E.B. White's "Charlotte's Web"

Inside it were leftovers from somebody's lunch: a deviled ham sandwich, a piece of Swiss cheese, part of a hard-boiled egg, and the core of a wormy apple.

When he returned to the barn, he carried in his mouth an advertisement he had torn from a crumpled magazine.

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.

Deep in his soft bed, Wilbur snoozed.

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

"What feasting and carousing!

Templeton was down there now, rummaging around.

The sheep moved off down the lane, the gander waddled along behind them, pulling grass.

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.

"Struggle if you must," said he, "but kindly remember that I'm hiding down here in this crate and I don't want to be stepped on, or kicked in the face, or pummeled, or crushed in any way, or squashed, or buffeted about, or bruised, or lacerated, or

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.

"What kind of an acrobat do you think I am?" said Charlotte in disgust.

I am a glutton but not a merry-maker.

I would say, offhand, that spiders and pigs were fully as interesting as Henry Fussy.

I'm glad I'm a sedentary spider."

Wilbur went over backwards, writhing and twisting as he went.

"It's my idio-idio-idiosyncrasy," replied the gander.

Don't you think that's fascinating?"

It was the best place to be, thought Wilbur, this warm delicious cellar, with the garrulous geese, the changing seasons, the heat of the sun, the passage of swallows, the nearness of rats, the sameness of sheep, the love of spiders, the smell of ma

He swayed and toppled and landed on the edge of Wilbur's trough.

It was a sort of sac, or cocoon.

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

"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.

"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..."

Then you would zoom upward into the sky, and look up at the clouds, and the rope would twist and you would twist and turn with the rope.

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

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

Wilbur did not budge.

The pupils giggled.

It's amazing how children change from year to year.

Charlotte is fierce, brutal, scheming, bloodthirsty - everything I don't like.

"You're too stuffed and bloated to know what you're saying.

Dozens and dozens of strangers stopped to stare at him and to admire his silky white coat, his curly tail, his kind and radiant expression.

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.

It is my egg sac, my _magnum _opus."

"I'm versatile."

He lined it with bits of dirty newspapers and rags and whenever he found a trinket or a keepsake he carried it home and stored it there.

Wilbur looked at his friend. listless.

Early summer days are a jubilee time for birds.

Friendless, dejected, and hungry, he threw himself down in the manure and sobbed.

He scampered over to the crate, crawled between the slats, and pulled straw up over him so he was hidden from sight.

You have, chosen a hallowed doorway from which to string your webs.

"It pays to save things," he said in his surly voice.

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

It was a perfect piece of designing and building.

They could smell the dust of the race track where the sprinkling cart had moistened it; and they could smell hamburgers frying and see balloons aloft.

"Die of a broken heart," he mimicked.

The autumn days grew shorter, Lurvy brought the squashes and pumpkins in from the garden and piled them on the barn floor, where they wouldn't get nipped on frosty nights.

"Struggle if you must," said he, "but kindly remember that I'm hiding down here in this crate and I don't want to be stepped on, or kicked in the face, or pummeled, or crushed in any way, or squashed, or buffeted about, or bruised, or lacerated, or

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.

He hated to break the lovely stillness of day by using his voice, but he couldn't think of any other way to locate the mysterious new friend who was nowhere to be seen.

Templeton was a crafty rat, and he had things pretty much his own way.

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

The goose chuckled.

Here, in a small clearing hidden by young alders and wild raspberry bushes, was an astonishing pile of old bottles and empty tin cans and dirty rags and bits of metal and broken bottles and broken hinges and broken springs and dead batteries and la

Lazily he placed his forepaws behind his head and crossed his knees, in an attitude of complete relaxation.

Never have I seen such leavings, and everything well-ripened and seasoned with the passage of time and the heat of the day.

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.

The Zuckermans' driveway was full of cars and trucks from morning till night - Fords and Chevvies and Buick roadmasters and GMC pickups and Plymouths and Studebakers and Packards and De Sotos with gyromatic transmissions and Oldsmobiles with rocket

"No, I only distribute pigs to early risers," said Mr. Arable.

A fly that had been crawling along Wilbur's trough had flown up and blundered into the lower part of Charlotte's web and was tangled in the sticky threads.

The air smelled of the damp earth, of the spruce woods, of the sweet springtime.

He scooped up his frog. splashing soapy water onto the blueberry pie.

His ratty home under the pig trough was too chilly, so he fixed himself a cozy nest in the barn


behind the grain bins.

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

In the hard-packed dirt of the midway, after the glaring lights are out and the people have gone home to bed, you will find a veritable treasure of popcorn fragments, frozen custard dribblings, candied apples abandoned by tired children, sugar fluf

"You children be quiet till we get the pig unloaded," said Mrs. Arable.

Setting the pail down, he picked up the stick that Avery had dropped and pried the trough up.

I think I'm languishing, to tell you the truth."

"He's filthy behind the ears," said Mrs. Zuckerman.

In the hard-packed dirt of the midway, after the glaring lights are out and the people have gone home to bed, you will find a veritable treasure of popcorn fragments, frozen custard dribblings, candied apples abandoned by tired children, sugar fluf

In the hard-packed dirt of the midway, after the glaring lights are out and the people have gone home to bed, you will find a veritable treasure of popcorn fragments, frozen custard dribblings, candied apples abandoned by tired children, sugar fluff cryst

The barn had stalls on the main floor for the work horses, tie-ups on the main floor for the cows, a sheepfold down below for the sheep, a pigpen down below for Wilbur, and it was full of all sorts of things that you find in barns: ladders, grindstones, p

A fly that had been crawling along Wilbur's trough had flown up and blundered into the lower part of Charlotte's web and was tangled in the sticky threads.

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

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

"You'll


worry all right on a zero morning next January when Wilbur is dead and nobody comes down here with a nice pail of warm slops to pour into the trough.

She found an old milking stool that had been discarded, and she placed the stool in the sheepfold next to Wilbur's pen.

A real gorge!

When she returned, she wore rubber boots and an old raincoat, and she carried a bucket of buttermilk and a small wooden paddle.

"Imagine wanting a junky old rotten egg!" he muttered.

Although it is made of thin, delicate strands, the web is not easily broken.

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?"

Charlotte laughed so hard her web began to sway.

She stands on her head, lets out a lot of line, and is carried aloft on the wind.

I do not play when there are eggs to hatch.

The barn had stalls on the main floor for the work horses, tie-ups on the main floor for the cows, a sheepfold down below for the sheep, a pigpen down below for Wilbur, and it was full of all sorts of things that you find in barns: ladders, grindst

A fly that had been crawling along Wilbur's trough had flown up and blundered into the lower part of Charlotte's web and was tangled in the sticky threads.

"Go down through the orchard, root up the sod!

Drops of dew, catching the sun, made the web stand out clearly.

"Well, I hope you're satisfied," sneered the rat.

When the children grew tired of swinging they went down toward the pasture and picked wild raspberries and ate them.

On behalf of the governors of the Fair, I have the honor of awarding a special prize of twenty-five dollars to Mr. Zuckerman, together with a handsome bronze medal suitably engraved, in token of our appreciation of the part played by this pig - thi

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

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

"It's a label off an old shirt."

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

It was soon arranged.

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

"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.

It relieved her mind to know that her baby would sleep covered up, and would stay warm.

As she approached her chair, the carton wobbled, and there was a scratching noise.

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

To you, her daughters, I pledge my friendship, forever and ever."

Wilbur admired the way Charlotte managed.

She grabbed the fly, threw a few jets of silk around it, and rolled it over and over, wrapping it so that it couldn't move.

"What did I do wrong?" asked the pig, when he recovered from his bump.

Charlotte glared at her.

A special award will be made there in twenty minutes.

It was apple-blossom time, and the days were getting warmer.

Every day was a happy day, and every night was peaceful.

Wilbur was modest; fame did not spoil him.

"Fern," said her mother sternly, "you must not invent things. spiders don't tell stories.

Then, using all their strength, the men picked up the crate and heaved it aboard the truck.

It relieved her mind to know that her baby would sleep covered up, and would stay warm.