He was very communicative of his modes of cultivation and management, but chiefly prided himself on his success in improving the size of his cattle. He informed us that he had devoted sixteen years of his life to this object, and had then in his farm-yard a buffalo nearly as heavy as three of the ordinary size. His practice was to kill all the young animals which were not uncommonly large and thrifty; to cram those he kept, with as much food as they would eat, and to tempt their appetites by the variety of their nourishment, as well as of the modes of preparing it.
"All this," said he, "costs a great deal, it is true; but I am paid for it by the additional price." I was struck with this notable triumph of industry and skill in the goodly art of husbandry—that art which I venerate above every other; and I was all anxiety to receive from him some instructions which I might, in case I should have the good fortune to get safely back, communicate to my friends on Long-Island, who had never been able even to double the common size, and who boasted greatly of that: but a hesitating look, and a few inquiries on the part of my sly friend, checked my enthusiasm.
"Have you always," he asked, "had the same number of acres in grain and grass under your new and old system?"
"Pretty nearly," says the other. "My new breed, however, though fewer, consume more than their predecessors."
"How many head did you formerly sell in a year?"
"About thirty."
"How many do you now sell?"
"Though for some years I have not sold more than nine or ten, I expect to exceed that number in another year."
"Which you expect will yield you more than the thirty did formerly?"
"Certainly; because such meat as mine commands an extraordinary price."