Since the foregoing account was written, the author of these Memorials has the pleasure to record that regular service was commenced in this church on Sunday, June 19, 1836, which will form a great convenience to the increasing population of the neighbourhood. Nine new oak pews have been subsequently erected within its walls, from a design by Mr. Carline, and at the expence of the Reverend Richard Scott, B. D. who has also contributed a sum that will, with the letting of the pews, further increase the stipend of a minister. Much has been very justly said against the deformity which the introduction of pews has rendered to churches; those, however, placed in this structure meet every objection, and are perfect models of what pews should be,—fixed forms having backs, but without doors;—adapted for a devotional rather than a lounging posture. On the outside partition of each is a small carved finial, and the whole are in unison with the style of the church and ancient benches still remaining on the south side. A new altar-piece has been placed above the communion-table: the latter was presented by an inhabitant of the parish, and the former by Mr. Scott. The dimensions of the church are—nave 45 feet by 36, chancel 20 feet by 15, total length 65 feet. The font is the upper portion of a Norman pillar with the capital hollowed, and originally belonged to the Abbey church. It may be mentioned, that after the monks of Shrewsbury had obtained possession of the bones of St. Wenefrede in 1137, those precious relics were deposited on the altar of this church, until a shrine worthy their reception could be prepared in the Abbey. On the floor are several ancient stones bearing crosses, no doubt denoting the interment of some of the masters of the old hospital of St. Giles. A spacious cemetery surrounds the building, where the contemplative mind, “Free from noise and riot rude,” may resort, and, unmolested by the vulgar gaze of unsympathizing intruders, pour the grateful tribute of a sigh, or embalm afresh the memory of that departed spirit with whom he once took generous and undesigning counsel; and renew in imagination, through time’s dim mist, hours consecrated to friendship. In this silent repository are gravestones 200 years old, many inhabitants of the town having selected it as their last resting place, from a feeling similar to that inscribed upon a tomb in the south-west corner of the church-yard: Ut Nemini noceret Mortuus, Qui Unicuique pro re nata succurrere voluit Vivus, Hic extra Urbem sese contumulandum præcipiebat, CHENEY HART, M.D. Warringtoni in agro Lancastriensi natus Nov. 17–28, 1726. A stone near the south window covers the remains of John Whitfield, surgeon, on which is recorded an epitaph, the very quintessence of chemical brevity—