Old South, a witty Churchman reckoned, Was preaching once to Charles the Second, But much too serious for a court, Who at all preaching made a sport: He soon perceived his audience nod, Deaf to the zealous man of God. The Doctor stopp’d; began to call, ‘Pray wake the Earl of Lauderdale: My Lord! why, ’tis a monstrous thing, You snore so loud--you’ll wake the King.’ [Sidenote: SABBATH SOMNOLENCE] Though this scene took place in the south of England, it is interesting to note that the snorer specially singled out for rebuke was a Scottish nobleman. Now and then a reproof from the pulpit has drawn down on the minister a sarcastic reply from the unfortunate sleeper, as in the case of the somnolent farmer who was awakened by the minister calling on him to rouse himself by taking a pinch of snuff, and who blurted out ‘Put the snuff in the sermon, sir,’--an advice which found not a little sympathy in the congregation. In a parish church about the middle of Ayrshire the central passage leading from the entrance to the pulpit is paved with large stone-flags. On the right side a worthy matron had her family pew, wherein, overcome with drowsiness, she used to fall asleep, with her head resting on her large brass-clasped Bible. She was an admirable housekeeper and farmer, looking after all the details of management herself. In her dreams in church her thoughts would sometimes wander back to her domestic concerns and show that she was not ‘mistress of herself, though china falls.’ One Sunday, in the course of her slumbers, she succeeded in pushing her massive Bible over the edge of the pew. As it fell on the stone-floor, its brass mountings made a loud noise, at which she started up with the exclamation, ‘Hoot, ye stupid jaud, there’s anither bowl broken.’ The genial Principal of Glasgow University, in the course of a public speech a year or two ago, told a story of an opposite kind. An old couple in his country parish had taken with them to church their stirring little grandson, who behaved all through the service with preternatural gravity. So much was the preacher struck with the good conduct of so young a listener, that, meeting the grandfather at the close of the service, he congratulated him upon the remarkably quiet composure of the boy. ‘Ay,’ said the old man with a twinkle in his eye, ‘Duncan’s weel threetened afore he gangs in.’ [Sidenote: ANIMAL VISITORS TO THE KIRK] When an afternoon service is held, the attendance is sometimes apt to be scanty. A minister who was annoyed at a lukewarmness of this kind on the part of his congregation, remonstrated with them on the subject. ‘I canna tell,’ he said, ‘how it may look to the Almichtie that sae few o’ ye come to the second diet o’ worship, but I maun say that it’s showin’ unco little respect to mysel’.’