The poetry and prose you have been reading, children, thus far was most of it selected, when I was invited to a beautiful celebration, with some account of which you will be glad, I am sure, to have me close my collection. It was on
CHRISTMAS EVENING AT THE PITTS-STREET CHAPEL,
A very neat chapel, where Rev. Mr. Winkley, one of the Ministers at Large, preaches. On this occasion a platform was built up in front of the pulpit: most of the centre pews were filled with happy-looking boys and girls, and the rest of the room, even to the aisles, quite crowded with grown-up men and women. After the singing of two hymns by the children, and a prayer, a gentleman made a short address, telling how much better was the religion of the Jews than the religion of the Heathen. Then was spoken in a very pleasant way the following
DIALOGUE—PART I.
RACHEL, a Jewess.—REBECCA, Sister of Rachel.—EUDORA, a Heathen.—JEZEBEL, a Messenger.—RUTH, friend of Rachel and Rebecca.
Eudora. Rachel!
Rachel. Eudora! welcome, thrice welcome, to Jerusalem.
Eudora. Right glad am I, Rachel, to be once more by your side. The sun has not shone so brightly, nor the birds sung so sweetly, since you bade me farewell at my father's; and every moment has increased my desire to be with you again.
Rachel. You have well done that you have come to me. And though I was not conscious of robbing your lovely home of its brightness, yet sure I am the remembrance of your true kindness and tender friendship has been to me ever since an increase of sunshine and song; and, now that you have come to me, the very temple itself shall look more beautiful, and the songs of David catch a new inspiration.
Eudora. Still faithful, I see, to your temple and Jehovah; and so may it ever be! But I trust you have more respect for the gods I worship, and will not, as of yore, pronounce them false.