In presenting these figures, I hope you will not think me a visionary. I do not think it is possible to get a cow to produce 3 lbs. of cheese a day throughout the whole year. But I do think it quite possible to so breed and feed a cow that she will produce 3 lbs. of cheese per day, _or its equivalent_ in veal, flesh, or fat. We frequently have cows that produce 3 lbs. of cheese a day for several weeks; and a cow _can_ be so fed that she will produce 3 lbs. of cheese a day without losing weight. And if she can extract this amount of matter out of the food for a part of the year, why can not she do so for the whole year? Are the powers of digestion weaker in the fall and winter than in spring and summer? If not, we unquestionably sustain great loss by allowing this digestive power to run to waste. This digestive power costs us 20 lbs. of hay a day. We can ill afford to let it lie dormant. But the Deacon will tell me that the cows are allowed all the food they will eat, winter and summer. Then we must, if they have digestive power to spare, endeavor to persuade them to eat more. If they eat as much hay or grass as their stomachs are capable of holding, we must endeavor to give them richer hay or grass. Not one farmer in a thousand seems to appreciate the advantage of having hay or grass containing a high percentage of nutriment. I have endeavored to show that a cow eating six tons of hay, or its equivalent, in a year, would produce 400 lbs. of cheese, worth $60. While a cow capable of eating, digesting, and turning to good account, nine tons of hay, or its equivalent, would produce 1,090 lbs. of cheese, or its equivalent in other products, worth $162. “I am sorry to interrupt the gentleman,” said the Deacon with mock gravity. “Then pray don’t,” said I; “I will not detain you long, and the subject is one which ought to interest you and every other farmer who keeps his cows on poor grass in summer, and corn-stalks and straw in winter.” I was going to say, when the Deacon interrupted me, that the stomach of a cow may not allow her to eat nine tons of hay a year, but it will allow her to eat six tons; and if these six tons contain as much nutriment as the nine tons, what is the real difference in its value? Ordinarily we should probably estimate the one at $10 per ton, and the other at $15. But according to the above figures, one is worth $10 per ton and the other $27. To get rich grass, therefore, should be the aim of the American dairyman. I hope the Deacon begins to see what connection this has with a large pile of rich manure.