7. Given that the regulation charge for a round is a shilling, would you consider yourself justified in attempting to exact an extra half-crown for club-cleaning from a player in spectacles, with a handicap of 27 and a wistful expression? (Candidates are advised to say "No" to this question.) * * * * * [Illustration: STIMIED.--_Golfer._ "Fore!" _Tinker._ "What?" _Golfer._ "Get out of the way!" _Tinker._ "What for?" _Golfer._ "I might hit you." _Tinker._ "Thee'd best _not_, young man!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Licensed Caddy._ "Carry your clubs, sir?" _Jones_ (_who has chartered a small boy at a cheap rate_). "No, I've got a caddy." _Licensed Caddy._ "Carry your caddy, sir?"] * * * * * "AS SHE IS SPOKE."--(_In the train from Nice._) _Enthusiastic Golfer_ (_to friend, as train stops at Golfe-Juan_): "Oh, here we are! This must be the place. '_Golfe_,' golf. '_Juan_,' _jeu_, play, you know. Yes, this is evidently the station for the links!" * * * * * THE NATURAL CREST OF EVERY GOLF CLUB.--The lynx. * * * * * FIVE-O'CLOCK "TEES."--Suburban golf. [Illustration: Punch] * * * * * [Illustration: THE RULING PASSION.--_Laden and perspiring stranger._ "Could you kindly tell me how far it is to the station?" _Sportsome Native._ "About a full drive, two brassies and a putt."] * * * * * THE GOLF WIDOWS (_After E.B. Browning_) Do you hear the widows weeping, O my brothers, Wedded but a few brief years? They are writing home complaining to their mothers, And their ink's suffused with tears. The young lads are playing in the meadows, The young babes are sleeping in the nest; The young men are flirting in the shadows, The young maids are helping them, with zest. But the young golf widows, O my brothers, Are weeping bitterly, They are weeping in the playtime of the others, While you're swiping from the tee. Do you ask their grazing widows in their sorrow Why their tears are falling so? "Oh--yesterday--to-day again--to-morrow-- To the links you ALWAYS go! Your golf 'shop,'" they say, "is very dreary, You speak of nothing else from week to week; A really patient wife will grow a-weary Of talk about a concentrated cleek." Yes, the young golf widows, O my brothers, Do you ask them why they weep? They are longing to be back beside their mothers, While you're playing in a sweep.