From a high moral point of view those ancestors of ours who bred inferior stomachs for us were, of course, wrong, and yet they did many fine things on their pints of port. They wrote great prose and verse, they painted fine pictures, their taste and skill in handicrafts were superb, they won the battle of Waterloo and the battle of Trafalgar, and they could -most undoubtedly they could - play golf. Having regard to the quality of their tools and the state of the upkeep of their links, they made many fine rounds, which showed that they had great skill, that they had a fine steadiness of hand and eye, and even that they upon occasion went in for thinking golf!

And of all the types of the modern Britishers' ancestors, give us for great courage at the board and for a capacity for high enjoyment according to his lights, the golfing ancestor! He was a rare fellow. He went out to play his round by day, and he foregathered the same evening with the others of his golfing society and celebrated the day as many persons say that a good day should be celebrated. And it was a matter of duty with him too, not merely inclination. On the morning of the play and dinner days of some of the fine old Scottish golfing societies, it was the custom to send the boy of the club round to each member's house summoning him to the meeting, and taking his name if he promised to be present at the evening meal.

The old golfers saw to it that the quality of all the fine things of which they partook was of the very best, for leading features of their dinners were the gifts of various members of their own company, and it was the common custom before each gathering was ended to make large provision for the next one in the way of promises of food and drink, and these promises once made were exacted to the last ounce and drop, under penalty of fines of dozens and cases of wines and spirits.

No club has richer traditions in this respect than the old North Berwick. The viands that its own company sent to its table for its constant meetings were fine things. One time Mr. Hay of Rockville sent along a round of beef stewed in hock. Sir D. Kinloch sent Shetland beef, the Duke of Buccleuch contributed large quantities of venison and venison pasty, while the Earl of Eglinton, as an apology for his absence from one meeting when captain, sent a fine buck. As for liquids, Sir David Blair presented the club at the start with three dozens of champagne, and thereafter it became the custom to fine a member exactly that for any delinquency or omission on his part. Thus we have a minute on the books for 23rd September 1835, which reads: "At dinner it was voted unanimously, on the motion of the captain, that Mr. John Sligo be fined in a case of three dozen champagne for not sending a cook as proposed by himself, by which means the turtle, venison, and other delicacies were entirely destroyed." Judging by the temper of these old North Berwickers, and of the importance that they attached to these things prandial, one would have been inclined to congratulate Mr. Sligo on the leniency with which his grave offence was treated. Whisky by the dozen and half-dozen came from Campbell of Glen-saddell and Macdonald of Clanranald, shrub from Mr. Whyte-Melville, rum from Major Pringle, casks of beer and porter from various other members, and so on; claret, withal, which was presented in large quantities, being the favourite drink.

Even if one be but a drinker of tea and ginger ale, there is some interest in reading of the exploits of the old-time golfers of Edinburgh and Musselburgh. In the "bett book" of the Honourable Company, under date of 4th January 1766, there is the rule entered: "Each person who lays a Bett in the Company of the Golfers, and shall fail to play it on the day appointed, shall forfeit to the Company a pint of wine for each guinea, unless he give a sufficient excuse to their satisfaction"; and a most interesting entry in the minutes of 16th November 1776 tells us that "this day Lieutenant James Dalrymple, of the 43rd Regiment, being convicted of playing five different times at Golf without his uniform, was fined only in Six Pints, having confessed the heinousness of his crime." To this minute, signed by the captain, there is appended a codicil, stating, "at his own request he was fined of Three Pints more." Always pints, and never pounds or guineas. The Company even thought that it was a proper thing for it to pass a formal resolution adopting certain liquors as the club drink, just in the same way as they would adopt a uniform. Thus, on nth December 1779, the sentiment of Christmas being already abroad, it was resolved and duly entered on the minutes, that "Port and Punch shall be the ordinary Drink of the Society, unless upon these days when the Silver Club and Cups are played for. At those meetings Claret or any other Liquor more agreeable will be permitted."

O, say some, for the days of famous Jamie Balfour, secretary and treasurer of the Company in 1793! Never was jollier golfer. And never a man more honest, more deservedly popular, and loved by all his contemporaries than he, as witness the fact that when, alas! he went to the links of Valhalla before he reached the age of sixty, the company mourned for him as golfers had never mourned before. They met at a special meeting and dinner in the most solemn mourning, with the Captain in the chair and Sir James Stirling, Baronet, Lord Provost of the City of Edinburgh, beside him, and drank to Balfour's memory in the most solemn of toasts.

Jamie looked upon the wine when it was red; he could see no virtue in self-denial. He liked the sound of the drawn cork. When he heard one drawn in any house that he happened to be in, which gave an unusually sharp report, he would call out, "Lassie, gie me a glass o' that!" not troubling to ask what the wine was, but taking it for granted that for such a report it must needs be good of its class.

A story is told that a lady who lived in Parliament Close, Edinburgh, was wakened from her sleep one summer morning by a noise as of singing, when, going to the window to learn what was the matter, guess her surprise at seeing Jamie Balfour and some of his boon companions, evidently fresh from an orgie, singing "The King shall enjoy his own again" on their knees around King Charles's statue. It used to be said that Balfour could run when he could not stand still, and the story is told that on one occasion, going home late from a festive night, he happened to tumble into the pit formed for the foundation of a house in St. James's Square. A gentleman passing heard his wailing, and, going up to the spot, was entreated by Balfour to help him out. "What would be the use helping you out when you could not stand though you were out?" said the passer-by. Whereupon Jamie retorted, "Very true, perhaps, yet if you help me up I'll run you to the Tron Kirk for a bottle of claret." And he did; and having won the first bottle, Jamie exclaimed, "Well, 'nother race to Fortune's for another bottle of claret," and he won that one also.