Marsh. 2 1 3 



the pole I shall travel into the slime head first ; but if I let 

 go, there is still time to let one leg in at a time, and thus to 

 enter the water with my feet in advance of my head. My 

 mind is made up as the thought presents itself, and in a 

 moment I stand in the slimy ditch, my feet deep in the 

 yielding ooze, the stagnant water up to my armpits, whilst 

 my biscuits quietly float away on the surface, in the ever-in- 

 creasing circles that my unexpected descent into the water 

 has caused. I hang on to the plank like grim death. Yell- 

 ing water demons pull my feet deeper and deeper into the 

 filthy yielding ooze, and I struggle against their downward 

 powers in vain. But our guide comes to the rescue. In pro- 

 portion as my arms are gradually dragged from their sockets, 

 so my feet are gradually pulled from the mud, and after a 

 final exertion of gigantic strength, I am landed on the oppo- 

 site bank, an object of misery to myself and of commisera- 

 tion to my friends. 



Fortunately no such mishap has occurred to-day ; we are 

 safely over, without even wetting our feet. But it is neces- 

 sary to be diplomatic about the business, even after a great 

 deal of practice. Now we can push on. Soon we reach the 

 river side and see the old river at close quarters. It is low 

 tide, and thrown up here and there on the shore are great 

 masses of the seaweed which we call the bladder-wrack. It 

 was from this that, a few years ago, almost all our iodine and 

 carbonate of soda were obtained ; but other sources of supply 

 have long since made the production of these substances 

 from seaweed unprofitable. 



We walk along a little way, and are now some distance to 

 the east of that part of the river which is directly opposite 

 Cliffe ; but we soon take to the marshes again, and deter- 



