When the old gentleman stooped over the light to put a new supply in the stocking, an unusual number exploded, and the little pony giving a start up the chimney, disappeared.
Charles awoke; it was just
daylight. He sprung out of bed, roused all the family with his “Merry Christmas,” ran to the stable, and what should he
see, but Uncle Ben’s little pony, with a halter on his neck, on which was tied a piece of paper, written, “A merry Christmas, with the pony Lightfoot, for my nephew Charles!”
THE LITTLE COLT.
SPOKEN BY A LITTLE BOY.
Pray how shall I, a little lad,
In speaking make a figure;