176 THE SALMON 



time as completely as if he had been using a pair of 

 dumb-bells.' 



Here I join issue altogether. If it were true that 

 blank days deserved this sweeping condemnation it 

 would be almost fatal to the claims of salmon-fishing 

 as an amusement ; but I utterly deny it. Many a 

 time have I started for the river, sometimes with high 

 expectations, sometimes almost on a forlorn hope, 

 and come back empty-handed indeed, but having 

 thoroughly enjoyed my outing. Monotonous ! Why ? 

 All day long the shifting panorama of nature passed 

 before my eyes ; the birds, the flowers, the ferns, like 

 living actors, played their parts for my edification ; or 

 if I must confine my attention to points more strictly 

 relating to the sport itself, no two pools, no two 

 motions of the rod — I had almost said, no two 

 sensations of the six or eight hours spent by the 

 water side — were the exact counterparts the one of 

 the other. But let me describe one or two ' blank 

 days.' I have many to choose from, and the reader 

 may judge whether it is true that they present no 

 features of interest, but merely a ' monstrous cantle ' 

 carved from the too brief space of an autumn holiday. 



Take first in order the instance which is most 

 antagonistic to my argument, namely, the day when 

 all conditions are apparently favourable, and I have 



