inting for the windows of the House of
Lords were publicly competed for, the Royal Commissioners of the Fine
Arts adjudged those produced by Mr Ballantine as the best which were
exhibited, and the execution of the work was intrusted to him. A few
years ago he published a work on stained glass, which has been
translated and published in Germany, where it retains its popularity. Mr
Ballantine has thus never allowed his literary pursuits to interfere
with the exercise of his chosen avocations; "he has," in the words of
Lord Cockburn, "made the business feed the Muses, and the Muses grace
the business."

Although Mr Ballantine began at a very early age to woo the Muse, some
of his most popular pieces having been produced about his sixteenth
year, he made his first appearance in print in the pages of "Whistle
Binkie." In 1843 his 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 co