IV.
Yumin nachure is a kurius thing. I dunno whether this thort 'as okkurred to other peeple, but I sees the truth of it more clearly every day. You may studdy a man fer weeks and think as 'ow you know 'im inside out, and then, when you try to make some use of 'is pecooliarities, they ain't working that day, or else some little hannoying trifle spiles your well lade skeems. Sich was the sad case of Mister Hoctavius Glenwistle and my friend Chawley Martin.
Mister Glenwistle is an oldish jentleman now, but in 'is day 'e 'as been a famus eggsplorer. Jeograffy never being my strong point, I dunno egsackly where 'e went eggsploring, or why 'e did it. Chawley Martin, 'oo's jenerally 'is caddie, is my hinformant, and some days 'e will 'ave it that Mister Glenwistle would once 'ave reached the Pole if 'is boots 'adn't guv out, and at other times 'e hinsists that it was Africer that 'e visited. I dunno, meself; per'aps the old jentleman 'as been to both them regins in 'is time. But any'ow all is agreed that once 'e lived for nearly three weeks upon an oldish poodle dawg—which is an orfull thort.
Sich an eggspeerience must leeve its mark upon any man, 'owever strong. It 'as left its mark upon Mister Hoctavius Glenwistle. Every blade of 'air 'as vannished from 'is skalp, and 'is face is a sort of dark brick colour wif light eyebrows. 'E still suffers from sunstroke, and Chawley Martin 'as to carry a large red umbereller round the links to pertect 'is 'ead.
I dunno whether it's the sunstroke, or whether it's 'is ondying remorce for that pore faithfull poodle, but Mister Glenwistle suffers terrible from absentmindedness. 'E 'as been known to swing up 'is great, red umbereller upon the tee and try to drive wif that, and Chawley Martin allus 'as to watch 'im keerfull to see what 'e'll be up to next. 'E 'ates to be disturbed when in one of 'is mooning fits, and is apt to swear terrible in some forrin' langwidge, which Chawley thinks is Eskimo; but still 'e's a jentleman all over, is Mister Hoctavius Glenwistle. 'Is tips is 'andsome, and it don't give 'im no pleshure to repport an 'armless lad.
One Sunday lately 'e came down wif a frend for an 'ole day's golf. Chawley Martin, as yusual, was 'is caddie, and I ondertook the manidgement of the frend. All went well in the morning, excep' that Mister Glenwistle fell into a sort of dream upon the seventh green and 'ad to be rarsed by Chawley. It may 'ave been Eskimo that 'e spoke to the boy when 'e'd touched 'im jently on the arm, but it sounded wuss—much wuss.
'Owever, we comes back at one to the club-'ouse, red umbereller and all, like Robbinson Crewso, and they goes into lunch. Whilst they're still laying into the grub like winking, I and Chawley Martin, 'aving eaten our own frugil meal, sit down near the 'club-'ouse and begin to polish up their clubs. We fell a-talking about the great science of golf, getting quite 'eated in a little while, and at last Chawley, to illerstrate 'is own mistakin theery, gets upon 'is 'ind legs. 'E takes Mister Glenwistle's best driver from 'is bag and shows me what 'e calls "a full swing, wif every ounce of weight and rist and mussel crammed into it."