216 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
•jj 
Tlie Editor with his Voting 1 Readers. 
POUNDING IN A LESSON-A BETTER WAY. 
“ What are you doing Emma?” we asked the other day 
of a young friend, whose singular conduct excited our 
attention. “Learning my lesson sir,” replied she. We 
could not help laughing, for her 
motions indicated any thing else 
than that. She was sitting half 
bent over near a table on which 
her book lay; her feet rested on 
the rounds of the chair; with one 
hand she grasped the edge of the 
table and with the other closed 
tight she was beating on her 
breast, while she rocked back and 
forth,and repeated the words from 
the book, over and over again, 
in a mumbling, half singing tone. 
She looked as if she might have 
been performing worship to some 
strange idol, or punishing herself 
for the faults she was confessing. 
The idea of pounding the words of 
a lesson into the memory was 
somewhat new, though we had 
seen schoolmasters accustomed to 
work on that principle—without 
much success, however. 
We have seen other children 
make similar odd motions while 
trying hard to learn a lesson. The 
only reason we can imagine for 
this, is that in their earnestness, 
they get up an extra amount of 
mental steam, which has to be 
worked off somehow, and the 
head, hands, and feet are accord¬ 
ingly set in motion. Now, when 
persons thinks deeply , the effect 
is usually to make them very 
quiet. You may have noticed 
your little brother when his mind 
was intent on some thought, how 
he sat looking earnestly without 
moving; he appeared to see 
nothing around him, though his 
eyes were opened wider than usual; and you spoke 
to him several times, perhaps, before he heard. He was 
completely lost in thought. We have a friend who 
often passes acquaintances in the street without no¬ 
ticing them, and some have thought him either very rude, 
or too proud to speak to common people, when, in truth, 
his mind is too busy with thought, to notice outward ob- 
; ects—when not thus engaged, he is a most genial and so¬ 
cial companion. For this reason, when we see a child 
studying as Emma was doing, we conclude there is not 
much thought in the matter, only a violent effort to get 
the words of the book in the memory, so that they can 
be repeated. That is, perhaps, better than no lesson, but 
not the best way. When you wish to gain knowledge 
from a book, first ascertain exactly what the words and 
sentences mean. Take the writer’s thought, and make 
it your own, so that you can express it clearly in your 
own words. If this can not be done without help, ask an 
explanation from some one who understands the matter. 
Then, when you have the thought, get the words of the 
book, as they will usually express the idea better than 
yours can. By this means you will know what you are 
talking about, w hen you recite. The thought required to 
learn a lesson in this manner, will require all your men¬ 
tal force, and leave none to be expended in the pounding 
and mumbling process. Words committed to memory 
without being understood, are like nuts swallowed whole ; 
they may rattle in the mouth but they give little pleas¬ 
ure and no nourishment. 
AN AMUSING GAME. 
Many of the games played by young people are not only 
silly but otherwise objectionable. It is not necessary to 
make hard study of amusement, but there should be 
enough of thought mixed with the fun to keep it from be¬ 
ing nonsensical. We should be happy to receive des¬ 
criptions of any new games of this kind. Among the 
games which call for ingenuity and thought, we have 
seen great merriment caused by the following, which 
may be called, “ pantomime rhymes.” Three, four, 
or more actors are chosen, who consult together and 
select some word, to which rhymes can readily be found. 
For instance, the word chosen is ditch. Then each per¬ 
former must, in his turn, act out a word rhyming with 
ditch. The first player may come in and display his pock¬ 
et book, count his money, and try to show that he is rich. 
The second can amuse himself and the company by tak¬ 
ing pennies, and showing them how to pitch. The third 
can perform the motions made inconsequence of the itch, 
and another can represent a witch, etc. This is all to be 
done by the actors without speaking, while the company 
endeavor to guess the word selected, and the rhymes 
that have been acted. When this is done, another word 
is taken, and the rhymes performed as before. The inter¬ 
est of the game depends upon the words selected, and 
the ingenuity of the players in acting out their parts. 
”, 
CHEAP GENEROSITY. 
What have we here ? A crow seated on a cornstalk, 
ready to make a good meal from the nice plump ear be¬ 
fore her ; and a very intelligent and accomplished, though 
humble appearing squirrel looking on very wistfully. See 
here, Mr. Artist, in what country do you find squirrels 
that walk on two legs and carry baskets, and hold con¬ 
versations with crow’s ? Ah ! yes, we understand ; these 
surprising animals belong to the same region where Pro¬ 
fessor Frog and his music pupils live-out in dream¬ 
land. Though we have not much faith in dreams, we 
know such visions as this usually mean something. Old 
/Esop was a famous dreamer of this sort. He heard birds, 
animals, plants and objects of all kinds converse, and 
there is much sound sense in their talk as reported by 
him. Suppose we listen a moment, and let the crow and 
the squirrel in the picture tell their own story. 
Squirrel.— Fine morning this, Mrs. Crow. 
Crow.— Somewhat warm for your fur jacket and tippet 
I should think. 
Squirrel. —Rather, it is true, particularly as I have to 
work so hard. 
Crow.— Providing for the family, eh ? 
Squirrel.— Yes, the four little ones, with their mother, 
take a world of feeding. 
Crow.— Can I assist you in any way ? 
Squirrel. —If you will please to fill my basket with corn, 
it will help me much ; my teeth are getting poor; I have 
nearly worn them out upon the hard butternut shells. 
Crow .— I shall do so with pleasure. It makes me hap¬ 
py to give to the deserving: indeed I think generosity 
one of the highest virtures, and I am always w illing to 
give where I can conscientiously. 
Thero ! did you ever hear greater impudence ? That 
thieving bird setting herself up for virtue, and prating of 
generosity! Goodness must be cheap in dream-land if this 
rs a specimen. The crow is quite willing to bestow liber¬ 
ally of what costs her nothing, and to get a reputation for 
benevolence by giving away a portion of her stealings. 
“Softly there” whispers our artist “ the crow has lived so 
long near the dwellings of men, her good qualities have 
been corrupted.” That sounds harsh, does it not? but when 
we observe how hard it is for many persons to do a favor 
when it costs them something, and how ready they are 
to be generous with other people’s money, we think ho 
may be at least half right. Is there any of this crow 
generosity among our girls and boys ? Is it easy for you 
to be liberal if father will find the pennies, but very hard, 
when you must get them by your own efforts? The 
[July, 
truly noble are those who practice self denial for the 
good of others-that we take to be the moral of this 
picture fable. 
A friend of ours, whom we will call John, was noted, 
when a boy, for his love of music—he is pretty full of it 
to this day. He was an accom¬ 
plished whistler, and from morn¬ 
ing until night, you might hear 
him merrily pouring out his hap. 
py feelings in strain after strain 
of melody. Songs and hymns, 
operas and jigs, everything that 
he had ever heard sung or played, 
was brought out in a manner that 
the birds might envy. One day, 
in haying time, he was passing 
from a field just finished, to spread 
the hay in an adjoining lot. He 
was whistling away as if his life 
depended on it, when, just as he 
mounted the fence, a humble- 
bee, whose nest was near, took a 
“bee-line” for his face, and stung 
him upon the upper lip. Although 
the pain was pretty sharp, he did 
not mind it much, but went on 
with his work. Shortly after, one 
of the men at work pitching off a 
load of hay, heard John enter the 
barn, sobbing and crying bitter¬ 
ly. “ Why, John, whaYs the 
matter ?” he inquired. 
“ I—I—can’t—wh—wh—whis¬ 
tle !” sobbed out John. The 
pain he could endure, but when 
the swelling of his lip prevented 
his whistling, it was more than 
he could bear, and he was only 
comforted by the assurance that 
his lip would soon be all right 
again. It may appear a trifling 
thing for a boy to feel sad about, 
but we think it would not be a 
small matter to lose the power of 
whistling. Somehow, work goes 
easier when it can be performed 
to the sound of music, and we know that when trouble¬ 
some thoughts come into the mind, they can often be 
blown out with a vigorous whistle. Our apparatus for 
this work is not as much used as formerly, but even now 
it is often a real luxury to pipe out a lively tune. 
THE FLAMINGO. 
Not a very graceful bird, surely, but his beautiful 
plumage in some degree makes up for his awkward 
form. What can be the design in giving him such long, 
slim legs and such a reach of neck. It was for some 
special purpose that he has been furnished in this man¬ 
ner, for the Creator makes no mistakes, and adapts every 
thing to its proper use. Looking at the feet, you ob¬ 
serve they are webbed, like those of a duck or goose, 
which shows him to be a water fowl. He does not. swim, 
however, but wades, and the form of the foot prevents 
his sinking deep in the soft mud. Now you can see the 
use of his long legs. They are like stilts to enable him 
to pass readily through the water, and being up so high, 
he can also discover fish at some distance, and approach 
them unobserved. Of course he should have a neck to 
match the legs, otherwise he must kneel down to eat, 
and while he was taking this position, the fish would 
dart out of reach. Perhaps the most curious part of this 
bird is his bill. It appears as if broken or badly bent. 
This, however, is an admirable contrivance for his con¬ 
venience. When securing food he bends his neck down 
THE BENEVOLENT CROW. 
(Original sketch for the American Agriculturist.) 
A GREAT AFFLICTION. 
