Chapter 2

instead, he lifted up the biggest stone he could find and threw it down the well. "They are dead," he said to himself, laughing. "Ah, I have caught you! Ha, ha!"

The Burincantadas now being dead, the monkey was at leisure to decide what to do next. He entered their palace, and there he found everything magnificent. "This is the very place where my master shall live!" He opened the first room, but there he found nothing but bones. He closed the door and opened the second, where he found many prisoners who were waiting to be eaten. He set them all free, and told them to clean up the palace at once. The prisoners set to work, not forgetting to thank the monkey for his kindness. Before he left the palace, he addressed the crowd as follows: "My brothers and sisters, if any one comes and asks you who your master is, tell him that he is Don Juan Pusong Tambi-tambi."

Then he left the crowd of people busy cleaning the palace, and went to the farm, where he found thousands of horses, cows, and sheep. "My master is indeed rich," he said to himself. He called the shepherd who was lying under the tree, and said to him, "Tell your other companions that, if any one comes and asks whose animals these are, they must answer that they all belong to Don Juan Pusong. Don Juan is your master now."

After seeing that everything was in order, the monkey hastened to his master, who was still ploughing, and said, "Throw away your plough. Let's go to the king's palace, for to-night you will be married to the princess Doña Elena."

Night came. The palace was splendidly adorned. The princess was sitting by her father, when Don Juan, dressed in his striped clothes and accompanied by the monkey, entered the gate of the palace. Soon the priest came, and the princess was called to the reception-hall. When she saw her bridegroom, she ran away in despair, and cried to her father, "Father, how dare you accept as my husband such a base, dirty, crooked man! Look at him! Why, he is the meanest of the mean."

But the king replied, "He is rich. If you don't marry him, I'll punish you very severely." The princess had to obey her father; but, before giving her hand to Juan Pusong, she said, "O God! let me die."

When the marriage ceremony was over, the king called the monkey, and asked, "Where is the couple going to live?"

"In Don Juan's palace," was the reply of the monkey.

The king immediately ordered carriages to be gotten ready. Then they started on their journey. Four hours passed, and still no palace was to be seen. The king became impatient, and said to the monkey, "Monkey, if what you have said to me is not true, your head shall answer for your lie." Hardly had he said these words when he beheld before him a number of men watching a herd of cattle. "I wonder who owns these, monkey!" said the king.

The monkey made some signs, and soon three shepherds came running up to them. "Good-evening, king!" they said.

"Good-evening!" replied the king. "Whose cattle are these?"

"They are all owned by Don Juan Pusong," said the shepherds.

The king nodded, and said to himself, "He is truly rich." The palace was now in sight. The king could hardly express his joy on seeing such a magnificent building. "Why, it is not a palace; it is heaven itself," he said.

They were now upstairs. The king, on seeing still more beauties, said, "I confess, I am not the richest man on earth." Soon he died of joy, and his body was placed in a golden coffin and buried in the church.

The couple inherited his dominion; but Queen Elena could not endure her ugly husband, and two weeks later she died broken-hearted. So Juan was left as sole ruler of two kingdoms. The monkey became his chief minister.

This story shows that a compassionate man oftentimes gets his reward.

Andres the Trapper.

Narrated by Domingo Perez of San Carlos, Pangasinan, who heard the story from his grandfather, now dead. The story is popular among the Pangasinanes.

Once upon a time there lived in a village a poor widow who had an only son named Andres. They lived in a small hut situated near the Patacbo forest. When Andres was between twelve and thirteen years old, his mother died. From now on he lived alone in his mean little hut, where he had to cook his own food and wash his clothes.

One morning some boys invited Andres to go to the woods with them to trap. When they got to the forest, his companions set their traps in the places where the wild chickens used to feed. Then they went home. In the afternoon they returned to the woods, where they found that each trap had caught a wild cock. Now Andres became envious of his companions: so when he reached home, he took his knife and made two traps of his own. After he had finished them, he ran to the forest and set them. Early the next morning he went to the woods to see if he had caught anything. There he found two wild cocks snared. He took them home, sold one, and ate the other for his dinner. When he had finished eating, he made many traps, which he set up that afternoon. From now on he made his living by trapping, often catching as many as fifteen birds in a day. From the money he earned he was able to feed himself and buy clothes.

One day, after Andres had been a trapper for many years, he went to the forest, as usual, to see what he had caught. He found that his traps had been moved, and that in one of them was a big monkey caught by the leg. As Andres was about to kill the monkey with a big stick which he picked up, the animal said to him, "My dear Andres, don't harm me! and I will be your helper by and by."

Andres was much astonished to hear the monkey talk. He was moved to pity, and set the animal free. When he started toward his home, the monkey followed him. From now on they lived together. Soon the monkey learned how to sell wild chickens in the market.

Now, in that town there lived a very rich man by the name of Toribio, who had a daughter named Aning. The people considered Aning the most beautiful lady in the province. However, none of the young men of the town courted Aning, for they felt unworthy and ashamed to woo the richest and most beautiful girl. One fine day the monkey went to town and sold wild chickens, as usual. On his way home he stopped at Don Toribio's house. Don Toribio asked what he wanted, and the monkey said that his master had sent him to borrow their money-measure.

"Who is your master?" said Don Toribio.

"Don't you know? Don Andres, a very rich, handsome young gentleman who lives in the valley of Obong," said the monkey.

Don Toribio at once lent the ganta-measure to the monkey, who thanked him and hurried home. Before he returned it to the owner the next morning, he put a peso, a fifty-centavo piece, a peseta, and a media-peseta in the cracks of the measure.

When the monkey handed the ganta back to Don Toribio, the man said, "Why do you return it? Has your master finished measuring his money?"

"No, sir!" said the monkey, "we have not finished; but this box is too small, and it takes us too long to measure with it."

"Well," said Don Toribio, "we have a bigger one than that; do you want to borrow it?"

"Yes, I do, if you will let me keep it till to-morrow," said the monkey.

Don Toribio then brought a cavan, which equals about twenty-five gantas. When the monkey reached home carrying the large measure, Andres said to him, "Where did you get that box?" The monkey said that it had been lent to him by the richest man in the town.

"What did you tell the man that you were going to do with it?" said Andres.

"I told him that you wanted to count your money," said the monkey.

"Ah, me!" said Andres, "what money are you going to count? Don't you know that we are very poor?"

"Let me manage things, Andres," said the monkey, "and I promise you that you shall marry the beautiful daughter of the rich man."

The following day Andres caught many wild chickens. When the monkey had sold them all in the market, he went back to their hut, and took the cavan which he had borrowed. Before returning it to Don Toribio, he stuck money in the cracks, as he had done to the first measure.

"Good-morning, Don Toribio!" said the monkey. Don Toribio was sitting in a chair by the door of his house.

"Good-morning, monkey! How do you do?" replied the rich man. "Have you come to return the box?"

"Yes, sir!" said the monkey, "we have finished. My master sends his thanks to you." When Don Toribio took the box and saw the money inside, he told the monkey about it; but the monkey said, "Never mind! we have plenty more in our house."

"I am the richest man in town, yet I cannot throw money away like the master of this fellow," said Don Toribio to himself. "Perhaps he is even richer than I am." When the monkey was about to take his leave, the rich man told him to tell his master to come there on the third day. The monkey said that he would, and thanked Don Toribio for the invitation.

On his way home, the monkey stopped at the market to buy a pair of shoes, some ready-made clothes, and a hat for Andres. He took these things home to his master, and in three days had taught Andres how to walk easily with shoes on, how to speak elegantly, how to eat with a spoon and fork and knife, and how to tell Don Toribio that he wanted to marry his daughter.

When the time came, Andres and the monkey set out for the town. They were welcomed by Don Toribio and his daughter Aning. After a short talk, Andres spoke of his purpose in coming there. He said that he wanted to marry Don Toribio's daughter. Don Toribio gladly accepted the offer, and said that the wedding would be held the next morning. Hasty preparations were made for the ceremony. In the morning a priest came, and Andres and Aning were married. Many guests were present, and everybody had a good time.

A few years later Don Toribio died, and Andres inherited all his wealth. He then became a very rich man.

Notes.

Two other Philippine variants of the "Puss in Boots" cycle have been printed,--one Visayan, "Masoy and the Ape" (JAFL 20 : 311-314); and the other Tagalog, "Juan and the Monkey" (ibid., 108-109). It would thus appear, not only from the fact of its wide distribution, but also from the testimony of the recorders of the stories, that the tale is fairly well known and popular throughout the Archipelago.

The most complete bibliography of this cycle is Bolte-Polívka's notes on Grimm, No. 33 (a), "Puss in Boots" (Anmerkungen, I : 325-334). See also Köhler's notes to Gonzenbach, No. 65, "Vom Conte Piro" (2 : 242 f.); Macculloch, ch. VIII (p. 225 f.); W. R. S. Ralston in the "Nineteenth Century" (13 [1883] : 88-104). The oldest known version of the story is Straparola's (XI, i), which is translated in full by Crane (pp. 348-350). The second oldest is also Italian, by Basile (2 : iv); the third, French, Perrault's "Le Chat Botté." In all three the helpful animal is a cat, as it is without exception in the German, Scandinavian, English, and French forms. In the Italian the animal is usually a cat, though the fox takes its place in a number of Sicilian tales. In the Greek, Roumanian, Bulgarian, Serbian, Russian, and in general all East European forms, the helpful animal is regularly the fox, as it is also in the examples collected from Siberia, Kurdestan, Daghestan, and Mongolia. In the four Indian variants known, the animal is a jackal; in the four from the Philippines, a monkey. In a Swahili tale (Steere, p. 13) it is a gazelle. It is not hard to see how, through a process of transmission, jackal, fox, and cat might become interchanged; but where the Philippine monkey, consistently used in all versions, came from, is more difficult to explain; so the Swahili gazelle. I have, however, attempted an explanation below.

An examination of the four members of the Philippine group reveals some striking family resemblances: (1) The motive of the monkey's gratitude is the same in all the stories: the thieving animal is caught in some sort of trap, and promises to serve the hero for life if he will only spare it. The animal is true to its word. (2) In all the stories occurs the incident of the borrowed measure returned with coins sticking to it. (3) In all the versions occurs the marriage of the poor hero with the chief's daughter, brought about by the ingenious monkey. (4) In three of the versions (all except the Pangasinan) we have as the final episode the destruction of a powerful witch or demon, and the winning of all its fortune by the monkey for the hero. In the Hindoo variants we find that the motive of the jackal's gratitude agrees with the motive in our versions. In other respects they differ (with the exception of the marriage, which is found in nearly all members of the "Puss in Boots" cycle): the Hindoo tales lack the incidents of the borrowed measure and the destruction of the demon. So far as the opening is concerned, then, our variants and the Indian belong to the same family. The separation, however, must have taken place ages ago; for in India the animal is consistently a jackal, and in the Philippines a monkey. The only other form that I know of in which the animal is a monkey is the Arabian, in the "1001 Nights," "Aboo Mohammed the Lazy;" but here the helpful ape later turns out to be a malicious demon, who treacherously abducts the hero's beautiful wife. At last, through the aid of a friendly jinnee, the hero recovers her, captures the ape, and encloses it forever in a bottle of brass. He then gains possession of all the demon's enormous wealth. It is difficult to see any immediate connection between the Arabian version and ours.

Our two Visayan forms are of particular interest in that they make use of the "Tar Baby" device to catch the monkey. If Joseph Jacobs is correct in tracing this incident to the Buddhist birth-story, the "Pancavudha-jataka," No. 55 (see Indian Fairy Tales, pp. 305 ff.), the Philippines may easily have derived it directly from India along with other Buddhistic fables (e.g., "The Monkey and the Crocodile," No. 56, below). Indeed, Batten's ingenious explanation that the Brer Rabbit of Negro lore is a reminiscence of an incarnation of Buddha may be applied equally well to the monkey in our Visayan tales, for the monkey is a much more common form for the Bodhisatta than is the hare. In the five hundred and forty-seven Jatakas, Buddha is born as a hare only once; whereas in eleven separate stories he appears as a monkey,--oftener, indeed, than as any other animal (lion, ten times; stag, nine; elephant, seven). This same explanation (viz., that "Puss in Boots" is the Bodhisatta) would account for the gazelle (deer) in the Swahili tale. The extreme cleverness of the Bodhisatta in most of his animal manifestations might easily have suggested the "Puss in Boots" cycle. Another point worth noticing in connection with this theory is the consistent faithfulness of the animal. The ingratitude of the human hero, which is found even in some of the Occidental versions, and the gratitude of the animal, form a favorite Buddhistic contrast. Altogether it appears to me wholly reasonable to derive not only the "Tar Baby" incident, but also the whole "Puss in Boots" cycle, from Buddhistic lore. For the appearance of both in the Philippines we do not need to go to Europe as a source. The "Tar Baby" device to catch a thieving jackal is found in a Santal story, "The Jackal and the Chickens" (Bompas, No. CXII). See also two South African tales in Honeÿ,--"The Story of a Dam" (p. 73), and "Rabbit's Triumph" (p. 79). For other references, see Dähnhardt, 4 : 26-43 (ch. 2).

There is a connection, however, between some of the Occidental versions and three of ours,--the incident of the destruction of the demon. This detail, as I have pointed out, is hinted at in the "1001 Nights" version. [95] In spite of the fact that it exists in a number of the oldest European literary forms of the story and is not found in modern Indian folk-tales, I believe that this incident is of Oriental origin. In Straparola it has been rationalized, so to speak. A significant version intermediary between the Orient and Occident in this respect, as well as geographically, is the Mongolian tale of "Boroltai Ku" (FLJ 4 : 32 f):--

This story has the Oriental opening: the animal is a fox, which the hero digs out of its hole and spares. Through its cleverness the fox brings about the marriage of Boroltai Ku, the man who spared its life, with the daughter of Gurbushtên Khan. After the wedding the khan sends the new couple back to their home, and with them an official attendant. On the return journey the fox runs on ahead, and requests every herdsman it meets to say, if he is asked whose cattle he is tending, "It is the cattle of Boroltai Ku, the rich khan." At last the fox comes to the tent of Khan Manguis, and groans. "What's the matter?" says the khan. "A storm is coming," says the fox. "That is a misfortune for me too," says the khan. "How so? You can order a hole ten fathoms deep to be dug, and can hide in it," says the fox. So done. Boroltai Ku and his party now appear, and he occupies the khan's tent as if it were his own. The fox assures the official attendant that the tent is Boroltai Ku's, but that it has one defect. "What is that?"--"Under the tent lives a demon. Won't you bring down lightning to slay him?" The attendant brings down lightning and slays Khan Manguis, who is sitting in the hole. Boroltai Ku becomes khan, and takes all the possessions, cattle, and people of Khan Manguis, and goes to live near his father-in-law.

In this story, it will be noticed, the animal's ruse is the same as ours,--it persuades the rich khan (demons in ours) to hide himself in a pit. There he is subsequently killed.

The borrowed measure returned with coins sticking to it has already been met with in No. 20 (c). The incident occurs elsewhere in Filipino drolls. It is curious to find it so consistently a part of the Filipino "Puss in Boots" stories.

In conclusion may be noted the fact that in "Andres the Trapper" the monkey's solicitude over the appearance his master will make at the rich man's house has a parallel in the jackal's similar concern in the Santal story:--

Before the wedding-feast, the jackal gave Jogeswhar some hints as to his behavior. He warned him that three or four kinds of meats and vegetables would be handed round with the rice, and bade him to be sure to help himself from each dish; and when betel-nut was handed to him after the feast, he was not to take any until he had a handful of money given him; by such behavior he would lead every one to think he was really a prince.--BOMPAS, p. 175.

In Dracott's story the human hero is a weaver also, as in the Santal. His last exploit has been borrowed from another Indian tale not connected with our group, "Valiant Vicky the Weaver" (Steel-Temple, p. 80; cf. Kingscote, No. IX).

TALE 49

JUAN THE FOOL.

This story was narrated by Remedios Mendoza of Manila, but the story itself comes from the Tagalog province of Bulakan.

(NARRATOR'S NOTE.--This story was told to me by a student. He said that he first heard it in one of the informal gatherings which are very common in Bocawe, Bulakan, during the hot season. The young men often assemble at a little shop kept by a young woman, and there the story-teller of the barrio tells stories. This story of Juan was told at one of these gatherings by an old man about fifty years old.)

Juan is twenty years old. At this age he begins to become famous in his little barrio. He is short in stature. His eyes are neither bright nor dull: they are very black, and slowly roll in their sockets. His mouth is narrow. He has a double chin, and a short flat nose. His forehead is broad, and his lips are thick. His hair is black and straight. His body is round like a pumpkin, and his legs are short. He seems to be always tired. In spite of all these physical peculiarities, however, he is invited to every bayluhan and katapusan, [96] because he is sure to bring with him laughter and merriment.

Juan lives in a poor barrio, which consists of a few poor nipa huts. It has a small chapel of stone, with a turret and bells. In the courtyard in front of the chapel is erected a cross. A few nipa cottages are scattered along the lonely streets of the barrio. There is a rivulet just outside the village. Its course is hidden and lost in a thick forest which extends to the foot of a mountain.

At the time the story opens Juan is eating his breakfast with his mother. She is an old widow, whose sole ambition is to establish Juan in a good social position. She is constantly advising her son, when there is any occasion to preach, to be on the lookout for a virtuous wife. She tells him that, since she is an old and experienced woman, he must follow her advice. Her advice is that a good wife is always quiet and tongue-tied, and does not go noisily about the house. As Juan is an obedient son, he soon determines to get him a good wife. After a short time Juan comes home to his mother, and says to her, "Mother, I have found the girl you will like,--the one who shall be my wife. She is speechless and motionless. Her eyes are staring in just one place. Though I have watched her closely for about twelve hours, I have not observed the slightest motion in her lips and eyelids. She remained quiet in her bed, although there were many noisy people in the house."

"And is that all?" says his mother.

"No, mother," says Juan, "her hands were very cold. She was deaf, and she did not answer me. This fact makes her all the lovelier, and I am sure you will like her. There is only one thing you did not tell me, however."

"I think," says the mother, "that I advised you well."

"Yes, I think so too," says Juan. "The girl had a stinking waxy-like odor."

"O Juan!" exclaims his mother, "I already suspected from your long description that you followed my instructions too literally. The girl you found is a dead one. Now, remember: those who stink are dead."

"Thanks, mother," says Juan quietly, "I will never forget that."

A few days later, when Juan and his mother are eating their breakfast, Juan smells a stinking odor. He looks around the little room. As he does not see any one else there, he thinks that his mother is dead. Then, when his mother is taking her siesta, Juan says to himself, "Surely mother is dead." He goes out quietly and digs a grave for her. Then he buries her in it, and mourns for her nine days. Now Juan is alone in the world.

One morning, when Juan is eating his breakfast by himself, he smells again a stinking odor. He looks around, and, as he does not see any one, he thinks that he himself is dead. There is nobody to bury him. So he goes to the river, takes five or six banana-trunks, and makes a raft of them. He lies down on the raft, and lets the current of the river carry him away. In three hours the current has carried him into the woods. While he is floating through the forest, all of a sudden he is called in a fierce voice by some one on shore. This man was the captain of a band of robbers. Juan does not stir in his place. The second shout is accompanied by a terrible oath. Juan opens his eyes. He sadly looks at the robbers, and tells them that he is a dead man. The robbers laugh; but when Juan insists on remaining on the river, the captain frightens Juan, and says that he will shoot if he does not get up. As Juan does not care for the taste of bullets, he goes to the bank of the river, still thinking that he is a walking dead body.

Juan goes with the robbers into the woods. Their house is in a deserted spot. The captain appoints Juan their housekeeper. He tells him to cook rice, but orders him to keep very still and quiet, for they may be caught by the Spanish soldiers (cazadores). Then the robbers go out on an expedition, and Juan is left alone in the house. He shuts the windows, and everything is quiet and undisturbed. He even tries to control his breathing for fear of the noise it may make. He cautiously takes an earthen pot and puts rice and water into it. Then he places the pot on the fire, and sits down near it. Everything is silent. But suddenly a murmuring sound seems to come from the pot. (The water is beginning to boil.) Soon the sound seems to be very loud. Juan thinks that the pot is saying, "Buluk ka." This expression means, "You are decayed." So Juan gets very angry. He whispers to the pot to stop; but the pot does not seem to hear him, for the murmuring sound becomes louder and louder. At last Juan is so exasperated, that he takes a piece of bamboo-bellows (ihip) and gives the pot a fatal blow. This puts an end to the pot, the rice, and the flames.

At noon the hungry robbers come home. They find Juan almost breathless in the darkest corner of the house, the pot broken, and the rice scattered over the floor. They ask Juan what is the matter. Juan says that the naughty pot was making too much noise, and was mocking him; and, as the captain bade him be careful about making a noise, he struck the pot and broke it into pieces. The captain cannot help smiling at Juan's foolishness, and he tells Juan to prepare a lunch with anything he can find in the house.

The next day comes, and all the food is eaten. The captain gives Juan some money, and tells him to go to the market to buy some earthen pots and some crabs. When Juan reaches the barrio, he buys all the crabs he can find, and about two dozen large earthen pots. He next finds out that the pots are too bulky for him to carry, although they are not heavy. At last he thinks of a good way to carry them. He has the pots carried to one corner of the market, where he buys a long piece of rattan. He sharpens one end of the rattan and passes it through the bottoms of all the pots, so that they are now very easy to be carried. He slings them over his shoulder, and starts for home with the pots and the crabs. Soon he comes to a large, wide river with a very strong current. He sits down on the bank and wonders what is to be done. He remembers that crabs are good swimmers, so he decides to untie them and let them swim to the other side of the river. As he unties the crabs, he says, "Now, crabs, we have to cross this broad river. I know that you are good swimmers. I am a slow swimmer myself, and especially with these pots to carry. Please swim to the other side of the river as quickly as you can, for I cannot carry you. If you reach the other side before I do, you may go straight home, or wait for me." With this warning, he releases the crabs one by one so that they may go in a straight line. He is very glad to see them swim so fast. Then with the help of a piece of bamboo, and after a long struggle, he himself reaches the opposite shore. He looks around for the crabs; but, seeing none, he says to himself, "Perhaps they have become tired of waiting for me and have gone straight home, as I ordered them to do. What a surprise for the captain!" Juan is very glad at the decision of the crabs, and he sets out for the robbers' house, always hoping to overtake the rear of the long procession of crabs. He soon reaches home. He asks the robbers if the crabs have arrived. When Juan finds out that not one of the naughty crabs obeyed him, he blames himself for his quiet nature, and swears that he will never trust a crab again. The captain asks him about the pots. Juan tells him that they are all safe, and that the captain must thank him for his wit in solving the problem of how to carry two dozen large pots at the same time. All the robbers are eager to see what Juan's scheme was. When they find out what Juan has done, and see the holes in the bottom of all the pots, they cannot help laughing. The captain, however, addresses Juan with all the epithets found in a common slang dictionary. The captain now decides never to let Juan stay in the house alone, and from that time on takes him with them on their expeditions.

Several days later the captain calls Juan one night, and tells him to get ready, for they are going to rob a certain house. They go through the forest, and soon come to a clearing, in the middle of which stands a large nipa house. While they are still in the thicket, the captain calls Juan to him, and says, "Juan, go into the silong [97] of the house, and see if the people are awake. Now, remember, if you feel something hot, it is a man; but if it is cold, it is a bolo. Do you understand?" Juan answers, "Yes," and obediently goes to the house, repeating to himself the orders of the captain. He cautiously goes under the house, and looks around. After a while something hot falls on his back. He quickly runs away, and begins to cry, "Tao, tao!" ("Man, man!") All the robbers get frightened, so they run away too. After a few minutes they come together. Seeing that they are not pursued, the captain calls Juan, and says to him, "Juan, why did you fool us? Nobody is pursuing us."

"Well," says Juan, "I followed your orders. You said that if I felt something hot, it was a man; but if cold, it was a bolo. I went into the silong. I looked up. There was a faint light, and I saw a large mat outlined on the floor. As I was looking at it, a hot thing fell on my back. Then I ran away to warn you."

"Let us see," says the captain impatiently, "what tao that is which has fallen on your back." One of the robbers lights a match. The robbers examine Juan's back, and they see only a little lizard clinging to his worn-out camisa (loose, thin cotton coat). [98] Some of the robbers get angry, and some laugh at Juan's foolishness. The captain tells Juan that he may go away, for he is not worth anything. He also tells Juan not to tell anybody that he has been with them, for, if he does, they will kill him.

Juan leaves the band of robbers, and decides to live up in a tree, because he is all alone, he says. He takes a low bamboo table and goes up into a very large mango-tree. He chooses a well-hidden place, and there he ties his table firmly to the branches. He spends the day in the neighboring towns looking for food, but at night he comes back to the tree and sleeps there.

Early one morning Juan wakes up and hears faint whispers. He looks down, and sees two men talking very earnestly together. One is carrying a bag of money. Juan loosens his table and lets it fall on the men. It makes a loud crash, and they run away. Juan quickly climbs down the tree and makes off with the bag of money. He now decides to live in town. After he has found a barrio that suits him, he buys a house, a carabao, and a cart. He lives peacefully in his new house. Sometimes he works; but he spends most of his time sleeping, for he is a very lazy fellow.

One morning the capitan of the town sends a town crier around to announce an order to the people. The town crier says, "The capitan orders you all to sprinkle with water the street in front of your houses." Juan takes a small cocoanut-shell full of water, and goes out and sprinkles the street. In the afternoon the capitan of the town goes about the streets to see if the people have obeyed his orders. He sees that everybody has obeyed him except Juan. He goes to Juan's house, and asks him why he has not sprinkled the street; and Juan tells him what he has done. The capitan then tells him that he must use much water. As soon as the capitan has left, Juan begins to pour buckets of water on the street. But when the water all flows away, Juan thinks that his irrigation is not good enough: so he takes his cart and carabao, and with their help he digs a large ditch. All night long Juan works filling the ditch with water. The next morning, when the capitan sees the ditch, he becomes very angry, and summons Juan. Juan excuses himself by saying that the laws of the town are not stated clearly. So the capitan has to let Juan go.

When Sunday comes, Juan goes to church. In the pulpit the priest tells the people to put a little cross on their street doors. When Juan goes home, he takes a piece of tinting (the rib of a cocoanut-leaf) and makes a little cross about two inches high. When the priest makes his rounds, he does not see the cross, for it is so small. He asks Juan where his cross is. Juan shows him; and the priest tells him to make a large one, for it is too small, and the evil spirits will not be able to see it. Juan takes his bolo and cuts two long pieces of bamboo. This time his cross is so large, that the priest cannot see it, either. The priest becomes so angry at Juan's stupidity, that he expels him from the town. Juan good-naturedly goes away. He sells his house, and with his cart and carabao he moves on to another town.

He settles in a barrio where the soil is red. Here he lives several weeks, but he is always longing to go back to his old home. He finally says to himself that he is going there in spite of the anger of the priest. He fills his cart with red earth, and hitches his carabao to it. He sits in the middle of his cart, and slowly drives to the town where he had lived before. As he is driving down the main street in the afternoon, whom should he meet but the priest himself! The priest cries, "Juan, so you are here again! Didn't I tell you that you must never tread the soil of this town again? If you do not go away, I shall tell the capitan to imprison you."

"Dear priest," says Juan humbly, "before you accuse me, use your eyes. I am not treading on your soil. This earth which I have in my cart is my own." The priest looks in the cart. By this time there are many people around them, and they too look in the cart. They laugh at Juan's wit. The priest wants to laugh too; but he controls himself, for he is afraid that the people will not respect him any more if he laughs. So he angrily threatens Juan, and tells him to leave the town instantly. Poor Juan has nothing to do but go.

He sells his carabao and cart, and spends the money foolishly in the neighboring villages. Soon Juan is reduced to poverty again, so he decides to go back to his native town. There he finds everything changed: the houses are better, and the little chapel is prettier. He looks for relatives or friends, but he finds only his old grandmother, who lives by herself in the field. He goes to her and tells her the history of his family. The old woman recognizes him at last, and asks him if he is not the Juan who buried his mother. Juan answers, "Yes," but excuses himself by saying that he only obediently followed his mother's advice.

Juan now stays with his grandmother. Her hut, which is very small, is surrounded by a small garden of vegetables. Juan does nothing but eat and sleep. He soon develops the bad habit of throwing things out of the window. His grandmother tells him that he must throw them far away. One morning the old woman does not find Juan, and he does not appear until midnight. She asks him where he has been, and he tells her that he went to the other side of the mountain to throw away a banana-skin which was left on his plate. She tells him that he does not need to go so far, that he can throw the banana-skins behind the fence.

One day early in the morning the old woman leaves Juan in charge of the house, for she is going to town. She tells him to cook two small measures (chupas) of rice for her, for perhaps she will be very hungry when she gets home. Then she goes away quite happy, thinking that Juan understands her. As soon as she leaves, Juan thinks it is time to begin to cook. He is surprised to find only one measure in the earthen jar. He looks for the other one everywhere; but, as he cannot find it, he thinks his grandmother was mistaken when she told him to cook two measures of rice. So he takes his bolo, goes outside, cuts a piece of bamboo, and makes a wooden measure just like the other one. This takes him a long time; but when he has finished, he fills the two measures with dry rice, and puts them in the fire. While the measures are burning, the grandmother arrives. She calls Juan, and asks him if the rice is ready, for she is very hungry. Juan tells her that it is quite ready. The old woman sees that it is very bright in the house, and she fears that it is on fire. Juan says that it is the two measures burning. When the old woman sees what Juan has done, she becomes angry. However, she controls herself, and teaches Juan how to cook rice. Under the supervision of the old woman, Juan takes an earthen pot, cleans it, and puts rice into it. Then he puts water into the pot, and finally puts the pot on the fire. The old woman goes to rest, telling him to watch the rice. After a while she calls to Juan, and says,

"Did you cover the pot [tinungtungan mo na ang paliok]?" [99]

"No, I did not," says Juan.

"Cover the pot, then [tungtungan mo]!" she cries.

"That is impossible," says Juan.

"Why impossible?" cries the old woman. "The rice will have a smoky taste if you don't."

"All right," says Juan, getting up. He goes to the fireplace and thinks for a little while. Then he jumps up to the rafters of the ceiling, which are but two feet above his head. He goes just above the pot, adjusts his feet very well, and then lets himself fall. The pot is broken to pieces. The old woman wakes up at the noise of the crash, and says, "What is that, Juan? Is the rice cooked?"

"Why do you ask me that?" says Juan impatiently. "You told me to step on the pot, and now you ask me if the rice is cooked!"

She goes out to the kitchen; and when she sees her broken pot, the old woman becomes truly angry. She drives Juan from the house, telling him that he cannot live with her any more because he is too troublesome.

Juan now goes off, and wanders from town to town. Sometimes he is obliged to work in order to get anything to eat. Finally he comes to a large town where the people wear shoes and carry umbrellas. He becomes enchanted with the shoes and umbrellas: so he works hard, and saves enough money to buy both. But he surprises every one who sees him; for he carries his shoes dangling at his belt, and his umbrella closed under his arm. Some of the more curious fellows follow after him. They see that, although it rains or the sun is very hot, Juan never opens his umbrella except when he sits to rest under a tree; and also that he never puts his shoes on when he is on dry land, but only when he is crossing a river. At last they ask him why he does such foolish things. Juan says, "Don't you know that there are many worms and loose branches in a tree? If, for example, a snake should fall down, well, it would hit my umbrella. As for the shoes, it is better for one to wear his shoes when he crosses a river, for there he cannot see the ground." The people leave him alone; but some persons think he is wise, and imitate his example.

Juan goes on with his travels. At last he falls in love. He serves the girl's parents, and becomes their cook. He always keeps the best parts of the chicken for the girl and himself, and gives only the bones to the parents. They ask him why he gives them the worst parts. Juan replies, "I do that because you are our supporters. The bones, compared with a house, are the foundation and framework." The parents find Juan's reasoning so good, that they at once marry their daughter to him. After this Juan is a good and sensible fellow, and does not do foolish things any more.

Notes.

This long, loosely-constructed droll is not of any fixed length, according to the narrator; adventures are added or omitted at the caprice of the story-teller. It would be useless to attempt to parallel the tale as a whole, because of the very nature of its composition. The separate incidents, however, we may examine, pointing out analogues already in print, and citing others from my own manuscript collection.

(1) "If it smells bad, it's dead." This joke is common among the Tagalogs and Pampangans, and forms the basis of many of their comical stories. As an example I will give the opening of a story entitled "Ricardo and his Adventures" narrated by Paulo Macasaet, a Tagalog from Batangas:--

Ricardo and his Adventures.

Once there was a widow who had a son named Ricardo. One day the mother said to the boy, "Ricardo, I want you to go to school, so that you may learn something about our religion." Ricardo was willing enough, so he took his Catechism and set out. Instead of going to the school, however, he went to a neighboring pond and listened to the merry croaking of the frogs. When eleven o'clock came, he went home and told his mother about the real school. The poor woman was very happy, thinking that her son was spending his time wisely. Ricardo took great delight in joining the chorus of the frogs, for his mother gave him food as a reward for his diligence.

One morning the woman asked her son to read his lesson. The boy opened his Catechism and croaked very loudly. His mother was glad when she heard that her son could croak so well, because she thought that that was the way to read the book.

As Ricardo was playing with his schoolmates one day, he saw a dead cat. It smelled very bad, so he left the pond and went home. He said, "Mother, I saw a cat lying near our school. It had a very bad odor." The mother said, "My son, remember this: whenever a body smells bad, you may be sure that it is dead." Ricardo repeated the words of his mother many times to himself, and learned them by heart.

One day, when he was on his way to the pond, Ricardo smelled something bad. He looked in every direction, but he could not find anybody. So he said, "Since I cannot find any dead body here, I must be the one who is dead." He lay down on the ground, and said, "Ricardo is dead! I cannot eat any more. O how unhappy I am!" While he was lying there, he saw a ripe guava above his head. He exclaimed, "Delicious fruit, you are very fortunate! If I were alive, I would eat you." He wished to get the fruit, but he dared not do so. After a while, when he could no longer smell the stink, he got up and went home, and told his mother his story.

[As the rest of the story is not droll, and is in no way connected with our present tale, it may be given in abstract.]

One day Ricardo learned from his mother how his father had been killed by a giant who had afterwards carried away his sister. The boy set out in search of the giant. An old man along the way, whom he treated kindly, gave him two bottles of magic water,--one that would make invulnerable the man who should drink it, another that would take away all the strength of him on whose head it should be poured. Later a leprous old woman to whom he gave some food presented him with a magic saddle that would carry him through the air. So equipped, he soon arrived at the cave of the giant. He succeeded in killing that seven-headed monster and in freeing his sister and many other prisoners. Ten barrels of money were found in the cave. Of these, Ricardo took two; the rest he gave to the prisoners he had freed. Later Ricardo married a beautiful woman named Lucia.

(2) Destruction of the singing rice-pot. Another Tagalog form of this incident, likewise connected with Juan's experiences while cook for a band of robbers, was collected from Singalong, Manila. It was related by Crisanto H. Aragon, and runs as follows:--

Juan and the Robbers.

Once there was a young man named Juan, who left his parents to seek his fortune. While he was wandering in the mountains, he reached the cave of some robbers. Juan decided to be a robber, and asked the chief to admit him. The chief accepted Juan.

One night Juan was left alone in the cave, for his companions had gone to town to make a raid. Before leaving, the chief said, "Juan, you will stay here and take care of our property. If you hear a noise, take your bolo and kill whoever makes that noise, for he is our enemy. Cook some rice, so that when we return we may have something to eat."

While Juan was cooking the rice, to his great surprise he heard a noise. Faithful to the command that had been laid upon him, Juan took his bolo and walked around the cave to see where the noise came from. When he reached the kitchen, he noticed that the noise was louder. After a careful observation, he concluded that it was coming from the rice-pot. "The enemies must be here," said Juan, pointing to the rice-pot; and, without a moment's hesitation or fear, Juan smashed the pot into a thousand pieces. The noise stopped at once, and Juan was satisfied.

When the robbers came home and asked Juan for rice, he told them what had happened. The chief realized that the fault was his, so he only laughed at Juan; but, from that time on, Juan was never allowed to stay alone in the cave.

One night the robbers decided to rob the captain of the Municipal Police in a town near by. When they reached the captain's house, they saw that it was empty: so they took everything they could find. Juan entered the captain's bedroom, but, instead of searching for valuables, he took the captain's uniform and put it on. Then Juan went out to join his companions. But as soon as the robbers saw the uniformed man, they thought it was the captain, and ran away as fast as their legs would carry them. Juan ran too, for he thought that the captain must be after them. The robbers were so frightened, that they separated; but Juan decided to follow the chief. Finally the chief became so tired, that he made up his mind to stop and fight his pursuer; but when Juan came up, the chief recognized him, and it was only then that both of them felt that they had gotten rid of the real captain.

For a Santal story of a stupid hero joining a band of thieves, see A. Campbell, "Jhorea and Jhore," pp. 11-12; Bompas, p. 19.

(3) Adventure with the crabs. Compare "The Adventures of Juan" (JAFL 20 : 106), in which Juan's mother sends her foolish son to town to buy meat to eat with the boiled rice. He buys a live crab, which he sets down in the road and tells to go to his mother to be cooked for dinner. The crab promises, but, as soon as Juan's back is turned, runs in another direction. Clearly our version of the incident is superior to this.

(4) Juan as a thief. With this incident may be compared another Tagalog story, narrated by Adolfo Scheerer. It is entitled--

The Adventure of two Robbers.

There were once two robbers, who, hearing of the trip that a certain family was about to make, decided to rob them during the night. They were encouraged in their purpose by the thought that everything in the house would be in a state of great confusion. During the night the two thieves climbed a tree which grew close by a window of this house. From this place they could easily observe what the people inside were doing. As they sat there waiting, they saw two servants packing something which seemed to be very heavy. They believed that the bundle contained much money, so they decided to steal it.

In the dead of night one of the robbers went up into the house, took the bundle, and passed it to his companion below. When he joined the other, they took to their heels, carrying the bundle between them on their shoulders. When they had gone some way, the one in the rear began to get curious as to what they were carrying, so he cut an opening in the mat that was wrapped around the contents. To his great surprise, he noticed a human toe stick out; and he at once shouted, "Man, man, man!" The one in front took this shout as a warning that some one was chasing them, so he ran faster. The other only continued to shout, "Man, man!" but his companion paid no attention to him. Finally his foot caught in the root of a tree, and he fell down. When he understood the situation, the two villains left the bundle and ran away.

(5) Frightening robbers under tree. This incident is widespread, and has made its way into many Märchen cycles. It is distinctly comic in its nature. For references to its occurrence, see Köhler-Bolte, 99 and 341 (sub "Herabwerfen der Thür"); Crane, 380, note 19; Cosquin, I : 243 f.; and especially Bolte-Polívka, I : 521-525 (on Grimm, No. 59), episode F.

(6) Walking on his own soil. This trick of Juan's we have already met with in "King Tasio," No. 7 (b).

(7) Cooking rice-measures. Juan's misunderstanding about cooking two measures of rice is almost exactly paralleled in a Santal story in Bompas, No. I. The story is entitled "Bajun and Jhore," and this is the first of a series of noodle-like incidents:--

Once upon a time there were two brothers named Bajun and Jhore. Bajun was married, and one day his wife fell ill of fever. So, as he was going ploughing, Bajun told Jhore to stay at home and cook the dinner, and he bade him put into the pot three measures of rice. Jhore staid at home, and filled the pot with water and put it on to boil; then he went to look for rice-measures. There was only one in the house; and Jhore thought, "My brother told me to put in three measures, and if I only put in one, I shall get into trouble." So he went to a neighbor's house and borrowed two more measures, and put them into the pot, and left them to boil. At noon Bajun came back from ploughing, and found Jhore stirring the pot, and asked him whether the rice was ready. Jhore made no answer: so Bajun took the spoon from him, saying, "Let me feel how it is getting on!" but when he stirred with the spoon, he heard a rattling noise; and when he looked into the pot, he found no rice, but only three wooden measures floating about. Then he turned and abused Jhore for his folly; but Jhore said, "You yourself told me to put in three measures, and I have done so." So Bajun had to set to work and cook the rice himself, and got his dinner very late.

This ludicrous mistake suggests a not dissimilar droll of the Tinguian (Cole, 198, No. 86):--

A man went to the other town. When he got there, the people were eating bamboo sprouts (labon). He asked them what they ate, and they said pangaldanen (the bamboo ladder is called aldan). He went home and had nothing to eat but rice: so he cut his ladder into small pieces, and cooked all day, but the bamboo was still very hard. He could not wait longer, so he called his friends, and asked why he could not make it like the people had in the other town. Then his friends laughed and told him his mistake.

For an almost identical Santal story, see Bompas, No. CXXIV, "The Fool and his Dinner."

(8) The last two episodes--wearing of shoes only when crossing rivers and raising umbrella under tree, and the division of the fowl--we have discussed in the notes to No. 7 (see pp. 63-64, [9], [8]). Add to the bibliography given there, Bompas, No. CXXVIII, "The Father-in-law's Visit," which contains a close parallel to the first episode.

In conclusion I will give two other Filipino noodle stories, which, while not variants of any of those given above, have the same combination of stupidity and success as that found in "Juan the Fool." The first is an Ilocano story narrated by Presentacion Bersamin of Bangued, Abra, and runs thus:--

Juan Sadut.

Juan Sadut was a very lazy fellow. His mother was a poor old woman, who earned their living by husking rice. What she earned each day was hardly enough to last them until the next. When a boy, Juan was left at home to watch over their hens and chickens. One day, as his mother went to work, she told Juan to take care of the little chicks, lest a hawk should get them. Now, Juan had been told this so many times, that he had grown tired of watching chickens: consequently, when his mother went away, he tied all the chickens and hens together, and hung them on a tree. He did this, because he thought that no bird of prey could see them there. In the evening, when his mother came home, she asked if everything was all right. Juan said, "Nana, I tied all the hens and chickens by their legs, and hung them in that tree, so that they would be safe." The mother asked where they were. Juan showed them to her, but they were all dead. The mother was angry, and whipped Juan very severely.

Time passed on, and Juan grew up to be a man; but he was as lazy as ever. He wanted to get married, but the girl he had picked out was the daughter of a rich man; and his mother told him that he was not a good match for the girl, for they were very poor, and, besides, he was too lazy to support a wife. Still Juan was determined to marry the girl, and he thought out a way to get her. One day Juan went to work in the fields, and earned a peseta. The next day he earned another. Then he said to his mother, "Nana, please go to the father of Ines Cannogan (for such was the name of the girl) and borrow their salup (a half cocoanut-shell used for measuring). The mother went, and Ines asked her who had sent for the salup. The mother told her that her son Juan was a merchant that had just arrived from a successful trip. So the salup was lent. When returning the measure, Juan put the two pesetas in the husk of the cocoanut-shell, and told his mother to take it back to Ines, pesetas and all. When Ines examined the salup, she found the pesetas, and told her father all about them.

Not long afterwards Juan sent his mother again to borrow the measure. Again Juan returned it with money sticking in the husk of the shell. This he did several times, until at last Ines's father believed that Juan was very rich. Juan now had a chance to talk with Ines's father about his daughter, and of course the old man accepted his proposal immediately. So Juan and Ines were married.

After their marriage, when the old man found out that his new son-in-law was not only very poor, but also very lazy, he repented of his rashness. However, he compelled both Juan and his wife to go work on his farm. Once, when Ines was taking her siesta, many wild cocks and hens came to eat the rice which she had put in the sun to dry. Juan was too lazy to get up and drive them away, so he took Ines's gold hairpin and threw it at the birds. When Ines awoke, she missed her hairpin. Juan told her what he had done with it. She scolded him so severely, that he felt hurt, and began to weep bitterly, for even his wife disliked him.

The next day Juan went to look for the hairpin at the place where he had thrown it. To his great surprise, he found a bush with golden branches, and on one of them was the hairpin. Immediately he called his wife. They pulled up the bush, and discovered at its roots a jar full of gold and silver money. Now Ines was very proud of her husband's luck. They went to the town to tell their father of their good fortune. From now on, the old man no longer hated Juan, hut loved him, and gave him all his property to supervise.

Thus Juan Sadut became a rich man without any effort. Fortune favors the lazy--sometimes.

The other story comes from the other end of the Archipelago, from the province of Misamis. It was narrated by Antonio Cosin of Tagoloan, Misamis, and is a Visayan tale. As may easily be seen, it is distantly related to Grimm, No. 7, "A Good Bargain." For the "sale to animals" comic episode, see Grimm's notes; Clouston, "Book of Noodles," p. 148; and Bolte-Polívka, 1 : 60. For the "sale to statue" incident, which is analogous to our third episode below, see Clouston, ibid., p. 146; Crane, 379, note 12; Cosquin, 2 : 178. The story follows:--

Juan Loco.

A great many years ago there lived a certain fool that went by the name of Juan Loco. He was the son of a butcher, in so far as the following experiences of his are concerned; he had many other experiences that are not recorded in this story.

Juan could not be intrusted with anything, he was such a dunce; but one day he persuaded his father to let him go out and sell meat. So about eight in the morning Juan left home with about three pesos' worth of pork, full of many a hopeful expectation. After having wandered through many streets, he noticed that a big horse-fly was following him with an imploring murmur. Imagining that the fly wanted to buy meat, this sapient vender said to it, "Do you want to buy meat?" The fly answered with a "buzzzzz." For Juan this was a sufficient answer: so he left one-third of the pork with the fly, saying that he was coming back again for his pay. Next he met a hungry and greatly-abused pig, and he asked it if it wanted to buy meat. The pig merely said, "hack, hack," and gave a few angry nods, but Juan understood it to be saying, "Yes:" so he threw it one-half of the meat he had left, with the same warning as he gave the fly,--that he was coming back to collect the price of the meat. His third customer was himself, or his reflection. Warm, tired, and thirsty from his wanderings, he came to a well, where he thought he would take a drink. On looking down, however, he saw a man in the bottom of the well. When Juan shouted to him and made gestures, the man--or his reflection and the echo of his own voice--returned some sort of inarticulate sound, and made the same gestures as Juan. For the third time this sufficed for a "Yes." So Juan threw the rest of his pork down the well, and said he would come back for his money.

Now comes the collection, which he found to be quite easy. He entered a dry-goods store, where he saw a fly on the hand of the shop-keeper. Juan talked to the fly and demanded his money. It did not answer: so he began chasing it around the room, sometimes striking at it when it was on some customer's hand. At last, tired of the disturbance, the shop-keeper paid him off to get rid of him. Next Juan came to a garden where there was a pig. With the pig he encountered the same obstinate silence. He began to chase the pig, and he beat it whenever he was near enough to hit it. When the owner of the animal saw what he was doing, and realized that he was crazy, he paid him off, too. Now, as to his third customer. The reflection in the pool simply mocked him and made him disgusted. So Juan got a long pole and stirred the bottom of the well. When he found that this treatment simply made his customer disappear, he began shouting at the top of his voice. Finally the owner of the well came; and, to avoid further disturbance, he also paid him off, for every one could easily see that the vender was crazy (loco) from the way he talked and acted.

So Juan went home in ecstasy. He received much praise from his father, who promised to let him sell meat every day; and the poor fellow gloried in being thus praised.

For other noodle stories of the Filipinos, see our No. 9 and JAFL 20 : 104-106.

TALE 50

JUAN AND HIS PAINTED HAT.

Narrated by Adolfo Scheerer, a Tagalog from Manila, who heard the story from their native servant some fifteen years ago.

There once lived a man by the name of Juan, who did nothing but fool people all the time. Once, when he had only seventy pesos left in his pockets, he determined to resort to the following scheme: he bought a balangut hat (a very cheap straw), and painted it five different colors. In the town where Juan was to operate, there were only three stores. He went to each one of them and deposited twenty pesos, saying to the owner of each, "I will deposit twenty pesos in your store, and to-morrow afternoon I will bring some friends here with me. We will perhaps take some refreshments or buy some goods, but in any case I will see to it that the total amount of the things we take is not over the twenty pesos. Then, when we leave, do not ask me to pay you for the things. I will simply make you a bow with my hat, and your attendants should thank me with much courtesy. That mere bow with my hat is to be the payment. You may keep the twenty pesos, but you must also keep this little plan a secret." The owners of the three stores promised.

The next day Juan was walking in the street with his painted hat on, when one of his friends met him. "Halloo, Juan!" exclaimed his friend, "where did you get that funny hat?"

Juan looked serious, and said, "Don't be foolish! Don't you know that this hat is the only means I have of earning a living?"

"Means of living?" returned the other.

"Why, of course. I can go in any store, take anything I please, and pay for it with a mere bow of my hat."

By this time two other friends of Juan had come along, and they too were surprised to see what Juan had on his head. To convince them of the marvellous character of the hat, Juan took his friends to one of the stores. There they sat down, and Juan ordered some refreshments. They ate much, and of the best that the store could furnish. After they had had enough, Juan stood up, made a bow to the proprietor with his hat, and then they all left. Then they visited another store, where the same thing took place.

The friends of Juan were very much astonished, and each wished to possess the hat. One offered him a thousand pesos for it; another, two thousand; and the third, one-half of all his property, which amounted to about five thousand pesos. Juan, of course, was willing to sell it to the highest bidder; but when the sale was about to be concluded, the buyer began to doubt the power of the hat. So he asked Juan to take him to another store to prove once more the qualities of the hat, after which trial, he said, he would pay him the money. Juan took his friend to the third store, and the friend was now sure that the hat could really work wonders. So he paid Juan the five thousand pesos.

When he had received the money, Juan left his friends, went on board ship, and sailed away to a foreign country. One day the friend who had bought the hat desired to make a showing with it. So he invited several friends, among them some ladies. He took them to one of the stores, and there ordered some refreshments to be served them. When they had finished, the man bowed with his hat, and started to leave.

"Thank you, sir!" said the owner of the store, "but where is my payment for the refreshments you have just eaten?"

The owner of the hat was astonished, and, thinking that perhaps he held the hat in the wrong way, or else his fingers were not on the right color, he turned the hat around. Then he made another bow. The owner of the shop now became angry, and began to swear at the man. The other became excited, twirling the hat around, and holding it in as many different ways as he could think of. Finally the shop-keeper ordered the man arrested.

When the owner of the hat heard how Juan had played his trick by paying twenty pesos in advance, he fainted and became very sick. In the mean time Juan was performing other tricks in some different country.

Notes.

This droll was without doubt imported from Europe, where it has a fairly wide distribution. It does not appear hitherto to have been found in the Orient. In the European forms we find it both as a separate tale, like our story, and also as a part of the "Master Cheat" cycle, which we have discussed in the notes to No. 20. For a complete list of the known occurrences of the "hat pays" episode, see Bolte-Polívka, 2 : 10-15, incident D (on Grimm, No. 61). According to their classification, versions from Holland, Denmark, Sweden, Rumania, Serbo-Croatia, Poland, Russia, and Lithuania are known. See also Köhler-Bolte, 246, 251 (note 1).

TALE 51

JUAN AND CLOTILDE.

Narrated by Vicente Hilario, a Tagalog, who heard the story from an old man living in Batangas.

In ages vastly remote there lived in a distant land a king of such prowess and renown, that his name was known throughout the four regions of the compass. His name was Ludovico. His power was increased twofold by his attachment to an aged magician, to whom he was tied by strong bonds of friendship.

Ludovico had an extremely lovely daughter by the name of Clotilde. Ever since his arrival at the palace the magician had been passionately in love with her; but his extreme old age and his somewhat haughty bearing were obstacles in his path to success. Whenever he made love to her, she turned aside, and listened instead to the thrilling tales told by some wandering minstrel. The magician finally succumbed to the infirmities of old age, his life made more burdensome by his repeated disappointments. He left to the king three enchanted winged horses; to the princess, two magic necklaces of exactly the same appearance, of inimitable workmanship and of priceless worth. Not did the magician fall to wreak vengeance on the cause of his death. Before he expired, he locked Clotilde and the three magic horses in a high tower inaccessible to any human being. She was to remain in this enchanted prison until some man succeeded in setting her free.

Naturally, King Ludovico wanted to see his daughter before the hour of his death, which was fast approaching. He offered large sums of money, together with his crown and Clotilde's hand, to anybody who could set her free. Hundreds of princes tried, but in vain. The stone walls of the tower were of such a height, that very few birds, even, could fly over them.

But a deliverer now rose from obscurity and came into prominence. This man was an uneducated but persevering peasant named Juan. He possessed a graceful form, herculean frame, good heart, and unrivalled ingenuity. His two learned older brothers tried to scale the walls of the tower, but fared no better than the others. At last Juan's turn came. His parents and his older brothers expostulated with him not to go, for what could a man unskilled in the fine arts do? But Juan, in the hope of setting the princess free, paid no attention to their advice. He took as many of the biggest nails as he could find, a very long rope, and a strong hammer. As he lived in a town several miles distant from the capital, he had to make the trip on horseback.

One day Juan set out with all his equipment. On the way he met his disappointed second brother returning after a vain attempt. The older brother tried in every way he could to divert Juan from his purpose. Now, Juan's parents, actuated partly by a sense of shame if he should fail, and partly by a deep-seated hatred, had poisoned his food without his knowledge. When he felt hungry, he suspected them of some evil intention: so before eating he gave his horse some of his provisions. The poor creature died on the road amidst terrible sufferings, and Juan was obliged to finish the journey on foot.

When he arrived at the foot of the tower, he drove a nail into the wall. Then he tied one end of his rope to this spike. In this way he succeeded in making a complete ladder of nails and rope to the top of the tower. He looked for Clotilde, who met him with her eyes flooded with tears. As a reward for his great services to her, she gave him one of the magic necklaces. While they were whispering words of love in each other's ears, they heard a deafening noise at the bottom of the tower. "Rush for safety to your ladder!" cried Clotilde. "One of the fiendish friends of the magician is going to kill you."

But, alas! some wanton hand had pulled out the nails; and this person was none other then Juan's second brother. "I am a lost man," said Juan.

"Mount one of the winged horses in the chamber adjoining mine," said Clotilde. So Juan got on one of the animals without knowing where to go. The horse flew from the tower with such velocity, that Juan had to close his eyes. His breath was almost taken away. In a few seconds, however, he was landed in a country entirely strange to his eyes.

After long years of struggle with poverty and starvation, Juan was at last able to make his way back to his native country. He went to live in a town just outside the walls of the capital. A rich old man named Telesforo hired him to work on his farm. Juan's excellent service and irreproachable conduct won the good will of his master, who adopted him as his son. At about this time King Ludovico gave out proclamations stating that any one who could exactly match his daughter's necklace should be his son-in-law. Thousands tried, but they tried in vain. Even the most dextrous and experienced smiths were baffled in their attempts to produce an exact counterfeit. When word of the royal proclamations was brought to Juan, he decided to try. One day he pretended to be sick, and he asked Telesforo to go to the palace to get Clotilde's necklace. The old man, who was all ready to serve his adopted son, went that very afternoon and borrowed the necklace, so that he might try to copy it. When he returned with the magic article, Juan jumped from his bed and kissed his father. After supper Juan went to his room and locked himself in. Then he took from his pocket the necklace which Clotilde had given him in the tower, and compared it carefully with the borrowed one. When he saw that they did not differ in any respect, he took a piece of iron and hammered it until midnight.

Early the next morning Juan wrapped the two magic necklaces in a silk handkerchief, and told the old man to take them to the king. "By the aid of the Lord!" exclaimed Clotilde when her father the king unwrapped the necklaces, "my lover is here again. This necklace," she said, touching the one she had given Juan, "is not a counterfeit" for it is written in the magician's book of black art that no human being shall be able to imitate either of the magic necklaces.--Where is the owner of this necklace, old man?" she said, turning to Telesforo.

"He is at home," said Telesforo with a bow.

"Go and bring him to the palace," said Clotilde.

Within a quarter of an hour Juan arrived. After paying due respect to the king, Juan embraced Clotilde affectionately. They were married in the afternoon, and the festivities continued for nine days and nine nights. Juan was made crown-prince, and on the death of King Ludovico he succeeded to the throne. King Juan and Queen Clotilde lived to extreme old age in peace and perfect happiness.

Notes.

This Tagalog Märchen appears to be closely related to an eighteenth-century Spanish ballad by Alonso de Morales. The ballad is No. 1263 in the "Romancero General," and is entitled, "Las Princesas Encantadas, y Deslealdad de Hermanos." Although in general outline the two stories are very close to each other, there are some significant differences.

In the Spanish, the king's name is Clotaldo, and he rules in Syria. The king builds a very high tower, and puts in it his three beautiful daughters; then he calls a powerful magician to cast a spell about the place, so that the tower cannot be scaled until the king wishes it to be. Confined in the tower with the princesses are three winged horses (o satánicas arpias). The king then issues a proclamation that whoever can reach the princesses shall be married to them. The three brothers that make the attempt are knights from Denmark. The two older proceed to Syria on horseback, fail, and on their return home meet their youngest brother making his way leisurely in a bullock-cart. He too is going to try, and is taking with him abundant provisions, many nails, and a rope. After they have tried in rain to persuade him to return home, they accompany him. [The episode of the poisoned food is lacking.] Juan gains the top of the tower, lowers the two older princesses, and then, last of all, the youngest, who gives him a necklace before she descends. The treacherous brothers now destroy Juan's means of escape, and make off with the three maidens, leaving him on the tower. He mounts one of the winged horses, and it flies with him to a distant country. Making his way back to Syria on foot, he exchanges clothes with a drover, and appears in Clotaldo's kingdom in disguise, pretending to be simple-minded. The king has already married his two older daughters to Juan's treacherous brothers, and is now trying to persuade his youngest daughter to marry: but she wishes only her rescuer. She paints a necklace in every respect like the one which she gave Juan, and says that she will marry only when a person is found who can make a necklace exactly like the picture. The king sends the painting to an alchemist in the city, and orders him, under penalty of death if he falls, to produce the necklace in two months. He is unable to do so, and becomes downcast. Juan, who has been in service as a porter, and is the one who carried the command of the king to the alchemist, asks him why he is sad. He tells the reason. Juan gives the alchemist his necklace. [The rest is practically as in our story.]

There is a sequel to this ballad, No. 1264, which has a close resemblance to the Tagalog "Juan Tiñoso," already summarized in the notes to No. 36.

The Spanish story, says the editor of the "Romancero General," is one of those founded directly on Oriental material which was transmitted by the Arabs. It is curious that so few of these tales, which have been preserved for generations as oral tradition, have made their way into print. The differences noticeable between our Märchen and the ballad may be due to a tradition somewhat divergent from that on which Alonso de Morales's poem is based.

TALE 52

THE POOR MAN AND HIS THREE SONS.

Narrated by Gregorio Velasquez, a Tagalog from Pasig, Rizal. He says, "This is a primitive Tagalog fable. I think. I heard it from old people."

Once there lived a poor man who had three sons. When the father was on his death-bed, he called his sons, and said to them, "My sons, I shall die very soon; and I shall not be able to leave you much wealth, for wealth I have not. But I will give each one of you something which, if you will only be able to find a place in which it has no equal, will make you happy men." The father then gave to one a rooster, to another a cat, and to the third a scythe. Then he died.

The owner of the scythe was the first to try his fortune and test his father's advice. He left his brothers, and went on a journey until he came to a town where he saw the people harvesting rice by pulling the stalks out of the ground. He showed the people the convenience of the scythe. They were so delighted and astonished, that they offered to give him a large sum of money in exchange for the tool. Of course he was willing to sell it, and he went home a rich man.

The owner of the rooster, seeing the good luck of his brother, next resolved to try his fortune with the bird. Like his brother, he travelled until he came to a town where there was no rooster. The people were very much interested in the rooster's crowing, and asked the owner why the bird crowed. He said that the bird told the time of day by its crowing. "The first crow in the night announces midnight," he said; "the second, three o'clock in the morning; and the third crow announces five o'clock." The people were very anxious to get the rooster for their town, and offered to buy it. The owner was willing, and he returned to his home as rich as his brother who had sold the scythe.

The last brother now set out to try his luck with his cat. At last he came to a town where the rats were vexing the people very much. He showed them the use of his cat. With wonder the people watched the cat kill the rats, and were astounded to see how the rats fled from this strange animal. The news of the cat reached the king, who summoned its owner to the palace. The king asked the brother to try his cat on the rats in the palace, and so the cat was turned loose. In a short time all the rats had either been killed or driven away. The king wanted the cat, and offered to pay a large sum of money for it. So the owner of the cat, after the king had paid him, went home as rich as his other two brothers.

Thus the three brothers became rich, because they followed their father's wise advice: select the right place in which to trade.

Notes.

This story, like the preceding, is clearly an importation from the Occident. The bibliography of the cycle to which it belongs may be found in Bolte-Polívka, 2 : 69-71 (on Grimm, No. 70). German, Breton, French, Flemish, Swedish, Catalan, Serbian, Bulgarian, Czech, Polish, Russian, Lithuanian, and Finnish versions have been recorded. The story as a whole does not appear to have been collected from the Far East hitherto, though separate tales turning on the sale of a cat in a catless country (Dick Whittington type) are found among the Jews and in Africa. Bolte and Polívka give the bibliography of this latter group of stories on pp. 71-76.

The oldest form of our story known is that found in Nicholas de Troyes' "Grand Parangon des nouvelles Nouvelles," No. X, dating from 1535. The three things here bequeathed by the father are a cock, a cat, and a sickle, as in our version. I think it probable that the tale was introduced into the Philippines through the medium of a French religious. The Catalan form differs from the French in mentioning a fourth "heirloom," a raven, and was probably not the parent of our Tagalog version.

TALE 53

THE DENIED MOTHER.

Narrated by Leopoldo Uichanco, a Tagalog from Calamba, Laguna.

(One day little Antonio fell down and sprained his elbow. His grandfather told him to put on his camisa and they would go to Tandang Fruto, an old manghihilot (a man who pretends to correct dislocated bones by means of certain prayers). On their way they met a beggar with a guitar. He sat down on a stone in front of a house and began to sing. Antonio wished to hear him, and so did the old grandfather: so they stopped and listened. The beggar sang the story of "The Denied Mother" in Tagalog verse. The story is this:--)

In a certain country there lived a king who had a pet dog. He loved the dog so much and treated it so kindly, that, wherever he went, the dog followed him. In the course of time the dog gave birth to three puppies. The most striking thing about these new-born creatures was that they were real human beings in every particular. So the king ordered them to be baptized. The eldest sister was named Feliza; the second, Juana; and the youngest, Maria. When they grew up into beautiful young women, they married three princes, each of a different kingdom. After the marriage-festivities, each went to live in the country of her husband.

Feliza was very happy: she dressed elegantly, and had all that a woman of her rank could wish for. One day, when her husband was away from home, a lean, dirty, spectre-looking dog came to her. It was Feliza's mother, who, after the death of her master the king, had been cast out of the palace. The poor dog had had nothing to eat for many days. She had been driven away from every house, and had been frightened by mischievous boys with sticks and stones. Although Feliza's kingdom was very far away, she had managed, in spite of difficulty, to reach it. She hoped to gain her daughter's pity. "My daughter," she said, as she ascended the steps of the ladder(!), "have compassion on me! I, your mother, am in a very wretched condition."

"What care I?" returned Feliza. "What business have you to come here? Don't you know that I will never sacrifice anything for your sake? Get out of here!" And she kicked the poor dog until it fell tumbling to the ground. Feliza did not want her husband to find out that her mother was a dog.

Sadly the dog went away, and decided to go to her daughter Juana's kingdom. The country was far away, but what else could she do? As Juana was coming out of the church with her husband, she saw the dog hurrying after her. Like Feliza, she was ashamed of her mother. She whispered to one of the guards to catch the dog and tie it securely in a distant forest, so that it might no longer annoy her.

Not long after this, Maria, the youngest daughter, was riding through the forest with her husband. There they found the poor dog crying and yelping in a pitiful manner. Maria recognized her mother. She got out of the carriage, and with her own hands untied the dog. She wrapped her veil around it, and ordered the carriage to turn back to the palace. "Husband," she said as she ascended the steps of the royal residence, "this dog that I am carrying is my mother, so please your Majesty."

The husband only said, "Thank God!" and not another word. Maria ordered the cook to prepare delicious food for the dog. She assigned the best chamber in the palace to the animal. While the dog was eating with Maria, the prince, and the courtiers, the dining-room was suddenly illuminated with a bright light. The dog disappeared, and in its place stood a beautiful woman in glorious attire. The woman kissed Maria, and said, "I am the dog your mother. God bless you, my good child!"

Notes.

I can offer no close parallels for this somewhat savage tale, though a few analogies to incidents in our story are to be found in an Indian story in Frere (No. 2, "A Funny Story"), the first part of which may be abstracted here for comparison.

A certain Rajah and Ranee are sad because they have no children and the little dog in the palace has no puppies; but at last the Ranee is confined, and bears two puppies, while the little dog at the same time gives birth to two female infants. In order to keep her offspring from the Ranee, who wishes to substitute her own for the dog's, the dog carries its two daughters to the forest, and there rears them. When they have become of marriageable age, they are found by two princes, who take them away and make them their wives. For twelve years the poor dog looks in vain for her lost children. One day the eldest daughter looks out of her window, and sees a dog running down the street. "That must be my long-lost mother!" she exclaims to herself; and she runs out, gets the animal, bathes it and feeds it. The dog now wants to go visit her younger daughter, although the elder tries in vain to dissuade her mother from going. When the younger daughter sees the dog, she says, "That must be my mother! What will my husband think of me if he learns that this wretched, ugly, miserable-looking dog is my mother?" She orders the servants to throw stones at it and drive it away. Wounded in the head, the dog runs back to her elder daughter, but dies, in spite of the tender care it receives. The daughter now tries to conceal the body until she can bury it. The husband discovers the corpse of the dog, but it has become a statue of gold set with diamonds and other precious stones. He asks where the treasure came from. His wife lies, and says, "Oh, it is only a present my parents sent me!" [The rest of the story has nothing to do with ours: it is a variant of the "Toads and Diamonds" cycle (see notes to No. 47).]

It will be noticed that in the Indian tale the rôles of the daughters are the reverse of what they are in our story.

TALE 54

TOMARIND AND THE WICKED DATU.

Narrated by Eutiquiano Garcia of Mexico. Pampanga. He says that this is an old Pampangan tale.

Before the Spanish occupation there were in the Philippines many petty kingdoms headed by native princes known as datus. Luzon, the scene of countless ravages and hard fightings of warlike tribes, was the home of Datu Nebucheba. His kingdom--at first only a few square miles--was greatly extended by the labor of his young brave warrior, Tomarind. Tomarind had a very beautiful wife, with whom Datu Nebucheba fell in love; but the ruler kept his vile desire secret in his heart for many years. Many times he thought of getting rid of his warrior Tomarind, and thus getting possession of his beautiful wife.

One day Tomarind was sent on a dangerous errand. He was ordered to get an enchanted marble ball from one of the caves in a certain mountain. Two monsters of terrible aspect, whose joy was the burning of villages, and whose delight was the killing of human beings, guarded the entrance of that cave. Many persons had entered the door of that death-chamber, but nobody had come from it alive. Suspicious of the coming danger, Tomarind did not go directly to the cave. He sought the famous witch of Tipuca, and told her about his situation. Immediately the witch performed a sort of diabolical ceremony, gave Tomarind a magic cane, and sent him away. When he reached the cave, those that guarded the cave received Tomarind very kindly, and they delivered the enchanted marble ball to him.

"To-morrow," said Nebucheba to himself, "the wife of Tomarind will be mine." Alas for him! very early the next morning Tomarind presented the marble ball to Datu Nebucheba. "How quickly he executed my orders!" exclaimed Nebucheba. "What shall I do to destroy this brave man? The next time he will not escape the danger. I will ask him to take a letter to my parents, who are living under ground, in the realm of the spirits," he said to himself.

The datu caused a well to be dug, and big stones to be piled near the mouth of it. When everything was ready, he summoned the brave warrior. He gave him the letter, and told him to start the next morning. Tomarind went again to the witch of Tipuca. "This is a very great task," said the witch; "but never mind! you will get even with Datu Nebucheba." That night the witch, with the help of unseen spirits, made a subterranean passage connecting the bottom of the datu's well with that of Tomarind's. "Nebucheba," the witch said to Tomarind, "will ask you to go down into his well; and as soon as you are at the bottom, he will order that the pile of stones be thrown on you. Lose no time, but go in to the subterranean passage that I have prepared for you." When morning came, Tomarind went to execute the orders of the datu.

Now, Nebucheba firmly believed that Tomarind was dead. There was great rejoicing in the datu's house. In the evening, while the revelry was going on, Tomarind appeared with the pretended answer from Nebucheba's parents. The letter read, "We wish you to come and see us here. We have a very beautiful girl for you." Nebucheba was greatly surprised. He made up his mind to go down into the well the next day. He gathered all his subjects together, and said to them, "I am going to see my parents. If the place there is better than the place here, I shall not come back. Tomarind will be my successor."

In the morning Nebucheba's subjects took him to the well and lowered him slowly into it. When he reached the bottom, Tomarind threw big stones down on him, and Nebucheba was crushed to death. The people never saw him again. Tomarind became datu, and he ruled his subjects with justice and equity for many years.

Note.

I know of no variants of this tale, which pretty evidently represents old tribal Pampangan tradition. The device by which Tomarind lures the wicked datu to his death is not unlike incident J in our No. 20 (see notes), but there is clearly no other connection between the two stories.