taken away.  “Then why not take it at one?” said I; but was informed that we must not deprive her of it for a week.  However, I am bound to confess that our first week’s farming turned out badly, for the cow would not be milked, quietly, and every morning we were informed that two men were obliged to be called in to hold her while she was milked.  At the end of the week we sold the calf for five dollars, and after a month the cow became on quite friendly terms with her milker, and has proved ever since very profitable to our small diary.

We did not contemplate making butter with one cow, as we thought so large a household would consume all the milk.  Very soon, however, “nurse” complained that “the milk was ‘too rich’ for the children; it was not in the least like London milk; it must either be watered or skimmed for the little ones:  but she would rather have it skimmed.”  That was done, and for a whole fortnight H. and myself used nothing but cream in our tea and coffee.  At first this was a great luxury, and we said continually to each other, how delightful it was to have such a dainty in profusion.  Soon, like the children, we began to discover it was “too good for us,” and found that we liked plenty of new milk much better for general use; besides, consume as much as we would, we had still more than was wanted:  so we invested fifteen dollars in a churn and other requisites, and thought with great satisfaction of the saving we should effect in our expenses by making our own butter.  But now arose a difficulty which had not previously occurred to us:  Who was to make it?  Our domestic servants both declared that they could not do so; and the elder one, who had been many years in the family, was born and bred in London, and detested the country and everything connected with it, gave her opinion in the most decided manner, that there was quite enough “muck” in the house already, without making more work with butter-making, which she said confidently, would only be fit for the pig when it was made.  Here was a pretty state of things!  What were we to do? must we give up all hope of eating our own butter, and regard the money as lost which we had just expended for the churn, etc.?  After a few minutes’ bewilderment, the idea occurred to both of us at the same moment:  “Cannot we make the butter, and be independent of these household rebels?”

“But,” said I, dolefully, “we don’t in the least know how to set about it.”

“What of that?” replied H.:  “where was the use of expending so much money in books relative to a country life as you did before we left town, if they are not to enlighten our ignorance on country matters?  But one thing is certain, we cannot make butter till we have learnt how; so let us endeavor to obtain the requisite knowledge to do so to-morrow.”