Part 3

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

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THE SCIENCE OF GOLF

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he missed the ball clean.

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

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

VISIT TO THE GOLF COURSE.

A DRIVE THROUGH THE TOWN.

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

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

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

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THE MOAN OF THE MAIDEN

(_After Tennyson_)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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CAPABLE CADDIES

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

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

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

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

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

4. Illustrate the finer points of distinction between

(_a_) a niblick and a gutty;

(_b_) a bye and a bulger.

5. Are you a Protectionist or a Total Abstainer?

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

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

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

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

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

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THE GOLF WIDOWS

(_After E.B. Browning_)

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

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

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

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SHOULD MARRIED MEN BE ALLOWED TO PLAY GOLF?

(_Extract from a Golfer's Diary_)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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LINES ON THE LINKS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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THE HOLE CONCERN

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

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

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

_Inoffensive Stranger._ Yes?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Second M._ (_abruptly_). Rot!

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

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"A THREE-CARD LAY"