lding in
Chapel-street, dedicated to the old Angle-Saxon bishop--St. Wilfrid-
-who was a combative sort of soul, fond of argumentatively knocking
down obstreperous kings and ecclesiastics and breaking up the
strongholds of paganism--was opened seventy-six years ago. It
signifies little how it looked then. Today it has a large
appearance. There is nothing worth either laughing or crying about
so far as its exterior goes. It doesn't look like a church; it
resembles not a chapel; and it seems too big for a house. There is
no effort at architectural elaboration in its outer arrangements. It
is plain, strong, large; and like big feet or leathern shirts has
evidently been made more for use than ornament. But this style of
phraseology only refers to the extrinsic part. Inside, the church
has a vast, ornate, and magnificent appearance. No place of worship
in Preston is so finely decorated, so skilfully painted, so
artistically got up. In the world of business there is nothing like
leather; in the arena of religion there seems to be nothing like
paint. Every church in the country makes an effort to get deeply
into the region of paint; they will have it upon either windows,
walls, or ceilings. It is true that Dissenters do not dive
profoundly into the coloured abyss; but weakness of funds combined
with defective aesthetic cultivation may have something to do with
their deficiency in this respect. Those who have had the management
and support of St. Wilfrid's in their hands, have studied the theory
of colour to perfection, and whilst we may not theologically agree
with some of its uses, one cannot but admire its general effect.
Saints, angels, rings, squares, floriations, spiralizations, and
everything which the brain or the brush of the most devoted painter
could fairly devise are depicted in this church, and there is such
an array of them that one wonders how anybody could ever have had
the time or patience to finish the work.

The high altar which occupies the southern end is, in its way,
something very fine. A magnificent picture of the crucifixion
occupies the back ground; flowers and candles, in numbers sufficient
to appal the stoutest Evangelical and turn to blue ruin such men as
the editor of the "Bulwark" are elevated in front; over all, as well
as collaterally, there are inscriptions in Latin; designs in gold
and azure and vermilion fill up the details; and on each side there
is a confessional wherein all members, whet