122 NOVEMBER IN BROADLAND. 



The slight breeze gradually dies away ; the mill-sails cease revolving. Stepping 

 into the boat again lunch is brought to daylight, and we sit down awhile to enjoy 

 it. Quietude has reassured whatever creatures may have skulked into safe hiding 

 at our approach. How unobservedly they vanish ! A dark brown bird, wonderfully 

 like the dead herbage that it skulks amongst, glides into notice. But for its move- 

 ments we had not discerned it. It is q, water-rail. Its sneaking habits are its safe- 

 guard. And what fuss or ostentation is necessary when life's duties and necessi- 

 ties simply consist of capturing the snails, slugs, worms, and aquatic plants on 

 which it feeds ? Its summer cry is a very odd croaking, which the natives here 

 call ' sharming.' 



A crackling in the reeds attracts our attention on the right. A huge animal, 

 that we at once know to be an otter, forces his way through the reedy phalanx 

 and is about to discuss the good qualities of a fine tench upon the very 'rond' we 

 have just stepped off. His quick black eyes have caught our slightest movement, 

 and like a stone he drops into the water. We secure that tench, for it's as good 

 for man as otter, and the fellow can procure another far easier than we can. This 

 savours of appropriativeness. Poor fellow! it's a sorry life he leads at the best, for 

 every man's hand is against him. Nobody has a word to say in his favour; the 

 very fish he devours are grudged him, as if he were to be blamed for taking the 

 paltry fish for his living. Why not rather blame those who, for the sake of slaugh- 

 ter only, haul out hundred-weights to lie and rot upon the Broadside? However, 

 while the interminable reed-bed exists, so long will the otter, in spite of persecu- 

 tion, at least hold his own. 



Who can that be standing by the pump-mill, with an eel-pick in his hand, 

 and beckoning us ? At first we fail to recognise him, but his voice is unmis- 

 takeable it's none other than Jim Trett, the fenman. We row back again ; he 

 has been eel-picking, and his inverted bucket, with a bottom where the top is 

 usually located, with his pick, and his old fowling-peice, with his worthy self are 

 soon aboard with us. We have divined his wish to row back home with us, and 

 so to save his old legs some mile or two's tramping. He has flung a brace of wild 

 ducks and a woodcock in before him. But why this alteration in his physiognomy ? 



' Wai, 'bor, as yow seem cur'ous about it, I may as well tell yer the manein 5 

 of it all. Last Tewsday, no, 'bor, let me be right on it it wor the Monday, I went 

 out with my old 8-bore, thinkin' tu git a clip at a bunch of grey lag-geese as wor 

 scofnV (eating) the young wheat in a field up hinder (yonder) tu theer hart's con- 

 tent. * Now, old woman, 5 1 says, afore laving the house, ( yow'll have summat worth 



