Japhet, in Search of a Father | Page 7

been puzzling my brains
how we can get some money, and I've hit it at last; let you and I turn
doctors; we won't send all the people away who come when Mr
Brookes is out, but we'll physic them ourselves."
I jumped at the idea, and he had hardly proposed it, when an old
woman came in, and addressing Timothy, said, "That she wanted
something for her poor grandchild's sore throat."
"I don't mix up the medicines, ma'am," replied Timothy; "you must
apply to that gentleman, Mr Newland, who is behind the counter--he
understands what is good for every body's complaints."
"Bless his handsome face--and so young too! Why, be you a doctor,
sir?"

"I should hope so," replied I; "what is it you require--a lotion, or an
embrocation?"
"I don't understand those hard words, but I want some doctor's stuff."
"Very well, my good woman; I know what is proper," replied I,
assuming an important air. "Here, Timothy, wash out this vial very
clean."
"Yes, sir," replied Timothy, very respectfully.
I took one of the measures, and putting in a little green, a little blue,
and a little white liquid from the medicine bottles generally used by Mr
Brookes, filled it up with water, poured the mixture into the vial,
corked, and labelled it, haustus statim sumendus, and handed it over the
counter to the old woman.
"Is the poor child to take it, or is it to rub outside?" inquired the old
woman.
"The directions are on the label;--but you don't read Latin?"
"Deary me, no! Latin! and do you understand Latin? What a nice clever
boy!"
"I should not be a good doctor if I did not," replied I. On second
thoughts, I considered it advisable and safer, that the application should
be external, so I translated the label to her--Haustus, rub it in--statim,
on the throat--sumendus, with the palm of the hand.
"Deary me! and does it mean all that? How much have I to pay, sir?"
"Embrocation is a very dear medicine, my good woman; it ought to be
eighteen-pence, but as you are a poor woman, I shall only charge you
nine-pence."
"I'm sure I thank you kindly," replied the old woman, putting down the
money, and wishing me a good morning as she left the shop.

"Bravo!" cried Timothy, rubbing his hands; "it's halves, Japhet, is it
not?"
"Yes," I replied; "but first we must be honest, and not cheat Mr
Cophagus; the vial is sold, you know, for one penny, and I suppose the
stuff I have taken is not worth a penny more. Now, if we put aside
two-pence for Mr Cophagus, we don't cheat him, or steal his property;
the other seven-pence is of course our own--being the profits of the
profession."
"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.

Chapter III
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