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.