There is hardly one thing which conduces more to the comfort of a
family than a good cow. A family well supplied with rich milk twice a
day cannot have poor fare; for, besides the use of pure milk by
itself, there is no article, except flour, which enters into so many
forms of cooking. Next in importance to the family, are the relations
of the cow to the dairy; we say _next_ to the family, for it is more
important that there should be good cows for private families than
that dairies should have them. All the dairy herds might be destroyed,
and if each family has its cow, the loss would be bearable. But take
from families their one cow, and all the dairies in the land could not
compensate.
The question of a good breed of milch cows is important, then, to the
whole community; to the dairymen of course; but yet more to the
families of laborers, mechanics, merchants, etc.
Everybody knows that it costs no more to keep a good cow than a poor
one. But what is the use in talking so when good ones are not to be
had? or to be had only at a price which not one in fifty can afford?
But so far as we are concerned, and so far as ninety-nine in a hundred
are concerned, of what use are these accounts except to make us
dissatisfied with our poor old cow without enabling us to get a
better? It was all right to publish them, but the sight of such facts
reminded us of the low estate of our milk cows, and of the woeful
carelessness of farmers about improving their stock.
It is high time that farmers should endeavor to procure a good milk
breed. It is well known that horses and oxen are almost bred to order;
if a fore shoulder is too slight, a breeder crosses so that in the
next generation it comes out right; if the animal is too small he is
enlarged; if too large he is condensed; if the back is too long, the
leg too heavy, the muscle too spare, the head heavily or clumsily put
on, the breeder has skill, in a great measure, to remedy the evils.
Why then should it not be thought both possible and worth while to
breed for good milking properties?
The least trouble, not the best stock, seems to be the question with
most. The discouragement of debt, the low prices of all farm products,
the habits of arrant carelessness which naturally belong to large
farms, of rich lands, removed from a ready market, and on which there
is more than enough for home use, and much waste of the surplus
because a poor sale for it; these things are the causes why but little
attention is paid to good stock. To be sure, in speculating times,
large prices have been paid for animals of repute. And now, if fancy
prices could be realized, there are thousands who would beg, borrow,
or steal enough to rush madly into the raising of improved breeds.
Even from such extravagance much collateral advantage results. Many,
doubtless, are disappointed, as they expected angelic cattle, and got
nothing but flesh and blood; those who are the most furious in one
extreme, revolt to the other, and are as careless and neglectful this
year, as they were cattle-mad the last year. But, some good,
notwithstanding, remains. Good breeds have been brought in. Good blood
will run longer in good stock, than perseverance, often, will in their
owners. Here and there a man holds on. His stock improves. His
neighbor’s herds are gradually leavened. By and by particular counties
grow famous for their fine stock. The farmers feel some pride in it;
and now the thing begins to work rightly. When once the best stock, of
any kind, is a matter of hearty personal pride with the farmer, over
and above the mere price of them in market, then there will be
constant and solid improvement.
These remarks, applying to stock generally, are peculiarly applicable
to the subject of milch cows with which we set out.
* * * * *
DAHLIAS.—It is necessary to give your plants a strong support, for, in
good seasons, they grow so thriftily, that rains and winds break down
the branches even when the main stalk is strongly staked. Those who
are willing to be at the trouble, should put three stakes so as to
leave the stem in the middle. Take a pliant withe, or small hoop, and
encircle the stakes at the top, the middle, and also about a foot from
the ground. In this way the branches will lean on the hoops, and not
be liable to split off; a few weeks’ growth will cover and conceal the
stakes and hoops, leaving to the eye only a mass of foliage,
apparently, self-sustained.