The congregation of Lune-street Chapel is moderately numerous; but it has been materially thinned at intervals by the establishment of other Wesleyan chapels.  In its circuit there are now between 800 and 900 persons known as members, who are going on their way rejoicing; at the chapel itself there are between 300 and 400 individuals similarly situated.  Viewed in the aggregate, the congregation is of a middle class character both in regard to the colour of the hair and the clothes worn.  There are some exceedingly poor people at the place, but the mass appear to be individuals not particularly hampered in making provision for their general meals.  Lune-street chapel is the fashionable Wesleyan tabernacle of Preston; the better end of those whose minds have been touched, through either tradition or actual conviction, with the beauties of Methodism, frequent it.  There is more silk than winsey, more cloth than hodden grey, and a good deal more false hair and artificial teeth in the building on a Sunday than can be found by fair searching at any other Wesleyan chapel in the town.  A sincere desire to “flee from the wrath to come and be saved from their sins”—­the only condition which John Wesley insisted upon for admission into his societies—­does not prevent some of the members from attending determinedly to the bedizenments, conceits, and spangles of this very wicked speck in the planetary system.

In the congregation there are many most excellent, hardworking, thoroughly sincere men and women, who would be both useful and ornamental to any body of Christians under the sun; but there are in addition, as there are in every building set apart for the purposes of piety, several who have “more frill than shirt,” and much “more cry than wool” about them—­rectified, beautifully self-righteous, children who would “sugar over” a very ugly personage ten hours out of the twelve every day, and then at night thank the Lord for all his mercies.  In Lune-street Chapel faction used to run high and wilfulness was a gem which many of the members wore very near their hearts; but much of the old feudal spirit of party fighting has died out, and there are signs of pious resignation and loving kindness in the flock, which would at one time have been rare jewels.  A somewhat lofty isolation is still manifested here and there; a few regular attenders appear heavily oppressed with the idea that they are not only as good as anybody else but much better.  Still this is only human nature and no process of convertibility to the most celestial of substances can in this world entirely subdue it.  The bruising deacon who said that grace was a good thing, but that that knocking down an impertinent member was a better didn’t miss the bull’s eye of natural philosophy very far.  The observation was not redolent of much Christian spirit; but it evinced that which many of the saints are troubled with—­human nature.