Golf

In the British Isles there are 750,000 golfers--esquires who dig their own graves with their niblicks, Englishmen wha' ha' wi' Wallace bled their shillings on every green, Scots wahighing their short approaches, wahoing the long grass with their mashies, plus-four scorers who shyly admit that the only shot they are sure of is their fourth putt. Even of these, many get about a course with 72-odd clips, but only three play golf as every able man sensibly expects to. Last week, the handicap figures of Great Britain were issued. Three golfers were listed at scratch--Roger Wethered, Sir Ernest Holderness, Cyril J. H. Tolley. The first is lean, composed, frosty. His wrists are steel springs ; his swing is the crack of a quirt. The second, gloomy, nervous, plays with the air of a martyr being tortured for his faith, has twice won the amateur championship. The immense shoulders, the full-moon face, the stocky legs of the third*, haunt the dreams of the many U. S. golfers who have seen him send his drives away, like bridesmaids, to the place where the parallels wed.

* Amateur champion in 1920.