File:Old Christmas (1916) (14596672887).jpg

Identifier: oldchristmas00irviuoft (find matches)
Title: Old Christmas
Year: 1916 (1910s)
Authors: Irving, Washington, 1783-1859
Subjects: Christmas stories
Publisher: New York : G.P. Putnam
Contributing Library: Scott - York University Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Ontario Council of University Libraries and Member Libraries

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26 £be Stage Coacb of a pony, with a shaggy mane and long, rustytail, who stood dozing quietly by the roadside,little dreaming of the bustling times that awaitedhim. I was pleased to see the fondness with whichthe little fellows leaped about the steady oldfootman, and hugged the pointer; who wriggledhis whole body for joy. But Bantam was thegreat object of interest; all wanted to mount atonce, and it was with some difficulty that Johnarranged that they should ride by turns, andthe eldest should ride first. Off they set at last; one on the pony, with thedog bounding and barking before him, and theothers holding Johns hands; both talking atonce, and overpowering him with questionsabout home, and with school anecdotes. Ilooked after them with a feeling in which I donot know whether pleasure or melancholy pre-dominated; for I was reminded of those dayswhen, like them, I had neither known care norsorrow, and a holiday was the summit of earthlyfelicity. We stopped a few moments afterwards
Text Appearing After Image:
Gbe Stage Coacb 27 to water the horses, and on resuming our route, aturn of the road brought us in sight of a neatcountry seat. I could just distinguish the formsof a lady and two young girls in the portico, andI saw my little comrades, with Bantam, Carlo,and old John, trooping along the carriage road.I leaned out of the coach window, in hopes ofwitnessing the happy meeting, but a grove oftrees shut it from my sight. In the evening we reached a village where Ihad determined to pass the night. As we droveinto the great gateway of the inn, I saw on oneside the light of a rousing kitchen fire beamingthrough a window. I entered, and admired, forthe hundredth time, that picture of convenience,neatness, and broad honest enjoyment, thekitchen of an English inn. It was of spaciousdimensions, hung round with copper and tinvessels highly polished, and decorated hereand there with a Christmas green. Hams,tongues, and flitches of bacon, were suspendedfrom the ceiling; a smoke-jack made its cease-

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