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2 things ? How can they answer questions about justification, regeneration, and the Witness of the Spirit? We have been present at the reception of members where the technical experimental test obtains, and we have been tempted to smile at the farce of proposing leading questions to the candi date, which it was understood he was to answer by a simple yes or no. How much more satisfactory to demand, what a child can understand, the stipulations which, in substance, have constituted the test of com munion in the Church of Christ in every age and clime. There ought to be no temp tation to the manufacture of experiences, dreams, inspirations, and the like by candi dates for Church-membership. Is it not well known that some of the best Christians that ever lived were unde monstrative and reticent with regard to their experience—for example, Mrs. Wesley, Cowper —read his exquisite hymn, “ Peni tent Sinner’s Welcome to the Lord’s Ta ble” —not to mention Bunyan’s Little-Faith, Fearing, and Ready-to-halt—all of whom had the root of the matter in them, and a measure of the Spirit’s witness, though their peculiar antecedents and surroundings, or their constitutional diffidence, precluded the enjoyment, or at least, the profession of that meridian evidence which puts every doubt to flight i ? On the other hand, who has not met with ignorant, shallow and con ceited professors, who, from their sublime heights of assurance, looked down with pity, if not contempt, upon the poor “mourners in Zion,’’ and wondered at their presumption if they dared to show forth their Saviour’s death in the way he has pre scribed? And yet, the Searcher of hearts knew all the while that the presumption was all on their side. Let us do all we can to encourage the timid discip e —to help him in his feeblest essays of faith, until he reaches its full assurance : Every spark of pure desire, Fan into a flame of love. Contributions. APOSTOLIC INSPIRATION. The previous discussions on the subject of Biblical Inspiration have led to the con clusion that neither the historical nor the prophetical writers profess or claim to have been inspired os writers , or to have received such supernatural help in that capacity as to preserve them from error in their records. The importance and interest of the question increases as we turn to the Apostles—those of them who were the authors of the Epis tles found in the New Testament canon. This subject leads us to speak, first, of the nature aud limits of apostolic inspiration. The inspiration of the apostles was of a different kind from that of the proph ets. We do not say from a different source, but of a different kind, judging from the effects it produced on the subject. An apostle was not thrown into ecstatic or abnormal state of mind, attended with hnu suaj tones or gestures, and made or induced to npeak in the name of God. There is some refson to believe that such forms of super natural influence were revived and kepi up while in the early Christian church ; ■ bmi they*, did not pertain to the apostolic of flee or character. The same individual who was officially an apostle might have been, on some particular occasion, the subject of prophetic inspiration; but that such was the case to any considerable extent, we have no evidence to believe. Whatever enlight enment did pertain to the office of an apos tle, was perfectly compatible with his usual rationality and equanimity. In all the fer vor ot their eloquence, in all the displays of their miraculous powers, we find nothing in consistent with the highest self-possession. On the day of Pentecost, it was true pro phetic inspiration that descended with the tongues of flame and the rushing wind ;* and that whole babbling company were real prophets, speaking in divers tongues the words of God. But when Peter rose up to explain the phenomenon, (which he does in this very way) we find no trace of any af flatus in him. He speaks like a man to men. He reasons, argues, puts things to gether so as to draw conclusions, and all in a perfectly human, and what we might call a natural style. There was the apostle , not the prophet. But the apostles were certainly the recip ients of some supernatural influences ; what were these ? They had miraculous powers. They mat/ have received divine intimations as to the time and manner of using them ; though that is not certain. They were su pernaturally aided to answer for themselves when arraigned before civil rulers. ' On certain they Were supernaturally directed in ordering the affairs of the church, or rather in the direction of their apostolic labors in establishing and enlarging the chureh. Examples of this are found in the vision by which Peter was directed to go to the house of Cornelius and admit him and his household to fraternity with the Chris tians; the vision by which Paul at Troas was directed to carry the gospel into Europe, and subsequently at Corinth to remain and found there a large and powerful church. Nor need it be denied, so far as the present argument is concerned, that in the exercise of discipline in individual cases, they were supernaturally guided so as to make no mistake. All that may be granted, strong as is the weapon which it places in the hands ot the Papists against us; and yet no permanent or prevailing inspiration is proved. On the other hand, there are facts which go to show that the apostles were generally left to their own natural judg ment, only helped as all good men are helped by God’s Spirit. Not only so, but there are facts which show that, being so left they actually did err, both in practice and in doctrine. What are these facts? 1. The Council of Jerusalem can in no way be reconciled with the doctrine of apos tolic infallibility. A grave question was at issue. To what extent was it necessary to retain the Jewish ritualism in the Christian church ? If any one of the apostles had been infallibly inspired how easily would this question have been settled ! If the in fallibility lay in their assembled deliberation and conclusion, how soon could that have been secured ! But no one seemed to think there was any such expeditious and in fallible mode cf coming at the will of God. No apostle presumed to speak ex cathedra , and arrest the growing agitation, threaten ing schism. Nothing less than a grand council of apostles and elders, deliberating and coming to a conclusion, like any other human convention, whs the expedient pro-* posed to meet the difficulty. It is remark able how closely the council in its modus operandi resembles an ecclesiastical bly of our own day. Reports were made of the drift of matters in certain quarters, ev idently taken as the leadings of Providence. The prophecies were examined, to see if this interpretation of facts were consistent with a rational exposition of the sacred words. Expediency w r as weighed against precedent. A compromise was agreed up on, and the authoritative decree of the council was sent forth to rule the church Over the whole transaction reason presided. Much as we have heard reason, and expe diency and compromise denounced here We find the whole policy formally inaugurated as the mode by which the church should be governed. The supposition of any contem porary infallible inspiration is utterly ex cluded. But mark the language of the de cree issued on that occasion. “ Forasmuch as &c., &c , therefore it seemed good to the Holy Ghost and to us, to lay upon you, &c., Ac.” Here is a kind of inspiration alluded to, which it is evidently worth while to ex amine, as will be done in the proper place 2. Turn to Galatians ii. 11-14, and read how an apostle could err in practice. See how Peter’s courage quailed in the face of Jewish sanctity, and be became ifrraid to eat and drink with the uncircumcised, when the strait laced Jerusalem brethren came to visit the church at Antioch. Nor was this an unimportant error. It is not too much to say that but for the timely resistance of Paul, the whole Christian movement would have remained for centuries a mere Jewish sect, burdened and hampered with Jewish rites and exclusiveness. Peter therefore was not an infallible guide. 3. The quarrel between Barnabas and Paul is an instructive instance. The con tention was not a mere personal matter, as some might suppose. It was concerning the fitness of a certain eminent brother for the severe missionary work on which they were about to re embark. Surely if apos tles were infallibly directed in anything it was in the choice of men for important evangelizing enterprises. And if Pail had been infallible, er if any such claim been made for him, qTtSptfte could not have arisen. Evtdenwy .Barnabas thought he had as good a right ip his opin ion as Paul to his; and though so grave a matter as the evangelization of Asia Minor and Greece was involved, Barnabas stood up for his man, and rather parted with Paul than abandon Mark. Good for Barnabas ! And good for the church that she has always had men that did not lose faith in a young brother for a little lack of firmness at first; and men that would dare to differ with a superior. Some may be inclined to ask—What has all this to do with the question of the inspi ration of the Epistles? The bearing of these facts on this question is confessedly indirect, but it is well enough to get the proper idea of the apostolic character , be fore we approach their writings. In the minds of many, they sustain an unreal ele vation above other men. The infallibility which is attributed to their writiugs is un consciously transferred to their whole con duct. It will prepare the mind to investi gate the matter fairly, to have this atmos phere of unearthliness dissipated. We un derstand a man better when we find out his foibles. A mistake or two puts him on our plane. We have just glanced at some of the mistakes of the apostles in conduct. We shall next look at one very palpable one in opinion; and then we shall be ready for the interpretation of those passages in the EpLtles and Gospels which to many have seemed to claim infallibility for their au thors. Faets first; then the interpretation of assertions so as to harmonize with facts. Bradford. jamilg Ikabinj. From the New Orleans Christian Advocate. DANCING. To reduce dancing to a mere physical ex ercise, an innocent hilarity of action is to misconceive its true character. It is to be looked at not iK its physical aspects merely, but as emotional action, the expression of emotions by rythmic, choric moveinenr. It is employed also to give vigor to emotions and to swell their excitement. This may be remarked of the Greek dance, the battle dance of the ancient Germ uric people, the Indian war-dance, as well as of the amatory dances of the Bechuana tribes, or the licen tious fandango of the Mexicans In all these, whether at the festival of Hyakinthia, to the singing of tho solemn pean in honor of Apollo, when the king himself was uuder the orders of the chorus-master, and the old, middle-aged and youth, the matrons and the virgins, distributed in companies, danced as a part of the solemnities; or whether at the Bacchic festival, when a vigorous round chorie dance and song—the spontaneous es« SOUTHERNNCHRISTIAN ADVOCATE. fusion of (Sunken men in the hour of revel ry—“ with the thunder of wine full upon the mind,” gave fuel to the passions of the hour: in both, the dance served to exprfess and intensify the emotions. The turbulept, vehement “ break down,” and every other variety of rythmical, accentuated, conspir ing movements, or postures of the body, from the slowest to the quickest, of modem times, however decorous and are not a question of muscle hut of emotionV al influence. If the dance was once an im portant part of divine service throughout Greece, it has been fully transfused through out Christendom to the manifestation and cultivation of an opposite class of senti ments. Here it still raises strong emotion in soft and amatory subjects, not now the fierce passions of the warrior. It has long since been abandoned to the world of gal lantry and fashion. It is regarded by the world as its own promenade and realm. This it watches as against the intrusion of all mere religionists or professors of piety. Whatever religious people may think of themselves in a ball room, the world re gards them as intruders. It despises suck barefaced folly. How can a man “ whose conversation is in heaven’’ feel himself in place amid the turn, the return, and the rest of the dancers. What does he find here to please ? Does he find stimulus for the holy passions of a spiritual and renewed nature? Will he “cast a stumbling block before the children of Israel” with the hardihood of Balaam ? It is this vievt which the world generally takes of mem bers of the church who frequent the ball room that decides its character. Irreli-4- gious people know the pleasures, the emo tions, and the excitements of the dance, and they put no confidence in the religion of the person who is captivated by the invo-i lution, the music, the passions and the per formance of a scene which is regarded as the very highest expression of the world's worldliness. It is here that many a fair maiden and noble youth have betrayed the Saviour, and for one sip of sensual pleasure have sold a birthright. The church is bound to throw the protection of her Discipline around the young, the weakminded, and the faltering; to stand as an angel with a drawn sword and warn them away from the carnal apti tudes and the deadly atmosphere of the modern dance. Without the Children. 0 the weary, solemn silence Os a house without the children! 0 the strange oppressive stillness Where the children come no moEe I Ah ! the longing of the s eepless For the soft arms of the children, Ah! the !onging for the faces Peeping through the opening door— Faces gone for evermore! Strange it is to wake at midnight And not hear the children breathing, Nothing but the old clock ticking, Ticking, tickihg by j / Strange to see the < liangingAjjijltiere all And tb egmfms —ah f W<y will hear it never more On our heart-forsaken floor! What is home without the children? ’Tis the earth without its verdure, And the sky without the sunshine, Life i3 withered to the core 1 So we’ll leave this dreary desert, And we’ll follow the Good Shepherd To the greener pasture vernal, Where the Lambs have “ gone before" With the Shepherd evermore! HOPELESS. The man of God was ushered into a large, richly-furnished room, in which a couch had been hastily extemporized. Man of God he emphatically was, as all who knew him were ready to testify at all times—an humble, self-denying, faithful disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ. He paused at the side of the man who lay upon the couch, suddenly stricken from rude health by a shcck that left him help less, as a paralytic. “ I am sorry to see you thus, Mr. San ders,” he said. “ It’s a bad thing for me,” was the re sponse, in a voice rich and full of the strength of rude vitality. . “ They tell me I can’t last long either. Curious, though. I went out this morning as sound as I ever was; I was cautioned, too, about buying that horse. Looks like a fatality, dou’tyou think ?’’ “ You sent for me,” began the clergyman, avoiding the question. “ To prepare me for death, perhaps you would say,’’ quickly responded the other, his large eyes lighting up. “ Well, no, I believe not When they at-ked me who I would have—my wife is a praying woman, you know—my mind reverted to a sermon I once heard yon preach, and I knew you would be candid. I don’t want anybody to bolster me up, now, I just wish to look death straight in the face As to prating about repentance at this late hour, with my mind so crowded with earthly thoughts, I fancy it is quite out bf the question. I must go as I am, if go l must.” “ Not necessarily, I ho; e,” said the min ister. u There was an appeal once made by a man who needed and sought help, whose words, ‘Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy on me,’ were heard, and they may serve for you That appeal, uttered with hearifelt importunity, could not be resisted. The prayer of the worst sinners would not be despised by God, if penitent for his sin fulness, he should ask for pardon in the nairie of Christ.” “ 1 hat is your belief, I know ; but it is curious, 1 seem to have no desire to ask. I bave had seil us seasons, whru it seemed little less than self destruction to withhold my best affections from God. But they are gone, and, to be candid, I think they are gone forever. Indeed, there is no oue of my schemes in life that I would give up, in the frame of mind I am now, if I were this moment to be perfectly restored to health; not one. That don’t look like re pentance, does it ? I will not deceive my self; I have been thinking it all over, for I am, as you know, a matter-of-fact man. The means by which I have been accumu lating money for the past three years I would have shrunk from using as from Satan, when I commenced my career, but they do not shock meat all in the retrospect. You may call it what you please—given over, despair, or simple justice.” “ You believe, then, in a retribution, and it does not make you tremble.’’ “ I don’t know what I believe; my mind is in so strange a state. My reason tells me that if a man will sow thorns, he cannot gather fruit. I tell you, sir, I would give worlds if this stagnant soul—conscience— whatever you call it, would feel. Fear would be preferable to this torpidity.’’ “ You are conscious, it seems of having broken the laws of a just God.” “As conscious as that I exist. I have done worse than you think. God knows, I have done deliberate evil, I have chosen my path in life, when, as I said it was ab solutely hard for me to go wrong. lam not a coward. lam not afraid of death ; but I am keenly conscious that this horri ble apathy will pass away when it is too late. I seem to be looking on myself a? at another person, wondering what that other will do when the torment begins. It is very curious.’’ “ Have you tried to ask God ?’’ “ I tell you I have no hope of communi cation with God.” interrupted the dying man, impatiently, “and I’m glad you don’t bolster me up with soft sayings and prom ises that I feel are not for me. Men who are tender-hearted sometimes gloss over such things. It’s natural enough, but if a man is poisoned the doctor don’t go on that’ principle. Crime is crime, and if you work hard for Fell you’re not fitting yourself for heaven, I take it. You see I put things in a common-sense way. When I took up my business it was years before I could stifle conscience, but I did it, and candidly, I don’t think I am entitled to any mercy.” “You certainly will not object to my praying for you, if you cannot pray for yourself.” “ Not at all; I never objected to hearing prayers; but let ine tell you, a man who has had a praying wife for nearly twenty years, stands in need of Gabriel himself to pray under these circumstances.” “ I thank you, you are very kind,’’ he continued, after the brief, heart-felt peti tion was over; “I can say with you, God be merciful, but I can’t feel it. Good-day; to night I shall probably be in eternity.’’ On the following day the clergyman look ed upon the face, white and still in death, of the man who had no hope. “ He failed very rapidly after you left,” said his widow, crowding back the tears, “ but his mind began to wander, and to the very last' breath hcfvttei talking business as if behind the comter." " TW " '* * The words of yesterday rang in the good man’s ear as he turned away. “ Crime is crime; and if you work hard for hell, you’re not fitting yourself for heav en.” — Watchman and Reflector. <S|ilbrtn. THE LIGHT HOUSE. A light-house looks like a tall pillar ri sing out of the sea, or built upon some high bluff. The top is a large lantern, where a bright light is kept burning all night, which is seen far out at sea; and it says to all ships and sailors sailing by, “Take care, take care !” One is built on a ledge of rocks ; its warning light says, “Give a wide berth to these sunken rocks.’’ Another says, “Steer clear of this dangerous reef.”— Another, “ Keep clear of this dangerous headland. If you come here, you are lost.” There are many light-houses on the coast; how does a sailor know which is which ? He sees a light gleaming through the dark ness and the storm, but where is it? Does it warn him off Cape Cod, or Cobasset rocks, or Boon Island ? He has a chart in the ship, and that tells. A chart is a map of the coast with all its rocks aud sand-banks and light-houses put down, and everything that a sailor ought to know, in order to steer his ship safely across the ocean. These are some of the helps which sailors have to keep them from being cast away and lost at sea; and if they faithfully consult them, and keep a good look-out, they are likely to ride out the storm and come safely into port. Now you, my children, are cut at sea.— You are beginning a long voyage. You each have a little ship to steer. The sea is the great sea of life, and your ship is the little body which God has put your soul in, that by His help you may bring it by-and by to Him in safety and peace. God has given you a chart. It is the Bible. That tells you where you are, and how to go. All along are light-houses, saying “ Take care, take care!’’ They all have names. Here is one. What is it? Swearing. — What does the light say ? “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain. The Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh His name in vain.” Keep clear of that. Inside here is another! What is that ? Lying. What does the light say ? “ Put away lying. Speak every one truth with his neighbor.” “Lying lips are an abomL nation to the Lord.’’ Keep cLm of that. Another. What is that ? A niff r. What does it say? “Be not hasty in thy’gpirit to be angry. Be augry, und sin not. Let not the sun go down upon your wrath.” Keep a good louk-out here! There is another. What is it ? Intem perance. How many have been lost on this dangerous rock ! In the pleasantest weath er there is olten most danger. What course does your chart tell you to take here ? “Look not upon the wine when it is red. Do that and you arc safe. Here is another. What is it ? Pride. Let not your little ship ride on this danger ous swell; for what does the chart tell us ? “Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” You see, my children, how many rocks and ledges and whirlpools and dangers there are for you to avoid. I have told you about a few. You need not be afraid, keep a good look out, and steer your i’ttle vessel by the chart which God has you. Con sult it often ; become familiar with its in structions. Be sure that ycu arc in the right channel—on the clear, oyen sea of truth. — Watch the first appearance of danger. Go not too near a dangerous shore, or there may not be room to tack ship, and you are cast away before you know it. Read what your chart says : Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way of evil men. Avoid it; piss not by it; turn from it, and pass away.”*— Child’s Paper. i - THE FAIRY’S TEN WORKMEN. The Winter evenings had fairly set in at farmer Pepin’s. Alter their day’s work all the family assembled round the fire, and often they were joined by some of the neigh bors ; for in the lonely valleys of the Vosges, where dwellings are thinly scattered, neigh borhood establishes a sort of relationship. There, around the fire of pine-cones, in timacies are begun and cemented. The grateful warmth, the pleasure of companion ship, the contaot of conversation, insensibly lead on to confidential intercourse; hearts are opened, minds are quickened, and all recognize their union in that true inner life, without which the outward would be but a vain shew, but which has its own seasons for revealing itself. Occasionally Uncle Prudence comes in to spend the evening, and then, indeed, there is a jubilee at the farm; for Uncle Pru dence is the best story-teller in thp moun tains. Not only does he know all the old traditions of the country, but also many stories out of book#. He can tell the origin of each old dwelling, and the history of every family; he knows the names of a/1 the great mossy stones which rise up on tile mountain sides like columns or altars/in short, he is the embodiment of local kj/ow'. ledge. Besides, he is so wise. H/ has learned to read the heart, and can almost always discover the causes of its disquikude. Others may prescribe for the body; tie old peasant can help the sickness of tha soul, and thus people have come to give him the title of Prudence. \ This is the.first evening in the new year thatfle has spent at the £arnv andrijl are radiant with joy at ,shrived' giv*n tlm »est place I>f gatheraroundhim, while/farmer Pepin tans*'™ his pipe and sits opposite. Uncle Prudence asks news about every body and every thing. The farmer’s young wife answers his ques tions somewhat absently, as if her thoughts were elsewhere; for the pretty Martha is often thinking of the village where she was brought up. She remembers regretfully the dances under the elms, the long walks through the fields with young girls who mer rily gathered the flowers in the hedgerows; the long talks by the bake-house and the fountain. And often she sits with her arms folded and her graceful head drooping, while her mind wanders backward to the past. So this evening, while the other women are at work, the farmer’s wife sits idly before her wheel, which does not turn ; her distaff, fill ed with flax, is by her side, and her listless fingers play with the thread upon her lap. Uncle Prudence sees it all, but says noth ing ; for he knows that advice is like bitter medicines which they give to children ; to insure their being taken, one must choose the time and means. But the family and the neighbors press close to him, entreating: “Do tell us a sto ry, Uncle Prudence !” The good man smiles, and casts a side glance at Martha, still idle. “ So I must pay for my welcome, must I ? Well, good people, you shall have your way. The last time I was here I told you, did I not, of the old times when heathen armies laid waste our mountains; that was a tale for men. To-night, if you please, it shall be one for the women and children. It is their turn ; and instead of Caesar, we will talk about a good fairy.’’ At this they all laushed heartily, and drew close to him ; the farmer relighted his pipe, and Uucle Prudei.ce began : “ This story, my darlings, is not a nurse’s fable; you may find it in the calendar with true histories; for the thing happened to my grandmother, Charlotte, whom farmer Pepin knew wejl, and who was a wonderful ly clever woman. “ Charlotte had been young once, though those who saw her gray hair, and her nose almost touching her chin, found it hard to think so; but people of her age said that no girl could have a prettier face or merrier disposition than Charlotte in her youth. Unfortunately she was left alone with her father to manage a large farm, more productive of debts than of revenues; so that there was no end of hard work, and the poor girl, unaccustomed to so much care, often got discouraged, and did nothing but vainly speculate how she might accomplish all that, needed doing. “ One day, as she was seated before the door, her hands folded in her apron as if they were lame, she murmured to herself: ‘ Alas my lot is not what it ought t.o be. It is too bad that I should be tormented, at my age, with so much care. Even if I were