i. before the sun rises

“what do you think one of our lessons was about to-day, mother?” asked ruth, coming in from school one afternoon.

“i couldn’t guess,” said her mother. “what was it about?”

“the milkman.”

“the milkman,” repeated mrs. duwell in surprise; “that must have been interesting.”

“yes, we just talked. teacher asked questions; she asked if we liked bread and milk or cereal and milk, and said that they made an excellent breakfast.

“what do you think, mother,” ruth went on; “teacher told us that not many years ago the milkman came around with big cans of milk and measured whatever you wanted, a pint or a quart, into your pitcher or milk pail.”

“yes, that is true,” said mrs. duwell. “that is the way they did when i was a little girl. how did they come to change? did your teacher tell you?”

“people found that it was not san-i-ta-ry, teacher said. the milk was not always kept clean; so the milkmen put it into pint and quart [116]

[117]

[118]bottles, with paper caps to keep out flies and germs.”

family sitting at dining table looking off to the right

tell a story about this picture.

milkman next to a giant milk bottle iwth photographs in it

the next time you drink a glass of milk think about what a long journey it has taken.

the milk in the bottle in this picture came in a big can from the cow to the railroad station, on the train to the city dairy where it was bottled and tested. it was then sent out in a large auto truck to the delivery wagon which took it to the duwell family.

does the milk which you use take as long a journey as that?

“did you find out where the milk comes from?”

“oh yes, from the farms. teacher showed us pictures of cows; some with tan and white coats—jerseys; and some with black and white coats—holsteins, i think she said. i should love to see real cows.”

“so you shall, dear, the next time we go into the country.

“i remember,” continued mrs. duwell, “hearing your grandfather say that when he was a boy he had to be out of bed before daylight, sometimes as early as three o’clock, and go out into the cold barn to milk the cows.”

“three o’clock in the morning!” exclaimed wallace, who had just come in.

“yes; then he had to hurry into the kitchen for breakfast, then out again, hitch up old dobbin, load the milk cans on the wagon and drive to the nearest station to catch the milk train. he had to do all this by six o’clock—before most people in the city think of getting up.”

“my, there wasn’t much fun in that,” said wallace.

“no, indeed. you remember the deep snow[119] in march last winter. i asked our milkman what time he started on his rounds. what do you think he said?”

“six o’clock,” replied wallace.

“earlier than that, son,” said mrs. duwell. “he laughed and said, ‘i have to load up and start by three o’clock to serve all my customers before breakfast.’”

“yes,” added ruth, “teacher told us about that and asked what would happen if the driver overslept and did not get over the route before breakfast.”

“what did you answer?”

“why, that we might have to do without milk for breakfast.”

“or we might have to wait for breakfast until eleven o’clock,” said wallace.

“oh, wallace,” cried ruth, “i didn’t say that! if we waited for breakfast until eleven o’clock we would be dreadfully late for school.”

“and dreadfully hungry, too,” said wallace. “i’m glad our milkman gets up on time.”

ii. milk, from farm to family

“well, what i want to know is, where the clover leaf dairy gets our milk from,” said wallace.

[120]

farmer with two milk cans standing in barn doorway

“it is this way. the dairy wagon meets the milk train and takes the cans of milk to the dairy. there they test the milk to see if it is pure and fresh.

“next they empty the milk into a big white tank and heat it to kill the disease germs. after quickly cooling the milk, they put it into bottles, and it saves the babies’ lives,” said ruth almost without stopping to take breath.

her mother smiled and asked, “did your teacher tell you the name of that work?”

“yes; but it was a long word, and i have forgotten it,” answered ruth.

“pas-teur-i-zing.” her mother said it for her.

“yes, that’s it—pasteurizing. i could not[121] think. it kills all the bad germs so that the milk is safe for even the weakest babies.

“teacher told us about a good man in new york,” ruth went on, “named mr. straus, who was sorry because so many babies died from drinking impure milk. he made it so that poor babies in new york could have pasteurized milk; and then less than half as many died as before.”

“wasn’t that a noble thing to do,” said her mother.

“yes; our teacher says that almost everybody uses pasteurized milk now, and in this way thousands of babies’ lives have been saved. she says that we ought to be grateful.”

“yes, indeed,” said mrs. duwell; “we ought to be grateful to the milkman, the farmer, and everybody that helps to bring us pure milk.”

questions

would you like to get up long before daylight, on cold winter mornings to deliver milk for people’s breakfast?

tell some of the things you like that you could not have to eat if the milkman did not come.

have you ever visited a big dairy?

tell about it.

imagine you own a herd of cows in the country, and tell some of the things you would do in order to be sure to send good, pure, clean milk to the dairy.