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