down," as I have heard it described—and a family, used to be driven in old days to the seaside for his month's holiday. I have known several cases in which it is not too much to say that the one thing the head of the family looked forward to all through his so-called holidays was the getting back again to his London house, his business and his club. He had absolutely nothing to do at the seaside, except consume tobacco, walk about the cliffs, and avoid street minstrels. Now the same business man has probably taken to golf even if only in foursomes, he has an amusement and a recreation every day, and he can always take it at the seaside—he can get a game, and his children can get health at one and the same place. I have heard people talk of the sorrows of a golfer's wife; they are nothing as compared with the sorrows of a non-golfer's wife during an enforced stay of a month at the seaside without golf and nothing to do. His children can learn golf in the proper way, namely in the holidays and not at school: there are often ladies' links where his daughters can play, and though the conversation may be too much in the one line of golf during dinner,
