In another place there is a story of one of these maidens whom some wicked spirit had turned into a stone, and quite unconscious of what it really was, a farmer was in the habit of using this particular stone as a weight on his harrow. One day, to his great surprise, he heard a voice in the air above him telling him to break off one corner of the stone and take it home, and then to throw the rest into a deep pool in the river, which flowed near at hand. He did as he was bidden, and as the stone splashed into the water, he heard a peal of joyful unearthly laughter, as the Moorish maid once more resumed her human form; and on returning to his house the farmer found that the piece of stone he had left there had been changed into pure gold, which made him rich for life. There is also a great belief in witches--_bruxas_ they call them. The fishermen often think they see them at night on the crests of the waves. They say they are quite accustomed to them, that the lapping of the water is the murmur of their songs, and they are not at all afraid of them, as these water-witches are considered quite harmless. The land _bruxas_ are, however, much more dreaded, and it is strange in a land of otherwise sensible people to hear of the queer customs which are still in vogue, and are supposed to avert the evil they might otherwise do. On May Day a piece of red wool is tied round the necks of all the young animals on a farm: mules, donkeys, sheep, goats, pigs, etc. Old horseshoes are nailed to the house-doors, and a slip of broom is stuck into every stable-door. Every cart, plough, or ox-yoke in the place is also decorated with broom, which is considered particularly efficacious against the dreaded spells of the _bruxas_. Some animals are looked on as “lucky,” particularly the oxen, and the most superstitious peasant will believe himself to be quite safe from all danger of charms or magic when standing among them. Of all the birds the house-martins are the most cherished, for the legend still survives that they fly to heaven every day to wash our Lord’s feet, and it would be thought most unlucky to in any way destroy their nests or young. CHAPTER VII COUNTRY WAYS AND COUNTRY FOLK The Portuguese peasants, dark-faced and unshaven, often look such ruffians that at first, when you meet them on some lonely country track, you would not be at all surprised if they brandished a knife over your head with the blood-curdling challenge of “Your money or your life!”