78 AUGUST JA BHOADLAND. 



Ere we get our supper at the Marshman's quiet cottage, we ramble out into 

 the dusty lane. We could not loiter to admire the campions dotting the hedge- 

 banks with their whites and pinks, or the pale pink bells of the bindweed. There 

 is a perceptible decrease in the number of wildflowers ; those which are yet unfold- 

 ing their petals are bright and gaudy. Here we find the stately corn-blue-bottle, 

 the scarlet pimpernel, yellow hawkweeds, spreading mallows, scarlet poppies, and 

 many another. Insects of many species dance to and fro above the flowers, and 

 the low-flying swallows and martins are busy snapping a supper from amongst 

 their heedless swarms. 



There is a promise of rain. Dark patches of cloud, scarcely larger than a 

 man's hand, are hastening up from the west'ard, those behind growing larger and 

 lumpier as they journey towards the east. The dust is lifted from the roadway 

 with the puffs of wind that fitfully travel before the advancing shower, and whirl 

 it upon the hedges, enveloping the passer-by in its dirty shroud. The fir-trees 

 sway to and fro as it increases, and the willows flutter their pennon-leaves as if 

 eager to catch the hastening raindrops. High over-head some great grey gulls 

 are ' shay ling ' in erratic flight, making seaward. 



At the Broadside the reeds and sedges are swaying and bending before the 

 breeze, rustling their stiff leaves and tall stems against each other, till a murmur 

 like the waves beating upon the seashore falls on the ear. The few remaining 

 leafless stems of an older growth crackle and fall one by one, to float awhile as at 

 anchor, and then to sink beneath the surface and find burial in the waters, as their 

 predecessors did before them. The sedge- birds have ceased their merry warbling 

 and chirp discontentedly ; feeding and perching have become hampered and irk- 

 some in the troubled reed-clump. The rain patters down in a smart drenching 

 shower. Out on the Broad the coots and moorhens are revelling in the shower- 

 bath ; the grebe and its striped progeny paddle out boldly into the open. 



It is unpleasant tramping and crouching beside the hedgerows ; they afford 

 but a sorry shelter, and the finer particles from the baffled raindrops filter through 

 the thorn-sprays. The brier smells all the sweeter for the refreshing moisture, 

 and vegetation in general looks the brighter for the big drops that wash the dust 

 and dinginess from the myriad leaves. The wild-flowers are gayer too, they will 

 be smiling and looking at their best with the return of the sunshine. How the 

 wind shakes the stiff old oak branches, and flutters the dark green ivy leaves that 

 spring out as if from its gnarled trunk! 



