502 UNGULATA. 



THE DOMESTIC HOG. 



The Domestic Hog is a wild boar wliich has, by long servitude, 

 been modihcd physically and morally. Captivity, however, has b}- no 

 means deprived it ol its courage. When Baron de Rutzen settled in 

 England, he stocked his park with some wild boars from Germany, 

 which became the terror ot the neighborhood. One day, however, a 

 most domestic boar belonging to a tanner escaped from his stye, im- 

 mcdiatel}- gave battle, and slew and neailv devoured the champion ol 

 the intruders. 



The Hog is not more voracious than the cow, the dog, or the sheep, 

 for each of these animals will eat to repletion if furnished with a large 

 amount of food, and will become inordmatch- fat in consequence of such 

 high feeding. In its wild state it is never iound overloaded with fat, 

 and, as has already been seen, is so active an animal that it can surpass a 

 horse in speed, and is so little burdened with flesh that it can endure 

 throughout a lengthened chase. Neither is it naturally a dirty creature, 

 for in its native woods it is as clean as any other wild animal. But when 

 it is confined in a narrow stye, without any possibility ot leaving its 

 curtailed premises, it has no choice, but is perforce obliged to live in a 

 constant state of filth. We may remark that it can eat poisonous herbs, 

 such as hemlock, and is not injured by poisonous snakes. Common 

 experience proves that it can exterminate the rattlesnake. 



Leigh Hunt characterizes a pig as an animal " having a peculiar 

 turn of mind ; a fellow that would not move faster than he could help ; 

 irritable, retrospective, picking objections, and prone to boggle, a chap 

 with a tendency to take every path but the proper one, and with a side- 

 long tact for the alleys." Man takes advantage of this peculiar obsti- 

 nacy, and induces the pig to go one way by pulling his tail in an opposite 

 direction. The moral and mental philoso])hy of a pig's existence is thus 

 ingeniously set forth bv Sir Francis Head: "With pigs, as with man- 

 Ivind, idleness is the root of all evil. 'l"lie poor animal, finding that he 

 has absolutely nothing to do, having no enjoyment, nothing to look for- 

 ward to but the pail which feeds him, must eagerly (or, as we accuse 

 him, greedily) greet its arrival. Having no business or diversion — 

 nothing to occupy his hours — the whole powers ot his system are 

 directed to the digestion of a superabundance of food. To encourage 

 this, nature assists him with sleep, which, lulling his better faculties, 



