The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1904-10-09

IF you have been out recently to feed
the goldfish in the lily pond at
Como you will have noticed that
even the plumpest one shivers oc-
casionally as he darts through the
water to such shelter as the platter
like leaves of the Victoria regis af-
fords him.
The truth of the matter is these are
chilly mornings and evenings Tor the
goldfish family and one can well i'm
agine Mrs. Goldfish announcing to Mr..
Goldfish with great maternal anxiety
that Johnny Goldfish's throat is very
bad indeed and that Baby Goldfish Is
croupv and that unless the Como park
officials arrange for their moving
south Immediately, she doesn't know
what they will do.
South for the goldfish is not really
very far away,-just a matter or a Few
feet, indeed, but moving the goldhsh
south is something of task. In the
first place, the lily pond which, IN
the autumnal days, is found to be three
inches lower each morning, must be
drained until there is just enough
water in the bottom to support life In
the squirming little yellow occupants.
Then rude men with nets scoop them
UP and place them in tubs filled with
water which stand ready by the SIDE OF
the pond.
If the spring and fall movings strike
terror to the souls Of humans. these
semi-annual movings of the goldfish
family must be regarded with even
greater horror by the tiny yellow am
phibia. for 1t must often happen that
Mr.. Goldfish and Mrs. Goldfish and
Johnny Goldfish and Baby Goldfish ind
themselves in separate tubs. However,
If there is cruel separation In the
tubs, there are happy reunions In the
troughs.
Winter Home of Goldfish
The troughs are the southern home of
the Como goldfish. They are to be
found in the greenhouses, where sum-
mer is eternal. They are filled with
running water and they are placed IN
a setting of palms and beautiful hot
house plants. Very dyspeptic and
rheumatic, indeed, must be the gold
fish who finds fault with his winter
quarters.
But the goldfish have not been
moved. The waxen petals of the
naughty Victoria regis still float on the
limpid surface of the lily ponu ana
it's pink and purple cousins bravely
display an occasional blossom. Never
theless there is no mistaking the fact
that the melancholy days have already
arrived at Como park. The scarlet
flowers that border the pond snow
that they have felt the biting breath or
Jack Frost. They droop sadly over the
water. Most of the willows that fringe
the big lake have DOTTED their NANTES
and shiver in their nakedness at every
autumn blast. On the unfrequented
paths one walks ankle deep In dead
leaves and most of the lawn spaces are
covered with them.
Next week Victoria raging, tank
she CO." remarked a park policeman
pensively one day last week as ne
loitered beside the lily pond.
It was day of idleness for the gray
coated guardian and he seemed to re-
sent the fact that there were no picnic
jewellers for him to follow with sus-
picious eye or to caution. But II the
park policeman found that time hung
heavily on his hands, the group of gar
deners down in the greenhouse were
busy enough. Three of them stood be-
fore a long table piled high with
fresh smelling earth and filled as fast
as they could small flower pots ID