"But one day--it's more 'n forty year ago now, but I rec'lect it
same 's 't was yest'day, an' I shall rec'lect it forty thousand
year from now if I 'm 'round, an' I guess I shall be--I
heerd--suthin'--diffunt.  I was down in the village one Sunday; it
wa'n't very good fishin'--the streams was too full; an' I thought I
'd jest look into the meetin'-house 's I went by.  'T was the ole
union meetin'-house, down to the corner, ye know, an' they had n't
got no reg'lar s'pply, an' ye never knowed what sort ye 'd hear, so
't was kind o' excitin'.

"'T was late, 'most 'leven o'clock, an' the sarm'n had begun.
There was a strange man a-preachin', some one from over to the
hotel.  I never heerd his name, I never seed him from that day to
this; but I knowed his face.  Queer enough I 'd seed him a-fishin'.
I never knowed he was a min'ster; he did n't look like one.  He
went about like a real fisherman, with ole clo'es an' an ole hat
with hooks stuck in it, an' big rubber boots, an' he fished, reely
fished, I mean--ketched 'em.  I guess 't was that made me liss'n a
leetle sharper 'n us'al, for I never seed a fishin' min'ster afore.
Elder Jacks'n, he said 't was a sinf'l waste o' time, an' ole
Parson Loomis, he 'd an idee it was cruel an' onmarciful; so I
thought I 'd jest see what this man 'd preach about, an' I settled
down to liss'n to the sarm'n.

"But there wa'n't no sarm'n; not what I 'd been raised to think was
the on'y true kind.  There wa'n't no heads, no fustlys nor
sec'ndlys, nor fin'ly bruthrins, but the first thing I knowed I was
hearin' a story, an' 't was a fishin' story.  'T was about Some
One--I had n't the least idee then who 't was, an' how much it all
meant--Some One that was dreffle fond o' fishin' an' fishermen,
Some One that sot everythin' by the water, an' useter go along by
the lakes an' ponds, an' sail on 'em, an' talk with the men that
was fishin'.  An' how the fishermen all liked him, 'nd asked his
'dvice, an' done jest 's he telled 'em about the likeliest places
to fish; an' how they allers ketched more for mindin' him; an' how
when he was a-preachin' he would n't go into a big meetin'-house
an' talk to rich folks all slicked up, but he 'd jest go out in a
fishin' boat, an' ask the men to shove out a mite, an' he 'd talk
to the folks on shore, the fishin' folks an' their wives an' the
boys an' gals playin' on the shore.  An' then, best o' everythin',
he telled how when he was a-choosin' the men to go about with him
an' help him an' larn his ways so 's to come a'ter him, he fust o'
all picked out the men he 'd seen every day fishin', an' mebbe
fished with hisself; for he knowed 'em an' knowed he could trust
'em.