ed the different numbers.

"Superbe! lovely!" resounded from all sides; and the happy children
shouted for joy. People arranged themselves in a half-circle, one row
behind the other. One of the cousins of the family now stepped forth,
a young poet, who, if we mistake not, has since then appeared among the
Anonymouses in "The New Year's Gift of Danish Poets." He was appareled
this evening as one of the Magi, and recited a little poem which
declared that, as each one had himself drawn out of the urn of Fate,
no one could be angry, let him have procured for himself honor or
derision--Fate, and not Merit, being here the ruler. Two little boys,
with huge butterfly wings and in flowing garments, bore the presents to
the guests. A number, which had been purposely given to one of the elder
ladies, was now called out, and the boys brought forward a large, heavy,
brown earthen jug. To the same hung a direction the length of two sheets
of paper, upon which was written, "A remedy against frost." The jug was
opened, and a very nice boa taken out and presented to the lady.

"What number have you?" inquired Otto of Wilhelm's sister, who, freed
from her long veil, now entered the room and took her place near him.

"Number 34," she answered. "I was to keep the number which remained over
when the others had drawn."

"We are, then, neighbors in the chain of Fate," returned Otto; "I have
number 33."

"Then one of us will receive something very bad!" said Sophie. "For, as
much as I know, only every other number is good." At this moment their
numbers were called out. The accompanying poem declared that only a
poetical, noble mind deserved this gift. It consisted of an illuminated
French print, the subject a simple but touching idea. You saw a frozen
lake, nothing but one expanse of ice as far as the horizon. The ice was
broken, and near to the opening lay a hat with a red lining, and beside
it sat a dog with grave eyes, still and expectant. Around the broken
opening in the ice were seen traces of the dog having scratched into the
hard crust of ice. "Il attend toujours" was the simple motto.

"That is glorious!" exclaimed Otto. "An affecting thought! His master
has sunk in the depth, and the faithful log yet awaits him. Had that
picture only fallen to my lot!"

"It is lovely!" said Sophie, and a melancholy glance made the young girl
still more beautiful.

Soon after Wilhelm's turn came.

"Open the packet, thou shalt see