From The Messenger, Medina County's Source for Hometown News:

In the cool of the evening, when shadows darkened the Fair Grounds, Templeton crept from the crate and looked around. Wilbur lay asleep in the straw. Charlotte was building a web. Templeton’s keen nose detected many fine smells in the air. The rat was hungry and thirsty. He decided to go exploring. Without saying anything to anybody, he started off.

“Bring me back a word!” Charlotte called after him. “I shall be writing tonight for the last time.” The rat mumbled something to himself and disappeared into the shadows. He did not like being treated like a messenger boy.

After the heat of the day, the evening came as a welcome relief to all. The Ferris wheel was lighted now. It went round and round in the sky and seemed twice as high as by day. There were lights on the midway, and you could hear the crackle of the gambling machines and the music of the merry-go-round and the voice of the man in the beano booth calling numbers...

Templeton kept out of sight. In the tall grass behind the cattle barn he found a folded newspaper. Inside were leftovers from somebody’s lunch: a deviled ham sandwich, a piece of Swiss cheese, part of a hard-boiled egg and the core of a wormy apple.

The rat crawled in and ate everything. Then he tore a word out of the paper, rolled it up and started back to Wilbur’s pen.

Charlotte had her web almost finished when Templeton returned, carrying the newspaper clipping. She had left a space in the middle of the web. At this hour, no people were around the pigpen, so the rat and the spider and the pig were by themselves.

“I hope you brought a good one,” Charlotte said. “It is the last word I shall every write.”

“Here,” said Templeton, unrolling the paper.

“What does it say?” asked Charlotte. “You’ll have to read it for me.”

“It says ‘Humble,’” replied the rat.“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.”

“You’ve been very helpful,” Charlotte said. “Run along, if you want to see more of the Fair.”

The rat grinned. “I’m going to make a night of it,” he said. “The old sheep was right-this Fair is a rat’s paradise.

What eating! And what drinking! And everywhere good hiding and good hunting. Bye, bye, my humble Wilbur! Fare thee well, Charlotte, you old schemer! This will be a night to remember in a rat’s life.” He vanished into the shadows...

...As Wilbur was studying the web, a pair of whiskers and a sharp face appeared. Slowly Templeton dragged himself across the pen and threw himself down in a corner.

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

The rat was swollen to twice his normal size. His stomach was as big around as a jelly jar.

“What a night!” he repeated, hoarsely. “What feasting and carousing! A real gorge! I must have eaten the remains of 30 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. “I would serve you right if you had an acute attack of indigestion.”

“Don’t worry about my stomach,” snarled Templeton. “It can handle anything...

Taken from Charlotte’s Web, written by E.B.White, copyright 1945