The Tale of Pigling Bland

"The Tale of Pigling Bland" is a children's book by Beatrix Potter that tells the story of Pigling Bland, a pig who is forced to leave home and go to market due to a shortage of food. On his journey, he encounters many adventures including a run in with a farmer and his wife, as well as meeting a dance-loving pig named Pig-wig. The tale is a wonderful combination of suspense, humor, and enchanting characters, encapsulating Beatri's distinctive skill in storytelling.

• Children

								
[For Cicily and Charlie,
a Tale of the Christmas Pig]

Once upon a time there was an
old pig called Aunt Pettitoes. She
had eight of a family: four little girl
pigs, called Cross-patch, Suck-suck,
Yock-yock and Spot; and four little
boy pigs, called Alexander, Pigling
Bland, Chin-Chin and Stumpy.
Stumpy had had an accident to his
tail.

The eight little pigs had very fine
appetites--"Yus, yus, yus! they eat
and indeed they DO eat!" said Aunt
Pettitoes, looking at her family
with pride. Suddenly there were
fearful squeals; Alexander had
squeezed inside the hoops of the
pig trough and stuck.

Aunt Pettitoes and I dragged him
out by the hind legs.

Chin-chin was already in disgrace;
it was washing day, and he
had eaten a piece of soap. And
presently in a basket of clean
clothes, we found another dirty
little pig--"Tchut, tut, tut! whichever
is this?" grunted Aunt Pettitoes.
Now all the pig family are pink, or
pink with black spots, but this pig
child was smutty black all over;
when it had been popped into a
tub, it proved to be Yock-yock.

I went into the garden; there I
found Cross-patch and Suck-suck
rooting up carrots. I whipped them
myself and led them out by the
ears. Cross-patch tried to bite me.

"Aunt Pettitoes, Aunt Pettitoes!
you are a worthy person, but your
family is not well brought up.
Every one of them has been in
mischief except Spot and Pigling
Bland."

"Yus, yus!" sighed Aunt Pettitoes.
"And they drink bucketfuls of milk;
I shall have to get another cow!
Good little Spot shall stay at home
to do the housework; but the others
must go. Four little boy pigs and
four little girl pigs are too many
altogether." "Yus, yus, yus," said
Aunt Pettitoes, "there will be more
to eat without them."

So Chin-chin and Suck-suck went
away in a wheel-barrow, and
Stumpy, Yock-yock and Cross-
patch rode away in a cart.

And the other two little boy pigs,
Pigling Bland and Alexander went
to market. We brushed their coats,
we curled their tails and washed
their little faces, and wished them
good bye in the yard.

Aunt Pettitoes wiped her eyes
with a large pocket handkerchief,
then she wiped Pigling Bland's nose
and shed tears; then she wiped
Alexander's nose and shed tears;
then she passed the handkerchief to
Spot. Aunt Pettitoes sighed and
grunted, and addressed those little
pigs as follows--

"Now Pigling Bland, son Pigling
Bland, you must go to market. Take
your brother Alexander by the
hand. Mind your Sunday clothes,
and remember to blow your nose"
--(Aunt Pettitoes passed round the
handkerchief again)--"beware of
traps, hen roosts, bacon and eggs;
always walk upon your hind legs."
Pigling Bland who was a sedate
little pig, looked solemnly at his
mother, a tear trickled down his
cheek.

Aunt Pettitoes turned to the
other--"Now son Alexander take
the hand"--"Wee, wee, wee!"
giggled Alexander--"take the hand of
your brother Pigling Bland, you
must go to market. Mind--" "Wee,
wee, wee!" interrupted Alexander
again. "You put me out," said Aunt
Pettitoes--"Observe signposts and
milestones; do not gobble herring
bones--" "And remember," said I
impressively, "if you once cross the
county boundary you cannot come
back. Alexander, you are not
attending. Here are two licenses
permitting two pigs to go to market in
Lancashire. Attend Alexander. I
have had no end of trouble in getting
these papers from the policeman."
Pigling Bland listened
gravely; Alexander was hopelessly
volatile.

I pinned the papers, for safety,
inside their waistcoat pockets;
Aunt Pettitoes gave to each a little
bundle, and eight conversation
peppermints with appropriate
moral sentiments in screws of
paper. Then they started.

Pigling Bland and Alexander
trotted along steadily for a mile; at
least Pigling Bland did. Alexander
made the road half as long again
by skipping from side to side. He
danced about and pinched his
brother, singing--

     "This pig went to market, this pig stayed
          at home,
     "This pig had a bit of meat--

let's see what they have given US for
dinner, Pigling?"

Pigling Bland and Alexander sat
down and untied their bundles.
Alexander gobbled up his dinner in
no time; he had already eaten all
his own peppermints--"Give me
one of yours, please, Pigling?" "But
I wish to preserve them for
emergencies," said Pigling Bland
doubtfully. Alexander went into squeals
of laughter. Then he pricked Pigling
with the pin that had fastened
his pig paper; and when Pigling
slapped him he dropped the pin,
and tried to take Pigling's pin, and
the papers got mixed up. Pigling
Bland reproved Alexander.

But presently they made it up
again, and trotted away together,
singing--

     "Tom, Tom the piper's son, stole a pig
          and away he ran!
     "But all the tune that he could play, was
          `Over the hills and far away!'"

"What's that, young Sirs? Stole a
pig? Where are your licenses?" said
the policeman. They had nearly run
against him round a corner. Pigling
Bland pulled out his paper; Alexander,
after fumbling, handed over
something scrumply--

"To 2 1/2 oz. conversation sweeties
at three farthings"--"What's this?
this ain't a license?" Alexander's
nose lengthened visibly, he had lost
it. "I had one, indeed I had, Mr.
Policeman!"

"It's not likely they let you start
without. I am passing the farm.
You may walk with me." "Can I
come back too?" inquired Pigling
Bland. "I see no reason, young Sir;
your paper is all right." Pigling
Bland did not like going on alone,
and it was beginning to rain. But it
is unwise to argue with the police;
he gave his brother a peppermint,
and watched him out of sight.

To conclude the adventures of
Alexander--the policeman sauntered
up to the house about tea
time, followed by a damp subdued
little pig. I disposed of Alexander in
the neighborhood; he did fairly
well when he had settled down.

Pigling Bland went on alone
dejectedly; he came to cross roads and
a sign-post--"To Market-town 5
miles," "Over the Hills, 4 miles,"
"To Pettitoes Farm, 3 miles."

Pigling Bland was shocked, there
was little hope of sleeping in Market
Town, and tomorrow was the
hiring fair; it was deplorable to
think how much time had been
wasted by the frivolity of Alexander.

He glanced wistfully along the
road towards the hills, and then set
off walking obediently the other
way, buttoning up his coat against
the rain. He had never wanted to
go; and the idea of standing all by
himself in a crowded market, to be
stared at, pushed, and hired by
some big strange farmer was very
disagreeable--

"I wish I could have a little garden
and grow potatoes," said Pigling
Bland.

He put his cold hand in his
pocket and felt his paper, he put his

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