eached deeper depths than many other creeds--has touched harder,
wilder, ruder souls than nearly "all the isms" put together. It may
not have made much numeric progress, may not have grown big in
figures nor loud in facts, but it has done good--has gone down in
the diving bell of hope to the low levels of sin, and brought up to
the clear rippling surface of life and light many a pearl which
would have been lost without it. Primitive Methodism is just the
religion for a certain class of beings just the exact article for
thousands who can't see far ahead, and who wouldn't be able to make
much out if they could. There are people adoring it who would be
stupid, reticent, and recalcitrant under any other banner, who would
"wonder what it all meant" if they were in a calmer, clearer
atmosphere--who would be muddy-mottled and careless in a more
classical and ambrosial arena. After this learned morsel of
theorising, we shall return to the subject.

In 1836 the Primitive Methodists left their Lawson-street seminary
and pitched their tent eastwards--on a piece of land facing Saul-
street and flanking Lamb-street. Its situation is pretty good, and
as it stands right opposite, only about eight yards from, the Baths
and Washhouses, we would suggest to the Saul-street brethren the
propriety of putting up some sign, or getting some inscription made
in front of their chapel, to the effect that "cleanliness is next to
godliness," and that both can be obtained on easy terms. The chapel
is a very ordinary looking building, having a plain brick front,
with sides of similar material, and a roof of Welsh slate, which
would look monotonous if it were not relieved on the western side by
19 bricks and two stones, and on the eastern by four stones, one
brick, and a piece of rod-iron tacked on to keep a contiguous
chimney straight. The chapel has a somewhat spacious interior; and
has a large gallery fixed on six rather slender iron pillars. The
pews have at some time had one or more coats of light delicate green
paint--the worst colour which could be chosen for endurance--put
upon them, and many are now curiously black at the rear, through
people leaning back against them. A glance round shows the various
sombre places, and their relative darkness gives a fair clue as to
the extent of their use.

At one end there is a small gallery for the choir and the organ, and
in front of it the pulpit, a plain moderately-subtantial affair, is
located. The