is the rightful receptacle for
the eighth tee, the Stockbridge golf-course has had seventeen out of the
eighteen holes that are punctuated with possible water hazards. The
charming course itself lies in the flat of the sunken meadows which the
Housatonic, in the few thousand years which are necessary for the proper
preparation of a golf-course, has obligingly eaten out of the high,
accompanying bluffs. The river, which goes wriggling on its way as
though convulsed with merriment, is garnished with luxurious elms and
willows, which occasionally deflect to the difficult putting-greens the
random slices of certain notorious amateurs.

From the spectacular bluffs of the educated village of Stockbridge
nothing can be imagined more charming than the panorama that the course
presents on a busy day. Across the soft, green stretches, diminutive
caddies may be seen scampering with long buckling-nets, while from the
river-banks numerous recklessly exposed legs wave in the air as the more
socially presentable portions hang frantically over the swirling
current. Occasionally an enthusiastic golfer, driving from the eighth or
ninth tees, may be seen to start immediately in headlong pursuit of a
diverted ball, the swing of the club and the intuitive leap of the legs
forward forming so continuous a movement that the main purpose of the
game often becomes obscured to the mere spectator. Nearer, in the
numerous languid swales that nature has generously provided to protect
the interests of the manufacturers, or in the rippling patches of unmown
grass, that in the later hours will be populated by enthusiastic
caddies, desperate groups linger in botanizing attitudes.

Every morning lawyers who are neglecting their clients, doctors who have
forgotten their patients, business men who have sacrificed their
affairs, even ministers of the gospel who have forsaken their churches,
gather in the noisy dressing-room and listen with servile attention
while some unscrubbed boy who goes around under eighty imparts a little
of his miraculous knowledge.

Two hours later, for every ten that have gone out so blithely, two
return crushed and despondent, denouncing and renouncing the game, once
and for all, absolutely and finally, until the afternoon, when they
return like thieves in the night and venture out in a desperate hope;
two more come stamping back in even more offensive enthusiasm; and the
remainder straggle home moody and disillusioned, reviving