in the vial will cure instantly any kind of disease ever known to
humanity. Therefore it is especially good for rheumatism. But guard
it well, for it is the only drop of its kind in the world, and I've
forgotten the recipe."

"Thank you," said the glass-blower, and went back to his room.

Then the wizard cast a wizzy spell and mumbled several very learned
words in the wizardese language over the glass dog. Whereupon the
little animal first wagged its tail from side to side, then winked
his left eye knowingly, and at last began barking in a most
frightful manner--that is, when you stop to consider the noise came
from a pink glass dog. There is something almost astonishing in the
magic arts of wizards; unless, of course, you know how to do the
things yourself, when you are not expected to be surprised at them.

The wizard was as delighted as a school teacher at the success of
his spell, although he was not astonished. Immediately he placed the
dog outside his door, where it would bark at anyone who dared knock
and so disturb the studies of its master.

The glass-blower, on returning to his room, decided not to use the
one drop of wizard cure-all just then.

"My rheumatism is better to-day," he reflected, "and I will be wise
to save the medicine for a time when I am very ill, when it will be
of more service to me."

So he placed the vial in his cupboard and went to work blowing more
roses out of glass. Presently he happened to think the medicine