So by wood and mere and sighing reed we pass with many a twist and turn until we reach the hostelry of Horning Ferry. Here, as night draws on, many vessels arrive. Strolling along the bank we can note what is after all the great fun of Broad yachting--the camping and living on board a floating house, however small. The big wherries and barges are of course floating houseboats, comparatively luxurious; but at the other extreme here are three or four open boats covered in with canvas tents or awnings luminous with the lamps within, and with myriads of dazzled night insects pattering against the shining canvas. The evening meal is being discussed, then there is the clatter of washing-up, the cleaning of knives by thrusting them into the soft bank, the washing of plates with tufts of paper, and the general tidying-up which is part of the fun to young men, but which ceases to possess any charm to older ones. These rivers are capital places for the man fond of single-handed sailing. One well-known and elderly amateur sails a lugsail boat alone, but at a proper distance behind him comes his man in another single-handed boat. The latter pitches his master's tent and relieves him of household troubles, and retires to his own boat tent when not wanted. This is really a capital arrangement. [Illustration: Wroxham Broad.] When the stars come out, the herons settle in the shallow pools; the wild duck fly from the sheltered decoys and preserved sanctuaries to more open feeding-grounds; a shot rings out on the August night from some reed-hidden gunner who has been patiently awaiting the evening flight. In contrast come the notes of a piano and song from a barge; along the bank is a row of lights from cosy cabins; the inn is thronged with boat-sailers eagerly discussing their common sport; then the last cheery good-nights, and silence falls over the lone marsh and winding river. In the morning there is the splash of swimmers, blankets and bedding are put out to air on the cabin-tops, spirit and paraffin stoves mingle their scent with that of frying bacon and the wild thyme on the banks. About ten o'clock the little yachts spread their sails to the freshening breeze, and off they go. If we have ladies on board, they will probably wish to go to Horning Church in the morning, and can then sail in the afternoon with a clear conscience--a compromise approved by the strictest sabbatarian, who finds in the peace and quiet of Norfolk waters an assurance that neither the wind nor he is a sinner in the gentle movement.