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TWELVE BY THE MAIL
THE weather was sharp and frosty, the sky glittered with sparkling stars, and not a breath of wind stirred the air. "Bump!" there went a pot against the door.[1] "Bang!" went a gun in honor of the new year. It was New Year's Eve, and the clock was now striking twelve.
"Taratantarra!" There comes the mail. The big mail-coach halted at the town gate. There were in all twelve passengers. The coach could not hold more. All the places had been taken.
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"Hurrah! Hurrah!" they shouted in all the houses where the people were keeping New Year's Eve, and had just stood up with filled glasses to drink success to the new year.
"Health and happiness in the new year!" they shouted. "A pretty wife, plenty of money, and no worries!"
And thus they drank success to one another, and clinked their glasses, while the mail-coach stood at the town gate with the stranger guests, the twelve travelers.
Who were they? They had passports and luggage with them, even presents for you and me and all the people in the town. Who were the strangers? What did they want, and what did they bring with them?
"Good morning," they said to the sentry at the gate.
"Good morning," said he, for the clock had just struck twelve.
"Your name? Your profession?" the sentry asked the first who stepped out of the coach.
- ↑ It is an old Danish custom to bang an earthen pot against the doors on New Year's Eve.
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