“Undoubtedly. No one thinks of using manual power in these times. The dashers are secured to each end of this bar, and as one rises while the other falls, there is no loss from the attraction of gravitation. We call this the Hippo-opticon.”
“The Hippo-opticon, did you say?” I inquired, wonderingly.
“Yes; the name is derived from two Greek words, hippo, a horse, and opticon, sight; because it has the strength of a horse and the eye of intelligence. It works without care or superintendence. When once started it runs of itself. The cream—”
“The cream!” I muttered to myself, having supposed that I had just discovered that milk was churned.
“The cream is placed in these two receptacles; the dashers fall regularly and slowly.”
“Slowly!” I exclaimed, still more surprised, remembering the praises I had heard of excessive speed.
“Churning must be done slowly; that is the best established law. There must be deliberation and regularity.”
“What is your opinion,” I inquired, “of the Patent Duplex Elliptic Milk Converter?”
“Then you have seen that worthless contrivance! It could not have deceived an experienced farmer like yourself. Why, that whirligig is the most utterly useless affair conceivable. It is forever out of order; the flanges bend, the cogs break. Whatever you do, don’t buy that. In ours you have primitive simplicity and perfect security.”
At this point a brilliant idea entered my mind, and, taking my departure without even waiting to ask the price of this wonderful invention, I hurried back to the first store. Thrusting my head in at the door, and not daring to advance farther lest I should be overwhelmed by a second avalanche of learned terms, I inquired of the smiling clerk, who evidently saw the certainty of a customer in my return, what he thought of the Hippo-opticon.