[p.51]Road to medical fame.  You must begin by sitting with the porter, who is sure to have blear eyes, into which you drop a little nitrate of silver, whilst you instil into his ear the pleasing intelligence that you never take a fee from the poor.  He recovers; his report of you spreads far and wide, crowding your doors with paupers.  They come to you as though you were their servant, and when cured they turn their backs upon you for ever.  Hence it is that European doctors generally complain of ingratitude on the part of their Oriental patients.  It is true that if you save a man’s life, he naturally asks you for the means of preserving it.  Moreover, in none of the Eastern languages with which I am acquainted is there a single term conveying the meaning of our “gratitude,” and none but Germans[FN#9] have ideas unexplainable by words.  But you must not condemn this absence of a virtue without considering the cause.  An Oriental deems that he has the right to your surplus.  “Daily bread is divided” (by heaven), he asserts, and eating yours, he considers it his own.  Thus it is with other things.  He is thankful to Allah for the gifts of the Creator, but he has a claim to the good offices of a fellow-creature.  In rendering him a service you have but done your duty, and he would not pay you so poor a compliment as to praise you for the act.  He leaves you, his benefactor, with a short prayer for the length of your days.  “Thank you,” being expressed by “Allah increase thy weal!” or the selfish wish that your shadow (with which you protect him and his fellows) may never be less.  And this is probably the last you hear of him.

There is a discomfort in such proceedings, a reasonable,

[p.52]a metaphysical coldness, uglily contrasting in theory with the genial warmth which a little more heart would infuse into them.  In theory, I say, not in practice.  Human nature feels kindness is displayed to return it in kind.  But Easterns do not carry out the idea of such obligations as we do.  What can be more troublesome than, when you have obliged a man, to run the gauntlet of his and his family’s thanksgivings, to find yourself become a master from being a friend, a great man when you were an equal; not to be contradicted, where shortly before every one gave his opinion freely?  You must be unamiable if these considerations deter you from benefiting your friend; yet, I humbly opine, you still may fear his gratefulness.

To resume.  When the mob has raised you to fame, patients of a better class will slowly appear on the scene.  After some coquetting about “etiquette,” whether you are to visit them, or they are to call upon you, they make up their minds to see you, and to judge with their eyes whether you are to be trusted or not; whilst you, on your side, set out with the determination that they shall at once cross the Rubicon,-in less classical phrase, swallow your drug.  If you visit the house, you insist upon the patient’s