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National Geographic : 1936 Apr
Contents
LOW ROAD, HIGH ROAD, AROUND DUNDEE the daughter's part in the rescue that ap pealed to that Victorian age and brought practical results. But the simple girl, over whelmed by adulation, sickened and died when she was only 26. GOLFERS ON TOMBSTONES Well, we've been standing some time look ing at that gray sea. Now let us face about and view the town (see illustration, page 558). One may become very foot-weary if one tries to see everything in St. Andrews. The Cathedral, dominating all with its hol low shell--one cannot help seeing that. It is the unusual, out-of-the-way things that take "seeing"-the tombstones with golf balls on them, or a golfer hitting the ball (see illustration, page 567). Then there is a house where Mary Queen of Scots spent week-ends. Judging from the number of such houses, Mary must have been a rest less queen. Artists love the fishing village; they fas ten an easel in a cleft and try to capture sea tints. Swimmers seek the rock pools or the smooth beach which sweeps away toward Dundee. Americans may note with interest that the endowments of a fellow-citizen, Edward Stephen Harkness (Yale man and native of Ohio), help maintain the stately magnifi cence of the fine old University. As I had luncheon with professors and students under the Harkness window, the sonorous Latin grace, sung by the students, seemed to bind a dramatic present to a dramatic past. The famous golf course at St. Andrews is an international Mecca of the game and attracts numbers of Americans, who man age to win their share of honors in the British championship tournaments. The "Royal and Ancient" is a club of real sports men and extends unfailing hospitality to the "cousins from the other side." The rivalry is ever friendly. The countryside assembles to view these tests of skill. Even the Prince of Wales (now King Edward VIII), who favors this course, has suddenly appeared. St. Andrews is only a night's ride from London (see illustration, page 566). My interest became personal when I heard of the arrival of our golf star Dunlap. I followed the golfer and his gallery, ap plauding, as did the crowd, his brilliant play-but with a secret pleasure in my heart. Here was an American, with a Scot- Photograph by Maurice P. Dunlap "LADIES FROM HADES" THEIR ENEMIES CALLED 'EM! This lance corporal of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders wears a heavy cold weather costume, practical in spite of bare knees. The sporran in front with the white tassels is not merely orna mental. It keeps the kilt in its place. tish family tree like my own, and spelling his Dunlap with an "a." Everyone here spells it with an "o," because "that is the way to spell it!" "So your name is Dunlop?" "No, Dunlap." "But in Scotland, we spell it with an 'o.' The town is Dunlop, not Dunlap." One must always be explaining that "a" in the name. There seems to be the sus picion that perhaps the ones who went to America couldn't spell! But anyway, they haven't forgotten their golf. 565
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