taken to task for what, gauged by the rule of the Confession of Faith, would be called loose, if not absolutely heterodox notions on sacred things. His memorable speech on the Decalogue is a case in point. The Presbytery of Glasgow woke up one fine morning to find that the minister of the Barony recommended in almost so many words that the Decalogue, inasmuch as it was a Judaical institution, was not for modern Christians. Of course the rev. gentleman brought a hornet's nest about his ears; and he had to explain away, as best he could, the "damnable and pernicious doctrine." There are more learned men in the Church of Scotland, but none have a greater share of sagacity, penetration, and strong, pungent, mother wit. Another distinguishing trait in the doctor's character is his charitable and tolerant disposition in reference to religious things. He does not believe that anything is gained by denominational differences, and would put an end to the intestinal strife that separates the various branches of the Church of Christ. To all who would say, "I am of Paul, or I am of Apollos, or I am of Cephas!" he has but one reply. Dogmatism is to his broad and liberal mind a foolish and unnecessary thing in theology, and hence he is to be found in the van of all progressive and tolerant measures as opposed to the _odium theologicum_, although in political matters he maintains a mildly Conservative tone. It is a curious fact that, despite his anxiety to keep pace with the times, Dr. Macleod has never yet been able to procure the introduction of an organ to the Barony Church, and it is not less remarkable that, notwithstanding his popularity both as a preacher, as a writer, and as a public man, his church, which might reasonably be expected to be one of the handsomest and largest in the city, is little better than a village school. Strangers visiting Glasgow are almost bound to "do" the Barony Church. Dr. Macleod is one of the "lions" of the city, and people from all quarters flock to see and hear him. Yet the building in which he preaches is, without exception, the ugliest in Glasgow, both externally and internally. It is situated in one of the most ill-favoured localities in the city, although in the immediate vicinity of the Cathedral and the classic Molendinar, with the statue of sturdy John Knox looking down upon it from the Pisgah of the Necropolis--that God's acre of Glasgow worthies through many generations. Chagrin and dismay will, we fancy, have been the feelings predominant in the breasts of many who entered the Barony for the first time. Between the preacher and the pews there is certainly neither affinity nor _vraisemblance_. Worship is also conducted in the most primitive fashion. Most of the Established Churches in Glasgow have now got educated up to the introduction of organs, as accessories of public worship, but here there is only an indifferently competent choir to lead the service of praise.