The reader is now in a position to be introduced to that excellent golfer—Colonel Bogey, a much more amiable gentleman than his name would seem to imply. He is always available for a game and doesn't mind the wind or weather. Bunkers have no terrors for him; he plays too straight a ball to be disturbed by side-hazards and he makes no pretence of attempting a desperate "carry," even if a gale is blowing at his back. His politeness and good manners generally are ideal; he invariably refrains from taking the honour and he never by any chance swears at his caddie. He strictly obeys the injunctions of the Green Committee and reaches the putting-green in the number of strokes allotted to him for each hole. He has never been known to hole an approach shot or to get down a long putt, but though it is a part of his religion to take not less than two strokes on the green, he cannot be accused of ever needing a third. He plays a monotonously correct game, sound though not brilliant, but the "scratch" player is always proud to beat him. Ever on his game, he never grunts about the severity of his handicap or seeks to play on even terms with an inferior player, though it must be said that bad luck keeps out of his way. No mock sympathy ever passes his lips to irritate you, and he is ready to take on any number of players at a time. He never scoffs at lady players, though he makes no display of gallantry. When you have finished your match with him and settled down to indulge in a quiet composed review of the round, you will wonder a little why you mis-played so many of those easy shots that came so natural to him, and will thereby derive a lesson that will make a valuable addition to your experience. "Bogey's" masterly in-activity should prove a constant stimulus to improvement.

The player will, no doubt, be able to gather that a "Bogey" match is of a very interest-ing character. He has to play his best and steadiest golf, for every stroke lost beyond the handicap allowance counts against the total score; so that this kind of competition partakes of the character of both medal and match play.

A word or two of advice to beginners. Though the keeping of a score is useful as a guide to one's progress, it should not be done to the inconvenience of any party behind. It is intensely annoying to others to have to wait while you and your partner wrangle over a dispute on the putting-green as to whether the score was eleven or twelve and then to enter the number with much care on your scoring-tablet or card. If you must keep a score (and it is almost inseparable from early inclinations in the game), start off from the first tee with an average based on your latest records, six or seven for example. Work on that at each hole; it will probably run, "one more, two less, three more, all even,"etc. Again, in any round begin easily and keep in this mood until you get into your stride. Correct play is the first consideration, and the nerves will be kept under control, else you become an inferior person to your normal self. Don't think too much beforehand as to what ye shall eat or drink or wherewithal ye shall be clothed; neither fume nor wander about, giving vent to inflammatory vituperations about the dawdlers in front. Train yourself to disregard trifling influences such as the bleating of sheep and the snatches of conversation that float on the breeze to your ear. Be fair in all your censure, and avoid the example of the irascible Major who, on a seaside course, having missed a short putt "for the match," and being aware of the presence of ladies, angrily exclaimed, "How can anyone be expected to putt with all those beastly ships passing up and down the channel?"

Playing in competitions is one of the best forms of training in self-control. It is sometimes stated that the pot-hunting spirit is the most productive cause of "nerves," but this assertion is scarcely well-grounded. The value of the prize is rarely worth the immediate, to say nothing of the ultimate, expense involved. It is far more likely that the mental condition is the outcome of disappointment at not being able to repeat former success, or it may be the result of the desire to do again what your experience says you can do. The remedy is to suppress such obtrusive feelings which are bound to imperil the concentration of mind so essential to successful play. "Luck" is another dis-turbing element—irritatingly bad on your part and conspicuously good on your opponent's! But it is inevitable to all; your putts per-sistently "lip" the hole, your good drives find a "hanging" lie and your fine approach shot catches the bunker just two inches below the top. There is nothing else to do but to bear it (and grin if you can); it is all a part of the training, and happy is he who has a temperament that refuses to be dismayed by such incidents. Unless you are master of yourself you will not be the master of your clubs.

The "foursome," that is, the original form in which the two players of each side play alternate strokes with one ball, is still dear to Scottish players, but it has of late years given place, amongst less hardy and conservative Britons, to the four-ball foursome. The former certainly calls for the necessary qualities of combination which is absent in a great degree when each of the partners plays his own ball. On the other hand, it relieves the tension inseparable from a single match, and its sociable character makes it attractive. The latter is not good training, though,for a slap-dash player who has a steady partner, as it gives him undue scope for reckless play. On the putting-green, however, the assurance of a "half" from your partner's ball removes the necessity for excessive caution and enables you to undertake the stroke for the hole with an undiluted confidence. On crowded links, four-ball matches are decidedly a nuisance. The same may be said of three-ball matches, though these have the advantage of cultivating independent play and responsibility. It need scarcely be added that in these variations of the ordinary match, the interest will suffer unless the players are of about the same strength.

The coveted reward of a monthly competition usually takes the form of a "medal," but the utilitarian spirit has been abroad and a substitute has been provided in the shape of a golf club or a silver spoon, the latter a sop to the domestic Cerberus that has much to recommend its general adoption.

It should not be amiss to mention that in competitions by strokes, the player should adhere religiously to the Rules. He is not merely scoring for his partnered opponent but for all the competitors. In a friendly match the pair may venture upon some variation to their mutual satisfaction, such as teeing the ball outside the recognised limits of the teeing-ground or wiping the ball before putting; though it is always wiser always to act in strict accordance with the regulations governing the game.