And the Preacher Didn't Swear? 



The Reverend E. V. Stivers has honored me bv 

 sending this charming rainbow trout tale. The read- 

 ing of this story made me think that if I lived in 

 Eugene, Oregon, that on Sundays I would be one 

 of the twelve hundred members of the First Chris- 

 tian Church. I might miss a few Sundays, especially 

 when the sky was overcast, but I know the good 

 clergyman would forgive me and might even take 

 me fishin' with him on week days. 



" That's enough to make a preacher swear," is a 

 cry of disappointment that has come from many 

 sources, and in defense of the preacher, being one 

 myself, and with the full knowledge of real tragedies 

 in fishing experiences and yet with the hope of dis- 

 proving the almost proverbial saying, I will add mine 

 to your collection. 



My vocation is preaching, but my avocation is fish- 

 ing. For the most of my life I have enjoyed this, 

 to me, the greatest of all out-door sports. But never 

 have I had a more interesting or a more profitable 

 time from the standpoint of sport and recreation than 

 that enjoyed last summer on the famed McKinzie 

 River, the beautiful river of Oregon. In this great 

 river, a rushing mountain torrent of large propor- 

 tions, with water as cold as the snow from which 



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