32 ALFALFA FARMING IN AMERICA. 
That year came when we had 1,200 lambs. We 
had learned how to feed them by this time, and 
they were as alike as peas, and ripe and fine as they 
could be. The commission merchants down in Buf- 
falo had learned to watch for our lambs and to prize 
them. They had an alfalfa quality about them that 
no one could attain except he had alfalfa. We had 
fed them this winter altogether on alfalfa hay and 
ear corn, all grown at home, and we had hay left 
over enough to sell to our neighbors; some of whom 
needed hay with which to do their spring plowing. 
Well, we sold the lambs, one load at a time, and the 
checks came back and we laid them down on the 
bankers’ counter. Now we owed no one in the world 
but this bank, but we owed it a lot of money. Stead- 
ily despite the fact that we had economized, had rid- 
den in our old buggies and worn our old clothes, 
this debt had grown, and at last it had become a 
serious burden on our minds; it seemed incredible 
that it would ever be paid. 
At last the last check had come. With a fast beat- 
ing heart the writer laid it down on the bankers’ 
eounter. ‘‘Here it is. The lambs are all sold; is 
it enough to pay that note?’’ The banker smiled; 
he was a good fellow. ‘‘Yes, plenty to pay it, and 
some over,’’ and he handed the note through the 
window, cancelled. The writer looked at it; how 
huge then the amount of it seemed! He tore off the 
signature and turned anxiously again. ‘‘Tell me,”’’ 
he asked, ‘‘how much is there left???’ The banker 
figured for a moment and presented with a smiling 
