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This banner text can have markup. Search the history of over billion web pages on the Internet. So your father has decided to do away with it. Arable put a pitcher of cream on the table. The pig would probably die anyway. The grass was wet and the earth smelled of springtime. Arable stopped walking. A weakling makes trouble. Now run along! If 7 had been very small at birth, would you have killed me?

Arable smiled. A little girl is one thing, a little runty pig is another. He seemed almost ready to cry himself. Arable returned to the house half an hour later, he carried a carton under his arm. Fern was upstairs changing her sneakers. The kitchen table was set for breakfast, and the room smelled of coffee, bacon, damp plaster, and wood smoke from the stove.

Fern came slowly down the stairs. Her eyes were red from crying. As she approached her chair, the carton wobbled, and there was a scratching noise. Fern looked at her father. Then she lifted the lid of the car- ton. There, inside, looking up at her, was the newborn pig. It was a white one. The morning light shone through its ears, turning them pink. And may the good Lord forgive me for this foolishness.

First she kissed her father, then she kissed her mother. Then she opened the lid again, lifted the pig out, and held it against her cheek. At this moment her brother Avery came into the room. Avery was ten. He was heavily armed — an air rifle in one hand, a wooden dagger in the other. As a result, she now has a pig. A small one, to be sure, but nevertheless a pig. It just shows what can happen if a person gets out of bed promptly.

She poured warm milk into the bottle, fitted the nipple over the top, and handed it to Fern. A minute later, Fern was seated on the floor in the comer of the kitchen with her infant between her Before Breakfast 7 knees, teaching it to suck from the bottle.

The pig, although tiny, had a good appetite and caught on quickly. The school bus honked from the road. Arable, taking the pig from Fern and slipping a doughnut into her hand. Avery grabbed his gun and another doughnut.

The children ran out to the road and climbed into the bus. Fern took no notice of the others in the bus.

She just sat and stared out of the window, thinking what a blissful world it was and how lucky she was to have entire charge of a pig. By the time the bus reached school, Fern had named her pet, selecting the most beautiful name she could think of. The pupils gig- gled.

Fern blushed. She loved to stroke him, to feed him, to put him to bed. Every morning, as soon as she got up, she warmed his milk, tied his bib on, and held the bottle for him. Every afternoon, when the school bus stopped in front of her house, she jumped out and ran to the kitchen to fix another bottle for him. She fed him again at suppertime, and again just before going to bed. Arable gave him a feeding around noontime each day, when Fern was away in school. Wilbur loved his milk, and he was never happier than when Fern was warming up a bottle for him.

He would stand and gaze up at her with adoring eyes. For the first few days of his life, Wilbur was allowed to live in a box near the stove in the kitchen. Then, when Mrs. Arable complained, he was moved to a big- ger box in the woodshed.

At two weeks of age, he was moved outdoors. It was apple-blossom time, and the days were getting warmer. Arable fixed a small yard specially for Wilbur under an apple tree, and 8 Wilbur 9 gave him a large wooden box full of straw, with a doorway cut in it so he could walk in and out as he pleased. Wilbur ran to her and she held the bottle for him while he sucked. When he had finished the last drop, he grunted and walked sleepily into the box. Fern peered through the door.

Wilbur was poking the straw with his snout. In a short time he had dug a tunnel in the straw. He crawled into the tunnel and disappeared from sight, completely cov- ered with straw.

Fern was enchanted. It relieved her mind to know that her baby would sleep covered up, and would stay warm. She would wave good-bye to him, and he would stand and watch the bus until it vanished around a turn.

While Fern was in school, Wilbur was shut up inside his yard. But as soon as she got home in the afternoon, she would take him out and he would follow her around the place. If she went into the house, Wilbur went, too. If she went upstairs, Wilbur would wait at the bottom step until she came down again.

If she took her doll for a walk in the doll car- riage, Wilbur followed along. Sometimes, on these journeys, Wilbur would get tired, and Fern would pick him up and put him in the carriage alongside the doll. He liked this. He looked cute when his eyes were closed, because his lashes were so long. The doll would close her eyes, too, and Fern would wheel the carriage very slowly and smoothly so as not to wake her infants. One warm afternoon. Fern and Avery put on bath- ing suits and went down to the brook for a swim.

When she waded into the brook, Wilbur waded in with her. He found the water quite cold — too cold for his liking. So while the children swam and played and splashed water at each other, Wilbur amused himself in the mud along the edge of the brook, where it was warm and moist and delightfully sticky and oozy. Every day was a happy day, and every night was peaceful. Wilbur was what farmers call a spring pig, which simply means that he was born in springtime. When he 12 Charlotte's Web was five weeks old, Mr.

Arable said he was now big enough to sell, and would have to be sold. Fern broke down and wept. But her father was firm about it. Arable was not willing to provide for him any longer. Arable to Fern. And if Wilbur goes there to live, you can walk down the road and visit him as often as you like.

When he heard that the price was only six dollars, he said he would buy the pig. It was very old. It smelled of hay and it smelled of manure. It smelled of the perspiration of tired horses and the wonderful sweet breath of patient cows. It often had a sort of peaceful smell — as though nothing bad could happen ever again in the world. It smelled of grain and of harness dressing and of axle grease and of rubber boots and of new rope.

And whenever the cat was given a fish-head to eat, the barn would smell of fish. But mostly it smelled of hay, for there was always hay in the great loft up overhead.

And there was always hay being pitched down to the cows and the horses and the sheep.

Charlotte's Web. Contents I. Before Breakfast II. Wilbur III. Escape IV. Loneliness V. Charlotte VI. Summer Days VII. Bad News VIII. A Talk at Home IX. Wilbur's. Charlotte's Web CBD (cannabidiol) oils contain plant-based cannabinoids and other beneficial phytocompounds for a full spectrum of plant-powered goodness.

Charlotte's Web is based on E. White's loving story of the friendship between a pig named Wilbur and a little gray spider named Charlotte. Wilbur has a problem: how to avoid winding up as pork chops! Charlotte, a fine writer and true friend, hits on a plan to fool Farmer Zuckerman. She will create a "miracle.

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Charlotte's Web Contents I. Before Breakfast II.

Charlotte’s Web

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It's very small and weak, and it will never amount to anything. So your father has decided to do away with it. Just because it's smaller than the others? Arable put a pitcher of cream on the table. The pig would probably die anyway. Fern pushed a chair out of the way and ran outdoors. The grass was wet and the earth smelled of springtime. Fern's sneakers were sopping by the time she caught up with her father. Arable, "I know more about raising a litter of pigs than you do. A weakling makes trouble.

Charlotte's Web is a children's novel by American author E. The novel tells the story of a pig named Wilbur and his friendship with a barn spider named Charlotte.