My dear Ed. Tufts:—
Once, when a mere child, I strayed as far away from home asPico Street, and followed that thoroughfare westward until thehouses gave way to open country, hedged by a dense forest ofreal estate signs.
In the midst of that wilderness I chanced upon a somewhatchubby gentleman engaged in the pursuit of a small white ball,which, when he came within striking distance, he beat savagelywith weapons of wood and iron. That, sir, was my first sight ofyou, and my earliest acquaintance with the game of golf. Iremember scanning the horizon for your keeper.
Times have changed since then. The old Pico Street course iscovered with bungalows and mortgages. Golf clubs areeverywhere. The hills are dotted with middle-aged gentlemen whouse the same weapons of wood and iron and the same red-hotadjectives. A man may now admit that he commits golf and thestatement will not be used against him. Everybody is doing it.The pastime has become popular.
But it took courage to be a pioneer, to listen to the sneersabout "Cow-pasture pool" and to remain cool, calm and collectedwhen putting within sight of the country road and withinhearing of the comments of the Great Unenlightened. Thatcourage entitles you to this small recognition, and alsoentitles you to purchase as many copies of this book as you canafford.
Yours as usual,
Charles E. Van Loan
To Mr. Edward B. Tufts of the Los Angeles Country Club.
Los Angeles, Cal., January 17, 1918.
Gentlemen, You Can't Go Through
Little Poison Ivy
The Major, D.O.S.
A Mixed Foursome
"Similia Similibus Curantur"
A Cure for Lumbago
The Man Who Quit
The Ooley-Cow
Adolphus and the Rough Diamond
Other Fiction
There has been considerable argument about it—even a mentionof ethics—though where ethics figures in this case is morethan I know. I'd like to take a flat-footed stance as claimingthat the end justified the means. Saint George killed theDragon, and Hercules mopped up the Augean stables, bu
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