Part 24 (1/2)

”Dear Mother, we have been in the tower to thank the great bell for bringing the New Year,” cried Hans.

”Did the Christ-child send it, Mother?” asked little Carl.

The mother stooped and put her arms about them and kissed them both.

As she led them into the room she said, ”Yes, my little ones, the Christ-child sends the New Year.”

THE NEW YEAR

Snow-wrapped and holly-decked it comes, To richest and to poorest homes.

Twelve jeweled months all set with days Of priceless opportunities.

A silver moon, a golden sun, With diamond stars when day is done; Over all a sapphire sky Where pearly clouds go floating by.

(_Selected._)

THE CHILD AND THE YEAR

Said the child to the youthful year: ”What hast thou in store for me, O giver of beautiful gifts! what cheer, What joy dost thou bring with thee?”

”My seasons four shall bring Their treasures: the winter's snows, The autumn's store, and the flowers of spring, And the summer's perfect rose.

”All these and more shall be thine, Dear child--but the last and best Thyself must earn by a strife divine, If thou wouldst be truly blest.”

Celia Thaxter.

A MASQUE OF THE DAYS

Charles Lamb

The Old Year being dead, and the New Year coming of age, which he does, by calendar law as soon as the breath is out of the old gentleman's body, nothing would serve the young spark, but he must give a dinner upon the occasion, to which all the Days in the year were invited. The Festivals, whom he deputed as his stewards, were mightily taken with the notion. They had been engaged time out of mind, they said, in providing mirth and good cheer for mortals below, and it was time they should have a taste of their own bounty.

It was stiffly debated among them whether the Fasts should be admitted. Some said the appearance of such lean, starved guests, with their mortified faces, would pervert the ends of the meeting. But the objection was overruled by Christmas Day, who had a design upon Ash Wednesday (as you shall hear), and a mighty desire to see how the old Domine would behave himself in his cups. Only the Vigils were requested to come with their lanterns to light the gentlefolk home at night.

All the Days came. Covers were provided for three hundred and sixty-five guests at the princ.i.p.al table; with an occasional knife and fork at the sideboard for the Twenty-ninth of February.

Cards of invitation had been issued. The carriers were the Hours; twelve little, merry, whirligig foot-pages that went all round and found out the person invited, with the exception of Easter Day, Shrove Tuesday, and a few such movables, who had lately s.h.i.+fted their quarters.

Well, they all met at last, foul Days, fine Days, all sorts of Days, and a rare din they made of it. There was nothing but ”Hail, fellow Day! well met!” only Lady Day seemed a little scornful. Yet some said Twelfth Day cut her out, for she came all royal and glittering and Epiphanous. The rest came in green, some in white, but old Lent and his family were not yet out of mourning. Rainy Days came in dripping, and Suns.h.i.+ny Days laughing. Wedding Day was there in marriage finery.