early-rising, late-fishing angler, in quiet, lonesome places: the
otter, muskrat, and mink of ponds and lakes,--rival fishers, who
bore off prey sometimes from under his very eyes,--field-mice in
meadow and pasture, blind, burrowing moles, prickly hedge-hogs,
brown hares, and social, curious squirrels.

Sometimes he saw deer, in the early morning or in the dusk of the
evening, as they came to drink at the lake shore, and looked at him
with big, soft eyes not unlike his own. Sometimes a shaggy bear
trotted across his path and hid himself in the forest, or a
sharp-eared fox ran barking through the bushes. He loved to tell
of these things to us who cared to listen, and I still seem to hear
his voice saying in hushed tones, after a story of woodland sight
or sound: "Nobody don't see 'em but fishermen. Nobody don't hear
'em but fishermen."




II

But it was of another kind of knowledge he oftenest spoke, and of
which I shall try to tell you, in his own words as nearly as
possible.

First let me say that if there should seem to be the faintest tinge
of irreverence in aught I write, I tell my story badly. There was
no irreverence in Fishin' Jimmy. He possessed a deep and profound
veneration for all things spiritual and heavenly; but it was the
veneration of a little child, mingled as is that child's with