Walking-Stick Papers | Page 8

over-seas now comes, when it comes at all,
mainly by the way of Archangel, recently put on the map, for most of
us, by the war. The fish reporter is told, however, if it be summer, that
there cannot be much doing in the way of caviar until fall, "when the
spoonbill start coming in." And on he goes to a great saltfish house,
where many men in salt-stained garments are running about, their arms
laden with large flat objects, of sharp and jagged edge, which resemble
dried and crackling hides of some animal curiously like a huge fish;
and numerous others of "the same" are trundling round
wheelbarrow-like trucks likewise so laden. Where stacks of these hides
stand on their tails against the walls, and goodness knows how many
big boxes are, containing, as those open show, beautifully soft, thick,
cream-coloured slabs, which is fish. And where still other men, in
overalls stained like a painter's palette, are knocking off the heads of
casks and dipping out of brine still other kinds of fish for inspection.
Here it is said by the head of the house, by the stove (it is chill weather)
in his office like a ship-master's cabin: "Strong market on foreign
mackerel. Mines hinder Norway catch. Advices from abroad report that
German resources continue to purchase all available supplies from the
Norwegian fishermen. No Irish of any account. Recent shipment sold
on the deck at high prices. Fair demand from the Middle West."
So, by stages, on up to turn into North Moore Street, looking down a
narrow lane between two long bristling rows of wagons pointed out

from the curbs, to the facades of the North River docks at the bottom,
with the tops of the buff funnels of ocean liners, and Whistleranean
silhouettes of derricks, rising beyond. Hereabout are more importers,
exporters, and "producers" of fish, famous in their calling beyond the
celebrities of popular publicity. And he that has official entree may
learn, by mounting dusky stairs, half-ladder and half-stair, and by
passing through low-ceilinged chambers freighted with many barrels,
to the sanctums of the fish lords, what's doing in the foreign herring
way, and get the current market quotations, at present sky-high, and
hear that the American shore mackerel catch is very fine stock.
Then roundabout, with a step into the broad vista of homely
Washington Street, and a turn through Franklin Street, where is the
man decorated by the Imperial Japanese Government with a gold medal,
if he should care to wear it, for having distinguished himself in the
development of commerce in the marine products of Japan, back to
Hudson Street. An authentic railroad is one of the spectacular features
of Hudson Street.
Here down the middle of the way are endless trains, stopping, starting,
crashing, laden to their ears with freight, doubtless all to eat. Tourists
should come from very far to view Hudson Street. Here is a spectacle
as fascinating, as awe-inspiring, as extraordinary as any in the world.
From dawn until darkness falls, hour after hour, along Hudson Street
slowly, steadily moves a mighty procession of great trucks. One would
not suppose there were so many trucks on the face of the earth. It is a
glorious sight, and any man whose soul is not dead should jump with
joy to see it. And the thunder of them altogether as they bang over the
stones is like the music of the spheres.
There is on Hudson Street a tall handsome building where the fish
reporter goes, which should be enjoyed in this way: Up in the lift you
go to the top, and then you walk down, smacking your lips. For all the
doors in that building are brimming with poetry. And the tune of it goes
like this: "Toasted Corn-Flake Co.," "Seaboard Rice," "Chili Products,"
"Red Bloom Grape Juice Sales Office," "Porto Rico and Singapore
Pineapple Co.," "Sunnyland Foodstuffs," "Importers of Fruit Pulps,

Pimentos," "Sole Agents U.S.A. Italian Salad Oil," "Raisin Growers,"
"Log Cabin Syrups," "Jobbers in Beans, Peas," "Chocolate and Cocoa
Preparations," "Ohio Evaporated Milk Co.," "Bernese Alps and
Holland Condensed Milk Co.," "Brazilian Nuts Co.," "Brokers Pacific
Coast Salmon," "California Tuna Co.," and thus on and on.
The fish reporter crosses the street to see the head of the Sardine Trust,
who has just thrown the market into excitement by a heavy cut in prices
of last year's pack. Thence, pausing to refresh himself by the way at a
sign "Agency for Reims Champagne and Moselle Wines--Bordeaux
Clarets and Sauternes," over to Broadway to interview the most august
persons of all, dealers in fertiliser, "fish scrap." These mighty
gentlemen live, when at business, in palatial suites of offices
constructed of marble and fine woods and laid with rich rugs. The
reporter is relayed into the innermost