"Then, by the piper that played before Moses, if you don't recollect it, I've an idea that I shall never forget it. Sure enough, it cured me, but wasn't I quite kilt before I was cured?" "It must have been some other shop," observed Mr Brookes. "You have made a mistake." "Devil a bit of mistake, except in selling me the plaster. Didn't I get it of a lad in this same shop?" "Nobody sells things out of this shop without my knowledge." The Irishman was puzzled--he looked round the shop. "Well, then, if this a'n't the shop, it was own sister to it." "Timothy," called Mr Brookes. "And sure enough there was a Timothy in the other shop, for I heard the boy call the other by the name; however, it's no matter if it took off the skin, it also took away the thumbago, so the morning to you, Mr Pottykary." When the Irishman departed, we made our appearance. "Japhet, did you sell a plaster to an Irishman?" "Yes--don't you recollect, last Saturday? and I gave you the shilling." "Very true; but what did he ask for?" "He asked for a plaster, but he was very tipsy. I showed him a blister, and he took it;" and then I looked at Timothy and laughed. "You must not play such tricks," said Mr Brookes. "I see what you have been about--it was a joke to you, but not to him." Mr Brookes, who imagined we had sold it to the Irishman out of fun, then gave us a very severe lecture, and threatened to acquaint Mr Cophagus if ever we played such tricks again. Thus the affair blew over, and it made me very careful; and, as every day I knew more about medicines, I was soon able to mix them, so as to be of service to those who applied, and before eighteen months had expired, I was trusted with the mixing up of all the prescriptions. At the end of that period Mr Brookes left us, and I took the whole of his department upon myself, giving great satisfaction to Mr Cophagus.