Evening star., 1932-05-23

Suddenly the net descended, amid the
mad futter Of scores Of little bodies,
and three Of them came Hopping into
the paper bucket to begin new life.
The fish didn't know anything about
1t, Of course, but Jones did, and he
wondered how 1t would feel to be q
goldfish, and to be scooped up and
transported to pool already inhabited
by waterlily, Q cat-tail, q hyacinth
and q poppy.
Perhaps it would help, If one were a
goldfish. to feel that one were bound on
the high mission Of restoring the bal
ance Of nature.
The goal, of course, was q sweet con-
dition Of quiet piece Of water, exactly
"A inches In diameter, and as round
as round as q waShtub, exactly.
The sun shone on the water, trying to
lure the hardy lily, Odorata minor, to
push a leaf out: and certain algae re-
sponded, tending to give the surface a
poor look.
Now the snail would eat the algae,
and the oxygenating plants would give
the fish air, and between them all the
water would be kept pure, at least pure
enough for waterlilies and goldfish.
Jones felt like composing another
song, to be entitled Balancing Nature
in Tub" but he didn't. There were
enoug n songs In the world already, and
enough poems, too.
Consider those famous lines, lode on
Goldfishes." Whoever heard of cat
drowning Of its own free will. and espe-
cially in tub of goldfshes?
Jones shifted the bucket to the LETT
hand. Suppose it should begin to leak?
After all, 1t was nothing but cardboard,
and the contents were not ice cream.
1t would be calamity, he thought.
II the bottom should come out, and
those poor fish would flop onto the
pavement in the hot afternoon sun.
In such an event, should he gather
the fishes up in his paper and run into
the nearest store, hastily crying for
water?
Such q course would be embarrass-
ing to say the least, but Jones had been
in many embarrassing positions in his
time. Once he had taken a full-grown
lemon pie home in a street car. If any
one doesn't believe this is difficult, let
him try it. especially If the pie Is merely
wrapped in paper.
1t happened many years ago, but
Templeton Jones still remembers that
lemon pie and its inclination to break
asunder, and the glances Of the ladies.
and the prods Of thoughtless fellow pas
sengers' elbows.
Then there was the big electric fan
which he bore home one hot Summer
afternoon. This was a street car jour-
ney, likewise, with every seat taken and
most of the straps engaged.
Balancing q heavy fan In one hand
while trying to keep ones own balance
and prevent the contrivance from fall
ing upon some ones head
Well. it was a feat only exceeded In
difficulty by that of personally trans
porting-also on public conveyance
large glass lamp shade, in the days
when such things cost big money.
Jones recalled 1t well. 1t was on a
cold. Wintry day when the wind was
blowing strongly from the West. The
man wrapped the shade in tissue paper.
yards Of it, securely entwined, as he
thought and as Jones hoped.
The nd/fooled them both.
1t whipped the tissue out like bride s
train or the smoke from locomotive
engine And when aboard the bus,
there stood LONESOME always stood in
those days-with yards and yards of It's
sue paper flowing down the aisle. the
delicate globe in danger of being shat
tered by what seemed to be million
rude elbows.
Yes, Templeton Jones had brought
'em home in his time-a bucket of gold
nothing at all to such q wan.
Let us leave him there, standing on
the corner in the sunshine, swinging
his bucket gingerly, waiting for his bus
homeward bound to balance nature in q
two-foOt mol