orous, manly style. He does not
hesitate to call a spade by its proper name. Hence he has often been
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 Pisga