New-York tribune., 1922-06-11

the severity VI ~ ihhh'h|''h
though tho contendng damse is terrihed'
The main trouble is that we have become
too strenuous, too efficient, too Accomplished
There is something ferocious and Prusslan IN
our modern attitude which crushes the old'
cbivalrous attitude. In earlier times 100
ward drive was hailed as a great feat and sucn
a thing MS an overland stroke in tennis was
unheard Of well remember the havoc caused
in the amiable game Of tents by the appear
ance Of the "Lawford." When il crossed the
net and stayed on the court, which IL did once
in n hundred times, it was gazed at reproach-
fully. The secret feeling was that 1t was an
unfair phenomenon. We felt toward the user
Of il much as St. Luke felt toward ST. Paul
when he pulled the miracle Of five aces In tho
celestial poker game.
The general result has been a complete
segregation Of the sexes. The post-breakfast
hours are marked by the rumble Of the depart
ing motor as It carts the men folk of 20 the
golf club. where women are strictly barred on
Saturdays, Sundays and holidays. In other
words, the dear things are nobly given the
freedom OF the countryside on all days when
their men friends can't possibly Join them.
The tennis courts are pre-empted by strenuous
youth. who galop about with bandaged brows
and glaring eyes, uttering frenzied oaths and
filling the air with cries Of "Kill 1t, BillV
Murder It, Hank"
Even the men are developing into danger
ously adept specialists. There is no place for
the dub" He is ANONYMOUSLY ranked, brand
cd, as il were, in the fourth sixteen or must
sit abjectly on the side lines Of the tennis court
until the real players have used up all the de-
sirable hours and gone bathing, when he can
creep out into the sun and play languid set
with his small daughter, who, praise heaven!
still thinks papa can run as fast as lightning.
My own prowess is Of the old order. used
10 be quite n wonder-thank heaven We all
still cherish that illusionl | have made some
very pretty scores on the Quaganapoxet links,
but golf courses have grown since then and
my game hasn't. II is sad case Of arrested
development. even have one or two trophies
what man hasn't? A plated cup, green with
age, won in the mixed doubles championship
of the Pelhams; a chaste paper cutter, the
squash prize, captured when the best player,
Leonard, was i'll with appendicitis. How over
joyed was when heard he couldn't possibly
compete
But there are still old aristocratic sports
which survive the march Of progress. have
taken up croquet and lawn bowls. l have
secret leanings toward archery. Had vast
estate should have an archery-butts be-
tween twin rows of whispering poplars. The
afternoon sun should slant athwart the cool
colonnade on a vision Of fair women and brave
men engaged in gentle daliance, broken by
well bred commendations-
"Well shot, Miss Markham You have
nicked the bull. singsby, more tea and crum-
pets"
But have no estate and my Singsby is a
Ted-faced Irish woman named Mulcahy, who
threatens to leave if set foot in her kitchen.
SO | content myself with my croquet ground,
where such house guests and friends as | can
snare must pay tribute to the ancient regime.
Few of the ladies can compete with me and
the gentlemen refuse to- They sit on the piazza
and fling contemptuous suggestions in the jar
gon of their tribe. They tell me 10 "Give IL the
full st. Andrews swing" and TO keep my
eye on the BALL"
All There is the crystalized sum total Of
all their wisdom and their weakness To keep
your eye on the ball To look down, not upl
To disregard the most beautiful thing in life,
lovely woman, while you glare fxedy at
miserable pellet. How petty it all seems when
/ gaze across the last wicket at my graceful
partner. The balls are nesting at our feet,
barely touching kissing" | believe, is the
technical term.
II is dusk. We are scarcely visible from
the piazza. Believe me, gentlemen have my
own quiet but thrilling consultations.