applause; and, then a vote of thanks is passed, and vials of adulation are poured upon his head, and he is requested to have the sermon printed, to which he reluctantly submits, as if he never expected to be asked. Well, after a while, somebody less popular makes a speech, which touches, it may be, upon some prevailing weakness, or treads on the toes of some pet prejudice; and the offending speaker, strange to say, is greeted with hisses, and there is great commotion. I think I have even read of the praises of God being sung by the assembly, with all their strength of lungs, so as to drown the speaker's voice! And all this, be it remembered, takes place in a meeting of Christians, who profess to follow and imitate their Lord, and who more or less explicitly avow their belief, that Christ is in their midst!

I have often rejoiced during our past Yearly Meeting, that these base human elements are so little to be found in our solemn assemblies. It is doubtless more or less the effect of training and habit in both cases; but we cannot be too thankful for the blessing of such training, or too anxiously desire that the members of other churches may attain to the same reverence and simplicity of manner, and charitable forbearance one with another. We have doubtless much to learn from them, especially in the matter of zealous earnestness for our common Master's cause; but here is a point in which I think they may all learn something from us.

While speaking of the general subject, I may as well confess that I did not enjoy our huge gatherings for public worship. In this I know thou wilt sympathize with me, for we have talked the matter over before. I never do enjoy such meetings. They are too vast, and too unusual. The soul cannot get quiet, and calm, and collected enough. There is not enough of what a quaint old author calls—

"Floodgate of the deeper heart,

Frost of mouth, and thaw of mind."

Charles Lamb says "for one man to hold his peace it is

commendable, but for a multitude it is great mastery." I need not tell thee I am not one of those who believe in an almost sacramental virtue in silence, nor do I think that spiritual worship necessarily requires abstinence from words. In fact, I believe there is quite as much danger of a human element getting uppermost in a time of silence, as there is when words are uttered, though the danger may be of a somewhat different kind. But yet, I should rejoice in a greater amount of true spiritual, silent seeking after God, in these large devotional meetings,—a little more of Charles Lamb's "great mastery," than is often the case. I am ready to think that it is rather an unusual gift that qualifies a minister for preaching to a very large and unusual congregation. I hope it is not presumptuous for me to say that I wish at such times the spirits of the prophets were more subject to the prophets.

But my leisure has come to an end, and I must for the time bring my remarks to a close.

Thine very truly,

W. POLLARD.

No. 2.-ON A RECENT YEARLY MEETING (continued).

MY DEAR C.,-I was compelled to bring my last communication to a rather abrupt conclusion, and I will now as abruptly resume the subject. Thy opinion that I have indulged rather too freely in the use of warm colours, in painting the character of our Quaker National Assembly, is very likely true; I may some day give thee a sketch of the darker side of things as a companion picture. But, meanwhile, please understand that I have no idea or feeling of glorying in our advantages, whatever they may be; I look on them as privileges granted, or inherited,—not as achievements won for ourselves. And so, with this explanation, let me resume my sketch.

The great question that occupies the Yearly Meeting is undoubtedly the consideration of the state of the Society. Upon that hinges the question, what pastoral care shall be extended; what legislation shall be improved?

Now, I cannot help thinking that this question is still entered upon in too much of a hackneyed way. The remarks are apt to run very much in the same groove, and there is, I think, a want of breadth and comprehensiveness of view. This is in part due, no doubt, to the fact that the answers to the queries furnish the official basis for the debate, and that many do not look beyond these. I think we want more freshness imported into this consideration, and that then greater results would flow from it.

In an

It would be an interesting question to consider the advantages and disadvantages that spring from our free democratic system, and from the large liberty that is accorded to every individual member. I wish thou would'st write a paper upon it; for it is, I think, full of material for thought. Of course we have the penalty to pay for this freedom, and perhaps this is more often exacted during the discussion on the state of the Society than at any other time. And yet in how small a compass this penalty is compressed after all. assembly of 600 to 800 men, every one of whom has a right to be heard, there will be a few who, by frequent and inconsequent remarks, by wordy repetitions, by common-place utterances, by standing in the way of more gifted men, will in degree weaken and dissipate the cumulative power which should grow out of the united exercise of earnest spirits. But this is, I suppose, inevitable, in an assembly of human beings, and there is no doubt that we not only have far less of it than might be anticipated, but very far less than is to be found in assemblies of a much more exclusive character. The simple explanation of this is not, I think, to be chiefly found in the fact that we are by training a quiet, orderly people (though no doubt this has something to do with it), but

rather in the more generally prevalent and heartfelt conviction that Christ is present, and that this presence is to be felt and known by the seeking soul,—that the cause is His, and that the power to help it must come from Him.

And now, what is my own opinion of the present condition of our little church? I think I hear thee enquire. I know no concise expression that will better convey my feeling on this head, than that of our venerable friend J. His remark to me on this subject was, that he felt there was great cause for thankfulness, and not a little for thoughtfulness." We could not have a more comprehensive statement of the case. The condition of things it describes is, of course, inevitable to a state of increased life and activity, and this must be our comfort. A state of torpor, or of sleep, has a calmness and repose about it, a conformity to rule, an absence of irregularity, all of which it is really comforting to miss, if we are but convinced that the change is due to a revival of life. Spiritual life, like vegetable life, will not be bound by precise rule. It often grows beyond and above rule, and this it is our duty to recognize, if we would not check or distort its growth. No doubt it will be needful sometimes to use the pruning knife; but this is not be entrusted to rules or mere machinery, which will often blindly cut away both fruitbearing branches and wild growths. Spiritual pruning is in the first place the prerogative of the Great Husbandman; and when, in a secondary sense, He entrusts the duty to His servants, it is still a nice and delicate operation, that requires much wisdom and experience, personal attention, and a master's hand.

The uncertainty which these latter considerations seem to imply as to church arrangements, might be painful, if we did not remember that we are servants,-not of a dead letter, but of a living Spirit,—an all-active, all-penetrating Mind, that fully comprehends the changing traits of communities, and that still reveals His will and imparts of His life to His obedient disciples.

Before I conclude, I will remark upon one great want that has impressed me during the Yearly Meeting, and which I have felt to be very urgent, if the great Quaker movement in favour of simple Gospel truth is to be once more a living reality. This one thing needful is, I think, a greater dedication on the part of young men, and those actively engaged in the business of life, to the service of Christ. There are some who take much comfort from seeing amongst us a few young men and women here and there, who manifest some zeal and earnestness in the great cause. I have been a little looking at the other side of the question, and marking the loss we suffer from the young and active minds amongst us, who have not yet lost their natural ardour, so rarely enlisting with their whole hearts in that great army of the Lamb, which, we are assured, shall have the victory.

Amongst other religious bodies, the temptation is to leave God's work to the regularly appointed clergy, who shall do our work by proxy, while we "find them in meat and drink." With us the temptation is to leave the work to men of advanced life, to those who are out of business, or to those calm, quiet, impassive people, who have sometimes been incorrectly called "the naturally good." Now, if there is one thing more certain than another, I think it is that no church has ever prospered which has not enlisted in its service, and combined with the ripeness, the experience, and the prudence of age,—the enthusiasm, the ardour, the warmth of nature, that is only to be found in young minds.

Almost all great reformers have come out when they have been young men; and the warmth of their young life, and the enthusiastic earnestness that has filled their souls, has been wrought upon by the Divine Spirit, and, like a fiery steed, has been harnessed to the work. That great revivalist, John the Baptist, than whom a more eminent man has not lived in the world, never passed beyond the age of a young man. The apostles, when they went forth to plant the churches of