“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?