Suddenly the label caught my eye--it read PAREGORIC. In a second I
had snatched a shawl, wrapped Toddie in it, tucked him under my
arm, and was on my way to the barn. In a moment more I was on one
of the horses and galloping furiously to the village, with Toddie
under one arm, his yellow curls streaming in the breeze. People
came out and stared as they did at John Gilpin, while one old
farmer whom I met turned his team about, whipped up furiously, and
followed me, shouting "Stop thief!" I afterward learned that he
took me to be one of the abductors of Charley Ross, with the lost
child under my arm, and that visions of the $20,000 reward floated
before his eyes. In front of an apothecary's I brought the horse
suddenly upon his haunches, and dashed in, exclaiming:--
"Give this child a strong emetic--quick. He's swallowed poison!"
The apothecary hurried to his prescription-desk, while a
motherly-looking Irish woman upon whom he had been waiting,
exclaimed, "Holy Mither! I'll run an' fetch Father O'Kelley," and
hurried out. Meanwhile Toddie, upon whom the medicine had not
commenced to take effect, had seized the apothecary's cat by the
tail, which operation resulted in a considerable vocal protest
from that animal.
The experiences of the next few moments were more pronounced and
revolutionary than pleasing to relate in detail.
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