And we hope, when life is over,
We shall meet our Gabrielle.
THE VEILED MIRROR.
The old year was fast drawing to a close. But a few hours, and the advent of its successor would be hailed by merry shouts and joyful gratulations, mingling with the merry chime of bells ringing out a noisy welcome from church-towers and steeples.
Adam Hathaway, a wealthy merchant, sat in his counting-room, striking a balance between his gains and losses for the year which had nearly passed. From the smile that lighted up his countenance, as he drew near the end of his task, it might safely be inferred that the result proved satisfactory.
He at length threw down his pen, after footing up the last column, and exclaimed joyfully,—
“Five thousand dollars net gain in one year! That will do very well,—very well indeed. If I am as well prospered in the year to come, it will indeed be a ‘happy New Year.’”
His meditations were interrupted by a knock at the door. He opened it, and saw standing before him a man of ordinary appearance, bearing under his arm something, the nature of which he could not conjecture, wrapped up in brown paper.