admit that to many the game is so engrossing that if eighteen holes could be found in the desert of Sahara as good as at North Berwick, some would as soon play on one as the other. Lastly, there is the indescribable charm of uncertainty. If a foxhunter knew for a certainty that a fox would always be found in the same place, take the same line, and be killed in the same spot, hunting would lose nearly all its charm. You cannot in golf ever be quite certain how the ball will lie except on the tee and putting-green. You experience during your walk of 150 yards to the ball alternate feelings of hope and fear, hope that the ball is lying on a smooth place and easy to hit, fear that it is in a cup or has a lump behind it. There is also the uncertainty that has a twinge of agony about it, and that is the question how you are going to hit it; even the best players foozle sometimes. Without uncertainty there is no really first-class game where a ball is concerned; and to the charm of a fine hit, picturesque scenery, and uncertainty, the charm of companionship has still to be added. Nobody can wonder that golf has added to the gaiety of nations.
