mark recognizable country. On the south side the marshes were very
extensive, stretching from the River inland for a considerable
distance. The north shore was fen also, but a little above the tides
was a low eminence, a clay and gravel cliff, that sea-wall which now
begins below the Albert Dock and continues round the East Anglian
seaboard. Once it serpentined as far as the upper Pool, disappearing
as the wharves and docks were built to accommodate London's increasing
commerce. There is no doubt, then, that the Lower Thames parishes are
really young; but, when we are reminded that they have no history worth
mentioning, it may be understood that the historian is simply not
interested enough to mention it.

So far as age goes my shipping parish cannot compare with a cathedral
city; but antiquity is not the same as richness of experience. One
remembers the historic and venerable tortoise. He is old enough,
compared with us. But he has had nothing so varied and lively as the
least of us can show. Most of his reputed three hundred years is
sleep, no doubt, and the rest vegetables. In the experience of
Wapping, Poplar, Rotherhithe, Limehouse, and Deptford, when they really
came to life, there was precious little sleep, and no vegetables worth
mentioning. They were quick and lusty. There they stood, long
knee-deep and busy among their fleets, sometimes rising to cheer when a
greater adventure was sailing or returning, some expedition that was
off to find further avenues through the Orient or the Americas, or else
a broken craft bringing back tragedy from the Arctic; ship after ship;
great captain after great captain. No history worth mentioning! There
are Londoners who cannot taste the salt. Yet, no doubt, it is
difficult for younger London to get the ocean within its horizon. The
memory of the _Oberon_, that famous ship, is significant to me, for she
has gone, with all her fleet, and some say she took Poplar's best with