mistic hypothesis, the
subject is full of curious neglected problems.

Once more, if we admit the theory of intentional imposture by
saints, angakut, Zulu medicine-men, mediums, and the rest, we must
grant that a trick which takes in a professional conjurer, like Mr.
Kellar, is a trick well worthy of examination. How did his Zulu
learn the method of Home, of the Egyptian diviners, of St. Joseph of
Cupertino? {78a} Each solution has its difficulties, while
practical investigation is rarely possible. We have no Home with
us, at present, and the opportunity of studying his effects
carefully was neglected. It was equally desirable to study them
whether he caused collective hallucinations, or whether his effects
were merely those of ordinary, though skilful, conjuring. For Home,
whatever his moral character may have been, was a remarkable
survival of a class of men familiar to the mystic Iamblichus, to the
savage races of the past and present, and (as far as his marvels
went) to the biographers of the saints. 'I am one of those,' says
the Zulu medicine-man, in Mr. Rider Haggard's Allan's Wife, 'who can
make men see what they do not see.' The class of persons who are
said to have possessed this power appear, now and then, in all human
history, and have at least bequeathed to us a puzzle in
anthropology. This problem has recently been presented, in what may
be called an acute form, by the publication of the 'Experiences of
Mr. Stainton Moses'. {78b} Mr. Moses was a clergyman and
schoolmaster; in both capacities he appears to have been
industrious, conscientious, and honourable. He was not devoid of
literature, and had contributed, it is said, to periodicals as
remote from mysticism as Punch, and the Saturday Review. He was a
sportsman, at least he was a disciple of our father, Izaak Walton.
'Most anglers are quiet men, and followers of peace, so simply wise
as not to sell their consciences to buy riches, and with them
vexation, and a fear to die,' says Izaak.

In early middle age, about 1874, Mr. Moses began to read such books
as Dale Owen's, and to sit 'attentive of his trembling' table, by
way of experiment. He soon found that tables bounded in his
presence, untouched. Then he developed into a regular 'medium'.
Inanimate objects came to him through stone walls. Scent of all
sorts, and, as in the case of St. Joseph of Cupertino, of an unknown
sort, was scattered on people in his company. He floated in the