visit to the planet as the guest of Jupiter, this perfectly
simple solution of the various Martian problems was not even guessed.

As we drew up at the pretty little club-house, Jupiter emerged from
the door and greeted me cordially. My eyes fell before his smiling
gaze, for I must confess I was mighty shamefaced over my experience of
the morning, but his manner restored my self-possession. It was very
genial and forgiving.

"Glad to see you again," he said. "If you play golf as well as you do
synonyms you're a scratch man. You didn't foozle a syllable."

"I should have, had I known as much as I do now," said I.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't know," Jupiter returned majestically, "for
I can use that word stult in my business. Now suppose we have a bit of
luncheon and then start out."

After eating sparingly we began our game. I was provided with a caddie
that looked like one of Raphael's angels, and Jupiter himself handed
me a driver from his own bag.

"You'll have to be careful how you use it," he said; "it has
properties which may astonish you."

I teed up my ball, swung back, and then with all the vigor at my
command whacked the ball square and true. It sprang from the tee like
a bird let loose and flew beyond my vision, and while I was trying
with my eye to keep up with it in its flight, I received a stinging
blow on the back of my head which felled me to the ground.

"Thunderation!" I roared. "What was that?"

Jupiter laughed. "It was your own ball," he said. "You put too much
muscle into that stroke, and, as a consequence, the ball flew all the
way round the planet and clipped you from behind."

"You don't mean to say--" I began.

"Yes, I do," said Jupiter. "That is a special long-distance driver
made for me. Only had it two days. It is not easy to use, because it
has such wonderful force. Hercules drove a ball three times around the
planet at one stroke with it yesterday. To use it properly requires
judgment. Up here you have to play golf with your head, as well as
with your clubs."

"Well, I played it with mine all right," I put in, rubbing the lump on
the back of my head ruefully. "Shall I play two?"

"Certainly," said Jupiter. "You've a good brassey lie behind the tee
there. Play gently now, for this hole isn't more than three hundred
miles long."

My brassey stroke is one of my best, and I did myself proud. The ball
flew about one hundred and seventy-nine miles in a straight line, but
landed i