NEXT to the joy of playing a round there is no more engaging occupation for the keen habitue of the links than that of studying the methods of acknowledged masters of the game. Golf can be learnt by example as well as by precept, and I am certain that by watching, thinking and practising, it is possible for anybody, to go on adding to his store of knowledge and degree of efficiency till the end of his playing days, or, at any rate, till the finish of those days which precede the development of a rigid body and stiff knees. The crowd at a golf match consists chiefly of enthusiasts who want to see causes as well as effects. The latter are summed up in the result, but I suppose that, to most of the onlookers, the issue is a matter of little importance. What they are anxious to learn is how the players secure the result. It is the best kind of curiosity in the world, because it shows that the great majority of people regard the game in the proper light; that is to say, they realize its scientific beauties. They desire to observe not only whether the ball has been hit on to the green, but how the performer has gone about the task of landing it there. The man who is taking part in an exhibition match appreciates to the full the penetrative mind of the "gallery," and the occasional captious critic who insinuates that professionals do not worry their heads very much when participating in exhibition games is hopelessly mistaken and grievously unjust. Nobody could play golf well unless he tried hard to do so, and professionals simply have to play well. There is no danger of golf ever being regarded as an entertainment at the expense of its place in the world as an active recreation; consequently, one may reasonably suggest to all aspirants to success that they should seize every opportunity of examining the methods of good players. This particular pursuit is already popular, and its growth cannot fail to be profitable to the standard of the game. It is pleasant, too, for the exhibitor to feel that the followers are closely observant of his methods. From time to time, I have had curious questions put to me during the progress of rounds as to the way in which this or that shot has been executed, and I am sure that I have always been sensible of the compliments conveyed by such manifestations of interest.

Edward Ray is a man whom I like to watch on the links. He defies so many of the accepted principles of the game; he is so very nearly a complete set of laws unto himself. He sways appreciably, and heaves at the ball. He is a master of the knack of recovering the right position at the moment of impact after having moved his head and body during the backward swing in a degree that would spell disaster to almost anybody else. He is the brilliant exception to a safe rule. As he brings the club down, you feel that he is either going to make an extraordinarily good shot or an extraordinarily bad one. He is getting into the proper position all the while; it is just a question as to whether he will be able to resume the even distribution of his weight at the instant of hitting. His terrific lunge almost brings your heart into your mouth lest he should miss the shot. You wonder where on earth the ball would go in the event of such a catastrophe. Then you look up, and see the article sailing down the middle of the course. At the psychological moment he has done everything correctly. Ray has his own way of playing golf, and it is fine to see because of its individuality. His drives and his cleek shots, with their great length of carry, are among the best things in the game.

Probably, however, his favourite shot is the long approach which he plays with his niblick. He is a marvel at it. Here, perhaps, you are cogitating as to the manner in which you shall get up with a straight-faced iron, when you suddenly see Ray thump his ball to the hole-side with a niblick. He told me that, during the open championship which he won at Muirfield, he chose that club for his second shot to the tenth hole. He was in the rough to the right, and the second shot of something over 100 yards had to be nearly all carry so as to clear the big sandhill. And he did this with a niblick !

Given the chance, I like nothing better than the diversion of watching the play of other people. I wish I had seen more of the golf of the leading amateurs; not having had chances of studying them frequently, perhaps I ought not to criticise their methods. When one is engaged in a round honoured by the presence of a large "gallery," there is not always much opportunity of distinguishing the manner in which the opponent sets about his task. It is exceedingly useful to observe what he does, and what reward he reaps; especially is this the case on clay courses, where one cannot always be sure as to the pace and other peculiarities of the ground, and where, therefore, the advantage of compelling the other man to play the "odd" is more than ordinarily useful. During a tournament or exhibition match, however, a professional is apt to be enveloped by the onlookers directly he has accomplished his shot. He finds himself in a whirling, eddying crowd, and before he has struggled clear of it and replied to questions as to how he likes the links, and whether he has ever played at Pushem - along - the - mire, his rival has reached the green, and the educative phase of the process has been lost on the man who now has to supply the "like" For that reason, I know less than I would like to know about the methods of several very fine players whom I have had few chances of watching, but who have heaped discomfiture upon my head. Still, there are well-known golfers with whom I have been in more or less constant contact for many years, and whose modes of operation I have had chances of conning in the course of some hundreds of meetings. For instance, I have come to the conclusion that I enjoy nothing more than the sight of Braid getting out of the rough. The choice may not indicate a Christian spirit, but the best - or worst - of Braid in the rough is that it generally means no punishment at all to him. It is a real treat to watch him playing a shot in an extremely difficult position. He has no equal at it. The only place in which he is beaten is the place in which he has no room to swing his club. Give him just enough space to raise the implement and he will recover from anything. I hope it will be understood that I wish Braid nothing but good; but I really would like to see him more often in the rough - his getting out of it is such a thrilling spectacle. The trouble may be gorse or rank grass, or rocks or a railway track; as he takes the club up you realize that something will have to go, and that the ball will go with it. He brings his niblick down with terrific power; there is nothing like it in the rest of golf. He plays a perfect shot in a bunker. I remember he remarked on one occasion that he did not mind being photographed; but that he wished that the pictures were not so monotonous in depicting him in difficulties. "People will think I am always in bunkers," was the neat way in which he summed up the situation. I know from long experience that Braid is very seldom in trouble. His skill in avoiding it has robbed the golfing world of many magnificent strokes that he would otherwise have executed in getting out of it.