to find the way to the chapel.  It could not, we fancied, be by the front door of a shop which we saw beneath; it could not, we were certain, be through a window above, for whilst there was a pulley roller in front of it there was neither rope nor block visible for regular lifting purposes; neither, we thought, could it be through a large double-door at the side, for that was bolted, and seemed to have been made for something taller and broader than the human form.  After sauntering about, the grand rush of words through the window still continuing, in the interests of “our connexion,” we moved towards a corner at the far end of the side opening, passed up twelve narrow steps, rushed past a charity box, seventeen hats and caps, and a small umbrella stand, and then sat down.

We were surprised at the cleanness and neatness of the building, and at the large number of people within it.  Rumour had conveyed to us a notion that about three persons visited this chapel; but we found between 100 and 200—­all well-dressed, orderly, and pleasant—­in attendance.  We also noticed a policeman amongst the company.  He was present, not to keep the peace, but to get some good, for Heaven knows that policemen need much of the article, and that they have very little Sunday time to find it in.  The policeman behaved himself very well during the whole service.  The building will accommodate about 200 persons, and the average attendance at the Sunday services is 120.  Three or four middle-class persons, several good-looking young women, a number of men, including the policeman; a wedding party, and a numerous gathering of children, made up the congregation we saw.  The service was simple and heartily joined in; the singing, supported by a small harmonium, went off well; and the minister preached a fair sermon.  But he is far too excitable to last out long.  The speed he goes at would kill a man directly if he were made of cast-iron.

Mr. Lee, the preacher, is a ten times breezier man than his vivacious namesake at the Parish Church; he is small like him, dark-complexioned like him, wears spectacles like him; but he travels at the rate of 1000 miles an hour, and his namesake has never yet got beyond 500.  The gentleman under review is a pre-eminently earnest man.  We never saw any minister throw himself, head, arms, shoes, and shirt, so intensely into the business of praying and preaching as he.  Nothing seems to impede his progress.  He rushes into space with terrible vehemence; prays until the veins on his forehead swell and throb as if they would burst; and when he sits down he pants as if he had been running himself to death in a dream, whilst sweat pours off him as if he had been trying to burn up the sun at the equator.  In his preaching he is equally intense and earnest.  He puts on the steam at once, drives forward at limited mail speed; stops instantly; then rushes onto the next station—­steam up instantly; stops again in a moment without whistling; is at full speed forthwith,