DAYS ON THE NEPIGON. 



ing poacher, the blue-heron, haunting the 

 shallows and waiting with unwearied patience 

 to strike some unsuspecting victim. You 

 watched the snowy gulls diving for minnows 

 or circling above with untiring grace; the 

 brilliant plumaged kingfisher with nervous 

 energy patrolling the further shore. And per- 

 haps you watched the sunlight and shadows 

 playing their little game of hide and seek. 



You felt the exhilaration in the magic of the 

 forest air; your nose was blistered; your two 

 big toes, and little ones, too, were tickled 

 when you soaked the rest of your feet; and 

 what an appetite you developed so raven- 

 ously hungry and dead tired, but with the 

 weariness that begets sound sleep. All these 

 blessings, to which the real angler is never 

 indifferent, yield ample compensation for 

 dearth of rises provided they are not played 

 too often. 



Even though you fail to realize it, your 

 measure of enjoyment is bountiful and run- 

 ning over. To be supremely satisfactory, an 



outing of this kind needs a little diversifying, 

 80 



