There was something at once touching and ridiculous in this curious scene: ridiculous when one considered the rude and inadequate symbolism employed, and on the other hand impressive, when one reflected that for fifteen centuries the Christmas morn had yearly been celebrated within these walls, and the riches of the Church, the genius of great composers, the intellect of a powerful priesthood, all combined to pay honour to the birthday of the little Jewish child, who had been born in the rude rock stable one wintry night, in a small village of a remote and despised province of the empire of Rome. Two more hours of singing and music followed, and the great procession to the grotto was then formed. Long wax torches were given to the Consul and his secretary, and candles to the rest of the congregation. A second wax image, in a little wicker cradle, was placed on the altar beneath the former, and borne thence by the Patriarch, who came last. As he passed me, I saw that the figure was surrounded with long strips of paper, like swaddling-clothes loosed from its limbs, one of its hands being raised in benediction. Very striking was the scene in passing through the Greek chancel. The dark building was lighted only by the torches and tapers, which made the silver lamps above shine out against the dusky background. A dense crowd was kept in its ranks by two lines of Turkish soldiers with loaded Snider rifles. The variety of costumes and faces was wonderful, while the dark columns and grim figures in the glass mosaics, the forest of rafters in the ancient roof, and the rich screen before the apse, formed a dim and effective background, to the glittering line of priests and acolytes in cloth of silver and gold. The thought could not but suggest itself, how different was the scene thus enacted, amidst the awe-stricken veneration of the multitude, with all the pomp and magnificence which could be lavished on it by a rich and long-established Church, from that first Christmas scene in the dark damp stable beneath, the events of which day were now symbolised by the dressing and undressing of a small wax doll. The grotto was filled with priests, and blazed with crimson silk, silver and gold, lit up by rows of silver lamps above. The Gospel for the day was read in Latin, and at the words “Et peperit filium suum primogenitum,” the image was laid by the Patriarch on the marble slab, supposed to mark the spot where Christ was born. “And wrapped Him in swaddling clothes.” The paper bands were wound round the limbs of the image. “And laid Him in a manger.” The priest descended to the recess with little rock columns, and laid the cradle on one of the two altars within. The Gospel was continued from the words “And there were shepherds abiding in the fields,” until the Gloria in Excelsis had again been sung, and the Patriarch, after censing the image where it lay, returned with equal state to the Latin chapel, where the mass was resumed.