THE MILK MACHINE 321 
the four oak leaves stamped on each mould was 
a sufficient guarantee of excellence. My city 
grocer urged a larger product, and I felt safe in 
promising it; at the same time, I held him up 
for a slight advance in price. Heretofore it had 
netted me 32 cents a pound, but from January 1, 
1898, I was to have 334 cents for each pound 
delivered at the station at Exeter, I agreeing to 
furnish at least 50 pounds a day, six days in a 
week. 
This was not always easily done during the 
first eight months of that year, and I will con- 
fess to buying 640 pounds to eke out the supply 
for the colony ; but after the young heifers came 
in, there was no trouble, and the purchased 
butter was more than made up to our local 
grocer. 
It will be more satisfactory to deal with dairy 
matters in lump sums from now on. The con- 
tract with the city grocer still holds, and, though 
he often urges me to increase my herd, I still 
limit the supply to 300 pounds a week, — some- 
times a little more, but rarely less. I believe 
that 38 to 44 cows in full flow of milk will 
make the best balance in my factory; and a 
well-balanced factory is what I am after. 
I am told that animals are not machines, and 
that they cannot be run as such. My animals 
are; and I run them as I would a shop. There 
is no sentiment in my management. If a cow 
or a hog or a hen doesn’t work in a satisfactory 
ze 
