There is an undefined feeling of exultation, a sense of magnificent accomplishment, the moment one successfully delivers a foreign body that has buried itself in an eye. The accident has descended on the patient with tragic suddenness. In less than the "twinkling of an eye" he has been visited with this dire calamity. There have ensued hours of examination, of consultation, of roentgen exposures, of suspense. Then has come the patient's entrance to hospital and to the surgical department, the preparation of the eye, the tense moment, fraught with uncertainty, when, all in readiness, the order is given to turn the switch. The tiny fragment leaps to the magnet tip, someone exclaims "There it is!" the air of suppressed excitement relaxes, and surgeon and patient as well as attendants breathe normally again. A spirit of triumphant success pervades the air. The damaged eye has been "saved" ; the tragedy of a