next the cardinals in scarlet; and last, aloft
beneath a canopy, upon the shoulders of men, and flanked by the
mystic fans, advanced the Pope himself, swaying to and fro like a
Lama, or an Aztec king. Still the trumpets blew most silverly, and
still the people knelt; and as he came, we knelt and had his
blessing. Then he took his state and received homage. After this the
choir began to sing a mass of Palestrina's, and the deacons robed
the Pope. Marvellous putting on and taking off of robes and tiaras
and mitres ensued, during which there was much bowing and praying
and burning of incense. At last, when he had reached the highest
stage of sacrificial sanctity, he proceeded to the altar, waited on
by cardinals and bishops. Having censed it carefully, he took a
higher throne and divested himself of part of his robes. Then the
mass went on in earnest, till the moment of consecration, when it
paused, the Pope descended from his throne, passed down the choir,
and reached the altar. Every one knelt; the shrill bell tinkled; the
silver trumpets blew; the air became sick and heavy with incense, so
that sun and candle light swooned in an atmosphere of odorous
cloud-wreaths. The whole church trembled, hearing the strange subtle
music vibrate in the dome, and seeing the Pope with his own hands
lift Christ's body from the altar and present it to the people. An
old parish priest, pilgrim from some valley of the Apennines, who
knelt beside me, cried and quivered with excess of adoration. The
great tombs around, the sculptured saints and angels, the dome, the
volumes of light and incense and unfamiliar melody, the hierarchy
ministrant, the white and central figure of the Pope, the
multitude--made up an overpowering scene. What followed was
comparatively tedious. My mind again went back to England, and I
thought of Christmas services beginning in all village churches and
all cathedrals throughout the land--their old familiar hymn, their
anthem of Handel, their trite and sleepy sermons. How different the
two feasts are--Christmas in Rome, Christmas in England--Italy and
the North--the spirit of Latin and the spirit of Teutonic
Christianity.

What, then, constitutes the essence of our Christmas as different
from that of more Southern nations? In their origin they are the
same. The stable of Bethlehem, the star-led kings, the shepherds,
and the angels--all the beautiful story, in fact, which S. Luke
alone of the Evangelists has preserve