“It is a well-knit tale thou hast put forward. But thou, who hast argued against the existence of spirits and goblins in the air, how is it thou wantest me to believe in your tale of the existence of worms which I do not see. Surely our fairy-tales are nicer than yours!” He called me over to his cot the following night and asked me to continue my “fairy-tale.” “But since you do not believe, Murdo--” I objected. “And hast thou ever believed our fairy-tales? Yet thou hast insisted we tell them to you!” I recalled to him a telescope we had once seen together and explained how by increasing the number and the power of these glasses one could see things placed at enormous distances. He believed that. Then I told him how with the aid of such powerful glasses very small things could be magnified and how upon increasing the power of these glasses things too small to be seen with the naked eye could be made visible. “I should love to see with my own eyes through those glasses those invisible little goblins of which you speak so convincingly,” he answered sarcastically. “Thou shalt see,” I assured him. “Truly,” Murdo rejoined, “thou art a good story-teller. Thou even believest what thou tellest. Go off to sleep now. Perhaps I shall dream of what thou hast told me--of those powerful glasses through which thou hast magnified thy story!” I knew I had won my point. I knew I had won because the doctor to whom I was taking Murdo, an old friend of the family, possessed a microscope. No sooner had the doctor seen the old man’s wound than he called in another physician. Without asking any questions, they put Murdo under ether, and before long they had opened and cleansed the wound. When Murdo awoke he found himself solidly strapped to the bed. I had urged that method upon the doctor, for I feared what Murdo might do upon his awakening from ether. But he was very mild and submissive. He asked me to sit near him. A few days later Murdo, who for the first time in many moons had slept peacefully, was completely restored. The doctor had allowed him the use of a room in his own household. Another few days and Murdo was ready to return to his camp. “I hate to make thee feel guilty,” Murdo said when we were ready to leave. “If what thou hast told me on the road hither was but a fairy-tale, well and good. If, however, it is a true tale, I shall willingly give a year of my life to see it proved.” Within five minutes the microscope was brought to light, and the doctor himself put underneath the lens a few pieces of glass upon which he had made different smears. He allowed Murdo to look at the whirling mass of squirming matter. Murdo looked for a full hour. Having fully satisfied his curiosity, he walked out of the room and asked me to leave him by himself. The following day we were upon our homeward journey. Murdo was driving. I was sitting near him. The whole day long he remained silent.