how dreffle tickled that boy must 'a'
ben to have him take them fish. Mebbe they wa'n't nothin' but
shiners, but the fust the little feller 'd ever ketched; an' boys
set a heap on their fust ketch. He was dreffle good to child'en,
ye know. An' who 'd he come to a'ter he 'd died, an' ris agin?
Why, he come down to the shore 'fore daylight, an' looked off over
the pond to where his ole frien's was a-fishin'. Ye see they 'd
gone out jest to quiet their minds an' keep up their sperrits; ther
's nothin' like fishin' for that, ye know, an' they 'd ben in a
heap o' trubble. When they was settin' up the night afore,
worryin' an' wond'rin' an' s'misin' what was goin' ter become on
'em without their master; Peter 'd got kinder desprit, an' he up
an' says in his quick way, says he, 'Anyway, _I_ 'm goin'
a-fishin'.' An' they all see the sense on it,--any fisherman
would,--an' they says, says they, 'We '11 go 'long too.' But they
did n't ketch anythin'. I suppose they could n't fix their minds
on it, an' everythin' went wrong like. But when mornin' come
creepin' up over the mountings, fust thin' they knowed they see him
on the bank, an' he called out to 'em to know if they'd ketched
anythin'. The water jest run down my cheeks when I heerd the min'r
ster tell that, an' it kinder makes my eyes wet every time I think
on 't. For 't seems 's if it might 'a' ben me in that boat, who
heern that v'ice I loved so dreffle well speak up agin so nat'ral
from the bank there. An' he eat some o' their fish! O' course he
done it to sot their minds easy, to show 'em he wa'n't quite a
sperrit yit, but jest their own ole frien' who 'd ben out in the
boat with 'em so many, many times. But seems to me, jest the fac'
he done it kinder makes fish an' fishin' diffunt from any other
thing in the hull airth. I tell ye them four books that gin his
story is chock full o' things that go right to the heart o'
fishermen,--nets, an' hooks, an' boats, an' the shores, an' the
sea, an' the mountings, Peter's fishin'-coat, lilies, an' sparrers,
an' grass o' the fields, an' all about the evenin' sky bein' red or
lowerin', an' fair or foul weather.

"It 's an out-doors, woodsy, country story, 'sides bein' the
heav'nliest one that was ever telled. I read the hull Bible, as a
duty ye know. I read the epis'les, but somehow they don't come
home to me. Paul was a great man, a dreffle smart scholar, but he
was raised in the city, I guess, an' when I go f