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ON ANGLING. |
177 |
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CATCHING THE SALMON. And this, the bravest fellow
To-day that tried my hand, Off this wooden bridge I hook'd,
Exactly where I stand.
I'd view'd the water over
With scrutinizing eye, And marked the place I judged
The feeding fish would lie.
On surge then cast my fly, And guided on its way,
Free as an unattached fly Would on the waters play ;
But scarcely had it reached The point within my aim,
When smack, and boldly seized it, This noble salmon came ;
Back to his berth retreated,
A moment felt no ill, Till twitch sharp of my angle
Struck houk into his gill.
Amazed, in consternation,
He darted to and fro, First he rushed above the bridge.
Then headlong ran below ; |
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