as aggravated sufficient; and, Jack, if there he a
crowner's inquest, mind you tell the truth. You know I didn't want to
kill the old woman, don't you, my boy? for didn't I say that I'd keep
the tail to give her another dose when I came back again?--that proves I
didn't intend that she should slip her wind, you know, boy. I said I'd
give her another dose, you know, Jack--and," continued my father, "so I
will, if I find her above ground when I comes back again."

My father then went downstairs. Little Virginia had fallen asleep again
on the sofa; my father kissed her softly, shook hands with me, and put a
crown in my hand. He then unlocked the door, and, thrusting the end of
his pigtail into his breast, coiled it, as it were, round his body,
hastened down the alley, and was soon out of sight.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

IN WHICH THE DOCTOR PAYS A VISIT AND RECEIVES NO FEE; AND I AM OBLIGED
TO WORK VERY HARD TO PROCURE MYSELF A LIVELIHOOD.

I did not forget my father's injunctions, for I was very much
frightened. There was a doctor who lived half-way up Church Street, a
short distance from Fisher's Alley. He was a little man with a large
head sunk down between two broad shoulders; his eyes were small and
twinkling, his nose snubbed, his pate nearly bald; but on the sides of
his head the hair was long and flowing. But if his shoulders were
broad, the rest of his body was not in the same proportion--for he
narrowed as he descended, his hips being very small, and his legs as
thin as those of a goat. His real name was Todpoole, but the people
invariably called him Tadpole, and he certainly in appearance somewhat
reminded you of one. He was a facetious little fellow, and, it was
said, very clever in his profession.

"Doctor Tadpole," cried I, out of breath with running, "come--quick, my
mother is very bad indeed."

"What's the matter?" said he, peering over a mortar in which he was
rubbing up something with the pestle. "External or internal?"

Although I did not know what he meant, I replied, "Both, doctor, and a
great deal more besides."

"That's bad indeed," replied Tadpole, still rubbing away.

"But you must come directly," cried I. "Come along--quick!"

"_Festina lente_, good boy--that's Latin for hat and boots. Tom, are my
boots clean?"

"Ye'es, sir," replied a carroty-headed boy, whom I knew well.

The doctor laid down his pestle, and taking his seat on a chair, began
very leisurely to pull on his boot