I have frequently heard comments made upon the scores taken in playing matches; but, in the general case, such comments are manifestly unjust, to the players. If the scores are low, the play must have been good, because a good stroke game can never be a bad hole game: but the play may have been equally good, and possibly even more interesting and brilliant, if the scores are high, and therefore a good hole game may be a bad stroke game. A hole and hole game and a stroke game are entirely different forms of golf, and to my mind the former is by far the more interesting and sportsmanlike, because both players always know how the game stands, and they are face to face with the man they have to beat.

In competitions by strokes matters are entirely different: each player is playing against a whole field, any one of whom may return a better total, and any one of whom, however well he may start, may break down at a critical moment, or may spoil his card by one bad hole. Hence each should play his best, game without regard to the rest of the field, and without either risking hazardous strokes or shirking difficulties. It may happen that a competitor playing late in the day may know what he has to do. He may learn that a good card has been returned, and that he has to do the remaining holes in a certain number of strokes to beat that card, and in this case it may be necessary to run risks with the object of saving strokes; but this is an exceptional case, and does not frequently occur. I can, however, quote instances of it. I remember a Championship at Musselburgh some years ago in which Bob Ferguson played, when, after holing out at the third last hole, he was told he must do the remaining two holes in six strokes to tie; and he proved equal to the occasion. Unfortunately Bob lost in playing off the tie, otherwise he would have been the only golfer who had won the cup four times successively. Later still, at the Autumn Meeting of the Royal and Ancient Golf Club, in September 1893, Mr. F. G. Tait had early in the day returned a score of eighty, which was considered unassailable. Mr. Mure Fergusson, playing after him, knew at the sixteenth hole that he must do the remaining two holes in nine to win, and ten to tie. Those familiar with the course at St. Andrews are aware that the direct line to the seventeenth hole from the tee is over the corner of an enclosure called 'the station-master's garden,' but it requires a long shot to carry this hazard. If successfully carried, however, it gives an easier and shorter road to the hole, making it an almost certain five. The alternative line of play is wide of the enclosure; but this makes the hole more difficult, Mr. Mure Fergusson risked the carry, and was successful in doing the hole in five, and the next in four, thus winning the medal. These examples will show what golfers must occasionally do. The necessity for such play can only arise when the exact state of the scores of the other competitors is known; and it must he amply evident that this cannot happen very frequently to any individual. In the majority of eases he will have to play to the end in ignorance of the other scores, save that of his partner, and he must therefore play his usual game without either trying to do too much, or using unnecessary caution. It has already been advised that in playing for score golfers should never risk doubtful hazards, but rather play to the side or play short. In this, as in other matters, judgment must be exercised. I do not counsel golfers to play short of hazards they habitually carry, merely because they are playing in a competition. By such tactics more strokes may be lost than saved. It is absurd to risk a doubtful carry, but it is equally absurd to play a too cautious game. When on this subject, 1 would again draw attention to the rule under which a ball ma)', in a stroke competition, be lifted out of a difficulty of any description, and teed behind the same under a penalty of two strokes. It is far better to do this at once than to lose several strokes in a hazard. Apart from the loss of strokes, playing out of a hazard, especially a had lying ball in a sand bunker, is hard work, and most golfers will find that they require to reserve their strength to sustain them till the finish of the game. The motto 1 would give to the golfer who desires to come to the front in playing competitions is, 'Never mind a bad hole. Blot the remembrance out of your mind, and play as if your past game had been perfect.'

In order to play first-class golf it is necessary for the player to possess physical strength. I do not say great strength; but, although golf is a game of science and skill, and although a very good game can be played by persons not physically strong, it is scarcely possible for any one to become a first-class player who has not sufficient stamina and strength to back up his skill. All our best players, both amateur and professional, are men of good physique - muscular and wiry. The requisite skill can only be obtained through constant practice; and before any one can consider himself really fit to take part in an important competition with the prospect of winning, he should through practice have brought himself to such a state of perfection at the game, that he will be able almost intuitively to know what he is to do at each stroke. He ought not to require to pause at any stroke and ask himself what he should do, but ought to know this instinctively. Between a player in practice and a player out of practice there is an immense difference, especially in the short game. I will take putting as the example; but the same remarks apply to all - driving, approaching, and putting. A man out of practice must carefully consider the strength of his stroke and the line to the hole, while if in practice his eye instinctively guides his hand: and even if he goes up to his ball and hits it unconcernedly it is likely to be a better stroke than he could, with all precautions and care, play if out of practice.