68 JULY IN BROADLAND. 



sedges, each turn in the river bringing to view fresh aspects; and presently we 

 find ourselves nearing our destination. A passenger-boat, crowded with excursion- 

 ists, goes by us, its screw throbbing and churning up the dark waters, leaving in 

 its wake a great curling swell that licks the crumbling bank on either side and 

 follows the boat in its progress. These excursion-boats are doing immense 

 damage to our river banks. 

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We are not left standing long at the village staith ere our artist-friend rows 

 up in his little dinghy; stepping gingerly in, we are very soon on our way to his 

 floating domicile. The wind has lulled considerably, and the rain has ceased to 

 fall. All around looks fresh and beautiful, and the setting sun, as if loath to leave 

 the world without a parting smile, paints the west with a glow of red and golden. 

 A swan comes fussily up, ruffling his snow-white plumage, and threatens us with 

 every mischief, only he fails to keep his promise. His mate, with a brood- of dark 

 downy cygnets, is beside yon reedy bank. A couple of flappers (young ducks) start 

 out from a clump of rushes and take a short flight across the Broad. Sedge-birds 

 are piping their last short songs of the day. A heron, trailing its long thin legs 

 behind it, has taken towing at our approach, his great awkward wings bearing him 

 away to some quieter location. On our right stretches a patch of water-lilies, 

 their large flat leaves covering thickly the surface of the water; there are the 

 great open flowers, white as the snows of winter, lifting their beautiful heads above 

 them. Here in the glorious morning sunshine in mazy flight dance and coquet 

 many an insect, whilst blue metallic carnivorous dragon-flies take erratic flights 

 amongst them, and the swallows dash hither and thither. Great cautious roach 

 prowl below in search of larvae, the former scrupling not to make a snatch at some 

 insect momentarily resting upon the water. Coots and moorhens, which clicked 

 and croaked all day long in the shelter of the reeds and sedges, are mustering their 

 chicks around them and venturing out into the open water. Starlings are settling 

 in the reeds for their night's napping. What a murmur as of the sea their wings 

 make among the reed-stems as our oar accidentally sweeps through the outside 

 edge ! The first broods of the sand-martins will soon drop in and share their strange 

 roosting-places with them. Eeed-warblers are singing all over the Broad, and a 

 sedge-warbler here and there joins in with a louder melody. Overhead the noc- 

 tule-bat shows his frittering wings dimly against the waning light; the cockchafers, 

 for which he seeks in droning flight, are out on their nocturnal rambles. The 

 barn-owl and the field-mouse, on which he preys, are afield together. The crake 

 of the land-rail becomes familiar. The stars twinkle out one by one, and the moon 



