362 CHRISTMAS TIME. 



* 



DEC. 27. St. John the Evangelist. 

 St. Theodoret Grapt, confessor, 822. 

 , Vigil of Childermas. 



Obs. St. John the Evangelist, who is styled in the Gospel the beloved dl?- 

 ciple of Jesus Christ, was a Galilean, son of Zebedee and Salome, and brother 

 to St. James the Great. The phrenologists pretend that the portraits and 

 heads of St. John the Evangelist indicate more humility and benevolence than 

 thai of any of the other Apostles. 



This day is tlie Jewish Festival of Lighting the Lamps, or the Dedication of 

 the Second Temple by the .Maccabees, after its profanation by Antiochus 

 Epiphanes, and when the holy vessels were again set apart for its service. 

 During this festival the Jews return thanks for the victories obtained by their 

 ancestors over the Greeks that invaded the Holy Land. 



Christmas sports still continue, and in this joyous season many great festi- 

 vals and commemorations come near together. 



Flame Heath Erica flammea fl. 



The weather is now fast approaching when clear frosty nights exhibit the 

 pole of heaven in all iis brilliancy of innumerable stars, reminding us of 

 Moore's lines, which allude to their diversity of colour, a circumstance not 

 often noticed by poets: 



Twas when the world was in its prime. 



When the fresh stars had jusi begun 

 Their race of olory, and young Time 



Told his first birthdays by the Sun : 



Oh what a vision were the stars 



When first I saw them burn on high, 

 Kolling along, like living cars 



Of light, for gods to journey by ! 



They were my heart's first passion ; — days 

 And nights, unwearied, in their rays 

 Have 1 hung floating, till each sense 

 Seemed full of their bright influence. 



Often— so much 1 loved to trace 

 The secrets of this starry race- 

 Have I at morn and evening run 

 Along the lines of radiance spun, 

 Like webs between them and the Sun, 

 Untwisting all the tangling ties 

 Of light into their different dyes ; 

 Then fleetly winged I oft", in quest 

 Of those, the farthest, loneliest, 

 That watch, like winking sentinels, 

 The void, beyond which chaos dwells, 

 And there, with noiseless plume, pursued 

 Their track through that grand solitude, 

 Asking intently, all and each. 



What soul wiiliin their radiance dwell, 

 And wishing their sweet lights were speech, 



That they might tell me all they felt. 

 Nay oft, so passionate my chase 

 Of these resplendent heirs of space, 

 Oft did I follow — lest a ray 



Should 'scape me in theYarthest night- 

 Some pilgrim Comet, on his way 



To visit distant climes of light ; 

 And well remember how 1 sung 



Exulting out, when on my sight 

 New worlds of stars 311 fresh and young. 

 As if, just born of darkness, sprung. 



Loves of the Angels. 



