He, too, told me many legends. The one of St. Eloi especially interested me. St. Eloi was the son of a blacksmith and helped his father at the forge in the tiny hamlet called after him. One day as they were working, a little child came riding up, mounted on a horse so gigantic that four men could not have held him. "Will you shoe my horse, good friends?" said the child,--who of course was _l'Enfant Jésus_,--very politely. "His shoe is loose, and his hoof will be hurt." The father blacksmith looked with astonishment and indignation at the horse, and said that he could not think of shoeing an animal of such a size; but the son, St. Eloi, said at once that he would do his best. So _l'Enfant Jésus_ slid down, and took a seat on the _talus_ in front of the smithy, and St. Eloi at once neatly unscrewed the four legs of the horse and laid them down beside the enormous body. At this point in the story I always cried out: "But, _Monsieur le Curé_, did it not hurt the poor horse to have its legs unscrewed?" And the curé, smiling calmly, would reply: "Not in the least. You see, this was a miracle, my little Sophie." So St. Eloi was able to deal with the great hoofs separately, and when all was neatly done, the legs were screwed on again; and the child remounted, and said to St. Eloi's father before he rode away: "You are a little soured with age, my friend. Your son here is very wise. Listen to him and take his advice in everything, for it will be good." It was no doubt on account of this legend that all the horses through all the country far and near were brought to the church of St. Eloi once a year to be blessed by the curé. This ceremony was called _le Baptême des Chevaux_. The horses, from plow-horses to carriage-horses and hunters, were brought and ranged round the church in groups of fours and sixes. At the widely opened western door the curé stood, holding the _goupillon_, or holy-water sprinkler, and the horses were slowly led round the church, row after row, seven times, and each time that they passed before him the curé sprinkled them with holy water. After this initial blessing the curé took up his stand within beside the christening-font, and the horses were led into the church,--I so well remember the dull thud and trampling of their feet upon the earthen floor,--and the curé, with holy water from the font, made the sign of the cross upon each large, innocent forehead. Finally the tail of each horse was carefully cut off, and all the tails hung up in the church together, to be sold for the benefit of the church at the end of the year, before _le Baptême des Chevaux_ took place again. This touching ceremony still survives, but the horses are only led round the church and blessed, not brought inside. [Illustration: "A great character at Loch-ar-Brugg was the curé"]