The cream from my Jerseys was so thick that the cream crock could be lifted up by the wooden spoon used for stirring, by merely plunging it into the crock full of cream and raising it, without touching the crock in any other way. With fifteen cows and heifers in milk on an average, the Jerseys brought me in quite £300 a year in butter and cream, without considering the value of the calves, and of the skim-milk for the pigs, and they were worth a good deal besides from the æsthetic point of view. I think that the word "dainty" describes the Jersey better than any other adjective; their beautiful lines and colouring in all shades of fawn and silver grey make them a continual delight to behold. After all, however, the shorthorn is a magnificent creature; they, too, have their aesthetic side; the outline is more robust, their colouring more pronounced, and I think that "stately" is the best description to apply to their distinguished bearing. At Worcester, on market days, a great deal of butter is brought in by the country people and retailed in the Market Hall, and many of these farmers' wives and daughters have regular customers, who come each week for their supply. On one occasion when the inspector of weights and measures was making a surprise visit, and testing the weights of the goods on offer, a man, standing near a stall where only one pound of butter was left unsold, noticed that as soon as the owner became aware of the inspector's entrance, she slipped two half-crowns into the pat, obliterating the marks where they had been inserted. She was evidently aware that the butter was not full weight, but with the addition it satisfied the inspector's test, the two half-crowns just balancing the one ounce short. No sooner was he gone than the spectator came forward to buy the butter. She guessed that he had seen the trick, and dared not refuse to sell, although she tried hard to avoid doing so; so the cunning buyer walked off with fifteen ounces of butter worth 1s. 2d., and 5s. in silver for his outlay of 1s. 3d. In farm-houses where old-fashioned ways of butter-making are still followed, and the thermometer is ignored, it happens sometimes that after some hours' churning the butter does not "come." The traditional remedy is then tried of introducing one or two half-crowns into the churn, partly, I think, as a kind of charm, and partly with the idea of what is called "cutting the curd." The remedy is certainly sometimes successful, probably the coins set up a new movement in the rotating cream, which causes an almost immediate appearance of the butter. On the outside of the framework of the windows in some of these old places, the word "dairy" or "cheese-room" may still be seen, painted or incised. This is a survival from the days of the window tax, and was necessary to claim the exemption which these rooms as places of business enjoyed by law.