The standard of education makes labour, albeit highly paid, skilful and trustworthy. The farm-workers and meat-factory hands are clean, efficient, and fully alive to the need for sanitary precautions. The horrors described in Upton Sinclair’s “Jungle” are impossible in New Zealand for many reasons. Of these, the first is that the men employed in meat factories would not tolerate their existence. There are thirty-seven establishments in the colony for meat freezing and preserving, employing over three thousand hands and paying nearly £300,000 a year in wages. The value of their output is about £5,000,000 a year, and the bulk of it is exported to the port of London. The weight of meat sent to the United Kingdom last year was two hundred and thirty-seven million pounds avoirdupois. Then there are about three hundred and twenty dairy-butter or cheese factories, without counting a larger outer circle of skimming stations. To these the dairy-farmers send their milk, getting it back after skimming. That completes their share of the work; expert factory hands and managers do the rest. As for meat-freezing, from beginning to end the industry is scientifically managed and carefully supervised. At its inception, a quarter of a century ago, the flocks of the colony were healthy and of good strains of blood. But they were bred chiefly to grow wool, and mainly showed a basis of Merino crossed with Lincoln or Leicester. Nowadays the Romney Marsh blood predominates in the stud flocks, especially in the North Island. Lincoln, Leicester, Merino, Border Leicester, Shropshire, and South Down follow in order. For five-and-twenty years our breeders have brought their skill to bear on crossing, with a view to producing the best meat for the freezing factory, without ruining the quality of their wool. They still face the cost and trouble of importing stud sheep from England, though their own selected animals have brought them good prices in South America, Australia, and South Africa. Flocks and herds alike are subjected to regular inspection by the veterinary officers of the Department of Agriculture; and though the slaughter-yards and factories of the freezing companies are models of order, speed, and cleanliness, the Government expert is there too, and nothing may be sold thence without his certificate, for every carcase must bear the official mark. From the factory to the steamer, from one end of the earth to the other, the frozen carcases are vigilantly watched, and the temperature of the air they are stored in is regulated with painful care. As much trouble is taken to keep freezing chambers cold as to keep a king’s palace warm. The shipping companies are as jealously anxious about the condition of their meat cargoes as they are for the contentment of their passengers and the safety of their ships. At the London Docks the meat is once more examined by a New Zealand official, and finally at Smithfield, as the carcases are delivered