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apparently without once thinking of providing any other shelter than their heavy overcoats and perhaps a rude barricade of ice blocks and evergreen boughs. There is no telling how long this state of things might have continued, but during the winter of 1877–78^[1] a single fisherman, more enterprising than his comrades, appeared upon the fishing grounds with a small canvas tent, inside of which he at once proceeded to make himself comfortable, and at the same time excite the envy of the unprotected, shivering fishermen scattered over the ice. The latter were not long in taking the hint, and the next season found the ice dotted all over with the little canvas houses of the fishermen. During the best of the season the smelt fishing grounds now have the appearance of Indian villages; the blue smoke curls up from the peaked roofed lodges and floats away on the frosty air, while the figures of men and boys passing to and fro on different errands might at a distance be easily mistaken for the aboriginal red Americans at their winter camp.

The framework of a smelt fisher's house consists of a light wooden frame about six feet square, with a sharp roof. After the frame is firmly fastened together it is put upon runners, furnished with a bench for the fisherman to sit upon, a stove to keep him warm, and a covering of light canvas to keep out the cold. The canvas is a better protection against sleet and frost if it has been covered with a coat of paint. Sometimes the houses are made large enough to accommodate more than one fisherman. Snugly ensconced beside a warm stove, with pipe in mouth, the old veterans spin their yarns, and, oblivious to the raging northwest winds, watch their lines, which are attached to a rack overhead and hang down, passing through a hole in the ice. The bait dangles about eight or ten feet under the water. When a fish bites, the motion of the line apprizes the fisherman of the fact, and he pulls it out, unhooks the fish and again drops