The Beggar and His Dog

A Lord’s dependant watched kitchen help give scraps to a Beggar and his Dog. The Beggar divided the leavings much like the Lord divided his castoffs.

We are not all that different.

JBR CollectionJBR Collection

Beggar and DogA Beggar and his Dog sat at the gate of a noble courtier, and were preparing to make a meal on a bowl of fragments that had been brought out by the kitchenmaid. A poor dependant of his Lordship’s, who had been sharing the singular favour of a dinner at the steward’s table, was struck with the appearance, and stopped a little to observe them. The Beggar, hungry and voracious as any courtier in Christendom, seized with greediness the choicest morsels, and swallowed them himself; the residue was divided into portions for his children. A scrag was thrust into one pocket for honest Jack, a crust into another for bashful Tom, and a luncheon of cheese was wrapped up with care for the little favourite of his hopeful family. In short, if anything was thrown to the Dog, it was a bone so closely picked that it scarce afforded a pittance to keep life and soul together. “How exactly alike,” said the dependant, “is this poor Dog’s case and mine! He is watching for a dinner from a master who can not spare it; I for a place from a needy Lord whose wants, perhaps, are greater than my own, and whose relations are more clamorous than any of this Beggar’s brats.”