Father TIME with his glorious guide dropped gently down. They found
themselves in the centre of a bare expanse of dry, grassy country,
broken here and there by sand-hills. On their right was the sea,
dotted with ships. Parties of men in red coats, and carrying in their
hands curiously-shaped sticks, were walking about in all directions.
They all looked very earnest, some of them were gloomy, some
positively furious. Occasionally they stopped, placed themselves in an
uncouth straddle-legged attitude, whirled their sticks, looked eagerly
towards the horizon, and then marched on again as solemnly as before.
One party in particular attracted the attention of Father TIME. It
was a large, mixed gathering of men, and women, and children. They
all moved or stood at a respectful distance from the central figure, a
benevolent-looking gentleman, with a flowing white beard. He too wore
a red coat, and carried a stick. A crowd of attendants bearing more
sticks followed him.
[Illustration]
"Let me explain," said the Arch-Provider of Merriment to his
companion, "this ground is known as Links; the game of 'Golf' is being
played. These gentlemen are golfers. The sticks they carry are called
clubs. That bearded old gentleman is the King of Jupiter, FOOZLER THE
FIFTH. He is playing his morning round. I will introduce you.
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