96 SEPTEMBER IN BROADLAND. 



the sedge-birds have taken their departure ; but while the soft-billed species are 

 sensibly decreasing, hard-billed seed-eaters are en evidence. The whistle of the 

 greenfinch, the pink pink of the chaffinch, and the familiar call of the linnet, as 

 small parties pass overhead, are heard from time to time. There is a marked 

 absence of bird-song. There is a decided quietude in the outlook, too ; there are 

 fewer yachts, and the bulk of the anglers have already put their rods aside for the 

 season, and have shouldered the gun instead. The unhappy coveys of partridges 

 are faring badly; while the corn was yet standing they had a safe and ready re- 

 treat from many of their enemies, but the stubble is cut so short that it offers them 



DISCIPLES OF IZAAK WALTON. 



a very poor hiding-place ; and their worst enemy is out afield in search of them. 

 In the daytime they are glad to skulk in the groves and covers, and at night, for 

 fear of marauding animals, they seek the open. The report of the gun becomes a 

 familiar sound. 



The boat-house is a rude structure, and in a state fast verging on decay. 

 Through a hole in the roof an alder is pushing its leafy branches. In amongst 

 the thatch the sparrows often make merry. A pair of marsh tits are flitting and 

 scrambling amongst the rafters; they are in quest of hiding insects. 



But we are not the only temporary tenants of the old shed; a big, brawny 

 fellow, with a game-bag slung beside him, from which the brown head of a wild 



