Some men are wonderful in their ability to comprehend machinery, and in dexterity in the use of tools, the special sense represented by the organ of Constructiveness. They seem to be perfectly at home with a piece of new and complicated machinery in five minutes, while others will work on the same thing for hours, growing more and more bewildered, and exhibiting little or no mechanical genius whatever, literally making a botch of everything they undertake. When I was lecturing in Austin, Texas, in 1887, several gentlemen came to see me and asked if I would be willing to submit to a test. They said, "We have a man in this city who is unquestionably a genius in a certain direction, and we would like to call him out for a public examination and see if you can locate him." I urged them to do so, at the same time remarking that that was the kind of a man I liked to get hold of. That night when I called for nominations, Mr. Geo. P. Assman was immediately elected. He came forward, and as I measured his head I said, "This man is a genius as a machinist. He has only ordinary ability in other directions, but as a machinist he is a marvel. He has thoughts on machinery far beyond the comprehension of other men, and especially in the practical handling of complicated work." Somebody in the audience sung out at this point "You've got him," and the audience broke into applause. They then informed me that he was a most celebrated locksmith and machinist whose specialty was opening combination locks on valuable safes when the combination was lost by the owners, or when the works were injured by the blasts of burglars. On one occasion he had opened a safe in New Orleans in a few minutes when the trained locksmiths of the safe factory had worked for hours and failed. He was in the right business, was regarded as a genius, and was respected and admired by a whole section of the United States simply because he employed his best element of sense.