Editor's note: The following appeared in the January 1843 issue of
Robert Merry's Museum (published 1841-1872). One of the premiere U.S.
children's magazines of its day, the Museum published the work of the
most important authors for children.
Well, here we are again at the opening of a new year! It might
seem that New Year's Day had come so often as to have lost its
interest; that by repetition it would become stale; that the words,
"I wish you a happy new year!" would cease to excite the slightest
regard. But it is not so.
New Year's Day seems always to take us by a kind of pleasant
surprise, and never fails to be welcomed by old and young, boys and
girls. It has been said by some old writers that such anniversaries
as this of New Year's Day, are, in the journey of life, like
milestones along the road, marking the distance we have traveled and
informing us of the position we occupy in respect to the beginning
and end of our existence.
If, indeed, we were to use them as such; if, on New Year's Day, we
were accustomed to look over our past lives, to compare what we have
done with what is required of us; to see when we have performed, and
when failed in, our duty; to mourn over past errors and neglect, and
adopt new resolutions of improvement for the future -- then, indeed,
would New Year's Day be an instructive milestone on our journey, a
point of reckoning of the greatest benefit; and then it would not
pass by as a mere thoughtless holiday of pleasant speeches and
profitless amusements.
And why, blue eyes and black eyes! Tell me why we should not thus
use our New Year's Day -- or at least a little piece of it? I will
not ask you to give the whole day to a moral lecture. No! You may
partake freely of the frolics and festivities of the day; you may
greet all your friends and companions with that pleasant salutation
-- "A happy new year!" It is a cheerful sound, especially when
uttered from child to child; from the child to the parent; from
friend to friend. And you may engage in the frolics of the season.
But, after your sports are done, just sit down in the chimney
corner with me. Don't be afraid, for I am not about to scold you; or
if I do scold a little, remember that I shall do it in all kindness;
remember that I am like old Baldwin's dog, who had lost his teeth --
my bark is worse than my bite. So, here we are! I am about to tell
you a story of New Year's Day.
THE TWO TRAVELERS.
Once upon a time, two young men, who were friends, set out to
