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Title: The Conceited Pig
Author: [Anonymous]
Illustrator:  Weir, Harrison William (1824-1906)
Date of first publication: 1848 or earlier
Place and date of edition used as base for this ebook:
   London: John and Charles Mozley, 1852
Date first posted: 13 August 2008
Date last updated: 13 August 2008
Project Gutenberg Canada ebook #159

This ebook was produced by: David Edwards, Trish Bennett
& the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdpcanada.net

This file was produced from images generously made available
by the public universities of Florida through the Literature
for Children collection of the Publication of Archival,
Library & Museum Materials (PALMM) project




                        THE CONCEITED PIG.



             [Illustration: Wilful with Jack--Page 13]




                               THE
                          CONCEITED PIG.

             WITH SIX ILLUSTRATIONS BY HARRISON WEIR,
                        ENGRAVED ON WOOD.

                             LONDON:
                     JOHN AND CHARLES MOZLEY,
                       6, PATERNOSTER ROW.
                              1852.




            John and Charles Mozley, Printers, Derby.




                        THE CONCEITED PIG.


One cold November evening, several little pigs were lying very
comfortably in their sty, and keeping themselves warm by burying their
noses under the straw, when one who had been routing about very uneasily
for some time gave a loud grunt all at once, and seemed to be very much
frightened. His mother, the old sow, who was stretched in one corner of
the sty fast asleep, opened her little brown eyes, and asked in a very
angry voice what was the matter. Several of the little pigs answered at
once that it was only Wilful who was making such a noise that nobody
could go to sleep.

"Hush, hush, hush!" cried Wilful, as soon as his brothers were silent;
"hush! do not you hear a great cracking and noise the other side of the
yard? I am quite sure that the stables are on fire. Had not we better
all go and help to put it out directly?"

"Nonsense and stuff, you foolish little fellow!" exclaimed his mother;
"you are always fancying something or other is the matter, and wanting
to poke your nose into things that don't concern you. I cannot hear any
noise at all, and I beg you will be quiet, and let me go to sleep
again."

[Illustration: Wilful and his mother--Page 6]

The little pig did not dare answer his mother; so he lay quite still for
a minute or two, hoping that he should hear the same noise again. And
presently he did hear it, louder than before, and there could be no
doubt that more than usual was going on about the premises. He looked
round to see what his mother would say now; but she had fallen fast
asleep again, and two or three of his brothers were snoring very loud.
His little brother Fatsides was lying close to him, and Wilful thought
by the twinkling of his eyes that he was not really asleep; so he gave
him a kick, and said in a very low voice, for fear his mother should
hear him, "Fatsides, Fatsides, do you hear? there is that strange noise
come back that I heard before. Do just listen. What can it be?"

"Oh, I dare say it is nothing but the horses in the stable, or that
wretched old Hector rattling his everlasting chain," answered Fatsides.
"You know the other night when you woke us all up, it turned out to be
nothing but Buttercup rubbing her horns against the crib."

"Ah, very likely," interrupted Wilful; "but this is a very different
thing. There, just hear that strange popping sound: depend upon it,
either the stables are on fire, or there are a number of those frightful
great blue butchers killing and carrying off all the cows. I am
determined, at any rate, that I will go and see what is the matter."

"Oh, pray do not go!" exclaimed little Fatsides. "How do you know that
one of the great blue butchers may not get hold of you and carry you
off?"

"I should like to see them!" said Wilful. "No, no; I have lived long
enough in the world to be wiser than that, too. The blue butchers will
never catch me, I can tell you; clever as they think themselves, they
will find that they have met with their match at last!"

"Well, I know you are very clever," rejoined his brother, who was
getting very sleepy, "and so I suppose you must have your own way. But I
do not see how you are to get out; for you know Bob always shuts the
door the last thing."

"Ah, very likely," said Wilful; "but the door does not fasten tight, and
I can push it open with very little trouble whenever I like. The other
morning, before any of you were awake, I went out to desire
Cock-a-doodle not to crow so loud, because I thought it would disturb my
mother, and nobody knew any thing about it; and Cock-a-doodle, by the
way, behaved so extremely ill, that I have taken no notice of him ever
since. Poor fellow! I suppose I must give him a kind word to-morrow; for
my friend Miss Peck tells me that he seemed sadly out of spirits, and
she was certain he was a good deal cut up about it, for she had seen him
skulking behind the faggot pile all by himself, and though he pretended
to be picking up an insect when he saw her, she was sure that he had
really retired there to mourn over his misconduct. I wish that Miss
Peck were here now, that I might have her opinion about this dreadful
noise. It is really worse than ever. What do you think I had better do,
Fatsides?"

But Fatsides made no answer; he had fallen asleep whilst Wilful was
talking, and all the others were snoring away as happily as possible.
Wilful saw it was of no use to try to make any of them go out with him
into the yard; and to go out he was determined, come what would of it,
for he had one of those inquisitive and restless dispositions that
cannot be satisfied without prying into every thing. He lay quite still,
however, for a minute or two, to make sure of his mother's being asleep;
and then rustling carefully through the straw, he pushed hard against
the door of the sty, which opened suddenly with such a loud creak as
made the old sow give a great grunt, and half open one of her eyes.
Wilful himself nearly jumped out of his skin, but recovering himself
directly, he set off and ran as fast as he could along one side of the
yard, without thinking where he was going, till he was stopped by coming
against some great rough thing that lay in his way. The stars were
shining brightly up in the sky, and by their light Wilful could just see
that it was Jack, the old donkey, who was stretched out on the straw
close to the cart-shed, dosing away an hour or two to shorten the night.
He opened his eyes when Wilful ran up against him, and asked rather
drowsily what was the matter.

"My dear sir," said Wilful, "is it possible that you have been lying
quietly here whilst such dreadful things are going on about the
premises?"

"What things?" said Jack, opening his eyes rather wider.

"What things?" rejoined Wilful; "why all this shooting, and stabbing,
and burning, and butchering that has been carrying on here ever since
nightfall."

"Carrying on where?" exclaimed Jack, who was completely puzzled and
amazed at Wilful's way of talking.

Now if there was any one creature in the world that Wilful had the least
respect for, it was old Jack, who was, indeed, universally looked up to,
and held to be a very knowing old fellow; but this proud young pig now
quite lost his temper at what he thought Jack's slowness and stupidity.
He answered him, I am sorry to say, in a very impertinent manner, and
ended by telling him that, though he was so much older, a clever young
fellow like himself was worth two of him; and Miss Peck said one day,
that if, she knew who, were not a donkey, he never would have worn those
frightful long ears all his life!

Old Jack half shut up his eyes again, and took no more notice of this
speech than by smiling contemptuously.

"I tell you what, old gentleman," said Wilful, in a great rage, "I
thought it my duty to come and tell you, as an old friend, that you will
certainly be killed before to-morrow morning; but as you do not care
about it, I shall go and tell the blue butchers that you are ready to be
made nasty pork of immediately."

Jack was very sleepy, but the idea of his becoming pork tickled his
fancy so much, that he lifted up his head and laughed aloud. The sight
of his great teeth glimmering in the starlight enraged Wilful more than
ever, and seeing that nothing he said made the least impression, he
scampered off, without another word, as fast as his legs could carry
him. What to do next he could not determine; the great noise that he had
heard seemed to have died away, and it had just crossed his mind whether
it would not be better to go home again, when there came a tremendous
cracking sound in the air above him, and something as bright as fire
fell close to his feet, hissed along the ground for a second or two, and
then disappeared.

"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed Wilful, as soon as he had recovered his
breath and his senses--for he was completely scared at first; "goodness
gracious! as sure as I'm alive, the stars are all falling out of the
sky. Something must be done directly; somebody must go and tell the
Queen. Where is Miss Peck? I must speak to her first, and then I shall
set off to the Queen's house immediately."

So saying, Wilful made the best of his way across the yard towards the
hen-house, and succeeded after some time in finding the little sliding
door, which, unfortunately, was shut. There was an open grating above,
Wilful knew, but he could not reach it, so he had nothing for it but
to scratch the door gently, and call Miss Peck as loud as he dared,
without disturbing Cock-a-doodle. Now Miss Peck, luckily for Wilful,
seldom slept well. She was subject to spasms in her left leg, which made
her restless, and was besides apt to fancy that somebody else had got a
warmer corner than she had, so that she was continually shifting her
place.

[Illustration: Wilful and the frightening spark--Page 16]

Not seldom, indeed, the families who lodged on the lower perch were
upset and terrified in the middle of the night by something coming
flapping and tumbling over them, which turned out to be Miss Peck, who
was "really very sorry to be any annoyance to them, but what with the
chills which ran over her on account of her sleeping-place being so
particularly exposed to draughts, and what with the incessant spasms in
her poor left leg, she could not support herself a moment longer, if she
died for it." These accidents, of course did not make Miss Peck a
popular character; and at last a general agreement was made, that the
next time Miss Peck fell off her perch, she should not be allowed to
come up again, but should be kept on the hen-house floor all the night.
Cock-a-doodle was at the bottom of this plot against the unfortunate
Peck, and it was no great wonder that he wished to oblige her to turn
over a new leaf; for whenever she fell off her sleeping-place, she
always found herself too weak to get up again without assistance, and
would never trust any one to help her but her "dear friend
Cock-a-doodle," who was obliged to do it for peace and quietness' sake.

Now it happened, on the very night of which we are speaking, that Miss
Peck had gone to bed in particularly ill-humour; for just as they were
all entering the hen-house that afternoon, Cock-a-doodle had chosen to
help that flaunting young creature, Miss Spangle, up the hen-house
stairs instead of herself, though she had complained of a violent spasm
just a moment before. Miss Peck therefore, being, as I have said, very
much out of sorts, sat upon her perch with one eye shut, and the other
scowling down upon Miss Spangle, who slept just beneath her; and her
sufferings from cramp and chills were so uncommonly acute, that she
could obtain no ease except by continually twitching her legs up and
down, flapping her wings, shaking herself violently, and making a very
unpleasant noise in her throat, as if she were choking. No one taking
any notice of this uncomfortable state, though the slumbers of several
of the neighbours were very much disturbed in consequence, Miss Peck
grew more and more restless and spiteful; and seeing Miss Spangle in the
full enjoyment of a delightful nap, she flung herself suddenly down upon
her with such force as to push her off the perch, and send her rolling
on the hen-house floor. Miss Peck herself, though she tried hard to keep
her balance, fell over on her back, and screamed violently, which woke
Cock-a-doodle, who, of course, insisted on knowing what was the matter.

[Illustration: Wilful in the hen-house--Page 21]

"Oh, it is only Peck in her spasms," croaked out two or three sleepy old
hens.

"No, no, it is me," cried poor Spangle from the ground; "Miss Peck has
thrown me off my perch, and broken my head all over."

Cock-a-doodle's indignation on hearing this is not to be told. He flew
down instantly from the upper story where he lodged, would not listen to
one word Miss Peck had to say, in spite of her groans and lamentations,
and examined Spangle's head with the greatest kindness and attention. It
was found to be not at all seriously injured, so Cock-a-doodle said he
would assist her up stairs again with the greatest pleasure, but that
Peck should remain where she was all night, and if she attempted to
disobey him he would come down, and punish her severely. Miss Peck
screamed, protested, said it was all Spangle's fault, that Cock-a-doodle
did not behave like a gentleman, that both her legs were broken, and
that she hoped he would come to be hung, as she knew many of his family
had been before him.

"Hold your tongue," cried Cock-a-doodle at last, after she had been
going on in this way for some time; "you have hindered me so long by
your nonsense that it is just crowing-time again." So he shouted out
cock-a-doodle-doo as loud as he could, and then putting his head under
his wing, composed himself to sleep again, as if nothing had been the
matter.

In the mean time Miss Peck stood muttering on one leg, in a corner of
the hen-house, and thinking how she should be revenged, when she heard a
low rap-tap-tap at the door. She took no notice of it at first, being
too full of her own troubles to attend to any thing else; but very soon
it was repeated, and on her hobbling rather nearer to the door, and
turning her head a little on one side to listen the better, she
distinctly heard her own name repeated two or three times in a very low
voice on the outside. Miss Peck, though "all of a tremble," as she said
herself afterwards, had sufficient presence of mind just to look up, and
make sure that Cock-a-doodle and all the others were asleep, before she
answered, in as sweet a tone as possible,

"Who's there? Who wants the unfortunate Peck?"

"It is me," cried our friend Wilful, delighted to find that Miss Peck
was awake: "open the door immediately, my dearest Miss Peck, for I want
to speak to you on business of great importance."

"To me, dear Mr. Wilful?" replied Peck, with great satisfaction; "I'm
sure I shall be most happy to assist you with my poor opinion or
services in any way that I can, but as to opening the door, my dear Mr.
Wilful, I could not do it if I were to try ever so much; but if you
would just try to lift it up a little yourself, my dear Mr. Wilful, I
could soon squeeze myself out, being as you know, quite slender, and
then you know we could converse together very pleasantly, and there
would be no danger of our being interrupted by Cock-a-doodle, who is
always waking up for those foolish crows of his, which he is particular
about, as if anybody in the world cared whether he crowed or not. He
says that his family have always crowed exactly in the same way for
hundreds of years, and it was awful to see the rage he was in with that
scamp, young Strutaway, a few nights ago, because he said that he crowed
out of time; but if Strutaway never did any thing worse than that, it
would not much signify, in my opinion, for I think it is very shocking
to see clever young people going on doing all the silly old things that
were done, for want of knowing better, before their time. As for
Cock-a-doodle, I look upon him as little better than a lunatic, and a
spiteful, domineering, barbarous old tyrant into the bargain."

Here Miss Peck was interrupted by seeing a little bit of Wilful's nose
pushed in under the door; for whilst she had been chattering he had been
scraping and scraping, till he had succeeded in moving it, and now he
thought that if Miss Peck would try, she could get out of the hen-house,
for he was in a great hurry to tell her of his discovery. So Miss Peck
did try; and after a great deal of squeezing, and scrambling, and
pushing, and choking, she found herself safe on the outside, with very
rumpled feathers, but in great triumph at the thought of being safe out
of Cock-a-doodle's clutches.

Wilful lost not a moment in telling her his wonderful news; and when she
had heard it, Miss Peck quite agreed with him that the only step to be
taken was, if possible, instantly to inform the Queen; "and if a
messenger is wanted, you know, Mr. Wilful," she added, "that I am ready
always to devote my poor services to the good of the public without
looking for any reward, which, indeed, in this wicked world, so full of
selfish Cock-a-doodles, and all kinds of malice and hatred, one would
certainly look for in vain."

"Very, true, indeed, my dear Miss Peck," interrupted Wilful, who, being
fond of talking himself, was always very impatient of Miss Peck's
discourses; "very true, indeed: but allow me to hint that it is not
quite the thing for a young person like yourself to be travelling about
the world alone; but, as I have made up my own mind to start
immediately, without waiting till my mother and all the old people here
are awake, I was going to propose that you should accompany me, and
then, you know, I should have the pleasure of your society on the road,
and you could give the weight of your respectable authority to the
account which it is my duty to lay before her gracious majesty the
Queen."

To this Miss Peck making no objection, but, on the contrary, expressing
herself to be extremely pleased with the arrangement, they set off that
instant, across the yard, down the meadow, and into the lane, without
meeting with any difficulty or hindrance; only that Wilful ran so fast
that Miss Peck had a hard matter to keep up with him, and would have
ventured to say as much if it had been any one else; but Wilful was such
a touchy gentleman, she knew he would not bear to be found fault with.
However, in the lane they came to a standstill immediately, from not
being agreed as to which was the right way to turn, Wilful maintaining
that the way to the left led to the Queen's house, and Miss Peck being
equally positive that they ought to go to the right.

[Illustration: Wilful and Miss Peck--Page 29]

"Really, Miss Peck," said the former, "I do wonder at a person of your
talent being no uncommonly silly. Do not you know that all the blue
butchers live down the lane to the right; and is it likely that the
Queen's house would be any where in that part of the country?"

"Oh! as for that," replied Miss Peck, very sharply, "_I_ do not pretend
to know in what part of the country such vulgar, low creatures as blue
butchers may live, whatever you may do; but I am quite certain that her
most gracious majesty lives down the lane to the right, and therefore to
the right, begging your pardon, I shall certainly go."

"Then you may go by yourself, and joy go with you, you conceited,
obstinate, ridiculous old goose," said Wilful, who in his anger quite
forgot all his politeness; and without a word more, they parted, he
running off as fast as he could down the lane to the left, and Miss Peck
taking the opposite direction. What _her_ adventures were may possibly
be told some other time; _his_, I grieve to say, soon came to a very sad
end.

He had travelled but a little way before he was stopped and accosted by
some one whom he did not know, and of whom, in the uncertain light, he
could see little but the shining of two round bright eyes, which looked
somewhat fierce and dangerous. The stranger's manner, however, was
civil; he apologised for stopping Wilful, and asked, in a voice of
extreme politeness, "where he was going?" "I am going," said Wilful,
plucking up his spirits at the thought of his own importance, and
encouraged by the stranger's mode of addressing him, "I am going to tell
the Queen that the stars are all falling out of the sky."

"Indeed," said his new acquaintance, with a gesture of strong surprise.
"If that is the case, I think I can be of service to you, for it happens
that her most gracious majesty is now on a visit to me, and if you will
do me the honour of allowing me to conduct you to my house, which is not
far off, you can tell her this extraordinary and important news
immediately."

Wilful was but a young pig, and had very little knowledge of the world.
If he had been older and wiser, he would have distrusted the sincerity
of Mr. Brush, for that was the stranger's name; but, as it was, he was
quite taken in by his respectful politeness, and consented to
accompany him with the greatest alacrity.

[Illustration: Wilful and Mr. Brush--Page 33]

Away, therefore, they went together, at a great pace, over fields and
through hedges and ditches, till they got into a great wood, so thick
and tangled that Wilful found it very unpleasant travelling, and begged
his companion to go a little slower.

"My dear sir," said the latter, "I have the pleasure to tell you that we
are just arrived. Here is my house; pray walk in: the Queen will be
delighted to see you."

Poor Wilful was dumb with astonishment. He could see nothing but a
dark-looking hole, under the roots of some hazel-trees, which grew on a
little ridge of earth just above him; and how the Queen could possibly
get in there, he could not imagine. A shudder passed over him, as the
suspicion of his new friend's treachery darted into his mind, and in an
agony of terror he crept into the hole, without speaking a word.

It need scarcely be added, that the Queen never received the message,
and that the unfortunate messenger was never seen again. His afflicted
mother, when she missed him, very early the next morning, could learn no
news of him any where; and old Jack, whom of course she consulted in her
trouble, was but a poor comforter, for he only shook his head, and said,
in a very solemn manner, that he "always thought young Master Wilful
would come to no good."

It is to be hoped that all such silly little people as fancy themselves
wiser than their elders and betters, may learn to correct themselves of
such a proud and evil spirit, or we may be sure that cleverer heads than
old Jack's may safely prophesy of them that they will come to no good.

L.


John and Charles Mozley, Printers, Derby.




[End of _The Conceited Pig_ by Anonymous,
illustrated by Harrison Weir]