From Fox's Earth 



life. It led into the fresh air, fostered the love 

 of space, of sky, and sea, of the glow of whins, 

 the carol of larks. No less did it teach the love 

 of fair play, and was at the making of true men. 

 The golfer was an accident lost in the sheen, 

 dwarfed in the largeness, wandering half-hidden 

 through avenues of tall blue grasses and dusky 

 bushes. 



No longer are the links wild with untamed 

 bent grasses. The whins are passing ; at most 

 they glow as solitary tapers in untenanted corners. 

 The nut -gatherers are visions undying. The 

 simple men are memories, or to be seen in pic- 

 tures. From an accident the golfer became the 

 main feature. Blight fell upon the scene. 



And lifelessness. In lessening numbers lark 

 and linnet sing. Lapwings scream and golden 

 plovers pipe elsewhere. Nesting sites were 

 trodden down. Of the rarer species none were 

 left. Space and air to sing in must be found 

 elsewhere. For these the exiles sought in one 

 of two directions. Further along the coast, on 

 some other stretch of bent-bound sand, the 

 natives might have retained the simple habits 

 of their forefathers. But where ? To the 

 west, across a stream, was one of a circlet of 

 Fife courses of date unknown, a miniature St. 

 Andrews. 



To the east was a ruder scene. For two miles 

 the links ran on, skirting Largo Bay. It was 



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