hat some accident every week
discovers to us a fresh vein,' and because 'a grain of metal attracts
the rod as strongly as a pound, for which reason it has been found to
dip equally to a poor as to a rich lode.'

But in Lancashire and Cumberland also, Mr. Dyer goes on to say, 'the
power of the divining-rod is much believed in, and also in other parts
of England.' The method of using it is thus described. The small ends,
being crooked, are to be held in the hands in a position flat or
parallel to the horizon, and the upper part at an elevation having an
angle to it of about seventy degrees. The rod must be grasped strongly
and steadily, and then the operator walks over the ground. When he
crosses a lode, its bending is supposed to indicate the presence
thereof. Mr. Dyer's explanation of the result is simple: 'The position
of the hands in holding the rod is a constrained one--it is not easy to
describe it; but the result is that the hands, from weariness speedily
induced in the muscles, grasp the end of the twig yet more rigidly, and
thus is produced the mysterious bending. The phenomena of the
divining-rod and table-turning are of precisely the same character, and
both are referable to an involuntary muscular action resulting from
fixedness of idea. These experiments with a divining-rod are always made
in a district known to be metalliferous, and the chances are, therefore,
greatly in favour of its bending over or near a mineral lode.'

The theory of 'involuntary muscular action' is a favourite explanation,
and the subject is one well worthy of the investigation of all students
of psychology. But how does this theory square with the story of
Linnaeus, told by a writer in _The Gentleman's Magazine_ in 1752? 'When
Linnaeus was upon his voyage to Scania, hearing his secretary highly
extol the virtues of his divining-rod, he was willing to convince him of
its insufficiency, and for that purpose concealed a purse of 100 ducats
under a ranunculus which grew up by itself in a meadow, and bid the
secretary find it if he could. The wand discovered nothing, and
Linnaeus's mark was soon trampled down by the company who were present,
so that when Linnaeus went to finish the experiment by fetching the gold
himself, he was utterly at a loss where to find it. The man with the
wand assisted him, and told him that it could not lie in the way they
were going, but quite the contrary; so pursued the direction of the
wand, and actually dug o