A WINTER'S DA Y IN THE MARSHES 



SOME time after I had settled in Surrey I revisited 

 my old marshland home. Such a welcome I received 

 from my boyhood's friends as does me good to think 

 about. 



Shooting was the order of the day ; and I knew 

 how to use a duck-gun. If I live to be very old, I 

 think I shall never forget the sight of the marshes 

 as they looked in that unusually severe winter-time. 

 For mile upon mile the grass, hedges, dykes, and 

 reed-beds were covered with snow frozen hard on the 

 surface. So deep it lay that it formed an unbroken 

 plain, and it was impossible to tell what you were 

 walking over. The fowl, driven off the water by the 

 fierce north-easters, sought the shelter of the creek, 

 where great masses of ice were crunching together ; 

 wild duck, golden-eye, widgeon and teal, with the 

 divers all tamed by the frost, so that you could get 

 within shooting distance of them. The dunlins flew 

 in clouds over the flats. A splendid sight they were 



