Mick tried to put him off with excuses. This, however, would not do, and the landlord was so persistent that finally Mick told him about the bottle. The landlord offered Mick a great deal of money for it, but Mick continued to refuse until the landlord said that in addition to the money he would give him the farm he rented. Mick surrendered the bottle, feeling that he was now so rich he never would be in want again. But he was mistaken, for he and his family lived as if there was no end to their fortune. They earned little and spent much. Their wealth melted away, and at length they became so poor they had nothing left which they could sell but one cow.
So Mick prepared to drive the cow to Cork fair and dispose of her. It was hardly daybreak when he left home, and he walked on at a good pace till he reached the big hill midway in his journey. The mists were sleeping in the valleys and curling like smoke-wreaths on the brown heath around him. Just beside the road, as he was going along, a lark sprang from its grassy couch and ascended into the clear blue sky pouring forth its joyous matin-song. While Mick was watching it he was startled and rejoiced to hear the well-remembered voice of that same old man who had accosted him here once before. “Well, Mick Purcell,” said the stranger, “I told you that you would be a rich man; and you found that I was right, did you not?”
“Indeed, sir, it was the truth you spoke, and no mistake,” replied Mick. “But it’s not rich I am now. Have you another bottle? I need it as much at present as when I first saw you. So, if you have one, sir, here is my cow for it.”
“And here is a bottle,” responded the little man, taking it from an inside pocket of his coat. “You know what to do with it.”
“Sure I do,” said Mick.
“Farewell,” said the strange old man as he turned to go.
“And good-by to you, sir,” said Mick. “May your shadow never grow less. Good-by, sir, good-by.”
Mick wasted no time looking back to see what became of the little man and the cow, but hastened homeward. As soon as he arrived he called out, “Molly, Molly! I have another bottle!”
“Have you?” said she, laughing joyfully. “Why, then, you’re a lucky man, Mick Purcell, that’s what you are.”
She quickly put everything in order and set forth the table with a clean spread on it. Then Mick placed the bottle on the floor, and said, with a tone of exultation in his voice, “Bottle, do your duty.”