The Churching of Bankson

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVI, Issue 23, 6 December 1911, Page 43

The Churching of Bankson

BY

SAMUEL SCOVILLE, Jn.

rr\ *• PAGE-WHYTE, the new+?ng- ■ ’T.'l lisl * rector of " Striphen’s 5 IF in the. Fields, is popular in his parish.' Bankson, never.the|osse.over siptie one day on the Radnor links, considers him unscrupulous. -Bankson is .; Golfer—and. th’e capital letter c ; resse? Bankson’s impartial mate of; his" ability as such. Last year his gaifie. was-’thteatened by a severe at

tack of autpcitis. Day after day, ha twisted a steering-wheel, turning impossible corners, passed stony-faced park guards funereally and other citizens instantaneously, tvhile his conversation reeked with ignition and horsepower. The result was to Ibe expected. No man can serve two masters, and his gojf record climbed steadily toward the century of dishonour. Finally, however, he saw the error of his ways, an 1 again the golf-links, knew him as of old. For long he complained !|>iticrl; that there were six inches gone from his swing, and that the form of a day that was dead would never come back to him. Moreover, his palate had been so vitiated by Presbyterians, Bronx cooktails, gin rickies, and other religious *nd rural beverages, that it was months before he could enjoy the Scotch highball that must accompany strictly highgrade golf. Gradually, however, his hand and palate recovered their lost cunning; and at the time of the event herein chroiflcled, Bankson quite fancied his game, and wa.4 firmly convinced that he should be playing No. 2 instead of No. 5 on the team —■ an opinion not shared by the captain. It was at this puffed-up period that he first made the acquaintance of Mr. PageWhyte on a Monday afternoon at trie golf-house. Bankson’s expected opponent had telephoned at the last minute that he must perforce practise law that afternoon; and Bankson, much disgusted at such an exhibition of low taste, had come .out on the off chance of finding a disengaged player. Near his locker was drossing a youngish man wearing a clerical stock and a face of impenetrable gravity. “Looked like a composite photograph of Vice-Presidopt Fairbanks, Judge Parker, and Mayor Gaynor on the morning of Judgment, Day,” was the way Bankson described’ this expression afterwards. The stranger, with a marked English intonation, inquired whether Bankson had any antagonist. Observing the .other’s. clerical tie arid very new clpbs, BKnkson reluctantly admitted that lie bad not, and a match was arranged after mutual introduetionji. The divine drew th* honour.

“Is it customary over here to make any —er small wager on the result of a match?” the rector queried, as he dabbled in the sand-box at the first tee. Bankson, a confirmed golf gambler, brightened perceptibly. “Why, yes,” he said heartily. “We generally play a ball a hole, or sometimes a box of balls on the match.” “Would the last alternative be accept-

able to you?” inquired his opponent with much formality. “Entirely so,” acquiesced Bankson. The rector drove a straight but rather short ball, was bunkered on - his second, and took three, puts, going out in six, while Bankson made a bogie of four. .' j On f lic’ second hole, Bankson got. off a screaming drive, but dubbed an-approach; and took a six? ;. The rector,- however, went-down.a stroke".worse. .&; t As they approached : the third- tee, the rector paused in fils’ stately stride.. . “Mr. Bankson,..he • remarked, .“if by any interposition of divine Providence I should be the winter of this match, t would prefer, instead of a box- of balls, your attenidarice at divine service, say

every other Sabbath during the rest of the year.” •' » “Why, certainly, doctor,” responded Bankson, who was two up and felt that he had his opponent's measure.

At the third hole 'the/ were d-lnyrf by Major Neumtn, who was playing with Freddie Kent. The major was the terror of the link*, a golfer of the old eebool who exacted the most rigorous observance of techiiiealities. A sound or move meat when he was about to make a •troke was in lus eyes a compound of sacrilege, blasphemy, and lese-majesty. Freddie was a gentle creature, who always played a ladylike game in silk stockings and well-shaped legs. The major, as llankson and the rectnjr approached, was badly ditched, and bj* ball showed like a budding water lily in the mwd by the brwokaid*. With p rumble <rf expletives, he selected a niblick and tried for the greeu. Freddie was standing apparently safely iu hid lee, but in seme miraculous way th# major managed to deposit about a pint of Wack tnud full in Freddie’s half open, sweetly serious mouth. » I “Blup! Blup! P-poo -00-00-ooI” observed Freddie earnestly. “Confound you, sir, don’t you knosf you can’t talk when a man is making a stroke’" howled the major, infuriala* nt the sight of his abandoned ball wallowing still deeper in the mire. Thereupon he proceeded to produce from an extensive military vocabulary a selection of objurgations which mads even the hardened caddie# draw back tn wonder and awe. Freddie Kent- wiped the mud out of his mouth apologetically, while llankson would no more have at,, tempted to intenfere with the major’d flow of language than he would presumed to proffer a red Itandanna to an angry bull. il Not. so with the rector. The face grew even graver, if that were posi sihle, at every fresh verbal vagary, and finally he stepped solemnly forward. “One miiiuje, sir,’’ he remarked tnpressively to the purpling major. “I am n minister-of the gospel, and for the sakq of your soul I must protest against such language. Moreover, it seriously interferes with my game. As a well knqwh export on the links yourself, I ani quilt sure you will do nothing whjeh inter, feres with the score of a fellow golfer. The major had turned furiously on (he rector at the beginning of his address, but the tactful peroration -the hiajor’s usual score being about one hundred and twenty, had a mollifying effect. ...tiL,/ - Fl’ll take care of uiy soul personally,” hp grunted, .‘.‘but it’ll say nothing (jurfe H .it. interferes wi(h your game. Hey, hoy!” lie shouted io the caddie in the far background, “sjiut .mouth fogel.her and pick up the ball!” The quieted major and the abused Freddie.passed -on. .Bankson lioliwj out in 7 awed silence, 1 and-again- Won by a slrokts. : I.' .: -.1 r r ’ > ? I I The rector ' secured a half .pow and than; Hurt at the end of.the firpt nine Bankson had him five .dotyn. As theV slarted for the -tenth tee, the ciflrgvfilari, ■?vho .sdemed to be. getting his hand in, cleared :his thr'odt in a rather embarrasstd maainer, ; --FJs.it ever permissible to change the terms of a wager?’?. he inquired. .* Bankson gave him a Curious glance, i “It’s not customary.”- he ansvfSred Coldly j. “but if you wish to redtici ffie

sthkep, I have no objection” ' “You miHnnderstand me. Mr. Bankson/* returned the rector, rather sharply. “I had intended to suggest a trifling increase of the consideration.”

That is certainly a very sporting proposition on your part,” returned Bank»on, delighted to find that the parnon was no wetcher; "but as I have you five io«U| it seems to me that it wouldn't be fair to add to your troubles.”

“I feel,” returned the other, “that it ■would be altogether delightful to welcome a man of your force and charm at St. Stephen’- every Sunday. Suppose we double the stakesT Say two boxes of balls on the eighteen holes, if I lose the match, and you attend church every Sunday for a year if I should win?” "Well, it doesn't seem fair,” said Bank•on t who would always rather win a

golf-ball than make ten dollars; "but I’m perfectly willing, of course.” "We’ll consider that the arrangement, then,” said the rector sedately, "beginning with next Sunday—if I win.” “Li you win,” acquiesced Bankson. 11. Bankson can only explain what happened thereafter on the theory that Providence interfered in behalf of his antagonist in a very unsportsmanlike manner. The next hole was sown as thickly ■with traps and gins and snares as the Valley of the Shadow in "Pilgrim’s Progress.” The reetor's drive rolled into one, while Bankson’s second shot landed on the edge of the green. The reeter a niblick, and, after regarding jhe lie fixedly for a minute, gave the unuispecting ball such a mighty swipe that ; eoared out for a hundred yards like a bird, and then gradually fluttered along /arther and farther until It lay an inch from the hole. Bankson ran down with jhu conventional two puts, but the rector had the hole in a three. The eleventh hole was the Punch Bowl. One had to drive a straight line between a boundary fence on one Bide and a ditch on the other, and then approach by faith over the brow of a hill. The ball might then be on the green, but too, too often it was out of bounds. f Bankson, in his effort to play safe, pulled the ball through a cherry-tree far to one side. His second shot, a great brassy-, struck the down slope of the hill, and shot over the fence and out of bounds with exceeding haste. He dropped another; and on his third shot, the ball bounded and bopped and jumped down to the green, an easy put for the hole. The rector, in the meantime, after attentively observing the formation of the land, had driven with his cleek, a proceeding that made the sensitive Bankson shudder. The ball shot out in a low, straight line, and, as is the wont of cleek shots, seemed willing to run indefinitely. When it stopped, it lay just .beyond the red distance flag. A prodigious mid-iron shot, and the ball disappeared over the crest of the hill in a' beautiful rainbow curve. When the two reached the green, Bankson's second ball lay white and unmarred on the sward, but the rector’s was nowhere to be seen. ■'Hope you’re not out of bounds,” sympathised Bankson hypocritically. “T —er—think not,” returned the reefer, unruffled. “My good fellow, look in the hole,” he called td his caddie, who ■was nosing aimlessly around, trying to

look intelligent, after the manner of eaddies. The youth grinne<| appreciatively, but, seeing that the rector was serious, sh allied over to the green. Then followed a shout which showed that even a caddie sometimes unbends. There in the hole lay the missing ball, between the number-shaft and the side. It must have literally trickled in, not to have bounded back when it touched the iron. The rector had taken a three-hundred-and-sixty-yard hole in a two! “That’s going some!” said Bankson shakily. “Well,” responded the rector seriously.

“I’m playing with a laudable purpose—■ to wit, your spiritual welfare. It may he that some higher power approves my motive.” 111. "It was from that minute that I began to suspect him,” said Bankson, telling the story, afterwards, to Tommy Bod at the Racket Club. "He'd stand and look at the ball every time it would get in a bad lie, and I could see his lips move. Then he’d take one of his shiny new clubs, and simply tear off the distance. A two-hundred-yard carry with any old club was nothing to him, and every one as straight as a side-line. Do you know what he was doin’ to me, Tommy?” "What?” said Tommy, much interested. “He was prayin',” said Bankson impressively; “simply prayin’ his ball into every hole. He got two twos in succession in that nine. No man could do that without prayin’, or droppin’ a spare ball through a hole In his poeket, or something crooked like that.” “Go on!” said Tommy. "I don't believe he was prayin’ at all. You can often see my lips move, and hear ’em, too, when I get a bad lie, but no one ever yet accused me of prayin’. Besides, there’s nothing in the rules about it,” he went on judicially. "You ean't ground your club in a bunker, or make a shot off a putting green, or move anything growing, and you oughtn't to press, but there’s nothing against prayin’ anywhere on the links. Of course,” continued Tommy, "if he’s disturbin’ his opponent, that’s a matter of etiquette.” "Well, he disturbed me, all right,” said Bankson bitterly. “He certainly was the king bumble-bee when’ it came to stinging me! I haven't stopped smarting yet. The same thing happened at the Quarry. You know you drive aeijoss a brook and over an old. quarry, and there you find a green perched on a mound, and if you're lueky you get a four. He used that infernal cleek of his again from the tee, and the ball lit clear up on the side of the hill, and I thought it never would stop. It went over the top headed toward the hole. "I drove a gentlemanly and refined ball well up, and pitched my second straight over for the hole-flag. When I got to it, there was my ball dead stymied by the parson’s, which lay a foot from the hole. I jumped him with my niblick and went down in three, one under bogie —the finest played hole I ever made. But he had won In another two.” Bankson paused for breath. “Say, that must have got your nerve/’

•yn»P«thised Tommy. "It sure would get mine.”

"Not at all,” responded Bankson. “Your Uncle Dudley simply played the game of his life; yet the best 1 vould do was to halve the next hole in par. The man simply played like a well-oiled machine. When we came to the sixteenth,” continued Bankson broodingly, “he got desperate at- the sight of my wonderful game, and lost all sense of decency. It was bad enough before, his using his professional influence in helping out hie own shote: but when it ease to queering mine, that was certainly the limit!”

"What'd he do?” inquired Tommy breathlessly. “On the sixteenth hole I lay in » bunker just off the green,” narrated Bankson. "I took my mashie and made a nice, lean, low carry over the bunker that would have landed me dead to the hole. Just as I hit the ball, up from behind the bunker jumped a 'big, lumbering Newfoundland pup. That ball hit him square, and dropped back into the bunker.”

“You don't think that dog was eent from heaven as an answer to prayer, do you?” queried Tommy incredulously. "I have my suspicions,” answered Bankson firmly. "At any rate, I told it to go to an entirely different place, and gave it a fine lofting stroke with my mashie; but the damage was done, and the parson took that hole. I entered a protest, but he said that I couldn’t have moved the dog, anyway, an he was something growing on the links.” “Say, that was a good one!” cackled Tommy, much pleased. “Do you know, several times during the match,” said Bankeen, "I snspieioned that the dominie was something of a wag? His face twitched a good bit after he got through talking to Major Newman, and it puckered up a lot while I was talking to that dog. “Tommy”—and Bankson’s voice here became impressive—“it may have been an accident about those twos, and the dog also may have just been a coincidence; but the last hole showed that there was something supernatural in that match. I had kept my nerve perfectly, in spite of everything, and I -was reminding myself of Travis at his best. The seventeenth I took at one under bogie—probably he didn’t get his prayer started in time. That left me all square at the home hole. Now, Tommy,” continued Bankson, "that hole is the drink-hole, and it's my favourite on the whole course.”

"Naturally,” observed Tommy rudely. "I’ve studied it carefully,” -went on Bankson, scorning the insinuation, "and I guess I’ve won a barrel of drinks in my time on that hole. The tee just suits me. I always get off a slathering drive, and I’ve learned just the angle to piteh my second so that it will roll off the hill to the green. Directly behind the tee is a brook, which guards the sixteenth green; and under a ground rule, if yon drive it from a tee, you can pick up for the loss of a stroke. It was my honour “ Once more Bankson’s voiee hail a mysterious timbre to it. “I drove as well as I ever did in my life. The ball started all right; then it suddenly met a prayer in mid air, curved sharp, struck a tree thirty feet off the line to my left, bounced clear back of the tee, and rolled into the brook behind me. I picked out for the loss of a stroke; and there I was, having played two, and lying fifty feet behind the tee from where I started.

"Of course, there was nothing to it after that. The parson won in a walk,” finished Bankson brokenly, disappearing

■Kwnentarily into certain eooling Cal*, doniau depths near at hand.

“Well, that's certainly an uitusuj anecdote, net to eall it twmetuixg shorter,” eomuieuted Tommv. "I'd to meet that parton of yours. Are yen sure yon haven't touched up some of the details F’

“If you’ll look in at St. SUpkeu'a during the next fifty-two Sundays,” responded Bankson sadly, "you'll find oue detail that's been touched, and that is Jir. Easy Mark Bankson in the family pe W< Those were terrible odds I gave him? What are two boxes of balls against fifty-two Sunday mornings? There's one comfort, though,” and Banksou's facp brightened perceptibly. "And that is?” inquired Tommy. “He eaught every other maui ou the team in precisely the same way,” et ukled his friend. “The fox made each one of us, as we were caught, promise to say nothing to the ethers. He plays No. I now, and the -whole team attends church in a body; but 1 don't know yet whether he's a player er a prayer-,” ended B.mkson.

“I should eall him a ringer mys said Tommy severely.