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."

So saying, the King of all Clubs advanced with the Scythe-holder, and,
taking advantage of a moment when King FOOZLER, having made a long
shot, was in good humour, rapidly effected the necessary presentation.

"I know this game well," said _Mr. Punch_. "It is said to be much
played in my own country now. Permit me to have the honour of playing
one hole against your Majesty."

The King smiled a gracious assent. His ball had been already placed
for him on a little heap of sand about an inch high. He advanced
towards it, anxiously measured his distance, waved his club to and
fro over his ball as if in blessing, and then, swinging it through
the air, struck--nothing. The ball remained unmoved.

"He's missit the globe," muttered one of the attendants; "I've aye
tellt him to keep his eye furrmer on the ball."

Four times His Majesty, whose good humour was now entirely gone,