Snaresbrook Primary School

Year 5 Week 5 English Activities

Hello year 5. Well done for being so engaged with your learning. This week’s work is based on Chapter 5 of Charlotte’s Web.

Activity 1

Activity 2

Activity 3

Activity 4

Activity 5

Instructions:

1 Complete grammar starter- simple noun phrases.

2. Read chapter 5 of Charlotte’s Web and create a list of what makes a good friendship.

Task 1 (starter grammar)

Complete grammar activity on simple noun phrases.

A simple noun phrase includes a determiner and a noun.

Remember:

Determiners give extra information about a noun e.g. your, my, the, an, this, my, their

Nouns are names of objects, things and places e.g. London, cake, cat

This is your cake.

The determiner here is the word ‘your’

The noun is cake.

It gives extra information about the cake by telling us whose cake it is.

See ‘Monday-simple noun phrases.

Task 2 (main task in homework books)

Read Chapter 4 of Charlotte’s Web. Create a list of what makes a good friendship. Reflect of your own friendships.

What makes you a good friend?

How do you make sure you are always being a good friend?

Why should we be good friends to people?

What advice can you give if you see someone being unkind to their friend.

You all are lovely friends to each other so I’m sure this will be a breeze for you!

Remember to:

Read through the text carefully.

Instructions:

1. Complete grammar starter on expanded noun phrases.

2. Draw a picture of Wilbur and Charlotte.

Task 1(starter grammar)

Complete expanded noun phrases sheet.

See ‘Tuesday- expanded noun phrases’

Remember:

Expanded noun phrases usually are adjectives that describe the noun. They do in between the determiner and the noun. It helps make our writing more interesting.

Task 2 (main task on DB)

Make a prediction of how Charlotte’s and Wilbur’s friendship will turn out. Communicate this through a picture.

Do you think they will be good friends?

What do you think they will do together?

How do you think their relationship will strengthen/ weaken.

Remember to:

Read the text carefully to try and select the right food items.

Instructions:

1. Complete spelling starter task.

2. Focus on differences

Task 1 (spelling starter)

Here are 5 words from the year 5/6 spelling list. Learn them and write a sentence for each in your homework book.

Nearby

Everywhere

Nowhere

Inside

Downstairs

Outside

Upstairs

Underneath

Behind

Somewhere

Task 2 (main task in homework books)

Think about a friend who you are most closest to. I’m sure you have similariteies for example, you like to play the same things, you are interested in the same sports e.g. football, dancing etc. Alongside these similaries you probably have a few differences.

Create a table and on one side write as many similarities you can think of and on the other side write the differences you have between each other.

How do you work with the differences?

Do these differences strengthen your friendship?

Do you learn from these differences?

What advice can you give to Wilbur?

This will help you with tomorrow’s diary.

Instructions:

Task 1. Look at the ideas from yesterday and think about what words you will use in today’s writing.

2. Write a diary entry.

Task 2 Write a letter on DB (main task)

Your task is to write a diary entry from the perspective of Wilbur explaining how your experience has been with Charlotte.

Was she what you expected?

How do you feel towards her?

Do you want to get to know her more?

Remember to:

Write in first person

Include powerful adjectives.

Use a range of sentence starters.

Vary your punctuation.

Features of a diary entry:

· Written in first person

· Uses past tense

· Describes the writer’s thoughts and feelings

· Uses ambitious words to describe places and characters

· Is written in an informal style, as though speaking to someone

Instructions:

1. Complete editing task.

2. Complete reading comprehension- William Shakespeare.

Task 1 grammar starter.

Complete grammar activity on editing. Correct the mistakes. There are spelling errors and punctuation errors. Look out for missing capital letters, full stop and many more!

See ‘Friday- editing’ in files.

Remember:

Parenthesis includes extra information with a relative pronouns (which, where, who)

Task 2 (main task in homework books.)

See ‘Friday-reading comprehension’ in files.

Complete the reading comprehension- William’s Shakespeare. You’ll notice that there are quite a few pages and as you scroll down, the reading and question sheets increase in difficulty. You do not need to complete all of them. You can select which level of challenge you want to read and answer.

Remember to:

Read through the text and questions carefully. Underline the key words if this helps.

Website links:

charlottes-web.pdf

E.B.White was born in MountVernon, New York, and graduated fromCornell University. His writingsappeared for many years in The NewYorker magazine.

He was awarded the 1970 LauraIngalls Wilder Medal for his children'sbooks STUART LITTLE andCHARLOTTE'S WEB(1952), and histhird book for children, THE TRUMPET

OF THE SWAN, also won severalawards. The author of seventeen booksof prose and poetry, Mr. White receivedmany distinguished literary honors. In1973 he was elected to the AmericanAcademy of Arts and Letters.

Title PageThe Author

Content

CHAPTER 1:Before BreakfastCHAPTER 2:Wilbur

CHAPTER 3:Escape

CHAPTER 4:LonelinessCHAPTER 5:Charlotte

CHAPTER 6:Summer Days

CHAPTER 7:Bad NewsCHAPTER 8:A Talk At Home

CHAPTER 9:Wilbur's Boast

CHAPTER 10:An Explosion

CHAPTER 11:The Miracle

CHAPTER 12:A MeetingCHAPTER 13:Good Progress

CHAPTER 14:Dr. Dorian

CHAPTER 15:The CricketsCHAPTER 16:Off to the Fair

CHAPTER 17:Uncle

CHAPTER 18:The Cool of theEvening

CHAPTER 19:The Egg Sac

CHAPTER 20:The Hour ofTriumph

CHAPTER 21:Last Day

CHAPTER 22:A Warm Wind

bottom cover

CHAPTER 1Before Breakfast

"Where's Papa going with that ax?"said Fern to her mother as they weresetting the table for breakfast.

"Out to the hog house," repliedMrs. Arable. "Some pigs were born lastnight."

"I don't see why he needs an ax,"continued Fern, who was only eight.

"Well," said her mother, "one of thepigs is a runt. It's very small and weak,and it will never amount to anything. Soyour father has decided to do away withit."

"Do away with it?" shrieked Fern."You mean kill it? Just because it'ssmaller than the others?"

Mrs.Arable put a pitcher of creamon the table." Don't yell, Fern!"she said."Your father is right. The pig wouldprobably die anyway."

Fern pushed a chair out of the wayand ran outdoors. The grass was wet andthe earth smelled of springtime. Fern'ssneakers were sopping by the time shecaught up with her father.

"Please don't kill it! "she sobbed."It's unfair."

Mr. Arable stopped walking."Fern," he said gently," you will

have to learn to control yourself."

"Control myself?" yelled Fern."This is a matter of life and death, andyou talk about controlling myself." Tearsran down her cheeks and she took holdof the ax and tried to pull it out of herfather's hand.

"Fern," said Mr. Arable, "I knowmore about raising a litter of pigs thanyou do. A weakling makes trouble. Nowrun along!"

"But it's unfair," cried Fern. "Thepig couldn't help being born small, couldit? If I had been very small at birth,would you have killed me?"

Mr. Arable smiled. "Certainly not,"he said, looking down at his daughterwith love. "But this is different. A littlegirl is one thing, a little runty pig isanother."

"I see no difference," replied Fern,still hanging on to the ax. "This is themost terrible case of injustice I everheard of."

A queer look came over JohnArable's face. He seemed almost readyto cry himself.

"All right," he said. "You go backto the house and I will bring the runtwhen I come in. I'll let you start it on a

bottle, like a baby. Then you'll see whattrouble a pig can be."

When Mr.Arable returned to thehouse half an hour later, he carried acarton under his arm. Fern was upstairschanging her sneakers. The kitchen tablewas set for breakfast, and the roomsmelled of coffee, bacon, damp plaster,and wood smoke from the stove.

"Put it on her chair!" saidMrs.Arable. Mr.Arable set the cartondown at Fern's place. Then he walked tothe sink and washed his hands and driedthem on the roller towel.

Fern came slowly down the stairs.

Her eyes were red from crying. As sheapproached her chair, the cartonwobbled, and there was a scratchingnoise. Fern looked at her father. Thenshe lifted the lid of the carton. There,inside, looking up at her, was thenewborn pig. It was a white one. Themorning light shone through its ears,turning them pink.

"He's yours," said Mr.Arable."Saved from an untimely death. And maythe good Lord forgive me for thisfoolishness."

Fern couldn't take her eyes off thetiny pig. "Oh," she whispered. "Oh, lookat him! He's absolutely perfect."

She closed the carton carefully.First she kissed her father, then shekissed her mother. Then she opened thelid again, lifted the pig out, and held itagainst her cheek. At this moment herbrother Avery came into the room. Averywas ten. He was heavily armed - an airrifle in one hand, a wooden dagger in theother.

"What's that?" he demanded."What's Fern got?"

"She's got a guest for breakfast,"said Mrs.Arable. "Wash your hands andface, Avery!"

"Let's see it!" said Avery, settinghis gun down." You call that miserablething a pig? That's a fine specimen of apig, it's no bigger than a white rat."

"Wash up and eat your breakfast,Avery!" said his mother." The school buswill be along in half an hour."

"Can I have a pig, too, Pop?" askedAvery.

"No, I only distribute pigs to early

risers," said Mr. Arable. "Fern was up atdaylight, trying to rid the world ofinjustice. As a result, she now has a pig.A small one, to be sure, but neverthelessa pig. It just shows what can happen if aperson gets out of bed promptly. Let'seat!"

But Fern couldn't eat until her pighad had a drink of milk.

Mrs.Arable found a baby's nursingbottle and a rubber nipple. She pouredwarm milk into the bottle, fitted thenipple over the top, and handed it toFern. "Give him his breakfast!" she said.

A minute later, Fern was seated on

the floor in the corner of the kitchen withher infant between her knees, teaching itto suck from the bottle. The pig, althoughtiny, had a good appetite and caught onquickly.

The school bus honked from theroad.

"Run!" commanded Mrs.Arable,taking the pig from Fern and slipping adoughnut into her hand. Avery grabbedhis gun and another doughnut.

The children ran out to the road andclimbed into the bus. Fern took no noticeof the others in the bus. She just sat andstared out of the window, thinking what

a blissful world it was and how luckyshe was to have entire charge of a pig.By the time the bus reached school, Fernhad named her pet, selecting the mostbeautiful name she could think of.

"Its name is Wilbur," she whisperedto herself.

She was still thinking about the pigwhen the teacher said: "Fern, what is thecapital of Pennsylvania?"

"Wilbur," replied Fern, dreamily.The pupils giggled. Fern blushed.

CHAPTER 2Wilbur

Fern loved Wilbur more thananything. She loved to stroke him, tofeed him, to put him to bed. Everymorning, as soon as she got up, shewarmed his milk, tied his bib on, andheld the bottle for him. Every afternoon,when the school bus stopped in front ofher house, she jumped out and ran to thekitchen to fix another bottle for him. Shefed him again at suppertime, and againjust before going to bed. Mrs.Arablegave him a feeding around noontimeeach day, when Fern was away in

school. Wilbur loved his milk, and hewas never happier than when Fern waswarming up a bottle for him. He wouldstand and gaze up at her with adoringeyes.

For the first few days of his life,Wilbur was allowed to live in a boxnear the stove in the kitchen. Then, whenMrs. Arable complained, he was movedto a bigger box in the woodshed. At twoweeks of age, he was moved outdoors. Itwas apple-blossom time, and the dayswere getting warmer. Mr.Arable fixed asmall yard specially for Wilbur under anapple tree, and gave him a large woodenbox full of straw, with a doorway cut in

it so he could walk in and out as hepleased.

"Won't he be cold at night?" askedFern.

"No," said her father. "You watchand see what he does."

Carrying a bottle of milk, Fern satdown under the apple tree inside theyard. Wilbur ran to her and she held thebottle for him while he sucked. When he

had finished the last drop, he grunted andwalked sleepily into the box. Fernpeered through the door. Wilbur waspoking the straw with his snout. In ashort time he had dug a tunnel in thestraw. He crawled into the tunnel anddisappeared from sight, completelycovered with straw.

Fern was enchanted. It relieved hermind to know that her baby would sleepcovered up, and would stay warm.

Every morning after breakfast,Wilbur walked out to the road with Fernand waited with her till the bus came.She would wave good-bye to him, andhe would stand and watch the bus until it

vanished around a turn. While Fern wasin school, Wilbur was shut up inside hisyard. But as soon as she got home in theafternoon, she would take him out and hewould follow her around the place. Ifshe went into the house, Wilbur went,too. If she went upstairs, Wilbur wouldwait at the bottom step until she camedown again. If she took her doll for awalk in the doll carriage, Wilburfollowed along. Sometimes, on thesejourneys, Wilbur would get tired, andFern would pick him up and put him inthe carriage alongside the doll. He likedthis. And if he was very tired, he wouldclose his eyes and go to sleep under the

doll's blanket. He looked cute when hiseyes were closed, because his lasheswere so long. The doll would close hereyes, too, and Fern would wheel thecarriage very slowly and smoothly so asnot to wake her infants.

One warm afternoon, Fern andAvery put on bathing suits and wentdown to the brook for a swim. Wilburtagged along at Fern's heels. When she

waded into the brook, Wilbur waded inwith her. He found the water quite cold -too cold for his liking. So while thechildren swam and played and splashedwater at each other, Wilbur amusedhimself in the mud along the edge of thebrook, where it was warm and moist anddelightfully sticky and oozy.

Every day was a happy day, andevery night was peaceful.

Wilbur was what farmers call aspring pig, which simply means that hewas born in springtime. When he wasfive weeks old, Mr.Arable said he wasnow big enough to sell, and would haveto be sold. Fern broke down and wept.

But her father was firm about it. Wilbur'sappetite had increased; he was beginningto eat scraps of food in addition to milk.Mr. Arable was not willing to providefor him any longer. He had already soldWilbur's ten brothers and sisters.

"He's got to go, Fern," he said."You have had your fun raising a babypig, but Wilbur is not a baby any longerand he has got to be sold."

"Call up the Zuckermans,"suggested Mrs.Arable to Fern. "YourUncle Homer sometimes raises a pig.And if Wilbur goes there to live, you canwalk down the road and visit him asoften as you like."

"How much money should I ask forhim?" Fern wanted to know.

"Well," said her father, "he's a runt.Tell your Uncle Homer you've got a pigyou'll sell for six dollars, and see whathe says."

It was soon arranged. Fern phonedand got her Aunt Edith, and her AuntEdith hollered for Uncle Homer, andUncle Homer came in from the barn andtalked to Fern. When he heard that theprice was only six dollars, he said hewould buy the pig. Next day Wilbur wastaken from his home under the apple treeand went to live in a manure pile in thecellar of Zuckerman's barn.

CHAPTER 3Escape

The barn was very large. It wasvery old. It smelled of hay and it smelledof manure. It smelled of the perspirationof tired horses and the wonderful sweetbreath of patient cows. It often had a sortof peaceful smell - as though nothing badcould happen ever again in the world. Itsmelled of grain and of harness dressingand of axle grease and of rubber bootsand of new rope. And whenever the catwas given a fish-head to eat, the barnwould smell of fish. But mostly itsmelled of hay, for there was always hay

in the great loft up overhead. And therewas always hay being pitched down tothe cows and the horses and the sheep.

The barn was pleasantly warm inwinter when the animals spent most oftheir time indoors, and it was pleasantlycool in summer when the big doorsstood wide open to the breeze. The barnhad stalls on the main floor for the workhorses, tie-ups on the main floor for thecows, a sheepfold down below for thesheep, a pigpen down below for Wilbur,and it was full of all sorts of things thatyou find in barns: ladders, grindstones,pitch forks, monkey wrenches, scythes,lawn mowers, snow shovels, ax handles,

milk pails, water buckets, empty grainsacks, and rusty rat traps. It was the kindof barn that swallows like to build theirnests in. It was the kind of barn thatchildren like to play in. And the wholething was owned by Fern's uncle,Mr.Homer L. Zuckerman.

Wilbur's new home was in thelower part of the barn, directlyunderneath the cows. Mr.Zuckerman

knew that a manure pile is a good placeto keep a young pig. Pigs need warmth,and it was warm and comfortable downthere in the barn cellar on the south side.

Fern came almost every day to visit

him. She found an old milking stool thathad been discarded, and she placed thestool in the sheepfold next to Wilbur'spen. Here she sat quietly during the longafternoons, thinking and listening andwatching Wilbur. The sheep soon got toknow her and trust her. So did the geese,who lived with the sheep. All theanimals trusted her, She was so quietand friendly. Mr.Zuckerman did notallow her to take Wilbur out, and he didnot allow her to get into the pigpen. Buthe told Fern that she could sit on thestool and watch Wilbur as long as shewanted to. It made her happy just to benear the pig, and it made Wilbur happy

to know that she was sitting there, rightoutside his pen. But he never had anyfun, no walks, no rides, no swims.

One afternoon in June, when Wilburwas almost two months old, hewandered out into his small yard outsidethe barn. Fern had not arrived for herusual visit. Wilbur stood in the sunfeeling lonely and bored.

"There's never anything to doaround here," he thought. He walkedslowly to his food trough and sniffed tosee if anything had been overlooked atlunch. He found a small strip of potatoskin and ate it. His back itched, so heleaned against the fence and rubbed

against the boards. When he tired of this,he walked indoors, climbed to the top ofthe manure pile, and sat down. He didn'tfeel like going to sleep, he didn't feellike digging, he was tired of standingstill, tired of lying down. "I'm less thantwo months old and I'm tired of living,"he said. He walked out to the yard again.

"When I'm out here," he said,"there's no place to go but in. When I'mindoors, there's no place to go but out inthe yard."

"That's where you're wrong, myfriend, my friend," said a voice.

Wilbur looked through the fence

and saw the goose standing there.

"You don't have to stay in that dirty-little dirty-little dirty-little yard," saidthe goose, who talked rather fast. "Oneof the boards is loose. Push on it, push-push-push on it, and come on out!"

"What?" said Wilbur. "Say itslower!"

"At-at-at, at the risk of repeatingmyself," said the goose, "I suggest thatyou come on out. It's wonderful outhere."

"Did you say a board was loose?""That I did, that I did," said the

goose.

Wilbur walked up to the fence andsaw that the goose was right - one boardwas loose. He put his head down, shuthis eyes, and pushed. The board gaveway. In a minute he had squeezedthrough the fence and was standing in thelong grass outside his yard. The goosechuckled.

"How does it feel to be free?" sheasked.

"I like it," said Wilbur. "That is, Iguess I like it."

Actually, Wilbur felt queer to beoutside his fence, with nothing betweenhim and the big world.

"Where do you think I'd better go?"

"Anywhere you like, anywhere youlike," said the goose. "Go down throughthe orchard, root up the sod! Go downthrough the garden, dig up the radishes!Root up everything! Eat grass! Look forcorn! Look for oats! Run all over! Skipand dance, jump and prance! Go downthrough the orchard and stroll in thewoods! The world is a wonderful placewhen you're young."

"I can see that," replied Wilbur. Hegave a jump in the air, twirled, ran a fewsteps, stopped, looked all around,sniffed the smells of afternoon, and thenset off walking down through the

orchard. Pausing in the shade of an appletree, he put his strong snout into theground and began pushing, digging, androoting. He felt very happy. He hadplowed up quite a piece of groundbefore anyone noticed him. Mrs.Zuckerman was the first to see him. Shesaw him from the kitchen window, andshe immediately shouted for the men.

"Ho-mer!" she cried. "Pig's out!Lurvy! Pig's out! Homer! Lurvy! Pig'sout. He's down there under that appletree."

"Now the trouble starts," thoughtWilbur. "Now I'll catch it."

The goose heard the racket and she,too, started hollering.

"Run-run-run downhill, make forthe woods, the woods!" she shouted toWilbur. "They'll never-never-nevercatch you in the woods."

The cocker spaniel heard the

commotion and he ran out from the barnto join the chase. Mr.Zuckerman heard,and he came out of the machine shedwhere he was mending a tool. Lurvy, thehired man, heard the noise and came upfrom the asparagus patch where he waspulling weeds. Everybody walkedtoward Wilbur and Wilbur didn't knowwhat to do. The woods seemed a longway off, and anyway, he had never beendown there in the woods and wasn't surehe would like it.

"Get around behind him, Lurvy,"said Mr.Zuckerman, "and drive himtoward the barn! And take it easy - don'trush him! I'll go and get a bucket of slops

(food for pigs)."

The news of Wilbur's escapespread rapidly among the animals on theplace. Whenever any creature broke

loose on Zuckerman's farm, the eventwas of great interest to the others. Thegoose shouted to the nearest cow thatWilbur was free, and soon all the cowsknew. Then one of the cows told one ofthe sheep, and soon all the sheep knew.The lambs learned about it from theirmothers. The horses, in their stalls in thebarn, pricked up their ears when theyheard the goose hollering; and soon thehorses had caught on to what washappening. "Wilbur's out," they said.Every animal stirred and lifted its headand became excited to know that one ofhis friends had got free and was nolonger penned up or tied fast.

Wilbur didn't know what to do orwhich way to run. It seemed as thougheverybody was after him. "If this is whatit's like to be free," he thought, "I believeI'd rather be penned up in my own yard."

The cocker spaniel was sneakingup on him from one side, Lurvy the hiredman was sneaking up on him from theother side. Mrs.Zuckerman stood readyto head him off if he started for thegarden, and now Mr.Zuckerman wascoming down toward him carrying apail. "This is really awful," thoughtWilbur. "Why doesn't Fern come?" Hebegan to cry.

The goose took command and

began to give orders. "Don't just standthere, Wilbur! Dodge about, dodgeabout!" cried the goose. "Skip around,run toward me, slip in and out, in andout, in and out! Make for the woods!Twist and turn!"

The cocker spaniel sprang forWilbur's hind leg. Wilbur jumped andran. Lurvy reached out and grabbed.Mrs. Zuckerman screamed at Lurvy. Thegoose cheered for Wilbur. Wilburdodged between Lurvy's legs. Lurvymissed Wilbur and grabbed the spanielinstead.

"Nicely done, nicely done!" criedthe goose. "Try it again, try it again!"

"Run downhill!" suggested thecows.

"Run toward me!" yelled the gander(male goose).

"Run uphill!" cried the sheep.

"Turn and twist!" honked the goose.

"Jump and dance!" said the rooster."Look out for Lurvy!" called the

cows.

"Look out for Zuckerman!" yelledthe gander.

"Watch out for the dog!" cried thesheep.

"Listen to me, listen to me!"

screamed the goose.

Poor Wilbur was dazed andfrightened by this hullabaloo (ruckus,uproar, confusion). He didn't like beingthe center of all this fuss. He tried tofollow the instructions his friends weregiving him, but he couldn't run downhilland uphill at the same time, and hecouldn't turn and twist when he wasjumping and dancing, and he was cryingso hard he could barely see anything thatwas happening.

After all, Wilbur was a very youngpig - not much more than a baby, really.He wished Fern were there to take himin her arms and comfort him. When he

looked up and saw Mr. Zuckermanstanding quite close to him, holding apail of warm slops, he felt relieved. Helifted his nose and sniffed. The smellwas delicious - warm milk, potato skins,wheat middlings, Kellogg's Corn Flakes,and a popover left from the Zuckermans'breakfast.

"Come, pig!" said Mr.Zuckerman,tapping the pail. "Come pig!"

Wilbur took a step toward the pail.

"No-no-no!" said the goose. "It'sthe old pail trick, Wilbur. Don't fall forit, don't fall for it! He's trying to lure youback into captivity-ivity. He's appealing

to your stomach."

Wilbur didn't care. The foodsmelled appetizing. He took another steptoward the pail.

"Pig, pig!" said Mr. Zuckerman in akind voice, and began walking slowlytoward the barnyard, looking all abouthim innocently, as if he didn't know thata little white pig was following alongbehind him.

"You'll be sorry-sorry-sorry,"called the goose.

Wilbur didn't care. He kept walkingtoward the pail of slops.

"You'll miss your freedom," honked

the goose. "An hour of freedom is wortha barrel of slops."

Wilbur didn't care.When Mr. Zuckerman reached the

pigpen, he climbed over the fence andpoured the slops into the trough. Then hepulled the loose board away from thefence, so that there was a wide hole forWilbur to walk through.

"Reconsider, reconsider!" cried thegoose.

Wilbur paid no attention. Hestepped through the fence into his yard.He walked to the trough and took a longdrink of slops, sucking in the milk

hungrily and chewing the popover. Itwas good to be home again.

While Wilbur ate, Lurvy fetched ahammer and some 8-penny nails andnailed the board in place. Then he andMr.Zuckerman leaned lazily on the fenceand Mr. Zuckerman scratched Wilbur'sback with a stick.

"He's quite a pig," said Lurvy.

"Yes, he'll make a good pig," saidMr. Zuckerman.

Wilbur heard the words of praise.He felt the warm milk inside hisstomach. He felt the pleasant rubbing ofthe stick along his itchy back. He felt

peaceful and happy and sleepy. This hadbeen a tiring afternoon. It was still onlyabout four o'clock but Wilbur was readyfor bed.

"I'm really too young to go out intothe world alone," he thought as he laydown.

CHAPTER 4Loneliness

The next day was rainy and dark.Rain fell on the roof of the barn anddripped steadily from the eaves. Rainfell in the barnyard and ran in crookedcourses down into the lane wherethistles and pigweed grew. Rainspattered against Mrs.Zuckerman'skitchen windows and came gushing outof the downspouts. Rain fell on thebacks of the sheep as they grazed in themeadow. When the sheep tired ofstanding in the rain, they walked slowlyup the lane and into the fold.

Rain upset Wilbur's plans. Wilburhad planned to go out, this day, and dig anew hole in his yard. He had other plans,too. His plans for the day wentsomething like this:

Breakfast at six-thirty. Skim milk,crusts, middlings, bits of doughnuts,wheat cakes with drops of maple syrupsticking to them, potato skins, leftovercustard pudding with raisins, and bits ofShredded Wheat.

Breakfast would be finished atseven.

From seven to eight, Wilburplanned to have a talk with Templeton,

the rat that lived under his trough.Talking with Templeton was not the mostinteresting occupation in the world but itwas better than nothing.

From eight to nine, Wilbur plannedto take a nap outdoors in the sun.

From nine to eleven he planned todig a hole, or trench, and possibly findsomething good to eat buried in the dirt.

From eleven to twelve he plannedto stand still and watch flies on theboards, watch bees in the clover, andwatch swallows in the air.

Twelve o'clock - lunchtime.Middlings, warm water, apple parings ,

meat gravy, carrot scrapings, meatscraps, stale hominy, and the wrapperoff a package of cheese. Lunch would beover at one.

From one to two, Wilbur planned tosleep.

From two to three, he planned toscratch itchy places by rubbing againstthe fence.

From three to four, he planned tostand perfectly still and think of what itwas like to be alive, and to wait forFern.

At four would come supper. Skimmilk, provender (fodder, hay or grain

used as animal feed), leftover sandwichfrom Lurvy's lunchbox, prune skins, amorsel of this, a bit of that, friedpotatoes, marmalade drippings, a littlemore of this, a little more of that, a pieceof baked apple, a scrap of upsidedowncake.

Wilbur had gone to sleep thinkingabout these plans. He awoke at six, andsaw the rain, and it seemed as though hecouldn't bear it.

"I get everything all beautifullyplanned out and it has to go and rain," hesaid.

For a while he stood gloomily

indoors. Then he walked to the door andlooked out. Drops of rain struck his face.His yard was cold and wet. His troughhad an inch of rainwater in it. Templetonwas nowhere to be seen.

"Are you out there, Templeton?"called Wilbur. There was no answer.Suddenly Wilbur felt lonely andfriendless.

"One day just like another," hegroaned. "I'm very young, I have no realfriend here in the barn, it's going to rainall morning and all afternoon, and Fernwon't come in such bad weather. Oh,honestly!" And Wilbur was crying again,for the second time in two days.

At six-thirty Wilbur heard thebanging of a pail. Lurvy was standingoutside in the rain, stirring up breakfast.

"C'mon, pig!" said Lurvy.Wilbur did not budge. Lurvy

dumped the slops, scraped the pail, andwalked away. He noticed that somethingwas wrong with the pig.

Wilbur didn't want food, he wantedlove. He wanted a friend - someone whowould play with him. He mentioned thisto the goose, who was sitting quietly in acorner of the sheepfold.

"Will you come over and play withme?" he asked.

"Sorry, sonny, sorry," said thegoose. "I'm sitting-sitting on my eggs.Eight of them. Got to keep them toasty-oasty-oasty warm. I have to stay righthere, I'm no flibberty-ibberty-gibbet. Ido not play when there are eggs to hatch.I'm expecting goslings (baby goose)."

"Well, I didn't think you wereexpecting woodpeckers," said Wilbur,bitterly.

Wilbur next tried one of the lambs.

"Will you please play with me?" heasked.

"Certainly not," said the lamb. "Inthe first place, I cannot get into your pen,

as I am not old enough to jump over thefence. In the second place, I am notinterested in pigs. Pigs mean less thannothing to me."

"What do you mean, less thannothing?" replied Wilbur. "I don't thinkthere is any such thing as less thannothing. Nothing is absolutely the limitof nothingness. It's the lowest you cango. It's the end of the line. How cansomething be less than nothing? If therewere something that was less thannothing, then nothing would not benothing, it would be something - eventhough it's just a very little bit ofsomething. But if nothing is nothing, then

nothing has nothing that is less than it is.""Oh, be quiet!" said the lamb. "Go

play by yourself! I don't play with pigs."Sadly, Wilbur lay down and

listened to the rain. Soon he saw the ratclimbing down a slanting board that heused as a stairway.

"Will you play with me,Templeton?" asked Wilbur.

"Play?" said Templeton, twirlinghis whiskers. "Play? I hardly know themeaning of the word."

"Well," said Wilbur, "it means tohave fun, to frolic, to run and skip andmake merry."

"I never do those things if I canavoid them," replied the rat, sourly.

"I prefer to spend my time eating,gnawing, spying, and hiding. I am aglutton but not a merry-maker. Right nowI am on my way to your trough to eatyour breakfast, since you haven't got

sense enough to eat it yourself." AndTempleton, the rat, crept stealthily alongthe wall and disappeared into a privatetunnel that he had dug between the doorand the trough in Wilbur's yard.Templeton was a crafty rat, and he hadthings pretty much his own way. Thetunnel was an example of his skill andcunning. The tunnel enabled him to getfrom the barn to his hiding place underthe pig trough without coming out intothe open. He had tunnels and runways allover Mr.Zuckerman's farm and could getfrom one place to another without beingseen. Usually he slept during the daytimeand was abroad only after dark.

Wilbur watched him disappear intohis tunnel. In a moment he saw the rat'ssharp nose poke out from underneath thewooden trough. Cautiously Templetonpulled himself up over the edge of thetrough. This was almost more thanWilbur could stand: on this dreary, rainyday to see his breakfast being eaten bysomebody else. He knew Templeton wasgetting soaked, out there in the pouringrain, but even that didn't comfort him.Friendless, dejected, and hungry, hethrew himself down in the manure andsobbed.

Late that afternoon, Lurvy went toMr. Zuckerman. "I think there's

something wrong with that pig of yours.He hasn't touched his food."

"Give him two spoonfuls of sulphurand a little molasses (dark thick syrupproduced during the refining of sugar),"said Mr. Zuckerman.

Wilbur couldn't believe what washappening to him when Lurvy caught himand forced the medicine down his throat.This was certainly the worst day of hislife. He didn't know whether he could

endure the awful loneliness any more.

Darkness settled over ever thing.Soon there were only shadows and thenoises of the sheep chewing their cuds,and occasionally the rattle of a cow-chain up overhead. You can imagineWilbur's surprise when, out of thedarkness, came a small voice he hadnever heard before. It sounded ratherthin, but pleasant. "Do you want a friend,Wilbur?" it said. "I'll be a friend to you.I've watched you all day and I like you."

"But I can't see you," said Wilbur,jumping to his feet. "Where are you?And who are you?"

"I'm right up here," said the voice."Go to sleep. You'll see me in themorning."

CHAPTER 5Charlotte

The night seemed long. Wilbur'sstomach was empty and his mind wasfull. And when your stomach is emptyand your mind is full, it's always hard tosleep.

A dozen times during the nightWilbur woke and stared into theblackness, listening to the sounds andtrying to figure out what time it was. Abarn is never perfectly quiet. Even atmidnight there is usually somethingstirring.

The first time he woke, he heard

Templeton gnawing a hole in the grainbin. Templeton's teeth scraped loudlyagainst the wood and made quite aracket. "That crazy rat!" thought Wilbur."Why does he have to stay up all night,grinding his clashers and destroyingpeople's property? Why can't he go tosleep, like any decent animal?"

The second time Wilbur woke, heheard the goose turning on her nest andchuckling to herself.

"What time is it?" whisperedWilbur to the goose.

"Probably-obably-obably abouthalf-past eleven," said the goose. "Why

aren't you asleep, Wilbur?"

"Too many things on my mind," saidWilbur.

"Well," said the goose, "that's notmy trouble. I have nothing at all on mymind, but I've too many things under mybehind. Have you ever tried to sleepwhile sitting on eight eggs?"

"No," replied Wilbur. "I suppose itis uncomfortable. How long does it takea goose egg to hatch?"

"Approximately-oximately thirtydays, all told (on the whole)," answeredthe goose. "But I cheat a little. On warmafternoons, I just pull a little straw over

the eggs and go out for a walk."Wilbur yawned and went back to

sleep. In his dreams he heard again thevoice saying, "I'll be a friend to you. Goto sleep - you'll see me in the morning."

About half an hour before dawn,Wilbur woke and listened.

The barn was still dark. The sheeplay motionless. Even the goose wasquiet. Overhead, on the main floor,nothing stirred: the cows were resting,the horses dozed. Templeton had quitwork and gone off somewhere on anerrand. The only sound was a slightscraping noise from the rooftop, where

the weather-vane swung back and forth.Wilbur loved the barn when it was likethis calm and quiet, waiting for light.

"Day is almost here," he thought.Through a small window, a faint gleamappeared. One by one the stars went out.Wilbur could see the goose a few feetaway. She sat with head tucked under awing. Then he could see the sheep andthe lambs. The sky lightened.

"Oh, beautiful day, it is here at last!Today I shall find my friend."

Wilbur looked everywhere. Hesearched his pen thoroughly. Heexamined the window ledge, stared up at

the ceiling. But he saw nothing new.Finally he decided he would have tospeak up. He hated to break the lovelystillness of day by using his voice, but hecouldn't think of any other way to locatethe mysterious new friend who wasnowhere to be seen. So Wilbur clearedhis throat.

"Attention, please!" he said in aloud, firm voice. "Will the party whoaddressed me at bedtime last nightkindly make himself or herself known bygiving an appropriate sign or signal!"

Wilbur paused and listened. All theother animals lifted their heads andstared at him. Wilbur blushed. But he

was determined to get in touch with hisunknown friend.

"Attention, please!" he said. "I willrepeat the message. Will the party whoaddressed me at bedtime last nightkindly speak up. Please tell me whereyou are, if you are my friend!"

The sheep looked at each other indisgust.

"Stop your nonsense, Wilbur!" saidthe oldest sheep. "If you have a newfriend here, you are probably disturbinghis rest; and the quickest way to spoil afriendship is to wake somebody up in themorning before he is ready. How can

you be sure your friend is an earlyriser?"

"I beg everyone's pardon,"whispered Wilbur. "I didn't mean to beobjectionable."

He lay down meekly in the manure,facing the door. He did not know it, buthis friend was very near. And the oldsheep was right - the friend was stillasleep.

Soon Lurvy appeared with slopsfor breakfast. Wilbur rushed out, ateeverything in a hurry, and licked thetrough. The sheep moved off down thelane, the gander waddled along behind

them, pulling grass. And then, just asWilbur was settling down for hismorning nap, he heard again the thinvoice that had addressed him the nightbefore.

"Salutations!" said the voice.Wilbur jumped to his feet. "Salu-

what?" he cried.

"Salutations!" repeated the voice.

"What are they, and where areyou?" screamed Wilbur. "Please, please,tell me where you are. And what aresalutations?"

"Salutations are greetings," said thevoice. "When I say 'salutations,' it's just

my fancy way of saying hello or goodmorning. Actually, it's a silly expression,and I am surprised that I used it at all.As for my whereabouts, that's easy. Lookup here in the corner of the doorway!Here I am. Look, I'm waving!"

At last Wilbur saw the creature thathad spoken to him in such a kindly way.Stretched across the upper part of thedoorway was a big spiderweb, andhanging from the top of the web, headdown, was a large grey spider. She wasabout the size of a gumdrop. She hadeight legs, and she was waving one ofthem at Wilbur in friendly greeting. "Seeme now?" she asked.

"Oh, yes indeed," said Wilbur. "Yesindeed! How are you? Good morning!Salutations! Very pleased to meet you.What is your name, please? May I haveyour name?"

"My name," said the spider, "isCharlotte."

"Charlotte what?" asked Wilbur,eagerly.

"Charlotte A. Cavatica. But justcall me Charlotte."

"I think you're beautiful," saidWilbur.

"Well, I am pretty," repliedCharlotte. "There's no denying that.

Almost all spiders are rather nice-looking. I'm not as flashy as some, butI'll do. I wish I could see you, Wilbur, asclearly as you can see me."

"Why can't you?" asked the pig."I'm right here."

"Yes, but I'm near-sighted," repliedCharlotte. "I've always been dreadfullynear-sighted. It's good in some ways, not

so good in others. Watch me wrap upthis fly."

A fly that had been crawling alongWilbur's trough had flown up andblundered into the lower part ofCharlotte's web and was tangled in thesticky threads. The fly was beating itswings furiously, trying to break looseand free itself.

"First," said Charlotte, "I dive athim." She plunged headfirst toward thefly. As she dropped, a tiny silken threadunwound from her rear end.

"Next, I wrap him up." She grabbedthe fly, threw a few jets of silk around it,and rolled it over and over, wrapping itso that it couldn't move. Wilbur watchedin horror. He could hardly believe whathe was seeing, and although he detestedflies, he was sorry for this one.

"There!" said Charlotte. "Now Iknock him out, so he'll be morecomfortable." She bit the fly. "He can'tfeel a thing now," she remarked. "He'llmake a perfect breakfast for me."

"You mean you eat flies?" gaspedWilbur.

"Certainly. Flies, bugs,grasshoppers, choice beetles, moths,butterflies, tasty cockroaches, gnats,midges, daddy longlegs (type of spiderthat has a tiny body and very long thinlegs), centipedes, mosquitoes, crickets -anything that is careless enough to getcaught in my web. I have to live, don'tI?"

"Why, yes, of course," said Wilbur."Do they taste good?"

"Delicious. Of course, I don't reallyeat them. I drink them - drink theirblood. I love blood," said Charlotte, andher pleasant, thin voice grew eventhinner and more pleasant.

"Don't say that!" groaned Wilbur."Please don't say things like that!"

"Why not? It's true, and I have tosay what is true. I am not entirely happyabout my diet of flies and bugs, but it'sthe way I'm made. A spider has to pickup a living somehow or other, and Ihappen to be a trapper. I just naturally

build a web and trap flies and otherinsects. My mother was a trapper beforeme. Her mother was a trapper beforeher. All our family have been trappers.Way back for thousands and thousands ofyears we spiders have been laying forflies and bugs."

"It's a miserable inheritance," saidWilbur, gloomily. He was sad becausehis new friend was so bloodthirsty.

"Yes, it is," agreed Charlotte. "But Ican't help it. I don't know how the firstspider in the early days of the worldhappened to think up this fancy idea ofspinning a web, but she did, and it wasclever of her, too. And since then, all of

us spiders have had to work the sametrick. It's not a bad pitch, on the whole."

"It's cruel," replied Wilbur, whodid not intend to be argued out of hisposition.

"Well, you can't talk." saidCharlotte. "You have your meals broughtto you in a pail. Nobody feeds me. Ihave to get in own living. I live by mywits. I have to be sharp and clever, lest Igo hungry. I have to think things out,catch what I can, take what comes. Andit just so happens, my friend, that whatcomes is flies and insects and bugs. Andfurthermore," said Charlotte, shaking oneof her legs, "do you realize that if I didn't

catch bugs and eat them, bugs wouldincrease and multiply and get sonumerous that they'd destroy the earth,wipe out everything?"

"Really?" said Wilbur. "I wouldn'twant that to happen. Perhaps your web isa good thing after all."

The goose had been listening to thisconversation and chuckling to herself."There are a lot of things Wilbur doesn'tknow about life," she thought. "He'sreally a very innocent little pig. Hedoesn't even know what's going tohappen to him around Christmastime; hehas no idea that Mr. Zuckerman andLurvy are plotting to kill him." And the

goose raised herself a bit and poked hereggs a little further under her so that theywould receive the full heat from herwarm body and soft feathers.

Charlotte stood quietly over the fly,preparing to eat it.

Wilbur lay down and closed hiseyes. He was tired from his wakefulnight and from the excitement of meetingsomeone for the first time. A breezebrought him the smell of clover - thesweet-smelling world beyond his fence."Well," he thought, "I've got a newfriend, all right. But what a gamblefriendship is! Charlotte is fierce, brutal,scheming, bloodthirsty - everything I

don't like. How can I learn to like her,even though she is pretty and, of course,clever?"

Wilbur was merely suffering thedoubts and fears that often go withfinding a new friend. In good time hewas to discover that he was mistakenabout Charlotte. Underneath her ratherbold and cruel exterior, she had a kindheart, and she was to prove loyal andtrue to the very end.

CHAPTER 7Summer Days

The early summer days on a farmare the happiest and fairest days of theyear. Lilacs bloom and make the airsweet, and then fade. Apple blossomscome with the lilacs, and the bees visitaround among the apple trees. The daysgrow warm and soft. School ends, andchildren have time to play and to fish fortrouts in the brook. Avery often brought atrout home in his pocket, warm and stiffand ready to be fried for supper.

Now that school was over, Fernvisited the barn almost every day, to sit

quietly on her stool. The animals treatedher as an equal. The sheep lay calmly ather feet.

Around the first of July, the workhorses were hitched to the mowingmachine, and Mr. Zuckerman climbedinto the seat and drove into the field. Allmorning you could hear the rattle of themachine as it went round and round,while the tall grass fell down behind thecutter bar in long green swathes. Nextday, if there was no thunder shower, allhands would help rake and pitch andload, and the hay would be hauled to thebarn in the high hay wagon, with Fernand Avery riding at the top of the load.

Then the hay would be hoisted, sweetand warm, into the big loft, until thewhole barn seemed like a wonderful bedof timothy and clover. It was fine tojump in, and perfect to hide in. Andsometimes Avery would find a littlegrass snake in the hay, and would add itto the other things in his pocket.

Early summer days are a jubilee(time of celebration and rejoicing) timefor birds. In the fields, around the house,in the barn, in the woods, in the swamp -everywhere love and songs and nestsand eggs. From the edge of the woods,the white-throated sparrow (which mustcome all the way from Boston) calls,

"Oh, Peabody, Peabody, Peabody!" Onan apple bough, the phoebe teeters andwags its tail and says, "Phoebe, phoe-bee!" The song sparrow, who knowshow brief and lovely life is, says,"Sweet, sweet, sweet interlude; sweet,sweet, sweet interlude." If you enter thebarn, the swallows swoop down fromtheir nests and scold. "Cheeky, cheeky!"they say.

In early summer there are plenty ofthings for a child to eat and drink andsuck and chew. Dandelion stems are fullof milk, clover heads are loaded withnectar, the Frigidaire is full of ice-colddrinks. Everywhere you look is life;

even the little ball of spit on the weedstalk, if you poke it apart, has a greenworm inside it. And on the under side ofthe leaf of the potato vine are the brightorange eggs of the potato bug.

It was on a day in early summer thatthe goose eggs hatched.

This was an important event in thebarn cellar. Fern was there, sitting onher stool, when it happened.

Except for the goose herself,Charlotte was the first to know that thegoslings had at last arrived. The gooseknew a day in advance that they werecoming - she could hear their weak

voices calling from inside the egg. Sheknew that they were in a desperatelycramped position inside the shell andwere most anxious to break through andget out. So she sat quite still, and talkedless than usual.

When the first gosling poked itsgrey-green head through the goose'sfeathers and looked around, Charlottespied it and made the announcement.

"I am sure," she said, "that everyone of us here will be gratified to learnthat after four weeks of unremitting effortand patience on the part of our friend thegoose, she now has something to showfor it. The goslings have arrived. May I

offer my sincere congratulations!"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"said the goose, nodding and bowingshamelessly.

"Thank you," said the gander.

"Congratulations!" shouted Wilbur."How many goslings are there? I canonly see one."

"There are seven," said the goose."Fine!" said Charlotte. "Seven is a

lucky number."

"Luck had nothing to do with this,"said the goose. "It was good managementand hard work."

At this point, Templeton showed hisnose from his hiding place underWilbur's trough. He glanced at Fern, thencrept cautiously toward the goose,keeping close to the wall. Everyonewatched him, for he was not well liked,not trusted.

"Look," he began in his sharpvoice, "you say you have seven goslings.There were eight eggs. What happenedto the other egg? Why didn't it hatch?"

"It's a dud, I guess," said the goose.

"What are you going to do with it?"continued Templeton, his little roundbeady eyes fixed on the goose.

"You can have it," replied thegoose. "Roll it away and add it to thatnasty collection of yours." (Templetonhad a habit of picking up unusual objectsaround the farm and storing them in hishome. He saved everything.)

"Certainly-ertainly-ertainly," saidthe gander. "You may have the egg. ButI'll tell you one thing, Templeton, if Iever catch you poking-oking-oking your

ugly nose around our goslings, I'll giveyou the worst pounding a rat ever took."And the gander opened his strong wingsand beat the air with them to show hispower. He was strong and brave, but thetruth is, both the goose and the ganderwere worried about Templeton. Andwith good reason. The rat had no morals,no conscience, no scruples, noconsideration, no decency, no milk ofrodent kindness, no compunctions(uneasiness of conscience, remorse), nohigher feeling, no friendliness, noanything. He would kill a gosling if hecould get away with it - the goose knewthat.

Everybody knew it.

With her broad bill the goosepushed the unhatched egg out of the nest,and the entire company watched indisgust while the rat rolled it away.Even Wilbur, who could eat almostanything, was appalled. "Imaginewanting a junky old rotten egg!" hemuttered.

"A rat is a rat," said Charlotte. Shelaughed a tinkling little laugh. "But, myfriends, if that ancient egg ever breaks,this barn will be untenable."

"What's that mean?" asked Wilbur.

"It means nobody will be able to

live here on account of the smell. Arotten egg is a regular stink bomb."

"I won't break it," snarledTempleton. "I know what I'm doing. Ihandle stuff like this all the time."

He disappeared into his tunnel,pushing the goose egg in front of him. Hepushed and nudged till he succeeded inrolling it to his lair under the trough.

That afternoon, when the wind haddied down and the barnyard was quietand warm, the grey goose led her sevengoslings off the nest and out into theworld. Mr. Zuckerman spied them whenhe came with Wilbur's supper.

"Well, hello there!" he said, smilingall over. "Let's see ... one, two, three,four, five, six, seven. Seven baby geese.

Now isn't that lovely!

CHAPTER 7Bad News

Wilbur liked Charlotte better andbetter each day. Her campaign againstinsects seemed sensible and useful.Hardly anybody around the farm had agood word to say for a fly. Flies spenttheir time pestering others. The cowshated them. The horses detested them.The sheep loathed them. Mr. and Mrs.Zuckerman were always complainingabout them, and putting up screens.

Wilbur admired the way Charlottemanaged. He was particularly glad thatshe always put her victim to sleep

before eating it."It's real thoughtful of you to do

that, Charlotte," he said."Yes," she replied in her sweet,

musical voice, "I always give them ananaesthetic so they won't feel pain. It's alittle service I throw in."

As the days went by, Wilbur grewand grew. He ate three big meals a day.He spent long hours lying on his side,half asleep, dreaming pleasant dreams.He enjoyed good health and he gained alot of weight. One afternoon, when Fernwas sitting on her stool, the oldest sheepwalked into the barn, and stopped to pay

a call on Wilbur.

"Hello!" she said. "Seems to meyou're putting on weight."

"Yes, I guess I am," replied Wilbur."At my age it's a good idea to keepgaining."

"Just the same, I don't envy you,"said the old sheep. "You know whythey're fattening you up, don't you?"

"No," said Wilbur."Well, I don't like to spread bad

news," said the sheep, "but they'refattening you up because they're going tokill you, that's why."

"They're going to what?" screamed

Wilbur. Fern grew rigid on her stool.

"Kill you. Turn you into smokedbacon and ham," continued the oldsheep. "Almost all young pigs getmurdered by the farmer as soon as thereal cold weather sets in. There's aregular conspiracy around here to killyou at Christmastime. Everybody is inthe plot - Lurvy, Zuckerman, even JohnArable."

"Mr. Arable?" sobbed Wilbur."Fern's father?"

"Certainly. When a pig is to bebutchered, everybody helps. I'm an oldsheep and I see the same thing, same old

business, year after year. Arable arriveswith his .22, shoots the ..."

"Stop!" screamed Wilbur. "I don'twant to die! Save me, somebody! Saveme!" Fern was just about to jump upwhen a voice was heard.

"Be quiet, Wilbur!" said Charlotte,who had been listening to this awfulconversation.

"I can't be quiet," screamed Wilbur,racing up and down. "I don't want to bekilled. I don't want to die. Is it true whatthe old sheep says, Charlotte? Is it truethey are going to kill me when the coldweather comes?"

"Well," said the spider, pluckingthoughtfully at her web, "the old sheephas been around this barn a long time.She has seen many a spring pig comeand go. If she says they plan to kill you,I'm sure it's true. It's also the dirtiesttrick I ever heard of. What people don'tthink of!"

Wilbur burst into tears. "I don'twant to die," he moaned. "I want to stayalive, right here in my comfortablemanure pile with all my friends. I wantto breathe the beautiful air and lie in thebeautiful sun."

"You're certainly making a beautifulnoise," snapped the old sheep.

"I don't want to die!" screamedWilbur, throwing himself to the ground.

"You shall not die," said Charlotte,briskly.

"What? Really?" cried Wilbur."Who's going to save me?"

"I am," said Charlotte.

"How?" asked Wilbur."That remains to be seen. But I am

going to save you, and I want you toquiet down immediately. You're carryingon in a childish way. Stop your crying! Ican't stand hysterics."

CHAPTER 8A Talk At Home

On Sunday morning Mr. and Mrs.Arable and Fern were sitting at breakfastin the kitchen. Avery had finished andwas upstairs looking for his slingshot.

"Did you know that Uncle Homer'sgoslings had hatched?" asked Fern.

"How many?" asked Mr. Arable.

"Seven," replied Fern. "There wereeight eggs but one egg didn't hatch andthe goose told Templeton she didn't wantit any more, so he took it away."

"The goose did what?" asked Mrs.

Arable, gazing at her daughter with aqueer, worried look.

"Told Templeton she didn't want theegg any more," repeated Fern.

"Who is Templeton?" asked Mrs.Arable.

"He's the rat," replied Fern. "Noneof us like him much."

"Who's 'us'?" asked Mr. Arable."Oh, everybody in the barn cellar.

Wilbur and the sheep and the lambs andthe goose and the gander and thegoslings and Charlotte and me."

"Charlotte?" said Mrs. Arable."Who's Charlotte?"

"She's Wilbur's best friend. She'sterribly clever."

"What does she look like?" askedMrs. Arable.

"Well-l," said Fern, thoughtfully,"she has eight legs. All spiders do, Iguess."

"Charlotte is a spider?" askedFern's mother.

Fern nodded. "A big grey one. Shehas a web across the top of Wilbur'sdoorway. She catches flies and suckstheir blood. Wilbur adores her."

"Does he really?" said Mrs.Arable, rather vaguely. She was staring

at Fern with a worried expression on herface.

"Oh, yes, Wilbur adores Charlotte,"said Fern. "Do you know what Charlottesaid when the goslings hatched?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," saidMr. Arable. "Tell us."

"Well, when the first gosling stuckits little head out from under the goose, Iwas sitting on my stool in the corner andCharlotte was on her web. She made aspeech. She said: 'I am sure that everyone of us here in the barn cellar will begratified to learn that after four weeks ofunremitting effort and patience on the

part of the goose, she now has somethingto show for it." Don't you think that wasa pleasant thing for her to say?"

"Yes, I do," said Mrs. Arable. "Andnow, Fern, it's time to get ready forSunday School. And tell Avery to getready. And this afternoon you can tell memore about what goes on in UncleHomer's barn. Aren't you spending quitea lot of time there? You go there almostevery afternoon, don't you?"

"I like it there," replied Fern. Shewiped her mouth and ran upstairs. Aftershe had left the room, Mrs. Arable spokein a low voice to her husband.

"I worry about Fern," she said."Did you hear the way she rambled onabout the animals, pretending that theytalked?"

Mr. Arable chuckled."Maybe they do talk," he said. "I've

sometimes wondered. At any rate, don'tworry about Fern - she's just got a livelyimagination. Kids think they hear allsorts of things."

"Just the same, I do worry abouther," replied Mrs. Arable. "I think I shallask Dr. Dorian about her the next time Isee him. He loves Fern almost as muchas we do, and I want him to know how

queerly she is acting about that pig andeverything. I don't think it's normal. Youknow perfectly well animals don't talk."

Mr. Arable grinned. "Maybe ourears aren't as sharp as Fern's," he said.

CHAPTER 9Wilbur's Boast

A spider's web is stronger than itlooks. Although it is made of thin,delicate strands, the web is not easilybroken. However, a web gets torn everyday by the insects that kick around in it,and a spider must rebuild it when it getsfull of holes. Charlotte liked to do herweaving during the late afternoon, andFern liked to sit nearby and watch. Oneafternoon she heard a most interestingconversation and witnessed a strangeevent.

"You have awfully hairy legs,

Charlotte," said Wilbur, as the spiderbusily worked at her task.

"My legs are hairy for a goodreason," replied Charlotte."Furthermore, each leg of mine hasseven sections - the coxa, the trochanter,the femur, the patella, the tibia, themetatarsus, and the tarsus."

Wilbur sat bolt upright. "You'rekidding," he said.

"No, I'm not, either."

"Say those names again, I didn'tcatch them the first time.

"Coxa, trochanter, femur, patella,tibia, metatarsus, and tarsus."

"Goodness!" said Wilbur, lookingdown at his own chubby legs. "I don'tthink my legs have seven sections."

"Well," said Charlotte, "you and Ilead different lives. You don't have tospin a web. That takes real leg work."

"I could spin a web if I tried," saidWilbur, boasting. "I've just never tried."

"Let's see you do it," saidCharlotte. Fern chuckled softly, and hereyes grew wide with love for the pig.

"O.K.," replied Wilbur. "You coachme and I'll spin one. It must be a lot offun to spin a web. How do I start?"

"Take a deep breath!" said

Charlotte, smiling. Wilbur breatheddeeply. "Now climb to the highest placeyou can get to, like this." Charlotte racedup to the top of the doorway. Wilburscrambled to the top of the manure pile.

"Very good!" said Charlotte. "Nowmake an attachment with your spinnerets,hurl yourself into space, and let out adragline as you go down!"

Wilbur hesitated a moment, thenjumped out into the air. He glancedhastily behind to see if a piece of ropewas following him to check his fall, butnothing seemed to be happening in hisrear, and the next thing he knew helanded with a thump. "Ooomp!" he

grunted.

Charlotte laughed so hard her webbegan to sway.

"What did I do wrong?" asked thepig, when he recovered from his bump.

"Nothing," said Charlotte. "It was anice try."

"I think it try again," said Wilbur,

cheerfully. "I believe what I need is alittle piece of string to hold me."

The pig walked out to his yard."You there, Templeton?" he called.

The rat poked his head out fromunder the trough.

"Got a little piece of string I couldborrow?" asked Wilbur. "I need it tospin a web."

"Yes, indeed," replied Templeton,who saved string. "No trouble at all.Anything to oblige." He crept down intohis hole, pushed the goose egg out of theway, and returned with an old piece ofdirty white string. Wilbur examined it.

"That's just the thing," he said. "Tieone end to my tail, will you,Templeton?"

Wilbur crouched low, with his thin,curly tail toward the rat. Templetonseized the string, passed it around the

end of the pig's tail, and tied two halfhitches. Charlotte watched in delight.Like Fern, she was truly fond of Wilbur,whose smelly pen and stale foodattracted the flies that she needed, andshe was proud to see that he was not aquitter and was willing to try again tospin a web.

While the rat and the spider and thelittle girl watched, Wilbur climbed againto the top of the manure pile, full ofenergy and hope.

"Ever body watch!" he cried. Andsummoning all his strength, he threwhimself into the air, headfirst. The stringtrailed behind him. But as he had

neglected to fasten the other end toanything, it didn't really do any good,and Wilbur landed with a thud, crushedand hurt. Tears came to his eyes.Templeton grinned. Charlotte just satquietly. After a bit she spoke.

"You can't spin a web, Wilbur, andI advise you to put the idea out of yourmind. You lack two things needed forspinning a web."

"What are they?" asked Wilbur,sadly.

"You lack a set of spinnerets, andyou lack know-how. But cheer up, youdon't need a web. Zuckerman supplies

you with three big meals a day. Whyshould you worry about trapping food?"

Wilbur sighed. "You're ever somuch cleverer and brighter than I am,Charlotte. I guess I was just trying toshow off. Serves me right."

Templeton untied his string andtook it back to his home. Charlottereturned to her weaving.

"You needn't feel too badly,Wilbur," she said. "Not many creaturescan spin webs. Even men aren't as goodat it as spiders, although they thinkthey're pretty good, and they'll tryanything. Did you ever hear of the

Queensborough Bridge?"

Wilbur shook his head. "Is it aweb?"

"Sort of," replied Charlotte. "Butdo you know how long it took men tobuild it? Eight whole years. Mygoodness, I would have starved to deathwaiting that long. I can make a web in asingle evening."

"What do people catch in theQueensborough Bridge - bugs?" askedWilbur.

"No," said Charlotte. "They don'tcatch anything. They just keep trottingback and forth across the bridge thinking

there is something better on the otherside. If they'd hang head-down at the topof the thing and wait quietly, maybesomething good would come along. Butno - with men it's rush, rush, rush, everyminute. I'm glad I'm a sedentary spider."

"What does sedentary mean?"asked Wilbur.

"Means I sit still a good part of thetime and don't go wandering all overcreation. I know a good thing when I seeit, and my web is a good thing. I stay putand wait for what comes. Gives me achance to think."

"Well, I'm sort of sedentary myself,

I guess," said the pig. "I have to hangaround here whether I want to or not.You know where I'd really like to be thisevening?"

"Where?""In a forest looking for beechnuts

and truffles and delectable roots,pushing leaves aside with my wonderfulstrong nose, searching and sniffing alongthe ground, smelling, smelling,smelling..."

"You smell just the way you are,"remarked a lamb who had just walkedin. "I can smell you from here. You're thesmelliest creature in the place."

Wilbur hung his head. His eyesgrew wet with tears.

Charlotte noticed hisembarrassment and she spoke sharply tothe lamb.

"Let Wilbur alone!" she said. "Hehas a perfect right to smell, consideringhis surroundings. You're no bundle ofsweet peas yourself. Furthermore, youare interrupting a very pleasantconversation. What were we talkingabout, Wilbur, when we were so rudelyinterrupted?

"Oh, I don't remember," saidWilbur. "It doesn't make any difference.

Let's not talk any more for a while,Charlotte. I'm getting sleepy. You goahead and finish fixing your web and I'lljust lie here and watch you. It's a lovelyevening." Wilbur stretched out on hisside.

Twilight settled over Zuckerman'sbarn, and a feeling of peace. Fern knewit was almost suppertime but shecouldn't bear to leave. Swallows passedon silent wings, in and out of thedoorways, bringing food to their youngones. From across the road a bird sang"Whippoorwill, whippoorwill!" Lurvysat down under an apple tree and lit hispipe; the animals sniffed the familiar

smell of strong tobacco. Wilbur heardthe trill of the tree toad and theoccasional slamming of the kitchen door.All these sounds made him feelcomfortable and happy, for he loved lifeand loved to be a part of the world on asummer evening. But as he lay there heremembered what the old sheep had toldhim. The thought of death came to himand he began to tremble with fear.

"Charlotte?" he said, softly."Yes, Wilbur?"

"I don't want to die."

"Of course you don't," saidCharlotte in a comforting voice.

"I just love it here in the barn," saidWilbur. "I love everything about thisplace."

"Of course you do," said Charlotte."We all do."

The goose appeared, followed byher seven goslings. They thrust theirlittle necks out and kept up a musicalwhistling, like a tiny troupe (travelingband of performers) of pipers. Wilburlistened to the sound with love in hisheart.

"Charlotte?" he said.

"Yes?" said the spider."Were you serious when you

promised you would keep them fromkilling me?"

"I was never more serious in mylife. I am not going to let you die,Wilbur."

"How are you going to save me?"asked Wilbur, whose curiosity was verystrong on this point.

"Well," said Charlotte, vaguely, "Idon't really know. But I'm working on aplan."

"That's wonderful," said Wilbur."How is the plan coming, Charlotte?Have you got very far with it? Is itcoming along pretty well?" Wilbur was

trembling again, but Charlotte was cooland collected.

"Oh, it's coming all right," she said,lightly. "The plan is still in its earlystages and hasn't completely shaped upyet, but I'm working on it."

"When do you work on it?" beggedWilbur.

"When I'm hanging head-down atthe top of my web. That's when I do mythinking, because then all the blood is inmy head."

"I'd be only too glad to help in anyway I can."

"Oh, I'll work it out alone," said

Charlotte. "I can think better if I thinkalone."

"All right," said Wilbur. "But don'tfail to let me know if there's anything Ican do to help, no matter how slight."

"Well," replied Charlotte, "youmust try to build yourself up. I want youto get plenty of sleep, and stop worrying.Never hurry and never worry! Chewyour food thoroughly and eat every bit ofit, except you must leave just enough forTempleton. Gain weight and stay well -that's the way you can help. Keep fit, anddon't lose your nerve. Do you think youunderstand?"

"Yes, I understand," said Wilbur.

"Go along to bed, then," saidCharlotte. "Sleep is important."

Wilbur trotted over to the darkestcorner of his pen and threw himselfdown. He closed his eyes. In anotherminute he spoke.

"Charlotte?" he said.

"Yes, Wilbur?""May I go out to my trough and see

if I left any of my supper? I think I leftjust a tiny bit of mashed potato."

"Very well," said Charlotte. "But Iwant you in bed again without delay."

Wilbur started to race out to hisyard.

"Slowly, slowly!" said Charlotte."Never hurry and never worry!"

Wilbur checked himself and creptslowly to his trough. He found a bit ofpotato, chewed it carefully, swallowedit, and walked back to bed. He closedhis eyes and was silent for a while.

"Charlotte?" he said, in a whisper.

"Yes?"May I get a drink of milk? I think

there are a few drops of milk left in mytrough."

"No, the trough is dry, and I want

you to go to sleep. No more talking!Close your eyes and go to sleep!"

Wilbur shut his eyes. Fern got upfrom her stool and started for home, hermind full of everything she had seen andheard.

"Good night, Charlotte!" saidWilbur.

"Good night, Wilbur!"

There was a pause."Good night, Charlotte!"

"Good night, Wilbur!"

"Good night!""Good night!"

CHAPTER 10An Explosion

Day after day the spider waited,head-down, for an idea to come to her.Hour by hour she sat motionless, deep inthought.

Having promised Wilbur that shewould save his life, she was determinedto keep her promise. Charlotte wasnaturally patient.

She knew from experience that ifshe waited long enough, a fly wouldcome to her web; and she felt sure that ifshe thought long enough about Wilbur'sproblem, an idea would come to hermind.

Finally, one morning toward themiddle of July, the idea came. "Why,how perfectly simple!" she said toherself. "The way to save Wilbur's lifeis to play a trick on Zuckerman. If I canfool a bug," thought Charlotte, "I can

surely fool a man. People are not assmart as bugs."

Wilbur walked into his yard just atthat moment.

"What are you thinking about,Charlotte?" he asked.

"I was just thinking," said thespider, "that people are very gullible."

"What does 'gullible' mean?""Easy to fool," said Charlotte.

"That's a mercy," replied Wilbur,and he lay down in the shade of his fenceand went fast asleep. The spider,however, stayed wide awake, gazingaffectionately at him and making plans

for his future. Summer was half gone.She knew she didn't have much time.

That morning, just as Wilbur fellasleep, Avery Arable wandered into theZuckerman's front yard, followed byFern. Avery carried a live frog in hishand. Fern had a crown of daisies in herhair. The children ran for the kitchen.

"Just in time for a piece ofblueberry pie," said Mrs. Zuckerman.

"Look at my frog!" said Avery,placing the frog on the drainboard andholding out his hand for pie.

"Take that thing out of here!" saidMrs. Zuckerman.

"He's hot," said Fern. "He's almostdead, that frog."

"He is not," said Avery. "He lets mescratch him between the eyes." The frogjumped and landed in Mrs. Zuckerman'sdishpan full of soapy water.

"You're getting your pie on you,"said Fern. "Can I look for eggs in thehenhouse, Aunt Edith?"

"Run outdoors, both of you! Anddon't bother the hens!"

"It's getting all over everything,"shouted Fern. "His pie is all over hisfront."

"Come on, frog!" cried Avery. He

scooped up his frog. The frog kicked,splashing soapy water onto the blueberrypie.

"Another crisis!" groaned Fern."Let's swing in the swing!" said

Avery.

The children ran to the barn.

Mr. Zuckerman had the best swingin the county. It was a single long piece

of heavy rope tied to the beam over thenorth doorway. At the bottom end of therope was a fat knot to sit on.

It was arranged so that you couldswing without being pushed. Youclimbed a ladder to the hayloft. Then,holding the rope, you stood at the edgeand looked down, and were scared anddizzy. Then you straddled the knot, sothat it acted as a seat. Then you got upall your nerve, took a deep breath, andjumped. For a second you seemed to befalling to the barn floor far below, butthen suddenly the rope would begin tocatch you, and you would sail throughthe barn door going a mile a minute, with

the wind whistling in your eyes and earsand hair. Then you would zoom upwardinto the sky, and look up at the clouds,and the rope would twist and you wouldtwist and turn with the rope. Then youwould drop down, down, down out ofthe sky and come sailing back into thebarn almost into the hayloft, then sail outagain (not quite so far this time), then inagain (not quite so high), then out again,then in again, then out, then in; and thenyou'd jump off and fall down and letsomebody else try it.

Mothers for miles around worriedabout Zuckerman's swing. They fearedsome child would fall off. But no child

ever did. Children almost always hangonto things tighter than their parents thinkthey will.

Avery put the frog in his pocket andclimbed to the hayloft.

"The last time I swang in thisswing, I almost crashed into a barnswallow," he yelled.

"Take that frog out!" ordered Fern.

Avery straddled the rope andjumped. He sailed out through the door,frog and all, and into the sky, frog andall. Then he sailed back into the barn.

"Your tongue is purple!" screamedFern.

"So is yours!" cried Avery, sailingout again with the frog.

"I have hay inside my dress! Ititches!" called Fern.

"Scratch it!" yelled Avery, as hesailed back.

"It's my turn," said Fern. "Jumpoff!"

"Fern's got the itch!" sang Avery.When he jumped off, he threw the

swing up to his sister. She shut her eyestight and jumped. She felt the dizzy drop,then the supporting lift of the swing.When she opened her eyes she waslooking up into the blue sky and was

about to fly back through the door.

They took turns for an hour.When the children grew tired of

swinging they went down toward thepasture and picked wild raspberries andate them.

Their tongues turned from purple tored. Fern bit into a raspberry that had abad-tasting bug inside it, and gotdiscouraged. Avery found an emptycandy box and put his frog in it. The frog

seemed tired after his morning in theswing. The children walked slowly uptoward the barn. They, too, were tiredand hardly had energy enough to walk.

"Let's build a tree house,"suggested Avery. "I want to live in atree, with my frog."

"I'm going to visit Wilbur," Fernannounced.

They climbed the fence into thelane and walked lazily toward thepigpen. Wilbur heard them coming andgot up.

Avery noticed the spider web, and,coming closer, he saw Charlotte.

"Hey, look at that big spider!" hesaid. "It's tremenjus."

"Leave it alone!" commanded Fern."You've got a frog - isn't that enough?"

"That's a fine spider and I'm goingto capture it," said Avery. He took thecover off the candy box. Then he pickedup a stick. "I'm going to knock that ol'spider into this box," he said.

Wilbur's heart almost stopped whenhe saw what was going on.

This might be the end of Charlotteif the boy succeeded in catching her.

"You stop it, Avery!" cried Fern.

Avery put one leg over the fence of

the pigpen. He was just about to raisehis stick to hit Charlotte when he lost hisbalance. He swayed and toppled andlanded on the edge of Wilbur's trough.The trough tipped up and then camedown with a slap. The goose egg wasright underneath. There was a dullexplosion as the egg broke, and then ahorrible smell.

Fern screamed. Avery jumped tohis feet. The air was filled with theterrible gases and smells from the rottenegg. Templeton, who had been resting inhis home, scuttled away into the barn.

"Good night!" screamed Avery."Good night! What a stink! Let's get out

of here!"

Fern was crying. She held her noseand ran toward the house. Avery ranafter her, holding his nose.

Charlotte felt greatly relieved tosee him go. It had been a narrow escape.

Later on that morning, the animalscame up from the pasture - the sheep, thelambs, the gander, the goose, and theseven goslings. There were manycomplaints about the awful smell, andWilbur had to tell the story over andover again, of how the Arable boy hadtried to capture Charlotte, and how thesmell of the broken egg drove him away

just in time. "It was that rotten goose eggthat saved Charlotte's life," said Wilbur.

The goose was proud of her sharein the adventure. "I'm delighted that theegg never hatched," she gabbled.

Templeton, of course, wasmiserable over the loss of his belovedegg. But he couldn't resist boasting. "Itpays to save things," he said in his surlyvoice. "A rat never knows whensomething is going to come in handy. Inever throw anything away."

"Well," said one of the lambs, "thiswhole business is all well and good forCharlotte, but what about the rest of us?

The smell is unbearable. Who wants tolive in a barn that is perfumed withrotten egg?"

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it,"said Templeton. He sat up and pulledwisely at his long whiskers, then creptaway to pay a visit to the dump.

When Lurvy showed up atlunchtime carrying a pail of food forWilbur, he stopped short a few pacesfrom the pigpen. He sniffed the air andmade a face.

"What in thunder?" he said. Settingthe pail down, he picked up the stick thatAvery had dropped and pried the trough

up. "Rats!" he said. "Fhew! I mightaknown a rat would make a nest underthis trough. How I hate a rat!"

And Lurvy dragged Wilbur's troughacross the yard and kicked some dirt intothe rat's nest, burying the broken egg andall Templeton's other possessions. Thenhe picked up the pail. Wilbur stood inthe trough, drooling with hunger. Lurvypoured. The slops ran creamily downaround the pig's eyes and ears. Wilburgrunted. He gulped and sucked, andsucked and gulped, making swishing andswooshing noises, anxious to geteverything at once. It was a deliciousmeal - skim milk, wheat middlings,

leftover pancakes, half a doughnut, therind of a summer squash, two pieces ofstale toast, a third of a gingersnap, a fishtail, one orange peel, several noodlesfrom a noodle soup, the scum off a cupof cocoa, an ancient jelly roll, a strip ofpaper from the lining of the garbage pail,and a spoonful of raspberry jello.

Wilbur ate heartily. He planned toleave half a noodle and a few drops ofmilk for Templeton. Then heremembered that the rat had been usefulin saving Charlotte's life, and thatCharlotte was trying to save his life. Sohe left a whole noodle, instead of a half.

Now that the broken egg was

buried, the air cleared and the barnsmelled good again. The afternoonpassed, and evening came.

Shadows lengthened. The cool andkindly breath of evening entered throughdoors and windows. Astride her web,Charlotte sat moodily eating a horseflyand thinking about the future. After awhile she bestirred herself.

She descended to the center of theweb and there she began to cut some ofher lines. She worked slowly butsteadily while the other creaturesdrowsed. None of the others, not eventhe goose, noticed that she was at work.Deep in his soft bed, Wilbur snoozed.

Over in their favorite corner, thegoslings whistled a night song.

Charlotte tore quite a section out ofher web, leaving an open space in themiddle. Then she started weavingsomething to take the place of the threadsshe had removed. When Templeton gotback from the dump, around midnight,the spider was still at work.

CHAPTER 11The Miracle

The next day was foggy. Everythingon the farm was dripping wet. The grasslooked like a magic carpet. Theasparagus patch looked like a silverforest.

On foggy mornings, Charlotte's webwas truly a thing of beauty. This morningeach thin strand was decorated withdozens of tiny beads of water. The webglistened in the light and made a patternof loveliness and mystery, like a delicateveil. Even Lurvy, who wasn'tparticularly interested in beauty, noticed

the web when he came with the pig'sbreakfast. He noted how clearly itshowed up and he noted how big andcarefully built it was. And then he tookanother look and he saw something thatmade him set his pail down. There, inthe center of the web, neatly woven inblock letters, was a message. It said:

SOME PIG!

Lurvy felt weak. He brushed hishand across his eyes and stared harder atCharlotte's web.

"I'm seeing things," he whispered.He dropped to his knees and uttered ashort prayer. Then, forgetting all aboutWilbur's breakfast, he walked back to

the house and called Mr. Zuckerman.

"I think you'd better come down tothe pigpen," he said.

"What's the trouble?" asked Mr.Zuckerman. "Anything wrong with thepig?"

"N-not exactly," said Lurvy. "Comeand see for yourself."

The two men walked silently downto Wilbur's yard. Lurvy pointed to thespider's web. "Do you see what I see?"he asked.

Zuckerman stared at the writing onthe web. Then he murmured the words"Some Pig." Then he looked at Lurvy.

Then they both began to tremble.Charlotte, sleepy after her night'sexertions, smiled as she watched.Wilbur came and stood directly underthe web.

"Some pig!" muttered Lurvy in alow voice.

"Some pig!" whispered Mr.Zuckerman. They stared and stared for along time at Wilbur. Then they stared atCharlotte.

"You don't suppose that that spider..." began Mr. Zuckerman - but he shookhis head and didn't finish the sentence.Instead, he walked solemnly back up to

the house and spoke to his wife. "Edith,something has happened," he said, in aweak voice. He went into the livingroom and sat down, and Mrs. Zuckermanfollowed.

"I've got something to tell you,Edith," he said. "You better sit down."

Mrs. Zuckerman sank into a chair.She looked pale and frightened.

"Edith," he said, trying to keep hisvoice steady, "I think you had best betold that we have a very unusual pig."

A look of complete bewildermentcame over Mrs. Zuckerman's face."Homer Zuckerman, what in the world

are you talking about?" she said."This is a very serious thing,

Edith," he replied. "Our pig iscompletely out of the ordinary."

"What's unusual about the pig?"asked Mrs. Zuckerman, who wasbeginning to recover from her scare.

"Well, I don't really know yet," saidMr. Zuckerman. "But we have received asign, Edith - a mysterious sign. Amiracle has happened on this farm.There is a large spider's web in thedoorway of the barn cellar, right overthe pigpen, and when Lurvy went to feedthe pig this morning, he noticed the web

because it was foggy, and you know howa spider's web looks very distinct in afog. And right spang (precisely (Slang)in the middle of the web there were thewords 'Some Pig." The words werewoven right into the web. They wereactual part of the web, Edith. I knowbecause I have been down there andseen them. It says, 'Some Pig,' just asclear as clear can be. There can be nomistake about it. A miracle has happenedand a sign has occurred here on earth,right on our farm, and we have noordinary pig."

"Well," said Mrs. Zuckerman, "itseems to me you're a little off. It seems

to me we have no ordinary spider.""Oh, no," said Zuckerman. "It's the

pig that's unusual. It says so, right therein the middle of the web."

"Maybe so," said Mrs. Zuckerman."Just the same, I intend to have a look atthat spider."

"It's just a common grey spider,"said Zuckerman.

They got up, and together theywalked down to Wilbur's yard.

"You see, Edith? It's just a commongrey spider."

Wilbur was pleased to receive somuch attention. Lurvy was still standing

there, and Mr. and Mrs. Zuckerman allthree, stood for about an hour, readingthe words on the web over and over, andwatching Wilbur.

Charlotte was delighted with theway her trick was working.

She sat without moving a muscle,and listened to the conversation of thepeople. When a small fly blundered intothe web, just beyond the word pig,"Charlotte dropped quickly down, rolledthe fly up, and carried it out of the way.

After a while the fog lifted. Theweb dried off and the words didn't showup so plainly. The Zuckermans and

Lurvy walked back to the house. Justbefore they left the pigpen, Mr.Zuckerman took one last look at Wilbur.

"You know," he said, in animportant voice, "I've thought all alongthat that pig of ours was an extra goodone. He's a solid pig. That pig is as solidas they come. You notice how solid he isaround the shoulders, Lurvy?"

"Sure. Sure I do," said Lurvy. "I'vealways noticed that pig. He's quite apig."

"He's long, and he's smooth," saidZuckerman.

"That's right," agreed Lurvy. "He's

as smooth as they come. He's some pig."When Mr. Zuckerman got back to

the house, he took off his work clothesand put on his best suit. Then he got intohis car and drove to the minister's house.He stayed for an hour and explained tothe minister that a miracle had happenedon the farm.

"So far," said Zuckerman, "onlyfour people on earth know about thismiracle - myself, my wife Edith, myhired man Lurvy, and you."

"Don't tell anybody else," said theminister. "We don't know what it meansyet, but perhaps if I give thought to it, I

can explain it in my sermon next Sunday.There can be no doubt that you have amost unusual pig. I intend to speak aboutit in my sermon and point out the fact thatthis community has been visited with awondrous animal. By the way, does thepig have a name?"

"Why, yes," said Mr. Zuckerman."My little niece calls him Wilbur.

She's a rather queer child - full ofnotions. She raised the pig on a bottleand I bought him from her when he was amonth ol