Walking-Stick Papers | Page 7

the monumental new Fish Pier
at Boston; to glance at conditions at the premier fish market of the
world, Billingsgate; to herald the fish display at the Canadian National
Exhibition at Toronto, and, indeed, etc., and again etc.
As general editorial roustabout, to find each week a "leader," a
translation, say, from In Allgemeine Fishcherei-Zeitwung, or Economic
Circular No. 10, "Mussels in the Tributaries of the Missouri," or the
last biennial report of the Superintendent of Fisheries of Wisconsin, or
a scientific paper on "The Porpoise in Captivity" reprinted by
permission of Zoologica, of the New York Zoological Society. To find
each week for reprint a poem appropriate in sentiment to the feeling of
the paper. One of the "Salt Water Ballads" would do, or John Masefield
singing of "the whale's way," or "Down to the white dipping sails;" or
Rupert Brooke: "And in that heaven of all their wish. There shall be no
more land, say fish"; or a "weather rhyme" about "mackerel skies,"
when "you're sure to get a fishing day"; or something from the New
York Sun about "the lobster pots of Maine"; or Oliver Herford, in the
Century, "To a Goldfish"; or, best of all, an old song of fishing ways of
other days.
And to compile from the New York Journal of Commerce better poetry
than any of this, tables, beautiful tables of "imports into New York":
"Oct. 15.--From Bordeaux, 225 cs. cuttlefish bone; Copenhagen, 173
pkgs. fish; Liverpool, 969 bbls. herrings, 10 walrus hides, 2,000 bags
salt; La Guayra, 6 cs. fish sounds; Belize, 9 bbls. sponges; Rotterdam, 7
pkgs. seaweed, 9,000 kegs herrings; Barcelona, 235 cs. sardines; Bocas
Del Toro, 5 cs. turtle shells; Genoa, 3 boxes corals; Tampico, 2 pkgs.
sponges; Halifax, 1 cs. seal skins, 35 bbls. cod liver oil, 215 cs. lobsters,

490 bbls. codfish; Akureyri, 4,150 bbls. salted herrings," and much
more. Beautiful tables of "exports from New York". "To Australia"
(cleared Sep. 1); "to Argentina;"--Haiti, Jamaica, Guatemala, Scotland,
Salvador, Santo Domingo, England, and to places many more. And
many other gorgeous tables, too, "Fishing vessels at New York," for
one, listing the "trips" brought into this port by the Stranger, the Sarah
O'Neal, the Nourmahal, a farrago of charming sounds, and a valuable
tale of facts.
As make-up man, of course, so to "dress" the paper that the "markets,"
Oporto, Trinidad, Porto Rico, Demerara, Havana, would be together;
that "Nova Scotia Notes"--"Weather conditions for curing have been
more favourable since October set in"--would follow "Halifax Fish
Market"--"Last week's arrivals were: Oct. 13, schr. Hattie Loring, 960
quintals," etc.--that "Pacific Coast Notes"--"The tug Tatoosh will
perform the service for the Seattle salmon packers of towing a vessel
from Seattle to this port via the Panama Canal"--would follow "Canned
Salmon"; that shellfish matter would be in one place; reports of saltfish
where such should be; that the weekly tale of the canned fish trade
politically embraced the canned fish advertising; and so on and so on.
Finest of all, as reporter, to go where the fish reporter goes. There the
sight-seeing cars never find their way; the hurried commuter has not his
path, nor knows of these things at all; and there that racy character who,
voicing a multitude, declares that he would rather be a lamp post on
Broadway than Mayor of St. Louis, goes not for to see. Up lower
Greenwich Street the fish reporter goes, along an eerie, dark, and
narrow way, beneath a strange, thundering roof, the "L" overhead. He
threads his way amid seemingly chaotic, architectural piles of boxes, of
barrels, crates, casks, kegs, and bulging bags; roundabout many great
fetlocked draught horses, frequently standing or plunging upon the
sidewalk, and attached to many huge trucks and wagons; and much of
the time in the street he is compelled to go, finding the side walks too
congested with the traffic of commerce to admit of his passing there.
You probably eat butter, and eggs, and cheese. Then you would delight
in Greenwich Street. You could feast your highly creditable appetite for

these excellent things for very nearly a solid mile upon the signs of
"wholesale dealers and commission merchants" in them. The letter
press, as you might say, of the fish reporter's walk is a noble paean to
the earth's glorious yield for the joyous sustenance of man. For these
princely merchants' signs sing of opulent stores of olive oil, of sausages,
beans, soups, extracts, and spices, sugar, Spanish, Bermuda, and
Havana onions, "fine" apples, teas, coffee, rice, chocolates, dried fruits
and raisins, and of loaves and of fishes, and of "fish products." Lo! dark
and dirty and thundering Greenwich Street is to-day's translation of the
Garden of Eden.
Here is a great house whose sole vocation is the importation of caviar
for barter here. Caviar from