Stocks and Mr. F. Marriott were playing a round
of eighteen holes last Friday, and at the third hole, which is an iron
shot (145 yards), Mr. Marriott surprised himself and amazed his
opponent by holing out with an iron. Then when they came to the eighth
hole, which is 188 yards distance, the rev. gentleman went one better.
Taking his brassey, he had the delightful experience of seeing his
ball roll into the hole. Both shots were magnificently directed."

_Market Harborough Advertiser._

We guessed at once that they must have been fairly straight.

* * * * *

THE YELLOW FURZE.

(_A Tragedy in One Act, which may be played by the Abbey Theatre players
without fee._)

SCENE I.

[_The kitchen in the_ M'Ganns' _house_. Mrs. M'Gann, Sheila M'Gann,
Molly M'Gann, Aloysius Murphy, _and_ Jeremiah Dunphy _sit round the
fire, top left centre. The door is top right centre. On the left side
is a window. Four large grandfather clocks are standing here and there
round the room. In front of the fire is seated a little wee bit of a
pigeen. The Stranger is seated by the window, apart from the rest. As
the curtain rises one of the clocks strikes two, another strikes
eleven, while the others remain silent. It is thus impossible to tell
what time it is. The Stranger gazes out of the window. No one speaks.
The curtain falls._

SCENE II.

[_Much the same, except that the window is now on the right side. The
women are engaged in peeling potatoes. The Stranger is obviously much
embarrassed at the sudden change in the position of the window._

_Jeremiah._ 'Tis a terrible night--a terrible wet night.

_Molly._ Sure an' it's yourself that has no call to say the same, Jerry
Dunphy, an' you saying a minute since that ye were as dry as ye could be!

[_The rest break into a roar of laughter, with the exception of the
Stranger and the pig._

_Aloysius_ (_slapping his knee_). A good wan, that! It's yourself is the
smart girl, Molly!

[_The door is suddenly flung open with great violence and young_
Michael _enters. He is carrying a number of hurls._

_Jeremiah._ Power to ye, Michael avick! And did ye win to-day?

_Michael._ Is it win? And will ye tell me why wouldn't we win?

[Sheila _is about to speak, but checks herself as a thin piping voice
is heard chanting outside_.