There was a time when golf was played as a recreation. In those days any one would have ridiculed a definite system of training for the big events. But now that the game has become the main business of our lives, any course of exercise or rule of diet which may bring enhanced opportunities of victory must be taken into the most serious consideration. And yet in matters of training golf is unlike any of the other great games which we pursue with short intervals for business. No one can consume an unlimited amount of tobacco and still row in a college race with any chance of success. The captain of a football team would be foolish if he did not discourage pastry and strong drink. Even the devotees of the polo field must refrain from Pommery at every meal. With golf it is quite another matter. Some of our best players are tobacco fiends. One can hardly picture Mr. F. G. Tait without his pipe, or Mr. Hilton shorn of his cigarette. Our best scores are often made after nights of whist and Scotch whisky; indeed, there are those who believe that the true secret of success is somehow bound up with liberal ideas upon the subject of the national drink of Caledonia. This view of the question impresses itself with startling emphasis upon athletes in this country who have been accustomed to look upon the traditions of the training table as upon the unalterable laws of the Medes and Persians. And they are apt to feel very indignant when in spite of careful diet they are defeated by less scrupulous opponents who, by all the rules of retribution, ought to be incapable of hitting the ball at all.

As a general rule, training is simply a matter of habit. Most American oarsmen would be rather surprised if they could see the members of a college eight, at Oxford, supposed to be in strict training, drinking liberal potations of home brewed ale during dinner, and washing it down with a glass or two of the richest port that the common room can supply. And I imagine that the captain of an American football or baseball team would be scandalized to hear that in the case of the Varsity cricket elevens and football fifteens, in England, such a thing as training in any shape or form is practically unknown. Possibly, the great English universities err rather in the direction of liberality. But after all, a game ought to be played for the sake of recreation, and not studied like a profession. Moreover, I doubt very much whether the winning capacity of any football team is greatly increased by any close restrictions in the matter of diet. One understands, of course, that smoking should be prohibited among college eights, because the consumption of tobacco, particularly on the part of young men, is apt to injure the wind. But in games where there is no continued strain upon the lungs, the question of smoking is totally irrelevant. However that may be, it is perfectly natural that golf, being a game of recent importation into America, has not yet become a subject for any strict laws upon the subject of training.

Believing firmly, as I do, that in every sport latitude in diet and habits of life is strongly to be recommended, both because such a course is consistent with success, and because it is not reasonable to regard any game or sport in too serious a light, I have no intention of writing any prescriptions for use before tournaments. Even if such advice were desirable in dealing with rowing or foot ball, the circumstances which surround the game of golf would rob it of all its value. The players in this case are generally men of mature years and settled habits, who could not change their methods of life without serious discomfort. Moreover, it must always be remembered that the mental condition is of far greater importance than physical fitness. You cannot play golf if you are worried in mind, and therefore my first exhortation to any one about to enter a tournament or play an important match is that he should divest himself entirely of all thoughts bearing upon any subject except the matter immediately in hand. Concentration of purpose is quite as necessary as strength of arm.

Let no one suppose, however, that a sound physical condition is not of supreme importance. A blind man, a cripple or a habitual drunkard is not likely to win many trophies on the links.

Whoever is looking for advice upon the playing of tournaments is at least a person of some athletic sense. He knows that the better his health is, the greater are his chances of success; he knows also that practice makes perfect, if he has read his copybook. These are truisms which are granted at the outset. But I desire chiefly to point out that the average man who leads an upright and sober life would act very foolishly to change any of his ordinary habits before a tournament. If he is a smoker, he should on no account discard tobacco; if he is accustomed to stimulants, he should drink just as much as, and no more than, he does on ordinary occasions.

Possibly some one may confront me with the argument that both smoking and drinking are injurious to the health. If any one thinks so he would be wise to abjure them both, but he should abjure them qua man and not qua golfer. If, on the other hand, these pleasant habits are not found to hurt the system in other departments of life, it is impossible to see why they should interfere with the game of golf. In fact, I would even go a step further and say that they are positively conducive to good play. Take, for instance, a man who smokes a certain amount of tobacco every day; when he comes to a tournament, or to a close match, he will find a great deal of help and consolation in his pipe or his cigarette, as the case may be. Another player, perhaps, is accustomed during a hard day's golf to fortify himself in various ways at luncheon or at dinner, when the game is over. To such a person I would never say, Omit your whisky and soda during a tournament. I should be much more inclined to admonish him to take two where before he took one. The mental strain of a tournament increases the ordinary fatigue of playing at least one hundred per cent, and therefore those accustomed to stimulant of any sort should increase rather than diminish the dose. As for diet, there is hardly any thing which a man who is playing thirty-six holes a day cannot and may not eat with safety. Good food, and plenty of it, is the watchword for every golfer. It may be necessary, however, to guard against one error, for which Mr. Horace Hutchinson, in perfect innocence, is partly responsible.