‘I happened to cross a Fakir, who was reading in his Book: Ah wretched Infidel! cried he; thou hast made me lose a number of vowels that I was counting, which will occasion my soul to pass into the body of a hare, instead of that of a parrot, with which I had before the greatest reason to flatter myself: I gave him a Rupee to comfort him for the accident. In going a few paces farther, I had the misfortune to sneeze; the noise I made roused a Fakir who was in a trance.--Heavens, cried he, what a dreadful noise! where am I! I can no longer see the tip of my nose! the heavenly light has disappeared.--If I am the cause, said I, of your seeing farther than the tip of your nose, here is a Rupee to repair the injury: squint again, and resume the heavenly light[81]. ‘Having thus brought myself off discreetly enough, I passed over to the side of the Gymnosophists, several of whom brought me a parcel of mighty pretty nails to drive into my arms, and thighs, in honour of Brahma: I bought their nails, and made use of them to fasten my boxes. Others were dancing upon their hands; others cut capers on the slack-rope; and others went always upon one foot. There were some who dragged about a heavy chain with them; and others carried a pack-saddle; some had always their heads in a bushel; the best people in the world to live with. My friend Omri carried me to the cell of one of the most famous of them. His name was Bahabec. He was as naked as he was born, and had a great chain about his neck, that weighed upwards of sixty pounds. He sat on a wooden chair, very neatly decorated with little points of nails, that ran into his posteriors; and you would have thought he sat on a velvet cushion. Numbers of Women flocked to him, to consult him: he was the Oracle of all the families in the neighbourhood; and was, truly speaking, in great reputation. I was witness to a long conversation that Omri had with him.--Do you think, Father, said my friend, that, after having gone through seven metempsychoses, I may at length arrive at the house of Brama.--That is as it may happen, said the Fakir. What sort of life do you lead?--I endeavour, answered Omri, to be a good subject, a good husband, a good father, and a good friend: I lend money without interest to the rich who want it, and I give it to the poor: I preserve peace among my neighbours.--But have you ever run nails into your backside, demanded the Brahmin.--Never, reverend Father.--I am sorry for it, replied the Father; very sorry for it indeed. It is a thousand pities; but you will not certainly reach above the nineteenth Heaven.--No higher? said Omri. In troth I am very well satisfied with my lot. But pray, what heaven do you think of going to, good Mr. Bahabec, with your nails and your chain? Into the thirty-fifth, said Bahabec, &c. &c.[82]’