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Freddy the Pig was one of my best friends when I was a kid, and now every once in a while I re-read one of the stories about him for old time's sake. Walter R. Brooks wrote them, 27 in all, at the rate of about one a year from 1928-1958, the year of his death. They've all been recently republished in the original format with the wonderful original illustrations by Kurt Wiese. This is not one of the better examples of a Freddy story; my favorites being Freddy the Detective, Freddy Goes Camping, a ...more
Walter R. Brooks (January 9, 1886 –
August 17, 1958) was an American writer best remembered for his short stories and children's books, particularly those about Freddy the Pig and other anthropomorphic animal inhabitants of the "Bean farm" in upstate New York.
Born in Rome, New York, Brooks attended college at the University of Rochester and subsequently studied homeopathic medicine in New York City ...more
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Freddy the Pig (1 - 10 of 25 books)
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“Now, don’t you be discouraged,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “My land, these animals may not care such a lot about working for the medal, but as soon as they know about how you feel they’ll work their heads off to find that boy. Here, you stop fretting about it and leave it to me.” When Mrs. Wiggins said something would happen, it pretty generally happened. She was big and clumsy, and she made more mistakes than you would believe one cow could make, but when anybody was in trouble he always came to Mrs. Wiggins, rather than her partner in the detective business, the brilliant but erratic Freddy, who was as likely as not to stop in the middle of tracking down a criminal case and start writing poetry or drawing plans for a new pigpen or doing any one of the thousand things to which he could turn his hand. And so the next day Mrs. Wiggins said to her sisters: “I’m going out to take a walk. I want to think about this boy.” She always went out for a walk when anything was bothering her, because she said she thought better when she was walking. But the real reason was that she couldn’t think at home, because her sisters talked all the time. And then of course she’d get to talking with them, and her thinking just wouldn’t get done. Very few people can talk and think at the same time, even on the same subject. Mrs. Wiggins walked down past the pond, and waved a hoof at Alice and Emma, but went on without speaking. The two ducks looked at each other. “Something on her mind,” said Alice. “She”
“What is it, girls?” she asked. She always called them girls, because she knew it pleased them, although they had a dozen grand-nephews and nieces on the farm. “Is—is anything the matter, dear Mrs. Wiggins,” asked Emma. “We thought you looked worried.”More quotes…