The voice of freedom. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1839-1848, 1848-08-02

curse that fallen man must carry, had first descend
ed upon me?
This is the only place which I could ever heartily
call HOME. 1have since taried inmany a Caravanse-
ra but I pass them all without tear Or sigh. Some
years ago-for the first time in many-I revisited
the aforementioned place. 1t seemed as 1 had
walked from a long and dreary sleep. Yet could
not but weep over the changes that time had
wrought. Iempus edaD ctferar." Roughvsages
of half-civilzed men stared ungraciously upon me
as passed by the falling door, and unmanncrcd
geese gabbed strange irrecognition in my face.
Where, ever, in tho cleaning
Homes. Angels watched his coming
stranger stares at him, who signing, passes on"
Two ancient pcar-trees still show the place where
hand long cold was wont to pluck golden fruitage;
but all the rest-the grapc-vne-the peach-tree-
the chenies-the running grave-walks and their
neat embrodering of Box Il saw it planted myself!)
are gone. Vanished, annihilated traceless, like
the foundatinos of Babylon. Here along the south
stood a row of ancient poplars which our young
imagination personated as Giants or dignfed into
Heroes. Their very roots are turned into loan
again. Within the house the chatter of machinery
is heard in place of the geesome sounds of our boy
ish sports; and a great unsghty chimney Glue for
some vilainous enginc) towers-up without, where
once the boughs of an old weeping willow dropped
in graceful tendency over my Mothers bed cham
Der.
| Tho rubbish and pavng-stones of - and -
street are encfoachng upon the premises on either
hand. Soon the thick built city twill rest down
upon the place, and the last memorial of its former
use will be obliterated forever.
| Reader, the fashion of this world passeth away.
Il II
was always peculiarly affected by a Martial
dirge. Well do l remember when at the age of
seven witnessed the military procession in honor
of deceased officer, how deep and lasting was the
impression that it left. did not understand at first
the meaning of the mufled drums, the slow and
solemn tread, and the singularly subdued and af-
fectlng wall of the brazen harmony l was told
| Qike Anna Ross, in the little book my Aunt Marga
ret had given meg that ait was an officers funeral"
The music which affected me so deeply was the
Portuguese Hymn" So my mother told me as
we watched the pageant together from the open
window. And as the stately march moved on down
Broadway, and rank after rank passed Amty street
where we were, and heard the music varying as
distance changed, or obstacles INTERVIEWED,
"Sometimes afar, and sometimes ancar,"
thought that no harmony could ever be SO heaven
ly as that. never forgot the name, and for many
years longed to recognize once more its majestic
tones My wish was at last gratifed. But alas, it
was changed. l have never heard, shall never
hear that stately anthem again.
Sometime ago happened to behold another mill
tary funeral 1t was moving with solemn tread
and badges of mourning towards the Greenwood
Cemetery. When first observed the procession it
was approaching in silence, except the slow beating
Of the mufled drum, but as l paused to await its
coming, the notes of the touching yet triumphant
hymn "Come we disconsoate, where'er We languish''
began to steal softly upon the air. My heart swell
ed as followed the tones of the subdued and SOL
emn trio with the well remembered lines
"Joy of the comfortcss, light of the straying,
Hope (when all others de) fadoless and pure'
and when in triumphant chorus l heard the trum-
pets SLY
"Eayth hath no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure
offered grateful tears for the Gospel and the Grace
that have made such knowledge possible for us,
and have taught even the changing minstrelsy Of
war to initiate the songs of Zion and to sing of the
Resurrection and the Life" ***