thing else. She laughed in return, and retorted: woman she asked no questions; but she was none the less certain that she had just lost a "I think you are too bad, Mr. Hadley, to very worthy son-in-law. And with some irrelwillfully refuse to understand me." evance, but a great deal of impatience, she said Stan-to herself: "And it's all the fault of that Mr. Hadley. In love with him or not, Frank is getting spoiled for any body else in seeing so much of him." "But, you see, I'm not up to it, Mrs. hope. I've lived abroad so long, these American delicacies and hair-line distinctions are beyond me." Mrs. Stanhope didn't believe a word of this; but it was useless to get into further discussion, so made no reply. "And you won't consider me a friend and let that little girl take these trinkets then ?" he asked, presently, under his new veil of humor. "I had rather she did not, Mr. Hadley." Mr. Hadley bent forward with a vexed look, and gathering the cameos together crushed them recklessly into his pocket. "You have made me feel like a great blundering boy, Mrs. Stanhope?" he said, out of the quick, impulsive mood she had invoked. His action was certainly boyish in a certain sense, but just as certainly not blundering or awkward. As he said this, and rose from his chair, there was such a grace and charm about him that Mrs. Stanhope felt that he was more than a match for her caution and watchfulness. She felt it still more as the days went by and he made his "blunder," as he called it, a ground for still closer acquaintance; for every body knows that a laugh or a joke will break down more barriers and build up more edifices of friendliness than weeks of serious conversation. He was constantly alluding, when he met them, to the extent and quality of their acquaintance, as understood by Mrs. Stanhope; and this in so gay and witty a manner that one could scarcely find fault with it. Frank grew easier than ever with him on this ground, for it suited her bright, audacious spirit. But Mrs. Stanhope was sorely perplexed. How would all this end? she perpetually asked herself. In vain she tried to sound the extent of Frank's interest in this fascinating but most troublesome lodger. That young lady was either untouched, or carrying a high hand with her pride. She was quite capable of breaking her heart with laughing lips. That kind of nature always goes with her quality of high spirits. In this sentence Mrs. Stanhope fairly acknowledged the superiority, or at least the fascination of Mr. Hadley. But this acknowledgment was simply of externals and the accidents of position. Of the internal man she had no more or less respect than for any other man of the world. He was shrewd as they were; he was sensible as they were; he was generous as they were; he was selfish and fond of his ease as they were. This was the way she classed him-by generalities. And while she thus perplexed herself, Frank and Mr. Hadley got on very pleasantly together. She sang for him, laughed and talked with him, and even got so far as to make her funny little grimaces at him upon occasions. But there was coming a change to all this. A series of small incidents, not very weighty in themselves one would think, brought this change about. It was the first day of June, and Frank was putting the finishing touches to her toilet down stairs in her mother's parlor. She wore a white tarleton, for she was to sing at a morning concert. A white tarleton, with some puffings of illusion crusting it like foam. As she stood before the glass, fastening a knot of heath in her hair, she saw Mr. Hadley ascending the stairs. "You are like a lily in all that white stuff," he said, coming forward into the room. "I'd rather be a rose-it suits me better; but Harry forgot to go for my roses, so I pulled this heath out of a bouquet I had," she answered, absently, as she tried to get the heath into order. "What time are you to be at the hall?" he asked, leaning against the piano in an idle, leisurely manner, as if time and its hurries were nothing to him. "In about half an hour, if I ever get this rubbishy heath in.” And as she ejaculated this, in her little impatient way, she tore the rebellious spray out of its fastening and brought down with it two In the mean time let it not be supposed that or three fluffy curls she had taken great pains Miss Stanhope lacked attention or appreciation with. Her cheeks flushed, and quick as her in other quarters. There was a young book-quick thought she flung the offending heathkeeper in the firm of Alroyd and Dace whom spray impetuously upon the floor with a childher uncle and her mother specially favored. ish "There!" "He's a very promising fellow. I shouldn't be surprised if we made him one of us next year," commented Uncle Tom, with significance. Then there were sundry others-young men in responsible positions, or just entering business for themselves, who were very evident admirers of this sparkling, bright-faced Frank. Mrs. Stanhope, coming in one evening from a lecture, found one of these admirers wearing "I've got your roses;" he said, smilingly, a very rueful face, and her daughter looking a uncovering a broad deep basket where such good deal confused and annoyed. Like a wise treasures of rose-wealth lay, in hues of pink Mrs. Stanhope said, reprovingly: "Why, Frank!" But Mr. Hadley laughed, giving his head a certain backward movement that denoted with him great amusement, and then leisurely walked out of the room. The half hour had not quite elapsed when he came back to find Frank tying on her white cloak, and still looking rather disturbed. and white and blush, as to call out Frank's wildest admiration and most impulsive expressions. "They are perfectly exquisite, perfectly; and you are just as kind as you can be to get them for me at this eleventh hour, Mr. Hadley." Then she ran to the glass again, and in a happy excitement, which was an inspiration, showered herself with these June-darlings. Turning to him again when all was completed, she put out her hand, and said in yet more earnest gratitude, "They are splendid, Mr. Hadley ;" and then with a little willful, half-laughing glance at her mother, which he did not lose; "and you are splendid to bring them to me, and I thank you with all my heart." He joined her laugh, but his eyes lighted with some inward fire as he looked upon her. And as he took the little gloveless hand she had put out to him in her impulse of thanks, he repeated in a soft tone as he regarded her rose-crowned loveliness: "Queen rose of the rose-bud, Garden of girls, Queen lily and rose in one."" "Rob, who was that I saw you with this morning?" Rob looked exceedingly annoyed as he answered, "Miss Leyton, Sir." Mr. Hadley seemed to be very much interested all at once. 66 What, little Katy Leyton," he went on, "grown up into that pretty girl? Yes, I remember-she's near your age-eighteen or thereabouts. A pretty girl-a very pretty girl! But her mother was a great beauty and a famous belle; one of a famous family, of which old Roy St. Clair was the chief and head." Frank had turned from the piano by this time. She had not her mother's morbid sense; and it must be allowed that Mrs. Stanhope's over-sensitiveness amounted to morbidness sometimes. And not having this sense, she did not perceive the motive that her mother did in Mr. Hadley's words. Indeed she perceived no motive at all. But to Mrs. Stanhope this motive was patent. It was keen displeasure at his nephew's evident subjugation to Miss Stanhope's charms. A displeasure which found vent and carried warning and reproof in the contrast of suitability in Katy Leyton's youth and high family. Mrs. Stanhope rode her high horse at this crisis. "It's the old story of the Traceys over again," she said to herself. "Frank is a pretty, interesting girl like that Miss Schaffner, the German artiste, but not to be thought of as an alliance with Mr. Hadley's nephew or Mr. Hadley himself." And back her mind went, gathering all the old items to add to this evidence. Many a remark or an action she might otherwise have forgotten now came up and assumed gigantic importance. She In was the more disturbed by all this when she recalled the roses that had lately bloomed in Frank's cheeks on more than one occasion when Mr. Hadley was present. In this moment he seemed to have forgotten "What if, after all"-she said aloud, turning from the window. And then she fell into silent musing as she watched Mr. Hadley down the street. But the next two incidents put out this new light, and brought on a violent change in the programme. "What shall I do?" she cried, mentally, as she reviewed her trouble that night. The next day, when Harry came home with the great news that he had got his situation in the firm of Slido and Sayles, with a salary of $1500 a year, she straightway saw what she would do. She would give up her lodgers. With the Rob Barker was leaning over the piano, list-united salaries of the three and the income of ening and looking devoutly as Frank sang for him. She sang a soft ballad she had sung in the morning, and the scent of the roses-Mr. Hadley's roses-hung round her still. Mr. Hadley himself, at a little distance, leaned back in his chair and observed the two-the singer and her devout listener-with keen attention; and over her busy knitting-needles Mrs. Stanhope observed Mr. Hadley. her $5000 they could do nicely. "Jubilate!" shouted Harry, when his mother proposed her plan. He felt very happy and very grand that he had helped to this. Even Ellen's calm, quiet eyes took a new light. "And we shall have the old parlors again, and the south and west rooms!" she remarked, | brightly. "And not be mewed up in back chambers and attics any more!" broke in Harry. Young Robert had come to a climax of his admiration that morning. All that white tarle- Frank was sitting at the piano when the conton and illusion and roses and the sweet voice versation opened, touching the chords of an old singing out of it, had been too much for him. chant. She did not whirl about in her usual As the sweet voice ceased now he began pour- quick fashion when she was interested or starting out his thanks in rather glowing words. In led. She played through several bars, and then the midst of these words Mr. Hadley's voice turned slowly, with the words: struck in like a chill: "Have you told the lodgers?" "Frank, what is it your mother has against "All but Mr. Hadley," her mother answered, looking up involuntarily to see the effect of her me?" words. 66 "What "Yes, she has. I have noticed it on various occasions. On our first interview, I remember, she did not look upon me with favorable eyes by any means." It was the first time he had ever called her But Frank's face betrayed nothing if she felt Frank. This, and the rest of his sentence, surany thing. She said little, it was true; but Har-prised her out of her embarrassment. ry's voice was so industrious there was small 'Against you!" she exclaimed. chance for any other. And while he talked can you be thinking of? I am sure she has noshe turned to the piano, and commenced play- thing against you." ing again. And as she played Mr. Hadley came in, and Mrs. Stanhope disclosed her new arrangement to him at once. For a moment he looked grave and thoughtful; then he spoke pleasantly and kindly, congratulating them on that to which they evidently looked forward as a desirable change. And then he laughed, and took rather a jocose tone upon his own special interest in the matter, declaring that Mrs. Stanhope was turning him adrift in the most hardhearted manner. And through it all the music of that old chant went wailing. Frank never turned from where she sat but for a nod of greeting and good-night, and his stay was very brief that evening. A dimple in Frank's left cheek began to discover itself, and the next minute made a little well of frolic, as she burst into a laugh. She remembered that first interview too. "Well," exclaimed Mr. Hadley, joining in her laugh, "so I recollect also you laughed in my face at that first interview. Now, I insist on knowing what it all means.' "It doesn't mean that my mother has any thing against you individually, Mr. Hadley, I assure you." "Oh, it's collectively then; that's more encouraging.' But as he sat in his room quite late smoking he heard the weird and solemn music of chant and chorale played softly and fitfully. Frank did not mean to tell the story of her Long after it ceased, and his pipe was out, he mother's peculiar prejudice, but a little banterstill sat by the open window in the June twi-ing, a few adroit questions, and the whole matlight lost in thought. It was in the middle of the forenoon on the next day that Frank stood in Mr. Hadley's room dusting the elaborate carving of the oldfashioned mirror-frame. Working and singing away, she heard no sound, but was suddenly startled by Mr. Hadley's reflection in the mirror, as he crossed the threshold. He was in her thoughts, but she supposed him out of the house. The color rushed into her cheeks, and she put her hand to her head to pull off the white handkerchief with which she had covered her hair from the dust. "Wait a minute!" he remonstrated. "You look like a quaint French peasant-girl that way.' She made a little grimace, spite of her em-. barrassment, and said, saucily: "I had rather look like Miss Stanhope, any day. I've seen those great Normandy caps stuck on the French nurses' heads at Newport, and I think they are any thing but pretty." Whereupon she removed the handkerchief, and smoothed her ruffled hair with the prettiest of slim little hands. "Yes," he returned, smiling, "I think I like Miss Stanhope better." Then his eyes wandered to the mirror and back again to rest upon the slim little hands. "So," he said, "these are the hands that have kept my shabby old mirror so bright and shining? I fancy a good deal about here is the brighter for your presence. But what am I to do if I am to lose it ?" As he proposed this sudden question he bent upon her a look so full of meaning that the color sprang redly to her cheek again. There was a pause, in which one heart was certainly beating very rapidly; then he moved nearer to her, and in another, a graver tone asked, ter was very clear to Mr. Hadley's mental vision; clearer perhaps than to Frank herself. "Frank," he began, after this, "have you any thing against me, collectively or individually?" She laughed, then answered, half shyly, "No-nothing." "You do not object to my years, then? You do not disapprove of me for an inmate of your house because I am too young a man? Frank, how is it ; am I too old a man for you to become an inmate of my house? There's an old place down by Brelton Beach that bears my name. I went and put it in order the other day, and my housekeeper asked me when I was going to bring my wife there. I couldn't tell her then, and I can not tell her now, or ever, Frank, unless you will be my wife, for I will have no other." His voice had deepened into the most tender gravity as he uttered these last words. There was anxiety there too, for beyond a blush this proud little Frank, true daughter of her mother, had given no sign of her heart. But now all this was changed; and as she turned and let her eyes meet his, and as she put those slim little hands into his hands, he knew that he had no further cause for anxiety, for he knew that even as he loved her she had loved him. took her in his arms then and kissed her; but a little later, bending her head back, he looked into those eloquent eyes, and said half reprovingly, half smilingly: He "You proud little thing, to never give me any sign before." She laughed, and quoted: "He either fears his fate too much Or his desert's too small, Who dares not put it to the touch, And win or lose it all.'" And later yet, when he had his talk with Mrs. | the salmon of the Danube and the salmon trout Stanhope, he said to that lady: of the Rhine enjoy the wilder streams of America. "I think you must all have been blind, Mrs. Stanhope, not to have seen from the first that my interest was of the deepest nature. But you were bound, you know, by your prejudice," he added, mischievously, "to believe that I was the wolf in the sheep's clothing.' Mrs. Stanhope replied to this by speaking more at length on the whys and the wherefores of her "prejudice" than she had ever spoken before, except to her sister Alroyd. He respected and understood her motives better than she had hoped. "I see, I see," he answered, seriously; "and I think you are nearer right than wrong after all, Mrs. Stanhope. If all mothers were so delicate and careful of their daughters it would give a much finer tone to society." Then he returned to his mischievous gayety again. "But you are right only collectively, Mrs. Stanhope. Individually you have proved yourself wrongand a little morbid, too, or you would have seen what must have been so patent. Why, bless my soul, I believe I was even a little jealous of that boy Robert at one time." Mrs. Stanhope smiled as she recalled her different interpretation of his feeling about "that boy Robert. And, smiling, she said to herself: "I believe we were all blind in this matter." All blind perhaps but one. Cool and quiet and apparently unobserving Ellen only evinced no surprise when it was told her that Mr. Hadley was to be her brother-in-law. Before 1850 experiments had been made at the College of France, and with such success that in 1852 a Government institution was established at Huningue near Basle, covering seventy acres, abundantly supplied with spring water at a temperature of ten degrees centigrade. At the same time Mr. Ashworth began the propagation of salmon on a smaller scale in Galway. For ten years the French expended ten thousand dollars a year in the construction of ponds, conduits, buildings, and apparatus. The ova were principally gathered by skillful hands in Germany and Switzerland. On their arrival at Huningue they were examined, the quantity ascertained by certain stamped measures and carefully recorded, the healthy separated from the spoiled, and deposited in different little compartments for hatching. After two or three weeks those that remain alive are ready to be packed in wet moss, inclosed in wooden cases, and forwarded to various districts at the expense of Government. The ova are given away for restocking streams; but the parties who receive them are required to return detailed accounts of the success of their previous operation before a second supply can be granted, the demand being always in excess of the amount which can be spared. Huningue, M. Coste's last report shows, is a reservoir of "animal seed," large enough to spread salmon-the best substitute for beef-through all the rivers of France. The Danube salmon is most cultivated "I knew it was coming to that," she said, and most preferred for its size and flavor. It smilingly; "I saw it from the first. will grow, even without a visit to the sea, to two hundred pounds. It will flourish in a reservoir, accommodate itself to the most unpromising circumstances, and fatten as readily as fowls in a farm-yard. A friend of M. Coste threw some young salmon, born in the College of France, into a tank which supplied the Sèvres manufactory with water; at the end of eighteen months some of these weighed about a pound. Another friend reared some salmon in a local on crushed snails, and they grew to be the same weight, and were exceedingly acceptable on the table. By artificial means the salmon fisheries of Scotland and Ireland have now risen to the annual value of $150,000. The Duke of Richmond RANCE has taken the lead of the modern derives an income of $10,000 from the salmon Mr. Alroyd, who always had to have his say, declared coolly that he had seen it from the first, too; but Frank, making one of her drollest grimaces, asked him why then he had been so anxious for her to smile upon that remarkable young book-keeper of his. And Uncle Alroyd, who never liked to be put in the wrong in any way, could only shrug his shoulders at this and declare that Frank was entirely too hasty in her conclusions. FISH FARMING IN WESTERN NEW YORK. art of raising annual crops of fish; and has carried it out with a variety of kinds, on a generous scale, for the benefit of other countries as well as itself. Two humble Vosgean fishermen, Genin and Remy, deserve the credit of recovering this ancient branch of culture; but the French Government has seconded them with such unsparing liberality that several of the principal rivers of France have been restocked with salmon, trout, ombre, and fera: other countries have been aroused to imitation and supplied with materials for experiment, and by-and-by we shall be able to say here how well little river ment are extending the present system of pisciculture, impelled by the decline of the sea fisheries and the consequent loss of cheap food for the people. They find that ninety per cent. of the ova reach their places of destination in a sound state. In 1861 sixty-three French Departments and eleven foreign countries were supplied with sixteen millions and a half of eggs. They are improving the fishery laws so as to encourage the culture wherever parties are inclined, and introducing the best kinds of fish where none at present exist. They even sent a supply to this country. But, through the stu pidity of the custom-house officials, instead of be- | try, wherever there is an artificial pond to be ing forwarded instantly by express, the ova were stocked or a drained river to be filled with life detained a fortnight, without ice, in New York; again. of course, when they were received by Mr. Green the promise of four thousand salmon was no better than so many spoiled eggs; all had perished in the unnatural atmosphere, as Frank Buckland's experiments have shown that these ova will keep perfectly in a frozen state but will not endure any degree of heat. As thousands are having their attention drawn to this subject all through the United States we furnish a minute description of the essential parts of the process, that fish-lovers may see for themselves whether they have taste and time to embark in the business. The first thing is the hatching-house, which is roofed to prevent the hail from killing the young fish. It has three screened windows to moderate the sunlight, and a stove to make the operator comfortable in the winter season, the principal working-time. Mr. Green's house is forty feet by twenty-eight. To this building a stream of filtered water flows gently in through flannel screens and a bed of clean gravel. It then passes into the trough extending entirely across the end of the house, and thence by little gates into the several hatching-troughs. These troughs are subdivided into ninety squares for the convenience of distributing the spawn, checking the force of the current, preventing the trout from crowding together, and regulating the distribution of food. The bottom of each little box is white gravel, upon which the eggs, squeezed by a gentler pressure than milking, are carefully strewn-say four thousand in a box, in water an inch deep and clear as crystal. Below is a pond eighteen feet square, with two feet of water, where any trout would be detained that had escaped through the wire netting dividing each In Western New York a similar work to that of M. Coste has been carried on for three years with similar results. A practical sportsman and lover of nature, named sometimes "The Champion of the West" because of his unerring rifle and his facility in casting an eighty-foot line, has possessed himself of Caledonia Creek, a natural trout-ground a score of miles south of the city of Rochester. He has already achieved unequaled success in breeding river-trout by a method peculiarly his own, and seemingly easy of imitation. The bubbling brooklets on which this Seth Green's house stands have been known to the followers of Izaak Walton for fifty years as an inexhaustible supply of the most beautiful river-fish in the world. Nature has done every thing for the spot. These dainty little fellows love coolness, shade, retirement, and the insect food which wild land furnishes. The Caledonia Creek has no vocation but to murmur its own beauty, and tickle the taste of its aboriginal inhabitants with just the prey which these spotted darlings love. Taking the coolness of the rocks from which it springs, divid-box from its neighbor. Through a proper chaning into many branches, flowing over a white gravel bottom, and under the forest shadows so dear to the fish in spawning time, the temperature of the water continues nearly the same the year round, varying only five degrees from summer to winter. Through its whole extent the stream is literally alive with insects, with the larvæ of flies, with little snails, with shrimps, and other comforts, visible and invisible, which these hungry beauties crave. Turn over a stone any where in the stream, or take up a bit of moss drooping in the water, and all kinds of uneasy motions are made by tiny creatures trying to hide themselves from a new enemy. After visiting other and later preserves, where there is no natural shelter for the fish, and no supply of food but what the coarse hand of man distributes once a day, to return to this natural feeding-ground of the fish is like leaving a sun-burnt turnpike for some shady glen, where the birds sing, the flowers bloom, the squirrels play, and the heart hums its low notes of joy. What art has here added to nature is to aid the trout in the nursery department; to secure the ova from waste and destruction, and in a condition perfectly adapted to their development; to preserve the young from the unnatural appetite of the old, and from innumerable other enemies; to feed the ravenous throng before they can be trusted at large; then to spread these multiplied pets all over the coun nel again the water finds its way out into the Nearly all |