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Under the auspices of the association
were imported the white Danube salmon,
the ombre chevalier of Lake Leman, and
the great Swiss lake trout. We were
promised the huge "Wellerfisch" of the
Black Forest, the bass and white fish of the
American lakes, and were only saved by
accidental difficulties of transport from the
more dubious boon of the Danube tiger-
fish, and the voracious silurus glanis from

Myriads and myriads of small fry have
been for several years past artificially
hatched and set adrift to seek their living.
Instead of life it is death that these
nurselings find. Man and fish are against them,
and it fares even worse with them than
with the tiny trout of the Amblêve, which
are caught at their tittlebat stage of growth,
and sold by hundreds to garnish the
aquariums of Brussels.

There has always been something
precarious in the fisherman's livelihood, always
something wasteful in his mode of earning
it. The reckless proverb which tells us
that there are as good fish in the sea as
ever came out of it, is one that would be
held disgraceful if it were applied to any
branch of agriculture or of pastoral life.
And yet a well-managed fishery would
have merits all its own. Sheep and oxen
are costly to feed, but fish feed themselves.
Their growth is rapid beyond that of any
land animal, and they are prolific to an
extent that almost defies the calculating
powers of Babbage. A twenty-pound
salmon is a fine piece of property, but he
has attained his weight of twenty pounds
without any expense to his owner. A little
care and forethought, and rational protection
to the helpless fry of the more valuable
kinds of fish, would surely be a
contribution to the national wealth that would
in no sense be without its reward.


GUESS, what counted pebbles lie
  In the rushing river;
Guess, upon how many buds
  May's first sunbeams quiver;
Guess, what words the nightingale
  Sings in woods apart.
'Twere easier than divining them,
  The secrets of the heart.

Why, at careless word or phrase,
  Eyes may flash or fill;
Why, a lily or a rose
  Seem a sign of ill;
Why, at some familiar name,
  Sudden shrink or start;
Do not try to fathom them,
  The secrets of the heart.

Why a merry tune may bring
  Hidden weeping after;
Why a mournful air may make
  Plea for happy laughter;
Why one common day may be
  Sadly held apart,
And another kept a feast,
  By the secret heart.

Why some paths untrodden still
  By the wandering feet;
Why a strange enchantment hangs
  Round some woodland seat;
Why some book unopened lies;
  Why some favourite art
Left neglected, owns the sway
  Of the secret heart.

All these little marvels lie
  Hallowed from the touch:
Do not press upon their source,
  Eager over much.
Girl from lover, friend from friend,
  Something holds apart;
Child from parent sacred keeps
  The secrets of the heart.

Look on them as holy things,
  Turn the gaze away.
Strive not thou to force the clue
  To the glare of day.
Glad, and frank, and bold, and proud
  Howsoe'er thou art,
One day thou, too, thou shalt know
  The secrets of the heart.


MR. DEMIJOHN is not in the habit of
showing his stud to promiscuous strangers.
If you want an animal (a horse is always
an animal with Mr. Demijohn), and have
some sort of introduction to him, and are
prepared to pay a stupendous price, he
will very likely find the exact article you
require. But then you will not see the
stud; you will only be allowed to inspect
an individual "animal," and your proceeding
will be in this wise. Leisurely strolling
up a quiet street in the vicinity of Park-
lane, you will see an open pair of carriage-
gates, painted dark green, with a very
neatly sanded path leading through them.
Following this path, you will find neatness
to be the characteristic of the place, the
paint on the walls on either side is fresh
and clean, and the brass bell-handle,
inscribed with the word "office," on your
right hand, shines as though newly
lacquered. Before you have made up your
mind to pull this bell, you have been
confronted by a stout man, in coachman's
undress livery, who, touching his hat, asks
your business. Can you see Mr. Demijohn?
The coachman is doubtful; Mr. Demijohn
is very much engaged just then; but, if you
will only sit down a minute, he will see at
once. Thus you are ushered into a small
room, comfortably furnished as an office,