"Thank you, neighbors; I wish you a thousand," replied Israel, cheerfully.
"How came you asleep there?" asked Farmer Harrowby. "Why, you might have perished in the drift."
"I was overcome by drowsiness," answered Israel. "I was very cold; I'd been to make a call on Widow Redman, and the poor soul was out of wood. By the way, farmer, the first thing after sunrise, I want you to be sure to gear up your ox team, and take a cord of your best hickory and pitch pine to the widow."
"And who'll pay me?" asked the farmer, doubtfully.
"I will, to be sure," answered Israel. "Have not I got money enough? Here—hold your hand;" and he put a handful of silver in the farmer's honest palm. "And you, Mr. Wilkins," he added, addressing the butcher, "take her the best turkey you've got, and half a pig, with my compliments, and a happy new year to her."
"And how about that execution?" asked the constable, who was round with the rest, 'seeing the old year out and the new year in.'
"Confound the execution! Don't let me hear another word about it," said Israel, magnanimously. "And now, neighbors," he added, "I owe you something for your good wishes; come along with me to the Golden Lion, and I'll give you the best supper the tavern affords. Hurrah! New year don't come but once in a twelvemonth."
We will be bound that a merrier party never left a churchyard, even after a funeral, nor a merrier set ever sat down to a festal board, than that which gathered to greet the hospitality of Israel Wurm. In the course of the evening, an old Scotch gardener gave it as his opinion that the "miser was fey." (When a man suddenly changes his character, as when a spendthrift becomes saving, or a niggard generous, the Scotch say that he is fey, and consider the change a forerunner of sudden death.)
"No, my friends," said Israel, overhearing the remark, "I am not fey; and I mean to live a long while, Heaven willing, for I have just learned that the true secret of enjoying life is to do good to others. I had a dream to-night which has, I trust, made me a wiser and better man. The miser lies buried in yonder churchyard; Israel Wurm, a new man, has risen in his place; and as far as my means go, I intend that this shall be a happy new year to every one of my acquaintances."
Israel was as good as his word, and never relapsed into his old habits. The widow and the orphan children were provided for by his bounty; he gave liberally to every object of charity. Hospitals, schools, and colleges were the recipients of his bounty; and when he died, in the fulness of years, the blessings of old and young followed him to his last resting-place in the old churchyard where he had dreamed the mysterious dream, and been awakened to a better life by the pealing of the New Year's Bells.