An anticipatory brain of an imaginative character is an ill possession for a golfer to be blessed with; it is not of the least service to him in any way, and it is merely prone to take his attention away from the task it should be riveted upon, which is the task of hitting the ball more or less in the center of the club face.

I know it is much easier to sit down and moralize on paper than to carry out principles and precepts when actually participating in the game, but I do believe that it is possible to develop the habit of concentration. The developed habit may not be as great a blessing as the natural habit, but to any young player who finds a difficulty in keeping his attention on the game, I simply advise him to try and see whether he cannot teach himself the knack of forgetting everything else except the particular game he is playing and the particular individual strokes he is about to play. He may find the task a trying and severe one at first, but by degrees it will become less difficult, and eventually he will find that the continued restraint on a wandering and inconsequent brain will result in the development of a habit which is the next best thing to natural powers of concentration.

When watching American amateurs play and when playing with them, I have been much struck with the manner in which they concentrate their mind upon the game they are playing. In this respect they compare more than favorably with our British amateurs, the majority of whom do not settle down to their work as the American players do. A notable exception to this rule is Mr. John Ball, and a goodly measure of his great success may be said to be due to this natural gift of being almost impervious to the effect of outside influences. Nothing outside the incidents of the actual play seems to disturb him in the slightest, and I never remember ever seeing him stop in the playing of a stroke on account of the conduct of the spectators. He does not seem to mind in the slightest whether the spectators run about behind him like frightened rabbits, when he is playing a shot; he simply asks for room in which to swing his club, and if that is given him he rests content. I have never come across any player who appears quite as impervious to outside influences as Mr. Ball does, but the rank and file of amateur players on our side are not by any means similarly gifted.

Among American amateur players Mr. Walter Travis and Mr. Jerome Travers stand out in my mind as wonderful examples of players who can naturally concentrate their attention on their game, and who are, moreover, but little influenced by the trend of the play. The success of Jerome in the championship at Wheaton was a wonderful example of the powers of persistent concentration, under most trying circumstances, as the consistent failure of his wooden club play was sufficient to break the heart of a man of stone. That he was himself disgusted with his efforts from the tee was most plainly evident; he did not attempt to hide it, but the remarkable thing was that it did not seem in any way to affect his subsequent play up to the hole. On the other hand, it simply seemed to spur him on to greater effort.

Many players, when hitting their tee shots as Mr. Travers was hitting them that week at Wheaton, would have been inclined to throw up the sponge once and for all, for it certainly is most distressing work having to keep on playing the odd, from all manner of unlikely places on the course. But the severe task which Jerome set himself apparently made him try all the harder. It was the pluckiest exhibition I have ever come across, as it was not confined to one round, but went on during the whole six days' play. But to my mind Jerome Travers is quite an exceptional match player; I know of none better.

But your youthful exponents of the game set about their task on more serious principles than the younger generation are prone to on this side. They are not in any way more dogged in a close finish than our players, but they commence the round in the same spirit that they finish it. They are tryers all the way, and are just as careful and studious when they are many holes up as when they are many holes down. They throw nothing away through carelessness, they just play their best and take the chances of what their opponent may accomplish. This is undoubtedly the correct spirit in which to play a golf match. The man who wins the majority of his matches is the one who commences the round trying his utmost, and continues trying until all is over, who never allows the state of the match to influence his game in any way.

These are principles which, on some occasions, are difficult to follow, but to my way of thinking the American amateur on the average follows them more closely than his British cousin. Of course, there are notable exceptions to this rule, and I could mention at least two of your very prominent amateur exponents of the game who are apt to be very easily disturbed by outside influences, but one of them is fast overcoming this weakness, which was most evident during championship week at Chicago in 1912.

Of course, it is well recognized that the man who is successful in the game of golf is the man who can maintain an equability and equanimity of temperament from beginning to end •'The Most Analytical Player in America": Three Times American Amateur Champion and Once British of the round, the species of individual who is not unduly elated by success or downcast by adversity, but one is afraid that there are very few to be found who can claim the full measure of these temperamental virtues. But, as I have previously suggested, I do candidly think that it is possible to school one's self into a certain spirit of philosophy, the spirit which succeeds in obliterating the past from the picture and lives only in the present. I am speaking from personal experience, as except for a certain degree of natural pugnacity which has always served to keep me fighting to the end, I am afraid that in my younger days I was not in any way blessed with the great temperamental virtues for the playing of the game of golf. I was extremely susceptible to the effects of outside influences, and, moreover, was cursed with an imagination.

Walter J. Travis.

I could see what might have happened if the world had gone differently with me at a previous portion of the round, and I could, moreover, see in my mind's eye what was likely to happen at future points in the round - in fact, I could always see the pictures of the past and the imaginative panorama of what was likely to happen in the future. But I early realized the weakness and detriment of these views and promptly commenced to try and eradicate them. Although I have never quite succeeded in clearing them clean out of my system, I have nevertheless succeeded in developing a certain degree of the spirit of the philosopher, which has stood me in stead in many a close call. The development certainly did not arrive of its own free will; I had to struggle hard to attain that measure of philosophy, and I regret to say that I have to struggle still, otherwise I would find myself once again drifting back into the ways of my youth.

Looking back through the various experiences I have been subjected to during my career, I can readily realize how much the question of temperament has had to do with the measure of success, or ill success, which has come my way. I can realize how on occasions the laurel wreath has fallen to me through the temperamental failings of others, and I can even more fully realize how it might have come into my keeping, except for exhibitions of temperamental weakness, which were my undoing at critical moments. There is probably not a player in the world who has attempted to throw more matches away through temporary fits of inattention to business than I have.

American players will no doubt well remember the final round at Apawamis.* That was a typical "Hilton episode," a species of episode which has happened many times on this side of the water. There are occasions when I cannot keep my attention on the game, these being the occasions on which I have obtained a sufficiently commanding lead to suggest that there is little or no possibility of defeat. I have been taught the lesson so often that I ought to remember it when the occasion arrives again, but I never have learned it and probably never will, simply for the reason that it is not natural for me to keep up the tension when I hold a comparatively safe lead, and nature is too much for all my schooling.

There is only one safe way to win a match and that is to play until you have so many holes in hand that there are not enough holes left in order to enable your opponent to draw level.

If every golfer played on with this objective clearly in mind, there would not be so many cases of matches simply thrown away through a mixture of overconfidence and carelessness.

[t may on occasions seem a little brutal to rub t in to an apparently defeated opponent, but if you give these opponents an opportunity they

have a habit of turning round and biting, just when you do not think them capable of such an unkind act. You flatter yourself that you have them quite tamed and completely in hand, but it is wonderful how even a beaten opponent will recover both his game and his courage, just by the means of a little inadvisable encouragement. Get your opponent right under first and sympathize with him afterwards, is my advice. I cannot carry it out myself, but that makes not a bit of difference to the wisdom of the advice.

Mr. Hilton was twelve up on Mr. Herreshoff at the and of the morning round and the match finished all quare at the thirty-sixth hole, Mr. Hilton winning the ad hole.

I have noticed that the majority of good match players are inclined to be very silent men, and in consequence it is safe to assume that lack of conversation is a virtue in the playing of the game of golf, and the class of conversation which should be particularly avoided is that species of running conversaziones with friends and acquaintances who happen to be among the spectators.

Learn to bear your ill fortune without appealing for sympathy, as sympathy extended to a man during the course of play is more apt to upset him temperamentally than to strengthen his purpose in any way. The most reliable of golfers always prove to be those who play the game from the beginning to the end of it without allowing any outside influence to affect them in any way whatever. To some golfers it is a difficult procedure to follow out, but it is truly wonderful how a young player can strengthen his temperament by continuous schooling.