.

"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