Come hither my children. Sue, Archie, and Nell And listen to me as a story I tell How "once on a time," in the mist and the fog Was a poor ragged boy, and a little brown dog. The dog, while at play, fell from a high bank Into a dark pool—and down, down it sank. To escape it endeavor'd, but slow was its speed, For the treacherous mud did its progress impede.
But the folks passing by took no heed of him Excepting to say—"Just see the pup swim!" Or, regardless of all save their own worldly pelf— "It is only a dog—Let it care for itself." Till a poor ragged urchin with pitying eye In passing that way the poor dog chanced to spy.— Quickly thrusting a stick within reach of its jaws It clung to it, and, with the aid of its paws
Reached the top of the bank, with a loud joyous yelp— Ah! none but this boy had offered it help! Then he took it up kindly, 'neath his jacket to hold To protect the poor creature, now shivering with cold. As snugly it nestled 'neath the boy's ragged frock It said (as plainly as a poor dog can talk) I love you, dear friend—I'll help you if I can; For in all this vast throng there's but you that's a man!
Then came the dog's master, who found it so wet, And he sought now to fondle his dearly loved pet In a loving embrace.—but it clung to the boy With many plain manifestations of joy. While its glance towards its master said plain as it could:— "I'll stay with this laddie because he is good." "Oh! my little pet knows you are honest and true; The dog's name is Gipsy, and well he loves you.
But say, little man, how came you to save 'A poor little cur ' from a watery grave?" "I know what it is to be friendless," he said,— "I've no friends, or home, now since Mother is dead— I know what it is to be hungry—forlorn— I've not tasted food, sir, since yesterday morn. And at night I must sleep where I happen to be— And I thought this poor doggie was friendless like me.
The gentleman's head was bowed low.—And he thought Of his sister, who married a poor drunken sot,— Ten years it had been since he last saw her face— And five it had been since of her he lost trace. For a moment he prayed—with heart beating wild: "Have mercy on her, as I pity this child!" Then aloud he said—as they moved through the throng— "My dog will not come unless I take you along.
So come home with me, 'Tis not good you should roam"— And he treated him kindly, and gave him a home. Then he sought the boy's kindred—here fate on him smiled,— The lad was his nephew,—his lost sister's child! And now in his prayers he forgets not his joy— He thanks the kind Father for sending the boy. Now children, who think you 'twas, out in the fog? My dears, 'twas your Grandpa who saved the brown dog!
