MOOllE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
CiDtciHioml. 
BY L. WETHERELI. 
“ Having light, we neck to impart it.” 
ELEMENTARY 1 NSTRUCTION. 
The importance of thorough elementary 
instruction seems to be lost sight of by 
many who are engaged in the work of edu¬ 
cating, disciplining and training mind. El¬ 
emental studies have been so multiplied 
within the last few years that you can scarce 
find a primary school in which is not taught 
or administered homoeopathically nearly 
every study pursued in college. Reading, 
spelling, arithmetic and writing, were once 
deemed of the highest importance to all.— 
To become a good speller and a good reader 
it ever has required, and it ever will require 
much care, and time, both on the part of 
the learner and instructor. One reason and 
the chief one, we think, why there are so 
few good spellers and readers is, that the 
child is either permitted or required to 
study so many things during the period of 
his school days. 
Not long since we heard a merchant com¬ 
plaining that he had not a clerk that 
could add or multiply figures with any 
accuracy—notwithstanding, the boys and 
3 ’oung men in his employment, claimed 
to be well acquainted with the text-books 
of Algebra and Geometry. Another com¬ 
plains that his clerks cannot spell the names 
of the articles that they are trading in— 
notwithstanding they have studied some or 
all of the following languages, viz., Latin, 
Greek, French, German, Spanish and Ital¬ 
ian. It not unfrequently turns out with 
such, as it did with one of olden time, con¬ 
cerning musical instruments, who said that 
“he could play on almost every kind of 
musical instrument, but could play no tune 
though.” So with many at the present 
day—they have studied almost every lan¬ 
guage, but cannot speak nor write any one 
with tolerable correctness—no, not even 
their native tongue. 
How much better it would be to learn 
something well than to skim over every¬ 
thing superficially. That young person who 
has studied his own tongue thoroughly, and 
so has learned to read it fluently, to spell it 
correctly, and to write it in harmony with 
the laws of syntax, is vastly better oil than 
another who has gained a smattering of 
half a dozen languages, and yet is unable 
to use any one of them with propriety. 
It is better for a person in every point of 
view' to know a few things as he ought to 
know them, than to gain a little knowl¬ 
edge of many things and not to know any 
thing well. The one of the latter character 
knows just enough, as is demonstrated by 
his theorizing and speculating, to prove the 
truth of the maxim, “A little learning is a 
dangerous thing.” This quotation from the 
poet is not made to encourage mental indo¬ 
lence, but to show how unfit such an one is 
to teach others, or to enjoy the pleasures of 
knowledge himself. 
What we would say to our young friends 
especially, is, learn thoroughly what you 
undertake to gain a knowledge of.— 
More mental discipline may be gained by 
studying" Colburn’s First Lessons” in arith¬ 
metic, in this way than is generally acquir¬ 
ed by going through half a dozen arithme¬ 
tics with which the slate is used. Learn 
to read, to spell, to write, and to cipher well 
—and then if you have time, attend to as 
many more of the arts and sciences as you 
can treat in the same way, ever bearing in 
mind, that you cannot learn everything, and 
that it will be far better for you to try to 
know a few things well, than to seek to 
know a little about every thing. In what we 
have said, we have not intended to set lim¬ 
its to any one’s desire for knowledge, other 
than such as are fixed by thoroughness, ca¬ 
pacity and time. We can learn but little 
relatively, here, for life is short—then seek 
to know that which will best fit you for use¬ 
fulness and enjoyment in the life that now 
is, and for happiness in that which is to 
come. 
A good life is the best philosophy. i 
NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
The Church Review, and Ecclesiastical Regi ter, 
conducted by Rev. N. 8. Richardson, Editor and 
Proprietor. New Haven. 
The April number is published, and con¬ 
tains articles on the following subjects: 1, 
Historical Studies; 2, From A. I). 1829 to 
A. D. 1850 — This article treats of church 
matters in England within the limits indi- 
(ilje tiraihe. Jlaiiiral ijblonj. 
GAME CF TWENTY QUESTIONS. 
A SOCIAL PASTIME. 
Whatever serves to make home cheer¬ 
ful, and draw the social bonds closer, and 
render domestic pleasure more attractive, 
cated by the dates. 3, Earthly Ties, and can hard1 ]' b, ‘ 100 hi ^ hl y P'^d. In this 
,7 „ • i ri - . i t \ lew we devote a passing paragraph to an 
the Social Economy of Another Life: 4, . , , 1 • ®,, r . 1 ■ , , 
J J J ’ ’ account ot a pleasant, intellectual, social and 
A Half Century's Progress; h. Loyally, instructive entertainment,called “The Game 
the American Constitution; G, Dr. Jarvis's of Twenty Questions.” The game consists 
Church of the Redeemed; 7, The World 1,1 one P art y tixm g upon some object to be 
in the Church; 8, Book Notices; 9, Litera- P l ‘ ,due b y Biem—and the other party 
THE FLAMINGO. 
Tms remarkable bird was known to the 
ancients, but is now seldom found except in 
America, where every year it becomes more 
scarce and shy. They keep near the most 
deserted and inhospitable shores in the 
vicinity of salt water lakes and swampy 
islands. 
T . . T > • i . . . , finding out what the object is by asking 
ry Intelligence. Besides the nine artides . ® ,,,, J 
J ° . twenty questions about it. I he object is 
the number contains a Summary of Home not to be too abstract or’secret—such as 
and Foreign Intelligence. the company would not probably be ac- 
It is a good time to subscribe now, as flush'd with — and the questions are put, 
• ,v a c c i i not directly as to what the object is, but as 
this is the first number of the fourth vo - , -. , . -. . , 
. to its qualities, attributes, and circumstances 
11 me. It is issued quarterly. Terms $3 a connected with it. 
year. D. M. Dewey, Agent. The following is an account of a game 
- played by a party of statesmen and diplo- 
The Christian Review, for April, has malists in London, some years since, from 
been received and comprises articles on the which our readers will gain a better idea 
following subjects; 1, Romanism and Pro- ^ ian b y any description. Mr. Canning and 
. . ,. „ a . . r, ~ _ the Chancellor ot the Exchequer were to 
iestantum; 2, Systematic Beneficence; 3, lnterrogate . tlm Alncrioan fc nist „ an)1 
The Communion Question, 4, Origin oj Lord Granville to fix upon the object and 
the Human Race; 5, The Sandwich Is- answers: First qnestion, by Mr. Canning. 
lands-, G, Orations and Speeches of Charles Does what you thought of belong to the 
Sumner — (United States Senator Elect of J^e animal or vegetable kingdom? Ans. 
Massachusetts;) 7, John Robinson and Ao ^ u! vft g e table. Q. Is it manufactured 
m, tt j n Tir 7 7 • or unmanufacted ? A. Manufactured. Q. 
Thomas Helwys; 8, Moral and Rehyiom ( s it soM or | iqllid? A . Solid. (How 
Training of the People; 9^ The Present could it be liquid, said one of the company 
Aspect of the Papal Movement in Eng- siily, unless vegetable soup?) Q Is it a 
land ; 10, Notices of New Publications, thing entire in itself or in parts ? A. Entire. 
the number contains a Summary of Home 
and Foreign Intelligence. 
this is the first number of the fourth vol¬ 
ume. It is issued quarterly. Terms $3 a 
year. D. M. Dewey, Agent. 
LA-:/ 
Wp* ■ & f/ 
It is the treasure-house of the mind, 
wherein the monuments thereof are kept 
and preserved. Plato makes it the mother ! l su W? rt ltselt ? . A : A , h « fo ! me £- ? 0(iS 
of the muses; Aristotle sets it one, degree U . P ass ^succession (Neither Lord Gran- 
further, making experience the mother of ville or the Minister being quite certain on 
arts, memory the parent of experience.- ' lus P omt ’ the J question was not answered; 
Philosophers place it in the rear of the but the very doubt being supposed to throw 
Philosophers place it in the rear of the but the very doubt being supposed to throw 
head; audit seems the mine of memory some light on the case, it was agreed’the 
lies there because there men naturally dig <i uestl ° n sh ™ ld be counted one.) Q. Was 
for it, scratching it when they are at a loss * “ sed [he Coronation ? A. Yea Q. 
This again is two fold: one, the simple re- Where m the Hall or in the Abbey? A. 
tendon of things; the other, a regaining robably in both ccr amly in the Hall. Q. 
them when for?often. ° What 18 lts sha P e? ( ihls 4 uestlon was ob .- 
them when forgotten. 4““/ I* uu ; 
First, soundly infix in thy mind what jected to, as too direct, and was withdrawn.) 
thou dcsirest to remember. What wonder F ifteen questions were now asked, and 
is it if agitation of business jog that out of ^be interest had gone on increasing until 
thy head, which was there rather tacked eacb one °* the company felt like looking 
than fastened ? Whereas those notions a *' a r:ice > where the horses were neck to 
which get in by violentapossessio will abide ne<di - F he remaining questions were asked 
there, till ejecto firma, sickness or extreme a [^ r a inanner s ^ mdar t° ^bose we have 
age, dispossess them. It is best knocking given, until the whole twenty were ex¬ 
in the nail over night, and clinching it the hausted. Mr. Canning, at the conclusion, 
next morning "" rolled his huge rich eyes about; and was 
r, j ,T , .i . , evidently under some doubt whether he 
Overburthen not thy memory, to make , , / ,, ... T > 4 i i c .i 
■ , 'ly i liad n-ot the thintr. By the rule ot the 
so faithful a servant a slave. Remember , , & J . . ,, , - c 
. f • T T , game, however, he was now to tell, and, if 
Atlas was weary. Have as much reason as , , ,, . r . ,, , ’, T 
- ,, right, was the wanner—n not, the loser. “1 
a camel, to rise when thou hast thy full , „ •, , .... . , ’ , 7 /. 
, T T . c , ■ think,” said he, “it must be the wand of 
(\ MQmnrr hun n nm*cn if if ho num- 7 7 J 
load. Memory, like a purse, if it be over r i TT . 7 TT . , ;. 
n ii .. . .. J a i a i! -ii i a c the Lord High steward” lie was right! 
full that it cannot shut, all will drop out of rn • , • • , , , . ° , 
r „ , c , .. . . Ii.is w r and is a long, white stick, not much 
if. lake care of a gluttonous curiosity to .*• i ° •,,, ■, 
c b , 4 J e thicker than your middle linger—and, as 
feed on many things, lest the greediness of , . ir ,, lX ° T 
4 , ... J r ° 4l sucli, tallies with all the answers given. It 
the appetite of thy memory spoil the diges- , ,, . ,, . b • , 
.-A} c n J s J 1 r i may be well to say, that the questions and 
tion thereof. Bezas case was peculiar and J . J , . 1 ., 
,, , . , r 1 c answers are not put in the rapid manner 
memorable; being above fourscore years of . • , , A •, f, ■ . , 
, , . ,. 3 . , , , J , , , above given, but have considerable intervals 
age he could perh'clly say by heart any (.reek betwel f n somc „f t | iem , livened by the 
ci.ipu-m.’. au s t.pist t.s, 01 any ling remar j i3 anc j suggestions of the company, 
else which he had learned long before, but i r ,• f , n / 
. , , , and ot those asking the questions. Ihe 
forgot whatsoever was newly told him; his _. i- i s a i e 
° ... . L . . J ,, ’ game at the dinner lasted upwards of an 
memory, like an inn, retaining old guests, j um) . 1 
but having no room to entertain new r . .. ^ .. „ , , . 
° “ lwenty Questions has many advanta- 
Marshal thy notions into a handsome ges as a social game. It can be played by 
method. One will carry twice more weight me n, women, and children, of all and any 
trussed and packed up in bundles, than classes. Two or three gathered together 
when it lies untowardly flapping and hang- 0 f an evening, at any quiet place, can take 
i n g a bout his shoulders. 1 hings orderly p ar t j tl r p 0 such as suppose it very easy 
fardled up under heads are most portable. or rather childish, w r e recommend a trial— 
Ihomas Lul/er. anc j th e y will find it to tax their powers, 
“ - and make a strong pull upon the intellect. 
AGE AND W ISDOM. Sometimes the object thought of may be 
“People always fancy,” said Goethe, an historical character, either living dr dead, 
“that we must become old to become wise; or an event m m the pastor present ages 
AGE AND WISDOM. 
but, in truth, as years advance.it is hard to 
keep ourselves as wise as we were.” Man EXPERIMENTS IN GALVANISM. 
becomes, indeed, in the different stages of - 
his life, a different being; but he cannot say Place a thin plate of zinc upon the upper 
that he is a better one, and in certain mat- surface of the tongue, and a half-crown or 
ters, lie is as likely to be right in his twen- a piece of silver, on the under surface.— 
tieth as in his sixtieth year. We see the Allow the metals to remain for a little time 
world one way from a plain, another way in contact with the tongue, before they 
from the heights of a promontory, another are made to toucli each other, that the taste 
from the glacier fields of tho primary moun- of the metals themselves may not be con¬ 
tains. We see, from one of these points a founded with the sensation produced by 
larger piece of world than from the other; their contact. When the edges of the 
but that is all, and we cannot say that we metals, which project beyond the tongue, 
see more truly from any one than from the are then suffered to toucli, a galvanic sensa- 
rest. tion is produced, which it is difficult accu- 
When a writer leaves monuments on the rately to describe, 
different steps of his life’, it is chiefly iinpor- Place a silver teaspoon as high as possi- 
tant that he should have an innate founda- ble between the gums and the upper lip, 
tion and good-will; that he should, at eacli and a piece of zinc between the gums and 
step, have seen and felt clearly, and that, the under lip. On bringing the extremities 
without any secondary aims, he should have of the metals into contact, a very vivid sen- 
said distinctly and truly, what has passed sation, and an effect like a flash of light 
in his mind. Then will his writings, if they across the eyes, will be perceived. It is 
were right at the step they originated, re- singular, that this light is equally vivid in 
main always right, however the writer may the dark and in the strongest light, and 
developc or alter himself in after times. whe.ther the eyes be shut or open. 
of the world. 
Terms $3 a j r ear. Alexander Grant, ^ f° r public use ? A. Yes. Q. Does 
who may be found at his Music Store in £ e] f‘ to England, or out of it? A. In 
~ J . . . , . England. Q. Is it single, or are there olh- 
fetate Street, is Agent foi this city. ers 0 f t j ie same kind? A. Single. Q. Is 
rrr™™ it historical or only existent at present A. 
_' Both. Q. For ornament or use ? A Both. 
It is tho treasure-1,ouse of the mind, Q- Has it any eonneetion with the person of 
wherein the monuments (hereof ere ten, the King ' A. No. Q. Is it Carried Or does 
The body of this water fowl is no larger 
(ban that of a swan, but its legs and neck 
are of such length that it stands, when 
erect, over six feet in height Its wings 
spread five feet and a half from tip to tip. 
Its head is round and small—its bill large, 
seven inches long, partly red, partly black, 
and curve d. The legs are very small, and 
like the neck, near three feet long. The 
feet are webbed, yet it never swims, but 
wades for its food in shallow water. Its 
color is a beautiful scarlet. 
They go in flocks, and travelers who have 
visited their haunts, represent them as al¬ 
ways moving in a long close line of two or 
three hundred together, presenting at the 
distance of half a mile the appearance of a 
bright brick wall. The line is, of course 
broken when they seek food, but one. of 
their number watches and trumpets forth 
the slightest appearance of danger, when 
the whole take wing. 
The flesh is of good flavor, but black 
and hard. The tongue was celebrated as 
a delicacy, among the ancients, and it is re¬ 
lated that one of the Roman Emperors pro¬ 
cured fifteen hundred flamingo’s tongues to 
be served up in a single dish at one of his 
great banquets. The tongue of this bird is 
much larger than that of any other, and 
lies in his large, box-like bill, a black and 
grisly mass. 
The nest of this bird is very peculiar, 
being built in the water, and raised, a trun¬ 
cated cone, eighteen inches from the sur¬ 
face. When sitting, their long legs hang 
down each side of the nest into the water 
The young are easily tamed. 
PRAIRIE DOGS. 
Soon after crossing this river, we came 
for the first time into a colony of prairie 
dogs, or “ dog towns,” as they are familiar 
ly called. These little fellows throw up a 
conical mound of earth, one or two feet in 
height, in the centre of which is the en¬ 
trance to their subterranean dwelling. The 
extent of these colonies is surprising. We 
traveled through one for at least twenty 
miles, and it doubtless extended as far on 
each side of the road. These animals 
strongly resemble the squirrel — they live 
upon grass, and seem to require but very 
little water; for their settlements were fre¬ 
quently many miles from any stream. It 
is a common belief among travelers upon 
the prairie, that the excavations of these 
animals extend far enough below the sur¬ 
face to reach water. They are exceeding- 
ingly shy. As soon as they observed us, 
one of them would set up a shrill bark, 
which seemed to serve as a signal for the 
rest, for they would at once retire to their 
holes, and it was with great difficulty that 
our men could kill one for our examination. 
An owl of a dirty brown color, and rattle¬ 
snakes are frequently found about the holes; 
but whether they only occupy those which 
are deserted, oi are tenants in common with 
the prairie dogs, is not well ascertained.— 
Every day we killed numbers of enormous 
rattlesnakes. One of our finest horses was 
bitten by one just above the fetlock; in less 
than an hour the leg swelled to twice the 
usual size. The animal recovered, however, 
and was fit for use in two days.— Mexican 
Boundary Commissioners. 
SONNET, 
‘Cut it iiown, why cumbereth it the ground ?’*— 
Luke xiii. 7. 
On ! Thou Most Merciful! who turnest not 
Away the chief of sinners ! at thy feet 
Mourning a wand’ring spirit’s fitful lot, 
I bow: yet ah ! for mercy how unmeet, 
1 own myself a cutnberer of the ground, 
Presenting, root and branch, a worthless tree, 
On which, in cold and bleak sterility, 
No fruit of glory to Thy Name is found. 
Yet, oh ! long-sufF’ring Lord ! Who dost abound 
In Infinite Compassion ! spare Thou yet 
The leafless barren fig-tree ! its vast debt 
To patient grace, forgive ! and be it crowned 
Still through that grace, with life anew to stand 
And flourish in thy courts, Father ? at thy right hand! 
FLOWERS AND THE DEAD. 
BY J. CLEMENT. 
A millionaire of Louisiana, who died a 
short time since, and who, before his de¬ 
mise, had done much for the maintenance 
of free schools, affixed this item to his will: 
“ I have still one small request to make, 
one little favor still to ask, and it shall be 
the last. It is, that it may be permitted 
annually, to the children of the free schools 
situate nearest the place of my interment } 
to plant and water a few flowers around my 
grave. This little act will have a double 
tendency; it will open their young and 
susceptible hearts to gratitude and love to 
their Creator, for having raised as the hum¬ 
ble instrument of His bounty to them, a 
poor frail worm of the earth like me, and 
teach them, at the same time, what they 
are, whence they came, and whither they 
must return.” 
This is a singular codicil; natural, per¬ 
haps under the circumstances, beautiful un_ 
der almost any circumstance, yet a rare 
wish on the part of the dying. The living 
make it a practice to plant 'flowers by the 
bed of departed friends, but seldom by re¬ 
quest. They do it from the natural prompt¬ 
ings of affection; and it is an appropriate 
and beautiful tribute to the memory of the 
loved and faded. 
While endeared and gentle ones are with 
us, and we daily or frequently enjoy their 
sympathies, smile for smile and tear, for tear 
we but half appreciate their worth. We 
walk in their light and know it not. Stars 
sent, to pour their steady light for a while 
into the domestic circle wherein we revolve, 
they confer blessings of which we are hut 
little conscious until the hand that fashioned 
and lit them up, removes them, and the 
night of desolation gathers around the hearth 
and heart. Then we remember the bloom¬ 
ing face, the offices of kindness and love, 
the soothing, cheering, musical tones of the 
hushed voice; and all the beauty of the 
cherished and lost, the goodness of the 
heart and the graces of the soul, appeal to 
our natures with effectual eloquence, to re¬ 
member and beautify their resting place. 
Hence the call for flowers: 
'• Bring flowers, pale flowers, o’er the Her to shed, 
A crown for the brow of the early dead ! 
For this through its leaves hath the white rose 
burst, 
For this in the woods was the violet nursed. 
T'h >ugli they smile in vain for what once was ours, 
They are love’s last gift—bring ye flowers, pale 
flowers.” 
Buflalo, N. Y., April, 1831. 
Life’s Difficulties. — The first thing, 
depend upon it, is to look upon a new life 
with a different eye; to resolve firmly and 
strongly to grapple with the change which 
fortune has forced upon you, and to wring 
from it all the benefit which it is capable of 
yielding; to cast away vain regrets and 
make ready for the future as a new-being. 
Aye, you can fit yourself to your fate; and 
it is wonderful how soon you will find diffi¬ 
culties vanish, disgusts disappear, and new 
sources of pleasure springing up when you 
least expect them. If there be anything 
in the past which goes beyond regret—any¬ 
thing, I mean, that you condemn, repair it 
as far as you have means, so that the shad¬ 
ow of things that you have left behind you 
may not cloud the sunshine of those before 
you- _ 
Beneficence. —The power of doing good 
to worthy objects, is the only enviable cir¬ 
cumstance in the lives of people of fortune. 
What joy it is in the power of the wealthy 
to give themselves, whenever they please, 
by comforting those who struggle with un¬ 
deserved distress. 
Nothing in human nature is so God-like 
as the disposition to do good to our fellow- 
creatures. 
Such is the blessing of a benevolent 
heart, that, let the world frown as it will, it 
cannot possibly bereave it of all happiness, 
since it can rejoice in the prosperity of others. 
Air is about 816 times lighter than water- The just man will flourish in spite of envy 
