o golf
to-morrow. I will get a match with some one in the morning, and then
during the afternoon we can play a foursome."

"I suppose one of us must ask him to play again; but do you know, I
don't like the fellow."

"On the other hand, I do," said Purvis. "I shall make up to him
to-night. He is one of those men who make you want to know them better.
I'll warrant he could tell us a curious history if he liked."

The next day Signor Ricordo and Sprague played their return match, but
the latter was not at his best. He complained that he had an attack of
indigestion, and that his nerves had gone wrong. As a consequence
Ricordo won easily.

"You play a remarkable game, signore; that is for one who has had so
little practice," he said.

"Ah, I am but a beginner, Mr. Sprague," he said quietly; "some time
perhaps I may play a good game."

"You never suffer from nerves, I suppose?"

"Yes, horribly."

"Then you have wonderful self-command."

"A man can will anything. There is no difficulty that will-power cannot
overcome. Golf, like life, is a game; to will to win, is to win."

"I willed to win; but lost."

"No, you made up your mind to try. I always go further. I willed to win,
if not one day, then the next."

"And you always do?"

"Yes, I always do."

Sprague laughed uneasily.

"Do you mean to say that you have gained everything that you have set
your mind upon?" he asked curiously.

"Not yet, but I shall. Some games are long, they take time. But there is
always a to-morrow to the man who wills."

"Is that a part of your Eastern philosophy?"

"If you will. Eastern or Western, it does not matter--human nature is
always the same."

"But human nature has its limitations. Life is not very long, after
all."

"I do not know your English literature well, Signore Sprague; but I have
read your Browning. He had the greatest brain of the nineteenth century,
I think. His mixture of Eastern blood may account for it. He said 'Leave
"now" to dogs and apes, man has for ever.' That is always true. There is
no death, or if there is, man always rises again."

"Then you believe that what a man fails to do in this life, he will do
in another?"

"Always. There is one thing a man never loses--memory. It may leave him
for a time; but it always returns. Do you know Italian, signore?"

"No."

"My name is Ricordo. It means remembrance. It is not only a name, it is
an expression of an eternal truth. Nothing is forgotten,