APRIL IN BROADLAND. 41 



gossip, or perhaps to a ' beck 'where the little rudd or roach are enjoying the 

 sunny warmth of the shallows. Failing these, the wakened newts or silvery stickle- 

 backs will suit him just as well. 



We have tired of our survey, and again ply the oars. Hearken to the merry 

 carol of the lark! Those feebler but sweeter notes are the love-ditty of the black- 

 cap. Splash ! A greenheaded mallard, followed by his plain, brown wife, startled 

 by the crackling of the reeds as our oar crashed in amongst them, flies up from a 

 narrow weedless pool in the midst of the reed-bed. What a grand fellow he looks 

 as he overtops the reeds ! Without a doubt, somewhere in the herbage beneath 

 the distorted branches of those dwarfed sallows, a nestful of pale green eggs is 

 snugly covered. Those straggling curled leaves are the advance guard of the 

 water lilies. We must drop in here again in the summer days when the full- 

 spread leaves are crowding the placid waters, and the beautiful white flowers are 

 resting upon the surface, and when the blue and yellow iris will be reproducing 

 their bright tints in their reflected shadows. Those pure white swans yonder are 

 contemplating nesting. Yon anglers are busy among the scaly inhabitants of the 

 Broad. We will not disturb them. 



The swallows have been dashing here and there all day, and the plainer 

 sand-martins have been seen in goodly numbers. They seem to find enough to do 

 among the awakening insects, especially those which delight to dance in sportive 

 groups around and above the shooting broad-plants. They tell us of sunnier days in 

 store. 



Let us steer into the narrow sluice which runs apparently close to the Broad- 

 margin. Landing on a low-lying boggy spot, we throw our painter round the 

 bole of a willow, and daintily pick our way along a sinuous path, the swampy soil 

 sinking beneath our tread. We must keep on moving or we shall come to grief 

 in the quaking bog. Place your feet upon the grassy tussocks. The sedge-birds' 

 notes are heard on every side. One anxious pair fussily fly around us, wishing us, 

 no doubt, begone. Titlarks tivit^uit overhead. Here we are upon terra firma. 

 At our feet stretches a well-weeded ditch, bright with the yellow kingcups ; great 

 sprawling toads are clambering over and among the watercress, trailing their long 

 gelatinous strings of ova; and a pair of yellow wagtails, in their resplendent golden 

 of springtime, are searching for the larvae of insects. Here is an old willow-stump 

 covered with small-leaved ivy. The sallows around us are adorned with woolly 

 buds, among which great humble-bees drone and gossip. Yonder lapwings have 

 laid their brown-speckled eggs in the furrow ; and those wood-pigeons, making 

 their way across the meadow, have already built their nests. Far away stretch 



