200 AN ANGLER AT LARGE 



golden glow of the moon, now climbing among 

 the branches of the elms in the close, I could see 

 his vague but comfortable shape ambling softly 

 from me. "Let me see you fish to-morrow," 

 I called. " Nay, nay ! " he replied, his voice 

 lessened by distance, " not to-morrow, gentle sir ; 

 I must wait my year my long, long year." 

 Again I heard the gentle sigh, and with it the 

 dark shadow that was my acquaintance became 

 one with the blackness that filled a space between 

 two ageless yews. 

 This is not true. 



