84 AUGUST 77V BROADLAND. 



The plumy tufts of the now perfect reeds nod in the breeze, and the tall 

 pokers of the bulrushes bend to peep at their reflex in the clear waters below them. 

 And the waterlilies, spreading their great green leaves, and opening their snowy 

 flowers, put the finishing touches to many a lovely corner of Broadland. We make 

 for one end of the Broad, behind whose reedy margin rise low hills of cultivated 

 land. The water round us has a greenish tint ; into it we quietly drop our huge 

 flint-stone anchors. The view from the stern of the boat is pretty. There is a 

 maze of little islands, which look like floating flower-beds. Water hemlocks, water 

 plantains, purple loose-strife, and the pink willow-herb show up their large green 

 leaves and pretty flowers in profusion; and the pointed spear-leaves guard the 

 pale-yellow irises. Sedges and reeds and rushes, with dark-green alders and wil- 

 lows, fill in the back-ground. Our tackle and rods are soon put together : ground- 

 bait is thrown over, and we seriously settle to angling. 



We have, for our factotum, shipped a native, who at once becomes a ' guide, 

 philosopher, and friend,' and it is due to him that much of the flightiness of our 

 lady friends tones down into something akin to real interest and earnestness, for 

 his amusing dialect and store of local information win their attention and their 

 love of novelty. 



He unreels much that others of his kith and kin have already told us of the 

 birds and of the fens and fenfolk, although to him the days when the ruffs and 

 reeves, and many another present-day rarity, were common, are nothing more than 

 the traditions of his elders. Yet he has had ' sport in his time ; why, bless yer, 

 he'd known the Broads friz hard as wall-flints in the winter, and ha' seen fowl an' 

 swans in oceans driv' this ere way by bad wather, and a flyin' round and round 

 the place, reg'lar hard up for grub and water.' 



4 Once, and only tew winters ago,' he says, <I done a stroke o' shootin' as many 

 an old gunner would a' thowt worth the doin' in the old times. It had blowed an' 

 snewed for a couple of days, an' 



' Theer, sir, yow had a splendid bite jest now yew've got him! I towd yer so.' 



We strike, and haul out a big slimy bream, but not before he has given a 

 little bit of protest, and made his exit from his native haunts a warning to the 

 friends he has left for ever, unless they be heedless, and share a like untimely 

 fate. 



4 1 wor sayin', sir, it snewed. Law ! the hivens wor black as thunder-clouds, and 

 the Broad wor kivered with a couple o' feet of ice. Old ' Prickle-back ' Thacker 

 an' me got leave tu du a day's shootin' on the ice, the gent at the Hall being a 



