"Now Pigling Bland, son Pigling Bland, you must go to market. Take your brother Alexander by the hand. Mind your Sunday clothes, and remember to blow your nose" --(Aunt Pettitoes passed round the handkerchief again)--"beware of traps, hen roosts, bacon and eggs; always walk upon your hind legs." Pigling Bland who was a sedate little pig, looked solemnly at his mother, a tear trickled down his cheek.

Aunt Pettitoes turned to the other--"Now son Alexander take the hand"--"Wee, wee, wee!" giggled Alexander--"take the hand of your brother Pigling Bland, you must go to market. Mind--" "Wee, wee, wee!" interrupted Alexander again. "You put me out," said Aunt Pettitoes--"Observe signposts and milestones; do not gobble herring bones--" "And remember," said I impressively, "if you once cross the county boundary you cannot come back. Alexander, you are not attending. Here are two licenses permitting two pigs to go to market in Lancashire. Attend Alexander. I have had no end of trouble in getting these papers from the policeman." Pigling Bland listened gravely; Alexander was hopelessly volatile.