Rambling Rivers 



For reasons which he will not disclose, the writer has 

 caught none of the above-named fishes. But there is a 

 beauty about a grass-grown river bank as you watch the 

 play of the westering sun across the waters. You wait and 

 wonder till the chill of the autumn evening mingles with the 

 shadows of the gloaming. The winds of evening twilight 

 whisper through the tops of leafless trees and mind you once 

 again that you are here alone but where the river is, and 

 the grass, and the wind among the trees, you can never be 

 quite alone. 



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