



Produced by David Edwards, Larry B. Harrison and the Online
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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