THE ART OF FISHING. 55 



Moccasins are often worn over heavy German socks, and in these it 

 is said the feet never get cold. An industrious fisherman will al 

 ways associate himself with one or more of his neighbors, thereby 

 facilitating the handling of the finny game. A co-partnership of 

 this kind will often manage a number of nets, each of which they 

 visit daily to make "a lift," as the process of examining the nets is 

 called. When a sufficient number of fish are accumulated "to 

 make a load," all of which are frozen stiff the moment they are 

 taken from the water, they are packed or carried loosely in a rough 

 sled, or toboggan, by two or three dogs, to the nearest fish- buyer. 



A fisherman who is too poor to own a net, often goes angling or 

 'bobbing" as it is locally called. Others also "go bobbing" for 

 the sport it affords. The same perseverance and luck attend them 

 here as usually characterize their efforts in summer angling. 



A small round hole is made in the ice, through which the fisher- 

 man drops his line, carrying a large hook, baited with a small 

 herring, a piece of pork, or other meat. When the right depth of 

 water is reached he does not have to wait long for a bite. Then he 

 pulls out one of the finny monsters, a huge trout perhaps; if not, 

 then it is a whitefish or a sturgeon, for they are almost as common. 



Those who make a business of "bobbing" sometimes attend to 

 forty or fifty holes. At each of these holes is placed a forked stick, 

 one prong holding the fish line, and to the other is attached a small 

 red flag. When the fisherman sees one of the red flags go down he 

 immediately rushes to the spot, and generally has the satisfaction of 

 pulling out a fish of no mean proportions. It sometimes makes 

 lively work for him, and flags go down faster than he can attend to 

 them. 



The fisherman's life on the northern lakes, in some respects, is to 

 be envied. He is active when necessity compels. He is happy 

 when he has enough, and is always independent. His labors are in- 

 variably supplemented with a frolic, and his heart is ever kind 

 towards his fellow-men. And then how satisfying to eat the deli- 

 cious whitefish, cooked in the good old way, fresh from the water, 

 solid and plump. The good wife removes the skin, while the fish is 

 still frozen, the process reminding one of peeling a banana. After 

 thoroughly cleaning, the snowy flesh is rolled in flour and then fried 

 with butter. Those who have never eaten the far-famed whitefish, 

 dressed and cooked in its native home, know not the true delicacy 

 of this, the most palatable of all the finny tribes. 



