A Collection of Beatrix Potter Stories Page 12

  THE TALE OF PIGLING BLAND

  FOR CECILY AND CHARLIE, A TALE OF THE CHRISTMAS PIG.

  THE TALE OF PIGLING BLAND

  ONCE upon a time there was an old pig called Aunt Pettitoes. She hadeight 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 andStumpy. Stumpy had had an accident to his tail.

  The eight little pigs had very fine appetites. "Yus, yus, yus! they eatand indeed they DO eat!" said Aunt Pettitoes, looking at her family withpride. Suddenly there were fearful squeals; Alexander had squeezedinside 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 eatena piece of soap. And presently in a basket of clean clothes, we foundanother dirty little pig. "Tchut, tut, tut! whichever is this?" gruntedAunt Pettitoes.

  Now all the pig family are pink, or pink with black spots, but this pigchild was smutty black all over; when it had been popped into a tub, itproved to be Yock-yock.

  I went into the garden; there I found Cross-patch and Suck-suck rootingup 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 yourfamily is not well brought up. Every one of them has been in mischiefexcept Spot and Pigling Bland."

  "Yus, yus!" sighed Aunt Pettitoes. "And they drink bucketfuls of milk; Ishall have to get another cow! Good little Spot shall stay at home to dothe housework; but the others must go. Four little boy pigs and fourlittle girl pigs are too many altogether." "Yus, yus, yus," said AuntPettitoes, "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 tomarket. We brushed their coats, we curled their tails and washed theirlittle faces, and wished them good-bye in the yard.

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

  "Now Pigling Bland, son Pigling Bland, you must go to market. Take yourbrother Alexander by the hand. Mind your Sunday clothes, and remember toblow your nose"--

  (Aunt Pettitoes passed round the handkerchief again)--"beware of traps,hen roosts, bacon and eggs; always walk upon your hind legs." PiglingBland, who was a sedate little pig, looked solemnly at his mother, atear trickled down his cheek.

  Aunt Pettitoes turned to the other--"Now son Alexander take thehand"--"Wee, wee, wee!" giggled Alexander--"take the hand of yourbrother Pigling Bland, you must go to market. Mind--" "Wee, wee, wee!"interrupted Alexander again. "You put me out," said Aunt Pettitoes.

  "Observe sign-posts and milestones; do not gobble herring bones--" "Andremember," said I impressively, "if you once cross the county boundaryyou cannot come back.

  Alexander, you are not attending. Here are two licences permitting twopigs to go to market in Lancashire. Attend, Alexander. I have had no endof 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 conversationpeppermints with appropriate moral sentiments in screws of paper. Thenthey started.

  Pigling Bland and Alexander trotted along steadily for a mile; at leastPigling Bland did. Alexander made the road half as long again byskipping 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. Alexandergobbled up his dinner in no time; he had already eaten all his ownpeppermints. "Give me one of yours, please, Pigling."

  "But I wish to preserve them for emergencies," said Pigling Blanddoubtfully. Alexander went into squeals of laughter. Then he prickedPigling with the pin that had fastened his pig paper; and when Piglingslapped him he dropped the pin, and tried to take Pigling's pin, and thepapers 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 licences?" saidthe policeman. They had nearly run against him round a corner. PiglingBland pulled out his paper; Alexander, after fumbling, handed oversomething scrumply--

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

  "It's not likely they let you start without. I am passing the farm. Youmay walk with me." "Can I come back too?" inquired Pigling Bland. "I seeno reason, young sir; your paper is all right." Pigling Bland did notlike going on alone, and it was beginning to rain. But it is unwise toargue with the police; he gave his brother a peppermint, and watched himout of sight.

  To conclude the adventures of Alexander--the policeman sauntered up tothe house about tea time, followed by a damp subdued little pig. Idisposed of Alexander in the neighbourhood; he did fairly well when hehad settled down.

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

  Pigling Bland was shocked, there was little hope of sleeping in MarketTown, and to-morrow was the hiring fair; it was deplorable to think howmuch time had been wasted by the frivolity of Alexander.

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

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

  He put his cold hand in his pocket and felt his paper, he put his otherhand in his other pocket and felt another paper--Alexander's! Piglingsquealed; then ran back frantically, hoping to overtake Alexander andthe 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 findmy way home!"

  After an hour's wandering he got out of the wood; the moon shone throughthe 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 twinklingin 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 amafraid it IS a hen house, but what can I do?" said Pigling Bland, wetand 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 disturbedcockerel. "To market, to market! jiggetty jig!" clucked a broody whitehen roosting next to him. Pigling Bland, much alarmed, determined toleave at daybreak. In the meantime, he and the hens fell asleep.

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

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

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

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

  "This one's come of himself, whatever," said Mr. Piperson, turningPigling's pockets inside out. He pushed the hamper into a corner, threwa sack over it to keep the hens quiet, put a pot on the fire, andunlaced 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 itagainst the wainscot at the further end of the kitchen. There was asmothered noise--"Shut up!" said Mr. Piperson. Pigling Bland warmed hishands, 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 toPigling that something at the further end of the kitchen was taking asuppressed interest in the cooking, but he was too hungry to be troubledby noises.

  Mr. Piperson poured out three platefuls: for himself, for Pigling, and athird--after glaring at Pigling--he put away with much scuffling, andlocked 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, and then looked undecidedlyat Pigling. "You may sleep on the rug," said Mr. Peter Thomas Piperson.

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

  Before Pigling could reply, a neighbour, who was giving Mr. Piperson andthe hens a lift, whistled from the gate. Mr. Piperson hurried out withthe hamper, enjoining Pigling to shut the door behind him and not meddlewith 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 mightstill have been in time for market.

  But he distrusted Peter Thomas.

  After finishing breakfast at his leisure, Pigling had a look round thecottage; everything was locked up. He found some potato peelings in abucket in the back kitchen. Pigling ate the peel, and washed up theporridge 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 tip-toe and peeped round the doorinto the front kitchen. There was nobody there.

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

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

  In the course of the day Pigling pushed in all the remaining sixpeppermints.

  When Mr. Piperson returned, he found Pigling sitting before the fire; hehad brushed up the hearth and put on the pot to boil; the meal was notget-at-able.

  Mr. Piperson was very affable; he slapped Pigling on the back, made lotsof porridge and forgot to lock the meal chest. He did lock the cupboarddoor; but without properly shutting it. He went to bed early, and toldPigling 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 shortturned up nose.

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

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

  "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 shewere going to start.

  "You can't go in the dark," said Pigling Bland.

  Pig-wig looked anxious.

  "Do you know your way by daylight?"

  "I know we can see this little white house from the hills across theriver. Which way are YOU going, Mr. Pig?"

  "To market--I have two pig papers. I might take you to the bridge; ifyou have no objection," said Pigling much confused and sitting on theedge of his coppy stool. Pig-wig's gratitude was such and she asked somany questions that it became embarrassing to Pigling Bland.

  He was obliged to shut his eyes and pretend to sleep. She became quiet,and there was a smell of peppermint.

  "I thought you had eaten them," said Pigling, waking suddenly.

  "Only the corners," replied Pig-wig, studying the sentiments with muchinterest by the firelight.

  "I wish you wouldn't; he might smell them through the ceiling," said thealarmed Pigling.

  Pig-wig put back the sticky peppermints into her pocket; "Singsomething," she demanded.

  "I am sorry ... I have tooth-ache," said Pigling much dismayed.

  "Then I will sing," replied Pig-wig. "You will not mind if I say iddytidditty? I have forgotten some of the words."

  Pigling Bland made no objection; he sat with his eyes half shut, andwatched her.

  She wagged her head and rocked about, clapping time and singing in asweet little grunty voice--

  "A funny old mother pig lived in a stye, and three little piggies had she; "(Ti idditty idditty) umph, umph, umph! and the little pigs said, wee, wee!"

  She sang successfully through three or four verses, only at every verseher head nodded a little lower, and her little twinkly eyes closed up.

  "Those three little piggies grew peaky and lean, and lean they might very well be; "For somehow they couldn't say umph, umph, umph! and they wouldn't say wee, wee, wee! "For somehow they couldn't say--

  Pig-wig's head bobbed lower and lower, until she rolled over, a littleround ball, fast asleep on the hearth-rug.

  Pigling Bland, on tip-toe, covered her up with an antimacassar.

  He was afraid to go to sleep himself; for the rest of the night he satlistening to the chirping of the crickets and to the snores of Mr.Piperson overhead.

  Early in the morning, between dark and daylight, Pigling tied up hislittle bundle and woke up Pig-wig. She was excited and half-frightened."But it's dark! How can we find our way?"

  "The cock has crowed; we must start before the hens come out; they mightshout to Mr. Piperson."

  Pig-wig sat down again, and commenced to cry.

  "Come away Pig-wig; we can see when we get used to it. Come! I can hearthem clucking!"

  Pigling had never said shuh! to a hen in his life, being peaceable; alsohe remembered the hamper.

  He opened the house door quietly and shut it after them. There was nogarden; the neighbourhood of Mr. Piperson's was all scratched up byfowls. They slipped
away hand in hand across an untidy field to theroad.

  The sun rose while they were crossing the moor, a dazzle of light overthe tops of the hills. The sunshine crept down the slopes into thepeaceful green valleys, where little white cottages nestled in gardensand orchards.

  "That's Westmorland," said Pig-wig. She dropped Pigling's hand andcommenced to dance, 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!'"

  "Come, Pig-wig, we must get to the bridge before folks are stirring.""Why do you want to go to market, Pigling?" inquired Pig-wig presently."I don't want; I want to grow potatoes." "Have a peppermint?" saidPig-wig. Pigling Bland refused quite crossly. "Does your poor toothyhurt?" inquired Pig-wig. Pigling Bland grunted.

  Pig-wig ate the peppermint herself and followed the opposite side of theroad. "Pig-wig! keep under the wall, there's a man ploughing." Pig-wigcrossed over, they hurried down hill towards the county boundary.

  Suddenly Pigling stopped; he heard wheels.

  Slowly jogging up the road below them came a tradesman's cart. The reinsflapped on the horse's back, the grocer was reading a newspaper.

  "Take that peppermint out of your mouth, Pig-wig, we may have to run.Don't say one word. Leave it to me. And in sight of the bridge!" saidpoor Pigling, nearly crying. He began to walk frightfully lame, holdingPig-wig's arm.

  The grocer, intent upon his news-paper, might have passed them, if hishorse had not shied and snorted. He pulled the cart crossways, and helddown his whip. "Hallo! Where are YOU going to?"--Pigling Bland stared athim vacantly.

  "Are you deaf? Are you going to market?" Pigling nodded slowly.

  "I thought as much. It was yesterday. Show me your licence?"

  Pigling stared at the off hind shoe of the grocer's horse which hadpicked up a stone.

  The grocer flicked his whip--"Papers? Pig licence?" Pigling fumbled inall his pockets, and handed up the papers. The grocer read them, butstill seemed dissatisfied. "This here pig is a young lady; is her nameAlexander?" Pig-wig opened her mouth and shut it again; Pigling coughedasthmatically.

  The grocer ran his finger down the advertisement column of hisnewspaper--"Lost, stolen or strayed, 10s. reward." He lookedsuspiciously at Pig-wig. Then he stood up in the trap, and whistled forthe ploughman.

  "You wait here while I drive on and speak to him," said the grocer,gathering up the reins. He knew that pigs are slippery; but surely, sucha VERY lame pig could never run!

  "Not yet, Pig-wig, he will look back." The grocer did so; he saw the twopigs stock-still in the middle of the road. Then he looked over at hishorse's heels; it was lame also; the stone took some time to knock out,after he got to the ploughman.

  "Now, Pig-wig, NOW!" said Pigling Bland.

  Never did any pigs run as these pigs ran! They raced and squealed andpelted down the long white hill towards the bridge. Little fat Pig-wig'spetticoats fluttered, and her feet went pitter, patter, pitter, as shebounded and jumped.

  They ran, and they ran, and they ran down the hill, and across a shortcut on level green turf at the bottom, between pebble beds and rushes.

  They came to the river, they came to the bridge--they crossed it hand inhand--then over the hills and far away she danced with Pigling Bland!

  THE END