Eleanor Hoyt Brainerd,
In Vanity Fair: A Tale of Frocks and Femininity
“ Incidentally golf is played, and real golfers, enjoying the beautiful course and the perfect greens, bless the day when golf became a Parisian fad, and look tolerantly at the goodly collection of dukes and counts and princes and bankers and diplomats who sit in the shade of the big bungalow during the long golden afternoon, drinking Scotch whiskey and soda,—as a concession to the genius loci,—and watching with a certain amused wonder the scattered figures toiling around the links in the glare of the sun. ”
