old physician will cure as many persons with his vest pocket full of medicine as he did with a peck measure full when a young man. A young lawyer will come into court with his arms full of books. He is prepared with all sorts of authorities to throw at the head of the judge. After a few years of practice he will saunter in with his hands in his pockets. The young preacher pads his sermons full of theology, but as the years go by he cares for nothing but an inspiring message from his Master.

Conditions to-day prevent a Baptist minister communing at the Lord's Supper with an Episcopalian, and they prevent an Episcopalian receiving the the Sacrament

from a Baptist. Is not that unspeakably absurd from the standpoint of the teaching of Christ? It is enough to make every thoughtful heathen disdain us and to cause devil's jubilation. Yet in just this ridiculous light we place ourselves when we put our opinions in the foreground and life in the background of the picture. Immersion has an immense value, if it implies separation from sin and perfect consecration to God. And apostolic succession has a value that cannot be overestimated if it give men unwonted spiritual energy and fill them with holy power. But as matters of form these should be relegated away to the background, for in Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth anything, nor uncircumcision, but a new spiritual creation. The great "must be" of the gospel is, Ye must be born from above.'

On the Michigan Central Railway, near Clifton, on the Canadian side of the Niagara River, there is a place calls Falls View, where the train stops for a few minutes to give the passengers a chance to look upon that marvel of this continent -Niagara Falls. One day a gentleman on the train stood gazing enraptured at the roaring, rushing,

falling splendour, for it was early morning and the rising sun transmuted the scene into a Mount of Transfiguration. Suddenly his attention was arrested by the chatter of a woman who was pointing to a small pool just below the car window, in which a few ducks were splashing and spluttering. She was "Isn't saying, that pretty?" Pretty! Of course it was pretty. But who with a soul larger than a chicken's could bear to look at it when the supremely majestic Niagara Falls were not more than a stone's throw away. Yet we have a multitude of people like that pitiable person, who see no difference in the value of religious truths. They see them all like a Chinese picture without any perspective; everything on a dead level. The duty of the pulpit is to correct all this and to put the great vital saving truths in the foreground. When this is successfully done, a long step will be taken by way of preparation of Christian unity.

The Open Hand or Closed Fist.

I am much moved when I think of the need of unity among Christian Churches. We need it because we are sinfully wasting men and means in our frontier settlements by overlapping and overcrowding in our work. This is no less than a crime against humanity and a misappropriation of funds prescribed for better uses. We need unity also because we are facing a common foe which does not care a button what form of Christianity it strikes so long as it defeats the most cherished purposes of all the Churches. Dean Hodges says effective blows are struck, not with the extended fingers, but with the good hard, solid fist. The divided Church threatens the devil with the Roman Catholic finger, and the Congregationalist finger, and the Baptist finger, and the Methodist finger, and the Episcopal thumb, and he

faces the assault with great serenity. He knows by long experience that that blow will not hurt. When the united Church assails him, he will begin to meditate retreat. Why should not the one question we ask of any Church or individual be that which Jehu asked the old Arab chief Jehonadab, whose services he desired: "Is thine heart right as my heart is with thy heart? If it be, give me thy hand."

On the day before the battle of Trafalgar, Nelson took Collingwood and Rotherdam, who were at variance with each other, to a spot where they could see the opposing fleet. "Yonder," said Nelson, "are your enemies; shake hands and be good friends." Now that the great battle of evil is before the Church, why should not all bodies of Christians shake hands and be good friends?

The Church on Trial.

The Church of Jesus Christ is on trial to-day. Will she continue to let her little shibboleths destroy the unity of her moral force while the liquor traffic, the social evil, gambling and other crimes against civilization bespatter our doorsteps with the blood of souls that cry out, "O Lord, how long; how long shall Satan triumph over humanity, exposed and ruined owing to ecclesiastical foppery and crassness?" We wed unity for inspiration and strength. A Frenchman tells of the thrill that passed through him when the German army was marching upon Paris in 1870. A mighty voice arose: one single voice issuing from a hundred thousand throats. It was Luther's chorale. The majestic prayer seemed to fill the heavens. It spread over the horizon as far as there were German camp-fires and German men. "We recognized then," he said, "the power which had vanquished us was not the superior force of regiments, but

that one soul made up of so many souls, tempered in faith, national and divine, and firmly persuaded that God marched by its side to victory." It was this grand united faith which inspired the German army. And when the Christian Church feels the 'thrill of perfect unity of purpose, it will march forth to speedy conquest of the world.

In the old college days, when the game was going fast against a team, a cry was often raised, “Get together there, get together there." And this often pulled victory out of defeat. "Get together there " is what the great Captain of our salvation is calling down from heaven to the various branches of the Church. Only by this means may we pull victory out of defeat.

How Get Together?

But

But how shall we get together? Not by union of all the Christian bodies, at least not for many years to come, and likely never. this does not shut out the prospect of unity and a very practical unity at that. The way out of our present difficulty appears to me to lie in the direction of a fedéral compact between the Churches to prevent waste of men and means on the same fields of toil in sparsely settled places, and the formation of a council to direct the united moral forces of the Churches in their attack upon the public evils which infest our civilization. This plan differs from church union in this: Church union would have to do with doctrine, but federation is simply a working union of Christian forces. Federation might be after the manner of the various States of the Union. When the United States adopted a federal government, only such powers were exercised by that government as were expressly surrendered by the various States. With such a notable precedent, surely we can

cure the evils of dis-unity by delegating to a representative and elective body, chosen by the various denominations, certain powers to be exercised for the benefit of all; such as the prevention of undue overlapping, already referred to, and arrangements for the united attack on many forms of public evil; increasing those powers gradually as the evolution of the spirit of unity might suggest or demand. Surely under the grace of God and the guidance of Providence, consecrated men should be able to bring such an arrangement within the sphere of practical, ecclesiastical politics.

The light shines brighter and brighter on the radiant birthday of American history as the people rise to a full conception of their providential destiny. The achievements of to-day would never have coruscated in the brain of the most enthusiastic dreamer, but for the union of yesterday. But more

glorious far will be the day when the divinely anointed leaders of the embattled hosts of Zion shall meet in fraternal conference and in solemn conclave sign, seal, and deliver the holy compact-the constitution of the Christian Church of America. Events move rapidly in our time. Continuing in the spirit of prayer and in humble search for the vital truth of God and its true perspective, we may soon expect to unite our Christian forces upon the great evils of our times. By attacking these unitedly, we shall show that we are animated by the same spirit and actuated by the same high motives; and mayhap we shall see that the things upon which we agree are sufficient to form a basis of organic union. It is not an academic but a practical question. May God hasten the time when this day shall stride out over the land and the night of disunion flee away.

T

HE traveller on the Canadian Pacific from Montreal to Toronto must needs pass through Locust Hill. From a point a little west of the station he may discern a fine old homestead plentifully surrounded with stout appletrees and tall poplars. This was formerly the residence of the maternal ancestors of one of 'Varsity's most genial graduates, the Rev. J. N. Clarry, of the Bay of Quinte Conference. Here for several generations the Reynolds dispensed hospitality and good cheer. Here they welcomed those early preachers who laid so well the foundations of our Ontario Methodism. And here, before the days when churches began to dot the land, they gathered together their friends and neighbours to hear those noble veterans proclaim the word of life.

There is now no need of public service being conducted under the old roof-tree. Near at hand will be seen an imposing red brick structure that constitutes the distinctive landmark of the neighbourhood. is the present church home of the Methodist people of those parts; and around it have already clustered many happy and hallowed memories.

This

on his tombstone intimates that he departed this life on Feb. 10th, 1861, aged 73 years. But that does not by any means exhaust the story connected with his now almost forgotten name. And it is because the present writer has found parts of that story of such unique interest that he has striven in some measure to reconstruct it.

During his active ministry, the Rev. Cornelius Flumerfelt had from time to time a number of junior colleagues assigned to his direction and care. Two of them still survive. Both these venerable men visited the recent General Conference in Winnipeg, and were heartily greeted as honoured fathers in the Gospel. It was surely no small thing to have helped in the ministerial training of the Rev. Dr. George Young, and the Rev. Dr. W. S. Blackstock, whose names are everywhere synonymous with the good, the beautiful, and the true.

Very affectionately does Dr. Young, who was with Mr. Flumerfelt on the wide, wild Chatham Circuit of 1843, speak of his “old, faithful superintendent," who "uncomplainingly and ever hopefully and diligently accomplished the work of a pioneering Methodist minister." And Dr. Blackstock, who in 1848 was associated with him on the extensive Bradford Cir

another of Mr. Flumerfelt's colleagues, the Rev. John Webster. Among the last letters that came from his hand was one in which he bore a warm tribute to his "old friend," who "had all the elements of a true and perfect Christian gentleman, and was kind and considerate to all with whom he had to do. I wish," wrote Dr. Webster, amid much suffering, "I were able to do justice to the memory of the Rev. Cornelius Flumerfelt."

His cognomen is from the Fatherland; and it was of German parentage, and in Pennsylvania, that Cornelius Flumerfelt was born in 1788. At the age of twelve years he came with an uncle named Clubine to Canada, whose fine frontier townships at that time were covered with thick forests which were the abode of wild animals and of Indians. As a youth he had his own full share of the hard work of that era, and in the felling of trees and clearing of fallows developed a physique remarkable for agility, strength and endurance. He grew to a height of nearly six feet, was broad-shouldered, deep - chested, well-proportioned, and erect. His complexion was somewhat swarthy, his features prominent, and, although not handsome, pleasant to regard. His head was large and massive, and surmounted with a profusion of coarse, curly hair. He had a passion for music and singing and excelled in the performance of those acrobatic, muscular, and daring feats in which the youths of a century ago spent so much of their pastime.

In the war of 1812, he enlisted with the British forces and proved himself an enthusiastic militiaman. He fought at the battle of Queenston Heights, and saw much service in other quarters also. At this time he wrote many heroic verses; and one song which long lived on men's lips was composed while on

duty, and inscribed with the point of his bayonet upon his sentry-box. We have heard Dr. Blackstock say that tradition has it that his fellowsoldiers so delighted to hear him sing that, when out in their bateau on the lake, they would readily relieve him of his oar in order to be entertained by his stirring melodies.

His religious awakening took place when he was twenty-nine years old, and was residing in the township of Reach. Here, at the "raising" of one of those log buildings which were the first structures to be erected in this country, a heavy timber fell and killed one of his companions. The loss and shock so wrought upon his strong but affectionate nature, and set in motion so many serious moralizings that he found no comfort or help for months. At length, however, he came under the benign influence of those Methodist evangelists who had plunged into the forest wilderness to seek the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Through Through their zealous ministrations he brought to God, and found in Him relief and rest. He was, in after years, often wont to advert to the day when faith overcame his fears, and his penitential prayers were turned to heartfelt praise. For in Christ Jesus he truly was a new creature; old things passed away, and all things became new.

was

He soon removed to the township of Scarboro', and we lately. located the exact spot upon which he settled. It was on the front half of lot 25, in concession D., where, "deep in the woody wilderness, he hewed out a home for himself and family. No vestige of the primeval forest is to be seen there now, and for several generations the land has been owned by people of another name. But it was here where Cornelius Flumerfelt began to think great thoughts, and to de