Chapter VI: Part 6

The four men now proceeded to the Prefecture of Police, where Morant, on being searched, was discovered to have on his person more than half of the twice-stolen jewels.

He now told his story. How his wife, sitting at a third-storey window, drying her hair after a shampoo, had been an interested spectator of Dessaure's man[oe]uvres in burying the box, and after his departure had informed her husband. Morant had promptly dug the case up and, on discovering what it contained, at first intended to hand it over to the police. Then greed overcame him, and, despite the protestations of his wife, he decided to keep them. He narrated how he reburied the jewels in another spot, in case Dessaure should divulge their original hiding-place to the police, and how he waited for some months alter Dessaure's conviction before selling his _café_. Then he departed for London and opened a restaurant there. He knew the detectives in America were searching for him, he said, and so took a situation as _chef_ in another name. The jewels had proved a curse to him throughout. Morant's story was listened to by the Prefect, and he was then placed under arrest as an "accessory after the fact."

He was tried some weeks later, convicted, and sent to prison for a term of three years. His nerves had been completely shattered by his long ordeal, however, and five weeks after his reception at the Santé Morant died in the prison hospital.

THE LAND OF SUPERSTITION.

BY FREDERIC LEES.

Nowhere in France are curious beliefs so rife as in Finistère,
the Morbihan, and the Côtes-du-Nord, where most of the
little-known facts contained in the following pages were
collected. As to the photographs by M. Paul Géniaux, the
well-known authority on Breton folk-lore, they are unique,
since they represent for the first time a number of the
superstitious ceremonies to which the Bretons, in spite of the
spread of education, still pin their faith.

We were cycling through Brittany--my Breton friend and I--and the turn of the road suddenly brought us within sight of a typical Finistère village, with its picturesque grey cottages surrounded by verdant orchards. Slackening speed, we began to look about us, and it was then that, glancing to my right down a narrow side road, I beheld a scene that made me dismount and call to my companion.

"I say, Géniaux, whatever are they doing to the little chap?" I cried. "Are they grilling him for supper?"

My friend's only reply was a chuckle and the click of the shutter of his camera, which, on coming to me, he had instinctively swung into the right position for a snapshot. Not until the photographic record had been obtained and the plate had been changed did he vouchsafe to give me an explanation of what we saw before us. In the middle of the road a small bonfire was merrily crackling. Over it a boy of six or seven was being held by a man and a woman, whilst three other peasant-women and some children looked on with solemn faces. What could be the meaning of this extraordinary proceeding, which looked for all the world like a human sacrifice?

"No; he's not being prepared for supper," replied Paul Géniaux, with another chuckle. "That boy has something the matter with his leg--hip-disease, I should say; and these good people think they are going to effect a cure by holding him over a bonfire on St. John's Day. I hope they'll succeed. Poor little chap! We are lucky to have seen the ceremony and got a photograph, for this is one of the most curious of our Breton superstitions. I'd quite forgotten that to-day was the 'Jour de Saint-Jean.' Many a bonfire will be lit in Brittany to-night, and many a cripple will be submitted to this ordeal of fire."

Whilst my friend was speaking the ceremony had come to an end and the little boy had been handed over to his mother, who departed on her way, probably rejoicing. As the other members of the group were about to disperse we drew near, with the usual salutations, and entered into conversation. Though I knew that my fellow-traveller's knowledge was quite equal to that of these simple peasant folk, I was anxious to learn something from their own lips, and above all to judge for myself of their sincerity. At first they were decidedly shy, but when my friend spoke a few words to them in their native Breton they became quite open, and evidently no longer regarded us as "strangers."

_From a Photograph._
]

"Yes; we were quite right," explained the man. "The boy was suffering from hip-disease; and as all the doctors in the district had failed to do him any good they were trying a remedy in which they had every faith. It was a great pity that the mother had not resorted to it sooner. But she was a young woman, full of all sorts of new ideas, and she had preferred to waste her money on the doctors. _He_ was a believer in the old remedies. He had known a 'feu de Saint-Jean' perform miracles. But to be thoroughly effective it was essential that the two people who held the child should concentrate their thoughts on the work and have perfect faith. Nothing could be done without faith."

There was such a ring of sincerity in his voice that we two sceptics were disarmed. It was useless to try to disillusionize the man, so we asked him further questions and obtained the additional information that a "feu de Saint-Jean" was good for other things besides complaints and diseases. A horse, for instance, that had been passed through the fire was rendered proof against illness, and would perform its work much better than one that had not undergone the ordeal. This chance meeting with an interesting example of Breton superstition prompted an idea. We determined that whilst on our journey through Brittany we would collect as many similar examples as we could, so as to form the nucleus of a book on the folklore of that part of France. And wherever we went we found something to add to our records, as the following examples will show.

A very large number of the superstitions of Brittany apply to ailments. Poor food, the excessive use of alcohol, and profound ignorance of the laws of health make the Bretons subject to numerous complaints, which they endeavour to cure by means that were adopted by their forefathers as far back as the fourteenth century. On reaching a little village near Tréguier we were advised to see the tomb of St. Yves in the church-yard, and on going there found an old woman--a hunchback--creeping through a narrow aperture with which that beautiful monument is pierced. Though she had been deformed since childhood, she was quite convinced that the saint, who had been renowned during his life-time for the miraculous healing of the sick, might still be able to do something for her. This "Hunchbacks' Hole" in the tomb of St. Yves had already cured quite a number of _bossus_, in accordance, legend said, with a promise made by the holy man. He himself, in his youth, had been hunchbacked. Remembering this when on his death-bed, he gave instructions that his tomb should be fashioned in the particular form in which it is to-day, at the same time promising that every cripple who crept through it should have the benefit of his prayers in heaven.

_From a Photograph._
]

The minor troubles to which poor humanity is subject are also "cured" by the carrying out of certain other peculiar ceremonies. When a Breton girl suffers from warts, for instance, she has herself blindfolded, takes a handful of haricot beans, and feels her way to the nearest well, into which she must throw the beans one by one, at the same time wishing. Should the well be a holy one--and most wells in Brittany have been blessed by the priests and are therefore considered to be "holy"--all the better; for her warts will disappear the very next day. In the case of an ordinary well, however, they will not be "charmed away" anything like so rapidly. Still, in the end the sincere wisher will get rid of them. To combat acute forms of headache a very curious method is employed near Billiers, in the Morbihan. The sufferer pricks his or her forehead with a needle until blood flows; then, with the same needle, he or she pricks a certain cross that was erected in 1874 near the village. By this means it is believed that the headache is made to "enter the wood," where it will remain for at least a fortnight. This "cure" is attributed to the intervention of the Virgin Mary, who is said to have appeared in the above-mentioned year where the cross is erected, with a promise that she would perform miracles "to prove her descent at that spot." Adjoining the cross for curing headaches is another that is reputed to be of great service in the cure of diseases of the scalp. All that the sufferers need do is to come and pray there, leaving their bonnets or caps behind them, attached to a forked branch stuck in the earth.

HOW TO REMOVE A HEADACHE--HAVING PRICKED YOUR FOREHEAD WITH A
NEEDLE TILL BLOOD FLOWS, YOU STICK THE NEEDLE INTO THE CROSS
ON THE RIGHT. THE SECOND CROSS IS HELD IN HIGH REPUTE FOR
CURING SCALP DISEASES.

_From a Photograph._
]

_From a Photograph._
]

When, in the case of serious ailments, a cure is not effected by one or other of these means, the sufferer considers that he has received a very bad sign. Everyone must die sooner or later, and he recognises that he has received a warning. Sometimes the "warning" is a very definite one, as we were told on passing through a place called Muzollac. A candle is seen to float out through the church door and fall down the chimney of the house of the sick person! Death is not far off when that phenomenon is observed, and one of the first things that the relatives do, should there be bees in the garden, is to cover one of the hives with crape. If this is not done they believe the bees will all fly away and seek another master!

There are all sorts of superstitions in Brittany connected with candles and death. On the occasion of a marriage, for instance, the bride and bridegroom take great care to give an extra large tip to the choir-boy whose duty it is to light the candles on the altar and see that they burn well throughout the ceremony. For, should one of the candles begin to flicker and go out, it is certain that someone is going to die within a year. If it is one in front of the bride, then she is to be the victim; if it is one opposite the bridegroom, then the misfortune is to descend upon him.

_From a Photograph._
]

The majority of the strange beliefs of ancient Brittany apply, however, not to so gloomy a subject as death, but to the joyful one of love and marriage. Especially are the maidens of that part of France believers in signs and portents. They begin at the age of sixteen or seventeen with the floating needle superstition. In little parties of three to six they set out for a walk in the country, choosing a day when there is not much wind, for there must be hardly a ripple on the surface of the pool where they intend to question the future.

When, in the beautiful, orchard-covered suburbs of Quimper, we met one of these bright-faced, laughing groups of lasses, the object of whose journey was evident from the plaster statuette of St. Catherine which one of them carried in her arms, we asked to be allowed to accompany them. Hearing that their portraits were to be taken they willingly consented. So we set off across the fields together and soon arrived at a shaded pool of clear spring water.

ANOTHER METHOD OF "QUESTIONING ST. CATHERINE"--THE STATUETTE
OF THE SAINT IS AFFIXED TO A TREE AND A HEAD-DRESS PLACED
UPON IT. IF IT FALLS TO THE RIGHT THE GIRL WILL MAKE A HAPPY
MARRIAGE; IF TO THE LEFT, SHE WILL BE AN OLD MAID.

_From a Photograph._
]

The statuette of St. Catherine--the patron saint of old maids--was then placed on one of the banks, and the girls, taking out their needles, began to see if they would float on the surface of the water. If they succeeded twice out of three times in making them float, then the saint had answered in the affirmative; they were to have a husband, and perhaps before many months had gone by. But if the needles went to the bottom, then they would remain spinsters all their lives. In the eyes of the Breton girl this is a terrible fate; and Géniaux told me, as we continued on our way towards the ancient cathedral city, that sometimes those who go on needle-floating excursions do not play fair: they take care to grease their needles well, so that they cannot do anything else but float!

In other parts of Brittany, especially in the northern departments, another method of questioning St. Catherine is adopted. The statuette is affixed to a tree in an orchard. One after the other the girls then arrange a head-dress above the saint's head. If the wind blows the _coiffure_ down to the right, it is regarded as proof that the girl to whom it belongs will make a happy marriage; but if it falls to the left, she will be an old maid all her life. To the girls in the Côtes-du-Nord this is an absolutely reliable test, and no amount of argument will make them believe that St. Catherine does not control the wind in such a manner that it answers "yes" or "no."

_From a Photograph._
]

_From a Photograph._
]

Before leaving the subject of marriage superstitions, I must not omit to mention the belief that is common around Pont-l'Abbé to the effect that no marriage will turn out a happy one unless the _fiancé_ deposits a sum of money, varying from fifty to five hundred francs, according to his social position, with his intended. Parisians are well acquainted with this custom in the case of their tailors, who, when a customer is not very well known, insist on a deposit. "On est prié de laisser des arrhes" is a common notice in the shops of French _tailleurs_; but until I went to Brittany I was not aware that it was also observed in the marriage market. The money is deposited, as I have said, in order to assure a happy union; but should no marriage take place, and this through the fault of the _fiancée_, the sum must be returned. If the engagement is broken off by the man, then he loses his deposit. When at Pont-l'Abbé we were told an amusing story in this connection.

A certain shrewd Breton maiden, whom the inhabitants of the little town still called "the perpetual _fiancée_," got herself engaged no fewer than seven times in succession, and each time she succeeded in forcing her _fiancé_ to break the engagement. In this way she collected close on one thousand francs. After the seventh young man of Pont-l'Abbe had been cast aside she could not succeed in finding an eighth, for everybody fought shy of her. One day, however, the announcement went forth, to everybody's amazement, that "the perpetual _fiancée_" was to be married. The fortunate, or unfortunate, bridegroom turned out to be a sailor of the neighbouring port of Loctudy, who had been away on a long voyage, and to whom, people said, the girl had been engaged all the time. During his absence she had simply been collecting a little dowry for the man of her heart!

As will be seen, superstition enters so largely into the daily life of the Breton that wherever you go you are sure to find instances of it. The millers of Pont-l'Abbé and district nail a pair of sabots to their water-wheels in order to make them turn well and grind the corn to perfection.

Even the sportsmen, whom you would think would depend entirely on their skill, are superstitious. Near Billiers we came across one of them who was busily engaged in searching for the pellets with which he had killed a fine hare. After a good deal of difficulty he found three or four. He then proceeded to fill some new cartridge-cases, putting one of the used shot into each case; for this, he said, was an absolutely certain means of killing every time that he raised his gun to his shoulder. This was, perhaps, the strangest of all the superstitions encountered during our wanderings through ancient Armorica.

The inhabitants of Billiers put a large cross in whitewash over the doors of their cottages, so as to protect them against lightning; they stretch cords over their huge iron stew-pots, and sit watching them for hours to see if they are vibrated by some unseen power--vibration being a sure sign that those who take part in the experiment are to be happy for the remainder of the year; and on the fish-women receiving the first proceeds of a sale they fall down on their knees to make the sign of the cross, which will ensure them having a profitable day's work.

_From a Photograph._
]

THE WIDE WORLD: In Other Magazines.

In the village church of Comfort (near Pont-Croix), in Western Brittany, is a very good specimen of the now rare "Wheel of Fortune." It is made of wood, with a row of bells on its outer rim and pivoted between a couple of rough beams--altogether very primitive workmanship. By means of a cord attached to a crank the wheel can be made to revolve and set all the bells a-jangling. The peasants believe that it has miraculous power of healing when rung over the head of a sufferer who has placed a sou in the box to which the rope is padlocked.--"THE STRAND MAGAZINE."

THE AUSTRALIAN WAS CONVINCED.

The negro attendant in the cloak-room of a palatial establishment of this sort in San Francisco was uncommonly sharp. Several prominent men in Australia had come to Tasmania to inspect the irrigation Colonies there, and amongst them was the Premier of Victoria. He was told during his visit that this particular negro could, without a moment's hesitation, hand out the right hat to every visitor. The colonial statesman was a little incredulous at such a statement, and was determined to put the man to the test. So he went up to the counter and asked the man for his hat, which he turned over and over, as if in doubt, and regarded critically. At last he said, "Are you sure this is my hat?" "No, sah," was the instant response; "I don't know whose hat it is, but I do know you gave it me." The Ethiopian scored, and the Australian was convinced.--"TIT-BITS."

NEW YORK'S LATEST CRAZE.

New York is just now passing through a roller-skating craze which threatens to attract the attention of the police. The skating is not confined to rinks, but is indulged in on the streets by boys and girls, men and women, who fly along, brushing by innocent pedestrians, and not infrequently bowling them over. The pavements are rendered unsightly by the marks of the skates and the dropping of the oil from the "ball bearings," and at last householders have complained, and the police have been ordered to arrest skaters who pursue their pastime in certain sections of the city.--"WOMAN'S LIFE."

WINTER IN KABUL.

Winter, beginning early in October and continuing until March, renders life in Kabul difficult and uncomfortable. Charcoal is the chief fuel; and as the houses, owing to numerous doors and windows, are very draughty, the supply of wood very limited, and coal unobtainable, it is necessary to wear, even in the house, treble thicknesses of clothing, and the longest, warmest, and thickest of fur coats outside the doors. Meal times, under such rigorous conditions, are a distinct misfortune. All food-stuffs freeze solid; bread has to be chopped with an axe and drinking water broken with a hammer. Pickles, sauces, jams, and ink are better put away till the spring. Joints must be served piping hot from the fire and lying over a pan of glowing charcoal--even then the centre will probably be unthawed; while the matutinal cup of tea or the nocturnal cup of cocoa must be gulped rapidly if it is not to freeze before it is swallowed.--"THE SUNDAY STRAND."

A BEAUTIFUL EASTERN PLANT.

The annexed photograph, which depicts a very fine specimen of a Kentia in full bloom, will be especially interesting to those who have travelled in Eastern countries and have had the privilege of seeing it growing in its native wilds. Unfortunately, our climate is too inclement for this beautiful plant, and it is very rarely, if ever, that a specimen is to be seen in bloom in this country.--"COUNTRY LIFE."

Odds and Ends.

A Piscatorial Acrobat--An Extraordinary Juggling Feat--The
Fakir's Couch, etc.

The striking photograph below depicts "Abe Ruef," a piscatorial acrobat who lives in a fountain in St. James's Park, San Jose, California, and his trainer and friend, Charles Riley. "Abe Ruef" is a carp about a foot long, and his master claims that he is the only trained fish in the world. The education of "Abe" was begun a year ago by Riley, who is one of the gardeners in the park, and has been kept up continuously, so that now "Abe" prances around his little sphere of action with all the alertness and agility of a trapeze artiste. Whether the fish can hear the commands which are given him or not, he certainly understands what is wanted of him and performs his "tricks" promptly and with exactness. One of his favourite pranks is to wriggle over the edge of the porcelain bowl of the fountain into Riley's hands. The picture here reproduced was taken just as he was coming over the edge one day, and the photographer made seventeen attempts before he succeeded in getting the picture. "Abe" will also squirm over or under a stick held in the water, will crawl between Riley's fingers, will go half-way under and then back out, and will swim backward around the tank at the word of command. He takes particular delight in swimming up to the surface of the water and having his back stroked by his master. Riley is an animal trainer of considerable efficiency, and at his home he has the dog and cat, and even the cow, trained to do tricks; while a number of chickens will beg for food and jump over sticks at their master's order.

_From a Photograph._
]

_From a Photograph._
]

The photograph reproduced above shows the "skullery" at Naters, in the Rhone Valley. At this village, and at various others in Switzerland, a curious custom prevails in connection with burials. One is not allowed to rest peaceably in one's grave for ever, as is the practice in this country; the grave is permanent, but the occupation of it is a strictly temporary tenancy, and when needed for a later arrival the previous occupant is disinterred and his bones are stacked away in the "skullery," as here seen.

It is not uncommon, both in China and India, to see conjurers going about from place to place, reminding one of the peripatetic scissor-grinders who abound in our own country. All the paraphernalia with which they perform their many and varied tricks is carried in two boxes, suspended from the ends of a long pole resting on the shoulder, and for a very small sum they will give a performance lasting an hour or so. Besides the common sleight-of-hand tricks, such as the appearance and disappearance of balls, artificial flowers, jars full of water, live fish, etc., and the spinning and throwing of crockery, balls, and knives, there are certain other feats which require more than mere dexterity of hand. For instance, a sleigh-bell is swallowed, and can be heard tinkling in the stomach as the "artiste" jumps about. Then a sword is thrust down the throat, and can be heard to strike against the bell. The bell, needless to say, is later recovered. But the special and rather disgusting feat illustrated by the striking pictures on the opposite page, and performed by a Chinese juggler, seems to outrival anything else of the kind. It consisted in threading two snakes up the nostrils and out through the mouth! The conjurer performed this feat at the house of a WIDE WORLD reader living near T'ungchou, about fourteen miles from Peking, China. The first photograph shows him standing behind one of the long round boxes which contain his outfit. On the top of the box is a basket containing a number of live snakes, from which he selects two of the smoother and more docile ones, though he afterwards confessed that one of the snakes had several times bitten him as it passed through the nose. These snakes were a foot and a half long, and about as large round as a man's little finger. By the conjurer's side stood a small boy who acted as his assistant. In the second picture the conjurer is seen at work, threading the head of the first snake into his nostril. Needless to say, this is a delicate operation, and even the little assistant seemed interested. The bringing back of the head of the snake, after penetrating the nasal passages and beginning to pass down into the throat, is accomplished in the following manner. The performer puts two fingers far back into his mouth, the approach of the fingers and the arrival of the snake naturally bringing on a muscular spasm of the throat, which throws forward the head of the reptile and enables it to be grasped, drawn from the mouth, and allowed to dangle several inches away from the lips. In the third and fourth pictures the conjurer has succeeded in accomplishing the feat, having forced the second snake into as uncomfortable a position as the first. In these photographs the heads of the two snakes are clearly seen hanging from the man's mouth, while the squirming tails, for convenience, are snugly curled about his ears! Self-control and resignation fairly beam from the countenance of the poor fellow, as he seeks to assume an attitude favourable for the photographer, and yet affording a modicum of comfort to himself. The development of this conjurer's throat was remarkable. Long practice in sword and bell swallowing had evidently not only enlarged the muscles, but also toughened the membranes. Otherwise, it would seem impossible for a man to endure, without serious inconvenience, the wriggling and crawling of snakes in this most sensitive part of the anatomy.

_From Photographs._

SELECTING THE SNAKES.

A TICKLISH OPERATION.

THE FEAT ACCOMPLISHED.

ANOTHER VIEW OF THE FINAL
PHASE.
]

We have published several photographs of religious mendicants in India, showing the extraordinary penances they inflict upon themselves to gain merit--and incidentally the alms of the faithful--but none more striking than that here reproduced, which shows a fakir at Jubbulpore seated on a couch of sharp-pointed nails. Here, with eyes closed, wrapped in profound meditation, he sits all day long, apparently oblivious to the pricking of the spikes. There is no deception about the business; the nails are quite sharp, but probably long usage has hardened the fakir's epidermis to such an extent that the discomfort is hardly felt.

_From a photo. by H. Hands._
]

Twenty years ago, when the villagers living on the borders of Reigate Heath, Surrey, had no place of worship nearer than the parish church, a service was held in a schoolroom close by, and was so well attended that the authorities looked around for a suitable permanent building. The erection of a church was out of the question, but there stood on the Heath the remains of an old mill, a picturesque feature in a beautiful bit of landscape. Inspection showed that once the rats were got rid of a comparatively small outlay would furnish and render the mill fit for public worship, and soon it was opened as the Chapel of the Holy Cross. The circular brick walls of this odd chapel are mostly ivy-clad, and as the entrance is reached the vestry is seen on the left. Originally it is reputed to have been a carpenter's shed, and, except that a few pegs and chairs have been added, its primitive state is well preserved. The interior of the chapel arouses interest. Four buttresses, four feet thick by six feet in height, serve as rests for two massive beams, which cross each other in the centre and support an upright shaft, cracked with age and strongly bound with iron bands. The roof slopes down from the vertex of the shaft to the circular wall, and consequently the building, though no more than thirty feet in diameter, is of considerable loftiness. The buttresses make four natural alcoves. The entrance door stands in one, and immediately opposite is the altar; the harmonium is placed in a third, and the bell-ringer sits close beside it and rings his bell; the fourth is occupied by the congregation. The chairs are arranged so as to leave an aisle from the doorway to the altar, down which only one person can pass at a time. Above the altar and the doorway are the windows. The light is fairly good, but there are glass lanterns filled with candles in the alcoves, and a candelabrum holding nine lights hangs in front of the altar. All the seats are free, and as many as fifty people can be accommodated. There is no pulpit, the preacher standing between the prayer-desk and the lectern. A nominal rental of a shilling a year is paid to the owner of this curious church.

_From a Photo. by View and Portrait Supply Co._]

_From a Photograph._]

The horrible-looking head seen in the photograph below is a fetish which was, until quite recently, in use among the natives of Sierra Leone. It is said to be covered with human skin, and the gruesomeness of its appearance was intentionally exaggerated, as it was intended to act as a kind of household god and a defence against evil spirits. These superstitions, it is interesting to note, are gradually becoming extinct under the pressure of British civilization.

_From a Photograph._]
]

The photograph reproduced on this page was taken on the station platform at Ginginhlovu, in Zululand. The young Zulu girl here seen was waiting for a train, and had picked up a WIDE-WORLD MAGAZINE which had been inadvertently left behind by some passenger--no doubt much to his sorrow. Although the vast majority of the natives cannot read or understand English, they are very fond of looking at pictures, and this Zulu belle was much interested in her find.