302 



Dialogue — Dairying. 



Vol. IV. 



ence there is between cows, in the products 

 of the dairy, even when fed and managed in 

 every respect in the same way. A very few 

 unprofitable cows will soon reduce the whole 

 concern to poverty. And I am something 

 amused to read the statements in books, of 

 the profits of a dairy, without the knowledge 

 and experience on the part of the writers, 

 that there is often about one hundred per 

 cent, difference in the value of cows in the 

 same dairy. Now, there is our neighbour, 

 Ross, in general a man of excellent judgment, 

 but, upon this subject, as thoughtless as a 

 child ; for he does not, I am sure, obtain 

 from his large dairy half the quantity of but- 

 ter that we do from ours, while the quality 

 and the price which we obtain are still greatly 

 in our favour. On examination, his cows are, 

 one half of them, worse than useless, for they 

 do not pay for their keep. These are those 

 that he has reared from old favourite cows,* 

 of no value in the dairy ; but, as members of 

 the family, have been looked up to with ven- 

 eration for many years, exhibiting all the 

 marks of an unprofitable breed for milk ; har- 

 dy, perhaps, with a tendency to fatten ; and 

 to this purpose they ought to be consigned 

 without mercy. Now, compare these ani- 

 mals with our Judy, Kate, and Nell, from 

 •which, as you know, we have, for many 

 weeks past, made twelve pounds each of but- 

 ter; and who exhibit in their forms every 

 quality^ of great milkers, namely, the thin 

 and soft skin and hair, light limbs, small 

 head, and thin neck, and above all, narrow 

 loins and rump ; for, according to our friend, 

 the Dishly sheep-breeder, this must be a 

 mark of the greatest importance, if, as he 

 says, " When an animal is narrow across the 

 back, the juices flow over it, and settle in the 

 belly, while on a wide and full-grown loin 

 they remain, and go to produce flesh and fat," 

 with udders large and full, and after milking, 

 more like white leather bags to the sight and 

 touch — these are the cows for a dairy, and 

 will pay for keeping, but not, even they, for 

 starving. 



Frank — But the pure Durhams, of which 

 we hear so much, and which cost so much, 

 too, are very different in their forms, and yet 

 the accounts of their yield of butter and milk 

 are enormous. 



Father. — True ; they might be called arti- 

 ficial cows, and by treating them artificially, 

 they have been made to perform wonders; 

 but I would not fear comparison with those 

 of ours above mentioned, under th^ same cir- 

 cumstances— (juantity of butter, for food con- 

 sumed — and there would be a very peculiar 

 difference observable in the quality of the 



• Old proverb—" The calf of a young cow, the pig of 

 an old sow," i.e. for tlic purpose of rearing stock. 



milk and butter of those enormously fat 

 beasts, when compared with that from ours, 

 —extremely rich of course, but witli a pecu- 

 liarity of flavour, and partaking of a meaty 

 consistence, very discernible to a delicate 

 taste — no disparagement, however, is meant; 

 they are noble animals, but, in my estimation, 

 better calculated for the cheese than the but- 

 ter dairy, and only pay when their keep is 

 high and strong. 



Frank. — Then, I begin to see that a great 

 difference in the advantage and profits of a 

 dairy must arise from the kind of cows which 

 are kept, independent of the cost and kind 

 of food which they consume ; and I can now 

 understand why it is that our neighbours 

 have remarked the peculiar fragrance of our 

 butter, observable on opening the churn, just 

 as the butter has " come." They have at- 

 tributed it to the fine pasture of our cows, 

 which, as they remark, being free from weeds, 

 the butter must, of course, be free from bad 

 taste or smell. 



Father. — This is, no doubt, the fact, but 

 with a different breed of cows, even this 

 grand and important item would not make 

 all the difference, for it is but natural that the 

 milk of an animal should partake, in a very 

 especial manner, of the juices and peculiar 

 constitution of that animal ; and it stands to 

 reason that the produce of a large, fat, beefy 

 cow, must be more coarse and strong-flavour- 

 ed than that of such as Judy, Kate, and Nell, 

 whose very breath is like the newly-mown 

 hay. 



Frank. — I have often been astonished to 

 see the cows that are generally kept by our 

 neighbours, when driven into their yards to 

 be milked, and to observe no difference in the 

 size of their udders after the operation, when 

 they are again turned to pasture. I believe 

 that some of them do not produce two pounds 

 of butter each, a week. 



Father. — I dare say they do not — but this 

 is only a part of the evil ; it is almost uni- 

 formly the case, that the milk of cows which 

 yield so little, is inferior in quality, and of- 

 tentimes extremely nauseous in flavour, be- 

 ing produced from a different part of the sys- 

 tem of the animal than that which is drawn 

 from great milkers ; and it is often contam- 

 inated with the impurities of that system, 

 drawn oft' at the time of milking. Now, 

 there are our neighbour Ticey's cows, they 

 are all large and half fat, but when I com- 

 pare his dairy account with mine, I find they 

 do not yield near the quantity of butter that 

 ours do, and are dry for three months in the 

 year, while you know that ours would never 

 go dry of themselves. 



Frank. — Yes, I know that; for you re- 

 member that Kate calved within two days of 



