ers, and have a great fondness for several of the works of
Church of England divines. They esteem considerably, we are
informed, the writings of "Gill, Romaine, Hawker, Parkes, Hewlett,
and others belonging that church." There is a debt of 150 pounds
upon Zoar Chapel; and if any gentleman will give that sum to square
up matters we can guarantee that good special sermons, eulogistic of
all his virtues since birth, will be preached, and that a monument
will be erected to him in the chapel when he dies.

The first minister the Zoar Chapel people had, after their
secession, was Mr. D. Kent, a Liverpool gentleman who came over to
Preston weekly, for seven years, and preached every Sunday. He got
no salary, was content with having his railway fare paid and his
Sunday meals provided, and he gave much satisfaction. In the end he
had to retire through ill health. Mr. J. S. Wesson, who evaporated
quietly from Preston some time ago, followed Mr. Kent, and preached
for the Zoar folk six years. His successor was Mr. Edward Bates, of
Darwen, who visited the chapel every Sunday for 12 months, and then
withdrew. Since his departure there has been no regular minister at
the Chapel; and whenever one does come he will have to be a "Mr."
and not a "Rev." Particular Baptists don't believe in "reverend"
gentlemen--think none of them are really reverend, and that it is
presumption in any man, however sublimated his virtue or learning
may be, to sacredly oil up his name with any such prefix.

We have visited Zoar Chapel twice. It was exactly twenty minutes to
seven one Sunday evening when we first entered it. The lights were
burning, the blinds were drawn, and there were 23 people in the
place. In a pew on the left-hand side a little old man was holding
forth as to the "prodigal son." It was the first time he had ever
talked in the chapel, and he has never said a word since. He had a
peculiarly free and easy style. Sometimes he leaned over the pew
door, and beat time with one foot whilst talking; at other periods
he would stand back a little, push his right arm up to the elbow in
his breeches pocket, and scratch his leg quietly; then he would turn
half round, and look up; then make to the pew door again; then leave
it, and so on to the finish. He was an earnest, plain-spun sort of
individual, but he got through his parabolical exposition very
satisfactorily. We fancied he would afterwards ascend the pulpit,
which was lighted up; but he kept