The experience of a certain cowman may be recorded for the sake of stimulation of the imagination, and gratitude of the townsman. He went forth on a morning, even darker than usual because of the mist, to collect the cows for milking. They were at large in a very big field, and he spent some time in a vain search. Presently he discovered that he himself, as well as the cows, was lost, and it was a long and chilly time before (as the new latinity goes) the situation was liquidated. Such is the price the dairy-farmer pays for the prolongation of summer time. We can at least be grateful to him and to the land-girl who faces similar handicaps. " Where are you going to, my pretty maid? " is a question not easily answered at 6 a.m. on a misty December morning.