360 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[September, 
and then, if possible, cut off their access to 
the grain that is soon to be harvested. If 
there are any repairs to be made in the roof, 
siding, or floor, they should be made now, 
that all may be snug in the corn house, when 
snugness is of the utmost importance. 
A Device for a Self-Sucking Cow. 
Mr. J. J. Chester, Marion Co., W. Va., 
writes:—“Seeing in the American Agricul¬ 
turist for April a drawing of a bit to prevent 
cows drawing their own milk, I am prompted 
to give you another plan for the benefit of 
your many readers, which is as follows : Put 
an ordinary head-stall on the cow, with a ring 
at the chin. A surcingle is put around the 
body of the cow, just behind the shoulders, 
with a ring at the under side. A stout piece 
of hard wood reaches from the ring at the 
chin to the one on the surcingle ; fasten the 
DEVICE TO PREVENT A COW SUCKING HERSELF. 
bar at the chin with a light chain or strap 
three inches long. Secure the other end of 
the bar to the ring in the surcingle with a 
chain or strap 3 inches long. I think it pref¬ 
erable to the bit, as it is not so much in the 
way in eating or drinking, and any farmer can 
make the halter and bar at home without the 
aid of the gasfitter.”—The engraving here¬ 
with given makes the device perfectly plain. 
A Horse for Shocking Corn. 
Mr. A. J. Hay, Racine Co., Wis., writes : 
“A handy horse for shocking com may be 
made by taking a piece of 2 by 6-inch scant¬ 
ling, about 6 feet long, as a body piece, and 
Fig. 1.—CORN HORSE, SHOWING THE BOTTOM. 
fitting it with legs and wings as follows :— 
Near the front end place two good stout legs, 
either by mortising them in or by using an 
auger. Let them be from 2‘/ a to 3 feet long, 
to suit the kind of corn, and give them spread 
enough to just pass readily between the rows. 
Fig. 2.—CORN HORSE IN POSITION. 
Four and a half feet from the front cut a 
mortise in the center of the “ body,” 6 inches 
in length, for the hind leg,making the pin hole 
3 inched from the front. This leg is two 
inches wide, with a shoulder 2 by 4 inches 
left on one side of the top, which is cut down 
to form a circle. Make the pin hole one inch 
from the center of the circle, in the shoulder. 
This allows it to swing up when drawing it 
from the shock, and fall in position again 
when free. The arms are made of inch boards, 
3 by 12 inches in size. Round off the back 
corners of the inside, leaving the others 
square. Make the front side of the arms con¬ 
cave, and cut away the back side of the outer 
ends to correspond, leaving them about one 
inch wide at the ends. Bolt them loosely on 
the under side of the horse about 3 feet from 
the front end, so that the square corners touch 
when the arms are open.”—Mr. Hay sent a 
model of his “horse,” from which the en¬ 
gravings are made. Figure 1 shows the 
bottom of the horse, and in figure 2 it is 
seen in an upright position ready for use. 
Sleep as a Farm Crop. 
Mr. Editor : We were at Pastor Spooner’s 
to take tea, last evening, and a new crop 
came up for discussion, which may be profit¬ 
able for some of your readers to cultivate 
more systematically. The old style tea¬ 
drinking, confined to about a half-dozen, 
outside of the family, is the nearest approach 
to social dissipation allowed in church circles 
in Hookertown. The modern festival, with 
its buskin performances, and other devices i 
to filch money out of reluctant pockets for 
the support of the gospel, has not invaded 
these parts. Mr. Spooner says : “ If you want 
church privileges, pay for them squarely, as 
you do for your government and your family 
expenses. A thrifty church should be as 
much ashamed of begging as a thrifty 
farmer.” Dr. Blossom took the lead in the 
conversation, and when we were seated at the 
table, remarked : “ Sleep, I think, is about 
the most profitable crop grown on the farm.” 
“How do you make that out,” inquired 
Mr. Spooner. I thought men and women 
were the glory of our Connecticut farms.” 
“Very true, if they were only finished,"’ 
the Doctor said ; “ but, alas ! a large per cent 
of them, especially the women, are broken 
down in health, and mainly for the want of 
seven or eight hours of sound sleep every 
night. Sleep is quite as essential as food to 
vigorous health, and the bed and its sur¬ 
roundings should receive as careful attention 
as the table. In the olden time, when the 
habits were more simple, the food plainer, 
the houses better ventilated, and the demands 
of social life much less than now, the women 
were healthy, and large families were the 
rule, as they are now the exception. Un¬ 
wholesome excitements were rare, and when 
nightfall came, deep sleep fell upon the house¬ 
hold, and it remained unbroken until the 
morning. The aspirations of men and women 
were limited, and there was little outside of 
the farm to worry about. Farming was more 
of a routine business; there were fewer 
crops, fewer wants, and less money. Now 
the city has pushed its iron arms out into the 
country in every direction, and, in summer, 
our city cousins invade every rural region, 
and disturb the dreams of rural people with 
their boundless display of wealth. Our shore 
towns are dotted with villas, our harbors 
with yachts, and little steamers are crowded 
with pleasure-seekers all through the sum¬ 
mer. Farm houses in more retired towns are 
open to summer boarders ; splendid turn¬ 
outs, with gay trappings, whirl along country 
roads; dog-carts and other odd vehicles 
abound; society is penetrated with foreign 
elements ; picnics, festivals, chowders, exhi¬ 
bitions of all sorts are in order, six days in 
the week, and on Sunday the old meeting 
house, with its gay bonnets and bright colors, 
looks more like a flower garden than a com¬ 
pany of devout worshippers. What average 
family with Yankee blood in their veins, is 
going to get seven hours sleep under all these 
social excitements ? ” 
“Well, Doctor,” inquired Mrs. Bunker, 
“ the railroads are built; the folks keep com¬ 
ing—what are you going to do about it ? ” 
“Do the best we can, Mrs. Bunker,” con¬ 
tinued the Doctor. “There is so much in 
society, and in our artificial habits, that sleep 
will no longer grow, as a wild plant, and take 
care of itself. We must cultivate it as we 
do corn and potatoes. There is no health 
without sound sleep ; and thrift on the farm, 
as everywhere else, depends largely upon 
physical vigor. Sleep is a powerful medi¬ 
cine, which helps to cure irritability of tem¬ 
per, peevishness, uneasiness of any kind, like 
nervous dyspepsia. It is good for a broken 
spirit. We might change the hymn a little, 
without damage, and sing, ‘ Earth has no 
sorrow that sleep can not cure.’ Sleep, to be 
perfect, and profound, and restorative, should 
be so prepared for, that not a single discom- 
i fort should interrupt it. We should get 
ready for it just as we prepare for a day’s 
work—have the tools all ready and every hin¬ 
drance removed.” 
“Well, how are you going to get it when 
it don’t come?” inquired Mrs. Bunker. 
“ It will come,” continued the Doctor, “if 
you get ready for it, like any other welcomed 
guest. The sleeping room, if possible, should 
be in the most quiet part of the house, above 
the first story, well sunned and ventilated, 
with as little furniture as possible in it—con¬ 
secrated to sleep. Put away your feather 
beds and comfortables, as unfriendly aids to 
sleep, and wood bedsteads and bed-cords, 
with their untimely squeaking. Have solid 
iron bedsteads, with sheets and blankets that 
will take care of the perspiration, or, rather, 
prevent it, and keep the body at the most 
comfortable temperature. Rule your own 
house, and have a set time for going to bed, 
the sooner after nine o’clock the better, 
when every member of the household shall 
be ready for the main business of the night, 
no matter what is going on at the lodge, the 
hall, the ball, the temperance discussion, or 
the prayer-meeting.” 
“ What is going to become of our duties to 
society ? ” inquired Mr. Spooner. 
“A man’s first duty to society is to take 
care of his body,” responded the Doctor. 
“ ‘ Thou shalt not kill,’ is a part of the deca¬ 
logue, and neither man nor woman owes any 
duty to society that is not compatible with a 
sound mind in a sound body. Sleep is the 
one thing needful, if we would have either. 
What is a man worth to society with shat¬ 
tered health ? Cultivate sleep, and be worth 
something while you are awake.” 
“ I am glad you are so orthodox on sleep,” 
interrupted Deacon Smith. “But I am 
afraid, Doctor, if Hookertown adopted your 
views, you would soon be without patients. 
I have followed your theory for thirty years, 
and have hardly had a doctor in my house. 
And sleep is just as important for our domes¬ 
tic animals as it is for men—in short, one of 
the best crops raised on the farm. It has a 
