358 BOOK OF THE BLACK BASS. 



And perhaps it is best so, for there has ever been a 

 deliglitful uncertainty attending the angler's art, and 

 therein lies one of its chiefest charms; for while it stim- 

 ulates the angler to renewed effort, it consoles him in 

 defeat. The pleasures of anticii^ation have ever exceeded 

 those of fruition, and ever will while "hope springs eternal 

 in the human breast." 



The angler spends the evening before his ''day's fish- 

 ing" in overhauling his tackle; polishing the ferrules of 

 his trusty rod; oiling his reel ; looking for weak places in 

 his line; arranging, lovingly, his leader, hooks and flies; 

 and finds enthusiastic enjoyment in the examination of 

 his treasures, and in pleasant retrospective and jjrospective 

 reveries in connection therewith. 



He retires with contented mind, and an innate conscious- 

 ness of unbounded success on the morrow, and dreams of 

 arching rod and leaping fish, of mossy banks and mur- 

 muring streams, of cool shadows and spicy breezes; and 

 when morn hath "with rosy hand unbarr'd the gates of 

 light," he sallies forth with buoyant footsteps, his breast 

 swelling with fond anticipation, and in that happy and ex- 

 pectant state of mind known only to lovers of the angle. 



Perhajis he returns at close of dayj weary and footsore, 

 and with an almost empty creel; what matter? All 

 through the lovely day his spirits have never flagged ; his 

 last cast was made with even more hope and confidence 

 than the first. And even though his creel be empty, 

 his heart is filled with the music of the birds, the })url- 

 ing of the stream, the fragrance of the flowers, and, above 

 all, with love for his Creator; and it has set him thinking 

 of that eternal stream of time clothed with everlasting 

 groves of never-changing green. 



