A curious instance of Persian would-be smartness was shown here. A baker in the neighbourhood had suffered from cataract, and had come to me for relief. I had been happily successful, and to my satisfaction had restored sight to both eyes. For this I was rewarded with the sum of four pounds, and as the man was a thriving tradesman and well to do, _I_ thought him the obliged party; but _he_ regretted the four pounds. One day, as I was sitting in the dispensary surrounded by a crowd of sick and their friends and relatives, a melancholy procession entered the room. The baker, with a rag of a different colour over each eye, and a huge white bandage round his head, was led, or rather supported, into the apartment; and on my expressing astonishment, his relatives informed me that his sight was quite gone through my unfortunate treatment; and that he had come to get his four pounds back, and any compensation for the loss of his eyes that I might be pleased to make would be thankfully accepted. “Ah, sahib, dear sahib, I am now _stone_ blind,” he said. Here with extended arms he advanced to my table, and the assembled crowd shook their heads. I had some difficulty in getting him to remove his many bandages; but on looking at his eyes I saw that his vision, as I had supposed, was extremely good. I naturally was very angry, for, letting the ingratitude of the man alone, I did not care to be robbed of the credit of a cure in so public a manner. I did not take long to decide what to do. Among some antiquated instruments that had accumulated in the dispensary was a large amputating knife in a leather box. I got this box from the cupboard and placed it before me. Taking my seat, with the man on the other side of my table, I addressed him:— “Of course, if I have deprived you of your sight, it is only fair that I should remunerate you and return you the money you have paid me.” A beatific smile spread over his face. “Ah, sahib, I know you are a great and generous sahib. I am sure you would not wrong a poor Mussulman. Oh, sahib, I want nothing but justice.” “And what, my friend, do you consider justice?” “Oh, sahib, doctor sahib, if you would refund the four pounds that I paid you, and give me, say forty pounds, even less, for my eyes, I should pray for you—yes, I and my family, we should all pray for you.” Here the supporters and family chimed in, “Yes, yes, he has spoken well,” and the crowd of interested patients and their friends whispered approbation. I noticed, too, that my servant seemed trying to attract my attention, and to dissuade me from a course he thought just, perhaps, but too generous. “Yes,” said I, “this is what ought to be done, there is no denying it, in the case you describe. But”—and here I began to shout—“but what should be done to the man who comes here with a lie in his mouth? Know you, bystanders, that this man is a liar; he sees perfectly!” Here the patient shook off his supporters, and grasped my table, turning pale.