A little while ago Philip came into the possession of a dog of doubtful ancestry and antecedents, but reputed to be intelligent.  It was called “Little Willie” because of its marked tendency to the predatory habit.  His other leading characteristic was an inordinate craving for Punter’s “Freak” biscuits.

One day Philip had a brain-wave.  “I will teach Little Willie,” he said, “to smell out opium concealed in passengers’ luggage, and I shall acquire merit and the Superintendent of Imports and Exports will acquire opium.”  So he borrowed some opium from that official and concealed it about the house and in his office, and by-and-by what was required of him seemed to dawn on Little Willie, and every time he found a cache of the drug he was rewarded with a Punter’s “Freak” biscuit.

At last his education was pronounced to be complete and Philip marched proudly down to the Canton wharf with the Opium Hound.  There was a queue of passengers waiting to be allowed on board, and the ceremony of the examination of their baggage was going on.  Little Willie was invited to take a hand, which he did in a rather perfunctory way, without any real interest in the proceedings.  Indeed, his attention wandered to the doings of certain disreputable friends of his who had come down to the wharf in a spirit of curiosity, and Philip had to recall him to the matter in hand.

On a sudden a wonderful change came over the Opium Hound.  A highly respectable old lady of the amah or domestic servant class came confidently along, carrying the customary round lacquered wooden box, a neat bundle and a huge umbrella.  She was followed by a ragged coolie bearing a plethoric basket, lashed with a stout rope, but bulging in all directions.  Little Willie sniffed once at the basket and stiffened.  “Good dog,” said Philip; “is that opium you have found?” The hound’s tail wagged furiously, and he scratched at the basket in a paroxysm of excitement.  The coolie dropped it and ran away.  The amah waxed voluble and attacked Little Willie with the family umbrella.  The hound grew more and more enthusiastic for the quest.  Philip issued the fiat, “Open that basket, it contains opium,” and struck an attitude.

The basket was solemnly unlashed amid the amah’s shrill expostulations, and the contents soon flowed out upon the floor of the examination-hut.  There was the usual conglomeration:  Two pairs working trousers (blue cotton), two ditto jackets to match, one suit silk brocade for high days and holidays, two white aprons, three pairs Chinese shoes, three and a half pairs of Mississy’s silk stockings, several mysterious under garments (from the same source); one cigarette tin containing sewing materials, buttons of all sorts and sizes nine empty cotton-reels, three spools from a sewing-machine, one pair nail-scissors (broken); one cigar-box containing several yards of tape (varying widths), cuttings of many different materials, one button-hook, one tin-opener and corkscrew combined, one silver thimble, one ditto (horn), one Chinese pipe; one packet of tea, one ditto sugar, one tin condensed milk (unopened), half a loaf of bread (very stale), two empty medicine bottles—­but no opium!