i io WITH THE WOODLANDERS. 



as these bog-lands are concerned ; such an example 

 cannot surely fail to be followed, for it has already 

 paid so well. The very best of garden produce, 

 tons upon tons of it, has gone to market from spots 

 where it seems but yesterday that we listened to the 

 hum and the bleat of the snipe. The change was at 

 first a bewildering one. Strangers are now draining 

 and building here in all directions; and they do 

 well, for there is scenery to delight the eye, hills 

 and dales, woods and waters, such as can be found 

 in few of our English counties. Old mills, old 

 houses, and old trees are still to be found by the 

 lover of these. One comes upon a pool of water, 

 bristling with great sword-like sedges and slim 

 tasselled reeds sometimes, just after a mere bend of 

 the road, beyond one of the new mansions with its 

 trim lodge. Here the pike still plunge, and the 

 water-rail groans and grunts when he hears that 

 sound. He glides and slips along like a rat, as he 

 runs across the floating reeds in front of one. 



Poets and sentimentalists have written about the 

 "dismal swamp" and its horrors ; here is a sketch 

 of one, as I know it. The alders on its edges are 

 draped with hoary moss ; most of them are growing 



