Daily Yellowstone journal., 1890-04-22
THE MAGIC BOTTLE.


iTblll ~ lIlp lliIbAtl llt HblAlll'lll anu
we>tcw portions of the Emerald isle.
''The common ills of humanity, lac
continued, such as slight feverS.
colds, rheumatic twlngcs aud head
aches are borne with the stoicism of the
North American Indian. In some
cases a physician has never entered
the matched cottage, even in times of
direst stress. | had been suffering Sc
$erely from catarrhal headache. To re-
lieve it bought a small heart shaped
bottle of green glass, with a plated sill
yer top, containing concentrated am
monia. | used it very carefully, for
the preparation was strong. While
seated in my hotel before a turf fire
taking a sniff now and then of the am
monia and experiencing the usual re-
lief, a brawny peasant named Daniel
Slattery, from the hamlet of Lacka-
beg, came in. AT sight of the bottle
his curiosity was aroused. Said he:
That's a quare little bottle We hav',
SIR
"'Oh, it is common in America /
replied.
And do We tell me so, exclaimed
Daniel with an accent of surprise.
'Fwhat good is itF
1t will alleviate headache
"'Csha, is that thruel Shure and if
We We're alin' me, sir, | hav' the head
ache meselfl
What kind of a headache is itl
Nervousf
OWLS the wan ONE knows fwhat
kind of a headache sit. sir; but shure
as nails is nails hay it right under
me hair
The truth vas in all probability
Daniel had never had the headache in
his life. His object vas to get hold of
the little bottle. All the time the con-
versation was going on he had been
looking longingly 1t it, and his fingers
were itching 10 get possession Of IL.
To prulong his 81 ,pense, and also To
give him an eXaG gerated idea of the
curative powers ii the contents of the
bottle. | took a dainty sniff at il. aud
then showed sims of lively satisfac-
ton. Daniel sa, On n~ettles. He squirm-
ed With ardent desire To handle the
bottle. and yet his sense of politeness
restrained him from making a direct
request for il. 1t was AS good AS a play
TO watch him. At last he became
reused 10 such a pitch of desire that
his scruples melted like butter in the
tropics. He blushed like a school girl.
stammered. and then. with an apollo
getic smile, blurted out:
AKIN yeer pardon, sir; but w'u'd
We Civ me a thrlile of a schmell o the
weeny bottle. till | see w'ud 1t make
me feel any betther.'
Il handed him the bottle and he re-
celved it with dainty touch, as il il had
been a fragile flower. He held it up
TO the light. and looked through the
green glass at lis contents.
'Faix, he exclaimed, ''the sthuff
In the bottle is Crane"
He unscrewed the silvered top and
twirled ii around on the end Of one of
his calloused fingers. When he had
amused himself for a few minutes like
a child with a new toy, he seized the
bottle between his thumb and fore
finger, raised it to his nostrils, and
drew in a long breath. There was al
most a vacuum in the room after that
inhalation. He was seated when he
made il. The effect was electrical. He
gasped like a dying Goldfish, and o
to a standing posture. The tears ran
from his eyes. The shock was 81 Sc
we're that his hairalmost stood on end.
He tried to speak, but for nearly a
minute could only utter broken sen
fences. As he slowly recovered he
raised his right hand as if about to
strike me. Then he resumed his seat
with a bewildered look and exclaimed:
'Begorrd, sir, it cured me intoire-
lyH ,
by the time lie had fully recovered
an idea occurred to him. for his face
frightened perceptibly. Suddenly he
jumped 10 his feet and ran out of the
door. with the bottle in his hand. He
started for his home III Lackabeg,
three miles away. as fast as his three
mile-an-hour donkey could pull the
cart. The subsequent proceedings were
related by a neighbor Of Slatterys a
few days later thus:
That's a quare bottle ye are afther
givin' Daniel Slattery, sir. He's afther
playiu' tliricks wild il all over Lacka-
beg. Divil's the stroke o work ded
he do these three days, sir, but go
around curin' headaches wild it, There
is ne'er a house. sir, but Dan whit in.
II have "A cure says he. for livery
mortal pain in yeer body, says he,
sober like a praist. "All We hav' to do
is TO sniff the little quare bottle and
the pain is gone from ye like steam
from the kettle" Well, sir, he had
thin fallin' down wild the fright he
gev them, I'll he came To Michael
O'Brien. Michael was that Jared and
frekened by the shmell he got that he
let the bottle fall on the hearthstone
and it bruk Until a thousand pieces.
And such mournin' as there was in
Lackabcg bekase the bottle vas bruk
We niver heerd before. sir. FAX livery
wan Of O'Brien's family was on their
two knees on the fure pickin' up little
bits o the broken glass. Ye haven't
another wan o. the little bottles, hav'
We, sire New York Sun.