uneral, and
nothing could have been more striking than this concourse of priests and
crosses and mourners, some carrying their sad burden, thrown out in
conspicuous relief by the green hills and valleys around.

Mournfully and sadly the little group approached. First the priests,
then the sad burden, then the women, the chief mourners wearing long
cloaks, with hoods thrown over their heads, which made them look like
nuns, and followed by quite a large company of men walking bareheaded.

Absolute and solemn silence reigned everywhere, broken only by the
measured tread of the men carrying the coffin, which grew more and more
audible as they approached; that measured tread that is one of the
saddest of sounds. At the gate of the cemetery they paused a moment,
then slowly defiled up the churchyard, and disappeared into the church;
the chief mourner, who was the widow of the dead man, weeping silently
but bitterly.

We were ready to leave, and when the last mourner had disappeared within
the church, followed by some of the village people, we turned to our
driver and gave him the signal for departure. We left St. Pol very
reluctantly. There was an indescribable charm about it, as there is
about certain places and certain people. St. Thegonnec, Guimiliau--as
far as the villages were concerned, we were glad to turn our backs upon
them; nothing attracted us; we had nothing in common with them; the
charm was wanting. But at St. Jean-du-Doigt it was the very opposite; we
longed to take up a short abode there, and felt that the days would be
well spent and full of happiness. But time forbade the indulgence, as
time generally forbids all such luxuries to the workers in the world.
Only those whose occupation in life is the pursuit of pleasure can, like
Dr. Syntax, go off in search of the picturesque, and wander about at
their own sweet desire like a will-o'-the-wisp. Such luxuries were not
ours; and so it came to pass that, very soon after we had seen the sad
procession winding down the hill, we were winding up it; looking back
with "long lingering gaze" at the lovely spot which was fast
disappearing from view.

"I knew you would be charmed with St. Jean-du-Doigt," said Madame
Hellard; "everyone is so. _Le paysage est si riant_. A pity you could
not be there for the _Pardon_."

We hardly agreed with her.

"I assure you," she continued, "seen from the tower, where you are
removed from the crowd and the beggars and the sick folk