e man I know
who could save yon crittur's life. And that's John Dolittle."

"Who is John Dolittle?" I asked. "Is he a vet?"

"No," said the mussel-man. "He's no vet. Doctor Dolittle is a
nacheralist."

"What's a nacheralist?"

"A nacheralist," said Joe, putting away his glasses and starting to
fill his pipe, "is a man who knows all about animals and butterflies and
plants and rocks an' all. John Dolittle is a very great nacheralist. I'm
surprised you never heard of him--and you daft over animals. He knows
a whole lot about shellfish--that I know from my own knowledge. He's
a quiet man and don't talk much; but there's folks who do say he's the
greatest nacheralist in the world."

"Where does he live?" I asked.

"Over on the Oxenthorpe Road, t'other side the town. Don't know just
which house it is, but 'most anyone 'cross there could tell you, I
reckon. Go and see him. He's a great man."

So I thanked the mussel-man, took up my squirrel again and started oft
towards the Oxenthorpe Road.

The first thing I heard as I came into the marketplace was some one
calling "Meat! M-E-A-T!"

"There's Matthew Mugg," I said to myself. "He'll know where this Doctor
lives. Matthew knows everyone."

So I hurried across the market-place and caught him up.

"Matthew," I said, "do you know Doctor Dolittle?"

"Do I know John Dolittle!" said he. "Well, I should think I do! I know
him as well as I know my own wife--better, I sometimes think. He's a
great man--a very great man."

"Can you show me where he lives?" I asked. "I want to take this squirrel
to him. It has a broken leg."

"Certainly," said the cat's-meat-man. "I'll be going right by his house
directly. Come along and I'll show you."

So off we went together.

"Oh, I've known John Dolittle for years and years," said Matthew as we
made our way out of the market-place. "But I'm pretty sure he ain't home
just now. He's away on a voyage. But he's liable to be back any day.
I'll show you his house and then you'll know where to find him."

All the way down the Oxenthorpe Road Matthew hardly stopped talking
about his great friend, Doctor John Dolittle--"M. D." He talked so much
that he forgot all about calling out "Meat!" until we both suddenly
noticed that we had a whole procession of dogs following us patiently.

"Where did the Doctor go to on this voyage?" I asked as Matthew handed
round the meat to them.

"I couldn't tell you," he answered. "Nobody never knows wher