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. No symbolism, no force. You get
me--what?

But looking at these piglets from a more intimate point of view, don't
you think (if they should happen to be yours, and you have any influence
with their parents) that something should be done about their faces?
They have such a pushed-in appearance. Can this be normal? If so, it
must seriously interfere with their truffling. But perhaps this is not
good truffle-hunting country. I'm sorry if this is so, as I could do
with a nice brace of truffles now and again.

Remember me kindly to our mooing friend, and believe me, dear Mr. Gibbs,

Yours sincerely,
Arthur K. Wilkinson.