fashionable. A few poor people may be seen on low seats in the
centre aisle; but the great majority of worshippers either
represent, or are connected with, what are termed "good families."
Young ladies wearing on just one hair the latest of bonnets, and
elaborated with costly silks and ribbons; tender gentlemen of the
silver-headed cane school and the "my deah fellah" region; quiet
substantial looking men of advanced years, who believe in good
breeding and properly brushed clothes; elderly matrons, "awfully
spiff" as Lady Wortley Montague would say; and a few well-disposed
tradespeople who judiciously mingle piety with business, and never
make startling noises during their devotional moments--these make up
the congregational elements of St. George's. They may be described
in three words--few, serene, select. And this seems to have always
been the case. Years since, the historian of Lancashire said that
St. George's "has at all times had a respectable, though not a very
numerous, congregation." The definition is as correct now as it was
then. The worshippers move in high spheres; the bulk of them toil
not, neither do they spin; and if they can afford it they are quite
justified in making life genteel and easy, and giving instructions
for other people to wait upon them. We dare say that if their piety
is not as rampant, it is quite as good, as that of other people.
Vehemence is not an indication of excellence, and people may be good
without either giving way to solemn war-whoops or damaging the
hearing faculties of their neighbours. Considering the situation of
St. George's Church--its proximity to Friargate and the unhallowed
passages running therefrom--there ought to be a better congregation.
Churches like beefsteaks are intended to benefit those around them.
It is not healthy for a church to have a congregation too select and
too fashionable. Souls are of more value than either purses or
clothes. More of the people living in the immediate neighbourhood of