“But how shall we account for receiving the
two-pence?” said Timothy.
“Selling two vials instead of one: they
are never reckoned, you know.”
“That will do capitally,” cried Timothy;
“and now for halves.” But this could
not be managed until Timothy had run out and changed
the sixpence; we then each had our three-pence halfpenny,
and for once in our lives could say that we had money
in our pockets.
I perform a wonderful
cure upon St John Long’s principle, having
little or no principle
of my own—I begin to puzzle my head with
a
problem; of all others
most difficult to solve.
The success of our first attempt encouraged us to
proceed; but afraid that I might do some mischief,
I asked of Mr Brookes the nature and qualities of
the various medicines, as he was mixing the prescriptions,
that I might avoid taking any of those which were poisonous.
Mr Brookes, pleased with my continual inquiries, gave
me all the information I could desire, and thus I
gained, not only a great deal of information, but
also a great deal of credit with Mr Cophagus, to whom
Mr Brookes had made known my diligence and thirst
for knowledge.
“Good—very good,” said Mr Cophagus;
“fine boy—learns his business—M.D.
one of these days—ride in his coach—um,
and so on.” Nevertheless, at my second
attempt, I made an awkward mistake, which very nearly
led to detection. An Irish labourer, more than
half tipsy, came in one evening, and asked whether
we had such a thing as was called “A poor
man’s plaister. By the powers, it will
be a poor man’s plaister when it belongs to
me; but they tell me that it is a sure and sartain
cure for the thumbago, as they call it, which I’ve
at the small of my back, and which is a hinder to
my mounting up the ladder; so as it’s Saturday
night, and I’ve just got the money, I’ll
buy the plaister first, and then try what a little
whiskey inside will do, the devil’s in it if
it won’t be driven out of me between the two.”
We had not that plaister in the shop, but we had blister
plaister, and Timothy, handing one to me, I proffered
it to him. “And what may you be after asking
for this same?” inquired he.
The blister plaisters were sold at a shilling each,
when spread on paper, so I asked him eighteen-pence,
that we might pocket the extra sixpence.
“By the powers, one would think that you had
made a mistake, and handed me the rich man’s
plaister, instead of the poor one’s. It’s
less whiskey I’ll have to drink, anyhow; but
here’s the money, and the top of the morning
to ye, seeing as how it’s jist getting late.”
Timothy and I laughed as we divided the sixpence.
It appeared that after taking his allowance of whiskey,
the poor fellow fixed the plaister on his back when
he went to bed, and the next morning found himself
in a condition not be envied. It was a week before
we saw him again, and much to the horror of Timothy
and myself, he walked into the shop when Mr Brookes
was employed behind the counter. Timothy perceived
him before he saw us, and pulling me behind the large
mortar, we contrived to make our escape into the back
parlour, the door of which we held ajar to hear what
would take place.
