76 By Leafy Ways. 



And in days like these, when the water 'which has 

 fallen a foot by the evening has risen two by the 

 morning, the rod is of little use. The salmon will look 

 at nothing you can offer them. The trout and the 

 grayling make no sign. 



In days like these, when the creel hangs on the wall 

 and the rod stands idle in a corner, the angler turns 

 for solace to the river. 



He takes his fate with calmness born of long 

 schooling in the gentle craft, nor bemoans with useless 

 plaint the fickleness of the weather. 



There is always the river, with the charm of its 

 beauty and the magic of its song. The angler is like 

 the gentle scholar the poet sings of, who 



1 wandered away and away 



With Nature, the dear old nurse ; 

 And she sang to him night and day 

 The rhymes of the universe.' 



Many a lyric has she sung to him in the solitudes of 

 mountain streams. Many a time has she soothed his 

 soul with the babble of the water, the voices of the 

 birds, the very breath of flowers. And so here, along 

 this stately river, he turns for solace and companion- 

 ship to the timid creatures whose bright eyes watch 

 him shyly from the shore ; he listens to the great voice 

 of the stream itself, here round some bold headland 

 rushing strong, there rustling softly in its fringe of 

 reeds. 



It is at dawn that the river shows its fairest face. 



