THE ANGLER'S SOUVENIR. 



197 



all over the still surface, and we threw our flies 

 before the biggest of them, and watched them sail 

 up to the bit of feather and open their mouths 

 just with the intention of tasting no more ; but 

 ah ! a quick jerk of the wrist, and the steel goes 

 home. 



While the evening breeze sang quietly in the 

 tree -tops, and the sunset flush tilled the fragrant 

 air, the sand-martins flew lower, the bats fluttered 

 above us, and followed with quick turns the wave 

 of our line ; and the peace of the dying day was 

 only disturbed by the wind playing on its harp 

 of fir-trees, the hurried twitter of the martins, 

 the shrill squeak of the bats, and the splash of a 

 captured roach. 



M 



Many other such days, and then, refreshed and 

 strengthened, we rush once more into the toil and 

 turmoil of life. 



