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were declared the victors Such games were called "fighting camps," and it is not surprising that nine deaths resulted from the one in question within a fortnight, nor is it strange that such encounters eventually fell into disfavour. A century and a half ago, however, sports needed to be boisterous to be appreciated. Sir Robert Walpole organised campings for his guests at Houghton; another statesman, Windham, encouraged them at Felbrigg, affirming that the game "combined all athletic excellences, a successful combatant requiring to be a good boxer, runner, and wrestler." So long ago as 1472 it was one of the most popular pastimes in East Anglia. In that year a Swaffham rector devised a piece of land adjoining the churchyard for a camping ground. After camping fell into disfavour, Burgh Castle was for a time a favourite resort of local patrons of the ring, and several prize-fights took place not far from the castle walls. The place was well suited for such encounters, for if the police threatened to disturb a fight the pugilists need only cross the river and take all the boats with them and they were out of reach of the arm of the law.

But these disconnected notes on days and scenes in Broadland are becoming wearisome. They are but vagrom jottings and reminiscences, and I cannot hope that they will gain more than the reader's passing glance. He must look elsewhere for descriptions of the loveliness of Wroxham, the quiet charm of moonlight nights on Hickling Broad and Heigham Sounds, and the Broadland churches with their fine brasses and gorgeous rood screens. Nor can I tell him more about the prolific wild life of this delightful district-of the beautiful little bearded titmice, which are found nowhere else in England; of the haunts of the kingfisher and great crested grebe, and the colony of black-headed gulls at Hoveton. All these subjects have been often dealt with, and it were a hopeless task to attempt to add anything to previous writers' observations. This much, however, I will say. For botanist, bird-lover, and entomologist no district in England is more

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interesting than Broadland, while for the ecclesiologist it provides fine old churches enough to occupy his attention for many weeks. If river-cruising be too slow a method of progression for some who come here, they will find almost every place of interest easily accessible to the cyclist. But, as I have said before, Broadland can only be fully appreciated by those who devote months, nay, years, to its exploration. Others must be content with more or less faint impressions of its beauties and delights.

I often think what a grand thing it would be for naturalists if Broadland were made a national preserve. In the United States the Government has put a stop to the destruction of the wild birds and beasts of that wonderful and beautiful Rocky Mountain region, the Yellowstone Park. As a consequence the Park's attractiveness has become an ensured characteristic. It is a place where naturalists and nature-lovers may see not only the birds, but elks, antelopes, buffaloes, and deer living the life that is natural to them. The district is a vast Zoological Gardens, only a Zoological Gardens where there is no confinement. In addition to the animals I have mentioned, there are, according to a recent writer, plenty of other wild creatures, "such as the coyote, the porcupine, and the woodchuck, many singing birds, and everywhere hawks, ospreys, and eagles. The air and waters are alive with animal life." The area of Broadland is insignificant compared with that of the Yellowstone Park; but it is visited by more species of birds than any other district in the British Isles, and a great number of species are continually resident within its borders. Every decade, however, some bird or other which for centuries has bred here is lost to the district-driven away by a ruthless persecution which the Wild Birds Protection Acts are apparently powerless to prevent. The booming of the bittern is no longer heard among the broads, or if by chance this strange sound startles some gunner who is abroad in early spring the bird is immediately sought out and shot. Spoon

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bills and avocets, ruffs and black terns have long abandoned their old nesting haunts. To these birds, and many other species which are harmless to crops, but fast becoming rare, every possible protection should be extended; even the appointment of Government keepers to prevent illegal shooting and nest-raiding ought not be too much to ask for.

Of the Cambridgeshire and Lincolnshire fens, Charles Kingsley wrote words which might, with little alteration, have been applied to Broadland. There, he said, "the coot

On the Bure.

clanked, and the bittern boomed, and the sedge-bird, not content with its own sweet song, mocked the notes of all the birds around; while high overhead hung, motionless, hawk beyond hawk, buzzard beyond buzzard, kite beyond kite, as far as eye could see. . .Wild fowl, screaming, piping, clacking, croaking, filled the air with the hoarse rattle of their wings, while clear above all sounded the wild whistle of the curlew and the trumpet note of the great wild swan.” I know that unless the sea breaks through the marram banks and

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transforms the lowlands of East Anglia in wild wastes of morass and reedy salt marsh, it is hopeless to expect to see again such abundant bird life in Broadland; but no one will deny that the district's charm and interest would be greatly enhanced if many of its birds which are now persecuted were afforded actual instead of simply legal protection. At Holkham the Earl of Leicester encourages the breeding of black-headed gulls and all kinds of wild fowl, and protects, so far as he can, the wild grey geese which come in winter to the North Norfolk coast; on his broad near Horning Mr. Christopher Davies carefully guards the mallards, shovellers, teal, and grebes. A riparian owner has even gone so far as to purchase several acres of boggy land covered with reeds, because they are a favourite haunt of the beautiful and exceedingly rare little bearded titmice. But although individual effort can do a good deal, much of its good work is neutralised by the outrages of inveterate law-breakers. These can only be put a stop to by an organised system of birddefence. America is justly proud of its Yellowstone Park. Why should not England boast of its National Broadland Preserve?

EAST DEREHAM, "ARCADY," CASTLE ACRE, AND WYMONDHAM

ON a bright June morning, when there is breeze enough to temper the heat of the sun, the road from Norwich to Dereham is a delightful one to travel along. This is a fact the better to be appreciated if you have lately spent some days in the fine old city, and have grown tired of monastic crypts and cathedral cloisters. In this sweet June weather I would rather see a heron on the marshes than the most exquisitely wrought pelican in her piety on a stained window or ancient door lintel; and the deepening flush of poppies in the cornfields delights me more than a richly decorated roof or beautifully painted mediæval screen. As I am, like Dr. Syntax, in search of the picturesque, I must sometimes content myself finding it amid somewhat sombre surroundings; but I prefer to find it where the blackbirds pipe, the larks carol, the bees drone, and the wild roses bloom. So I have made up my mind to take a kind of circular tour in mid Norfolk, and explore some of the old country towns and quiet nooks in the heart of the county.

The Dereham road, when it escapes from the city, is a