* * * * *
Pursuing a red ball over the wintry lea is a pastime that leaves us cold.
But, for compensation, one does not hear, in the locker room, that the
shower is “the best part of the game.”
* * * * *
“Golf,” writes Professor William Lyon Phelps in “The New Republic,” “has
done more for swearing than any other modern employment; it has made
taciturn gentlemen as efficient as teamsters. The disappointments of golf
are so immediate, so unexpected, so overwhelming. Nearly all men, and
women, too, must swear naturally in their thoughts; else how explain such
easily acquired efficiency!”
Professor Phelps’ observations coincide with ours. Once, having addressed
the recreant ball in terms more pointed than polite, we remarked to the
caddy: “The ladies never talk that way, do they?” “Oh,” said he, “they
say worse things than that.” Which moved us to inquire: Should a youth of
tender years caddy for a lady?
* * * * *
“Golf is the peculiar pastime of a peculiar people”; and particularly
peculiar are the persons into whose soul the iron has entered and
displaced the wood. A friend of ours, Colonel Talmadge, of Glen View, is
one of these eccentrics. He was starting out for a round one day, toting
a ton of iron, when his partner inquired: “Where are you going with all
those dental instruments?”
* * * * *
The news that a golf pro in Louisiana was buried with his favorite clubs
set us wondering what might be the width of the River Styx. While waiting
for the ferry the shade might tee up a few balls and see whether he
could carry the hazard.
* * * * *
“Golfing Wonder—One-Legged Man’s Win in Open Tournament.”—London Mail.
He couldn’t kick, eh?
* * * * *
The grounds and greens committee of the Evanston Golf Club concludes:
“Transgressions of the rules embodied in paragraphs 1 to 14 shall be
reported at once to the rules and etiquette committee.” But why, a member
wants to know, send the fourteen points abroad again?