course the temporary portions as such cannot fairly be criticised; yet if we must have temporary churches and of corrugated iron, we see no reason why they should not be picturesque, or at any rate sightly.

Internally the temporary nave has no attempt at appearance or effect, a remarkable fact seeing that the Anglican school generally pride themselves upon effects.  A matched-boarded lining to walls and roof is simply varnished, the glazing of the windows is rendered shocking to taste by masses of blue and red colour, and a box pulpit is too much like a box.  The excessively plain chancel, arch, and arcades, and general detail of the windows, have evidently been designed with a view to economy; and if, when the nave is built, the same quiet spirit is adopted, we shall be anxious to learn the cost of the structure, which will certainly be a minimum sum, and valuable to note in these church-building days.  The style is early English.  The dwarf stone parapet and ornamental iron screen across the chancel arch form rather a nice feature, and the stall-seats are of good design.

The east window is partly filled with effective stained glass, and as the predominant colour is blue, it is vexatious that the side-lights, not yet completed, are screened with green blinds.

Two figures of saints over the altar-table are not clearly seen—one might be St. Matthias; and the reredos might as well have English written on it—the unlearned could then understand and appreciate.

St. Matthias stands in the midst of a poor district, which was originally cut off from St. Philip’s, Kensington.  A temporary iron church was first opened on April 17, 1869, and the permanent chancel was consecrated and opened on the following 10th of July.  Nave and chancel together accommodate from 700 to 750 persons.  The cost of the whole structure has been 4,800l.; and it is intended if possible to build the nave this year 1871, which will cost about 4,000l. or 5,000l. more.  The architect is Mr. J. H. Hatrevile, 5, Southmolton-street.  There are no appropriated sittings; all are free, and the church is always open for public or private prayer.  It is supported by the offertory alone, which in 1869–70 amounted to the sum of 1,100l., and in 1870–71 it will amount, we are informed, to 1,600l.  Out of this all the expenses of the church and the charities and the clergy are met.  There are three priests attached—the Rev. S. C. Haines, M.A., the Vicar; the Revs. H. Westall, A.K.C., and S. Martin.  There is a superb organ built by Jones, of the Fulham-road, with three manuals, forty stops, and 2,255 pipes, at a cost of 700l.  The choir is large—about fifty in number—under the precentorship of Mr. J. Elwin, of 21, Coleherne-road, Brompton, professor of musical elocution.  During Lent there is daily Communion at eight a.m., four services every day, and five on Friday, when there is an extra Communion at eleven a.m.

The service is Gregorian plain song, and on the morning of March 5, the second Sunday in Lent, the ceremonial is described as being extremely ornate and symbolical.  Our representative says: The chancel is unusually deep, the space between the altar and the railing being apparently designed with a view to Ritualistic development.  In fact, it is a large stage on which a numerous company can play their parts.  The choristers wear surplices, and the clergy, over the surplice, a stole, which is at the present season of the true Lenten violet—according to the practice of Ritualists—who use the symbolic colours of violet for Lent, black for Good Friday, red for Martyrs, yellow for Confessors, and so on.  The altar-cloth and pulpit-cover, and even the offering-bags, are also of the same tinge, the latter being embossed with a white cross.  The prayers were intoned by Mr. Westall, a young gentleman whose voice is in some danger of collapsing from sheer tension of monotone.  The Ritualists have attained perfection in denying to nature its own freedom and flexibility of voice.  The lessons were read by the second curate, Mr. Martin, who, we learn, is new to the church, and whose voice, trained in the true Anglican style—rises always where it ought to fall, and vice versâ.  The bowings, curtseys, and genuflexions of this service are so numerous and complicate, we almost despair of tracing them.  Not only in the Creed, but in every other part where the name of the Saviour occurred and on every repetition of the Gloria Patri, there was a low curtsey as long as the body could be conveniently bent, which had a most singular effect in the general aspect of the congregation.  In the Nicene Creed, in the part “Light of light” and up to “rose again,” there was a sudden drop of voice to a mere whisper—which, being quite unprepared for at the moment, might startle one into the idea that the congregation and choir had simultaneously lost their vocal power.  But all this was merely dramatic.  On entering the Communion Service the processional hymn is sung, during which the clergy three abreast commence their pilgrimage to the altar.  They approach it by three stages, pausing at every one, and on arrival bow and cross themselves, and then dispose themselves on the left, in line with their backs to the congregation—one a step above the other—the highest reading the Commandments, turning meanwhile to the people.  They then break line again, and one reads the Epistle for the day; they form inline again, and the centre figure, the Vicar, reads the Gospel, during which the curate at his feet turns towards him obliquely, bending in a worshipping attitude.  After the Creed—and so as to chime in with the close—the Vicar passes with a sharp step to the pulpit, which is as close to the chancel as it can be; and on entering it, whilst the people are still standing, crosses himself, fronting them, and repeats quickly, “To God, the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, Amen,” and at once announces his text.  The short prayer before sermon is dispensed with.  The motion with the finger to the two shoulders and the forehead is the great feature at this point.

The sermon was founded on 1 Cor. i. 20—“Where is the wise?  Where is the scribe?  Where is the disputer of this world?  Hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this world?”  Having on the previous Sunday treated of bodily mortification and fasting, the preacher would now speak of the subjugation of human imagination, intellect and reason to the dominion of truth—of the folly of the “wise,” the “scribe,” the “disputer of this world,” in view of the “wisdom of God.”  In what was mainly an extempore address, aided only by copious notes, and accompanied by much declamation and earnest action, Mr. Haines denounced the intellect and literature of the day as extremely sordid, timeserving, and egotistic.  It was “a day of advertisements,” when intellect was “bought and sold over the counter,” when one might “buy all the intellect of England for gold, and for so many guineas have so many pages;” and if in any case pride prevented this degradation, literature was then “but the expression of an extreme egotism.”  Periodicals and books were “pretentious and misleading;” the novels of the age embodied its “sensualistic intellect;” our art in its exhibitions handed down pictures and ideas of depravity.  “It would be well if the scientific world would send forth no more theories.”  In short the preacher held in the profoundest contempt all the ordinary exercises of the human mind and reason.  Perverted intellect had produced anarchy in America, revolution and bloodshed in Europe; and in the history of Christianity there had been nothing but contention and division since the intellect of the church first departed from the “holy Catholic religion,” and so rendered government impossible.  The