302 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST, 
[August, 
inch in dfameter, as shown at figure 2. The same 
correspondent also describes a plan of carrying a 
wrench upon a plow handle, shown at figure 3. A 
piece of leather cut from an old boot, is nailed on 
the inside of the plow handle, on the left or land 
side of the plow, and near the upper cross-bar, so 
that the cross-bar may help to retain the wrench in 
the pocket thus made. An extra share-bolt may 
also be carried in the pocket. By the use of this 
contrivance, an occasional journey from the field 
to the tool shop may be avoided. 
A Hoist-Wheel With Brake. 
A hoisting apparatus that may be made to sus¬ 
tain its load at any desired point by means of a self¬ 
acting brake, is often very useful upon a farm. A 
contrivance of this kind is 
shown in the illustration. It 
consists of a grooved hoisting- 
wheel with a short flanged 
barrel at one side, and an iron 
or wooden axle with iron 
gudgeons. This may be sus¬ 
pended in a fixed frame, or by 
means of a chain or a rope to 
a hook hung wherever it may 
be wanted temporarily. The 
groove is made only just deep 
enough to permit the hoisting 
rope to be half sunk within it. 
The rope by which the lift is 
taken, has four or five turns 
around the barrel, which are 
sufficient to give it a firm hold, 
and this is assisted by the 
weight suspended at the end 
opposite the one to which the 
load is attached. The portion 
which holds the rope consists 
of a clog of hard wood, which 
turns loosely upon a bolt which 
is rivited or screwed to one 
end of the link, at a. Its 
proper position is such that 
the rope as it is drawn down 
clears it easily. When the 
load is elevated sufficiently, it 
may be kept suspended at any 
point by pulling the hoisting 
rope forward, when the rope 
is brought against the clog, 
which is lifted by the pres¬ 
sure, and as the rope is 
slackened, the clog is pressed 
tightly against it; the greater the weight the 
more securely it is held. When the rope is drawn 
down again, the brake is loosened at once, releases 
the rope, and the clog falls back, where it remains 
until again called into action. This simple contri¬ 
vance is especially useful in the bam, in slaughter¬ 
ing animals, in raising stones or timbers which are 
not of very great weight, and many similar services. 
Why They do not Stay on the Farm. 
There is no denying it; the boys do not stay 
upon the farm, and will not unless some constraint 
is put upon them. There is no getting over the 
fact that this is the rule all through the older states. 
Go into any exclusively agricultural district, and 
you will find real estate marvelously cheap. Farms 
are advertised within thirty miles of Boston, and 
all through Massachusetts, for prices that will 
barely cover the first cost of the buildings put upon 
them. We know of good farms within two miles 
of good markets, sold this spring for fourteen dol¬ 
lars an acre. From three to five thousand dollars 
will buy a fair farm of from one to two hundred 
acres, with substantial house and barn and other 
out-buildings, within easy reach of church, mill, 
school, post-office and market, in almost any county 
in New England. There is no larger population in 
these districts than there was fifty years ago, and 
there is no more wealth. In some of them both pop¬ 
ulation and wealth have decreased largely. Farm 
houses that once sheltered respectable and intelli¬ 
gent families, have gone to decay, and nothing but 
the old chimney is left. Meadows and pastures are 
fast growing up to wood, and lilacs and apple 
blossoms mingle their perfume with birches and 
oaks in April and May. Such are the facts. Why 
is it ? There are many causes operating to this end : 
the new land in the west, the adventure of mining 
life in the mountains, the new fields open in the 
cotton belt, speculation and business in the neigh¬ 
boring village or city—but above all these is the 
social leanness and starvation of American agricul¬ 
tural life. We are speaking now of the isolated 
farming districts, from five to ten miles from the 
market town. Here is the old style school house, 
and the means of education are just as they were 
fifty years ago or more ; the winter school of four 
months, taught by master, and summer school of 
three, taught by mistress, both hired at cheapest 
rates, and some are still “boarding round.” The 
old church is yet there for Sunday gatherings, and 
church and school are about the only occasions of 
social life known to old and young, except in rare 
visits to other communities. The main thing is 
work, early and late, summer and winter; and the 
chief problem for the brain to solve, is how to get a 
living. The whole population is not so much en¬ 
gaged in living, and in enjoying life, as in getting 
ready to live. If we look in-doors there is rather a 
lean larder the year round. Salt junk and potatoes 
are the main stay. The body is not well provided 
for. The search fora soft bed is not well rewarded. 
The intellectual life is still more poorly fed. Often 
no paper at all is taken. If one is afforded, it is 
likely to be a political journal. Agricultural papers 
are the rare exception. There is little but gossip 
for the mind to feed upon. The school is often 
neglected because the boys and girls arc wanted at 
home. The church is neglected because it is not 
convenient to go to meeting. The horse sheds are 
not built, the horse is lame, the carriage has a bro¬ 
ken spring, or more likely, the preacher gives out 
too much light for the surrounding darkness. Bats 
love twilight. The muscles are overtaxed, and 
vitality is mainly occupied in sustaining the waste 
of muscle. There is no time for recalling the daily 
news, for discussing agricultural topics even, or for 
the enjoyment of social life at the table. Father 
and mother live under pressure all the while. 
Hearty sympathetic interest in any thing outside of 
the farm, is almost unknown. Smiles are few, and 
jokes still fewer. Young America on the farm 
revolts against this eternal round of solemn facts. 
He wants a little variety in his diet for his body, 
and for the mind. Salt junk twelve months in the 
year, palls by the time he is fourteen, and at fifteen 
he runs from it to the city, where he can get a 
taste of the eggs and chickens his father raises. 
He wants something to think of besides picking 
stones and churning butter, riding horse to plow, 
and hoeing a half row in weedy soil. He has seen 
agricultural papers with pictures of fine horses and 
cattle, houses, and barns, labor saving machines 
and tools. He would like to read about these 
things, and realize the pictures. He wants more 
papers and books, lyceums, lectures, and especially 
more society. He wants to enjoy life a little 
while he is young, and not to wait for grey hairs 
before he begins to live.—Here is the cause of our 
waning agriculture and deserted farms. The rem¬ 
edy is more easily seen than applied. We must 
have more living while we are getting ready to live. 
Connecticut. 
[Our correspondent has drawn, we think, miRh 
too dark a picture of farming in New England. 
“Good farms,” at $14 an acre, are an exception in 
almost every county in New England. Recent 
statistics show that the percentage of children at¬ 
tending school is greater in Connecticut than in 
any other state in the Union, with a single excep¬ 
tion perhaps, and we see a change for the better 
in the county school-houses and their surround¬ 
ings, over what we observed 25 years ago. Still, 
there is great room for improvement in many re¬ 
spects referred to by our correspondent. A copy 
of this journal placed in every farmer’s family 
would have a decidedly good influence.— Ed.] 
HOIST-WHEEL. 
The Bovine Mind. 
Hue & Gabet in their delightful Journal of Life 
in Thibet, relate the following : “ These long-tailed 
cows are so restive and difficult to milk, that, to 
keep them at all quiet, the herdsman has to give 
them a calf to lick meanwhile. But for this device 
not a single drop of milk could be obtained from 
them. One day a Lama herdsman who lived in the 
same house with ourselves, came with a long dis¬ 
mal face, to announce that his cow had calved dur¬ 
ing the night, and that, unfortunately, the calf was 
dying. It died in the course of the day. The 
Lama forthwith skinned the poor beast, and 6tuffed 
it with hay. This proceeding surprised us at first, 
for the Lama had by no means the air of a man 
likely to give himself the luxury of a cabinet of 
natural history. When the operation was com¬ 
pleted, we found that the hay-calf had neither feet 
nor head ; whereupon it occurred to us that, after 
all, it was perhaps a pillow that the Lama contem¬ 
plated. We were in error, but the error was not 
dissipated until the next morning, when our herds¬ 
man went to milk his cow. Seeing him issue forth, 
the pail in one hand and the hay-calf under the other 
arm, the fancy occurred to us to follow him. His 
first proceeding was to put the hay-calf down be¬ 
fore the cow. He then turned to milk the cow 
herself. The mamma at first opened enormous eyes 
at her beloved infant; by degrees she stooped her 
head towards it, then smelt at it, sneezed three or 
four times, and at last proceeded to lick it with the 
most delightful tenderness. This spectacle grated 
against our sensibilities; it seemed to us that he 
who first invented this parody upon one of the 
most touching incidents in nature, must have been 
a man vritliout a heart. A somewhat burlesque 
circumstance occurred one day to modify the in¬ 
dignation with which this treachery inspired us. 
By dint of caressing and licking her little calf, the 
tender parent one fine morning unripped it; the 
hay issued from within, and the cow, manifesting 
not the slightest surprise nor agitation, proceeded 
tranquilly to devour the unexpected provender.” 
“This last touch,” adds Col. Hamerton, in his 
Chapters on Animals, “ entirely paints the brute. 
She has recognized her offspring by the smell, 
chiefly, and never having heard of anatomy, is not 
surprised when the internal organs are found to 
consist simply of hay. And why not eat the hay ? 
The absence of surprise at the discovery, the imme¬ 
diateness of the decision to eat the hay, are per¬ 
fectly natural in a cow, and if they surprise us it is 
only because we do not fully realize the state of 
the bovine mind. If we reflect, however, we must 
perceive that a cow can be aware of no reason why 
calves should not be constructed internally of hay. 
[Indeed, if the cow reasons upon the matter, she 
knows that she has taken an abundance of hay into 
her own interior, and why shouldn’t some of it ap¬ 
pear in her calf?— Ed.] On the other hand, the 
bovine mind cannot be wanting in its own kind of 
intelligence; for oxen know their masters, and 
when in harness arc remarkable for a very accurate 
and delicate kind of obedience; indeed, the horse 
is light-headed and careless in comparison with 
them. Animals, like the great majority of the hu¬ 
man race, observe only what concerns them, and 
see everything'simply in the relation which it bears 
to themselves.” These remarks are so good and 
pertinent that we cull one or two more relating to 
another domestic animal. 
“The effort of dramatic power necessary to im¬ 
agine the life of another person is very considera¬ 
ble, and few minds are capable of it; but it is much 
easier to imagine the sensations of a farmer than 
those of his horse. The main difficulty in conceiv¬ 
ing the mental state of animals is, that the mo¬ 
ment we think of them as human we arc lost. A 
human being as ignorant as a horse would be an 
idiot and act with an idiot’s lack of sense and inca¬ 
pacity for sequence. But the horse is not an idiot; 
he has a mind at once clear and sane, and is very 
observant in his own way. Most domestic animals 
are as keenly alive to their own interests as a man 
of business. 
“ In our estimates of animal character we always 
commit one of two mistakes; either we conclude 
