rkness whence comes the everlasting
wail and groan of hidden water.

This horrid gulf being in the open plain, with not even a foot of
rough wall round it as a protection for the unwary, I asked the old
man if people had never fallen into it.

'Yes,' he answered, 'but only those who have been pushed by evil
spirits.'

He meant that only self-murderers had fallen into the Puit de Padirac.
'Pushed by evil spirits.' Perhaps this is the best of all explanations
of the suicidal impulse. Strong thoughts are sometimes hidden under
the simplicity of rustic expression. He told me the story of a man
who, having gone by night to throw himself into the Puit de Padirac,
came in contact with a tough old bush during his descent which held
him up. By this time the would-be suicide disliked the feeling of
falling so much that, so far from trying to free himself from the bush
and begin again, he held on to it with all his might and shrieked for
help. But as people who are not pushed by evil spirits give the Puit
de Padirac a wide berth after sundown, the wretched man's cries were
lost in the darkness. The next morning the shepherd children, as they
led their flocks over the plain, heard a strange noise coming from the
pit, but their horror was stronger than their curiosity, and they
showed their sheep how to run. They went home and told their fathers
what they had heard, and at length some persons were bold enough to
look down the hole, from which the dismal sound the children had
noticed continued to rise. Thus the cause of the mysterious noise was
discovered, and the man was hauled up with a rope. He never allowed
the evil spirits to push him into the Puit de Padirac again.

The people of these _causses_ have a supernatural explanation for
everything that they cannot account for by the light of reason and
observation. They have their legend with regard to the Puit de
Padirac, and it is as follows: St. Martin, before he became Bishop of
Tours, was crossing one day this stony region of the Dordogne to visit
a religious community on the banks of the Solane, whither he had been
despatched by St. Hilary. He was mounted on a mule, and was ambling
along over the desert plunged in pious contemplation, when he heard a
little noise behind, and, looking round, he was surprised to see a
gentleman close to him, who was also riding a mule. The stranger was
richly dressed, and was altogether a very distinguished-looking
person, but the excessive