
i. 
ey 
LONGING. 363 
When the train comes to a standstill the 
whole plant, in this concentrated form, is 
carried down to the water. The can is 
immersed, the water of the. stream allowed 
to enter and mix gradually with that of the 
can in order that the change of tempera- 
ture, if any, may not be too sudden; then 
the contents are allowed to flow slowly 
out. The messengers scamper back in a 
hurry to the car and that plant is finished. 
Having received. a start in life, the fry 
must now shift for themselves, and judg- 
ing from the success which has attended 
shad planting on both the Atlantic and 
Pacific coasts, this they seem able to do 
as well as or better than their companions 
that come into the world without the as- 
sistance of the Fish Commission. 
Often, however, this convenient and ex- 
peditious method of planting cannot be 
followed. The points to be reached may 
be at a distance from the railroad. The dis- 
tributing car itself does not visit every 
place to which fry are consigned, but is 
switched off at some railway center, from 
which messengers are detached who make 
“side-trips’” to the remaining places. The 
cans of fry are transferred to the baggage 
cars of regular trains and transported as 
baggage. The messenger carries a ther- 
mometer, the utensils and apparatus for 
aerating and if necessary a supply of ice. 
At his destination a conveyance must be 
procured immediately and the fry carried 
to the stream with all possible dispatch. 
On the next train, he returns to the car, 
which, when all are in, couples to the first 
available train and returns to the station 
from which it came, or perhaps to the 
central station at Washington. By means 
of the telegraph every movement of the 
car is promptly reported to Washington, 
and in the same way the car captain keeps 
in touch with the doings of his detached 
messengers. 
This business of distributing fish has 
no reference to any hour of the day or 
night. From the time the load of fry is on 
the car until they are liberated into the 
natural watercourses the crew of the car 
must give them their attention, eating and 
sleeping how and when they can. The 
messenger may havetobeup all night. The 
railway station and the lunch counter are 
his hotel. He may have to aerate the. 
water in his cans on a, baggage truck at 
the station at 2 a. m., catch an hour’s sleep 
on a wooden bench and a few winks in his 
seat in the car. But on the journey back 
he has little to do and can recuperate these 
losses and congratulate himself that he 
kept the fry alive and planted the seed of 
a future harvest for the greatest river fish- 
ing industry on the Atlantic coast. 
S LONGING. 
JOHN T. GOOLRICK, JR. 
I long for the roar of the river again, 
As it flows o’er its rocky bed. 
I long for the song of the summer birds, 
As they twitter overhead. 
For the shade of the spreading maple tree 
By the swift flowing river’s side, 
Where the fish will bite from morn till 
night, : 
At ebb or flow of tide. 
I long for the nook by the side of the 
brook, 
That ripples gently by. 
For a still calm night when the moon is 
bright, 
And the echoing whippoorwill’s cry. 
For the fragrant breath of the summer 
breeze 
That counteracts the sun, 
As it wakes and stirs the green clad firs, 
Just as the day is done. 
I long for a plot in a quiet spot, 
Covered with fresh young grass. 
I long for the sound as the reel goes 
*round, 
Pulled by a four pound bass; 
For the grove of trees and the slope of the 
hill, 
Where the nights are cool and damp. 
The scent of the woods is in the air, 
And I long for my summer camp, 
