Strong language appears to be a natural accompaniment of the game. A laird in trying to get his ball out of a ‘bunker’ swore so dreadfully that his caddie threw down the bundle of clubs on the ground exclaiming, ‘Damn it, sir, I wunna carry clubs for a man that swears like you.’ An English caddie on a links in Kent, who was listening to a discussion among the players as to the proper way of spelling the word ‘golf,’ broke into the conversation with the remark, ‘Surely there’s no h’_l_ in it’ (aspirating the letter in Cockney fashion). ‘Is there not?’ exclaimed a young Scotswoman, ‘You should just hear my father on the St. Andrews links.’ A marked and regrettable change has passed and is passing over lowland Scotland--the decay of the old national language--the Doric of Burns and Scott. The local accents, indeed, still remain fairly well-marked. The Aberdonian is probably as distinguishable as ever from a Paisley ‘body,’ and the citizen of Edinburgh from his neighbour of Glasgow. But the old national words have almost all dropped out of the current vocabulary of the towns. Even in the country districts, though a good many remain, they are fast becoming obsolete and unintelligible to the younger generation. It is sad to find how small a proportion of the sons and daughters of middle aged parents in Scotland can read Burns without constant reference to the glossary. A similar inevitable change was in progress for many centuries on the south side of the Tweed, though it has become extremely slow now: Our sons their fathers’ failing language see, And such as Chaucer is, shall Dryden be. I can remember men and women in good society, who if they did not ordinarily speak pure Scots, at least habitually introduced Scots words and phrases, laying emphasis on them as telling expressions, for which they knew no English equivalents. I have watched the gradual vanishing of these national elements from ordinary conversation, until now one hardly ever hears them. Lord Cockburn used to lament the decay of the old speech in his day; it has made huge strides since then. [Sidenote: HOW TO SPEAK ENGLISH] Not only have the old words and phrases disappeared, but there has arisen an affectation of what is supposed to be English pronunciation, which is sometimes irresistibly ludicrous. The broad, open vowels, the rolling _r_’s and the strongly aspirated gutturals, so characteristic of the old tongue, are softened down to a milk and water lingo, which is only a vulgarised and debased English. There was unconscious satire in the answer given by a housemaid to her mistress who was puzzled to conjecture how far the girl could be intelligible in London whence she had returned to Scotland. ‘You speak such broad Scotch, Kate, that I wonder how they could understand you in London.’ ‘O but, mam, I aye spak’ English there.’ ‘Did you? And how did you manage that?’