If you remember, his were what were known as "razorbacks." They
could go like the wind, and the fence was not made that could stop
them. If they couldn't root under it, they could turn themselves
sidewise and slide through between the rails. It was told me that,
failing all else, they could give their tails a swing - you remember
the big balls of mud they used to have on their tails' ends - they
could swing their tails after the manner of an athlete throwing the
hammer, and fly over the top of the tallest stake-and-rider fence
ever put up. I don't know whether this is the strict truth or not,
but it is what was told me as a little boy, and I don't think
people would wilfully deceive an innocent child.
The pigs nowaday aren't as smart as that, but they cut up better
at hog-killing time. They aren't quite so trim; indeed, they are
nothing but cylinders of meat, whittled to a point at the front end,
and set on four pegs, but as you lean on the top-rail of the pens
out at the County Fair and look down upon them, you can picture in
your mind, without much effort, ham, and sidemeat, and bacon, and
spare-ribs, and smoked shoulder, and head-cheese, and liver-wurst,
and sausages, and glistening white lard for crullers and pie-crust -
Yes, I think pigs are right interesting. I know they've got
Scripture for it, the folks that think it is wrong to eat pork, but
somehow I feel sorry for them; they miss such a lot, not only in
the eating line, but other ways.
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