John Seely Hart

“ A shade of sadness rested on the face of the Old Year, for those moments passed in bright array before him. The guardian angel of the Years marked the shadow, and caught the sigh that escaped from his troubled breast.
“Why art thou sorrowful, oh Forty-Nine?” said he.
“Ah,” he replied, “I feel that my glory is over. A young aspirant presents his claims to my throne, and the truth bursts upon me, that they are equitable and right. Alas! alas! must I pass away and be forgotten? must the beauties and glories that I have lavished upon the earth vanish for ever!” ”

“ God help the poor, when December’s snows are upon the earth!
On such a night as this, the Old and New Year met—both struggling for supremacy—each unwilling to accord to the other unlimited sway.
“I have been, and I am yet a monarch,” said the Old Year; “one, too, whose subjects are almost countless. You may not number the tongues which have sung of my exploits; and the length of days which has been mine has given me a knowledge and wisdom, of which thou knowest nothing. What? resign my throne to thee, thou stripling! never!!” ”

“ There shalt thou be a monarch; thy subjects as numerous as they now are, and with its placid moonlight and fade less verdure around thy path, thou shalt live for ever.”
Turning to the New Year, the Angel bade him ascend the throne of nature, giving him sage counsel and advice, as to his future course. A monarch’s feelings stole over him, and with a new lustre in his eyes, and with the bright sunshine of Hope streaming around him, he “went on his way rejoicing.”
A tranquil smile rested on the face of the Old Year, as he slowly tied on his sandals, equipping himself for his journey. ”