CLAY is, I daresay, essential to the stability of the land - as land - and we have enough of it in all conscience in this country. There are more clayey golf courses than of any other denomination of soil, and their prevalence means that the game of golf is not quite the same at all seasons of the year. It is one of the failings of the moderate player, who gives little thought to details, that he seldom considers the question of altering his methods so as to accommodate himself to varying conditions. On seaside and dry inland greens, no change of system is required. So long as the golfer keeps to the fairway, the ball generally sits up for him with some nobleness of bearing, and the stroke can be executed in much the same manner in the winter as in the summer. The habitue of a clayey course leads a much more diverting life. If he would maintain the standard of his game throughout the twelve months, he must learn several shots at the beginning of the dank days which he will need to forget upon the advent of the dry period; he must have his summer methods and his winter methods. He must know just when to exercise either, but that need not cause him much trouble, since it takes him little time to tell whether he has a good lie or a bad one through the green. At least, it does not usually take him long to tell everybody within hail when he has a bad lie. Naturally, it is in the play through the green that the principal differences arise. The tee shot is the tee shot all the world over, and in every period of the year; but on a clayey course the second shot in November is often a proposition totally unlike that which presents itself in August. Every golfer appreciates and allows for the difference in the run of the ball; that is an elementary matter which speaks for itself. What very many players do not realize is the necessity of amending their principles in several important respects when the courses become heavy. They follow the methods which perhaps proved highly profitable during the summer, and generally arrive at the conclusion that winter golf is an abomination, tolerable only because it is better than no golf at all. I must confess that it is not always a thing of beauty or a joy for even a day, and I envy the people who always play on dry greens. By taking into account, however, the altered circumstances, it is possible to obtain many good rounds on miry turf. The point to remember is not to endeavour in the ordinary way to accomplish the same shots through the green as one would attempt in the summer. It is because so many people try to do this that they feel discontented about their November to March golf.

It is no use, for instance, "pecking " at the ball, as one can do in dry conditions.

So far as I have been able to observe, the great majority of golfers make the mistake, on heavy soil, of trying to take the ball cleanly. They usually bungle the stroke for the simple reason that the ground has a sufficiently tenacious hold of the object to prevent it from rising sharply when the club comes into contact with it. After the driver (and before the putter) the most valuable implement during the winter is a fairly powerful mid-iron, and the game to play with it on soft soil is to aim well behind the ball and take a little turf. Often that is the only way to secure anything like a shot, and while our hearts may weep for the excavations which we are perpetrating, we can at least retrieve the divots and repair the earth which we have so sadly maltreated. At a long hole, where it is clearly impossible to reach the green in two strokes, the safest game is usually to play a drive and two 18 strokes with the mid-iron or a nicely lofted cleek.

I like the brassie, but it is not built for frequent use in the mud. Where there are a fair number of long holes, and its frequent employment seems almost essential, it is a good idea to have two clubs of the kind - one with a little loft on it and the other with a distinct loft. The latter will often prove valuable. A spoon, indeed, is an exceedingly handy tool for winter golf. At no time are its virtues more apparent than during the wet season. Unless one has a fancy for it, there is no particular reason for bringing it into frequent play during the dry weather, but it is often a stroke saver on heavy ground. It gets under the ball, and that is everything in such circumstances.

It is one of the misfortunes of the people who play on muddy courses that they lose touch with that interesting stroke - the cut shot with the mashie. It cannot be accomplished on treacherous turf. If you try to make the ball bite on the club, you will merely dig the latter into the ground, with consequent disaster. The niblick is sometimes a good club for approaching from a heavy lie. It cuts into the turf, and if you play it with sufficient strength to raise a divot and the ball with it, the club will serve the purpose admirably. On the whole, however, the mashie is the best implement for approaches of moderate length, and the soundest hint that one can give in connexion with it is a warning not to try to do anything particularly clever with it on sodden ground. A plain lofting stroke of the right length is all that can be attempted with safety. So that the winter is a leveller of golfers so far as concerns the art of approaching; there is no scope for executing the more advanced shots, which ought to be a satisfactory state of affairs for the multitude of long-handicap players.

I suppose that, in time, there will be very few wet winter courses. At present there are plenty, but with the continued development of the game in the scheme of the nation's recreation, the work of draining is becoming better and better understood. What is equally important, the question of money seldom, nowadays, presents a stumbling block. Fifteen years ago, most of the greens round London were little better during the wet season than quagmires. Fishermen's waders would have been, perhaps, the most sensible footgear. The player squelched his way through the swamps, scattering mud-showers with nearly every shot that he executed through the green, and yet finding a deal of enjoyment in his game. During recent years the improvements have been wonderful. Take, for instance, the course with which I have the honour of being associated - South Herts, situated at Totteridge. It used to be as damp as many another with a clayey soil. What was very puzzling, the draining operations which had been carried out failed in the first instance to produce satisfactory results. So we overhauled the system of drainage, and discovered that it offered a reasonable explanation of its inefficiency. In some cases, the pipes came to an end without being connected with any ditch or other natural channel for carrying off superflous water. They followed devious routes, and stopped suddenly as though the designer had gone on planting them till his stock was exhausted, and then proceeded home with the conviction that he had done his best. There was nowhere for the water to empty itself, and so, for a time, we were distinctly on the wet side. We set about the work again, and laid down some 30,000 new pipes. The reward of that enterprise has been great. It has afforded ample proof of the possibilities of inducing a clay course to remain decently dry during the winter months.