The Tale of Pigling Bland Page #2

"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

								

other hand in his other pocket and
felt another paper--Alexander's!
Pigling squealed; then ran back
frantically, hoping to overtake
Alexander and the policeman.

He took a wrong turn--several
wrong turns, and was quite lost.

It grew dark, the wind whistled,
the trees creaked and groaned.

Pigling Bland became frightened
and cried "Wee, wee, wee! I can't
find my way home!"

After an hour's wandering he got
out of the wood; the moon shone
through the clouds, and Pigling
Bland saw a country that was new
to him.

The road crossed a moor; below
was a wide valley with a river twinkling
in the moonlight, and beyond
--in misty distance--lay the hills.

He saw a small wooden hut,
made his way to it, and crept inside
--"I am afraid it IS a hen house,
but what can I do?" said Pigling
Bland, wet and cold and quite tired
out.

"Bacon and eggs, bacon and
eggs!" clucked a hen on a perch.

"Trap, trap, trap! cackle, cackle,
cackle!" scolded the disturbed
cockerel. "To market, to market!
jiggettyjig!" clucked a broody white
hen roosting next to him. Pigling
Bland, much alarmed, determined
to leave at daybreak. In the meantime,
he and the hens fell asleep.

In less than an hour they were all
awakened. The owner, Mr. Peter
Thomas Piperson, came with a lantern
and a hamper to catch six
fowls to take to market in the
morning.

He grabbed the white hen roosting
next to the cock; then his eye
fell upon Pigling Bland, squeezed
up in a corner. He made a singular
remark--"Hallo, here's another!"
--seized Pigling by the scruff of the
neck, and dropped him into the
hamper. Then he dropped in five
more dirty, kicking, cackling hens
upon the top of Pigling Bland.

The hamper containing six fowls
and a young pig was no light
weight; it was taken down hill,
unsteadily, with jerks. Pigling,
although nearly scratched to pieces,
contrived to hide the papers and
peppermints inside his clothes.

At last the hamper was bumped
down upon a kitchen floor, the lid
was opened, and Pigling was lifted
out. He looked up, blinking, and
saw an offensively ugly elderly
man, grinning from ear to ear.

"This one's come of himself,
whatever," said Mr. Piperson, turning
Pigling's pockets inside out. He
pushed the hamper into a corner,
threw a sack over it to keep the
hens quiet, put a pot on the fire,
and unlaced his boots.

Pigling Bland drew forward a
coppy stool, and sat on the edge of
it, shyly warming his hands. Mr.
Piperson pulled off a boot and
threw it against the wainscot at the
further end of the kitchen. There
was a smothered noise--"Shut
up!" said Mr. Piperson. Pigling
Bland warmed his hands, and eyed
him.

Mr. Piperson pulled off the other
boot and flung it after the first,
there was again a curious noise--
"Be quiet, will ye?" said Mr. Piperson.
Pigling Bland sat on the very
edge of the coppy stool.

Mr. Piperson fetched meal from
a chest and made porridge, it
seemed to Pigling that something
at the further end of the kitchen
was taking a suppressed interest in
the cooking; but he was too hungry
to be troubled by noises.

Mr. Piperson poured out three
platefuls: for himself, for Pigling,
and a third-after glaring at Pigling--
he put away with much scuffling,
and locked up. Pigling Bland
ate his supper discreetly.

After supper Mr. Piperson consulted
an almanac, and felt Pigling's
ribs; it was too late in the
season for curing bacon, and he
grudged his meal. Besides, the hens
had seen this pig.

He looked at the small remains
of a flitch [side of bacon], and then
looked undecidedly at Pigling. "You
may sleep on the rug," said Mr.
Peter Thomas Piperson.

Pigling Bland slept like a top. In
the morning Mr. Piperson made
more porridge; the weather was
warmer. He looked how much
meal was left in the chest, and
seemed dissatisfied--"You'll likely
be moving on again?" said he to
Pigling Bland.

Before Pigling could reply, a
neighbor, who was giving Mr. Piperson
and the hens a lift, whistled
from the gate. Mr. Piperson hurried
out with the hamper, enjoining
Pigling to shut the door behind him
and not meddle with nought; or
"I'll come back and skin ye!" said
Mr. Piperson.

It crossed Pigling's mind that if
HE had asked for a lift, too, he
might still have been in time for
market.

But he distrusted Peter Thomas.

After finishing breakfast at his
leisure, Pigling had a look round
the cottage; everything was locked
up. He found some potato peelings
in a bucket in the back kitchen.
Pigling ate the peel, and washed up
the porridge plates in the bucket.
He sang while he worked--

     "Tom with his pipe made such a noise,
     He called up all the girls and boys--
     "And they all ran to hear him play,
          "Over the hills and far away!--"

Suddenly a little smothered voice
chimed in--

     "Over the hills and a great way off,
     The wind shall blow my top knot
          off."

Pigling Bland put down a plate
which he was wiping, and listened.

After a long pause, Pigling went
on tiptoe and peeped round the
door into the front kitchen; there
was nobody there.

After another pause, Pigling
approached the door of the locked
cupboard, and snuffed at the keyhole.
It was quite quiet.

After another long pause, Pigling
pushed a peppermint under the
door. It was sucked in immediately.

In the course of the day Pigling
pushed in all his remaining six
peppermints.

When Mr. Piperson returned, he
found Pigling sitting before the fire;
he had brushed up the hearth and
put on the pot to boil; the meal was
not get-at-able.

Mr. Piperson was very affable; he
slapped Pigling on the back, made
lots of porridge and forgot to lock
the meal chest. He did lock the
cupboard door; but without properly
shutting it. He went to bed early,
and told Pigling upon no account
to disturb him next day before
twelve o'clock.

Pigling Bland sat by the fire,
eating his supper.

All at once at his elbow, a little
voice spoke--"My name is Pig-wig.
Make me more porridge, please!"
Pigling Bland jumped, and looked
round.

A perfectly lovely little black
Berkshire pig stood smiling beside
him. She had twinkly little screwed
up eyes, a double chin, and a short
turned up nose.

She pointed at Pigling's plate; he
hastily gave it to her, and fled to
the meal chest--"How did you
come here?" asked Pigling Bland.

"Stolen," replied Pig-wig, with
her mouth full. Pigling helped himself
to meal without scruple. "What
for?" "Bacon, hams," replied Pig-
wig cheerfully. "Why on earth don't
you run away?" exclaimed the
horrified Pigling.

"I shall after supper," said Pig-
wig decidedly.

Pigling Bland made more porridge
and watched her shyly.

She finished a second plate, got
up, and looked about her, as
though she were going to start.

"You can't go in the dark," said
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