THE LAKE VILLAGE 199 



in my early years but nevermore to be seen, I could 

 reconstruct the past. Indeed, for a little space, while 

 the infection lasted, I was there afloat on that endless 

 watery wilderness as it appeared to the lake dweller of, 

 say, twenty-five centuries ago. The lake dweller him- 

 self was with me, poling and paddling his long canoe by 

 devious ways over the still waters, by miles and leagues 

 of grey rushes and sedges vivid green, and cat's-tail 

 and flowering rush and vast dark bulrush beds and 

 islets covered witli thickets of willow and alder and trees 

 of larger growth. It was early morning in early spring: 

 at all events the geese had not gc^ne yet, but were con- 

 tinually flying by overhead, flock succeeding flock, filling 

 the world with their clanguor. I watched the sky rather 

 than the earth, feasting my eyes on the long-unseen 

 spectacle of great soaring birds. Buzzard and kite and 

 marsh harrier soared in wide circles above me, raining 

 down their wild shrill cries. Other and greater birds 

 were there as well, and greatest of all the pelican, one 

 of the large birds on which the marsh-men lived, but 

 doomed to vanish and be forgotten as a British species 

 long ages before Drayton lived. But his familiar osprey 

 was here too, a king among the hawks, sweeping round 

 in wide circles, to pause by-and-by in mid career and 

 closing his wings fall like a stone upon the water with 

 a mighty splash. We floated in a world of birds ; herons 

 everywhere standing motionless in the water, and flocks 

 of spoonbills busily at feed, and in the shallower places 

 and by the margins innumerable shore-birds, curlews, 

 godwits, and loquacious black and white avocets. 



