Onward again past SELLER STREET, and the Octagon Chapel, where the Reverend John Wesley once preached, we are not long arriving at a steep road upon our right hand, called _Dee Lane_, running down to the river side. Near the head of this lane stood an ancient Gateway, stretching right across the main street, bearing the name of THE BARS. From a curious plan of the city in the reign of Elizabeth, this Gateway appears to have had a circular turret on either side; but no trace of these remained at the time of its demolition in 1770. From the Bars extended, to the left and right, the outer line of fortifications which encompassed the city during the period of the SIEGE. Once clear of the Bars, we have passed into Boughton, having Russell, Steam-Mill, and Stevens Streets, all upon our left hand. STEAM-MILL STREET, anciently _Horn Lane_, derives its present name from the large STEAM CORN-MILLS of Messrs. Frost and Sons, occupying the whole of the northern portion of the street. This is a mammoth establishment, employing a large number of hands, and has been long and successfully carried on by the present proprietors. The premises were destroyed by fire in 1834. Close to these Mills flows the CANAL, on the opposite side of which we have a prospect of another hive of industry, the LEAD WORKS and SHOT TOWER of Messrs. Walker, Parker and Co., already noticed in our earlier rambles. Returning to the main street, we soon arrive, through “poverty, hunger, and dirt,” at _Hoole Lane_, the corner of which is now embellished with a neat little structure, known as the Chester RAGGED SCHOOLS, for the use of those tattered little specimens of humanity ever found about the streets of all populous towns. The Street widens out at this point, disclosing, upon our left hand, RICHMOND TERRACE, a row of handsome suburban residences with neat gardens in front, overlooking the Dee and the Welsh side of Cheshire, A prospect fair, of river, wood, and vale, As ever eye could wish for! The declivity on the right is called _Gallows Hill_, from its being of old time the place where malefactors paid the sad penalty of their misdeeds. But what is this white conventicle-looking edifice which crowns its heights? Surely it is the refuge of some Mormon congregation—the temple, perchance, of some pagan fanaticism? Nay verily, good sirs,—assuage your indignation, for this is a Church of your own communion, a sort of Chapel of Ease to the parish of St. John. The architect was “abroad” when this building was designed; for one less becoming the outward character of a Church it is impossible to conceive. It is dedicated to ST. PAUL, and was opened for divine worship in 1830.