_THE LITTLE GRAY PONY_

MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER

_The humblest workman has his place,
Which no one else can fill_.

There was once a man who owned a little gray pony.

Every morning when the dewdrops were still hanging on the pink clover in
the meadows, and the birds were singing their morning song, the man
would jump on his pony and ride away, clippety, clippety, clap!

The pony's four small hoofs played the jolliest tune on the smooth pike
road, the pony's head was always high in the air, and the pony's two
little ears were always pricked up; for he was a merry gray pony, and
loved to go clippety, clippety, clap!

The man rode to town and to country, to church and to market, up hill
and down hill; and one day he heard something fall with a clang on a
stone in the road. Looking back, he saw a horseshoe lying there. And
when he saw it, he cried out:--

"_What shall I do? What shall I do?
If my little gray pony has lost a shoe_?"