210 Marsh. 



" palm," are largely sought after in many of our English 

 counties to decorate the churches on Palm Sunday. 



But at this time of the year the catkins have long dis- 

 appeared, except here and there a few dry brown remnants 

 which serve to remind us of the bygone glories of spring. 

 The foliage is thick on the trees, and we see here where the 

 willow " grows ascaunt the brook," that it " shows his hoar 

 leaves in the glassy stream." The white under side of the 

 leaves contrasts strikingly with the bright green of the 

 upper side, and the reflection of the under side in the clear 

 water illustrates to us the truth of the poet's observation. 



We must linger no longer here, but must get on. We are 

 nearing the river now, and at last we get hemmed in. There 

 are dykes all round us, and apparently there is no way of 

 escape ; they are too broad to jump over, too muddy and un- 

 savoury to wade through. Ah ! here is a narrow piece of 

 wood, only about three or four inches wide, stretched from 

 one side to the other. You don't think we can cross on that ? 

 Oh, yes, we can. I daresay we shall get our feet wet, but it 

 is better than getting them covered with mud. You must 

 be careful, though, how you cross. A piece of wood three 

 inches in breadth is not the safest possible thing on which to 

 cross a twelve feet dyke, but it would not do to have it wider, 

 or the sheep would be able to get across it, and so stray. 

 I remember well my first acquaintance with these narrow 

 planks of wood on which the crossing is made. I had come 

 here with a friend to observe the habits of certain insects 

 which are confined to these marshes, and which only fly at 

 nightfall. To make sure of getting off the marshes again 

 when our observations were completed, we hired a man from 

 the neighbouring village to go with us. All went well 



