DAYS ON THE NEPIGON. 



are days when one is almost constantly essay- 

 ing possibilities. Upstream or down, early 

 or late, fly or bait, it is a speculation whether 

 you win or lose, and heaven only knows; for 

 oftimes the glowing anticipations of the 

 morning are blasted hopes in the evening. 

 But one need never be discouraged, for it is 

 not a permanent affliction. 



The sport teems with ifs and buts and in- 

 terrogation points and exclamation marks, 

 sometimes heavy dashes and full stops. You 

 cannot tell what a day will bring forth, and 

 learning is part of the game. 



Good luck is a coming event that casts no 

 shadow before ; so possess thy soul in patience. 

 We hardly dare say one needs patience. What 

 is better is contentment; and anyone privil- 

 eged to go a-fishing ought to be content, 

 though he only sees the water flowing by. 



It is not wholly the game that attracts. 

 There is that stimulating uncertainty, when 

 all signs betoken rare sport, and though you 

 return some evening hungry, sunburnt, leg- 

 weary and fly-bitten, vowing you will never 



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