Two of a Kind 



As we come to the eighteenth (last) 

 hole on the course, we are to drive over 

 a ditch, say 140 yards distant. But 

 why do so when, by driving into it, 

 you get the chance of stopping to fish 

 your ball out of the tall weeds that 

 find such a congenial home in those soft 

 damp depths? But — ^would you be- 

 lieve ? — most of those I see playing the 

 game never seem to think anything 

 about the fun of scouting up and down 

 those banks, the favorite haunt of a lot 

 of things that live and move and crawl 

 or swim or jump or fly for you when- 

 ever you stop to see them. In fact, 

 the "golf fan" has only one thought in 

 his head. If he had two or three he 

 would not be a "scratch" player. He 

 must be blind and deaf and dumb to 

 all but one thing. He is just a machine 

 for firing a ball at a mark. He is no 

 more alive to anything else than an 

 automatic repeating rifle would be. 

 So what does he get out of it all, any- 

 how? He shoots the ball far over the 

 [63] 



