in her hand,
And she walked as one who was full loath
To travel from the land.

Quoth I, "my bonnie lass!"--for she
Had hair of flowing gold,
And dark brown eyes, and dainty limbs,
Right pleasant to behold--

"My bonnie lass, what aileth thee,
On this bright summer day,
To travel sad and shoeless thus
Upon the stony way?

"I'm fresh and strong, and stoutly shod,
And thou art burdened so;
March lightly now and let me bear
The bundles as we go."

"No, no!" she said, "that canna be,
What's mine is mine to bear,
Of good or ill, as God may will,
I take my portioned share."

"But you have two and I have none;
One burden give to me;
I'll take _that_ bundle from thy back
That heavier seems to be."

"No, no!" she said; "_this_, if you will,
_That_ holds--no hand but mine
May bear its weight from dear Glen Spean
'Cross the Atlantic brine!"

"Well, well! but tell me what may be
Within that precious load
Which thou dost bear with such fine care
Along the dusty road?

"Is it some present rare
From friend in parting hour;
Perhaps, as prudent maidens wont,
Thou tak'st with thee thy dower?"

She drooped her head, and with her hand
She gave a mournful wave;
"Oh, do not jest, dear sir--it is
Turf from my mother's grave!"

I spoke no word; we sat and wept
By the road-side together:
No purer dew on that bright day
Was dropt upon the heather.

--_John Stuart Black._

1418

When we are sick, where can we turn for succor,
When we are wretched where can we complain?
And when the world looks cold and surly on us
Where can we go to meet a warmer eye
With such sure confidence as to a mother?

1419

Is there a heart that music cannot melt?
Alas! how is that rugged heart forlorn.

--_Beattie._

1420

Music loosens a heart that care has bound.

1421

No music is so charming to my ear as the requests of my friends, and the
supplications of those in want of my assistance.

--_Caesar._

1422

His very foot has music in't,
As he co