1868. 



NEW ENGLAND FAEMER. 



573 



IN THE GARDEN. 



Bnmmer la dylnsr, slowly dying ; 



She fades with every passing day; 

 In the garden-alleys she wanders sighing, 



And pauses to grieve at the sad decay. 



The flowers that came with the spring's first ewallow, 

 When March crept timidly over the hill, 



And slept at noon in the sunny hollow, — 

 The snowdrop, the crocus, the daffodil, 



The lily white for an angel to carry. 



The violet fniut with its spirit-breath. 

 The passion-flower, and the fleeting, airy 



^emone,— all have been struck by death. 



Autumn the leaves Is staining and strewing. 

 And spreading a vail o'er the landscape rare; 



The glory and gladness of summer are going, 

 And a feeling of sadness is in the air. 



The purple hibiscus is shrivelled and withered, 



And liquid lolls its furry tongue; 

 The burning pomegranates are ripe to be gathered; 



The grilli ttieir last farewell have sunz; 



The fading oleander is showing 



Its last rose-clusters over the wall, 

 And the tubes of the trumpet-flower are strewing 



The gravel-walks as they loosen and fall; 



The crocketed spire of the hollyhock towers 

 For the sighing breeze to rocfe and swing; 



On its top is the last of its belMJfee flowers, 

 For the wondering bee its knell to ring. 



In their earthen vases the lemons yellow. 

 The sun-drunk grapes grow lucent and thin, 



Thepoars on the sunny espalier mellow, 

 And the last fat figs swell in their purple skin ; 



The petals have dropped from the spicy carnation; 



But the heartless dahlia, formal and proud, 

 Like a worldly lady of lofty station, 



Loveless stares at the humble crowd. 



And the sunflower, too, looks boldly around her; 



While the belladonna, so wickedly fair. 

 Shorn of the purple flowers that crowned her, 



Is telUng her Borgian beads in despair. 



See I by the fountain that softly bubbles, 



Spilling its rain in the lichened vase, 

 Summer pauses I — her tender troublefl 

 , Shadowing over her pensive face. 



The lizard stops on its brim to listen, 



The butterfly wavers dreamily near. 

 And the dragon-flies in their green mail glisten 



And watch her, as passing she drops a tear,— 



Not as she stood in her August perfection I 

 Not as she looked in the freshness of June! 



But gazing around with a tender dejection. 

 And a weary face like the morning moon. 



The breeze through the leafy garden quivers. 



Dying away with a sigh and a moan : 

 A shade o'er the darkening fountain shivers. 



And summer, ghost-like, hath vanished and gone. 



"THE HARVEST OF THE SEA." 



It is surprising, with all the attention that 

 has been given to the cultivation of grain 

 crops, fruit crops and root crops, and other 

 products of agriculture and horticulture, and 

 with the vast amount of interest that has al- 

 ways been shown in the improvement of 

 breeds of cattle and promoting their increase 

 and productiveness, that so little general at- 

 tention has been given to the cultivation of 

 that great source of food which more than a 

 hundred years ago was aptly called "The 

 Harvest of the Sea." There is no more de- 



licious article of food placed on our tables 

 than that formerly furnished in such abun- 

 dance by the great rivers and swift running 

 interior streams with which this country for- 

 tunately abounds. Why, then, fish should 

 not be cultivated, and their productiveness be 

 increased, instead of allowing them to de- 

 crease, and many fine varieties of them get 

 into danger of dying out altogether, is a 

 matter of surprise. It may be that they have 

 been regarded as in the nature of other wild 

 animals, which could not be subjected to the 

 care and control of man ; but this is a short- 

 sighted view of the subject, as it has been 

 demonstrated for many years that such advan- 

 tage can be taken of the instincts and habits 

 of migratory fishes as to keep streams and 

 ponds well stocked with them, and to furnish 

 abundant supplies for all neighboring mar- 

 kets. Within a few years past this idea has 

 been extensively acted upon in Europe, and 

 to some extent in the Eastern States of th's 

 country. Fish culture has taken its place 

 among the most useful and valuable pursuits, 

 and fish spawn has become an important ar- 

 ticle of commerce. In France, Scotland, 

 Ireland and other European countries, rivers 

 and streams that furnished an abundant supply 

 of the finest fish in former generations, and 

 that had become nearly if not quite barren, 

 have been restocked, and now furnish as 

 ample a yield as in their best dajs. The 

 same process is going on in the New England 

 States with the trout and salmon fisheries, dnd 

 spawn of the shad have even been transported 

 across the country to a tributary of the Ala- 

 bama, and that noble river and some of its 

 branches have thus been stocked with that 

 favorite fish. One fish culturist in this country 

 is sending fresh eggs by the million through- 

 out the Northern and Middle States. This ■ 

 grower hatched out last summer the enormous 

 number of forty millions of young shad, and 

 turned them into the Connecticut river. 



It appears from the experience of those en- 

 gaged in the work that it is among the easiest 

 and most certain things to keep any stream 

 well supplied with the variety of fish to which 

 it is adapted. It is among the most prolific 

 of animals. A ten pound salmon yields ten 

 thousand eggs, a good sized herring will 

 spawn forty or fifty thousand, a shad yields a 

 hundred thousand, while a good sized codfish 

 spawns a million. If this prolilic yield of 

 spawn all reached mature age the rivers and 

 seas even would be alive with fish. But the 

 eggs are subject to dangers and risks of de- 

 struction almost as numerous as the propor- 

 tions of their increase in numbers. Those 

 deposited in fresh water rivers are gobbled up 

 by mature fish, by fresh water fowls and other 

 depredating animals ; they are washed ashore, 

 high and dry, by floods, and they are covered 

 up by the refuse from saw-mills, tanneries, &c. 

 When that part of the spawn that escapes all 

 such dangers is hatched, the young fish, in 



