GARRETT VAN HOESEN. 129 



haps thirty feet in diameter. When an eel is struck the 

 spear does not pierce it, but holds it by the spring of the 

 tines, which open and clasp it. It was soon apparent 

 why woolen mittens were an essential part of the outfit. 

 As they became wet they were warm, even with ice on 

 the outside of them, just as a boy's foot will be warm 

 after the first chill when his boot is full of ice water if 

 his stocking is of wool. But continual freezing to an 

 icy spear handle is hard on a mitten. 



I watched Garry begin sounding under the hole and 

 then increase the circle until the spear handle was at an 

 acute angle with the ice, throwing the spear strongly into 

 the mud and then withdrawing it. He brought up 

 sticks, brush and an occasional eel, which soon stiffened 

 on the snow. "How can you tell whether it's an eel or a 

 stick?" 



"That's easy enough; try it." 



He chopped me a new hole and I made a thrust. 

 "Harder," said he; "shove it hard or the barbs won't 

 snap on 'em," and I sent the spear into the mud. An 

 eel? No, a stick! After landing several sticks some- 

 thing was struck that wiggled and sent little thrilling 

 pulsations up the staff, and then I knew all that is to be 

 known about spearing eels through the ice. It is not a 

 high class sport, but it gives a boy an excuse for an out- 

 ing in winter and is a healthful exercise. This thing of 

 exercise is better understood to-day than when I was 

 a boy, and men who go out with rod and gun are not 

 thought to be idle, good-for-nothing fellows, as they 

 were thought to be half a century ago. Not that I was 

 not an "idle, good-for-nothing fellow," who preferred a 

 day's shooting or fishing to a week's r confinement in 

 school, but I am speaking in a general way, excepting 

 "present company." 



