When discussing the greatness of The Masters, people never fail to speak of the diaphanous beauty of the Augusta National course, and there is no doubt many supposedly sophisticated golfers go there year after year principally to look at the flowers. It was Mr. Roberts who planted them, arranged them, and, in a standard joke among the press, commanded them to bloom every year the week of The Masters. Bob Jones, by contrast, had no more interest in horticulture than he did in, say, needlepoint. CHARLES PRICE