There are two services every Sunday in the Unitarian chapel—­morning and evening—­and both are very good in one sense because both are very short.  There have been many ministers at the chapel since its transformation into a Unitarian place of worship; but we need not unearth musty records and name them all.  Within modern memory there have been just a trinity of ministers at the chapel—­the Rev. Joseph Ashton, an exceedingly quiet, unassuming, well learned man, who would have taken a higher stand in the town than he did if he had made more fuss about himself; the Rev. W. Croke Squier, who made too much fuss, who had too big a passion for Easter-due martyrdoms and the like, for Corn Exchange speeches, patriotic agony points, and virtuous fighting, but who was nevertheless a sharp-headed, quick-sighted, energetic little gentleman; and the Rev. R. J. Orr—­the present minister—­who came to Preston about a year and a half since.  Mr. Orr is an Irishman, young in years, tall, cold, timid, quiet, yet excellently educated.  He is critical, seems slightly cynical, and moves along as if he either knew nobody or didn’t want to look at anybody.  There is somewhat of the student, and somewhat of the college professor in his appearance.  But he is a very sincere man; has neither show nor fussiness in him; and practices his duties with a strict, quiet regularity.  He may have moods of mirth and high moments of sparkling glee, but he looks as if he had never only laughed right out about once in his life, and had repented of it directly afterwards.  If he had more dash and less shyness in him, less learned coolness and much more humour in his composition, he would reap a better harvest in both pulpit and general life.  Mr. Orr is no roaring will o’ the wisp minister; what he says he means; and what he means he reads.  His prayers and sermons are all read.  He is not eloquent, but his language is scholarly, and if he had a freer and more genial expression he would be better appreciated.  If he were livelier and smiled more he would be fatter and happier.  His style is his own; is too Orrible, needs a little more sunshine and blithesomeness.  He never allows himself to be led away by passion; sticks well to his text; invariably keeps his temper.  He wears neither surplice nor black gown in the pulpit, and does quite as well without as with them.  For his services he receives about 120 pounds a year and if the times mend he will probably get more.  In the chapel there is a harmonium, which is played as well as the generality of such instruments are.  The singing is only moderate, and if it were not for the good strong female voice, apparently owned by somebody in the gallery, it would be nearly inaudible—­ would have to be either gently whispered or “thought out.”  The services in the main are simple, free from all boisterous balderdash, and if not of such a character as would suit everybody, are evidently well liked by those participating in them.

ALL SAINTS’ CHURCH.