never sneezes at the offertory contributions, however small they may be. Mr. Harding, of this town, designed the building, which is a homely, kindly-looking little affair--a bashful, tiny, domesticated creature, a nursling amid the matured and ancient, a baby among the Titans, which may some day reach whiskerdom and manhood. ST. MARY'S CHURCH. "And now, finally, brethren." To the "beginning of the end" have we got. The journey has been long and tortuous. When we have proceeded forty inches further we shall stop. Not with the "last rose of summer," nor with the "last of all the Romans," nor with the "last syllable of recorded time," nor with the "last words of Marmion"-- the Mohicans are barred out--have we to deal, but with the last place of worship, fairly coming within the category of "Our Churches and Chapels." St. Mary's Church is situated in a huge, rudely-spun district, known by the name of "New Preston." That district used to be one of the wildest in this locality; "schimelendamowitchwagon" was not known in it; not much of that excellent article is yet known in it; and tons of good seed, saying nothing of manure, will have to be planted in its hard ground before it either blossoms like the rose or pays its debts. This district was originally brought into active existence by John Horrocks, Esq., the founder of the Preston cotton trade. Prior to his time there were a few people in it who believed that 10s. a week was a good wage, and that Nixon's Book of Prophecies was an infallible guide; but not before he planted in the locality a body of hand-loom weavers did it show signs of commercial vivacity, and begin to develope itself. Handloom weaving is now about as hopeless a job as trying to extract sunlight out of cucumbers; but at that time it was a paying air. Weavers could then afford to play two or three days a week, earn excellent wages, afterwards wear top boots, and then thrash their wives in comfort without the interference of policemen. They and their immediate descendants belonged to a crooked and perverse generation. Cock- fighting, badger-baiting, poaching, drinking, and dog-worrying formed their sovereign delights; and they were so amazingly rude and dangerous, that even tax collectors durst not, at times, go amongst them for money. Men of this stamp would be much appreciated at present. The population has thickened, and civilisation has penetrated into the region since then; and yet the "animal" preponderates rather largely in it now. Rats, pigeons, dogs, and Saturday night eye openers--toned down with canary breeding, ale- supping, herb-gathering, and Sunday afternoon baking--still retain a mild hold upon the affections of the people, and many of the youthful race are beginning to imitate their elders admirably in all these little particulars. A pack of hounds was once kept for general enjoyment in "New Preston;" but that pack has "gone to the dogs"-- hasn't been heard of for years.