Mr. Shepperd is a man of middle age, and looks after his sheep fairly, but at times eccentrically.  He has a polished, tasteful, clerical contour; attends well to his hair, whiskers, and linen; wears a hat half bishoply and half archidiaconal in its brim; is a good scholar, a clear reasoner, an able-preacher, but repeats himself often, and gets long-winded on Sunday nights; is highly enamelled, touchy, and imperial; is lofty in tone, cream laid and double thick in manner; is full of metal, and there is a stately mystery about him, as if he were a blood relation of the Great Mokanna; he is nearly infallible, and would make a good Pope; he is strongly combative, and would be a vigorous bruiser in stormy ecclesiastical circles.  We fancy no parson in Preston has had more officials than Mr. Shepperd.  In less than half a dozen years there have been at the place many organists, singers, curates, scripture readers, and eight or nine churchwardens.  Either they have been very uneasy people or he has been uniquely antagonistic.  Mr. Shepperd resides at a good parsonage some distance north of the church, and he has a pretty garden adjoining, the walls thereof having been built at the expense of Mr. Hermon, who has been a capital friend to the church.  In the garden there is a quantity of handsome rockery, purchased by the late Mr. James Carr (who was at one time a warden), out of the church funds.  This rockery was originally placed in the church yard, along with that still remaining there; but it was thought by somebody that the yard didn’t require so much ornamental stone, so a quantity of it was removed to the place mentioned.  If Mr. Shepperd has it set in a circle he may play the Druid amongst it, reserving the biggest block for a cromlech and the smoothest for a seat; if it is concentrated in one mass he may stand upon it, defy all the ex-churchwardens, and quoting Scott, cry out, “Come one, come all, this rock shall fly” &c.  Originally, St. Thomas’s cost a considerable amount of money, and in consequence of improvements subsequently made, there is still, it is said, a pretty round sum due to the late wardens and the contractors, and they, are much in the dark as to when they will get it.  The parson can’t see the force of paying it himself, the officers of the church make no move in the matter, the congregation is apathetic on the subject, the beadle keeps quiet, and does his central church walk calmly, never thinking of it.  But, if owing, somebody should settle the bill, and the sooner it is liquidated, the more respectable will the affairs of the church become.  Bother without end has prevailed at St. Thomas’s about money, and until people get their own, and see regular annual statements of accounts—­things which seem to be scarce in these times—­they will continue to be uneasy and, probably, noisy.