64 THE SUMMER 



watchful and timorous than your high- 

 mettled merlin is bold. . . . " Some few 

 give up the chase disappointed. 



" In meek despondency they eye 

 The shrunken pools, the rainless sky," 



and tap the face of the barometer that 

 aggravatingly oscillates at " Set Fair." 

 But the maj ori ty of these gallant anglers, 

 who turn up every summer like birds 

 of passage, will, after a day of dire tribu- 

 lation and weariness, which they pretend 

 not to feel, set out for the riverside under 

 similar conditions on the morrow, as 

 keen and as full of hope of sport as when 

 they were about to wet the first line of 

 the season. 



There is not much wrong with the 

 morals of men who will do that, and they 

 deserve our deepest respect and sym- 

 pathy. For is it not exceedingly hard, 

 after a day of toil and trial, and no fish, 

 to have to face a wife who you know 

 did not expect you to catch any when you 



