An intimate friend has often mentioned to me incidents that occurred on his farm, illustrative of brute sagacity. He owned a noble great ox, uncommonly strong, docile, and intelligent. One day, when he and another ox were ploughing swampy land, they sank very deep into a quagmire. Having made vigorous exertions to extricate himself, and finding the utmost exertion of his strength was ineffectual, he quietly waited for human aid. But his companion had an impatient and irritable disposition, to which the lessons of experience could teach no wisdom. He continued to struggle violently, at intervals, and every motion wrenched the neck of his suffering yoke-fellow. The gentle creature bore it patiently for a while; but at last it became insupportable. His owner was standing completely behind him, leaning on the plough, until more help could be brought to draw them out of the “slough of despond,” into which they had fallen. The much-enduring animal turned his long neck slowly round, and fixed his large patient eyes upon the man, with such an earnest, imploring gaze, so _human_ in its expression, that it could never be forgotten. It said, as plainly as a look _could_ say it, “Can you not contrive some way to relieve me from this tormenting companion?” His owner understood the silent appeal, and immediately divorced the unhappy couple, by removing the yoke from the restless one; thus leaving him free to waste his own strength, without injuring his more philosophic companion. This happened fifteen years ago; but I was reminded of it yesterday, by hearing my friend utter his often-repeated exclamation: “If I live to be a hundred years old, I shall never forget how that ox looked at me.” The same person often speaks of the sagacity manifested by another ox on his farm. It was late in the evening, and all the animals were safely lodged in the barn, when his attention was arrested by loud knocks in that direction. They continued to be repeated, at intervals of ten or fifteen minutes, for an hour or more; and the idea that some vagrant might be in the barn doing mischief, at last induced him to go out with a lantern to examine the premises. Finding nothing unusual, he gave up the search and retired to rest. But the heavy, measured sound continued, and excited curiosity to such a degree, that it was impossible to sleep. Another examination of the barn was made with the same result as before; but this time, my friend ensconced himself in a corner, and waited for a recurrence of the mysterious noise. In a few minutes, he saw an ox raise one of his hind hoofs, and strike the floor heavily three times. Supposing the animal must have some cause for dissatisfaction, he examined his stable, and found that the man had forgotten to furnish the usual supply of fresh straw for him to lie down upon. His demand for clean sheets was complied with, and no more knockings were heard from him.