urhood of Whitechapel; partly
for the purpose of gaining experience in my profession, and partly for
the sake of carrying the Word of Life--the knowledge of the Saviour--
into some of the many homes where moral as well as physical disease is
rife.

Leanings and inclinations are inherited not less than bodily
peculiarities. My father had a particular tenderness for poor old women
of the lowest class. So have I. When I see a bowed, aged, wrinkled,
white-haired, feeble woman in rags and dirt, a gush of tender pity
almost irresistibly inclines me to go and pat her head, sit down beside
her, comfort her, and give her money. It matters not what her
antecedents may have been. Worthy or unworthy, there she stands now,
with age, helplessness, and a hopeless temporal future, pleading more
eloquently in her behalf than could the tongue of man or angel. True,
the same plea is equally applicable to poor old men, but, reader, I
write not at present of principles so much as of feelings. My weakness
is old women!

Accordingly, on my professional visiting list--I had at that time a
considerable number of these. One of them, who was uncommonly small,
unusually miserable, and pathetically feeble, lay heavy on my spirit
just then. She had a remarkably bad cold at the time, which betrayed
itself chiefly in a frequent, but feeble, sneeze.

As I rose to go out, and looked at my doggie--who was, or seemed to be,
asleep on the rug--a sudden thought occurred to me.

"That poor old creature," I muttered, "is very lonely in her garret; a
little dog might comfort her. Perhaps--but no. Dumps, you are too
lively for her, too bouncing. She would require something feeble and
affectionate, like herself. Come, I'll think of that. So, my doggie,
you shall keep watch here until I return."

CHAPTER TWO.

INTRODUCES A YOUNG HERO.

The day had become very sultry by the time I went out to visit my
patients. The sky was overcast with dark thunderous clouds, and, as
there seemed every chance of a heavy shower, I returned to my lodgings
for an umbrella.

"Oh, Mr Mellon!" exclaimed my landlady, as I entered the lobby, "was
there ever a greater blessin'--oh!--"

"Why, what's the matter, Mrs Miff?"

"Oh, sir! that 'orrid little dog as you brought 'as gone mad!"

"Is that the blessing you refer to, Mrs Miff?"

"No, sir; but your comin' back is, for the creetur 'as bin rampagin'
round the room, an yellin' like a thing possessed by de