is well-known work, "The Gaberlunzie's Wallet," was
published in monthly numbers, illustrated by the late Alexander Ritchie.
This production was enriched with some of his best lyrics. His second
work, "The Miller of Deanhaugh," likewise contains a number of songs and
ballads. In 1856 Messrs Constable & Co., of Edinburgh, published an
edition of his poems, including many of those which had been previously
given to the world. This volume contains the happiest effusions of his
genius, and will procure him a prominent place in his country's
literature. Mr Ballantine is the poet of the affections, a lover of the
beautiful and tender among the humbler walks of life, and an exponent of
the lessons to be drawn from familiar customs, common sayings, and
simple character.

NAEBODY'S BAIRN.

She was Naebody's bairn, she was Naebody's bairn,
She had mickle to thole, she had mickle to learn,
Afore a kind word or kind look she could earn,
For naebody cared about Naebody's bairn.

Though faither or mither ne'er own'd her ava,
Though rear'd by the fremmit for fee unco sma',
She grew in the shade like a young lady-fern,
For Nature was bounteous to Naebody's bairn.

Though toited by some, and though lightlied by mair,
She never compleened, though her young heart was sair,
And warm virgin tears that might melted cauld airn
Whiles glist in the blue e'e o' Naebody's bairn.

Though nane cheer'd her childhood, an' nane hail'd her birth,
Heaven sent her an angel to gladden the earth;
And when the earth doom'd her in laigh nook to dern,
Heaven couldna but tak again Naebody's bairn.

She cam smiling sweetly as young mornin' daw,
Like lown simmer gloamin' she faded awa,
And lo! how serenely that lone e'ening starn
Shines on the greensward that haps Naebody's bairn!

CASTLES IN THE AIR.

The bonnie, bonnie bairn sits pokin' in the ase,
Glowerin' in the fire wi' his wee round face;
Laughin' at the fuffin low--what sees he there?
Ha! the young dreamer 's biggin' castles in the air!

His wee chubby face, an' his towzy curly pow,
Are laughin' an noddin' to the dancin' lowe,
He 'll brown his rosy cheeks, and singe his sunny hair,
Glowerin' at the imps wi' their castles in the air.

He sees muckle castles towerin' to the moon,
He sees little sodgers puin' them a' doun;
Warlds whomlin' up an' doun, b