about forty feet from the kitchen and near the barn. When I came to the well I said, "This stream passes five feet from the well and does not go directly into it." I then made some examination with the rod, and pronounced the depth to the water to be fourteen feet, which was found by measurement to be correct. I will add, that I was never before in the hotel yard, did not know where the well was located, and the night was exceedingly dark. The next morning, while paying my bill, the landlord said, "You probably do not know how close was your calculation last night. I had that well dug myself, and we went down forty feet without finding water. Before giving it up the digger had himself lowered into the well, listening as he went to hear the sound of some stream. At fourteen feet he heard water, and boring in laterally five feet, where you said the stream was, he found a plentiful supply, filling the well with twenty-three feet of water."

Another experience. One day at Wyoming, Ill., a friend said to me, "I must introduce you to our 'water-witch,'" who proved to be a gentleman named ——, a banker of the place. After some conversation with him, we agreed to try an experiment together and compare experiences generally. I asked first, "What do you use?" "Willow, hazel or peach—perhaps any green twig would do as well; but I only employ those three." "What would you say to an old barrel hoop?" I asked. "Oh, that would not do at all; there must be sap in the wood." We each took our rod and went forth, I holding mine in my hands, whilst my companion held one end of his in his teeth, the other in both hands. I asked what he meant by that mode of holding the switch. He replied, "That is my way; there is no chance for presumption or pretence in it; some persons can make the switch turn and be deceived." I observed that our switches moved at the same moment, mine turning down, his sidewise; but in every case we agreed, and thus traced a number of streams. I tried his plan, but it would not answer, while his switch moved held in either way. In discussing the matter, I asked his theory, which he declined to give, but which I divined by a question he asked, viz: "Did you ever see a switch turn for stagnant water?" I said, "Yes." "Well," he responded, "I never did, and the rod will not turn over stagnant water for me." "Now," said I, "I understand your theory; it is that the friction of running waters underground produces an electric current which causes the switch to turn." He admitted that I was right. "Now," I said, "I propose to explode two of your notions at once. In the first place, let us get an old barrel hoop." I found one, which we divided. I then went with him across the railroad track, which at that place runs north and south. The rod turned down for both of us at once; in this case he used the rod in his hand. "Now, you see," I said, "that the rail represents stagnant water, and you find that a dry twig or stick is as good as a green one." I then obtained a piece of copper wire from the telegraph office and gave him. He walked across the track with it in his mouth and hands, and in every case the rod turned to the south for him. In finding water the rod always turned for him in the direction the stream ran. I found he knew nothing about estimating the depth beneath the surface. He remarked that he had fancied that he knew much of the subject, but that a man must "live and learn." I went with him to his bank, where we threw down a rod of iron on the floor, and with our switches found the movement to be the same at every trial. Again, we placed a silver coin on the floor, with the same result—trying several times with his hand on my arm. I told him that I meant to invent an instrument for finding water and estimating its depth. A few months ago I received a letter from him, asking after my proposed invention. This gentleman gave me a curious confirmation of my experiment at Coloma. He related that a few days previous a friend had been out with him to try if the switch would turn in his hand. It did readily; but after dinner he found, upon a second trial, that there was no movement. This mystery was soon explained by the discovery that our neophyte was standing in his India-rubber shoes.

Another important test I made at the Naval Academy, at Annapolis, a few years ago. I went there to look at Sir David Thompson's Electrometer, to ascertain if it could give me a clue to something which might guide me in the invention of the instrument in question. I could discover nothing from it, or from the most delicate galvanometer. One of the professors, however, asked me to give them a test. I called for a piece of iron wire, walked a few feet, put my foot down and said "There is something immediately under here." The board was taken up and disclosed the gas-pipe. I asked if they were satisfied. "You are a man of quick perceptions and might have noticed the direction of the pipe," was the answer. "Are you willing to be blindfolded?" I consented and succeeded repeatedly in locating the pipe, and what is more, in indicating other points of attraction to the rod, where all said that my experiment had failed, but which proved as full a confirmation of my theory as the lead pipe. These points were those where the iron columns supporting the building touched the ceiling underneath.

Upon one occasion, I visited Professor Henry, of the Smithsonian Institute, and presented the subject to him. The professor took notes in a book, and asked for a test. I gave him several by locating the gas and water pipes. We then sat down and the professor remarked: "This is all personal influence." Of course, the question is none the less important or curious on this account, and I was a little nettled at the summary disposal of the matter. I therefore replied: "Professor Henry, you scientific men are always behindhand in discoveries, because you will not investigate, and it is left to those not well versed in the laws of science to ferret out mysteries and lay them bare. I present you two things, Professor—first, I find, by insulating myself that there is no motion of the rod, which proves electricity; second, I show that the motion begins at a certain point—an angle of forty-five degrees from the concealed water or metal—and the rod turns down directly over it; thus physical science and mathematics disprove your theory." I will say that my remarks moved the professor, who then showed a very decided interest and asked me to come and spend the following morning with him. Unfortunately, my departure from the city deprived me of the proposed interview. I have had many other experiences, but the relation of them would demand more time than it is expedient to give to them at present. I would add that I have observed in my experiments that the smallest underground stream affects the rod in my hand in the same degree as the cataract of Niagara itself, and that the presence of a stove, a bar of iron, or any other metal—a water or gas pipe, causes it to turn with the same movement as a large mineral deposit; but it is my belief that there is a hidden mode of distinguishing between them all, outside of all questions of personal influence. We know that in what we call the dark age of the world, all unexplained phenomena were referred to personal witchcraft. We, as yet, know little of the many phenomena of electricity, and in the midst of our own intelligent population we find, that, to very many, the working of the electric telegraph itself is ascribed to superhuman agency. Only a few days ago an intelligent telegraph operator and his wife, at Horican, thought the spirits were communicating with him through the wires because they heard the air "Home, Sweet Home" in their vibrations—not knowing that he was receiving a musical message from the newly invented telephone, played at Chicago, many miles distant.

I have desired to show that the use of the "divining rod" is at least as old as the Mosaic dispensation; that the knowledge or tradition of its use has been understood, to some extent, by certain "wise" men in all ages, and that in the present