There was another player who, in order to overcome his inclination to spread his arms too far apart, introduced a thick india-rubber band, which he fixed from elbow to elbow. Those troublesome members were thereby prevented from going wrong in the outward direction. The only danger to which they were submitted was that of getting too close together. The arms, however, constitute a secondary consideration; we are talking now of the head, the steadiness of which is the first desideratum. I do not suppose that many players would feel inclined to tether themselves to trees in order to correct their faults. But I have seen a little device, as simple as it is clever, which is certainly the most masterly means ever conceived of drilling a golfer in the matter of head-restraint. It is so very simple that I cannot help wondering why nobody thought of it years ago. It does not cause the smallest inconvenience. It cannot even be seen by the player as he swings, and yet it tells him instantly whether he has moved his head or accomplished the all-important task of keeping it still.

At first, the golfer may be inclined to smile when I describe to him this contrivance. I can only assure him that I have tried it for the benefit of several players, and that the results have always been excellent. I do not claim any credit for the idea. It was conceived by Colonel Quill, who took up golf at the age of fifty-six, and, with the help of his corrector, made himself a scratch player in eighteen months. I find that with most people who start golf fairly late in life (at any rate after the age of forty) the commonest difficulty is that of keeping the head steady. Especially is this the case amongst persons who have not kept in more or less athletic condition by pursuing cricket or some other pastime. Their bodies become set, and they find it a very trying matter to turn at the waist, more particularly if they happen to have a lot of waist to turn. All the same, they must learn to do so if they would acquire any proficiency at all; it is the only way to secure success at golf. If they do not turn, they generally move the body and head away from the ball since they must make some backward movement in preparation for the onslaught. That is where they go wrong. It is the fault which they must never give up trying to cure.

Let me describe the device of Colonel Quill. Let me explain, too, the way in which he made it. He obtained a hollow brass post, about three feet long. Truth to tell, it was a bedpost. One end he fashioned to a point, so that it could be stuck into the ground. Down the post, from within about a foot of the top to within a few inches of the bottom, he made a narrow incision in the metal - a gap about a quarter of an inch wide. Some strong thread, a small piece of tin, and a fish-hook completed the articles of manufacture. The thread was slipped through the post, and to the end of it was affixed the piece of tin so that the latter rested outside the upright. The other end of the thread was sufficiently long to reach to the cap of the player as he stood in proper position for a shot. It was fixed to the cap by the fish-hook.

All this may seem somewhat weird, but as to the value of the instrument I have not the slightest doubt. It is an extraordinarily effective means of practice for the indifferent golfer - or even the good one who finds that he is doing badly and knows not quite why. Lessons and hints from a human instructor are none the less desirable, but this contrivance enables the player to decide, when shots do not come off in practice as they ought to do, whether or not he is moving his head, which is the fault productive of most bad strokes.

Let us assume that the aspirant is at work with one of these posts. He takes up his stance, the thread being stretched, with perhaps an inch of slackness permitted, from his cap to the piece of tin at the bottom of the upright. He cannot see any part of his training-machine because his eyes are fixed on the ball. He swings. What happens ? If he moves his head the metal indicator begins to run up the post, tinkling merrily the while. It affords irrefutable evidence against him. In effect, it shouts to him the instant he starts to make the old mistake: "Hi! you're shifting your head," and it is not the smallest use for him to protest that he is doing nothing of the kind. He stands convicted by the tinkle, and when he hears it, there is little object in his continuing the stroke, for, with his head moving, there is but a poor chance of the shot being a good one. He must settle down to the task of working out his salvation by practising and practising until he can make full swings without stirring the indicator. When he can do that, he has mastered the greatest difficulty that golf presents to the average beginner. There are, of course, other things that he may do wrongly, but they are generally capable of easier remedy than this first and most frequent fault. The chances are that he has now acquired the way of turning properly from the waist and thus distributing his weight properly. I have submitted Colonel Quill's simple contrivance to many tests. I have tried full swings and followed through to the fullest extent. When I have been playing well, there has been no suspicion of a tug at the thread and consequently no warning note from the indicator. In all sincerity, I say that it is the best form of preparation that I know for an indifferent player who suffers from the common failing, and who wants to improve. If he cannot go to the links more than twice a week, he can practise swings in his garden, or even in the house if his ingenuity be such as to enable him to induce the contrivance to stand on the floor. In these limited areas, he cannot be sure - unless he use a captive ball - whether he is topping or even missing the globe altogether, but if his efforts leave the metal undisturbed, he can rest assured that he is getting into the way of the true golfing swing.