SWINE. 389 



be almost as profitable as shaving notes at two per cent, a month, 

 but still the impression is irresistably forced upon us that in a 

 family so numerous, those who came last to dinner, at least in 

 their infant days, would not have gained flesh very rapidly. 

 Indeed in such a family it would seem almost impossible to dis- 

 pense with the services of a wet nurse, in order to bring up 

 profitably the rising generation. 



The course of the pig, like that of the star of empire, has 

 ever tended westward. From China we trace him to Italy, the 

 gloomy mountains of the Hartz, the broad plains of Westphalia, 

 the fertile valleys of France, and to the waving forests of 

 " merrie England ;" all have known him since the days when 

 their bold barons and hungry retainers sat down to feast on the 

 juicy chine of the wild boar, and the savory haunch of venison. 



In green Erin, piggy has been an important member of soci- 

 ety ; true he has shared his master's meal and basked in the 

 comfortable warmth of his cabin, but, like a " gintlemon" as he 

 is, he has ever paid the " rint," and Saint Patrick in the pleni- 

 tude of his power and influence never saw the day ho could 

 have banished him from that gem of the ocean. 



When the pig first crossed to this western world remains in 

 doubt. Whether he came with the pilgrims, pressing with the 

 foot of a pioneer the blarney stone of New England, and scan- 

 ning with fearless eye the cheerless prospect before him, or 

 whether, regardless of liberty of conscience, and careful only 

 of his own comfort, he waited till the first toils and trials of a 

 new settlement had been met and overcome, we have no record ; 

 enough for us that he is here ; how, or when he came, concerns 

 us not. He is among us and of us. From souse to sausage, we 

 have loved him ; from ham to harslet, we have honored him ; 

 from chine to chops, we have cherished him. The care we have 

 shown him has been repaid an hundred fold. He has loaded 

 our tables and lighted our firesides, and smiling plenty has fol- 

 lowed in his footsteps, where hungry famine would have stalked 

 in his absence. 



But still farther toward the setting sun has been the arena 

 of the pig's greatest triumphs ; there have been the fields of his 

 widest influence. Beneath the vast forests of Ohio, raining to 

 the ground their yearly harvests of mast, through her broad 

 cornfields, stretching as far the eye can see — he has roamed and 



