Arizona republican., 1913-01-12
SPELL OF THE ESSEX MARSHES
Dancer to the Unwary Wanderer lurls in the Treacherous Ooze

A wide stretch of somber gray
 marshland stretching away under a
 sky equally gray, nothing to break
 inc monotonous level. save the ridgy
 unduIations left by the wash of the
 rrtreating sea. a silent waste where
 one hears but the weird cry of the sea birds over which human form
 passes but seldom.
 Tins is the impression left on the mind by the first view of the Essex marshes But d closer acqu"ntahcc tends to modify this impression, Tor the wild solitude is not without a certain strange beauty of it's own
 and has it's fascination even for eyes
 more familiar with the wind swept skies. the purple mOOrland. tn" gray
 rocks. and bol1er landscapes o1 the North Country.
 The place grows on you; there IS
 fascination about it which you cannot resist, the utter solitude allures, you must needs come down from the Sollu embankment of the seaWall to wander among the green pathways, to lili eau your way through the slippery 1aZe' 70
 gather the sea lavender and seek TOT rare flowers and new forms Of He III the glaSy pools Yet beware now you do SO: beware how you yield 10 the spell of the place, for the beauty ol IL is the beauty of death. The tfaSeuN
 of many life is held fast m US
 coZv grip It seems so peaceful; here
 is no sound to break the stiffness, no
 step. nor sign of life; river and sky
 and swamp seem hushed in unlNer-
 sal silence, ther is a Werid pause m the sounds of Nature, as if she held herself in waiting.
 Long gray holloWs steal over the sky the daylight fades. Wild and desolate in the brightest noontide, at night the sWamps is eerier stlll. Now with the slow up- creeping of the tid.. the muddy creeks fill with water, which glimmers in the faint rays of ldhe rising moon Night wears on, mist arises from the river; all IS still Presently a solitary figure looms in the distance, a belated way farer daringly crossing the marsh on his way homeward Conscious, seemingly of the risk attending him. he at first goes Warily, slackenlng his pace He u eadS heedfully among the creeks and mud shadows, he Will
 traverse the swamp in safety. No, for the marsh yawns for him, mas waited for his coming. The mist | thickens. he hesitateS, not knowing (which way to go; then in the dls- | tance shines a gleam of light, blue' unearthly. the evil spirit of the place. Almost he recognizes it for what It | is and yet-it is so far off, 1t may he a light on the mainland He moves towards it. unmindful for the instant
 of the ground beneath his feet slips
 on the treacherous way, plunges for- | ward helpleSSly, seeking to grasp l something Wherewith to stay himself.
 But there is nothing; his hands slip | from the oozy banks of the creek, ne l sinks down, his feet fast in the mud | dv bottom He struggles to free hlm- | self sinking deeper at every attempt | then realizing his danger, sends ms voice out through the night in a wild cry for help.
 The mist lifting a little, faint ray
 of moonlight struggles through the
 darkness and shows the rising tide | filling the creek: the water, moving the dull red weed seems to his terri fled imagination the color of blood Again he shouts, and strains his ears for assurance that he is heard. IT | vain; no sound can penetrate beyond