HINDU MAGIC

  AN EXPOSE OF THE TRICKS OF THE
  YOGIS AND FAKIRS OF INDIA

  BY

  HEREWARD CARRINGTON

  Author of “Handcuff Tricks,” “Side Show and Animal
  Tricks,” “The Boys’ Book of Magic,” “The
  Physical Phenomena of Spiritualism,”
  Etc., Etc.


  ILLUSTRATED


  PUBLISHED BY THE SPHINX
  Kansas City, Missouri
  1913






  TO

  SIDNEY LENZ

  (With Warmest Regards.)





TABLE OF CONTENTS



                                          Page

  The Mango Tree Trick                       5

  The Basket Trick                          19

  The Dry Sands Trick                       26

  The Coloured Sands Trick                  27

  The Diving Duck                           29

  The Jumping Egg                           30

  The Beans and Scorpion Trick              32

  The Basket and Birds Trick                33

  The Ball of Cotton Trick                  34

  The Brass Bowl Trick                      37

  Snake Charming                            38

  Voluntary Interment                       41

  The Rope Trick                            44





HINDU MAGIC


In this pamphlet I propose to consider the phenomena which are
presented by the fakirs and yogis of India, and to inquire into their
nature and the method of their production.

The feats performed by Indian fakirs are numerous, but I shall describe
those most commonly witnessed: the mango-tree trick, the basket trick,
the bowl of water trick, the dry sands trick, the rope and dismembered
body test, levitation, snake charming, burial alive, etc.

As so much is heard of Indian magic, and the powers of the Oriental
performer, it may be well to examine their performances somewhat
critically, and to see how far we are entitled to assume that there
is anything in them suggesting the supernormal, anything calling for
explanations that necessitate the operation of laws “other than those
known to Western science.”




THE MANGO-TREE TRICK.


I shall begin by describing the famous mango-tree trick—perhaps the
best known of all the feats performed by the Indian conjuror. I shall
first of all describe the performance as it would appear to the
uninitiated witness, afterwards explaining the secret.

As the trick is usually exhibited, it is somewhat as follows: The
native comes forward, almost nude, being covered only with a small loin
cloth, of such small compass that the onlooker can see clearly that
there is nothing hidden in or about it or the performer. As the trick
(like almost all Indian tricks) is performed in any locality—on the
deck of a ship, in one’s own room, etc.—all idea of pre-arrangement,
trap-doors, etc., is precluded. The performer advances, carrying in
his hands a little earthen or tin pot containing water, and another
containing a quart or so of dry sand. He also has with him some seeds
of the mango-tree, and a large cloth, about four feet square. This is
shaken out and both sides are shown to the spectators, so that they may
see that nothing is concealed within it.

[Illustration]

All this having been gone through, the fakir proceeds to build up a
little mud pile of his earth and water, mixing the two together with
his fingers, and dexterously moulding them into a pyramid of muddy
earth. This may be done in some previously examined vessel, or on the
bare earth or floor. The mango-seed is now inserted in the soil, and
covered on all sides with earth. The fakir then covers the mound of
earth with the shawl or large handkerchief, and places his hands and
arms under the shawl, manipulating the seed and the earth for some
time; placing his hands over the seed; making passes above the seed,
etc. As his hands and arms are bare, and can be seen bare throughout
this process of manipulation, and as his hands never once approach his
body, no one has any objection to his handling the seed and the earth
in this manner, or to his placing his hands beneath the cloth. After
a few minutes of this manipulation, the conjuror withdraws his hands,
and proceeds to make passes over the cloth and above it, at the same
time muttering semi-articulate incantations, etc. Sometimes a tom-tom
is beaten, or other instrument is played upon, and, after a while, the
conjuror removes the cloth, and the seed is seen to have sprouted—a
couple of tiny leaves appearing above the surface of the earth. If
the onlooker is especially skeptical, the fakir sometimes removes the
seed, and shows the skeptic a couple of minute roots, sprouting from
the lower end of it. It (the seed) is then replaced in the earth,
the manipulations and incantations repeated, and, after a while, the
fakir removes the cloth a second time, and the mango is seen to have
sprouted still more—now being several inches in height. This process
is repeated five or six times, or even more, at the end of which time
the mango-tree is two feet or more in height. It is even asserted that,
in some cases, the tree has been known to bear fruit.

So much for the effect of the trick. Now for the explanation.

[Illustration]

There are numerous ways of performing this mango-tree trick—for trick
it is.

In the first place, it will be noticed that it is always a _mango-tree_
that is made to grow, and no other shrub. Now, why is this? Surely it
is not because the mango is the only tree in India which is ready to
the hand of the fakir, for we know that there are numerous others that
might be made to grow. And yet it is always the mango! The conjuror,
S.S. Baldwin (from whose book, _Secrets of Mahatma Land Explained_, I
shall have occasion to quote later on), asked a native conjuror if he
would make a young palm, a tea plant or a banana tree, grow for him,
and received the response: “Nay, sahib, cannot do. Mango-tree the only
one can make.” I repeat, why is this?

The reason is that it is the peculiar construction of the mango leaf
that renders the trick, as presented, possible at all. The leaf and
twigs of the mango-tree are exceedingly tough and pliable, almost
like leather, and can be folded or compressed into a very small space
without breaking the stems and the leaves, and, when this pressure is
released, the leaves will resume their former expanded condition very
rapidly, without showing any traces of the folding process. The leaves
can be turned upon themselves and rolled into a tight ball, in which
folded condition they occupy very little space, and yet will resume
their extended condition when this pressure is released. And this
brings me to the heart of my explanation.

The mango seed that is placed in the mound of earth is especially
prepared before the performance, by the fakir, in the following manner:
He splits the seed open, scoops out its contents, dries it somewhat,
then places within it a shoot of a mango-tree folded and compressed so
as to fit into the mango seed. It must be remembered that the mango
seed is no small thing, but is about two inches long (sometimes more)
by an inch to an inch and a half broad. It resembles slightly the
mussel shell found on the seashore. It will be obvious that a seed of
this size might contain a good deal of material, and if the mango
leaves were folded into a small compass, would hold a good-sized twig.
The leaves are folded very carefully, and are prepared in a special
manner. The upper surface of the leaf must be folded on itself, and
that surface, skillfully treated and watered, will scarcely show a
crease on a superficial examination. The creasing which the under
surface would show is, of course, concealed from the spectator’s view.

When the fakir places his hands beneath the cloth the first time,
then, he gets hold of the seed, and proceeds to manipulate it in such
a manner as to extract from the upper end of the seed about an inch or
so of the plant it contains. He may extract the seed altogether from
the earth for that purpose, and replace it in the earth again at the
conclusion of this manipulation, banking up the earth around the seed
again before removing his hands. The fakir then removes both hands, and
proceeds with the playing of his tom-tom, and whatever other mummeries
he may see fit to perform, in order to impress his onlooker. After a
while the cloth is removed, and the seed is found to have sprouted, and
an inch or so of the stem and the first green leaves are seen to be
sprouting from the earth. The illusion is perfect, and the onlookers
are more taken up with gazing in wonder at the miraculous growth and
discussing it one with another than with critically examining the seed
and the sprouting plant. If the conjuror wishes to show the roots
sprouting from the lower end of the seed, he merely has to place these
roots in the seed before the performance begins, and extract them in
the course of his manipulation of the seed, previously explained. The
preparation of the seed is concealed by the fact that a _duplicate_
seed is first exhibited to the spectators, and that seed is frequently
examined by them. Before the seed is placed in the ground, however,
the conjuror finds occasion to change it for another, prepared in
the manner described. No one thinks of examining the seed after the
performance is concluded.

To return, however, to the method of working the trick. After the
conjuror has shown the growth from the seed the first time, he covers
the seed with a shawl and again places his hands beneath the cloth and
works out a little more of the mango; then repeats his incantations and
his tom-tom playing; finally showing the shoot a second time, when it
is found to have grown a considerable amount in the interval. Amazement
is correspondingly great! This performance is gone through several
times, until the folded mango shoot is all worked out of the seed, the
growing tree being covered each time by the shawl. When the shoot is
all worked out of the seed, there is a fair-sized shrub standing before
you.

But there are some cases in which the mango-tree is reported to have
grown to a height of several feet, and even to bear fruit; and the
explanations offered would not explain such cases, it may be said.
That is admitted; and I shall now endeavor to explain how these more
marvellous feats are performed.

It must be remembered that Hindu fakirs seldom or never travel singly,
but always in troupes of threes and fours; and, during the performance
of one of the fakirs, the others assist him by passing him the articles
he uses in his performance—jars, water, earth, etc. Now, every time
the conjuror moves the shawl from the growing plant, he tosses the
shawl to his assistant, and shows his hands empty. When receiving the
shawl back from his assistant, he also shows his hands empty; then
shakes out the shawl and shows both sides of it—showing, in this way,
that nothing is concealed in the shawl, and that he introduces nothing
under cover of the said shawl. To all appearances, nothing could be
fairer. And, indeed, nothing is fairer at first; but the conjuror
shakes the shawl less and less vigorously every time he places it
over the mango-tree, until, towards the end (the seventh or eighth
time, let us say) he hardly shakes it at all. The spectators, having
seen it empty so many times, get into the habit of mind of thinking
it is empty as a matter of course, and pay no attention to this part
of the performance, after the first few times. Their thoughts and
attention are centered upon the mango-tree and its growth. So, when the
conjuror has worked out all the shoot from the seed, he must perforce
introduce a _fresh_ shoot of larger proportions; and he does this in
the following manner: He passes on word to his assistant, by means of
a secret sign, that he has reached the end of his present stock of
“occult vitalizing influence”—in other words, the mango shoot—and the
assistant, in passing him back the shawl or cloth this time passes him
back _another_ cloth, which he has secretly exchanged for the original
one—the one the conjuror began operations with. This second cloth is
double, and contains a very large mango shoot, more or less doubled
up in the manner of the first shoot that was placed within the mango
seed. A slit in the cloth enables the conjuror to extract the second
shoot, and place it in the mound of earth, working this shoot out to
its natural size with his fingers. When this large shoot is worked out
to its full limit it is a very large tree, and the conjuror has only
to remove the cloth to display it to his astonished onlookers. The
cloth just employed is exchanged for the original while the eyes of the
spectators are fascinated by the huge tree just exhibited to them, and
when the trick is concluded this cloth is handed for examination; and,
of course, no trickery is discovered in connection with it. The whole
performance is a very pretty chapter in the psychology of deception.

As to the cases in which, it is asserted, fruit grows upon the tree
grown in this manner, I have no exact explanation of that fact, and
I frankly confess my disbelief in its occurrence. I have diligently
searched for any first-hand account of this fact, and have never found
one; nor have I been enabled to meet anyone who could assert that he
had seen it himself. It seems to rest on the same hazy foundation as
the famous rope exploit, to be discussed later on.

I may say that my father was an old Anglo-Indian, having lived ten
years in Calcutta, but he never saw this _finale_ to the trick,
though he had many times seen the mango-tree trick performed, as
described above. Nor had he ever met anyone, in all that time, who
could state that he had witnessed the feat with his own eyes. It would
seem, therefore, to be one of those “grand finale” flourishes which
happened to be placed at the end of some magazine writer’s description
of the mango-tree trick, in order to make it appear as wonderful as
possible—and gained wide credence on that account!

There is then, so far as I have been enabled to discover, no first-hand
account of fruit growing upon the mango-tree, that has been made to
grow in the manner described; and until such evidence be forthcoming,
I think we are entitled to say that it has never been done. However,
there are certain considerations which might make us admit that such
_was_ the case—and yet the fruit might be obtained and placed there
by fraudulent means! One such method would be for the fruit to be
introduced under the cloth, in the act of covering the mango-tree. The
introduction of the fruit would be comparatively easy if some of the
methods about to be explained were employed. At all events, this feat
is no more difficult—certainly no more “miraculous”—than that performed
by Kellar, in which roses are made to grow from empty flower pots—which
roses are cut and distributed to the audience immediately. In this
instance, two empty flower pots are shown (they may be examined, if
desired) and filled with earth. Seeds are then sprinkled over the
earth, and watered. A tube, open at both ends, is then shown empty,
and examined by the audience. It is made of card-board, and everyone
can see that it is quite unprepared. First one flower pot and then
the other is then covered with this tube, and upon removing the tube,
the seeds are found to have sprouted into full-grown bushes, fully
eighteen inches in height, and covered with roses—at least fifty, on
both plants. These roses are cut off immediately, and distributed among
the audience, who testify to their genuine character. In a very similar
illusion, on a small scale, a glass tumbler is filled with earth, and
covered for a moment with a borrowed hat; upon removing which it is
found that the seeds have blossomed into a plant about six inches high.
If _flowers_ can be made to grow under such circumstances, therefore,
why not _fruit_ upon mango-trees, grown under similar conditions, and
before far less critical audiences, who have already had their critical
faculties blunted, moreover, by a succession of unexplained marvels?

So far, I have described only one method of performing this mango-tree
trick, and there are several other methods, which I shall now briefly
enumerate—since the method above described is the one in general use,
without a doubt. Another very good method, however, is the following,
which was first made public, if I remember rightly, by Mr. Charles
Bertram, the conjuror, to whom I am indebted for the secret, in this
instance.

In this case the conjuror makes his mound of earth as in the last
instance, and has a prepared seed, which he exchanges for an examined
seed at a convenient moment. The seed in this case is, however,
prepared in a slightly different manner. It is split in two, and
emptied of its contents. Then one end of it is wedged open by means of
a small wedge of wood, and several small pieces of string are inserted
into the other end, which, when hanging down from the seed, after being
placed in the mud, exactly resemble roots. The seed is then fastened
together, so that the two sides or halves will not fall apart. This
seed the conjuror exchanges for the examined seed at some convenient
moment, and this is the one placed in the ground.

The juggler then hands round for inspection four bamboo sticks, and a
piece of thin cloth. After the sticks are handed back to him, he places
them in the ground, slanting towards a common centre, and ties the tops
of the sticks together with a bit of string. Around these sticks is
now stretched the cloth, thus making a sort of tent, about three feet
in height and open at the back. The thinness of the cloth allows the
interior to be dimly seen through it. The mound of earth, containing
the seed, is within this tent, it having been built round it, in fact.
The juggler suddenly appears to notice that the cloth is too thin,
allowing the interior to be seen through it, and proceeds to cover the
tent with a thicker piece of cloth. The conjuror in this case has a
rag doll, which he uses very much as our Western magicians use their
wands; and with this he proceeds to make passes over the tent, about
the seed inside the tent, etc. He also waters the seed several times.
After a time, the cloth is lifted up, and the spectators see that the
tree is several inches in height. This performance is repeated several
times, the passes, waterings, etc., being gone through each time, and
generally a wait of several minutes is necessitated, during which waits
the conjuror performs some other trick, such as the diving duck, the
cups and balls, or the colored sands, all of which I shall explain
later on. At the conclusion of the performance the juggler removes
the cloth, and the mango is found to have grown to a very respectable
height.

Now for the explanation:

In the first place, the rag doll which the conjuror uses is hollow, and
contains, folded up within it, a shoot of the mango-tree. In the course
of making passes over the seed he extracts this shoot, and inserts it
in the wedged-open end of the seed, where it remains until removed. The
conjuror could now show this shoot, but it would lose in effectiveness
to show it so soon, and for that reason he performs the minor tricks in
the interval. When he returns to the tent and raises the cloth, this
shoot is seen sprouting from the ground. The conjuror then lets the
cloth fall to the ground again, and proceeds to make more passes over
the seed. During these passes he manages to extract the small shoot
from the seed, and replace it in the rag doll again. He then places a
much larger shoot of the tree in the slit end of the mango seed. This
larger branch was concealed in the second cloth which the conjuror
placed around his tent, after discovering, apparently by accident, that
the first cloth was so thin as to be semi-transparent. Within the folds
of this second cloth was contained the mango-tree shoot of larger size.
The tree is now grown to its full size and might be shown immediately,
but, for effect, the conjuror again waits for several minutes before
showing the growth to his onlookers. Sometimes the tree is made to
disappear altogether at the end of the performance, like the palace in
the Arabian Nights. When this is the case, the conjuror has extracted
the branch from the seed, and managed to conceal it under the carpet on
which he was sitting. This is gathered up and removed at the close of
the entertainment.

There are, doubtless, other methods of performing this mango-tree
trick. Kellar describes a method in which the performer concealed
several shoots of the tree of various sizes within his sleeves,
and produced them in turn, under cover of the cloth. As, however,
Hindu fakirs seldom wear robes of the kind, I think we may say that
this is a method seldom used. Some conjurors cover the growing seed
with a basket; and when this is the case there is probably room for
concealment of shoots of the tree within secret compartments of the
covering basket.




THE BASKET TRICK.


I now come to the “basket trick.” For this trick the juggler brings
forward a large, oval basket, peculiarly constructed, being much larger
at the bottom than at the top. Probably nearly every one is familiar
with the shape of these baskets. The lid is perhaps 30 inches by 18
inches, and is oval, while the basket itself spreads out to about 4
feet 7 inches by 2 feet 6 inches at the bottom.

Roughly, the basket may be said to resemble a huge egg, with an opening
in one side. This is shown to the audience empty, and a man or boy
is brought forward by the conjuror. This boy wears some conspicuous
article of clothing—a scarlet turban or jacket. He is placed in the
basket, into which he apparently just fits, occupying the whole of it.
The lid is placed upon his head, and a large blanket is thrown over
it, completely covering him and the basket. He is seen to sink down
gradually until he finally disappears into the basket altogether, and
the lid resumes its natural position over the opening.

[Illustration]

The performer now removes the cloth and proceeds to run the basket
through and through with a sword he has in his hand. Every part of the
basket is pierced in this manner, and it appears as though the boy
must be killed, even if he somehow managed to conceal himself within
it. The juggler now replaces the blanket over the basket, places his
hands under it, and removes the basket lid, throwing it to one side.
He then places his hand into the basket itself and removes the turban
and the jacket, which he throws to one side. The body has apparently
disappeared! To make matters more certain, however, the juggler
suddenly jumps right into the basket, stamps about with his bare feet,
and ends by sitting in it himself.

As it was formerly seen that the basket was only large enough to
contain the boy, it seems impossible that he can now be concealed in
or about it. The conjuror then replaces the turban and the jacket in
the basket, replaces the lid, and removes the blanket. Suddenly he
darts forward, carrying with him the blanket, and snatches in the
air with the latter as if catching a body, and goes back with much
excitement and much jabbering to the basket, which he covers with the
blanket; when suddenly something is seen to be moving under the cloth!
Immediately the lid of the basket goes up. In another moment the boy,
clad in his jacket and turban, emerges from the basket, none the worse
for his recent trying experience.

I shall now explain this apparent marvel.

[Illustration]

The instant the boy is covered with the blanket he proceeds to divest
himself of his jacket and turban, which he deposits in the bottom
of the basket. He now gradually sinks into the basket until he is
completely inside it and the lid is even with the top of the basket.
Now comes the chief portion of the trick—the method of concealment of
the boy within the basket—for he does not escape from within it, in the
version of the trick now described, but remains within it throughout
the performance. It will be remembered that the lower portion of the
basket is much larger than the top portion. The boy within the basket
manages, then, so to curl his body round the basket, eel-wise, that he
is occupying the entire outer _rim_ of the basket, so to speak, thus
leaving the centre of the basket (the part of the basket directly under
the opening) empty. When the juggler runs his sword through the basket
he takes special pains to run it through this unoccupied space, almost
exclusively; and, by the concealed boy wriggling from place to place
within the basket, the juggler is enabled to run his sword through
almost every portion of it in turn, and so give the appearance of its
complete emptiness. It will now be seen that the juggler can place his
hand inside the basket and remove the discarded jacket and turban at
any time; also the lid, and to stamp and sit in the basket, since the
space he occupies is that left _un_occupied by the boy in the basket.
So long as the blanket is over the opening in the basket, the boy can
never be seen. The magician then replaces the jacket and the turban in
the basket, and replaces the lid—all this before removing the blanket.
As soon as the lid is again placed upon the basket the boy inside slips
on his jacket and turban, and is ready to emerge from the basket as
soon as the lid is withdrawn. The snatching in the air with the blanket
is to distract the attention of the sitters away from the basket while
the boy is donning his clothes—since some slight movement of the basket
might be noticed and the spectators thus suspect that the boy is
already inside.

Sometimes the boy is seen to be outside the basket at the conclusion
of the performance, and in some distant tree, etc. How is this to be
explained? (1) There may be _two_ boys, exactly alike, the first of
which remains in the basket, while the second, dressed like him, hails
the onlookers from the tree-top and comes down among them. During
the instant that everyone’s attention is directed to the boy in the
tree and his approach, the original boy makes good his escape, aided
by a confederate, who stands close by the basket, and in whose hands
is a large blanket, partially covering the basket. The boy escapes
behind this confederate’s body. (2) There is also a method of causing
the boy to disappear and appear in a tree-top, without employing any
duplicate boy or confederate. In this case, the basket is placed
within a few feet of some convenient wall or hiding place, and the
trick is performed on that spot. Matters proceed very much as before
until the time comes for causing the boy to vanish and re-appear in
the tree. When this time comes the juggler brings forward four poles,
four or five feet in height, and these are stuck in the ground around
the basket, and the conjuror has two or three assistants stationed on
each side of the basket, assisting him, and standing a few feet from
the basket. In this case the boy wraps up his turban and jacket in a
cloth, while in the basket, and this the conjuror manages to get hold
of and pass out to one of his assistants earlier in the trick, while
the basket is being constantly covered and uncovered.

Presently the conjurors begin to quarrel among themselves, and at the
same time others begin to play upon tom-toms, etc., making an awful
noise and distracting the attention of the spectators away from the
basket containing the boy. Meanwhile the conjuror has procured a large
piece of cloth, and has attached one end of this strip to one of the
poles—one of those nearest the onlookers. He then proceeds to attach
it to each of the other four in turn, thus enclosing the basket in
a roofless tent, the front side—the side nearest the audience—being
enclosed last. At least, so it appears. What has really happened,
however is this. At the moment when the noise was created, and the
conjuror’s assistants began quarreling among themselves, and the
spectators’ attention was accordingly distracted as much as possible,
the conjuror crosses in front of the basket for a moment, as though to
ascertain the cause of the disturbance, and for an instant conceals the
basket from view. In that instant the boy leaps from the basket, darts
between the legs of one of the assistant conjurors, and is lost behind
them before the cloth is withdrawn that had concealed his escape. It
has taken only a second or two, and the interval is so short no one
remarks upon it—especially as they were distracted by the noise, etc.,
at that instant. The careful enclosure of the basket subsequently also
tends to convey the impression that the boy is still within it. But he
has now escaped; he has turned the corner, and is hidden from the view
of the spectators. He carries with him the cloth containing his jacket
and turban, which he proceeds to don. Then, climbing a near-by tree, he
is ready to cry out to the spectators whenever he receives the signal
from the conjuror to do so.

Another method of escape is the following: The conjuror wears a thick
strap under his loin cloth. The boy, under cover of the enveloping
blanket, reaches up and grasps this strap, and by its aid he draws
himself from the basket, and round, behind the juggler. He is hidden
for the moment by the conjuror’s body and the blanket, which the
juggler has removed from the basket. The boy slips away into the
crowd, through confederates, as in the manner last described.




THE DRY-SANDS TRICK.


Perhaps one of the best known tricks performed by the Hindu fakirs,
after the two just enumerated, is the “dry-sands trick.” In this case,
the juggler brings forward a little pail, some eight or nine inches
high, and perhaps six inches across the top. This the conjuror proceeds
to fill with water. There is no trick about the pail, and the water is
ordinary water, which may be supplied from any source. The conjuror
then extracts a handful of dry sand from a bag and blows it hither and
thither, showing it to be exceedingly dry. A handful of this sand is
then carefully deposited in the bottom of the pail, in the water, and
everyone can see it, resting peacefully at the bottom of the pail.
The conjuror then carefully washes and wipes his hands, and shows
them perfectly clean and empty. Then, placing one hand in the water,
he extracts from the pail a handful of the sand, and shows it to be
just as dry as when it was placed in the pail. Blowing sharply into
his hand, the sand flies in every direction, showing it to be still
perfectly dry.

This is a very ingenious trick, and could never be discovered unless
its secret were explained. There is no trick about the pail or water,
as stated: it all consists in the preparation of the sand. In order
to prepare this sand for the experiment, the juggler procures some
fine, clean, sharp sand, gathered from the seashore preferably. This is
washed carefully a number of times in hot water, so as to free it from
adhering clay or soil of any sort. It is then carefully dried in the
sun for several days.

About two quarts of this sand is then placed in a clean frying pan,
and a lump of fresh lard the size of a walnut is placed into the
pan with it. It is now thoroughly cooked over a hot fire until all
the lard is burned away—the result being that every little grain of
sand is thoroughly covered with a slight coating of grease, which is
invisible to the sight and touch, and at the same time this renders the
sand impervious to water. When the little handful of sand is placed
in the bottom of the bucket, to be shortly afterwards brought out, it
is squeezed tightly together into a little lump, the grease making
it adhere. Thus, when it is brought out it is nearly or quite as dry
as when placed within the pail. Brick dust is sometimes treated in a
similar manner.




THE COLOURED-SANDS TRICK.


This is another trick very popular with Indian jugglers, known as
the “coloured sands trick.” The conjuror eats a small quantity of
sand or sugar, apparently swallowing it. He then eats sugar coloured
variously—black, red, yellow, green and blue, as well as the usual
white sugar. These are chewed and swallowed by the conjuror each in
turn. The conjuror then asks his audience to select whichever colour
they prefer of those swallowed, and, upon the choice being made, the
conjuror immediately blows from his mouth the coloured sugar requested.
This is repeated until all the colours have been called for in turn.
Sometimes the juggler dissolves all the coloured sugars in water and
drinks the compound. Sometimes, again, chalks are used instead of
sugar; but these are merely variations of the same trick, and are
worked on the same principle exactly.

For this trick, the conjuror has secretly prepared beforehand six small
packages or capsules, each one containing one of the coloured sands.
These are enclosed in thin, parchment-like skin, and are secreted in
the conjuror’s mouth, three in each cheek, in a pre-arranged order. The
conjuror can easily reach any one of these packets with his tongue,
bring it to the front of the mouth, break the skin by pressing it
against his teeth, and blow the sand, sugar or chalk out in a perfectly
dry condition. This is repeated until all six have been exhausted,
when the trick is said to be concluded. If some skeptical investigator
wishes to examine the juggler’s mouth, he merely swallows the skins.
The sugars or chalks were also swallowed in the first place. Hindu
jugglers will frequently swallow far more disagreeable things than
skins for the sake of a few rupees.




THE DIVING DUCK.


There is a very simple, and yet a very puzzling, little trick known as
the “diving duck.” The juggler places a shallow bowl upon the ground,
which he proceeds to fill with water. When this is done the conjuror
places a miniature artificial duck in the water, then retires from the
bowl about two feet, and begins to play upon his tom-tom, etc. Soon the
duck is seen to move, and very soon it dives in a very natural manner.
Whenever the hand of one of the onlookers approaches the duck it dives
out of sight, reappearing as soon as the hand recedes. Finally, the
duck is taken out of the water, and immediately handed for examination,
when it is found to be perfectly free from trickery or preparation of
any sort. The bowl is also emptied of its water and again shown to the
onlookers.

[Illustration]

The secret in this case is, again, simplicity itself. In the bottom of
the shallow pail or pot there is a miniature hole bored, and through
this is passed a thread or hair. To the inner end of this hair is
attached a small dab of wax. The other end extends along the ground,
and the trick is always performed on soil the colour of which will make
the hair invisible. The duck is fastened to the inner end of the hair
by means of the bit of wax; and it can readily be seen that, when the
pail is filled with water, the duck will dive beautifully every time
the hair is pulled by the conjuror, and will rise to the surface when
this pressure is released. This is the complete secret of the diving
duck. In order to conceal the fact that the pot leaks, the conjuror
first sprinkles some water on the ground; or fills the bowl so full
(apparently by accident) that it overflows. This conceals the fact that
water is gradually running away through the small hole in the bottom of
the pail.




THE JUMPING EGG.


In another trick sometimes exhibited the reverse method may be said to
be employed—since the egg or small rabbit employed jumps out of the
water, at the word of command, and lands on the ground, right outside
the pail. No thread or hair is used in this case, however, as might be
supposed, and onlookers sometimes come right up to the pail and stand
over it while the rabbit makes his marvellous leap. The juggler may be
any distance from the pail at the time, and even held by onlookers to
prevent any action on his part.

[Illustration]

The conjurer begins by filling the little pail with water. After he
has done this he pours into the water some coloured sand, and stirs it
up with a stick, when the sand rises to the top of the water, forming
a sort of curtain, and preventing anyone from seeing what is within
the pail. In the act of stirring the water, pouring in the sand,
etc., the juggler has secretly introduced into the pail a thin but
broad spring, bent over so as to form an almost complete circle. The
two ends of the spring are kept apart by means of a piece of sugar,
so that, when this sugar melts, the spring will be released and will
spring open with a sudden jerk. It is upon this spring that the egg or
little rabbit is placed. The juggler goes through various incantations,
playing the tom-tom, etc., until the sugar melts, when the spring will
fly uncoiled, and the little rabbit will be ejected from the water
precipitously. If the pail is emptied later on, the juggler simply
turns the pail upside down, thus allowing the water to escape, and
retaining the spring by means of his finger.




THE BEANS AND SCORPION TRICK.


The trick that is sometimes seen of changing three beans into a
scorpion or a snake is simplicity itself—is so simple, in fact, as to
be seldom exhibited. It is sometimes seen, however. The juggler has
a box, containing two compartments. In the upper one the beans are
kept, while the lower one contains the scorpion or the little snake.
These compartments are separate, and either can be opened at will. The
conjuror puts the three beans into the hand of one of the audience and
tells him to hold them. He then asks him to open his hand again to see
if they are still there. The conjuror takes them out of this person’s
hand, exhibits them to the audience, and puts them back in the box. He
asks the spectator to again hold his hand out; and, when he has done
so, the conjuror deftly opens the lower box and allows the snake or
scorpion to fall into his hand. Naturally this person jumps back, and,
in the excitement, the conjuror has ample opportunity to exchange the
box used for another, without preparation.




THE BASKET AND BIRDS TRICK.


[Illustration]

Another trick sometimes seen is the following. The conjuror exhibits
a basket, some 18 inches in diameter and 14 inches high. A stone is
placed under the basket, which is then inverted over it. Soon the
basket is lifted, and a snake or scorpion is found beneath it, while
the stone has disappeared. The snake is thrown into a bag which the
conjuror carries with him, and the basket replaced on the ground. After
some manipulation the basket is again raised, and this time some ten
or fifteen little birds walk out from beneath it. Apparently nothing
could be more extraordinary!

And yet the explanation is simplicity itself. In the act of inverting
the basket the first time the conjuror introduced the snake or scorpion
and removed the stone—very much in the same way as Western conjurors
extract and replace the cork balls in the cups-and-balls trick. The
little birds are all contained in a black cloth bag; and are introduced
into the basket when everyone’s attention is called to the snake or
scorpion, left on the ground, after the basket is raised the first
time. The conjuror introduces his hands beneath the basket and opens
the cloth bag; when the little birds are free to make their escape. The
bag can be disposed of at any convenient moment.




THE BALL OF COTTON TRICK.


Mr. Charles Bertram, writing in _Mahatma_ (a conjuror’s magazine) for
February, 1900, said:

“The most startling trick I ever saw was done by a man who was
performing some of the little tricks while the mango-tree was growing.
He took a little ball of rough cotton, about the size of a walnut, and
threw the ball to a woman who formed one of the party of those who were
assisting him. The jerk unravelled about two yards, and she broke the
end off and kept the ball. The conjuror placed the end which he held
into his mouth, and by a deep breath the cotton flew into his mouth
and he appeared to chew it. Then he borrowed a penknife from me, and
with a big blade made as though he would stab himself in the throat,
the woman preventing him with some show of excitement; but presently,
turning her back, the man seized the opportunity to plunge the knife
into his stomach, and that he did very well. He then put his hand under
the loose linen shirt he was wearing and began to draw out the piece of
cotton.

[Illustration]

“When he had drawn out nearly as much as the length of the piece which
had been broken off, he lifted his shirt slightly and showed the end
of the cotton apparently embedded in the skin. He then took the knife
and moved it upward against the skin as if he were pressing out the
last bit of thread, which was tinged with red, as if with blood.

“This was really an admirably executed little trick, although by no
means difficult. The sucking in of the cotton is skilful, but with a
very little practice I was able to do the same thing, and so can anyone
else, the only precaution to be taken being to prevent the end coming
into contact with the back of the throat, for if it did it would bring
on an attack of coughing.

“Of course the chewing of the cotton is merely a method of secreting
it, and another piece of cotton of similar length is rolled up
previously and put in its place with the end coloured with some paint.
A little brown material is put over the skin with a scrap of cotton,
perhaps a quarter of an inch attached to it, so that it really looks
as though it were sticking up out of the skin, and the upward movement
of the knife scrapes this off, and it can easily be gotten away at a
convenient time. This is hardly a trick for an English drawing-room.”

Frequently we see an Indian juggler remove his turban, double it, cut
it into two pieces, and finally join them together again. I think it
will be a sufficient explanation if I state that this feat is performed
precisely in the same manner as the familiar string trick—in which a
piece of string, cut in halves is restored to its original condition.
As every schoolboy knows this trick, I shall not dwell upon it here.




THE BRASS BOWL TRICK.


Mr. S. S. Baldwin describes a very ingenious trick he once saw
performed.[1] A juggler brought forward a brass bowl, which he showed
empty. He filled this with cold water, placing a little piece of ice
in the water, to show it was really cold. He then covered the bowl for
a few moments with a borrowed handkerchief, made passes over the bowl,
played on his tom-tom, etc. Soon he removed the handkerchief, and the
water was found to be scalding hot, as was verified by placing the
fingers in the water.

[1] _Secrets of Mahatma Land Explained._ pp. 45-46.

In this case the bowl was of a peculiar construction. The sides of
the bowl were double; and so also was the foot upon which it stood.
When brought forward the space between the two sides of the vessel was
filled with the boiling water, while the lower space was empty. While
covering the bowl with the handkerchief the juggler found occasion
to scratch off a wax pellet, covering an air-hole, this allowing the
cold water to run down into the empty space in the foot of the bowl.
By scratching off a second wax pellet on the side of the bowl the hot
water is made to run into the body of the bowl until it finds its own
level. It is difficult to explain this on paper, but the principle upon
which it rests is well known to Western conjurors, and is the basis of
several good illusions performed by them.

There are several minor tricks that I should like to consider, but
cannot for lack of space. Thus, M. Jacolliot states that he saw a
small stick, placed upon the top of a vessel of water, move in all
directions, and finally sink to the bottom of the vessel at the command
of the fakir. He suggests that “the fakir, upon charging the small
piece of wood with fluid, might perhaps have increased its weight so
as to make it heavier than water.”[2] Personally I should be inclined
to think that the piece of wood was manipulated by means of a hair,
somewhat after the manner of the “diving duck,” described above.
Baldwin saw a somewhat similar trick in Zululand. In this case the
conjuror threw a branch of wood upon the surface of the river, which
promptly proceeded to swim upstream! He afterwards discovered that, in
this case, the trick was effected by means of long black threads, in
the hands of hidden assistants.

[2] _Occult Science in India._ p. 236.




SNAKE-CHARMING.


I now pass on to consider, very briefly, the feats of snake-charming
that are so frequently exhibited. I do not doubt that much—perhaps the
majority—of that which is exhibited by snake charmers is genuine, with
one exception; the fangs of the serpent are invariably extracted.

Hindus are exceedingly ingenious in extracting fangs, stings, etc.,
and I have heard from many independent sources that snakes are never
exhibited in public unless their fangs are first extracted. It may
interest the reader to learn that my sister, when a little girl, took
a great liking to bees, and desired to play with them. My father
and mother were in Calcutta at the time, and bees were plentiful.
Accordingly, my father commissioned one of the servants to extract
the stings from a number of bees, which he did with great skill, and
apparently with no lasting injury to the bee. My sister then had a
whole room full of bees to play with, while quite free from danger
herself. I mention this to show how ingenious Hindus are in handling
reptiles and insects of the sort, thus proving that it would be quite
possible for them to extract the fangs from any serpent. The fangs
once extracted, and the snakes fed upon milk, and perhaps more or less
drugged and charmed by the music, we can very readily see that it would
be no very difficult feat for the snake charmer to handle them in any
manner desired.

It is a well-known fact that snakes and many other animals may be
hypnotised and rendered more or less cataleptic by means of passes and
various manipulations. Sextus, in his _Hypnotism_, devotes many pages
to this subject. It is probable that, when a snake is stiffened out
to its fullest extent, and remains stiff, it cannot be distinguished
from a stick at a first casual glance. Perhaps this may bear some
resemblance to the priests who performed before Pharaoh, “changing
their rods to serpents” before his eyes. At all events, I quote the
following passage, which seems to bear a distinct resemblance to that
incident, and has the advantage of being “recorded at first hand,” and
is by no means so “remote” as the other tale! It runs as follows:

“Sitting one morning on the verandah, an aged magician approached and
asked permission to perform some of his tricks. As I was in a humor
to be amused, I told him to go ahead. He asked me to loan him the
walking-stick which I carried. He waved this over his head two or three
times and exclaimed: ‘No good; too big; can’t do,’ and handed the stick
back to me, which, as I grasped it, changed into a loathsome, wriggling
snake in my hand. Of course, I immediately dropped it. The magician
smiled, picked up the snake by the middle, whirled it around in the
air, and handed it back to me. As I refused to take it, he said, ‘All
right, no bite,’ and behold it was my stick.”[3]

I think the similarity of narrative should at least prove suggestive
and interesting.

[3] _Secrets of Mahatma Land Explained._ p. 49.




VOLUNTARY INTERMENT.


Let us now turn to a consideration of those feats of “voluntary
interment” so often referred to.

Take, _e.g._, the famous case of the Fakir of Lahore, who, at the
instance of Runjeet Singh, and under the supervision of Sir Claude
Wade, was interred in a vault for a period of six weeks. Doubtless
the details are familiar to most of my readers. The fakir’s ears and
nostrils were filled with wax, and he was then placed in a bag, then
deposited in a wooden box which was securely locked, and the box was
deposited in a brick vault which was carefully plastered up with mortar
and sealed with the Rajah’s seal. A guard of British soldiers was then
detailed to watch the vault day and night. At the end of the prescribed
time the vault was opened in the presence of Sir Claude and Runjeet
Singh, and the fakir was restored to consciousness.

Now, though I shall not say that a feat of this kind is impossible, far
better evidence will have to be forthcoming than an account such as the
above, in order to gain credence. How was the bag tied in which the
fakir was placed? Who made the box? What guarantee have we that there
was no outlet from the vault than by means of the door? In short, there
are so many methods of escape that such a badly recorded account as the
above should carry no weight with us whatever. What makes me skeptical
of such accounts is the fact that, in one instance of which I know the
details, it was discovered that a fakir, after being buried in a grave
several feet beneath the ground, managed to make good his escape by
means of a tunnel especially built, leading into a hollow tree, through
which the fakir escaped under cover of the darkness. In this case, the
grave was well sealed, and it was certain that the fakir did not escape
in that manner. He was however, discovered that night in the hut of a
relative of his, quietly sleeping. Investigation showed that the grave
had been dug in a certain spot, and that there was only a thin wall
of earth between the end of the coffin, which hinged inwards, and the
other tunnel, which communicated with a previously prepared tunnel,
leading to the hollow tree, and so to air and freedom. Every interment
was made in the same spot, and Europeans were being constantly taken
in by the same trick. In the face of this piece of evidence I may be
excused for being somewhat skeptical as to genuine feats of the kind.

And when we turn for analogy to cases of induced hypnotic trance,
lasting over a number of days, we find that here, too, there is
much fraud—much more than the public supposes—though I must not be
understood as saying that trances of this character are not well
authenticated. But I _do_ assert that in the majority of public
tests, in which the “professor” keeps his subject asleep for seven
days, etc., much fraud enters into the case. I do not say that it is
all fraud from beginning to end, but there is an element of fraud in
the case, which it might be as well to make plain in this place. The
average method of procedure would be about as follows:

A good somnambule is selected who is in good physical health, and he
is prepared by giving him a good dose of castor oil or rhubarb the day
before the test. But little must be given the subject to eat or drink
for a few hours before he is put to sleep. He is hypnotized several
times daily before the test and suggestions made that he will not wake,
that he cannot wake until permission is given him to do so, etc. He is
then put to sleep carefully, and forcible suggestions given—that he
cannot awaken, etc. The subject is then placed in his coffin, plenty of
fresh air being allowed to get to him, and he is covered with mosquito
netting if the test is in the summer-time, and flies, mosquitoes, etc.,
are numerous. The subject is turned over from side to side frequently,
especially after the second day, and repeated suggestions are given
him to sleep, that he cannot wake, and so forth. The subject will not
be in an equally deep sleep all the time. Some of the time he will be
actually asleep, of course, but he will be very near to waking much of
the time, after the first two or three days, and must be kept asleep by
constant suggestion. When the night comes on and it gets cold and there
are fewer persons watching, the performer makes this the excuse for
covering the subject with a blanket. Under this blanket is concealed a
rubber bottle containing water, and a sandwich or two are dropped in
the coffin at the same time. These the subject invariably eats. I am
not asserting this here for any other purpose than to show that these
so-called “seven-day sleeps” bear no real resemblance to the cases in
which men have been interred for days and weeks at a time, and throw
the other cases into stronger relief in consequence. In view of the
facts above noted, and of the fraud that is known to exist in some of
these cases, I think we are entitled to ask for a considerable amount
of first-hand evidence before we need consider seriously these cases of
long-continued interment.




THE ROPE TRICK.


There remains for our consideration only one other well-known feat
performed by Hindu fakirs or yogis, and that is the famous “rope
exploit,” before referred to. I looked up the evidence for this
performance with great care when writing my _Physical Phenomena of
Spiritualism_, contrasting the evidence for hallucination in this
and kindred tests with certain of the _seances_ with D. D. Home, to
ascertain if there were any similarity between the two. I think that I
cannot do better than to quote the case as therein given. I accordingly
quote from pp. 389-93 of that book. After referring to Dr. Hodgson’s
article in _Proceedings_, S.P.R., Vol. IX., pp. 354-66, the account
goes on:

“But the most interesting part of Dr. Hodgson’s paper is his
consideration of the alleged feats of levitation and the famous
rope-climbing exploit, both of which are probably too well known to
my readers to need describing here. The nature of the former of these
phenomena is explained by its title; the second is the famous feat
in which a rope is thrown into the air by the performer, where it
stays—suspended by some unknown power—and gradually stiffens, allowing
a small boy, the fakir’s assistant, to climb up it, and finally
disappear in the clouds. Soon, the legs and arms of the boy are seen
to fall to the ground, then the head, and finally the trunk falls to
earth, all before the astonished and horrified gaze of the onlookers!
These pieces gradually join themselves together, and re-form the boy’s
body, whole as it was at first, and the boy goes on his way rejoicing!

“Of the levitation I shall not speak now, beyond stating that it is
recorded in several of the books mentioned, as previously stated. The
value of the testimony will be variously estimated by individuals,
partly according to their preconceived ideas of the limits of the
possible, and partly according to their familiarity with the evidence
that has been collected in various works on the subject. As I have
considered this question of levitation elsewhere I shall dismiss
it for the time being, and turn to the feat that most particularly
interests us in relation to this question of hallucination and its
possibilities.

“It need hardly be pointed out, I believe, that if this feat were ever
witnessed by Europeans at all (_i.e._, if the whole thing is not a
myth), and certain individuals imagined they actually witnessed it,
the effect was the result of an hallucination, and not the result of
seeing what actually took place. It need scarcely be said that the
nature of the trick, if trick it is (the suspension of the rope by some
unknown power, the ascent of the boy into the clouds, the tumbling down
to earth of the separate members, and, finally the joining together
of these into a live form again), would forbid any such performance
taking place in reality—except on the stage, _e.g._, when appropriate
apparatus can be arranged to perform this feat—an illusion of this sort
being mentioned in _Mahatma_, Vol. III., No. 5, November, 1899. If
such a performance were even witnessed, therefore, it must have been
the result of some sort of hallucination, possibly hypnotic, which the
onlooker was experiencing at the time. The question, therefore, narrows
itself down to this: was the onlooker hallucinated?

“Several reported instances seemed to show conclusively that such
_was_ the case, it being stated that (particularly in one case which
the writer quoted from his own experience) the photographic plate of
a camera revealed that nothing of the sort had transpired. The person
witnessing the performance had actually seen it, as described, while
the photographic plate, which cannot be hypnotised and so share in the
hallucination supposedly induced, showed that the performance had not
taken place at all. Such was the story, at least, which reached a very
large portion of the reading public—so large, indeed, that this is the
explanation that is given of this illusion whenever it is mentioned, as
if it were a fact past all questioning!

“Dr. Hodgson, in criticising these articles, pointed out that the
illustrations reproduced to back up the story (supposedly photographs)
were in reality, _woodcuts_, and consequently were not what they
purported to be at all, and served to throw a grave suspicion on the
story _in toto_. Later, it came to light that this story was concocted
by its author, and had no basis in fact whatever.[4] Dr. Hodgson
actually doubted if the phenomenon had ever been witnessed at all, or
even if any person _thought_ he had witnessed it, rather inclining to
the belief that these stories were invariably made up ‘out of whole
cloth,’ and had no real basis in fact, even that the sitters were
hallucinated, as it is stated they were. Several cases have lately come
to light, however, particularly a recent and well recorded one,[5]
which would seem to show that the stories have at least some basis
in truth. I shall accordingly consider the cases as if they actually
existed, merely pointing out that such performances are extremely rare,
even if they exist at all. Dr. Hodgson never witnessed the illusion,
nor could he find anyone who had a first-hand account to offer him.
‘Even Colonel Olcott,’ says Dr. Hodgson, ‘a faithful servant of Mme.
Blavatsky ... told me, after several years’ residence in India, he had
never witnessed the rope-climbing performance.’[6] At the same time
Dr. Hodgson was willing to admit that the story might have originated
because of some hypnotically induced hallucination, akin to those
induced by our Western hypnotists. The evidence, as it stands, is
certainly inconclusive, in any case, and though there is a certain
analogy between these performances and those of D. D. Home, _e.g._,
the inaccuracy in recording, the doubt surrounding these phenomena can
be said to offer no direct support to the theory of hallucination in
Home’s case, which must stand or fall on its own merits. It can derive
no real support from the performances of Oriental conjurors.

[4] _Journal_ S. P. R., Vol. v., pp. 84-86; 195.

[5] _Journal_ S. P. R., Vol. xii., pp. 30-31.

[6] _Proceedings_ S. P. R., Vol. ix., p. 362. I do not at all agree
with Mr. J. N. Maskelyne’s “Explanation” of this feat, however (see his
pamphlet “The Fraud of Theosophy Exposed, and the Miraculous Rope Trick
of the Indian Jugglers Explained” pp. 23-24).

“On the subject of Oriental magic generally I cannot do better than to
conclude this summary in the words of Dr. Hodgson, to be found in the
article so frequently referred to already. In summing up the evidence
for the supernormal in these performances, he says:

“‘I conclude, therefore, that, in spite of the strong assertions of
a distinguished conjuror, we have before us no real evidence to the
manifestation by Indian jugglers or fakirs of any marvels beyond the
power of trickery to produce.... The conjuror’s mere assertion that
certain marvels are not explicable by trickery is worth _just as much_
as the savant’s mere assertion that they _must be_ so explicable—just
as much, and no more.’”

From all that has been said, I think we shall be justified in
concluding that the vast majority of feats performed by the Hindu
fakirs present no evidence whatever of the supernormal, but are, on the
contrary, clearly due and traceable to trickery. It is highly probable
that every one of their well-known tricks are such only, and involve no
occult powers, nor do they warrant our belief in the operation of any
forces “other than those known to physical science.”

Are we to conclude, therefore, that nothing is to be gained by a study
of the East and its phenomena? I think we should scarcely be justified
in doing that, since there seem to be many phenomena witnessed there
that are well worthy of serious consideration. The snake charming
is one of these; the cases of prolonged trance probably present
many interesting phenomena, from any point of view; the rope exploit
has at least its psychological interest; and there are many cases
of levitation reported, which are worthy of serious consideration.
“Baron Seeman,” a conjuror, describes in his book, _Around the World
with a Magician and a Juggler_ (pp. 54-6), a case of levitation; and
various other conjurors have described the same thing. M. Jacolliot,
in his _Occult Science in India_, before referred to, has recorded
a number of most interesting experiences with a Hindu fakir. He
obtained raps, telekinetic phenomena, independent writing, levitations,
materialisations, playing upon an accordion, etc. Strange to say it
was through the instrumentality of the very _same_ fakir that Seeman
obtained his experiences in levitation (Covindasamy).

And it will be noticed further that _all these phenomena_—so different
from the usual tricks of the Hindu fakir—_bear a close resemblance to
the mediumistic phenomena witnessed in our countries_.

That is a most striking fact, and at once places them on a different
level from most of the tricks exhibited by Hindu fakirs, which are
certainly tricks and nothing more. There _may_ be genuine mediums among
the Hindus; but the phenomena witnessed in such cases are of a very
different type from those usually observed. This fact at once tends to
discredit the ordinary tricks exhibited, and strengthens the evidence
for the phenomena that so closely resemble the occurrences witnessed
in the presence of occidental mediums. It shows us, at all events,
that some, and perhaps much, good may come from a close study of these
wonder workers; and that, in investigating them, “we must not,” as Mr.
Frank Podmore expressed it, “for the second time throw away the baby
with the water from the bath.”