ALONG THE SALT MARSHES 159 



while they work. They cut the short salt hay 

 that seems so stiff and tough, that is so soft and 

 velvety, in fact, and pile it on their wains and 

 take it home to the cattle that like it better than 

 any English hay that they can cut from the care- 

 fully tilled home fields. Indeed the cattle ought 

 to like this hay. It is soft as the autumn rowen, 

 and mixed with all the delicate, fragrant herbs 

 of the marsh. The tang of the sea salt is in it, 

 and no man knows what delicate essence borne 

 far on the wandering tides to the flavoring of its 

 fibre. No matter how long you may leave this 

 hay in the mow you have but to stir it to get the 

 soft rich flavor of the sea and breathe a little of 

 that salty vigor which seems to go to the season- 

 ing of the best of life. I have an idea the cat- 

 tle love it for this too, and as they chew its cud 

 inherited memory stirs within them, and they 

 roam the marshes with the aurochs and tingle 

 with the savage joy of freedom. 



Out along the rocks to seaward at low tide go 

 the mossers and with long rakes rip the carra- 

 gheen from its hold and load their dories with 

 its golden-brown masses. Then they bring it 

 ashore and spread it out in the sun as the farmers 

 do their hay, that it may dry and bleach. Just 



