f ever there was one.

The role played in Bretagne by the _bazvalan_, or village tailor, is
assumed in our country districts by the hemp-beater or the wool-carder,
the two professions being often united in a single person. He attends
all solemnities, sad or gay, because he is essentially erudite and a
fine speaker, and on such occasions it is always his part to act as
spokesman in order that certain formalities that have been observed from
time immemorial may be worthily performed. The wandering trades which
take men into the bosoms of other families and do not permit them to
concentrate their attention upon their own, are well calculated to make
them loquacious, entertaining, good talkers, and good singers.

The hemp-beater is peculiarly sceptical. He and another rustic
functionary, of whom we shall speak anon, the grave-digger, are always
the strong-minded men of the neighborhood. They have talked so much
about ghosts, and are so familiar with all the tricks of which those
mischievous spirits are capable, that they fear them hardly at all.
Night is the time when all three, hemp-beaters, grave-diggers, and
ghosts, principally exercise their callings. At night, too, the
hemp-beater tells his harrowing tales. May I be pardoned for a slight
digression.

When the hemp has reached the proper point, that is to say, when it has
been sufficiently soaked in running water and half dried on the bank,
it is carried to the yards of the different houses; there they stand it
up in little sheaves, which, with their stalks spread apart at the
bottom and their heads tied together in balls, greatly resemble, in the
dark, a long procession of little white phantoms, planted on their slim
legs and walking noiselessly along the walls.

At the end of September, when the nights are still warm, they begin the
process of beating, by the pale moonlight. During the day, the hemp has
been heated in the oven; it is taken out at night to be beaten hot. For
that purpose, they use a sort of wooden horse, surmounted by a wooden
lever, which, falling upon the grooves, breaks the plant without cutting
it. Then it is that you hear at night, in the country, the sharp,
clean-cut sound of three blows struck in rapid succession. Then there is
silence for a moment; that means that the arm is moving the handful of
hemp, in order to break it in another place. And the three blows are
repeated; it is the other arm acting on the lever, and so it goes on
until th