The former makes up for its small size by the daintiness of “meat.” Its favourite haunts are the swift flowing portions of the river, with pebbly and sandy bottoms. It is a ground feeder, greedy, and rushes at once to seek its prey, if you stir up the bed of the river. The bleak is about the size of the gudgeon, and is a quick biter. From the peculiarities of its watershed the Severn is subject to sudden and unlooked for FLOODS. To quote from our “History of Broseley”:— In modern times these can to some extent be guarded against, as the news of any sudden extraordinary rise in the upper basin may be communicated to those living lower down. Formerly this could not be done; a flood would then travel faster than a letter, and coming down upon the villagers suddenly, perhaps in the night time, people would find the enemy had entered their households unawares. It was no unusual thing to see haystacks, cattle, timber, furniture, and, in one instance, we have heard old people tell of a child in a cradle, floating down the stream. Many of these floods are matters of tradition; others being associated with special events have been recorded. Shakespeare has commemorated one called “Buckingham’s Flood,” in his Richard III., thus:— “The news I have to tell your majesty Is,—that, by sudden floods and fall of waters Buckingham’s army is dispersed and scatter’d And he himself wandered away alone, No man knows whither.” Proclaimed a traitor, and forsaken by his army, he concealed himself in the woods on the banks of the Severn and was betrayed and taken in Banister’s Coppice, near Belswardine. The newspapers of 1785 record a sudden rise in the Severn and its disastrous results. It appears that on the 17th of December, 1794, the season was so mild that fruit-trees were in blossom, whilst early in January, 1795, so much ice filled the Severn after a rapid thaw as to do great damage. The river rose at Coalbrookdale 25¼ inches higher than it did in November, 1770. The rise in the night was so rapid that a number of the inhabitants were obliged to fly from their tenements, leaving their goods at the mercy of the floods. The publicans were great sufferers, the barrels being floated and the bungs giving way. In the Swan and White Hart, Ironbridge, the water was several feet deep. Two houses were washed away below the bridge, but the bridge itself stood the pressure, although Buildwas bridge blew up, the river having risen above the keystone in the centre of the main arch. Crowds visited the locality to see the flood and the ruins it had made.