“None of the three. He cannot put, he foozles every drive, and at approaching he's a consummate ass,” said Boswell.
“Then what can he do?” I cried.
“Count,” said Boswell. “Haven't you learned that yet? You can spend hours learning how to drive, weeks to approach, and months to put. But if you want to win you must know how to count.”
I was silent, and for the first time in my life I realized that Munchausen was not so very different from certain golfers I have met in my short day as a golfiac, and then Boswell put in:
“You see, it isn't lofting or driving that wins,” he continued. “Cups aren't won on putting or approaching. It's the man who puts in the best card who becomes the champion.”
“I am afraid you are right,” I said, sadly, “but I am sorry to find that Hades is as badly off as we mortals in that matter.”
“Golf, sir,” retorted Boswell, sententiously, “is the same everywhere, and that which is dome in our world is directly in line with what is developed in yours.”
“I'm sorry for Hades,” said I; “but to continue about golf—do the ladies play much on your links?”
“Well, rather,” returned Boswell, “and it's rather amusing to watch them at it, too. Xanthippe with her Greek clothes finds it rather difficult; but for rare sport you ought to see Queen Elizabeth trying to keep her eye on the ball over her ruff! It really is one of the finest spectacles you ever saw.”
“But why don't they dress properly?”