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I have said, "Go! Go! You are joined to your idols. Go, and don't come back. Don't bring your milk here. You are absolutely abandoned, and disgrace this institution, and you know it." But the man would come back and say, "I want to sell you my milk; I can't do anything with it." One day he said, "If I undertake to make butter, nobody will buy it." I said, "You are right." Now, that man represents a large number of men in Wisconsin, and represents a large number of men everywhere. It is shiftlessness, not a keen, sharp recognition of amenability to the law of one's environment. It cost that man thirty dollars a year to keep his cows, and he got a margin of ten dollars. It cost the other man I will say forty dollars, and he got a margin of twenty-three dollars, and the skim-milk was returned. I would pay McPherson fifteen dollars a head for his skim-milk. His cows average over six thousand pounds of milk apiece. He is intelligent enough to be a winter dairyman, and makes his milk when it is worth the most. The other man is a summer dairyman, and makes it when it is cheapest.

This difficulty confronts us in Wisconsin as it does you. It reminds me of that good old hymn, "From Greenland's Icy Mountains." You remember the verse,

"Where every prospect pleases,

And only man is vile."

Mr. BELA J. STONE. I would like to ask how that man improved his herd? What cows did he breed from, in place of the grade Shorthorns? I would like to ask also whether the governor pays the same price per hundred pounds for all the milk.

Governor HOARD. I have no time to go into a long explanation. I think our creamery was the first in the United States to undertake to solve this problem of pooling. We separate the milk by a centrifugal separator. We have what we call the Jersey vat, and another that we call the common vat. We have a large number of high Jersey and Guernsey grades around Fort Atkinson, and we made a provision that all the milk from cows with fifty per cent Jersey or Guernsey blood should go into the Jersey vat,

and that the common milk should go into the common vat. There is a certain injustice in that. There were certain cows in those common herds that

gave just as rich milk as the others, but we had to strike some line. We conduct the business in that way. I have been trying to instruct those people for twenty years to improve their fortunes by improving their cows. That man of whom I spoke brought his herd of cows up from one hundred and fifty pounds to three hundred and fifty-seven; and he did it first by breeding, secondly by feeding, and thirdly by handling. Those three things, as I said last night to you, constitute the sum total of the dairy gospel. But these men that we are bothered with, these men who keep back the salvation of God, these men who cause the church to mourn, these men who will not attend the dairy meetings, these men who refuse to be known as dairy Christians, —I don't know of anything that will move them, unless it is, as I said a few moments ago, a funeral. Their eyes are set. I have given them up. I had much rather take one of their boys.

Now, we have a large number of Germans. Seventy per cent of the population of my county is German. They are of such quality and character that if we can get hold of them it helps. I will give you one little story. About thirteen. or fourteen years ago a German came to me; I will call him Karl Streider. He came into my office and he said: "I hear you talk so much dairy. I have got my sixty acre land; I get my milk, big milk, on that land, and I don't know what I do. I feel I work, I work so hard, - mine Gott, I can't help myself; and I think maybe if I was in the dairy pezness that would help me a little." Well, the simple, kindly appeal of the man touched my heart. I said, "Karl, we will try; we will take hold of it. There is always good, hard sense to be used in making a man's fortune." Karl said, "I have got me no money; I can't go into the dairy pezness that way; I can't buy this thing and buy that thing." I said, "How many cows have you got, Karl?” This is a simple story, commencing at hard-pan, and I want it to carry a lesson. He said: "I have got nine cows, and I sell my butter in the town to the store-keeper. He stick

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up his hands and he say, 'That more stinks as butter,' and that makes me discouraged. I don't know what I do." I said: "Look here, Karl. The difficulty is, you have never thought that butter is the product of the highest skill; you have sold no skill. You are like a thousand other farmers, who never think for a moment that they can sell skill. We will correct that. You have got money enough to buy two kerosene barrels." I knew I had got down to the very bottom facts of that man's fortune. 66 Surely," he said. I said: "They will cost you a dollar and twenty cents. Burn out the oil, then buy five dollars' worth of lumber, and build a rude shanty over them. Then go and buy some shotgun cans down at the tinsmith's, and put your milk in them, and, instead of keeping your milk in the house, fill those barrels with water, and put the cans in them. Your wife has been setting the milk in the house, and the smell of the cooking and all the smells of wash-day go into your butter." Well, the result of it was, that he started in at an expense of about fifteen dollars. He told me his wife kept saying, Karl, that Yankee is a humbug ; " but he kept on, and when the time came he took off his coat, churned the butter, put it up in a twenty-pound package, and brought the package to me. I tasted the butter and sent it to a commission man in Chicago, with a letter in which I said: "These are the first fruits of righteousness from my friend Karl Streider. Sell this butter for what it is worth, I know it is good butter, and send me the account of sales and your check." It sold for twenty-four cents a pound. Butter was selling in the cross-road markets at that time for about fourteen or sixteen cents. I drove down to that little Dutchman's house, and I tell you, my dear friends, I never felt better in all my life than when I took that check in and said, “Karl, there is your money for that tub of butter, -twenty pounds, -twenty-four cents a pound." It was a light that broke through the woods. Twenty-four cents a pound!" he said, "Mine Gott!" He looked at the check, and then caught his wife about the waist, and, with the check uplifted, went waltzing round the floor, exclaiming, "Lusette! Lusette! Mine Gott! that is no humbug." That man is worth to-day somewhere in the neighborhood of fifteen or

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twenty thousand dollars, with a two-hundred-acre farm and seventy or eighty cows; and every little while he sends me a tub of butter and says, "To my good friend, who showed me how." Now, there are hundreds of such instances that have come under my own observation. My friends, that system can be just as profitably employed in New England as it can in Wisconsin. We do not differ so much as the stars in glory. Our interests are about alike, and all blessed influences will act alike upon the one and the other.

Mr. W. W. RAWSON. I have been referred to in some of the remarks which have been made as being one of the market gardeners. Of course, being interested in that business, I know what concentration means, not only in market gardening, but in all kinds of farming. The reason why a good many farms are deserted, is because they are not worth cultivating. There is no such thing to-day as overproduction in Massachusetts. I thought a few years ago, when I first launched out in the market gardening business, that there might be such a thing; but I doubled my business, and found I did all the better. There was a time when we thought we could not raise lettuce for less than a dollar per dozen; now I should be very glad to get fifty cents. There was a time when we thought we could not grow it in hot-houses, but were obliged to grow it under glass outside. That has all been done away with. It took me seven years to get there. You have been given to understand how this thing has been accomplished. It has been accomplished by patience, by constant work, and by study. Study your business, understand the land that you cultivate, get all the information you can in relation to the business that you are carrying on, and make a specialty of some few articles, because any one of the articles that you might produce at the present time will give you a living. I am carrying on at this present time three distinct businesses, and any one of them will give me a good living at any time.

The young men of to-day, I think, have a better chance than the young men of ten or twenty years ago, even in farming. They have opportunities to-day for acquiring knowledge which some of us did not have ten or twenty

years ago. They have the land which is at their disposal, they have the markets, which you all know are the best in the world. There is no such market in this country or in any other country as the Boston market, and there are no such vegetables or produce of any kind shown in the market anywhere, or shown in such good shape, as in the Boston market. All of you know that, and I would advise you to take the advice of one of the speakers here, and go to the Boston market once in a while yourselves. I go there every day.

I do not wish to take up the time, Mr Chairman. I think that the trouble in most cases with farming at the present time is with the man, not with the farm. All it requires is intelligence, brains and capital.

Mr. PETERSON. I would like to inquire, of those who have the figures, if within the last seventy-five years farming lands in New England were ever cheaper in price than they are to-day.

Dr. TWITCHELL. I cannot answer the gentleman's question, save so far as it relates to my own State, except that the remark has been made, by some of those who are gathering statistics in other States, that farm property has never been so cheap as to-day. It is so in the State of Maine, outside of Aroostook County. There farm property was never so high as it is at the present time; and in certain sections of the State, where special work is being done and special results obtained, the same condition of things exists. But general farm property is low in Maine, low in New Hampshire; and I judge, from the papers I receive from your own State, that it is low in Massachusetts.

Recess until two o'clock.

AFTERNOON SESSION.

The meeting re-assembled soon after two o'clock, Mr. HARTSHORN in the chair.

Secretary SESSIONS. I have a question here that need not take any great length of time in discussion: "Must we cement our barn cellars in order to save the liquid manure

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