RETIRED GOLF 159 



after each innings at cricket, or consider that 

 the presence of a professional marker detracted 

 from the merits of billiards. 



The first-class caddy is in no sense of the 

 phrase a beast of burden; for the time being 

 he becomes the sympathetic confidant, often 

 the autocratic adviser, of a man who is prob- 

 ably his superior socially, intellectually, and 

 financially. Indeed, the friendly intercourse 

 between player and caddy paves the way for 

 that better feeling between class and class which 

 in these latter democratic days affords so hopeful 

 a sign of social regeneration. 



As I write these words I cannot help recalling 

 a touching scene that indelibly impressed itself 

 upon my mental retina, and to a great extent 

 bears out the truth of my contention. It was 

 on the links at Lossiemouth, last summer, where 

 one of the greatest living British statesmen was 

 anxiously inspecting his ball as it lay in the 

 rough about thirty yards to the right of the 

 eleventh hole. Uncertain as to which club to 

 select for so important an approach shot, he 

 turned for counsel to his caddy, a small Scottish 

 lad of some ten summers. The pair formed one 

 of the prettiest pictures imaginable: on the one 

 hand the grey-headed but perplexed statesman, 

 gravely urging the advisability of taking a 

 mashie; on the other the ragged, bare-footed, 



