BookRix

I Was Sitting At One Of My Favorite Spots Engaged In Looking Through
My Fly-Book For Some Lure That Might, Perhaps, Mend My Luck In The
Afternoon's Fishing. At Least, I Had Within The Moment Been So
Engaged; Although The Truth Is That The Evening Was So Exceptionally
Fine, And The Spot Always So Extraordinarily Attractive To Me--This
Particular Angle Of The Stream, Where The Tall Birches Stand, Being To
My Mind The Most Beautiful Bit On My Whole Estate--That I Had
Forgotten All About Angling And Was Sitting With Rod Laid By Upon The
Bank, The Fly-Book Scarce Noted In My Hand. Moreover, A Peculiarly
Fine Specimen Of Anopheles, (As I Took It To Be) Was At That Very
Moment Hovering Over My Hand, And I Was Anxious To Confirm My Judgment
As Well As To Enlarge My Collection Of Mosquitoes. I Had My Other Hand
In A Pocket Feeling For The Little Phial In Which I Purposed To
Enclose Anopheles, If I Could Coax Him To Alight. Indeed, I Say, I
Was At That Very Moment As Happy As A Man Need Be; Or, At Least, As
Happy As I Ever Expected To Be.