did. But no sooner had he loosened it a little when the animals, which

were all squeezed by God into the sack, pressed forward, and, before the man could count two, out they were running, each one wherever his eyes would lead him and his legs would carry him. Before he had time to recover from his astonishment, he saw the two old men standing by his side, and, pointing to the sack, God said to him:

"Is that the way thou hast kept thy promise? As a punishment thou shalt no longer be a human being, but a bird with long legs to be able to run quickly after all these animals, and with a long beak to pick them up, and under thy throat I will fasten the empty sack to fill it with the animals caught."

And thus he has remained to this very day, walking about on his long legs, looking round with his keen eyes, and trying to pick up all possible vermin which he espies crawling upon the earth.

XXXIII.

WHY DOES THE TITMOUSE GET INTO THE PUMPKIN?

The Story of God and the Food of the Titmouse.

When God had made all the creatures, he called every one of them and told them what their food should be. Among the birds was the titmouse. To her God turned and said, "Thy food shall be the seed of the pumpkin."

The titmouse, knowing that the seed of the pumpkin was very sweet, did not wait to hear whether God said anything more, but, greedy and impatient, ran as fast as she could, relishing beforehand the delightful food which God had given her. So coming down to the earth, she alighted on a field in which maize was growing, and among it a large number of pumpkins.

"Here, now, I have the food ready for me, and I am going to have a good time." But she had made a wrong calculation. When she got up to the pumpkins, she found to her dismay that the skin of the pumpkin was as hard as bone. So she tried to pick a hole in it. She went round and round, but wherever she tapped it with her little beak, she found the shell too hard for her.

Bitterly disappointed, she went away and tried to feed as best she could by catching flies and beetles. So she eked out a miserable livelihood only and solely because she was greedy, and had not waited to hear what God had to say to her when he gave her that food.

The time came when God was walking upon the earth. The titmouse heard of it, and knowing the loving-kindness and mercy of God, and that he would have pity if he heard of her miserable life, she took courage and went to meet him, and told him how hard it was for her, that after having had a gift from God, she could not enjoy it. She asked God, therefore, that he would at least make a soft part in the skin of the pumpkin that would become a hole, by which she could get inside the pumpkin and eat the pips which were given to her for food. God took pity on the little creature, who begged so piteously, and so, taking a pumpkin, God made a hole in it. The titmouse got into it, and did not leave the pumpkin until she had picked all the seeds. From that time onwards the titmouse, whenever she sees a field of pumpkins, will go round and round each pumpkin trying to find one with a hole, by which to get into it and eat the pips.

The titmouse was too quick again this time, for it did not ask God to make two holes, to get in by one and out by the other, so now the pumpkin often becomes a snare and a prison. Boys have only to make a hole in the pumpkin for the titmouse to get into it and then they catch it without any trouble.

XXXIV.

WHY HAS THE NIGHTINGALE A DRAB COLOUR?

When God created the world he made all the living creatures of one colour, or rather with none, for no one had any colouring on its wings, feathers, or skin. So, one day, God called all his creatures to paint them with different colours as he chose. All the birds and beasts and creeping things came, and God gave every one a different coat to wear. Only the nightingale did not come, as she had not heard of God's command. At last some birds, seeing her, told her what had happened. So she hastened to come to God. But when the nightingale appeared before God, the paint-pot was quite empty, and no trace of any paint (colour) was left. It had all been spent on those who had come before. Thus nothing could be done, and the nightingale remained with her drab colour. God, however, wanted to compensate the nightingale for the lack of any colour, so he gave her a very beautiful voice.

XXXV.

WHY HAS THE NIGHTINGALE TWELVE TUNES AND WHY DOES THE TURTLE-DOVE COO?

Once upon a time the nightingale met the turtle-dove. After greeting one another, the nightingale said, "Sister, let us keep awake during the night and learn some tunes to sing."

"Quite agreeable," said the turtle-dove, "and in the morning we shall see what each one of us has learned."

In the following night the nightingale kept awake and listened attentively to all the sounds that could be heard. She heard the shepherd playing on his pipe, and the wind whistling, and the dogs barking, and lambs calling, and many more sounds, and thus learned no less than twelve tunes. The turtle-dove, lazy as she is by nature, did not keep awake, but went to sleep as soon as the night grew dark. She slept almost the whole night through, and awoke only at the break of dawn. There was no sound to be heard. It was all quiet. Suddenly she heard a man driving his horses to the fields shouting "trr, trr." This sound she picked up, and no other. In the morning she went to find her sister the nightingale, and asked her whether she had heard anything, and whether she had learned any tunes. If so, would she mind singing to her?

The nightingale replied, "Oh, I have heard many songs, and have learned many tunes." And without waiting any longer, she began to warble her songs. The turtle-dove sat listening, lost in admiration at the beautiful singing of the nightingale. When the latter had finished her songs, she asked the turtle-dove: "And what have you learned, sister mine?"

The turtle-dove, full of shame over her laziness, owned that she had not kept awake, but had gone to sleep, and that the only sound and song she had learned was "trr, trr," which she had picked up from the man who was driving his horses to the field. And so it has remained to this very day. The nightingale sings all the night through and stops towards the morning, when the turtle-dove awakens and starts its "trr, trr."

XXXVI.

WHY IS THE NIGHTINGALE THE SONGSTER OF THE KING?

The Story of the Nightingale, the Blackbird and the Thrush.

The king of the birds, feeling one day in a good humour, wanted to find out which of his subjects could sing best. So he sent an order to his birds to select from amongst themselves those whom they thought to be the best singers. All the birds came together, and, after having heard many of the birds who said they could sing, they selected three from amongst them and sent up, as the best singers for the king to choose from, the yellow thrush, the blackbird, and the nightingale. The thrush, with his beautiful golden feathers which glow in the light of the sun, was allowed to go first as the most beautiful of them; nay, he put himself at the head and walked first. The blackbird, which has a yellow beak, and whose feathers are shining like silk, walked immediately behind, whilst the little nightingale, small of build, with the drab-coloured feathers, followed meekly in the rear. When they reached the palace, the king, seeing how beautiful the thrush looked with his golden feathers, received him affably and placed him at the head of the table. The thrush, swelling with pride, began its song. The king listened attentively, and being pleased with the song he praised the thrush very much. Then came the turn of the blackbird; when the king saw it, he welcomed it and ordered a chair to be brought near the table. The blackbird took its place and started singing. It sang much more beautifully than the thrush. The king was very pleased, and he expressed his delight. The last to come in was the nightingale. When it entered the hall, it bowed down meekly to the earth before the king, touching the floor with its little beak. When the king saw that little ungainly bird, so small and meek and skinny and of no appearance, he wondered what that bird wanted at the court, and somewhat angrily he asked:

"What do you want?" without even offering her a seat, as he had done to the other guests.

"May it please your majesty, do not be angry with your servant; I have been selected by the other birds to sing here before your majesty."

"Very well then; sing, I will just see what you can do."

The nightingale, which did not even dare to look at the king, just cleared her voice and started singing as she alone knows how to sing, not like the others. When the king heard her singing, he was quite taken aback with the beauty and sweetness of her voice; he was full of admiration, for the nightingale had thrown the other birds into the shade (lit. had put them under the bushel).

When the nightingale had finished her song, the king did not allow her to stop in the doorway where she had been standing any longer, but called her up to the head of the table, and gave her the seat of the thrush, and, when the meal was over and all the guests rose from the table, it was the nightingale who walked first, and the blackbird, which sang better than the thrush, walked immediately behind, whilst the thrush, in spite of his grand array, now came third, feeling abashed and ashamed by his failure. And from that time onward the nightingale has been recognised as the best singer amongst them all, and all the birds must bow their heads before her.

There are a few more tales about the origin of the nightingale, but they are somewhat confused. They do not seem to account either for the beauty of its voice or for the simplicity of its appearance.

XXXVII.

WHY DOES THE THRUSH HIDE IN THE TREE?

The Story of the Boastful Thrush and St. Peter.

It was in the month of March, when Christ was walking on the earth with St. Peter. Going through a forest they saw a thrush strutting about on the top of a tree.

"Good morning, Mr. Thrush," said St. Peter.

"I have no time for you," replied the thrush.

"And why not, prithee?"

"Oh, you see, I am just now making summer, and I am busy. To-day I am going to be married, and to-morrow a brother of mine has a wedding," he said, turning his back upon them proudly.

St. Peter and Christ said nothing, but went on their way. In that afternoon there came a cold and heavy rain. It came down in torrents all the afternoon, and during the night there came a frost from God which made the stones crack, and it snowed heavily also. The next morning, after they had done what they had to do, Christ and St. Peter came again through the forest, and they found the thrush sitting now on one of the lowest branches of the tree, huddled together and trembling, with no more thoughts of marriage.

"Good morning, Mr. Thrush," said St. Peter, when he saw him sitting there huddled together and trembling.

"Thank you," he replied angrily.

"But what are you doing now? Why are you sitting so huddled up?"

"To-day I am dying, and to-morrow a brother of mine is dying," he answered, letting his beak down and ruffling his feathers to protect himself a little more against the frost which had struck him to the heart.

From that time on the thrush does not boast any more that he is making summer, and that he is going to marry; but he cries anxiously: "Socks and sandals, for to-morrow it snows, good socks of cloth and sandals of leaves to go in them to my beloved." This he sings because of the fear of being caught again in snow and frost, and of not being able to walk about in safety.

XXXVIII.

WHY HAS THE PARTRIDGE A MOTTLED COLOUR?

In the beginning the partridge had red feathers. God had painted her so when he painted all the other creatures, but for one reason or another the partridge was not very pleased with this colour. After a time she thought she would go to God and ask him to change her colour. When she came to God, he asked her, "What ails thee?"

"Well," she said, "I do not like the dye of my feathers." And God asked her what was the reason for it.

"Well," she said, "I do not like it." Upon which God, getting hold of her, threw her into a box filled with ashes. When the partridge recovered her senses--for she was dazed by the fall--she was mightily indignant at the disgrace, and, climbing out of the box, she went as fast as she could to the nearest brook, wishing to wash away the ashes in which she was smothered. She wished to avoid being seen in that state by the other birds. So she started dipping her beak into the water and trying to wash off the ashes on her back. But, instead of washing the ashes completely off, she managed to carry the ashes with her wet beak under her wings also and along her sides. And that is why she has remained to this very day mottled and freckled, the grey of the ashes being mixed with the red--the original colour of her feathers.

XXXIX.

WHY HAS THE THISTLE-FINCH RUFFLED FEATHERS?

When God created the world, he made all the creatures to be of one colour, or rather none of them of any colour at all. You see, God was too busy to bother about these little things. When he had finished making everything that he intended to make, he called all the birds together and said, "Now, I am going to paint you with nice colours."

When the birds heard that message, they came all overjoyed to God, who took his brush and dipped in various pots filled with paint and painted them one by one. When he had almost finished, who would come but the thistle-finch, with his feathers all ruffled and out of breath. When God saw the little bird, he said to him, "Well, little master, how do you look, where have you been, have you not heard my command, why did you not come in time? Now all the paint is gone, I cannot do anything for you, and it serves you right, you should have come in time like the others did." And the little bird began to weep and said, "O God, I am quite innocent, just look at me and see what a state I am in; I was very hungry and tried to find something to eat, but could not find anything for a long time, until I espied at last a few grains of millet in a bush of thistles. So I got in and started picking. But, as soon as I moved, the thistles got hold of me and would not let me go, and the more I tried to get out, the more strongly did they hold me, and tore my feathers and dishevelled my hair, and it was only after a long tussle that I was able to get myself free and come here."

When God saw that the little bird had told the truth, and that it looked torn about and ruffled, he took pity on it and said, "Wait a little and I will see what I can do," and taking his brush he endeavoured to pick up the drops of paint which were left at the bottom of the various pots. Taking them all on the tip of his brush, he sprinkled the little bird all over with the drops of the various colours which he had picked up from the bottom of the pots, and that is the reason why the thistle-finch has so many spots and so many colours. His name has remained to this very day "little master" (domnisor in Rumanian) and also thistle-finch, because the thistles ruffled his feathers and tore at him.

XL.

WHY HAS THE BULLFINCH A RED BREAST AND A BIG MOUTH?

The Story of the Brutish Innkeeper.

There lived in a town a brutish man, a grocer, who had only one care, and that was how to cheat and rob in the quickest fashion the people who came to deal with him. But this was not all, for, bad as it is, one might let it pass, as there are so many others who do likewise, cheating their customers right and left. But this man was also a usurious moneylender, and he managed it so well that, instead of helping people, he took the last shirt off their backs and sent them out to die in misery. He sucked the blood of everyone who fell into his clutches.

But everything comes to an end. But no man is likely to repent unless he has first come to grief. So it happened also to this wicked man. Instead of being satisfied with what he had been able to get by draining the very blood of his Christian fellow-men, he persisted in his evil doings, robbing and fleecing right and left, without mercy and without pity. When the cries of his victims came up to God, he decided to punish him, and for his wickedness he changed him into the bullfinch, which has still kept some of the features of the man, when he was a human being. For he had a head like a melon, and a wide mouth, and that is why the bullfinch has such a big head and such a broad beak. The black feathers on its head are the black cap of lambskin which he used to wear. The red breast is the blood of the victims whom he had sucked dry, and the big body is the big belly of the voracious fellow.

Now when a bullfinch is caught, remembering its evil deeds, it will bite out its tongue and die rather than become a mockery to the people whom he had ill-treated in his former life.

XLI.

WHY DOES THE HOOPOE FEED ON DROPPINGS?

The Story of the Hoopoe and its Greed.

When God had created all the creatures, he gave everyone the food which he thought best for them. When the turn of the hoopoe came, God said to her, "Thy food shall be millet seed." The hoopoe was not satisfied. She did not think it was good enough for her. So God in his goodness gave her barley grains for food, but the hoopoe cannot easily be satisfied. So she went on asking for better food. And God said, "Let wheat be thy food." And still the hoopoe was not satisfied. So God got angry, and said, "Thou impudent and greedy thing, I have given thee the best food that is in this world, and in which even man rejoices and is satisfied, but as this is not good enough for thee, thou shalt find thy food henceforth in the droppings of other animals."

The same happened when God arranged the dwelling-places of birds, where they should build their nests. He had at first given to the hoopoe sweet-smelling bushes and flowering trees to build her nest in. But she wanted something better, and she was punished in the same way as with the food. She now makes her nest in places which are anything but clean and sweet-smelling.

XLII.

WHY IS THE WAGTAIL CALLED THE GIPSIES' BIRD?

When God had made the world and all the creatures and man, he gave to each one the food from which they should eat and be satisfied. All the creatures thanked God, and whenever they eat their food they are satisfied, except only the wagtail and the Gipsy who are never satisfied. When God saw the greed of these two, he grew very angry and said to the wagtail, "You shall not be allowed to go near any village unless the Gipsies, after having eaten, say with their full heart that they are quite satisfied." And to the Gipsy he said, "When the wagtail will come into the villages, only then shall you be satisfied." But the Gipsies, even when they are invited to the meals freely given in honour of the dead, however much they may eat and stuff and fill, will say as soon as they have got up from the table and gone a few steps, "I am starving; I am dying of hunger." And therefore the wagtails never come near the village. And it is also called the Gipsies' bird, because it can only come near the village, when the Gipsy says he has eaten enough and is satisfied. But as such a thing never happens, this bird cannot approach the houses of men like other birds. Also it is called "half a bird," for all the other birds get into the village except the wagtail.

XLIII.

WHY IS THE HOOPOE SUCH A DIRTY BIRD?

The Story of the Hoopoe, the Cuckoo and God.

There are a good many stories told about the hoopoe, some of them in connection with the cuckoo. These two birds seem to be found very often together, and the people believe them to be a pair, the cuckoo being the male and the hoopoe the female bird. The following story is told of them:

The cuckoo had married the hoopoe, and they lived happily together for a time. But after a time the hoopoe grew ambitious, and told the cuckoo that if he wanted to have peace in the house, he must go to God and ask that the hoopoe should become the head woman of the village. God, who listens patiently to the weakness of his creatures, received the cuckoo affably and said to him, "Go home in peace, the wish of your wife shall be fulfilled." So it came to pass. After a while the hoopoe grew more ambitious, and she sent the cuckoo again to God, and told him to go and ask God to make her the mayoress. And God again listened to the cuckoo's pleading and made his wife a mayoress. But a woman can never be satisfied. So, after a while, she sent the cuckoo again to God to ask him to make her the queen over all the birds. God again listened to his prayer, and he made her queen over all the birds. Moreover, as sign of her queenly station, God gave her the tuft of feathers on her head, which were to be like a crown. But also this did not satisfy the foolish hoopoe, although God had told the cuckoo, "Mind, this is the last time thou comest to me to trouble me for thy wife's sake; there are many more things in the world for me to do, than to listen to her wishes." Still she insisted on the cuckoo going again to God, and to ask him that he should allow her to sit next to him on his throne in heaven. When God heard these words, he said, "As thy wife has had the temerity and impudence to make such a demand and to send such a request to me, she shall now be the least considered of all the birds. She may whoop henceforth as much as she likes, no one is to take any notice of her. She is to hatch her eggs in dung, whilst thou, O cuckoo, shall be singing for as many months in the year as thou hast spent in coming to me with these messages, and everyone shall be pleased to hear thy song."

And so it has remained as God said. The people like the cuckoo, whilst the hoopoe is detested by everybody.

XLIV.

WHY DOES THE CUCKOO LEAD A RESTLESS LIFE?

The Story of the Cuckoo and the Wonderful Bush.

Many a tale is told about the origin of the cuckoo. Curiously enough, they generally agree in seeing in the cuckoo a man punished for his wickedness and cruelty, or for his faithlessness against his companion or brother whom he is now seeking in vain.

There are, however, also other tales and legends in which the cuckoo is the victim of the cruelty of others; one is the preceding one, and others now follow: in the first place, one which tells also of the greed of the wife--The Story of the Cuckoo and Hoopoe.

Once upon a time there lived in a village a man who was so poor that sometimes days passed and he could not get a crumb of bread. So one day he said to his wife, "What is the good of my stopping here any longer. We are both dying of hunger; I will go away into the wide world and see what luck may bring." So he took up his axe and went along. Before he left, his wife said to him: "Do not go far away, and do not forsake me and the children, for we have no one else to look to for help." So he went away. Walking alone, he came to a forest. At the edge of the forest he saw a beautiful bush with shining leaves, and all the twigs of equal length. It was so beautiful that the man thought, "I will just cut it up." When he drew near, how great was his astonishment when he saw the bush bending its boughs towards him, and speaking with a human voice, it said, "Do not touch me, do not hurt me, for I will do you much good."

"What good can you do me?" enquired the man.

"Go back to the village and they will appoint you headman. Just go and try."

Amazed as he was on hearing the bush speak, he said to himself, "I lose nothing if I go back; I shall see whether the bush is speaking the truth. If not, woe unto it," and so he returned. No sooner had he come near the village, when he saw the people coming out to meet him, and without asking him any questions, they, for reasons of their own, appointed him to be their headman. His poverty was now a thing of the past, and he lived in cheer and comfort. This went on for three years, and then, for the same reasons unknown to him, the people changed their minds, and without saying anything to him one day he was the headman, the next he was so no longer. They had put another man in his stead. So he returned to his want, and again began to feel the pinch of poverty. For a time he went on as best he could, but not being able to stand it any longer, he again took his axe, and going into the forest he went to the bush and said, "Now I am going to cut you down." The bush again began to speak, and said to the man, "Do not touch me; I will do you much good. You have seen what I have done before. You go now to that and that town and they will appoint you to be judge."

Believing the words of the bush, the man continued his journey, and came to the town of which the bush had spoken to him; and there, as had been foretold, without asking him a single question, the people appointed him mayor over the place. The man now lived in affluence and comfort, forgetting his time of poverty and suffering he had gone through. Here, again, after three years, just as he was appointed without a question, so he was dismissed by the people without a question.

The evil days came back, and he was looking about for a crust of bread, but could not find any for himself and his family. He bethought himself again of the bush, and, taking his axe upon his shoulder, he went away to find it. The bush said to him: "Don't touch me; much good will I do you, still more than I have done hitherto. You go to such and such a kingdom, and there they will appoint you to be their emperor."

He did as he was bid, and as he came near the town, all the people came out to meet him, and they appointed him to be their emperor. He took his wife and children with him, and there he lived in great state, great power and riches. The law of that land was that no man could be emperor for more than three years, so when the three years came round he lost his position and another emperor was appointed in his stead. He had meanwhile amassed great fortune and no longer feared poverty. But his wife was ambitious, and was not satisfied at living in affluence and wealth. Envious of the other emperor, she nagged the man and worried him and sneered at him for being so meek and being satisfied with his lowly state, and made him go to the bush to ask for something more. She wanted him to be even better treated than any emperor. The poor man, what was he to do? he could not stand the trouble in his house, so again taking his axe upon his shoulder, he came for a fourth time to the bush. When the bush saw him, it said:

"What has brought you hither? You are no longer in want of anything." "Well," he said, "my wife has sent me to you. She says you must make me as great as God, greater than all emperors."

The bush grew angry, and said to him: "O miserable wretch, always dissatisfied! I have made thee headman and judge and emperor, and thou lackest nothing. Thou art not in want of anything. Now, because thou hast become impudent and insolent, for thy impious wishes thou shalt be punished. From the man thou hast been thou shalt henceforth be a bird, restless, without peace, and without quiet, flitting from tree to tree, and from branch to branch, always dissatisfied, without a home, without a family, and thy name shall be Cuckoo. Tell thy wife, who, because she had been urging thee on and driving thee to do this impious thing, that she shall become the hoopoe; puffing herself up she shall cry whoop, whoop." And so it has remained to this very day. (Cf. Story in Grimm, No. 19.)

XLV.

WHY IS THE CUCKOO SILENT IN THE WINTER?

The Story of the Cuckoo and the Palace of the Goldfinch.

After the creation of all the birds, God called them together and told them they should elect a king to rule over them.

The birds, like human beings, would chatter and chirrup, and talk and fight, and never come to any decision.

When God saw that it was going on without an end, and that it was no good waiting for them to make their choice, he picked out the goldfinch and said, "This is to be your king." The birds submitted, as they were bound to do, and making their obeisance to the new king, each one departed to its own place. Although the gathering had lasted for some time, the cuckoo was still missing, and who was the last to come but the cuckoo. When all the birds had departed, he turned up and made his obeisance to the new king. The goldfinch looked at him and said, "Hallo, cuckoo, where have you been?"

"Oh, I lost my way in the forest, and it took me a long time to come here."

"I will forgive you," said the goldfinch, "but on one condition; you know the forest so well. Go and make me a nice palace out of the bast of the trees."

The cuckoo, glad to have got off so cheaply, said, "Willingly will I do so," and went away.

You know the cuckoo, how light-headed and unstable he is: he says one thing one day and forgets it the next, so, light-heartedly he flew from tree to tree and allowed the summer to pass without remembering the promise which he had made to the goldfinch.

When autumn drew near he suddenly recollected that the goldfinch expected him to build him a palace out of the bast of the tree, for the goldfinch wanted to live in a shining palace. And that was just what the cuckoo never intended to do.

Fearing the wrath of the king, he stopped singing and hid himself in the thickest part of the forest. The goldfinch waited month after month to see the palace, and seeing the cuckoo flitting from tree to tree and hearing him singing, thought he was busily at work. But when the autumn came, and no trace of any palace could be seen, he looked round to see where the cuckoo was. But catch him if you can, for he had disappeared.

And that is why the goldfinch never had the palace which he desired. And that is also the reason why the cuckoo stops singing from the feast of St. John, lest he be discovered by the goldfinch and taken to task for his broken promise.

XLVI.

THE STORY OF THE CROW AND ITS UGLY FLEDGLINGS.

Let us turn now to the crow, with which the raven is often confused in the popular mind.

Of all the birds, this is considered the ugliest, especially its young fledglings. The legend tells that sometime after God had created all the living beings, he called everyone to see them and their offspring. He wanted to see how the young birds and animals looked, and then to give them suitable gifts, and food for their little ones.

They came one by one, and God looked at them, patted some and stroked others, and was very pleased with every one of them, for each one had something of beauty in it. And so he blessed them and gave them food by which to live. The last to come was the crow, bringing her little brood with her, very proud of them. When God cast his eyes upon the young crows, he spat in astonishment, and said:

"Surely these are not my creatures. I could not have made such ugly things. Every one of my creatures has such beautiful young ones that they are a pleasure to look at, but thine are so ugly that it makes one sick to look at them. Whence hast thou got this one?" "Where should I get them from?" replied the crow; "it is my very own young child," she added with pride. "You had better go back and bring me another one, this is much too ugly, I cannot look at it." Annoyed at the words of God, the crow went away, and flew all over the earth to search for another young one that would be more beautiful than the one she had brought to God. But no other young bird appeared so beautiful in her eyes as her own. So she returned back to God and said, "I have been all over the world, and I have searched high and low, but young birds more beautiful and more dainty than mine I have not been able to find." Then God smilingly replied, "Quite right, just so are all mothers; no other child is so beautiful in their eyes as their own." Then he blessed the little crows and sent them away into the world with his gifts.

XLVII.

WHY IS THERE ENMITY BETWEEN THE CROW AND THE HAWK?

The Rumanians tell another tale about the ugliness of young crows. It is the story of the crow and the hawk.

The crow was in very great distress, for however she tried and whatever she did, she could not rear a family. No sooner were the young hatched, than the hawk would come and pick them up. In vain did she try to hide her nest in the hollows of a tree or in the thickets of a bush, as sure as death would the hawk find them and eat them.

Not knowing what to do, she bethought herself and said, "How would it do if I try and get the hawk to be godmother, for then, being a near relation, she is sure to spare my little ones?" Said and done. She went out of her place to search for the hawk, and finding her, she said, "Good morning, sister."

"Good morning," replied the hawk.

"How pleased I should feel," said the crow, "if you would become godmother to my children."

"With pleasure," replied the hawk, "why not?" And so they made up a covenant of friendship and of good-fellowship between them.

Before leaving the hawk, the crow said to her, "Now, sister, I have one request to make."

"Granted," replied the hawk, "what is it?"

"I only beg of you to spare my children, do not eat them when you have found them."

"All right," replied the hawk, "I shall certainly not touch them, but tell me how they look so that in case I meet them I may spare them."

"O," replied the crow, "mine are the most beautiful creatures in the world, they are more lovely than any other bird can boast of."

"Very well, rest assured. Go in peace." And they parted.

The crow, being quite satisfied with the hawk's promise, began flying about the next day trying to find something with which to feed her children. The hawk the next morning went about her own business and tried to find some nice little young ones to eat. Flying about, she saw the young ones of the thrush, the blackbird, and of other beautiful birds, and she said to herself, "Surely these are the children of the crow; look how lovely and beautiful they are, I am not going to touch them."

She went all day, without finding any little birds but these; and she said to herself:

"I must keep my word to my sister, I am not going to touch them." And she went to bed hungry. The next day the same thing happened, and still the hawk kept her word and would not touch them.

On the third day she was so hungry that she could scarcely see out of her eyes. Roaming about, the hawk suddenly lighted upon the nest of the crow. Seeing the little, miserable, ugly things in the nest, the hawk at first would not touch them, although she never dreamt that these ugly things were the children of the crow, so much praised by her for their beauty, and thought they must belong to some hideous bird. But what is one to do when one is hungry? One eats what one gets and not finding anything better, she sat down and gobbled them up one by one, and then flew away.

Not long after the hawk had left, the crow came in, feeling sure this time to find her little ones unhurt; but how great was her dismay when she found the nest empty! First she thought the little birds had tried their wings and were flying about in the neighbourhood, and she went in search of them. Not finding them, she began to be a little more anxious, and hunting a little more closely, found on the ground near some rushes some tufts of feathers with little bones and blood. She knew at once that the hawk had again been there, feeding on her children.

Full of wrath and fury, she went to find the hawk. Meeting her, she said, "A nice sister and godmother you are! After you had promised most faithfully not to touch my children, no sooner had I turned my back on them, than you come again and eat them."

"I do not understand what you are saying," replied the hawk. "It is your own fault. You told me your children were the most beautiful in the world, and those which I have eaten were monsters of hideousness. If I had not felt the pinch of hunger so strong, I would not have touched them, not for anything, such ugly things they were! They nearly made me sick."

"Is that the way you keep your promise?" replied the angry crow; "after having eaten them, you even have the impudence to tell lies and insult me. Off with you! and woe betide you if I ever catch you, I will teach you to behave properly."

From that day on, the hawk, if it gets near the crows, attacks them. And from that day on there is implacable hatred between the crows and the hawks.

XLVII. A.

CROW CHARMS.

It is said that the crow bathes its young in some waters between frontiers. This water becomes poisonous, and is used by witches for philtres and spells. If a man wants to obtain the water, he must go to nine witches, who assemble on a Tuesday at midnight at the fountain. Each one brings a stolen pot, or, in preference, the skull of a dog. In each they take three drops of that water, and they say their spell over it, waving over it a tuft of hair from a mad wolf. This incantation they must repeat for nine weeks on each Tuesday at midnight, and with the water thus obtained they make their philtres.

The croaking of the crow is considered as evil an omen as that of the raven. A very peculiar custom prevails among the people, who, when the children lose their teeth, take them and throw them if possible on the roofs of the houses and say: "Here, crow, I give you a tooth of bone, bring me one more beautiful." Or, according to other versions, "bring me one of gold. I give you a tooth of iron, bring me one of steel."

XLVIII.

WHY DOES THE HERON DRINK ONLY RAIN-WATER?

The Story of the Heron and the digging of Wells.

When God had created the world, there were no springs or wells. The only water from which to satisfy the thirst of all the creatures was rain-water. After a time the rain was not enough to satisfy them all; the grass and trees were fading and withering, burnt up by the fiery heat of the sun, and the animals were perishing from thirst.

So God called all the birds together, and told them that they should dig holes in the earth with their claws and beaks, in order that the water from underneath should come up and water the earth and slake the thirst of all the creatures. At the bidding of God all the birds came together and started working with their beaks and claws. They all worked together. The hawk worked side by side with the young chickens, and the owl with the doves. Such a thing never happened before or since.

The heron alone flew about as if it did not affect her. She was quite indifferent to see how hard the other birds worked. She cared not for the sweat which stood out like beads, and ran down the neck of the lark as it went scratching away at the earth with legs as thin as two straws, nor did she care for the titmouse which hacked away at the foot of a hillock. And God asked her:

"Why dost thou not do anything?"

"Why should I soil my feet with mud," she replied, "when the rain-waters are not yet dried up?"

And God said:

"Because thou hast not hearkened to my command, thou shalt slake thy thirst only from the rain, and then only by the water running down thy wings." From that time onwards one hears the heron crying in time of drought. She prays to God to send some rain to moisten her dry mouth.

XLIX.

WHY DOES THE KITE CRY IN DRY WEATHER?

The Story of the Kite and the making of Rivers.

The same story is told of the kite in the following version:

When God made the world, he called all the birds together to help him to dig wells for the water and beds for the rivers. All the birds came except the kite, which, looking at its claws, said, "See how beautiful and dainty they are! I am not going to soil them with the mud of the rivers and wells." Then all the other birds cursed her, that she might never be able to drink water out of wells and rivers, and should slake her thirst only with the dew and rain from heaven, nor should she be able to drink by lifting her beak and catching the falling rain, but she would only be able to drink the rain-water which was running down her wings. Therefore, in time of drought, the kite flies high up to God and prays for rain and dew, for if she drinks of the water of rivers and wells she dies.

A remarkable parallel to this story has been given by Grimm in his D. Mythologie, 4th ed. p. 561; and for a Russian parallel, v. Ralston, Russian Folk Tales, p. 331.

An oriental version substitutes the raven for the kite as the bird whose piteous cries bring about the breaking of the drought. It is said that when Adam beheld his dead son Abel, he did not know what to do, for he was the first man to die. A raven dug a hole and put into it his companion who had died.

Adam saw this and followed his example. God therefore granted to the raven that henceforth when there would be drought in the world, his cry would bring about the breaking up of the drought and a downpour of rain (Chapters of Eliezer, ch. xxi.).

L.

WHY CAN THE MOLE NOT COME OUT ON THE HIGH ROAD?

The Story of the Mole and the making of Roads.

When the world was made, there were no roads and no pathways. It was very difficult to get about from one place to another.

Seeing this, God ordered all the animals to come and work together and straighten out paths and make roads. All the animals came and worked as they were commanded. Only the mole stayed away, so God asked him why he had not come, when all the others had?

"I do not want any roads and ways, for they are of no use to me," he replied; "I burrow under the earth and there I spend my life."

"So shall it always be henceforth," said God, "and thou shalt not be able to make thy little hills on roads or highways, and it shall not be a sin to kill thee."

And so it has remained to this day. No mole-hill has ever been seen on any public road. The mole cannot make them except in fields and meadows.

Whoever destroys a mole-hill gets a peculiar wart on his hand. In order to get rid of it he must pass over it seven times the paw (the claws) of a mole.

LI.

WHY HAS THE TORTOISE A ROUND BACK?

The Story of the Tortoise, St. Peter and God.

When God and St. Peter were walking on the earth, one day they made a very long journey, and grew very hungry. Coming to a little hut, they found the woman in, and they asked her for something to eat. "Well," she said, "I have very little flour in the house, but I am going to bake two loaves, and when you come back in half an hour they will be ready and you will be welcome to one." Taking the flour, she kneaded it in the trough and made two loaves, one for herself and one for the travellers. Meanwhile they went to church, but they said before going that they would come back at the end of the service.

The woman covered over the dough, and to her great astonishment, when she lifted the cover, the dough of the loaf for the strangers had risen much higher than the other. Then she put both loaves in the oven. How great was her surprise, on taking out the loaves from the oven, when she found that the one for the travellers had been baked nicely and was a very big loaf, whilst the one for herself was half burned and almost shrivelled to a pancake. When she saw the miracle her greed overtook her, and she forgot the promise which she had made to the travellers. She said to herself: "Why should I give my best bread to strangers whom I do not know? Let them go elsewhere to richer people than I am."

So she took the pasteboard and put it on the floor, and crouching on it, covered herself over with the trough. She told her little girl to stand in front of the door, and if two old people should come and ask for her she was to say that her mother had gone away and that she did not know where she was. The travellers then, of course, would not come in, and she would be able to enjoy the loaf.

After a while God and St. Peter came back from church, and asked the little girl where her mother was, to which the child replied as she had been told. God said, "Where she is there shall she remain"; and went away. The child came in and tried to lift the trough off the back of her mother, who was lying hidden underneath, but try as hard as she could the trough would not come off. It had grown on to the back of her mother, and the pasteboard had grown underneath on to her. The woman was only able to put out her little head with the glistening, greedy eyes, and her tiny little hands and feet, and the handle of the pasteboard had turned into a waggling tail.

And that is how the tortoise was made, when the old woman became the tortoise always carrying the trough and the pasteboard with her.

LII.

WHY HAVE THE FISH NO FEET?

When God had made all the creatures, he gave every one the power of walking and saving themselves from danger.

Among others, came the fish, and God asked him what he would like, and the fish replied: "If I am to have my choice I would ask you to give me seven wings; I should fly much quicker than any other animal, and no one would be able to catch me: but should I be caught I am willing to die alive on the grill with my eyes open." And God shook his head at the foolish request, for he knew that man would be able to find out how to make the line and hook, and that all the wings of the fish would not help him. So he is caught with his mouth open, and that is why the fish takes his punishment without murmuring, and dies quietly on the grill with his eyes open.

LIII.

WHY DO THE PLOVER FLY SINGLY?

The Story of the Plover and Lady Mary.

In the beginning the plover used to fly in large coveys. But one day, when Our Lady was riding on a horse, they ran across the road and frightened the horse so much that it threw the rider. Angry at the mishap, St. Mary cursed the plover that they should no longer gather in coveys but should go singly. And so it has remained to this very day. The plover nest quite alone and never join others in their flight.

LIV.

WHY DOES THE SPIDER HANG ON A THREAD?

The Story of the Spider and Lady Mary.

One day a spider, meeting the Holy Mother, challenged her as to which of the two could spin the finer thread. The Holy Mother accepted the challenge, and started to spin a very fine thread indeed. But, however fine her thread was, the yarn spun by the spider was much finer, and then, to add to the discomfiture of the Holy Mother, the spider let himself down on one of its threads and remained dangling, and, turning to the Holy Mother, he said to her: "Can you do anything like it?" And the Holy Mother replied, "No"; and being angry she cursed the spider, and said, "Thy web shall be of no use to anyone, and because of thy spite, whoever kills thee shall be forgiven three of his sins."

We meet the spider again in controversy with the Holy Mother on a more dramatic occasion.

She was searching for her son, and going to St. John, she asked him what had happened to him, as she had not seen him for some time. "The cruel people have taken him and are torturing him." Going on her way she met the carpenters, who said to her that instead of making a light cross they had made a heavy cross. She cursed them, saying, "May you work all the year and see no profit."

Then she met the smiths, who, instead of making short nails, had made long nails, and she cursed them likewise. She came to the gate of the palace of Pilate, and on her touching the gate, it opened, and going in, she saw all that happened. On her way, weeping and crying, she met a flight of swallows, who asked her why she was crying and weeping, and she replied, "My only son has been taken away from me." And they replied, "Do not weep and do not cry, for three days hence thou shalt see him alive, thou and thy friends."

And the Holy Mother blessed them, that they should always be welcome in the house of the people, that they should nest on the roofs, and that no one should disturb them, and that whosoever should kill a swallow should be guilty of three sins.

Going further, she met the spider, and the spider asked her why she was weeping and crying, and she replied, "My only son has been taken away." And the spider replied, "You may cry till the day of doom; what is gone is gone, and can never come back again." Next to the spider was standing the mouse, and the mouse chimed in: so the Holy Mother cursed him and went on her way, but finding that her way led her nowhere, she came back the same road.

When she had gone, the mouse said to the spider: "The Holy Mother has not blessed us, so I think you had better make a rope and stretch it from tree to tree, and I will dig a pit underneath, and when she comes back we will hang her by the rope and throw her into the pit."

But the Holy Mother knew what they were plotting, and when she came back, she said:

"Thou ugly and spiteful spider, worms shall settle on thee, and by thy own rope shalt thou hang. All the days of thy life an unclean animal shalt thou be. And thou, O mouse, who hast plotted against me, thy habitation shall be henceforth in the pits and hollows of the earth, and thou shalt be an unclean beast. Whatever thou touchest shall be defiled, and whoever kills thee or the spider shall be forgiven three sins." And so it has remained to this very day, the spider hanging on its own rope, and the mouse lying hidden under the earth, and both are killed by men and beasts.

This same legend has become a carol which is also used as a charm.

LIV. A.

WHY ARE THE SPIDER AND THE MOUSE ACCURSED?

The Story of Lady Mary, the Mouse and the Spider (a Charm).

After the crucifixion, the Lady Mary went along crying and weeping in pain and grief for that they had crucified her son. Wherever she went all the creatures wept with her, and the flowers in the grass of the field bent low in sign of mourning. A flight of swallows met her in the beautiful meadow, and seeing her crying, comforted her, and said: "Do not weep, for thy son will come to life again three days hence, and will show himself to thee and to the Apostles." Then the Lady Mary became more comforted, and said to the swallows: "Ye swallows from this day on shall be the cleanest birds on the face of the earth, and the house at which you build your nests will be a happy one, and whoever destroys your nest shall be cursed." The Lady Mary went on her way, and passing on her way she met a spider weaving his web, and a mouse burrowing in the ground. When they saw her weeping they mocked at her, and said: "In vain dost thou weep and cry. Know that thy son is dead; he will never come to life again, although thou mayest believe it." But the Lady Mary replied: "My child is the son of God. He will do what he wills." And she went on her way. She went on until she came to another forest. Fearing that she might lose her way she returned the same way as she had gone. The spider and the mouse, seeing that she had not blessed them, took counsel together to hang her on a rope and to kill her the next time they met her again. And the mouse said to the spider: "Now thou weave a rope and get it ready, and upon that rope we will hang her as soon as we set our eyes on her." A short time afterwards the Lady Mary returned, and came back to the same spot. Meanwhile the spider had woven a strong rope, and had tied one end to a branch of the tree, and the mouse had digged a deep pit under that tree. But the Lady knew what they had intended, and she said: "Thou, O spider, hast woven a rope for hanging me, thou shalt always dangle on a rope. Thou shalt be unclean and full of vermin, and whoever catches thee shall kill thee. And thou, O mouse, thou shalt be so dirty from this day onwards, that wherever thou diest that place shall become unclean, and whoever sees thee shall kill thee, and whoever will kill a mouse or a spider God shall forgive him three sins." And as she had said, so it has remained to this very day. From that time on the mouse and the spider have remained accursed.

LV.

WHY HAS THE SWALLOW A FORKED TAIL AND A RED SPOT ON ITS BREAST?

The Story of Lady Mary and the Wicked Stepmother.

In Oriental folk-lore the swallow seems to be considered everywhere as a sacred bird, of which many legends are related. We hear, that when the Temple was burning in Jerusalem the swallows were the birds which brought water in their beaks with which to quench the flame, whilst the spider brought fiery coal to fan the flame. Hence he who kills a swallow commits seven sins, whilst he who kills a spider is forgiven seven sins. In the Appendix, No. III., a peculiar legend is also told of the spider, the gnat and the swallow. As for the origin of the swallow, which would account for the forked tail and for the colour of the feathers, the Rumanians have the following tale.

It is a story of a mother-in-law, who, like all mothers-in-law, treated her daughter-in-law in a most cruel manner. Whatever the young woman did was not right. Her mother-in-law persecuted her from morning till evening, and gave her neither peace nor rest. One day, seeing that she could not get rid of her by any other means, she killed her, and cut her up in pieces. Her son, who had been away, came in just in time to see the foul deed which his mother had done. Enraged, he made a pile of wood, and dragging his mother on to it, he lit the wood, so as to burn his mother on the fire. For reasons which we do not know, St. Mary came down from heaven and pulled the old woman away from the fire after her. Her clothes had already began to burn. She got hold of her, changed her into a swallow, and pulled her through the chimney. As soon as she saw herself saved, the wicked woman wanted to fly away. But St. Mary said: "Stop, and do not fly away. Do not imagine that because I have saved you from being burned on the fire, I will let you go away like that: you just wait, for I must put a sign on you, that everybody may know what a good mother-in-law you have been, and that you have killed your daughter-in-law." And as she said these words, she caused her tail to become like a pair of scissors, or rather like two sharp knives joined in one point, like the knives with which she had cut up her daughter-in-law. But this was not the only sign. For when St. Mary pulled her through the chimney, a lot of soot fell on her, and wherever it fell it made the feathers black, and so they have remained to this very day. The red spot on the breast of the swallow is the red blood of her daughter-in-law, and the white spots are the remnants of the shirt which remained unburned when all the other clothes had caught fire, but it has not kept white either, for it was just a little singed.

There are besides these a number of tales about the swallow. They are told in Nos. 86, 87.

LVI.

WHY DOES THE FROG SHRIVEL UP AT DEATH?

The Story of the Frog and Lady Mary.

When Christ was being crucified, his mother went in search of him; she did not know whither he had betaken himself. On her way she met a band of carpenters. Weeping, she asked them, "Have you seen my son?" "We have seen him," they said. "Nay, we have made the cross, and instead of light timber, we have taken heavy timber." "So," she said, "you shall henceforth work from morning till night and never get any richer."

Then she met a band of Gipsies, and she asked them, "Have you seen my son?" "O yes," they replied, "we have seen him, and we were told to make thick and blunt nails, but we have made them thin and pointed so they should pass easily through and not give much pain." And Mary replied, "May your work be light and your profit great."

Going on her way she met a frog, and the frog asked her, "Dear lady mine, what are you weeping and crying for?" And she replied, "I am weeping and crying for my only son, whom they are killing now in Jerusalem." And the frog replied, "What am I to say; I have had ten children and nine were crushed to death by the wicked wheel of the carts, only one is left to his mother, a sweet darling and pet, a beauty." When Mary heard the frog lauding her child, she said, "Let me see that beauty of yours, just come out, little froggie, beloved darling of mother." And there came out of the lake behind a little frog with its crooked legs and ungainly face, and with eyes staring out of his head. And when Mary saw that beauty she could not help laughing under her tears. And she said to the frog, "Because thou hast made me smile in my grief, may thy body never rot when thou diest, and the worm never have a share in it." And ever since, when the frog dies, the body shrinks into nothingness and disappears.

LVII.

WHY DOES THE SILKWORM SPIN A THIN THREAD?

The Story of the Tortoise and Lady Mary.

The blessed Mary, great and glorious as she is--she must not take it amiss--was one day too lazy to go out on behalf of her son to distribute his gifts among the children of the village. So when she left the house with the loaves of bread, some cake, and other gifts which she was to distribute, under her arm, she met the tortoise.

"Good morning," said the one. "Welcome, daughter," said the other. St. Mary said, "Prithee, auntie, just give this bread as alms for souls to the boys of the village."

"That is not much, my daughter, I will willingly do it," and taking the bread under her arms, there she went crawling along until she came to the boys.

The tortoise had scarcely left her, when St. Mary bethought herself that it might have been better if she herself had given the alms away, and not sent them through a stranger. So without more ado she followed the way the tortoise had gone, and came to the school.

What did she see there? Auntie tortoise performed her deed as she had promised, and going from boy to boy gave everyone a bit. But when at last she came to the youngest, who was her own child, she took out the cake and gave it to him. "I should like to know," said St. Mary, "how it happened that the last piece to be given away was a cake?"

"Well, daughter, or rather mother, I had kept the cake for the most beautiful child, and I could not find anyone more beautiful than mine." St. Mary, who had heard many things, when she heard this, could not help laughing aloud.

When she stopped laughing she was rather sorry, for why should she have laughed so loud? She said, "Verily, there is nothing more beautiful in the eyes of a mother than her own child."

Her beautiful face grew sad, and in order that her laughter should not bewitch the little tortoise--as if struck by the evil eye for being praised as beautiful--she spat out upon the ground, and out of the spittle there grew the silkworm. St. Mary blessed it and said, "Thou shalt live upon green leaves, and thou shalt draw out fine silk threads" (like the thread of the spittle). It is therefore forbidden to say anything evil of the silkworm, or to touch it whilst it is spinning the cocoon, for no sooner is an evil word spoken or the worm touched, than it stops drawing the silk.

The variant from the Balkans is as follows:

When Jesus went up to Golgotha, the Virgin Mother followed, crying. There she saw in the procession also a tortoise, and she could not help laughing. She then reproached herself, and said, "O evil mouth, thou art only good for worms." There and then she spat on the ground in disgust, and worms came out of the spittle. But having come from a holy mouth the worms which grew out of the spittle became the silkworms, which have remained so to this very day.

A peculiar variant in which, however, the second part--the origin of the silkworm--is omitted, is found among the Kutzovlachs of Macedonia as "The Story of St. Mary and the Tortoise."

Once upon a time the Virgin Mary sat sadly at the door of the school, waiting for her son, who was learning within, to come out so that she might give him a piece of cake which she had brought with her. Whilst she was sitting there she said to herself, "I will wait and see whether all the creatures recognise my son to be the most beautiful child in the world."

A tortoise just then came along. In order to put her to the test, St. Mary said to her, "Would you like to give this cake to the most beautiful child here in this school?"

"Willingly," replied the tortoise, and taking the cake she went into the school room. It so happened then that her own child was also among the pupils. She went straight up to it, and without a moment's hesitation gave it the cake destined for the most beautiful child in the school. When St. Mary saw what the tortoise had done, instead of being angry she laughed heartily, and said to her:

"Thou hast acted as every mother would act, for to a mother no one could be more beautiful than her own child. And because thou hast driven away my sadness, the finest and softest grass shall henceforth be thy food, and when thou diest thy bones shall not rot away."

And so it has remained to this very day, and the shell of the tortoise remains sound.

LVIII.

WHY IS IT RIGHT TO KILL A SPARROW?

The Story of the Sparrow and the Crucifixion.

Another legend brings us again to the same events. This time it is in connection with the sparrow. It is said that the sparrows were originally much bigger birds than they are now, but at the time of the crucifixion they flew round the cross and cried half mockingly, "Jiviu Jiviu," which means "Live, live." Christ, who was in pain, and annoyed at their behaviour, cursed them and said, "May you live only on the crumbs which you will pick up on the roadside, and henceforth, becoming smaller, you will be snared by little boys and tormented by them, and the passers-by shall hit at you with whips, and kill you." And so it has remained to this very day.

They live on crumbs wherever they can pick them up. They have become very small birds. They are snared by children, who often play with them cruelly, and the passers-by strike at them with a whip, and kill them.

A Russian Legend, Afanasief, p. 13, is a close parallel to this story, though it differs somewhat from it in detail; v. Ralston, Russian Folk Tales, p. 331.

LIX.

WHY SHOULD THE OAK TREE NOT BOAST?

The Story of the Sparrow and the Oak Tree.

The people regard the sparrow as one of the greatest pests, for he eats up the seeds and the crops. The people believe that the sparrows reach an age of over nine hundred years, and they tell the following tale about it:

In a clearing of a huge oak forest, there grew up a tiny little tree. All the other trees looked upon it with pleasure, it was so green and so tender. Suddenly a sparrow flying over the trees came down and settled on that little sapling, which bent under the weight of the bird. Angrily, the little tree said to the sparrow, "It is a great shame that thou shouldst have come and settled on me, I who am so weak and tender and scarcely able to stand up, why didst thou not go and settle on one of those huge trees of which the forest is full."

The sparrow, feeling ashamed and angered at the words of the little sapling, replied: "Very well, I am going, but when thou shalt be on thy death-bed I will come back, and thou wilt have to render me account for these offensive words which thou hast spoken to me." And the sparrow went away.

Now it is known that an oak lives for nine hundred years: for three hundred years it grows in strength and might, the next three hundred it rests quiet, and during the last three hundred it slowly decays and dies. First the heart, that is, the core, dies, then the wood is slowly eaten away, the branches fall off, and at the end of nine hundred years the tree is changed into dust. And so it happened with that little sapling. It grew for three hundred years, it stopped still for the next three hundred years, and finally it decayed and died at the end of the last three hundred years. When the last day of the nine hundred years had come, and scarcely anything was left of the tree but dust, the sparrow came back, and rolling about in the dust it said: "Dost thou remember when thou wast a mere sapling, how thou didst insult me, thou didst believe thou wouldst grow on and live for ever? Dost thou see that my word has come true, thou proud tree of the forest, now thy head is lying low and thou hast been changed into dust, thou hast been humbled, whilst I am still living on in strength, and I am now as I have then been." This longevity of the sparrow makes him the dread of the peasants and farmers, and among the means taken to save the crops from the inroads of this pest are magical practices and charms.

I will only quote one or two.

Charms against the Sparrow.

On the first day of Lent the man must collect all the crumbs and bones from his table after he has finished his meal, and, taking them out in the table-cover, he must strew them upon the field, and say, "O ye birds of heaven, here I have brought you of the food from my table, eat this, and do not touch the food from off the field." Or, taking a handful of corn and standing with one foot on his field and with the other on the roadside, he must throw the corn on the road outside the field and to say, "O St. Mary, here I have brought food for the birds of heaven. Let them feed on this seed and not on the seed which I sow in my field."

There is still another charm.

At the time when the sparrows begin to pick at the corn the youngest of the household must go to the field. He must take off all his garments, then, tying a kerchief over his eyes, he must hold in his hand a candle, which has been burning at the head of a corpse, and carrying also a tuft of hair cut off from the head of the dead, he is to walk with the lighted candle in his hand over the four sides of the field and say, "As I do not see now, and as the dead man does not see, so shall the birds not see this field with the corn growing in it. And the mind of the birds should be taken off from this field, as the mind of the dead is off it." When he comes to the fourth corner of the field he must tie the hair of the dead round some of the ears of corn and say, "I do not tie up this crop, but I tie the mouth of the birds, that they may not be able to eat it, as the dead man is unable to eat it. And they shall not be able to see the corn, as the dead man does not see the world."

LX.

WHY DOES THE MOSQUITO LIVE IN THE WELL?

The Story of King Pic, Lady Mary and the Sun.

Once upon a time St. Mary talked with the sun about the sins of this world. They also talked about the wicked deeds of the Emperor Pic among others, of whom an evil report had spread on account of his cruelty. The sun talked to her about all that he had seen, and St. Mary, weighing up all his sins, came to the decision that he should be thrown into the depths of the sea, so that even his memory should be lost to the end of days.

But before she had time to pronounce her judgment, up came the Emperor Pic himself in mighty wrath. He caught hold of St. Mary by the hair of her head, for was he not the emperor, and was there anyone of whom he should stand in awe? He feared no one, and cursing as fast as he could fill his mouth with blasphemous words, he started fighting the sun. When St. Mary wanted to remonstrate with him he gave her a blow on her mouth, so as to stop her from speaking. The sun, seeing this infamous conduct, got angry, and catching him by the throat, hurled the Emperor Pic into a well with the intention of drowning him before he could utter a single word. The only sound which he made before sinking was Zi Zi Zi. St. Mary, having pity upon him, wanted to save him from drowning, and tried to draw him out of the water. But she looked in vain for him. Instead of finding Pic in the well, she only found a little insect that was shivering with cold and was hiding under one of the beams of the well. God had no doubt punished Pic for his impudence. The mosquito (Culex pipiens) does not leave his hiding place until the sun disappears, for he is frightened of him, and this fear has remained with him. For this reason no mosquito will come out during the daytime: he will wait until it gets dark, then he will come out and, sitting on the edge of the well, sings Zi, Zi, Zi.

LXI.

WHY DOES THE MOSQUITO FEED ON BLOOD?

The Story of God and the Food of the Mosquito.

After God had made all the creatures, he called them together, to tell them what they would have to do so that they might live. They all came, and God gave every one its gift and the manner of its food. All had come and gone, but the mosquito did not come until very late. When asked why he had done so, he started telling tales, until God got angry and, turning to him, said:

"I have no time to waste with thee, hurry up and tell me quickly, what kind of food dost thou wish?"

The mosquito replied, "I wish to live by sucking."

"So it shall be," replied God, "now go and suck the juice of trees and plants."

What was he to do? He went and sucked the trees and plants. After a fortnight had passed he got weak and shrivelled from this kind of food. His wife, seeing the state into which he had fallen by his foolish demand, said to him:

"See what has become of you! You are shrivelled up and weak, a few days more and you are sure to die. You had better go to God and beg him to give you another food."

But he said, "I cannot go; if you have the impudence you had better go."

"Very well, then, I will go," replied the female mosquito, and up she went to God.

When he saw her he asked her, "What has brought you to me?"

"The miserable food which my husband has got is killing us. We cannot live by it. We are getting shrivelled up."

"If so," said God, "I will give you the right to suck also blood from man and beast, but as soon as you cannot get blood you must die. Your husband, however, he may live on the blood and juice of plants alike." And so it has remained, the female dies when she cannot find blood to suck.

According to some local tradition, the mosquito has been made out of the smoke of the devil's pipe, and for that reason he hates the smoke. According to another they are also the servants of the devil and the enemies of the angels, who cannot come into a room where there are many mosquitos

LXII.

WHY DOES THE FLY EAT THE CHERRY?

The Story of Lady Mary and the Cherries.

It is told that, once upon a time, the Lady Mary wanted to bring some cherries to her son. So she went to a cherry tree and began to shake it. But to her surprise, instead of coming down as she expected, the cherries seemed to rise higher and higher. It was a cherry tree dedicated to the devil, and it was not meet that such cherries should be brought to God. So she went away full of wrath, and cursed the cherries. And lo! they were changed into small black mites that flew away. But the love of their sisters--the cherries--brings them back, and they come and kiss them, and when they kiss them they leave their eggs behind, which, growing into little white worms, eat the cherries.

LXIII.

WHY HAS THE BUTTERFLY RINGS ON ITS WINGS?

The Story of St. Anne and the Magician.

Once upon a time the rumour spread through Palestine that there was a man who could perform greater miracles than God. St. Anne, hearing of it, determined to go and see him, and so she did.

When she approached the house where he lived, she washed her feet, as it is customary in those parts of the world, and with meekness and devotion she went in and asked the man to change a withered trunk into a green tree. The man got very angry, and said he did not perform miracles, and after insulting her before the assembled multitudes, seized her hands and thrust her out of his house.

When St. Anne saw what he had done she fell upon her knees and prayed to God to punish him. As she was lifting up her hands in prayer she suddenly noticed that the ring which she had from her dear mother had gone. She remembered that the man had got hold of her by the hand, and she understood that he then must have slipped the ring off her finger. So she prayed that God would punish this impostor, thief, and robber.

And God heard her prayer. Of a sudden the man disappeared from amongst the people, and a small ring appeared round one of the boughs of the tree outside the house. Whilst the people were gazing upon this ring into which the thief had been changed, it opened, and out of it came a hundred of small butterflies with the mark of the ring on their wings. This was the sign of the ring, which had been stolen from St. Anne.

The miracle which St. Anne asks the man to perform, namely, to change a withered trunk into a green tree, belongs to the large cycle of similar miracles starting from the rod of Aaron, the story of Lot and Abraham, the Tannhäuser legend, etc. (v. Gaster, Literatura Populara Româna, Bucharest 1883, p. 286 ff.).

This ring of small insect eggs round the twigs of trees is also known as the cuckoo's ring, and taken off from the tree is used for charms by girls, who say "as men are pleased to hear me." This ring is also called "Sleep," and it is therefore often put into the cradle of restless children in order to cause them to sleep.

LXIV.

WHY DOES THE CRICKET CHIRP?

The Story of Lady Mary and the Yellow Bird.

It is said that at the time of the birth of Christ, there was a beautiful little bird with feathers, yellow as gold and with a beak shining like silver, and a thin, fine little body. Just as the bird was beautiful, so she was insolent and disobedient. She was a friend of St. Mary, who liked her singing. When she was sad, the bird would come and comfort her with her sweet songs. And the Holy Mother also helped the little bird when she was in trouble, and when the nest was broken, she helped to mend it.

But when the Holy Mother got Jesus, her friendship with the bird came to an end. For the bird did not like children. It could not stand their crying. The bird believed that the crying child mocked at her singing, and therefore, whenever she saw Christ, she made faces at him and mockingly chirped, Gri Gri Gri. Christ, hearing it, got frightened and cried bitterly. When St. Mary saw the insolence of the bird, she drove her away from the house, and, cursing her, said: "From the beautiful bird which thou art, thou shalt become one of the most hideous insects, and, living only in clefts and holes, thou shalt sing only Gri Gri Gri, as a punishment for having mocked at God's child."

Since then, that bird has entirely disappeared, and all of her kind which were living at that time were turned into crickets chirping in the hearths and mocking at the children of men, Gri Gri Gri.

LXV.

WHY DO THE ANTS FEED THE CRICKET?

The Story of Alexander and the Knight.

There is another legend of the origin of the cricket which leads us to the cycle of the Alexander legends.

It is told that in the time of Alexander there lived a young man who, when he was sixteen years old, was more beautiful than any one had been before him, or after him. The princesses were fighting for him, calling one another as many names as the moon and stars, and each one vowing that hers only he was to be, none other was worthy of him. Still more beautiful was his singing, for when you heard him your mind stopped still, so sweet was his voice. Even the mothers of the maidens fell in love with him. And grey-haired old kings with long, white beards and bushy eyebrows, would lift their brows to see him, who was as beautiful as a wonder and dear as a ball of gold. But whilst everyone liked him, Alexander could not suffer him. He must hate him, for though Alexander was the mightiest emperor of the world, yet none could please him, no not one even of those princesses. For this reason there grew up an enmity between them, which became so strong that even the sun, which used at that time to walk about on the earth, could not make peace between them. Alexander might perhaps have made peace, but he would do so only on the condition that the other would not make love to his own favourite.

But the young knight would not hear of any conditions, and in order to spite him still more, he went more often than before to Alexander's favourite wife, and sang to her as much as he could. When the sun told how insolent he was, Alexander turned on him and drove him out of the house. The sun chased him and burned him, so that from the white that he was he turned as black as a coal, and from the big and tall man that he was he shrivelled up and became as small as a hazelnut, and hid himself away under the hearth of a poor woman's house, from which he squeaked "Griji, Griji ( = take care) that the sun does not catch me." When the sun heard it, he said, "Now thou shalt always live here where thou art, and hungry and thirsty shalt thou cry Griji, Griji without stopping." When the beautiful maidens heard what had happened, they became very angry, and then, turning into ants, they brought food to the poor cricket. To this very day they bring him food, so that he may not die of hunger.

LXVI.

WHY DO CATS AND DOGS FIGHT?

The Story of the Dog, the Cat and the Mouse.

In the beginning there was no enmity between the cat and dog, and they lived on friendly terms together and served their master (Adam) faithfully, each one doing its own work. But as you know, it is very much better to have a written agreement at the beginning than to have a row afterwards, so they decided to draw up an agreement defining the work which each had to do, and decided that the dog was to do the work outside the house, and the cat the work inside. For greater safety the dog agreed that the cat should take care of the agreement, and the cat put it in the loft.

After a time, the devil, who could not allow peace to last for a long time, must needs set the dog up against the cat; so one day the dog remarked to the cat that he was not fairly treated, he did not see why he should have all the trouble outside the house, to watch for thieves and protect the house and suffer from cold and rain, and only have scraps and bones for food, and sometimes nothing at all, whilst the cat had all the comfort, purring and enjoying herself, and living near the hearth in warmth and safety. The cat said, "An agreement is an agreement." The dog replied, "Let me see that agreement." The cat went quickly up the loft to fetch the agreement, but the agreement, which had been a little greasy, had been nibbled by the mice who were living in the loft, and they went on nibbling away until nothing was left of it but a heap of paper fluff, and as it was as soft as down the mice made their home of it. When the cat came up and saw what the mice had done, her fury knew no bounds, she pursued them madly, killing as many as she could seize, and running after the others with the intent of catching them.

When she came down the dog asked her for the agreement, and as the cat had not brought it, the dog, taking hold of her, shook her until he got tired of shaking her.

Since that time, whenever a dog meets a cat he asks her for the agreement, and as she cannot show it to him he goes for her, and the cat, knowing what the mice had done to her, runs after them when she sees them.

In the South Slavonic folk-lore (Krauss, No. 18) there is a parallel to this story, but greatly changed from the original form. It is no longer a "creation" legend. It runs as follows:

The dogs used to receive all the meat that fell off the table. This became a habit, and so he and the cat drew up a statement to that effect, and made it a permanent rule. They wrote it on the hide of an ass, and the king of the dogs gave it to the cat--the first chancellor--to take care of it. The cat hid it away in the rafters of the house. There the skin was found by the mice, who nibbled it until there was scarcely anything left. One day a dog got badly beaten because he picked up some meat that had fallen from the table. He went and complained to the king, who sent the cat to find the document. The cat could not find it, and saw that the mice had eaten it. Since then there is a continual feud between the cat, the mice and the dog.

In this version, the entire origin of the tale has been lost. It is no longer referred to Adam, nor is there any question of a compact between a cat and dog which was broken by the latter. In the Slavonic tale there is no authority for this arrangement.

The Rumanian version approximates much more closely to the Oriental, and seems to have preserved much more faithfully the ancient form. The oldest which can thus far be traced is that in the "Alphabet of Pseudo Sirach," printed here in the Appendix (No. III.).

LXVII.

WHY DO CATS EAT MICE?

The Story of Adam and Eve and the Devil.

When Adam and Eve had lived for some time together, Adam suddenly noticed a change in his wife's demeanour. Watching her narrowly, he found that she had fallen in love with the devil. She had introduced him into the house, which she had built close to the seashore. Adam, as a wise man, kept his peace, but he thought day and night what was he to do to get rid of the devil and to save his wife? At last he thought that the only way would be to take his wife away into some distant land across the sea, where the devil could not follow him. But how were they to cross that sea? At last he discovered that the best way to cross the sea would be to make a boat, and then, when it was ready, he would take his wife quietly and they would both sail away. But the devil has nothing to do but to watch other people's doings, and to put a spoke into the wheel wherever he can. He was therefore not to be outdone in as simple a manner as Adam thought. He saw that Adam was cutting wood, and making timber and laths, and joining them together, but whenever he asked Adam what he was doing he would not answer him.

So at last he came to Eve and told her: "Look here, that husband of yours is preparing some trick, and it is meant against you and me. You better find out what is in Adam's mind. What is he doing, and what is the meaning of it?"

Eve, in order to please the devil, asked Adam what he was doing, but he knew it was no good giving a secret into the keeping of a woman. So he kept his counsel to himself. At last, when the devil saw the boat, he told Eve:

"I know what Adam means, he wants to take you away and leave me here alone. That you must not allow, but when everything is ready and he is coming to fetch you, you ask him to allow you to bring the house-snake with you. He will not refuse you, and I will take the form of the snake, and so you will carry me with you into the boat. Then we shall see who will be the cleverer, Adam or I."

So when Adam came to fetch Eve, she asked him to be allowed to bring also the house-snake with her. Adam, good-hearted fellow as he was, did not refuse her. What did the devil do? He took the form of the snake, and to make sure of being carried into the boat, he coiled himself round Eve's bosom, and so was carried by her into the boat, chuckling all the while at the stupidity of Adam. Adam had no suspicion who the passenger was, he had brought with him.

One day, after he had sailed a long time, Adam, tired from his work, laid himself down to rest, when he suddenly felt that the boat was sinking. Up he jumped, trimmed the sail, and looked round to see whether the boat had sprung a leak and was making water, for he could not understand why the boat should suddenly sink and let the water in. The devil, thinking that Adam was asleep and not able to watch his tricks, had made himself heavy like lead in the hope of sinking the ship and drowning Adam. But he had reckoned without his host, for Adam woke up in the nick of time and caught the Wicked One at his evil deeds. When the devil saw that Adam was awake, he changed himself quickly into a mouse. Adam did not trouble, but thought his time would come. The devil, who cannot keep quiet but must do mischief whenever he can, was not content to be left in peace, and be carried across the water, but he must needs start gnawing away at one of the planks of the ship, and so make a hole and drown Adam. His misfortune was that, just when the plank at which he was gnawing had got as thin as a sheet of paper, Adam surprised the Black One at his work. What did he do? He took off his fur glove and threw it at the mouse.

The fur glove changed into a cat which, seizing the mouse, killed it and ate it up. And thus the cat got the devil into it. And that is why the cat's hair bristles and makes sparks, and the eyes of the cat glisten in the dark. These are sparks of the devil in the cat.

LXVII. A.

ANOTHER VERSION.

The Story of the Devil, Noah and the Ark.

There is another version of this tale which transfers the origin of the mouse to the ark of Noah. Noah would not allow the devil to get into the ark which he had built. In order, therefore, to get in, the devil transformed himself into a mouse, which, being surprised at the same work of gnawing away the boards of the ark, was eaten up by the cat--the fur glove which Noah threw at her.

A legend concerning the cat and mouse is found in the so-called "Alphabet of Pseudo Sirach," here in the Appendix, No. III. According to a Bohemian legend, the devil created the mouse that it might destroy "God's corn," whereupon the Lord created the cat. (Ralston, p. 330 note.)

The apocryphal interpretation of the temptation of Eve by the serpent which has been identified with Satan is found in many ancient biblical legends. This story of the temptation has been transformed into a somewhat primitive love story between Eve and the devil--her paramour--who assumes the form of the house-snake and then wishes to drown poor unsophisticated Adam.

LXVIII.

WHY DOES A CAT SIT ON THE DOORSTEP IN THE SUN?

The Story of the Cat, the Mouse and Noah.

When Noah had built the ark, he kept the door wide open for the animals to enter. After they had all gone in, his own family came, and last of all his wife.

Noah said to her "Come in." She obstinately said "No." Noah again said "Come in." She again said "No." Noah, getting angry, said "Oh, you devil, come in." That was just what the devil was waiting for. He knew that Noah would not allow him to come in otherwise, and so he waited for an invitation, of which he promptly availed himself. Getting into the ark the devil changed himself into a mouse.

When the devil has nothing to do he weighs his tail. But here he found plenty to do, for, he thought, now is an opportunity of putting an end to the whole of God's creatures. So he started gnawing on one of the planks, trying to make a hole in it. When Noah surprised him at this devilish work he threw his fur glove at him. It turned into a cat, and, in the twinkling of an eye, the mouse was in the mouth of the cat.

But Noah could not allow the peace of the ark to be broken, the animals had to live in peace with one another. So he seized the cat, with the mouse in her mouth, and flung her out of the ark into the water.

The cat swam to the ark and, getting hold of the door step, climbed on to the sill and lay down there to bask in the sun.

There she remained until the water had subsided: and ever since then, the cat likes to lie on the doorstep of the house and bask in the sun.

LXIX.

WHY DOES THE FLY SETTLE ON THE DEAD?

The Story of God and the Giants of the Flood.

In olden times, huge giants existed in this world. They were so big that they could put one leg on the top of one mountain and the other on the next one. They reached as high as the heavens, and getting hold of the handles of the great gate would shake it as a man shakes a kettle. They even rebelled against God, for they knew no fear. At last, God, realising their nature, decided to destroy them, and he sent a flood which covered the highest mountains, so that you could not see of them as much as the black under the nail. So all the giants died, except one, who was the biggest of them all. He stood with one leg on the top of one mountain, and with the other on the next mountain, and with his hands he got hold of the handles of the gate of heaven. But God would not tolerate a single one of these giants, for he had decided to make men, very similar creatures to giants but smaller and more obedient. So he sent a fly to pick at his eyes, and worms to gnaw at the soles of his feet. Feeling the pain in his eyes, the giant let the gate of heaven go and wiped his eyes, with his hand, but he could not stand the gnawing of his feet, and he, falling down into the water, was drowned. From the gnawing of the soles the instep in man's foot has come, and these flies (Sarcophaga carnaria) and worms still eat up the human bodies and all the carcases.

It is therefore a bad sign if such a fly settles on a sick man; a sure sign of death.

LXX.

WHY IS THE FOOT OF MAN ARCHED?

The Pact between God and the Devil.

When God created the world, I do not know how it came about and why it was done, enough that it was done, God made a pact with the devil which they signed and sealed, and God kept the document in which it was stated that they had divided the world between them. It was settled that all the dead should go to the devil and all that was living should belong to God. After a while, the devil repented himself of this arrangement and tried to get hold of the contract. Taking advantage of God's indulgence, he stole into heaven, and, taking the document, he made off with it. Clever though he thinks himself to be, the devil is a fool and remains a fool. So, going down from heaven, he lost the document, and did not even notice his loss until after he had plunged deep down to the bottom of the sea. The document which had fallen out of his hands was lying on the sand of the seashore.

When God noticed what the devil had done, he sent a frost so hard that it split the stones and covered up all the waters with a thick crust of ice, so that the devil could not get out. Then God sent St. Peter to fetch the agreement where it lay. St. Peter descended and was about to take it, when a magpie which watched his doings went to the sea, and whack! whack! made a hole in the ice with its beak. That was just what the devil was waiting for, and quick as lightning he came up from the bottom of the sea. But quick as he was, St. Peter was quicker, and picking up the pact he went up to heaven. The devil went after him, but could not catch him up.

When St. Peter got near the gate of heaven, the devil, seeing that he had escaped him, threw his spear after him. He missed him; but not entirely, for he hit St. Peter in the sole of his foot. St. Peter cried out of pain. God asked him what had happened, and he replied, "The devil has hit me in my foot with his venomous spear."

"Cut that bit out and throw it away," said God.

St. Peter did as he was told, and, cutting out the wounded part from the sole of his foot, threw it at the devil. Since then the human foot is short of that bit which St. Peter had cut out when the devil had hit him with his spear.

It is not quite clear from the story as it stands whether the magpie acted as a confederate of the devil, and picked a hole in the ice deliberately so as to free him from the imprisonment, or whether the magpie quite innocently went and helped the devil against St. Peter. There is no sequel here to its action. It is neither punished nor rewarded. In this respect the story is imperfect.

There exists another popular legend intended to explain the arch in the sole of the human foot. According to the latter, it so happened that the Archangel Michael was the foremost angel in the fight between Satan and the heavenly hosts, which added to the discomfiture of Satan. When he finally was hurled down from heaven he tried to get hold of the archangel. But the angel was too quick for him. The devil missed him, but not entirely, for he seized the archangel by the sole of his foot and tore out a part of the flesh. Since then the sole of the human foot is curved in the middle. That portion is missing, which was torn out of the sole of the archangel.

LXXI.

WHY HAS A SNAKE NO TAIL? AND WHY DO FLEAS SUCK HUMAN BLOOD?

The Story of the Devil in Noah's Ark.

When God had brought the Flood, and Noah's ark was floating on the face of the waters, the wretched good-for-nothing devil wanted to destroy Noah with all those who were with him in the ark. So he fell a-thinking for a while, and invented an iron tool called now gimlet, with which he could bore holes in the wall of the ark.

The murderous devil started on his work, and poor Noah and those with him were in great danger of being drowned. They all worked hard to get the water out, but who can get the better of the devil? He worked much more quickly, and making many holes in the boards, the waters came in fast. They all believed themselves lost. But God, who does not desire the death of the sinner, and did not wish to see the work of his hands destroyed, gave cunning to the snake, and it is possible that since that day the snakes have remained wise, for does not Holy Writ tell us to be wise as the serpent? The snake came to Noah and said, "What wilt thou give me if I stop up the holes which the devil is making by which the water enters the ark?"

"What dost thou want?" replied Noah in despair.

"After the Flood thou art to give me a human being every day to be eaten by me and my seed."

Noah, hard pressed by the imminent danger, promised to do so. No sooner did the devil bore a hole than the snake stopped it up with the tip of its tail, which it cut off, leaving it in the hole, and that is why ever since the snakes have no tails. When the devil saw that his plan had failed, he ran away and left Noah's ark in peace and all those who were in it. As soon as the Flood had passed away, Noah brought a thanksgiving sacrifice to God for having been miraculously saved. In the midst of these rejoicings the snake took courage and came up to Noah, asking for the human being of which he had promised to give her one every day to be eaten by her and her seed. When Noah heard it, he got very angry, for he said to himself, "There are so few human beings now in the world, if I give her one every day, the world will soon come to an end." So he took hold of the beast which dared to speak to him in such a manner, and threw it into the fire. God was greatly displeased with the evil smell which arose from the fire in consequence, and sent a wind which scattered the ashes all over the face of the earth. From these ashes the fleas were born. If one considers the number of fleas that are in the world, and the amount of human blood which they are sucking, then, taking them all together, they eat up without doubt as much as a human being every day. And thus the promise made by Noah is being fulfilled.

A similar tale seems to be known among the Russians, as far as the first part of this legend is concerned. According to Ralston, Russian Folk Tales, p. 330, when the devil in the form of a mouse gnawed a hole in the Ark, the snake stopped it up with its head. In the Russian tale the two tales of the mouse and the snake are thus combined.

An Oriental legend which seems to have retained some of the incidents in the Rumanian legend is referred to in Hanauer, Folk Lore of the Holy Land, p. 283. We are told that Iblis (the devil) promises the serpent the sweetest food in the world, that is, human blood, if it helps to deceive Eve. Adam protests, as no one knew yet which is the sweetest blood. The mosquito is sent out to suck the blood of all the animals, and find out which is the sweetest. The swallow shadows the mosquito, and in the end plucks out its tongue so that it shall not be able to tell. The serpent, enraged, darts after the swallow, but only gets hold of the middle feathers of the swallow's tail, which it plucks out, hence the forked tail of the swallow. The serpent still tries to hurt man, but cannot do so in virtue of any claim.

The flea is also called the devil's horse, for Satan rode upon a flea when he started on his rebellious fight with God.

LXXII.

CHARMS AGAINST FLEAS AND OTHER HOUSE VERMIN.

In the first quarter of the moon she who wishes to make the charm must be told by a neighbour that the moon has just risen. She then takes a glazed dish or bowl, which she has bought at the fair of the Mummers (Mosii) at the Eastertide, or one that has been given to her at that time. She fills it with "living" water taken from three wells in three new jugs brought by three virgins, who must not look back from the time they have drawn it.

This bowl filled with water is put on the window facing the moon, and she waits until the moon strikes the window and the bowl. When she can see the moon well in the bowl and at the bottom of it, she begins to charm (conjure) the fleas, etc., with three stalks taken from a new broom, and says, "New moon in the house, bugs, vermin, fleas, get ye out of the house, leave this house, be scattered--let no one meet the other before mountain meets mountain--and hill top knocks against hill top--then and then only may they meet, and not even then." She repeats the charm three times, then she pours the water into four vessels, places them in the inner four corners of the house, and in the morning she is sure to find some of the house vermin in the vessels. These she must take out, and put into an empty box, stolen from somewhere. She must wait for a car that returns home after everything brought in it has been sold at the market, and must throw the box into that empty car, saying: "Yes, fleas, little fleas--from the house have I taken you, into a stolen box have I put you, charmed, drowned, cursed, thrown into a box, charmed at new moon now, may you become the devil's own, may you become numbed and stiff--in the nine countries--beyond the nine seas--for there they are waiting for you--at spread tables--with torches lit up. Amen!"

It is almost unnecessary to discuss at any length the charms against fleas, etc., which were considered the special tools and associates of the Evil One. The philtres in the Western countries consist mostly of poisonous ingredients taken from toads, snakes, etc., and some of the oldest charms are against flies, fleas, midges, etc. This is now, perhaps, the only complete charm in which not only the formula has been preserved, but also, what is of the highest importance, a detailed description of the ceremonial used on that occasion.

Every detail of this magical operation might be made the starting point of a separate investigation. The symbolic character of some of them is too clear to be gainsaid. We have here the crescent of the moon as an operative factor: the bowl and the box must be stolen, probably to bring down a curse upon the thief and upon him who uses it. The living water, the three maidens, the three wells, the curse of the vermin, the empty car carrying it, as it were, away for ever, the inducement for those fleas to remain there in the mythical nine countries for a feast that is awaiting them. Each and all are found in other charms, but here we have the whole operation minutely described. It is, moreover, typical of a large class of such enchantments or binding by charms. For our purpose it must be deemed quite sufficient. I have only introduced it as it is one affecting the insects and throwing light on many more charms and conjurations in which the Rumanian literature abounds. I may on another occasion discuss the whole range of the Rumanian charms. They cover the whole field of human ailments and physical troubles--a wide range indeed.

LXXIII.

CHARMS AGAINST BUGS.

Curiously enough, there do not seem to be any special legends about the origin of the bugs, but there are a good many charms which are used for getting rid of these troublesome vermin. The charms are of a symbolical nature. A suggestive action is performed which the conjurer believes will be followed by the conjured bugs. Thus: A woman in a complete state of nudity takes a mealie cake into one hand, or a crust of bread, or some other flour, and a brush used for whitewashing in the other. She nibbles at the cake or food, and whitewashes the wall, and while she is doing it, she says: "As I am eating my food and cleaning my walls so may you eat up one another and leave my walls clean of you," after which the bugs will perish.

It is advisable to do this when the moon wanes, and the whitewashing should start from the wall which faces the door and then go on to the right until the door is reached again.

Another charm--A boy in a state of complete nudity takes bread and salt into one hand, and in the other he holds his flute and also a number of bugs, called the wedding party. Thus equipped, he goes into the high road until he passes the boundary of his field. There he starts playing the flute, and then he throws the bugs away into the road, saying: "Here I have brought for you bread and salt, and I have been singing to you with my flute, now go and have a merry wedding, and remain where you are, never returning to my home." The bugs then never return.

Another charm, like that of the fleas, is connected with the new moon.

When the new moon appears, a man, coming outside his house and seeing it, exclaims, "A new king in the land, a new king in the land." To which one in the house standing by the window replies, "All the bugs must now go out of the house one by one, so that none remain behind." And after repeating these words three times he rides on a besom, poker, or the oven-peel (with which the bread is shovelled into the stove), and running through the house he begins sweeping the rooms, and says whilst so doing, "Get out of the house, ye bugs, for the new king is getting married, and he invites you to his banquet, for he has no one to eat, to drink, or to dance there. Get ye out and you will eat and drink and dance until you are satisfied."

These words must be repeated three times, viz. at the beginnings of three months. The bugs are then believed to leave the house in the form of a swarm, and to go elsewhere.

LXXIV.

WHY DOES THE CUCKOO CALL "CUCKOO"?

The Story of the Little Boy and the Wicked Step-mother.

Once upon a time there was a poor man, who had a wife and two children, a boy and a girl. He was so poor that he possessed nothing in the world but the ashes on his hearth. His wife died, and after a time he married another woman, who was cantankerous and bad-natured, and from morning till evening, as long as the day lasted, she gave the poor man no peace, but snarled and shouted at him. The woman said to him, "Do away with these children. You cannot even keep me, how then can you keep all these mouths?" for was she not a step-mother? The poor man stood her nagging for a long time, but then, one night, she quarrelled so much that he promised her that he would take the children into the forest and leave them there. The two children were sitting in the corner but held their peace and heard all that was going on.

The next day, the man, taking his axe upon his shoulder, called to the children and said to them, "Come with me into the forest, I am going to cut wood." The little children went with him, but before they left, the little girl filled her pocket with ashes from the hearth, and as she walked along she dropped little bits of coal the way they went. After a time they reached a very dense part of the forest, where they could not see their way any longer, and there the man said to the children, "Wait here for a while, I am only going to cut wood yonder, when I have done I will come back and fetch you home," and leaving the children there in the thicket he went away, heavy hearted, and returned home. The children waited for a while, and seeing that their father did not return, the girl knew what he had done. So they slept through the night in the forest, and the next morning, taking her brother by the hand, she followed the trace of the ashes which she had left on the road, and thus came home to their own house. When the step-mother saw them, she did not know what to do with herself, she went almost out of her mind with fury. If she could, she would have swallowed them in a spoonful of water, so furious was she. The husband, who was a weakling, tried to pacify her, and to endeavour to get the children away by one means or another, but did not succeed. When the step-mother found that she could not do anything through her husband, she made up her mind that she herself would get rid of them. So one morning, when her husband had gone away, she took the little boy, and without saying anything to anybody, she killed him and gave him to his sister to cut him up, and prepare a meal for all of them. What was she to do? If she was not to be killed like her brother, she had to do what her step-mother told her.

And so she cut him up and cooked him ready for the meal. But she took the heart, and hid it away in a hollow of a tree. When the step-mother asked her where the heart was, she said that a dog had come and taken it away. In the evening, when the husband came home, she brought the broth with the meat for the husband to eat, and she sat down and ate of it and so did the husband, not knowing that he was eating the flesh of his child. The little girl refused to eat it. She would not touch it. After they had finished, she gathered up all the little bones and hid them in the hollow of the tree where she had put the heart. The next morning, out of that hollow of the tree there came a little bird with dark feathers, and sitting on the branch of a tree, began to sing, "Cuckoo! My sister has cooked me, and my father has eaten me, but I am now a cuckoo and safe from my step-mother." When the step-mother, who happened to be near the tree, heard what that little bird was singing, in her fury and fright she took a heavy lump of salt which lay near at hand, and threw it at the cuckoo, but instead of hitting it, the lump fell down on her head and killed her on the spot. And the little boy has remained a cuckoo to this very day.

This tale is more or less a variant of a well-known type of fairy tales. Nos. 43, 44 are tales of men with inordinate and foolish wishes, who by constantly changing bring about their own undoing. This last is a variant of the story of the bad step-mother and the two children. But here the fairy tales assume a different character.

LXXV.

WHY DOES A WAGTAIL WAG ITS TAIL?

The Story of the Cuckoo and the Wagtail.

The wagtail did not have the tail from the beginning. This tail originally belonged to the wren, but it happened in this manner. The wagtail was one day invited to the wedding of the lark, and as she felt ashamed to go there without any tail, as she had none, she went to the wren and asked the wren to lend her her tail for a few days. The wren, which had as now a small body but in addition a long tail, did not wish to be churlish, and lent her the tail. When the wagtail saw herself with a long tail, she did not know what to do with herself for joy, she was dancing and prancing all the way to the wedding. The wedding lasted some days. When it was over, the wren came to the wagtail and asked for the tail, but the wagtail, finding that the tail suited her so well, pretended not to hear and not to see, and took no notice of the wren. And thus it came about, from the time of the lark's wedding, that the wren has remained without a tail, and the wagtail with one. But, fearing lest the wren would come one day and steal it, the wagtail is wagging its tail continually to be sure that she has it, and that it has not been taken away.

LXXVI.

WHY HAS THE HOOPOE A TUFT?

The Story of the Hoopoe and the Cuckoo.

The tuft of the hoopoe's head has given rise to a tale, similar to some extent to the story of the tail of the wagtail, and yet not quite identical. Like the wagtail, which originally had no tail, the hoopoe had originally no tuft on its head. But when the lark had her wedding, she invited all the birds. Among them also the hoopoe. She did not want to come with her simple feathers, but went to the cuckoo and borrowed them from him, for he had the tuft, promising to return it to him as soon as she had come back from the wedding. The cuckoo, who was a good natured and obliging fellow, trusted the hoopoe and lent her the tuft.

She went to the wedding, and her beautiful ornament was greatly admired by all the birds. Most of all was the lark pleased with it. The hoopoe grew very elated, and thought she had better keep it. And so she did. She came home, and entirely forgot the cuckoo and her promise to return him his tuft. The cuckoo waited for a while for the hoopoe to return to him the tuft which he had lent her. But the hoopoe was nowhere to be found; she never showed herself. Seeing this, the cuckoo went to her and asked her to return the tuft. She pretended not to know what the cuckoo was saying, and coolly replied, "I do not know what you are talking about." Enraged at her callous conduct, the cuckoo called all the other birds together to lay his case before them, and to ask them to pass judgment on the hoopoe. When the birds came together, they appointed the lark to be the judge, but the lark had taken a fancy to the hoopoe ever since the wedding day, so, in spite of the protestations of the cuckoo, he decided that the tuft must remain with the hoopoe, as it suited her so much better. And so it has remained to this day. But since then there is no friendship between the cuckoo and the lark, who delivered a wrong judgment.

An Eastern popular tale, Hanauer, Folk-lore of the Holy Land, p. 254 ff., explains the origin of the tuft on the head of the hoopoe as a crown given by King Solomon to this bird for its wisdom in refusing to pay homage to women.

LXXVII.

WHY DOES THE EAGLE LIVE ON RAW MEAT?

The Story of the Bewitched Brothers.

Let us pass to the story of the eagle. It is the largest bird of prey known in Rumania, and lives on young animals, lambs, goats, and so on. The story runs as follows.

Once upon a time there was such a famine in the land that the people lived on grass and even on sawdust, and were dying of hunger in untold numbers. At that time there lived a widow who had managed to husband a little flour. When she found that nothing else was left to her she took that flour and mixing it with water kneaded it into dough. Then she lit the furnace, and got a shovel to put the dough on it and thence into the furnace to bake. This woman had two sons and one daughter. The two boys came in just at the moment when the loaves of dough were on the shovel. They were so hungry that they did not wait for the dough to be baked, and before their mother had time to put the shovel into the oven they got hold of the dough, raw and uncooked as it was, and ate it up to the smallest bit. They did not leave even a little piece for their mother and sister. When the mother saw the terrible greediness of her children, and that they ate the raw stuff and did not leave even a small piece for her or their sister, she cursed them and said, "May you be cursed by God and be changed into two birds; may you haunt the highest peaks of the mountains; may you never be able to eat bread even when you see it, because you did not leave any for me this day." No sooner had the boys gone out of the house than they were changed into two huge eagles, who, spreading their wings, flew away to the ends of the earth, no one knowing whither they had gone. A short time afterwards their sister, who had not been at home when all this had happened, came in, and she asked the mother where her brothers were. Her mother did not tell her what had happened, and said that the brothers, finding it was impossible for them to live any longer here, had gone out into the wide world to live by their own earnings. When the girl heard this she wept, and said, "If that be so, then I will also go out into the wide world, and will seek my brothers until I find them," and would not listen to the words of her mother, who wanted to keep her back. She said good-bye and departed, and travelled on and on for a long time, until she came to the ends of the earth, where the sun and moon no longer shone and the days were dark.

So she fell a-praying, and said, "I have gone in search of my brothers; O God, help me," and as she turned round she saw a forest full of high trees which she had not noticed before, and she said to herself, "I will go into that forest; I am sure nothing will happen to me," and so she did. She went into the forest not knowing where she was going. In the midst of it she saw a beautiful meadow full of singing birds, and there was a huge castle surrounded by thick walls and closed by a gate with six locks. At the entrance of the gate there were two huge monsters. She was very frightened. Still she watched until these monsters had fallen asleep, and then slipping past them she entered the gates. There she was met by a fox, who said to her, "What has brought thee hither into this the other world from the world outside? I fear our master will eat you up. As soon as he comes home he will swallow you." Still she went on, and on entering the house she met the mistress of the house, who asked her the same question, and she told her what had happened to her from the beginning to the end, and that she had gone out into the wide world to seek for her lost brothers. When the mistress heard her tale she took pity on her, and taking her into the innermost chamber she hid her there, and then went to await the home-coming of the master. About midday, when the sun stands on the cross-ways of heaven, there was a great noise in the house; the place shook, for the master had come, and he was none other than a huge lion.

At table, the mistress said to him, "O my master, thou hast always been so good to me; I ask you to be once more good and kind; promise me." And he promised, and asked her her request. She told him what had happened to that girl, and said that she had come there from the other world in search of her brothers. The lion called the young girl, who was greatly frightened, and she told him again all that had happened to her. He then said, "I will call together all my subjects and ask them whether they have seen your brothers passing by this way, or whether meeting them they have eaten them."

So he called from far and near all the animals who were in his dominion, and he asked them about the brothers. But they all said that these had never passed through the land, and they had neither seen them nor eaten them. So the lion told her to go on. She went on and came to another forest, very big and dark, and walking for a time in it she came to another meadow full of birds singing so beautifully that you could not hear enough of them, and there in the midst was a house deep down in the ground with a thatched roof. The girl went in the house, and there was an old woman sitting on the oven. [2] "May God help you," said the young girl, and the old woman replied, "Welcome, my daughter, what has brought you here into this part of the world never yet trodden by human foot?" And the girl told her that she had left her mother's house and gone in search of her brothers. The woman said, "Your brothers are alive, but they are under a spell, for they have been charmed into huge birds, and they live yonder in the castle on that steep mountain. If you can reach that place you will be able to see your brothers."

Full of joy at these tidings, the girl went to the mountain and found that it was a bare, steep, high cliff with little patches of grass here and there, just the place for eagles' nests. Taking courage, she started climbing up, and after endless toil reached the top. There she saw a huge palace surrounded by iron walls, and going inside she saw a room; the table was set and food was on the table. As she was very hungry, she went round the table and took a bit from every dish. Then she hid herself, watching to see what would happen. She had not to wait very long, for soon two huge eagles came from the depths of heaven. They entered and sat down at the table and began to eat their meal. Suddenly one of them said to the other, "Halloo, some one must have been here, for I see that my food has been nibbled." The other said, "It is impossible for any one to come here," and took no further notice of it.

On the second day they noticed that once again some of their food had been eaten again, and so on the third day, when more of it had been eaten. So they started hunting through the house to find out who was hidden there, for surely some one must have come to eat the food. After a long search they found the girl huddled up in a small room. As soon as they saw her they recognised her as their sister, and taking her into the large hall they asked her what had happened and what had brought her to them. She told them all that had happened to her, and how she had been through the forest and climbed up the mountain, and that she was now there with them. The brothers then said to her, "We are under a spell; mother has cursed us. We have now been changed into birds of prey; but if you will stay here for six years and not speak a single word, that will save us; the spell will be broken, and we shall again be human beings." The girl promised to do all they wished, as the old woman whom she had met before had told her that she was to do whatever her brothers would wish her to do. And there she remained. Her brothers spread their wings and flew away. Five years had past, the girl not seeing anything of them, and not speaking all the time. After that time she said to herself, "What is the good of my sitting here and keeping silent when none of them have come; perchance they are dead, or who knows what has happened?" No sooner had she opened her mouth and spoken a word when in came her two brothers, and said to her mournfully, "Thou hast not kept thy vow, thou hast broken thy promise, thou hast spoken! If thou wouldst have waited one more year we would have become human beings, and the spell would have been broken. Now we are cursed forever. We must remain eagles and birds of prey." And so they have remained to this day, preying on birds and beasts, living on raw meat, never being able to touch bread, and even picking up children under six years of age, the years which their sister had to wait in order to break the spell.

In this story we find again well-known motives from fairy tales, especially that of "Snow White and the Dwarfs," in which Snow White comes into the house and nibbles at the food which is on the table, so that her presence is thereby disclosed. But here the tale has been used for the purpose of explaining the origin of the eagle. Other details there are in that tale which are not clearly brought out in this, for at the bottom of it lies the tale of the grateful animals. That is the reason why the lion spares the girl and also the good fairy, whom she serves faithfully, here represented by the old woman in the house with the thatched roof, by whom she is rewarded by being shown the way to her lost brothers.

All these elements have here been combined in the bird tale. A close parallel to this tale is to be found in Grimm, No. 25.

LXXVIII.

WHY HAS THE LARK A TUFT?

The Story of the Glass Mountain.

Once upon a time there was a man who was under a spell. He got married to a woman, and after a time he suddenly disappeared. He was carried away by the spell, no one knew whither. The poor woman waited for him one day and another day and a third day, and seeing that he did not return she went out into the world to search after him. And so, passing through many a country, she came at last to the house where Holy Thursday lived, a good old woman, who was the mistress of a third of all the birds in the world. When she saw the traveller, she asked her what had brought her there, and the poor woman, weeping, told her how she had gone in search of her husband, who had suddenly disappeared, and whom she had not been able to find anywhere in the world.

Holy Mother Thursday said to her, "Wait, I will call all my birds together, and I shall hear from them whether they know where your husband is." In the evening she called all the birds who were under her rule, and asked them whether they knew what had happened to the man. They all replied that they had not seen him, and they did not know whither he had gone. Sad at heart, the poor woman went away, and came to Holy Mother Saturday, who ruled over half the birds in the world. She asked the young woman how she had come to that part of the world, and what had brought her thither.

The poor woman told her tale, and also that Holy Mother Thursday could not find where her husband was. So Mother Saturday called her birds, and asked them whether they had seen anything of the poor woman's husband. They all replied that they had not seen anything of him, and did not know what had become of him. Greatly disappointed, the poor woman went on her way, until she came to the house of the Holy Mother Sunday, who ruled over all the birds. After hearing from the woman what had brought her to her house, she called all the birds together, and put the same question to them. None of the birds knew where the husband was except the cock lark. He said he knew where the husband was, a very long way off. Then Mother Sunday asked the bird whether he could carry the woman to that place.

"Willingly will I abide by your command, O mistress," said the bird; and taking the woman on his back, he rose up high in the air, and started flying to the place whither the husband had been carried. And so flying, they came at last to a high mountain made all of glass. The bird could not go up that mountain, so they shod his little feet with iron, and slowly, slowly, they climbed up that mountain until they came to the top. The woman, however, was so much frightened by the flight that she clutched at the feathers on the top of the lark, and held tightly to them, fearing to lose her hold. Since that time the ruffled feathers have remained upstanding, and hence the tuft on the head of the male lark.

It is peculiar that the tale here ends abruptly without telling us whether the woman met her husband, or whether she was able to break the spell. It is probably tacitly assumed.

LXXIX.

WHY IS THE TUFT OF THE LARK DISHEVELLED?

The Story of the Helpful Lark.

Another story of the lark tells of one who went in search of his sister, who had been stolen away from her home by Sila Samodiva. [3] He was directed by a curious dream, in which he saw an old man with a long white beard, who told him to go in search of her, for he was sure to find her. On his way he came to a very old man, who turned out to be the king of all the birds. In the evening all the birds came to him to be fed, but one bird was missing. It came in rather late, limping and tired, and when the king saw it he recognised it to be the lark. And he asked the bird why it was so tired and what had befallen it. The bird said, "Thou hast ordered me to live so far away that it takes me a very long time to come to the court, and it is with great difficulty that I have been able to come here to this place in obedience to thy command." Then the king asked the lark where he had his nest, and when he replied in the gardens of Sila Samodiva, the brother was full of joy, for that was the place where his sister had been taken. Then the king asked the bird whether he could lead the man to that place. "Willingly will I do so," replied the lark. "I will jump from tree to tree and from bush to bush, and flutter about gently, and if he follows me I am sure to lead him to the place of his desire." And so following the bird, he reached a golden palace in which the fairy Sila Samodiva was living. He entered the palace by holding on to the tuft of the lark, which has since remained dishevelled. A fairy put him to various trials, which he successfully accomplished, and thus was able to rescue his sister and to return home in safety.

Needless to point out, that in these two tales we have parallels to the famous legend of the hoopoe in the Solomonic cycle. In it Solomon orders all the birds to come and render homage; only one bird does not appear at the proper time. It comes in very late, limp, tired and exhausted, and excuses itself by telling Solomon of its long flight from the court of the Queen of Sheba, to whom King Solomon then sends a message by means of the same bird. But we are not told in this story anything of the origin of the bird, except that it is described as one leading the travellers to the places in the other world which they wish to reach. Another very elaborate fairy tale gives us the origin of the lark.

LXXX.

WHY DO LARKS FLY TOWARDS THE SUN?

The Story of the Princess and her Love for the Sun.

A very long time ago, so long indeed that no one can remember when it happened, there lived a king and queen. They had everything which their heart desired, except that they had no children. They were good and charitable people, and distributed alms and prayed, but all in vain. At last, when they had given up every hope, they were suddenly blessed with a child. It was a little girl, and she was so sweet and so beautiful that they called her Little Light. The parents could not see enough of her, and so they kept her in their palace all the time, until one day her mother allowed her to go out into the garden.

In the wall of the garden there was a small gate leading into a beautiful meadow. The young princess opened the gate and went into the meadow and looked around her, for she had never before been out of her rooms. She rejoiced at the flowers and birds and animals, but more than anything was she pleased with the sight of the sinking sun, and with the golden rays which he sent through the heavens. She was so pleased with that sight that she went every day in the afternoon to watch for the glorious sun and his golden rays. Thus one day passed, and again another day, and she fell deeply in love with the sun, and being in love, she decided that she must go and find him. So great was her love that she did not look at any young man, and grew thinner, weaker and sadder every day, until she could not bear it any longer; and going to her parents, she said that she could not stay any longer at home, and that she must go out into the world. The parents tried in vain to keep her at home, but, seeing that all their efforts were of no avail, they let her go, and she went. She took money and food with her, and went along not knowing the right way.

So long as the money and the food lasted she felt quite happy, but a time came when both had come to an end, and she was in a very sore plight, not knowing what to do. Moreover, she was frightened to go alone, for she was in woman's clothes. Suddenly she found herself in the midst of a wide field full of dead bodies. A battle had been fought there, and the field was strewn with the dead. So she took one of the uniforms of the soldiers, dressed herself up in a man's garb, and, finding a horse, mounted on it and rode along with her face turned towards the sinking sun. On the way she found then an old woman dressed all in black, sitting close to a well, and weaving gossamer and cobweb. She addressed her as the Black One, which seemed to please the old woman, who told her to turn towards the rising sun until she would come to a glass mountain; she would have to reach the top of the mountain, and then she was sure to find her way to the palace of the sun. She rode on and came to the glass mountain. When she had reached the top, after having had the horse shod again at the bottom of the hill, she found a palace, but it was not that of the sun. It was inhabited by three sisters, who received her in very friendly fashion, and treated her with great hospitality. Thinking that she was a man, they all fell in love with her; but she told them she was a woman, and they left her to continue her quest. Before leaving they gave her a magic sword, which, if drawn half out of its sheath, killed half the number of an army, and if drawn entirely, killed the entire army of the enemy. By this means she was able to vanquish the enemies of a great king, who, discovering her to be a girl, wanted to marry her; but she escaped and continued her journey towards the rising sun.

On the way she met with a very old man, whose white hair had grown down to his ankles, and who was so weak that he could scarcely open his mouth. Little Light washed him and fed him and cut his hair. When he had eaten and felt himself refreshed, he told her which way to go; then he gave her a piece of bread, and told her that on her way to the palace a wild dog would come out against her; she must give him that bread and none other, and before entering the palace she must drink of the water of the fountain at the gate of the palace. A three-headed dog met her, she gave him the bread, and he suddenly disappeared after having eaten it. Then she went and drank of the water in the well, and was able to look at the golden palace in front of her, which was so radiant and so luminous that no human eye could look at it without being blinded. Then she went into the palace, and there, in the middle of the hall, who should be sitting at the table and eating but the glorious sun, beautiful and luminous as only the sun can be?

When Little Light saw him, she almost fainted with joy, but he also, turning to her and seeing her beautiful face, felt himself drawn to her, for he had never yet seen such a wonderful human being. There in the hall was also the mother of the sun. When she saw Little Light, she turned fiercely on her, and cursing her said, "O thou wicked child of man, born of sin, thou hast come here to defile the immaculate purity of my son and to lead him on to sin and wickedness. Thou shalt no longer remain a human being, thou shalt become a bird flying as high as to get near the sun, and there, seeing the beloved who cannot be thine, thou shalt cry plaintively for him whom thou hast won and yet lost." At that moment Little Light was changed into the lark, which at the break of dawn, before the sun rises, flies up into the sky trying to get as near as possible to the sun, and there cries plaintively at the loss of her beloved.

LXXX. A.

THE STORY OF THE LARK.

Another Version.

A variant of this story tells us that after the girl had left the king's palace and had gone on seeking for the sun, she came to a river, and did not know how to cross it. Whilst she was sitting there at the bank of the river, not knowing what to do, there came out of the river a girl dressed in white, who told her that she would reach the palace and yet not reach it; and as she spoke these words, there came a bridge and spanned the river. The girl went across the bridge, and going on in her journey, she came to a field where an old woman was watching a flock of geese. Curious as old women are, this one asked the girl what had brought her hither, and whither she was going, and who she was. The girl answered politely, and the old woman, being touched by her beauty, gave her a twig in her right hand and placed a ring on her left hand, and told her to cross herself with the twig, and then she would see what would happen. She did so, and she suddenly felt herself lifted up high in the air and carried as fast as a thought to some distant land. When she found herself again on the ground, she saw the palace of the sun facing her, but the palace was surrounded by a river, over whose waters, clear as tears, there was no bridge. An old man carried the passengers across, but he had to be paid with a silver coin. Those who did not pay had to wander round that river for a year. Remembering the ring which the old woman had given her, she offered it to the old man instead of a coin; he accepted it and carried her across. On the other side a two-headed dog came out and barked at her furiously. At his barking an old woman came out, who was none other than the mother of the sun. The poor girl did not know who it was; she might have been careful with her answer if she had. The woman asked her who she was and what she had come for. The girl, who was truthfulness itself, said in her simplicity that she had come to see the sun whom she loved so much. When the old woman heard this, she cursed her, and thus she became the lark flying about high in the air, and trying in vain to reach her beloved.

It is evident that we have here reminiscences of ancient myths, which have assumed a very peculiar shape in the mind of the people. It would be difficult to say whether these are survivals of Greek myths, of Charon, who ferries the dead across the river, and other legends connected with Apollo, or whether we have here later stories which have lingered on in the Balkans and have then been carried across the Danube. Whatever the connection, one cannot deny that we are dealing here with materials closely akin to those which form the substance of some parts of ancient Greek mythology, but in a modified form. Charon has survived to this very day in the legends and in the folk-lore of modern Greece, no less than in that of Macedonia and the other peoples of the Balkans. It is curious, however, that in this tale no blending with Christianity has taken place. We find various layers of religious belief which seem to have been superimposed upon one another, each one as it were leading an independent life of its own, seldom mixing to such an extent that the line of demarcation between what, in the absence of another term, one might call heathen mythology and Christian mythology or legendary lore.

LXXXI.

THE WOOING OF THE SISTER OF THE SUN.

A Christmas Carol.

White flowers, O Ler, [4] What cloud appears on the horizon? It is not a cloud, a black cloud, But a young man On a yellow charger. The saddle glitters like gold; The stirrups shine like silver; The whip with a beautiful handle; And bells tinkling on his reins. He is gone to hunt-- To hunt, to woo. He met a beautiful maid, The like of whom there is not in the world. It was the queen of the fairies-- Iana, the sister of the Sun. He met her, He took hold of her, And in his cellar he hid her-- In the cellar of the peacocks. The Sun, as soon as he got wind of it, Sent immediately after her The morning dawn to search, The twilight stars to seek. But the young man, What did he say? "For what are you searching, Dawn of the morning? And what are you seeking, Stars of the evening? Go into every nook, But beware of the cellar. If a peacock will escape, I will take one of the sun's steeds instead. And if a hen will escape, I will wed his sister. For I have found her, I have taken her, And into my house I brought her." This the young man-- May he keep in good health, With his brother, And his parents, And with all of us together.

This belongs to the series of the sun myths, curiously connected here also with the peacock. I am not aware of any parallel to this legend. Here a young man tries to woo the sister of the sun. In the lark stories it is the young girl who wishes to marry the sun, represented as a young man. They all belong to the same cycle, into which apparently so far the Christian element is absent. The remarkable part of it is, that this and the other songs are Christmas carols, connected probably with the Festival of the Sun with which Christmas was originally connected. It is the time of the winter solstice and the birth of the new sun. This probably explains the part which the sun legend plays in so many Rumanian Christmas carols.

LXXXII.

THE WOOING OF A FAIRY.

A Christmas Carol.

Here, O Lord; there, O Lord, In these houses, in these palaces and yards, There have grown, O Lord, Grown two tall apple trees. Wonderful they are, Joined in their roots, United and entwined in their tops The tree reaches up to the sky, The bark is of silver, And the fruit of gold. But the fruit Could not be plucked, Through the threat of the Black Sea, For the Sea was boasting, And with its mouth saying: "Who is here in the world Who would dare to shoot at my apples?" No one was found; No one dares. But when he heard the boast of the Sea, Went home quickly to his house, Went up the stairs, Took the bow from the nail-- The bow with the arrows-- Placed them in his bosom, And riding on his black charger, He came to the Sea. Arrived at the Sea, He put his hand into his bosom, Drew forth The bow with the arrows, And pointed the arrow to the tree. The tops of the apple-tree-- The wonderful apples-- Thus spake to him: "Stop. Do not shoot, For we will give thee The sister of the sun, The niece of the fairies, the beauty among the beauties," He was persuaded, And did not shoot the apples. He mounted his charger, Took his bow and arrow, And turned back. He had not gone a long way, When he looked back, And what he saw filled him with wonderment; For there came, There ran a pale-faced damsel. She neither laughed Nor rejoiced, But wept bitterly, tearing her golden hair, Scratching her white face. But the knight said to her: "Stop, O Princess. Stop, O Queen. I do not take thee For a slave to me, But my mistress shalt thou be, A good mistress of the house, A good ruler Of the household, A niece To uncles, A sister-in-law to brothers, A daughter-in-law to parents, Dispenser at the treasury, Mistress of my wealth." The girl, hearing his words, Ceased from crying, And joined him joyfully. And ... the brave man, may he live in health with his brothers, With his parents, And with all of us together.

We have here again the intertwined trees of the Tristram and Isolde legend; the special golden apples of Hesperides fame, and even since of the fairy tales. In the latter, the golden apple represents often the palace of the giant, with all the treasures that it contains, and the possession of the apple brings with it the possession of the princess. The Black Sea plays here a part, which reminds one of the raging sea in the pilgrimage of the soul. But what is of importance here is that the princess is called "the sister of the sun."

LXXXIII.

WHERE DID THE SWAN COME FROM?

The Story of the Swan Maiden and the King.

This is in its essence the well-known story of the swan-maidens, but with a very marked difference. It is here used more or less to describe the origin of the swan, whilst the tale of the swan-maiden presupposes the existence and knowledge of such birds.

The version, which I have been able to find is, however, not complete; still it is clear enough for our purpose. It runs as follows:

Once upon a time a king went out hunting, and after he had been hunting in the forest for a long time without finding anything, he found himself suddenly in an open plain, in which there was a huge lake, and in the midst of the lake he saw there a bird swimming about, the like of which he had never seen before. It was a swan.

Drawing his bow, he wanted to shoot it. To his surprise it spoke to him in a human voice, and said, "Do not kill me." So he tried his best to catch it, and succeeded. Pleased with the capture of the bird, he carried it home alive, and gave it to the cook to kill it to make a meal of it for him. The cook was a Gipsy. She whetted her knife and went to the bird to cut its throat, when, to her astonishment, the bird turned three somersaults, and there stood before her a most beautiful maiden, more beautiful than she had ever seen before. So she ran to the king and told him what had happened.

The king, who first thought that the cook was trying to play some trickery with him, did not listen to her, but when she persisted in her tale, the king, driven by curiosity, went into the kitchen, and there he saw a girl more beautiful than any that he had ever yet set his eyes upon.

He asked her who she was, and she said she was the swan who was swimming on the lake, that she had wilfully gone away from her mother, who lived in the land of fairies, and that she had left two sisters behind. So the king took her into the palace and married her. The Gipsy, who was a pretty wench, had thought that the king would marry her, and when she saw what had happened, she was very angry. But she managed to conceal her anger, and tried to be kind to the new queen, biding her time all the while.

The king and queen lived on for a while in complete happiness, and after a time a child was born unto her.

It so happened that the king had to go on a long journey, leaving the wife and child in the care of the Gipsy. One day the Gipsy came to the queen, and said to her, "Why do you always sit in the palace? come, let us walk a little in the garden, to hear the birds singing, and to see the beautiful flowers." The queen, who had no suspicion, took the advice of the Gipsy, and went with her for a walk into the garden. In the middle of the garden there was a deep well, and the Gipsy said artfully to the young queen, "Just bend over the well, and look into the water below, and see whether your face has remained so beautiful as it was on the first day when you turned into a maiden from being a swan."

The queen bent over the well to look down into the depths, and that was what the Gipsy was waiting for, for no sooner did the queen bend over the well, than, getting hold of her by her legs, she threw her down head foremost into the well and drowned her. When the king came home and did not find the queen, he asked what had happened, and where she was. The Gipsy, who had meanwhile taken charge of the child, and looked after it very carefully, said to the king that the young queen, pining for her old home, had turned again into a swan and flown away.

The king was deeply grieved when he heard this, but believing what the Gipsy had told him, he thought that nothing could be done, and resigned himself to the loss of his wife.

The Gipsy woman looked after the child with great care, hoping thereby that she might win the king's love, and that he would marry her. A month, a year passed, and nothing was heard of the wife. And the king, seeing the apparent affection of the Gipsy for the child, decided at last to marry her, and fixed the day of the wedding. Out of the fountain into which the queen had been thrown, there grew a willow tree with three branches, one stem in the middle and two branching out right and left. Not far from the garden there lived a man who had a large flock of sheep. One day he sent his boy to lead the sheep to the field. On his way the boy passed the king's garden with the well in the middle of it.

As the boy had left his flute at home, when he saw the willow he thought he would cut one of the branches and make a flute.

Going into the garden, he cut the middle stem, and made a flute of it. When he put it to his lips, the flute by itself began to play as follows: "O boy, do not blow too hard, for my heart is aching for my little babe which I left behind in the cradle, and to suckle at the black breast of a Gipsy." When the boy heard what the flute was playing, not understanding what it meant, he was greatly astonished, and ran home to tell his father what had happened with the flute.

The father, angry that he had left the sheep alone, scolded him, and took away the flute. Then he tried to see whether the boy had told the truth. As soon as he put it to his mouth the flute started playing the same tune as when the boy had tried to play it. The father said nothing, and wondering at the meaning of the words he hid the flute away in a cupboard.

When the king's wedding-day drew near, all the musicians of the kingdom were invited to come and play at the banquet. Some of them passed the old man's house, and hearing from them that they were going to play at the king's banquet, he remembered the marvellous flute, and he asked whether he could not go also, as he could play the flute so wonderfully well. His son--the young boy--had meanwhile gone into the garden in the hope of getting another flute, as the willow had three branches. So he cut one of the branches and made a flute of it. Now this flute did not play at all.

When the old man came to the palace, there was much rejoicing and singing. At last his turn came to play. As soon as he put the flute to his lips, the flute sang: "O man, do not blow so hard, for my heart aches for my little babe left in the cradle to be suckled by a black Gipsy."

The Gipsy, who was the king's bride and sat at the head of the table, at once understood the saying of the flute, although she did not know what the flute had to do with the queen whom she had killed.

The king, who marvelled greatly at the flute and at the tune which it was singing, took a gold piece and gave it to the man for the flute, and when he started blowing it, the flute began to sing: "O my dear husband, do not blow so hard, for my heart aches for our little babe whom I left in the cradle to be suckled by the black Gipsy. Quickly, quickly, do away with this cruel Gipsy, as otherwise thou wilt lose thy wife."

The guests who were present marvelled at the song, and no one understood its meaning. The Gipsy, however, who understood full well what it meant, turning to the king, said, "Illustrious king, do not blow this flute and make thyself ridiculous before thy guests, throw it into the fire." But the king, who felt offended by the words of the Gipsy, made her take up the flute and blow. With great difficulty she submitted to the order of the king, and she was quite justified in refusing to play it, for no sooner had she put the flute to her lips when it sang: "You enemy of mine, do not blow hard, for my heart aches for my little babe left in the cradle to be suckled by thee, thou evil-minded Gipsy. Thou hast thrown me into the well, and there put an end to my life, but God had pity on me, and he has preserved me to be again the true wife of this illustrious king."

Furious at these words, the Gipsy threw the flute away with so much force that she thought it would break into thousands of splinters. But it was not to be as she thought, for by this very throw the flute was changed into a beautiful woman, more beautiful, indeed, than any had ever seen before. She was the very queen whom the Gipsy had thrown into the well.

When the king saw her, he embraced her and kissed her, and asked her where she had been such a long time. She told him that she had slept at the bottom of the well into which she had been thrown by the Gipsy, who had hoped to become the queen, and this would have come to pass had it not been for the boy cutting a flute out of the stem of the willow-tree. "And now, punish the Gipsy as she deserves, otherwise thy wife must leave thee."

When the king heard these words, he called the boy and asked him whether he had cut himself a flute from the stem of the willow tree which had grown out of the well in the garden.

"It is so, O illustrious king;" said the boy, "and may I be forgiven for the audacity of going into the king's garden. I went and cut for myself a flute from the stem of the willow tree, and when I began to blow it, it played, 'Do not blow so hard, O boy, for my heart is aching within me,' etc." Then he told him he had gone back to his father, who instead of praising him for the marvellous flute, gave him a good shaking. He had then gone a second time into the garden, and had cut off one of the branches to make a flute; but this did not play like the first one. The king gave the boy a very rich gift, and he ordered the Gipsy to be killed.

Some time afterwards, the queen came to the king and asked leave to go to her mother to tell her all that had happened to her, and to say good-bye for ever now, as she henceforth would live among human beings. The king reluctantly gave way. She then made three somersaults, and again became a swan, as she had been when the king found her for the first time on the waters of the lake.

Spreading her wings she flew far away until she reached the house of her mother, who was quite alone. Her two sisters were not there. They had left her some time ago and no one knew whither they had gone. The young queen did not go into the house, she was probably afraid lest her mother would not let her go back again, so she settled on the roof, and there she sang: "Remain in health, good mother mine, as the joy is no longer granted thee to have me with thee in thine house, for thou wilt only see me again when I lose my kingdom, dear mother mine, not before, and not till then." And without waiting for the answer of her mother she returned back again to her husband. Sitting on the window sill, she sung again: "Rise up, O husband, open the doors, wake up the servants and let them be a witness of my faithfulness to thee, for since I have married thee I have left my mother, and my sisters have gone away from me, and from a swan I have become a true wife to live in happiness with thee. Henceforth I shall no longer be a swan, but thou must take care of me that I do not go hence from thee. I do not know whether my fate will be a better one by being a queen in this world. O sweet water, how I long to bathe in thee! And my white feathers, they will belong to my sisters. Since I am to leave them for ever, and my mother with them, O Lord, what have I done? Shall I be able to live upon the earth, and shall I keep the kingdom? Thou, O Lord, O merciful, hearken unto me and grant that this kingdom may not be in vain." And turning again head over heels, she became a woman as before, and entering the palace she lived there with her husband--the king--and if they have not died since they are still alive.

Here we have the origin of the swans, for since that time the swans have come to this world.

It is a remarkable tale, in which the element of the swan-maiden story has been mixed up with the type of the false wife. It claims, however, special attention, for we have here what I believe to be "the song of the dying swan." It is practically the song of the swan before her death as a swan, and her rebirth as a fairy maiden, which is contained in the concluding portion.

I am not aware of any other parallel to this peculiar song, although the fable that the swan sings a very beautiful song before his death is well known from antiquity.

Here follows another version of the swan legend in the form of a ballad.

LXXXIV.

THE SWAN MAIDEN, THE BIRD OF HEAVEN AND THE CROWN OF PARADISE.

A Christmas Carol.

High up on the top of the mountains, On the brow of the rocks, At the gates of the fairies, On the land of Neculea, Appeared a white swan Sent by God, Selected by God. She has been flying under the heavens, And settled on the rock. She turned off from her flight, And fell near the brave, For he is to wed The little white swan. The king's son, as soon as he saw her, Was wounded at his heart, And spake as follows: "O thou white fairy, O thou beautiful swan, I will bathe thee in a bath of white milk, So that thou shouldst not be able to depart." The swan replied, and said: "Young son of kings, I will not be bathed, For I am not a white swan, But the fairy from heaven, From the gate of Paradise." The prince, when he heard her, His love burned in him fiercely And what did he say with his mouth? "O thou white little swan, O thou beautiful fairy, Stay here and be my wife." The swan answered and replied, And thus spake with her mouth: "I will wed thee, And remain as wife to thee, If thou wilt go, If thou wilt bring me The bird of heaven And the crown of Paradise. The bird which sings in heaven with sweet and beautiful speech, To which God Almighty and the angels listen constantly, Singing among the trees in bloom, And some laden with ripe fruit; And the crown of Paradise, Of the Paradise of God, Woven of jasmine, With the fruits of virginity." When the prince heard her words, He went to his stable-yard of stone, Brought forth his whole stud--a great company-- And he started on his journey On the road Where the sun rises. Nine horses he made lame, Other nine horses he broke ere he arrived at the mansion of the Lord, At the gate of Paradise. Who came there to meet him? St. Basile came to meet him, Came to try him, and to ask him What might be his wish? What might be in his mind? The prince replied and said: "The Holy God has selected for me, The Holy God has sent to me A wonderful swan to wed me, But she will not marry me Until she wears The crown of Paradise, The crown of our Lord, Woven with jasmine, With fruits of virgin maidens. She will not marry me, Unless at our wedding sings The bird of heaven and the Lord's bird, Which discourses here in Paradise, With such sweet and charming speech, In between the blooming trees-- Some decked with flowers, Others laden with fruit-- And the Lord And the angels listen constantly." Thus spake the Prince, Praying very deeply, And shed tears all the while. St. Basile had mercy on him. He gave him the bird And the crown. He then returned to The crest of the mountains, The valley of Neculea. There he set the bird free, And placed the crown upon the altar, And he spake thus: "Come forth, my beautiful swan, Come forth, my wonderful fairy. Behold the crown, And listen to the bird; For the crown is that of Paradise, From the mansions of the Lord; And the bird is the bird of heaven, From among the trees of Paradise." When the swan came forth, it turned into a maiden fair; The crown leapt on to her head; The bird began to sing, With sweet and beautiful song, The song of heaven. They went to church, And the priest married them. Who was his sponsor? Who but St. John, Who stood sponsor to Jesus. He blessed them, And gave them, To each one gifts, To her a small cross, As well as a small Ikon; To him a staff of silver, To rule over the whole world, To have power upon earth. And this young bride With golden tresses That shone like the sun's rays, Together with her groom, Young and brave, May they live For many years With happy cheer and with health, Together with their brothers And with their parents.

Here we have a remarkable "carol," full of mystical lore, in which the swan-like maiden in the tale is really a fairy in disguise. The bird of heaven, and the crown of paradise, and all the rest stand here for the tests which often are found in fairy tales. The hero must first win these mythical beings before he can obtain the love of the maiden, or probably before she can turn from a swan into a human being, and remain as such. We have here thus a version of the large cycle of the Swan Maiden (v. Cosquin, ii. 16; Saineanu, p. 264 ff.). Such miraculous birds occur very often in Rumanian (v. Saineanu, p. 410 ff.).

LXXXV.

WHY DOES THE DUCK FEED ON REFUSE?

The Story of the Cannibal Innkeeper.

This is more or less a fairy tale, but of a very complicated character. Various elements are combined in it. It begins as do many tales, with the fact that a couple had a child after many years: that child is a beautiful girl, who, left as an orphan, dresses up in a man's clothes, works at the house of a rich man, where she after a time resumes her character as a girl: the chieftain of robbers falls in love with her, but when he asks his companions to go and steal her away from her master, everyone refuses. He then goes himself, disguised as a servant: he stays for some time in the same house: when he asks her to marry him, she refuses. His attempts at stealing her are frustrated by a little dog which she had received from her parents. One night he succeeds in catching the dog, and, assisted by some of his comrades whom he had summoned for the purpose, he is able to carry her away to his house. There she refuses again to marry him, and when he finds that neither good words, nor threats, nor beating make her change her mind, he gets so furious that he decides to sell her to a wild and cruel innkeeper who lives some distance away.

Now this innkeeper used to rob the travellers: then he used to kill them, cut them in pieces, and, after having cooked them, he gave their flesh to his customers to eat. When he received the girl he took her first into a very large room, in which there was only a table and chairs round it. That was the room where he used to feed all the travellers who came to him. Then he took her into another apartment which was full of gold and silver and vestments of silk, and round the walls were hanging weapons of all kinds, all robbed from the people who had lodged in that place, and whom he had murdered. Then he took her into a third room. There was a pillar, and on it were hanging two knives and an axe, with which he used to kill and cut up his victims; and along the walls there were hooks, and on each hook a human head. He showed all these things to the girl, who was greatly frightened, and who expected now to be killed by this cruel man. But he somehow seemed to have taken some pity on her, or perhaps he wanted to keep her for some time longer; whatever the reason, he took her and pushed her into another room, quite behind all these rooms, and locked the door upon her; and he told her to wait until he came back, and she was to do all that she was told. She had taken the little dog with her, and that seemed to comfort her. Soon afterwards he brought in a boy whom he had captured in the forest gathering berries, and taking him into an inner apartment he cut his head off, and cut him in pieces, and calling the girl in, he told her to take the meat and cook it and get it ready for the customers whom he was expecting. When the people came, he fed them in his usual way with human flesh. The people did not know what manner of food it was they were getting, but they seemed to like it; then he did with these guests what he had done with all the others, and so it went on day after day, the poor girl was kept there locked up and helping to prepare the food of the chopped-up men.

One day a very old woman was brought in, whom the man had bought, but she was so ugly and so wizened that one could scarcely recognise a human countenance. Not knowing who she was, the wild man thrust her into the chamber where the young girl was: very likely he wanted to kill her later on, as he had killed all the others, but possibly he wanted first to feed her up, as she was only skin and bones. When the young girl saw that bag of bones, she was very frightened; but the old woman spoke in friendly fashion to her, and asked her who she was and how she came to be in that house, telling her at the same time that she was a great witch, she could do anything, change everything, and that she had cursed her son for his cruelty, when he was still a young boy, and that she had come now to punish him. She had disguised herself in this ugly form, for she knew that if her son recognised her he would not wait long, but would kill her at once without mercy. The girl then told her her pitiful tale, and begged of her to save her. She told her what a terrible life she was leading, how she had been fed on human flesh, and that he was probably only waiting for an opportunity to kill her also and to give her flesh to others to be eaten. The old woman took pity on her, and told her she need not fear; though her son had put her in the innermost recess and there was no outlet, yet she would be able to escape. She must kill the little dog, and taking out a small bit from the heart was to swallow it. While she was doing it, the old woman took out some ointment from her bosom and began to rub her with it all over her body, when she suddenly became changed into a duck. There she sat quietly in a corner, and when the wild man came and opened the door she flew away and escaped into the open. The man looked round, and not finding the girl he went all over the place searching for her. At that moment the mother followed him out of that room, and uttered a terrible curse, on which the whole house fell down over him and killed him. When the duck had flown some distance away, she turned back to see what had happened, for the old woman had foretold her that she was going to destroy it. When she turned round she saw the heap of ruins, but as the old woman had not told her how she could again become a human being, the spell remained unbroken, and she has remained a duck to this very day.

It is for this reason that ducks are so fat, and they seek their food among the dead bodies and dirty places.

It will be seen that we have here a remarkable parallel of the Bluebeard story, but in a much more primitive form, for this Bluebeard does not kill only his wives, but he kills indiscriminately all those upon whom he can lay his hands, and then he uses the flesh of his victims for food. There are dim recollections of cannibalism in this tale, which in a way also reminds us of Polyphemus, who keeps Ulysses and his companions for the purpose of killing them and eating them, and the same story is found in another form in the adventures of Sindbad the Sailor.

LXXXVI.

WHY HAS THE STORK NO TAIL?

The Story of the Water of Life and Death.

This tale, though part of a longer fairy tale, is still complete in itself.

The hero of the tale, Floria, having shown some kindness to a stork, who afterwards turns out to be the king of the storks, receives from him a feather, which when taken up at any time of danger would bring the stork to him and help him. And thus it came to pass that the hero, finding himself at one time in danger, remembered the gift of the stork. He took out the feather from the place where he had hidden it, and waved it. At once the stork appeared and asked Floria what he could do for him. He told him the king had ordered him to bring the water of life and the water of death. [5]

The stork replied that if it could possibly be got he would certainly do it for him. Returning to his palace, the stork, who was the king of the storks, called all the storks together, and asked them whether they had seen or heard or been near the mountains that knock against one another, at the bottom of which are the fountains of the water of life and death.

All the young and strong looked at one another, and not even the oldest one ventured to reply. He asked them again, and then they said they had never heard or seen anything of the waters of life and death. At last there came from the rear a stork, lame on one foot, blind in one eye, and with a shrivelled-up body, and with half of his feathers plucked out. And he said, "May it please your majesty, I have been there where the mountains knock one against the other, and the proofs of it are my blinded eye and my crooked leg." When the king saw him in the state in which he was, he did not even take any notice of him.

Turning to the other storks, he said: "Is there any one among you who, for my sake, will run the risk and go to these mountains and bring the water?" Not one of the young and strong, and not even any of the older ones who were still strong replied. They all kept silence. But the lame stork said to the king, "For your sake, O Master King, I will again put my life in danger and go." The king again did not look at him, and turning to the others repeated his question; but when he saw that they all kept silence, he at last turned to the stork and said to him:

"Dost thou really believe, crippled and broken as thou art, that thou wilt be able to carry out my command?"

"I will certainly try," he said.

"Wilt thou put me to shame?" the king again said.

"I hope not; but thou must bind on my wings some meat for my food, and tie the two bottles for the water to my legs."

The other storks, on hearing his words, laughed at what they thought his conceit, but he took no notice of it. The king was very pleased, and did as the stork had asked. He tied on his wings a quantity of fresh meat, which would last him for his journey, and the two bottles were fastened to his legs. He said to him, "A pleasant journey." The stork, thus prepared for his journey, rose up into the heavens, and away he went straight to the place where the mountains were knocking against one another and prevented any one approaching the fountains of life and death. It was when the sun had risen as high as a lance that he espied in the distance those huge mountains which, when they knocked against one another, shook the earth and made a noise that struck fear and terror into the hearts of those who were a long distance away.

When the mountains had moved back a little before knocking against one another, the stork wanted to plunge into the depths and get the water. But there came suddenly to him a swallow from the heart of the mountain, and said to him, "Do not go a step further, for thou art surely lost."

"Who art thou who stops me in my way?" asked the stork angrily.

"I am the guardian spirit of these mountains, appointed to save every living creature that has the misfortune to come near them."

"What am I to do then to be safe?"

"Hast thou come to fetch water of life and death?"

"Yes."

"If that be so, then thou must wait till noon, when the mountains rest for half an hour. As soon as thou seest that a short time has passed and they do not move, then rise up as high as possible into the air, and drop down straight to the bottom of the mountain. There, standing on the ledge of the stone between the two waters, dip thy bottles into the fountains and wait until they are filled. Then rise as thou hast got down, but beware lest thou touchest the walls of the mountain or even a pebble, or thou art lost."

The stork did as the swallow had told him; he waited till noontide, and when he saw that the mountains had gone to sleep, he rose up into the air, and, plunging down into the depth, he settled on the ledge of the stone and filled his bottles. Feeling that they had been filled, he rose with them as he had got down, but when he had reached almost the top of the mountains, he touched a pebble. No sooner had he done so, when the two mountains closed furiously upon him; but they did not catch any part of him, except the tail, which remained locked up fast between the two peaks of the mountains.

With a strong movement he tore himself away, happy that he had saved his life and the two bottles with the waters of life and death, not caring for the loss of his tail.

And he returned the way he had come, and reached the palace of the king of the storks in time for the delivery of the bottles. When he reached the palace, all the storks were assembled before the king, waiting to see what would happen to the lame and blind one who had tried to put them to shame. When they saw him coming back, they noticed that he had lost his tail, and they began jeering at him and laughing, for he looked all the more ungainly, from having already been so ugly before.

But the king was overjoyed with the exploit of his faithful messenger; and he turned angrily on the storks and said, "Why are you jeering and mocking? Just look round and see where are your tails. And you have not lost them in so honourable a manner as this my faithful messenger." On hearing this they turned round, and lo! one and all of them had lost their tails.

And this is the reason why they have remained without a tail to this very day.

Compare the story of the lark, No. 78, who alone of all the birds obeys the king's command; for the story of the stork, the only bird that can reach the fountains of life and death, v. Cosquin (i. No. 3, p. 48).

LXXXVII.

WHY HAS THE SWALLOW A FORKED TAIL AND A RED SPOT ON ITS BREAST?

The Story of the Young Maiden and her Husband the Demon.

Once upon a time there was a widow who had one only child. She had a flock of sheep and a magic dog. The widow died, and the girl was left quite alone. So she took the flock of sheep and went to feed them in the mountain, accompanied only by her faithful little dog. After some time, there came also to the same pastures a young shepherd leading his flock. Before leaving, the girl had put on man's clothes, and so when the other shepherd, who was the son of a she-demon, came, they got very friendly, and the girl often went with her flock to spend the night in the house of the demon. She did not know who the other shepherd was, nor who was his mother. After a time, the young man began to feel suspicious about his comrade, and he said to his mother, "Methinks my friend is a girl, despite his man's clothes; his gait and his speech are just like that of a maiden." The mother would not listen; but after a time, when the son went on saying that he believed his mate to be a maiden, she said to him, "Very well, then, we will put him to the test, and we can easily find out what he is. I will take a special flower and put it under his pillow, and if it is faded in the morning he is for sure a maiden." The dog, who knew what the old woman was up to, called the girl aside and told her: "Listen to me, my mistress. Follow my advice, it will go well with thee. The old dragon is going to put a flower under thy pillow as soon as thou hast gone to bed; now keep awake, take it out from under the pillow and put it on the pillow. Early in the morning, before any one else is awake, put it back under the pillow, and nothing will happen to thee."

The girl did as the dog had told her. She took the flower from under her pillow, and kept it on her pillow all through the night, and put it back again early in the morning. The old woman afterwards took the flower out; she found it was even fresher than it had been the night before. So she told her son that he must be mistaken. His companion could not be a maiden. He persisted in his belief despite of it, and so the woman said to him, "Go and ask your companion to bathe, and if he is eager to do so, be sure it is not a girl; but if he makes any difficulties, you will know that you are right."

The dog, who knew of the plotting of the old woman, told the girl to put on a pleasant face, and not to hesitate to go to the river with her companion, "for," he said, "no sooner will you be near the water than I will get among the flock, and so you will have to jump up and run after the sheep, and there will be no more question of bathing." As the dog said, so he did, and again the young man did not know what to make of his companion. The mother then told him to go with his companion to the forest, and to find a big tree, and to ask his companion what it would be good for. If he replied for distaff and spindle, then it is a girl; but if he answered it was good to make carts out of, then it was a boy." So he took her into the forest, and, finding a big tree, he asked her what could be best made out of the wood. The girl replied "carts." When the girl saw that the boy troubled her too much, she went to the sea-shore, and, smiting the waves with her shepherd's staff, she rent the waters in twain, and passed dryshod with her flock and dog to the other shore of the sea. The other shepherd--the demon--came to the sea-shore just when she had already passed over to the other side. She removed her fur cap, and her long golden hair fell down to her knees. Then she moved her wand, and the waters again closed up. When he saw that she had escaped him, he was very angry, and he went to his mother and told her all that had happened. She said to him, "Do not mind; I will help you to get her into your hands." So the old woman went to the sea and built there a huge ship. This she filled with all kinds of merchandise, and told the young man to sail in it across the sea, and try and find his beloved; and she told him how to get hold of her when he had found her. So sailing along in the boat he got across, and anchored near a great town. The people came out to look at the wares which he had brought. The last to come--led by curiosity--was the girl. As soon as he saw that she had entered the boat, he set sail, and off he went. When the girl saw what had happened, she recognised him, and, finding herself in his power, she offered no resistance. But when they were in the middle of the sea, she took off the ring which she had on her finger, and, casting it into the sea, she said to him, "From this day onward I shall remain dumb. I shall not speak to thee until this ring is brought back to me"; and she kept her word faithfully. For many a year she lived with him, but never spoke a word. One day her mother-in-law thought that it would be better to get rid of her. As she herself dared not kill her, she sent the girl with a message to her elder sister to bring her the sword and the threads, knowing full well that her sister would kill her. When her husband heard the errand on which she was sent, he came out quietly, and, meeting her outside the house, he whispered:

"When you go to my mother's sister, she is sure to offer you some food; take the first bite, and keep it under your tongue. Then you may eat; otherwise you will be lost." The girl never replied, but listened attentively to what he had said. So she came to the old crone, who was ever so much worse than her own mother-in-law, and she certainly was bad enough. As soon as she entered the house, the young woman greeted her. Great was the surprise of the old woman, who said, "Now who is to believe my sister; she made that girl out to be dumb, and now she speaks so sweetly. Come in, my child."

Then she went out, killed a cock, grilled it, and gave it to her to eat.

The young woman, remembering her husband's advice, took the first bite and put it under her tongue; then she sat down and made a hearty meal of the cock. When she had finished, the old woman said, "I do not have the sword or the threads; they are with my younger sister. She lives not very far from here; you just go to her."

Taking leave, she went a little way further, and she came to the second sister, who was worse than the other. She saluted her when she came in, and this sister also said:

"How is one to believe your mother-in-law? She made you out to be dumb, and now you speak so sweetly and so nicely. What have you come for?"

She said, "I have come for the sword and the threads."

"Sit down and eat, my child," she said, and, going out, she took a young lamb and killed it and prepared it for her. Remembering the advice given to her, she put the first bite under her tongue, and then she went on eating until she had satisfied her hunger.

When she had finished eating, the old woman said, "I do not have that sword; it is with my younger sister. You must go further; she lives quite close by, and she will give it to you."

So she went to the third sister, and greeting this third one, who was the worst of all and the ugliest of all, said to her, "Sit down and eat." Then she took out the hand of a dead man and gave it to her to eat. But this the wife could not do.

Meanwhile the old woman had gone up into the loft of the house, saying she was going to fetch the spade, but in reality to watch the young woman to see what she was doing.

When she was left alone, she took the hand and threw it under the hearth. Then came a voice from the loft crying. "Hand, hand, where art thou?" and from under the hearth the hand replied, "Here I am under the hearth." So she turned on the young woman and said, "You eat this or something worse will happen to you; I am going to eat you." She was very frightened; so she took it and put it in her bosom under her girdle. And again the old woman cried, "Hand, hand, where art thou?" and the hand replied, "I am under her heart." The old witch thought that she had eaten it, and coming down, she brought the sword and gave it to her together with the threads. Before she left, the old witch asked her to give her back the hand; so she put her hand in her bosom, and drew out the dead hand and gave it back to her. And so she had to let her go in peace, as she had retained nothing.

Then, coming to the other sister, this one said to her, "Give me back my lamb." The young woman heaved, and out came the little lamb quite alive and started frolicking through the house. It was because she had kept the first bite under her tongue. She therefore had to let her go unharmed. Then she came to the eldest one. And she said to her, "Give me back my cock," and then the young woman spat, and out came the cock, running and crowing through the house. And so she came back to her own house with the sword and the threads.

Shortly before she had come, some fishermen had caught a large number of fish, among them a huge fish which her husband had bought. When he opened that fish, he found the ring which his wife had cast into the sea. So, full of joy, he ran out to meet her and to give her the ring. He embraced her with one hand, and with the other, which was full of the blood of the fish, he stroked her chin gently, saying to her, "O my dear little girl, here is thy ring." No sooner had he spoken these words, when the woman was changed into a bird with a red breast, the mark of the blood stains on her chin; then, breaking a pane of the window (lit. an eye of the window), she flew away. Her husband tried to catch hold of her, but he only got hold of the middle feathers of the tail, which remained in his hand. The bird flew away. The young woman had become a swallow. For that reason the tail looks like two prongs of a fork, for the middle part was plucked out by the husband in his attempt to catch her.

In this legend we have a combination of many tales. The central incident of the magical ring recovered from the depth of the sea inside the fish, upon which the whole future depended, is somewhat obscure in this tale. It is part of the Polykrates tale, but still more so of the Solomonic legend, where the recovery of the ring means the recovery of power by King Solomon. It is a curious romance, in which Solomon is married as a poor man, i.e. in disguise, to a princess, for his ring by which he was able to rule all the spirits and demons had been cast into the sea by a demon and swallowed by a fish. From that fish Solomon recovered it later on, and with it his kingdom and power. The incident of the sword and the threads is an obscure episode. No doubt it is a magical sword, by which the power of the ogre is to be broken, and the threads are magical threads, by which he is to be tied and made powerless.

LXXXVIII.

WHY DOES THE SWALLOW LIVE IN HOT PLACES?

The Story of the Swallow and Holy Mother Sunday.

In another tale the swallow was originally a servant of Holy Sunday. Holy Sunday, going to church, told her servant, whom she had left at home, that she was to prepare the dinner for her, and that she should take care that it should neither be too hot nor too cold, but just as she liked it best. The servant remaining at home did as she was told; she cooked the dinner, but forgot to take the food off the hob in time to get it cool enough for Holy Sunday when she came home from church.

When Holy Sunday came home and began to eat the food burned her mouth, as it was too hot, having been left on the fire so much too long. So she got very angry, and cursed the servant, saying, "As thou hast not done my will and hast burned me with the food, so mayest thou now be henceforth a bird burned and frizzled up by the great heat of the places and the countries where thou shalt dwell."

No sooner had Holy Sunday spoken these words, when the servant girl was changed into a swallow, and therefore it makes its nest in the lofts of houses where it is hottest, and travels the countries where the sun is burning like fire, frizzling up the inhabitants with its heat.

Holy Sunday is here merely a Christianised form of some of the older divinities, who did not scruple at the slightest provocation to vent their feelings and to punish their sub-ordinates without pity and without mercy.

It is not here the place to discuss the personification of the days of the week in the form of divinities. They occur very often in Rumanian legends and tales, and are in most cases described as choleric old women, spiteful and revengeful. On rare occasions they are helpful. They resemble much more the three parcae, Moirai or Fates of the Roman and Greek mythology and the Norns of the Teutonic mythology, than Christian saints. That these divinities are identified with special days of the week belongs to that process of heretical teaching to which I have referred already, and in which certain days of the week are endowed with a peculiar character of sanctity; and the apotheosis has reached such a degree that they are looked upon as real saints. And the swallow still is looked upon as a more or less sacred bird. According to popular belief, swallows will not build nests in bewitched or cursed houses; to kill a swallow is considered a heinous sin, almost tantamount to killing one's wife and children. As the people believe that the swallow was originally a girl, they refrain from eating it. They consider it wrong to eat a swallow. They are also called "God's hens," and are a sign of luck to the people where they build their nests.

LXXXIX.

WHY IS THE DOVE A HOMING BIRD?

The Story of the Bewitched Calf and the Wicked Step-mother.

It is very curious that, so far, very few tales and legends have been collected referring to the dove, a bird which plays so prominent a part in Ancient Greek and heathen worship. I have not been able hitherto to discover more than passing references to the dove in legendary tales, nor is there anything in Rumanian folk-lore that would explain the origin of the dove. There is only one legend, which is in a way a distinct variant of the Cinderella cycle.

I will give it here briefly.

The beginning agrees on the whole with the usual type. There is the bad step-mother, who has an ugly daughter, and persecutes the beautiful daughter of her second husband. Among other trials, besides keeping her unkempt and dirty and sending her out to feed the cattle, she gives her one day a bag full of hemp, and tells her that in the evening she is to bring it home carded, spun, woven into cloth and bleached. The poor girl did not know what to do. Her father had given her a calf. This calf was "a wise one." So the calf came to the girl and said, "Do not fear; look after the other cows: by the evening it will be all ready." So it was.

When she brought the white cloth home, her step-mother did not know what to say. The next day she gave her two bags full of hemp, and again the little calf worked at it and got it ready by the evening. When the woman saw what had happened, she said, "This is uncanny; no human being can do such work in one day. I must find out what is happening."

The next morning she gave her three bags full of hemp and followed her stealthily to the field to see what she was doing. There, hidden in a bush, she overheard the conversation between the little calf and the girl. Straightway she went home, put herself to bed, and said that she was very ill and was sure to die.

Her husband, coming home and finding her in what he thought was a very sorry plight, believed that she was really very ill. She called him to her bedside, and said, "I know I am dying; there is only one way, however, by which I can be saved, and that is to kill the little calf and to give me some of its meat roasted." The poor man did not know what to do, and he said to his wife, "Why, that is all that my little girl has, and if that calf is killed she will remain with nothing."

"Do as you like," she replied, "if you prefer a calf to my life." The little calf, which was "wise," knew what was going to happen, and told the girl that the step-mother was sure to have it killed, but she must not grieve. The only thing the calf wanted her to do was to gather up all the bones after the meal, and to hide them in a hollow of a tree not far from the field. Everything happened as the calf had foretold, and on the next day the woman ate as one who had been starving for a week, as ravenously as if the wolves were fighting at her mouth. The old man also ate of the calf, but the girl refused to touch the meat. After the meal was over she took all the bones and put them in the hollow of a tree as she was told.

Soon afterwards, the step-mother again put her to a trial. Going with her husband and her own daughter to church, she left her at home in her dirty clothes, and giving her a bag full of linseed and poppy-seed mixed, she told her that she must sweep the room, get the meal ready, wash the plates, clean the pots and separate the linseed from the poppy seed.

Now the bones of the calf had turned into three white doves. These came to her and did all the work, and told her at the same time to go to the hollow tree; there she would find a carriage and pair and beautiful clothes waiting for her. She did so, went to church in state, left before the others, and was at home to meet her people coming back from church and found the house swept and clean, and the linseed separated from the poppy seed. They spoke of the beautiful girl who had come to church, and chided their poor daughter for staying at home.

The second week the same thing happened. This time there were two sacks of poppy seed and linseed which she had to separate. And again the doves helped. And so on the third Sunday. The son of the squire, who had seen her on the former two Sundays, tried to stop her on her way out of church, and trod on her slipper, which was knocked off her foot. She did not wait to recover it, but returned home as fast as she could. The young man went round with the slipper to find the person whom it would fit. When he came near the house, the step-mother, fearing lest he see her step-daughter, hid her under a big trough behind the door. When the young man, after having tried the slipper on her daughter, whom it did not fit, asked whether there was another girl in the house, and she replied, "None," but a cock who was standing by began to sing: "O that old crone is telling lies; there is another girl hidden under the trough behind the door."

The young man, hearing the words of the cock, which the old woman tried in vain to drive away, sent his servant into the house to find out whether it was so. He lifted the trough and found there the other girl, clothed in dirty rags and huddled up. The woman, seeing that the girl had been discovered, said to the man, "Do not take any notice of her; she is a dirty slut and an idiot." But the cock again sang out, "O that old crone is telling lies; it is the daughter of the old man, and she is very wise." The young man, who was waiting outside, became impatient, and calling for the servant, he told him to bring the girl out. He tried the slipper, which fitted like a glove, and there and then he married her.

And this is the origin of the dove.

XC.

WHY DOES THE RAVEN FEED ON CARRION?

The Story of Noah and the Raven.

The Rumanian story about the raven is more or less the well-known story of the raven in Noah's ark as told in the Bible. But it has not reached the people in that simple ungarnished form. It has been embellished with legends. Those found among the Rumanian peasants agree in the main with those told by oriental writers and found in "historiated" Bible's--that great treasure-house of legendary Biblical lore and the depository of many of the legends of the past.

It is important to see how stories, the literary origin of which cannot be doubted, have penetrated among the people and have become actual popular legends. We can almost trace the way which they have come. And this lends a special value to such popular Biblical legends.

The story runs as follows:

The raven was originally a bird with white feathers. When Noah sent out the raven to find out how things were in the world, the raven espied the carcase of a horse floating on the waters which had begun to subside. Forgetting his errand, the raven settled on the carcase and started eating, and he continued eating for three days and three nights. He could not get satisfied; only at the dawn of the fourth morning did he remember the errand on which he had been sent, and started on his return. When Noah saw him at some distance, he cried, "Why hast thou tarried so long, and what is thy message, and how does the world without look?"

The raven, unabashed, replied, "I do not know anything about the world and how things are going; I only know that I was very hungry, and finding the dead body of a horse, I sat down and ate, and now that I have had my fill, I have come back."

When Noah heard this answer from the raven, he grew very angry, and said, "Mayest thou turn as black as my heart is within me," for his heart had turned black from anger and fury. And from that minute the raven's feathers turned as black as coal. And Noah went on saying, "As thou hast fed on carrion, so shalt thou feed henceforth only on the dead bodies of animals and beasts."

And in order that the ravens should not multiply too quickly, it was ordained that they should lay their eggs in December and not hatch them until February, for only then, when the frost is so strong that even the stones burst, does the shell of the raven's eggs split, and the young are able to come out and be fed by their parents, for they are unable to hatch them unless they are aided also by a hard frost, which causes the shells to break. Otherwise, if they had laid their eggs in the summer and hatched them in the summer, like other birds, they would grow so numerous that people would not have been able to defend themselves from the raven.

Moreover, the raven, when sent by Noah, saw only the peaks of the mountains, and those have remained to this very day the real haunt of the bird. They only nest in very high crags and peaks of mountains, and never in villages.

Thus far the legend, which occurs in many variants. The raven, whose peculiar appearance is well known, has become the bird of oracle par excellence. There are a large number of treatises on the augury of the raven, notably in the Arabic literature, some of which are traced back to Indian originals. As for the part which the raven has played in Northern mythology, it is sufficient to mention the ravens of Odin, not to speak of the Biblical legend according to which the raven fed the prophet Elijah. (Another interpretation of the word in the Bible changes the raven into Arabians, who fed the prophet in his hiding-place.) There are some Rumanian popular beliefs connected with the raven which I will mention here.

If two or three ravens fly over a village and croak, it is a sure sign that there will be death in the village.

If two ravens, one coming from the north and one coming from the south, meet over the roof of a house, it is a sure sign of the death of one of the inmates of the house.

It is an old saying that if ravens are seen flying in a great number in one direction, it is a sure sign of plague or some death among beasts and men.

If ravens croak over a flock of sheep, the shepherds keep a double watch, for they believe the ravens foretell an inroad by wolves or other wild beasts.

If a raven, meeting a herd of cattle, croaks, the Rumanian responds, "May it be on thy head, thy feathers and thy bones," for he believes that one of his animals will die and become food for the raven.

And, if one raven is seen flying over the head of a man and continues to do so for a while, it is a sign of the death of that man.

It is generally assumed that the ravens fly in pairs, and the appearance of one alone is therefore ominous.

These few examples will suffice. They stamp the raven as the bird of ill-omen.

XCI.

WHY IS THE ANT CUT IN THE MIDDLE?

The Story of the Young Maiden and her Step-mother the Demon.

Once upon a time there was a widow who had only one child, a girl, and all her possessions (goods and chattels) consisted of a flock of sheep.

When the girl grew up, the mother sent her with the flock, and told her at the same time to put on a man's clothes and not to speak to anyone in the manner of women.

The girl did as she was told, and fed the flock for a long time. One day, however, she was in the forest, where a young boy also fed his flock. But he was not the son of man; he was the son cf the serpent (dragon). How was she to know it? And even if she had known it, what good would it be to her, seeing that she did not know what a dragon or a she-dragon was?

Regarding him as a shepherd like herself, she began talking to him, and the whole day they went together with their flocks. When the young dragon came home in the evening, he told his mother, "I think that he with whom I spent the day is not a man in spite of the clothes but a woman, but he does not seem to have a woman's voice. Would it not be better if I brought him here, and you might then tell me whether it is a man or a woman, for if she be a woman, I should like to have her as my wife. I have not yet seen in the whole world one more beautiful." "Go," said the mother, "bring him. If he be a man, he will return safely from us, but if she be a woman, then thine shall she be."

On the next day, meeting the daughter of the widow, they fed their flocks together, and in the evening, when they were to separate, he asked the girl to spend the night at his house. The girl, not thinking aught evil, and being somewhat far away from her own house, accepted his invitation and went with him. What did the she-dragon do when she saw her coming? She went out to meet her and engaged her in conversation. Then she turned to her son and spoke to him, but in a foreign tongue. She told him to put a flower under the pillow of his companion, and if in the morning the flower will be faded, for sure then she is a girl; otherwise the flower would remain fresh. So he