FISH, FISHING, &c. 



AUTUMN FISHING. 



The surroundings that greet the late September angler 

 'On his playground, begin to assume the rich glory of the time 

 when nodding autumn comes with measured step across the 

 golden fields. The imperceptible hand of Time is once more 

 painting the woodlands amber and red, russet and green and 

 gold, while yet the wayside flowers linger in profusion ; the 

 graceful harebell shelters under the hedgerow as it still 

 blooms far up the hillside, and the botanist gathering the 

 little cranesbill reminds us of the long line of the geranium 

 family that own this weed as their common ancestor. 



As evening comes on, robins sing their soft and soothing 

 songs half merry, half sad, in keeping with the time o' 

 year ; and, by and bye, the valley fills with colour ; the rosy 

 flush on yonder moorland fades first to grey, then blue, 

 deepening into purple, until night draws her sombre curtain 

 over the scene, and shuts out all except the stars ; one by 

 one they are reflected in the faithful bosom of the unchanging" 

 river, and the stillness of the air speaks silently of the death 

 of summer, while the verdant screens she wove as garlands 

 for the year fall to earth beneath the touch of Time to grace 

 her funeral. 



A man of sound mind he who has not given up body 

 and soul to money making, and nothing more loves nature 



