regarded it as a matter of indifference whether men ate wholesome or unwholesome food, and whether they lived in dirt or in cleanliness. He who Himself washed His disciples' feet showed that He did not despise the basin and the towel in their own proper place. The works also which He wrought as a Healer of disease show how He valued physical health, and regarded the human body as worthy of attention and care. Christianity indeed has created a physical branch of practical religion, distinct from mere ceremonial or symbolic ritualism, and standing also in direct antagonism to the licentiousness of Natureworship.

Know ye not," says Paul, "that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost?" Where men and women are willingly and lazily living in dirt and foulness, there we generally find immorality also. There is a true sense in which even physical uncleanness cometh "out of the heart"; the inward defilement precedes as well as succeeds the outward. But Christianity, especially when joined with physiological knowledge, naturally begets a rational physical religion, grounded in that self-respect which Christian faith inspires, and in a desire to obey those laws of health which are recognized as the laws of God.

On the other hand, it must be said that it is quite possible to over-estimate the value and importance of physical cleanliness. The gospel of soap and whitewash-like the gospel of abstinence, and the gospel of art and culture-may be over-preached. I do not think that Jesus would have endorsed the popular maxim that "cleanliness is next to godliness." There are many things much more closely allied to godliness than a clean skin or a clean house. An aesthetic

materialism may have its perverted ideal of human life, as well as a religious asceticism. The tenant is, after all, of more importance than the house; the spirit is of more importance than the body. The young men of Imperial Rome who used to spend hours in the baths were not remarkable for either morality or bravery. The modern Japanese seem to be nearly as licentious as they are fond of bathing. The washtub is not the "laver of regeneration." No amount of soap will give what the Bible calls "clean hands." The fact is, that physical cleanliness does not necessarily lead on to moral purity.

But whilst it is quite possible to exaggerate the value of physical ablution, it is impossible to overestimate the importance of having the heart cleansed by faith and godliness. And I think it would be well for us to cultivate our taste-our love of beauty, order, and purity-more on the moral and spiritual side. We look into the mirror, to see if our face needs washing; but how often do we look into the "perfect law of liberty," to see what "manner of men" we are? What a good thing it would be if we could have a "Springcleaning" of the family life, as well as of the family rooms! There are many people whose physical sensibilities are much more delicate and fastidious than their moral tastes. There are some souls that have little or no sense of smell. They are not much disgusted by the foul odours of vice, nor do they much perceive the fragrant and delicate aroma of the finer graces of character. It is not surprising that a lady should shudder at the thought of a sweep sitting down on her drawing-room couch; but we have a right to be surprised that the same lady should invite a rake

to sit there and talk with her daughters. There is many a so-called "gentleman" who is exceedingly dainty with regard to the food he puts into his mouth, but who is not always so fastidious with regard to the words which come out of it. Let us seek, then, to cultivate our moral and spiritual tastes and sensibilities, so that we may more earnestly long after purity of heart, and may recoil with greater disgust from all dishonesty, licentiousness, and malignity.

Let us consider, too, the spiritual danger which lurks in physical refinement and delicacy, when it is unassociated with a sympathetic heart. It is a hardening thing to allow physical squeamishness to override the call of duty and the instinct of compassion. What should we think of a woman who could stand by and see an infant suffocated in a shallow, dirty ditch rather than defile her white fingers and her dainty dress? And yet this is just an extreme instance of the hardened selfishness which may be wrought by the disproportionate and unmoral culture of physical refinement. When manual labour is regarded as degrading because it soils the hands-when domestic servants are treated as if they belonged to another species, because they have to do with the dustpan-when the poor are despised and forgotten, because so many of them live in squalor-when the very duties of the sick-room are shirked, in spite of the claims of suffering-we see what can be done by a physical fastidiousness which is unregulated and unbraced by conscience and affection. Yes, there are many things far worse than "unwashen hands"; and one of them is a hard, cold, selfish, inhuman heart.

CHRISTIAN HOSPITALITY.

[Re-written February, 1887.]

HOSPITALITY is a virtue which is not peculiar to Christianity, but which, like other virtues that existed before the coming of Christ, was adopted and ennobled by the spirit of the gospel. In the New Testament it is enjoined that the Christian bishop or pastor, especially, should be "given to hospitality," and Christians generally are exhorted to its exercise. We should try to understand clearly the distinctive characteristic of a virtue on which so much stress is laid, especially as in our modern society some misapprehension prevails on the subject. In order to clear the way let us consider what hospitality is not; and then we shall be better prepared to consider what hospitality is.

Christian hospitality is not the feasting of our neighbours in the expectation that they will feast us in return. There is a great deal of this in modern society. People meet at each other's houses to spend a few hours happily together in eating and drinking, conversation and amusement. Those who invite expect to be invited in turn. It is very much a matter of

mutual benefit. The bargain is not expressed in so

many words, but it is understood. Thus a round of pleasant gatherings is secured, and there is nothing that is blameworthy in any such arrangement. It may be a very pleasant and quite a legitimate arrangement for those who can afford it. Such gatherings may be most recreative and refreshing if conducted by righthearted people in a right and fitting manner. But let us call things by their right names. This mutual feasting and entertaining of friends and acquaintances may be very pleasant and very lawful; but it is not what the New Testament means by "hospitality."

Neither is Christian hospitality the feasting of our neighbours in a spirit of vain-glorious display. There are many people who do not exactly follow the method I have just named; they do invite to their houses those from whom they do not expect any invitation in return; but it is that they may dazzle them with a show. They are vain, perhaps, of their house, their furniture, their plate, their dinners, and they are pleased to have their vanity gratified by the admiration of their guests. I am not speaking here of the rich only; this spirit of ostentation may be found in almost all ranks of society, at any rate it is often found amongst those who are far from wealthy. Sometimes you will even find people, in foolish vanity, trying to rival each other in the relative splendour of their entertainments. Now, of course, we must not forget who it was that asked why the alabaster box of ointment had not been "sold and given to the poor!" We must beware of all churlish and indiscriminate censure of what we may call "luxury." A costly entertainment may sometimes be as the alabaster box of ointment was an expression of deep reverence, or of grateful respect, or of