DASHAWAY (bravely protesting)-Nonsense! I'm delighted to think that Mrs. Whittler has started in. It will do her lots of

good.

MRS. WHITTLER-There, Jerry. What did I tell you? I just knew Mr. Dashaway would like to have me play. But can't we begin now?

are not so selfish as you are. impatient.

DASHAWAY-Certainly. lady, and you two for us men.

All men
I am so

Here, boy. You caddie for this
You drive off, Mrs. Whittler.

MRS. WHITTLER—Oh, dear, I'm so nervous. You make a tee for me, will you, dear?

DASHAWAY (gallantly stepping forward)—Allow me.

MRS. WHITTLER-Thanks. Now, I-Everybody says you are such a good player, Mr. Dashaway. I do hope you'll show me. I expect to learn so much.

DASHAWAY-Don't be nervous. Just stand easily and naturally and keep your eye on the ball.

Mrs. Whittler, after several fidgety attempts, brings her club down on the ball like a hammer, and it rolls off sideways into the bunker.

MRS. WHITTLER-Oh, dear. I just knew I would do that.

DASHAWAY-Never mind. Take it over again. Caddie, throw that ball back. (Aside to Whittler) While we are waiting, old man, will you have something?

WHITTLER (brightening up)—Why, I don't mind. My dear, take a few practice drives. We'll be back in a few moments. (To Dashaway) My dear boy, I'm afraid this is a good deal of an imposition on you. The little woman is so interested in the game that I couldn't refuse to let her play without offending her.

DASHAWAY-Of course you couldn't. I understand. Don't concern yourself, old man.

Each takes a large, refreshing drink of good old Scotch

whiskey, and they return to the tee. Mrs. Whittler has just driven her ball into the first bunker for the seventeenth time.

WHITTLER (calling out)-Stay there, my dear, and we'll help

you over (steps up and makes a hundred-yard drive. Dashaway follows with one of a hundred and fifty).

MRS. WHITTLER-Isn't this tantalizing?

DASHAWAY-Let me show you. Hold the club sideways. Hit it well under. Try again finally rolls over

(ball

bunker).

MRS.

WHITTLER-Now,

what stick would you advise? DASHAWAY-Try this cleek. Just try to hit the ball. That's the first thing.

MRS. WHITTLER (fanning the air)-Isn't it awful? I am afraid I am keeping you. DASHAWAY (with deep meaning)-What an idea! We are in no hurry.

WHITTLER-Keep

dear.

cool,

MRS. WHITTLER (sending

the ball about three feet)-Oh, dear. You'd better sit down and wait for me.

DASHAWAY-Oh, no, we won't do that. friend in the club house. Come on, old man, you. Excuse us, we'll be back in a moment.

But I think I see a
I want to introduce
Just keep right on.

MRS. WHITTLER (absorbed in the game)-Certainly. Ill take that over. Caddie, please put it in a real nice place for me.

Whittler and Dashaway repair once more to the club house, where they take several drinks of good old Scotch. At the end of half an hour they stagger out on the course and dimly discover Mrs. Whittler in the distance, making desperate efforts to putt into the first hole.

MRS. WHITTLER (as they approach)—Where on earth have you been? Do you know (still absorbed in her game) I am really doing better.

DASHAWAY-Let me show you (tries to hit ball).

WHITTLER (grabbing club away from him)-Here! You can't play!

MRS. WHITTLER-Why! Oh! What is the matter? Oh, you horrid, low men! Disgraceful! You've been drinking!

She hurries away from them in high dudgeon, and walks back to the club house on the verge of nervous prostration.

DASHAWAY (leaning up against a stone wall)-'F I had a wife that played a game like that, I'd be full all the time.

WHITTLER 'F I hadn't been drinking, 'n' you should say a thing like that, I'd knock you down, but as we both hit 'em up pretty lively, I can only say, old man, that I agree with you. Let's have anozzer.

THE NEXT MORNING.

MRS. WHITTLER-I want you to promise me that you will never take another drop.

WHITTLER-On one condition.

MRS. WHITTLER-What's that?

WHITTLER That you'll never again try to play golf with any friend of mine.

Laws are of two kinds: obsolete and broken.

THE REFORM OF BESUM.

THE
'HE Mayor of the town of Besum, just

over the Somerset Hills, sat in his pri-
vate office, reading his morning paper.

His brow was furrowed in deep thought.
Evidently something disturbed him.

At this moment the Town Clerk came in.

He was a nice looking little man, with clean-
ly cut features, and a kindly expression.

He showed his honesty in his face, as indeed did all the officials of Besum-for Besum was a model town. Somehow all the corruption and chicanery of modern life had passed it by. Setting remotely in the hills as it did, its life remained unscarred by those impurities so common in the majority of our cities.

"Gideon," said the Mayor, earnestly, as he gazed somewhat anxiously in the face of his compatriot, "has it occurred to you that we have had no marriages of late? I've been looking in vain for the marriage column for weeks now. the matter?"

What do you suppose is

"Well, Phineas," replied the Town Clerk, "I'm only too glad that you've mentioned the matter. The subject has been on my mind for some time, but I've hesitated to speak of it, because I thought-well, that perhaps I was too much of an alarmist. No, there haven't been any marriages. And Phineas, that ain't the worst of it, either."

"What is the worst of it, Gideon?" asked the Mayor. "Come, out with the whole truth."

The Town Clerk leaned forward. He lowered his voice perceptibly.

"Have you noticed," he said, solemnly, "that our children are giving out?"

"Why, yes, now that you speak of it, I have. I don't know when I've seen a baby, and there are certainly no little ones to speak of playing on the streets any more."

The Town Clerk became more confidential. He was gaining courage from the sympathy of his friend.

"Last night," he said, "I took a walk through our park system. I was dumfounded to observe that there were no lovers anywhere. The benches were unoccupied by any couples. On the other hand, I could not help but notice the predominance of young men. They sat disconsolately-at least it seemed so to me. Now, the fact is that we are growing old, Phineas, or we should have noticed this state of affairs before. Something must be done. Think of the consequences."

"I have thought of the consequences, Gideon. As I sat here just now, the whole thing came over me. Here we are, a prosperous little town, all happy and contented, with nothing but the good of our community at heart. But how can we continue to exist if there are no marriages, if there is no love-making? What's the cause of it, Gideon? Have you given any thought to this matter?"

"Yes, I have. I was talking about it with the Presbyterian