truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

"But, as I was saying, this rolly-polly youngster over here--Taft I mean was just finishing up a bit behind me, as usual; ahem, three or four behind me, if I remember rightly. It was growing dark, and he was in a hurry to complete the score and yet anxious not to be too far behind. He made a terrific drive for the last hole, one that made the ground ripple like the surface of a lake when a boulder drops into it. You all have noticed that often. Then he plunged on, riding the ripples toward the hole and looking for the little white ball.

"By Jove, I struck a good one that time,' he sang out, as he went further and further and no ball in sight. 'I believe I made the green.'

"And, sure enough, just then the caddy called out:

"Here you are, Judge, right in the hole,' and lo and behold! when Taft looked in, there was the ball as snug as you please, and Taft began to turn handsprings for joy. I confess I thought it was pretty good, too, and I went back to the last tee, to see if I couldn't do something like that myself. I knew, of course, it was a fluke, a one-in-a million drive, but I was bound to try. When

I got to the tee I understood. There was Taft's ball just where he had set it up. His club hadn't even grazed it. The rest of the story the caddie can explain."

Though Mr. Taft does most of his recreating up at Murray Bay, he enjoys being out of doors wherever there is opportunity. He did a lot of golfing in the Filippines for instance, besides going over hills and mountains on foot, and in Yellowstone National Park he made the most of his opportunities to observe the marvelous. He and Charlie

romped together like two youngsters, and the larger of the "boys" enjoyed the frolic as much as the other, every bit. They went to the "Devil's Bath Tub," where Charlie tried to photograph the party. He is just visible in the middle of the picutre I took, sighting his camera over the sulphur-crusted rail of the fence.

They watched the silver-tip bears, too, which roam so roam socially in the neighborhood of Canon Hotel and relieve the garbage man of considerable work by appropriating refuse, which they carry away in their capacious interiors. These bears never retreat or show alarm unless they have word of the presence in the park of a certain exalted personage who wears eye-glasses.