At the same time one would hardly expect it to upset the calculations of a minister.
That's just what happened when I was in old Scotland, taking in their raw atmosphere, and a few other things besides.
I often watched the reverend gentleman play, and saw how infatuated he had become with the game.
Yet he labored under a great handicap.
When he missed the ball, and performed a wonderful series of gyrations, it must have been very hard to compress his agitated feelings in such a narrow compass as:
"Tut, tut," or, "Well, well," perhaps "Oh, dear, now."
More robust language alone meets the emergency.
The last I saw of him was when he had striven with unusual fervor to knock the ball from the tee, and his face shone with exertion and indignation.
"Dear, dear, but I'll hae to gie it up—I'll hae to gie it up," he said in despair.