The desire to excel, and the ambition to be first are natural and laudable feelings, in sport, as in all the other walks of life, and it is well and seemly that the conqueror should bear away with him some token of his victory. But the laurel wreath, which crowned the Isthmian winner, was surely in better taste than the machine-made coffee-pot or egg-boiler, which is the common reward of our sporting heroes to-day. Why donors of prizes should fly, as they invariably do, to the cheap jeweller and the Brummagem dealer, and spend their money on hideous, and for the most part, useless, specimens of their wares, when for the same money they could purchase artistic and beautiful things, is a deep mystery. Are there no artists left in the world, to design and fashion beautiful and appropriate trophies, as the reward of victory, which a man may buy, or win, and not be ashamed?

The question of what one ought to wear, or what ought not to be worn, in playing golf, is beset with extreme difficulty. Most good players, it may be observed, study comfort and utility in their apparel, rather than elegance; but it is possible to carry both these guiding principles to extremes, and a ludicrous contrast is sometimes presented by the spectacle of these two types, engaged in a match. The one, in an old shooting-coat, baggy trousers and shapeless boots, the other, resplendent in scarlet coat with brass buttons, riding breeches and white gaiters, and both equally intent on the game. There seems no good reason, however, why a man should not be well dressed at golf, but be he well or ill-dressed, he will in this matter, as in his play, inevitably reveal something of his nature. The pattern of his stockings, or the colour of his tie, are infallible guides to his aesthetic standpoint. Let the golfer, then, who is not sure of his instinct in such matters, turn a deaf ear to the blandishments of his outfitter, and provide himself with useful and unostentatious articles of apparel. He may wear a red coat without offence, remembering, however, that it is not an emblem of golfing eminence, but only a danger signal to the passer-by; but let him eschew flannels, and tennis shoes, and the baring of arms, for these things are an abomination, being utterly unnecessary, and opposed to the stern traditions of the game.

What would be said of a cricketer who turned up at Lord's in knickerbockers and hob-nailed boots? Men should remember that golf is quite as ancient and serious a game as cricket, and that its traditions are at least equally dear to its votaries, and worthy of respect.

It is a good plan, when it is your honour, and you have struck your own ball from the tee, not to run after it immediately, before your opponent has played his. By attending to this point, you will not endanger any good opinion he may have conceived of you, and you will escape the imminent risk of being killed by his ball.

When playing against a player whose handicap is considerably less than your own, do not, if you think you are not playing up to your true form and miss short putts, keep saying to him, "Well, I ought to have won that hole from you." Or, if off your driving or quarter game, "I can't understand how it is, I can't hit a single ball to-day." If you persist in this line of remark, you will most probably provoke your opponent to retort, that if you are in the way of holing all your putts and hitting every ball clean, what the deuce is he giving you strokes for!

It is of no use getting irritated with the opponent, whose only comments on the game in progress, are remarks drawing attention to the marvellous luck that you enjoy, in contrast to the bad luck that invariably pursues him. A genial acquiescence, in the one case, and cordial sympathy, in the other, will have an admirable effect in preserving your own game and temper, and, at the same time, will probably suggest to your opponent, as the game goes on, and if he has any sense of humour, the absurdity of his conduct. This habit of blaming luck at golf for one's mistakes, breeds in many golfers the most diverting absurdities. The player who exclaimed "Cupped again !" when he topped his tee shot, is a good instance of the disastrous effects of this habit of mind. There are others who, if they cannot by any stretch of imagination set down their bad play to bad luck, will invent all manner of other excuses for it. A good story is told of a St. Andrews player, who, having missed a putt, in dead silence, within a foot of the hole, immediately remarked, "Ah, somebody must have moved."

But absurd and annoying as are the vagaries of the "luckless," there is another class of golfer whose proceedings are even more trying to his partner or opponent. There is "the man with a temper." The "luckless" is usually a fatalist and suffers more or less meekly, or at worst peevishly, the stings and arrows of outrageous fortune. But this other takes arms against the sea of troubles, and seeks by opposing to end them. There are men whose proud and impatient spirit cannot brook the predominance of matter over mind, which the game of golf so often exemplifies. In "fractured club and cloven ball," in "foozled drives and putts not in," they see not, like their meeker brethren, the finger of Fate. These Ajaxes defy the lighting, and give tongue to the anger which consumes them.

When one has the misfortune to play against "the man with a temper," the very greatest tact and knowledge of human nature are necessary, if one is to attempt to soothe his savage breast. "Touch not the cat without the glove." But the devastating and demoralising effect of the golfing temper, on even the finest natures, is so terrible, that it is extremely dangerous to say anything, however apparently sympathetic, and the patient is much better left severely alone, until the paroxysm has passed. The breaking of the club wherewith the fatal stroke has been delivered, is a common symptom in such cases; and usually, this sacrifice is less an act of reprisal on the club itself, than a solemn protest and testimony against the injustice of which the golfer conceives himself to be the victim, and a necessary step towards the rehabilitation of his mind. The angry golfer has been known to relieve his pent-up feelings by hurling his club far from him, after the failure of his stroke. This is an extremely dangerous habit, as, in his anger, the golfer is frequently careless of the direction in which his club flies, and his partner will do well to keep an eye on his movements. Like the "fatalist," "the man with a temper" had better be avoided, whenever possible. No pleasurable game is to be had in such company, and their habits are extremely infectious.

If players would only treat others as they would wish others to treat themselves, the harmony and pleasure of the game would be greatly enhanced. The well-balanced mind will not be unhinged by the untoward chances of golf. The wise golfer recognises, that but for these alternations of luck, the game would cease to amuse or charm, and if he has more than his share of bad luck, or bad play, to-day, he says nothing about it, being sure that to-morrow, things will go better for him. To go on inventing reasons for one's bad play is fatal to improvement, and can only annoy and irritate one's partner. "Deeds, not words," is the true golfer's motto.

"In my opinion," said a wise old caddie, "a man sud niver mak' excuses for hisself at gowf. It's like bein' disrespectfu' to Providence. Gow-fers sud jist tak' things as they come and be contentit. In my opeenion some fowks like to shaw off a bit by bletherin' aboot their bad play."

" Be not thy tongue thine own shame's orator, Look sweet, speak fair."