Morning journal and courier., 1883-01-29

ing how you all liked your pig
 listened in blank dismay. Then I told the whole story.
 My husbands countenance was sight to | behold. "Given him swayl Given away your little pigl What will NJ say, after all his kindness and the trouble he took How shall even face him to morrow morn 1 ing?"
 In truth.it was most perplexing position. 1
 ''There is only one thing to be done" said my husband decisively. tsYou must send and fetch the pig back immediately"
 explained with great contrition that this was difficult, if not impossible, as he vas probably just then in the very act of being roasted, six miles of.
 "But we must have him somehow or other. We must eat him-or at least be able to say we have eaten him. M will be so disap. pointed-quite hurt in his feelings-and no wonder. How could you do such thing 2"
 felt very guilty; but still if had had to do it all ovef again, did not see I could have done differently. And the pig was safe to be eaten and enjoyed-by somebody:
 But not by you; which was not what M wished. Couldn't you manage it somehow? Why not invite yourself to dine with your friends-and the pig ?"
 AlasI it was, as I said, six miles of, and there was only half an hour to spare and we had houseful of friends ourselves that day:
 
 of him-and eat him cold the day after? ID
 This was too bright an idea to lose. But still one difficulty remained. What was to be said to our kindly friend when asked ''How we had enjoyed our pig ?" to morrow morning.
 T declare don't know how to face him, " said my husband, mournfully. fAfter all his kindness and the trouble he took and tho pleasure he had in pleasing you. The first question he is sure to ask is, How did your wife like her pig?' What in the world am l to say to him ?"
 Crushed with remorse, yet suggested that ''the plain truth, as people call it, is usually found not only the right thing, but the most convenient. However, this merely feminine | wisdom was negatived by the higher powers, and it was agreed that our donor should only I be told that the pig was not to be eaten till tomorrow on which tomorrow we should l drive over and fetch what remained of him, so as to be able to say with accuracy that we | had eaten him and found him good. This was accordingly done. The fatal mo ment passed-how, I did not venture to in 1 quire-my husband reappeared at home, and l we took pleasant drive and presented our | selves for afternoon tea at our friends house. They were too hospitable to look surprised | or to wonder what we had come for. | After few minutes polite conversation We looked at one another to see which should make the confession and put the request. | AAoS 1 great humility.
 ''Oh, the little pig has been cooked and eaten. He turned out great success. Some of the family enjoyed him immensely" ''Then-is he quite fnished?" I asked with meek despondency. 'I will ring and inquire No, l think | there is 8 fragment left of him, because my brother thought you ought to be asked to | dinner to-day to eat it''
 ''Well, if I might take it home with me | were it only few mouthfuls. We have special reason My husband will explain" Which he did, pouring out the whole story of my sins-frst, in being so foolish as to say liked pig, then in accepting it, and lastly in giving it away.
 l ''And if you had seen how pleased M. | was, and the trouble he took about it all, was always the burden of the story, till I felt as if I never could lift my head again. 1 But my friends only saw the comic phase of the thing. They burst into 8 chorus of laughter.
 ''It is as good as play. You ought to | write second Essay on Roast Pig, to tran scend Elias. Comfort yourself, you shall l still have your pig, or, at least, what is left l of him."
 She rang the bell and gave her orders to l the politely astonished footman, who, after few minutes, brought back most Medea-lke l message.
 ''Please, na'am, cook says there's his head
 
 | of him still remains uncooked, if the lady l would like to take that home-'' ''No, no mo-" said my husband, hastily. 1 'Tne least little bit will do-a mere frag- l ment, just to enable her to say she has eaten | it. She likes it she was once heard to say that little pig tasted exactly like baby I'' Under the shout of laughter which fol- 1 lowed this unlucky communication (which | was, alas, quite true) I made my retreat. But just as I was getting into the carriage one of the family came running hastily out. | 'Stop minute you have forgotten some thing. You have left behind you your little pig"
 What @ narrow escape! Not until the 1 basket WAS safely deposited at my feet did I l feel that had conquered fate, gained my end-and my pig and, what was the most l important element in the matter, had avoided l wounding the feelings of my friend. | So we ate him-the pig, mean-at least one of his members. Very delicious he was, or rather of his race. He was also fully ap. preciated by Q mutual friend of the donor and ourselves, who happened to dine with ! us that day, and upon whom we impressed 1 the necessity of stating publicly that she had ! eaten this identical pig in our house | Peace to his names! Let him not perish unchronicled, for he was beauty but let 1 his history be recorded here-a story with ! out plot, or purpose, or 8 moral. Ex- cept, perhaps, the trite one that truth is best. l How much or how little of it has reached my friend know not but when he reads this in | print perhaps he will feel that his kindly gift was not altogether thrown away.