The tentacles of this ruthless age have stretched out remorselessly and encircled heathlands, valleys, ravines, dells and hill-sides, which for countless ages have known no other sound or sign of life than the bleat of black-faced sheep, the whistle of the shepherd to his dog; the bark of grouse and the August gun-fire; the cry of the curlew; the weird love-call of vixen foxes, and the raging of the wind in winter storms.
Fairfax-Blakeborough/Spirits
THE NORTH RIDING PROJECT 
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