It is not exclusively, however, amongst Dissenters and High Churchmen that this system has been adopted. Several letters have appeared at different times in the Record newspaper, from the Rev. S. Minton, urging its advantages, and giving statistics of its results in congregations of his own, both in Liverpool and in London. We have before us a published statement of the various sums that were contributed in Percy Chapel during Mr. Minton's ministry there. From this it appears that in 1858, with weekly offerings, the receipts from all sources were £625; in 1859, with monthly collections, they fell to £486; while in 1860, on returning to weekly offerings, they rose to £742; there being no material difference all this time, as we are informed, in the number or wealth of the congregation. Another rather striking fact we observe in the same paper; namely, that, upon the congregation being requested to state in writing their own feelings upon the subject, out of sixty-three answers received, six were indifferent, fifty-six were in favour of weekly offerings, and only one dissented. We doubt whether anything like such unanimity could be obtained in any church where a collection was made every Sunday from pew to pew, or where the congregation did not know to what object they were contributing on each occasion. This last is a most important point; and perhaps no better plan could be followed than "to announce each Sunday to what purpose the offerings of that and the following Sunday will be applied." The advantages of the system in its entirety are thus summed up in the Report to which we refer : "1. While, on the one hand, the minister can bring a much larger number of objects before his people, he can give each its due prominence by devoting the offerings to it more or less frequently; instead of being compelled, in the case of a minor object, either to exclude it altogether, or to place it on a level with all the rest-at least for that year. "2. The minister is not compelled to preach a 'charity sermon' on certain Sundays; but can say much, or little, or nothing, upon the object' of the day, as he thinks best. "3. Societies and charities are not so dependent upon the accident of a fine day, a popular deputation, and so forth. "4. All have more frequent opportunities of giving: which to the poor, and those dependent upon weekly receipts, is tantamount to increased ability to give; as the small sum which a working man can ever give, he can give weekly almost as easily as monthly.* * Mr. Ross tells us of a labouring man, who, out of 15s. a-week, used to give 1s. 6d. quarterly to some religious object; but, upon hearing the principle of weekly offerings explained, altered his contribution to 6d. a week. This he finds very much easier to give than the other, although amounting in the aggregate to four times what he gave before; because, as he stated to Mr. Ross, he formerly regulated his weekly expenditure at the rate of 15s., and when the week came round, that he could only spend 13s. 6d., the difference was severely felt; whereas now he makes up his mind to a regular expenditure of 14s. 6d., and, coming every week, the difference of 6d. is comparatively little felt. "5. All appearance of ostentation, or compulsion, is avoided, and, the eye of man being so entirely withdrawn from the individual giver, he is practically reminded, that it is a matter between himself and God. On this account also, the word 'Offering' possesses a moral advantage over Collection,' as bringing to mind Him to whom our money is given, rather than the agents by whom it is received. "6. By not appearing before the Lord empty,' but accompanying our public worship with the dedication of some part of our substance to God, we both help to rescue almsgiving from the secular ideas with which it is too often associated, and also remind the worshippers, that other 'sacrifices' are required from them besides 'the fruit of their lips; the giving is likely to become more sacred, the worship more real. "7. The weekly announcement is a perpetual sermon to the covetous man on his life-long sin; while the variety of the objects brought forward supplies a useful stimulant to the Christian, by reminding him of the daily increasing claims upon his self-denying liberality. "8. There is a peculiar cheerfulness in giving as 'God has prospered us,' under an immediate consciousness that all we have, whether more or less, comes from God; and it is well to give the sense of gratitude an opportunity of strengthening itself by active exercise before it begins to cool." Mr. Tweed's Sermon takes higher ground, and claims distinct apostolic authority for the practice. We regret that it is quite out of our power to give even a summary of his argument; but our readers will find it well worth a careful study. It will probably remain for ever a disputed question, whether the apostolic direction to the Corinthian and other churches (1 Cor. xvi. 1) refers to private storing or public giving (though we confess our utter inability to comprehend how, on the former supposition, it could ensure the end, "that there be no gatherings when I come"); but it undoubtedly lends the highest sanction to the habit of connecting our alms, in some way or other, with the Lord's-day; and, as so many moral advantages can be pleaded in favour of each of these practices, we are reluctant to rob either side of the strength to be derived from its own interpretation of St. Paul's language; though we hold that the mode of carrying them out must after all be a question of expediency, dependent upon the circumstances of the case. And now we must draw these remarks to a close. Whatever may be thought of the specific principles advocated in the several publications which we have been reviewing, no one can doubt the pressing importance of the general question. No Christian duty is insisted on in the New Testament at all so frequently as that of almsgiving; and at no period of the church's history has there been such an urgent demand for the fulfilment of that duty as there is at the present moment. The machinery of modern times, both material and moral, affords facilities for benevolent enterprise such as never before existed. Not only are there special organizations, intended to meet every possible phase of suffering and want at home, but the whole world is brought within our reach, and agencies are at work which only need adequate support to enable them to make known the way of salvation to every portion of the human race. We earnestly and respectfully submit to the consideration of the clergy the paramount importance of unceasingly urging these claims upon the congregations committed to their care, and of endeavouring to train them in such a systematic habit of consecrating their substance to the glory of God, as will produce a full, steady, continuous flow of Christian bounty, without the need of artificial stimulant, or the costly, cumbrous appliances on which at present almost everything seems to depend. Much encouragement, and many useful hints, may be derived from the books and pamphlets of the Systematic Beneficence Society; and believing its aim to be a most practical one, we heartily bid it God speed, and only wish that we could suggest a happier name for it. THE LIGHT LITERATURE OF OUR DAY A QUESTION has been raised by one of our correspondents, on what is usually termed "light reading," and as to the tendency of the popular literature of our day. Is the first lawful, useful, and safe for Christian minds? and as to the latter, is its tendency on the whole good, or is it evil? A more important question than this, considered in its moral bearings, could hardly have been started. Our popular literature is a thing that touches, not only the intellectual strength, but the social and religious life of the community, in its most vital elements, rendering it either robustly healthy, or morbidly excited, sick, and puling. Though our views upon it may be of little worth, yet we have no hesitation in giving the results at which we have arrived, after much observation, with the reasons for our convictions on the subject. The world of Thought is the most mysterious in its influence of all the worlds with which we have to do. It comes the nearest to that world of Spirits which is hidden from every eye, except of Him who is all eye. A dark, cloud-wrapt region, its existence is known only by the lightning flashes it sends forth, or the thunders it mutters. Possibly there may be some electrical connexion of mind with mind; but whether it be so or not, no mind is, or can be, wholly independent of other minds; for by the thoughts of others, either written or spoken, it must be more or less influenced. Hence, as it has been truly said, "A thought imported into a mind, may exert a most powerful influence over the present and the eternal "condition; and when the tongue which gave it utterance, or the hand that penned it, shall be mingled with the dust of the earth, the thought shall still be thrilling on, till it shall outlive the burning sun and glittering stars. Thoughts begin, but never end. A thought originated may be the beginning of an angelic band to bless in time and delight in eternity; or the first of a demon brood to worry in all the scenes of earth, and to haunt for ever through the regions of an unseen world." These observations, extracted from a little work entitled "Thoughts on Thought," are as striking as they are true. A drop of ink shall either body forth a thought as black as itself, or give wing to ideas as white and as pure as the paper on which they are written. It cannot be indifferent, then, what is the nature of the thoughts that are made to be constantly passing, by reading, through men's minds. The influence exerted by them gives a tremendous importance, indeed, to the popular literature of our day; for by that literature the mind of the nation is, so to speak, moulded and stereotyped for at least one generation. Current thought is a stream, either for good or evil, of the widest extent. Even if the literature which embodies it be only negative in its character, by the absence of that which is positively good it must tend to a moral desolation, a dark vacuity, or a limbo of vanity, in which none but fantastic unsubstantial forms, and intangible inanities, flit to and fro to mock and deceive. The literature of a former generation shocks us by its grossness and indecency. We read it with a feeling of shame. We wonder how our forefathers could have endured the use of such language-the open expression of such filthy ideas as are to be found often in Pope, continually in Swift; and because we have now our fig-leaf proprieties, and throw over what is gross the gossamer veil of a factitious refinement, we flatter ourselves that our moral sense must be greatly improved, and that we are much better than our fathers. The maxim, however, that "vice loses half its harm when it loses all its grossness," requires to be received with a very considerable degree of reserve. It is its antithesis, rather than its truth, that has gained it acceptance. A prurient curiosity may be excited by the very means that are affected to be used to check it. Words are nothing; it is the thought they convey that contains the danger: and if the thought be bad, yet artfully veiled, and only insinuated, it may be like latent fire. There is such a thing as dressing out our thoughts in crinoline, and exhibiting our shame-facedness, as is the fashion, by a veil that reaches only just below the eyes. We forget that our covering is the sign of our sin and our shame: to avoid fresh sin, the less attention is drawn to it the better. Our primitive nakedness is not half so dangerous to our moral sense as a tricked out and enticing pudicity. The filthiness of nineteenth century decency may pollute more, because it offends less, than the plain-spoken honesty of our forefathers in calling things by their right names; just as there may be far more rudeness in the cutting civilities of modern politeness, than in all the strong direct terms used by a less refined generation, when they wished to describe and denounce rogues and knaves. The gentleman scoundrel, none can deny, is the worst of all scoundrels. So the polished literary seducer is the worst of all seducers. One characteristic of the light literature of our day is thus indicated. But it is not so much this feature of it to which we wish to draw attention, as another of much more serious moment. Ours is a religious age, at least in profession. It has a taste for a seasoning of religious sentiment in everything that is written. No book or periodical will become popular that has not in it some touches of Christianity,-some respect, affected or real, for the Divine Founder of our religion. But what is the character of the religious feeling which thus provenders for the known public taste? Has it any principle in it? Is it a religious feeling of any distinct and definite character at all? Far from it! It is rather negative than positive. It spends itself in vague general sentiment, thin as air; and has no fixed principle whatever, but that of eschewing all that is dogmatic, or, as the phrase goes, "controversial.' While it professes to respect, it practically repudiates. It is not the kind of religion that is to be found in the church or in the bible it gratuitously patronizes with its uncalled-for favour; but only the floating sentiment of religion that froths up and settles on the surface of superficial society. This it extols as better than all the religion of sermons and creeds. It skims off, in fact, just that part of Christianity which suits its end, and it skims it only when the cream is gone; so that, like skimmed-milk cream, it is necessarily very thin. Such religious sentiment as this just serves the purpose of deceiving people, and nothing more. A positively irreligious literature, for the reason we have given, would not be endured in the present day. But there is very much that, without being ir-religious, in the sense of profane or sceptical, is un-religious by the absence of all religious influence or recognition from its pages. Many of our popular writers discard it upon principle. This is the next stage in the downward progress, and this is the growing sentiment of the age. These writers look upon Religion as the most mischievous of all Powers, because of the many disputes and the frequent ill-will it occasions. It is chiefly men who have addicted themselves to science, and to inquiries into material things, that lean in this direction; though many of our writers on light literature have the same tendency. Hence there is an increasing number of books published from which religion is altogether eliminated, name |