American Fairy Tales | Page 8

"Oh, yes; easily."
"Then it's a bargain. I'll start the dog at once. What color of glass shall I
use?"

"Pink is a pretty color," said the wizard, "and it's unusual for a dog, isn't
it?"
"Very," answered the glass-blower; "but it shall be pink."
So the wizard went back to his studies and the glass-blower began to
make the dog.
Next morning he entered the wizard's room with the glass dog under his
arm and set it carefully upon the table. It was a beautiful pink in color,
with a fine coat of spun glass, and about its neck was twisted a blue
glass ribbon. Its eyes were specks of black glass and sparkled
intelligently, as do many of the glass eyes worn by men.
The wizard expressed himself pleased with the glass-blower's skill and
at once handed him a small vial.
"This will cure your rheumatism," he said.
"But the vial is empty!" protested the glass-blower.
"Oh, no; there is one drop of liquid in it," was the wizard's reply.
"Will one drop cure my rheumatism?" inquired the glass-blower, in
wonder.
"Most certainly. That is a marvelous remedy. The one drop contained
in the vial will cure instantly any kind of disease ever known to
humanity. Therefore it is especially good for rheumatism. But guard it
well, for it is the only drop of its kind in the world, and I've forgotten
the recipe."
"Thank you," said the glass-blower, and went back to his room.
Then the wizard cast a wizzy spell and mumbled several very learned
words in the wizardese language over the glass dog. Whereupon the
little animal first wagged its tail from side to side, then winked his left
eye knowingly, and at last began barking in a most frightful
manner--that is, when you stop to consider the noise came from a pink

glass dog. There is something almost astonishing in the magic arts of
wizards; unless, of course, you know how to do the things yourself,
when you are not expected to be surprised at them.
The wizard was as delighted as a school teacher at the success of his
spell, although he was not astonished. Immediately he placed the dog
outside his door, where it would bark at anyone who dared knock and
so disturb the studies of its master.
The glass-blower, on returning to his room, decided not to use the one
drop of wizard cure-all just then.
"My rheumatism is better to-day," he reflected, "and I will be wise to
save the medicine for a time when I am very ill, when it will be of more
service to me."
So he placed the vial in his cupboard and went to work blowing more
roses out of glass. Presently he happened to think the medicine might
not keep, so he started to ask the wizard about it. But when he reached
the door the glass dog barked so fiercely that he dared not knock, and
returned in great haste to his own room. Indeed, the poor man was quite
upset at so unfriendly a reception from the dog he had himself so
carefully and skillfully made.
The next morning, as he read his newspaper, he noticed an article
stating that the beautiful Miss Mydas, the richest young lady in town,
was very ill, and the doctors had given up hope of her recovery.
The glass-blower, although miserably poor, hard-working and homely
of feature, was a man of ideas. He suddenly recollected his precious
medicine, and determined to use it to better advantage than relieving
his own ills. He dressed himself in his best clothes, brushed his hair and
combed his whiskers, washed his hands and tied his necktie, blackened
his hoes and sponged his vest, and then put the vial of magic cure-all in
his pocket. Next he locked his door, went downstairs and walked
through the streets to the grand mansion where the wealthy Miss
Mydas resided.

The butler opened the door and said:
"No soap, no chromos, no vegetables, no hair oil, no books, no baking
powder. My young lady is dying and we're well supplied for the
funeral."
The glass-blower was grieved at being taken for a peddler.
"My friend," he began, proudly; but the butler interrupted him, saying:
"No tombstones, either; there's a family graveyard and the monument's
built."
"The graveyard won't be needed if you will permit me to speak," said
the glass-blower.
"No doctors, sir; they've given up my young lady, and she's given up
the doctors," continued the butler, calmly.
"I'm no doctor," returned the glass-blower.
"Nor are the others. But what is your errand?"
"I called to cure your young lady by means of a magical compound."
"Step in, please, and take a seat in the hall. I'll speak to the
housekeeper," said the butler, more