Charlotte's Web: Chapters 18–22

Templeton’s keen nose detected many fine smells in the air.

“Humble?” said Charlotte. “‘Humble’ has two meanings. It means ‘not proud’ and it means ‘near the ground.’ That’s Wilbur all over. He’s not proud and he’s near the ground.”

“Well, I hope you’re satisfied,” sneered the rat. “I’m not going to spend all my time fetching and carrying. I came to this Fair to enjoy myself, not to deliver papers.”

“Maybe,” said Charlotte quietly. “However, I have a feeling I’m not going to see the results of last night’s efforts. I don’t feel good at all. I think I’m languishing, to tell you the truth.”

“I’m back,” he said in a husky voice. “What a night!”

“What a night!” he repeated, hoarsely. “What feasting and carousing! A real gorge! I must have eaten the remains of thirty lunches. Never have I seen such leavings, and everything well-ripened and seasoned with the passage of time and the heat of the day. Oh, it was rich, my friends, rich!”

“What a night!” he repeated, hoarsely. “What feasting and carousing! A real gorge! I must have eaten the remains of thirty lunches. Never have I seen such leavings, and everything well-ripened and seasoned with the passage of time and the heat of the day. Oh, it was rich, my friends, rich!”

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said Charlotte in disgust. “It would serve you right if you had an acute attack of indigestion.”

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said Charlotte in disgust. “It would serve you right if you had an acute attack of indigestion.”

"...Furthermore, I wouldn’t be surprised if Zuckerman changes his mind about you. Wait till he gets hankering for some fresh pork and smoked ham and crisp bacon! He’ll take the knife to you, my boy.”

“Be still, Templeton!” said Charlotte. “You’re too stuffed and bloated to know what you’re saying. Don’t pay any attention to him, Wilbur!”

Her heart was not beating as strongly as usual and she felt weary and old, but she was sure at last that she had saved Wilbur’s life, and she felt peaceful and contented.

“Special announcement!” said the loud speaker in a pompous voice.

“Ladeez and gentlemen,” said the loud speaker, “we now present Mr. Homer L. Zuckerman’s distinguished pig. The fame of this unique animal has spread to the far corners of the earth, attracting many valuable tourists to our great State. Many of you will recall that never-to-be-forgotten day last summer when the writing appeared mysteriously on the spider’s web in Mr. Zuckerman’s barn, calling the attention of all and sundry to the fact that this pig was completely out of the ordinary...."

"...This miracle has never been fully explained, although learned men have visited the Zuckerman pigpen to study and observe the phenomenon. In the last analysis, we simply know that we are dealing with supernatural forces here, and we should all feel proud and grateful. In the words of the spider’s web, ladies and gentlemen, this is some pig.”

"...This miracle has never been fully explained, although learned men have visited the Zuckerman pigpen to study and observe the phenomenon. In the last analysis, we simply know that we are dealing with supernatural forces here, and we should all feel proud and grateful. In the words of the spider’s web, ladies and gentlemen, this is some pig.”

"...This miracle has never been fully explained, although learned men have visited the Zuckerman pigpen to study and observe the phenomenon. In the last analysis, we simply know that we are dealing with supernatural forces here, and we should all feel proud and grateful. In the words of the spider’s web, ladies and gentlemen, this is some pig.”

“Ladeez and gentlemen,” continued the loud speaker, “I must not take any more of your valuable time. 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—this radiant, this terrific, this humble pig—in attracting so many visitors to our great County Fair.”

“Ladeez and gentlemen,” continued the loud speaker, “I must not take any more of your valuable time. 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—this radiant, this terrific, this humble pig—in attracting so many visitors to our great County Fair.”

Wilbur had been feeling dizzier and dizzier through this long, complimentary speech.

He took Wilbur’s tail in his mouth and bit it, just as hard as he could bite. The pain revived Wilbur.

“For goodness’ sake!” bellowed Mr. Zuckerman, who was really drenched. “What ails you, Lurvy? Can’t you see the pig is all right?”

“For goodness’ sake!” bellowed Mr. Zuckerman, who was really drenched. “What ails you, Lurvy? Can’t you see the pig is all right?”

“I’m sure you would. And I thank you for your generous sentiments.”

Hearing this, Wilbur threw himself down in an agony of pain and sorrow.

Great sobs racked his body. He heaved and grunted with desolation.

“Ho, ho. And what thanks do I ever get for these services, I would like to know? Never a kind word for old Templeton, only abuse and wisecracks and side remarks. Never a kind word for a rat.”

“Templeton,” said Wilbur in desperation, “if you don’t stop talking and get busy, all will be lost, and I will die of a broken heart. Please climb up!”

But Templeton worked away at the job, and managed to cut the sac adrift and carry it to the ground, where he dropped it in front of Wilbur.

The sheds and buildings were empty and forlorn.

“The most fun there is,” retorted Fern, “is when the Ferris wheel stops and Henry and I are in the top car and Henry makes the car swing and we can see everything for miles and miles and miles.”

The pasture was bleak and frozen.

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

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

From the pond, in shrill chorus, came the voices of hundreds of little frogs.

The air was soon filled with tiny balloons, each balloon carrying a spider.
Wilbur was frantic.

“Welcome to the barn cellar. You have chosen a hallowed doorway from which to string your webs. I think it is only fair to tell you that I was devoted to your mother. I owe my very life to her. She was brilliant, beautiful, and loyal to the end. I shall always treasure her memory. To you, her daughters, I pledge my friendship, forever and ever.”

“Welcome to the barn cellar. You have chosen a hallowed doorway from which to string your webs. I think it is only fair to tell you that I was devoted to your mother. I owe my very life to her. She was brilliant, beautiful, and loyal to the end. I shall always treasure her memory. To you, her daughters, I pledge my friendship, forever and ever.”

It was a happy day for Wilbur. And many more happy, tranquil days followed.

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 manure, and the glory of everything.