CHAPTER I. 



THE POETRY OF ANGLING. 

 SECTION FIRST. 



'The patient angler threads the wind- 

 ing brook, , 

 Tempting the dainty trout with gilded 



bait; 



And ever and anon, as fleecy clouds 

 Pass o'er the sun, the fish voracious 



darts 

 From the cool shadows of some mossy 



bank, 

 Swallows the bait with one convulsive 



act, 

 And learns too late that death was at 



the feast ; 

 While the glad sportsman feels the 



sudden jerk, 

 And plays his victim with extended 



line, 



Swiftly he darts, and through the glit- 

 tering rings 

 The silken line is drawn with ringing 



sound, 

 Till, wearied out with struggling that 



but serves 

 To drive the barbed weapon deeper 



still, 

 He seeks his quiet shelter 'neath the 



bank. 

 And thence in triumph to the shore is 



borne, 

 A prize that well rewards a day of 



toil." 



THE question has been discussed by hundreds of enlight- 

 ened minds, from King Leopold to Bill Kromer from men 

 highest in the sciences and most exalted in the state, to the 

 lowest in worldly means and position, as to who can ado 



