Jennie's mother was informed that her daughter needed glasses. I told the mother that Dr. Bates did not fit glasses at the clinic, and in order to get them she would have to come another day and ace another doctor. The mother could not speak very good English. Her first question was: "I get der glasses fer nottink, yes?" "No," I replied, "I am sorry to say, you must pay for them."

She started to leave the room, when I called her back and tested Jennie's sight. I felt sorry for the little girl, because she was very pretty, except for her eyes, which were partly closed most of the time.

"I don't like to wear glasses," she said. "I wore them for two weeks and then I broke them. Please help me so that I won't have to wear them again."

The mother seemed bewildered at first, and then she said, In a burst of confidence:

"You. know, nurse, if der glasses was fer nottink, 1 should vorry. But all der time money, money for glasses, when all der time she breaks dem."

I told the poor mother not to worry, because her child could be cured and that she would not need glasses, if she would do what I told her.

"Sure, sure," she replied. "Det's all right, lady. You fix my Jennie's eyes, yes? Ven ve don't buy glasses ve got more money to buy someding for der stomach, yes?"

An Irish woman was standing by, and she roared with laughter. To keep peace in the room I had to use some tact and I thought it best to usher the Irish woman outside until I had treated the little girl, who turned out to be a very interesting patient. Jennie had never seen a test card before, and after palming was able to read the thirty line at fifteen feet. Below this, the card was a blank to her. I told her to follow my finger, while, with a rapid movement, I pointed to the large letter at the top of the card and so on down to the ten line. I directed her to palm, and pointing to the last letter on the ten line, which was an F, and quite small, I asked her if she could Imagine some letter her teacher had written on the blackboard that day.

She replied: "Yes, I can imagine I see the letter O, a white O."

"Keep your eyes closed," I said, "and imagine that the letter I am pointing at has a curved top. Can you still imagine the O?"

"No," she said, "I can't imagine anything now."

"Can you imagine it is open, or straight at the top?" I asked.

She became excited and said: "If I imagine It has a straight top, I can still remember the white O."

"Fine," I said. "Can you imagine it has a straight line at the bottom?"

"No, if I do that I lose the O. I can imagine it's open much better."

"Good," I said. "It is open. Now imagine the left side open or straight."

She replied: "I can imagine it is straight. I think it is an F."

And when she opened her eyes she saw it plainly. The fact was that, although she had been unable to see this letter consciously, she had unconsciously seen it for a fraction of a second, and could not imagine it to be other than it was, without a strain that caused her to lose control of her memory. And when she imagined it correctly she relaxed so that when she opened her eyes, she was able to see it. Jennie continued to come for treatment until she was cured. A month later her vision became normal and she had no more trouble. It would be very wonderful if all patients had as good an imagination. In that event the cure of imperfect sight would be much quicker.