Every careful and prudent person, before throwing away either the bladebone of an animal, or an empty egg-shell, makes a hole in it, and the reason assigned for this practice is to prevent an improper use being made of either by witches; for it is firmly believed that they have the power of employing both the one and the other as vessels to convey them across the seas. No matter how tempestuous the weather may be, how high the billows may be rolling, the magic bark makes its way against wind and tide, with more speed and greater certainty than the best appointed steamer that was ever launched. Those who avail themselves of these means of conveyance seem to possess the power of making their vessel assume the appearance of a handsome well-rigged ship. It is related that in days long past, a respectable inhabitant of the neighbourhood of La Perelle Bay, went out with the early dawn, after a stormy night, to collect the sea-weed which the waves might have cast on the shore, or to pick up perchance, some fragments of wreckage, which are not unfrequently stranded on that dangerous coast after a heavy gale from the westward. He was surprised to see, in the yet uncertain light of the morning, a large ship in the offing bearing down upon the land. He watched it attentively, expecting every moment to see it strike on one of the many sunken rocks that render the navigation of our seas so difficult and perilous. To his astonishment the ship, as it neared the shore, appeared to diminish rapidly in size. He was alarmed, but curiosity got the better of fright, and he stood his ground manfully. The vessel at last stranded close to the spot where he was standing, and, by this time, it was reduced to the dimensions of one of those toy boats, with which the children amuse themselves in the pools left on the beach by the receding tide. A man of dwarfish stature stepped on shore, and the countryman then perceived that the mysterious vessel had assumed the form of the bladebone of a sheep, enveloped in a mass of tangled sea-weed. Nothing daunted, he addressed the mysterious stranger, and asked him whence he came? What was his name? Whither was he going? The stranger either was, or pretended to be, ignorant of the language in which he was addressed, but to the last question answered: “Je vais cheminant”--(“I am going travelling”). He is said, however, to have remained in the island, to have built himself a house on a spot called “Casquet,”[195] in the neighbourhood of the place where he landed, and to have become the progenitor of a family which bears the name of “Le Cheminant,” and of which many of the members were famous for their skill as smiths.