Now I must go back to the first season and tell how I got my first pig.
It was the first of the hog species we owned in Michigan. Father went to
the village and I with him. From there we went down to Mr. Thompson's
(the man who moved us out from Detroit). He wished father to see his
hogs. They went to the yard, and as was my habit, I followed along. Mr.
Thompson called the hogs up. I thought he had some very fine ones. Among
them was an old sow that had some beautiful pigs. She seemed to be very
cross, raised her bristles and growled at us, as much as to say, "Let my
pigs alone."
[Illustration: "THE THOMPSON TAVERN"--1834.]
I suppose Mr. Thompson thought he would have some sport with me, and
being generous, he said: "If the boy will catch one I will give it to
him." I selected one and started; I paid no attention to the old sow, but
kept my eye on the pig I wanted, and the way I went for it was a caution.
I caught it and ran for the fence, with the old sow after me. I got over
very quickly and was safe with my pig in my arms. I started home; it
kicked and squealed and tried to get away, but I held it tightly, patted
it and called it "piggy.
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