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our butter shrink in weight that we wished they 

 hadn't. 



Other products of our farm sold on commission have 

 had various mishaps. Once when returns came for 

 some perishable goods part of the stuff was reported 

 "lost." What that meant was a mystery. We knew 

 it had not had time to " perish." So not until a few 

 Sundays ago did it dawn upon us what that mysterious 

 word "lost" might mean. 



A minister, whose work was in Chicago for a number 

 of years, during his earnest, eloquent sermon to our 

 small congregation of farmers, told a story. The story 

 need not be repeated; but in it there was a family in 

 want. " Now " said the preacher, " Chicago is a won- 

 derful place for benevolence ; if I needed anything, I 

 had just to ask for it and I would get it. If I wanted 

 a basket of provisions, all I had to do was to go down 

 on Water street and there was no trouble getting the 

 basket filled. Those men are very liberal." I think, 

 dear hearers, you are all charitable enough to excuse the 

 quiet nudge and the eye telegraphy that flashed around 

 as the thought came of what might have been in that 

 basket. 



Still, while we farmers do a great deal of gossiping 

 and scolding about commission men, we can't get 

 along without them — the good ones I mean; and no 

 doubt much of the blame we attach to them may be 

 traced right home to our own farms. 



About the profit of our dairy, we are yet unable to see 

 "millions in it," but look hopefully forward to a time 

 when we will — that time when we possess all the mod- 

 ern work-saving improvements — a milking machine 

 included; that time w T hen oleo and butter ine, if colored 

 at all, will be colored green or anything but butter 

 color, just so the man who eats it may know what he 



