THE CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER 9 



Next time ! ' To-morrow, and to-morrow, and 

 to-morrow.' Grey hairs come, and stiff limbs, and 

 shortened sight ; but the spring is green and 

 hope is fresh for all the changes in the world and 

 in ourselves. We can tell a hawk from a hand- 

 saw, a March Brown from a Blue Dun ; and if our 

 success be as poor as ever, our fancy can dream 

 as well as ever of better things and more for- 

 tunate chances. For fishing is like life ; and in 

 the art of living, too, there are duffers, though they 

 seldom give us their confessions. Yet even they 

 are kept alive, like the incompetent angler, by this 

 undying hope : they will be more careful, more 

 skilful, more lucky next time. The gleaming 

 untravelled future, the bright untried waters, allure 

 us from day to day, from pool to pool, till, like the 

 veteran on Coquet side, we ' try a farewell throw,' 

 or, like Stoddart, look our last on Tweed. 



