The voice of freedom. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1839-1848, 1844-02-01
COM nj U MIC A T ION.
For the Voice of Freedom.
A FIR AG nj e N II.

"A r HI n u I'M Ia "
stood upon lofty eMnence--Far,
far beneath me in silent grandeur, the
mighty Connecticut rolled .itsl flood OF
crystal waters gently to the bosom OF
sold ocean," In the blue distance, lofty
mountains raised their hoary heads 10
heaven, and seemed TO wear the fieecy
clouds about their time-worn brows; a
glorious crown, formed by natures own
hand, vet transient, as the works of man.
New England's proudest stream, like
silver band, extended north and south far
as the eve could reach, till in the dim dis
lance it seemed diminished to shining
line gently waving midst natures fairest
fields. The setting sun from the west
ern hills, was throwing its golden beams
on all around, and painting nature with
its richest hues. Full in front behe!d
the ancient halls of my loved "Alma Ma
ter" Amid these self same scenes | had
roamed for four succ essive years, STU
dent--Now all the bands of boyhood's
life seemed broken--It was the day sue.
cecding our annual commencement
But yesterday, and | was bound to those
halls by allthe ties that cluster around the
name of our favored Institution, to day all
are sundered. The last bapge of her APP
probation had been given and dismissed
from her fostering care. A new sphere
of existence was breaking upon my vision
Oft had 1 longed for the time when /
should be free, but now that it had come,
| shrunk from its responsibilities had
given the parting hand, one by one, to my
classmates, and college associates and we
had separated, most of us never again to
meet on the shores of time. 1t was an
hour for meditation of recollec-
ton came bursting up from memory's
fount, almost overwhelming the SOUL
Imagination was painting in vivid colors
the scenes of the past and the future. |
was a stranger where few hours before
had been most familiar. Oppressed
with the feelings that came uncalIed like
a mighty torrent, | wandered forth to
view, for the last time, the setting sun
from my favorite retreat. 1t was love-
ly Summers eve, and the view Of some
of NATURES loveiest scenes led the Thoughts,
from nature up TO natures God and filled
the soul with humble alteration. thc't
as l stood upon the summit Of that rugged
precipice and saw the objects around me,
that the same stream would be there, the
same rocks and rugged hills would meet
the gaze of generation after generation,
for ages; when aud those who had
wandered there with me to enjoy the ST.
lence and grandeur of the scenery,
would be Wondering in the cold embrace
of the tomb. sighed to think how frail
thing is man--But there came a voice,
not of the thunder, the whrwind or the
tempest, no none of these, yet its accents
were more thrilling, more solemn than
the voice of the ornado-Mortal,' it said,
why dost thou repine? Knowest thou
not that when these towering hills, aud
rugged rocks shall have been hurled from
their firm foundations, when these rolling
tides shall have ceased to flow; then, even
then thy immortal spirit bursting through
every barrier in the vigor of its youth,
will soar away to an everlasting exist.
ence? Knowest thou not that upon
earth, man is the noblest of the works of
Code that for him all else was made p
filthy time is short thy eternity shall be