milk is correctly weighed and credited, and every reasonable facility should be afforded him to satisfy himself that he is fairly dealt with.

It becomes the duty of one receiving milk to see that it is delivered in proper condition. Experience, a good eye and a good nose, are all useful assistants. Even with the use of all these, messes will sometimes get into the vat that never ought to be there. But when a patron's milk is found not to be right, it is not necessary to insult or abuse him, nor to make a general exposure of him. Neither law nor duty requires this. He should be kindly informed of the fact, told what the matter is with his milk and what he had better do to remove the evil. If you do not wish to take the mess, you can express your regrets at his misfortune, and show him that it would cause great damage, some of which must necessarily fall on himself. If the mess is objectionable, but will pass, give him notice that you will be obliged to refuse it in future, if not in a better condition. When you have done this, more words with him are unnecessary, and you have all the advantage, for the law and the community are on your side. But, with a reasonable man, it will not be necessary to more than call his attention to the fact that his milk is bad. The cause may be the result of accident or oversight on the part of his help, and he will at once set himself to work to apply the remedy. The importance of delivering milk in good condition is more and more acknowledged every year, and not a few patrons pride themselves on delivering as good milk as any of their neighbors. It is well to encourage this feeling by giving every man credit who takes pains with his milk. Nothing is worse than wholesale denunciation and fault finding. It only discourages many, creates bad feeling, and makes an up-hill road a rough one as well. A cheese-maker needs friends, if anybody does; and if he does not get them among his patrons, he is not likely to get them at all. In that case, his seven days a week of hard, thankless toil and care are likely to weigh heavily on body and mind.

The greatest difficulty is usually experienced in old factories, where the conveniences are not generally up to the more modern mark, and patrons fell into bad habits before experience had developed a better knowledge of the requirements of cheese-making. New patrons will submit to be trained, and a sensible cheese-maker, who knows what he wants, can generally get them to do almost anything at the opening of a new factory. In this way, he can discipline them and get them in the habit of taking good care of their milk. But, in an old factory, where everything started off badly, the old adage, that "it is hard to learn old dogs new tricks," is apt to be exemplified. They dislike innovations, think a new man, who wants to be particular, wishes to put them to useless trouble, and they are not disposed to gratify him, but rather to growl at him, and feel that what was good enough for others is good enough for him. Such conduct is all wrong, and those who are guilty of it stand in their own light.

CHAPTER VIII. BIG AVERAGES.

It is the custom in many factories to balance the scales so that a pound or so is taken out of each mess, in order to help make "a big average" for the season. That is, every mess is made to weigh a pound or so less than its actual weight, and is so entered on the book. In this way, if sixty or seventy messes are received, the cheese-maker has that number of pounds of milk more to make up than is charged against him. This amount twice a day would enable him to turn out some twelve or fourteen pounds of cheese more than he ought to if he received no more pounds of milk than he gives credit for on the milk-book. Thus he makes it appear to the patrons, and publishes it ultimately to the world, that he uses less pounds of milk in making a pound of cheese than is the actual fact. In common phrase, he "makes a big average."

Let us illustrate a little. Suppose ten hundred and ten pounds of milk are delivered in ten messes. The entry on the book is one thousand pounds. Out of this he makes one hundred and one pounds of cured cheese. If the milk had been correctly weighed, the fact would appear that he made one pound of marketable cheese for every ten pounds of milk. But it really appears that it took a fraction less than ten pounds of milk, or 9.9 pounds, for a pound of cheese. This is the advantage which he has, in the eyes of the community, over the maker who gives honest weight. This is the reward of his petty dishonesty.

In justification of this, it is argued that it keeps up not only the reputation of the maker but the reputation of the factory, while it wrongs no one, since the patrons get all the cheese, or its equivalent in money, and all are served alike. We admit that the patrons get all the products of the milk, but let us see for a moment whether all are treated fairly. Every patron has a pound of milk deducted from each mess. Smith brings a hundred pound mess, and is therefore docked one hundredth part of it. Jones, with only one cow, delivers a ten pound mess, and is docked one-tenth of it. Thus, at the end of thirty days, each has delivered sixty messes. Smith has delivered 6,000 pounds and been credited for 5,940. Jones has delivered 600 pounds, and got credit for 540. If ten pounds of milk make one pound of cheese, the account ought to stand thus:

But, under the system of deducting a pound from each mess, in order to show a "big average," the account really stands thus:

At twenty cents a pound for cheese, Jones, because he is poor and delivers a small mess, loses just one dollar on his month's milk, and Smith, because he is better off and has a bigger mess, gets the dollar added to his profits. This, in plain figures, is the result of deducting weight in order to show a "big average." Let no one who reads this do it again. He can no longer plead ignorance, and continue to rob Peter for the benefit of Paul, under the supposition that he is treating all alike and fairly.

Unquestionably, something should be allowed for the difference between a dry and a wet can. The amount is trifling, and can be got at by balancing the scales immediately after running out a can of milk. But, when the scales are balanced with a wet can, they will not balance exactly when the can is dry; and whoever delivers the first mess and wets the can will suffer a slight loss, unless care is taken to give good weight. The variation will generally not be more than a quarter of a pound or so, and can be nearly enough approximated by attention to the fractions of a pound denoted by the scales.

Of course, in weighing milk, only the full pounds can be counted and