The kirk, which stands near the water, and at a distance shows apretty wooden spire, is after the pattern of a New Englandmeeting-house. When I reached it, the house was full and the servicehad begun. There was something familiar in the bareness anduncompromising plainness and ugliness of the interior. The pews hadhigh backs, with narrow, uncushioned seats. The pulpit was high,--asort of theological fortification,--approached by wide, curvingflights of stairs on either side. Those who occupied the near seatsto the right and left of the pulpit had in front of them a blankboard partition, and could not by any possibility see the minister,though they broke their necks backwards over their high coat-collars.The congregation had a striking resemblance to a country New Englandcongregation of say twenty years ago. The clothes they wore had beenSunday clothes for at least that length of time.

Such clothes have a look of I know not what devout and painfulrespectability, that is in keeping with the worldly notion of rigidScotch Presbyterianism. 0ne saw with pleasure the fresh and rosy-cheeked children of this strict generation, but the women of theaudience were not in appearance different from very newly arrived andrespectable Irish immigrants. They wore a black cap with long frillsover the forehead, and a yellow armkerchief thrown over it andhanging down the neck,--a quaint and not unpleasing disguise.