pit there almost as rotund, and bright, and buoyant as Dr. Parker
himself.

I know not how the Sunday service succeeds, but the Thursday morning
service is wonderfully well filled. In this busy age it is scarcely
credible that in the busiest part of London, and at the busiest hour of
the day, a chapel as large as the Poultry can be crowded, and is
regularly crowded, with merchants and men of business and others. Yet
such is the case, and Dr. Parker has succeeded in an attempt which, until
he tried it, certainly seemed hazardous in the extreme. If the Doctor
seems a little bombastic, it may well be forgiven him under these
circumstances, especially when we remember that no preacher can succeed
in convincing others that he is worth hearing till he has become firmly
convinced of that fact himself. A modest man I fear is out of place
anywhere, but most of all so in the pulpit. It was in wisdom that Dr.
Parker was selected for his post. I should think he is a preacher
pre-eminently adapted to the young. Judged not by what he has done, but
by years, the Doctor is almost a young man himself. There is youthful
vigour in his full round face, in his small dark eyes; and certainly
there is no small store of youthful enthusiasm in his heart. In his
black hair and beard there is no suggestive tinge of grey. If he has
passed through and left the golden portals of youth behind, it can only
be but recently that he has done so, and there is still in him somewhat
of its grace and glory. In another respect also the choice of Dr. Parker
was appropriate. The Poultry Chapel is in the very heart of London; the
chances were that most of the young men present--and, I might add, of the
old ones too--were more or less engaged in some secular avocations. In
like manner, so the writer has always understood, the Doctor's youthful
years were passed. Hence it came to pass the old Poultry Chapel is in a
flourishing state. The Doctor seemed in his right place, and, if we may
judge from appearances, the people seemed to think so.

MR. LYNCH'S THURSDAY EVENINGS.

In a great city like London there are many sources of pleasure completely
overlooked. If people complain that life is dull--that it is
monotonous--that it presents to them few objects of interest or
attraction--I fancy they have chiefly themselves to blame. No man or
woman either with heart or head need lead a barren life either in the
country or in town. There is alway