The Brown Family in California 



By JASON BROWN 

 CHAPTER TEN 



ANENT RAISING PIGS 





TICK a pin in it," said Simpson, 

 "and tack it over the mantel piece." 

 "Stick a pin in what?" I asked, 

 amused by Simpson's queer phrase. 

 "That's just like you fellows," 

 said Simpson, without answering 

 my question. "You come way out 

 here to California from your New 

 England farm, and you're so used 

 to cultivating rocks all the time and gathering a 

 sure crop every fall and spring that you expect 

 the California climate to do everything." 



"Now, Mr. Simpson," said my Ethel, protesting, 

 "here you are criticizing us New Englanders in 

 California and we don't know what you're talking 

 about." 



"Pigs," replied Simpson, sententiously. 



"Pigs?" we asked, all at once. 



"Yes, indeed; pigs," said Simpson. "Hogs, or 

 swine. It don't matter much by what name you 

 call 'em. There's so many of the two-legged kind 

 that sometimes it's confusing. But there's money 

 in these same pigs in California." 



"The four-leggers?" inquired Robert. 



"Yes, Bobbie," said Simpson, "and I was just 

 thinking that a sign with 'There's money in pigs' 

 painted on it would be a mighty good thing for 

 most of us people who are letting our chances go 

 by, to stick over the mantelpiece. There are hun- 

 dreds of carloads of hogs brought into California 

 every year," continued Simpson, "to say nothing 

 of hams, bacon and all sorts of hog products. I 

 understand that seven-eighths of all the hog 

 products consumed in California are imported, al- 

 though the packing houses have a capacity far 

 above the supply and are willing to pay their 

 good money for all the hogs we will sell them." 



"Why do you say we are letting our chances 

 go by by not raising hogs?" asked my good wife. 

 "Couldn't you say that of any profitable branch 

 of farming which we neglect to take up?" 



"It's just this, Mrs. Brown; I think everybody 

 who has a few dairy cows makes a mistake if he 

 doesn't keep hogs to consume the skim milk. 

 Skim milk of itself has no value, but when it is 

 converted into hog meat it turns into money. 

 Now, you have a few pigs and you are doing 

 well, but while I could easily keep a couple of 

 hundred head of hogs on the Estudillo rancho, I 

 don't do it. Why? Because I'm Simpson. I'm just 

 Simpson, manager of the Estudillo rancho, and for 

 twenty years I've thought of nothing but raising 



