The " Goods " in Spite of a Ducking 



Here comes one from the Reverend H. Dean Mil- 

 ler, or "Dominie Dean," as he is called by his fish- 

 ing pals. Our Reverend Sir is the minister of the 

 First Presbyterian Church, of Bradford, Pennsyl- 

 vania, and I am not venturing far when I say that 

 those with a drop of angling blood in their veins 

 or a love of God's great outdoors are often found 

 among his congregation, especially on rainy days 

 when the fishin' is not altogether too good. 



I have enjoyed the letters of the " clan " very much. 

 Some of their experiences have seemed almost per- 

 sonal, for I have had almost identical experiences, but 

 as I look back over more than twenty years' experience 

 on lake and stream, I have no hesitancy in selecting the 

 following as my most tragic moment. 



It was a rare October day, a crisp frosty morning 

 followed by a beautiful sunshiny day. The air was 

 crisp and cool. " Fine for casting," the Doctor said 

 when he and Hugh called to pick me up for a short 

 trip to the river after bass. 



The Doc is a rare sport, a fine trap shot, just as good 

 in the woods as they grow. "Plugging " is his mid- 

 dle name; he has been "shooting" the wooden lures 

 for years. 



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