This dashing mode of dealing with disorders produced an excellent effect upon the traveller’s mind. The hakīm seemed to hold Death by the beard, to keep him in his toils, to curb him, or let him have his way at pleasure. Chardin’s whole frame trembled with joy. He took the physician by the hand, squeezed it as well as his strength would permit, and looked up in his face as he would have looked upon his guardian-angel. The hakīm, to whom these things were no novelties, proceeded, without question or remark, to prescribe for his patient; and having done this, he was about to retire, when the traveller cried out, “Sir, I am consumed with heat!”—“I know that very well,” replied the hakīm; “but you shall be cooled presently!” and with the word both he and his apothecary disappeared. About nine o’clock the young apothecary returned, bringing with him a basketful of drugs, enough, to all appearance, to kill or cure a regiment of patients. “For whom,” inquired Chardin, “are all those medicines?”—“For you,” replied the young man; “these are what the hakīm has ordered you to take this morning, and you must swallow them as quickly as possible.” Fevers make men docile. The traveller immediately began to do as he was commanded; but when he came to one of the large bottles, his “gorge,” as Shakspeare phrases it, began to rise at it, and he observed that it would be impossible to swallow that at a draught. “Never mind,” said the young man, “you can take it at several draughts.” Obedience followed, and the basketful of physic disappeared. “You will presently,” observed the apothecary, “experience the most furious thirst; and I would willingly give you ices to take, but there is neither ice nor snow in the city except at the governor’s.” As his thirst would not allow him to be punctilious, Chardin at once applied to the governor; and succeeding in his enterprise, quenched his burning thirst with the most delicious drinks in the world.