Did you know they were there, or are they a crop? Or is the field
suffering from swine fever, of which they are the outward manifestation?
Anyhow, whether they are friends of yours or have merely just happened,
as it were, they are distinctly intriguing.
My wife was remarking to me only yesterday how nice some pork would be
as a change from the eternal verities, beef and mutton, and I told her
that if she would look out of my window she would see the pork running
about, simply asking for it. There are so many of these piglets that I
don't think the old sow would miss one. Swine can't count, can they?
But apart from food values they interest me as subjects for the Cubist,
the Vorticist and other exploiters of dynamic force in the Art of to-day
(I fancy I told you in a previous letter that I am engaged upon a tome
on this subject).
Figure to yourself, _mon ami_, what delightful rhomboidal figures
Wyndham Lewis and his school would make of these budding
porkers with the sleek torso and the well-poised angular snout, and,
having visualised their treatment of the theme, compare it with the
painted effigies of such animals by George Morland, which were
merely pigs, Sir, and nothing more.
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