ST. THOMAs' TIDE. 353 



DEC. 1 8. St. Gati an, 1 si bp. of Tours, 3d cent. 

 SS. Rufus and Zozimus, martyrs, 116. 

 St. Winebald, abbot and confessor, 760. 



Obs. St. Gatian was first Bishop of Tours, who came with St. 

 Denys of Paris from Rome in the third century. 



The expectation or accouchement of the Blessed Virgin Mary is 

 celebrated in a little Office printed in the Supplement to the Paris 

 Breviary. It is not celebrated now in England. 



SS. Rufus and Zozimus had the happiness to share in the chains 

 and suflTerings of St. Ignatius of Antioch in 1 16. St. Polycarp says 

 of them they have not suffered in vain but in faith ; they are gone 

 to that place that was due to them from the Lord ; for they loved 

 not the present world, but Him who died and was raised again for 

 us. It may be remarked here, as a distinguishing trait in Catholi- 

 city, that the primitive martyrs rejoiced exceedingly in being called 

 to suffer for their holy cause, and hastened usually with joy to re- 

 ceive the crown of eternal joy promised to the faithful. 



New Holland Cypress Cupressus Australis fr. 



In mild weather many plants remain in flower, which either blow 

 all the year, as Stocks, Wallflowers, Grouudsell, Daisies, and Dead 

 Nettle, or which belong to other seasons, and remain in flower, 

 as the Muskflower, the Leopardsbane, the Marigold, the Chrysan- 

 themum, and others. But though we enjoy flowers in winter, from 

 their coming at a dreary season, yet they want the luxuriance and 

 fulness which distinguishes them in spring ; and a bright flower or 

 two here and there have perhaps rather a melancholy appearance 

 when surrounded by the dead or dying haulme of other plants. 



The following lines were found among the editor's papers, dated 

 Dec. 18, we therefore insert them : 



Epitaph on the Tomb of a departed Relation, 

 Where she was born, or where she died, 



This tablet to the world may tell ; 

 Memory such trivial dates derides, 



Nor treasures in her hallovped cell. 



How well she fiU'd Life's little space. 



How lively all her virtues were. 

 The filial heart alone can trace, 



And warm affection can declare. 



There grav'd in characters too deep 

 For Time's rude wastmg hand to move, 



Fond Memory delights to weep 

 O'er fading records trac'd by love. 



Hh2 



