195 



little bead upon the water tells where the water-hen has 

 dived from her nest. Close as we are, there seems 

 nothing more unusual to be seen than dwarf bushes, 

 thickly planted, amidst a luxuriant growth of coarse 

 vegetation, and a littered heap of dead reeds and 

 nags, contrasting with the green stems of the tall 

 rushes. True ! that is all, but if we part those rushes 

 with the end of the boat-hook, and bring ourselves 

 nearer to that withered mass, we shall soon find its real 

 purpose. There are the eggs, so well known to the most 

 juvenile collector, resting, in a slight depression, on the 

 top of that loosely woven mixture of dead flag, rushes, 

 and broken reed, yet fairly raised above the ordinary 

 level of the tide; whilst instances are not wanting, of 

 these birds anticipating a coming flood, by elevating 

 their nests with fresh materials. 



So much then for our lesson in practical orni- 

 thology, as learnt from nature, on a Norfolk broad. 

 The longest summer's day still has an end, and busy 

 with our later observations the time has passed un- 

 heeded. Already the shadows are deepening upon 

 the waters, and the dark reeds measure their re- 

 flected lengths on the margins of the sluggish stream. 

 Here, in the gloaming, the coots and water-hens are 

 leaving for awhile their green coverts, now seen for an 

 instant in the open water, bathed in the glories of the 

 setting sun, now lost to sight in the contrasted darkness 

 of bordering sedges on either side. Still twittering to 

 the last, the untiring sand-martins are supping freely on 

 the swarming insects, and the young starlings hurrying 

 to their roost, are rustling and tumbling amongst the 

 reeds. All nature seeks repose with the bright orb of 



day 



" But now the fair traveller's come to the west, 

 His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best ; 

 He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest, 



And foretels a bright rising again." 

 2 c 2 



