DAYS ON THE NEPIGON. 



again be so feeble-minded, after you have had 

 supper and a smoke, blown out the lights and 

 retired, hope is still burning. That is never 

 entirely extinguished. Quite undaunted, you 

 seek the river again in the morning with 

 superlative enthusiasm, hope and spirits lark 

 high, ready and anxious, with undiminished 

 eagerness. For there is sport going after fish 

 that understand keeping out of harm's way, 

 and you prove that once an angler is always 

 an angler beyond reformation. Even though 

 momentarily on the fence, you invariably 

 jump to the right side. The angler thor- 

 oughly believes in the potency of the old 

 formula : Apply a little of the hair of the dog 

 that bit you. 



In many years of angling experience, during 

 all months of the open season, we have rarely 

 found days barren of results. But, blessed 

 be, we have encountered times when neither 

 science, magic nor prayers availed; when we 

 gazed into the depths and waited with 

 supreme patience for the glorious strike or 

 even faintest nibble ; when we vouchsafed to 



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