am unwell, my friends, very unwell," announced a preacher one Sunday evening, "and therefore I shall dispense with my usual gesticulation." This happened not very long ago. So disregarded, indeed, were the proprieties of worship a generation since, that the clergyman would sometimes pause during the delivery of his sermon and make an announcement which, to say the least of it, had no connection with the theme he was pursuing. Thus the Rev. Samuel Sherwen, a well-known cleric in Cumberland, announced one morning that he had just caught sight, through a window near the pulpit, of some cows in a cornfield, and requested that some one would go and drive them out. At another time he said there were some pigs in the churchyard which were not his, and his servant Peter would do well to expel the intruders. Very probably such announcements, though made from a pulpit, would be excused because they resulted in a certain benefit. The same plea could undoubtedly be put forward for the following trio, each of which hails from beyond the Severn. "Take notice!" exclaimed the clerk. "A thief is going through the Vale of Glamorgan selling tin ware, false gold, trinkets, and rings, and other domestic implements and instruments, and robbing houses of hens, chickens, eggs, butter, and other portable animals, making all sorts of pretences to get money!" Again, "Beware! beware! of a man with one eye, talking like a preacher, and a wooden leg, given to begging and stealing!" And once more, "Take notice! take notice! there's a mad dog going the round of the parish with two crop ears and a very long tail!" Surely the intention of such announcements was good, even though the literary form was bad. The last, as might be inferred, was made at a time when rabies were prevalent.