DIFFERENCE AND AGREEMENT. aor

wide dours of a large handsome church. There, a
smaller number, almost equally gay in dress, were en-
tering an elegant meeting-house. Up one alley, a
Roman Catholic congregaticn was turning into their
retired chapel, every one crossing himself with a finger
dipped in holy water as he went in. The opposite
side of the street was covered with a train of Quakers,
distinguished by their plain and neat attire and sedate
aspect, who walked without ceremony into a room as
plain as themselves, and took their seats, the men on
one side and the women on the other, in silence. A
spacious building was filled with an overflowing crowd
of Methodists, most of them meanly habited, but
decent and serious in demeanour; while a small
society of Baptists in the neighbourhood quietly occu-
pied their humble place of assembly.

Presently the different services began. The church
resounded with the solemn organ, and with the indis-
tinct murmurs of a large body of people following the
minister in responsive prayers. from the mectine
were heard the slow psalm, and the single voice of
the leader of their devotions. The Roman Catholic
chapel was enlivened by strains of music, the tinkling
of a small bell, and a perpetual change of service and
ceremoual. A profound silence and unvarying look
and posture announced the self-recollection and men-
tal devotion of the Quakers. |

Mr. Ambrose led his son Edwin round all these dif-
ferent assemblies as a spectator. Edwin viewed every-
thing with great attention, and was often impatient
to inquire of his father the meaning of what he saw ;
but Mr. Ambrose would not suffer him to disturb any
of the congregations even by a whisper. When they
had gone through the whole, Edwin found a great
number of questions to put to his father, who ex-
plained everything to him in the best manner he could.
At length says Edwin,

“ But why cannot all these people agree to go to the
same place, and worship God the same way P”