and his place is supplied by the milk-supply companies that control the product from hundreds of farms and regulate the large part of the milk which the city consumes. These companies send milk trains into the country in all directions, and collect milk from thousands of farms. The milk is brought into the city in cars in which it is cooled by ice. It may be already many hours old when it reaches the city. It is taken from the cars, and the milk from many different sources is mixed in large mixers to insure greater uniformity. It is again packed in ice, and remains thus until the individual dealer is ready to put it into his cart and distribute it through the city to the customer.
As a result of this the customer no longer knows whence his milk comes. If he is a citizen of New York, he may receive milk from his own State, or Connecticut, or Pennsylvania, or New Jersey. It may come from a thrifty farmer, or from a slovenly, filthy farm, or, for all that the consumer knows, it may come in part from a farm where there is a contagious epidemic. There is no method of tracing responsibility, no method of even knowing the source of any lot of milk. One morning we may receive milk from northern New York, and the next from New Jersey. One morning, for all he knows, it may come from a model dairy farm, and the next from the most unhygienic surroundings imaginable.
But this is to a certain extent true of other foods. We can not tell where our flour or meat comes from, or our apples or sugar. Why should we be more disturbed over milk than other foods? Indeed, until recently we have had no especial interest in the milk problem, and have taken milk as it has been offered without question, except as to its being pure milk unadulterated with water. But the rapid discoveries of bacteriology, which have shown milk to be such a good locality for bacterial growth, have been raising some very significant questions. We have been told of the countless millions of bacteria which we have been drinking daily. This has somewhat disturbed us, and no sooner have we become reconciled to this idea than we are told of the great amount of filth that finds its way into milk—two hundred pounds of cow dung being the daily ration of New York city, some one tells us. The matter appears more serious still when we are told by the public press that there are more bacteria in city milk than in city sewage, and are informed of the epidemics of typhoid which are distributed by milk, or of the prevalence of tubercle bacteria in this food product. We become suspicious of the milk supply and hesitate to use this food product or to give it to our children.
Naturally, the people in small communities feel somewhat more at ease in the matter since they know their milk producer and can
