dently passed what is called the "prime of
life," as was manifest from their white hair, wrinkled brows, and
stooping shoulders. It was obvious that they were contemplating some
object with great interest and thoughtful attention.

And I perceived that in quiet and respectful conversation with them was a
fine, well-formed, well-educated sow of the Chichester breed. It was
plain from the number of her rings that she was a sow of great
distinction, and, indeed, as I afterwards learned, was the most famous
for miles around: her progeny (all of whom I suppose were honourables)
were esteemed and sought by squire and farmer. How that sow was bred up
to become so polite a creature, was a mystery to all; because there were
gentlemen's homesteads all around, where no such thoroughbred could be
found. But I suppose it's the same with pigs as it is with men: a
well-bred gentleman may work in the fields for his living, and a cad may
occupy the manor-house or the nobleman's hall.

The Chichester sow looked up with an air of easy nonchalance into the
faces of the two men who smoked their short pipes, and uttered ever and
anon some short ejaculation, such as, "Hem!" "Ah!" "Zounds!" and so
forth, while the sow exhibited a familiarity with her superiors only to
be acquired by mixing in the best society. There was a respectful
deference which, while it betrayed no sign of servility, was in pleasing
contrast with the boisterous and somewhat unbecoming levity of the other
inhabitants of the stye. These people were the last progeny of this
illustrious Chichester, and numbered in all eleven--seven sons and four
daughters--honourables all. It was impossible not to admire the high
spirit of this well-descended family. That they had as yet received no
education was due to the fact that their existence dated only from the
21st of January last. Hence their somewhat erratic conduct, such as
jumping, running, diving into the straw, boring their heads into one
another's sides, and other unceremonious proceedings in the presence of
the two gentlemen whom it is necessary now more particularly to describe.

Mr. Thomas Bumpkin, the elder of the two, was a man of about seventy
summers, as tall and stalwart a specimen of Anglo-Saxon peasantry as you
could wish to behold. And while I use the word "peasantry" let it be
clearly understood that I do so in no sense as expressing Mr. Bumpkin's
present condition. He had risen from the English peasant