XVII. 



GOING HOME. 



THE sun has gone down. The stars are beginning to 

 be visible. The breeze has died away, and there is no 

 ripple on the lake, nor any sound in the tree-tops. Let 

 us go home. 



The contentment which fills the mind of the angler at 

 the close of his day's sport is one of the chiefest charms 

 in his life. He is just sufficiently wearied in body to be 

 thoughtful, and the weariness is without nervousness, so 

 that thoughts succeed each other with deliberation and 

 calm, not in haste and confusion. The evening talk after 

 a day of fishing is apt to be memorable. The quiet 

 thinking on the way home is apt to be pleasant, delicious, 

 sometimes even sacred. 



I am not sure but that many anglers remember with 

 more distinctness and delight their going home after days 

 of sport than the spor.t itself. Certainly the strongest 

 impressions on my own mind are of the last casts in the 

 twilight, the counting of the day's results on the bank of 

 lake or river, the homeward walk or ride, and, best of all, 

 the welcome home. For the sportsman's home is where 

 his heart is; and most earnestly do I recommend all lovers 

 of the rod to find their sport, if they can do so, where 

 they can be accompanied by wives and daughters, even 

 by children. On this account, if on no other, every one 



