comes to think of it, there are few sadder things in the world than
the genuine folk-ballad, which, although at the time it may arouse
aesthetic emotions, may yet afterward give rise to haunting pain. We
are glad to be able to chronicle, then, that the worthy Clerk did not
die of his wound as stated by Tugdual Salauen of the parish of Plouber,
author of the ballad, and that the wicked Marquis escaped the halter,
which, according to Breton custom, he would not otherwise have done
had the Clerk died. His good mother took upon herself the burden of an
annual pension to the Clerk's aged parents, and adopted the second
child of Annaik, who had duly married her sweetheart, and this little
one she educated, furthering its interests in every possible manner.
As for the Marquis, he actually settled down, and one cannot help
feeling chagrined that such a promising rogue should have turned
talents so eminently suitable for the manufacture of legendary
material into more humdrum courses. Conscious of the gravity of his
early misdemeanours, he founded a hospital for the poor of the parish,
and each evening in one of the windows of this place the peasants
could see a light which burned steadily far into the night. If any
asked the reason for this illumination he was told: "It is the Marquis
of Guerande, who lies awake praying God to pardon his youth."

_The Chateaux of Brittany_

The chateaux of Brittany may truly be called the historical and
legendary shrines of the province, for within their halls, keeps, and
donjons Breton tradition and history were made. It is doubtful,
indeed, if the castellated mansions of any other country, save,
perhaps, those of the Rhine, harbour so many legends, arising either
from the actual historical happenings connected with them or from
those more picturesque yet terrible associations which they are
popularly supposed to have with the powers of evil. The general
appearance of such a building as the Breton chateau admirably lends
itself to sombre tradition. The massy walls seem thick enough to
retain all secrets, and the cry for vengeance for blood spilt within
them cannot pass to the outer world through the narrow _meurtrieres_
or arrow-slits of the _avant-corps_. The broad yet lofty towers which
flank the front rise into a _toiture_ or _coiffe_ like an enchanter's
conical cap. The _lucarnes_, or attic casements, are guarded on either
side by gargoyles grim of aspect, or perhaps by griffins holdin