Charlotte's Web

“Well,” said her mother, “one of the pigs is a runt.

Arable put a pitcher of cream on the table.

A weakling makes trouble.

A little girl is one thing, a little runty pig is another.”

“You go back to the house and I will bring the runt when I come in.

The kitchen table was set for breakfast, and the room smelled of coffee, bacon, damp plaster, and wood smoke from the stove.

The kitchen table was set for breakfast, and the room smelled of coffee, bacon, damp plaster, and wood smoke from the stove.

The kitchen table was set for breakfast, and the room smelled of coffee, bacon, damp plaster, and wood smoke from the stove.

He was heavily armed—an air rifle in one hand, a wooden dagger in the other.

He was heavily armed—an air rifle in one hand, a wooden dagger in the other.

He was heavily armed—an air rifle in one hand, a wooden dagger in the other.

“No, I only distribute pigs to early risers,” said Mr.

The school bus honked from the road.

Arable, taking the pig from Fern and slipping a doughnut into her hand.

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.

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.

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.

Fern peered through the door.

He crawled into the tunnel and disappeared from sight, completely covered with straw.

When she waded into the brook, Wilbur waded in with her.

When she waded into the brook, Wilbur waded in with her.

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.

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.

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.

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.

But her father was firm about it.

“Well,” said her father, “he’s a runt.

Next day Wilbur was taken from his home under the apple tree and went to live in a manure pile in the cellar of Zuckerman’s barn.

Next day Wilbur was taken from his home under the apple tree and went to live in a manure pile in the cellar of Zuckerman’s barn.

It smelled of hay and it smelled of manure.

It smelled of hay and it smelled of manure.

It smelled of grain and of harness dressing and of axle grease and of rubber boots and of new rope.

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.

It smelled of grain and of harness dressing and of axle grease and of rubber boots and of new rope.

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.

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

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.

It was the kind of barn that swallows like to build their nests in.

Zuckerman knew that a manure pile is a good place to keep a young pig.

Zuckerman knew that a manure pile is a good place to keep a young pig.

Pigs need warmth, and it was warm and comfortable down there in the barn cellar on the south side.

Zuckerman did not allow her to take Wilbur out, and he did not allow her to get into the pigpen.

He walked slowly to his food trough and sniffed to see if anything had been overlooked at lunch.

“At-at-at, at the risk of repeating myself,” said the goose, “I suggest that you come on out.

Actually, Wilbur felt queer to be outside his fence, with nothing between him and the big world.

Go down through the garden, dig up the radishes!

Look for oats!

Pausing in the shade of an apple tree, he put his strong snout into the ground and began pushing, digging, and rooting.

Pausing in the shade of an apple tree, he put his strong snout into the ground and began pushing, digging, and rooting.

Pausing in the shade of an apple tree, he put his strong snout into the ground and began pushing, digging, and rooting.

He had plowed up quite a piece of ground before anyone noticed him.

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

The cocker spaniel heard the commotion and he ran out from the barn to join the chase.

The cocker spaniel heard the commotion and he ran out from the barn to join the chase.

Lurvy, the hired man, heard the noise and came up from the asparagus patch where he was pulling weeds.

I’ll go and get a bucket of slops.”

I’ll go and get a bucket of slops.”

Every animal stirred and lifted its head and became excited to know that one of his friends had got free and was no longer penned up or tied fast.

Zuckerman was coming down toward him carrying a pail.

Dodge about, dodge about!”

“Skip around, run toward me, slip in and out, in and out, in and out!

Make for the woods!

The cocker spaniel sprang for Wilbur’s hind leg.

said the rooster.

yelled the gander.

Poor Wilbur was dazed and frightened by this hullabaloo.

Poor Wilbur was dazed and frightened by this hullabaloo.

He didn’t like being the center of all this fuss.

He walked to the trough and took a long drink of slops, sucking in the milk hungrily and chewing the popover.

He felt the pleasant rubbing of the stick along his itchy back.

Rain fell on the roof of the barn and dripped steadily from the eaves.

Skim milk, crusts, middlings, bits of doughnuts, wheat cakes with drops of maple syrup sticking to them, potato skins, leftover custard pudding with raisins, and bits of Shredded Wheat.

Skim milk, crusts, middlings, bits of doughnuts, wheat cakes with drops of maple syrup sticking to them, potato skins, leftover custard pudding with raisins, and bits of Shredded Wheat.

Skim milk, crusts, middlings, bits of doughnuts, wheat cakes with drops of maple syrup sticking to them, potato skins, leftover custard pudding with raisins, and bits of Shredded Wheat.

Skim milk, crusts, middlings, bits of doughnuts, wheat cakes with drops of maple syrup sticking to them, potato skins, leftover custard pudding with raisins, and bits of Shredded Wheat.

Skim milk, crusts, middlings, bits of doughnuts, wheat cakes with drops of maple syrup sticking to them, potato skins, leftover custard pudding with raisins, and bits of Shredded Wheat.

Skim milk, crusts, middlings, bits of doughnuts, wheat cakes with drops of maple syrup sticking to them, potato skins, leftover custard pudding with raisins, and bits of Shredded Wheat.

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

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

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

Middlings, warm water, apple parings, meat gravy, carrot scrapings, meat scraps, stale hominy, and the wrapper off a package of cheese.

Middlings, warm water, apple parings, meat gravy, carrot scrapings, meat scraps, stale hominy, and the wrapper off a package of cheese.

Middlings, warm water, apple parings, meat gravy, carrot scrapings, meat scraps, stale hominy, and the wrapper off a package of cheese.

Skim milk, provender, leftover sandwich from Lurvy’s lunchbox, prune skins, a morsel of this, a bit of that, fried potatoes, marmalade drippings, a little more of this, a little more of that, a piece of baked apple, a scrap of upsidedown cake.

Skim milk, provender, leftover sandwich from Lurvy’s lunchbox, prune skins, a morsel of this, a bit of that, fried potatoes, marmalade drippings, a little more of this, a little more of that, a piece of baked apple, a scrap of upsidedown cake.

Skim milk, provender, leftover sandwich from Lurvy’s lunchbox, prune skins, a morsel of this, a bit of that, fried potatoes, marmalade drippings, a little more of this, a little more of that, a piece of baked apple, a scrap of upsidedown cake.

Suddenly Wilbur felt lonely and friendless.

“One day just like another,” he groaned.

For a while he stood gloomily indoors.

Wilbur did not budge.

He mentioned this to the goose, who was sitting quietly in a corner of the sheepfold.

“Sorry, sonny, sorry,” said the goose.

Got to keep them toasty-oasty-oasty warm.

“Well, I didn’t think you were expecting woodpeckers,” said Wilbur, bitterly.

“Well, I didn’t think you were expecting woodpeckers,” said Wilbur, bitterly.

Soon he saw the rat climbing down a slanting board that he used as a stairway.

said Templeton, twirling his whiskers.

“Well,” said Wilbur, “it means to have fun, to frolic, to run and skip and make merry.”

“I never do those things if I can avoid them,” replied the rat, sourly.

“I prefer to spend my time eating, gnawing, spying, and hiding.

I am a glutton but not a merry-maker.

And Templeton, the rat, crept stealthily along the wall and disappeared into a private tunnel that he had dug between the door and the trough in Wilbur’s yard.

He didn’t know whether he could endure the awful loneliness any more.

Why can’t he go to sleep, like any decent animal?”

Overhead, on the main floor, nothing stirred: the cows were resting, the horses dozed.

Overhead, on the main floor, nothing stirred: the cows were resting, the horses dozed.

Templeton had quit work and gone off somewhere on an errand.

The only sound was a slight scraping noise from the rooftop, where the weather-vane swung back and forth.

Through a small window, a faint gleam appeared.

Through a small window, a faint gleam appeared.

She sat with head tucked under a wing.

She sat with head tucked under a wing.

He examined the window ledge, stared up at the ceiling.

He lay down meekly in the manure, facing the door.

As for my whereabouts, that’s easy.

She was about the size of a gumdrop.

I’m not as flashy as some, but I’ll do.

He could hardly believe what he was seeing, and although he detested flies, he was sorry for this one.

Flies, bugs, grasshoppers, choice beetles, moths, butterflies, tasty cockroaches, gnats, midges, daddy longlegs, centipedes, mosquitoes, crickets—anything that is careless enough to get caught in my web.

Flies, bugs, grasshoppers, choice beetles, moths, butterflies, tasty cockroaches, gnats, midges, daddy longlegs, centipedes, mosquitoes, crickets—anything that is careless enough to get caught in my web.

Flies, bugs, grasshoppers, choice beetles, moths, butterflies, tasty cockroaches, gnats, midges, daddy longlegs, centipedes, mosquitoes, crickets—anything that is careless enough to get caught in my web.

Flies, bugs, grasshoppers, choice beetles, moths, butterflies, tasty cockroaches, gnats, midges, daddy longlegs, centipedes, mosquitoes, crickets—anything that is careless enough to get caught in my web.

Flies, bugs, grasshoppers, choice beetles, moths, butterflies, tasty cockroaches, gnats, midges, daddy longlegs, centipedes, mosquitoes, crickets—anything that is careless enough to get caught in my web.

Flies, bugs, grasshoppers, choice beetles, moths, butterflies, tasty cockroaches, gnats, midges, daddy longlegs, centipedes, mosquitoes, crickets—anything that is careless enough to get caught in my web.

Flies, bugs, grasshoppers, choice beetles, moths, butterflies, tasty cockroaches, gnats, midges, daddy longlegs, centipedes, mosquitoes, crickets—anything that is careless enough to get caught in my web.

Flies, bugs, grasshoppers, choice beetles, moths, butterflies, tasty cockroaches, gnats, midges, daddy longlegs, centipedes, mosquitoes, crickets—anything that is careless enough to get caught in my web.

A spider has to pick up a living somehow or other, and I happen to be a trapper.

I just naturally build a web and trap flies and other insects.

Way back for thousands and thousands of years we spiders have been laying for flies and bugs.”

“It’s a miserable inheritance,” said Wilbur, gloomily.

“It’s a miserable inheritance,” said Wilbur, gloomily.

It’s not a bad pitch, on the whole.”

“It’s cruel,” replied Wilbur, who did not intend to be argued out of his position.

I live by my wits.

And furthermore,” said Charlotte, shaking one of her legs, “do you realize that if I didn’t catch bugs and eat them, bugs would increase and multiply and get so numerous that they’d destroy the earth, wipe out everything?”

The goose had been listening to this conversation and chuckling to herself.

Underneath her rather bold and cruel exterior, she had a kind heart, and she was to prove loyal and true to the very end.

School ends, and children have time to play and to fish for trouts in the brook.

All morning you could hear the rattle of the machine as it went round and round, while the tall grass fell down behind the cutter bar in long green swathes.

Next day, if there was no thunder shower, all hands would help rake and pitch and load, and the hay would be hauled to the barn in the high hay wagon, with Fern and Avery riding at the top of the load.

Then the hay would be hoisted, sweet and warm, into the big loft, until the whole barn seemed like a wonderful bed of timothy and clover.

Early summer days are a jubilee time for birds.

In the fields, around the house, in the barn, in the woods, in the swamp—everywhere love and songs and nests and eggs.

From the edge of the woods, the white-throated sparrow (which must come all the way from Boston) calls, “Oh, Peabody, Peabody, Peabody!”

On an apple bough, the phoebe teeters and wags its tail and says, “Phoebe, phoe-bee!”

On an apple bough, the phoebe teeters and wags its tail and says, “Phoebe, phoe-bee!”

On an apple bough, the phoebe teeters and wags its tail and says, “Phoebe, phoe-bee!”

The song sparrow, who knows how brief and lovely life is, says, “Sweet, sweet, sweet interlude; sweet, sweet, sweet interlude.”

If you enter the barn, the swallows swoop down from their nests and scold.

If you enter the barn, the swallows swoop down from their nests and scold.

Dandelion stems are full of milk, clover heads are loaded with nectar, the Frigidaire is full of ice-cold drinks.

Dandelion stems are full of milk, clover heads are loaded with nectar, the Frigidaire is full of ice-cold drinks.

Everywhere you look is life; even the little ball of spit on the weed stalk, if you poke it apart, has a green worm inside it.

This was an important event in the barn cellar.

“I am sure,” she said, “that every one of us here will be gratified to learn that after four weeks of unremitting effort and patience on the part of our friend the goose, she now has something to show for it.

“Thank you,” said the gander.

“It’s a dud, I guess,” said the goose.

But I’ll tell you one thing, Templeton, if I ever catch you poking-oking-oking your ugly nose around our goslings, I’ll give you the worst pounding a rat ever took.”

The rat had no morals, no conscience, no scruples, no consideration, no decency, no milk of rodent kindness, no compunctions, no higher feeling, no friendliness, no anything.

The rat had no morals, no conscience, no scruples, no consideration, no decency, no milk of rodent kindness, no compunctions, no higher feeling, no friendliness, no anything.

The rat had no morals, no conscience, no scruples, no consideration, no decency, no milk of rodent kindness, no compunctions, no higher feeling, no friendliness, no anything.

“Imagine wanting a junky old rotten egg!”

She laughed a tinkling little laugh.

“But, my friends, if that ancient egg ever breaks, this barn will be untenable.”

“I won’t break it,” snarled Templeton.

He pushed and nudged till he succeeded in rolling it to his lair under the trough.

Flies spent their time pestering others.

The horses detested them.

The sheep loathed them.

“Just the same, I don’t envy you,” said the old sheep.

When a pig is to be butchered, everybody helps.

Arable arrives with his. 22, shoots the ...”

“Well,” said the spider, plucking thoughtfully at her web, “the old sheep has been around this barn a long time.

It’s also the dirtiest trick I ever heard of.

“I don’t want to die,” he moaned.

Avery had finished and was upstairs looking for his slingshot.

Arable, rather vaguely.

“Did you hear the way she rambled on about the animals, pretending that they talked?”

He loves Fern almost as much as we do, and I want him to know how queerly she is acting about that pig and everything.

One afternoon she heard a most interesting conversation and witnessed a strange event.

“Furthermore, each leg of mine has seven sections—the coxa, the trochanter, the femur, the patella, the tibia, the metatarsus, and the tarsus.”

“Furthermore, each leg of mine has seven sections—the coxa, the trochanter, the femur, the patella, the tibia, the metatarsus, and the tarsus.”

“Now make an attachment with your spinnerets, hurl yourself into space, and let out a dragline as you go down!”

He glanced hastily behind to see if a piece of rope was following him to check his fall, but nothing seemed to be happening in his rear, and the next thing he knew he landed with a thump.

He glanced hastily behind to see if a piece of rope was following him to check his fall, but nothing seemed to be happening in his rear, and the next thing he knew he landed with a thump.

He glanced hastily behind to see if a piece of rope was following him to check his fall, but nothing seemed to be happening in his rear, and the next thing he knew he landed with a thump.

Wilbur crouched low, with his thin, curly tail toward the rat.

Like Fern, she was truly fond of Wilbur, whose smelly pen and stale food attracted the flies that she needed, and she was proud to see that he was not a quitter and was willing to try again to spin a web.

While the rat and the spider and the little girl watched, Wilbur climbed again to the top of the manure pile, full of energy and hope.

While the rat and the spider and the little girl watched, Wilbur climbed again to the top of the manure pile, full of energy and hope.

And summoning all his strength, he threw himself into the air, headfirst.

But as he had neglected to fasten the other end to anything, it didn’t really do any good, and Wilbur landed with a thud, crushed and hurt.

But as he had neglected to fasten the other end to anything, it didn’t really do any good, and Wilbur landed with a thud, crushed and hurt.

Templeton grinned.

But no—with men it’s rush, rush, rush, every minute.

I’m glad I’m a sedentary spider.”

“In a forest looking for beechnuts and truffles and delectable roots, pushing leaves aside with my wonderful strong nose, searching and sniffing along the ground, smelling, smelling, smelling ...”

You’re no bundle of sweet peas yourself.

Lurvy sat down under an apple tree and lit his pipe; the animals sniffed the familiar smell of strong tobacco.

Lurvy sat down under an apple tree and lit his pipe; the animals sniffed the familiar smell of strong tobacco.

They thrust their little necks out and kept up a musical whistling, like a tiny troupe of pipers.

“Well,” said Charlotte, vaguely, “I don’t really know.

Wilbur was trembling again, but Charlotte was cool and collected.

Wilbur trotted over to the darkest corner of his pen and threw himself down.

If I can fool a bug,” thought Charlotte, “I can surely fool a man.

“I was just thinking,” said the spider, “that people are very gullible.”

The spider, however, stayed wide awake, gazing affectionately at him and making plans for his future.

Avery carried a live frog in his hand.

Fern had a crown of daisies in her hair.

Fern had a crown of daisies in her hair.

said Avery, placing the frog on the drainboard and holding out his hand for pie.

“He lets me scratch him between the eyes.”

“Can I look for eggs in the henhouse, Aunt Edith?”

“His pie is all over his front.”

“Let’s swing in the swing!”

Then you straddled the knot, so that it acted as a seat.

For a second you seemed to be falling to the barn floor far below, but then suddenly the rope would begin to catch you, and you would sail through the barn door going a mile a minute, with the wind whistling in your eyes and ears and hair.

Children almost always hang onto things tighter than their parents think they will.

Avery straddled the rope and jumped.

“I have hay inside my dress!

“Fern’s got the itch!”

Fern bit into a raspberry that had a bad-tasting bug inside it, and got discouraged.

The air was filled with the terrible gases and smells from the rotten egg.

Templeton, who had been resting in his home, scuttled away into the barn.

“I’m delighted that the egg never hatched,” she gabbled.

The smell is unbearable.

He sat up and pulled wisely at his long whiskers, then crept away to pay a visit to the dump.

He sat up and pulled wisely at his long whiskers, then crept away to pay a visit to the dump.

I might a’ known a rat would make a nest under this trough.

And Lurvy dragged Wilbur’s trough across the yard and kicked some dirt into the rat’s nest, burying the broken egg and all Templeton’s other possessions.

He gulped and sucked, and sucked and gulped, making swishing and swooshing noises, anxious to get everything at once.

He gulped and sucked, and sucked and gulped, making swishing and swooshing noises, anxious to get everything at once.

The slops ran creamily down around the pig’s eyes and ears.