are held in great fear by the ignorant peasantry; and it has been
observed that all such of the natives as have left their homes to study
at the universities, on their return have never been visited by the
enchanted Moors, as it is well known that they have a great respect for
learning. In fact, one of the kings has said that until all his subjects
were educated they would never get rid of the enchanted Moors and
wizards.

In a village called Darque, on the banks of the Lima, there lived a
farmer whose goodness and ignorance were only equalled by those of his
wife. They were both young and robust, and were sufficiently well off
to afford the luxury of beef once or twice a month. Their clothes were
home-spun, and their hearts were homely. Beyond their landlord's grounds
they had never stepped; but as he owned nearly the whole village, it is
very evident that they knew something of this world of ours. They were
both born and married on the estate, as their parents had been before
them, and they were contented because they had never mixed with the
world.

One day, when the farmer came home to have his midday meal of broth and
maize bread, he found his wife in bed with a newborn baby boy by her
side, and he was so pleased that he spent his hour of rest looking at
the child, so that his meal remained untasted on the table.

Kissing his wife and infant, and bidding her beware of evil eyes, he
hurried out of the house back to his work; and so great was his joy at
being a father that he did not feel hungry.

He was digging potatoes, and in his excitement had sent his hoe through
some of them, which, however, he did not notice until he happened to
strike one that was so hard that the steel of his hoe flashed.

Thinking it was a pebble, he stooped to pick it up, but was surprised
to see that it was no longer there.

However, he went on working, when he struck another hard potato, and his
hoe again flashed.

"Ah," said he, "the evil one has been sowing this field with stones, as
he did in the days of good Saint Euphemia, our patroness." Saying which,
he drew out the small crucifix from under his shirt, and the flinty
potato disappeared; but he noticed that one of its eyes moved.

He thought no more of this untoward event, and went on hoeing until
sunset, when, with the other labourers, he shouldered his hoe and
prepared to go home.

Never had the distance seemed so great; but at last he found himself by
his wife's bed