New Year's
present. I throw shillings and pence among the people. I give balls
every night, no less than thirty-one; indeed, that is the highest number
I can spare for balls. My ships are often frozen in, but in my offices
it is warm and comfortable. MY NAME IS JANUARY. I am a merchant, and I
generally bring my accounts with me."

Then the second alighted. He seemed a merry fellow. He was a director of
a theater, a manager of masked balls, and a leader of all the amusements
we can imagine. His luggage consisted of a great cask.

"We'll dance the bung out of the cask at carnival-time," said he. "I'll
prepare a merry tune for you and for myself, too. Unfortunately I have
not long to live,--the shortest time, in fact, of my whole family,--only
twenty-eight days. Sometimes they pop me in a day extra; but I trouble
myself very little about that. Hurrah!"

"You must not shout so," said the sentry.

"Certainly I may shout," retorted the man.

"I'm Prince Carnival, traveling under THE NAME OF FEBRUARY."

The third now got out. He looked the personification of fasting; but
he carried his nose very high, for he was a weather prophet. In his
buttonhole he wore a little bunch of violets, but they were very small.

"MARCH, MARCH!" the fourth passenger called after him, slapping him
on the shoulder, "don't you smell something good? Make haste into the
guard-room, they are feasting in there. I can smell it already! FORWARD,
MASTER MARCH!"

But it was not true. The speaker only wanted to make an APRIL FOOL of
him, for with that fun the fourth stranger generally began his career.
He looked very jovial, and did little work.

"If the world were only more settled!" said he; "but sometimes I'm
obliged to be in a good humor, and sometimes a bad one. I can laugh or
cry according to circumstances. I have my summer wardrobe in this box
here, but it would be very foolish to put it on now!"

After him a lady stepped out of the coach. SHE CALLED HERSELF MISS MAY.
She wore a summer dress and overshoes. Her dress was light green, and
there were anemones in her hair. She was so scented with wild thyme that
it made the sentry sneeze.

"Your health, and God bless you!" was her greeting.

How pretty she was! and such a singer! Not a theater singer nor a
ballad-singer; no, but a singer of the woods. For she wandered through
the gay, green forest, and had a concert there for her own amusement.

"Now comes the young lady," said those in the