 If you were to read Dr. Elsie Woodman's sober and scientific treatise on the affair in the Michigan Medical News, you would know from its very tone that the facts recorded there, though they challenge the basic laws of nature, are nevertheless true. It is a strange and tantalizing account of a man who could not breathe. As a practicing physician in the town of Pawhawk, Michigan, Dr. Woodman had come to know most of his fellow citizens. But he had never heard of Arthur Underwood, not at least until that day in early September 1882, when one of his patients mentioned the man and his extraordinary powers. It's true, Dr. I tell you, I saw him do it with my own eye. And I was standing right next to him and I had my eye on him the whole time. All of which simply proves that his hand is quicker than your eye. But he didn't use his hands at all. I told you how he did it. And you examined the handkerchief before the experiment? Of course I did. Just like any other handkerchief. And afterward? Well, there wasn't much left of it afterward. Just a few charred embers. But I looked at those two and I couldn't see anything unusual about them. Doctor, I tell you, the man's supernatural. Where did you say he lived? Out in the North Road. Got my horse and buggy outside if you want to run out and see him. All right. And I'll show you that he's nothing more nor less than an amateur magician. A half hour later, the doctor and his credulous patient monitored the steps to the porch of the Underwood home together. The doctor knocked at the front door. Good afternoon, gentlemen. Hello, Mrs. Underwood. You're boying in? Arthur? No, he ain't. He's back in the woods doing a little hunting. The two men made their way to the patch of woods behind the house. And there, among the trees, his rifles slung over his shoulder. They found young Arthur Underwood. Arthur, this is Dr. Woodman. I've been telling him about you and he's kind of skeptical. He doesn't believe you made that handkerchief burn the way you did. Oh, sure, doc. I can make anything burn that way. I always have been able to, ever since I was a kid. I'm afraid I'll have to see for myself, Arthur. Now, suppose you start a fire with that pile of dry leaves there. Yes, sir, doc. Yes, sir. You see, I just bend down like this and blow. And there's your fire. Before the doctors' astonished eyes, the pile of dry leaves burst into flame, ignited by nothing more than Arthur Underwood's breath. In a similar fashion, he lit paper in pieces of cloth. He rinsed out his mouth at the doctor's request. He submitted to the most rigorous physical examination. But nothing, nothing but all of the fact that it was his breath and his breath alone that started the fire. And it stands to this day as one of the major mysteries of science. Incredible, but true.