The voice of freedom. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1839-1848, 1844-02-22

character IN the group LOT MS inulVld
uality was distinctive as that of the APP
polio Belvdere among dwarfsh statues
OF clay. Let US contemplate this picture
a moment. Let us take IN at a glance, the
whole scope of the foreground and back
ground inspect every stroke of The pen
Gil; estimate The design and effect of eve
ny incident and image delIneated on the
canvass.
A certain man went do,on from Jeru-
suLem 10 Jericho bear ia mind the term,
certain man; for it designates peculiar
individuality. He was, undoubtedly, a
Jew; otherwise our Saviour would not
have Introduced Samaritan. And a
Jew-a religious Jew, especially was a
very certain character. He was known,
the world over, by certain proverbal
characteristics, which betrayed him wher-
ever he Went. Clngiog with desperate
adhesion, to all the physica forms OF the
Jewish religion, he was painfully Plous and
religiously exclusive in everything but
those announcement and weighter matters
ofthe law, kindly charity to his neigh
boris; common honesty in his every day
business, and other duties Of the same ma
ture.
He WENT DOWN FROM JERUSALEM TO
JERICHO Let US go down, too, by a
short road, and intercept him, in our I'M
aglnatioD, somewhere between those Gel
ebrated places. Perhaps we may over
take him in The dark, dangerous pass
through yondet deep ravine. Tread soft
ly, Hank was that football no;
Twas groan. Carefully there s some
foul play here. Stay moment-lhere B.!
another groan !-Methought it came from
yonder cIump of cedars. Turn we this
angle now, aud get behind this shelving
crag; for, depend upon it, there are muir
derous bandits close at hand. Hist !!
triends-see! there he is o murder
most foul his mangled limbs are wrilhing
in the dust while from his gashed tenn
Piles the blood is oozing in clodded streams,
which he tries in vain TO slaunch with
handfuIs Of hot sand The burning sun
is broiIing the gore over his glazed eyes,
and setting the marrow OF his broken
bones on fire. He has groancd out I'M
heard his dying strength, and his swollen
tongue has choaked up the gateway Of
his voice. See he moves-the pater-
ing of water-drops, dripping from distant
rocks, falls on his ear like the whisper OF
far of angels; and the thirst that's burn
ing him TO agony, is wrngiog his frame
with one more effort He strikes out his
nerveless hand, and clu'ching the shallow.
rooted grass, he draws his bloody length |
along towards the imagined, blissful toun-
tain of healing waters. Once more
once more he strikes his fingers into the
ground his whole body quiverS with the
effort; but, alas his broken limbs are
as heavy as rocks of iron-the deceilful
grass gives way, and with it clulched
despairlngIy in his hand, he rolls over in |
his bloody trail. Every ray of hope for.
sakes his broken heart while he breathes
out the burden of his despair in the half
arlicuiated exclamation aOhere, aGho IS ma
ueigh60r?
Courage poor man-keep up mo-
ment longer. [ guess he is coming; |
hear a step beyond the bushes yonder.-
Yes; here he comes heaven bless him
aud you too. 1t is not Gully your old
neighbor, but your old minister, who |
lives up in Jerusalem and who, for these
twenty years, has been yoar spiritual pas
to- aud teacher, and daysman between
you and God; presenting your meat Of
terings on commission sufficient TO sup
py his table, and clohe himself with that
fine linen robe in which he approaches
like a walking statue of Grecial marble.
Look closely, brethren; it will be
luxury to see this white-6ngered priest
bend over his fallen parishioner, and Stake
his parched lips, and wash the crusted
gore from his face, and bad up his
broken bones with strips Of linen torn in
magnanimous haste from his flowing robe.
There he is close at hand. He carries
his head high, TO be sure, but he cannot
but see the poor bruised creature; for he
is viug with half his length in the cart
path. He must see him-he does see
him-he starts aside as i: he had come
upon snake or a dead beast. What
he is not going to pass BY on the other
side is he? Reverend sir, stop! for the
sake of sweet mercy, stop! That's not
beasl-tis a man one of our old neigh
bors. Look at him! why, don't you re.
member? lis that man who brought 10
the temple yesterday his offerings of two
young pigeons twas all he had, aud you
had one of them for breakfast this very
morning. Nay, now; don't curl up your
lip SO at him, don't draw your white robe
around you, TO step unsoIled over the pur-
pie pool of his blood. Minister o! mer-
ciful God leave him not 10 die in the
sand there. He has poor old mother
that waits his return in one of the back
streets of Jerusalem; and he is her only
son. And his wife, poor soul would
weep her eyes out to hear of such mis-.