'SSXSKX 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL, 
THE EUINS OF AMERICA. 
THE RISE OF SENATOR RUSK. 
BT JOHN NEAL, 
The ti'agedy of Ncacogdoclies, and the ro¬ 
mantic incidents whicli led to the Texan 
war of Independence, find their parallel 
only in the Roman history of Lucretia and 
the elder Brutus. Juan Costa was a person 
of groat influence and bravery in the wild 
forests; but ho fell under the displeasure of 
Santa Anna, and his minion Pedras, the 
commandant of Nacogdoches, was sent to 
arrest him. lie arrested the father at 
his supper table, attended by his only 
daughter—a young girl of surprising beau¬ 
ty and intelligence. He loaded him with 
chains, and cast him into prison, notwith¬ 
standing her tears and entreaties. Finally 
he proposed to free the father if the daugh¬ 
ter would consent to sacrifice her innocence 
and honor. She rejected the infamous 
proposition with a blow in the face; when 
the armed ruffian swore a horrible oath to 
execifle his will on them both and then 
Theke may be no such ruins in Ameri¬ 
ca as are found in Europe, or in Asia, or in 
Africa; but other ruins there are of a pro¬ 
digious magnitude—the ruins of a mighty 
people. There may be no places of pilgrim¬ 
age in America, unless it be some lowly 
battle ground, already forgotten by the 
neighborhood, overgrown with a forest, and 
over-shadowed with a perpetual deep dark¬ 
ness, or covered, far and wide, with a sea 
of watering herbage—the frightful vegeta¬ 
tion of death; no places that have been 
sanctified by song and story, ages after ages, 
with beautiful tradition or fierce poetry, 
save here and there a small spot of earth 
shut in by the great hills, or fortified by the 
everlasting rocks, where the red man wilh- 
stood the white man, while the noise and 
the flash of the terrible weapons with which 
the latter shot fire into the hearts of the 
former, appeared to the savage to be the 
very noise and brightness which he had 
seen set fire to the woods about his path, 
tear up the earth under his feet, and shatter 
the sky over his head; or some other 
shadowy quiet place or smooth hill top, 
where the men of the revolution made 
war upon their fathers and brothers—upon j 
the most powerful nation of the earth, while 
her ships covered the sea, and her armies 
were on the march in every quarter of the 
globe. 
There may be no piles of barbarian 
[ architecture, each a wilderness of turrets, 
towers and battlements, rocking to the sea 
breeze, or overshadowing the high places of 
power in America; no half-buried city like 
the billiard and the sculptured treasures of 
art which encumber the earth and choke 
up the rivers of the old world, or come and 
go with the tide—appear and disappear, 
day after day, along the sea shore of the 
states that have perished forever, cities 
buried by the volcano or the earthquake, 
overthrown by the savage, swept over by 
the sea, or swallowed by the sand of the 
HEAVEN. 
That clime in not like this dull clime of ours. 
All, all is brightness tlierc ; 
A sweeter influence breathes around its flowers, 
And a far milder air. 
No calm below is like that calm above ; 
No region here is like Unit realm of love; 
Earth’s softest spring ne’er shed so soft a light; 
Earlh’s brightest summer never shone so bright. 
That sky is not like this sad sky of ours. 
Tinged with earth’s change and care ; 
No shadow dims it, and no rain-cloud lowers. 
No broken sunshine there '. 
One everhasting stretch of azure pours 
Its stainlc.ss splendor o’er tho.se sinless shores ; 
For there Jehovah shines with heavenly ray. 
There Jesus reigns, dispensing endless day. 
The dwellers there are nut like those of earth ; 
No mortal stain they bear; 
And yet they seem of kindred blood and birth — 
Whence and how came they therel 
F.arth w.as their native soil; from sin and shante. 
Through tribulation, they to glory came; 
Bond-slaves delivered from sin’s crushing load. 
Brand plucked from burning by the hand of God. 
Tltose robes of their’s are not like these below ; 
No angel’s half so bright! 
4^’hence came that beauty, whence that living glow, 
Whence came that radiant white? 
Washed in the blood of the atoning I.and), 
Fair as tlie light those robes of their’s became ; 
And now, all tears wiped t>ft’ from every eye. 
They wander where the freshest pastures lie, 
Thro’ all the nightless day of tliat unfading sky. 
A DESERTED CITY. 
( 
t ' One of the most readable things we have 
'( seen lately is a discourse delivered before 
S the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, by 
( Thos. L. Kane, Esq. It contains a very 
interesting account of the Mormon people 
< from the time of their expatriation from 
^ Nauvoo to the present, and pays a high 
( tribute to their hardihood, enterprise, and 
\ good character. 
Mr. Kane thus describes the appearance 
V of deserted Nauvoo, which he visited after 
^ the Mormons had gone forth to seek a new 
) home: 
<' I was descending the last hill-sidc upon 
^ my journey, when a landscape in delightful 
) contrast broke upon my view. Half en- 
With dark eyes, tearless, glassy, fixed as 
those of a corpse, yet flashing a double por¬ 
tion of luminous fire, she mounted a horse 
and hurried away wildly around the coun¬ 
try. She halted at eY(W house, no matter 
whether Mexican or American, and rehears¬ 
ed, in tones of thrilling horror, her father’s 
wrongs and her own. All timid modesty, 
all weakness, had vanished from her tongue, 
utterly consumed by the scorching thirst 
for vengeance. She painted in passion’s 
fiery language, and with awful minuteness, 
the facts of the damning deed; she bared 
her virgin bosom and showed the livid 
marks of the ravisher’s fingers among the 
mazes of those azure veins along the sur¬ 
face of that expanse of snow, now so pollu¬ 
ted and soiled, but before pure as the gleam 
of angel’s wings. 
And still, wherever the beautiful maid 
wandered, a deafening yell of wrath and 
vengeance rose up against the tyrants. The 
people of both races and all classes flew to 
arms, appointing a general rendezvous for 
the 25th of Juno, at the residence of the 
absent and now imprisoned Juan Costa. 
It was then debated by the people as to 
the mode of attack; and who should be 
their leader, but nothing being agreed on; 
the whole assemblage bid fair to break up 
in confusion; when a tall and powerfully 
built stranger, who had just entered Texas 
from the States, came forward and address¬ 
ed the multitude as follows: 
“ I am a stranger, but I am also a man; 
and I owe my life, soul, body, health, liap- 
piness—^all—all to a woman—my mother! 
And if I turn a deaf ear to the prayers of 
an innocent woman a.sking my aid against a 
villain, may both my mother and my God 
. curse me! I go for one, and—should you 
j all stay behind—alone to fight Col. Pedras 
THOUGHTS FROM “MARTYRIA.” ^ 
- (' 
Praising God.— We think of God chief- ^ 
ly when we are sorrowful. It would be ^ 
well for us, and more profitable perhaps, to ^ 
remember him in our pleasures, when we { 
meet with success, or feel in full strength, 
or press our children to our breasts, or when { 
the rejoicing sunshine doth gladden us. ) 
We are more familiar with supplication tlian } 
with thanksgiving, and that from ingrati- ■ 
tude, and not because our unprovisioned ' 
wants are the more numerous. Every \ 
omitted thanksgiving doth detract from our j 
faith, and from its supporting power; and ■ 
doth contribute also to render our commu- < 
nion with God a monotony of complaint and ^ 
petition, a gloomy wearying of heaven and < 
ourselves with selfish prayers. ^ 
Tim Pi.ow A.VD THE Sword.— Husband- s 
ry and warfare will, some season, have tlieir / 
positions inverted; just as the executioner’s ^ 
j is an opprobious office now, instead of being ( 
I a covetabic post, as in former times. In ^ 
! the eye of an angel, and in the world, as it ^ 
j ought to be, the scars of labor would be ac- ^ 
counted as infinitely more lionorable than ( 
those of battle, and a harvest of corn as a ^ 
nobler achievement than knighthood — cul- ^ 
ture of the earth, when worthily interpreted ( 
embodying, no doubt, a sublimer idea than ^ 
does the destruction of men, however val- ^ 
iantly flone. ( 
MlW Some preacliei's there are, who will ^ 
denounce the crime which they themselves ( 
committed yester-evening, and their con- ^ 
sciences not misgive them at all; deeming ^ 
their own a parallel case with an attorney’s ( 
right to prosecute the very offence himself \ 
perpetrates. Others there are, Pharisees, S 
The spinner’s wheel was idle; the carpenter 
had gone from his bench and shavings, his 
unfinished sash and casing. I’ resh bark 
was in the tanner’s vat, and the fresh chop¬ 
ped light wood stood piled against the 
baker’s oven. The blacksmith’s shop was 
cold; but his coal heap and ladling pool 
and crooked waterhorn were all there, as it 
he had just gone off for a holiday. No 
work people anywhere looked to know my 
errand. If I went into the gardens, clink¬ 
ing the vvicket latch loudly after me, to pull 
marigolds, heart’s ease and lady Slippers, 
YOUNG MEN. 
been forgotten? Isabella. 
TO MY YOUNG FRIENDS. 
In the pursuit of every object, and the 
performance of every duty, we are prompt¬ 
ed by some motive, though perhaps at the 
time wholly unconscious of such influence. 
As w'e examine, both our own feelings, and 
the actions of others, we find that mankind 
are actuated by two classes of motives, en¬ 
tirely opposite in their nature as well as in 
their results—selfish and benevolent. That 
leads its possessor to turn everything to his 
own advantage, entirely regardless of the 
welfare of others; this has doing good for 
its object, the world for its sphere of labor 
and the whole human race for the subjects 
of its bounty. 
We lire now 
DOCTOR’S VISITS. 
It is not only for the sick man, but the 
sick man’s friends that the doctor comes. 
His presence is often as good for them as 
for the patient, and they long for him yet 
more eagerly. How we have all watched 
after him! What an emotion the thrill of 
his carriage wheels in the street, and at 
length at the door, has made us feel! how 
we hang upon his words, and what a com¬ 
fort we get from a smile or two, if he can 
vouchsafe that sunshine to lighten or dark¬ 
en ! Who hasn’t seen the mother prying 
into his face, to know if there is hojie for 
the sick infant that cannot speak, and that 
. lies yonder, its little frame battling with fe¬ 
ver ? Ah, how she looks into his eyes!— 
What thanks if there is light there; what 
f<’rief and pain if he casts them down, and 
dares not say “ hope!” Or it is the house¬ 
father that IS stricken, fl'hc terrified^ wife 
looks on. while the iihysician feels his pa- 
just starting on life’s voyage, 
while the broad heaving ocean, with its ev- 
er-reslless tide lies full in view. Already 
have we taken in our cargo, the crew is now 
shipped, the streamers are floating in the 
breeze^, and we are ready to weigh anchor 
for a distant port. But stop! the voyage is 
a dangerous one, and many a gallant ship 
has been wrecked, making a total loss.— 
Before we can proceed with any degree of 
safety, the aid of a skillful pilot must be en¬ 
gaged, who will guide us securely over the 
beetling surge. 
On .the wharf stand two, whosi; appear¬ 
ance indicates the pilot. Now, if we em- j 
ploy tJie one, the whole enterprise will be 
turued to his own account, and the interest 
of all concerned, made subservient to his 
own purpose; but if the other, we need 
have no fears as to our success, as the high¬ 
est advantage to the ownei-s will be sought, 
while neither bribes nor personal danger 
can induce him to swerve from his post of 
duty. 
Their names—for you would know and 
remember them, too, are Self and Benev¬ 
olence. 
And now. Young Friends, consider care¬ 
fully, which of these is to conduct you over 
the whirlpools and shoals of life’s tempest¬ 
uous sea, as we can never again cross its 
troubled waters so as to correct any error 
we might make.— Boston Museum. 
can Colonies, and but 22 when made 
Chancellor of the Exchequer. Edmund 
Burke, at the age of 25, was first' Lord of 
the Treasury. Our own Washington was 
but 25 when he covered the retreat of the 
British at Braddock’s defeat, and was ap¬ 
pointed to the command in chief of all the 
Virginia forces. Alexander Hamilton, at 
20, was a l/ieutenant Colonel and aid to 
Washington—at 25 a member of Congress 
—at 33 Secretary of the 'treasury. Thom¬ 
as Jefferson was but 23 when he drafted 
the ever memorable Declaration of Inde¬ 
pendence. At the age of 30 years, 8ir 
Lsaac Newton occupied the mathematical 
chair at Cambridge College, England, j 
having, by his scientific discoveries, render¬ 
ed his name immortal. 
We might continue the list to a greater 
length;, but enough has been said mready, 
to show, that the idea that young men are 
not capable of performing great and en¬ 
nobling actions, or of taking a high position 
in the counsels of a nation, is chimerical 
and visionary. And what has been said, 
may wcU serve to encourage the young to 
set up a high standard and press towards 
it with ardor, suffering nothing to discourage 
them from soaring “ onward and upward,” 
in the paths of fame, or in the pursuits of 
child. He is not distinguislied by eloquence 
of speech, but his laugh is sometimes di¬ 
vine—the clear ring of a heart sound to the 
very centra 
^ that it might have been possible to do better; 
( how harrassing the sympathy with survivors, 
\ if the case is unfortunate—how great the de- 
y lighter victory. 
\ The serf may be despicable in the 
! esteem of the baron; nevertheless he is a 
{ truei' tabernacle of tlie Godhead than a 
of whom the 
Slanderer— a 
person 
Greeks showed a due appreeiatjon, when 
they made the word synonymous with devil 
Strong passions work wonders, when 
there is a greater strength of reason to curb 
them. 
“ When I am a man,” is the poetry of 
childhood; “when 1 was young,” is the 
poetry of old age.— Montgomery. 
God draweth straight lines, but we thinU 
and call them crooked.— Eliza Cook. 
j iruci moernacie Ol tUU vjuuucava man a 
\ church, a minister, or other temple made 
\ with hands; and from his heart there may 
^ ascend more welcome incense than was offer- 
') ed on the altar at Jerusalem.— Martyria. 
