_An Account of the surprizing Transmigration of Master_ ANTHONY
GREEDYGUTS, _into the Body of a Pig_.
The next room into which we were conducted, contained a fat little pig,
who, as soon as we had entered the door, began to cry _a week_, _a
week_, _a week_, in such a squeaking tone as grated our ears in the
most disagreeable manner: but as soon as Mr. _Wiseman_ produced his
wand, he lowered his pipes to a few sulky grunts, and then became as
still as a mouse.--"This young pig, said the venerable Bramin, is now
animated by the soul of the late master _Greedyguts_, who died about
two months ago, and has left a number of relations behind him in almost
every town you can mention. Poor foolish youth, if he had been less
fond of his belly, and more attentive to his book, and to the good
advice of his parents, his soul would not have been confined as it now
is, in the body of that nasty, greedy, and noisy little animal which
you see before you. But, to represent his character in its proper
colours, he was always a hoggish little fellow, and disdained every
other sort of labour but that of lifting his hand to his mouth. He
loved eating much better than reading; and would prefer a tart, a
custard, a plumcake, or even a slice of gingerbread, or an apple, to
the prettiest, and most useful little book you could present him with;
so that if his parents had purchased a hundred books for him, one after
the other, he would have readily parted with them to the first crafty
boy he met with, who had any trash to spare by way of exchange. It
cannot therefore be considered as a miracle, notwithstanding the
extraordinary care and expense which his friends bestowed upon his
education, that he always continued a blockhead, and was such a perfect
dunce at eleven years of age, that instead of being able to read and
write as a young gentleman ought to do, he could scarcely tell his
letters. He was equally remarkable for his selfishness; for if he had
twenty cheesecakes in his box, or his pockets full of oranges and
apples, he would sooner have given a tooth out of his head than have
parted with one of them, even to his own brother or sister. The
consequence was (and indeed what else could have been expected) that he
was despised and hated by all his play fellows, and distinguished by
the mortifying title of _Tony Pig_; an animal which he perfectly
resembled in his nastiness as well as greediness. For if he was dressed
in the morning as clean as hands could make him, he would, by running
into puddles and kennels, and rolling upon the ground, become as black
as a chimney sweeper before noon; and I sincerely believe that he
thought it as great a punishment to have his hair combed, or to wash
his hands and face, as to be whipped; for he would cry and struggle as
much to avoid the one as to escape the other. But, to ease his parents
of their heavy apprehensions upon his account, and to rid the world of
such a plague and disgrace, as he certainly would have been, if he had
lived to years of maturity, kind death was pleased to dispatch him in
the twelfth year of his age, by the help of a dozen penny custards,
which he greedily conveyed down his throat at one meal, and thereby
gorged his stomach, and threw himself into a mortal fever. After his
exit, his soul, as I have already informed you, was hurried into the
body of this little pig; a station which perfectly corresponds with his
disposition. Nay, so great is his stubbornness (which is another
hateful quality in which he resembled the animal before you) that his
punishment has not made the least alteration in his temper; for, if we
were to get his soul replaced into a human body, upon his promise of
immediate amendment, he will not submit even to make such a promise. To
convince you that I have not misrepresented his character, I'll try the
experiment immediately." Accordingly, the good Bramin asked him before
us all, if, upon the condition above-mentioned, he would leave off his
greedy and selfish behaviour. To this he condescended, though with a
visible reluctance, to grunt, _aye, aye_. "But how long will it be,
said Mr. Wiseman, before you perform your promise?" _A week, a week, a
week_, cried the pig. "And how long will it be before you lay aside
your nastiness, and maintain such a cleanly and decent appearance as
becomes a gentleman?" _A week, a week_, said the dirty creature. "And
how long will it be before you respect the good advice of your parents,
and prefer the improvement of your understanding to the gratification
of your appetite?" _A week, a week, a week_, replied the stubborn
little animal. "In short, said the worthy Bramin, if I were to repeat
the same questions to him a month, or even a year hence, I should not
prevail upon him to say _now_; but his constant answer would be, _a
week, a week, a week_. I believe, therefore, that instead of reforming
him (which is an event that would afford me the most sensible pleasure)
we shall at last be forced to roast and eat him; for, as long as he
continues in his present way of thinking, it is very certain that his
existence can be of no service either to himself, or any one else."
Thus, then, said he, I have troubled you with a particular account of
this stupid little pig; and I sincerely hope that the story will
prevail upon my young visitors to be cleanly in their appearance,
temperate in their diet, and kind and obliging to every body; for
whosoever pursues a contrary behaviour, is in reality a _hog_, though
he bears the name of a gentleman.