SALT MARSHES 



below the marsh level, to surprise the marsh 

 birds on the broad sand and mud flats, to push 

 over the waving forests of eel grass with their 

 varied inhabitants, affords much enjoyment, 

 and opens up an entirely different world from 

 that of the same water courses when they are 

 brimming over on to the marsh. Partly from 

 prejudice, partly from ignorance, dead low 

 tide is not appreciated as it deserves. The 

 clean sand of the estuaries and the fine mud 

 of the smaller creeks and inlets, and the clear 

 water of the sea, are all very different from 

 the foulness to be found at low tide in the 

 neighborhood of sewer-discharging cities. 



In the fall of the year the marshes take on 

 a yellowish brown color, varying in different 

 lights from silvery yellow to russet-brown, 

 threaded in places with bands of light pea- 

 green, in places with dingy red, while the sam- 

 phire, hitherto invisible in its common green, 

 blazes out in broad crimson patches. Still 

 later in the year before the ice and snow cover 

 it all, the marshes wear a uniform russet- 

 brown livery, a restful, neutral brown shade, 

 a shade that hair and skin and clothing alike 

 of all marsh dwellers assume in time. Yet one 

 finds places where the grass is a pale, almost 



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