POLITICS ON THE LINKS.
I put down my morning paper as I left the train for the golf club. It contained the interesting news that the Parliamentary Golf Handicap had been postponed lest fiery politicians should run amok with their clubs. I sighed, for the spectacle of Bonar v. Bogey (The Chancellor) would have beaten the Mitchell-Carpentier fight. Then it came home to me that I, a golfer, a citizen, a voter, was taking no part in the great political struggle of the day. I had not even declined to deal with my butcher because he was a Conservative, or closed my wife's draper's account because he was a Liberal. It is a curious fact, worthy the serious attention of political philosophers, that butchers are always Conservative and drapers always Liberal.
I reached the club-house, and the first man I saw was Redford. Now Redford is a scratch player and a vice-president of a Liberal Association. He has a portrait of Lloyd George in his dining-room.
"Play you a round, old man, and give you ten," he said cheerfully.
I had to do something for my country. "Never," I replied sternly. "I do not play with homicides."
"What are you talking about?" asked Redford, who is an estate agent when he isn't golfing.
"I merely say," I replied, "that I will play with no man who deliberately connives at the slaughter of his fellow-citizens. Every Liberal vote is a vote for civil war."
"Man, this is a golf links, not Hyde Park."
"I regret the course I have to take, but my conscience is imperative. Away! your clubs are blood-stained."