NIGHT MUSIC OF THE SWAMP 



O many, a swamp or marsh 

 brings only the very prac- 

 tical thought of whether it 



can be readily drained. Let us rejoice, however, that 

 many marshes cannot be thus easily wiped out of exist- 

 ence, and hence they remain as isolated bits of primeval 

 wilderness, hedged about by farms and furrows. The 

 water is the life-blood of the marsh, drain it, and reed 

 and rush, bird and batrachian, perish or disappear. The 

 marsh, to him who enters it in a receptive mood, holds, 

 besides mosquitoes and stagnation, melody, the mys- 

 tery of unknown waters, and the sweetness of Nature 

 undisturbed by man. 



The ideal marsh is as far as one can go from civilisation. 

 The depths of a wood holds its undiscovered secrets; the 



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