A Lincolnshire Mud=flat 



177 



mw niorniiio-, we walked luilf a mile in drizzling rain to 

 Bray's cottao-e, tiudin^)- the old man strugglino^ into his big 

 sea-boots. Then shouldering a lot of empty bags, destined 

 to receive the bodies, ali\e and dead, of the night's catch, 

 we proceeded together to the flats. On reaching the sea- 



Early Morning at the Nets. 



wall, we turned off along it to the left for some distance, 

 in order to a\'oid a creek which winds in a devious direction 

 towards the sea. 



These creeks are quite invisible a few yards away, and 

 help to make this coast a \'ery dangerous one for strangers ; 



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