CONDITIONS OF CHURCH MEMBERSHIP.

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it in all cases as a necessary condition of admission to the society of the Christian church.

Is it a question of compliance with Tradition? Assuredly not. The defenders of Article Six do not mean that they so believe and teach because Dan Taylor and his colleagues believed it; for they themselves do not hold all that great worker taught. They know, that, good and wise as Dan was, Jesus Christ has not been ruling His church for a century in vain. We are none of us so unreasoning as Macaulay when he wrote, A Christian of the fifth century, with a Bible, was neither better nor worse situated than a Christian of the nineteenth century with a Bible, candour and natural acuteness being, of course, equal." Dan Taylor himself was a growing man. So are we all. We know Max Müller is right when he says, "As to changes, great or small, Nature teaches us that nothing can live which cannot grow and change, and history confirms her lesson that nothing is so fatal to institutions as faith in their finality." Dan Taylor had courage enough to change his opinions and actions when he felt Christ bade him; and so those who maintain the "Sixth Article" do so not because Dan Taylor held it, but solely because their own reading of the will of Christ assures them that Dan interpreted that will aright.

If it is not a question of self-will, nor of deference to tradition, is it one of policy? Do we cling to the "old way" merely because it is the best for our denomination, the most politic, the course that pays best? I dare not think it. In Christian ethics we know nothing is politic that is not true. No course can pay, in the "long run," that is not framed in the spirit of thorough-going obedience to the teaching of Christ. The policy or impolicy of any course of action always deserves serious consideration; but never before, but always after we have sought, with all our might, to find out whether it is right and true.

The question is, then, for all of us, not one of sinful self-will, or of indolent acquiescence in the traditions of the fathers, or of mere policy, but of the plain and unadulterated meaning of the teaching of the Lord Jesus, our one and sufficient Master.

"ineradi

(7.) The precise point at issue.-Professor Huxley has an cable tendency to make things clear." That tendency ought to dominate in this discussion; and therefore it is necessary to say again, there is not the slightest difference amongst us as to the "subjects" or "mode" of baptism. Do they reject the "sprinkling of infants" as a rite unwarranted by the word of God? So do we. Do they insist on the duty of believers in Christ being immersed? So do we. Do they hold it a high privilege to obey any and every law of Christ? So do we. Do they make sacrifices of time and money, and even of position, for the sake of "Baptist principles?" So do we. Do they take precautions against the intrusion of error? So do we. In fact, there is but one point where we differ, and that is-whether it is the will of the Lord Jesus that every believer should be baptized in order to be initiated into a church state. That, and that only, is the point at issue. It is not the relation of baptism to the believer; but wholly and solely the relation of baptism to the church; and I purpose appealing first to the whole biography of Christ in the four Gospels, and next to the biography of the Church in the Acts of the Apostles and the Epistles, for the answer. JOHN CLIFFORD.

Thanksgiving Ann;"

A STORY OF SYSTEMATIC GIVING.*

IN the kitchen doorway, underneath its arch of swaying vines and pendent purple clusters, the old woman sat, tired and warm, vigorously fanning her face with her calico apron. It was a dark face, surmounted by a turban, and wearing, just now, a look of troubled thoughtfulness not quite in accordance with her name-a name oddly acquired from an old church anthem that she used to sing somewhat on this wise— Thanksgivin' an’—

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"Johnny, don't play dar in the water, chile!"

"Take care dat bressed baby! Here's some gingerbread for him." 'Thanksgivin' an' de voice of melody."

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You laugh! But looking after all these little things was her appointed work, her duty; and she spent the intervals in singing praise. Do many of us make better use of our spare moments?

So the children called her "Thanksgiving Ann;" her other name was forgotten, and Thanksgiving Ann she would be now, to the end of her days. How many these days had already been, no one knew. She had lived with Mr. and Mrs. Allyn for years, whether as mistress or servant of the establishment they could scarcely tell; they only knew that she was invaluable. She had taken a grandmotherly guardianship of all the children, and had a voice in most matters that concerned the father and mother, while in the culinary department she reigned supreme.

The early breakfast was over. She had bestowed unusual care upon it, because an agent of the Bible Society, visiting some of the country places for contributions, was to partake of it with them. But while she was busy with a final batch of delicate waffles, the gentleman had pleaded an appointment, and, taking hasty leave of his host and hostess, had departed, unobserved from the kitchen windows; and Thanksgiving Ann's " Bible money" was still in her pocket.

"Didn't ask me, nor give me no chance. Just's if, 'cause a pusson's old an' coloured, dey didn't owe de Lord nuffin', an' would'nt pay it if dey did," she murmured when the state of the case became known.

However, Silas, the long-limbed, untiring, and shrewd, who regarded the old woman with a curious mixture of patronage and veneration, had volunteered to run after the vanished guest, and "catch him if he was anywhere this side of Chainy." And even while Thanksgiving sat in the doorway the messenger returned, apparently unwearied by his chase.

"Wa-ll, I come up with him-told ye I would-and give him the three dollars. He seemed kind of flustered to have missed such a nugget; and he said 'twas a ginerous jonation-equal to your master's. Which proves," said Silas, shutting one eye, and appearing to survey the subject meditatively with the other, "that some folks can do as much good just off-hand as some other folks can do with no end of pinchin' an' screwin' beforehand."

"Think it proves dat folks dat don't have no great 'mount can do as Printed separately by Messrs. Morgan & Scott, office of the Christian; 3s. 6d. per 100, or 6d. a dozen. Reprinted here by their kind permission.

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"THANKSGIVING ANN;"

much in a good cause by thinkin' 'bout it a little beforehand, as other folks will do that as more, and puts der hands in der pockets when de time comes. I believe in systematics 'bout such things, I does ;" and with an energetic bob of her head, by way of emphasizing her words, old Thanksgiving walked into the house.

"Thanksgivin' an' the voice of melody,"

she began in her high, weird voice. her heart was too burdened to sing.

But the words died on her lips;

Only three dollars out'n all der 'bundance! she murmured to herself. "Well, mebbe I oughtn't to judge; but then I don't judge, I knows. Course I knows, when I'se here all de time, and sees de good clo'es, an' de carr'ages, an' de musics, an' de fine times-folks, an' hosses, an' tables all provided for, an' de Lord of glory lef' to take what happens when de time comes, and no prep'ration at all! Sure 'nough, He don't need der help. All de world is His; and He can send clo'es to His naked, an' bread to His hungry, an' Bibles to His heathen, if dey don't give a cent; but den dey're pinchin' an' starvin' der own dear souls. Well-'t ain't my soul! But I loves 'em-I loves 'em, an' dey're missin' a great blessin'."

These friends, so beloved, paid little attention to the old woman's opinion upon what she called "systematics in givin'."

"The idea of counting up all one's income, and setting aside a fixed portion of it for charity, and then calling only what remains one's own, makes our religion seem arbitrary and exacting; it is like a tax," said Mrs. Allyn one day; "and I think such a view of it ought by all means to be avoided. I like to give freely and gladly of what I have when the time comes."

"If ye hain't give so freely an' so gladly for Miss Susie's new necklaces an' yer own new dresses dat ye don't have much when de time comes," interposed Thanksgiving Ann.

"I think one gives with a more free and generous feeling in that way," pursued the lady, without seeming to heed the interruption. Money laid aside beforehand has only a sense of duty, and not much feeling about it; besides, what difference can it make, so long as one does give what they can when there is a call?

Ye

"I wouldn't like to be provided for dat way," declared Thanksgiving. "Was, once, when I was a slave, 'fore I was de Lord's free woman. see, I was a young, no'count gal, not worf thinkin' 'bout; so my ole marse left me take what happened when de time come. An' sometimes I happened to get a dress, an' sometimes a pair of ole shoes, an' sometimes I didn't happen to get nuffin', an' den I went barefoot; an' dat's jist de way

"Why, Thanksgiving, that's not reverent!" exclaimed Mrs. Allyn, shocked at the-comparison.

"Jist what I thought; didn't treat me with no kind of rev'rence," answered Thanksgiving.

Well, to go back to the original subject, all these things are mere matters of opinion. One person likes one way best, and another person another," said the lady smilingly, as she walked from the room.

"Pears to me it's a matter of which way de Master likes best," observed the old woman, settling her turban. But there was no one to hear her comment, and affairs followed their accustomed routine.

A STORY OF SYSTEMATIC GIVING.

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Meanwhile, out of her own little store, she carefully laid aside one-eighth. "Cause if dem ole Israelites was tol' to give one-tenth, I'd jist like to frow in a little more, for good measure. Talk 'bout it's bein' like a tax to put some away for such things! 'Clare! I get studyin' what each dollar mus' do, till I get 'em so loadened up wid prayin's an' thinkin's dat I mos' b'lieve dey weigh double when dey does go.

"Oh, de Lamb! de loving Lamb!

De Lamb of Calvary!

De Lamb dat was slain, an' lives again,

An' intercedes for me!""

And now another call had come.

"Come, unfortunately, at a time when we were rather short," Mrs. Allyn said regretfully. "However, we gave what we could," she added. I hope it will do good, and I wish it were five times as much."

Old Thanksgiving shook her head over that cheerful dismissal of the subject. She shook it many times that morning, and seemed intensely thoughtful, as she moved slowly about her work.

"S'pose I needn't fret 'bout other folks' duty-dat ain't none o' my business; yas 'tis, too, cause dey's good to me, an' I loves 'em. "Taint like's if dey didn't call dareselves His, neither."

Mr. Allyn brought in a basket of beautiful peaches, the first of the season, and placed them on the table by her side.

"Aren't those fine, Thanksgiving? Let the children have a few, if you think best; but give them to us for dinner."

"Sartain, I'll give you all dare is," she responded, surveying the fruit. Presently came the pattering of several pairs of small feet; bright eyes espied the basket, and immediately arose a cry:

"Oh, how nice! Thanksgiving Ann, may I have one?"

"And I?"

And I, too?"

Help yourselves, dearies," answered the old woman composedly, never turning to see how often or to what extent her injunction was obeyed. She was seated in the doorway again, busily sewing on a calico apron. She still sat there when, near the dinner hour, Mrs. Allyn passed through the kitchen, and, a little surprised at its coolness and quietness at that hour, asked wonderingly:

"What has happened, Thanksgiving? Haven't decided upon a fast, have you?"

"No, honey; thought I'd give ye what I happened to have when de time come," said Thanksgiving Ann coolly, holding up her apron to measure its length.

It seemed a little odd, Mrs. Allyn thought. But then old Thanksgiving needed no oversight; she liked her little surprises now and then, too, and doubtless she had something all planned and in course of preparation; so the lady went her way, more than half expecting an especially tempting board because of her cook's apparent carelessness that day. But when the dinner-hour arrived, both master and mistress scanned the table with wide-open eyes of astonishment, so plain and meagre were its contents, so unlike any dinner that had ever before been served in that house.

"What has happened, my dear?" asked the gentleman, turning to his wife.