one hair the latest of bonnets, and elaborated with costly silks and ribbons; tender gentlemen of the silver-headed cane school and the “my deah fellah” region; quiet substantial looking men of advanced years, who believe in good breeding and properly brushed clothes; elderly matrons, “awfully spiff” as Lady Wortley Montague would say; and a few well-disposed tradespeople who judiciously mingle piety with business, and never make startling noises during their devotional moments—­these make up the congregational elements of St. George’s.  They may be described in three words—­few, serene, select.  And this seems to have always been the case.  Years since, the historian of Lancashire said that St. George’s “has at all times had a respectable, though not a very numerous, congregation.”  The definition is as correct now as it was then.  The worshippers move in high spheres; the bulk of them toil not, neither do they spin; and if they can afford it they are quite justified in making life genteel and easy, and giving instructions for other people to wait upon them.  We dare say that if their piety is not as rampant, it is quite as good, as that of other people.  Vehemence is not an indication of excellence, and people may be good without either giving way to solemn war-whoops or damaging the hearing faculties of their neighbours.  Considering the situation of St. George’s Church—­its proximity to Friargate and the unhallowed passages running therefrom—­there ought to be a better congregation.  Churches like beefsteaks are intended to benefit those around them.  It is not healthy for a church to have a congregation too select and too fashionable.  Souls are of more value than either purses or clothes.  More of the people living in the immediate neighbourhood of St. George’s ought to regularly visit it; very few of them ever go near the place; but the fault may be their own, and neither the parson’s, nor the beadle’s.

The choir of St. George’s is a wonderfully good one, and whether the members sing for love or money, or both, they deserve praise.  Their melody is fine; their precision good; their expression excellent.  They can give you a solemn piece with true abbandonatamente; they can observe an accelerando with becoming taste; they can get into a vigorosamente humour potently and on the shortest notice.  They will never be able to knock down masonry with their musical force like the Jericho trumpeters, nor build up walls with their harmony like Amphion; but they will always possess ability to sing psalms, hymns, spiritual songs, and whatever may be contained in popular music books, with taste and commendable exactitude.  We recommend them to the favourable consideration of the public.  In St. George’s Church there is an organ which may be placed in the “h c” category.  It is a splendid instrument—­can’t be equalled in this part of the country for either finery or music—­and is played by a gentleman whose name ranks in St. George’s anthem book,