The Three Little Pigs

From the archived December 2020 newsletter of the Shanklin & District History Society, Helen Thomas identifies an early version of the Three Little Pigs that first appeared in print in the 1853 edition of J. O. Halliwell’s Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales. The tale is set in Shanklin, and is claimed to have been collected on the Island by Henry Smith.

Henry Smith and Three Little Pigs

Nursery rhymes were passed down orally through the generations, with many variations in the detail, until people began to collect and publish them. The earliest printed version of one tale was Pigweeney the Wise: or The History of a Wolf & Three Pigs in 1830. It involved a fairy and a house of iron rather than brick. A variation from Dartmoor, published in 1853, involved a fox stalking a group of pixies. It is thanks to Henry Smith that we have the authentic Shanklin version of the story. It includes a reference to the family farm and the additional feature of an apple tree which does not appear in other versions. Henry’s version was sent, with other tales then current in the Isle of Wight, to James Orchard Halliwell, a friend of his brother Charles, who included it in the 1853 5th edition of his Nursery Rhymes and Nursery Tales of England.

According to a note on “Dave and Anwyl’s Isle of Wight Folk Archive” website:

The Three Little Pigs is amongst many stories and tales that were collected by Henry Smith. It is thought that his aunt Amelia from Arreton, who used to entertain people with stories, may have told this one. It refers to the Shanklin Fair which would have probably have been the Hiring / Mop Fair just after Michaelmas. The fair would have been at the beginning of October which also relates to there being apples on the ground. It also talks of the Mr Smith’s Home Field and Merry Garden at Languard.

In Halliwell’s Nursery Rhymes”, 5th edition, 1853

James Orchard Halliwell-Phillipps, ed., The nursery rhymes of England, 1853, pp37-41, also reprinted in 1886, again at pp. 37-41.

TALES.

LV. THE STORY OF THE THREE LITTLE PIGS.

ONCE upon a time there was an old sow with three little pigs, and as she had not enough to keep them, she sent them out to seek their fortune. The first that went off met a man with a bundle of straw, and said to him, “Please, man, give me that straw to build me a house; “which the man did, and the little pig built a house with it. Presently came along a wolf, and knocked at the door, and said,—

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

To which the pig answered,—

“No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin.”

The wolf then answered to that,—

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”

So he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew his house in, and eat up the little pig.

The second little pig met a man with a bundle of furze, and said, “Please, man, give me that furze to build a house;” which the man did, and the pig built his house. Then along came the wolf, and said,—

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

“No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin.”

“Then I’ll puff, and I’ll huff, and I’ll blow your house in.”

So he huffed, and he puffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and at last he blew the house down, and he eat up the little pig.

The third little pig met a man with a load of bricks, and said, “Please, man, give me those bricks to build a house with;” so the man gave him the bricks, and he built his house with them. So the wolf came, as he did to the other little pigs, and said,—

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

“No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin.”

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”

Well, he huffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and he puffed, and he puffed, and he huffed; but he could not get the house down. When he found that he could not, with all his huffing and puffing, blow the house down, he said, “Little pig, I know where there is a nice field of turnips.” “Where?” said the little pig. “Oh, in Mr. Smith’s Home-field, and if you will be ready tomorrow morning I will call for you, and we will go together, and get some for dinner.”

“Very well,” said the little pig, “I will be ready. What time do you mean to go?” “Oh, at six o’clock.” Well, the little pig got up at five, and got the turnips before the wolf came—(which he did about six) -and who said, “Little pig, are you ready?” The little pig said, “Ready! I have been, and come back again, and got a nice pot-full for dinner.” The wolf felt very angry at this, but thought that he would be up to the little pig_somehow or other, so he said, “Little pig, I know where there is a nice apple-tree.” “Where?” said the pig. “Down at Merry-garden,” replied the wolf, “and if you will not deceive me I will come for you, at five o’clock to- morrow, and we will go together and get some apples.” Well, the little pig bustled up the next morning at four o’clock, and went off for the apples, hoping to get back before the wolf came; but he had further to go, and had to climb the tree, so that just as he was coming down from it, he saw the wolf coming, which, as you may suppose, frightened him very much. When the wolf came up he said, “Little pig, what! are you here before me? Are they nice apples?” “Yes, very,” said the little pig. “I will throw you down one; and he threw it so far, that, while the wolf was gone to pick it up, the little pig jumped down and ran home. The next day the wolf came again, and said to the little pig, “Little pig, there is a fair at Shanklin this afternoon, will you go?” “Oh yes,” said the pig, “I will go; what time shall you be ready?” “At three,” said the wolf. So the little pig went off before the time as usual, and got to the fair, and bought a butter-churn, which he was going home with, when he saw the wolf coming. Then he could not tell what to do. So he got into the churn to hide, and by so doing turned it round, and it rolled down the hill with the pig in it, which frightened the wolf so much, that he ran home without going to the fair. He went to the little pig’s house, and told him how frightened he had been by a great round thing which came down the hill past him. Then the little pig said, “Hah, I frightened you then. I had been to the fair and bought a butterchurn, and when I saw you, I got into it, and rolled down the hill.” Then the wolf was very angry indeed, and declared he would eat up the little pig, and that he would get down the chimney after him. When the little pig saw what he was about, he hung on the pot full of water, and made up a blazing fire, and, just as the wolf was coming down, took off the cover, and in fell the wolf; so the little pig put on the cover again in an instant, boiled him up, and eat him for supper, and lived happy ever afterwards.

The origin of “Merry Garden”

From the Hampshire Advertiser, Saturday 04 December 1847, we learn:

Gard’s Gift to the Poor. — This parish [Godshill] is likewise entitled to the annual sum of 30s, being a portion of the numerous gifts of Richard Gard, stated in the account of the charities of the parish of Arreton. This sum is paid to the churchwardens by the owner of an estate in Brading formerly called Black-pan, but now the Merry Gardens, and is distributed in small sums amongst the poor at the discretion of the churchwardens.

We see also there were pigs at the farm there from an advertisement in the Hampshire Telegraph of Saturday 29 September 1849:

MERRY GARDEN FARM, PARISH OF BRADING, ISLE OF WIGHT. EIGHT clever young CART MARES AND GELDlNGS, six dairy cows, 20 pigs, 22 tons of hay, two waggons. four carts, the usual Implements, Household Goods, Dairy and Brewing Utensils, the propety of Mr. Attrill, quitting thee farm, will be SOLD by AUCTION, by Mr. F. PITTIS, on Monday, October 8, 1849 at 12 o’clock.

In Jenkinson’s practical guide to the Isle of Wight, p65.

The tourist may descend to Borthwood farm and return to Sandown by a footpath which passes near the waterworks by Black Pan Common; or he may continue on the road by the hamlet of Borthwood, and a small Methodist chapel to the village of Lake,’ passing the Lee and Merry garden farms : the latter is a pleasant-looking place, said to have been once famous for its cherry gardens, hence its name from the French, merise — ^wild cherry.

I also wonder whether the following song could be used as part of a set up where the mother sow is killed and the little pigs are orphaned?!

Shooting the sow, Fol the rol, 1881

https://archive.org/details/originalglossari12skeauoft/page/48/mode/2up Original glossaries. 23. Isle of Wight words by Skeat, Walter W. (Walter William), 1835-1912

Publication date 1881

The following song, which constituted part of the vocal entertainment at the home-harvest at Landguard, I give from memory. Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps has printed two versions of it in his ‘Nursery Rhymes’ for the Percy Society, 1844. It will be seen that mine is more complete. …

The old carrion crow he sat upon an oak,
Fol the rol, the rol, the rol, the rido.
And he saw a saucy tailor cutting out a coat,
With heigho, the old carrion crow cried caa, caa,
Fol the rol, &c.

“Wife, go and fetch me my arrow and my bow,”
Fol the rol, &c.
“That I may shoot this old carrion crow
That cries caa, caa, caa,”
Fol the rol, &c.

The tailor he shot, but he missed his mark;
Fol the rol, &c.
And he shot his neighbour’s old sow through and through the heart,
With heigho, the old carrion crow cried caa, caa,
Fol the rol, &c.

“Wife, go and fetch me some treacle in a spoon;”
Fol the rol, &c.
“For our neighbour’s old sow is gone into a swoon;
With heigho, the old carrion crow cried caa, caa,
Fol the rol, &c.

“Od dang it,” cried the tailor, “I don’t care a louse,”
Fol the rol, &c.
“For we shall have chitterlings, black puddings, and souse;
With heigho, the old carrion crow cried caa, caa,
Fol the rol, &c.

Oh, the bells they did ring, and the bells they did toll;
Fol the rol, &c.
And the little pigs squeak’d for the old sow’s soul;
With heigho, the old carrion crow cried caa, caa,
Fol the rol, &c.

The Three Little Pigs tale was reprinted in Jacobs’ English Fairy Tales of 1890, and opens with a rhyme:

The Story of the Three Little Pigs, Jacobs, 1890

In English Fairy Tales, Joseph Jacobs, 1890, pp.68-72:

XIV. The Story of the Three Little Pigs

Once upon a time when pigs spoke rhyme And monkeys chewed tobacco,
And hens took snuff to make them tough,
And ducks went quack, quack, quack, O!

THERE was an old sow with three little pig and as she had not enough to keep them, she sent them out to seek their fortune. The first that went off met a man with a bundle of straw, and said to him:

“Please, man, give me that straw to build me house.”

Which the man did, and the little pig built a house with it. Presently came along a wolf, and knocked at the door, and said:

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

To which the pig answered:

“No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin.”

The wolf then answered to that:

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”

So he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew his house in, and ate up the little pig..

The second little, pig met a man with a bundle of furze, and said:

“Please, man, give me that furze to build a house.”

Which the man did, and the pig built his house. Then along came the wolf, and said:

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

“No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin.”

“Then I’ll puff, and I’ll huff, and I’ll blow your house in.”

So he huffed, and he puffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and at last he blew the house down, and he ate up the little pig.

The third little pig met a man with a load of bricks, and said:

“Please, man, give me those bricks to build a house with.”

So the man gave him the bricks, and he built his house with them. So the wolf came, as he did to the other little pigs, and said:

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

“No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin.”

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and til I blow your house in.”

Well, he huffed, and he puffed, and he huffed and puffed, and he puffed and huffed; but he could get the house down. When he found that he could i with all his huffing and puffing, blow the house down, said:

“Little pig, I know where there is a nice field turnips.”

“Where?” said the little pig.

“Oh, in Mr. Smith’s Home-field, and if you will ready to-morrow morning I will call for you, and we will go together, and get some for dinner.”

“Very well,” said the little pig, “I will be ready. What time do you mean to go?”

“Oh, at six o’clock.”

Well, the little pig got up at five, and got the turnips before the wolf came (which he did about six) and who said:

“Little Pig, are you ready?”

The little pig said: “Ready! I have been and come back again, and got a nice potful for dinner.”

The wolf felt very angry at this, but thought that I would be up to the little pig somehow or other, so he said:

“Little pig, I know where there is a nice apple-tree.”

“Where?” said the pig.

“Down at Merry-garden,” replied the wolf, “and if you will not deceive me I will come for you, at five o’clock to-morrow and get some apples.”

Well, the little pig bustled up the next morning at four o’clock, and went off for the apples, hoping to get back before the wolf came; but he had further to go, and had to climb the tree, so that just as he was coming down from it, he saw the wolf coming, which, as you may suppose, frightened him very much. When the wolf came up he said:

“Little pig, what! are you here before me? Are they nice apples?”

“Yes, very,” said the little pig. “I will throw you down one.”

And he threw it so far, that, while the wolf was gone to pick it up, the little pig jumped down and ran home. The next day the wolf came again, and said to the little pig:

“Little pig, there is a fair at Shanklin this afternoon, will you go?”

“Oh yes,” said the pig, “I will go; what time shall you be ready?”

“At three,” said the wolf. So the little pig went off before the time as usual, and got to the fair, and bought a butter-churn, which he was going home with, when he saw the wolf coming. Then he could not tell what to do. So he got into the churn to hide, and by so doing turned it round, and it rolled down the hill with the pig in it, which frightened the wolf so much, that he ran home without going to the fair. He went to the little pig’s house, and told him how frightened he had been by a great round thing which came down the hill past him. Then the little pig said:

“Hah, I frightened you, then. I had been to the fair and bought a butter-churn, and when I saw you, I got into it, and roiled down the hill.”

Then the wolf was very angry indeed, and declared would eat up the little pig, and that he would get down the chimney after him. When the little pig saw what was about, he hung on the pot full of water, and made a blazing fire, and, just as the wolf was coming down took off the cover, and in fell the wolf; so the little pig put on the cover again in an instant, boiled him up, and ate him for supper, and lived happy ever afterwards.

Jacobs’ also provides some source notes:

Jacobs, Notes on “The Three Little Pigs”

Source, — Halliwell, p. 16.

Parallels, — The only known parallels are one from Venice, Bemoni, Trad. Pop, punt. iii. p. 65, given in Crane, Italian Popular Tales p. 267, “The Three Goslings;” and a negro tale in Lippincott’s Magazine, December, 1877, p. 753 (“Tiny Pig”).

Remarks, — As little pigs do not have hair on their chinny chinchins, I suspect that they were originally kids, who have. This would bring the tale close to the Grimms’ “Wolf and Seven Little Kids,” (No. 5). In Steel and Temple’s “Lambikin” (Wide-awake Stories, p. 71), the Lambikin gets inside a Drumikin, and so nearly escapes the jackal.

In his Indian fairy tales collection of 1892, Jacobs also draws a parallel between the rolling butter churn sequence of the story and a similar episode in an Indian tale, The Lambikin. Interestingly, this tale also has a rhyming refrain.

The Lambikin, 1892

In Joseph Jacobs, Indian fairy tales, 1892, pp. 17-20.

The Lambikin

ONCE upon a time there was a wee wee Lambikin, who frolicked about on his little tottery legs, and enjoyed himself amazingly.

Now one day he set off to visit his Granny, and was jumping with joy to think of all the good things he should get from her, when who should he meet but a Jackal, who looked at the tender young morsel and said: “Lambikin! Lambikin! I’ll EAT YOU!”

But Lambikin only gave a little frisk and said:

“To Granny’s house I go,
Where I shall fatter grow,
Then you can eat me so.”

The Jackal thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.

By-and-by he met a Vulture, and the Vulture, looking hungrily at the tender morsel before him, said: “Lambikin! Lambikin! I’ll EAT YOU!”

But Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said:

“To Granny’s house I go,
Where I shall fatter grow,
Then you can eat me so.”

The Vulture thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.

And by-and-by he met a Tiger, and then a Wolf, and a Dog, and an Eagle, and all these, when they saw the tender little morsel, said: “Lambikin I Lambikin! I’ll EAT YOU!”

But to all of them Lambikin replied, with a little frisk:

“To Granny’s house I go,
Where I shall fatter grow,
Then you can eat me so.”

At last he reached his Granny’s house, and said, all in a great hurry, “Granny, dear, I’ve promised to get very fat; so, as people ought to keep their promises, please put me into the corn-bin at once”.

So his Granny said he was a good boy, and put him into the corn-bin, and there the greedy little Lambikin stayed for seven days, and ate, and ate, and ate, until he could scarcely waddle, and his Granny said he was fat enough for anything, and must go home. But cunning little Lambikin said that would never do, for some animal would be sure to eat him on the way back, he was so plump and tender.

“I’ll tell you what you must do,” said Master Lambikin, “you must make a little drumikin out of the skin of my little brother who died, and then I can sit inside and trundle along nicely, for I’m as tight as a drum myself.”

So his Granny made a nice little drumikin out of his brother’s skin, with the wool inside, and Lambikin curled himself up snug and warm in the middle, and trundled away gaily. Soon he met with the Eagle, who called out:

“Drumikin! Drumikin!
Have you seen Lambikin?”

And Mr. Lambikin, curled up in his soft warm nest replied:

“Fallen into the fire, and so will you
On little Drumikin. Tum-pa, turn-too!”

“How very annoying!” sighed the Eagle, thinking regretfully of the tender morsel he had let slip.

Meanwhile Lambikin trundled along, laughing to himself, and singing:

“Tum-pa, turn-too;
Tum-pa, turn-too!”

Every animal and bird he met asked him the same question:

“Drumikin! Drumikin!
Have you seen Lambikin?”

And to each of them the little slyboots replied:

“Fallen into the fire, and so will you
On little Drumikin. Tum-pa, turn too;
Tum-pa, turn-too; Tum-pa, turn-too!”

Then they all sighed to think of the tender little morsel they had let slip.

At last the Jackal came limping along, for all his sorry looks as sharp as a needle, and he too called out —

“Drumikin! Drumikin!
Have you seen Lambikin?”

And Lambikin, curled up in his snug little nest, replied gaily:

“Fallen into the fire, and so will you
On little Drumikin! Tum-pa ————”

But he never got any further, for the Jackal recognised his voice at once, and cried: “Hullo! you’ve turned yourself inside out, have you? Just you come out of that!”

Whereupon he tore open Drumikin and gobbled up Lambikin.

NOTES

p238

III. LAMBIKIN.

Source.— Steel-Temple, Wideawake Stories, pp. 69-72, originally published in Indian Antiquary, xii. 175. The droll is common throughout the Panjab.

Parallels. — The similarity of the concluding episode with the finish of the “Three Little Pigs” (Eng. Fairy Tales, No. xiv.) In my notes on that droll I have pointed out that the pigs were once goats or kids with “hair on their chinny chin chin.” This brings the tale a stage nearer to the Lambikin.

Remarks. — The similarity of Pig No. 3 rolling down hill in the churn and the Lambikin in the Drumikin can scarcely be accidental, though, it must be confessed, the tale has undergone considerable modification before it reached England.

Illustrated Version, c1904

Three Little Pigs (illustrated), c1904

TO DO fix typo above https://archive.org/details/threelittlepigs00unse/ Three little pigs PHILADELPHIA HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY c1904?

ALTEMUS’ WEE BOOKS FOR WEE FOLKS

Three little pigs

Forty Illustrations by John Rea Neill

American version

TO DO Illustrations

Also includes Precocous Piggy, pp. 28-47

missing first few pages, but mayne recoverable from https://archive.org/details/firstbooksongan00stevgoog/page/60/mode/2up?q=”it+was+only+of+straw+and+too” The first book of song and story by Cynthia May Westover Alden, Beatrice Stevens

Publication date 1903

pp1-27

THE THREE LITTLE PIGS

ONCE upon a time, when pigs could talk and no one had ever heard of bacon, there lived an old piggy mother with her three little sons.

They had a very pleasant home in the middle of an oak forest, and were all just as happy as the day was long, until one sad year the acorn crop failed; then, indeed, poor Mrs. Piggy-wiggy often had hard work to make both ends meet.

One day she called her sons to her, and, with tears in her eyes, told them that she must send them out into the wide world to seek their fortune.

She kissed them all round, and the three little pigs set out upon their travels, each taking a different road, and carrying a bundle slung on a stick across his shoulder.

The first little pig had not gone far before he met a man carrying a bundle of straw; so he said to him, “Please, man, will you give me that straw to build me a house?” The man was very good-natured, so he gave him the bundle of straw, and the little pig built a pretty little house with it.

No sooner was it finished, and the little pig thinking of going to bed, than a wolf came along, knocked at the door, and said, “Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

But the little pig laughed softly, and answered, “No, no, by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin.”

Then said the wolf sternly, “I will make you let me in; for I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in!”

So he huffed and he puffed, and he blew his house in, because, you see, it was only of straw and too light; and when he had blown the house in, he ate up the little pig, and did not leave so much as the tip of his tail.

The second little pig also met a man, and he was carrying a bundle of furze; so piggy said, politely: “Please, kind man, will you give me that furze to build me a house?”

The man agreed, and piggy set to work to build himself a snug littie house before the night came on. It was scarcely finished when the wolf came along, and said: “Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

“No, no, by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin,” answered the second little pig.

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in!” said the Wolf. So he huffed and he puffed, and he puffed and he huffed, and at last he blew the house in, and gobbled the little pig up in a trice.

Now, the third little pig met a man with a load of bricks and mortar, and he said, “Please, man, will you give me those bricks to build a house with ?”

So the man gave him the bricks and mortar, and a little trowel as well, and the little pig built himself a nice strong little house. As soon as it was finished the wolf came to call, just as he had done to the other little pigs, and said : “Little pig, little pig, let me in!”

But the little pig answered: “No, no, by the hair of my chinny chin-chin.”

“Then,” said the wolf “I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”

Well, he huffed and he puffed, and he puffed and he huffed, and he huffed and he puffed; but he could not get the house down. At last he had no breath left to huff and puff with, so he sat down outside the little pig’s house and thought for awhile.

Presently he called out: “Little pig, I know where there is a nice field of turnips.”

“Where?” said the little pig.

“Behind the farmer’s house, three fields away, and if you will be ready to-morrow morning I will call for you, and we will go together and get some breakfast.”

“Very well,” said the little pig; “I will be sure to be ready. What time do you mean to start?”

“At six o’clock,” replied the wolf.

Well, the wise little pig got up at five, scampered away to the field, and brought home a fine load of turnips before the wolf came, At six o’clock the wolf came to the little pig’s house and said: “Little pig, are you ready?”

“Ready!” cried the little pig. “Why, I have been to the field and come back again long ago, and now I am busy boiling a potful of turnips for breakfast.”

The wolf was very angry indeed; but he made up his mind to catch the little pig somehow or other; so he told him that he knew where there was a nice apple-tree.

“Where?” said the little pig.

“Round the hill in the squire’s orchard,” the wolf said. “So if you will promise to play me no tricks, I will come for you to-morrow morning at five o’clock, and we will go there together and get some rosy-cheeked apples.”

The next morning piggy got up at four o’clock and was off and away long before the wolf came.

But the orchard was a long way off, and besides, he had the tree to climb; which is a difficult matter for a little pig, so that before the sack he had brought with him was quite filled he saw the wolf coming towards him.

He was dreadfully frightened, but he thought it better to put a good face on the matter, so when the wolf said: “Little pig, why are you here before me? Are they nice apples?” he replied at once: “Yes, very; I will throw down one for you to taste.” So he picked an apple and threw it so far that whilst the wolf was running to fetch it he had time to jump down and scamper away home.

The next day the wolf came again, and told the little pig that there was going to be a fair in the town that afternoon, and asked him if he would go with him.

“Oh! yes,” said the pig, “I will go with pleasure. What time will you be ready to start?”

“At half-past three,” said the wolf.

Of course, the little pig started long before the time, went to the fair, and bought a fine large butterchurn, and was trotting away with it on his back when he saw the wolf coming.

He did not know what to do, so he crept into the churn to hide, and, by so doing, started it rolling.

Down the hill it went, rolling over and over, with the little pig squeaking inside.

The wolf could not think what the strange thing rolling down the hill could be; so he turned tail and ran away home in a fright without ever going to the fair at all. He went to the little pig’s house to tell him how frightened he had been by a large round thing which came rolling past him down the hill.

“Ha! ha!” laughed the little pig; “so I frightened you, eh? I had been to the fair and bought a butter-churn; when I saw you I got inside it and rolled down the hill.”

This made the wolf so angry that he declared that he would eat up the little pig, and that nothing should save him, for he would jump down the chimney.

But the clever little pig hung a pot full of water over the hearth and then made a blazing fire, and just as the wolf was coming down the chimney he took off the cover and in fell the wolf. In a second the little pig had popped the lid on again.

Then he boiled the wolf, and ate him for supper, and after that he lived quietly and comfortably all his days, and was never troubled by a wolf again

Other Variants

A more simplistic and childish variant of the Three Little Pigs tale appears in Lang’s Green Fairy Book, without attribution: the wolf becomes a fox, the pigs are named, some character development is provided, and changes are made to the building materials; the sequence with the third pig tricking the fox is omitted, and there is no mention of Shanklin or other local Island features:

The Three Little Pigs, Lang, 1892

In The Green Fairy Book, Andrew Lang, 1892, pp.100-105:

The Three Little Pigs

THERE was once upon a time a pig who lived with her three children on a large, comfortable, old-fashioned farmyard. The eldest of the little pigs was called Browny, the second Whitey, and the youngest and best looking Blacky. Now Browny was a very dirty little pig, and I am sorry to say spent most of his time rolling and wallowing about in the mud. He was never so happy as on a wet day, when the mud in the farmyard got soft, and thick, and slab. Then he would steal away from his mother’s side, and finding the muddiest place in the yard, would roll about in it and thoroughly enjoy himself. His mother often found fault with him for this, sua would shake her head sadly and say: ‘Ah, Browny I some day you will be sorry that you did not obey your old mother.’ But no words of advice or warning could cure Browny of his bad habits.

Whitey was quite a clever little pig, but she was greedy. She was always thinking of her food, and looking forward to her dinner, and when the farm girl was seen carrying the pails across the yard she would rise up on her hind legs and dance and caper with excitement. As soon as the food was poured into the trough she jostled Blacky and Browny out of the way in her eagerness to get the best and biggest bits for herself. Her mother often scolded her for her selfishness, and told her that some day she would suffer for being so greedy and grabbing.

Blacky was a good, nice little pig, neither dirty nor greedy. He had nice dainty ways (for a pig), and his skin was always as smooth and shining as black satin. He was much cleverer than Browny and Whitey, and his mother’s heart used to swell with pride when she heard the farmer’s friends say to each other that some day the little black fellow would be a prize pig.

Now the time came when the mother pig felt old and feeble and near her end. One day she called the three little pigs round her and said:

‘My children, I feel that I am growing old and weak, and that I shall not live long. Before I die I should like to build a house for each of you, as this dear old sty in which we have lived so happily will be given to a new family of pigs, and you will have to turn out. Now, Browny, what sort of a house would you like to have?’

‘A house of mud,’ replied Browny, looking longingly at a wet puddle in the comer of the yard.

‘And you, Whitey?’ said the mother pig in rather a sad voice, for she was disappointed that Browny had made so foolish a choice.

‘A house of cabbage,’ answered Whitey, with a mouth fall, and scarcely raising her snout out of the trough in which she was grubbing for some potato-parings.

‘Foolish, foolish child!’ said the mother pig, looking quite distressed. ‘And you. Blacky?’ turning to her youngest son, ‘what sort of a house shall I order for you?’

‘A house of brick, please mother, as it will be warm in winter, and cool in summer, and safe all the year round.’

‘That is a sensible little pig,’ replied his mother, looking fondly at him. ‘I will see that the three houses are got ready at once. And now one last piece of advice. You have heard me talk of our old enemy the fox. When he hears that I am dead, he is sure to try and get hold of you, to carry you off to his den. He is very sly. and will no doubt disguise himself, and pretend to be a friend, but you must promise me not to let him enter your houses on any pretext whatever.’

And the little pigs readily promised, for they had always had a great fear of the fox, of whom they had heard many terrible tales. A short time afterwards the old pig died, and the little pigs went to live in their own houses.

Browny was quite delighted with his soft mud walls and with the clay floor, which soon looked like nothing but a big mud pie. But that was what Browny enjoyed, and he was as happy as possible, rolling about all day and making himself in such a mess. One day, as he was lying half asleep in the mud, he heard a soft knock at his door, and a gentle voice said:

‘May I come in, Master Browny? I want to see your beautiful new house.’

‘Who are you?’ said Browny, starting up in great fright, for though the voice sounded gentle, he felt sure it was a feigned voice, and he feared it was the fox.

‘I am a friend come to call on you,’ answered the voice.

‘No, no,’ replied Browny, ‘I don’t believe you are a friend. You are the wicked fox, against whom our mother warned us. I won’t let you in.’

‘Oho! is that the way you answer me?’ said the fox, speaking very roughly in his natural voice. ‘We shall soon see who is master here,’ and with his paws he set to work and scraped a large hole in the soft mud walls. A moment later he had jumped through it, and catching Browny by the neck, flung him on his shoulders and trotted off with him to his den.

The next day, as Whitey was munching a few leaves of cabbage out of the corner of her house, the fox stole up to her door, determined to carry her off to join her brother in his den. He began speaking to her in the same feigned gentle voice in which he had spoken to Browny; but it frightened her very much when he said:

‘I am a friend come to visit you, and to have some of your good cabbage for my dinner.’

‘Please don’t touch it,’ cried Whitey in great distress. ‘The cabbages are the walls of my house, and if you eat them you will make a hole, and the wind and rain will come in and give me a cold. Do go away; I am sure you are not a friend, but our wicked enemy the fox.’ And poor Whitey began to whine and to whimper, and to wish that she had not been such a greedy little pig, and had chosen a more solid material than cabbages for her house. But it was too late now, and in another minute the fox had eaten his way through the cabbage walls, and had caught the trembling, shivering Whitey, and carried her off to his den.

The next day the fox started off for Blacky’s house, because he had made up his mind that he would get the three little pigs together in his den, and then kill them, and invite all his friends to a feast. But when he reached the brick house, he found that the door was bolted and barred, so in his sly manner he began, ‘Do let me in, dear Blacky. I have brought you a present of some eggs that I picked up in a farmyard on my way here.’

‘No, no. Mister Fox,’ replied Blacky, ‘I am not going to open my door to you. I know your cunning ways. You have carried off poor Browny and Whitey, but you are not going to get me.’

At this the fox was so angry that he dashed with all his force against the wall, and tried to knock it down. But it was too strong and well-built; and though the fox scraped and tore at the bricks with his paws he only hurt himself, and at last he had to give it up, and limp away with his forepaws all bleeding and sore.

‘Never mind!’ he cried angrily as he went off, ‘I’ll catch yon another day, see if I don’t, and won’t I grind your bones to powder when I have got you in my den!’ and he snarled fiercely and showed his teeth.

Next day Blacky had to go into the neighbouring town to do some marketing and to buy a big kettle. As he was walking home with it slung over his shoulder, he heard a sound of steps stealthily creeping after him. For a moment his heart stood still with fear, and then a happy thought came to him. He had just reached the top of a hill, and could see his own little house nestling at the foot of it among the trees. In a moment he had snatched the lid off the kettle and had jumped in himself. Coiling himself round he lay quite snug in the bottom of the kettle, while with his fore-leg he managed to put the lid on, so that he was entirely hidden. With a little kick from the inside he started the kettle off and down the hill it rolled full tilt; and when the fox came up, all that he saw was a large black kettle spinning over the ground at a great pace. Very much disappointed, he was just going to turn away, when he saw the kettle stop close to the little brick house, and in a moment later’ Blacky jumped out of it and escaped with the kettle into the house, when he barred and bolted the door, and put the shutter up over the window.

‘Oho!’ exclaimed the fox to himself, ‘you think you will escape me that way, do you? We shall soon see about that, my friend,’ and very quietly and stealthily he prowled round the house looking for some way to climb on to the roof.

In the meantime Blacky had filled the kettle with water, and having put it on the fire, sat down quietly waiting for it to boil. Just as the kettle was beginning to sing, and steam to come out of the spout, he heard a sound like a soft, muffled step, patter, patter, patter overhead, and the next moment the fox’s head and fore-paws were seen coming down the chimney. But Blacky very wisely had not put the lid on the kettle, and, with a yelp of pain, the fox fell into the boiling water, and before he could escape, Blacky had popped the lid on, and the fox was scalded to death.

As soon as he was sure that their wicked enemy was really dead, and could do them no further harm. Blacky started off to rescue Browny and Whitey. As he approached the den he heard piteous grunts and squeals from his poor little brother and sister who lived in constant terror of the fox killing and eating them. But when they saw Blacky appear at the entrance to the den their joy knew no bounds. He quickly found a sharp stone and cut the cords by which they were tied to a stake in the ground, and then all three started off together for Blacky’ s house, where they lived happily ever after; and Browny quite gave up rolling in the mud, and Whitey ceased to be greedy, for they never forgot how nearly these faults had brought them to an untimely end.

A couple of years later, another naive variant of the tale was submitted to a children’s column in the Hampshire Telegraph, apparently from a thirteen year old girl from Southsea (Portsmouth) remembering a tale her mother had told her “when she was little girl”. This variant also involves a fox, but there is some variation in the initial framing of the tale as well as the materials used to build the pigs’ houses. The resolution of the tale, and the ultimate come-uppance of the fox, is also given something of a new twist.

Dear Grandpa Grimm

https://britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/bl/0000069/18940421/063/0012 Hampshire Telegraph - Saturday 21 April 1894

Children’s Hour

(Conducted by Grandpa Grimm.)

…

Dear Grandpa Grimm,— The story I am sending you is one my mother used to tell me when I was little girl, which I hope will not be too long.

The Three Little Pigs

Once upon a time there were three little pigs, that lived very happily and comfortably under an old oak tree. Now, these three little pigs were very fond of lying under it, because it sheltered them from the sun, and every time the wind blew the acorns rattled down so the little pigs did not have to go far for their dinners. One evening, just as the sun was going down, the three little pigs were sleeping under the old oak tree, with one eye open and one ear too, when who should pass that way but Mr. Fox, with a great goose in his mouth. He looked this way and that way, and at last spied the three little pigs.

“Ah,” said he, “I shall know where to find my supper another night, but, as I can’t take you now, I suppose I must leave you.”

The three little pigs lay very still until Mr. Fox was out of sight, for as they slept with one eye open, and one ear too, they both saw Mr. Fox. and heard what he said. Then they jumped up and began rubbing their noses together, and grunting, and making a great noise, and Brother Bill said to Brother Tom, “What shall we do?” Brother Jack, who was a wise little pig, said, “We must build houses this very night, and get into them.” So they set to work. Brother Bill built his house of mud, and Brother Tom of strawn, and Brother Jack of bricks and mortar, and they got into them and lived very comfortably for some time.

But one night Mr. Fox, who was short of a supper for his little ones, thought of the three little pigs, so just as the sun was going down he started for the old oak tree. There was the tree sure enough, but the three little pigs were nowhere to be seen. “I wonder where you are,” said he, as he looked this way and that way, and at last he caught sight of the three houses. So he went up to the first one, and he said, “Piggy, Piggy, do let me in,” and Piggy would not. “Then,” said the fox, “I puff and puff until I a blow your house down,” and as it was only made of straw he quickly blew it down, and went to eat the piggy up, when he found he had run out the back door into Brother Bill’s house, and all the fox saw was a little curly tail just going around the corner.

“So much the better,” said Mr. Fox. “I have got you both together now.” He then went up to the door and asked Piggy to let him in, but Piggy would not. So the fox said, “I ll scratch until the house falls down”; and as for was only built of mud, he quickly scratched it down, and went in to eat the two little pits up, but he forgot all about the back door again, and the pigs ran into brother Jack’s house, and all the fox saw was two little curly tails just going around the door.

“I have got all three of you together now,” said he, “and if you don’t let me in, I’ll puff and puff and blow your house down.” But the little pigs would not let him in. He then tried to blow it down, and then to scratch it down, but he could not do either. So he said, “What a nice house you have got in there, Mr. Piggie. Do let me have a peep in.” And Jack, who was very flattered, opened the door wide enough for the fox to get his head in. He then gave one spring, and into the midst of them he went. How the little pigs did tremble and shake, expecting to be eaten up at once. But the fox was too busy, looking first at one thing and then at another, until at last he canes to the fire-place, where there was a large pot on the fire, with something cooking for supper. The fox lifted the lid and gave a sniff. “Peas!” said he, “ah, pigs and peas for supper tonight, pigs and peas for supper tonight!” And the little pigs trembled and shook more than ever.

But although Jack was shaking quite as much as his brothers, he was thinking of a plan to get rid of Mr. Fox, so he jumped on a chest that stood under the window and looked out. “Dear me, what a lot of men and dogs around the house,” said he. “It’s the huntsmen! Hide me! Hide me” said the fox. Jack jumped off the chest and opened the lid, and in the fox sprang; but after awhile he said he could not breathe. The little pigs said they would make it allright. They then made the poker red-hot, and bored a lot of holes on the top of ties chest, After this they went and stirred the fire and made the peas boil. When they thought they were done they lifted the pot off the fire, and went and poured the peas on the top of the chest and so scalded the fox to death. Then they all three joined hands together, and danced around, saying, “It is fox and peas for supper tonight! It is fox and peas for supper tonight!”

So the little pigs had fox and peas for supper that night, and lived happily ever after.—Margaret C. Raitt (13), 164, Albert-road, Southsea.

The early Dartmoor variant can be found in English forests and forest trees, 1853:

The fox and the pixies, 1853

In English forests and forest trees: historical, legendary and descriptive, 1853, pp.189-90:

Another singular story is told on Dartmoor. There was once a fox, who, prowling by night in search of prey, came unexpectedly on a colony of pixies. Each pixy had a separate house. The first he came to was a wooden house.

“Let me in, let me in,” said the fox.

“I won’t,” was the pixy’s answer; “and the door is fastened.”

Upon this the fox climbed to the top of the house; and having pawed it down, made a meal of the unfortunate pixy. The next was a “stonen” house.

“Let me in,” said the fox.

“The door is fastened,” answered the pixy.

Again was the house pulled down, and its inmate eaten.

The third was an iron house. The fox again craved admittance, and was again refused.

“But I bring you good news,” said the fox.

“No, no,” replied the pixy; “I know what you want; you shall not come in here to-night.”

That house the fox in vain attempted to destroy. It was too strong for him, and he went away in despair. But he returned the next night, and exerted all his fox-like qualities in the hope of deceiving the pixy. For some time he tried in vain; until at last he mentioned a tempting field of turnips in the neighbourhood, to which he offered to conduct his intended victim. They agreed to meet the next morning at four o’clock.

But the pixy outwitted the fox; for he found his way to the field, and returned laden with his turnips long before the fox was astir. The fox was greatly vexed, and was long unable to devise another scheme, until he bethought himself of a great fair about to be held a short way off, and proposed to the pixy that they should set off for it at three in the morning.

The pixy agreed. But the fox was again outwitted; for he was only up in time to meet the pixy returning home with his fairings — a clock, a crock, and a frying-pan. The pixy, who saw the fox coming, got into the crock and rolled himself down the hill; and the fox, unable to find him, abandoned the scent and went his way. The fox returned the next morning; and finding the door open went in, when he caught the pixy in bed, put him into a box, and locked him in.

“Let me out,” said the pixy, “and I will tell you a wonderful secret.”

The fox was after a time persuaded to lift the cover; and the pixy, coming out, threw such a charm upon him that he was compelled to enter the box in his turn; and there at last he died.

The apparently earlier printed tale of “Pigweeney the wise, or, The history of a wolf and three pigs” is presented in verse:

Pigweeney the wise, 1830

Pigweeney the wise, or, The history of a wolf and three pigs, 1830:

PIGWEENEY THE WISE.

A RESPECTABLE Sow was preparing to die,
And as she lay down, on some straw in her sty,
She call’d to her Children, three Piggies most dear,
Who observing her ill began to look queer.

“I believe, my dear Piggies, I’m going to die;”
At which they thought proper to squeak and to cry.

“So don’t begin squeaking, and making a rout,
“But be, like Philosophers, callous, and bold;
“Who care not for life or for death, I am told:
“The Wolf may as well lay his claw on your life,
“As be stuck in the throat by a vile Butcher’s knife;
“And then to be sing’d from the head to the tail,
“Till you look like a rusty, old tenpenny nail,
“And spitted-and greas’d-and put down to roast-
“Then serv’d up in a dish like a hot butter’d toast!

“Now, tell me, my Child,” to the Eldest she said,
“What House shall I build thee before I be dead?-
“Shall I build it of Mud-or of Straw-or of Stone?
“But in chusing these things I must let you alone,
“For the Fairy declared you n1ust use your discretion,
“As if ye were Pigs of a learned Profession!”

“I will have it of Straw— and of Mud- but no Stone”-
The Eldest replied,-“and live in it alone.”-
“My House,” said the Second, “shall be built of all three,
“Which will keep me quite safe, if the Wolf comes near me.”-

“Pigweeney! my Love,” said the fondest of Mothers,
(Pigweeney was younger than either his Brothers)
“Come tell me of what I shall build thee a House,
“Of Wood, and of Wire, like the Trap of a Mouse?—
“Alas! I have no time to waste on a joke,
“For my breath is so short, I feel ready to choke!”

“Oh! build it of Iron-and build it of Steel!
“And make haste, my Mother, while yet you can feel;
“For I know, by the curl of my tail in the wind,
“That the -Wolf is preparing his grinders to grind;
“For he longs to devour us, by way of a treat,
“As he knows that our Flesh makes most delicate meat.”-

The Sow went to work; and each House in its place,
Was seen, before “Sol” had half lather’d his face
In the mist of the Morning! which, between me and you,
Is nothing at all but a plentiful dew;
But in these poetical—fanciful days,
One must use the sublime, or forfeit one’s “Bays.”—

The old Mamma Sow, gave her blessing,— and died.
Alas! the poor Piggies, they grunted and cried,
And n1ade such a noise, that the Wolf, who was near,
Soon saw how it was, as will shortly appear.
“Oh-Oh!” cried the Monster, “the Mother is dead;
“So her Piggies I’ll eat for my dinner,” he said.
But the Piggies aware of the Monster’s intention,
Shut themselves in their Houses, to try his invention.

And now my sad story begins in this page,
To relate the effects of the violent rage,
Which the old wicked Wolf began to display,
When he found that the Piggies, on that very day,
Had got three new Houses, and plenty of food,
And fresh straw-and clean troughs-and all that was good.

He knock’d at the door of the eldest, and said,
“So my Cousin, your Mother, I find is just dead;
“Oh! pray let me in, as I long to express,
“How wretched I feel at your present distress!”
“Indeed, I shall not, Mr. Wolf,” Pig replied;
“For my Mother declared, at the time when she died,
“That you only intended to eat us for dinner,
“Though one you would keep for your supper — you sinner.”
“Oh—oh!— is it so,” said the Wolf, in a passion,
Provok’ d, you perceive, at being us’d in this fashion;
“I’ll scratch, and I’ll scrape down your House,” he replied.
“Pray do, if you can, Mr. Wolf,” Piggy cried.

Alas! the poor Pig—how sad his condition!
But the Muse, being true to a faithful tradition,
Must declare all the sorrows of Pigs in distress,
Whose woes we lament, but cannot redress!
Imagine how great must have been his vexation,
When he saw his House down to the very foundation,
All scattered about like a Hillock of Hay,
Which you toss with your foot on a warm summer’s day.
No time had the Pig to reflect on his fate,
Or to try to escape from his perilous state;
The Wo1f soon devour’d him, as part of his feast,
Then prowl’d to the House of the next, a vile Beast!

He knock’d at the door of the second, and said,-
“So my Cousin, your Mother, I find is just dead;
“Oh! pray let me in, as I long to express,
“How wretched I feel at your present distress.
‘Twas in vain that the Pig most politely declined
To receive him just then, for indeed he had dined,
And was stretched on his straw, for an afternoon’s nap,
And could not get up to attend to the rap.

The Wolf, in his fury, kick’d up such a rout,
That the House of the Pig was turn’d inside out,
And the innocent Pig was devour’d in a trice!
For this Wolf had less feeling than Cats have for Mice,
Who, sometimes, I’ve seen, in a frolicsome mood,
Play gambols a while with their victims for food.

The Sun was just set, and the Moon, in the Sky,
Had settled herself for the Night,-when the Sty,
Or the House, I should say, of Pigweeney the Wise,
Was assail’d by the Wolf, who repeated his cries,
Of “I’ll scratch, and I’ll scrape, and I’ll pull down your House,
“And gobble you up as a cat would a mouse.”
To work the Wolf set when he’d finish’d his speech,
But he found that Pigweeney was out of his reach;
For the House was so strong it oblig’d him to feel,
‘Twas no joke to scratch against “Iron and Steel.”

When the treach’rous Wolf found the Pig was secure,
He determined to throw out a powerful lure,
To decoy this young Pig from his place of retreat;
For he burnt with revenge at his recent defeat.

“Have you heard of the Fair, Pigweeney, my dear!
“On the top of the Hill, which, to.morrow, I hear,
“Will be kept all the day?-I hope you will go,
“And take me for your guide;-pray do not say no,
“To this offer of mine, which in Friendship I make,
“For I love you, my dear, for your poor Mother’s sake;
“Do permit me to call to-morrow at nine,
“If the Roads, and the Weather, be dry and quite fine.”

Pigweeney replied, behind his strong door,
“Why really to walk is a positive Bore!
“But I think, Cousin Wolf, I shall take your advice;
“As I want a new Kettle-a Trap to catch Mice,
“A Gridiron-a Spit-and a Washing Tub too,
“I’ll be ready at Nine to walk there with you.”

Next Morning Pigweeney arose with the Sun,
For his mind was made up to have excellent fun
With this rogue of a Wolf, this wicked old Sinner,
Who long’d to be munching the Pig for his dinner.

By Six the young Pig, in the midst of the Fair,
Was purchasing Kettles and Crockery-ware;
By Seven his Goods were in a Wheelbarrow,
By Eight he was trudging in Lanes rather narrow,
By Nine he was safe in his “Iron and Steel” House,
Preparing his Trap to catch a vile Mouse;
At a quarter past Nine, by the Clock of the Church,
Mr. Wolf ascertain’d he’d been left in the lurch;
For on asking Pigweeney if ready to go,
His pride and his hunger alike met a blow,
In finding Pigweeney had been to the Fair,
And was cleaning his Kettles, and Crockery-ware.

“Pigweeney, dear Coz, I really shall weep,
“If you will not allow me a look-a mere peep-
“At the things you have bought: I’m anxious to see,
“How you manag’d so well at the Fair without me.”

Pigweeney - Pigweeney - ‘tis treachery all!
Do not listen a minute,-obey not his call:
If you open your door you are lost like the Sheep,
Who stray’d out of the fold for the sake of a leap.
I’d relate all this story of innocent Mutton,
Devour’d by this Wolf, who cared not a button,
For all their intreaties, and heart-rending cries,
When he ate them as fast as Fish swallow Flies!
But my Story is placed in a critical state,
While bewailing these Sheep and their tragical fate.

The wise Solomon said, “take care of your heart,”
“For it oftentimes plays you a treach’rous part;
“And the head,” he observ’d, “was equally bad,”
So between the heart and the head, it is sad,
To see what confusion and wickedness reigns,
From vices in hearts, and follies in brains!

When Pigweeney was humble, Pigweeney was Wise;
When the Young grow presumptuous, how soon they despise
All the Lessons which Prudence and Wisdom have taught;
Which Age has acquir’d from Experience bought.
But I’ll finish my Moral hereafter,-and now
Proceed with my Story :-Pigweeney, somehow,
Was persuaded to let the old Wolf just look in,
Through the Window, which rested upon his vile chin;
For Pigweeney just rais’d it enough for a peep;
But the Wolf began howling, pretending to weep;
“Oh tny Chin-Oh my Chin! ‘twill be sever’d in two,
“Pray let my poor Head in, I beg of you, do!”
Pigweeney now lifted the Window still higher;
“It is breaking my Neck,” said the wicked old Liar,
“I feel in such pain ‘twixt my Shoulder, and Back,
“That I verily think my Bones will soon crack.”

The Window was rais’d to a moderate height,
When in jump’d the Wolf!-the Pig, in a fright,
Ran behind his new Gridiron, more dead than alive;
At this moment of horror! a Bee, from its hive,
Flew into the Room, stung the Wolf in his Eye,
Which Pigweeney observing, cried, “Fly- Cousin -fly”
“I see Huntsmen, and Hounds, at the foot of the Hill,
“And hark! - I now hear the Horn blowing shrill
“Through the Valley just by:-haste-haste far away,
“For if you stay here, they will make you their prey.”

“Oh! Cousin Pigweeney, I dare not go out,”
Said the cowardly Wolf,-” Pray do look about
“For a safe hiding place, in which I may wait,
“And I pray you make haste as they’re just at your Gate.”

“See,-here is my Kettle-so big-and so wide”-
Said the Pig, “in which you can easily hide;”—
In went the Wolf—down went the lid-
“Stay there,” said Pigweeney, “and do as I bid,
“I will tell you the time when the Hounds shall have past,
“Now, I’ll run to the Window, and make it quite fast.”

‘Twas not to the Window Pigweeney did go,
He ran to the Fire, and beginning to blow,
Very soon made a Kettle of Water quite hot,
“Then lifted the Cover, and into the Pot,
All over the Wolf, pour’d the scalding hot water;
For the Pig had determin’d to give him no quarter.
When the Wolf op’d his Mouth to express his surprise,
Down went the hot stream! out went both his eyes!—
He made a great Yell-stretched himself on his side-
Hung over the edge of the Kettle-and died!

And now for my Moral;-you’ll own its but fair,
That our Lives should command our particular care:
And self-int’rest, you know, has its natural source
In a love for ourselves as a matter of course;-
On this same opinion, a Poet, of note *,
Esteem’d for his sense, thus facetiously wrote;
“‘Tis self-defence in each profession,
“Sure self-defence is no transgression.”—

* Gay.

FINIS.

An Aside — News Stories Featuring “Three Little Pigs”

As a possible amusing aside, there are several news stories from the mid-nineteenth century featuring three little pigs.

Two Pounds Reward, October 1868

Manchester Courier - Tuesday 27 October 1868

TWO POUNDS REWARD.—LOST, on Saturday afternoon, between the hours of two and five, THREE Little PIGS, of the “pure China breed.”—Apply at the Pig Store, Robinson-street, off Stanley-square, Stalybridge.

In the following case, three little pigs wandered into an orchard and the own had to pay to retrieve them. He then sued the orchard owner for mistreating his pigs, as well as asking for a refund of the fee he paid to retrieve them.

Three little pigs, impounded, October 1850

Leicestershire Mercury - Saturday 12 October 1850

Loughbrough, County Court, Monday, Oct. 7. (Before J. Hildyard. Esq.)— … Keightley v. Gimson.— Claim 10s. 4d. Attorney for plaintiff, Mr. Giles; for defendant, Mr. Coope.— On Saturday, the 7th of September, defendant impounded three little pigs, which he had found in his orchard. The following Tuesday, plaintiff paid 1s. 4d. to redeem the pigs, and now brought this action to obtain the sum above stated; alleging that he had sustained that loss through the pigs not being well attended to while in defendant’s possession: he also thought he ought not to have paid anything to get them liberated, as the fence they got through was in bad condition. His Honour appeared to be disgusted at having such a case brought before him, and after hearing plaintiff’s evidence, recommended that it should be referred to arbitration, which was agreed to.

In another case of pigs going walkabout, a dog takes a rather bigger bite out of them than its usual nip to the ear:

The Priest and the Pig, February 1862

Western Daily Mercury - Thursday 20 February 1862 and then run a second time on Saturday 22 February 1862.

THE PRIEST AND THE PIG. The Rev Canon Ager, of the Roman Catholic Nunnery in Abbotsleigh, wan summoned by William Hobart for ill-treating couple of pigs, the property of the complainant. Francis appeared for the defendant. It appears that the complainant is the happy owner of three juvenile pigs, rather given to wandering, and who have taken a liking to the nunnery in question, which they frequent on every convenient opportunity. A good dog, something between bull dog and bloodhound, is kept on the premises as a warning to intruders and a caution to beggars. The unloosing of this dog, which is usually kept chained, is generally considered by the infant porkers to be tantamount to a notice to quit. If they do not avail themselves of this notice, without further ado, a dental application to their ears has generally the desired effect. On Monday week last, however, the pigs—a most unusual thing for the complainant’s well-conducted porkers—were more obstinate than ordinary, and all the conciliatory efforts of this gentle dog having failed, and finding that all the applications of his mouth to their ears could not induce them to listen to his suggestions, at once commenced an attack on all quarters, which, as may well be supposed, poor piggy came off second best. Hence the present case.

Wm Hobart, complainant, said: I am woodcutter to the Hon Mrs Hare. On Monday, the 10th inst, I had three little pigs. Somehow they got out of the orchard. At halfpast five I went in search of them, and I found a man named Jackson driving one of my little pigs before him. That one was uninjured. I ascertained from him where my other two pigs were. As I was going on the road I met another of them. One of them had its ears very much torn, and had a bite in the hind leg, which was bleeding “thoroughly.” It was bleeding from the head and leg too. I took those two home. Next morning I traced the blood to the fields. After finding the second I went in search of the third. I found that one nearer, but so crippled that I could hardly get it home. That one was the worst pig of the three—(laughter). It had both the ears torn to pieces. The fore leg is so injured that it cannot stand, and it is bitten in the shoulder and in the hind leg. It was bleeding very much. I traced the blood next morning from my house to the field, which is in the occupation of the defendant. When I came to the field next morning I saw the gardener, and had some conversation with him. He afterwards came down and delivered me a message from the house. He could not think from the state of the pig that it would be alive now.

Cross-examined by Mr Francis: I am not on bad terms with the Abbotsleign people, and have seen the defendant before. The pigs are all still alive. When I saw the gardener on the Tuesday morning I told him about the injury done to the pigs. He said Mr Ager was then absent. He asked me not to be in too great a hurry about taking out a summons. I said I would not. I might have told him my pig was worth 30s. He said Mr Ager would be very sorry about what had occurred, and asked me not to take out a summons until he returned. The gardener came to me again about 6 o’clock the same evening, with a sack to carry away the pig, and 30s. I then said that I had had a farmer look at the pig and he said that it was worth more. I said I would not part with the pig for that money unless I had compensation for the injury done to the other. The white pig is the worst. Its ears are nearly torn from its head, and it cannot stand upon two of its legs, one fore and one hind. The black one has the skin torn off one of its ears.

Thomas Flit, gardener, at Abbotsleigh, said: I went round on Monday to take the dog from the front to the back. He is almost always kept tied. The dog is something between a bull-dog and a blood-hound. I found him barking at the pigs and driving them, and I took the dog and tied him up.

Cross-examined by Mr Francis: The dog is not a savage one. I have known him for about a year and a half, and it is a quiet dog. It is not more savage than a house-dog ought be. It is kept for the protection of the premises. We have been very much annoyed by pigs They once came in front of the sitting room, and the defendant drove them away. I have driven away the pigs with this dog many times, and I never knew the dog injure pigs in this way before. I have known him bite the pig by the ear, so as to make him squeak and run away. Hobart told me the pig was worth 30s, and that as he was a poor man he could not afford to lose it. I mentioned the matter to Mr Ager directly he came home, and he at once gave me the money, and I took it to complainant, who refused it because there was no compensation for the other one.

By the Bench: I have known the dog bite pigs’ ears, but I have never heard of his attacking people more than a house-dog should.

Complainant to witness: Do you know that the pig’s ear is in two halves?

Witness: No.

Complainant: Then I do—(laughter). Was there not some man who complained of the dog insulting him?

Witness: I never heard of any.

Mary Coleman said she saw the defendant driving the pigs with his dog, as she was returning from work. It went on for about an hour.

Mr Francis to witness: Had you no other amusement going home besides looking at the pigs?

Witness: No. sir.

Henry Row confirmed the evidence of the complainant as to the state of the pigs. The white one was worth, he should think, about 35s, and the damage to the other he estimated at about 5s.

Mr. Francis: Won’t a dog sometimes lead a pig out by the ear as gently as you would lead a lady

Witness: I have heard of such dogs, but I never saw one— (laughter).

Mr Francis: Ah, these are highly-educated dogs.

Mr Francis, in his address, asked the Bench to believe that the defendant was the last man in the world who would set to work maliciously to injure two small pigs. The pigs had been found in the shrubbery, as they had been many times before, and what could be done but use a dog? The contrariety of the animals was proverbial, and it was as natural to use a dog as to the case of finding a man in one’s house, to apply a motive power behind. The dog had always conducted himself in a proper manner with respect to the pigs, until this time, which was the turning point in his history; and therefore how was the defendant to know that the dog would behave in the manner he did?

The Bench, after retiring, gave their decision. They considered the defendant to be liable for the acts of his dog, and would therefore inflict a penalty of 6d upon him, with £1 8s costs; but the conviction and penalty were merely nominal, as they exonerated him from the slightest imputation of cruelty.

The Protestant’s Porkers, and the Catholic’s Bull Dog, February 1862

Western Times - Saturday 22 February 1862

TOWN HALL. —Before C. J. Wade, Esq., (chairman); W. Creed, W. J. Watts, Esq., and J. Woodley, Esqrs.

The Protestant’s Porkers, and the Catholic’s Bull Dog.

The Rev Canon Agar, one of the religious functionaries at the Nunnery, recently built at Abbotsleigh, late the property of Parson Braine, was summoned by William Hobart, a market gardener, of Abbotskerwell, for ill-treating two pigs, his property, by setting a bull dog at them, on the 10th instant. Mr. Francis appeared for defendant.

It will be seen from the evidence that complainant, who lives near the Nunnery, at Abbotsleigh, has two or three pigs, whose roving propensities led them to trespass on the premises belonging to the Nunnery, where the rev. defendant amused himself by setting a dog at them, which worried them, according to one of the witnesses’s story, for full an hour. They were much bitten and injured, and the present case was the result.

Complainant, who said he was a wood-cutter, to the Hon. Mrs. Hare, stated that on the 10th instant, he had three little pigs in his orchard; by some means they got out of the orchard, and between five and six he went in search of them. He met a man named Jackson, driving one of the pigs—the uninjured one—and he told him where the other two were. Going along the road, he met another of them; its ears were much torn, and it had a bite in the hind leg, which was bleeding very much, and witness was enabled, next morning, to trace whence the animals came, by the blood it had lost. Took these two pigs home, and went to look for the other. He found it in the road, but it was so injured that he could scarcely get it home. Both its ears were torn to pieces; it had been bitten in the hind leg, and in the shoulder; its fore leg was so injured that it could not stand. He could track this pig from the field where it was worried to his own house, by the spots of blood. Believed the field to belong to defendant. Saw the gardener in the field the next morning and had some conversation with him. He afterwards came to defendant’s house with a message. Did not think the pigs would recover from the injuries they received. Cross-examined by Mr. Francis—Am not on bad terms with the people at the Nunnery; had seen the defendant before. The pigs are still alive. The gardener, when witness told him of the injury done, said Mr. Agar was absent, and asked him not to be in a hurry about taking out a summons until he returned: he said Mr. Agar would be sorry at what had occurred. Might have told him the pig was worth 30s. The same evening the gardener came to his house with a sack, to take away the pig, for which he brought 30s. Told him a farmer had looked at the pig in the meantime, and had valued it at more money. Also told him he should not part with the pig until he had compensation for the injury done to the other. A white pig is the worst—its ears are nearly torn from its head, and two of its legs, one in front and one behind, are so injured that it cannot stand. It was not unusual for farmers to set a dog at pigs to get them out of a field, but he never saw pigs served as his had been by defendant’s dog. In the county he, witness, came from, people were more humane towards their pigs. Thomas Fripp, gardener, of Abbotsleigh, saw the dog barking at some pigs that were in front of the nunnery. When he first saw the dog it was barking at the pigs, and biting them when it could. The dog was a mixed bred one, a cross between a blood-hound and bullterrier. Defendant was present, whistling to the dog. Witness took charge of the dog, and chained it up. It was not a savage dog, and would sometimes run away when a pig turned round at him.

The Chairman remarked that he had known dogs of the same description to be very playful at times, and others to be very savage.

Cross-examined by Mr. Francis—The dog had often been set at pigs, but had never before done them any injury. Pigs were in the habit of trespassing on these grounds, and gave them much trouble. Wast told by complainant that the pig most injured was worth 30s. Saw the whole of the pigs; one was badly hurt about the ears; but the second was not seriously injured. Defendant was the last man who would act cruelly towards a dumb animal; and had requested witness to express his sorrow to the complainant for what had occurred. Thomas Jackson, who was working at Abbotsleigh, saw the pigs in the ground where some shrubs were being planted. He tried to drive them away, but could not. He soon after saw defendant trying to drive them off, but he had no dog, when defendant afterwards unchained the dog, and took it away with him. Subsequently he heard the dog barking, but did not see it. Mary Coleman heard the pigs crying as she returned from work; she went into the field where they were, and saw the dog barking at them, and serving them very bad indeed; defendant was looking on. She staid there a whole hour watching them, and the dog was worrying them all the time. She let one of the pigs out of the field.—This was complainant’s case, and Mr. Francis, for defendant, argued that his client was not guilty of cruelty, as he had at first endeavoured to drive the pigs from his premises himself; but failing in that, he had obtained the assistance of the dog to do so, as he had done on former occasions, on neither of which had the dog done any injury. He was sure his client would be the last man to act cruelly to dumb animals; and as soon as he heard what had happened, he expressed his sorrow for it, and offered to settle the matter with complainant, which he refused to do. He hoped the Bench would not convict his client of cruelty, and said little reliance could be placed on the evidence of the girl Coleman. The Bench, after a short consultation, although exonerating defendant from the charge cruelty, fined him 6d, with £1 8s 6d costs, and adjudged him to pay £1 15s, damage done to the pigs.

Finally, a news story from Dundee where pigs living in houses causes something of a nuisance:

A Nuisance, October 1862

Dundee Courier - Saturday 11 October 1862

A Nuisance. —On Friday, at the Police Court, Catherine Luckie, an old woman, residing in North Street, Springfield, was charged with keeping a number of swine in her dwelling-house, so as to be a nuisance in the neighbourhood. Having been asked regarding the nuisance, the panel said she had to pay 14s of police money, and it would be a hard case for her if she would not be allowed to keep swine. Mr Mitchell (sharply) —” Are you to kill everybody by a nuisance because you have 14s to pay?” (Laughter.) Panel—“The swine are nae nuisance, for they’re out a’ day, an’ keepit in nicht. They are out at this minute.” Bailie Ower—“How many have you?” Panel—“There’s just five swine, an’ twa or three little pigs.” (Laughter.) Mr Mackay—“There are thirteen swine.” Mr Dunsmore, inspector of nuisances, was called, and deponed that the house of the accused was a perfect nuisance to the neighbourhood in which she lived. There were in all thirteen swine and twenty-two hens in her house, and, in fear of the hens being stolen, the windows were nailed up, and so bad was the ventilation of the house, that the smoke, instead of going Up the chimney, came out at the door. (Laughter.) Mr Mackay (to panel)— Are you willing to remove them?” Panel —“I canna remove them; if I did that I couldna mak’ a livin’.” (Laughter.) Mr Mackay—“But can you not sell them?” Panel—“I intend to sell them a’ but ane or twa.’ Bailie Ower—“Your tenants are complaining of this nuisance.” Panel—” There’s nae tenants complainin’; not one.” Bailie Ower—“Mr Dunsmore says so.” Panel—“He canna say that.” Mr Mackay said if the panel was to be so very obstinate, he would ask the tenants to attend court, and have Dr Cowper to inspect the place. The case was accordingly adjourned till Tuesday next.