We make our own cakes, in a great measure, therefore let us look to it, my brethren, that they are mixed according to the best receipt, baked in a well regulated oven, and gratefully eaten with a temperate appetite." "Good! good!" cried Tom, applauding with the wooden spoon.

"That 's a model sermon, Polly, short, sweet, sensible, and not a bit sleepy.

I 'm one of your parish, and will see that you get your 'celery punctooal,' as old Deacon Morse used to say." "'Thank you, brother, my wants is few, and ravens scurser than they used to be,' as dear old Parson Miller used to answer.

Now, Maud, bring on the citron;" and Polly began to put the cake together in what seemed a most careless and chaotic manner, while Tom and Maud watched with absorbing interest till it was safely in the oven.
"Now make your custards, dear; Tom may like to beat the eggs for you; it seems to have a good effect upon his constitution." "First-rate; hand 'em along," and Tom smoothed his apron with a cheerful air.

"By the way, Syd's got back.