l may startle one, for it is a gruesome custom of the
country to dig up the bones of the dead and preserve the skulls in
this way. The name upon the box is that once borne by the deceased,
the date that of his death, and the charitable prayer is for the
repose of his soul. Occasionally these boxes are set in conspicuous
places in the church, but generally they remain in the reliquary. In
the porch of the church of St Tremeur, the son of the notorious Breton
Bluebeard, Comorre, there is one of the largest collections of these
receptacles in Brittany. Rich people who may have endowed or founded
sacred edifices are buried in an arched recess of the abbey or church
they have benefited.

_Feeding the Dead_

In some parts of Brittany hollows are found in tombstones above
graves, and these are annually filled with holy water or libations of
milk. It would seem as if this custom linked prehistoric with modern
practice and that the cup-hollows frequently met with on the top of
dolmens may have been intended as receptacles for the food of the
dead. The basins scooped in the soil of a barrow may have served the
same purpose. On the night of All Souls' Day, when this libation is
made, the supper is left spread on the table of each cottage and the
fire burns brightly, so that the dead may return to refresh and warm
themselves after the dolours of the grave.

_The Passage de l'Enfer_

How hard custom dies in Brittany is illustrated by the fact that it is
still usual at Treguier to convey the dead to the churchyard in a boat
over a part of the river called the 'Passage de l'Enfer,' instead of
taking the shorter way by land. This custom is reminiscent of what
Procopius, a historian of the sixth century, says regarding Breton
Celtic custom in his _De Bello Gothico_. Speaking of the island of
Brittia, by which he means Britain, he states that it is divided by a
wall. Thither fishermen from the Breton coast are compelled to ferry
over at darkest night the shades of the dead, unseen by them, but
marshalled by a mysterious leader. The fishermen who are to row the
dead across to the British coast must go to bed early, for at midnight
they are aroused by a tapping at the door, and they are called in a
low voice. They rise and go down to the shore, attracted by some force
which they cannot explain. Here they find their boats, apparently
empty, yet the water rises to the bulwarks, as if they were crowded.
Once they commence the voyage