O.M. The one which was to determine how much influence you have over your mind—if any. Y.M. Yes, and got more or less entertainment out of it. I did as you ordered: I placed two texts before my eyes—one a dull one and barren of interest, the other one full of interest, inflamed with it, white-hot with it. I commanded my mind to busy itself solely with the dull one. O.M. Did it obey? Y.M. Well, no, it didn’t. It busied itself with the other one. O.M. Did you try hard to make it obey? Y.M. Yes, I did my honest best. O.M. What was the text which it refused to be interested in or think about? Y.M. It was this question: If A owes B a dollar and a half, and B owes C two and three-quarter, and C owes A thirty—five cents, and D and A together owe E and B three-sixteenths of—of—I don’t remember the rest, now, but anyway it was wholly uninteresting, and I could not force my mind to stick to it even half a minute at a time; it kept flying off to the other text. O.M. What was the other text? Y.M. It is no matter about that. O.M. But what was it? Y.M. A photograph. O.M. Your own? Y.M. No. It was hers. O.M. You really made an honest good test. Did you make a second trial? Y.M. Yes. I commanded my mind to interest itself in the morning paper’s report of the pork-market, and at the same time I reminded it of an experience of mine of sixteen years ago. It refused to consider the pork and gave its whole blazing interest to that ancient incident. O.M. What was the incident? Y.M. An armed desperado slapped my face in the presence of twenty spectators. It makes me wild and murderous every time I think of it. O.M. Good tests, both; very good tests. Did you try my other suggestion? Y.M. The one which was to prove to me that if I would leave my mind to its own devices it would find things to think about without any of my help, and thus convince me that it was a machine, an automatic machine, set in motion by exterior influences, and as independent of me as it could be if it were in some one else’s skull. Is that the one? O.M. Yes.