was king. And for a considerable
period afterwards this continued to be the case. The "exact thing"
on a Sunday in Preston, 40 nay 20 years ago, was to own a pew at
Trinity Church, to walk up to it, and to sit therein: it was
superior to every modern process, and beat "Walking in the Zoo" and
all that species of delightful work hollow. Pews were then worth
something; they are now worth little. Only the other week a pew,
originally bought for about 70 pounds, was sold by auction for 8
pounds! And it is said that some proprietors would not be very
unwilling to give a pew or two now, if nicely asked, just to get out
of the ratepaying clauses.

Trinity Church has a plain, yet pleasing, chancel. It is neat and
good, simple yet well-proportioned and elegant. The chancel window
is but sparingly stained; still it has a tasteful and rather stately
appearance. Amber is the most prominent colour in it, and loyalty
the principal virtue represented on it. There are a few small
emblematic-looking characters towards the base, which few can make
out; but everybody can see and understand the rather large English
outburst of loyalty surmounting the window. The display consists of
the Royal arms, well and broadly defined, with a crown above them,
and a lion above all. This speaks well for the lion, which ought to
be satisfied. Plain Gothic-bordered tablets, with a central
monogram, occupy the wall below the window. They have a good effect,
and give a somewhat artistic richness to the chancel. Within and at
each end of the communion rails there is a fine old oak chair. Both
are beautifully carved and are valuable. The reading-desk and the
pulpit are placed opposite each other, and at the sides of the
chancel. They are very tall, but altitude rather improves than
diminishes their appearance. They are well made, are fashioned of
dark oak, and have carved Gothic canopies. We have seen nothing so
tall nor so respectable-looking in the arena of virtuous rostrumdom
for a long period. On each side of the pulpit-desk there is a small
circular hole, and those said holes have a history. "What are they
used for?" said we one day, whilst in the pulpit, to a friend near
us. "For?" said the sagacious party, "they are for nothing;" and
then followed a history which we thus summarise for the benefit of
parsons in general:- A few years ago a gentleman with a red-hot dash
of Hibernian blood in his veins was the curate here. When he came,
the stands of tw