ALDERS AND REEDS. 107 



neighbourhood. Little blear-eyed, thirsty Chubby, 

 of whom I told in ' On Surrey Hills/ lived here, 

 where he had a widespread reputation for his bill- 

 hooks and axes. 



Things are, however, changing here as elsewhere, 

 though perhaps more slowly. One great bog is now 

 being drained. I went on the edge of it. I could 

 get no farther ; my field-glasses did the rest for me. 

 At last I could see the real bottom : the alders were 

 bending over great rifts in fat black peat, ready to 

 fall, for the water in swamps floats all up. The 

 tussocks that have built themselves up century after 

 century, on platforms consisting of their own 

 decayed leaves, look like great pillars with huge 

 crowns of grass on the top of them. They stand 

 up from the dark peat floor, three, four, and five 

 feet high, still flourishing luxuriantly. If you 

 attempted to walk on that floor, you would cer- 

 tainly go down. When all this was in its primitive 

 state, the leaves of the tussock-grass on those humps 

 trailed in the water that surrounded them ; twice 

 the height of a man, you could sink out of sight. I 

 believe that when these swamps are finally cleared, 

 they will come across a few curious things, if there 



