This steeple enjoys a set of eight peerless bells, by far the most melodious of their kind in the city. Six were cast in 1710, and the other two in 1734, having replaced an older peal, which existed here at least as early as the reign of Henry VII. Doubtless, therefore, during the great Civil War, when the news of a royalist victory reached the ears of the loyal citizens, Merrily, merrily rang the bells, The bells of St. John’s church tower. And “merrily, merrily” ring they still, as the bridal procession issues from the porch, as well as on days of public rejoicing—whenever, in fact, loyalty, love, or patriotism need their witching strains. So much for the outside of ST. JOHN’S CHURCH,—now for a hasty glance at the interior. Passing through the “old church porch,” adorned with an arch of most beautiful character, the mouldings of which spring from little delicately formed shafts, we enter the sacred edifice at its north-western extremity. Here a prospect awaits us enough to disgust even an out and out Puritan. Hideous galleries of giant build, through which the light of heaven can scarcely find its way,—long rows of high wooden boxes, by those in authority facetiously termed pews!—curtains of green exclusiveness, separating the rich from their brethren the poor—such, alas! are our first impressions of this venerable Church! With such incentives to drowsiness, no wonder the parishioners are so sleepy about their Church, and so painfully apathetic about its much-needed restoration! Threading our way, so well as we can in the gloom, to the bottom of the centre aisle, we now begin to see, despite these grievous drawbacks, something of the original glory and magnificence of this ancient fabric. Following the line of sight eastward, we feast our eyes on the massive pillars and horse-shoe arches of the Saxon, or it may be early Norman architect:—noble ideas of strength and symmetry had the builder of those days! Above these, the double Triforium of later work stretches along the whole length of the Nave, giving to it an elegance and variety claimed for no other sacred edifice in Cheshire. Originally the Nave was just double its present length, boasting eight of those massive semicircular arches on either side, of which four only now remain,—the other four vanished ’neath the crash of the western steeple.