JUNE IN BROADLAND. 63 



talk, and grumble, and ruminate. And why shouldn't he ? He too, like the old 

 order of things, will soon have stepped into the obscurity of the past, with his 

 quaint attire and quainter ways, and his store of ancient history. 



We are once again afloat, leaving the artist to listen to the rest of the old 

 man's rhapsody. Coots, moorhens, swans, grebes, and various hedge-birds are 

 seen and watched in turn. In a corner of the Broad we come across a brace of 

 young urchins, busily catching small roach and tiny gudgeon. And right merrily 

 the truants, for no doubt the schoolmaster will know them well as such, are haul- 

 ing out the hungry finners with an osier twig and a bit of string, upon which a 

 bung is made to serve the purpose of a float. With their towy heads, plump 

 naked legs, and ruddy cheeks, the youngsters look the very picture of health and 

 carelessness. They will trot home betimes to receive a drubbing, no doubt, and 

 a * hunk o' bread ' for supper, and make, perhaps, as little fuss over the one as 

 they will ravenously enjoy the other. May care sit as lightly on their shoulders 

 in the days to come as it does to-day! Hosts of black-headed gulls are making 

 merry on the Broad. Some are washing their spotless plumage in its cool waters, 

 others are apparently at rest, whilst many' are -taking exercise on airy pinions, for 

 they have no doubt been spending long, tiring, hopeful hours upon their large 

 brown-speckled eggs. Not far away from here, on a swampy island, hundreds of 

 nests may be found containing eggs in every stage of incubation, and many of 

 them already are tenanted by the yellow downy puff-balls of chicks. These birds 

 at breeding time are strictly preserved; many hundreds of the earlier eggs are 

 taken by the keeper, and realise a goodly sum ; they are not bad eating. The 

 eggs are laid in a cavity formed by trampling down the broken tops of the reeds 

 and sedges, and generally number three. It is a sorry time for grubs and worms 

 for miles around when the gulls come home to their breeding-grounds; they 

 scour the countryside for many a mile; and Farmer (riles looks upon them with a 

 kindly eye. 



Thick clouds have been piling up in the west, and big raindrops dancing on 

 the surface of the water warn us to seek shelter from the coming storm. We 

 pull away hard for the staith, and reach it not a little moist, for the shower is 

 pelting down in a seeming hurry. 



Right gladly we rub shoulders with our naturalist friend of the morning as 



