had an hallucination,' therefore--_his_
mind being sane and healthy--the inference seemed to be that no sane and
healthy mind was ever hallucinated. Mr. Galton has replied to _that_
argument! His reply covers, logically, the whole field of psychological
faculties little regarded, for example, by Mr. Sully, who is not exactly
an imaginative psychologist.

It covers the whole field of automatism (as in automatic writing) perhaps
of the divining rod, certainly of crystal visions and of occasional
hallucinations, as Mr. Galton, in this last case, expressly declares.
Psychologists at least need not be told that such faculties cannot,
any more than other human faculties, be always evoked for study and
experiment. Our evidence for these faculties and experiences, then, is
usually of the class on which the psychologist relies. But, when the
psychologist, following Leibnitz, Sir William Hamilton, and Kant,
discusses the Subconscious (for example, knowledge, often complex and
abundant, unconsciously acquired) we demonstrated by examples that the
psychologist will contentedly repose on evidence which is not evidence at
all. He will swallow an undated, unlocalised legend of Coleridge, reaching
Coleridge on the testimony of rumour, and told at least twenty years after
the unverified occurrences. Nay, the psychologist will never dream of
procuring contemporary evidence for such a monstrous statement as that
an ignorant German wench unconsciously acquired and afterwards
subconsciously reproduced huge cantles of dead languages, by virtue of
having casually heard a former master recite or read aloud from Hebrew and
Greek books. This legend do psychologists accept on no evidence at all,
because it illustrates a theory which is, doubtless, a very good theory,
though, in this case, carried to an extent 'imagination boggles at.'

Here the psychologist may reply that much less evidence will content him
for a fact to which he possesses, at least, analogies in accredited
experience, than for a fact (say telepathic crystal-gazing) to which _he_
knows, in experience, nothing analogous. Thus, for the mythical German
handmaid, he has the analogy of languages learned in childhood, or
passages got up by rote, being forgotten and brought back to ordinary
conscious memory, or delirious memory, during an illness, or shortly
before death. Strong in these analogies, the psychologist will venture to
accept a case of language _not_ learned, but reproduced