“I want,” writes Mr. Francine in the _Golfer’s Magazine_, in his
prolegomena to a disquisition on form, “I want to take good golf out of
the class of accomplishments that belong to gifted characters only, and
pass it on to the common people.” Quelque want, nace-paw? Why pause here?
Why not take poetry out of the class of accomplishments that belong to
the gifted, and sometimes dissolute, characters only, and pass _that_ on
to the undeniably common people? It is a simple matter to tell a mute
inglorious Milton what constitutes good poetry; all he needs then is pen
and ink. The golf swing is simple, and so is the line—
“_I will arise now, and go to Innisfree._”
Why should only a few gifted characters write stuff like that, and only
a few other gifted ones whale a golf ball a mile without slicing it to
Helngon?
* * * * *
Medal play is certain to retain its popularity in a country the motto of
which is “Safety First.”
* * * * *
Suggestion for the opening of an essay on putting by any celebrated
professional: “At the outset I may commence by beginning to say that
putting cannot be taught.”