Dear George—I wish you were with me now on my farm. We are having nice times. There is a little colt here that follows me all about. He does this because I give him apples. But I think he is more fond of the apples than of me.
One day I had nothing to give him; and this made him feel very cross. He put back his ears, and kicked up his heels, and scared the chickens almost to death.
There are ten little chickens. One of them was sick; but it has got better. One of them was running along the other day, and caught his foot in a string; the string caught on a bush, and held him fast; and there he was standing on one leg and struggling until I pulled the string off.
William and Jane are going down to Mr. Walker's to get a basket of apples. Come and see me, and I will give you some; and you shall make friends with the colt.

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