It is
hard to say why one plays well one day and badly another; well, perhaps,
when in bad health, and badly when as fit as possible; well, perhaps,
when you have started expecting nothing, and badly when you have felt
that you could hit the ball over the moon. Why one may play well for
three weeks and then go to pieces; why one will go off a particular club
and suddenly do wonders with a club neglected; why on certain days
everything goes well--any likely putt running down, every ball kicking
the right way, every weak shot near a hazard scrambling out of danger,
every difficult shot coming off; and why on other days every shot that
can go astray will go astray--these are mysteries which no man can
fathom. But they add to the infinite variety of the game; only requiring
that you should have inexhaustible patience and hope as part of your
equipment. And patience is a womanly virtue.
[Sidenote: A mere oversight nearly wrecked two lives. Happily the
mistake was discovered before remedy had become impossible.]
Sunny Miss Martyn
A Christmas Story
BY
SOMERVILLE GIBNEY
"Goodbye, Miss Martyn, and a merry Christmas to you!"
"Goodbye, Miss Martyn; how glad you must be to get rid of us all! But I
shall remember you on Christmas Day."
"Goodbye, dear Miss Martyn; I hope you won't feel dull. We shall all
think of you and wish you were with us, I know. A very happy Christmas
to you.
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