Dickory, dickory dock, A mouse ran up the clock; But this clock, I find, Was a different kind, And her cries could be heard up the block. * * * * * Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, Sharing her good curds and whey; They were hugging and kissing, When her Ma found her missing And frightened fond lover away. * * * * * The Lure By JOHN BOYLE O’REILLY “What bait do you use,” said a Saint to the Devil, “When you fish where the souls of men abound?” “Well, for special tastes,” said the King of Evil, “Gold and Fame are the best I’ve found.” “But for common use?” asked the Saint. “Ah, then,” Said the Demon, “I angle for Man, not men; And a thing I hate is to change my bait, So I fish with a woman the whole year ’round.” _Whiz Bang Editorials_ “The Bull is Mightier Than the Bullet” Nature moves oftener to the time of “L’Allegro” than “Il Penseroso”—the major, not the minor chord, predominates. The carol of birds, hum of insects, rustle of leaves, ripple of water and chirrup of cricket are only sad to those whose natures are harsh. There is more of light than shadow, and we feel it as we look at matchless sunrise and sunset, glinting stars, deep green of forest, lighter color of meadow and grain field, and the sunbeams chased by the wind across hillside and valley. The church is not a cemetery, the minister is not a death’s head, and his church members should not be mummies. The world was given us to cheer our hearts; religion was never designed to make our pleasures less, and when it does we have less of religion and more of something else. To be a child of God is to be a happy member of his family in a present Eden which thrills the brain, fills the heart, and makes us rejoice in the hope of a home where sin and sorrow shall never enter. The historian Hume found that King Edward II had paid a jester a crown to make him laugh. That was a good investment. How much better it is to have a fool to make one merry than experience to make one sad. Why not have Christmas cheer fifty-two weeks in the year and let it brighten and bless spring, summer and autumn till winter comes again? Shakespeare says, “One may smile and smile and be a villain,” but I think the man who does not smile is the villain “fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.” A smile is the difference between a man and a brute, though a laughing hyena is preferable to a scowling misanthrope, and a heathen who only wears a smile to a Christian garbed in gloom. Cheerfulness does more for health and holiness than pills and preaching. Why not smile in a good world with a gracious God? The man ought to be arrested who comes downtown in the morning with an insulting scowl that curdles the milk of human kindness. One smile is worth a dozen snarls.