評(píng)論
打印
the Mail-Coach Passengers
by Hans Christian Andersen（1861）
IT was bitterly cold， the sky glittered with stars， and not a breeze stirred. “Bump”—an old pot was thrown at a neighbor's door； and “bang， bang，” went the guns； for they were GREeting the New Year. It was New Year's Eve， and the church clock was striking twelve. “Tan-ta-ra-ra， tan-ta-ra-ra，” sounded the horn， and the mail-coach came lumbering up. The clumsy vehicle stopped at the gate of the town； all the places had been taken， for there were twelve passengers in the coach.
“Hurrah！ hurrah！” cried the people in the town； for in every house the New Year was being welcomed； and as the clock struck， they stood up， the full glasses in their hands， to drink success to the new comer. “A happy New Year，” was the cry； “a pretty wife， plenty of money， and no sorrow or care.”
the wish passed round， and the glasses clashed together till they rang again； while before the town-gate the mail coach stopped with the twelve strange passengers. And who were these strangers？ Each of them had his passport and his luggage with him； they even brought presents for me， and for you， and for all the people in the town. “Who were they？ what did they want？ and what did they bring with them？”
“Good-morning，” they cried to the sentry at the town-gate.
“Good-morning，” replied the sentry； for the clock had struck twelve. “Your name and profession？” asked the sentry of the one who alighted first from the carriage.
“See for yourself in the passport，” he replied. “I am myself；” and a famous fellow he looked， arrayed in bear-skin and fur boots. “I am the man on whom many persons fix their hopes. Come to me to-morrow， and I'll give you a New Year's present. I throw shillings and pence among the people； I give balls， 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'm 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 theatre， 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， travelling under the name of FEBRUARY.”
the third now got out. He looked a personification of fasting； but he carried his nose very high， for he was related to the “forty （k）nights，” and was a weather prophet. But that is not a very lucrative office， and therefore he praised fasting. In his button-hole he carried a little bunch of violets， but they were very small.
“MARCH， March，” the fourth called after him， slapping him on the shoulder， “don't you smell something？ Make haste into the guard room； they're drinking punch there； that's your favorite drink. I can smell it out here already. Forward， Master March.” But it was not true； the speaker only wanted to remind him of his name， and to make an APRIL fool of him； for with that fun the fourth generally began his career. He looked very jovial， did little work， and had the more holidays. “If the world were only a little more settled，” said he： “but sometimes I'm obliged to be in a good humor， and sometimes a bad one， according to circumstances； now rain， now sunshine. I'm kind of a house agent，1 also a manager of funerals. 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. Here I am. On Sundays I go out walking in shoes and white silk stockings， and a muff.”
