DESERTED HOMES. 167 



bowed boats, half lugger half barge, nondescript cer- 

 tainly as to type, but rare sea-boats, are Dutch in 

 every detail ; and the people are still a race apart 

 from all others in that remote nook and corner 

 which is left in the damp grey marshlands. 



The five miles stretch of marsh which we are 

 standing on, only a little bit out of the lot that 

 is lost in the mist miles away, was once a gulls' 

 home. I have seen the birds in past years resting 

 on the green grass like great flocks of geese, especi- 

 ally after they had been successful in their fishing 

 operations ; and the deafening noise, as the old 

 gulls cackled and the young ones fretfully piped and 

 skirled, simply because their stomachs were too full 

 to be comfortable, was something to put up with. 



Changes near their haunt of past days caused 

 the gulls to flit for good, and it is now a forsaken 

 haunt. The sharp smell of salt water reaches us 

 as in past days, also the scent of the saltings and 

 the slub ooze. As we turn to come away, Queen- 

 borough shows through the golden haze in the 

 distance : I wonder if the grass grows in the main 

 street there now. 



It requires a very violent change to cause any 



