water they will carry, also the influence of the amount 
of fall and of turns and angles upon the amount of 
water carried by tiles. The two in the background 
toward the left are testing the breaking strength of 
pieces of pine and oak wood of different thicknesses 
and lengths placed flatwise and on edge, in order to 
obtain a practical knowledge of the strength of timbers 
as used in the construction of farm buildings. 
Fig 3. r > shows the students at work in the horticul¬ 
tural laboratory. The two at the right are engaged 
in grafting, one on root, and the other on cleft grafts. 
Each student is required to make a certain number of 
root and cleft grafts, and afterwards to write out a 
description of the process, and to make drawings of 
the parts. The student sitting with his back, in the 
foreground, is making graDe cuttings and the one 
opposite to him is performing the operation of bud¬ 
ding with material cut the preceding summer and 
preserved in alcohol with especial reference to this 
work. One of the students at the table at the left is 
making grafting wax. He weighs out his ingredients 
from a printed recipe, melts them, pours the com¬ 
pound into water and then works them till of the 
proper color, after which he writes out the recipe, and 
describes the whole process. The student at the ex¬ 
treme left is engaged in making the Bordeaux mix¬ 
ture in a similar manner. 
Fig. 30 is an illustration of Hiram Smith Hall, 
the new dairy school building of the Univer¬ 
sity. It is named in honor of one of Wisconsin’s 
veteran dairymen, to whose untiring efforts the 
establishment of the dairy school may be largely 
accredited. It is built of Dunville white 
sandstone and white brick, and the ex¬ 
terior of the upper stories is finished in 
pebble and beam work. Including equip¬ 
ment, 
it represents an outlay of about 
$40,000. The dairy school proper is dis¬ 
tinct from the short course and is de¬ 
voted especially to giving instruction 
in cheese factory and creamery work. 
The building and equipment accommo¬ 
date 100 students and though the term 
did not open until January 4, 1893, the 
course was filled on December 1 of last 
year. Last season 45 students attended 
the short course 
The present term, 68 
are in attendance. 
Fig. 37 shows the students in the act 
of judging draft horses in competition 
for the Ogilvie medal. Through the 
generosity of Mr. R B Ogilvie, a prom¬ 
inent Wisconsin Clydesdale breeder, a 
gold medal valued at $75, is annually 
given to the student who proves to be 
the best judge of heavy horses and mutton 
sheep. In this work, the students 
undergo a very severe test, as all classes 
used at the State fairs are filled with 
animals of high merit, 
visited during the course, and every opportunity 
given to bring the students in contact with animals 
that may be made to illustrate a practical point. 
Fig. 38 shows the students at the carpenter’s bench 
and turning lathe in the University machine shop. 
The work required in this department includes bench 
work in wood, wood turning and blacksmithing, at 
which the students spend two hours a day during the 
term. Those who take this course come out sufficiently 
skilled in the use of tools to perform any ordinary job 
of construction and repairing that is likely to be 
needed on the farm. One student who took the course 
last winter reports that he has done all of his own 
blacksmithing since leaving the college. 
SOME LEWIS CO., N.Y., DAIRYMEN. 
I asked a farmer who sat next me dur¬ 
ing a ride : 
“ How many cows do you keep ?” 
“Eight” 
“ Would you be willing to tell me how 
many dollars’ worth of butter you made 
last year ?” 
“ I made $225 worth.” 
“How much did you get for your 
calves and pork ?” 
“ They sold for $66.” 
“ How much do you think it costs to feed a cow a 
year ?” 
“ Thirty dollars anyway.” 
“You have received then $291 and it cost at least 
$240 to feed them. That leaves $51 for your labor with 
them for a year. Can you afford it ?” And yet this 
man’s dairy record is above the average, as some of 
the cows were young. 
After a recent institute, with some others, I went to 
see the dairy of Assistant Dairy Commissioner C. D. 
Moore, of Lowville, N. Y. Mr. Howard Alexander, 
the superintendent, loves the animals, and makes a 
success of his work. A pen of long, straight, white, 
clean pigs attracted my attention. 
“ What are they ?” I asked. 
“ Grade Cheshires.” 
“ Can you make money feeding pigs ?” 
“ Yes, sir !” was the emphatic reply. “ We put $10 
into two brood sows a year ago, and have received 
$157.29 from pigs, pork and stock.” 
“ What do you feed them ?” 
“ We raised oats, peas and barley sowed together 
and have the grain ground for them ; with the meal 
is mixed skim-milk.” 
“ What do you consider the secret of success?” 
“ Breed, warmth and feed.” The pigs, which were 
being crowded for early killing, were fed some corn, 
and kept in a part of the cow stable where it was com* 
fortably warm. 
“ What breed of cows have you? ” 
“ Grade Holsteins and Short-horns all purchased 
within two years.” The cows are bred to calve in the 
fall and some were giving 43 pounds of milk per 
day. There is no silo, and the stock is getting a bright 
lot of Timothy hay, and the big quantity of milk can 
be accounted for only by the breed, and the way the 
food is given. 
“ I put the meal, made of oats, peas and barley, into 
this caldron kettle,” said Mr. A., “ and pour boiling 
Hiram Smith Hall. New Dairy School Building. Fig. 36. 
Numerous stock farms are a great hunter and we had all the game we could eat, 
is in its season. Our garden supplied us with a great 
part of our living in summer. ‘Garden sass’ is cheaper 
than flour and meat, and more healthful in summer. 
“ When my eldest daughter just entered her teens, I 
bought her a piano. I’ll tell you how I got it. A 
wealthy young man in town fell in love with a young 
lady and for a Christmas present bought her a fine, 
Boston-made piano, paying $1,000 for it. A few months 
afterward she played off on him, returned his presents, 
and married another man. Meeting me on the street 
one day. he offered me the instrument for $400 cash, if I 
would take it and say nothing about it. I took it. My 
daughter took lessons and learned to play and sing 
quite well. Nearly every Sunday evening in summer, 
and two or three evenings a week in winter we would 
have a little concert at our house. Me and the boys, 
and sometimes a neighbor or two, would gather around 
the piano and sing songs and hymns for an hour or so. 
We came to be quite musical. 
“ When my eldest son reached his majority he mar¬ 
ried, and I bought aafarm in the neighborhood and 
sold it to him on easy terms. He paid out in about 
eight years. My second son married and rented a 
farm four years, then went West and bought one. The 
third adopted law for a profession. The fourth studied 
medicine and is now a practicing physician. My eldest 
daughter married a farmer and they now own 240 
acres of good land. My youngest daughter is also the 
wife of a farmer and doing well. 
“ My farm ? Yes, I worked it for all it was worth, 
and got out of it all I could every year. A farm is like 
a horse ; if you take good care of it, keep it clean, 
well curried—or cultivated, and properly fed—it will 
serve you long and well. Abuse cr neglect it, and you 
ruin it, and will be ruined by it in turn. No, I didn’t 
work my farm for the benefit of future generations. 
I worked it for the benefit of myself. Never had 
philanthropy on the brain so badly as to think of 
enriching and building up a farm for the benefit of 
future generations—strangers, maybe, who would 
OUR MONEY-LENDING EX-FARMER AGAIN. 
HE GOES INTO DETAILS. 
On noting how friends Massey and Crosby sat down 
on my moneyed ex-farmer and his methods and ideas, 
I decided to interview him a little farther and see if he 
was such a bad egg as they made him appear to be. 
“ Ah, yes, I see, I see,” said he. “ These men are 
farming for fun, or for their health. They think a 
farmer should gauge his expenditures by his receipts. 
If he makes much he should spend much, and continue 
to plow and sow, and reap and mow all along down 
life’s pathway till he becomes old and decrepit, and 
then—what? Why, live on the charity of his children 
in a little cubby erected in one corner of the orchard, 
out of the way; smoke a clay pipe and idly recount the 
brilliant deeds of his young days ! Just so. Nice 
prospect! But I don’t want any of it in mine, if you 
please! 
“If I had the thing to do over again I would do just 
as I did—that is, generally speaking. Of course, with 
the light of past experience I could do much better in 
many respects; but in the matter of working, econ¬ 
omizing, saving and lending I would do as I have 
done. 
“ I know men, lots of them, who started in when I 
