twelve o’clock
Last night , between eleven and twelve o'clock , when the Old Year was leaving her final foot prints on the borders of Time 's empire , she found herself in possession of a few spare moments , and sat down -- of all places in the world -- on the steps of our new City Hall . The wintry moonlight showed that she looked weary of body , and sad of heart , like many another wayfarer of earth . Her garments , having been exposed to much foul weather , and rough usage , were in very ill condition ; and as the hurry of her journey had never before allowed her to take an instant 's rest , her shoes were so worn as to be scarcely worth the mending . But , after trudging only a little distance farther , this poor Old Year was destined to enjoy a long , long sleep .