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IT SEEMS TO ME that he, who plans any hole for golf, should have two aims: first, to produce something which will provide a true test of the game, and then consider every conceivable way to make it as beautiful as possible. He should have in mind not only the skill and brawn of golfers but their eyes as well. It may be that it is the combination of a fine sense of shots and the appreciation of Nature's charm, which enables one man to climb to greater heights than can another, in whom is lacking an eye for the beautiful or perhaps an utter disregard of it in the solitary effort to build something that will test play. Certainly the playing qualities of any hole must be the first consideration, and there can be no comparison between the work of one who has adhered solely to it and that of the master of landscaping, who possesses a general idea of the requirements of modem golf. There are many truly picturesque courses which are otherwise undistinguished, and there are fine tests of golf as devoid of beauty as Mary Ellen's calico. Any real player would not speak of them in the same breath. But is it not a fact, that the great courses, those that are talked of most, combine both qualities?
 It is likely that fully seventy-five per cent of golfers are keenly appreciative of the striking beauty of a picturesque hole. This estimate is conservative. But there are others who do not care a rap about their surroundings, so absorbed are they in hard play. I recall an incident of many years ago when a four-ball match came to a teeing ground, which afforded a particularly impressive view of marsh-meadow stretching away to beach and ocean. One of the players spoke of it, but his partner exclaimed: "To hell with the view; we're two down!" I wonder which was the happier in his golf?
I believe that there are a goodly number of players who find their golf a mighty good excuse to get close to nature. There are thousands of business men closing their office desks every day and turning expectantly to the links, expecting what? The breaking of a hundred? Not much! That rare feat might happen to their extreme satisfaction. It might, but the one thing which everyone is sure of is a glorious afternoon in the open with songs of birds in his ears rather than constantly tinkling bells and jangling noises; with the four walls of a room replaced by a delightful, ever-changing sight of meadow and trees and brooks, or broad stretches of ocean-sands and water. Don't think for a moment that such a man would not prefer an old-fashioned circular seat under the spreading branches of an ancient apple tree to the conventional type of teeing-ground bench, which stands out in the middle of a field, alone save for a box of sand. He probably finds as much satisfaction in the swift recollection of a barefoot boy, stealing apples from just such a tree, as in getting away one of his best drives of a hundred and fifty yards. I tell you that it is men like this, who, finding the game a rare tonic, have made it possible to build and maintain courses to such a degree of excellence that the cracks may crack the seventy's.
Fortunately our modem constructors are leaning very heavily on Nature. Every artificial formation today is made to appear as pleasing to the eye as possible. Formal mounds are giving way to creations which do not clash with their surroundings. Teeing grounds are taking on the contours of surroundings to a great extent, instead of the pawky little terraced, box-like pulpits, which seemed to shriek of wheel-barrows and spades. Instead of plunging headlong through a grove, felling and uprooting ruthlessly, some respect is being paid to fine old trees which stand out gloriously as "small-stuff' has been removed and the fairway gracefully sweeps around in dog-leg and elbow. I have in mind a line from a bit of verse, I think written by the late Joyce Kilrner —"But only God can make a tree." And I think there is nothing more beautiful to look upon than a fine tree. Yet how many great specimens have been destroyed by the builders of golf courses, who had no eye for the beautiful nor ingenuity enough to find a way to let them stand, not only to add charm to courses but actually to help the play. I plead guilty to the removal of many trees, but never have I given instructions for the destruction of a fine one without genuine regret, and then only when it was imperative. We may play around trees but certainly the only route to a hole must never be over or through them. Then, too, we must not have them directly by our putting greens for their branches deflect many erring shots to fortunate finishes, falling leaves clutter the greens and the roots sap the soil of vitality that the turf needs. But if they are not too close to the line of play, trees usually lend a flne framing for a hole, and certainly the vistas are attractive.
Some streams are unsightly when they might be made picturesque with little expense and thought. And so with many other features. On one course there stood a ruin, and the committee intended to raze it. They were persuaded to make a feature of it and with practically no cost it was made notable. But let it be understood that I do not advocate the beautifying of the course at the expense of its playing qualities. Often efforts to introduce or retain shrubbery only add to the exasperations of play. Any growth which makes the loss of balls likely should be avoided, and where the fairway finds its way through woods, the underbrush must be cleared absolutely for a considerable distance on each side. The banks of streams and lake shores should never be permitted to grow rank. Certainly the landscaping may be overdone. The effects must not be forced; which reminds me of an amusing illustration. Some years since, when constructing a certain course which I visited only occasionally because of its location, the foreman had been rather impressed by the orders to disturb no flowering shrubs until directed. He managed to get the impression that flowers were a weakness of the architect and to make a great impression he went ahead on his own initiative, transformed a slope of one of the greens, introducing a wonderfully accurate five-pointed star upon which he was preparing to plant geraniums.
Even the arrangement of sand in the hazards may be used to good advantage to beautify the course. If the pits are designed well the sand has the appearance of having been blown in rather than dumped. On seaside courses the pits usually take such an appearance naturally, but the same effect may be had inland although it stands to reason that often the difficulties of providing sand in large quantities drives the constructor to a combination with turf.
Summing it up briefly, the course beautiful adds much to the pleasure of golf without detracting in the least from its qualities as a test. Even those players who are not analytical will have strong inclinations to certain courses over others. Aside from the fact that they probably fancy the places where they have scored best, the chances are that subconsciously they have admired the scenery a bit.
The saying that "A thing of beauty is a joy forever" undoubtedly is just as much applicable to the golf course as to the most extravagantly laid out lawn or garden. Members should take great pride and encourage their groundsman in every effort he takes to keep the links in first-class condition. Invariably it is taken as a matter of course that they should be that way but how much more he would appreciate a kindly word or a little note now and then, commenting on his good work.
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