Hereupon I requested leave to try the rod; but something in my
manner seemed at once to excite the suspicion and scorn of the
sorcerer. "Yes, take it," said he, with uncalled-for
vehemence, "but you can't stop it; there's water below here,
and you can't help its bending, if you break your back trying
to hold it." So he gave me the twig, and awaited, with a
smile which was meant to express withering sarcasm, the
discomfiture of the supposed scoffer. But when I proceeded to
walk four or five times across the mysterious place, the rod
pointing steadfastly toward the zenith all the while, our
friend became grave and began to philosophize. "Well," said
he, "you see, your temperament is peculiar; the conditions
ain't favourable in your case; there are some people who never
can work these things. But there's water below here, for all
that, as you'll find, if you dig for it; there's nothing like
a hazel-rod for finding out water."

Very true: there are some persons who never can make such
things work; who somehow always encounter "unfavourable
conditions" when they wish to test the marvellous powers of a
clairvoyant; who never can make "Planchette" move in
conformity to the requirements of any known alphabet; who
never see ghosts, and never have "presentiments," save such as
are obviously due to association of ideas. The ill-success of
these persons is commonly ascribed to their lack of faith;
but, in the majority of cases, it might be more truly referred
to the strength of their faith,--faith in the constancy of
nature, and in the adequacy of ordinary human experience as
interpreted by science.[24] La foi scientifique is an