the great science of taking seems to be in the expertness with which the sardines are discharged from the net without any handling. It is said that the quality of the fish is now much injured by the adulteration of the bait employed in taking them, the best bait being very high priced. It consists of the roe of fish brought from Newfoundland. Women seem to be chiefly employed in the salting and boiling houses.

Concarneau proper, or the Ville Close, is built on an island and enclosed within its walls, and at high tide these are surrounded by the sea. This walled town can be entered from the ferry at the end of the Pont Aven road by the eastern gate, or from the much larger suburb on the west, the Faubourg Ste. Croix, by the drawbridge leading to the Porte Ste. Croix. In this suburb, quite close to the sea, there is a remarkable aquarium, the tanks of which continually admit fresh sea water. These are filled with thousands of enormous crayfish, lobsters, and many edible fish, besides many specimens of rarities. The director, Monsieur Guillou, said that he could, if he liked, export, at a day's notice, from one to three thousand shellfish to various parts of France and other countries. As we looked down into the tanks, they seemed to glow with the red orange of the huge crayfish; every now and then a blue lobsterclaw appeared; and the green tints of other fish were wonderfully beautiful, quite beyond the power of words to describe. Monsieur Guillou goes about from tank to tank calling his fish by dabbling in the water, and they come at once in answer to his call.

At the end of the fifteenth century Concarneau was little better than a haunt of brigands. When Duke John IV.

CHÂTEAU OF HÉNAN.

went to England he embarked at Concarneau.

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After this

Du Guesclin took the town by assault, and put the garrison to the sword, except the captain, whose life he spared.

It is very

A charming row of about three miles on the river from Pont Aven took us to the Château of Hénan. picturesque, built on a rock almost circled by the river,

and surrounded by trees. The donjon is a lofty hexagonal tower with a very remarkable pierced parapet and a graceful tourelle, but the present owner will not allow strangers to visit the château.

Some of the washing-places on the river are very picturesque. That shown in the engraving stands at the end of a garden.

The pardon of Pont Aven is one of the best in Lower Brittany; the wrestling and dancing there have quite a reputation of their own. One of our companions stayed behind to be present at this Pardon, and I give his account:

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We saw the place gradually fill with booths, &c., and we were told that on Sunday after high mass various shows and entertainments would begin. Accordingly the doors of the first booth were then thrown open, and a man came out on to the platform. He held his arms open, and, after telling us he was extremely modest, and that he could not speak for himself, he said,

66 6

'You see, I am the strongest man in the whole world, and my Christian name is Hercule. Come in, gentlemen, come in and judge for yourselves.'

"We went into the booth, and there saw Monsieur Hercule in all his glory, holding up weights and balancing them, first with one hand then with the other, and doing other herculean exploits. His confederate in white tights energetically performed on the drum as a pleasant interlude between Hercule's feats, till the doctor of Pont Aven exclaimed,

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"If that drum goes on, I must quit the entertainment!' "Upon this, the drummer grew sad, and, having nothing

to do, sat down pensively, only rousing to clap Hercule vigorously at the end of each performance.

"Next we went to see the wrestling. The people form a great ring. The judges, consisting of the maire and the chief of the townspeople, stand in the midst, and make a point of hiding the performance as much as possible from the lookers on. The prizes, which are chiefly flannel waistcoats, hats, and scarfs, are hung on a pole in the middle of the ring, and the intending combatants walk round flourishing them in the faces of the bystanders.

"The wrestling is wholly unlike our Cumberland wrestling. The idea is to get as firm a grip as possible on the tough canvas shirt, and so to raise the opponent from the ground. Both shoulders must touch the ground before a fall can be counted by the adversary. The action of these wrestlers is extremely fine, but the accompaniments to the scene are grotesque. Whenever there seemed to be a lull or a want of some fresh excitement, an extremely dirty and drunken. Breton roared out in our ears, Makke lum!' which we learned signifies, No throw ;' but as he said it whenever he had a chance, it became a little monotonous. Still it is well worth while to be at Pont Aven about the 17th of September to see this wrestling.

"The dancing is less interesting. They go on dancing all day in an exhausting rather than in a festive manner. We learned the dance and danced it, and it is more like a funeral procession than anything we ever experienced. Several lines of about ten men and women are formed, and they run and jog about to the weird discordant music of the biniou, a sort of dissipated bagpipes. One feature of the dance seems to be that one must never smile or appear in

any way to enjoy oneself. The best dancers, we discovered, wore a pensive and rather gloomy expression while they danced. The women looked as if they were dying, but, to judge from the sedulous way in which they pursued it, they must find this performance in some way satisfactory.

"Besides the wrestling and the dancing, there are concours or races of all descriptions; the most amusing is the duck hunt in the river, a favourite Breton amusement at these pardons when there is a river; the most exciting are the horse-races. Wild savage-looking men, their long hair flying in the wind, gallop frantically on bare-backed horses, and often frightful accidents occur. One poor fellow was brought in dying while we stood looking on, his horse having flung him violently."

There is a pretty little baby pardon in June at a place called St. Léger, on the river Belon, to the east of Pont Aven. The scenery here is very lovely, and in the depths of the wood is a little fountain with an image of St. Leger. Here a grand ceremony of washing babies takes place, and some strange rites are enacted. We saw about four hundred babies and children brought to the fountain.

The famous custom of the Feux de St. Jean is kept up at Pont Aven and its neighbourhood. This custom exists in many parts of Lower Brittany, and also in Léon; but there seem to be special traditions here and there attached to it. All who can afford it help in making large bonfires, and even the very poor beg a few pence to enable them to contribute something to the piles of faggots. In the evening these are lighted. The curé of the parish leads the procession, and solemnly sets light to the first pile; and, as soon as all are blazing, the ronde is danced round the smoking