d it out yourself." Exactly so, we mentally
muttered on entering Ribbleton-lane; and we passed the thirty feet
House of Correction wall to the right thereof, with an air of
triumph, redolent of intrepidity and independence. To the left of
the lane entered we knew St. Luke's was located; but doubt
overshadowed its precise whereabouts. The first street in that
direction down which we looked contained, at the bottom, six coal
waggons and a gate. Those unhappy-looking waggons and that serious
gate couldn't, we said, be St. Luke's. Another street to the left;
but at the end of it we saw only a tavern, some tall rails, and an
old engine shed. Convinced that St. Luke's was not here, we
proceeded to the head of the third street, and down it were more
rails, sundry children, a woman sweeping the parapet, and the gable
of a mill. At the extreme end of the next a coal office and a gate
met us. Number five street showed up the fading placards of a news
shop, and the cold stillness of a Sunday morning factory. Down the
sixth avenue we peered eagerly, but "more factory" met us. The
termination of its successor consisted of pieces of timber, three
arches, and some mill ends. We had hope as to the bottom of the
next; but it was blighted and withered in its infancy as we gazed
upon 25 tree trunks, a mill, and two tall chimneys. Additional wood,
an office, and an entire mill formed the background of the street
subsequently encountered. Extra mill buildings closed up the career
of the road beyond it; ditto beyond that; partially ditto
afterwards, the front of the picture being relieved by a few thirsty
souls, looking plaintively at a landlord, who stood with a rolling
eye upon door step, anxious to officiate as the "Good Samaritan,"
but afraid to exercise his benevolence. After this there would
surely, we thought, be something like the church we were seeking.
But not so; a swampy wide road and more of the irrepressible mill
element constituted the whole of the scene presented.

It is, however, a long lane which has no turning, and at last we got
to a small corner shop, below which were two clothes props, one
being very much out of the perpendicular, an open piece of ground,
numerous bricks in a heap, and a railed round edifice rising calmly,
sedately, and diminutively. This was St. Luke's--the shrine we had
been looking for, the Mecca we had been in search of. Plenty of
breathing space has the church now: on three of its sides there is