LITTLE PIGGY.
One day my brother Richard brought a little pig in-doors from the farm-yard. "Squeak, squeak!" cried the little thing as it nestled in Dick's arms.
As soon as we all had looked at it, my mother wished Dick to take it back to the sow. "No," said Dick: "she has too many piggies to bring up. I think we must kill this one." We all begged him not to kill it; and after some talk it was settled that I should have it, and try to bring it up.
So I took piggy under my charge. I named him "Dob." I fed him on skim-milk with a wooden spoon; and he soon looked for his meal as regularly as I looked for my breakfast. I made him a bed in a basket with some hay and a bit of flannel; but he soon outgrew the basket, and we then made him a bed under the kitchen-stairs.
When he grew big enough, he was sent into the farm-yard to get his living among the other pigs; but he would always run after me, and follow me into the house like a dog. I had only to call out, "Dob, Dob!" at the gate, and Dob would be sure to come.
One day he followed me in-doors with a bit of hay in his mouth. He ran down stairs, and left this bit of hay where he used to sleep, under the kitchen-stairs. He then ran off, and soon returned with some more hay in his mouth, and put it in the same place. "Well, I declare!" said cook, "this pig has as much sense as a Christian. Now he has made his bed, I wonder whether he'll come and sleep in it?"
In the evening, when we were at tea, Dob came to the kitchen-door, crying, "Ugh, ugh!" and, when they let him in, he trotted off to his bed. We all thought this very clever on the part of Dob; and cook said, "He was the knowingest little piggy she ever seed!"
T. C.
