attention, and that this has a very peculiar effect
upon the nerves and muscles. When we attend
to any outward object, and expect a particular
movement to take place in it, there is likely to
be a movement going on in ourselves of which
we are not conscious; and if our fingers touch
the object contemplated, we are apt to produce
the very phenomenon itself without being aware
of it. The declaration of the experimenter may
be quite honest; the divining-rod may really
move; he may really produce the movement;
and yet may, in all good faith, asseverate that his
will was not concerned in the matter—that, in
homely parlance, he "didn't go to do it." The
experimenter, wishing that the experiment may
succeed, insensibly resolves the wish into an
expectation. This feeling or state of mind,
expectation, has an involuntary effect on some of
the nerves, and the nerves on the muscles. The
fingers, holding the article or substance with
which the experiment is to be made, relax or
modify their hold to such a degree as to produce
the very movement wished for. The hazel-rod,
for instance, descends from its horizontal position,
and points towards the ground, because
the experimenter desires and expects that it will
do so, although he is not conscious of any
purposed determination to produce that result.
Chévreul's theory allows room for the belief that
the experimenter is not only free from deceit, but
from any knowledge of the mode in which his
expectancy acts upon him. There is a growing
belief among physiologists, and those who study
the wonderful influence of mind upon body and
body upon mind, that this kind of expectant
attention, or by whatever other name we may
call it, is very much concerned in the production
of semi-miraculous and semi-mystical phenomena.
The Bible and key experiment, the ring-pendulum,
the divining-rod, may possibly all be more
or less dependent on it, as well as some of those
facts which belong to so-called spiritualism.

Chévreul subjected many of the old recitals
to the test thus supplied. When Mademoiselle
Olivet began to entertain religious fears concerning
the divining-rod, and when she adopted
the course recommended to her by Abbé
Le Brun, she walked along a path beneath which
a number of pieces of metal were purposely
placed, and then over a concealed spring
of water. The rod did not move. The abbé
had his own mode of explaining this: but
Chévreul attributes it to a wish producing
expectant attention, which, in its turn, produced
an involuntary firmness in the fingers that
held the rod. Again, in the case of Mademoiselle
Martin, who stated that she thought the
rod ought to manifest itself when over sacred
relics, if it did when over less important things;
her fingers imperceptibly obeyed her thoughts.
Many sensitive persons have declared that they
feel when they are standing over hidden springs
of water. It may be so; but there remains a
problem whether or not they had any antecedent
belief that water existed there.

A writer in Notes and Queries states that
if you hold a hazel-rod in the usual position
(one branch of the fork in each hand, and
the stem projecting horizontally outwards), and,
grasping it firmly, turn your hands slowly
and steadily round inwards, that is to say,
the right hand from the right to the left, and
the left hand from the left to the right, the end
of the rod will gradually descend till it points
directly downwards. He does not, however,
state that the diviners make this movement
voluntarily or otherwise. The exact form of
rod seems to be somewhat as follows: A hazel-twig
is cut a few inches below the point where
a forking of two branches begins; each prong
of the fork is cut to about a foot in length, and
the stump or thick end to three inches (Adams
used a whitethorn twig, with branches eighteen
inches long). In using the rod, one branch is
held in each hand, with the stump pointing
horizontally outwards; the arms hang by the
side; the elbows are bent at a right angle; the
fore-arms are advanced horizontally; the hands
are eight or ten inches apart; the knuckles are
downwards, the thumbs outwards; and the ends
of the branches appear between the roots of
the thumbs and fingers. Any one who will try
this, will find that the position of the stick is
altogether a peculiar one; and it is within the
limits of probability that the nerves and muscles
of the hand are at such a time easily affected
by involuntary movements having a mental
rather than an external physical cause.

If the supposition concerning expectant
attention be well founded, it may have a much
wider application than at first appears. In the
Mendip Hill experiment, for instance, if the fork
really did point downward when the wood was
green, and remain stationary when it was dry,
we should have to inquire whether the man
expected this to be the result. When the
Bristol farmer performed his experiment, and
his visitor failed in an attempt to imitate him,
the farmer attributed it to special sensitiveness
on his own part; but he did not mention, and
perhaps, indeed, did not know, the probable
effect of expectation in bringing about the result.
When Adams found out which hat covered gold,
which silver, and which a diamond pin, we are
not informed whether he was told beforehand
that those were the relative qualities of the
three articles; nor whether he looked out for
any unintentional hints or clues from the
bystanders. The slightest exclamation, word, or
look of special interest, might aid a shrewd man
thus placed upon his mettle. When Adams
experimented before Mr. Marshall, the experiment
with the three hats failed; but—and
mark the importance—the rod turned strongly,
although it did not make the right guess at
the right hat: a proof that there was guessing
in the matter, on the part of the man if not
on the part of the rod. The Seebold experiment
did not profess to have any immediate relation
to the discovery of underground veins of metal
or springs of water; and so far as it is reliable
at all, it seems to have some connexion with
Reichenbach's Od force, which was much
talked and written about at that time.