In 1862, Dr. Caird was appointed Professor of Divinity in the University of Glasgow. Since that time his pulpit ministrations have been comparatively few. In fact, although his eloquence is in some respects as powerful and unique as ever, his voice has lost much of the charm of former days, and this is perhaps one of the most weighty reasons that actuated the reverend gentleman in seeking the _otium cum dignitate_ of a Professor's chair. As a teacher no less than as a preacher Dr. Caird has made his mark. In reference to both functions we find personified in him the attributes of "Echenus sage, a venerable man, Whose well-taught mind the present age surpassed, And joined to that the experience of the last. Fit words attended on his weighty sense, And mild persuasion flowed like eloquence." If there is one thing more than another that has brought Dr. Caird a special name and reputation as a thinker, it is the broad and somewhat latitudinarian notions which he holds on religions matters. So far does he carry his toleration and charity that he has, we believe, given serious offence to not a few of his most attached admirers in questions other than religious. Briefly stated, Dr. Caird's belief is that all the theological distinctions that ever distracted Christendom are not worth a single breach of charity. In a sermon which he preached before the Senate, at the opening of the new University Chapel, on the 8th of January last, he set himself to show that the mere holding of the Catholic faith, in the sense and form of the creed, cannot be the essence of religion--first, because the great mass of mankind are incapable of doing justice to the definitions and evidences of the creeds; yet need religion, and are, in point of fact, pious in spite of their want of theological accomplishments; secondly, there is an organ or faculty of the soul deeper than the intellect, by which (apart from accurate doctrinal notions) the force of religious realities may be apprehended and appropriated; and, thirdly, men of the most divergent and even opposite dogmatic convictions may be, and are, religiously one. Accordingly, he maintains that the essence of religion must lie in 'something profounder than ecclesiastical and dogmatic considerations. And could we get at that something--call it spiritual life, godliness, holiness, self-abnegation, surrender of the soul to God; or, better still, love and loyalty to Christ as the one Redeemer and Lord of the spirit--could we pierce deeper than the notions of the understanding to that strange, sweet, all-subduing temper and habit of spirit, that climate and atmosphere of heaven in a human breast, should we not find that there lies the essence of religion?' Religion, in short, is a matter of feeling rather than of knowledge, a hallowed condition of the spiritual sentiments and instincts, rather than an orthodox complexion and arrangement of the spiritual ideas; a thing of the heart rather than of the head.