DAYS ON THE NEPIGON. 



Now and then the river seems out of tune, 

 and that delightful sense of expectation be- 

 comes water-logged, then a hopeless case. 

 The fish in a non-receptive mood, following 

 their sometime wayward fashion, decline all 

 your offerings, "plucking from the nettle 

 danger the flower safety" by refusing to rise. 

 For even the Nepigon trout, though within 

 striking distance, can on occasion prove an 

 unimpeachable alibi. Their vagaries are per- 

 plexing and uncertain, if not unreasonable 

 and past understanding. However, when not 

 biting here, they may be rising and taking 

 hold somewhere else; and some worthy 

 brother angler is wearing smiles; and we will 

 at least be partially satisfied on his account to 

 accept the shadow for the substance, the dis- 

 tant splash for the actual rise. 



Good luck is a transient guest, and if some 

 particles of ill-fortune have been sprinkled 

 over the afternoon, why, man, consider the 

 score of other things lending their aid to 

 augment your pleasure. You heard the song 

 of the singing river. You saw that devastat- 

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