mes become excited and frivolous, and the
Breton, if ever gay and lively, is so at his Pardon.

The Pardon of St. Jean-du-Doigt is, however, not all merriment. It is in
some ways one of their saddest days, and it is certainly not all
picturesqueness.

On the 23rd June, the day of the Pardon, many of the beggars of
Brittany, the extreme poor afflicted with lameness and all sorts of
unsightly diseases, make a pilgrimage to the church. A religious service
is held, during which they press forward and crowd upon each other that
the priest may touch their eyes with the finger of St. John, which is
supposed to possess miraculous powers of healing.

Before this, they have all crowded round the fountain in the cemetery,
to bathe their eyes and faces in the water, which also has miraculous
charms. Then a procession is formed, and begins slowly winding its way
to the top of one of the hills: a long procession, consisting of
inhabitants, beggars, afflicted, and priests of the church carrying
banners, crosses and other signs and symbols. The scene is best seen
from the platform of the tower, where you may escape contact with the
crowd and enjoy the lovely surrounding view, listen to the surging
multitude on one side, and--rather in imagination--the surging of the
sea in the Bay of St. Jean on the other.

The object of this procession is a stake or bonfire that has been placed
on the summit of one of the hills. This is in communication with the
steeple of the church by means of a long wire--and the distance is
considerable. At a given signal a firework is launched from the steeple,
runs along the wire, and sets light to the stake. As soon as the flames
burst forth there is a general discharge of musketry, drums in the
fields beat loudly, the smoke of incense, mingling with the smoke of
gunpowder, ascends heavenwards, and the priests sing what is called the
"Hymn of the Holy Finger."

_Les Miraclou_--as those are called who have been miraculously cured the
previous year by bathing in the water of the fountain, or touching the
finger of St. John--of course play an important part in the procession.

To-day it was our fate to see a very different but hardly less effective
ceremony. As we were sitting quietly near the beautiful gateway, the
hills in front of us, contemplating the sylvan scene and waiting for
our driver, suddenly a small procession appeared coming down the road
that wound round the hill out into the world. It was a f