THE EXAMINER.

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« LABOR OMNIA VINCIT.”

ISESELANT.

BY WILLIAM C. LODGE,

Labor! lo, from plain and mountain, City-world and wild-wood free, Ocean, river, lake and fountain, Rise the choral strains for thee: Thou that spreadest ricest treasures, With a full and liberal band, Scatt’ring forth the choicest pleasures, Broadcast o’er this happy Jand.

In thy train are Joy and Gladness, Virtue, Truth, and Fos, Health, But no slave of sluggish sadness Gathers up thy boundless wealth. Those who in thy cause are banded, Rend the rock and till the soil: Men of iron nerves, hard-handed, Stalwart sons of honest toil,

To their work thy votaries springing, With the Jark, at dawn of day, _ Hear the tramping, clattering, singing— Busy music,—labor’s lay. Summer, Autumn, Winter dreary, Spring-time with its notes’ of clee, Find ts ready, never ios t! Weaving garlands bright for. thee.

Thou can’st, by thy toueh of powers, Change the sterile desert’s gloom, ’T il! it smile with fruits and flowers, Gardens of the sweetest bloom, And in far-off lands benighted, Kindle bright the glorious flame, — ~ ’T ill the heathen world, delighted, Learn to lisp Jehoval’s name.

Earth before thy tread discloses Hidden secrets of her womb, Where the precious ore reposes, Buried in the dephts of gloom. Mountains, where the wild storm rages, Till it shake the upper world ; Giant rocks, of countless ages, Low beneath thy armare hurl’d.

Thou, the ocean depths o’er Jeaping ; Space, no barrier builds for thee; Time, from thee, holds not in keeping

One unravelled mystery. Polar regions, drear and icy, Climes of summer’s burning sun, All proclaim thy vent vici, Glorious meed, so nobly won.

Cold complaining man of leisure, Beggar clothed in wretchedness, Disappointed child of pleasure, Labor can your woeg redress; in his stove-house there are treasures, Safe specifics for each pain, Antidotes and stingless pleasures— Work and you will sure obtain.

LUCY, BY WORDSWORTH.

She dwelt among the untrodden ways Besides the springs of Dove,

A maid whom there were none to praise, And very few to love,

A voilet by a mossy stone Half-hidden from the eye—

Pair as a star when only one Is shining in the sky!

She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her graye, and, oh, The difference to me!

LORD JOHN RUSSELL IN THRE fHlOUSE OF COMMONS,

Hle rises, says something confidentially to the Speak- er,and sits down again; and now you hear the sono- rous voice from the chair say aloud, “that the order for the day be now read.” Whereupon Lord John Rus- sell rises once more, stretches out hig arm, steps upto the table, then back again, as if he had not quite made

up his mind to begin;then turns round aud looks at the Speaker, then ti

‘rns round the other way and looks at the house, and at last comes out with a‘ Sar! hevin

—tr—given notice—ar—that | Should take this oppo I I iunity—ar’——and so on. * Well! yi

call oratory in the house of common ehow you a better specimen at our b

Softly, good stranger, wait a little. manner is affected; no doubt ther gemi-aristocratic drawl; no doubt the language rather coinmon-place at present: no doubt! the voice seems strangely strained to talk like a big one. But listen again, You will find something better soon.|

|never strained or sought after, yet always ready at the

jthe house have become. He holds them all in a chain,

Is that what they| ways carried a hen in his s? Why, we can’ pick up the oats his horse wasted in th

orough meetings ? lay aneegg for his breakfast in the morning. And then No doubt the there was Hugo Himmelman, ;

@ is too much of that potatoes to pay for the marria the style is slovenly ;| continued, addressing himsel you that story of Hugo, for it’s not a bad one Stories, like potatoes, ain’t ag plenty as they when Iwasaboy. Hugoisa neighbor of mine, though

—Do you hear that sentiment? Did you we ae political wisdom for the people put before in — ear er words, or more portable by the meanest " ee ing? Perhaps you do not well understand oe ; by et he has risento speak upon? No. W ell, ee eC that by the time you have heard the — ; a speech, you will not only thoroughly know al i 1e a and figures that need be known, but that un ome also get an insight into al] the moral and police soten derations that bear on it—in fact, that you sha wth about it as much as the greatest statesman 1n the coun. try. How exquisitely clear is the whole pee From the first small beginning down to the broad, gro

peroration, where he sums up_ all, how it bears ne sub- ject on its bosom, how it fertilises the minds of t oa dience. Like some river stream, clear and pellucid at its source, that winds its devious course through various tracks, now- pausing on its pebbly bed, now moana arrow-like along, now widening and swelling ito Hee lake-like pools, now bearing down all obstacles, tul at last it pours its full volume at itsoutlet. Ifsome senten- ces are labored and involved, how terse and epigramma- tie are others! Mark the simplicity of the diction: the powerful Saxon word! How happy the illustrations—

opportune moment. He no longer hems! and has! He is on the full tide of his philosophic spirit. How fine- ly he inculcates his noble maxims of public conduct; how naturally and unaffectedly he draws the mind to contemplate the right and the just, not despising even the expedient! Observe how animsted and interested

to which he adds new links at each new argument, each new development of his well-regulated and statesman- like mind. Review all he has been saying, and you will confess how he had impressed you with his self poss- ession, his coolness, his generalship, his extensive in- formation, his insight, his. wonderful faculty of making the philosophy of politics easy tothe meanest undei- standings.— People’s Journal.

“IN STATU QUO.”

There is in this city a petty newsmonger (well known on Change) who loves to retail intelligence, (and espe- cially * war news”) a la Mrs. Tatile, who is an eye-sore to every body he comes in contact with. His plan is to get up early of a morning, run round to such newspa- per offices as tolerate him, gather every: thing he can learn, and then to bore his neighbors with the “ news,” which he has not calibre enough to remember, or relate, in any shape come-at-able, He is “sold” almost every day in the week, of late—but he has rarely had news like that he carried “down town” with him, yesterday !

The * late despatches from the army” were announced on Sunday, and true to his work, M entered one of his favourite haunts yesterday morning, with his cus- tomary interrogatory. He was met by a wag near the door.

“ Any news!” inquired M.

“ Not much.”

“ What is it?”

* From the seat of war.”

“ Where’s the Army ?”

* Oh, in Statu quo”—

“The devil it is 2”

“ Yes”—

“ How long has it been there 2”

“Since the 27th.”

“Thunder!” exclaimed M——; and away he rushed down State street, with the intelligence. M—— met a friend on the corner of the street, to whom he imparted the information that “ owr Army had reached Statu quo” —whereupon the stranger opened his eyes, and advised him to callon S——. He did so, and long before early ‘change hour, it was pretty well known that “our army was in statu quo!”

Our witty friend was congratulating himself on hay- ing circulated this delectable piece of information long “before any other journal had the news,” and was boast. ing of the fact toa friend, who asked him if he knew where “statu quo” was located. Well; M——didy't exactly know what department of Mexico it was situated in, but he had the news right from the office, and it must be so,

“ You're a thundering fool,” said the nei ghbor.

Why 2”

_ “ Why!—Don’t you know that in “stata quo” means im the same state or condition, and that it is ‘a very com- mon Latin phrase ?”

M offered to bet a hat he was right, and at the last accounts he was poring over Disturnell’s Map of

Mexico, endeavouring, most assiduously, to discover the location of “ Statu quo !”

MEAN MEN.

‘fve known some mean men in my time. There was Deacon Overreach, now; he was so mean he al- gig-box when he travelled to © manger, and

who made his wife dig

ge. license, Lawyer,’ he f to Barclay, ‘I must tel}

used to be

; and, cood!th

considerable older than I be; and a mean neighbor he is, too. Well, when he was going to get married to Gretchen Kelp, he goes downto Parson Rogers at igby et a license. : ne seh says he, ets the price of a license °’ ‘ «Six dollars,’ says he. 66 i sdinawa a a ae a dreadful sight 1y! Couldn’t you take less ¢ mae says he. That's what they cost me to the secretary’s office at Halifax.’ ate

‘*Well, how much do you ax for publishing in Church, then 7

i¢ ing, says parson.

ts Walk ope eam ‘that’s so cheap I.can’t expect you to give no change back. I think Pll be published. How long — ; take r

#6 Sundays.

: ‘ae Sunda ot ? says Hugo, * Well, that’s a long time, too. But three Sundays only make a fortnight, after all; two for the covers and one for the inside like ; and six dollars is a great sum of money for a poor man to throw away. I must wait.”

‘So off he went a-jogging towards home, and a-look- ing about a3 mean asa new-sheared sheep, v hen all at once a brght thought came into his head, and back he went as hard as his horse could carry him.

‘* Parson,’ says he, ‘I’ve changed my mind. Here’# the six dollars.—I’ll tie the a to-night with my tongue

I can’t undo with my teeth. me Why, what in aaa is the meaning of all this? says parson. i ee

‘¢Why,’ says Hugo, ‘ve been cipheringit out in my head, and it’s cheaper than publishing bands, after all. You see sit, it’s potato-digging time; and if I wait to be called in church, her father will have her work for no- thing ; andas hands are scarce and wages high, if marry her to-night she can begin to dig our own to-mor- row; and that will pay for the license, and just seven shillings over: for there ain’t a man in all Clements that can dig and carry as many bushels ina day es Gretchen can. And besides, fresh wives, like fresh servants, work like smoke at first, but they get sarcy and lazy after a while.—Life in a Colony, by Sam Slick.

GOD SAVE THE PLOUGH.

See—how the shining share Maketh earth’s bosom fair— Crowning her brow,— Bread in its furrow springs, Health and repose it brings, Treasures unknown to kings, God save the plough!

Look to the warrior’s blade, While o’er the tented glade, Hate breathes his vow,— Strife its unsheathing wakes, Love at its lightning quakes, Weeping and woe it makes. God save the plough!

Ships o’er the deep may ride,

Storms wreck their banner’d pride, Waves whelm their prow,

But the well-loaded wain

Garnereth the golden grain,

Gladdening the household-train, God save the plough!

Who are the truly great ? Minions of pomp and state, Where the crowd bow? Give us hard hands and free, Culturers of field and tree, Best friends of liberty, God save the plough.

Royau Canporn.—Georce I, being informed that an impudent printer was to be punished for having pub- lished a spurious king’s speech, replied that he hoped the punishment would be of the mildest sort, because he had read both, and as far as he understood either of thern he liked the spurious speech better than his own.

“T understand,” said a deacon to his neighbor, “ that you are becoming a hard drinker.” “That is a slander,” replied the neighbor, “for no man can drink more easy.”

“How do you like the bustle and confusion of Bos- ton?” asked the shopkeeper, as Mrs. Partington stood by the counter. “It gives me confusion to see ’em,” said the old lady; folks didn’t do go when I was a gurl ; and besides, what an awful sight of bran and cotton it takes, tosay nothing of their awkwardness when they get slipped on one side—.” « J mean,” broke in the shopkeeper, “the bustle and confusion of the streets.”

~ Oh" said Mrs. P. “that is quite another thing” and immediately left the store.

_Ax Auarmine Tureat.—A clergyman being prohi- bited from preaching, because he was a non conformist, said to the judges: ‘The treatment which [have received from you will probably cost the lives of more than a thou- sand persons.’ He was instantly arrested on account of

this alarming threat, and an explanation demanded. No- Ing 1s more plain, said he : ‘in depriving me ofa parish,

you will leave me no other resource than to become & physician,’

filth