This cynical speech struck Julia to the heart:
she could not bear it: and retired to her own
room.

Then Dr. Sampson saw his mistake, and said to
Edward, with some concern, "Maircy on us,
she is not in love with him still, is she? I
thought that young parson was the man now."

Edward shook his head: but declined to go
much into a topic so delicate as his sister's
affections: and just then an alarming letter was
delivered from Mrs Dodd. She wrote to the
effect that David, favoured by the wind, had run
into Portsmouth harbour before their eyes, and
had disappeared, hidden, it was feared, by one of
those low publicans, who provide bad ships with
sailors, receiving a commission. On this an
earnest conversation between Sampson and
Edward.

It was interrupted in its turn.

Julia burst suddenly into the room, pale and
violently excited, clasping her hands and crying,
"He is there.  His voice is like a child's. Oh,
help me! He is hurt. He is dying."

BRETON LEGENDS

ST. SULIAC is a small village six kilometres
from Dinan, and is situated on the Rance, a
little river, navigable for some miles by boats
and small craft, which empties itself into the
sea below St. Servan, near St. Malo.

The district is entirely maritime, very little
wooded, and partly covered with marshes, dry
in summer.

These marshes then produce a meagre pasturage,
on which feed— we cannot say, fatten—
small flocks of sheep, not of the plumpest, but
producing good delicate mutton. Here and
there, scattered over the downs, are herds of
small cows, while goats dispute with asses the
rank grasses and shrubby willows that grow
beside the paths intersecting the marshes. But
notwithstanding the aridity of the soil it produces
nearly all the flowers that compose the
Bretonne flora.

The coast consists chiefly of high cliffs, covered
with a stunted vegetation. The beach is muddy,
and bristling with rocks and rough sharp pebbles;
of sand or shells is hardly a trace. The land
is chiefly cultivated by the women; the men are
nearly all sailors, and go to sea from their early
childhood. The older ones, who voyage no
longer, fish, and instruct the lads in the labours
of a seafaring life. At each high tide some fifty
or sixty fishing-boats sail down the Rance, and
spread their nets at its mouth; when the tide
turns they enter the ports of St. Malo, St.
Servan, and Dinard, and go about the streets,
basket on arm, crying "Aux Iençons frais, aux
lençons frais!" and forth sally the housewives
to bargain for the dainty little silver sand-eels,
which form the chief produce of the fishery.
Besides these, however, the coast furnishes a
variety of shell-fish, some in great request among
gourmets; among others are the Néril oyster
and the Coquille de St. Jaques, both now becoming
extinct; the lobster, crab, prawn, mussel,
and several others; and such is the abundance
of morgates cast on the shore, that the inhabitants,
after having half lived on them for weeks,
rake them up with the seaweed and manure
the fields with them. Thence the word "morgatiers"
has become a sobriquet for the inhabitants
of St. Suliac among the neighbouring
villages. Besides these fish, soles, rays, mullet,
eels, whiting, and a variety of others, are sufficiently
abundant. Sea-birds also abound, and
it seems that the chasse aux petits oiseaux has
not here waited to be by law put an end to, for
larks, yellow-hammers, and a variety of little
birds, make the country cheery with their notes.

With this little preface, I commence my series
of legends with

THE ASSES OF RIGOURDEN.

A little way from the town, on the summit of
Gârot, existed, until the year 1831, the ruins of
a chapel, built, as we are told, by the good
Abbé Sulianus, on his arrival from Wales in
the third century.

St. Suliac, having thus constructed his monastery,
set to work to cultivate the ground
surrounding it and to make gardens, which his
monks kept in order; and, planting vines,* they
trained them into arches and enclosures, separating
and shutting in the patches of grain and
vegetables confided to their care.

The Rance, now a navigable river, was then
a little streamlet, so shallow, that often it was
crossed dryshod, or, as tradition asserts, on two
jawbones of an ass. On the left bank, opposite
Gârot, rather more than a kilometre from the
monastery, was a farm called the Farm of Rigourden.
This homestead, now destroyed by
time, has given its name to the village of Rigourden
en Plouër. It possessed a vast number
of asses, which the farmer sent every day to
feed in the marshes which then lay all about
the foot of the mountain. These animals, little
tempted by such coarse and scanty fare, and
instinctively led to where richer pasturage was
to be found, soon learned to quit their meagre
grazing, and, in the evenings, stole up to the
gardens of the abbé, feasting on the good things
there flourishing.

For some days this proceeding passed undiscovered,
the good monks being much occupied
with prayers and meditation; but, at the end of
that time, finding their fields ravaged and their
vines half stripped, they concealed themselves
till the arrival of the marauders, whom they
drove off with sticks, watching them till they
crossed the stream and mounted the hill in the
direction of their home. The monks, so far
satisfied with their discovery, then came and
laid the case before their abbé.

St. Suliac, astonished at such audacity, sought
the farmer, and complained strongly of his negligence;
the farmer listened with an air of all

* On the top of Gârot still remain vines, which,
not being seen elsewhere, are supposed to be those
of St. Suliac and his cenobites.