OLT> <BJVER WSJ 



THE rough weather of autumn gives the high October 

 tides an added strength and fury. On a bold and rock- 

 bound coast, where their rage can bring no terror to 

 the land, the waves are welcome for their stormy 

 grandeur. But when wind and tide are high together 

 their coming is viewed with less indifference by the 

 natives of low-lying shores. To them the " spring "-tide 

 that comes in before a gale may mean mischief; may 

 leave behind it flooded lands, drowned sheep, and floating 

 hayricks. 



On the south shore of the Bristol Channel, in the 

 marshes that stretch from Clevedon to the Quantocks, the 

 autumn tides are well remembered for the havoc they 

 have wrought. Not once nor twice have the rugged 

 hills of sand that have drifted high along the old sea- 

 wall given way before " the flood tide of St. Matthew," 

 leaving miles of moorland to be covered by the waves. 

 Well is it for the hamlets that are scattered on these 



