154 MAKING A FISHERY. 



A contretemps The yearlings left Mr. Andrews' hatchery, at 



in moving ' , . . 



yearlings. Guildford, in the early morning, an experienced 



attendant travelling with them to give fresh 

 water when required. On their arrival at the 

 nearest railway station, about six miles from the 

 stew, it was discovered that, in place of the 

 wagonette and pair of fast horses ordered, a 

 cart and slow-paced horse were in attendance. 

 The excuse advanced by the livery-stable 

 keeper that, there being a fair or market in the 

 village, he could not spare the wagonette and 

 pair, was as inadmissible as the results were 

 disastrous — the more inadmissible, as he had 

 had previous experience of moving live fish, 

 and presumably had some idea of the danger. 



It was a close day, and some of the yearlings 

 were on top of the water in the cans, showing 

 signs of exhaustion, on their arrival at the 

 station. However, fresh water seemed to 

 revive them, and the only prudent course was 

 adopted, to push on and change the water as 

 often as possible. The cart was driven as fast 

 as the wretched horse could get along, but 

 arrived at the stew quite two hours later than 

 expected, and I was on the spot myself, awaiting 

 its arrival in a state of great anxiety. 



A word from Mr. Andrews' worthy represen- 

 tative put me au courant, and the order was 

 given to turn all the yearlings into the stew 



