know all your concerns, can tell how many glasses you had last week and where you had them at, and like to make quiet hints on the subject to others.  The congregation is substantial in look, and possesses many excellent qualities; but there is a great amount of what Dr. Johnson would call “immiscibility” in it.  Nearly every part of it has a very strong notion that it is better than any other part.  As in the grocer’s shop pictured by one of our best wits, so is it here—­the tenpenny nail looks upon the tin tack and calmly snubs it; the long sixes eye the farthing dips and say they are poor lights; the bigger articles seem cross and potent in the face of the smaller; the little look big in the face of the less; and the infinitessimal clap their wings when they make a comparison with nothing.  The congregation at Christ Church won’t mix itself up; is fond of “distance”; says, in a genteely pious tone, “keep off”; can’t be approached beyond a certain point; isn’t sociable; won’t stand any hand-shaking except is its own peculiar circles.  We know a person who has gone for above 20 years to one of our Methodist chapels, and yet nobody has ever said, on either entering or leaving the place, “How are you?” The very same thing would have happened if that same person had gone to Christ Church, unless there had been some connection with a special circle.  In all our churches and chapels there is sadly too much of this rigid isolation, this frigid “Don’t know you” business.  Clanishness and cleanliness occupy front ranks at Christ Church, and if the Scotch tartans were worn in it, the theory of distinction would be consummated.  We would advise Mr. Firth to write northward—­beyond the Firth of Forth (oh!)—­for samples of plaids.  The congregation on the whole is pretty liberal; can subscribe fair sums of money; but the collections are not now what they once were; the main reason being that there is not the same wealth in the place as there used to be.

The music at Christ Church was, until lately, very good; it now seems to be degenerating a little.  There is a splendid organ in the building.  It cost about 1,000 pounds, and, with the exception of that at St. George’s, is about the best in the town.  The late Mr. J. Horrocks, jun., contributed handsomely towards the organ; played it gratuitously; gave liberally towards the choir expenses; and Christ Church is under a lasting debt of gratitude to him for his excellent services.  The organ is blown by two small engines, driven by water; so that its music literally resolves itself into a question of wind and water.  The tones of the instrument are good, and they are very fairly brought out by the present organist.  The services are well got through, and whilst Puritanism is on the one hand avoided in them, Ritualism is on the other distinctly discarded.  A medium course, which is the best, is observed in the church, and so long as Mr. Firth remains at the place there will be nothing bedizened or foolish in