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  THE THIRD
  LITTLE PET BOOK,
  WITH THE TALE OF
  MOP AND FRISK.

  BY
  AUNT FANNY,
  Author of "Night Caps," "Mittens," "Christmas Stories," "Wife's
  Stratagem," etc., etc.

  "I LOVE GOD AND LITTLE CHILDREN."--RICHTER.

  New-York:
  W. H. KELLEY & BROTHER,
  627 BROADWAY.




  ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by
  W. H. KELLEY & BROTHER,
  in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United
  States for the Southern District of New-York.

  JOHN A. GRAY & GREEN,
  PRINTERS, STEREOTYPERS, AND BINDERS,
  16 and 18 Jacob Street, N. Y.

[Illustration: Mop saves Hal's life.--P. 42.]




  THIS TALE
  OF
  MOP AND FRISK
  I DEDICATE TO MY LITTLE FRIEND
  HOWARD,
  WHO LIVES ON MURRAY HILL AVENUE.




CONTENTS.


  PART I.

      THE DOGS LEAVE HOME,                       9

  PART II.

      THE DOGS MEET ONCE MORE,                  24

      MOP'S TALE,                               35

      FRISK'S TALE,                             49

  PART III.

      DASH SEES A PLAY,                         85

      THE DEATH OF POOR JACK,                  118

  PART IV.

      THE CONCLUSION OF FRISK'S TALE,          142

  PART V.

      FRISK FINDS A NEW HOME,                  174




  MOP AND FRISK;
  OR,
  THE TWO DOGS.

  IN WORDS OF FIVE LETTERS AND LESS.




MOP AND FRISK.




PART I.

THE DOGS LEAVE HOME.


In a small town by the side of a lake, there once lived two dogs named
Mop and Frisk.

Frisk was a pert black and tan dog, with a tail that stood bolt up in
the air, and a pair of ears to match; while Mop was a poor old cur,
with a head like a worn-out hair-broom; ears like bell-pulls; a mouth
that went from ear to ear, and a great bush of a tail. Then he had to
drag the cart of an old rag-man round the town, to earn his meals;
while Frisk, who lived with a pie-man, had a fine ride in the cart
each morn; and all the work he had to do was to bark at the bad boys
who tried to steal the pies. The rest of his time he spent in play.

One day the old rag-man, who was as cross as ten bears, and far too
fond of beer, came out of a shop where he had been to drink, while
poor Mop had to wait in the cold. The rag-man's legs went from side to
side; he could not walk; so he got in the cart, on top of all the
rags, and cried to Mop:

"Come, go on, you bad cur, or I'll make you!" and with these words, he
let fall a great stick on the back of the poor dog, and gave him a kick
with his thick hob-nail shoes. Mop tried to start, but it was more than
he could drag. Down came the stick once more; and this time, made quite
wild with pain, he gave one yelp and one jump, broke the old ropes that
held him to the cart by a great jerk, and made off down the road like a
flash. The bad old man did bawl to him to come back; but Mop was too
wise for that, and did not stop to see if the wind was west or not, till
he came to a part of the town which was quite new to him.

The place where our dog now found him-self was a sort of blind court,
with the blank wall of a house on each side, and, worse than all, with
not the sign of a thing to eat to be seen.

"A fly to snap at would be a good thing," said the poor dog with a
sigh. "I think I could eat a bit of brick, if I could get one up. But
cheer up! it will all come right in time! I'm _free_ at least--that
is one good thing!" and he gave three jumps and three barks for joy,
so loud that they most took the top of his head off.

Just then there came up, at a smart pace, Frisk the pie-man's dog. He
held his head in the air as proud as you like. When he saw Mop, he
tried to turn up his nose at him, but it was so flat, there was no
turn up to it. Then he gave a loud sniff, and said with an air:

"Who are you? Where did _you_ come from?"

"I am as good a dog as you," said Mop. "My coat is not quite so fine
to be sure, and my ears don't stick up so much; but I'm a nice sort
of chap for all that. Shake a paw."

"What! shake a paw with such an old flop-ear as you? You must be mad."

Mop did want to say, "You are a pert, stuck-up cur," but he was too
well-bred; so he made a bow, and put his paw on his heart; and said:
"I meant no wrong; but I took you for Frisk, the pie-man's dog."

"Well, so I am--or so I was, I mean; till last week; but, you see, the
trade was too low for a dog of my style--with such ears and such a
long tail. I was not made to bark out of the back of a pie-cart at
all the rag-tags in town; so I have cut the pie-man, and mean to try
high life in some big house. My own aunt lives with a judge; and it
will be odd if some rich man does not like my looks, and take me home
with him. But I must be off; it would not do to be seen with you, if I
hope to rise in the world. A good time to you, my boy. He! he! you
are such a beau, you can't fail to cut a dash. G-o-o-d day!"

"Stop a bit!" cried Mop, as Frisk ran off. "You don't think much of me
_now_ I see, but time may show me to be the best dog yet. What if we
were each to try to find a new place, and meet here in a month from
now, to tell what has past in the mean time? Don't you think that
would be a nice plan?"

"Oh! I'll do so if you wish!" said Frisk; "but don't ask me to bow
when we meet, I beg; it won't _do_, you know."

"Shake a paw then," said Mop.

Frisk, very loth, put the tip of one claw on Mop's paw. Then the two
dogs stood back to back, and, with a one! two!! three!!! off they went
as if a mad bull was at their heels.




PART II.

THE DOGS MEET ONCE MORE.


On the last day of the month, Mop and Frisk, true to their word, came
to the place where they last said good-by. But how each one did look
to see if his mate were the same dog he last saw!

Mop's coat was rough no more--it shone like silk; his ears were cut;
he wore a fine brass neck ring, with a new name on it; and his whole
air was that of a dog in luck.

Poor Frisk was so thin that you could count all his ribs. His tail stood
up in the air no more. He hung his head and crept close by the wall, as
if he did fear some one would beat him if he dared to run or jump.

Good Mop did not look on him with scorn when he saw him in this sad
way; but ran up to him on three legs, with one paw held out for "How
d'ye do," and his great fly-brush of a tail a-wag for joy.

"Why, Frisk, old dog!" he cried, "how glad I am to see you! How have
you been this long time?"

"O Mop!" said Frisk in a sad tone, "will you speak to me now I am so
poor? It is I who am not fit to be seen this time."

"Frisk, my good dog," said Mop in a grave tone, "_real_ worth is not a
thing of looks. Let me tell you that if I knew you to steal a bone,
you would lose my good-will in truth. But I do not look down on dogs
if they are poor and good. Come home with me; we can talk more at our
ease in my nice house, where you will find some first-rate bones, if
you would like them."

"O yes! I guess I would!" cried Frisk.

So the dogs set off on a trot by the side of a fine lake, on the banks
of which the town was built. They soon came to a large house, with a
court-yard in front, tall green rails all round, and a great gate by
which to go in. There was a small gate near the large one, the latch
of which Mop could lift with his nose, for Frisk and him-self to pass;
and then the dogs ran round to the back of the house. On one side of
the yard Frisk saw a fine dog-house, fit for the king, with a roof
that ran to a peak, a porch in front, and a dove-cote on a pole on
top. In-side there was a heap of clean, warm hay, and on a blue plate
were some nice bones.

"There!" said Mop, "don't you call that prime? Help your-self to the
bones, Frisk; I can get lots more."

Frisk did not wait to be asked twice, but fell to, and soon made way
with the legs of a fowl. When these were gone, kind Mop ran to the
house and got a beef-bone for him. Poor Frisk ate as if he was not
used to such fine fare, and the good dog Mop, who gave up his own meal
to feed Frisk, felt as glad as if he had had it all him-self.

When Frisk had made an end of the bones, he and Mop laid down in the
dog-house; and as Frisk had asked him to do so, Mop told his tale, as
you shall hear.

But first he asked Frisk to rise, so he could put more of the soft hay
on his side. "Do you feel quite warm?" he asked.

"O yes! thank you, dear Mop," said Frisk; "as warm as a toast. You
will make me cry, if you are so kind to me. When you were poor, I was
a cross dog to you. Oh! I can not bear to think how bad I was;" and a
great big tear came out of each of Frisk's eyes, and ran off at the
end of his nose.

"Oh! that is all gone. We will be kind old dogs now, and do all the
good we can in the world. And now here goes for the grand tale of all
my joys and woes since I saw you."


MOP'S TALE.

"You know, Frisk, that when we left the court, you chose to go in the
town, and I by the lake. I felt sad to think I had no one to care for
me in the world. But my watch-word is, 'Don't give it up!' and I could
not think that all would leave me to want a bone. So I laid down by
the road-side, in hopes to see some one who would take care of me.

"First, I saw a man on a fine horse; and as he had no dog, I said to
my-self, 'Who knows but what he wants one to keep the flies from his
horse's legs!' So I ran by him a short way, when--would you dream the
man could be so bad?--he gave me a cut with his whip, that made me hop
and yelp for pain. 'Serve you right for a vile cur!' he said with a
loud laugh, and on he rode.

[Illustration: "There was no room for me, and I had to trot on."--P.
88.]

"Next came a blind man; but he had a dog to lead him. The blind man's
hat was laid on the ground, and when a cent was put in it, the dog
gave one bark; when two cents were put in, he gave two barks, and so
on. So, you see, there was no room for me there, and I had to trot on.

"At last I saw a small boy and girl trip down the road, hand in hand,
with their nurse close by them. They wore such fine coats and hats,
that it was plain they were rich; but when the boy put his small hand
on my head, and said, 'Good dog,' and the girl did the same, I knew
they must be kind too.

"So I ran by them, in hopes they would speak to me once more.

"There were some wild rose-buds on the bank of the lake, and when the
girl saw them she cried: 'O Hal! just see those sweet rose-buds! How
nice they look! They have just come out! Won't you pick me a few?'

"'Yes, dear May,' said the boy; and he let go her hand and ran to
where the rose-buds grew.

"'Don't go there, dear child,' cried nurse; 'you may fall in the lake.'

"'No I won't! I'll take care,' cried Hal; and as he spoke he bent way
down the bank. O me! the earth gave way, his foot did slip, and ere
the nurse could run to his aid, the poor child fell, with a loud cry,
in the lake.

"There was no time to be lost; and, more glad than I can say, that I
was on the spot, I leapt in the lake, swam to the side of the child,
and in as short a time as it takes to tell, I had his coat in my
teeth, and got him safe to shore.

"The nurse took her dear boy in her arms and cried for joy; and May was
so glad that she put her arms round my wet head, and gave me a long hug.

"'We must take the good dog home with us, Miss May,' said nurse, 'and
tell your pa-pa what he has done for Hal. And now let me wrap my shawl
round you, Hal, and then we must all run home as fast as we can, for
fear you may take cold.'

"We were soon at this house, where Mr. and Mrs. Grey, the pa-pa and
mam-ma of Hal and May, live; and nurse soon told them how I had saved
the life of their dear son.

"You may think how great was my joy to have them call me, 'Good dog!
brave dog! the best dog in the world!' and give me a hug and say I
must live with them from that time.

"So Mr. Grey sent me out with Hal to the yard; and he got Jim, the
groom, to wash and trim me, while May ran to ask the cook for some
meat to feed me. The dear child did wish so much to make me glad, that
she tied her own white bib round my neck to keep me neat while I ate,
and fed me with her own hand; while Hal, and a wee bit of a girl,
who came to see them, did look on.

[Illustration: "She fed me with her own hand."--P. 46.]

"It was not quite as much to my taste as hers to be fed; but she was
so full of the fun of it, that I would not for the world have made one
growl.

"Next day their pa-pa got me this nice house, and Hal put round my
neck the brass ring you see me wear; which they say has on it: 'To
Dash, the good dog, from Hal and May.'"

When Mop, or Dash, as we must now call him, had come to an end, Frisk
drew a deep sigh, and said: "Well, Dash, as that is your name, if I had
been as good as you, I might be as well off by this time; but I think,
when you hear what a sad life I have led for the past month, you will
say I am well paid for my fine airs to you. So now to my tale."


FRISK'S TALE.

"I made haste to the best part of the town, when I left you and the
court, and, late in the day, found my-self in a fine place. Near the
best house was a group of three small boys; they were at play with
some small, round, smooth stones; and when one stone hit the next, a
boy could cry out: 'That is mine!'

"Well, for my sins, I came to a halt just in front of these boys.

[Illustration: "Near the best house was a group of three small
boys."--P. 50.]

"'Oh! oh! look at that nice dog!' cried one whose name I found was
Bob. 'I guess he is lost. I mean to have him for my dog.'

"'No, you shall not,' said Ned, the next in size. 'He shall be my dog.'

"'No, he shall be mine,' said Sam. 'I want him! I _will_ have him!'
and on that they all tore up the steps of the house, and burst in-to
a room where their mam-ma was, with:

"'Ma, I want the dog!'

"'Ma, give me the dog!'

"'No, no, no, ma!--me! me! me!'

"'O dear! what a noise!' said their mam-ma. 'Do be still. If you want
the dog, take him; but don't whine, or go on as if you all had the
tooth-ache.'

"All this time I was such a gump, I sat quite still; but when I saw
the boys come out and rush at me with rude words, I said to my-self,
'Come on, Frisk; I do not think it will do to get a new place here.'
So I made up my mind to take to my heels; when, O my dog-star! down
came a great bat on my head, and the three boys fell on me all at
once; grab'd me by the ears, tail, and one leg, at the same time, and
would have torn me to bits, I am sure, if their mam-ma had not come
and made Bob and Ned let go.

"I was put in the front room then, in a whole skin, and here, in
spite of all he could do, I broke from Sam and hid my-self at the back
of a couch that stood by the fire-place.

"'Now what's to be done?' said Sam.

"'Let's hunt him out with sticks,' said Ned.

"'Good! come on!' cried Bob and Sam; and with-out more words, Bob
armed him-self with the broom, and Ned and Sam got canes, as if they
were in chase of some wild beast, and all flew, with a loud whoop! to
bang poor me out of my strong-hold.

"I don't know what would have been my fate, if I had not hit on what to
do just in time. The sides and front of the couch, by good luck, came
down past the seat, and bands of broad tape were put from side to side,
to keep the white slip in its place. I gave a jump, made out to land on
the tapes, and sat on them in great fear lest they might give way.

"It was well I did so; for the boys made their sticks fly from side
to side at such a rate, that the first blow would have been the death
of me. This game went on for some time, till they were quite at a loss
to know why I did not come out or make a cry.

"'Why where _can_ he be?' cried Sam. 'Look and see, quick!'

"Ned went down on his knees--'Why he's gone!' he said with a gasp.

"'O the b-a-a-d thing!' cried Sam. 'Ma! ma! our dog's lost! Boo! hoo!
hoo!' and to my great joy, all three left the room to treat their dear
'ma' to a howl. Oh! how I _did_ long to snap at their legs.

"By this time so much fluff and dust had got up my nose in my close
nook, that I was fit to choke; and as the boys were gone, I dared to
come out. There was a large arm-chair close by, with a deep, soft seat
that was just to my taste. I hopt in, laid down, and was soon in a
fine nap.

"Think, then, what was my state of mind to wake up with a yell and a
land-slide on top of me! Up flew a fat old dame from the arm-chair,
where she had just sat down, as if she was shot! Bang! came a great
gilt book, that she let fall in her start, right on the end of my poor
tail, as I leapt to the floor! 'E-e-e!' went she; 'yi! yi! yi!' went
I; and 'Hur-ra! here's the dog!' cried Ned, as he came bang in at the
door, caught me by one ear, and ran up to the top floor with me in
wild joy; which put the last touch to my woes!

"Once in their play-room, the bad boys made me drag a toy-cart full of
dirt, ran straws in-to my ears, beat me with sharp sticks, and shot
peas at me out of a pop-gun. They kept up these nice plays till
tea-time; when they were so kind as to let me go, and treat me to a
few old scraps of cold meat for my share of the meal.

"When tea was done, their mam-ma bid them go right to work and learn
their tasks; and, with pouts and whines from all three, they sat
down. As soon as their mam-ma left the room, Ned took out of his desk
a mouse-trap, with a poor wee mouse in it, all in a shake of fear, and
cried: 'Here, Sam, just see what I've got! An't that gay?'

[Illustration: "Ned took from his desk a mouse-trap."--P. 64.]

"'What? what? let me look!' cried Bob, who had sat till now with
his legs spread out, and a book be-fore him up-side down.

"'No, you shan't. Go 'way!' said Ned, in a whine.

"'I will! I will!' Bob did bawl; and as he spoke he did jump up and
give Ned's hair a great pull! Then Sam gave Bob a punch, and the three
boys did fight and kick each other at a fine rate; in the midst of
which pow-wow I left the room, and ran off down the back stair.

"Here the maids were more kind to me than the boys; for cook made me a
nice soft bed in a box, and gave me some bones to pick; while Jane,
the maid, took me in her lap, and let me sleep there, snug and warm,
till she went to bed.

"But you could no more guess what the next day had in store for me,
than you could say how deep the sea is; so I will tell you.

"Just as Jane came in with the tea-tray, and cook had got a tin pan to
pour me out some milk, down came those vile boys full tilt, to grab
hold of me once more. The kind cook asked them to let me be, till I
had had my milk; but she might as well have asked the wind not to
blow; and with Bob to hold me, and Ned and Sam to mount guard on each
side, they made haste once more to the play-room.

"When they had me safe, and the door shut, Bob cried in great glee:
'Now, boys, I tell you what we'll do: let's play our dog was a slave,
that we had caught just as he was on the point to run off. We will tie
him by the fore paws and flog him well.'

"Oh! oh! how I felt when I heard these words! My hair stood on end
with fear. I threw my-self on the floor, and cried for help. Ah me! no
help came. One would think they might have felt for a poor dog that
could not help it-self. But no; they were with-out heart.

"Bob found a cord, and tied my feet to a large nail in the wall. Ned and
Sam did each fetch the strap that they had round their task-books, and
then these bad boys beat me till I felt as if I must die.

"At last they heard their mam-ma call from her room, 'Boys, boys, come
right to your tasks--it is past nine o'clock;' for she did teach them
her-self I found out. At the sound of her voice, they left off, and
ran to the door to beg for a short time more.

"Now was my time at last. I freed my paws by a great jerk, shot past
Sam's legs, flew down the stair, and out of the house; for by great
good luck, Jane had just gone to the door to let in the post-man. I
am glad to say I sent Sam too down the stair like a shot, with a
boot-jack and a pair of tongs, which Ned and Bob threw, and which were
meant for me, at his heels. This made up, in part, for the pain he had
put me to. But, oh! how sore and lame I was! I sank on the earth when
I was clear out of sight, and felt as if my death was near. If it had
not been for what next took place, my end would have come that day;
but as I lay there all in a shake, I heard a child's voice say: 'O
dear Fred! here is such a poor dog! Just see! he looks half dead! Let
us stop and pat him!'

"'Dear me! Poor toad!' cried Fred. 'Where could he have come from? Pat
him well; don't fear.'

"Her soft hand on my head made me raise my eyes, and I saw a boy and
girl of nine and ten years old. They did not seem to be rich, but they
were just as neat and nice as two pins, and their kind looks and
words made me feel sure they were good.

"'Poor dog! I fear he wants food,' went on Nell. 'I mean to give him a
bit to eat, Fred.'

"'Let me feed him too!' cried the boy. 'Here, take my knife and cut
some bread for him.'

"Nell took a loaf from the bag on her arm, and with Fred's knife cut
off a good thick slice. She gave half to him, and they broke it in
bits and fed me by turns.

"'You dear pet,' said Nell, with a sigh, 'how I wish I could take you
with me! But we are too poor; it can not be.'

"'Oh! don't you think mam-ma would let us have him?' cried Fred.

"'No, dear,' said Nell; 'we must not think of it. Come, bid the dog
good-by, and let us make haste home.'

"I could but lick her hand to thank her for the food, and as I could
rise now, I felt that it was best to run on.

[Illustration: "Good-by, dear doggy!"--P. 78.]

"'Good-by, you dear doggy!" cried both; and they did stand and
watch me till I was out of their sight. Oh! how I did wish I could go
home with them!

"Just as I did turn round the end of the street, I heard an odd
sound----"

Here Frisk rose in haste and said: "But I dare not stay, dear Dash; I
ought now to be at home. Some day when I can get out, I will come and
tell you the rest of my sad tale, for the worst part is yet to come."

"But where must you go, Frisk?" said Dash.

"Why, to the show, where I play," said Frisk.

"You play! Can you act?" cried Dash.

"Yes! come out-side. Now, just see here!" and while Dash did stare at
him, with his mouth and eyes so wide open that you would not think he
could close them at all, Frisk stood on his hind legs, and went thro'
a jig, with a look on his face as if he had lost his last hope; then
fell down on the grass, stiff and stark, as if he had been shot; got
up, made a low bow, and then went lame on three legs.

"Dear me!" cried Dash, "how smart you are! Where _did_ you learn all
that?"

"It would take a long time to tell," said Frisk. "If I can, I will
come and see you next week, and you shall then hear all. Now, good-by."

"Here, take this nice sweet bone with you," cried Dash. "Good-by, old
chap. I hope I shall see you soon;" and the good dog went back to his
house, full of Frisk's tale. He tried so hard to think of a way to do
him some good, that he got quite a bald spot on the top of his head,
and at last laid down with his nose in his paws, to sleep on it, and
dream of bones with-out end; for, you know, he gave up his own to feed
one worse off than him-self. Good Dash! I hope each dear girl and boy
who reads this will try to be like him, for that is the way to be
loved by all.




PART III.

DASH SEES A PLAY.


The same eve, when Mr. Grey came home he said in a sly way: "I see
there is a show of dogs, who dance and act a play, in town; but Hal
and May do not care to see them, I know."

"O yes! yes! we want to go!" cried both at once. "Do take us to see
them, pa-pa."

"Well, get your hats then," said Mr. Grey, "and we will go."

"Let's take Dash," said May. "He wants to see the dog-show too!"

Her pa-pa said, with a laugh, that he did not think Dash would care to
see a play; but Hal and May did beg so hard, that at last he said they
might take Dash if they chose.

So the two ran up the stair in high glee to their nurse, who put on
May's round straw hat and silk sack, and got her nice black mitts to
put on her wee hands.

May said, "I want to put on my mitts my-self, nurse;" so nurse said
she might do so, and went on to dress Hal.

But when May went to put the mitts on, she was in such haste, that she
tried to get the right mitt on the left hand. The mitt would not go
on, of course, and she cried out: "Why, nurse, this is all wrong;
it's got no thumb at all!"

How Hal and nurse did laugh when they saw what May had done! May had to
laugh too, when nurse did show her that the mitts were quite right, if
they were put on in the right way. They had great fun. But their pa-pa
came to bid them make haste; so they told nurse good-by, and ran down
the stair, hand in hand, as gay as two larks. Dash came to join them in
the court-yard, and soon they were all four on their way to the show.

But, dear me! when the man at the door of the show saw Dash, he said:
"I can't let dogs in, sir."

Here was a blow! and May, with her sweet blue eyes quite sad, cried
out: "But you will let our Dash in, Mr. Show-man, won't you? You don't
know what a good dog he is; he saved Hal's life!"

Now when the show-man heard dear May say this, and saw her sweet face
and blue eyes raised to his, he could not help a smile, and said:
"Well, for such a dear pet, I must say, yes. Dash may go in, but he
must lie still and make no noise. One bark, and out he goes!"

"Oh! he will be as still as a deaf and dumb mouse!" cried Hal and May
both at once. So, to the great joy of all, Dash went in. Hal and May
took their seats with their pa-pa on a long bench, in a large room
full of gay folks, and Dash sat on the floor close by them.

There was a stage at one end of the room; a fall of green baize hung
in front of it. In a short time a bell went "ting-a-ling!
ting-a-ling!" and up rose the baize. Then Dash saw a small house, with
a grape-vine at the side and tall trees, which he took for real ones,
but Mr. Grey said were wood and green paint. You could see a green
field at the back of the stage, and high hills, while the blue sky was
as clear as it was out of doors.

Mr. Grey had a bill with the names of the dogs that were to act on it,
and Dash heard him read it to Hal and May.

The name of the play was:

  THE DEATH OF POOR JACK,
  THE RUN-A-WAY.

  JACK,                              FRISK.
  COL. GRAPE-SHOT,                    TRIP.
  THE GUARD,                 TRAY AND WASP.
  JACK'S MAM-MA,                       FAN.
  THE SEXTON,                         SNAP.
  THE JUDGE,                         SHORT.

Dash, when he found Frisk was to act, scarce drew a breath for fear he
should lose a bit of the play, and sat so still that not a hair moved.

First, in came two dogs on their hind-legs as the guard, in red coats
and caps and blue pants. They had guns too; and they had such an odd
look with their own tails up in the air out-side their coat-tails, and
their head held as stiff as ram-rods to keep their caps on, that all
the folks burst out in a laugh.

Then the guard did peep round all the trees, and in all the holes they
could find, on a hunt for Jack; and when they did not find him, they
shook their heads as if to say: "No one here! that's a fact!"

At last one of the guard went to rap at the door of the house. He gave
such a hard knock, that he shook his cap down on one eye, and had to
hold his head on one side, as if he had the tooth-ache, so as to see
at all. It made him feel so bad, that he went off in a pet to the back
of the stage, and left the guard whose cap was all right to knock for
him-self. This one was so short, that he had to make a jump and stand
on tip-toe to do it.

Out came a dog in the dress of an old dame, who, Mr. Grey said, was
Jack's mam-ma. She wore a black gown, a white cap, and plaid shawl,
and had a work-bag on her arm, or fore-leg, and a big pair of specs
tied on her nose. When she saw the guard, she spread out her paws, and
gave each a look in turn, as if to ask what they came there for.

The short guard made signs to her, to show they were on a hunt for a
man who had left the camp with-out leave. The old dame shook her head
at this, and put a paw on her heart, as if to say _she_ hadn't heard
of such a thing; but the one-eyed guard shook _his_ head too, and did
point thro' the door, as much as to say that the man was in _there_,
he was sure. Then the old dame shook her head once more, and spread
her skirt to keep them out of the house; but the guard were too smart
for that. They aimed their guns at the wall of the house, to shoot
Jack if he was in-side; and when the old dame saw that, she moved from
the door-way, with a high squeak, and let them pass.

In they went full tilt, and the one-eyed guard, in his haste, quite
lost sight of his part, let fall his gun, and ran off on all four
legs! It pains me to tell that a sad yelp was heard in-side the house,
as if he had got a box on the ear for this fault; and Dash could not
but think that to act was not such fine fun as you might take it to be.

Soon out came the guard, with Jack held fast by both fore-legs, and
the old dame at their backs, who cried with all her might and main.
The run-a-way, who was Frisk to be sure, wore a coat and cap like the
guard, and made a sad noise at his hard fate. He put his paw on his
heart, and cast up his eyes as if to beg them to let him off; but they
shook their heads. Then he held out both paws to his mam-ma, and she
ran to him, put her paws round his neck, and did kiss him as well as
she could. The guard gave him a pull to make him come. Frisk did kiss
his paw and wave his cap to his mam-ma, who fell down in a swoon; and
then they all three did march off. And that was the end of Part One.

Just as the scene was to close, the old dame did lift up her head and
fore-paws and look round. When she saw it was not time, she fell down
once more; so flat, that all the folks burst out in a laugh. I fear
they would not have been so gay if they knew how the poor dog was beat
by the show-man, when the play was done, for this small fault.

Next came a horn-pipe by a dog in a Scotch dress. He did it so well,
that all the folks did clap their hands, and want him to do it once
more; but it was now time for Part Two of the play; and he ran off
with a low bow.

When the baize was drawn up once more, the small house was gone, and a
high desk was set on one side of the stage, with a bench in front for
Col. Grape-shot. And at the desk sat the judge who was to try Jack for
his life. The dog who was judge wore a fine black silk gown, with white
fur down the front; he had white bands at his neck, and a great white
wig on top of his ears, which made him look droll, I can tell you.

And now, O dear! the deep roll of a drum was heard, and in came, one
by one, a sad set in-deed!

First did march the dog who beat the drum, and next to him Col.
Grape-shot, in a grand blue and gold coat; a gold-laced hat, with red
and white plumes; white pants, with a red stripe down each leg, and a
sword by his side.

Then came the guard with Jack, and, last of all, a dog with a long
box in a hand-cart, which he drew. O dear! dear! this was to put poor
Jack in when he was dead. The dog wore a black coat and an old red
night-cap; and tied fast to one leg was a spade. He led the poor
mam-ma by the paw, and once in a while tried to cheer her up; for he
would lift his leg and give her a kind pat on the back with the end of
his spade. But I think this did more harm than good, for each time he
did so she gave a short howl, and half fell down. But now the guard,
with Jack and Col. Grape-shot, were in a row in front of the judge,
who waved his paw, and made a bow, as much as to say: "Go on."

Col. Grape-shot, on this, did first point to Jack, and then pat the
bench he sat on, as much as to say he had bid him stay in the camp.
Then he shut his eyes, and leant his head on his right paw, to show
that he went to sleep, and then he made two or three quick steps to
the back of the stage, to let them know that Jack had run off while he
slept. Then he shut his eyes once more, woke up with a start, flew to
the guard, and, with a bark and a growl and a yap! yap! yap! let them
know that Jack had cut off, and they must go and find him. Then he did
point to the guard and Jack, to tell the judge that the run-a-way was
found; and at last he made a low bow, and spread out his paws, by
which, I dare say, he meant that his part was at an end.

And now it was the turn of the judge, and he must say what was to be
done to a man who was so bad as to run out of camp in time of war.
The judge cast up his eyes, and threw up his paws, as if it was a sad
shock to him to hear that Jack had been so bad. Then he did point to
the guns of the guard and to Jack, and did nod his head as if he would
nod it off. It was too plain! Poor Jack must be shot!

His mam-ma, when she saw this, ran to the judge and fell on her knees;
that is, she sat down on her hind-legs, with her paws held out, to beg
him to let Jack off; but he shook his head "no." Then she did the same
to Col. Grape-shot; but it was all of no use. Jack put his paws round
her neck, and did kiss her good-by, at which Hal and May cried quite
hard, and then gave him-self up to the guard. They took him to the
back of the stage, put a white cloth on his eyes, and made him kneel
down. Then they stood in front of him, side by side, put up their
guns, and, flash! bang!! off went two shots; and poor Jack fell dead
on the stage!

[Illustration: "Flash!, bang! off went two shots!"--P. 118.]

Down popt his mam-ma once more in a swoon; while the guard took off
the lid of the box, and put Jack in-side, who laid as stiff as a
ram-rod. The dog who drew the hand-cart put on the lid, and went off
first; then the Col. and judge, arm in arm; then the guard, who had to
drag Jack's mam-ma by the arms, and didn't seem to like it much; and
last, the dog who beat the drum and who did bang a-way for dear life
all the time.

But just as the folks were quite in tears for the fate of poor Jack,
in came the dog with the hand-cart full tilt, and in a great scare;
for the lid of the box was half off, and you could see one of Jack's
paws stuck out of a crack on top. All at once, off flew the lid, and
out came Jack in a new dress, to dance a jig, and show that he had
come to life once more, and was just as good as new.

Oh! how the folks did laugh at this, and clap their hands! while Jack
went on to show all his queer tricks. First, he held up both his legs
on his right side, and took a walk with the two on his left side; then
he leapt thro' a ring or hoop, that was let down from the top of the
stage, and took a turn round in the air as he went; and, by way of a
wind up, he stood on his head in the ring, and let him-self be drawn
up out of sight, as the green baize came down.

O dear! how much May and Hal liked all this, while Dash did not know how
in the world Frisk could do it; and when all the boys and girls were as
full as they could hold of the fun of the thing, Dash had as much as he
could do to keep in a howl of grief; for, you must know, the dog could
tell by poor Frisk's face that all this was no fun to him.

And now the show was done, and it was time to go home.

As they went, May and Hal had a nice long talk. May said: "O dear Hal!
how I wish we had a dog that knew how to dance! What fun, when Sue
and Kate Brown came, to have him show off!"

"Dear pa-pa, do buy one for us, won't you?" said Hal. "O my! buy that
queer dog--what was his name?--the one that stood on two legs, and on
the top of his head, and was shot--that one!"

When Dash heard Hal ask his pa-pa to buy Frisk, his heart went
pit-a-pat, and he gave a short, glad bark, which meant, "O yes! _do_
buy Frisk!"

"But," said pa-pa, "you know that Frisk acts 'Jack, the Run-a-way;'
and what if I should buy him, and he should trot off the next day!
You know Dash could not have a red coat on, and run on his hind-legs
to bring Frisk back; and what would you do then?"

Then Dash did wish with all his might that he could talk, "O dear!" he
said to him-self; "I would give all my ears, and half my nose, if I
could let them know that Frisk would not run off;" and then, strange
to say, his love and wish to help Frisk made him get up on his
hind-legs, and put his fore-paws up in the air; and he gave such a
droll whine, that May and Hal burst out in a laugh, and said, "Look,
pa-pa! just look at Dash! He too begs you to buy Frisk!" and then
they both went and stood one on each side of the dog, put their hands
up, and made such a queer whine just like him, that it was the best
fun in the world to see and hear them.

"But," said pa-pa, "if the show-man will sell him to me, do you not
know it would be wrong to make the poor dog keep up his tricks?"

"Wrong! why how, pa-pa?"

"Well, my dears, it seems too sad a thing to tell you, but it is too
true. The show-man has to beat his dogs, and starve them, to get them
to learn the tricks that made you laugh so much. You saw how thin they
were, and you heard them cry out, when they left the stage. If they
made the least slip or mis-take, they got a hard blow for it. In this
way they find out that they must do all their tricks quite right, or
they will have the whip laid on their poor thin sides and heads; and
so not a day goes by that the dogs are not starved and made to feel
the whip.

"Oh! oh!" cried Hal and May, "we did not know that. _We_ would not
beat or starve a dog, or a cat, or a worm. What a bad show-man! We
would like to beat _him_."

"Oh! I hope not," said pa-pa. "The show-man may not think that dogs
feel as much as we do. But I know you will be kind to all. I know you
would not strike Dash, if he, by chance, broke one of your toys or
hurt you in play."

"O no! in-deed," they both cried; and they ran up to the dog, and gave
him a good hug, and a kiss on the top of his head.

You may be sure that Dash had not lost one word of all this talk; and
he was still more sad when he knew how much poor Frisk had to bear.
He made up his mind to tell Frisk to run off, and come to him. "I will
hide him in my house till the show-man goes," he said to him-self. "I
saw a great ham-bone on the shelf to-day. I know it will fall to my
share, and, oh! won't it be good! I will give this to Frisk, and eat
bits of bread. Yes, I will save up all the nice bones for him. Was he
not a good dog?"

But a whole week went by, and no Frisk. The ham-bone got quite dry;
and Dash was sure poor Frisk must be ill or dead.

At last one day, when Dash had lost all hope, he heard the pit-a-pat
of four small feet in the yard. He had just gone in his house to take
a short nap; but, I can tell you, he made but one jump out, for there
was Frisk, on all fours, to be sure, but with his blue pants on his
hind-legs, his red coat on his fore-legs, with the coat-tails, one on
each side of his own tail, which was up in the air in an arch of joy,
for here he was a real, true run-a-way.

Dash flew to meet him. "Why, Frisk!" he cried; "make
haste--fast--come--get right in my house. Don't mind if you tear those
old coat-tails with the thorn-bush. There! that's the thing!--here you
are, all safe! Now tell me, how _did_ you get off?"

Frisk had run so fast that he could not speak; he could just pant, and
lay his head on Dash's, with a look full of love. At last he said: "O
Dash! I have run off in the midst of the play--the show-man struck me
so hard for what I could not help--for my cap fell off--and I did
think I must die with the pain. O Dash! if you knew what I have gone
thro', your heart would break, and you would say, I did right to run
a-way." The big tears ran down his nose, and his sobs did seem as if
they would choke him; and Dash gave such a long howl of woe, that it
makes me cry as I write these words, and I am quite sure you will cry
as you read them.

Then Dash got out all his best bones to feed poor Frisk, who ate as if
he had not seen a bone an inch long in a month.

When he had done, Dash said: "Now, dear Frisk, if you feel like it,
tell me all you have gone thro'."

So they sat down, and while the tears ran down Dash's nose, Frisk told
the rest of his sad tale.




PART IV.

THE CONCLUSION OF FRISK'S TALE.


You will bear in mind, Dash, that I left off where the good child fed
me with bread. Well, this made me strong, and I went on my way. Soon I
heard a sound, like that of a flute or fife; it was quite near, but I
could see no one. All at once, a great mob of boys and men came down
the road, and made a crowd close by me. I went in the midst of them to
find out what it all meant. Dear me! it was some-thing queer to be
sure. There was a man with a big drum fast to his back, which he beat
with a drum-stick tied to one of his feet. In the front of his coat
was a set of Pan's pipes, out of which he blew the tune the old cow
died of. In his left hand he held a whip, while in his right was a
cord, which led three dogs. The first one was an old dog, with
bow-legs, who when the crowd did stop, got up on his hind-legs, and
gave a look round at the two be-hind, who stood, right up on their
hind-legs, all in a grave, glum way. One of these was in the dress of
a girl. She had on a large round hat, full of big red bows. The hat
was so big, and shook so much, that it did seem as if her head, hat,
and all, would drop off, if it got a hard knock.

"The dog with the bow-legs wore a blue coat, a flat hat with a broad
brim, and such a high shirt col-lar, that the sharp ends all but put
his eyes out. He had a pair of specs tied on his black nose with
twine. The third had on a cap and coat like those of a small boy. And
all did look as if they were on their way to be hung.

"Then the man made a jig tune on his pipe, and beat the drum with his
foot till he was as red as fire in the face, while the dogs kept time
with hop, skip, and jump, with one eye on the whip.

"The men and boys were full of the fun. O dear! how they did clap
their hands and laugh! and I, great goose that I was, stood on _my_
hind-legs, to try how it felt, and kept near the dogs all day, and saw
them dance at least ten times.

"At last, when the sun had set, the man came to an old house, and let
him-self in with a key; the dogs went in too, while I stood out-side
on two legs, to try to peep thro' a small crack in the door. Soon
there came--oh! such a good smell of hot beef-bones. I felt as if I
would give all four of my legs for just one bone.

"I gave the door a push, and found it moved; and then, to make a long
tale short, I went in; for I said to my-self: 'The man may beat me to
death, but if I stay here I shall starve to death; so I can but try
for a bone.'

"I found my-self in a low, dark room. The walls were black with dirt and
smoke. The dogs lay in one part of the room, and the man sat by the
fire. On a hook was a great pot, and from this came such a nice smell,
that all the dogs, and I with them, did lick our lips the whole time.

"And now there came in the room an old dame, with a dry, brown face, for
all the world like the nut-shell dolls the pie-man's boy used to make.

"'Well, John,' she said, 'have you had a good day?'

"'Yes, Gran-ny; I took a hat full of cents. See here, what a lot of
them! But that dog there, he lost me a three cent piece to-day; so he
goes with-out his bone.'

"The poor dog with the bow-legs gave a great howl when he heard this;
but the show-man hit him on the nose with his whip, and he slunk off,
while the big tears ran in a stream down his face.

"The rest stood on their hind-legs in a row, while the old dame with
the nut-shell face took the pot from the fire.

"'Here,' said she to the show-man, 'hold the dish while I pour the
stew out.'

"Oh! how it did smoke! and what a fine smell it had! The man got a
loaf of bread and two blue plates from the shelf, and a knife and fork
for each; and then they went to work to eat as fast as they could,
while the dogs and I did look on with all the eyes we had. When the
show-man had eat-en all he could, he took some more meat, cut it up
in bits, and said: 'Now, I shall give each dog a bit in turn. Look
sharp you! If the wrong dog starts when I call, he gets none at all.
Now then, Pete!'

"The dog in the cap made a jump and one snap, and the meat was gone.

"'Now then, Hop!' said the man; and the dog in the girl's hat got it;
and then it was Pete's turn, while poor Bob with the bow-legs, who
lost the three cents, kept up a kind of soft howl and a sob, as if his
heart would break.

"All this time I did think I must die for want of food, and I made up
my mind to stand on my hind-legs till the show-man gave me some meat
too. So I got up and did not fall, while you could count ten, then I
ran up to the show-man, and stood on my hind-legs at his side.

"'Why bless me, dame!' he cried, 'where did this dog come from?'

"'Where to be sure,' said the dame; 'you let him in your-self.'

"'Did I, Gran-ny? Well, that is queer. I did not see him. He seems to
know how to stand up--sit down, sir.'

"Down I went like a flash.

"'Get up, sir,' and up I got once more as stiff as a po-ker.

"'Why don't you take him for one of your set,' said the old dame. 'He
must be lost, for just see here! his name is on the brass ring round
his neck.' Then she put on a pair of old horn specs to spell my name
out. 'F-r-i-s-k Frisk; what a nice name! and what a clean, trim chap
he is! Why, John, he would be a great help to you, he seems so smart.'

"'So he would,' said the man. 'He would soon learn to dance, and he
knows now how to stand up. I can soon teach him more. Here, you, sir!
take that!' and he threw me a large bit of meat, which I was glad to
get, you may be sure. Then I took the rest of my share in my turn with
Pete and Hop, and, O dear! how nice it was, and how glad I was to get
it!

"When we had eat all up, the show-man took off the hats and coats of
his dogs, and sent them and me to sleep in a large flat box, that
stood at the end of the room. It was full of straw and quite nice.

"Then the man sat down by the fire to smoke his pipe and have a chat
with his old brown nut-shell Gran-ny.

"I was so glad to rest, that I went fast to sleep right off. But, O
dear! O dear! the next morn, it was sad as it could be, for I had to
learn to dance a jig, and stand on my head, and he beat me so, that I
had a fit. I did think he would break each bone I had, and the more I
cried the more he beat me.

"But I had to learn; and in two weeks' time I went out with the rest.

"One day the same man I ran from to-day saw me dance in the street. He
was a big show-man, and had dog plays, and was quite rich and great;
so he tried to buy me. I heard him tell _my_ man, that the dog who
used to play 'Jack, the Run-a-way,' was just dead, and I would make a
first-rate Jack in his place.

"So he paid, I don't know how much, and got me, and set me to learn my
part. O my dear Dash! my life was one scene of hard blows and hard
fare. The poor wee dog who acts the old dame in the play is worse off
than I, for she is so weak, that she can not do her part well; and oh!
how he beats her! She has told me more than once that she would be
glad to die, and I get quite wild when I think I can not help her. If
the bad man would whip me for her, I would be glad to take it, tho' I
get blows all the time for my own share."

"Oh! how sad!" cried Dash, the big tears in his eyes. "What a bad, bad
man! How glad I am you have run a-way from him. But what shall we do
to hide you?"

"Dear Dash, if you will keep me here for four or five days, I may get
some one to take me, who is as good and kind as Mr. Grey, and then
some day I will try to show you how much I feel what you _have_ done
and _will do_ for me."

"Don't speak of it," said Dash. "It is as much of a joy to _do_ good
as to have good done to one's self. You shall stay here with me, dear
Frisk! and we will wait and see what comes of it."

"O you good old dog! you dear Dash! I will stay in your house all the
time. I will be as still as a drum with a hole in it."

"Yes, and I know you will come out all right at last. I tell you what!
I heard May and Hal ask their pa-pa to buy you. O my! they want you
so much!"

"Do they? O dear! then I can stay here all the rest of my life." And
in his joy he tried to stand on his head; but the roof of the
dog-house was too low, and his legs came down on top of Dash's back,
and gave him quite a start.

"But," said Dash, "I must tell you that May and Hal said you were to
dance for them."

"O dear! if that is all, I will dance the whole day for a good home."

So the two dogs kept house for a week, and Dash went out and got the
bones, while Frisk made the straw beds, and swept the scraps out with
his paws for a broom. Not the tip of his nose did he show in the
day-time, but at night he took a run round the lawn to get the twist
out of his legs.

The fat old cook in the house said she did not know how Dash could eat
so much; for he would beg for bones five or six times a day. She was
a good old soul, and she gave him all the bones she had, and he would
lick her hand and wag his tail, and all but speak to thank her.

At last one day, Dash heard Mr. Grey say that the show-man had gone
a-way. He had tried his best to find Frisk. He said he would give a
large sum to get him back; and all the boys in town went out to hunt
the poor dog. But they did not find him, as you and I know.




PART V.

FRISK FINDS A NEW HOME.


And now, as I shall tell you, one day May and Hal went out on the
lawn, when lo! there stood Frisk, first on his hind-legs, and then on
his head; then he danced a jig, and then ran up to lick their hands.

"O my! O look! here is that dear Jack we saw in the play," cried May.

"Yes, so it is! Why, Jack, where _did_ you hide all this time?" said
Hal, and he gave him a soft pat, and May put her white arms round his
neck.

Tears of joy stood in Frisk's eyes, and he ran with May and Hal and
Dash up to the house, where their pa-pa and mam-ma were.

You may be sure the two went hard to work to kiss and coax pa-pa to
let Jack or Frisk stay. They asked him to look how thin the poor dog
was, and how sad it would be to send him back to the show-man, who
would beat him, and may-be kill him, he would be in such a rage.

"O now, dear pa-pa! do let him live with us!" they cried; "_we_ will
not beat him, and he may dance or not, as he likes. Come, we will kiss
you ten times;" and they both got his face down, and gave them to him
on each cheek at the same time, and made him and mam-ma laugh so, they
could not speak a word for quite a while.

Well, the end of all this long tale is, that Mr. Grey wrote to the
show-man, and said he had got his dog, Frisk, and he would like to
keep him. I do not dare to tell you how much he said he would give to
buy him; but it was such a large sum, that the show-man took it. And
now Jack--Frisk, as they call him--and Dash have each a house to live
in, but they eat and take their naps in one, for they love to get as
close, side by side, as they can. Frisk stands on his hind-legs and
his head, and does his jig dance in great style for May and Hal, and
all the boys and girls who come to see them. If _you_ want to see him,
you must speak quick; for I fear he will soon be so fat, with all the
nice bones and kind words he gets, that his hind-legs won't hold him
up. But of this you may be quite sure, that Frisk and Dash will have
a good home as long as they live, and when they die of old age, if you
don't cry for their sad loss, May and Hal will; for, you know, Dash
saved Hal's life; and life is dear to the young when they have no sad
times, but joy and fun each day.

And now May, and Hal, and Dash, and Frisk, must bid you good-by. If
you want to hear how they get on, you must come and tell me, and if
you give me a good kiss, I will let you know.

Good-by! my dear pets! May the good God bless you all.




[Transcriber's Note:


* Pg 38 Added "period" after "88" in "P. 88".

* Pg 135 Added "closing quotation" to ending of "not a good dog?".]