I found myself examining the inside of my skull, which had been sawed through fore and aft and well cleaned up. I was not at all pleased to find that the back part of it had never been adapted to hold a brain, being filled to a depth of at least an inch with a white substance resembling mortar or cement. At another point a bulbous tumor took more space with my cerebrum should have occupied. My feeling of contempt for this abnormal headpiece was of the liveliest kind.