Although every one who wishes to receive instruction from the visible remnants of the past, must admire the works of art as preserved to us in the brilliant colours, and quaint symbolic designs, which modify “God’s light” as it attempts to enter into the ancient temples dedicated to his service; and although every one who can so feel, must detest the barbarity of a Barebones—who is said to have thanked God every time his zealous and mischievous weapon was raised from the demolition of the Canterbury windows—yet I think it would be difficult to find any satisfactory reason for the re-introduction of stained glass pictures, and tinted glass, into the church windows of our day. Every reason I have ever heard in favour of “the dim religious light,” or “the scriptural story,” is equally powerful in favour of all other modes of teaching by “stealing the senses.” If painted glass, why not painted canvass? If one picture, why not a hundred? If candles on the altar, why not lighted? If Puseyism, why not full-blown Romanism? But this is only one of the many “first step to Rome.” And as in the case of St. John’s window, which was the origin of this remark, these first steps are not completed at once. How long it took to fill up the whole east window of St. John’s I do not remember; but there were only a few Apostles there at one time; and the “naughty boy”—who went to this church, more I fear to look at this window than to say his prayers, or hear the very excellent and learned ministers who preach there—asked his Ma, one day, “why they did not write down the names of _those men_, so that he could find out who they were?” When he was told they were the Twelve Apostles—he said “Oh no, that can’t be, there are but ten, for I count them every Sunday.” The New Parish Church—St. James’s. Twenty years ago, the bishop’s building Acts were beginning to tell in real earnest; and from 1831 to 1841, the increase in the population of the parish of Paddington, averaged _above __one thousand per annum_. Yet the errors of the past were unnoticed by those who never wish to see errors in high places; for it was not till the fifth of December, 1837, that the local governors of Paddington saw the necessity, created by this annual addition of a thousand souls to the parish, for increased means of religious instruction, and public worship; and then their attention to this necessity was aroused by their Reverend Chairman, who, on that day, stated he was desired by the Bishop of London to call the attention of the vestry to the great want of additional church room there was in the parish—or more correctly speaking _on his estate_. The bishop sent word “that he and the trustees had resolved upon a site for a new church; and that he would submit the case, (of the destitution of this parish), to the Metropolitan Church Committee; and would himself subscribe £300!” {147}