COMMON BITTERN. 163 
beheld one of those marvellous sunsets for which the 
flat waters of this county have been always celebrated.* 
In the foreground a green belt of reeds and sedges 
fringed the wide expanse of Wroxham Broad, across 
whose rippling waters flashed a light pathway as of 
molten gold; and as onward and upward the eye sought 
to trace out that heavenward track to the focus of all 
its brightness, the limit of human vision was reached in 
one transplendent halo. Just then, as if to add a 
further charm to that which in itself appeared perfec- 
tion, a rainbow of unusual brilliance spanned both 
broads and river; its noble arch being only less vividly 
reflected on the clouds beyond. 
It were vain, indeed, to attempt by pen or palette to 
depict that glorious sky, but looking far into the vista 
of orange-tinted clouds, opening out, as it were per- 
spectively, into untold glories, a strange yearning 
seemed to possess one’s mind, and thoughts, too deep 
for utterance, were symbolized only in the “O! how 
heavenly !” of our finite judgment. Yet, already, whilst 
wrapt in the contemplation of that gorgeous spectacle, a 
change, gradual though not unfelt, was stealing over the 
scene, and as the cool greys once again took the place 
of the rose-colour and the violet, and the orange and 
crimson became absorbed, one turned, almost with a 
shudder, to the now cold dark stream, and with a 
chillmg sense of exclusion came a marvelling as to 
those things which ‘eye hath not seen nor ear heard,” 
nor the heart of man hath virtue “ to conceive.” 
Although remaining on board the boat that night, 
with the hope of hearing its booming notes, the 
bittern did not gratify me in that respect, and probably, 
after sunset, took flight to some distant part of the 
* See Walter White’s “ Eastern England” and Nall’s “ History 
of Great Yarmouth.” 
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