bottom of the inside of his coat tail, and opened
the drawer of the inkstand to put it carefully away. There were a couple
of sheets of writing-paper, pretty closely written over, in the inkstand
drawer, and they were folded so, that the title, which was in a good
round hand, was fully disclosed to him. Seeing from this, that it was
no private document; and as it seemed to relate to Bath, and was very
short: Mr. Pick-wick unfolded it, lighted his bedroom candle that it
might burn up well by the time he finished; and drawing his chair nearer
the fire, read as follows--

THE TRUE LEGEND OF PRINCE BLADUD

'Less than two hundred years ago, on one of the public baths in this
city, there appeared an inscription in honour of its mighty founder, the
renowned Prince Bladud. That inscription is now erased.

'For many hundred years before that time, there had been handed down,
from age to age, an old legend, that the illustrious prince being
afflicted with leprosy, on his return from reaping a rich harvest
of knowledge in Athens, shunned the court of his royal father, and
consorted moodily with husbandman and pigs. Among the herd (so said the
legend) was a pig of grave and solemn countenance, with whom the prince
had a fellow-feeling--for he too was wise--a pig of thoughtful and
reserved demeanour; an animal superior to his fellows, whose grunt was
terrible, and whose bite was sharp. The young prince sighed deeply as
he looked upon the countenance of the majestic swine; he thought of his
royal father, and his eyes were bedewed with tears.

'This sagacious pig was fond of bathing in rich, moist mud. Not in
summer, as common pigs do now, to cool themselves, and did even in
those distant ages (which is a proof that the light of civilisation had
already begun to dawn, though feebly), but in the cold, sharp days of
winter. His coat was ever so sleek, and his complexion so clear, that
the prince resolved to essay the purifying qualities of the same water
that his friend resorted to. He made the trial. Beneath that black mud,
bubbled the hot springs of Bath. He washed, and was cured. Hastening
to his father's court, he paid his best respects, and returning quickly
hither, founded this city and its famous baths.

'He sought the pig with all the ardour of their early friendship--but,
alas! the waters had been his death. He had imprudently taken a bath at
too high a temperature, and the natural philosopher was no more! He was
succe