304 AN ANGLER AT LARGE 



changes. Two months ago I remember the end 

 of every day was celebrated by me with slappings 

 on the back because I had by so much increased 

 the sum of my enjoyment of Willows. I counted 

 the hours I had had. 



For a long time, now, I have counted those that 

 remain. 



When did I change my attitude towards time's 

 advance ? I do not know, but I know that to-day 

 1 regard its haste with despair. 



Touching that much longer, more varied and 

 even more delightful sojourn upon which I am 

 engaged I have not, I fancy, yet reached the 

 dividing point. Still (more than ever in the past 

 two years), I hug the possession of my days as 

 they are completed ; not yet do I regard them as 

 gone. Still I reach out to meet them as they 

 come, welcoming them as good full friends, not 

 frowning upon them as evanescent tricksters who 

 dawn but to close. I hope to be doing the same 

 when (and if) I am a hundred and forty. I can 

 never see why that fellow Death should be per- 

 mitted to spoil one's time here. Let him be con- 

 tent with his certain win or wins (for he commonly 

 gets in more than one shrewd knock at a man). 

 Physically, I admit him my superior, because I 

 have to. I am not his match at all. I own it. 



