The next hole is one of the most famous in golfing geography. It is the "Cardinal," and the huge bunker from which the hole is named, with its wide-spreading sand and high battlements of black wooden sleepers, can be seen stretching right across the course about 200 yards away. Like a black-cowled Inquisitor he sits there, grimly waiting for his victims, and the golfer must have a stout heart who can face without flinching that cruel and merciless presence. Unless there be a strong wind there is but little danger of falling into his Eminence's grip from the tee, and a good straight drive ought to land the player about twenty or thirty yards from the bunker. The "Cardinal" has then to be crossed at an oblique angle if the line to the hole is to be followed. But beware of pressing, or if you have a bad lie, of risking wood. These are two things which the "Cardinal" is always down upon, and if you are guilty of them, it is ten to one that you will descend into his torture chamber, where there is wailing and gnashing of teeth, and whence you will only emerge after being mulcted of many strokes. Unhappy is the lot of he who tops his ball from the tee, and sees the "Cardinal" waiting for him, while he is yet a great way off. Were it not for the craven-ness of the thing, I would almost advise him to sneak a bit nearer with the iron, before facing "the presence"; it will certainly save him strokes on a medal clay. Close on the right of the second stroke, the Pow Burn waits for heeled balls, but if the second be well struck, an iron approach will be sufficient to reach the green. It must not be played too strongly, however, as there is a stone wall at the back of the putting green. The man whose interview with the "Cardinal" only costs him five strokes, may heartily congratulate himself.

The next hole is guarded from the tee by a stone wall, and on the right, the Burn meanders all the way to the green. To avoid this latter hazard, the tee shot must be played well to the left, when a cleek or iron shot will take the player to the green, if he avoid a bunker placed short to its left. The putting green is a fine one and the hole should be done in four.

The tee for the next hole, the "Himalayas Out," is placed so that the Pow Burn is crossed at right angles. The green is on the far side of the high sandy ridge, from which the hole takes its name. Unless against a strong wind, a well struck cleek shot should carry the ridge and be somewhere in the neighbourhood of the hole. And if we have got well over, there is an element of pleasing excitement in hastily clambering up the sand ridge to see how near the hole the ball is lying. The green is somewhat tricky to approach, and unless the ball actually lies on it, a four must not be grumbled at.

For the 6th hole we now play southwards along the "Elysian Fields." The hole is but a drive and an approach, but the approach is an extremely difficult one. To begin with, unless the tee shot has been a very long one, the approach shot is of a very awkward length, being usually more than a wrist, and not quite far enough for a full iron. The putting green is on a tableland which ends abruptly at its far side and goes down into rough country. Short of the hole, and running close up to the edge of the green, is an impassable country of bent and thick grass. If the ball strike on this, it remains there, and if it light on the green, it is pretty sure to run over the green into the bad ground below it. The hole ought to be a four from its shortness, but it is very hard not to drop a stroke somewhere, and five is good enough.

The "Railway" hole - the 7th - lies at right angles, and with a clean hit straight drive, it is possible to reach the green and score a three, but both to the right and left punishment awaits the crooked.

The 8th is a good four. A long drive, avoiding the railway on the right, and carrying a bunker, followed by a good crack with a cleek over another bunker, ought to land the player on the green, which lies on a slope.

The 9th hole is one of the longest on the course, and the tee shot should be played well to the right, to avoid a trappy little bunker on the left. There are two bunkers guarding the green, but getting short of them with the second stroke, the green should be reached by an iron approach, and the hole done in five.

Turning homewards, we skirt the benty spurs of the "Himalayas" all the way to the 10th hole.

There are bunkers and bad ground to be negotiated, but keeping well to the left, the player should get home with two good swipes, or, at most, with the addition of a little pitch on to the green. Five should be the figure on his card.

The "Himalayas In" is the next hole, and its features resemble strongly those of its brother, the "Himalayas Out." The carry, however, is longer, as the Pow Burn has to be carried beyond the far base of the Himalayas, and a good stout drive is necessary. The water crossed, the green is within reach of an iron, and good putting should result in a four.

Two well-hit shots should take the player to the neighbourhood of the "Dyke" which gives its name to the 12th hole. The putting green, a very fine one, is just over, and, barring accidents, the hole should be done in five. Bad lies, however, abound short of the wall, and its stony face has somehow a magnetic attraction for the ball. In 1893 Mr. Hilton, playing in the open championship, hit it repeatedly, and took ten to the hole !

The 13th is a longish hole over rather bumpy country. But keeping straight, two drives and an iron should enable the player to score another five.

The next hole is by the club-house, and should be done in four, as the putting green is excellent, and can be reached over a bunker by using an iron for the second stroke.

The course here kicks back for the next two holes, both of which are ticklish and require careful play. The 15th is a particularly awkward hole, as it bristles with "blind" hazards of all descriptions, and the green is difficult to get at. There does not seem to be any safe way to approach this hole from the tee or with the second, or at least any one way that is safer than another, and the best thing to do is to strike hard and trust in Providence. The player may thank his stars who gets a four.

The 16th hole is a good one. A long drive well on the left, to avoid the "Cardinal," whose domains are perilously near, will bring the green within reach of an iron, and this, being judiciously played and not too strongly, should enable the player to score another four.

The next hole - the "Alps" - I take to be one of the very best golfing holes in the world. The "Alps" is a high mound guarding the putting ground, but between it and the putting green there is still another hazard, in the shape of a wide and deep bunker. Now it is possible, unless against an adverse wind, to carry the "Alps" and its bunker, and get on the green in two. But the second must be a rasper, and the feat will not be possible unless the tee shot has been also "far and sure." In the amateur championship of 1893 this hole was the scene of Mr. Laidlay's downfall. He was playing in the final with Mr. P. C. Anderson, the game standing all square and two to play. Both had fine drives from the tee and Mr. Anderson, having to play first, elected to play short of the "Alps" with his cleek, in his second stroke. Mr. Laidlay, after consulting Jack White, who was carrying for him, decided to attempt to carry the green with his brassy. His ball, however, was not lying too well, and failing to get a hold of it properly, he slightly pulled it, and lay in very bad ground to the left of the bunker, failing altogether to carry the hazard. Mr. Anderson easily reached the green with his third, which Mr. Laidlay did not, and he lost the hole, and, as it turned out, the championship.

The last hole is uneventful, and unless the tee shot be topped, is usually a four.

Now, played in this faultless manner, our card would read 74 or 75, but, as I stated at the outset, the disposition of the hazards and the ever-varying length of the holes, which necessitate an ever-changing length of iron stroke, make it exceedingly difficult to get round without sundry foozles or mistakes, and we find, accordingly, that the club's estimate of a scratch score is ten strokes higher, or 84 ! As a matter of fact anything under 85 is very fine play indeed, and the medals are won much oftener by a score above that figure than below it. That brilliant player, Willie Campbell, holds the record for the course, and the figures are worth quoting.

This extraordinary performance has never been approached.

In these "pull devil, pull baker" days of golf, the members of the Prestwick Club are indeed to be envied, in having so magnificent a course as their own private property. A commodious and comfortable club-house, delightful air, and a seascape which embraces Ailsa-Craig, the peaks of Arran, and the noble estuary of the Clyde, make a golfing holiday at Prestwick a delightful experience and an abiding memory. Mr. Harry Hart, who has so long and so ably discharged the duties of club secretary, is all kindness and courtesy to the passing stranger.

There is another golf club at Prestwick, called the St. Nicholas, and the members play on a capital little course of six holes, situated at the south end of the village.

The fine course of the enterprising golf club of Troon, lies about half a mile to the north of Prestwick links. Enjoyable golf is to be had at Troon, and it is the headquarters of that famous and beautiful player, Willie Fernie, who acts as green-keeper and professional. The South Beach Hotel, within three minutes' walk of the links, is well managed, and is a comfortable and convenient residence for golfers.

Comfortable quarters may be had at the inn at Prestwick, but live minutes by rail will land the golfer in more palatial surroundings at the Station Hotel at Ayr. Ayr itself, with its classic river and bridge, and its memories of Burns, is a most interesting old town, and the scenery in the neighbourhood is charming. Though we have no record of the fact, it seems certain that Burns, as a true Scot, must have played the national game. What pity that he did not flash upon it the light of his poetic genius. It would have been a theme worthy of it.