NO MAN'S LAND. 213 



walls at that time. And after all these years a 

 remnant of that raiding element is still evident 

 among the rustic population. " What's bred in the 

 bone will out in the flesh." 



Nowhere have I seen by river-bank or stream such 

 lush aquatic weed and tangle as that we are looking 

 at now, in the moat and feeding-stream of this par- 

 ticular old farm. 



Huge docks, burdocks, water - parsley, hogweed, 

 flags, rushes, and hawkweed, with a host of other 

 plants, are all mixed up in a glorious flashing con- 

 fusion of colour which is worth going miles to see. 

 As I look over one of the bridges I notice the tips 

 of the great docks and water-plantains move, and 

 peering into that deep clear hole I see — oh, most 

 tantalising sight to one who loves his fishing-rod ! — 

 a school of large perch swimming to and fro on the 

 feed. The sun is getting low and my shadow is 

 thrown far back from their swim, so that they have 

 not been alarmed. They are searching among all 

 the submerged stems and leaves for water-snails, 

 and other things that love to hide in such situations. 



A picture that a friend of mine painted of this 

 manor-house, and all the wild moat tangle that sur- 



