Chapter III: The Pigs

When dinner-time came, it happened that there were brought to table some custards and gooseberry tarts, of which Charles was tempted to eat very greedily. He had already been twice helped, and the servant was going to carry away the remainder of a tart that had been left in the dish, when Charles, not satisfied whilst any remained, stopped him, and once more filled his plate with it.

The footman stared; and his grandpapa and grandmamma looked at him with surprise, but said nothing.

In the evening Mr. Mansfield led his grandsons into the yard, just at the time his man was giving the pigs their supper. Arthur and Charles were diverted at the eagerness with which the whole family squeaked and grunted over their food, which they devoured with the utmost haste, treading one over another as they scrambled for a share.

“O grandpapa,” exclaimed Charles, “how droll it is to see the pigs eat! Look there! look there! One has got a cabbage leaf, and another wants it. Now it has got it away, and it eats it as fast as ever it can. And now it is come for more. I dare say they will soon empty the trough.”

“Perhaps so,” replied his grandpapa, smiling. “Pigs are as fond of cabbage leaves and bean stalks, as little boys are of gooseberry pie.”

Charles blushed.

“Hey, Charles!” continued he, putting his hand upon his head so as to look full in his face, “this is not the first time to-day I thought I had a pig for my companion. Do you know any body that ate voraciously, and at last _emptied the dish_?”

Charles softly answered, “Yes, sir.”

“Well, I believe he is ashamed of his greediness,” said Mr. Mansfield; “I only advise him another time to be more upon his guard for fear we should take him for a pig.”

As they were sauntering about, a sow with a fine litter of pigs at her heels came across the yard.

“Pray, sir,” asked Arthur, “how many pigs may a sow have at once?”

“From ten to twenty,” said Mr. Mansfield. “But as she has not milk enough to suckle so many, she casts off some, and seldom brings up more than twelve.”

_Arthur._ What food do they like best, sir?

_The Pigs._

_London. Published by W. Darton Junʳ. Oct. 5, 1815._]

_Grandpapa._ They are not very difficult. They will eat almost any kind of rubbish and offal: but vegetables of all sorts are best for them. Cabbage stalks, potatoe parings, bean and pea shells, they like very well; and it is a good way to turn them out into the forests, where they meet with plenty of acorns, and mast nuts that grow upon beach trees. With their long snouts they turn up the ground, that they may get at the roots or plants: to prevent this, we are obliged to have a ring thrust through their noses, otherwise they would do a great deal of mischief.

_Charles._ Are they of much use, grandpapa?

_Grandpapa._ Not whilst they are alive. When dead, the flesh, you know, is eaten, and is called pork, or bacon if salted in a particular manner. The lard, or some of the fat, is used in making many sorts of plasters, and the bristles are formed into brushes of various kinds; and are used by shoemakers and others in sewing leather, instead of needles.

_Arthur._ I like _little pigs_ much better than I do great old ones.

_Grandpapa._ I cannot say the hog is a favourite animal with me. He is not only ugly, but his habits of life are disagreeable. You may have observed that he is very fond of grouting in the mire. Neither his grunting nor his squeaking is pleasant music; and the whole race are so greedy, that, if they have food enough, they will eat till they are too heavy to stand on their legs; even then they will lie on their sides, and eat still. Sometimes the sow will go so far as to devour her own young.

_Arthur._ Indeed? The unnatural brute!

_Grandpapa._ I should have told you that their stomach is made very large, and requires an unusual quantity of food. But if we are disgusted with the manners of a hog, we should be careful not to imitate them; as filth, gluttony, and want of natural affection, must surely be ten times more shocking in the creature man, who is blessed with reason.