The dress of the women is peculiar, and at first sight they might almost be taken for nuns or sisters of mercy:  a dress which leaves scope for a certain refinement rather contradicted by the physical appearance of the women themselves.  Men and women, in fact, belong for the most part to the peasantry, and pass their simple lives labouring in the fields, beating out flax, cultivating their little gardens, so that such an official as the gravedigger becomes an important personage amongst them.  We came across him, at his melancholy work, but could make no more of him than we made of the people of Roscoff.  He understood no word of French, but spoke his own native tongue, the language of la Bretagne Bretonnante, as Froissart has it, in contradistinction to la Bretagne douce.  Nothing, certainly, can be softer and more beautiful than the pure French language; but that of Brittany is hard and guttural, without beauty or refinement of any sort.

The men of St. Thegonnec dress very differently from the women, but the costume is also very characteristic.  It is entirely black, and consists of wide breeches, pleated and strapped at the knee; a square tunic; a scarf tied round the waist, with loose ends; a large hat, and shoes with buckles.

[Illustration:  OLD HOUSE ST. POL DE LEON.]

To-day few inhabitants were visible.  We seemed to be in possession of the place, together with the old gravedigger, who stopped his work and escorted us about, but was too stupid to understand even the most intelligent signs.

The church is very elaborate and fanciful, cruciform and sixteenth century, in the Renaissance style, much decorated with sculptures in dark Kersanton stone.  The word Kersanton is Breton for St. Anthony’s House; therefore we may suppose that the Saint had his house, and possibly his pig-stye, built of this same stone.  For, as we know, St. Anthony had a weakness for pigs, and was famous for recovering one of his favourites from the devil, who had stolen it:  recovered it not quite undamaged, as the animal was restored with his tail on fire:  a base return for the Saint’s politeness, who had offered his petition in poetical terms to which his audience could scarcely have been accustomed.

    “Rendez-moi mon cochon, s’il-vous-plait,
    Il faisait toute ma felicite,”

chanted the Saint, and to restore the pig with his tail on fire was conduct worthy only of fallen spirits.

But let us leave the Saint’s pigs and return to our sheep.

The Kersanton stone, of which so many churches in Brittany are built, possesses many virtues, but one great drawback.  It defies the ravages of time, yet is admirable for carving, yielding easily to the chisel.  But time has no influence upon it.  Centuries pass, yet still it remains the same:  ever youthful, ever hard and cold.  It knows nothing of the beauty of age; it does not crumble or decay, or wear away into softened outlines; it takes no charm