made aright, becomes a genuine and undying belief, because it was made in
freedom, unbiassed by external threats and cajoleries.

Such belief is, itself, immortality,--something as distinct from post-
mortem consciousness as wisdom is distinct from mere animal intelligence.
On the whole, therefore, there seems to be little real worth in Spiritism,
even accepting it at its own valuation. The nourishment it yields the soul
is too meagre; and--save on that one bare point of life beyond the grave,
which might just as easily prove an infinite curse as an infinite
blessing--it affords no trustworthy news whatever.

But these objections do not apply to magic proper. Magic seems to consist
mainly in the control which mind may exceptionally exercise over matter.
In hypnotism, the subject abjectly believes and obeys the operator. If he
be told that he cannot step across a chalk mark on the floor, he cannot
step across it. He dissolves in tears or explodes with laughter, according
as the operator tells him he has cause for merriment or tears: and if he
be assured that the water he drinks is Madeira wine or Java coffee, he has
no misgiving that such is not the case.

To say that this state of things is brought about by the exercise of the
operator's will, is not to explain the phenomenon, but to put it in
different terms. What is the will, and how does it produce such a result?
Here is a man who believes, at the word of command, that the thing which
all the rest of the world calls a chair is a horse. How is such
misapprehension on his part possible? our senses are our sole means of
knowing external objects: and this man's senses seem to confirm--at least
they by no means correct--his persuasion that a given object is something
very different. Could we solve this puzzle, we should have done something
towards gaining an insight into the philosophy of magic.