Another modern authority-a writer | seeking advice and counsel from another in the British Quarterly-observes, "The church? Why not have a systematic maxim of primitive Independency ap- exchange of pulpits? pears to have been unity to the furthest possible extent; while the maxim of modern Independency would almost seem to be division to the furthest extent possible, or, at least to the extent most consistent with each church having but one pastor, and with many having no pastor at all."

I can see nothing to imperil our Inde- | and healthy attachment to ecclesiastical pendency in seeking as much centraliza- independency; but is not the time come tion as possible within a limited circum- when, under the lights of the past, and ference-Independency must perish in a the ripened wisdom of a long experience, vast Presbyterian establishment-but it we may deal safely with this pressing would run no risk of losing its vigour question, and instead of being frightened nay, it would renew its youth like the at our own shadow, sit down carefully eagle's were it to expand as much as to contrive how, without having less of possible into comprehensive unities within independency, we may have very much the precincts of a moderate district. The more of union? power of our denomination-instead of ravelling out or running to seed, as it often does now-would be compact, and concentrated on important and commanding fields of enterprise. The jealousies and heart-burnings of rival interests would be extinguished. The strong would help the weak. The way would be open for a beneficial division of labour, like that which is based on sound principles of political economy. Instead of several men doing each of them everything, whether fitted for it or not-each might have it arranged for him to do that for which nature adapted him, and from which the richest fruit would be gathered by his brethren. Nor can one fail to perceive that a drawing closer the bonds of connexion between the pastors and congregations of a vicinity, and the fostering of common sympathies amongst them, would materially tend to prevent some of the denominational mischiefs which now arise when a vacancy occurs in the ministerial office.

I know the jealousy of centralization in some quarters, and I respect the venerating love which so many cherish for the independency of churches; but it is the way of a child, and not of a man, to rush into one extreme to avoid another. It is madness and folly to steer right into the whirlpool in order to avoid the rock. Our independency has too often become a dance of atoms, a realization of the Epicurean theory of the universe-a desperate working out of the problem of the infinite divisibility of matter-through a jealousy and fear of imaginary evils on the side of consolidation and unity. Wise men must know, from the study of ecclesiastical history and human nature, what the real evils are, besetting schemes for comprehension, apart from a sound

Another evil from which we greatly suffer, is the facility and encouragement given to separations. In our successful refutation of the charge of schism brought against us by our friends of the Establishment, we are liable to forget that we are specially in danger of committing that sin amongst ourselves. To separate from a church whose government, discipline, and order does not appear to us scriptural, is not schism. But to divide what we count as a New Testament Church, for any but the very gravest reasons—on any principle but that which touches conscience to the quick-looks so much like schism, that I am at a loss to see how, when such grounds of division as I have instanced do not exist, the ugly accusation can be successfully repelled. I am afraid there are a good many schismatics amongst us-people who, without sufficient justification, leave a church whose faith and order they approve, to set up another perfectly distinct church, of the same denomination, in the same neighbourhood. * There is some unseemly

Many years ago my friend the Rev. T. Binney made the following just observations:

"A society, in which a number of persons unite in voluntary compact, for the purpose of securing certain common objects; to the members of which the plans for securing those objects are to be submitted, and by them, in their social capacity, examined, selected, and confirmed,-such a society, whatever be its aim, is founded upon the implied submission of each member to the decision of the majority. Now, I must acknowledge, it does appear to me, that this implied basis of all voluntary societies, and therefore of all Independent churches, is by no means recognised by many an Independent church with that mental importance demands. To say that pre-eminent distinctness which its fundathere are no circumstances which can authorise a minority to withdraw would be obviously absurd; but none can do so unless the facts involve some matter of immense moment and magnitude. When such a secession occurs

the people sometimes proudly call a New | I mean public opinion. We can inspire Testament bishop. Nor would it lack and nourish and sustain that by daily peculiar and emphatic fitness just now, endeavours in favour of such reforms as inasmuch as in the days of the ejected, we need. We can do much to produce the liberality of some of the Puritan and keep alive a feeling that shall pergentry was most munificent, and they vade and permeate our churches like a counted it an honour largely to provide for healthful breeze from heaven, sweeping their chosen teachers, who were cut off away any pestilent miasma that may from State-support, and had nothing to de- have for a while floated over our ecclepend on but what God sent them through siastical meadows. We can effect much the thank-offerings of their friends. towards draining our church-fields through public opinion. By common consent, in talking and writing we can. brand things which may be proved to be mischievous, so that they shall be ashamed to hold up their heads any longer. We cannot bring evils and abuses amongst us into a formal court of justice, try them, and sentence them to the hulks or the gallows; but we can make them so odious that, like some celebrated culprits whom law cannot catch, they must slink into holes and corners, and be no longer harboured by honest men.*

Other evils and their remedies might be pointed out, but I forbear. I think enough has been said to show that there are things amongst us requiring to be carefully revised, and vigorously corrected. It cannot be done by this Union as such. It cannot be accomplished by our county associations. No legislation can effect it-our principles forbid the making of laws for the churches-our constitution supplies no binding force. So far we are powerless. But we can strive; all of us can strive, ministers can, deacons can, members can strive to create in our denomination that which is Stronger than law-that, which will be potent to the putting down evil-mighty in the creation and maintenance of good; -that which influences Englishmen above everything--which is now penetrating men's minds and consciences, checking the lawless, encouraging the timid, making vice cower and leading forth virtue crowned - which speaks through the press with more commanding tones than Parliament can articulate;

*In connection with this extract from "Lessons for Nonconformists"- by John Stoughton-prepared at the request of the Committee of the Congregational Union, and published by request of the assembly, we would earnestly call attention to a series of

papers published in the Christian Spectator

during the last few months, in which the

question mooted here, and others of a similar character, are discussed with all that cleverness and fearless honesty for which our respected contemporary is distinguished.

Biographical Sketch of the late Rev. G. C. Maitland, M.A.

PASTOR OF FAWCETT-STREET CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, SUNDERLAND.

No words borrowed from earth can express the state of feeling of which I became conscious, on receiving the sad intelligence of the sudden and unexpected death of my late beloved friend. A fortnight had not elapsed since we had clasped hands with mutual joy; since I had occupied his pulpit, and taken part in his anniversary services; since we had mingled thought and feeling with more

than wonted freedom and delight; since we had together concerted plans, and expressed hopes for the future. I was stunned and overpowered, and could not for some time realize the painful fact. He was in the prime of his manhood, with all his powers and energies in active operation, and with his heart glowing with a holier ardour. Nor was there then anything prophetic of his approach

ing decease. On the contrary, the vision | sunshine of a purer love, and the comof the future was full of life and service; munion of earth matures into the fellowand his heart bounded with a purer joy ship of heaven. as he looked forward to the yet more vital and efficient prosecution of his sublime work. Never had he ascended his pulpit "with a firmer tread, or more richly laden with a pastor's devotedness," than on the morning of the last Sabbath on which he occupied that pulpit, and "spoke by fond expectancy of a glory to rest upon the renovated house, surpassing that of former periods." Alas! how soon the vision changed! Instead of that heightened and brighter glory, there came flitting across his path the dark shadows of death; and from the sacred floor of the pulpit, on which he had stood and uttered God's living truth, he came down to be laid in the silence of the tomb. But he is not dead; he has sweetly fallen asleep in Jesus. His spirit, taken from us, has entered into another mansion of his Father's house; and though the grave has closed on his once visible form, his next appearance will be one of renovated life, and unfading beauty, and imperishable glory.

If poetry has its "enclosed beauties"its "sheltered garden-beds of curious flowers, not to be judged by comparison with the open landscape, but to be visited and enjoyed for their own particular charms"- —so it is within the hallowed circle of all truer friendship. If we are to write "that man a marvel whom we can call a friend," then the love which is the soul of friendship is something too pure and too refined to become the common property of all. He is not a friend whom we cannot take to the love and the confidence of our heart. A mountain is made up of atoms, but if the atoms hold not together, the mountain crumbles into dust; and so the friendship which has not its fact in the life, and strength, and centre of the affections, is not worthy of the name. A friend is one to whom "we may impart griefs, joys, hopes, fears, suspicions, counsels, or whatsoever lieth on the heart either to oppress it or to fill it" with the joy of a diviner gladness. Time draws closer together the sacred bond. Mutual confidence ripens in the

It is in this spirit that I would now sketch the life and labours of my late beloved friend, not to glorify him, but the grace of God which was so conspicuous in his character; to benefit the church of Christ; and to encourage and stimulate his brethren in the ministry to holier consecration and wider activity. I am not about to throw back even one single fold of that veil which rests on the private and domestic life of every man, to gratify an idle and impertinent curiosity; far less to reveal and lay open those arcana of the heart, which he so jealously fenced around while he was living, and to which the smallest possible number was ever admitted. "As the flavour of some fruits is found in perfection only when we pluck them from the tree," so there is something in the society of a friend which is to be found only in his society, and which no description can preserve.

The subject of our sketch-GEORGE CRUIKSHANK MAITLAND — -was born in Aberdeen, April 30, 1832, and on the part of his parents was dedicated to God from his birth. His mother, who preceded him to the world of glory, watched over his earlier years with the most devoted affection and solicitude; took daily cognizance of the openings and the workings of his little heart, and was above all things concerned for his salvation; while his father, himself a godly man, and who still holds office as a deacon in one of the congregational churches in Aberdeen,equally alive to the highest interests of his child, " tearfully yet thankfully records that not on a single occasion during his whole life had he reason seriously to find fault with him." His was a docile spirit, and his a heart early susceptible of holy impressions; while the prayers of his loving parents were signally answered in the fact, that scarcely had he passed through the stage of childhood, when he was "brought to a true reception of Christ, though by a process so gentle that its special instrumentalities and decisive stages could not be distinguished." It is with the fact, and not with the process