ZOAR PARTICULAR BAPTIST CHAPEL.

Some good people are much concerned for the erection of new places of worship in our large towns, labour hard for long periods in maturing plans for them, and nearly exhaust their energies in securing that which is held to be the only potent agent in their construction—­money.  But this is an ancient and roundabout process, and may, as it sometimes has done, terminate in failure.  A stiff quarrel is about the surest and quickest thing we are acquainted with for multiplying places of worship, for Dissenters, at any rate; and probably it would be found to work with efficacy, if tried, amongst other bodies.  Local experience shows that disputes in congregations invariably end in the erection of new chapels.  Show us a body of hard, fiercely-quarrelsome religious people, and although neither a prophet nor the son of one we dare predict that a new place of worship will be the upshot of their contentions.  We know of four or five chapels in Preston which here been raised on this plan, and those requiring more need only keep the scheme warm.  It is not essential that persons anxious for new sacred edifices should expend their forces in pecuniary solicitations; let them set a few congregations by the ears and the job will be done at once.  Deucalion of Thessaly was told by the oracle of Themis that if he wished to renew mankind he must throw his mother’s bones behind his back.  This was about as irreverent and illogical as telling people that if they want more religious accomodation they must commence fighting; and yet, whilst olden history gives some faint proof that the Grecian prince was successful, in stone if not in bone throwing, modern experience ratifies the notion that a smart quarrel is certain to be followed by a good chapel.

There was a small feud in 1849-50 at Vauxhall-road Particular Baptist Chapel, Preston, concerning a preacher; several liked him; some didn’t; a brisk contention followed; and, in the end, the dissatisfied ones—­about 50 in number, including 29 members—­finding that they had “got up a tree,” quietly retired.  They hired a place in Cannon-street, which somehow has been the nursery of two or three stirring young bodies given to spiritual peculiarity.  Here they worshipped earnestly, looking out in the meantime for a plot of land in some part of the town whereon they could build a chapel, and thus attend to their own business on their own premises.  Singular to say they hit upon a site adjoining the most fashionable quarter of the town—­hit upon and bought the only piece of land in the Belgravia of Preston whereon they or anybody else could build a place of worship.  This was a little spot on the north-eastern side of Regent-street, abutting upon Winckley-square, and freed from the restrictions as to church and chapel building which operated in respect to every other vacant piece of land in the same highly-spiced neighbourhood.  Upon this land they raised a small chapel, and dedicated it to Zoar.  Whether they did this because Zoar means little, or because it was fancied that they had “escaped,” like Lot of old, from a very unsanctified place, we cannot tell.  The chapel was opened in 1853, at a cost of 500 pounds, one-fifth of which, apart from previous subscriptions, was raised during the inaugural services.