TALES OF FISHES 



BYME-BY-TAEPON 



TO capture the fish is not all of the fishing. Yet 

 there are circumstances which make this 

 philosophy hard to accept. I have in mind an in- 

 cident of angling tribulation which rivals the most 

 poignant instant of my boyhood, when a great trout 

 flopped for one sharp moment on a mossy stone 

 and then was gone like a golden flash into the 

 depths of the pool. 



Some years ago I followed Attalano, my guide, 

 down the narrow Mexican street of Tampico to the 

 bank of the broad Panuco. Under the rosy dawn the 

 river quivered like a restless opal. The air, sweet 

 with the song of blackbird and meadowlark, was full 

 of cheer; the rising sun shone in splendor on the 

 water and the long line of graceful palms lining the 

 opposite bank, and the tropical forest beyond, with 

 its luxuriant foliage festooned by gray moss. Here 

 was a day to warm the heart of any fisherman; here 

 was the beautiful river, celebrated in many a story; 

 here was the famous guide, skilled with oar and 

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