What proportion of the people who wish each other merry Christmas, do you
suppose think of the reason that the day is a holiday? Not one in a
thousand. Do the young fellows who put on a clean shirt and go down town
and play pool all day, and drink yellow stuff out of a shaving cup, and
get chalk on their fingers, and eat liver sausage, think that Christ died
to save them? No! All they think of is the prospect of sticking some other
fellow for the game. Do the hundreds of thousands of people who get up a
big feed, and gormandize, think of Christ, or the poor all about them who
have little to eat to-day, and little prospect of more to eat to-morrow?
Many of them do not think of the poor, or of anything else except to
prospect upon how much they will hold and not get sick.