b'l'eve it every mite, an' take it right hum to me to foller an'
live up to 's long 's I live an' breathe. Did j'ever think on it,
reely? I tell ye, his r'liging 's a fishin' r'liging all through.
His friends was fishin' folks; his pulpit was a fishin' boat, or
the shore o' the lake; he loved the ponds an' streams; an' when his
d'sciples went out fishin', if he did n't go hisself with 'em, he
'd go a'ter 'em, walkin' on the water, to cheer 'em up an' comfort
'em.

"An' he was allers 'round the water; for the story 'll say, 'he
come to the seashore,' or 'he begun to teach by the seaside,' or
agin, 'he entered into a boat,' an' 'he was in the stern o' the
boat, asleep.'

"An' he used fish in his mir'cles. He fed that crowd o' folks on
fish when they was hungry, bought 'em from a little chap on the
shore. I 've oft'n thought 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