A STRANGE COUNTRY. 185 marshlands that form the Waveney valley. The land here is but about two feet above the water level, and we could not but wonder how it was drained at all, but we wondered a great deal more further on our journey. When we found some of the dykes embanked above the land with large craft with great spreading sails thereon, voyaging high above dry ground, it seemed as though the general order of things and laws of nature had been set at defiance. A strange country this vast fenland, reclaimed by the tireless toil of centuries and only retained by constant watchfulness, and now that the land does not pay to cultivate, at least so the farmers say, the question arises, will this ceaseless struggle to maintain it be kept up? Reaching the end of the marshlands, we noticed a picturesque inn, the Swan by name, built in 1734, as is shown by the iron figures upon its walls. The Swan, we have noted, is as favourite a title for riverside inns as is the Ship for seaport publics and the Red Lion or King's Head for the chief hotels in market towns. There is more in the names of such places than at first meets the eye. A few miles of pretty country brought us to the hamlet of Haddiscoe, the very interesting church of which is set on a height that seems almost a hill in this flat land. This edifice contains much fine Norman work, noticeably the exceedingly beautiful north doorway; in a niche above this is a very curious carved image of a man, seated in a chair, holding up both his hands. The tower (round as usual) is unusual in one respect, in that it is embattled and has some uncommon windows. The roof is of lead, not thatched, as so many of the country churches are in these parts. I wonder what is the reason of this primitive thatch covering for a place of worship, and why it so prevails hereabouts, and even more in Norfolk. Is it that the ancient leaden roofs were stripped off by the enthusiastic Puritan villagers and melted into bullets for the Parliamentarian forces, and that the roofs were thereupon thatched, as the readiest way of preserving the building for a time, and, once being thatched (in this conservative corner of England), the thatch has been renewed again and again, and seems from long custom, in rural eyes, to be quite the proper thing, and so it has remained until this day? The country now became flat once more, with sluggish rivers; our road was bounded by pollards, a great level sea of land stretched far away on either side of us. The landscape was characteristically flat, nothing higher for leagues than a church tower or a tall poplar tree; the sky above was more spacious than the one we were accustomed to, a vast dome of cloud-flecked blue extending from horizon to horizon. I do not wonder that it was a difficult task to convince the famous Dutchman that the world was really round; in his country it certainly does appear above all things flat. The most noticeable things in the prospect are the many windmills, some at work, others at rest, some white in the sunshine, others showing dark against the silvery sky. I do not think that I have ever before seen so large a number of windmills at A DUTCHLIKE LANDSCAPE. 187 the same time. We presumed that the majority of these were employed in raising water from the low lands into the drainage dykes; they could not surely be all for grinding corn. From the mills close at hand through those in the middle distance to the others space-diminished far away, it was a striking study in vanishing perspective. The whole scene. was wonderfully Dutchlike; it was in truth an English Holland that we were travelling through, a rich, moist, green land, intersected with dykes, dotted with frequent windmills, and made cheerful by redroofed homes. A land of slothful rivers with lazy craft thereon; a dreamy land where people are given to live long, make haste slowly, and grow neither very poor nor very rich. Crossing a river, a railway, and a great straight dyke one after the other, we came to St. Olave's, where once there stood a stately priory, famous for its charity. When yonder broken arch was whole, 'Twas there was dealt the weekly dole ; Gives mortal monuments a date Beyond the powers of time and fate. Close by the waterside here we espied the Bell Inn, an ancient hostel, picturesque and homely. It looked like an angler's resort, and doubtless many a follower of the gentle craft' has made this primitive house his quarters for a time, and I trust that they one and all have had good sport. An artist in search of 'fresh woods and pastures new' might do worse than bring his easel hither; certainly there is no lack |