From Fox's Earth 



these things, may put off the evil day has put 

 off the evil day. 



The nearest village, just on its edge, must have 

 its golf-course. The stretch of blown sand be- 

 tween it and the sea, bore the same relation as 

 other links to other villages. It seemed but fit 

 that they should enter on possession of as much 

 as would lay out into the orthodox eighteen 

 holes. After all, it was but a little corner from a 

 vast area. Still it would have been the thin end 

 of the wedge. I assume that was why the course 

 was laid out, not on the seaward, but on the land- 

 ward side. 



Last season I was crossing the moor, as I do 

 more than once every year. I stood in the midst 

 of the vast environment, absorbing the charm 

 and the weirdness of the scene ; listening to the 

 many wild calls, and more particularly watching 

 the play of a pair of dunlins. A voice startled 

 me as voices other than those of birds do in 

 such places and asked me if I had any eggs. 

 " For," said the perfectly courteous interrogator, 

 " the proprietor wishes to protect the birds." " I 

 am glad to hear it," was my reply. One of such 

 tastes is scarcely likely to let loose the golfers. 



The tenure changes, the tenant passes. Other 

 men, other ideas. The place is not safe. Some 

 restraint more permanent than a life, more tan- 

 gible than sentiment, more generally understood 

 than a love of nature, may have to be applied. 



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