“I have a fine lot of hopes here in my basket，” remarkedthe New Year. “They are a sweet-smelling flower—a speciesof rose.”
“They soon lose their perfume，” replied the sombre OldYear. “What else have you brought to insure a welcomefrom the discontented race of mortals？”
“Why， to say the truth， little or nothing else，” said hersister， with a smile， “save a few new Annuals and almanacs，and some New Year’s gifts for the children. But I heartilywish well to poor mortals， and mean to do all I can fortheir improvement and happiness.”
“It is a good resolution，” rejoined the Old Year. “And， bythe way， I have a plentiful assortment of good resolutionswhich have now grown so stale and musty that I amashamed to carry them any farther. Only for fear that thecity authorities would send Constable Mansfield with awarrant after me， I should toss them into the street atonce. Many other matters go to make up the contents ofmy bandbox， but the whole lot would not fetch a singlebid even at an auction of worn-out furniture； and as theyare worth nothing either to you or anybody else， I neednot trouble you with a longer catalogue.”
“And must I also pick up such worthless luggage in mytravels？” asked the New Year.
“Most certainly， and well if you have no heavier load tobear，” replied the other. “And now， my dear sister， I mustbid you farewell， earnestly advising and exhorting youto expect no gratitude nor good-will from this peevish，unreasonable， inconsiderate， ill-intending and worsebehavingworld. However warmly its inhabitants may
seem to welcome you， yet， do what you may and lavish onthem what means of happiness you please， they will stillbe complaining， still craving what it is not in your powerto give， still looking forward to some other year for theaccomplishment of projects which ought never to havebeen formed， and which， if successful， would only providenew occasions of discontent. If these ridiculous peopleever see anything tolerable in you， it will be after you aregone for ever.”
“But I，” cried the fresh-hearted New Year— “I shalltry to leave men wiser than I find them. I will offer themfreely whatever good gifts Providence permits me todistribute， and will tell them to be thankful for what theyhave and humbly hopeful for more； and surely， if they arenot absolute fools， they will condescend to be happy， andwill allow me to be a happy year. For my happiness mustdepend on them.”
“Alas for you， then， my poor sister！” said the Old Year，sighing， as she uplifted her burden. “We grandchildrenof Time are born to trouble. Happiness， they say， dwellsin the mansions of eternity， but we can only lead mortalsthither step by step with reluctant murmurings， andourselves must perish on the threshold. But hark！ my taskis done.”
The clock in the tall steeple of Dr. Emerson’s churchstruck twelve； there was a response from Dr. Flint’s， in theopposite quarter of the city； and while the strokes wereyet dropping into the air the Old Year either flitted orfaded away， and not the wisdom and might of angels， to saynothing of the remorseful yearnings of the millions whohad used her ill， could have prevailed with that departedyear to return one step. But she， in the company of Timeand all her kindred， must hereafter hold a reckoning withmankind. So shall it be， likewise， with the maidenly NewYear， who， as the clock ceased to strike， arose from thesteps of the city-hall and set out rather timorously on herearthly course.
“A happy New Year！” cried a watchman， eying her figurevery questionably， but without the least suspicion that hewas addressing the New Year in person.
“Thank you kindly，” said the New Year； and she gave thewatchman one of the roses of hope from her basket. “Maythis flower keep a sweet smell long after I have bidden yougood-bye！”
Then she stepped on more briskly through the silentstreets， and such as were awake at the moment heard herfootfall and said， “The New Year is come！” Wherever therewas a knot of midnight roisterers， they quaffed her health.
She sighed， however， to perceive that the air was tainted—as the atmosphere of this world must continually be—withthe dying breaths of mortals who had lingered just longenough for her to bury them. But there were millionsleft alive to rejoice at her coming， and so she pursued herway with confidence， strewing emblematic flowers on thedoorstep of almost every dwelling， which some personswill gather up and wear in their bosoms， and others willtrample under foot. The carrier-boy can only say furtherthat early this morning she filled his basket with NewYeat’s addresses， assuring him that the whole city， with ournew mayor and the aldermen and common council at itshead， would make a general rush to secure copies. Kindpatrons， will not you redeem the pledge of the New Year？