would take no strong drink. The world was then against rob families of their breadwinner; go through hospitals and them. The doctors ordered strong drink to the sick. Almost see disease after disease caused by over-eating and overall, high and low, rich and poor, thought that strong drink drinking; examine the death-rate and see strong men cast meant drink that made them strong-strengthening drink. down before middle age; and you must confess a large part But the seven men of Preston were not to be laughed down; of our countrymen die by their own hand who never are they proved that they themselves could do hard work without named suicides. They die not of want, for God gave them drink; they proved that total abstainers lived longer than enough and to spare; they die of fulness, or taking more than moderate drinkers even; that publicans and those who have they want or can dispose of. Milton makes an angel show to do with drink die sooner than any other class among us. our first father Adam the diseases from which men should Now all the world agrees with them. There are hospitals die: Adam cries in fright:in which no strong drink is given, even as a medicine. You meet many grown men who have never tasted strong drink; and you never hear a man say, "I am 50 of age, years and I never drank wine, beer, or spirits; I wish my father had taught me to drink when I was a child." So the tables are being turned; imitation, the force of example, habit, all these causes which made men drink before, are now making them sober. The temperate man is no longer singular; he has companions wherever he goes; there are 10,000 abstainers in the army, and they fight and march better without spirits; there are thousands of abstainers on board our ships, and the lives of all on board are safer for their abstinence. Ignorance, that great mother of vice, is being done away, as people everywhere open their eyes to the fruits of the drink traffic. By-and-bye men will ask whether they cannot injure their health, and their estate, and their minds, by eating too much. Some doctors will tell you that gluttony causes more disease than even drunkenness. Certainly when people become sober, they will be more willing to inquire about these matters; they will confess that "I like it" is a very bad reason for doing a thing; and they will make a fair trial of cheaper foods, which profess to be, at the same time, wholesomer and more nourishing than what they have been used to. When we speak of man's welfare, we generally look at three sides of it, his soundness of mind and body, and the sufficiency of his estate. Take these three, and begin with man's estate. How is temperance and plain living profitable for a man's estate? Does it make him richer or poorer ? In the last forty years wages have risen greatly, and the price of bread has fallen; the hours of labour are less, and much has been done for the health of the people; the children are better taught, and all must go to school. Yet, with more pay for less work, the people were worse off; life was shorter, and the number of paupers and of lunatics increased; and the cause was that until five years ago, the people more and more spent their extra wages in drink; the more the husband earned, the less he gave to the wife for the home. It is said that there are 4,000,000 total abstainers in the United Kingdom, and yet there is one drinkshop to every thirty-six houses in the land. How much of the money that should go to food, and clothing, and schooling, for the families, must be stopped short on the way to keep up these drinkshops. A man passing to his work by a hundred houses, has a hundred temptations to rob his children of bread and clothing and fire and books. I need not speak of the harm done by the drunkard to his body. Look at them as they hang about the public-house; mark year by year how the man dies out of their face and the brute grows; ask the causes of the terrible accidents which "But is there yet no other way, besides These painful passages, how we may come to death?' 'There is,' said Michael, if thou well observe The rule of not too much, by temperance taught, In what thou eatst and drinkst, seeking from thence Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight, Till many years over thy head return. So mayst thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop The mind-what need to say what Temperance does for that. Drunkenness, like anger, is a short madness. Many a gentle, kind husband has slain his wife in drunken fury. Fathers rob their children or sell them to shame, or leave them to starve. Men of great powers of mind, knowing what they were doing, loathing themselves for their weakness, have become slaves to the cup, and the light of reason has gone out in shame. Banish drink, and you banish many other evil passions. In Ireland there is a manufacturing town, Bessbrook, of 4,000 people, with no drinkshop; and it has no pawnbrokers and no police. In county Tyrone, there is a district of nearly 10,000 people, with no public-houses. The people asked that they might be closed; and in consequence there are no police, where there were many, and the poor rates are one-half what they were. Thousands and tens of thousands of homes become happy and peaceful, when the father has taken the blue ribbon. I cannot help hoping that the true meaning of church fellowship will become more and more plain to us, as plain living spreads. Now you seldom see a poor man eating at a rich man's table; you scarcely ever see a rich man eating in a poor man's cottage. Why is this? Why is it that if Christ our Lord Himself came here as at the first, without form or comeliness, many who are called by His name would not know Him; would not venture to ask Him to their homes. One great reason of this gulf between brethren for whom Christ died is extravagance. The rich, who live simply, enjoy their food the more from the knowledge that every poor man may, if he will, have the same enjoyment. It seems a low and earthly thing to talk of, meats and drinks, but abuse of eating and drinking degrades man below the beasts that perish; the right use of God's gifts may draw us nearer to the giver and to our brethren. Surely the lesson of holy communion ought not to be forgotten directly we leave the church door. They whom we meet at the Lord's table are surely good company enough to sit at our table. Many misunderstandings would be cleared up, many a heartburn would be soothed, if the sons of one Father would thus in these lower matters learn to love as brethren. The Pulpit Record. THE SATURDAY, JUNE 9, 1883. DR. MACLAREN. HE REVEREND ALEXANDER MACLAREN, whose portrait we give this week, was born at Glasgow on the 11th of February, 1826. He was educated at the Stepney Baptist College, under Dr. Angus, and, in his twenty-first year, was appointed Minister of the Portland Place Chapel, Southampton. Some twenty-five years ago Dr. Maclaren was "called" to Manchester, to minister to a congregation composed of Baptists and Congregationalists, their place of worship being aptly designated the "Union Chapel," the pulpit of which he has ever since occupied. A short time ago he received a unanimous invitation from the Church, in connection with the Regent's Park Chapel, London, to succeed Dr. Landels, which, to the great satisfaction of his own congregation and his many friends in Manchester, he declined. Dr. Maclaren is not only an eloquent preacher, but a Hebraist and theologian of note. The Doctor's degree, which the University of Edinburgh conferred upon him, has, we think, rarely been more deservedly bestowed. In 1875 he was elected Chairman of the Baptist Union. Dr. Maclaren is the author of several volumes of sermons, and also of a number of tracts on various theological subjects. an unwarrantable intrusion on their privacy, and, to mark their sense of it, appointed a deputation to wait upon the clergyman who presided over the committee, and to ask permission to inspect his premises. Like a sensible man, instead of taking the matter as an affront to his dignity, as they had confidently expected he would, he received the deputation with the utmost courtesy, thanked them for their anxiety, gave them refreshment in his drawing-room, and insisted in taking them into every room, and showing them the inside of every cupboard, in the house. The effect may be readily anticipated. They left the parsonage with a much lower opinion of themselves, and a much profounder respect for its master, than they had when they entered it. Servants disposed to encroach and be saucy can withstand any treatment better than courtesy. A show of respect begets respect, and he who would keep dependents in their proper place cannot do so more effec tually than by invariable politeness. "Honour all men " is the injunction of Scripture, which we may fitly conjoin with that other exhortation, "Render unto all their due-honour to whom honour." The Christian gentleman is courteous everywhere, at all times, to all classes-and, although, for sufficient reason, he recognises the gradations of society as founded on the will of the Great Master of all men, and the special duties which arise out of the relation of one to another, he bears in mind that these gradations are superficial only and their relation temporary, and he discerns elements of being and of character underlying both, which, so long as he cont nues to revere himself, he will feel himself constrained treat with respect. IT POLITENESS TO INFERIORS. T seems to be supposed that inasmuch as servants are generally taken from a very imperfectly educated class, and one in which reverence for authority is not highly developed, politeness to them is very apt to be understood as a license to familiarity. Nothing can be more contrary to fact. So far from encouraging forwardness in servants, politeness withers it in the bud. No. thing so speedily subdues people to a sense of their real inferiority of position as treating them with high-bred courtesy. We remember a story, founded, we believe, on fact, of something which occurred, some years ago, during the prevalence of the cholera, which will both illustrate and confirm our position. In a manufacturing town likely to be exposed to the ravages of the epidemic, a committee of the well-off inhabitants was formed to take such steps towards preventing the disease as science and experience had shown to be necessary. Among the first of these was a house-to-house visitation among the poorer classes, for the purpose of inspection, and pointing out nuisances needing to be removed. The working people deemed this Is II.-ISAAC BARROW, D.D. SAAC BARROW, who has a double reputation as a mathematician and a divine, was born in London. The date usually assigned for his birth was the year 1630, but as he was in the habit of saying that his birthday was on the 28th of February, he must, if he were right, have been born in some other year, 1630 not being a leap year. His father was a linen in early years such impressions in favour of the King's cause as to make draper, strongly attached to the cause of Charles I., and his son received him an enthusiastic Royalist all his life. Probably the direction of his political sympathies accounts for the marked pugnacity be displayed st his first school, which was the Charterhouse. Whether it was that, or merely the outcome of his nature, which was fiercely combative, it is s fact that at this school he neglected lessons and everything else in order to carry on an unrelenting warfare with his schoolfellows. In despair at witnessing such determined fighting propensities, his father removed him to Helstead, in Essex, where he suddenly developed a passion for learning, and attained such proficiency in his studies that while still s frequency with which he engaged in boyish combat was, according to his pupil he was appointed by his master tutor to Viscount Fairfax The friend and biographer, Dr. Pope, not an unmixed evil, for, he says, while his proneness to quarrel disappeared in after years, there remained with him all his life a great courage. He gave proofs of the possession of this quality on two remarkable occasions. One was at a country house, when he was attacked by a fierce mastiff. The dog flew at him furiously, but Barrow caught him by the throat, threw him to the ground, and held him there. In that position it was in his power to bave killed the brute, and it is a striking instance of his conscientious spirit that he refrained from doing so. For, he reflected, the dog was only doing his duty in attacking him, and it would be an injustice to deprive him of his life. He, therefore, held him fast until he had aroused the inmates of the house, who came and released him from his perilous and inconvenient position. The second occasion referred to was during a voyage he was making from Leghorn to Constantinople, when the ship was attacked by Algerine pirates. He remained on deck throughout the fight, and handled one of the ship's guns with remarkable vigour, his cheerfulness and resolution inspiring all about him to a determined resistance until the pirates, getting tired of the formidable defence, retired. When asked why he did not go down into the hold and leave the defence of the ship to those to whom it belonged, he replied that it concerned no man more than himself. • 'I would rather," he said, “have lost my life than have fallen into the hands of those merciless infidels." In February, 1645, Barrow went to Trinity College, Cambridge, and applied himself with great diligence to the study of literature and science, especially of natural philosophy. His scholarship gaimed him such approbation that even his undoubted cavalier sympathies could not throw him out of the good graces of the master, Dr. Hill, who was a staunch Roundhead, having been appointed to his post by the Parliament. The master, whilst deploring bis political bias, could not help approving his general character. Thou art a good lad," he said one day, laying his hand upon the student's head, "'tis a pity thou art a cavalier ;" and when on Barrow's delivering an oration on the Gunpowder Plot, in which he contrasted former times favourably with his own, there was an outcry from the Fellows and a demand for his expulsion, the master silenced the malcontents by the remark, "Barrow is a better man than any of us." This lenient consideration of one who was open to censure from his being a cavalier or malignant, procured him in 1649 election to a Fellowship." In 1654 he set out on a Continental tour, and while he was away visited the Court of Charles I., at which his father was settled, "scarce hoping," it is said, " much less expecting, the King's restoration." On his return from his travels he was ordained by Bishop Brownrigg, and in 1660 he was appointed to the Greek Professorship at Cambridge, and two years later was elected Professor of Geometry at Gresham College. In 1663 he was appointed to the newly endowed mathematical chair at Cambridge, which he held until 1669, when, having decided to renounce the study of mathematics for that of divinity, he resigned his post to his illustrious pupil, Isaac Newton. He then received a small sinecure in Wales, and the Bishop of Salisbury conferred on him a prebend in that church. In 1670 he was created Doctor of Divinity by mandate, and two years later he was appointed Master of Trinity College, Charles II. saying with reference to his appointment that he gave it to the best scholar in England. In 1675 he was chosen Vice-Chancellor of the University. He died on the 4th of May, 1677, and was buried in Westminster Abbey, where a monument, ornamented by his bust, was erected by his friends. In mathematics Barrow has been held in England to be second only to Newton, though Continental critics have not conceded that position to him. It is certain, however, that he approached very near to Newton's greatest mathematical discoveries, and if he had given his life to the subject his achievements would probably have been much greater. he did this from a mere love of opposition, it must be pointed out that this imaginary character was always one who represented the vice, the folly, and the stupidity of the time. Barrow was also a strictly practical preacher. Most of his sermons deal with the influence of religion and the Scriptures on the daily duties of life. They are on such subjects as the "Pleasantness of Religion; "The Profitableness of Godliness;" Upright Walking Sure Walking; The Duty of Prayer and of Thanksgiving ;' "Not to Offend in Word;" "Against Foolish Talking and Jesting;" "Of Rash and Vain Swearing;" "Of Contentment;" "Of Industry in General, and in our Particular Calling." Barrow was extremely slovenly in his dress, and being a thin, pale and unprepossessing man, his appearance did not greatly commend itself to strange congregations. It is related that on one occasion, being asked to preach at the Church of St. Lawrence, Jewry, in the absence of the rector through illness, the congregation, seeing him mount the pulpit, "slovenly and carelessly dressed, his collar unbottoned, his hair uncombed," hastily decamped. An eye-witness has described the scene which ensued on the appearance of the preacher. Immediately," he says, "all the congregation was in an uproar, as if the Church were falling, and they scampering to save their lives, each shifting for himself with great precipitation. There was such a noise of pattens of serving maids and ordinary women, and of unlocking of pews and cracking of seats, caused by the younger sort hastily climbing over them, that I confess I thought all the congregation were mad." A proceeding of this sort would have utterly discomfitted many a preacher, but it made no impression on Barrow. The courage which had enabled him to confront undismayed the fury of a savage dog, and the fierce onslaught of murderous pirates, did not desert him at this juncture. Taking no notice of the disturbance, he calmly gave out the text, and delivered his sermon to the handful of people that remained. Amongst these happened to be Baxter, the eminent Nonconformist divine, who, in a visit he afterwards paid to the rector, spoke very highly of the sermon, and declared that he had never heard a better discourse. An apprentice, too, who was in the congregation, accosted the preacher as he was coming down from the pulpit. Sir," he said, "be not dismayed; for I assure you 'twas a good sermon." Barrow was not insensible to the consolation thus offered; for when he was asked what his opinion of the apprentice was, he replied, "I take him to be a very civil person, and if I could meet with him I'd present him with a bottle of wine." Some of the worthy citizens who had fled from the Church were not satisfied with showing their discontent with the preacher in that way, but went afterwards in a body to their rector, to complain that he should have given the use of his pulpit to "an ignorant, scandalous fellow," as they described him. They wondered, they said, that he should permit such a man to preach before them; one, they said, who looked like a starved cavalier, who had been long sequestered, and out of his living for delinquency, and who had come up to London to beg, now that the king was restored. The rector was fortunately prepared for this visit; for Baxter was engaged in extolling the sermon to him when his parishoners arrived, and was still with him. He answered them, therefore, rather sharply. "The person you thus despise," he said, "I assure you is a pious man, an eminent scholar, and an excellent preacher." In support of his statement he appealed to Baxter, who declared that Dr. Barrow preached Bo well that he could willingly have listened to him all day long. At this the citizens were both amazed and ashamed. As soon as they had recovered their composure they apologized for their conduct, and finally begged the rector that he would ask Dr. Barrow to preach to them again, when, they promised, they would bring their wives and children, manservants and maid-servants, and enjoin them not to leave the Church till the blessing was pronounced. The rector acceded to their request, and gave Barrow an invitation to deliver another discourse. But Barrow was deaf to all appeals. Nothing could induce him to preach again in a Church where he had been so insulted. His mathematical training impressed itself upon his preaching. As the chief characteristic of the preaching of Donne was its poetic beauty, that of Barrow was its exhaustiveness. His sermons are distinguished by their weighty reasoning, their comprehensiveness of treatment, and the elaborate construction they display. "Every sermon," said Professor Wall, in his sermon on him, June 17th, 1877, "is like the demonstration of a theorem. It seems to conclude with a quod erat probandum, which was to be proved,' and to develope into a problem, quod est faciendum, 'which must be done.' There is no escaping from this vigorous athlete, this master of the whole science of logical and rhetorical attack and defence. He pursues his antagonist into every corner of the ground, allows him, with the utmost fairness, to avail himself of all conceivable As might be expected in so exhaustive a preacher, Barrow was in the defences, and breaks them all down, one after the other, with irresistible, habit of delivering long sermons. On one occasion when he was preachand sometimes, it may be, only too numerous blows. He has no idea of ing at Westminster Abbey, the servants who conducted visitors through giving quarter in intellectual warfare." With regard to the last sentence the Cathedral became so impatient at the length of his discourse that in the preceding quotation, "that he has no idea of giving quarter," it they caused the organ to be struck up and kept it playing until they had may be said that that combativeness which was seen in his early days silenced him. Another sermon he delivered at the Abbey occupied an is seen also in his preaching. Selecting some imaginary character, he hour and a half in delivery; yet it was only half of what he had preassails him with uncompromising hostility; but lest it should be thought|pared, and which he would have preached had not the Dean requested |