COME TTIW1TDII& 



IT is wonderful how the first moistly warm breath 

 from the south affects an old trout fisher. Even in 

 that infernal city Canon a cobbled trail between 

 sheer cliffs of soulless brownstone, mortgaged and 

 otherwise, and inhabited by a brand of cliff-dwellers 

 whose favorite form of angling is the playing of 

 suckers the magic of the south wind can assert 

 itself. 



Through my open window streams God's glorious 

 oxygen, and upon the floor is a huge square of gold, 

 painted by that mighty brush which traces the ebon 

 shadows of huge trunk and hair-like twig upon the 

 failing drifts and glassy surface pools of the North. 

 Perched upon the very sash is a cock-tailed, bull- 

 headed, thoroughly British sparrow, and he eyes me 

 with an impertinent intentness which might earn for 

 him a small, cold bottle that lately held ink, were it 

 not that I love all feathered things from ostriches to 

 oars. The rascal knows it, too, and besides he is 

 full of spring and absolutely irresponsible. I know 

 what his heart craves of me. There are some foolish 

 strips of paper bearing nothing more valuable than 

 a mere writer's silly notes, and, possibly, a few shreds 

 of yarn are dangling from the right cuff of the hard- 

 worked jacket. Such things make a noble mess, 



"5 



