faculty of clear exposition.' — Voj-kshire Post. 
 
 HANDBOOKS OF TECHNOLOGY. 
 Edited by Professors GARNETT and WERTHEIMER. 
 
 HOW TO MAKE A DRESS. By J. A. E. Wood. 
 
 Illustrated. Crown Svo. Is. 6d. 
 
 A text-book for students preparing for the City and Guilds examination, based on 
 the syllabus. Tlie diagrams are numerous. 
 
 'Though primarily intended for students, Miss Wood's dainty little manual maybe 
 consulted with advantage by any girls who want to make their own frocks. The 
 directions are simple and clear, and the diagrams very helpful.' — Liieraiu>e. 
 
 ' A splendid little book.' — Evening News. 
 
 Philosophy 
 
 L. T. Hobhouse. THE THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE. By 
 
 L. T. HOBHOUSE, Fellow of C.C.C, Oxford. Det/iy 2,vo. 2ls. 
 
 ' The most important contribution to English philosophy since the publication of Mr. 
 Bradley's " Appearance and Reality." Full of brilliant criticism and of positive 
 theories which are models of lucid statement.' — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 ' A brilliantly written volume.' — Times. 
 
 W. H. Fairbrother. THE PHILOSOPHY OF T. H. GREEN. 
 By W. H. Fairbrother, M.A. Crown Svo. ^s. 6d. 
 
 ' In every way an admirable book.' — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 F. W. BusseU. THE SCHOOL OF PLATO : its Origin and 
 its Revival under the Roman Empire. By F. W. Bussell, D.D., 
 Fellow and Tutor of Brasenose College, Oxford. Demy Svo. lOs. 6d. 
 
 ' A highly valuable contribution to the history of ancient thought.'— Glasgow Herald. 
 
 ' A clever and stimulating book, provocative of thought and deserving c.ireful reading.' 
 — Manchester Guardian.
 
 Messrs. Methuen's List 21 
 
 F. S. Granger. THE WORSHIP OF THE ROMANS. By 
 F. S. Granger, M.A., Liu.D., Professor of Thilosophv at Univer- 
 sity College, Nottingham. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 'A scholarly analysis of the religious ceremonies, beliefs, and superstitions of .incient 
 Rome, conducted in the new light of comparative anthropology.'— r/ww. 
 
 Theology 
 
 handbooks OF THEOLOGY. 
 
 General Editor, A. Robertson, D.D., Principal of King's College, 
 
 London. 
 THE XXXIX. ARTICLES OF THE CHURCH OF ENG- 
 LAND. Edited with an Introduction by E. C. S. Gibson, D.D., 
 Vicar of Leeds, late Principal of Wells Theological College. Second 
 and Cheaper Edition in One Volume. Demy Svo. I2s. 6d. 
 
 ' Dr. Gibson is a master of clear and orderly exposition, and he has enlisted in his 
 service all the mechanism of variijty of type which so greatly helps to elucidate a 
 complicated subject. And he has in a high degree a quality very necessary, hut 
 rarely found, in commentators on this topic, that of absolute fairness. His book 
 is pre-eminently honest.' — Times. 
 
 'After a survey of the whole book, we can bear witness to the transparent honesty 
 of purpose, evident industry, and clearness of style which mark its contents. 
 They maintain throughout a very high level of doctrine and tone.' — Guardian. 
 
 ' An elaborate and learned book, e.xcellently adapted to its purpose.'— 5/(-«.^vr. 
 
 'The most convenient and most acceptable commentary.' — Exj>ository Times. 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION TO THE HISTORY OF RELIGION. 
 
 By F. B. JEVONS, M.A., Litt.D., Principal of Bishop Hatfield's 
 
 Hall. Demy 2>vo. los. 6d. 
 ' Dr. Jevons has written a notable work, which we can strongly recommend to the 
 
 serious attention of theologians and anthropologists.'— yi/rtwC/i^/^?- Guardian. 
 ' The merit of this book lies in the penetration, the singular acuteness and force of the 
 
 author's judgment. He is at once critical and luminous, at once just and suggestive. 
 
 A comprehensive and thorough hook.'— Birmingham Post. 
 
 THE DOCTRINE OF THE INCARNATION. By R. L. 
 
 Otiley, M.A., late fellow of Magdalen College, Oxon.,and Principal 
 
 of Pusey House. In Two Volumes. Demy Svo. 15J. 
 'Learned and reverent : lucid and well arranged.'— /i^ccri/. 
 'Accurate, well ordered, and judicious.'— A''a//V«a/ Ci^iirrz/^n 
 ' A clear and remarkably full account of the main currents of speculation. Scholarly 
 
 precision . . . genuine tolerance . . . intense interest in his subject— are Mr. 
 
 Ottley's merits.' — Guardian. 
 
 C. F. Andrews. CHRISTIANITY AND THE LABOUR 
 QUESTION. By C. F. Andrews, B.A. Crown %vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 S. R. Driver. SERMONS ON SUBJECTS CONNECTED 
 WITH THE OLD TESTAMENT. By S. R. Driver, D.D., 
 Canon of Christ Church, Regius Professor of Hebrew in the Uni- 
 versity of Oxford, Crown Svo. 6s. 
 'A welcome companion to the author's famous 'Introduction.' No man can read these 
 discourses without feeling that Dr. Driver is fully alive to the deeper teaching of 
 the Old Testament.'— Guardian.
 
 22 Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 T. K. Cheyne. FOUNDERS OF OLD TESTAMENT CRITI- 
 CISM y T. K. Cheyne, D.D., Oriel Professor at Oxford. 
 Large crown %vo. 'js, (yd. 
 This book is a historical sketch of O. T. Criticism in the form of biographical studies 
 
 from the days of Eichhorn to those of Driver and Robertson Smith. 
 'A very learned and instructive work.' — Times. 
 
 H. H. Henson. LIGHT AND LEAVEN : Historical and 
 Social Sermons. By the Rev. H. Hensley Henson, M.A., 
 Fellow of All Souls', Incumbent of St. Mary's Hospital, Ilford. 
 Crown %vo. bs. 
 ' They are always reasonable as well as rigorous, and they are none the less Impres- 
 sive because they regard the needs of a life on this side of a hereafter." — 
 Scotsvtan. 
 
 W. H. Bennett. A PRIMER OF THE BIBLE. By Prof. 
 W. H. Bennett. Secoyid Edition. Crown Zvo. 2s. 6d. 
 ' The work of an honest, fearless, and sound critic, and an excellent guide in a small 
 
 compass to the books of the Bible.' — Manchester Guardian, 
 'A unique primer. Mr. Bennett has collected and condensed a very extensiveand 
 diversified amount of material, and no one can consult his pages and fail to 
 acknowledge indebtedness to his undertaking.' — English Churchman. 
 
 C.H.Prior. CAMBRIDGE SERMONS. Edited by C.H, Prior, 
 M.A., Fellow and Tutor of Pembroke College. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 A volume of sermons preached before the University of Cambridge by various 
 preachers, including the late Archbishop of Canterbury and Bishop Westcott. 
 
 E. B. Layard. RELIGION IN BOYHOOD. Notes on the 
 Religious Training of Bovs By E. B. Layard, M.A. iStno. is. 
 
 W. Yorke Faussett. THE DE CATECHIZANDIS 
 
 RUDIBUS OF ST. AUGUSTINE. Eaited, with Introduction, 
 Notes, etc., by W. Yorke Faussett. M.A., late Scholar of Balliol 
 Coll. Crown 8vo. ^s. 6d. 
 An edition of a Treatise on the Essentials of Christian Doctrine, and the best 
 methods of impressing them on candidates for baptism. 
 
 A Kempis. THE IMITATION OP CHRIST. By Thomas a 
 
 Kempis. With an Introduction by Dean Farrar. Illustrated by 
 C. M. Gere, and printed in black and red. Second Edition, Fcap. 
 Svo. Buckram, y. 6d. Padded morocco, 5^. 
 'Amongst all the innumerable English editions of the " Imitation," there can have 
 been few which were prettier than this one, printed in strong and handsome type, 
 with all the glory of red initials.' — Glasgnv Herald. 
 
 J. Keble. THE CHRISTIAN YEAR. By John Keble. With an 
 Introduction and Notes by W. Lock, D.D., Warden of Keble College, 
 Ireland Professor at Oxford. Illustrated by R. Anning Bell. 
 Second Edition. Fcap. 2>vo. Buckram. 35. bd. Padded morocco, '^s. 
 •The present edition is annotated with all the care and insight to be expected from 
 Mr. Lock. The progress and circumstances of its composition are detailed in the 
 Introduction. There is an interesting Appendix on the MSS. of the "Christian 
 Year," and another giving the order in which the poems were written. A "Short 
 Analysis of the Thought" is prefixed to each, and any difficulty in the text is ex- 
 plained in a note.' — Guardian.
 
 Messrs. Metiiuen's List 23 
 
 Edited by H. C. BEECIIING, M.A. With Portraits, crown 8vo. 
 A series of short biographies of the most prominent leaders of religious 
 life and thought of all ages and countries. 
 The following are ready — 
 
 CARDINAL NEWMAN. By R. H. HUTTON. 
 
 JOHN WESLEY. By J. H. Overton, M.A. 
 
 BISHOP WILBERFORCE. By G. W. Daniel, M.A. 
 
 CARDINAL MANNING. By A. W. Hutton, M.A. 
 
 CHARLES SIMEON. By H. C. G. MOULE, M.A. 
 
 JOHN KEBLE. By Walter Lock, D.D. 
 
 THOMAS CHALMERS. By Mrs. Oliphant. 
 
 LANCELOT ANDREWES. By R. L. Ottley, M.A. 
 
 AUGUSTINE OF CANTERBURY. By E. L. Cutts, D.D. 
 
 WILLIAM LAUD. By W. H. HUTTON, B.D. 
 
 JOHN KNOX. By F. M'CuNN. 
 
 JOHN HOWE. By R. F. HORTON, D.D. 
 
 BISHOP KEN. By F. A. Clarke, M.A. 
 
 GEORGE FOX, THE OUAKER. By T. Hodgkin, D.C.L. 
 
 JOHN DONNE. By AUGUSTUS Jessopp, D.D. 
 
 Other volumes will be announced in due course. 
 
 Fiction 
 
 SIX SHILLING NOVELS 
 
 Marie Corelli's Novels 
 
 Crown Svo. 6s. each. 
 
 A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS. Seventeenth Edition. 
 VENDETTA. Thirteenth Edition. 
 THELMA. Eighteenth Edition. 
 A R D AT H . Eleventh Edition. 
 THE SOUL OF LILITH Ninth Edition. 
 WORMWOOD. Eis^hth Edition. 
 
 BARABBAS : A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY. 
 Thirty-first Edition. 
 
 ' The tender reverence of the treatment and the imaginative beauty of the writing 
 have reconciled us to the daring of the conception, and the conviction is forced on 
 us that even so exalted a subject cannot be made too familiar to us, provided it be 
 presented in the true spirit of Christian faith. The amplifications of the Scripture 
 narrative are often conceived with hiph poetic insight, and this "Dream of the 
 World's Tragedy " is, despite some trifling incongruities, a lofty and not inade- 
 quate paraphrase o< the supreme climax of the inspired narrative.'— 2>i<M« 
 kevicw.
 
 24 Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 THE SORROWS OF SATAN. Thirty- seventh Edition. 
 
 ' A very powerful piece of work. . . . The conception is magnificent, and is likely 
 to win an abiding place within the memory of man. . . . The author has immense 
 command of language, and a limitless audacity. . . . This interesting and re- 
 markable romance will live long after much of the ephemeral literature of the day 
 is forgotten. ... A literary phenomenon . . . novel, and ev"ii sublime, — W. T. 
 Stead in the Review of Reviews. 
 
 Anthony Hope's Novels 
 
 Crown %vo. 6s. each. 
 THE GOD IN THE CAR. Seventh Edition. 
 
 ' A very remarkable book, deserving of critical analysis impossible within our limit ; 
 brilliant, but not superficial ; well considered, but not elaborated ; constructed 
 with the proverbial art that conceals, but yet allows itself to be enjoyed by readers 
 to whom fine literary method is a keen pleasure.'— The World. 
 
 A CHANGE OF AIR. Fourth Edition. 
 
 'A graceful, vivacious comedy, true to human nature. The characters are traced 
 with a masterly hand.' — Times. 
 
 A MAN OF MARK. Fourth Edition. 
 
 ' Of all Mr. Hope's books, " A Man of Mark " is the one which best compares with 
 "The Prisoner of Zenda." '—National Observer. 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF COUNT ANTONIO. Third Edition. 
 
 'It IS a perfectly enchanting story of love and chivalry, and pure romance. The 
 Count is the most constant, desperate, and modest and tender of lovers, a peerless 
 gentleman, an intrepid fighter, a faithful friend, and a magnanimous foe.' — 
 Guardian. 
 
 PHROSO. Illustrated by H. R. Millar. Third Edition. 
 
 ' The tale is thoroughly fresh, quick with vitality, stirring the blood, and hvmiorously, 
 
 di2&\iya'^y X.oXd..'— St. James's Gazette. 
 ' A story of adventure, every page of which is palpitating with action.' — Speaker. 
 ' From cover to cover " Phroso" not only engages the attention, but carries the reader 
 
 ia little whirls of delight from adventure to adventure.'— .^ca</«/y. 
 
 S. Baring Gould's Novels 
 
 Crown Svo. 6s. each. 
 
 'To say that a book is by the author of " Mehalah" is to imply that it contains a 
 story cast on strong lines, containing dramatic possibilities, vivid and sympathetic 
 descriptions of Nature, and a wealth of ingenious m^.z^xy .' —S peaker. 
 'That whatever Mr. Baring Gould writes is well worth reading, is a conclusion that 
 may be very generally accepted. His views of life are fresh and vigorous, his 
 language pointed and characteristic, the incidents of which he makes use are 
 striking and original, his characters are life-like, and though somewhat excep- 
 tional people, are drawn and coloured with artistic force. Add to this that his 
 descriptions of scenes and scenery are painted with the loving eyes and skilled 
 hands of a master of his art, that he is always fresh and never dull, and under 
 such conditions it is no wonder that readers have gained confidence both in his 
 power of amusing and satisfying them, and that year by year his popularity 
 widens.' — Court Circular. 
 
 ARM I NELL : A Social Romance. Fourth Edition. 
 URITH : A Story of Dartmoor. Fifth Edition 
 
 ' The author is at his best.' — Times.
 
 Messrs. Methuen's List 25 
 
 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA Sixth Edition. 
 
 'One of the best imagined and most enthralling stories the author has produced.' 
 — Saturday Review. 
 
 MRS. CURGENVEN OF CURGENVEN. Fourth Edition. 
 
 ' The swing of the narrative is splendid.'— ^wm^j: Daily News. 
 
 CHEAP JACK ZITA. Fourth Edition. 
 
 ' A powerful drama of .human passion.' — IVestminstcr Gazette. 
 'A story worthy the aMltioi.'— National Obset-vcr. 
 
 THE QUEEN OF LOVE. Fourth Edition. 
 
 ' Can be heartily recommended to all who care for cleanly, energetic, and interesting 
 fiction.' — Sussex Daily News. 
 
 KITTY ALONE. Fourth Edition. 
 
 ' A strong and original story, teeming with graphic description, stirring incident, 
 and, above all, with vivid and enthralling human interesl.'— Daily Telegraph. 
 
 NOEMI : A Romance of the Cave-D wallers. Illustrated by 
 R. Caton WOODVILLE. Third Edition. 
 'A powerful story, full of strong lights and shadows.'— .S"/fl«^flr^. 
 
 THE BROOM-SQUIRE. Illustrated by Frank Dadd. 
 
 Fourth Edition. 
 ' A strain of tenderness is woven through the web of his tragic tale, and its atmosphere 
 is sweetened by the nobility and sweetness of the heroine's character.' — Daily News. 
 
 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. Third Edition, 
 DARTMOOR IDYLLS. 
 
 ' A book to read, and keep and read again ; for the genuine fun and pathos of it will 
 not early lose their eSect.'— Vanity Fair. 
 
 GUAVAS THE TINNER. Illustrated by Frank Dadd. 
 
 Second Edition. 
 ' There is a kind of flavour about this book which alone elevates it above the ordinary 
 novel. The story itself has a grandeur in harmony with the wild and rugged 
 scenery which is its setting.' — Athenceum. 
 
 BLADYS. Second Edition. 
 
 ' A story of thrilling interest.' — Scotsman. 
 ' A sombre but powerful story.'— Daily Mail. 
 
 Gilbert Parker's Novels 
 
 Croavn Zvo. 6s. each. 
 PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE. Fourth Edition. 
 
 'Stories happily conceived and finely executed. There is strength and genius in Mr. 
 Parker's style.'— Daily Teleera.ph. 
 
 MRS. FALCHION. Fourth Edition. 
 
 'A splendid study of character.'— W//(^«<:f«w. . • . n >; 
 
 ' But little behind anything that has been done by any writer of our time_—/ <i// 
 
 Mall Gazette. ' A very striking and admirable novel.'- 6"/. /ames s Gazette. 
 
 THE TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE. 
 
 'The plot is original and one diflicult to work out ; but Mr. Parker has done it with 
 great skill and delicacy. The reader who is not interested in this original, fresh, 
 and well-told tale must be a dull person indeed.'— Zfa/Vy Chronicle.
 
 26 Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD. Fifth Edition. Illustrated. 
 
 ' A rousing and dramatic tale, A book like this, in which swords flash, great sur- 
 prises are undertaken, and daring deeds done, in which men and women live and 
 love in the old passionate way, is a joy inexpressible .' — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 WHEN VALMOND CAME TO PONTIAC : The Story of 
 a Lost Napoleon. Fourth Edition. 
 ' Here we find romance — real, breathing, living romance. The character of Valmond 
 is drawn unerringly. The book must be read, we may say re-read, for any one 
 thoroughly to appreciate Mr. Parker's delicate touch and innate sympathy with 
 humanity.'— Pa// Mall Gazette. 
 
 AN ADVENTURER OF THE NORTH: The Last Adven- 
 tures of ' Pretty Pierre.' Second Edition. 
 'The present book is full of fine and moving stories of the great North, and it will 
 add to Mr. Parker's already high reputation.' — Glasgoiu Herald. 
 
 THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. Illustrated. Ninth Edition. 
 
 ' The best thing he has done ; one of the best things that any one has done lately.' — 
 
 St. James's Gazette. 
 ' Mr. Parker seems to become stronger and easier with every serious novel that he 
 
 attempts. He shows the matured power which his former novels have led us to 
 
 expect, and has produced a really fine historical novel. The finest novel he has 
 
 yet written.' — Athetueum. 
 ' A great \:Qa\i.'— Black and White. 
 ' One of the strongest stories of historical interest and adventure that we have read 
 
 for many a day. ... A notable and successful book.' — Speaker. 
 
 THE POMP OF THE LAVILETTES. Second Edition, ^s.td. 
 
 ' Living, breathing romance, genuine and unforced pathos, and a deeper and more 
 subtle knowledge of human nature than Mr. Parker has ever displayed before. 
 It is, in a word, the work of a true artist.' — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Conan Doyle. ROUND THE RED LAMP. By A, Conan 
 Doyle, Author of 'The White Company,' 'The Adventures of 
 Sherlock Holmes,' etc. Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s, 
 'The book is, indeed, composed of leaves from life, and is far and away the best view 
 that has been vouchsafed us behind the scenes of the consulting-room. It is very 
 superior to "The Diary of a late Physician. " ' — Illustrated London News. 
 
 Stanley Weyman. UNDER THE RED ROBE. By Stanley 
 
 Weyman, Author of ' A Gentleman of France.' With Twelve Illus- 
 trations by R. Caton Woodville. Twelfth Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 'A book of which we have read every word for the sheer pleasure of reading, and 
 which we put down with a pang that we cannot forget it all and start again.' — 
 Westminster Gazette. 
 
 ' Every one who reads books at all must read this thrilling romance, from_ the first 
 page of which to the last the breathless reader is haled along. An inspiration of 
 manliness and courage.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 Iiucas Malet. THE WAGES OF SIN. By Lucas 
 Malet. Thirteenth Edition. Crown 2>vo. 6s. 
 
 Iiucas Malet. THE CARISSIMA. By Lucas Malet, 
 
 Authorof 'The Wages of Sin,' etc. Third Edition. CrownSvo. 6s.
 
 Messrs. Methuen's List 27 
 
 S. R. Crockett. LOCHINVAR. By S. R. Crockett, Author 
 
 of ' The Raiders,' etc. Illustrated. Second Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 ' Full of gallantry and pathos, of the clash of arms, and brightened by episodes of 
 
 humour and love. , . . Mr. Crockett has never written a stronger or better book. 
 
 An engrossing and fascinating story. The love story alone is enough to make 
 
 the book d(i\igh.\.i\i\.'—lV£stminsier Gazette. 
 
 Arthur Morrison. TALES OF MEAN STREETS. By Arthur 
 
 Morrison. Fourth Edition. Crown %vo. 6s. 
 ' Told with consummate art and extraordinary detail. In the true humanity of the 
 
 book lies its justification, the permanence of its interest, and its indubitable 
 
 triumph.' — Athemeutn. 
 ' A great book. The author's method is amazingly effective, and produces a thrilling 
 
 sense of reality. The writer lays upon us a master hand. The book is simply. 
 
 appalling and irresistible in its interest. It is humorous also ; without humou 
 
 it would not make the mark it is certain to maV^.'—lVorlJ. 
 
 Arthur Morrison. A CHILD OF THE JAGO. By Arthur 
 
 Morrison. Third Edition. Crown 2iV0. 6s, 
 
 ' The book is a masterpiece.'— Pa// Malt Gazette. 
 
 ' Told with great vigour and powerful simplicity.' — Aihemeum. 
 
 Mrs. CHfford. A FLASH OF SUMMER. By Mrs. W. K. Clif- 
 ford, Author of ' Aunt Anne,' etc. Second Edition. Crown Zvc. 6s. 
 
 • The story is a very sad and a very beautiful one, exquisitely told, and enriched with 
 many subtle touches of wise and tender insight.' — Speaker. 
 
 Emily Lawless. HURRISH. By the Honble. Emily Law- 
 less, Author of ' Maelcho,' etc. Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 A reissue of Miss Lawless' most popular novel, uniform with ' Maelcho.' 
 
 Emily Lawless. MAELCHO : a Sixteenth Century Romance. 
 
 By the Honble. Emily Lawless. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 ' A really great book.' — Spectator. 
 
 'There is no keener pleasure in life than the recognition of genius. A piece of work 
 of the first order, which we do not hesitate to describe as one of the most 
 remarkable literary achievements of this generation.'— ;7/a«c/i:^i/«r Guardian. 
 
 Jane Barlow. A CREEL OF IRISH STORIES. By Jane 
 Barlow, Author of ' Irish Idylls.' Second Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 'Vivid and singularly real.' — Scoistiian. 
 
 ' Genuinely and naturally Irish.' — Scotsman. 
 
 ' "The sincerity of her sentiments, the distinction of her style, and the freshness of her 
 
 themes, combine to lift her work far above the average level of contemporary 
 
 fiction. ' — Manchester Guardian. 
 
 J. H. Findlater. THE GREEN GRAVES OF BALGOWRIE. 
 
 By Jane H. Findlater. Fourth Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 'A powerful and vivid story.' — Standard. 
 
 ' A beautiful story, sad and strange as truth itself.'— Fawj/y Fair. 
 
 ' A work of remarkable interest and originality.' — National Observer. 
 
 ' A very charming and pathetic tale.' — Fall Mall Gazette. 
 
 ' A singularly original, clever, and beautiful ilory.'— Guardian. 
 
 ' Reveals to us a new writer of undoubted faculty .ind reserve (ora.'— Spectator. 
 
 * An exquisite idyll, delicate, aflfecting, and beautiful.'— A'/otA and tVhitt.
 
 28 Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 J. H. Findlater. A DAUGHTER OF STRIFE. By Jane 
 
 Helen Findlater, Author of ' The Green Graves of Balgowrie.' 
 
 Crown Svo, 6s. 
 
 'A story of strong human interest.' — Scotsinan. 
 
 ' It has a sweet flavour of olden days delicately conveyed.' — Manchester Guardian. 
 
 ' Her thought has solidity and maturity.' — Daily Mail. 
 
 Mary Findlater. OVER THE HILLS. By Mary Findlater. 
 
 Second Edition. Crotvn 8vo. 6s. 
 
 'A strong and fascinating piece of work.' — Scots7nan. 
 
 ' A charming romance, and full of incident. The book is fresh and strong.' — Speaker. 
 
 'There is quiet force and beautiful simplicity in this book which will make the 
 
 author's name loved in many a household.' — Literary World. 
 'Admirably fresh and broad in treatment. The novel is markedly original and 
 
 excellently written.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 'A strong and wise book of deep insight and unflinching truth.' — Bir>ningkajii Post. 
 ' Miss Mary Findlater combines originality with strength.' — Daily Mail. 
 
 H. G. Wells. THE STOLEN BACILLUS, and other Stories. 
 By H. G. Wells. Second Edition. CroivnZvo. 6s. 
 ' The ordinary reader of fiction may be glad to know that these stories are eminently 
 readable from one cover to the other, but they are more than that ; they are the 
 impressions of a very striking imagination, which, it would seem, has a great deal 
 within its reach.' — Saturday Review. 
 
 H. G. Wells. THE PLATTNER STORY and Others. By H. 
 
 G. Wells. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 'Weird and mysterious, they seem to hold the reader as by a magic spell.' — Scotsman. 
 ' No volume has appeared for a long time so likely to give equal pleasure to the 
 
 simplest reader and to the most fastidious critic' — Academy. 
 
 E. F. Benson. DODO : A DETAIL OF THE DAY. By E. F. 
 
 Benson. Sixteenth Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 ' A delightfully witty sketch of society.' — Spectator. 
 ' A perpetual feast of epigram and paradox.' — Speaker. 
 
 E. F. Benson. THE RUBICON. By E. F. Benson, Author of 
 ' Dodo.' Ei/tA Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 Mrs. Oliphant. SIR ROBERT'S FORTUNE. By Mrs. 
 
 Oliphant. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 'Full of her own peculiar charm of style and simple, subtle character-painting comes 
 her new gift, the delightful story. ' — Fall Jilall Gazette. 
 
 Mrs. Oliphant. THE TWO MARYS. By Mrs. Oliphant. 
 Second Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 Mrs. Oliphant. THE LADY'S WALK. By Mrs. Oliphant. 
 
 Second Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 'A story of e.xquisite tenderness, of most delicate fancy.' — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 ' It contains many of the finer characteristics of her best work.' — Scotsman. 
 ' It is little short of sacrilege on the part of a re\ iewer to attempt to sketch its out- 
 lines or analyse its peculiar charm.'— S/ectatcr.
 
 Messrs. Metiiuen's List 29 
 
 W.RNorris. MATTHEW AUSTIN. By W. E. Norris, Author 
 of ' Mademoiselle de Mersac,' etc. Fourth Edition. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 "An intellectually satisfactory and morally bracing novel.'— /Ja/^y TelesrapJi. 
 
 W. E. Norris. HIS GRACE. By W. E Norris. Third 
 Edition, Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 ' Mr. Norris has drawn a really fine character in the Duke of Hurstbourne, at once 
 unconventional and very true to the conventionalities of life.' — A i/terurum. 
 
 W. E. Norris. THE DESPOTIC LADY AND OTHERS. 
 By W. E. Norris. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 ' A budget of good fiction of which no one will tire.' — Scotsman. 
 
 W. E. Norris. CLARISSA FURIOSA. By W. £. Norris. 
 
 Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 ' As a story it is admirable, as a Jeu d esprit it is capital, as a lay sermon studded 
 with gems of wit and wisdom it is a model.' — The World. 
 
 W. Clark RusseU. MY DANISH SWEETHEART. By W. 
 Clark Russell, Author of ' The Wreck of the Grosvenor,' etc. 
 Illustrated. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Robert Earr. THE MUTABLE MANY. By Robert Barr, 
 Author of ' In the Midst of Alarms,' ' A Woman Intervenes,' etc. 
 Second Edition. Ci-oiun Svo. 6s. 
 
 ' Very much the best novel that Mr. Barr has yet given us. There is much insight 
 in it, much acute and delicate appreciation of the finer shades of character and 
 much excellent humour." — Daily Chronictr.. 
 
 ' An excellent story. It contains several excellently studied characters, and is filled 
 with lifelike pictures of modern Xiin.'—Glasgcnu Herald. 
 
 Robert Barr. IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS. By Robert 
 Barr. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 ' A book which has abundantly satisfied us by its capital humour. — Daily Chronicle. 
 ' Mr. Barr has achieved a triumph whereof he has every reason to be proud.' — Pall 
 Mall Gazette. 
 
 J. Maclaren Cobban. THE KING OF ANDAMAN : A 
 Saviour of Society. By J. Maclaren Cobban. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 ' An unquestionably interesting book. It contains one character, at least, who has 
 in him the root of immortality, and the book itself is ever exhaling the sweet 
 savour of the unexpected.' — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 J. Maclaren Cobban. WILT THOU HAVE THIS WOMAN ? 
 By J. M. Cobban, Author of * The King of Andaman.' Croun^vo. 6s.
 
 30 "Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 Robert Hichens. BYEWAYS. By Robert Hichens. Author 
 of ' Flames,' etc. Crown%vo. 6s. 
 
 ' A very high artistic instinct and striking command of language raise Mr. Hichens' 
 
 work far above the ruck.'— /'«//il/(z//G^=f^2'e. 
 ' The work is undeniably that of a man of striking imagination and no less stnkmg 
 
 powers of expression.' — Daily News. 
 
 Percy White. A PASSIONATE PILGRIM. By Percy White, 
 
 Author of ' Mr. Bailey-Martin. ' Crown ?,vo. 6s. 
 
 ' A work which it is not hyperbole to describe as of rare excellence.' — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 ' The clever book of a shrewd and clever author.'—^ thencruvi. 
 
 ' Mr. Percy White's strong point is analysis, and he has shown himself, before now, 
 capable of building up a good book upon that foundation.' — Standard. 
 
 W. Pett Ridge. SECRETARY TO BAYNE, M.P. By 
 
 W. Pett Ridge. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 ' Sparkling, vivacious, adventurous. — Si. James's Gazette. 
 
 ' Ingenious, amusing, and especially smart.' — World. 
 
 ' The dialogue is invariably alert and highly diveiting.'—S^ectai<»'. 
 
 J. S. Fletcher. THE BUILDERS. By J. S. Fletcher, Author 
 
 of 'When Charles I. was King.' Secotid Edition. Crown 2>vo. 6s. 
 
 ' Replete with delightful descriptions.'— FawzV^ Fair. 
 
 ' The background of country life has never, perhaps, been sketched more realistically. 
 — World. 
 
 Andrew Balfour. BY STROKE OF SWORD. By Andrew 
 Balfour. Illustrated by W.Cubitt Cooke. Fourth Edition. Crown 
 Svo. 6s. 
 
 ' A banquet of good things.'— Academy. 
 
 ' A recital of thrilling interest, told with unflagging vigour.'— G'/t?!?^ 
 ' An unusually excellent example of a semi-historic romance.' — World. 
 ' Manly, healthy, and patriotic' — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 I. Hooper. THE SINGER OF MARLY. By I. Hooper. 
 
 Illustrated by W. Cubitt Cooke. Crown %vo. 6s. 
 ' Its scenes are drawn in vivid colours, and the characters are all picturesque.'— 
 
 Scotsman. 
 ' A novel as vigorous as it is chaimmg.'— Literary World. 
 
 M. C. Balfour. THE FALL OF THE SPARROW. By 
 M. C. Balfour. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 ' A powerful no\e\.'— Daily Telcgrapk. 
 
 ' It is unusually powerful, and the characterization is uncommonly good. — World. 
 
 ' It is a well-knit, carefully-wrought itoxy.'— Academy. 
 
 II. Morrah. A SERIOUS COMEDY. By Herbert Morrah. 
 
 Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 H, Morrah. THE FAITHFUL CITY. By Herbert Morrah, 
 Author of ' A Serious Comedy.' Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 L. B. Walford. SUCCESSORS TO THE TITLE. By Mrs. 
 Walford, Author of ' Mr. Smith, 'etc. Second Edition. CrownSvo.6s.
 
 Messrs, Metiiuen's List 31 
 
 Mary Gaunt. KIRKHAM'S FIND. By Mary Gaunt, 
 
 Author of ' The Moving Finger.' Crown %vo. 6j-. 
 
 ' A re.illy charming novel.' — Standard. 
 
 'A capital book, in which will be found lively humour, penetrating insight, and the 
 sweet savour of a thoroughly healthy •axoxsX.'— Speaker. 
 
 M. M. Dowie. GALLIA. By M^nie Muriel Dowie, Author 
 of ' A Girl in the Carpathians.' Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 'The style is generally admirable, the dialogue not seldom brilliant, the situations 
 surprising in their freshness and originality, while the characters live and move, 
 and the story itself is readable from title-page to colophon.'— Saturday Review. 
 
 J. A. Barry. IN THE GREAT DEEP. By J. A. Barry. 
 Autlior of ' Steve Brown's Bunyip.' Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 'A collection of really admirable short stories of the sea, very simply told, and placed 
 before the reader in pithy and telling English.'— IVesttninster Gazette. 
 
 J. B. Burton. IN THE DAY OF ADVERSITY. By J. Bloun- 
 DELLE-BuRTON.' Second Edition. CrownZvo. 6s. 
 ' Unusually interesting and full of highly dramatic situations. —Guardian. 
 
 J. B. Burton. DENOUNCED. By J. Bloundelle-Burton. 
 Second Edition. Croivn Svo. 6s. 
 
 'The plot is an original one, and the local colouring is laid on with a delicacy 
 and an accuracy of detail which denote the true artist." — Broad A rrovj. 
 
 J. B. Burton. THE CLASH OF ARMS. By J. Bloundelle- 
 Burton, Author of 'In the Day of Adversity.' Second Edition. 
 Crown 8vo. 6s, 
 
 A brave story— brave in deed, brave in" word, brave in thought.'— vS"^. Janus' i Gazette. 
 'A fine, manly, spirited piece of work.' — World. 
 
 W. C. Scully. THE WHITE HECATOMB. By W. C. 
 
 Scully, Author of ' Kafir Stories.' Crown %vo. 6s. 
 
 ' It reveals a marvellously intimate underst.inding of the Kaffir mind, allied with 
 literary gifts of no mean order.' — African Critic. 
 
 Julian Corbett. A BUSINESS IN GREAT WATERS. By 
 Julian CORBETT. Second Edition. Cro-wnSvo. 6s. 
 'Mr. Corbett writes with immense spirit. The salt of the ocean is in it, and the 
 right heroic ring resounds through its gallant adventures.' — Speaker. 
 
 L. Cope Comford. CAPTAIN JACOBUS : A ROMANCE OF 
 THE ROAD. ByL. CopeCornford. Illustrated. CrownZvo. 6s. 
 ' An exceptionally good story of adventure .ind character.' — World. 
 
 L. Daintrey. THE KING OF ALBERIA. A Romance of 
 the Balkans. By Laura Daintrey. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 M. A. Owen. THE DAUGHTER OF ALOUETTE. By 
 Mary A. Owen. Crown Svo. 6s.
 
 32 Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 Mrs. Pinsent. CHILDREN OF THIS WORLD. By Ellen 
 F. Pinsent, Author of ' Jenny's Case.' Crowjt Zvo. 6j. 
 
 G. Manville Fenn. AN ELECTRIC SPARK. By G. Manville 
 
 Fenn, Author of ' The Vicar's Wife,' 'A Double Knot,' etc. Second 
 Edition. Crown %vo. ds. 
 
 L. S. McChesney. UNDER SHADOW OF THE MISSION. 
 By L. S. McChesney. Crown %vo. 6s. 
 
 ' Those whose minds are open to the finer issues of life, who can appreciate graceful 
 thought and refined expression of it, from them this volume will receive a welcome 
 as enthusiastic as it will he based on critical knowledge.' — Church Times. 
 
 J. F. Brewer. THE SPECULATORS. By J. F= Brewer. 
 
 Second Edition. Crown "ivo. 6s. 
 
 Ronald Ross. THE SPIRIT OF STORM. By Ronald 
 Ross, Author of ' The Child of Ocean. ' Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 C. F. WoUey. THE QUEENSBERRY CUP, A Tale of 
 
 Adventure. By Clive P. Wolley. Illustrated. Crown 8vo, 6s. 
 
 T. L. Paton. A HOME IN INVERESK. By T. L. Paton. 
 
 Crown 8vo, 6s. 
 
 John Davidson. MISS ARMSTRONG'S AND OTHER CIR- 
 CUMSTANCES. By John Davidson. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 H. Johnston. DR. CONGALTON'S LEGACY. By Henry 
 Johnston. Crown &vo. 6s. 
 
 R. Pryce. TIME AND THE WOMAN. By Richard Pryce. 
 
 Second Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 Mrs. Watson. THIS MAN'S DOMINION. By the Author 
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