my play, or suggested that I did not in any way
deserve the victory. My tour began in March and did not finish until the
end of the year, but was interrupted for a short period at the beginning
of the summer, when I made a flying trip home in order to take part in
our own Open Championship. As it happened, the best that I could do was
to finish second to Taylor, but I may add that this result was better
than I expected, considering the sudden change of golf and climate that
I experienced. I had to cover several thousands of miles in order to
play the matches in which I took part in America. Of these matches I
only lost two when playing against a single opponent, and each time it
was Bernard Nicholls who beat me, first at Ormonde and then at Brae
Burn. There was not a blade of grass on the course on which Nicholls won
his first match from me, and I leave my readers to imagine what playing
on a links consisting of nothing but loose sand was like. Altogether I
suffered only thirteen defeats, but in eleven of them I was playing the
best ball of two or more opponents, which was the task that was
generally set me. I won over fifty matches and halved two. Some of my
victories were somewhat substantial. At Point Comfort I beat Willie Dunn
by sixteen up and fifteen to play, and at Scarsdale I got the better of
the same opponent to the extent of fifteen and fourteen. Such wide
margins naturally suggest opponents of inferior ability; but if I may
modestly say so, I do not think that was wholly the case. I consider
that at that time I was playing better golf than I had ever played
before or have done since. As was the custom there, I used to go out on
the links in the very thinnest and airiest costume. In Florida it was
too warm to play with either coat or vest, so both were discarded and
shirt sleeves rolled up. Generally, like my opponents, I wore no jacket,
but a neat waistcoat with sleeves which helped to keep the arms
together. In such attire one was afforded a delightful sense of ease and
freedom which considerably helped one's golf. Then again, whether it was
due to the fine dry atmosphere--as I think it was--or not, the ball
certainly seemed to fly through the air with less resistance offered to
it than I had ever experienced before. Never have I driven so well as I
did with the old gutty in America in that year. Many of the
professionals whom I met were men who were taught their golf in this
country, and were players who wou