thewaythenightbeforeChristmas, whenallthroughthehouse, not a creaturewasstirring, noteven a mousethemestockingswerehungbythechimneywithcareinhopesthatSaintNicholassoonwouldbethere.
And I, inmycaphadjustsettledtheirbrainsfor a longwinter's nap.
Whenoutonthelawntherearosesuch a clatter, I sprangfromthebedtoseewhatwasthematterawaytothewindow.
I flewlike a flash, toreopentheshuttersandthrewupthesash.
Themoononthebreastofthenewfallensnowgavethelusterofmiddaytoobjectsbelowwhen, what, tomywonderingeyesdidappear, but a miniaturesleighandeighttinyreindeerwithlittleolddriversolivelyandquick, I knewin a momentitmustbeSTNickmorerapidthaneagles.
Andthen, in a twinkling, I heardontheroof, theprancingandpawingofeachlittlehoof.
As I drewinmyheadandwasturningarounddownthechimney, STNicholascamewith a bound.
Hewasdressedallinfurfromhisheadtohisfoot, andhisclotheswerealltarnishedwithashesandsoot, a bundleoftoyshehadflungonhisback, andhelookedlike a peddler, justopeninghispack.
Hiseyes, howtheytwinkled, hisdimples, howmerryhischeekswerelikeroses, hisnoselike a cherry.
Hisdrolllittlemouthwasdrawnuplike a bow, andthebeardofhischinwasaswhiteasthesnowstumpof a pipeheheldtightinhisteethandthesmoke.
Itencircledhisheadlike a wreath.
Hehad a broadfaceand a littleroundbellythatshookwhenhelaughedlike a bowlfullofjelly.
Hewaschubbyandplump, a rightjollyoldelf.
And I laughedwhen I sawhiminspiteofmyself.
Ah, a winkofhiseyeand a twistofhisheadsoongavemetoknow I hadnothingtodread.
Hespokenot a wordandwentstraighttohiswork, filledallthestockings, thenturnedwith a jerkandlayinghisfingerasideofhisnoseandgiving a nodupthechimney.
Herose.
Hesprangtohissleightohisteam, gave a whistleandawaytheyallflewNowof a FISA.
I heardhimexclaimherehedroveoutofsight, Christmastoall.
thewaythenightbeforeChristmas, whenallthroughthehouse, not a creaturewasstirring, noteven a mousethemestockingswerehungbythechimneywithcareinhopesthatSaintNicholassoonwouldbethere.
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