130 DECEMBER IN BROADLAND. 



you that 'it 'oant du, 'bor, tu fowld yer arms, an' not tu keep a duin' summat 

 an' maaster's wery good that way, in findin' jobs for tu du.' 



Our old fenman-friend finds scant idle time, except when the waters are hard 

 'friz'; reed-cutting commences now; there's hedging and ditching to do, whilst 

 up at the warren he finds it not unprofitable to help the warrener net rabbits for 

 an adjacent market-town ; and for this latter congenial adjunct his brace of ferrets 

 comes in exceeding handy. He finds them useful, too, in clearing the farmers' 

 premises of rats; not that he altogether exterminates them, nor would he wish to 

 if he could, for ' winter'll cum round agin sum day, yer know, an' what's the ferrets 

 for?' This admission Jem Trett would not venture to make to any but a trusty 

 friend. 



It is a dull, murky day, with the promise of a change which cannot be for 

 a much worse that finds us turning our backs upon the quiet Broadland station. 

 We saw little to interest us coming along. A number of white gulls, on most 

 friendly terms with their opposites in colour, the rooks, were foraging on a fresh- 

 ploughed field, flocks of sober-tinted larks rose up on either side as we startled 

 them into hurried flight. We might, perhaps, have observed more had we not 

 become so absorbed in a gossip carried on by some substantial-looking country- 

 wives who have been to town to purchase their Christmas groceries. It is simply 

 astonishing how everyone knows everybody else's business in these quiet villages 

 we are treated to a sample of it ; amongst other analyses, their intermarriages 

 and family relationships are worked out in a genealogy as amusing as it is ex- 

 haustive. 



None too pleasant is our walk Broadwards; the roads are veritable 'sloughs 

 of despond,' and the unpleasant drizzle which has evolved from the thickening 

 vapours, driven by the wind, filters through the leafless hedges as we plod along. 

 We speedily overtake a miserable object, shambling along ahead of us, and forc- 

 ing our conversation upon him, bit by bit draw from him the story of a misspent 

 life and present destitution. He ' once ran well,' but the strong drink hindered 

 him. It is the old story a goodly start, pleasant prospects, success, temptation, 

 yielding, gambling passions aroused, excessive indulgence, theft, exposure: then 

 in quick succession followed hopelessness, carelessness, want, and misery. Could 

 it be possible that the unhappy, rag-draped specimen of humanity rubbing shoul- 

 ders against our own, glad of, but unprofiting by a word of sympathy, was once in 

 affluent circumstances, and one whom the honourable at one time esteemed as one 

 of them? We study his bleared physiognomy; thereon yet linger traces of refine- 

 ment and education. We query as to his wandering in such an outlandish country. 



