While sitting one evening under the trees by the
roadside, my attention was called to the unusual conduct of
half a dozen men and boys who were standing opposite. An
elderly man was moving slowly up and down the road, holding
with both hands a forked twig of hazel, shaped like the letter
Y inverted. With his palms turned upward, he held in each hand
a branch of the twig in such a way that the shank pointed
upward; but every few moments, as he halted over a certain
spot, the twig would gradually bend downwards until it had
assumed the likeness of a Y in its natural position, where it
would remain pointing to something in the ground beneath. One
by one the bystanders proceeded to try the experiment, but
with no variation in the result. Something in the ground
seemed to fascinate the bit of hazel, for it could not pass
over that spot without bending down and pointing to it.
My thoughts reverted at once to Jacques Aymar and
Dousterswivel, as I perceived that these men were engaged in
sorcery. During the long drought more than half the wells in
the village had become dry, and here was an attempt to make
good the loss by the aid of the god Thor. These men were
seeking water with a divining-rod. Here, alive before my eyes,
was a superstitious observance, which I had supposed long
since dead and forgotten by all men except students interested
in mythology.
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