LONGSHORE MEMORIES 207 
along, shadow after shadow falling on their broad 
sails as they pass or near each other. Most of them 
are barges making for the mouth of the Thames or 
the Medway. This lagoon is fringed with a belt of 
high reeds and rushes for some distance out. By 
careful management it is possible to squeeze into 
them without getting fast in the mud ; but you must 
step on the matted roots break through them, and 
there is no saying where you will go. 
We have only made our way a few yards when 
the birds let us know that we are trespassing. Reed 
sparrows, or wrens, as they are called, chide and 
chatter, running up the reed stems in a most dis- 
tracted manner, for close to my face are one or two 
of their nests. How deep that mud is we have no 
means of knowing. Once I made a practical guess at 
it to my sorrow. Decayed water-plants have left their 
remains there year after year ; matter has been de- 
posited from the water itself all forming a light 
flooring of unknown depth. The reed-cutters will 
drop their long ash poles which they use to work 
their punts with, and show you how far down they 
will go with a simple pressure of the hands. 
But changes have come over our flats, and time 
has made a difference to all our longshore dwellers. 
One place, once a celebrated resort of wildfowl, is 
