by E. B. WHITEPICTURES BY GARTH WILLIAMSA HARPER TROPHY BOOKHARPER & ROW, PUBLISHERSNEW YORK, EVANSTON, SAN FRANCIS<D, LONDON CHARLOTTE'S WEBCopyright@ 1952 by E. B. WhiteText copyright@ renewed 1980 by E. B. WhiteIllustrations copyright renewed 1980 by Garth WilliamsAll rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in anymanner whatsoever without wriuen permission except in the case of briefquotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Printed in the UnitedStates of America. For information address Harper&: Row, Publishers Inc.,10 East 53rd Street, New York, N.Y. 10022. Published simultaneously inCanada by Fitzhenry&: Whiteside Limited, Toronto.Standard Book Number: 06-440055-7First printed in 1952. ContentsI. BEFORE BREAKFASTII. WILBUR 8III. ESCAPE I JIV. LONELINESS z;v. CHARLOTTE J2VI. SUMMER DAYS 42VII. BAD NEWS 48VIII. A TALK AT HOME 52IX. WILBUR'S BOAST 55X. AN EXPLOSION 66XI. THE MIRACLE 77XII. A MEETING 86XIII. GOOD PROGRESS 92XIV. DR. DORIAN 105XV. THE CRICKETS I I JXVI. OFF TO THE FAIR 118XVII. UNCLE lJOXVIII. THE COOL OF THE EVENING IJ8XIX. THE EGG SAC 144XX. THE HOUR OF TRIUMPH 155XXI. LAST DAY 163XXII. A WARM WIND 172 Chapter 1Before BreakfastHERE'S Papa going with that ax?"said Fern to her mother as theywere setting the table for breakfast."Out to the hoghouse," repliedMrs. Arable. "Some pigs were born last night.""I don't see why he needs an ax," continued Fern,who was only eight."Well," said her mother, "one of the pigs is a runt.It's very small and weak, and it will never amount toanything. So your father has decided to do away withit.""Do away with it?" shrieked Fern. "You mean killit? Just because it's smaller than the others?"Mrs. Arable put a pitcher of cream on the table."Don't yell, Fern!" she said. "Your father is right. Thepig would probably die anyway."Fern pushed a chair out of the way and ran outdoors.The grass was wet and the earth smelled of springtime.Fern's sneakers were sopping by the time she caughtup. with her father. "Please don't kill it!" she sobbed. "It's unfair."Mr. Arable stopped walking."Fern," he said gently, "you will have to learn tocontrol yourself.""Control myself?" yelled Fem. "This is a matter oflife and death, and you talk about controlling myself." Before Breakfast 3Tears ran down her cheeks and she took hold of the axand tried to pull it out of her father's hand."Fern," said Mr. Arable, "I know more about raisinga litter of pigs than you do. A weakling makes trouble.Now run along!""But it's unfair," cried Fern. "The pig couldn't helpbeing born small, could it? If I had been very small atbirth, would you have killed me?"Mr. Arable smiled. "Certainly not," he said, lookingdown at his daughter with love. "But this is different.A little girl is one thing, a little runty pig is another.""I see no difference," replied Fern, still hanging onto the ax. "This is the most terrible case of injustice Iever heard of."A queer look came over John Arable's face. Heseemed almost ready to cry himself."All right," he said. "You go back to the house andI will bring the runt when I come in. I'll let you startit on a bottle, like a baby. Then you'll see what troublea pig can be."When Mr. Arable returned to the house half anhour later, he carried a carton under his arm. Fern wasupstairs changing her sneakers. The kitchen table wasset for breakfast, and the room smelled of coffee, bacon,damp plaster, and wood smoke from the stove."Put it on her chair!" said Mrs. Arable. Mr. Arableset the carton down at Fern's place. Then he walked 4 Charlotte's Webto the sink and washed his hands and dried them on theroller towel.Fern came slowly down the stairs. Her eyes werered from crying. As she approached her chair, thecarton wobbled, and there was a scratching noise. Femlooked at her father. Then she lifted the lid of the carton. There, inside, looking up at her, was the newbornpig. It was a white one. The morning light shonethrough its ears, turning them pink."He's yours," said Mr. Arable. "Saved from an untimely death. And may the good Lord forgive me forthis foolishness."Fern couldn't take her eyes off the tiny pig. "Oh,"she whispered. "Oh, look at him! He's absolutely perfect."She closed the canon carefully. First she kissed herfather, then she kissed her mother. Then she openedthe lid again, lifted the pig out, and held it againsther cheek. At this moment her brother Avery cameinto the room. Avery was ten. He was heavily armed-an air rifle in one hand, a wooden dagger in theother."What's that?" he demanded. "What's Fern got?"11She's got a guest for breakfast," said Mrs. Arable.11Wash your hands and face, Avery!""Let's see it!" said Avery, setting his gun down.uyou call that miserable thing a pig? That's a fine specimen of a pig-it's no bigger than a white rat.""Wash up and eat your breakfast, Avery!" said hismother. "The school bus will be along in half an hour.""Can I have a pig, too, Pop?" asked Avery."No, I only distribute pigs to early risers," said Mr.Arable. "Fem was up at daylight, trying to rid theworld of injustice. As a result, she now has a pig. Asmall one, to be sure, but nevertheless a pig. It justshows what can happen if a person gets out of bedpromptly. Let's eat!"But Fern couldn't eat until her pig had had a drinkof milk. Mrs. Arable found a baby's nursing bottle anda rubber nipple. She poured warm milk into the bottle, fitted the nipple over the top, and handed it to Fern."Give him his breakfast!" she said.A minute later, Fern was seated on the floor in thecomer of the kitchen with her infant between her Before Breakfast 7knees, teaching it to suck from the bottle. The pig,although tiny, had a good appetite and caught onquickly.The school bus honked from the road."Run!" commanded Mrs. Arable, taking the pigfrom Fern and slipping a doughnut into her hand.Avery grabbed his gun and another doughnut.The children ran out to the road and climbed intothe bus. Fern took no notice of the others in the bus.She just sat and stared out of the window, thinkingwhat a blissful world it was and how lucky she was tohave entire charge of a pig. By the time the bus reachedschool, Fem had named her pet, selecting the mostbeautiful name she could think of."Its name is Wilbur," she whispered to herself.She was still thinking about the pig when the teachersaid: "Fern, what is the capital of Pennsylvania?""Wilbur," replied Fern, dreamily. The pupils giggled. Fem blushed. Chapter IIWilburFERN loved Wilbur more than anything. Sheloved to stroke him, to feed him, to put him tobed. Every morning, as soon as she got up, shewarmed his milk, tied his bib on, and held thebottle for him. Every afternoon, when the school busstopped in front of her house, she jumped out and ranto the kitchen to fix another bottle for him. She fedhim again at suppertime, and again just before going tobed. Mrs. Arable gave him a feeding around noontimeeach day, when Fern was away in school. Wilburloved his milk, and he was never happier than whenFern was wanning up a bottle for him. He wouldstand and gaze up at her with adoring eyes.For the first few days of his life, Wilbur was allowedto live in a box near the stove in the kitchen. Then,when Mrs. Arable complained, he was moved to a bigger box in the woodshed. At two weeks of age, he wasmoved outdoors. It was apple-blossom time, and thedays were getting warmer. Mr. Arable fixed a smallyard specially for Wilbur under an apple tree, and8 Wilbur 9gave him a large wooden box full of straw, with adoorway cut in it so he could walk in and out as hepleased."Won't he be cold at night?" asked Fem."No," said her father. "You watch and see what hedoes."Carrying a bottle of milk, Fern sat down under theapple tree inside the yard. Wilbur ran to her and sheheld the bottle for him while he sucked. \Vhen he hadfinished the last drop, he grunted and walked sleepilyinto the box. Fern peered through the door. Wilburwas poking the straw with his snout. In a short timehe had dug a tunnel in the straw. He crawled into thetunnel and disappeared from sight, completely covered with straw. Fern was enchanted. It relieved hermind to know that her baby would sleep covered up,and would stay warm. 10 Charlotte's WebEvery morning after breakfast, Wilbur walked outto the road with Fern and waited with her till the buscame. She would wave good-bye to him, and he wouldstand and watch the bus until it vanished around aturn. While Fern was in school, Wilbur was shut upinside his yard. But as soon as she got home in theafternoon, she would take him out and he wouldfollow her around the place. If she went into thehouse, Wilbur went, too. If she went upstairs, Wilburwould wait at the bottom step until she came downagain. If she took her doll for a walk in the doll carriage, Wilbur followed along. Sometimes, on thesejourneys, Wilbur would get tired, and Fern would pickhim up and put him in the carriage alongside the doll.He liked this. And if he was very tired, he would closehis eyes and go to sleep under the doll's blanket. Helooked cute when his eyes were closed, because hislashes were so long. The doll would close her eyes, too,and Fern would wheel the carriage very slowly andsmoothly so as not to wake her infants.One warm afternoon, Fern and Avery put on bathing suits and went down to the brook for a swim.Wilbur tagged along at Fern's heels. When she wadedinto the brook, Wilbur waded in with her. He foundthe water quite cold-too cold for his liking. So whilethe children swam and played and splashed water ateach other, Wilbur amused himself in the mud along the edge of the brook, where it was wann and moistand delightfully sticky and oozy.Every day was a happy day, and every night waspeaceful.Wilbur was what farmers call a spring pig, whichsimply means that he was born in springtime. When he Charlotte's Webwas five weeks old, Mr. Arable said he was now bigenough to sell, and would have to be sold. Fern brokedown and wept. But her father was finn about it. Wilbur's appetite �d increased; he was beginning to eatscraps of food in addition to milk. Mr. Arable was notwilling to provide for him any longer. He had alreadysold Wilbur's ten brothers and sisters."He's got to go, Fern, " he said. "You have had yourfun raising a baby pig, but Wilbur is not a baby anylonger and he has got to be sold. ""Call up the Zuckermans, " suggested Mrs. Arableto Fern. "Your Uncle Homer sometimes raises a pig.And if Wilbur goes there to live, you can walk downthe road and visit him as often as you like. ""How much money should I ask for him?" Fernwanted to know."Well, " said her father, "he's a runt. Tell yourUncle Homer you've got a pig you'll sell for sixdollars, and see what he says. "It was soon arranged. Fern phoned and got herAunt Edith, and her Aunt Edith hollered for UncleHomer, and Uncle Homer came in from the bam andtalked to Fern. When he heard that the price was onlysix dollars, he said he would buy the pig. Next dayWilbur was taken from his home under the apple treeand went to live in a manure pile in the cellar of Zuckerman's bam. Chapter IllEscapeTHE BARN was very large. It was very old.It smelled of hay and it smelled of manure.It smelled of the perspiration of tired horsesand the wonderful sweet breath of patientcows. It often had a sort of peaceful smell-as thoughnothing bad could happen ever again in the world. Itsmelled of grain and of harness dressing and of axlegrease and of rubber boots and of new rope. Andwhenever the cat was given a fish-head to eat, the barnwould smell of fish. But mostly it smelled of hay, forthere was always hay in the great loft up overhead.And there was always hay being pitched down to thecows and the horses and the sheep.The bam was pleasantly warm in winter when theanimals spent most of their time indoors, and it waspleasantly cool in summer when the big doors stoodwide open to the breeze. The bam had stalls on themain floor for the work horses, tie-ups on the mainfloor for the cows, a sheepfold down below for thesheep, a pigpen down below for Wilbur, and it was13