12 



JANUARY IN BEOADLAND. 



gun of the wildfowler. The summer-birds of passage are almost forgotten; we 

 dream not of meeting with the swallows, the reed-warblers or the cuckoo; they 

 are happy among the insect-legions swarming by the lake-sides of a warmer 



continent. 



The snow has ceased awhile, and 

 the sun breaking out smiles down 

 upon a landscape of unsullied white, 

 which sparkles with the frost-dust crys- 

 tals. Yon fenman's cottage, cosily 

 nestled amid those stunted willows, 

 and the quaint little pump-mill close 

 beside it, form an interesting break in 

 the uniformity of the Broad's surround- 

 ings. A skein of wild-geese in wedge- 

 form passes overhead; a puff of smoke 

 and the report of a gun tell us other 

 eyes beside our own have observed 

 them. But they flew far too high for 

 the leaden messengers to reach them. 

 The fenman's dinner to-day will be 

 gooseless. A flock of wild ducks dash 

 past us on noisy pinions; a squadron 

 of melancholy rooks are fruitlessly 

 grubbing in the distant field ; and the 

 flapping of wood-pigeons falls ever and 

 anon upon the ear. Only one species 

 of bird appears really contented, and 

 that is the hooded crow; what cares he 

 if hard times cause his fellows to perish, 

 for does he not thrive upon the carcases 

 of the fallen ? 



While dashing to and fro the time 

 speeds merrily on, and pleasant com- 

 pany for others, the parson among 

 them, have joined us - - makes it 

 glide by imperceptibly. We tire at 



length, and make again for the edge of the alder 'carr,' whence we started. 

 Meanwhile the storm-clouds have been piling up in the heavens, and snow 

 begins again to fall heavily, ere long hiding everything but the nearest objects 



BROADLAND ' POKERS.' 



