d2 our OF DOORS. 



it to be really hail, but presently found that it was 

 caused by the little hard seeds of the broom, which 

 clung somewhat loosely to their opened and twisted 

 pods, and were shaken out by the wind. All the broom 

 trees above had lost their seeds long ago, but these still 

 survived in that partly sheltered spot. The rustling 

 sound was produced by a young sycamore tree. All 

 the leaves had been blown off it except one large leaf 

 at the end of each twig. These clung pertinaciously 

 to their hold, and the noise which they made was 

 really wonderful. 



No longer bright and glittering, the Thames, a dull 

 grey stream, reflected the dull grey and leaden sky, 

 through which no ray of sunshine could pass, and over 

 which the black snow clouds sped with ominous rapidity. 

 Not a sail visible, and only an occasional empty screw- 

 collier, very much do^^n at the stern with the weight 

 of her engines, and her ' nose tip-tilted ' as if disgusted 

 with things in general. Far away on either side lie 

 the marshes as they are still called — ' the meshes ' ac- 

 cording to aboriginal pronunciation — and on the left 

 is the identical ' mesh ' where Pip encountered his 

 grateful convict, and nearly met his death in the hut 

 by the lime kiln. Not many years ago the bittern 

 haunted these marshes, but its weird, booming cry has 

 never been heard since the marshes were drained and 

 cultivated. For all that may be seen now the bittern 

 might yet be there, and a more forlorn-looking place 

 can hardly be imagined than that dim, misty expanse 



