There is now a stir in the old streets of Sandwich. Somewhere about 1887 some enthusiastic golfers discovered in the wide-spreading sands an ideal site for links on which to play that “royal and ancient” game, at that time scarce known, even by name, to the generality of Englishmen; and speedily the St. George’s Golf Club, since granted the prefix of “Royal,” was established, on land--or rather sand--leased and eventually purchased, from the Earl of Guilford, to whom the sea, in closing the career of Sandwich as a port, has gracefully presented this truly “unearned increment.” The present club-house was formerly Great Downs Farm. Recently the trustees of the Earl of Guilford have constructed a “private” road from Sandwich, across the sandy wastes, to the sea, where they have erected a smart hotel, chiefly for golfers, on what was the solitary shore. Sometimes, when the golfers have bored each other almost to extinction with bragging of their remarkable feats on the course, they lounge into Sandwich and patronise it. To those who do not play golf all these developments are hateful and infuriating, and the players seem to be persons who pretend at exercise, rather than putting themselves to any real exertion; and on that score very inferior to cricketers. Meanwhile the boys and growing lads of Sandwich employed as “caddies” are being bred up to be idle, vicious, and unemployable men. CHAPTER XVI WORTH--UPPER DEAL--DEAL--THE GOODWIN SANDS The old road from Sandwich to Deal ran across the sandy wastes through which the railway goes, but the sand-dunes that line the shore all the way between the towns, and stretch far inland, form a profound discouragement to those who would seek to trace the seashore. Maps rightly mark this space of coast “Blown Sand.” Blown it is, into hollows and heights, sometimes overgrown with a scanty herbage and thus anchored securely against being moved on again by the winds; but often mere loose sand-heaps that will be changed radically in shape by the next furious gale. It is distressing walking, and plaguy ill-favoured to boot; and where the sand at last dies away inland and gets mixed up with marshes, is about as easy and as awkward a place to get lost in as may well be imagined. The railway between Sandwich and Deal cuts midway through this swampy desolation. [Illustration: UPPER DEAL.]