MR. AND MRS. CHADBAND. MR. CHADBAND is a large yellow man, with a fat smile, and a general appearance of having a good deal of train oil in his system. Mrs. Chadband is a stern, severe-looking, silent woman. Mr. Chadband moves softly and cumbrously, not unlike a bear who has been taught to walk upright. He is very much embarrassed about the arms, as if they were inconvenient to bim, and he wanted to grovel; is very much in a perspiration about the head; and never speaks without first putting up his great hand, as delivering a token to his hearers that he is going to edify them. “My friends," says he, “ what is this which we now behold as being spread before us ? Refreshment. Do we need refreshment then, my friends ? We do. And why do we need refreshment, my friends ? Because we are but mortal, because we are but sinful, because we are but of the earth, because we are not of the air. Can we fly, my friends? We cannot. Why can we not fly, my friends ? Is it because we are calculated to walk ? It is. Could we walk, my friends, without strength ? We could not. What should we do without strength, my friends ? Our legs would refuse to bear us, our knees would double up, our ankles would turn over, and we should come to the ground. Then from whence, my friends, in a human point of view, do we derive the strength that is necessary to our limbs ? Is it,” says Chadband, glancing over the table, " from bread in various forms, from butter which is churned from the milk which is yielded unto us by the cow, from the eggs which are laid by the fowl, from ham, from tongue, from sausage, and from such like ? It is. Then let us partake of the good things which are set before us!”

BOROUGH INTEREST CURJOUSLY MAINTAINED. The late Lord Sandwich, having the privilege of appointing a chorister to Trinity College, Cambridge, sent them one not only ignorant of music, but who croked like an old raven, because the fellow had a vote for the borough of Huntingdon. This gave rise to the following epigram :

A singing man and cannot sing;
From whence arose your patron's bounty ?
Give us a song. “Excuse me, sir,
My voice is in another county.”

A DISMAL IDEA. “Ir all the world were blind, what a melancholy sight it would be," said an Irish clergyman to his congregation.

GOOD ADVICE. When your wife begins to scold, let her have it out. Put your feet up cozily over the fire place-loll back in your chair--light one of your best cigars—and let the storm rage on. Say nothing. A PROUD HEART.
MATTHEWS, whose powers of conversation, and whose flow of
anecdote, in private life, transcended even his public efforts, told a
variety of tales of the Kingswood colliers (Kingswood, near Bristol),
in one of which he represented an old collier looking for some of
the implements of his trade, exclaiming, “San, what's thee mother
done with the new coal sacks ?” “Made pillows on 'em,” replied
the son. “Confound her proud heart,” rejoined the collier, “why
could not she take th’ould ones ?”

ASTRONOMY.
When the black tempest sweeps the sea,

And rocks deceitful lurk below,
The sailors boldly trust to me,

And safely through the ocean go:
I steer the vessel through the deep,

Manage the helm with steady hand,
At distance from the breakers keep,

And shun the peril of the sand.
And to the farmer on the plain,

My knowledge is of equal worth,
At my command he trusts his grain,

Into the bosom of the earth :
I teach him when to shear his fleece,

Or reap the produce of his field,
When to expect the rich increase,

Which pasturage and tillage yield.
I guide the sage historian's pen,

Point out a long connected plan,
And help him clearly to explain,

The active scenes of busy man.
Cæsar by me reformed the year,

And Newton regulated time;
While planet, comet, eclipse, star,

Are punctual seen in every clime.
Nor are the tunes for worship made

Secure without the light I bring;
The festivals require my aid,

The fasts from my direction spring :
The Jews expect to know from me,

When to assemble round the lamb;
Easter, without my aid might be

A torch to kindle hostile flame.

WHAT IS MAN ?
A THING to waltz with, to Airt with, to take you to the theatres,
to laugh at, to be married to, to pay one's bills, and to keep one
comfortably. “We are sorry,” says an American paper, “to be
obliged to say, that many young ladies of the present day, consider,
this a true definition.”.

OMNIBUS ENGLISH “Our busses,” said a conductor in our hearing, “ runs a quarter arter, art, arter, quarter to, and at — !" In English, this means “every quarter of an hour.”

A GLANCE AT ALEXANDRIA.

EGYPT. PASSING through the streets where the bazaars are held, we were again fascinated by the imposing variety of costume. A mosque was dismissing, too, and the moonshee with his floating robes, mingled among the crowd. The only unbecoming dress is that of the soldier, which is white fustain, made into jacket and trousers ; so that, were it not for the tarboush, the dress of the Turkish soldier would be precisely that of our mechanic. As through suffocating heat, irritation from mosquito bites, and the prevalence of feas, I sleep almost none; I have had opportunities of making observations, not exclusively astronomical, during the watches of the night; and may here relate my experience of the night side of Alexandria. From ten till twelve, the ear is assailed with barking, howling, yelling of dogs; with a large intermixture of caterwauling; from twelve till two, with serenading of all sorts, harmonious and otherwise, with a spice of the cats and dogs between hands; from two till four, cock crowing incessant-not an interval of rest to the ear, but, crow, crow, crow-shrill, harsh, far, near, young, old, unabated crowing; from four till six, donkeys braying, camels lowing, men shouting and cursing, a very Babel of sounds, that it is impossible to convey by any language. As some compensation, however, the stars are truly magnificent, and the milky way, much more brilliant than it is with us. By six o'clock all the world is up. The young Egyptian girl is in the okella with her flock of milk goats; and the Nubian maids are waddling down the stairs, and along the passages, to get milk for the inorning coffee ; and the Lavantine lady, with her long hair, hanging down her shoulders, is weaving it into plaits; or this piece of the toilet furnished, is leaning over the balcony, with her kerchief tied round her head, and her cup of black coffee in her hand; or may be, she is away to matins, with her great silk cloak wrapped around her, and on her feet her bright yellow boots.

DELICATE ATTENTIONS. In the tenth century, to eat out of the same plate, and drink out of the same cup, was considered a mark of gallantry, and the best possible understanding between a lady and gentleman.

RAGGED LITTLE GIRL-Ha! penny candle, please, and be quick, for mother wants her tea. POLITE SHOPKEEPER-Oh! yes, of course Miss; could we send it any where for yer ?

A CHILD'S EYES. THOSE clear wells of undefiled thought—what on earth can be more beautiful ? Full of hope, love, and curiosity, they meet your own. In prayer, how earnest; in joy, how sparkling; in sympathy, how tender! The man who never tried the companionship of a little child, has scarcely passed by one of the greatest pleasures of life, as one passes a rare flower, without plucking it, or knowing its value. A child cannot understand you, you think. Speak to it of the holy things of your religion, of your grief for the loss of a friend, of a love for some one you fear will not love in return-it will take, it is true, no measure or soundings of your thought-it will not judge how much you should believe; whether your grief is rational in proportion to your loss; whether you are worthy or fit to attract the love which you seek ; but its whole soul will incline to yours, and engraft itself, as it were, on the feelings which is your feeling for the hour.

HENRY THE FOURTH'S SOLILOQUY ON SLEEP.

How many thousands of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep! O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Why rather, sleep, ly'st thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hushed by buzzing night flies to thy slumber;
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lulled with sounds of sweetest melody?
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile
In loathsome beds, and leavest the kingly couch,
A watch case to a common larum-bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast,
Seal up the ship boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge;
And in the visitation of the winds
Which take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monst'rous heads, and hanging thern
With deaf'ning clamours in the slipp'ry shrouds,
That with the hurly, death itself awakes :
Can'st thou, O partial sleep, give the repose
To the wet sea boy in an hour so rude;
Yet in the calmest and stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? Then happy, low, lie down;
Uneasy lies the head which wears a crown.

TOO TRUE, It is in the power of every man to preserve his probity ; but no man living has it in his power to say that he can preserve his reputation while there are so many evil tongues.

CONVERSATION. Avoid quotations, unless you are well studied in their import, and feel their pertinence. My friend, the other day, while looking at the skeleton of an ass, which had been dug out of a sandpit, and admiring and wondering at the structure even of that despised animal, made a very mal adroit use of one. “Ah !" said he. with the deepest humility, and a simplicity worthy of La Fontaine, - we are all fearfully and wonderfully made.”.

AN ENCUMBERED ESTATE. A Friend was commiserating an Irish gentleman, the other day, on the sale of his estate, under a decree of the commissioners, at which he thought much below the value of such considerable property. « Oh! it is all right enough !” replied the light-hearted ex-proprietor ; “I put a few hundreds in my pocket, and the encumbrances are quite cleared off mema widow, mother-in-law with thirteen children.

BEHAVIOUR IN COMPANY. On the subject of behaviour in company, Leigh Richmond gives the following excellent advice to his daughters :-“Be cheerful, but not gigglers. Be serious, but not dull. Be communicative, but not forward. Be kind, but not servile. Beware of silly, thoughtless speeches; although you may forget them, others will not. Remember that God's eye is in every place, and His ear in every company. Beware of levity, and familiarity with young men; a modest reserve, without affectation, is the only safe path. Court and encourage serious conversation with those who are truly serious and conversable ; and not go into valuable company without endeavouring to improve by the intercourse permitted you. Nothing is more unbecoming, when one part of a company is engaged in profitable and interesting conversation, than that another party should be trifling, and talking comparative nonsense to each other.

MEDICINE GOING THE WRONG WAY. OLD Elwes, having heard a very eloquent discourse on charity, remarked-.“ This sermon on the necessity of alms, is unanswerable : I have almost a mind to beg."

“If it wasn't for hope the heart would break," as the old lady said when she buried her seventh husband, and looked anxiously amongst the funeral crowd for another.

A CHEERFUL face is nearly as healthful as good weather.
A good heart often betrays the best head in the world,