and frictionless floor in our driving gallery? When you come to think it over in this way, it is rather a pretty problem. Of course, in the absence of the millionaire and the gallery, there is no satisfactory answer, though Professor Tait would have made a close estimate possibly. But put the question to the next party of golfers among whom you happen to be included, and see what widely varying answers you will get. In the meantime one may suggest 500 yards. THE FABRIC OF THE GAME I We boast constantly of the traditions of our game of golf, and well may we do so, for they are glorious, and they bring with them a great responsibility for their perpetuation. Some day in the distant future a far-off generation may be moved to build a Temple of Golf. There is the nucleus of the idea already within the house of the Royal and Ancient Club. In stone and on canvas it will tell the story of the great deeds of the heroes of the past as it is told in the national palaces and halls of England and of France. In the path that will lead from the gates to the doors of the temple there will be a giant monument of the fairest hero of them all. It will show in white marble a lithe-limbed player at the finish of a St. Andrews drive with his features alight with the full joy of the game at the richest time of his youthful manhood--a fine, a happy, a lovable face. On one side of the pedestal there will be depicted the trophies of the links. On the other side there will be a terrier, of whom it shall be indicated that his name was “Nails.” On the back of the pedestal there will be a group of golfers, representing in them the golf world far and wide, and they will be showing by their manner and their actions that they are acclaiming their hero, and that they esteem him for his golfing and manly worth and all his noble qualities. And on the front of the pedestal there will be cut a scene of war, with the Riet River flowing by, and in the shade of the trees on the bank there will lie a prostrate figure with a smile still left on the happy face. It will tell that a great soldier-golfer has done his duty, and that from the African veldt his soul has gone forward to the consummation of its greatness. No words will need to be carved on this monument of glory. It will bear the simple inscription, “F. G. Tait. Died 1900,” and the men who gaze upon it in the far-off time will bare and bow their heads, and will walk silently into the temple.