(1868), a large and interesting district in East Lancashire. This work is now one of the scarcest and most highly valued of local histories. Our poet is a Member of the Institute of Civil Engineers, and of several learned societies. In 1870 he went out to Brazil as an engineer, where he resided for five years, and then returned to Manchester, where he commenced business as a civil and consulting gas engineer, and at present has a large and successful practice.

His poetic impulses were first awakened by association with the beautiful scenery of the Galloway Hills and the Vale of Fleet. Indeed, a passionate love of Nature seems to colour all he writes. These occasionally breathe noble thoughts and lofty diction, while his domestic scenes and character sketches are full of gentle feeling, with a vein of quiet, yet rich humour.

SOBER, SOUTER WATTIE, O!

O' a' the souters 'neath the sun,
Frae Selkirk to Calcutta, O;
There's ne'er a ane can drive a pin
Wi' sober, souter Wattie, 0.

His hammer and his brattie, O
His awls and wee paste pattie, O;
The steevest hand in a' the land
Is that o' sober Wattie, O.

His hame-O what a cheery hame!
A clean, wee, cozie cottie, O,
Cauld carking care gets never there,
For the merry sang o' Wattie, O,

And his cantie couthie Mattie, O,
And his wee bit toddlin tottie, O;
The best o' books, the kindest looks,
A' light the hame o' Wattie, O.

There's ne'er a heart but lowes beneath
His intellectual chattie, O;

He charms the ear, he draws the tear,
For pathos dwells in Wattie, O.

And O! he's blithe and happy, 0,
And aye he shuns the drappie, O,
A tumbler full o' Adam's yill
The beverage o' Wattie, O.

He loves his country and his kin'-
A noble-hearted Scot he, 0;
A helping han' to raise the fa'n,
Was ne'er denied by Wattie, O.

And aye he's blithe and happy,
Wi' his cantie, couthie Mattie,
The steevest hand in a' the land
Is that o' sober Wattie, O.

THE DEWDROP AND THE MOONBEAM.

O, cozie cow'red the lintie
Within its whinny bield;
Its wee bit weary eyelid
In balmy sleep was sealed.
And lonely hung the harebell,
Forsaken by the bee,

When a Moonbeam fell to wooing
O' a Dewdrop on the lea.

O, pawkie was the Moonbeam,
He kenn'd the gait to woo;
And maidenly and artless

Was the bonnie drop o' Dew.
And aye he danced around her,
In the stillness o' the night;
And praised her silken forehead,
And her cheek sae pearly bright.

Her sappy mou' he tasted;
He gazed into her ee;
And he spak o' a' the beauty
O' his ain fair home on hie.
The Dewdrop was enchanted
Wi' the glowing tale o' love;
And, smiling, soon consented
To a happy home above.

Now from the east comes gleaming
The morning's sunny ray;
And fragrant flowers awaking,
Hail the advent o' day:
A myriad throats, fu' blithely,
To music's strains are given;
But the Dewdrop and the Moonbeam
Are on their way to heaven!

THE MOUNTAIN CHILD.

She dwells apart, the mountain child,
Free as the wind that sweeps the plain;
Her no false hopes have e'er beguiled,
To check her song, or sting with pain.

For oft the maiden carols sweet,

With heart that feels the joys she sings;
Full oft the wild and lone retreat,
To her glad voice melodious rings.

The wild flowers bloom around her cot,
She views them and admires the while;
She has no favoured garden plot,

But the whole boundless breadth of soil.
The trusty thistle's noble form

Nods as she trips him lightly by,
She greets him with a smile as warm
As beams from yonder sunny sky.

The mavis, bird of various song,

Pours forth his love notes rich and clear;
The skylark, sweetest of the throng,
Arrests her young enraptured ear.
'The blackbird, from his sylvan shade,
Gives to the breeze his mellow note,
And, though he be a cautious blade,
He dares to warble near her cot.

Thus lives the gentle mountain maid,
From vain alluring pleasures free;
In virtue's charming robes arrayed,
A happy, happy maid is she.
Oh! may she never feel the woes

That spring from earth's deceitful joys;
But in her innocence repose

Beneath her own loved native skies.

AULD CARE.

Gae wa' wi' your sour-looking visage frae me,
Ye queer crabbit carle, auld Care, haud awa';
Wi' your thin runkled chafts, and your dour-looking ee,
And your long bony arms, and your fingers sae sma'.

The streamlet sings sweet as it runs down the glen,
The glad birds they warble on thorn-bush and tree,
The branches they dance to the music they len',
The wild flow'ret nods to the hum o' the bee.

Why should we be dreary when nature is cherry?
Why dauner through life ever gloomy and wae ?
Awa' wi' dull dreamin', come, gladness, come streamin',
And scatter night's gloom wi' the brightest o' day.

THE CARLE HE LAP ACROSS THE BURN. The carle he lap across the burn,

Awa' the bonnie lassie ran;

And aye she leuch, but wouldna turn,

And sair provoked the fat auld man.

"Come here," he cried, "my bonnie hen,
Come back, and list to what I say ;
I hae a but, I own a ben,

And sheep and kye on mony a brae."

"And fat the beasts, and rich the lan',
And bienly plenished is yon ha'."
"Gae hame and woo them, daft auld man!
The lassie cried, and ran awa'.

O sairly flate the carle syne,

66

And aften stamped he on the grun';
My richest acres I would tine,

To gar the limmer rue her fun.”

"The souple jaud, to ca' me auld,

And scarce a grey hair i' my beard!
Ay, faith, she'll rue, ere she be cauld,
She didna tak the siller laird."

Wi' temper brittle as a slate,

And face that ony calf might spane,

He had to gang a mile agate,

For he couldna loup the burn again!

CHARLES BALFOUR,

REFERRED to at page 170 of second series, as

coming of a poetic family, was born in 1819, at Panmure, near Carnoustie. At the village school he received a very limited education, and was early engaged as "a farmer's boy." However, in after years he made up for this, and took a great delight in reading-never, as he tells us, being without Burns' poems, or some other volume, in his pocket for perusal in his spare moments. Not liking farm work, he was apprenticed to a brewer, but as the master drank as well as brewed, the business came to an end before the apprenticeship, and our poet got employment in a factory in Dundee, where he was soon appointed foreman. His health failing him, he en

listed in the Cameron Highlanders, commanded by Colonel Lauderdale Maule, brother of the late Fox Maule, Earl of Dalhousie. He had become a total abstainer, and his good conduct and habits soon earned his promotion. He was appointed "orderly " to the General Commanding, and having only about half a day's duty in the two days, he found abundant time for self improvement, which he eagerly availed himself of. Having a knowledge of baking and brewing, he was set over the officers' mess department, and soon saved money sufficient to purchase his discharge-the Colonel reluctantly parting with him, and giving him a warm letter of commendation to his noble brother at Brechin Castle. Receiving an appointment in the railway service as parcel deliverer in Dundee, he was rapidly promoted to good's guard, and then passenger guard. In 1852, when the train was thrown over the lofty bridge which crosses Invergowrie Quarry, he went down with it, sustaining such fearful injuries that for months he lay in Dundee Infirmary, life trembling in the balance. Being no longer fitted for the duties of a guard he was appointed stationmaster at Glencarse, near Perth, where he still remains, greatly respected for his intelligence and kindly manners.

Although the love of song seemed inherent in him, Mr Balfour only began to compose when in the army, and for forty years he has been an occasional contributor to the press-numbers of his poetic sketches of Scottish life and character finding their way into the American and other papers-"Habbie Simpson and his Wife," "The Minister Praying for the Cuddy," "The Dry Sermon," &c., having been long widely and favourably known. The late Dean Ramsay for many years corresponded with Mr Balfour, and greatly admired his fine humour. He presents us with admirable portraits of actual existence, rather than transports us into imaginary worlds, while tender and pathetic touches of Nature and good feel