“Now, mother, I want you to see the pig.” Charlie began to slap his hands on his sides, and cry, ‘Rover, Rover,’ when a great rustling was heard in the woods, and the pig came on the gallop, his black and white sides glistening in the sun as he ran. Living on grass, and in the woods, with the milk from the house, he had not that protuberance of belly which swine reared in sties possess, and really merited Charlie’s encomium of being handsome; he jumped up on his master and rubbed against his legs, with low grunts, expressive of satisfaction.