Once upon a time, before the lighthouse on the dangerous reef of the Casquet rocks was erected, a vessel was wrecked on Alderney. Such occurrences in those days were not uncommon, but so cut off from intercourse with the rest of the world were the inhabitants of the island, that they were, for the most part, totally ignorant of the nature and value of the goods which the waves so frequently cast up on their inhospitable shores, and it is related that when a Dutch East Indiaman, laden with cinnamon, was wrecked on the coast, the people rejoiced in the seasonable supply of fuel that was afforded them, and employed the precious bundles of aromatic bark in heating their ovens.
On the occasion, however, to which our present story refers, among the articles saved from the wreck there was a barrel, which, on being opened, was found to contain a number of small packages carefully done up in paper. Some of these were opened and proved to be needles of various sizes, but the oldest inhabitant had never seen anything of the sort, and many were the speculations as to what they could possibly be. A general meeting of the islanders was called to deliberate, and many conjectures were hazarded. At last the opinion of an old grey-headed man prevailed. He expressed it to be his firm conviction that the strange commodity could be nothing else but the seed of some new kind of herb or useful root, and that the best thing to be done was to make choice of one of the most fertile spots on the Blaies, and to proceed forthwith to plough and sow.
His advice was received with acclamation, and immediately acted upon, but alas for their hopes! Spring came, and nothing but an unusually fine crop of weeds—always too common—appeared on the carefully-tilled land.[219]
[219] “Semer des Aiguilles.” See Proverbes du Pays de Béarn, page 17.
“Semia Agulhes—Semer des Aiguilles. Se donner une peine inutile, faire un travail qui ne produira rien. En Béarn, comme dans la Gascogne, (Bladé, Prov.) on attribuait aux habitants de quelques villages le fait d’avoir semé des aiguilles, dans l’espoir qu’elles multiplieraient comme du blé.”
How the Jerseymen Attempted To Carry Off Guernsey.
It is not easy to understand why it should be so, but it is nevertheless a fact that the inhabitants of Jersey, although conceiving themselves a far superior race, have always looked with eyes of envy and jealousy on the smaller and less pretentious island of Guernsey. Perhaps the greater commercial prosperity which the possession of a good roadstead and port conferred on the latter at a time when Jersey could boast of neither, and the advantages arising in consequence from a freer intercourse with strangers, in days when these islands were almost cut off from the rest of the world, may have contributed to produce and keep alive these feelings. Certain it is that the Jerseymen have at all times had the reputation of being always ready, when an opportunity presented itself, to play a bad turn to their neighbours of Guernsey.
It is said that three audacious mariners, who had come over from the larger island with a cargo of agricultural produce, after disposing of their wares to good advantage, and having indulged perhaps a little too freely in the excellent cider of the place, conceived the bold design of carrying away the island with them and joining it on to Jersey! Could they succeed in effecting the annexation, what credit would they not gain for themselves! What advantages would not accrue to their native isle!
Their hated rivals—for so, as true Jerseymen, they looked on the quiet industrious inhabitants of Guernsey—would be obliged to acknowledge their superiority, and submit quietly to the supremacy of the larger isle.