''DUNK THE FAT ONE, as Simmo 

 calls him, came out of his winter den 

 the morning after the Reverend James 

 had stirred the sod of his first flower 

 bed. It was early April, and the first 

 smell of spring \vas in the air that subtle 

 call of Mother Earth to her drowsy children 

 to awake and come out and do things. The 

 Reverend James felt the call in his nose and, 

 remembering his boyhood, as we all do at the 

 smell of spring, resolved to go fishing after 

 he had finished his morning paper. His wife 

 felt it, went to the door, took a long breath 

 and cried, " Is n't this just glorious ! " Then 

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