In my garden I made a large parsnip bed, and followed my earliest peas with carrots, so that in the fall there were several bushels of these roots. The carrots were buried in the garden, a mellow loam, and the parsnips left in the ground. The former were opened during a thaw in February, and a few fed to “June” each day, lasting until the end of March; by that time I could get the parsnips and they have just given out. When I began the roots the grain was gradually withheld and she has had none since February. These roots have had a most apparent effect, giving her coat a bright, thrifty look, and she is in fine condition for calving, which is expected in ten days. But the roots made it hard to dry off the cow. She was shrinking in milk fast when we began on the carrots, then started up again and was giving about three quarts a day in March, when the milk (and especially the cream) began to have a sharp, unpleasant, bitter taste, and we soon had to give up using it. It then took a fortnight to dry her off, which was done by lessening the roots, milking not quite dry, then only once a day, and once in two days. Water has been offered three times a day, through the year, all she would drink, salt has always been within her reach. All summer, and every mild, dry day in winter, “June” has passed some hours in the stable yard. A large amount of bedding has been necessary, and for this I have used the waste hay, the rakings of the yard last autumn, the scrapings of the garden walks, garden litter, and the leaves from a row of maple trees in front of the house, carefully saved for the purpose. So much in the stall, “June” has required more personal care, and it has been made a rule to rub and brush her body enough to keep it clean and free from dead skin. But I never use a harsh card; nothing is better for rubbing than a piece of old seine or very coarse bagging. Everything about the cow, too, is kept clean and sweet. The result of this continuous stabling has been a rapid accumulation of manure, and this having been mixed with all the suitable refuse of the place, and forked over several times, I this spring have on hand a huge pile of rich compost. It is more than can be used on the garden, and the newer part has been corded up under a temporary shed for sale or future use. This alone well pays for all my extra work in keeping the cow, as I have yearly been obliged to buy for the garden. Our plan during the year has been to sell a little milk to neighbors, set aside two quarts daily for family use, cream and all. The cream from the remainder has been made into butter, and an accurate account kept of the butter produced. The following is the result of this first year keeping one cow: EXPENSES: