“My girl was telling me, ma’am, how a neighbour wondered why her cow’s milk was not so good as ours; and how, with all the trouble she took, her husband complained, and the children left half their breakfast in their basins. The thing was clear enough. She milked her cow into the first pail that came to hand, and let the milk stand in the heat and smoke of the kitchen, in pans that had been used for potatoes, or any thing else they might have had for dinner the day before. My girl told her she might take a lesson from the cow herself; for no cow will taste a drop from a vessel that has held grease. The very breath of the cow is sweet enough to show what care should be taken to keep her milk pure. There is nothing so disgusting in the way of food as tainted milk; and nothing to my mind, ma’am, so wholesome as fresh, rich milk, as sweet as the new-mown grass. Do me the favour to taste some, miss, and I think you will say so too.” When we had finished our delicious draught, we took our leave of Mrs. Johnson, agreeing that it was certainly a good thing for her that her husband followed my father’s advice about his allotment of land, as she seemed so happy among her cows that it was difficult to imagine how she would have lived without one. ---------------------------- CHAPTER VIII. SMALL FARMING. “See the results of the judicious application of capital,” said my father, one fine spring day, when I rode with him and Mr. Malton round the thriving property of the latter. After enjoying the view of the manifold tokens of prosperity which surrounded us, we were struck by the appearance of a field which looked by far less flourishing than any we had seen. “What is the matter here, sir?” said my father. “What have you been doing to keep back this field while all the rest have been improving?” “Pray do not take this field for one of mine. It belongs to neighbour Norton; and I am afraid that, cheap as he has bought it, he will find it a dear bargain.” “I feared,” said my father, “that he would not have sufficient capital to keep his land in good condition.” “Look here,” said Mr. Malton, “this next field is his too, and there he is among the labourers. You may know him now, poor fellow, by his shabby looks. Those labourers are mine, and they appear more creditable, every one, than he. And there is not one of them that does not live in a better house than that of his. That is his cottage yonder. What a tumble-down place for a landed proprietor to live in! Better call one’s-self a labourer, in my opinion, and have plenty to eat, and a whole roof over one’s head, than pinch and starve for the sake of owning a couple of fields.” “Yes, indeed. But how does it happen that your labourers are at work in his field?”