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2 tunes have been incident —she has hoped on and worked on,— *and such we are assured will continue to be her course; remember ing her duties and responsibilities, connect ed as she is with, and the exponent of the principles of the great Methodist family throughout the Eufaula District. * * * Upon the adoption of the Report, the fol lowing resolutions were introduced by Rev. Messrs. Foster and Haynes, adopted and ordered published with the report. Resolved IsL That the Methodist Church owes a debt of gratitude to the Glennville College for the blessing of a sanctified Edu cation, imparted to her former pupils and graduates, and io view ol her present crip pled condition, we pledge ourselves to use our utmost efforts to attaining the high des tiny so much desired.* Resolved 2nd, That as the only Metho dist Female College within the bounds of •ur District, and in view of its eminent worthiness, we recommend our people to ex tend to it their patronage and influence whenever practicable. Coaiributions. MINISTERIAL SUPPORT. Mr Editor: After reading all the arti cles which have recently appeared in the Advocate on “ Ministerial Support,” and “ Members’ Shortcomings,’’ I am constrain ed to request the publication of the accom panying “ Plan,” which I proposed to our late General Conference during the latter part of the session, and which, if it had been adopted, would have forever silenced, it seems to me, all the clamor on this im portant subject to which our ears are getting so accustomed. I know it is not the law of the Church, and can not therefore be en forced ; but this does not hinder any Station or Circuit from adopting its principle and carrying it out by universal consent. At any rate I would like for our brethren to read it and see if it does not present a sim ple, fair, systematic, and Scriptural remedy for the difficulties so sadly felt and so gen erally acknowledged throughout our Con nection. I subjoin some passages of Scrip ture, which constitute the only arguments J deem necessary for its establishment. Yours, S. Lander. Lincoln ton, JY. C., Oct. 8, ’O6. Financial Plan for the Methodist Episco pal Church, South ; Respect/nil// suggest ed by S. Lander, a Probationer in the South Carolina Conference. Article 1. The General Conference, each Annual Conference, each District, and each Circuit, shall elect a Financial Boar! t)f seven lay members, who shall serve for four years, and one of whom shall be chosen Secretary. Art 2. The Circuit Secretary shall keep a correct list of the tax-paying members of the Church in his Circuit: and. on or be fore the first day of January in each year, lie shall transcribe from the Sheriff’s tax** list the value of each member’s property, as assessed for the preceding year. lie ahall immediately transmit to his District Secretary the total valuation of all the pro perty listed by all the members in his Cir cuit. This amount shall be called the “Cir cuit total.’’ Art. '3. The District Secretary shall keep a correct list of his several “Circuit totals”: and, on or before the fifteenth day of Jan uary, he shall transmit the sum thereof to bis Conference Secretary. This sum shall be called the “ District total ” Art. 4. The Conference Secretary shall keep a correct list of his several “ DLtrict totals”: and, on or before the first day of February, he shall transmit the sum there cf to the General Conference Secretary. This sum shall be called the “ Conference total.” Art 5 The General Conference Secre tary shall keep a correct list of the several “Conference tola s.” Art 0. The General Financial Board shall meet on the first day of March, and estimate the amounts to be raised for the support and traveling expenses of the Bish ops, including the thorough education of their children, for the expenses of the Gen eral Conference and of the General Financial Board, and for ail the other general interests of the Church, except Missions; the whole amount of which the Secretary shall distri bute among the Conferences in exact pro portion to the “Conference totals. ’’ He shall immediately inform each Conference Secretary of his share of the “ general ex penses.” Art. 7. The Conference Financial Board shall meet duiing the session of the Annual Conference, and estimate the amounts to be raised for the support of the superannuated preachers, widows, and orphans, including the thorough education of the children, for the publication of minutes, the traveling expenses of the Board, and all other gener al interests of the Conference; the whole amount of which, together with his share of the “ general expenses,” the Secretary shall, on or before the first day of April, distribute among the Districts in exact proportion to the ‘ District totals.” He shall immediate ly inform each District Secretary of his share of the “Conference expanses.” Art 8. The District Financial Board shall meet on or before the fifteenth day of April, and estimate the amounts to be rai ed for the support and traveling expends of the Presiding Elder, inc uding tbe thorough education of his children, fur furnishing aid repairs of the District pannage and pre mise-, including at leas filly dollars each year lor the district parsonage library, and fiT all me general interests of the District; the whole mount of which, together with his store of the “Conference expenses,” Hie Secretary shall distribute among the Circuits in exact proportion to the “ Circuit totals.” He shall immediately inform each Circuit Secretary of his share of the “ Dis trict expenses.’’ Art 9. The Circuit Financial Board shall meet on or before the first day of May, and estimate the amounts to be raised for the support and traveling expenses of the preacher or preachers, including the tho rough education of the children, for furn ishing and repairs of the Circuit parsonage and premises, including at least twenty-five dollars each year for the Circuit parsonage library, and for all other special interests of the Circuit; the whole amount of which, together with his share of the “ District expenses,’’ the Secretary shall distribute among the members in exact proportion to their taxable property. He shall furnish to each steward, on or before the fifteenth day of May, a list of the members whose dues he is to collect and account for, together with the exact amount each one is required to pay. Art. 10. Each member shall be duly no tified to which steward’s list he belongs; and he shall pay to his steward, on or be fore the first day of June, the whole amount required of him. Art. 11. The Stewards shall, on or be fore the fifteenth day of June, pay to the Circuit Secretary all moueys received by them from members, together with a list of such members as have failed or refused to comply with Article 10. They shall also receive from time to time all voluntary con tributions which may be made without so licitation by non-tax paying members and ethers, all of which they shall pay over to the Circuit Secretary before the close of the Conference year. Art. 12. The Circuit Secretary shall pay over to the Presiding Elder, at the Quar terly Conference next after the fourteenth day of June, the whole of his Circuit’s share of the “ District expenses.” He shall pay, at. the first opportunity, to the preacher or preachers, the whole amount estimated for his or their support, making up from the voluntary contributions, if poss sible, whatever deficiency may have arisen from members failing to pay their dues. He shall reserve the Circuit library fee until the arrival of the next year’s preacher, who shall invest it in books at his discretion. He shall apply the balance of the voluntary contributions, if any, to the diminution of the next year’s dues. Art 13. The Presiding Elder shall pay over to the District Secretary, at his earliest convenience, all moneys received by him from the Circuit Secretaries Aet. 14. The District Secretary shall pay over to the Presiding Elder, at the earliest practicable moment, the whole amount esti mated for his support. He shall send up to the Conference Secretary, by the first safe opportunity, the whole of his District’s share of the “ Conference expenses.” He shall reserve the District-library fee until the arrival of the next’year’s Presiding Elder, who shall invest it in books at his own discretion. j Art. 15. The Conference Secretary shall .apply all moneys received by him to their (respective objects as expeditiously as possi ble. Art. 16. Any member refusing or ne glecting to comply with Article 10, shall be duly notified and tried as for any other of feuce; and, if he is found guilty and still refuses to comply, he shall he expelled from the Church. Note —The word “Circuit” is used in general for either Circuit or Station. A FEW ARGUMENTS. “ Even so hath the Lord ordained that they which preach the gospel should live of the gospel.”—l Cor. ix : 14. “ Let every one of you lay by < him in store, as God hath prospered him, that there be no gatherings when I come.’’ —I Cor. xvi: 2. “ For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall bp much required.”—Luke xii: 48. “ Let all things be done decently and in order ” —1 Cor. xiv : 40. “ There is an accursed thing in the midst of thee, O Israel: thou canst not stand be fore thine enemies, until ye take away the accursed thing from among you.”—Josh, vii: 13 “Will a man rob God?' Yet ye have robbed me. But ye say, Wherein have we robbed thee? In tithes and offerings. Ye are cursed with a curse: for ye have robbed me, eveu this whole nation.” —Mat. iii : 8, 9. “If we have sown unto you spiritual things, is it a great thing if we shall reap your carnal things?’’—l Cor. ix : 11. “ For the laborer is worthy of his hire.’’— Luke x: 7. [fs there any law now by which a member can be expelled for not helping to support his preacher? If not, could such a law be made to,act upon those now in the Church ? Would it not be introducing anew condi tion” of membership ? We have, as a Church, had occasion to resist legislation having this result.—Ed. S. C. A.] Shall Women Pray in Public ? Wc often hear persons of undoubted pie** ty, and some times even ministers of the gospel, opposing women’s praying in public, and quoiingas authority for the opposition, the command of the apostles, “ Let women ke- p silence in the church.” Dr. Clarke in hiscommenton these words, expre-ses the opinion that they do not re fer to prating, but to the women taking part in the noisy discussions on doctrines, which were so common in tlic early days of Christianity, and as in another part of the instructions given by St. Raul to the Gorin thian Church, we find directions that those B 9 SOUTHERN CHRISTIAN ADVOCATE. women who prayed or prophesied, (taught), should have their heads covered, we must believe Dr. Clarke correct when he says : “ Whater may be the meaning of praying and prophesying, in respect to the man, they have precisely the same meaning in respect to the woman, so that some women at least, as well as some men, might speak to others to edification, and exhortation, and comfort? That these exercises were to be public, is implied by the direction that the women were to be covered, or veiled, as there was a law of the Jews, requiring that all women should be veiled when they appeared abroad. Having been reared in the Methodist Church, and early accustomed to the voices of women praying in the public congrega tion, speaking in the love feast and class meeting, it has always appeared to us per fectly correct, that they should thus form part of the public workers in the Lord’s vineyard. There are women, who when called on, feel it their duty to pray in the church, and to acknowledge themselves the followers of Christ by speaking in the love feast, going from the house of God under condemnation of their own consciences if they remain si lent. Shall they “ hide their light under a bushel,’’ because many oppose their throw ing a mite into God’s great work of saving sinners ? We have known a wild, wicked man brought to repentance by hearing his aged mother speak in love feast, and a giddy, dancing girl caused to turn to God, by the prayer of a feeble woman, whose voice she had never heard before. That aged mother died years ago, in full sight of Heaven, speaking to those around her bed of the delightful music she heard, and the angel visitants she recognized wait ing to convey her happy spirit home, but she spoke no word of sorrow for having failed to “ keep silence in the church.” That feeble woman has many things to regret, but not of that number is the prayer of faith blessed by God to the conviction of the stranger girl. We could mention a Methodist Church, numbering nearly one hundred commuci cants, in which are only two praying mem bers —one a good, but weak brother, the other, a holy sister, highly gifted in prayer. Often have we listened to Sister L., while the windows of heaven were opened through her petition, and the blessing of God was poured out on the waiting congregation. Shall she refuse to pray because her hus band opposes her praying in public, and the men of the Church fail to “ come up to the help of the Lord against the mighty ?” Many there are who oppose public reli gious exercises of woman, on the ground that she thus becomes unfemininely con spicuous. Women, nay very young girls also, play on musical instrumentsand sing at concerts, act in tableaux, and charades, and exhibit on the floor iu r the mazes of the dance, or are whirled round in the waltz and poika, encircled by*the arms of, perchance, the worst of libertines, without its being thought —even by some professors of religioa —that they are bold, unfeminine, or too conspictf ous. But let some holy woman be heard in the church pleading with God to convert mourners, convict sinners, ami sanctify be lievers, “ she is immodestly conspicuous,’’ Is she who on bended knees sends up the earnest heartfelt petition to the throne of our Heavenly Father, less feminine than her sister who acts charades in which fa miliarities are allowed a modest woman would resent as insuring if offered in private? Is it more unfemininely conspicuous, to rise in love feast arid bear witness for the Saviour, or to sing amorous French and Ital ian songs in the crowded cot.cert rooms? We cannot believe the soothing voice of woman should be only heard in the worldly assembly, prostituted to the service of mam mon, or worldly pleasure. We cannot be lieve God would so often bless the prayers of our sisters, if they should remain silent, and we mo§t earnestly implore our Heavenly Father that the day may soon come, when all the members of the church, male and female, shall be such as not only praj in pri vate and in their families, but in the public congregations also. S. M. E. Mississippi, Oct. 1866. Jjtmilj |leabing. MERCY FREE. In a laborer’s cottage, at the foot of the woods overhanging the beautiful river Tamar, lived John Croft. By his abilities and thrift he had raised himself from the condition of a laborer to that of a small cattle dealer, and was comparatively well off in the world. I heard that he was ill, and went to see him. He was seated on a settle by* the fireside. A strong cough, pallid face, and sunken eyes told the tale; consumption had seized on his strong, tall frame. We talked together about the prospect of death.. He rather promptly expressed his submission to the decree. I spoke of the atoning blood of Christ. He said lie knew he must look to the Saviour for the forgiveness of his sins. He trusted he should do this. He saw that it must be so, but he could not enjoy the prospect. He thought it hard to be removed now from his business and wife, and little stock. He had just overcome the difficulties of the start, and was beginning to look about him with confidence in his resources and prospects. I endeavored to lead him to prayer; he coldly assented I felt the position altogether one of embar rassment, and, after we had knelt together and held a little more conversation, I left. The sun shone brightly, the landscape was as beautiful as ever; but as I crossed the bridge, and looked at the glittering waters, and green foliage, and lofty rocks, they only deepened the mental sadness under which I rode homewards. The light appeared to make no day. There was no felt correspondence between the beauty around, the blue vault above, and the case of the poor, proud, dying man I had just quitted. A fortnight afterwards I again fastened my bridle to the cottage gate. The door was open, but the settle was empty. No one was in the kitchen, — all was neat and tidy, as though not disturbed by use. I heard footsteps overhead, and waited. It was evident that the life which had at first shrunk from the out-of door world into the in-door kitchen had now retreated further, and was confined to the bedroom above. I waited, but no one came. Presently I heard a low, clear voice singing; By faith 1 Bee my Saviour dying On the tree: To every nation he is crying, ‘ Look to me!’ He bids the guilty now draw near, Repent, believe, dismiss your fear ; Hark! hark ! those precious words I hear, — ‘ Mercy’s tree !’ ” The air continued: it was an adaptation from Auber’a “ Massaniello,” altogether new to me in this strange combination. “ Did Christ, when I was sin pursuing, Pity me ? And did he save my soul from ruin,— Can it be ? Oh yes ! he did salvation bring. He is my Prophet, Priest, and King,— And now my happy soul can sing, Mercy’s free!” I moved gently up the few stairs leading to the room above, and entered. The dy ing husband was propped up in bed, the wife by his side. I stood unnoticed, —she continued : “ Long as I live, I’ll still be crying, * Mercy’s free ! And this shall be my song when dying, Mercy’s free ! And when this vale of death I've passed, When safe beyond the stormy blast, I’ll sing while endless ages last, Mercy's free!” After the song had ceased, I went around to his side of the bed and said : “ Can you really now sing of mercy ?” “Oh yes, sir; praise the Lord, 1 have learnt it all now. I feel how gracious my Saviour has been, and I am happy in the prospect of meeting him in heaven*’’ He told me how under the Scripture-read ing and prayer of a kind neighbor, he had been led to rejoice in the Lord. His con versation showed that a change* of heart had indeed taken place. The proud man had become as a little child, and talked of the things of God with a grateful, assured interest in them through the blood of the Lamb. We prayed together, and I left him rejoicing in the Lord. Not a cloud about the presenter the future; his great delight, his wife said, was the liiblc fead, and listening to her while she sang “Mercy’s free.” I rnounted my pony and plunged into the green woodland, crossed the rushing river, gazed on the waving trees and beauteous sky,—all sights and sounds were that day in harmony with my glad feelings. Oh how beautiful the earth seemed to me, as I now knew it to be the theatre where mer cy in Christ Jesus had been displayed in the redemption of sinners, and their prepa ration for holiness and g'ory. A few weeks afterwards I saw the widow in mourning. I learnt that Croft did not cease testifying to his neighbors of the grace of God until he died. He never became tired of the melody of “ Mercy’s free.” A Sunday a Century Ago. An old brown leather covered book, the leaves jellow, the writing scarcely legi ble from time and decay; evidently an old neglected MS. To the fire or my private shelf; which? These were my reflections as I looked over the papers of my uncle, the rector of a Somer.-etshire village. I liked ti e looks of the book and decided for the shelf; and I had my reward, for I found in the crabbed characters, a simple story, evidently written towards the close of the writer’s life. This story I now tran scribe into a more modern style. “ He’ll be fit for nothing,” said my fa ther, “an awkward booby who holds his awl and cuts food with his left hand.’’ So said my father, and so, alas, 1 felt. I was awkward. I was fifteen ; thick set, strong; but very clumsy. I could not make a collar, nor sew a pair of blinkers, nor stuff a saddle, nor do anything that I ought to be able to do. My fingers seemed to have no mechanical feeling in them. I was awk ward, and I knew it, and all knew it. I was good-tempered; could write fairly, and read anything; but was awkward with my limbs; they seemed to have wills of their own; and yet I could dance as easily and lightly as any cne of my neighbor’s sons. “I don’t know what he’s fit for,’’ said my father to the rector of the parish “I’ve set him at carpentering, and he cut his fin ger nearly off with an ax; then he went to the smith, and bdrned his hands till he was laid up for a month. It’s all of no use, he spoils me more good leather in a week than his earning pays for in a month. Wby can not he, like other Christians, use his hands as the good God meant him to do ? There, look at him now cutting that back strap for the squire with his left hand.’’ I heard him ; the knife slipped and the long strip of leather was divided in a mo ment. and utterly spoiled. “ There now look at that. A piece out of the very middle of the skin, and his fin gers gashed in the bargain.’’ The rector endeavored to soothe my fa- ther’s anger, while I bandaged mv finger. “ You’d better let him come up for that vase Mr. Walters; I should like a case to fit it for it’s very fragile, as all that old Italian glass is; and line it with the softest leather, pl T„ e i so I went with the rector to bring back tbe vase, taking two chamois leathers to bring it in. . \Ye reached the house, and I waited in the passage while he went to fetch it. He came back with a large vase, tenderly wrap ped in the leathers. Alas ! at that moment there came from the room against the door of which I was standing the sound of a voice sin°in". A voice that thrilled me through —a vome I hear now as I write these lines— so clear, so sweet, so pure, it was as if an an gel had revealed itself to me. I trembled, and forgot the precious burden in my hand ; it dropped to the ground and was shattered to pieces. How shall I describe the rector’s rage ? I fear he said something for which he would have blushed in his calmer moments. And she came out. . She who had the angel voice—his niece— came out out, and I saw her. I forgot the disaster, and stood speechlessly gazing athei face. “ You awkward scoundrel! Look at your work. Thirty pounds! fifty pounds! an invaluable treasure gone irreparably in a moment! Why don t you speak. \\ by did you drop it?” “ Drop it!” I said, waking up. “ Drop what?’’ And then it flashed upon me again, and I stammered out, “ she sang !” “ And if she did sing, was there any oc casion to drup my beautiful vase, you doubly stupid blockhead ! There, go out ot the house, do, before you do any further mis chief, and tell your father to horsewhip you for a stupid dolt.” I said nothing, did nothing, but only look ed at her face, and went shambling away, a changed and altered being. There was a world where horse collars and horse shoes, tenons, and mortices, right hands or left en-' tered not. That world I had seen; I had breathed its air and heard its voices. My father heard of my misfortune, and laid the strap across my shoulders without hesitation, for in my young days boys were boys until eighteen or nineteen years old. I bore it patiently, uncomplainingly. “ What is he fit for ?” every one would ask, and no one could answer, not e\en my self. I wandered about the rectory in the sum mer evenings and heard her sing; I tried hard to get the old gardener to iet me help him carry the watering-pots, and when 1 succeeded, felt as I entered the rector’s gar den that I was entering a paradise. Oh, happy months! when, after the horrible labors of the weary day, I used to follow the old gardener and hear her sing. My old withered heart beats fuller and freer, when the memory comes back to me now. Alas ! alas ! my awkwardness again ban-** ished me. She met me one evening in the garden as I was coming along the path with my cans full of water, and spoke to me, and said: “ You’re the boy that broke the vase, aren’t you ?” I did not, could not reply; my strength forsook me. I dropped my cans on ti e ground, where they upset and flooded away in a moment some seeds on which the rector set most especial store. “ How awkward, to be sure!’’ she ex claimed, “and how angry uncle will be!” I turned and fled, and from that time the rectory gates were closed against me I led a miserably unhappy life for the next three years. I had only one consola tion during the whole of that dreary time. I saw her at church and heard her sing there I could hear nothing else when she sang, clear and distinct, above the confused nasal sounds that came from the voices of others —hers alone pure, sweet, and good. It was a blessed time. I would not miss a Sunday’s service in church for all that might offer. Three good miles every Sun day, there and back, did 1 heavily plod to hear her, and feel well rewarded. I shared her joys and happiness. I knew when she was happy, when oppressed; as a mother knows in the tone of her child’s voice, the minutest shade of difference, so I could tell when her heart was light and when sad One Sunday she sang as I never yet heard her. not loudly, but so tenderly, so lov ingly ; I knew the change had come—she loved; it thrilled in her voice; atid at the evening service he was there. I saw him. A soldier, I knew by his hearing, with cru el, hard, gray eyes; and she sang. I knew it- I detected a tremble and gratitude in the notes. I felt she was to suffer as I had suffered ; not that I sang. I had no voice. A harsh, guttural sound was all I could give utterance to. I could whistle like a bird, and often and often have [ lain for hours in the shade of a tree and joined the concerts of the woods. One day I was whistling as was my wont as I went through the street, when I was slapped on the shoulder by an old man, the cobbler of the next parish. I knew him by his coming to my father for leather occa sionally. “ Sam, where did you learn that ?” “ Learn what. ?” “ That tune.” “ At church.’’ “ You've a good ear, Sam.” “ I’ve nothing else good, but I can whistle anything.” “ Can you whistle the Morning Hymn for me ” ’ I did so. v “Good, very good. Know anything of music, Sam ?” “ Nothing.’’ “ Like to ?” “ I’d give all I had in the world to play