PICKEREL-FISHING IN WINTER. 187 



But we took along our dead " enticements," and 

 left word with a friend to have another bucketful, 

 with more life, follow us in the next train. 



In due time we arrived at Cohasset, where we 

 were met by a friend of Tom's, Mr. Hall of Marsh- 

 field, whose large experience in winter fishing, dis- 

 played in determining the latitude and longitude of 

 the holes, the length of the lines, and such matters, 

 added, undoubtedly, to the success of our day's 

 fishing. A ride of about two miles brought us to 

 the pond : in regard to which ride, too much praise 

 cannot be awarded to our friend Hall, whose win- 

 ning ways so overcame the stable-keeper, that he 

 reduced the price of the job from five dollars to 

 two-fifty, and no extra charge for bringing up the 

 bucket of bait. 



As we drove upon the snow-covered ice, a thrill 

 of pleasure so filled each breast that it welled up in 

 one prolonged shout of rejoicing, so loud and long 

 that it actually started our horse into a trot, the 

 first since leaving the depot. As we disembarked 

 from our rude vehicle, known as a pung, a gray- 

 haired individual rushed across the ice, and was 

 soon engaged in earnest converse with Tom and 

 friend Hall, as to our objective point for hole- 

 building. This proved to be the old gent of last 

 summer, who lived " yonder, close by the pond." 



