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.

"Murder and turf!" cried the man, "but that was the devil's own plaister
that you gave me here for my back, and it left me as raw as a turnip,
taking every bit of my skin off me entirely, foreby my lying in bed for
a whole week, and losing my day's work."

"I really do not recollect supplying you with a plaister, my good man,"
replied Mr Brookes.

"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 a mistake, except in selling me the plaister. 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