“The Holy Double Trinity,” as I once heard it called by the showman, who pointed with his wand to the young lady with two triangles on her breast, who is perched with that ornament, or symbol, in full view of all who enter by the south door; her duplicate being in the same position over the northern entrance. But for this notification, this church might be taken to belong to saints of the masculine gender; the western door being decorated by a gentleman on either side; one with the cross-keys, the other with the cross-swords. But these Guardian Saints are not the only images set up for our love or hatred; confidence or fear; instruction or bamboozlement; on the walls of this church, or they would not be noticed here. Trinity, “the pet church of Paddington,” the church on which church-goers pride themselves as something that is worthy of this great and important parish, is in fact, garnished all over with images, or symbols, and may be considered a creditable mimick of antiquated masonry on a small scale. On this building, both architect and mason appear to have exhausted all the skill of their craft, to produce an edifice, which shall transport the sense of sight, if not the mind it influences, to those glorious middle ages, for the revival of which some few enthusiastic ladies and gentlemen of the nineteenth century are working so desperately. To be obliged to work with the materials of the nineteenth, must be a sad drawback on their enthusiasm. These _artists_ devise all kind of means to give the charm of antiquity to their works, it is true; but there is an air of newness about Trinity, and such like buildings, which is any thing but pleasing, and which ill assorts with any notion of veneration. Some centuries hence, if Trinity does not share the fate of the Sheldon church, children may look on it with something like awe; and grown-up persons with pity for that generation, whose genius—able to make the lightning-force subservient to its will {151b}—able to contrive machines to carry the material form to which that genius is linked, sixty miles an hour with certainty and safety—able to raise structures which surpass in size and beauty, anything the genius of man ever before created, was yet unable to erect a house in which to worship its God, except in mimickry of forms suitable to the intelligence of past and darker ages. {152a}