Part 2

Finding the cattle already loaded in the cars, Ramon and his father were soon seated in the _caboose_, rolling over the miles of railroad which connected them with Chicago. Whenever the train stopped for a few minutes, they took a long stick and went from car to car making the cattle that had lain down get up, so that they might not be injured by the others.

When bedtime came, they made their beds on the benches along each side of the caboose, which are covered with cushions. As they had brought blankets with them, they were fairly comfortable.

Ramon did not sleep very soundly the first night. The engine shrieked from time to time, and the car rocked and jolted so that he was afraid of falling from his bed.

The next day they reached a part of the country where great cornfields waved in the breeze. The leaves had already turned brown, and golden ears of grain peeped out from the ends of the husks. There were stubble fields, too, where wheat and oats had been harvested.

The country became more thickly settled as they went on, and the towns were nearer together. Streams were more common, and grass and timber more abundant. The young traveler wondered why this was so. Can you tell?

Early in the morning of the fourth day the train reached Chicago. After much switching and backing the cars were run into the Union Stock Yards, and the cattle were unloaded.

Ramon was thoroughly bewildered by what he saw and heard. Men were shouting and cracking whips; others were riding up and down the alleys that separate the yards; dogs were barking and turning the animals this way and that, and gates were swinging back and forth.

The cattle were weighed and examined to see if they had any disease, and were then placed in charge of a _commission merchant_ to be sold. Buyers come to the yards and bargain with these commission merchants. When an unusually large number of cattle come in, the prices are likely to fall; when few arrive, the prices rise.

When the cattle had been yarded, Ramon's father said that they would go and have breakfast. In the afternoon they visited the "yards," and the slaughter and packing houses. The "yards" cover about a square mile of territory. They are divided into countless pens or small yards, containing sheds, feeding racks, and watering troughs.

Ramon asked how many cattle were unloaded in these yards daily. His father handed him a copy of the _Chicago Live Stock World_, and at the top of the first column he read that on the day previous there had been received 18,500 cattle, 35,000 hogs, and 18,000 sheep. He was told that sometimes the receipts are much larger than this and sometimes not so large.

They followed the bodies of the cattle from the slaughterhouses where they are dressed, into the cooling rooms. These are simply great refrigerators. Wagons come to the cooling rooms and haul loads of the meat to butcher shops, hotels, and depots. Within a few hours it finds its way to smaller cities and towns in all directions. A great deal of meat is shipped even to Europe. Why does not Europe produce its own meat?

When the meat has thoroughly hardened in the cooling rooms, it is sent to the curing rooms, where it is cut up and packed. Each person here does his particular work from morning until night.

Ramon learned, to his surprise, that every part of the animal is used. Hair, hide, horns, hoofs, teeth, bones, and even blood, are made use of.

Most of the hogs which enter the great meat-packing cities are raised in the corn belt.

The sheep need much pasturage, and so the largest flocks are found in the Western and Southwestern states. A single herder may take care of several thousand sheep. His faithful companions and helpers are intelligent shepherd dogs. After a great flock of sheep has fed on an area, hardly a green thing is left. The people in the part of the West where there is little rainfall, object to the pasturing of sheep around the head waters of streams, because when the vegetation is removed the water runs off too quickly.

In the evening our friends watched the men, women, and children march out of the "yards." They were told that not less than thirty-five thousand persons were employed in the various establishments. There is but one city in Colorado which contains so many people.

As they sat at breakfast next morning, Ramon wondered how many of the people of Chicago were eating steaks from cattle which he had seen on his father's ranch. The thought was a new one to him. His trip had shown him that the cattlemen who lived and worked on those far-away plains were doing their part in supplying people all over our country with meat. Their lonely life, with all of its disadvantages, now had a new meaning for him, and he went back to his Western home content with it, yet very glad to have had this glimpse of another side of life.

MARKET GARDENING

Think of the immense quantities of fruits and vegetables that are used daily on the tables of a great city such as New York or Chicago. As we travel up and down the streets of any great city, we see rows of buildings, sometimes built in solid blocks and sometimes a little distance apart. Some have trees and small lawns in front of them; others are without even this touch of nature. Nowhere, except in the outskirts, do we find gardens.

_These people depend upon others to furnish them with their vegetable food._

Now let us make some excursions into the region surrounding one of these cities. For miles and miles we see on every hand _truck farms_ or _market gardens_. The main business of those who live in these districts is to furnish food for the people of the city, so that the latter may devote their time to their various occupations.

We see growing potatoes, cabbages, tomatoes, beans, peas, squashes, turnips, onions, sweet corn, celery, melons, and many other things. Usually all of these will be found in one garden, but sometimes the farmer raises only a few kinds, or perhaps but one.

Market gardening is very common in Germany, Holland, Italy, China, and in other densely populated countries. Therefore we often find people who have come from these countries to America engaged in this business. Chinese gardeners are seldom seen in the East, but on the Pacific coast they raise most of the vegetables used in the cities and towns.

In the early spring, before the ground is warm enough to make seeds grow, the gardener starts his plants in "hotbeds." These are long wooden boxes, or frames, without bottoms, covered with glass. They are usually placed on the south side of some building or high fence. The glass covers allow the warm sunshine to enter the "beds" freely, but they prevent the rapid escape of the heat. You see now why they are called "hotbeds." They are like small greenhouses.

A little later in the spring the fields are thoroughly cultivated and the plants transplanted. Of course only the vegetables desired for the early market are started in this way. What advantage is there in having the vegetables ready for the market very early in the season?

Vegetable farming is not easy work, although it is a pleasure to see things grow day by day as you care for them, and as nature supplies her sunshine and her rain. The fields must be cultivated almost constantly, to keep the soil loose, as well as to remove the weeds. Much of the weeding has to be done by hand, which is tedious work.

We want our vegetables fresh every morning; and as the truck farms are at some distance from the city, the farmer must load up his wagon the night before. Of course much produce is sent to the cities on trains, but where farmers live near enough to deliver it themselves, their crops are more profitable to them. Why?

Everything is put in readiness before dark; and while others are still in bed, the farmer mounts his wagon to start toward the sleeping city. I have often ridden ten or fifteen miles on such a load before the stars faded away.

It is a novel experience. At first the night seems strangely still, but soon you are able to distinguish many voices coming from various places. The frogs croak from the ponds by the roadside; crickets and locusts send their shrill notes from grass and tree; a night owl startles you by his dismal hoot; the lamps of the fireflies gleam, then disappear only to shine out again a little farther on.

At last a faint glow appears in the eastern sky, which grows brighter and brighter until the shining face of the sun is pushed above the horizon. Do you not think such a ride would be more enjoyable than a street car ride?

In the cities there are market places where produce from the country is taken. In Chicago there is a very busy street where much of the buying and selling is done. Study the picture carefully. Here the buyers from hotels, restaurants, and stores, as well as the men who wish to peddle the produce from house to house, go for their daily supplies. There are also commission merchants whose stores are on this street. They sell the produce for those who ship it to the city by train.

We go to the stores and get what we want each day, or the peddlers bring it to the door. You see how necessary it is to have special workers to supply us with the different kinds of food. We consider it very important that we should have vegetables and fruits fresh daily. The work of supplying us with this food is very important. Remember that those who till the soil are entitled to as great respect as are those who do not work with their hands. Contact with nature makes men and women better, and many of the noblest souls that the world has known have lived in the country and plowed, planted, and harvested the products of the soil.

DAIRY PRODUCTS

Uncle Ben lives on a dairy farm in the western part of New York State. It is a beautiful _rolling_ country with cultivated fields, woodland, and pastures, and here and there a sparkling stream winding its way through the lowlands. The farmhouses are large and well built, and are surrounded by grand old maple, beech, and elm trees. Most of the barns are painted red with white trimmings.

There are many dairy farms in the neighborhood. Some of the farmers send their milk to the towns to be used directly, some sell it to creameries, and some to cheese factories.

Last summer I spent my vacation on Uncle Ben's farm, and Cousin Frank and I had happy times, you may be sure.

Every day, just before sundown, we went to the pasture for the cows. There were about twenty-five of them, and they always seemed perfectly contented after the long day of feasting on rich grass and clover.

After we drove them into the barnyard Uncle Ben helped us fasten them in their _stanchions_ in the barn. Then the men brought the bright pails and cans to begin milking. Cousin Frank and I always helped, although he can milk much faster than I. Some of the cows gave but two or three quarts, while others gave as many gallons.

We strained the milk into cans holding eight gallons each, and put them into tanks of water to cool. After milking was finished we turned the cattle into the barnyard for the night.

In the morning we commenced milking about sunrise. After breakfast the cans were loaded into a spring wagon and Uncle Ben drove to the depot. Here they were put on the "milk train," which took them to the city.

Many other people sent milk on this same train. It was sent to bakeries, to hotels and restaurants, and to milkmen, who delivered it from house to house. Usually the milkmen put the milk into pint or quart bottles for people who like to have it in that form. Uncle Ben told us that much of the milk that is sent to New York City is bottled before it is sent. The bottling is done by machinery. He also told us that, because of the great importance of having pure milk, there are, in all cities, inspectors who carefully examine the milk and report to the Board of Health. The cows also are inspected, and if any are sick, they are usually killed.

Each evening some one drove to the depot again to get empty cans which the milk train had brought home. These were always carefully washed in hot water before being used again.

BUTTER MAKING

One day, after I had been on the farm about a week, Uncle Ben took Frank and me to the _creamery_. A creamery is a place where the milk and cream are separated and butter is made.

We found several wagonloads of milk being unloaded. The milk was weighed as it was received, for it is sold by weight.

The milk was then strained into a large galvanized iron tub, from which a pipe carried it into a circular machine called the _separator_. The separator revolves rapidly, throwing the milk, which is heavier than the cream, to the outer edge, where it passes through small holes into a compartment by itself. The cream rises along the center and passes through another set of openings into a special compartment. A pipe carries it to a large vat, while another pipe conveys the milk to large tanks.

Uncle Ben told me that when people make their own butter, they must wait for the cream to _rise_ on the milk. The cream is then skimmed off, and the milk is called _skimmed milk_. Although the milk in the creamery is not skimmed, the same name is used for it.

I asked if the skimmed milk was used for anything. Uncle Ben gave me a cupful of it to taste. It was very good. He then told me that the separator takes out only the part needed in making butter, leaving all of the sugar. I did not know before that milk contains sugar.

The farmers take home loads of this milk to feed it to their hogs. For each hundred pounds of milk delivered, they get back seventy-five pounds of skimmed milk, besides the pay for their cream.

The creamery man told me that he made from four to six pounds of butter from one hundred pounds of milk.

The cream remains in the large vat about twenty-four hours before it is churned. The churn, as you see by the picture, is a great barrel made to revolve by machinery. It takes from thirty-five minutes to one hour to churn. The man told me that I might look at the book in which he kept the record of the churning. I saw that he made from two hundred fifty to six hundred pounds of butter at a churning. He said that some churns would produce more than one thousand pounds at a churning.

Not all of the cream is made into butter. There is left in the bottom of the churn a liquid called _buttermilk_. This is drawn off, and the butter is washed and _worked_ before being taken out of the churn. The working is done by means of paddles in the churn. It continues for six or eight minutes and squeezes the liquid out of the butter.

While the butter is being worked, it is salted. Some of the butter is unsalted, but most of it is salted. When butter is made in the home, it must be churned by hand. Only a few pounds at a time can be made in this way.

When the butter was taken out of the churn, the men packed it solidly in wooden boxes about two feet square and four inches deep. The bottom of each box consisted of strips as wide as a _square_ of butter. These were held together by a clamp, and the sides were hooked to the bottom and to one another. When the butter is to be cut into squares, these sides are removed and zinc ones take their places. In these there are slits running from top to bottom. Through these slits a wire saw is run, and so the butter is quickly cut into one or two pound squares. The butter is then wrapped in fancy papers upon which the name of the butter or of the creamery is stamped.

Of course some of the butter is packed in wooden tubs and shipped in that form. This butter is a little cheaper than that put up in squares.

CHEESE

I was so much pleased with my visit to the creamery, that Uncle Ben promised to show me how cheese is made. So one morning just after breakfast he, Cousin Frank, and I started out. After a pleasant ride of about five miles we reached the factory.

The first process here was the same as that at the creamery. After the milk was weighed it was run into great zinc-lined vats. There were four of these in the factory, each of which held about five thousand pounds.

Uncle Ben explained that the milk must _curdle_ before cheese can be made. In order to make it curdle quickly, a little less than a pound of a substance called _rennet_ was put into each vat.

A man worked at each vat with a long wooden rake, stirring the milk constantly. I saw a glass tube standing in the milk and asked what it was. Uncle Ben told me to look at it closely. I saw that it was a thermometer, and that it registered eighty degrees. A little while after I looked again, when it showed a temperature of ninety degrees. The milk is kept warm, so as to help it to curdle quickly.

In about an hour I could see the curd very plainly, but the men kept on stirring and cutting it. Presently one of them carried a piece of the curd to a table. He heated a small iron rod and touched it with the curd. When he pulled the curd away, little threads were drawn out to the length of half an inch or more. This he called the "acid test," which showed that the curd was in the right condition to be made into cheese.

Of course only a part of the milk had turned into curd; the rest was _whey_, that was drawn off and run into tanks. Each man who had delivered one hundred pounds of milk was given a check for seventy-five pounds of the whey. It is fed to hogs. About two hours from the time that the milk was put into the vats, the whey was drawn off.

One of the men now took a long knife and cut the curd into oblong cakes. These he frequently lifted and turned over. After continuing this for about twenty minutes, the pieces of curd were put into a small mill, placed on a board over the vat, and the curd was chopped into strips from one to six inches long and from one-half an inch to an inch thick. Salt was scattered over the mass by one man, while another pitched it about with a three-pronged wooden fork. The man told me that he used three pounds of salt to each thousand pounds of milk.

Next, a piece of cloth was placed on a board about sixteen inches square. Two circular metal frames or bands, about six inches high, were fitted one within the other and placed on the cloth. The frame was filled with curd, covered by a cloth, and another set placed on top of it until there were five. They were then put on a table directly under a block which was fastened to a screw. By turning the screw the block was pressed against the top board, and so each frame of curd was pressed. I saw the whey running out as the squeezing went on. The superintendent told us that the curd would be left in the press until the next day.

We were then taken into the room where the cheese "ripens." Here we saw large racks reaching nearly to the ceiling, filled with double rows of cheeses. The smallest ones weighed but three pounds, while the largest weighed fifty pounds. It may take but a few days and it may take many months to "ripen" a cheese. It depends upon the flavor wanted. The man said that in England "strong" cheese is generally liked, while in our country "mild" cheese is preferred.

I asked how much cheese five thousand pounds of milk would make, and was told that it would make between four and five hundred pounds.

On the way home Uncle Ben told us that although our country is a great dairy country, we import certain kinds of cheese from Europe. He told us how the Swiss people pasture their cattle on the steep mountain sides, and that in every little mountain valley cheese is made, some of which finds its way over the mountains and across the sea to the United States.

THE FISHING INDUSTRY

Have you ever stood by the side of a stream and watched the fish dart from one shadow of overhanging rock into another, or swim lazily at the bottom of some deep pool? How gracefully they move and turn! How like water jewels they flash as the sunlight falls upon them!

Most streams and lakes, like the ocean, contain fish. So we have fresh-water and salt-water fish. There are a few bodies of water so full of salt that fish cannot live in them. Do you know of any such bodies of water?

Most of the fish used as food come from the ocean. In this, and in most other countries, there are many men who do nothing but fish, in order that other people may be supplied with this sort of food. They do not depend upon hook and line alone, but use nets also.

Nets are great sacks made of cord, knotted or woven together in such a way as to leave spaces or _meshes_. These meshes are not big enough to allow large fish to escape. Sometimes the fishermen go out in rowboats some distance from shore and then throw the net into the water. Corks or floats keep the upper edge of the net near the surface, while weights hold the lower edge on the bottom. Ropes are fastened to each end, and so it is drawn toward the shore. How the fishermen wish that they could see to the bottom of the restless water and know what their harvest is to be! When the boats have almost reached the shore, horses are sometimes driven into the water and hitched to the ropes. At last the net is dragged out upon the sands and the uncertainty is past.

Look! Within the folds of the net is a countless number of fishes, each jumping, squirming, wriggling, trying to get back to its ocean home. They are of many sizes, shapes, and colors. Those not good for food, together with the smallest ones, are thrown back into the water.

Sometimes a net called a "dip-net" is dropped from a fishing schooner and drawn about a "school" of fish. I have seen many barrels of fish brought up at one time in this way.

The fishermen keep a close watch for the appearance of these "schools," you may be sure. Whales and dolphins pursue them, and gulls and cormorants circle overhead, for they, too, are fishers. Their appearance helps the men to tell where the "schools" are. There is a great rush for the fishing grounds when they are sighted. The white-sailed schooners skim over the waters almost like a flock of birds.

Large quantities of fish are caught by a method called _trawl fishing_. This may be carried on miles from the shore. How do you suppose it is done? To a very long and strong line, many shorter ones, each with a hook at the end, are attached. These lines, to which large buoys are fastened, are left in the water for several hours, and then fishermen in flat-bottomed boats called _dories_ row out from the schooner and examine them. The lines are then reset and the fish taken to the schooner to be dressed. This is a common method of catching codfish, which is carried on during summer and winter alike. Storms and fogs are likely to occur while the men are out in their little boats, making their work full of danger as well as of hardship.

Many of the fish are packed in ice and sold fresh, while others are cured on the boats or on shore. Some of the fishing schooners carry great quantities of salt when they start out on a trip. The fish are dressed and packed in this. Sometimes they are packed in brine, and along the shores of some countries they are strung on poles to dry.