258 WINTER PICTURES. 



white, misty obscurity began to gather over the 

 waters, and in the morning this had grown to be a 

 dense fog. By early dawn one of my friends was 

 again in the box, and presently his gun went bang! 

 bang ! then bang ! came again from the second gun he 

 had taken with him, and we imagined the water strewn 

 with ducks. But he reported only one. It floated 

 to him and was picked up, so we need not go out. 

 In the dimness and silence we rowed up and down 

 the shore in hopes of starting up a stray duck that 

 might possibly decoy. We saw many objects that 

 simulated ducks pretty well through the obscurity, 

 but they failed to take wing on our approach. The 

 most pleasing thing we saw was a large, rude boat, 

 propelled by four colored oarsmen. It looked as if 

 it might have come out of some old picture. Two 

 oarsmen were seated in the bows, pulling, and two 

 stood up in the stern, facing their companions, each 

 working a long oar, bending and recovering and ut- 

 tering a low, wild chant. The spectacle emerged 

 from the fog on the one hand and plunged into it 

 on the other. 



Later in the morning, we were attracted by an 

 other craft. We heard it coming down upon us long 

 before it emerged into view. It made a sound as 

 of some unwieldy creature slowly pawing the water 

 and when it became visible through the fog the sight 

 did not belie the ear. We beheld an awkward black 

 hulk that looked as if it might have been made out o/ 

 the bones of the first steamboat, or was it some Vir 



