THE NINTH HOLE.

GOLFATOR. You are now to know, worthy Scholar, that whatsoever skill you

may come to in the wielding of your tools, naught of great consequence

is to be achieved at this ingenious game save by the cultivating of the

highest powers of concentration, as has well been said by Mr. Travers,

and other notable performers; and to the acquiring of this faculty you

are to sacrifice all else in life; for what is of greater moment in this

world than the proper striking of a ball?

SCHOLAR. Alas, good Master, it is this great faculty that I so sadly

lack; for from the moment that I raise my wood or iron until I bring it

back, my mind is, as you might observe, a blank.

GOLF. A perfect blank, truly; ’tis as if no mind existed. But thus it is

with the majority, therefore be not cast down.

SCHOL. This concentration, sir, is it aught save the fixing of the eye

upon the ball?

GOLF. Ay, marry, much more. There is an attention of the eye, and an

attention of the mind, and there is also an attention of the soul,

and all three of these you shall require. There are lower forms of

concentration, and much has been achieved through them. Thus one man sets

his mind to the building of a system of philosophy; another man puts

himself to the discovering of a satellite of our sun beyond the farthest

that is known, or to the devising of an hypothesis that may explain the

beginnings of matter, and the movements of the stars; a third man gives

his life to the writing of plays, as Shakespeare or Euripides. All these

are excellent pastimes, that require concentration; but they are of

little import compared with the striking of a ball so it fly straight and

to a great distance.

SCHOL. And how, Master, may this concentration be found?

GOLF. Marry, sir, by the endless iteration of the magical words, Keep

the eye upon the ball! Give your days to this, good Scholar. ’Tis not

necessary to say the words loudly, but so much power is there in the

spoken word that one must do more than think the conjuration; a low

murmur, or a mumble, will serve. There be those that, observing a man

going about muttering to himself, will be moved to scoff, but these,

being ignorant of the great matter going forward, need not be considered.

Persist, worthy Scholar, and ere the snow lies in winrows on these links,

your heart’s desire will be well toward fulfilment.

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