the pastor's
study and with childish curiosity started to read through some papers on
the desk. They happened to be this identical sermon, but he was most
interested in the marginal notes. In one place in the margin were
written the words, "Cry a little." Further on in the discourse appeared
another marginal remark, "Cry a little more." On the next to the last
sheet the boy found his good father had penned another remark, "Cry like
thunder."

A young preacher, who was staying at a clergy-house, was in the habit of
retiring to his room for an hour or more each day to practice pulpit
oratory. At such times he filled the house with sounds of fervor and
pathos, and emptied it of almost everything else. Phillips Brooks
chanced to be visiting a friend in this house one day when the budding
orator was holding forth.

"Gracious me!" exclaimed the Bishop, starting up in assumed terror,
"pray, what might that be?"

"Sit down, Bishop," his friend replied. "That's only young D----
practising what he preaches."

A distinguished theologian was invited to make an address before a
Sunday-school. The divine spoke for over an hour and his remarks were of
too deep a character for the average juvenile mind to comprehend. At the
conclusion, the superintendent, according to custom, requested some one
in the school to name an appropriate hymn to be sung.

"Sing 'Revive Us Again,'" shouted a boy in the rear of the room.

A clergyman was once sent for in the middle of the night by one of his
woman parishioners.

"Well, my good woman," said he, "so you are ill and require the
consolations of religion? What can I do for you?"

"No," replied the old lady, "I am only nervous and can't sleep!"

"But how can I help that?" said the parson.

"Oh, sir, you always put me to sleep so nicely when I go to church that
I thought if you would only preach a little for me!"

I never see my rector's eyes;
He hides their light divine;
For when he prays, he shuts his own,
And when he preaches, mine.

A stranger entered the church in the middle of the sermon and seated
himself in the back pew. After a while he began to fidget. Leaning over
to the white-haired man at his side, evidently an old member of the
congregation, he whispered:

"How long has he been preaching?"

"Thirty or forty years, I think," the old man answered.

"I'll stay then," decided the stranger. "He must be nearly done."

Once upon a time there was an Ind