Golf without St. Andrews would be almost as intolerable as St. Andrews without golf. Here the children make their entrance into the world, not with silver spoons in their mouths, but with diminutive golf clubs in their hands. Here the Champion is as much a hero as the greatest general who ever returned in triumph from the wars. Here, in short, is an asylum for golfing maniacs and the happy hunting-ground of the duffer, who, armed with a rusty cleek, sallies forth to mutilate the harmless turf. ROBERT BARCLAY (1892)