The Hattiesburg news. (Hattiesburg, Miss.) 1908-1917, 1909-10-22

was villain because he was sc
blamed popular and easy-going. His
wife, moreover, was becoming the
champion ping-ponger in the Ibsen
Plng-Pong circle, TO which my wife be
longed.
dld not hate Jones; l hated mere
ly the sight of him and the sound OF
his name.
The crisis came one evening in June,
following upon the day of our regu-
lar annual Introductory tournament.
All winter long I had been practic.
ing in our cottage parlor-the dining.
room being given up to ping-pong-
with this single tournament in view.
| was determined to beat Jones. And
now my hopes had been dashed, for
Jones had triumphed over me by four
holes lowing to luck and TECHNICAL
ties upon which he insisted.
Ihis was to be club evening, de-
voted to a program of music on the
lawn and light refreshments on the
veranda. And here let me digress
briefly:
Anyone who plays golf, or who is
acquainted with somebody who plays
golf, knows what an intense person
a golfer is. On or off the links. he
is necessarily at his game. Day and
night, in thought or in reality, he is
making his strokes. He roams the
house, swinging" and he cannot walk
abroad without beholding a landscape
OF tees and hazards. His calculating
eye is ever alert and his arm is
ever busy to drive off, bric-a-brac
and pebbles. All, it is fascinating to
De golfer, but it is hard on property
and nerves.
so much understood, therefore. When
l was sitting this evening in a chair
upon the club veranda and saw be-
fore me and below me his bald head
waiting like a positive challenge. the
impulse was overmastering. He was
comfortably placed upon the veranda
steps listening to the music. and
the top OF his head was on a level
with my feet. 1t was such a smooth,
rounded, firm, bare surface, furnish
ing an ideal lie. In the middle was
tiny tuft of hair, supplying the
ball!
tried to turn my attention to the
music. The orchestra was playing
The Wearing of the Green" a mel
ody dear to every golfer. But |
tried in vain-that enticing pate, with
its little clump of hair, obtruded be-
tween the notes. My fingers uneasily
clasped my cane. l wiggled in my
seat. | shut my eyes-no use.
Inc orchestra struck up After the
Ball. another golfing measure. l
opened my eyes; there was the ivory
mob, with its spot of black. still
reckoning. l trembled, clenched my
teeth-and yielded. The opportunity
was too fine to be ignored.
quietly arose, grasped my cane by
the ferrule, took my stance, swung.
and in another second the crook
would have shaved off that lock of
! hair without so much as breaking the
SKIN had not a bumptious neighbor
seized my arm and violently wrenched
away my cane. Then | was pinioned
in my chair, and amid a ridiculous out
cry was accused of having essayed to
assault Jones, my rival,
SO, here l am, on a trumped-up
charge, condemned to charlotte-russe.
and getting completely out OF prac-
/ tice.
/ would esteem it a great favor if
the person into whose hands this
statement falls would find my wife.
at the Ibsen Ping-Pong circle. and
make her cognizant of what has be.
come OF me, and then drop in at
the High-Hole Golf club and get me a
copy OF the last handicap list, pay,
ing particular notice to the scores of
John Johnson Jones.