middle-aged man with his golf and tennis, and the old man tramping
through the woods with the rod and gun, as he used to do thirty years
ago, and as he will do to the end--all these know what fresh air means.
Sunshine, through the medium of golf, has come to the life of thousands
of middle-aged wrecks formerly tied to an office chair. No one can
estimate the number of lives, growing aged by confinement in close
rooms, by lack of exercise, and by the want of cheerful interest in
something beside the amassing of dollars and cents, that have been saved
and rendered happy through the introduction of this grand sport whose
courses now dot the country from Maine to California, from the top of
Michigan to the end of Florida.

Twenty years ago in this country a man who came to his office in a golf
suit would have been regarded as demented, to say the least. To-day the
head of the house in many a large business refuses to permit anything to
interfere with his Saturday on the links. And this means that he and all
the officers in the departments under him, instead of viewing with
concern the interest of the men in outdoor sports--their devotion to
baseball and football, to tennis, golf, and track athletics--are glad
and willing that the great outdoors should have a real place in their
lives. It is good business policy.

Something must make up to the later generations for the loss of the
open air and outdoor work which the exigencies of the olden times
demanded of our ancestors, and that something has come in the shape of
physical exercise. But golf and long vacations are for the comparatively
rich. They are makeshifts rendered possible only by circumstances.


UNLEARNED LESSONS