dead time, except where parishes and churches were touched and quickened by the influence of the Evangelical revival. In most London churches it was hardly considered to be in good taste to join in the responses or the singing. All this was left to the parish clerk and some Sunday School children in the gallery. Chanting, except in cathedrals, was practically unknown. I can remember when the chanting of the Venite in an ordinary London church was considered an innovation—probably a dangerous innovation. Hymnody was only in its infancy; what was sung was largely from Brady and Tate, or, in some old-fashioned churches, from Sternhold and Hopkins. The sermon, almost always preached in a black gown, was made the all-important matter, as the old “three-decker,” entirely obscuring the east end of the church and the Holy Table itself, very plainly showed. It was generally a written sermon in London churches—rather long and, to young people, mostly tedious. Church architecture and church decoration were at a low ebb, for the Gothic revival and the impulse of church restoration had hardly yet begun. Ministration of the Holy Communion, even in town churches, was infrequent—seldom more than once a month. Confirmations came about once in three years for any district. The cathedrals kept up some tradition of stateliness in service; but there was little vitality about them. I can remember that the whole congregation of St Paul's and the Abbey was
