The true golf swing is always of a circular nature, and the club-head should always pursue the same orbit, in its downward course, that it does in its upward, whether the elliptical curve it describes, be of a high or perpendicular nature, or a flatter and more horizontal one.

Another point common to the swings, be they long or short, of all good players, is what is known technically as the "follow through." This characteristic marks them off definitely from all the hitting styles of golf, in which the club-head is practically arrested at the moment of contact with the ball. In the correct golf swing, both force and direction are imparted by this following through. The ball is regarded merely as a point through which the club-head passes in its course, and at the instant when it has attained its greatest momentum. After sweeping away the ball, the club-head passes onwards and gradually upwards, the weight of the arms and body, following the direction of the stroke, being thrown, as it were, after the ball, and the player, at the end of the stroke, is facing the line of the ball's flight, the club going up over the left shoulder.

It is not here contended that the club continues to control the flight of the ball, after striking it. Whatever the nature of the swing may be, the ball leaves the club-head at the very instant of impact, and for good or ill the latter has no further effect on its course. The "follow through," however, is an essential characteristic of a good swing, as only where it is present can the maximum of force and direction be attained.

Another prevailing characteristic of a good swing is that there is no waste of energy. Every scrap of force that is used, is expended to advantage, in the right way, and at the right time. There are players, and good players, who, by reason of strength or superabundance of energy, seem to load their swings with sundry excrescences of ornament or action; but if they are good players, it will be found that the swing comes through at the finish, clean and true, and with no loss of force or intention.

It is a common vice with players, to sway the body to the right, at the commencement of the swing, which, of course, throws them off their balance at once. The balance of the body should be preserved, and its weight, as it were, gradually accumulated, until the very finish of the swing. Equally fatal is the vice of pulling the hands away backwards, in advance of the club-head, for this throws the swing out of gear at its commencement. The club should be swept backwards, evenly and without jerk, the player's head must be kept steady, and the eye firmly fixed on the part of the ball that he desires to strike.

Though these remarks have been made in reference to full strokes, subject to certain obvious modifications, they may be taken as applying equally to all golfing strokes. As a matter of style, a golfer should endeavour to make all his strokes, in regard to grip, stance, and swing, as far as it may be possible, in the same manner. Nothing looks worse than to see a player, who stands erect over his full strokes, crouching down to play an approach or putt, and nothing is more fatal to accuracy, than the practice of playing full shots off the left leg, and quarter shots off the right. As far as the nature of the ground and the length of the club will permit, he should always endeavour to take up the same stance, for each stroke.

All these things, however, are general principles outside which, as has been said, it is not safe or useful to dogmatise in discussing style. So much depends, even after a player is thoroughly well grounded in the correct theory of the golfing stroke, upon accidents of physique and temperament. In this matter of style, as in all other parts of the game, the golfer will infallibly reveal something of his inner character. The quiet and reserved nature will manifest itself in the simplicity and directness of its methods; the fussy man will fuss and fidget over his strokes, as he does in the ordinary affairs of the world.

There is still one aspect of style in golf, about which it may be possible to say something. We refer to its aesthetic aspect. Granted, that if results are good, the style must be good, it is still possible that, like the Scotch girl, it may be good without being "bonny "; and, though tastes and opinions may differ as to the relative merits of various styles, there are general principles of beauty, universally accepted and admitted, which may safely be applied, to the partial settling of the matter.

One of the first essentials which a thing must possess, if it is to be called beautiful, as distinct from good, is, that the means which are employed in producing it are adequate. They must show no sign, on the one hand, of insufficiency, nor on the other, of superfluity. The best artistic result is obtained, and the highest aesthetic impression conveyed, when there is an exact ratio between the means and the result. If this law be applied to the styles and strokes of good players, very few indeed will be found to come within the category of the beautiful. Excellent results are common, but they are too often attained by the violation of this law of the needful and the adequate. Exaggerations of stance and attitude, exuberance of waggle, undue rigidity of body or unseemly suppleness, mar the styles of many a good player, and put them outside the pale of the aesthetic.

Another accepted test of the beautiful is, that in its expression, it should give evidence of reserve. A fine stroke at golf, like a fine work of art, should always leave the impression, if it is to be altogather pleasing, that it has been produced without struggle, that its originator has not had to strain himself in order to do it, and that he has plenty of reserves of strength and skill left behind, for subsequent masterpieces.

Judged by this standard again, how many excellent golfers must fail!

Amongst living players, taken in conjunction with their magnificent play, the styles of Mr. John Ball, jun., Mr. F. G. Tait, Mr. H. G. Hutchinson, and Willie Fernie seem most nearly to approach the ideal. All four styles at least justify the appellation "pretty," and all are graceful and full of reserve. The powerful style of Willie Park, jun., possesses great elements of beauty, but it seems marred by a slight skewness of the upward swing, which suggests doubts as to the ultimate direction in which the ball will go.

The styles of Taylor, the Vardons, Braid, and a score of other line players, amateur and professional, have all excellent points of execution, but fall short of the aesthetic qualities of the five above named. We have our golfing Titians, like Blackwell and Rolland; our Holbeins, like Herd, Kirkaldy, and Balfour-Melville; and our little Dutch Masters, like Hilton and Bernard Sayers, but all more or less labouring, like their prototypes, and winning their bread by the sweat of their brows. The Velasquez of golf has not yet arisen.