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"In the days ent gipsying,

A long ti before, and alith lively delight;

for Bessie had a sweet voice,--at least, I thought so But now,

though her voice was still sweet, I found in its melody an

indescribable sadness So the refrain very low, very lingeringly; "A long tio" came

out like the saddest cadence of a funeral hymn She passed into

another ballad, this time a really doleful one

"My feet they are sore, andis the way, and the ht close moonless and dreary

Over the path of the poor orphan child

Why did they send rey rocks are piled?

Men are hard-hearted, and kind angels only

Watch o'er the steps of a poor orphan child

Yet distant and soft the night breeze is blowing,

Clouds there are none, and clear stars bea,

Comfort and hope to the poor orphan child

Ev'n should I fall o'er the broken bridge passing,

Or stray in the uiled,

Still will ,

Take to His bosoth should avail h both of shelter and kindred despoiled;

Heaven is a home, and a rest will not fail me;