"Are you sure?"
"Yep. I can see my hand all around the hole, just as plainly as I ever saw anything in my life, and I can see you right through the centre of it."
"Does it hurt any?" asked Uncle Rob.
"Not a bit."
"I'll guarantee that it would, if you thought that you could remember the experience of getting the hole there, though," said Uncle Rob.
I was interested. "I guess you're right," I said. "If I'd shot myself in the hand, and it was all bandaged up, and a doctor would come in with one of these things, fixed up to look professional, and tell me that it was a sort of an X-ray business which would look through the bandages and show me the condition of my hand;—and I looked through and saw what I see now;—why, I'd think I was maimed for life,—and no one could tell me any different, because I could see for myself. I'll bet it would hurt like the dickens, too;—and if it didn't, I'd think the nerves were paralyzed, and that would be worse still."
Uncle Rob laughed. "Well, you think a little about matter being experience," he said, "and
