There was a grand brass lock and two keys. Unfortunately, neither of the keys fitted the lock, so that it was at least half a minute before we could open the thing. When at length the lock yielded, the interior of the box presented a sight which we shall never forget. There was quite a forest of clean little corks. There were in the upper compartment one hundred and forty-four clean, sweet, little one-ounce bottles, all neatly labelled and fitted with the pretty little corks which were the first things that attracted our attention. These bottles were arranged in rows of twelve abreast, and there was not a stain on any one of them.
We took hold of one and tried to pull it out from amongst its fellows, but it wouldn’t come. However, a good hard tug displaced it, and with it two or three others which rolled to the ground, and we held in our hand a one-ounce bottle of—of—well, the name of the stuff slips us altogether—anyhow, it was quite new to us. Underneath the name of the preparation was written “Cure for Gout.”
This looked interesting, so we examined the other bottles and discovered that the hundred and forty-four bottles contained a hundred and forty-four preparations—all guaranteed different—which “cured” a hundred and forty-four diseases!
But the odd thing about it was, we had never before heard of any of the drugs, nor did we know half the diseases which these wonderful drugs cured. There was one bottle to cure “humours” of the face. What on earth are they?
We cannot rise to this. But there is a drawer underneath. Let us open it and see what it contains. More bottles! Bigger ones this time. One, we see, contains tincture of arnica—guaranteed to remove all effects of “injuries, bruises, and inflammations.” This is coming it too strong! We know tincture of arnica, and we know that some people have an idea that it does something or other to relieve bruises—an idea which we do not share. But to say it removes all effects of injuries, bruises (we should have thought that these might have been included under the former term), and inflammations—well, we live and learn.
There were five other bottles in this drawer. And then there was a pair of scissors. What can they be for? But then we found a roll of sticking plaster, and the mystery was cleared up at once. This is intended for the surgical part of the box. Fancy a surgery containing six bottles, a pair of scissors, and a roll of plaster!
And quite enough too, if one of the bottles contains a balm which will remove all effects of injuries and inflammations. But then what is the good of the other five bottles, the pair of scissors and the plaster?
“What do you think of my box?” asked the chemist when we had finished our exploration. “How much do you think that cost?”
“Dear me, man, you don’t mean to say you bought that?”
“No,” he replied, “I didn’t. It was sent to me as an advertisement. They are selling them at £5 5s. a-piece, and they asked me to take a dozen and try to dispose of them. What would you do if you were in my place?”