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NURSERY:' RHYMIVIE?' SERMONS. "Hickoryi,;DickQry, Dockl" I?.Myytex't, brethren;, according to my wont, ist againt taken from: that vol ume- of Hidden Meanings and Veiled Mysteries thle history and origin of *which goes back into- the mistst of an tiquity,the, Book of Nursery Rhymes. I chbose-to-day for'our edification the passage commencing with, the>mysti cal :and mesical words,., "Hickory,I Dickb;ry,'. Dock." This rhyme; 'brethren,. is:.exclusive ly concerned with a: quiadiuped and a chronometer., It? relates;. in succinct Saxm.n;fwhat a mobuse. didf to a clock, the clock's responsei and the mouse's disappearance, ,and, in so doing, be-. gins; and i ends this sole. episode with the penidUlous swing, the rhythmic regularity, the sleepyv soleinnity, the portentous periodicity of "Hickory, Dickory, Dock!" SScent is said to be the most remin iscent of. the senses,:.brethren. Hear ing- surely comes a good' second. Listen! The old wag-at-the-wall clck, with its works and wheels and chains and weights all open to your childish inspection, is ticking out the seconds on grannie's kitchen wall, and saying still to you, though you are fifty instead of five,,-"Hickory, Dickory, Dock!" with the persistent patience of time itself! Yes, the weights keep slipping a cog, dropping .ever lower and lower; till the grand dame of fourscore finds the key and winds them up again that the "Hick ory, Dickory, Dock!" of the pendulum of the past and present may not cease.

What .:. slow-coachn that old clock was, brethren! What a long way off it majle-to-morrow with its bun-fight, its., bean-feast, or its Christmas stocking. Would to-day never end? Hurry up, old wag-at-the-wall! Bring to-morr,ow! To-morro. is always bet ter than to-day! Hang the present! Let's live, in the future, brethren; breathei the.: ine air of anticination, and enjoy the oxygen of high hopes. Pooh! What. are minutes on a dial? That "Hickory, fDickory, Dock!" gets on one's nerves.. It reminds one unpleasantly of the Passing of Time. Would that it. were.: to-morrow that we might "chase the' glowing hours with flying feet," forget the Call o' Duty and Piscipline in the Cabaret of Folly or the Casino; of Chance, kif 'ourselves that the electrolier is the sun in his strength, the stage scene ,f painted canvas and:painted cheeks *- true picture of Life and the jape; of. a Jack-jumper better- than all the saws of the. sages---"The. Mouse ran. up the.Clock." It was a silly thing-for the Mouse. to do, 'brethren. Was he thinkingi oC .putting a.spoke in old Time's wheel? Or, haply, he thought to accelerate it. He hiinself was so frisky, and lively, and.smart; the clock, so slow. so jog-trot,.so deliberate, so system atic, so regular. If he could .but in sert a paw, or even a whisker, into rime's clock-works . what might not happen! The Mouse seems to have mistaken the Time-piece ,tor Old Time himself,' the old boy whose ticker is the sun;, whose dial is the firmament, whose fingers- the wheeling- stars. The Mouse knew not that'his hour was ;approaching. He:could read nei ther the signs of' the times nor the face of'the' dial. He knew not that' every revolution of the wheel he: thought he was controlling brought nearer, the stroke .of. Doom. "The Clock struck One!" That- "wee: sma'- oor," brethren,: is either the- hour of brightest sunshine or of densest darkness, the zenith of opportunity or the nadir of failure. For the Mouse it meant disaster. He was matter in .the wrong place. He was - meddling. with- affairs alien to his gifts. He was trespassing into unknown' territory with Heedlessnesi for a guide and Conceit for a compass. and-"The Clock struck one!" ?~WVihtt' became "orf. the-~'Mouse? Our text .is reticent. Whether he was frightened out- of his wits and shut up in a Refuge for Rodents;. whether he was caught betwixt devil and deep sea, . 'twixt hammer and anvil, whether he fell from'n the rigging:to the kitchen deck in his panic-haste to swarm down the mast-head of plea sure;- whether, fearing this awful Time Machine, with its thunderous clangor, he-rushed to his "own place," there to mind 'his own business, none can-ever.know. Suffice it, brethren "The Mouse was Gone!" A well-known amateur yachtsman of New York, with a few friends, started on a cruise by way of Long Island Sound. They kept close to the shore, and a week later, owing! to the lack of wind and the consequent slowness of the boat, they were still drifting-along a coast that was famil iar. So near the land were they that at.one, point they were within speak ing'distance of a- solitary fisherman on 'the beach. The craft was: now scarcely moving at all, and, after Avatching it amusedly; for some.-time, the;'anglei" called.) out:. "Where are ye folk from?" "Now York." "How long out?" - "Since July the first." Then after-a pause- came the-next .question: "What year?"' An old farmer's daughter, before she:: left her countryp.home, with its quiot, simple ways; to -go to a4 fash ionable boarding-school,: had been in the habit of signing.her name "Sarah Jane Smith," and thought it no hu miliation* tosbe called "Sally." Three months later her letters came -home signed.- "Sadie J.. Smith." When six Inonths had .,elapsed. she.had become "S. Janie Smithe"; and befdre the end of * the.- third I term- arrived' she.:, blos somed forth as "S. Jeannie Smythe." Then'her father decided that it was timef-or action -on his .part, and the yoked his old blind horse to avege table cart and announced to the,-mnem hbers of Lhis, household: . "I'm -goin' to 'bring that there Sal home' anl'let 'er knpw that'-she' can't improve on the good old' name: o' Smith, by : ringin'. any more 'y' and 'e' changes on it. There cani't 'nobody say a" word-b'- harm agln5 my *branch o' the Smitlh family;. I'm -proud, o'. it, an' glad .I'm .one of 'em. I reckon a Imonthoi ohards work" in;, tater-time '11 let Sary:Jane know that :'J-a-n-e' don't spell! no: 'Jeannie"'!"' : Wife: What -is -meant, John, by the -phrase,.,. "carrying coals to New castle"?'- - . ''Husband:, It is a' metaphor,' my dear, showing,' the' doing- of-' some thing that-,is unnecessary. SWife: - I don't exactly understand. Give me an illustration-a familiar one.: . Husband: •Well, if I' wase-to: bring you homei-a- book, entitled; "How. ti Talk," that would be. carryingr coals to. Newcastle! A countryman, visiting. Dublin for the first time, took ai seat in a tram. Being next to a pompous-ldoking swell, he -commenced .conversation in a rather free-and-easy. style. At length the-mighty one said: "My good man, reserve- your: conversation for one of your own equals. I'd.have you know I'm a K.C." At this the countryman stood up with outstretched hands, exclaiming, "Shake hands, namesake;' I'm a ,Casey myself!" Puff- pastry :should- Le mixed sev eral *.hours; before it is. to be rolled out, and put in ..acold place. It im proves the .pastry. and saves a..good deal of labor.

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