e reredos, brought from Constantinople in early
times--the magnificent "Pala d'Ora," an enamelled work wrought on
plates of gold and silver, and studded with precious stones--is
unveiled, and the front of the altar has a rich frontispiece of the
thirteenth century, which is of silver washed with gold, and embossed
figures. Numbers of ponderous candles throw a glimmer over the
treasures with which St. Mark's is so richly endowed, that are
profusely displayed on the altar. Bishops, canons and priests in full
dress are standing and kneeling, and the handsome and much-beloved
Patriarch of Venice officiates, in dress of gorgeous scarlet and
cream-coloured old lace, and heavy-brocaded cope, that is afterwards
exchanged for one of ermine, and flashing rings and jewelled cross.
There is no music, but a deep quiet pervades the dim golden domes
overhead and the faintly-lighted transepts. Stray rays of light catch
the smooth surface of the mosaics, which throw off sparkles of
brightness and cast deeper shadows beyond the uncertain radiance.
After the midnight mass is celebrated you pass out with the stream of
people into the cold, frosty night, with only the bright stars to
guide you through the silent alleys to your rooms, where you wish each
other "A Merry Christmas!" and retire to sleep, and to dream of the
old home in England.--_Queen_.

[Illustration: SASSOFERRATO (GIOVANNI BATTISTA SALVI) 1605-85
museum naples]

CHRISTMAS IN NAPLES.

An English writer who spent a Christmas in Naples a few
years ago, says:--

"In the south Christmas is bright and gay, and in truth noisy. The
_festa natalizie_, as it is called in Naples, is celebrated by fairs
and bonfires and fireworks. In the Toledo, that famous street known
to all the world, booths are erected beside the shops, flaming in
colour, and filled with all sorts of tempting wares. Throughout
Christmas Eve an immense crowd of men, women, and children throng this
street, nearly a mile in length. The vendors shriek at the top of
their voice, praising themselves and their goods, and then, with merry
peals of laughter, exhibit with Neapolitan drollery all the arts of
their trade. The crowd catch the contagious spirit of fun, and toss
witticisms to and fro, until the welkin rings with shouts and
laughter. A revolution in Paris could not create greater excitement,
or greater noise, than the Christmas fair at Naples, the largest, and
certainly the merriest, in the world. As night