SATURDAY. 3 



and put the brandlings in a cool spot under 

 the hedge to await a befitting occasion when 

 their use shall bring me no self-reproach, I 

 repeat I challenge the truth of the saying. 



Angling to the man (and, of course, 

 woman) who loves it not, is the ugly duck- 

 ling of sport. For it, and those who take their 

 leisure therein, his scorn is merciless, his con- 

 tempt unveiled. ' Show me an angler, and I 

 will show you a fool ' is the tenor of his 

 thoughts, if not his words. He is in grievous 

 error. The man who goes forth with rod and 

 line is neither to be contemned, nor viewed 

 with lofty scorn. Too often the end of the day 

 may find him with a bag lighter than the 

 morning pictured it in hope and imagination,, 

 but what of that, his has been a full measure 

 of innocent, health -giving enjoyment. The 

 scent of the hay was not less sweet, the song 

 of the birds less melodious, the music of rip- 

 pling water less delightful; the worlds of 

 insect, animal, and vegetable life were not 

 less beauteous and wonderful because his fly 



