“I gi’ed him notice!” said Jan, indignantly.  “But I shan’t mind pigs no more, Master Swift”

“And why not, Master Skymaker?”

“Don’t ’ee laugh, sir,” said Jan.  “Master Salter he laughs.  ‘What’s pigs for but to be killed?’ says he.  But I axed him not to kill the little black un with the white spot on his ear.  It be such a nice pig, sir, such a very nice pig!” And the tears flowed copiously down Jan’s cheeks, whilst Rufus looked abjectly depressed.  “It would follow me anywhere, and come when I called,” Jan continued.  “I told Master Salter it be ’most as good as a dog, to keep the rest together.  But a says ’tis the fattest, and ’ull be the first to kill.  And then I telled him to find another boy to mind his pigs, for I couldn’t look un in the face now, and know ’twas to be killed next month, not that one with the white spot on his ear.  It do be such a very nice pig!”

Rufus licked up the tears as they fell over Jan’s smock, and the schoolmaster took Jan in and comforted him.  Jan dried his eyes at last, and helped to prepare for tea.  The old man made some very good coffee in a shaving-pot, and put cold bacon and bread upon the table, and the three sat down to their meal.  Jan and his host upon two rush-bottomed chairs, whilst Rufus scrambled into an armchair placed for his accommodation, from whence he gazed alternately at the schoolmaster and the victuals with sad, not to say reproachful, eyes.

“I thought that would be your chair,” said Jan.

“Well, it used to be,” said Master Swift, apologetically.  “But the poor beast can’t sit well on these, and I relish my meat better with a face on the other side of the table.  He found that too slippery at first, till I bought yon bit of a patchwork-cushion for him at a sale.”

Rufus sighed, and Master Swift gave him a piece of bread, which, having smelt, he allowed to lie before him on the table till his master, laughing, rubbed the bread against the bacon, with which additional flavor Rufus seemed content, and ate his supper.

“So you’ve come to the old schoolmaster, after all?” said Master Swift:  “that’s right, my lad, that’s right.”

“’Twas Abel sent me,” said Jan; “he said I was to take to my books.  So I come because Abel axed me.  For I be main fond of Abel.”

“Abel was right,” said the old man.  “Take to learning, my lad.  Love your books,—­friends that nobody can kill, or part ye from.”

“I’d like to learn pieces like them you say,” said Jan.

“So ye shall, so ye shall!” cried Master Swift.  “It’s a fine thing, is learning poetry.  It strengthens the memory, and cultivates the higher faculties.  Take some more bacon, my lad.”

Which Jan did.  At that moment he was not reflecting on his doomed friend, the spotted pig.  Indeed, if we reflected about every thing, this present state of existence would become intolerable.