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THE EXAMINER.

™ — ee ree ner eee | big eggs ‘over fresh.’ Many are the ways in which the ee a Ineve a child. In the nurse’s arms, he was a very) e ‘ “oi x

LNPSRATURS a moos an extraordinary prococity in his tale may be told. There 1s "Tom Spangic, © Sasaaaay

° ere os ri > ms ast : nleand the biggest cake. Left as healthy, six-{oot animal of two-and-thirty. : He had not

alii dll : ee choice of the ripes apy 2 ANe 2 DD his|a shilling ; now, he rides blood, and writes cheques,

THE BIRTH OF A POET. BY JOHN NEAL. On a blue summer night, When the stars were asleep, Like gems of the deep, In their own drowsy light; While the newly-mown hay On the green earth lay, And all that came near it went scented away; From a lone, woody place There look’d out a face, With large blue eyes, Like the wet, warm skies, Brim full of water and light; A profusion of hair Flashing out of the air, And a forehead alarmingly bright ; *T was the head of a poet! He grew As the sweet, strange flowers of the wilderness grow, In the dropping of natural dew, Unheeded—alone— Till his heart had blown—

As the sweet, strange flowers of the wilderness blow ; Till every thought wore a changeable strain, Like flower-leaves wet with the sunset rain:

A proud and passionate boy was he, Like all the children of Poesy ; With a haughty look, and a haughty tread, And something awful about his head; With wonderful eyes,

‘a legacy to an only uncle, the

boy flourished after ‘ ‘own sweet will,’ unchecked and aealiae save by the Do you know the erie - On cmnne ? Very =a ; he scantily-paid attentions of a well-meaning pedagogue, married the oe oo ce rh mt army -contiag, vegetating in a hamlet some six miles from the Kentish tor. oo #0 : aa e ae “ cag ‘o : . sh eoast Poor Joshu! he might have learned of lis scholar | The avowe taste Oo wr rab + upon a a ie have sucked ridly wisdom even from the uncle. ‘The old man looked through the youth witha ia si We repeat if} at eighteen Barnaby was a/thinking eye—an eye thet sepened to read 8 moral a hairs. | anatomy, und then uttered a ong ‘hem? at the same oo Fhad a deep respect for his uncle; in fact, so|time stretching his hand to the money-bag. Invisible acep, it all but sank to fear. ‘Thus our hero spared no) fingers were playing paren ote . ae ; pains to feel his way to the heart of his relation, who, be, whilst from the corner : e ey cs - - c * | i une it understood, enjoyed the reputation of a ealthy man slowly untie the strip of | so Ree me ice ‘com: —albeit, old inhabitants of the town would sometimes pressed the good within. ae = ed; its marvel how his wealth had been acquired. Palms, senior. glorious contents blazed on t re : e; a a dwelt in a huge dilapidated mansion within gunshot of vopn the oak, Barna by diag nica feet stand the sea; his household consisting of an old man and his ing respectfully smrennnrs in ‘th a” wom ‘ — daughter, a pretty, gay-hearted lass of eighteen. Old) ‘Barney, said old alms, anc oa ly as his Palms was seate | in his oak parlour, steadily employed hand upon the gold, Barney, my chile , you see the litile of which beef and Kentish ale, with an hoard I’ve set apart for you.’ “The life-blood of Barnaby incidental drop of white brandy, formed the principal tingled in his very eyes, and we ears ae ee part. Before him sat Barnaby in trim travelling attire, |* You see the few savings an onrepiner. bone made. He looked and spoke the creature of humility. Could! for the child of my brother. For I feared that you, an he have made the transfer, he would have given his sou! innocent, unprotected, unassisted lad, would need the to his uncle as readily as he advanced the mustard, ‘The aid which money can alone afford. Barney, I trembled

upon a breakfast,

‘truth is, Barnaby was about to enter the world: he had | for the softness of your heart—the simplicity of your

drawn on his boots for the great pilgrimage of life. To nature.” Here Barney felt almost in peril of tears, * Yes a few hours and he must fee! his way through the crowd | Barney, these were my week anxieties, my foolish fears. of London, being destined to the warehouse of Messrs, Saying which, the old man began to return the guinees Nokes and Styles, mercers, City. Hence the reader to the bag. During the operation, not a word was spoken, may imagine that Barnaby was subdued by the approach- Barney, scarcely venturing to breathe, stood with his ing event--that he felt some odd twitchings at the heart, head bent on his breast, and one eye on the table, silent

Full of woe and surprise,— Like the eyes of them that can see the dead.

Looking about,

For a moment or two, he stood,

On the shore of the mighty wood ; Then ventured out,

With a bounding step and a joyful shout, The brave sky bending o’er him! The broad sea all before him!

ANGRY WORDS.

Angry words are lightly spoken, In arash and thoughtless hour;

Brightest links of life are broken By their deep insidious power.

as he stared at the old wainscott, with ins every worm-|and subdned. The tinkling of the gold—the voice of

‘hole familiar to him—that a something rose to his throat) Barney’s fortune, was alone audible; and, as note fol-

as he looked out upon the sea, tumbling and roaring in| lowed note, the young expectant became possessed as concert with a January gule—at that sea which had though he listened to angelic trumpets. The bag being sung his early Inilabies—that his heart, like the ocean /filled, Palms proceeded to tie its mouth, talking as he shell, still responded to the sound. It is reasonable to leisurely tied. ‘Barney, I find my fears were the fears believe—though we cannot substantiate the fact—that)of ignorance. You need not such a sum as this; you some such emotions rose in the bosom of the pilgrim. are already rich in strength—in wisdom? _ Of this, however, we are certain; Barnaby looked with, ‘I, uncle? cried Barnaby, sensitively shrinking from the eyes of a devotee towards a small leathern bag, ly-the compliment, and at the same time—struck by the ing on the table at the right hand of his uncle; and Bar-| manner of Palms—breaking into a confused sweat. ‘I naby continued to gaze at the string securing the neck, strong? 1 wise ? Ob, uncle? until, distracted by the appearance of Patience Mills, ‘Come Barney, why so modest? I say, strength and who—the more serious portion of the breakfast consum-| Wisdom, as tle world goes, are yours. Here we’ve a ed—entered with a dozen eggs, ‘hundred guincas in this this little bag; what then? toa Now, Patience had a fuce as round, and cheeks as red, !ad of your wit they’re of little worth. You'll never miss

Hearts inspired by warmest feeling, Ne’er before by anger stirred,

Oft are rent past human healing, By a single angry word

Poison-drops of care and sorrow, Bitter poison-drops are they,

Weaving for the coming morrow Saddest memories of to-day.

Angry words! oh, jet them never From the tongue unbridled slip:

. May the heart’s best impulse ever

Check them, ere they soil the lip!

Love is much too pure and holy,

Friendship is too sacred far,

For a moment’s reckless folly Thus to desolate and mar.

Angry words are lightly spoken; Bitterest thoughts are rasbly stirred ;

Brightest links of life are broken By a single angry word.

BARNABY PALMS; THE MAN WHO “FELT HIS WAY.” CHAPTER I,

That philosopher was an ass, who, trembling at the peril inherited with his eyes, resolved to avoid al] smis- chief by pulling them out. We know, that in this narrow, gloomy passage, called the world, eyes are, so to speak, edged tools—hurting the wearer. We know that, de- ceived by them, we often shake and wonder at a stalking giant, when, in truth, the Polyphemus is only a swag- gering mountebank on wooden stilts,—and doff our caps to a glistening glory, which, stript of its outside, is more

Joathsome than au ape. On the other hand, how many, | Barnaby looked as though he believed he had won his.

with a wise tyranny, use their eyes as the meanest vas- sals, never suffering them to play truant in the su:nmer clouds—to hang on summer flowers—to lose their time with unprofitable exhalations, or to try to spel! the mys- tery ofthe stars! No; prudently disciplined, the ocular servants help their masters to dress and to undress—to save them from posts and pillars when abroad—to eat their meat—and to take especial care that no shilling be a counterfeit. Alas! though the best philosophers Jack such wisdom, Barnaby Palms was endowed with it to fulness. Locke has said, that two men Jooking at a rain- bow, do notyindeed, see the same rainbow. (T'wo men, looking atone guinea, are, we conceive, quite in another position.) Now, Barney never thought of trusting his eyes but with the lowest duties, instinctively keeping them from all delicate embarrassments. In the pdity, menial wants of life, Barnaby might employ his eyes; in the momentous concerns of this world, he winked, and securely—felt his way. — | At the green age of eighteer, Barne~ sossessed the ‘Sipe frait of .#o score the truth is, Barney had_

> had . e i | *¥ou will? I tell you *tis a musty egg—a bad egg!

as any pippin~eyes blue as heaven—and a mouth, asa|’em. Now, here,’ and Palms slid the coin along the \certain young man on the coast avowed, sweet as a table, ‘hereare five guineas.’ jhoney-comb. Nevertheless, had Patience been some) ‘Five! uncle! ae dried hag, Barnaby had not visited her with looks ‘Five. The reward of your skill—of the skill you ‘less charitable. Patience replied to the glance by a have shown this morning.’ giggle, solacing herself, when out of hearing, by mutter-| ‘Five guineas? skill? uncle? jing ‘glad he’s going.’ Barnaby looked at his uncle’s| ‘ Never doubt it, Barney; take up the money, and finger, and then at the bag. Heedless of the hint, old never mistrust that head of thine; for well I know, that Palms took an egg. the fellow who, in this working world, cares not for his | ‘Come, eat, Barnaby; eat. Yell have a cold ride to| eggs‘ over fresh,’ will, in the end, flourish as well though |London : the north-wind’s edged like a scythe. What! he begin with five guineas, as with fivethousand? | not take eggs? | The tone and manner of old Pelms forbade any reply ‘Doat on’em, uncle,” cried Barnaby, aroused, like on the part of his nephew, who, nevertheless, received ‘Shylock, from ‘a dream of money-bags.’ The fact is, the eulogy with a sulkiness worthy of the great cynic. | Barnaby had that day determined to like every thing: Indeed, had Barnaby pocketed five snow-balls he could ‘on that occasion he wished to leave a vivid impression not have looked more blank and frozen: could not have of his meekness and humility.‘ Quite a weazel at eggs, mounted the borrowed horse, ready saddled to convey juncle,’ continued Barnaby, and he began to chip the him to London, with more reluctant leg, with grimmer shell. Now it so happened that Barnaby had fallen countenance. No wonder: Barnaby thought he hed /uponan egg which, on being opened, emitted conclusive securely felt his way: now Barnaby had fost ninety-five evidence of its antiquity. Old Palms, instantly perceiv- cuineas. : ing the work of time, roared to Barnaby to cast the abo-|~ ‘mination out of the window. Barnaby, howeve, deicr-| mined to give an example of his economy—of his indif- ference to petty annoyances—sat like a statue, stil]! ‘holding the egg between his thumb and finger—his| uncle applying the same instruments to his own nose, | ‘Out with it, Barnaby Barnaby smiled a remon-| With a wreath on her brow strance, and handled his spoon. *Zounds" cried old’ And a pearl in her hair. Palms, almost grinning through his disgust at what he| aoe ] ’ e = = = deemed the ignorance or simplicity of his Nephew—!} ‘Zounds! nephew—why—ha, ha!—you’'ll never eat it ?| Barnaby, mistaking the humour of his uncle, nodded | knowingly.

(To be continued )

THE UNHAPPY BRIDE,

She stood at the altar All trembling and fair,

She stood at the altar, In a robe tinged with gold,

And diamonds that sparkled From each tiny fold.

—nah ! + mike 2? } pal! the egg stinks She stood at the altar,

: That maiden so fair. uncle's heart for ever, and then complacently made an-) And her lips uttered vows,

swer, ‘[ don’t care for ergs over fresh.’ . ee of TEER. But her heart was not there. Now, we boldly declare the egg of Barnaby to be a!

grander subject for the moralist and the romance-writer| than ether the egg of Columbus, the famous roc’s erg, of the Eastern Princess, the golden egg of Esop, or the. egg of Mother Goose. Reader, pause a moment, and! reflect on the prosperity of whole hordes of people, whose success in life is solely attributable to their par-| Ucipating in the taste of Barnaby. Look at hie Lord-| RemwatkaBe Precavrions For Louris Puicrprr’s ship, ene with honours, and padded with bank Prorectionx.—One of the saddest circumstances which oo a e to what arr all this? Oh, doubt- exist in this country is the extraordinary precaution an hes cs eam ae profound which it is considered necessary to take for the safety oes ‘7 Vian in n tiga ein ustry. Not so, not so; of the king. There are, for example, five large vd mp an a is, 1@ Was wont to confidentially break- barracks, each occupied by regiments of elite, in the ; t : , e Minister, and on such occasions showed immediate vicinity of the Tuileries, and eighteen guard ae Ppt — = his ergs: ood fresh.’ But shall houses, each of which is continually occupied day and ee an es os, from a palace to night by a troop of ready armed men, surrounded the —_ Pp " is ever some ducti e eater—some om- palace. The palace itself is occupied by 250 national

ne ous Barney at breakfast, who bas made guards of the infantry battalions, and by 25of the or tomake, a figure in the world by not caring for,regiment of horse. ere are, besides, 350 soldiers af

She stood at the altar, But her brain it was rocking, At the thought of the mischievous Rent in her stocking!

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