8< *7 • «f- * £
THE JOURNAL OF
AMERICAN FOLK-LORE
VOLUME XXX
EDITED BY
FRANZ BOAS
ASSOCIATE EDITORS
GEORGE LYMAN KITTREDGE C.-MARIUS BARBEAU
AURELIO M. ESPINOSA ELSIE CLEWS PARSONS
LANCASTER, PA., and NEW YORK
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By THE AMERICAN FOLK-LORE SOCIETY
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I
3G
c°b.Z
PRESS OF
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CONTENTS OF VOLUME XXX.
ARTICLES.
PAGE
Contes Populaires Canadiens (Seconde serie) C.-Marius Barbeau i
Faceties et Contes Canadiens Victor Morin 141
Oral Tradition and History Robert H. Lowie 161
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina Elsie Clews Parsons 168
Notes on Folk-Lore of Guilford County,
North Carolina Elsie Clews Parsons 201
Tales from Maryland and Pennsylvania . . Elsie Clews Parsons 209
Ring-Games from Georgia Loraine Darby 218
Folk-Tales collected at Miami, Fla. . . . Elsie Clews Parsons 222
Four Folk-Tales from Fortune Island, Baha-
mas W. T. Cleare 228
Ten Folk-Tales from the Cape Verde Islands Elsie Clews Parsons 230
Surinam Folk-Tales A. P. and T. E. Penard 239
Popular Notions pertaining to Primitive Stone
Artifacts in Surinam A. P. and T. E. Penard 251
Bantu Tales R. H. Nassau 262
Twenty-Eighth Annual Meeting of the Amer-
ican Folk-Lore Society 269
Ballads and Songs Edited by G. L. Kittredge 283
Notes on the "Shirburn Ballads" .... Hyder E. Rollins 370
The Three Dreams or "Dream-Bread" Story Paull Franklin Baum 378
Totemic Traces among the Indo-Chinese . Berthold Laufer 415
Kaska Tales James A. Teit 427
Some Chitimacha Myths and Beliefs . . . John R. Swanton 474
Malecite Tales Frank G. Speck 479
LOCAL MEETINGS.
Missouri Branch 272
Kentucky Folk-Lore Society D. L. Thomas 272
The Virginia Folk-Lore Society 272
The Folk-Lore Society of Texas .... Stith Thompson 411
Mexican Branch 411
Ontario Branch 411
NOTES AND QUERIES.
Proverbs from Abaco, Bahamas .... Hilda Armbrister 274
Riddles from Andros Island, Bahamas . . Elsie Clews Parsons 275
Priscilla Alden — A Suggested Antecedent . G. B. Franklin 412
The John G. White Collection 413
Alabama Folk-Lore 414
iv Contents of Volume XXX.
PAGE
The Origin of Death . Franz Boas 486
Ojibwa Fairs Wm. Carson 491
Notes on Peoria Folk-Lore and Mythology . Truman Michelson 493
A!l-Souls Day at Zuhi, Acoma, and Laguna. Elsie Clews Parsons 495
A Zufii Folk-Tale II. F. C. ten Kate 496
Canadian Branches of the American Folk-Lore
Society 499
REVIEWS.
H. E. Krehbiel's Afro-American Folk-Songs. Helen H. Roberts 278
Mabel Cook Cole's Philippine Folk Tales . D. S. F. 280
MISCELLANEOUS.
List of Abbreviations used in this Volume v
List of Officers and Members of the American Folk-Lore Society . 500
Index to Volume XXX 505
LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THIS VOLUME.
AA American Anthropologist, New Series.
BAM Bulletin of the American Museum of Natural
History.
BArchS Baessler-Archiv, Supplement.
BAAS British Association for the Advancement of
Science, Reports.
BBAE Bulletin of the Bureau of American Ethnology.
Bell H. J. Bell, Obeah.
Bolte u. Polivka .... Bolte und Polivka, Anmerkungen zu den Kin-
der- und Hausmarchen der Briider Grimm.
CI Publications of the Carnegie Institution.
CNAE Contributions to North American Ethnology.
CR The Contemporary Review.
CU Columbia University Contributions to Anthro-
pology.
FL Folklore (London).
FM Field Museum of Natural History, Anthropo-
logical Series.
FSSJ Folk-Song Society Journal (London).
GSCan Geological Survey of Canada, Anthropological
Series.
Harris I J. C. Harris, Uncle Remus, His Songs and His
Sayings.
Harris 2 — Nights with Uncle Remus.
Harris 3 — Uncle Remus and his Friends.
Hiawatha H. R. Schoolcraft, The Myth of Hiawatha.
Jacobs Jacobs, English Fairy Tales.
Jacottet E. Jacottet, The Treasury of Ba-Suto Lore.
JAFL Journal of American Folk-Lore.
JAI Journal of the Anthropological Institute of
Great Britain and Ireland.
JE Publications of the Jesup North Pacific Expe-
dition.
Jones C. C. Jones, Negro Myths from the Georgia
Coast.
MAFLS Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society.
PaAM Anthropological Papers of the American Mu-
seum of Natural History.
PAES Publications of the American Ethnological So-
ciety.
Parsons E. C. Parsons, Folk-Tales of Andros Island,
Bahamas.
Petitot E. Petitot, Traditions du Canada Nord-ouest.
v
vi List of Abbreviations.
Pub. Folk-Lore Soc. 55 . . VV. Jekyll, Jamaica Song and Story.
Rand S. T. Rand, Legends of the Micmac.
RBAE Report of the Bureau of American Ehtnology.
Russell Frank Russell, Explorations in the Far North
(University of Iowa, 1898).
Sagen Franz Boas, Indianische Sagen von der Nord-
Pacifischen Kiiste Amerikas.
Smith P. C. Smith, Annancy Stories.
TCI Transactions of the Canadian Institute.
UCal University of California Publications in Amer-
ican Archaeology and Ethnology.
UPenn University of Pennsylvania, The University
Museum Anthropological Publications.
VAEU Verhandlungen der Berliner Gesellschaft fur
Anthropologic, Ethnologie und Urgeschichte.
VKAWA Verhandelingen der Koninklijke Akademie van
Wetenschappen te Amsterdam.
THE JOURNAL OF
AMERICAN FOLK-LORE.
Vol. XXX. — JANUARY — MARCH, 1917. — No. CXV
CONTES POPULAIRES CANADIENS. »
Seconde serie. 2
PAR C.-MARIUS BARBEAU.
PREFACE.
■i
Cette nouvelle serie de contes populaires canadiens se rattache a
celle que la revue de la Societe de Folklore Americain publiait Tan
dernier, a pareille date. Nous renvoyons done le lecteur aux remarques
preliminaires de la premiere serie, qui s'appliquent egalement ici.
Les contes qui suivent viennent des memes conteurs, et ils furent
recueillis en juillet et en aout, 1914 et 1915. Les seuls noms nouveaux
qui s'ajoutent a la liste de nos sources sont ceux de Georges-Seraphin
Pelletier, artisan age de 53 ans, ne au Cap Saint-Ignace, et residant a
Sainte-Anne de la Pocatiere, Kamouraska, de M. Louvigny de Monti-
gny et de Mme Alphonse Perrault, d'Ottawa. Ces derniers nous
communiquerent les deux randonnees chantees (nos 73, 74).
Le texte de ces contes, repetons-le, est, a peu de chose pres, celui
des paysans de qui nous les avons recueillis fidelement a la steno-
graphie. Nous avons evite d'y aj outer ou d'y retrancher. Notre
expurgation se rapporte aux fautes grammaticales purement acci-
dentelles et aux repetitions de neologismes, de formes ou termes
archai'ques, marins ou provinciaux, que nous indiquons ici et la a
titre d'exemple seulement. Les mots deformes, incorrects ou etrangers
a la litterature frangaise sont, autant que possible, indiques en italique.
Ces mots se retrouvent toutefois presque tous, avec a peu pres le meme
sens chez les paysans du nord, du centre et de Touest de la France,
d'ou vinrent la majorite des premiers colons canadiens. Des locutions
a nuance canadienne — ou "canadianismes" — sont signages par
1 Copyright, 1917, by C.-Marius Barbeau, Ottawa, Can., in Canada and the
United States.
2 Voir The Journal of American Folk-Lore, vol. xxix, No. cxi.
1
2 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
des 'guillemots anglais.' La oil le sens 6tait incompletement exprime,
nous avons comble" les lacunes en introcluisant les mots n£cessaires
entre parentheses.
Ces textes recueillis tels qu'ils tombaient spontanement des levres
(les paysans canadiens suffiront a dissiper une erreur a peu pres univer-
Belle but l'6tat de la langue frangaise au Canada. La corruption du
Langage que Ton remarque dans les villes et dans les bourgs limitro-
phes des centres de langue anglaise, a fait croire a des observateurs
Buperficiels et aux Canadiens eux-memes que l'ancien parler frangais
s'rtait profondement modifie* chez les paysans du Canada. Le style
qu'ont quclquefois adopts Frechette, Sir James LeMoine, Beaugrand
et de Montigny, dans certains tableaux de moeurs forestieres ou cham-
petres et dans des anecdotes comiques, ont d'ailleurs contribue a r£-
pandre cette opinion au dehors. Ne s'appliquant d'ailleurs qu'a faire
ceuvre littdraire, ces ecrivains n'avaient guere souci de l'exactitude
scientifique. Nous n'en sommes pas moins venus a la conclusion que, a
peu pres partout, la population rurale canadienne-frangaise a conserve
le parler frangais ancestral pur et intact. L'anglicisme meme, prompt
a s'introduire dans les villes, y est le plus souvent inconnu. Les contes
que nous presentons textuellement serviront a demontrer ce ph^nom^ne
de stability linguistique. On aurait d'ailleurs pu s'attendre a moins
de purete de langage chez deux conteurs tels que Fournier et Pelletier
qui, ouvriers, ont passe une partie de leur vie parmi des gens de langue
anglaise, dans les chantiers de la Nouvelle-Angleterre ou a l'emploi des
compagnies de chemin de fer. Pelletier, en particulier, parle l'anglais
et a souvent dit ses contes en anglais, dans les chantiers du Wisconsin
ou de la Gatineau. Nous n'avons nulle part entendu ce langage arti-
ficiel et farci, mais comique et original, que Frechette, LeMoine et
leurs disciples mettent dans la bouche de leurs habitants. C'est la
une creation d'ecrivain et une imitation elaboree du jargon excep-
tional d'individus a parents ou a education mixtes, qui m£lent in-
consciemment leurs deux langues maternelles. Certains termes que
Frechette emploie couramment, comme "yavions," "j'awws" et
"yetions" (pour "j'avais," "j'ai," et j'6tais") ne s'entendent jamais
dans la bouche des paysans du Quebec, quoiqu'ils appartiennent a,
certains dialectes de France, tel celui de la Savoie, et ne se retrouvent
au Canada que parmi les Acadiens.
En terminant ces remarques, nous desirons remercier le Dr Franz
Boas et M. Louvigny de Montigny des services qu'ils nous ont rendus
dans la publication de ces deux series de contes populaires canadiens,
qui ont 6te prepares sous les auspices de la Section d'Anthropologie de
la Commission Geologique du Canada.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 3
LE STYLE ET LES THEMES MYTHOLOGIQUES.
Personnages.
120. 1 Noms des personnages. — Petit- Jean (51, 53, 57, 58, 61 2),
qui, dans le dernier cas, se nomme aussi "le petit teigneux" (61);
Petit-Pierre (53); Prince-Joseph (53); Georges (52); Bon-eveque et
Beau-prince (49); Vent-du-nord, Vent-de-1'ouest, Vent-d'est et
Vent-du-su (50) ; "Bete f£roce en jour et prince en nuit" (48) ; la Belle-
jarretiere-verte (49); Fesse-ben (59); Thomas-bon-chasseur (54);
Jean-Cuit (66); Frederico (69); LeVeque (71). Personnages dont le
nom n'est pas mentionne : les trois freres sosies (58) ; la marraine (49) ;
la mariee (72) ; les deux 'cavaliers' (72) ; le grand voleur de France et le
grand voleur de Paris (68).
121. Roi, prince et princesses. — Un roi et ses trois fils (49, 58); un
roi et son fils (48, 66); un roi (52, 57, 59, 61, 68); un roi, sa femme, et
leur fils (56) ; un roi, sa femme, et leur fille (64) ; un roi et sa fille (52,
63, 70); trois princes (58); un fils de roi (52, 62); prince et princes-
se (67). 3
122. Paysans. — Un vieux et une vieille qui vivent dans le bois
(61, 62); un vieux, une vieille et leur fils (69); un vieux et ses trois
filles (50); un vieux bucheron (54); un vieux bucheron, sa vieille et
leurs trois enfants (60, 62) ; une veuve et son fils (55, 63) ; une veuve et
sa fille (66); un pecheur, sa femme et leur fils (52); un vinaigrier et
son fils (70) ; un f orgeron (48) ; un habitant et ses trois filles (48) .
123. Les cadets habiles. — Prince- Joseph, le plus jeune de trois
freres, obeit a la vieille sorciere qui a metamorphose1 ses deux freres
ain£s, et reussit ainsi a delivrer ses freres et a rapporter l'eau de la
rajeunie pour son pere (53) ; un fils cadet evite le piege que lui tend une
vieille sorciere et d£livre ses deux freres ain6s (58) ; la cadette de trois
princesses devine les feintes du petit teigneux et, par son silence
sympathique, gagne son cceur (61). 4
124. Les cadets favoris. — Moins fiere que ses sceurs ainees, la cadette
ne demande a son pere, comme cadeau, qu'un bouquet; et, pour lui
sauver la vie, elle consent a epouser un prince metamorphose" (48); le
prince metamorphose* en lievre demande au vieillard de lui amener la
1 Ces numeros commencent la ou finissent ceux (1-119) de la premiere serie de
contes populaires canadiens (The Journal of American Folk-Lore, vol. xxix, No.
cxi,p.25). Nous indiquons ici les nume>os qui, dans la premiere liste, contiennent des
traits paralleles.
2 Ces chiffres entre parentheses d6signent les contes de la presente serie.
3 Voir 48 a la liste des traits caracteristiques, Contes Populaires Canadiens, pre-
miere serie.
4 Voir 55 (Ibid.).
4 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
plus jeune de ses troia filles (50); le heros demande la main de la plus
jeune dee trois princesses du chateau rond de la mer Rouge (56);
quand un roi lui demande laquelle de ses princesses il veut epouser,
Petit-Jean r6*pond: "C'est la plus jeune que j'epouse" (57); Petit-
Jea n donne un beau bouquet, chaquesoir, a la plus jeune des princesses,
qu'il Unit par epouser (61); moins oublieuse que ses deux soeurs ain£es,
unc petite fille accomplit sa promesse, et elle delivre un beau prince,
ainsi que ses deux sceurs (60); la plus jeune des servantes surveille
Thomas-bon-chasseur et ddcouvre son secret (54). *
125. Personnages ruses on habiles. — Petit-Jean exploite la cr6dulite
des grants (61) ; Prince-Joseph est si habile qu'il confond son precepteur
et devient l'homme de confiance de son maitre (53); chez le marchand
son maitre, Jean-Cuit a, lui seul vend plus que six commis (66); les
grands voleurs de France et de Paris pillent le tresor du roi de France
et eehappent aux embuches qu'on leur tend (68).
126. Les solitaires. — (a) La femme vivant seule avec son petit
garcon au milieu des bois, dans une cabane de branches. Une biche
les nourrit (51) ; le pere meurt, laissant seuls dans les bois sa femme et
son enfant (54). (6) A 1'age de sept ans, Fesse-ben n'a pas encore
sorti de la maison de son pere (59) ; le fils du vinaigrier reste enferme
chez son pere jusqu'a 1'age de vingt-et-un ans (70). 2
127. Sosies. — Trois freres se ressemblent tellement que la femme de
Tun d'eux ne sait reconnaitre son mari (58).
128. Notre-Seigneur et ses apotres. — Notre-Seigneur marchait sur
la terre avec ses apotres (69).
129. Le diable. — (a) Les sept diables en possession d'un moulin a
farine, que Fesse-ben attelle a sa charrette (59). (6) Le diable vient
chercher la mariee (72). 3
130. Giants. — Les geants qui gardent la fontaine d'eau de la
rajeunie, sur File ou Ton n'arrive que par un pont de rasoirs (53) ;
le nain qui se transforme en geant en se trempant les pieds dans un
ruisseau, et qui detruit les troupeaux et les armees du roi (57); les
geants qui vivent dans le monde inferieur, ou se trouve la fontaine
d'or (61); les vents grants (50) .4
131. Ogres. — Chez les geants, Petit-Jean se cache sous une cuve.
Quand les geants arrivent, ils disent: "Q& sent la viande fraiche!"
lincesses rSpondent: " Vous voyez bien que vous etesfous, puisqu'il
n'v a pas de viande fraiche ici." (57); la mere des quatre vents cache
la princesse dans sa maison. Quand les fils, le Vent-du-su et le
Vent-d'est, arrivent,ils s'Scrient: "De la viande fraiche, je vas en avoir
1 Voir 54 (Ibid.). * Voir 51 et 52 (Ibid).
* Voir 56 (Ibul.u * Voir 46 (Ibid.).
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 5
a manger!" Leur mere re pond: "Touchez-y, pour voir, a la prin-
cesse!" (50.) J
132. Fees, sorciers et magiciens. — (a) Les trois sceurs fees, vivant
s^parement, dans la foret, sous des maisons couvertes de mousse. La
troisieme est plus laide et plus maligne que ses deux sceurs (48) ; trois
fees semblables, a. qui le feu sort par la bouche (56) ; une fee, qui n'est
vetue que de ses grands cheveux blancs, vit dans une petite maison
couverte de jonc, au bord de la mer (55) ; la vieille femme (magicienne)
qui garde les moutons du roi, et qui metamorphose les deux freres (53).
(6) Vieilles fees malfaisantes (56, 57, 62, 64). (c) Fees bienfaisantes,
qui donnent des talismans (61, 63). (d) Les vieux bienfaiteurs doues
de vertus surnaturelles, qui protegent des jeunes voyageurs (54, 55,
62). (e) La sorciere que consulte le roi de France (68). 2
133. Ceux qui sont metamorphoses. — ''Prince en nuit et bete feroce
en jour" (48); un petit lapin n'est autre qu'un beau prince metamor-
phose (50); plusieurs princes sont metamorphoses en buttes de sel
(53, 58); un roi, sa fille et leur fille sont metamorphoses, au fond de la
mer (52); princesse metamorphosee en petite jument (54); un prince
metamorphose en vieillard (60) ; la salade et les pommes d'or causent
maintes metamorphoses (62).
134. Les vierges-cygnes.3 — Des sceurs arrivent en volant dans les
airs. Aussitot qu'elles mettent pied a terre, pres d'un lac, elles
enlevent leurs habits, se changent en canard et nagent dans le lac.
Beau-prince cache la jarretiere verte de Tune d'elle et se fait transporter
par elle chez Bon-eveque, a cent lieues de l'autre cote du soleil (49).
135. Monstres. — Le grand serpent de la savane rouge, qui a soixante
pieds de longueur (52) ; la sirene ou 'serene' qui avale Georges, le fils du
pecheur (52); Tours blanc qui, seul, peut traverser le pont de rasoirs
conduisant a Tile des geants, ou se trouve la fontaine d'eau de la
rajeunie (53); les quatre vents dont le souffle ebranle la cabane de
leur mere (50); la Bete-a-sept-tetes (58); la Bete-a-renifler qui, de son
reniflement, ebranle le chateau du roi, situe a sept lieues (59) .4
136. Animaux parlants. — (a) Le lion, l'aigle et la chenille qui se
battent pour la carcasse d'un cheval mort, ont recours aux services d'un
jeune homme (52) ; les rats qui, dans leur ile, par lent et agissent comme
des hommes (63, 64) ; le coq, la poule et la vache qui jettent dans les
basses-fosses les deux petit es filles egarees (60). (b) Le renard et
Tours, qui conversent ensemble (63). 5
137. Rois des animaux. — (a) Le roi des aigles et le roi des fourmis
ferment la route a Petit-Jean, sur la mer (51). (b) A Tile aux rats, les
1 Voir 47 (Ibid.). 2 Voir 50 (Ibid.).
3 Ce trait mxthologique est connu en anglais sous le nom caracteristique de
"swan maiden."
4 Voir 45 (Ibid.). * Voir 49 (Ibid.).
6 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
rats sunt babilles en soldats et paradent devant leur roi, qui leur fait
une harangue (63, G4) ; lc roi des rats attelle deux mulots a son carrosse
et, conduit par une souris, il se rend au pays de la reine des souris (64);
la reine des grenouilles (64). (c) Vivant dans un petit chateau couvert
de paille et de jonc de mer, le vieillards aux cheveux blancs comme la
neige dit: "Voila mille ans que je suis ici, et vous etes le premier homme
que je vois." Ce vieillard est le maitre de tous les oiseaux vivant sur
la terre (55); une vieille de mille ans, sa voisine, est la maitresse de
tous les poissons (55).
138. Anthropomorphisme. — Les quatre vents, le Vent-d'est, le Vent-
de-nord, le Vent-de-1'ouest, le Vent-du-su (50). l
Pouvoirs et attributs de ces personnages.
139. Pouvoir de se metamorphoser. — La Belle-jarretiere-verte et ses
soeurs se m6tamorphosenten canards (49);lenain se transformeengeant
en se baignant les pieds dans le ruisseau (57) ; la Belle-jarretiere-verte
et le diable apparaissent sous la forme d'une souris (49, 69). 2
140. Pouvoirs miraculeux. — Bon-e>eque change un chateau et des
batiments tout en or et en argent, et les suspend sur quatre chaines
d'or (49); Petit-Pierre suspend un pont sur quatre chaines d'or(53);
Beau-prince abat tout un vol d'oiseau avec une branche d'6pines; la
Belle-jarretiere-verte vide en un instant un lac de mille pieds de
prof ondeur, et elle construit un pont de mille pieds de longueur (49) ;
la petite jument — une princesse m6tamorphosee — saute par-
dessus une riviere et cause la mort d'un lion terrible ; elle galope dans
les airs et, avec ses deux prot£g£s, echappe aux geants qui les poursui-
vent avec leurs bottes de sept lieues (54).
141. Force herculeenne. — (a) A l'age de sept ans, Fesse-ben arrache
six erables qu'il apporte sur son dos; a, quatorze ans, il en arrache et
en porte douze; quand il les jette par terre, la maison de son pere
s'£croule (59); engage chez le roi, Fesse-ben se fait faire une pelle de
cinq cents livres, avec laquelle il creuse un puits dans le roc; au moulin
du diable, il defonce la porte et attelle les sept diables a sa charrette;
parti pour la guerre, il tue les ennemis avec un cheval, dont il se sert
comme d'une massue; il rapporte la Bete-a-renifler sur son dos; des
cailloux et des balles qu'on lui lance lui paraissent comme des grains de
sable. II frappe un mendiant et l'envoie si loin dans les airs qu'on ne
l'a jamais revu depuis (59). (b) En coupant les tetes de la Bete-a-
sept-tetes, Petit-Jean les envoie a cent pieds dans les airs; il coupe des
arbres avec son sabre, tranche la tete a un g6ant tout-puissant, et il dit
au roi que la peur ne le connait point (57, 58). Beau-prince envoie
sauter a cent pieds en l'air un madrier qu'on a mis sur la trappe de la
1 Voir 53 {Ibid.). 2 Voir 75 (Ibid.).
Conies Populaires Canadiens. 7
cave (49) . (c) La Bete-a-sept-tetes 6crase les arbres de la f oret, sur son
passage (58); en reniflant, la Bete-a-renifler fait trembler tout a sept
lieues a la ronde; il en est ainsi des quatre fr&res vents (59, 50). 1
142. Vue prodigieuse. — Tandis que le roi ne peut voir le gibier
qu'avec sa longue-vue, Thomas-bon-chasseur le d£couvre a rceil nu
et d'une grande distance, vise et le tue (54).
143. Personnages vomissant le feu. — Le dragon de feu et la Bete-a-
sept-tetes (3, 47); une fee effrayante, a qui le feu sort par la bouche,
long comme le bras (56).
Talismans, charmes, formules et objets merveilleux.
144. Formules magiques. — (a) En disant: "Adieux, aigle!" ou
"Adieu, lion!" ou en pensant a la vertu de sa chenille, Georges se
transforme en aigle, en lion ou en chenille (52). (b) Aussitot que Ti-
Jean crie: "Roi des aigles!" ou "Roi des fourmis!" tous les aigles et
toutes les fourmis, avec leur roi, viennent a son secours (51); Beau-
prince dit: "A moi, la Belle-jarretiere-verte!" et la princesse accourt a
son aide (49). (c) Une formule d6nuee de sens, dans la bouche de la
vieille magicienne qui poursuit sa fille, a un eff et soudain (49) ; le don
de "Reste colle!" (69.) (d) Irrit^e du choix de ses parents, une fille
dit: "Si je me marie a ce garcon-la, je veux bien que le diable m'em-
porte en corps et en ame, et en vie!" Comme ce souhait est 6nonce de
bon coeur, il s'accomplit a la lettre, le jour de ses noces (72).
145. Talismans. — Le jeune homme ouvre son medaillon; une
voix demande: "Que desires-tu?" Et tout ce qu'il demande s'accom-
plit. Se faisant transporter a bord de son batiment, il souhaite tout
son equipage rendu chez le roi, son pere. Mourant de faim, il ordonne
a son medaillon de servir une table couverte de mets, pour lui et les
matelots. Lui ayant vole* son medaillon, une magicienne fait transpor-
ter au fond de la mer son chateau merveilleux. Retrouvant plus tard
son medaillon, il souhaite son chateau restaure; et tout s'accomplit a
l'instant (55); une bague magique produit des merveilles semblables,
et, de plus, cause la mort ou rend la vie (63) ; Petit-Jean se fait cons-
truire, avec sa bague magique, un chateau suspendu sur quatre chaines
d'or. On lui vole sa bague et on fait an^antir son chateau enchante,
qu'il ne recouvre qu'avec la possession de son charme (64); le petit
teigneux obtient de semblables merveilles de sa canne de souhaite-
vertu (61); ayant mange le cceur de l'oiseau enchants, sur l'aile duquel
on lit: "Celui qui mangera mon cceur sera 'recu' roi," Petit-Pierre
souleve un pont sur quatre chaines d'or, et Spouse la fille du roi (62*). 2
1 Voir 100 (Ibid.). * Voir 21 (Ibid.).
8 J o ur ltd I of American Folk-Lore.
146. Charmes dont Vcffet est dejini. — (a) Le poil blanc de la patte
gauche du lion, la plume de l'aile gauche de l'aigle, la patte gauche
din arriere de la chenille permettent aleur possesseur de se transformer
en lion, en aigle ou en chenille (52). (6) En jetant sur la table les
joyaux du prince nu'tamorphosd, son epouse peut se transporter
instantan&nent a de grandes distances (48); en tirant les poign£es sus-
penduea au-dessus de sa tete, le jeune liberateur du chateau de la mer
Rouge esl transports avec le chateau chez son pere (56). On lit sur
l'aile dun oiseau: "Celui qui mangera mon cceur aura, tous les matins,
sous son oreiller, cent ecus." Petit-Jean mange le cceur enchante et
trouve chaque matin de Tor sous la tete (62). (c) Des petits oiseaux
magiques font de rien des robes merveilleuses (48); un vieux fusil
enchants tue une quantite extraordinaire de gibier, dans une seule
journee (62); canif magique (52). (d) Petit violon qui fait danser
sepl lieues a la ronde, bon gre, mal gre (48, 69). '
147. Durandal. — Petit-Jean se fait forger un sabre coupant sept
lieues a la ronde, avec lequel il tue les trois geants et decapite plusieurs
monstres. II en coupe des arbres, dont il se fait des ponts sur les
rivieres. Quand il le plante dans le mur d'un chateau, tout le chateau
en tremble (57, 58). 2
148. Vetuste artificieuse. — Pour l'aider a accomplir ses taches,
Bon-eveque offre a Beau-prince une vieille et une nouvelle hache, une
chaudiere neuve et un vieux panier perce. Beau-prince choisit les
vieux objets qui sont dou6s de propri^tes surnaturelles (49); la petite
jument protectrice conseille a Thomas-bon-chasseur de prendre le
vieux sabre pour combattre le Hon et le d^truire (54).
149. Objets merveilleux. — Des sabots retournent seuls chez leur
propri£taire, dans la foret (48); le pois et la feve qui jouent au hotreu
dehaha (49). 3
150. Bottes de sept lieues. — Les bottes de trois lieues de la Belle-
jarretiere-verte (49); les bottes de sept lieues de Bon-eveque et des
grants (49, 54). 4
151. Eau de Jouvence. — (a) L'eau de la rajeunie, a la fontaine des
geants, ou on ne peut arriver qu'en traversant le pont de rasoirs sur le
dos de Tours blanc, et a midi juste, quand les geants dorment (53).
(6) L'eau d'enmiance, gardee par toutes les betes feroces de la terre,
rend invulne>ables ceux qui s'en lavent (54). 5
152. Eau de sommeil. — Pour empecher qu'on reVele un secret a
son dpoux, la princesse lui donne de l'eau d'endormitoir (48) .6
1 Voir 25 {Ibid.). * Voir 24 {Ibid.).
3 Voir 26 (Ibid.). * Voir 29 (Ibid.).
' Voir 31 (Ibid.). « Voir 32 (Ibid.).
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 9
153. Fontaine d'or. — Au monde inferieur les geants gardent une
fontaine d'or secrete. Tout ce qui plonge dans le dalot ou coule du
bel or devient dore pour toujours (61). 1
154. Depositaire secret de la vie. — Les trois lumieres que le jeune
e'poux voit, le soir, pres de la chambre nuptiale, sont des cierges allum^s
qui r£celent la vie d'une vieille magicienne et des deux sceurs ainees
de l'£pouse. Pressee de questions, celle-ci finit par en avouer le secret,
disant: "Si tu les eteignais, mes sceurs et la magicienne tomberaient
raide mortes." C'est ce qui se produit plus tard (56). 2
155. Baiser d'oubli. — Avant de quitter Beau-Prince, la Belle-
jarretiere-verte dit: 'Trends bien garde de te laisser embrasser par
personne. Car, si tu le fais, tu oublieras tout ... Et si personne ne
t'embrasse, dans un an et un jour nous nous marierons." Sa marraine
l'embrasse pendant qu'il dort; et il ne se souvient plus de rien, a son
reveil (49).
156. Tache indelebile. — Avec la peinture qu'elle prend dans un petit
pot, la fille du roi de France fait une tache, apparemment indelebile,
au front du grand voleur de Paris (68). 3
157. Baume magique. — (a) Le baume ou graisse qu'on trouve
dans un petit pot que poss&de la magicienne suffit a detruire l'enchan-
tement et a ramener a la vie des personnes metamorphosees en masses
de sel (10, 53, 58). (b) La petite jument dit a Thomas-bon-chasseur:
"Dans mon poitrail, je perds tout mon sang. Prends une pincee de
graisse dans mon oreille gauche et mets-la a mon poitrail, qui guerira.
Et la blessure est ainsi guerie (54).
158. Sifflet qui ressuscite. — (a) Avec un petit sifflet qu'elle a fait, la
princesse siffle; Petit-Jean se met a remuer. Elle le lui met dans la
bouche. Le voila vivant. (6) Ce theme est parodie dans le conte de
Pois- verts (21).
159. Repas miraculeux. — (a) Une serviette donne a boire et a
manger aussitot qu'on la deploie (48). 4 (6) Avec une bague ou un
medaillon magiques, on obtient a souhait toutes sortes de mets (55,
63, 64). (c) En piquant la patte gauche de sa petite jument, Thomas-
bon-chasseur obtient du pain et du vin (54).
160. Nourriture des geants. — Le Vent-de-1'ouest dit a sa mere: "Si
je dois mener cette femme a la montagne Vitree, il me faut, ce soir,
manger de la bouillie au sucre" (50). 5
161. La Toison d'or. — La chevelure de Petit-Jean se change en
or aussitot qu'elle tombe dans la fontaine d'or des geants (61); le long
du chemin, Thomas-bon-chasseur ramasse la chevelure lumineuse et
1 Voir 44 (Ibid.). 2 Voir 33 (Ibid.). 3 Voir 36 (Ibid.).
4 Voir 23 (Ibid.). 5 Voir 37 (Ibid.).
10 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
enchantee d'une princesse, a la recherche de laquelle il part (54); les
troia poils d'or (07). '
162. Chdteau d'or </ d'argcnt. — (a) Des chateaux, des batiments et
dee animaux Bont changes en or et en argent (49, 61, 64). (b) Une
belle frigate d'or et d'argent (66).
L63. Suspendu par quatre chaines d'or. — Le chateau et les bati-
ments du roi sont suspendus dans les airs par quatre chaines d'or
(49, 64); un pont est suspendu par quatre chaines d'or (62). 2
16-1. Chdteau de cristal. — Le chateau de la montagne Vitrei (50);
une petite ville toute de cristal (53).
165. Obstacles magiques. — Les fuyards voient approcher un nuage
noir; quand il est tout pres, ceux-ci jettent en arriere d'eux une brosse,
une Seattle ou une 6trille; ces objets se transforment en montagnes de
pain, d'ecailles ou d'£trilles qui barrent la route a ceux qui pour-
suivent. Dans un cas, les fuyards font ainsi paraitre un lac infran-
chissable (49, 54). 3
166. Tempete magique. — Une tempete violente precede la venue
d'une magicienne, d'un sorcier, d'etres metamorphoses, de la sirene ou
des geants (4, 11, 48, 49, 52).
167. Fleur pdlissante. — Donnant sa rose a ses freres, Petit- Jean
dit: "Si ma fleur vient a p&lir, accourez a mon secours." Et quand la
sorciere le metamorphose, la rose en palissant avertit ses freres de son
malheur (58).
168. Bouquet fatal. — Aussitot que le voyageur cueille les fleurs
enchanters, la bete fe>oce arrive et lui dit: "Ce bouquet va vous couter
cher." Pour sauver la vie de son pere, sa fille cadette consent a
£pouser le monstre, qui est un prince metamorphose' (48). Un trait
semblable se trouve au conte de "Le chateau de Felicite" (50).
169. Peche merveilleuse. — Apres avoir rempli sa goelette des pois-
sons, le pecheur doit promettre a la sirene de lui remettre son fils
Georges (52) ; sans s'en douter, un pecheur promet son fils au diable,
qui lui fait faire une peche miraculeuse (25).
170. Objets sacres. — Le livre que les geants adorent (54); le jonc
beni qui empeche la mariee de souffrir, en enfer (72).
171. Yeux replaces. — Le fils remet a sa mere les yeux que la
Borciere lui a arraches et qu'elle gardait, dans un plat, chez elle.
La mere recouvre la vue des que ses yeux sont remis dans leurs orbites
(56).
Evenements doniestiques.
172. Quittent le toit paternel. — (a) Des fils partent de chez leur pere
pour gagner leur vie ou pour chercher fortune (54, 55, 63, 71); Petit-'
« Voir 12 {Ibid.). - Voir 43 {Ibid.). 8 Voir 35 (Ibid.).
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 11
Jean et Petit-Pierre quittent pour toujours la maison paternelle, en
disant: "Nous marcherons tant que la terre nous portera" (62).
(6) Le roi envoie ses trois fils en leur disant de lui rapporter l'eau de
la rajeunie (53) . *
173. Enfants perdus. — Trois petites filles s'egarent en allant
porter un diner a leur pere, dans les bois (60). 2
174. Pauvrete et misere. — Des gens, dans la foret, ne vivent que de
racines et d'herbages (61). Un pays est si pauvre qu'on n'y peut rien
gagner (55). Par son impre>oyance, une femme cause la ruine de
son mari (52).
175. Metiers. — Les soi-disant "metiers" de franc-voleur, de
joueur aux des et de cultivateur (49). "Voleur de son metier" (68).
176. Au service d'un maitre. — Fesse-ben s'engage pour un an chez
le roi. Son salaire consiste a donner une tape au roi, au bout de
l'annee (59); "Monsieur le roi, avez-vous besoin d'un engage?" —
"Oui, et c'est pour. . ." soigner les volailles, pour garder le chateau,
pour travailler au jardin ou a la cuisine (54, 55, 59, 61); Prince-Joseph
et Jean-Cuit, deux princes infortunes s'engagent comme commis
(53, 66) ; trois voleurs engagent un mendiant pour toujours dire " Oui "
(71). 3
177. Protection ou adoption. — Le roi baptise 1'enfant de la veuve so-
litaire et lui ordonne de le lui envoyer quand il aura atteint l'age de
sept ans. Son dessein est de l'adopter et d'en faire un prince (51) ; la
veuve aveugle envoie son fils au roi son pere, qui l'accueille a son
chateau (56); le roi fait vivre la mere pauvre de son cuisinier en
voyage (55) ; une seigneuresse adopte Prince-Joseph et le fait instruire,
a l'ecole (53); Jean-Cuit protege la veuve dont il veut epouser la
fille (66). 4
178. Amour filial. — Deux filles cadettes se sacrifient pour sauver
la vie a leur pere (48, 50) ; deux freres consentent a s'exiler pour que le
fils du roi epouse leur soeur (62).
179. Ban de mariage. — Le roi fait battre un ban, annoncant le
mariage de ses trois filles a ceux qui, dans un tournoi, seront touches
par les boules d'or que les princesses doivent lancer. Apres le premier
tournoi, le roi fait de nouveau battre un ban pour sa fille cadette, qui
n'a pas encore fait son choix (61).
180. Demande en mariage. — Le fils d'un roi demande en mariage la
fille d'un bucheron (62); a force d'injures, un jeune homme finit par
contraindre le roi a lui accorder sa fille en mariage (63) ; le roi marie sa
fille a Jean, son cuisinier, qui, grace a un talisman, se fait construire un
1 Voir 60 (Ibid.). 2 Voir 58 (Ibid.).
a Voir 62 {Ibid.). i Voir 63 (Ibid.).
12 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
chateau magnifique (64); un prince obtient une princesse pour Spouse
(57); Jean-Out se fiance a la fille d'une pauvre veuve, qu'il Spouse
an bout de trois aus et trois jours (66); un vinaigrier va demander
au roi sa fille en mariage pour son fils (70); deux pr6tendants, l'un
pauvre, el I'autre a, l'aise, aspirent a la main d'une fille qui, contre son
un.4, accepts le choix de ses parents (72). '
181. Ordalies des pretendants. — A Thomas-bon-chasseur qui lui
demande d'e'pouser la princesse, le roi impose diffdrentes taches, tel
que celles de faire la chasse au lion, d'aller chez les geants chercher un
livre sacre", de rapporter de l'eau d'enmiance, et de faire fondre ensem-
ble du plomb et de retain (54); avant de consentir au depart de sa
princesse, Bon-eveque renferme le pr6tendant dans sa cave et lui
ordonnc de batir en une seule journee des ecuries de plumes d'oiseaux,
de vider un lac de mille pieds de profondeur et de construire un pont
de mille lieues de longueur (49) ; les ordalies que le roi impose a Petit-
JeaD consistent a, enlever une montagne de terre et une montagne de
pierre (51); la main d'une princesse est accordee a celui qui, grace a un
<• liar me, peut soulever un pont cent pieds en l'air, sur quatre chaines
d'or (62). Par ses prouesses, le grand voleur de Paris gagne la main
de la fille du roi de France (68).
182. Belle-mere. — La seconde epouse du roi expose le petit prince
a un grand danger, esperant causer ainsi sa perte (56). 2
183. Fidelite conjugate. — Avant de partir pour voyage, un prince
parie avec son voisin que sa femme lui restera fidele, durant son absen-
ce. Des aventures romanesques se basent sur cette intrigue (66,
07). 3
184. Trahison d'epoux. — (a) Une princesse trahit son mari, qu'elle
n'aime pas, en lui enlevant le talisman dont il vient de lui r6v£ler le
secret (63). (6) Sans s'en rendre compte, une femme trahit son
epoux, qui est oblige de partir pour un pays eloigne" (48, 50, 64).
185. Epouse repudiee. — (a) Une magicienne force le roi a repudier
son <'pouse, dont elle envie le sort (3, 56). (6) Croyant a tort son
epouse coupable d'un crime, un prince la fait jeter dans les basses-
fosses, ou la condamne a mort (27, 66, 67).
186. Heritages. — (a) Le roi donne un sabre coupant sept lieues a la
ronde a son fils Jean, qui part et s'en va chercher fortune (58) ; a chacun
de ses trois fils qui s'en vont, le roi donne un chien, un poncy, un lion
et une fleur merveilleuse (58); comme il part, Georges recoit de son
pere un canif (magique) (52). (b) Le roi donne a son fils sa couronne,
son fhateau et son royaume (49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 57, 62, 68); Jean-Cuit
herite <!»• la couronne de son pere le roi, mort durant son absence (66);
» Voir 63 (Ibid.). > Voir 59 (Ibid.). 3 Voir 64 (Ibid.).
Conies Populaires Canadiens. 13
Thomas-bon-chasseur devient roi, a la mort de celui dont il a cause" la
perte (54). 1
Protection surnaturelle.
187. Dons de fees. — (a) En reconnaissance du cadeau que lui fait
un orphelin, une f£e lui donne un lingot d'argent, avec lequel on lui fait
une bague magique (63). (b) Une fee donne a sa protegee des sabots,
un rouet, une quenouille et des ciseaux enchantes (50); Petit-Jean
recoit de la fee une canne de souhaite-vertu (61) ; un cuisinier condamne
a mort trouve chez un vieillard endormi un medaillon qui accomplit
tous les souhaits qu'on lui adresse (55). 2 (c) Un vieillard, qui connait
le nom de tout le monde, echange de chevaux avec Thomas-bon-chas-
seur, et lui donne une petite jument dont les pouvoirs merveilleux se
revelent bientot (54); le vieux fusil, qu'un inconnu donne en retour
d'une paire de chevaux, tue tout ce qu'on vise (62).
188. Fees conseilleres. — (a) Trois fees vivent de plus en plus loin
dans la foret, et dont la derniere est la plus puissante, ne laissent jamais
passer personne. Mais quand on se presente a elles, elles ecoutent le
recit des tribulations qu'on leur fait, et elles finissent par accorder leurs
f aveurs (7, 48, 56) ; un vieillard a qui on demande conseil renvoie a sa
sceur, une tee, qui reste de l'autre cote" de la mer bleue (55). (6) Une
fee bienveillante accorde son aide et ses conseils a un voyageur (49,
53, 56, 61). (c) Un roi consulte une sorciere qui le guide de ses con-
seils (68) .3
189. Qui Va vu? — (a) La princesse demande au forgeron s'il a vu
passer le prince en fuite; elle s'en informe ensuite, chez les trois fees
(48). (6) Qui a vu le chateau que l'on cherche, ou qui a disparu mys-
terieusement ? (50, 55, 56.)
190. Les animaux que Von consulte. — On demande au maitre des
oiseaux, a la maitresse des poissons, au roi des poissons, s'ils ont vu le
chateau disparu (55, 56).
191. Chevaux protecteurs. — Avec 1'aide et les conseils de sa petite
jument, une princesse metamorphosee, Thomas-bon-chasseur reussit
dans toutes ses entreprises aventureuses (54) .4
192. Le rock. — (a) La princesse qui cherche son mari se fait
transporter a la montagne Vitree par un gros corbeau. Quand elle n'a
plus de bceuf a, lui donner a manger, il la laisse tomber (48) ; le maitre
des oiseaux envoie un vieux corbeau porter son protege chez la fee, sa
sceur. A chaque fois que l'oiseau crie, il recoit un morceau de caribou
(55); quand la sorciere lance Petit-Jean dans les airs, il rencontre un
aigle qui le prend sur son dos et le rapporte au chateau. A trente pieds
1 Voir 92 (Ibid.). 2 Voir 67 (Ibid.).
3 Voir 65 (Ibid.). * Voir 68 (Ibid.).
14 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
de terre, I'aigle le Laisse tomber, ct il choit dans un jardin enchants
(62), ' Ed un instant, le \'<nt-de-l'ouest transporte la jcune fille a la
montagne Vitree (50); transformed en canard, la Belle-jarretiere-verte
transporte but son dos Beau-prince, qui se rend chez Bon-eveque, a
ceni licucs dc 1'autre c6te* du soleil (49).
193. Animaux protecteurs. — Pour un batiment rempli de bceuf et
un batiment rempli de riz que leur donne Petit-Jean, les aigles et les
fourmis le protegent contre le magicien qui le poursuit. II n'a qu'a
crier: "Roi des fourmis!" et les fourmis accourent et dctruisent la
chaloupe du magicien. Quand, plus tard, le magicien est sur le point
de le rejoindre, Petit-Jean crie: "Roi des aigles!" Les aigles arrivent
et deVorent le magicien (51); a Georges qui leur a rendu service, le
lion, I'aigle et la chenille donnent chacun un charme, en disant: "Tu
n'auras qu'a penser a moi et tu. deviendras . . . le plus fort de tous les
lions" (de tous les aigles, ou la plus petite de toutes les chenilles). Quand
il lui plait de se transformer en l'un de ces animaux protecteurs, il n'a
qu'a penser a lui (52); un lion, un chien et un poney protegent les
trois fils d'un roi (58) ; le pigeon en d£tresse a qui Georges rend secours
lui indique ou se trouve le serpent de la savane rouge, et lui revele le
secret qu'il cherche (52). 2
194. Protection d'un Ure metamorphose. — Un prince ou une prin-
cesse metamorphoses en chevaux ou en chattes guident et protegent
ceux qui deviennent ensuite leurs lib6rateurs (4, 6, 54).
195. Reconnaissance du Christ. — En reconnaissance de l'hospitalite
de Fr6denco, Notre-Seigneur lui fait trois dons: le violon qui fait
danser bon gr£, mal gre, le sac magique et "Reste-colle!" (69.) 3
196. Le quart d'heure de grace. — Avant de mourir, Javotte demande
un quart d'heure pour prier; ce que Jean-Parle lui accorde (28);
condamne a etre mis a mort et mange par l'equipage, le cuisinier
demande qu'on lui laisse le temps de faire un acte de contrition. Le
" capitaine lui accorde cette faveur (55); en disant: "Tu es toujours
pour mourir!" le roi permet a Petit-Jean d'apporter son chat a l'ile
aux rats (64) ; on accorde au roi prisonnier la grace qu'il demande de
soumettre Thomas-bon-chasseur aux ordalies, a sa place (54).
Enchantements, possessions et metamorphoses.
197. 'Princesses gardees.' — Des grants gardent des princesses
endormies, qu'ils ont ravies a leurs parents (53, 54); trois princesses
'gardens' par trois grants, a leur chateau (57); fille enlev6e par le
vieux magicien, il y a sept ans (51) ; trois princesses emprisonn£es par
une magicienne, au chateau rond de la mer Rouge (56). 4
' Voir 71 {Ibid.). * Voir 70 (Ibid.).
» Voir 72 (Ibid.). « Voir 78 (Ibid.).
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 15
198. Princes ou princesses metamorphosees. — (a) Le fils d'un roi
est metamorphose" en b6te f£roce? mais, la nuit, il redevient un beau
prince (48) ; le plus beau des princes est metamorphose" pour tous les
jours de sa vie en petit li&vre. Ces deux princes epousent chacun une
fille cadette qui, en se sacrifiant, sauve la vie a son pere (50). (b) Un
roi, sa fille, leur chateau et leur ville sont soi-disant "m6tamorphoseV
a cinq cents brasses sous la mer (52). (c) Une magicienne metamor-
phose les deux freres ain£s en masses de sel, "dont ils ne peuvent sortir"
(53, 58). (d) On soigne au pain et au vin une princesse m6tamorpho-
see en petite jument (54); un beau prince est transform^ en vieillard
dont la barbe blanche traine presque a terre (60). (e) Les feuilles de
salade cueillies dans un jardin enchants transforment tous ceux qui en
mangent en poulains et en juments; mais aussitot qu'ils mangent
d'une certaine pomme d'or, ils reprennent leur nature premiere et
deviennent princes ou princesses (62). 1
199. Les prisonniers. — (a) La seconde femme du prince fait jeter
la princesse, sa premiere epouse, dans les basses-fosses, afin de la faire
perir (48); deux petites filles egarees sont jetees dans les basses-fosses;
et c'est, plus tard, leur sceur cadette qui les delivre (60). (6) Un roi
emprisonne son voisin qu'il a invite" a lui rendre visite (54); sur la
porte d'un hotel, dans la petite ville de cristal, on lit: "Ici, on se di-
vertit!" Les deux princes qui y entrent sont faits prisonniers, pour
etre pendus si on ne paie leur rancon (53).
200. Les victimes du dragon. — La ville est toute en deuil. Petit-
Jean s'informe de la raison de ce deuil. On lui r6pond : "Une princesse
doit etre devoree par la Bete-a-sept-tetes, demain matin, sur la haute
montagne (58). 2
201. L' enfant rachete le pere. — Quand le paysan casse un bouquet
ou des rameaux dans les parterres de la bete feroce ou du petit lapin,
ceux-ci lui disent: "Ce bouquet... va vous couter cher!" Et ce
n'est qu'en leur sacrifiant sa fille cadette qu'il peut sauver sa vie
(48, 50) ; apres une peche merveilleuse, un pecheur voit apparaitre une
sirene, qui lui dit: "Cette fois-ci, ta charge de poisson va te couter
cher. Tu vas p6rir si tu ne promets de me donner ton fils Georges, a
ton prochain voyage." Plus tard, la sirene avale Georges (52).
202. SortiUges. — (a) Comme un roi ramasse une serviette le long
de son chemin, il en sort une Ue galeuse, qui arrache les yeux a la
reine et se marie au roi, a sa place (56). (6) Ayant ramasse" la belle
chevelure d'or qu'il voit sur le chemin, Thomas-bon-chasseur est pris
du d6sir funeste de trouver la princesse a qui elle appartient (54).
(c) Ceux qui font le tour de la grosse montagne, ou ceux qui s'appro-
chent des lumieres de la f£e n'en reviennent jamais. Une magicienne
1 Voir 76 (Ibid.). 2 Voir 79 (Ibid.).
10 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
lea metamorphose on les fail penr (58, 62). (d) Aussitot qu'atteints
dii Bortil&ge, Beau-prince el Thomas-bon-chasseur s'en vont s'enfermer
dans icur ohambre, ou ils restent sans boire m manger (49, 54).
203. La proic du d/'able. — Le diable emporte en enfer la mariee qui,
de depit, en a exprime* le souhait fatal (72). l
Delivrance, liberation.
204. Liberateur par ordre du roi. — Le roi somme Thomas-bon-
chasseur de venir le delivrer. Un autre maitre, plus tard, lui envoie
chercher la princesse a la belle chevelure d'or, que gardent les geants
(54). Au roi qui lui demande de delivrer sa princesse, Petit-Jean
r£pond qu'il ne le fera que si le roi se rend a ses conditions (51).
205. La tdche du liberateur. — (a) Avant de remettre sa prisonniere,
le magicien impose trois taches au liberateur, en lui disant: "Tu as
encore bien de quoi a faire avant de remmener!" (51). (b) Afin de
delivrer les princes transformed en bete feroce cu en petit lievre, il faut
les dpouser et vivre avec eux pendant une periode d£terminee (48, 50).
206. Condition secrete de la delivrance. — (a) Celui qui cherche a deli-
vrer la victime arrive a d^couvrir le moyen secret d'y arriver (2, 11,
48, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 58). (b) "Pour me delivrer de cette peau de
bete, dit le prince metamorphose, il faudrait faire un feu pour la
bruler tout entiere et pour que pas un poil ne reste" (48, 50); pour
delivrer le roi, la princesse et leur chateau, qui sont a cinq cents brasses
sous l'eau, il faut tuer le serpent de la savane rouge, prendre les trois
oeufs dans son corps, et les casser un a un a differents endroits indiqu£s
(52, voir aussi le conte 2). (c) Des revers accompagnent l'accomplisse-
ment premature de ces conditions, et le personnage delivre se voit sou-
daincment entraine a un pays lointain ou il est difficile de le rejoindre
(48, 50).
207. Delivrance. — (a) On delivre des princesses 'gardees' ou pri-
sonnieres (51, 53, 54, 56, 57, 62). (6) La princesse demande a la sirene
d'ouvrir la bouche pour que Georges, qu'elle vient d'avaler, puisse lui
dire un dernier mot. Aussitot que la sirene ouvre la bouche, Georges
se transforme en aigle et, libre, il s'envole (52). 2
208. Victimes rachetees. — Prince-Joseph rachete ses deux freres
metamorphoses par la vieille magicienne; il paie de nouveau leur
rancon et les delivre, quand ils sont faits prisonniers a la ville de
cristal (53) ; Thomas-bon-chasseur rachete son maitre en se substituant
a lui, dans les ordalies (54).
209. Delivrance de ceux qui sont metamorphoses. — (a) On brule la
peau de bete enchanted que met et enleve le personnage m^tamor-
' Voir 80 {Ibid.). 2 Voir 83 (Ibid.).
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 17
phose (48, 50). (6) Decapitee, la petite jument redevient une belle
princesse (54). (c) Au moyen d'un baume magique on ramene a la vie
des personnes transformers en masse de sel (51, 53, 58). (d) En
donnant a manger a trois animaux renfermes dans le chateau, une
petite fille delivre un prince metamorphose en vieillard. Un bruit
effrayant accompagne ce phenomene (60). (e) En mangeant une
pomme d'or, deux pouliches redeviennent femmes (62). (/) Aussitot
que Georges casse les trois oeufs pris dans le corps du serpent de la
savane rouge, le chateau enchante et ses habitants sont delivres (52). l
210. Le protecteur metamorphose qu'on oublie. — Quand l'epouse de
la bete feroce revient apres trois jours d'absence, elle trouve son prince
metamorphose gisant, presque mort (54) ; pendant trois jours, Thomas-
bon-chasseur oublie sa protectrice, une princesse transformed en
petite jument, qui est mourante, a terre, lorsqu'il la retrouve (54).
211. A la poursuite du liberateur. — Bon-eveque et sa femme
donnent la chasse a B^au-prince et a la Belle-jarretiere-verte, qui
s'enfuient (48); Petit-Jean s'enfuit, emmenant avec lui la princesse,
sur son navire; le magicien essaie en vain de les rattraper (51) ; a cheval
sur la petite jument, Thomas-bon-chasseur et la princesse fuient a
toute vitesse, poursuivis par les geants, qui ont leurs bottes de sept
lieues (54).
212. Le liberateur se cache. — Apres avoir pris comme gage les lan-
gues de la Bete-a-sept-tetes qu'il a detruite, Petit- Jean quitte la
princesse delivree et se cache dans la cabane d'un vieillard. Pendant
ce temps, un charbonnier ramene la princesse au roi, et se disant le
liberateur, il va l'epouser quand Petit-Jean demasque sa fourberie
(58). 2
213. Epreuves du liberateur. — Quoiqu'il ait delivre" la princesse 'gar-
dee' par les geants, Thomas-bon-chasseur ne peut obtenir sa main
qu'apres maintes epreuves (54) ; un delai d'un an et un jour doit
s'ecouler avant que Beau-prince epouse la Belle-jarretiere-verte (49);
avant l'expiration d'un an et un jour, la liberatrice doit se rendre a
un pays eloigne, ou demeure le prince delivre (48, 50).
214. Le liberateur se fait reconnailre. — Oubliee par celui qu'elle a
delivre, la liberatrice arrive enfin aupres de lui et, par ruse, elle reussit
a se faire reconnaitre. Comme le prince vient de se remarier, il faut
d'abord acheter de sa femme la permission de le voir et de lui parler;
ce qu'elle fait au moyen d'objets magiques qu'on lui envie (7, 48, 50);
dans un autre cas, la princesse oubliee est invitee, comme tous les
autres, aux noces du prince. Elle se fait reconnaitre par l'entremise
d'une petite poule et d'un petit coq parlants.
1 Voir 77 (Ibid.). 2 Voir 84 (Ibid.).
18 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
215. Banquet nuptial. — Le roi invite tout lc monde aux noces du
prince on de la princesse; le liberateur y vient comme les autres et
c'esl la qu'il Be fait reconnaitre (49, 58). l
216. Rivaux confronted. — Durant le banquet nuptial, le roi fait
condamner les portes et les fen£tres, afin que personne ne sorte.
L'imposteur fait d'abord lc r£cit de ses aventures. Vient ensuite le
vrai liberateur, qui se fait reconnaitre (51, 53, 58). 2
'JIT. Gages ou preuves d'identite. — (a) La princesse montre le
mouchoir et le jonc que lui a laisses le prince avant son depart; sur le
mouchoir est £crit le nom du prince (48, 50). 3 (&) Pour prouver qu'il
a d<f'truit la Bete-a-sept-tetes, Petit-Jean en montre les sept langues,
qu'il a conserves dans le mouchoir de la princesse delivr^e (58). 4
218. Recti symbolique de I 'intrigue. — (a) Le prince dit: "J'avais une
vieille clef, que j'ai perdue. Je l'ai remplacee par une neuve. Main-
tenant je retrouve la vieille, qui est meilleure que la neuve. Laquelle
dois-je choisir?" L'assemblee repond: "La vieille!" Le prince fait
alors reconnaitre la princesse qu'il avait perdue, et il la choisit au lieu
de celle qu'il allait justement 6pouser (7, 48). (b) La Belle-jarretiere-
verte met sur la table un petit coq et une petite poule qui, en se parlant,
repr6sentent symboliquement les aventures oubli£es de Beau-prince,
pour les lui remettre en memoire (49).
219. Manage du liberateur. — Le heros Spouse celle qu'il a delivree
(51, 52, 53, 54); il choisit la plus jeune des trois princesses (56); Petit-
Jean (Spouse la princesse qu'on lui a promise avant qu'il aille la d61ivrer
(57, 58) ; le prince dit a la petite fille qui l'a d61ivr6 sans le savoir : "C'est
toi qui m'as d£livre; il faut done se marier" (60).
220. Chdtiment de l'imposteur. — (a) Le roi demande au heros: "A
quoi le condamnes-tu!" Et celui-ci le condamne, soit a etre 6cartele
ou jete" dans les basses-fosses, soit a errer sans but par le monde
(51, 53, 58). (b) Quelquefois, l'imposteur p£rit par le sabre ou par le
feu (54, 58) .5
221. Nouvelle epouse repudiee. — Ay ant retrouve* sa premiere Spouse,
le prince renonce a son second mariage ou r£pudie sa nouvelle Spouse
(48, 49, 50).
Luttes, rivaliUs et tournois.
222. Destruction des geants. — Le roi dit: "J'ai d6ja essay 6 de faire
detruire les grants par mes armies, mais sans jamais reussir." Pen-
dant leur sommeil Petit- Jean les d^truit avec son sabre magique (57). 6
i Voir 90 (Ibid.). * Voir Sd'.(Ibid.). 3 Voir 86 (Ibid.).
* Voir 87 (Ibid.). * Voir 93 (Ibid.). 6 Voir 94 (Ibid.).
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 19
223. Lutte contre les monstres. — Metamorphose en lion, Georges se
bat avec le serpent de la savane rouge et le detruit (52) ; de son sabre
Petit-Jean detruit la Bete-a-sept-tetes (58). l
224. Quartier. — La Bete-a-sept-tetes demande quartier pour un
quart d'heure; ce qui lui est accorde* (58).
225. Paris et jeux de hasard. — (a) Bon-eVeque et Beau-prince
jouent trois fois aux des; le perdant doit aceomplir ce qu'exige son
rival (49); Pipette et ses voisins jouent aux cartes et parient place
contre place (23); dans le pari du prince et de son voisin Penjeu est
bien contre bien (66, 67).
226. Champ aride et champ fertile. — Petit-Jean mene le troupeau de
vaches maigres du roi dans le champ fertile des geants. Les vaches s'y
saoulent en un instant (57). 2
227. Crainte et duplicite. — Craignant Fesse-ben a cause de sa force
extraordinaire, le roi cherche, mais en vain, a causer sa perte en lui
faisant lancer des pierres sur la tete, dans un puits, en Penvoyant
aux moulins du diable et de la Bete-a-renifler, et en faisant tirer sur lui
du canon (59). 3
228. On accuse le heros de se vanter. — On dit au roi : "Un tel se vante
de pouvoir faire ceci ou cela." Le roi repond: "S'il s'en est vante, il
va y aller." Et quand le roi lui en parle, il repond ordinairement :
"Sire le roi, je ne m'en suis pas vante; mais, s'il le faut, je vas y aller"
(51, 56, 57). 4
229. La visite du roi. — Le roi envoie ses valets inviter Petit-Jean
ou un autre. Celui-ci repond: "Si le roi a affaire a moi, qu'il vienne ici
me voir" (58, 61); au lieu d'accepter l'invitation du roi, Petit-Jean le
prie de venir diner chez lui avec la reine (64).
230. Jalousie ou rivalite. — Jaloux de Petit-Jean, le vacher du roi le
trahit et le fait tuer par un boucher (51) ; le charbonnier, rival de Petit-
Jean, reclame la main de la princesse qu'il pretend avoir delivree (58) ;
une vieille rate se bat avec une petite rate ou avec une souris, dont elle
veut usurper la gloire et la recompense (63, 64). 5
231. On cede a la force. — (a) Se voyant la victime impuissante des
prouesses d'un pretendant ou d'un voleur, le roi finit par c£der et par
lui accorder la main de sa fille (63, 68). (b) Le roi des rats achete le
salut de son peuple en se mettant au service du jeune homme qui cher-
che le talisman qu'on lui a vole (63, 64). (c) La magicienne contraint
le roi a l'epouser sur-le-champ (3, 51). (d) Pour se degager d'un mau-
vais pas, le diable renonce a ses droits sur quelqu'un ou sur quelque
objet (13, 22, 23, 59, 69).
1 Voir 96 (Ibid.). 2 Voir 99 (Ibid.). 3 Voir 102 (Ibid.).
* Voir 105 (Ibid.). 5 Voir 101 (Ibid.).
20 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
232. Lea tournois. — Sans se faire reconnaitre, le heros apparait
plusieuis fois et remporte les honneurs du tournoi (3, 5).
Tromperies, crimes et chdtiments.
233. CrHuliU exploiUe. — Sortant de sous la chaise du geant,
Petit-Jean lui fait croire qu'il est ne" de lui; le g6ant lui accorde done sa
protection (61); Fre"derico joue trois tours au diable qui, pour se d6-
prendre, doit renoncer a ses droits sur lui (69) ; Tours croit nai'vement
tout ce que le petit renard lui dit pendant qu'il lui vole ses provisions
(65). >
234. Fraude. — Ayant parie bien contre bien avec le prince qu'il
gagnerait les faveurs de la princesse durant son absence, un bourgeois
a recours a, la fraude. II subtilise des objets destines a demontrer son
succes; et, cache dans un coffre qu'on apporte au chateau, et, fermant
a clef dedans et dehors, il fait durant la nuit des observations qui per-
suaderont le prince de l'infid£lite de sa princesse (66, 67).
235. Vols habiles. — (a) Deguise en vieux pecheur, Thomas-bon-
chasseur pdnetre dans le chateau des geants et vole le livre qu'ils
adorent (54); pendant que Petit-Jean dort, ses freres lui volent la
bouteille d'eau rajeunissante qu'ils remplacent par une bouteille de
saumure (53); un stranger subtilise le medaillon magique de son
rival (55); durant la nuit, la princesse vole la bague magique de son
cpoux, qu'elle veut perdre (63); des vieilles sorcieres obtiennent de la
princesse une bague dont elle ignore la vertu, et qu'elle echange pour
une lampe d'argent (64). (6) Les vols habiles des grands voleurs de
France et de Paris, qui penetrent, en enlevant une pierre mobile, dans
la tour ou le roi garde ses tremors (68). (c) Se disant a Temploi de
1'eVeque, trois jeunes brigands volent les soieries d'un marchand, qui
se laisse tromper (71). 2
236. Deguisement. — (a) Changeant d'habits avec un charbonnier,
Prince-Joseph entre au service d'un bourgeois, dont il devient 1'homme
de confiance (53). (6) Condamnee a mort, une femme s'enfuit, se
deguise en soldat ou en avocat, et, au cours d'une brillante carriere,
retrouve son mari dont elle retablit la fortune avant de se faire recon-
aaitre (66, 67). (c) Trois jeunes gens deguisent un mendiant en eve-
que, et s'en servent pour perpetrer des vols audacieux (71). (d) De-
guis6 en homme ou en souris, le diable vient sur la terre remplir sa
mission neTaste (69, 72). 3
237. Substitution de personnes. — (a) Au lieu de mettre a mort la
personne condamnde, les valets du prince tuent une petite chienne et
en rapportent le cceur, la langue et le foie a leur maitre (53, 66).
1 Voir 105 {Ibid.). 2 Voir 110 (Ibid.). 3 Voir 108 (Ibid.).
Conies Populaires Canadiens. 21
(b) Le roi paie un mendiant et Pinduit ainsi a. recevoir a sa place le
chatiment que Fesse-ben, son serviteur, lui reserve (59). 1 (c) Le
petit vacher du roi ecarte le filleul encore inconnu du roi, et se substitue
a lui (51) ; le charbonnier se pr£sente au roi comme le liberateur de la
princesse, tandis que Petit-Jean, le heros, se cache chez un autre
charbonnier (58).
238. Porte defendue. — Les geants dependent a Petit-Jean d'ouvrir
une certaine porte, dans leur chateau. Malgre sa promesse, Petit-Jean
1'ouvre, baigne sa chevelure dans la fontaine d'or, se fait une perruque
de brai dans laquelle il cache sa chevelure d'or, et se fait ensuite
passer pour un teigneux (61). 2
239. Talismans voles et reconquis. — (a) Un prince vole le medaillon
magique de son rival et se souhaite au fond de la mer la plus creuse avec
le chateau et la princesse (55) ; profitant de 1'absence du prince, trois
fees obtiennent sa bague magique, et souhaitent que son chateau fonde
et disparaisse (64); la princesse vole la bague magique de son epoux
qu'elle hait (63) ; la magicienne fait boire une potion a Petit-Jean, qui
vomit et perd le cceur d'oiseau dont lui vient un don merveilleux (62).
(6) Une rate d'eau, une petite souris ou une grenouille retrouvent le
talisman qui, remis au heros, restaure sa puissance et lui permet de se
venger (55, 63, 64) ; apres avoir metamorphose la magicienne en vieille
jument, Petit-Jean la bat jusqu'a mort et recouvre son cceur enchante
d'oiseau (62).
240. Banquet ou la verite se decouvre. — (a) Au banquet ou Jean-Cuit
et le general du roi sont invites, le bourgeois raconte lui-meme l'histoire
de sa fourberie. Le general dit: "Fermez toutes les portes; je veux que
personne ne sorte; on va jouer du sabre ici" (66) ; voulant decouvrir qui
est le grand voleur de Paris, le roi invite les gens de la ville a souper,
esperant trouver le voleur parmi ses invites (68). (6) Chacun raconte
son histoire, durant le diner. Voyant sa fourberie decouverte, le
traitre, la fee ou la magicienne se plaignent d'un grand mal pour qu'on
les laisse sortir. Mais le roi dit: "Parole de roi, personne n'ira dehors
ici, ce soir" (51, 53, 56, 58).
241. Chdtiments. — On condamne le traitre a courir les chemins
tout le reste de sa vie, en jouant de l'orgue de Barbarie (55), pour sa
punition, le traitre est condamne a marcher "tant que la terre le
portera" (67); Petit- Jean est condamne a, mort par les grants a qui il
a desobel (61); le heros fait bruler, noyer ou jeter sur File aux rats
ceux qui lui avaient souhaite un pareil sort (64) ; on fait bruler sur une
grille la servante infidele, et on met sa graisse aux roues des voitures;
le bourgeois fourbe est condamne a etre emmuraille et a vivre au pain
et a Feau (66); la fee galeuse perit par le glaive de celui dont elle a
1 Voir 103 (Ibid.). 2 Voir 106 (Ibid.).
22 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
persecute1 la mere (50); Pet it -Jean prend sa revanche contre la sorctere
bd La me'tamorphosant en vieille jument et en la tuant a force de
coups (G2). l
Pays et chdteaux fabuleux.
242. — Le chateau de Felicity, suspendu par quatre chaines d'or,
sur la montagne Vitree, dont on dit: "C'est une montagne toute en
verre, et couple a, pic tout autour" (50); la montagne vitreuse, dont il
est impossible d'approcher (48); un pont vitreux (54); le petite ville
de cristal, ou se trouve un hotel avec l'enseigne: "Messieurs, entrez
ici! II y a de quoi vous divertir" (53); File des grants qui possedent la
fontaine d'eau rajeunissante, et ou on n'arrive que par un pont de
rasoirs (53); le chateau enchante de Prince-en-nuit (48); le chateau
rond de la mer Rouge, a cent mille brasses sous Feau (56) ; la demeure de
Bon-eVeque, a cent lieues de Fautre cote du soleil (49) ; la mer bleue
(55); le chateau des grants, sur une colline, dans le monde inferieur,
ou Fon entre par une caverne (61); le pays eloigne ou Jean-Cuit trouve
des richesses f abuleuses (66, 67) ; la forteresse entouree de renforts, ou
Fon garde des tresors (59); le tresor sans fenetres du roi de France
(68); File aux rats, ou le pays des rats, des souris et des grenouilles
(63, 64); les parterres du roi, dans la foret (51, 56); le moulin du
diable (59); le moulin a carder de la Bete-a-renifler (59).
Voyages et transports.
243. Longs voyages. — (a) Voyages sur mer: Petit-Jean part avec
trois navires et se rend au pays du magicien qui a enleve la princesse du
roi (51); le batiment de Prince-Joseph, au cours de longs voyages,
s'arrete a la ville de cristal (53) ; un batiment est perdu sur mer, et les
marins aff ames tirent a la courte paille pour savoir qui sera mange (55) ;
Jean-Cuit fait un voyage de trois ans et trois jours sur mer (66);
un prince va dans un pays lointain chercher des richesses, dont il
remplit ses batiments (66, 67). (6) Parti pour la guerre, Jean est
longtemps absent (64). 2
244. A la recherche d'un epoux disparu. — Mar chant sur les traces
de son 6poux disparu, une femme le retrouve au bout d'un an et un
jour, apres avoir use des sabots d'acier de six pouces d'£paisseur
(48, 50) ; en cherchant son Spouse, un prince fait deux fois le tour de la
terre, et defense la charge d'or de quatre chevaux (55) ; la g^nerale du
roi part a la recherche de son mari, qu'elle finit par retrouver (66).
245. "Prince en jour et bete fdroce en nuit" permet a son Spouse de
quitter le chateau enchante" et d'aller rendre une visite de trois jours a
ses parents (48).
■ Voir 93 (Ibid.). 2 Voir 114 (Ibid.).
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 23
246. Attendant V absent, au bord de la mer. — La vieille femme attend
Jean-Cuit avec impatience, et elle va souvent au bord de la mer. Un
jour, une frigate apparait et hisse le pavilion de Jean-Cuit (66); Ti-
Jean met dans le haut des mats le pavilion et le drapeau de la princesse.
Le roi, qui passe son temps a regarder la mer avec sa longue-vue, voit
arriver le batiment (51) ; le roi du pays lointain voit arriver le batiment
du prince de l'Epee-verte, mais avec le pavilion de deuil (11).
247. Le tapis magique. — En jetant sur la table les joyaux du prince
metamorphose^ son Spouse est instantan£ment transported la ou elle
se desire rendue, a une grande distance (48) ; une baguette, un m£daillon
et des poignees magiques transportent leur possesseur et des chateaux
la ou on les souhaite (55, 56, 61, 63).
248. Le sac de Pois-verts. — Le roi fait her dans un sac son gendre
qu'on va jeter a, File aux rats. On Fattache a une voiture; et, en
chemin, ceux qui Fescortent s'arretent a une auberge, et laissent le
sac a la porte. Pendant leur absence, le captif saisit un chat qu'il
cache dans son sac, et qui doit lui sauver la vie (63).
249. Voyage au monde inferieur. — Le long de sa route, Petit- Jean
apercoit un trou sans fond. Avec Faide de son talisman, il se souhaite
au fond du trou. La, il se trouve dans un beau chemin, conduisant au
chateau des geants, sur une montagne .... Plus tard, arrivant au
trou par ou il est descendu, il regarde en Fair, et il apercoit une etoile;
il se souhaite rendu sur la terre, et son desir s'accomplit (61).
250. Voyage a I'enfer et au del. — Fredenco se rend a la porte de
Fenfer, ou il se fait remettre douze damnes; de la il se rend au ciel, ou
on finit par le recevoir (69). 1
Forme et style.
251. Formules initiates. — (a) Une fois, il est bon de vous dire,
c'6tait. . . (51, 53, 54, 56, 61, 65, 69, 71); une fois, il est bon de vous
dire que c'6tait . . . (67) ; une fois, il est bon de vous dire, il y avait
(58) ; c'est bon de vous dire, c'etait un roi . . . (49) ; (6) Une fois,
c'6tait. . . (48, 50, 52, 59, 63, 64, 70); une fois, il y avait. . . (68);
c'etait un roi qui. . . (66); une fille avait. . . (72). 2
252. Formules finales. — (a) Et moi, ils m'ont renvoye ici vous le
raconter (49, 53, 56, 58, 60, 61, 66, 69); moi, ils m'ont renvoye ici, a
Sainte-Anne de la Pocatiere, vous le conter (62); et moi, ils m'ont
renvoye ici vous dire que le petit renard est bien plus fin que Fours
(65); moi, ils m'ont renvoye ici; mais, ils ne me donnent jamais un
sou (68); c'est tout! Moi, ils m'ont renvoye" ici vous conter ca (51,
71). (6) Ils ont fait des grosses noces. Moi, ils m'ont invito, et j'y
1 Voir 118 (Ibid.). 2 yoir x (/^.).
24 J on rnal of American Folk-Lore.
Buia allr. Je leur ai route' quelquea petites histoires 'comme ci comme
pa;' el enauite, ila m'onl renvoye' ici pour vous les conter, a vous
autrea (70); ila ont fail dea grosses noces (70). (c) Et aujourd'hui, ils
Bon1 be* ben, la (50); l«i petit prince vecut toujours heureux avec sa
petite prince88e du chateau rond de la mer Rouge. . . (50); . . .cha-
teau, ou Ila <>iil (ou jours v£cu heureux depuis (67); ils se sont done
mam's et ils ont toujours vecu heureux (60); ils vecurent heureux
avec tons lours biens et ceux du bourgeoia... (66). (d) Depuis ce
jour, Jean-Cuit n'a plus voyage1 (66); . . .qui, depuis, s'est trouv£ a.
toujours bien vivre (68); go, fait que Frederico est toujours reste1 au
paradis depuis (69); qui les a toujours bien servis, le reste de ses jours
(62). (e) Quant au seigneur, il s'est mis a marcher "tant que la terre
le portera;" et il marche encore (67). (/) Je ne sais pas ce qui leur
est arrive depuis ce temps-la. Ils sont peut-etre encore la, badame!
Moi, je n'y suis pas all£ depuis; et ca fait bien des annees, vous savez . . .
C'est un peu plus vieux que moi! (55); tout en finit par la. Le roi,
lui, a continue jusqu'a aujourd'hui a, vivre avec Jean, son gendre.
Depuis ce temps-la, j'ai eu de la misere en demon ici (64); moi, je suis
reste ici. Je ne l'ai pas rencontre depuis (59); je n'en ai plus entendu
parler (63) ; est-il revenu ? Je ne le sais pas. L'avez-vous revu, vous
autres? (59;) Les jeunesses? ce qu'ils ont fait? Je ne le sais pas. Ils
ont du. . . (71). (g) C'est tout (57). 54 et 72 n'ont pas de formule
finale. '
253. Maximes, proverbes, reflexions. — (a) Le danger donne des
idees (55); des fois, on trouve plus dans deux tetes que dans une (66).
(6) Les princes se marient toujours entre eux-autres (67). (c) II etait
fort cet animal, ben plus fort que moi (59) ; il etait aussi pire que les
Allemands, ce petit gueux! (51;) il ne faut pas ramasser ce qu'on trouve
dans le chemin (56). (d) C'est qu'on grandit vite dans les contes (51) ;
c'6tait le 'temps passe;' ils s'amusaient (62); etc.
254. Marche, marche! — II part, marche, marche (53, 55, 59, 63, 66) ;
il prend le chemin, marche, marche (50, 61); embarque, marche,
marche (53, 66) ; part a pied, marche, marche, marche et arrive (55) ;
elle marche, marche (48); ils marchent, marchent, marchent pendant
...(51); ils continuent leur route, marchent, marchent... (66); il
s'en va a, la ville, marche, marche (63) ; elle part, marche, marche et
arrive (55); le prince marche et il marche "tant que la terre le portera"
").2
255. Parole de roi. — "Parole de roi, personne n'ira dehors" (51, 53) ;
"Parole de roi, tu seras pendu" (62); "Pour une parole de roi, je ne
trouve pas que vous teniez beaucoup a votre honneur" (59); "Foi de
roi, prenda-le" (58). 3
1 V..ir 2 {Ibid.). 2 Voir 5 {Ibid.). 3 Voir 7 (Ibid.).
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 25
256. Epithetes. — En parlant a Petit-Jean ou a Prince-Joseph, les
grants disent: "Ah, mon petit ver de terre!. . . " (53); la vieille fee dit
a Petit-Jean: "Petit ver de terre!" (61;) la mere des vents dit a son fils,
le Vent-du-su: "Comment, mon ver de terre!" (50.) l
257. Beaute ou splendeur. — "Belle, comme il ne s'en est jamais vu
sur la terre" (66); "Belle, ce qu'une creature peut etre belle!" (66);
"la plus belle des fiHes" (70); "ma princesse va etre cent fois plus belle
que la tienne" (62); "Maman, j'ai rencontre le plus bel homme!" (66)
. . . " physionomie d'homme acheve" (53); "la plus belle chevelure
d'or qui se soit jamais vue sur la terre" (61); "la plus belle chevelure
d'or du monde" (61); "le plus beau bouquet qui se soit jamais vu sur
la terre" (61); "c'est le plus beau poisson qui se soit jamais pris" (52);
"le plus beau poisson qu'on ait jamais vu" (52); "il se fait construire
un chateau, rien de plus beau" (55) ; "pas un roi n'en (chateau) a de si
beau" (49); "le plus beau des chateaux, tout greye en or et en argent"
(60) ; "il se souhaite le plus beau chateau de la terre, brillant comme des
£tincelles et suspendu par quatre chames d'or" (64); etc.
258. A la ronde. — Sabres coupant sept lieues a la ronde (57, 58) ;
petit violon jouant sept lieues a, la ronde (48).
259. A la fourche des chemins. — Trois freres, partant pour voyage
se separent a la fourche des chemins (6, 58); rendu a la fourche des
deux chemins, le heros h6site (57) ; Prince-Joseph s'assied a la fourche
des chemins, attendant qu'on vienne l'engager (53).
260. La petite lumiere. — Apercevant une petite lumiere dans la
foret, Antoine et Josephine s'y dirigent et arrivent chez les geants
(12, 14); "il apercoit une petite lumiere (durant la tempete), pique
apres la petite lumiere, arrive a un chateau" (48).
261. Le petit sac de provisions. — Petit- Jean part avec un petit
sac de provisions, qu'il se met en bretelle sur le dos (51) ; on lui greye
un sac de provisions, et il part (49) ; il part avec un petit sac de provi-
sions sur son dos (56) ; la princesse prepare un petit sac de provisions
pour les parents pauvres de son mari, qu'elle va visiter (52).
262. Mouchoir enveloppe. — Petit-Jean met les sept langues de la
Bete-a-sept-tetes dans le mouchoir de la princesse (58) .2
263. Signe de deuil ou de joie. — Quand Petit- Jean arrive chez le
roi, tout est en deuil: la fille du roi va etre devoree par la Bete-a-sept-
tetes; le lendemain, tout est en rejouissance: la princesse avait ete*
delivree (3) ; une fois le prince de l'Epee-verte metamorphose, on hisse
le pavilion de deuil au mat de son batiment (11); tout est en deuil
dans la ville de cristal, ou deux princes vont etre pendus (53) ; la bague
magique perdue, on hisse le pavilion de deuil; c'est le pavilion de joie,
quand la bague est retrouvee (64).
1 Voir 6 (Ibid.). 2 Voir 10 (Ibid.).
26 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
264. Autrement, tu scras pendu. — 'Trends garde de me faire mar-
cher pour rienj autrement, parole de roi, tu seras pendu a la porte de
mon dial can" (G2); si tu ne vas pas chercher la princesse, demain matin
tu scras pendu a nia porte (54); si tu ne vas pas chercher le livre des
grants, tu seras pendu a ma porte (54); si, demain, il ne m'a pas rangz
trente cordes de bois a ma porte, il sera pendu (63); si vous ne payed
pas votre rancon, "vous serez pendu a la porte" de mon hotel (53).
265. Fait battre un ban. — La princesse d61ivree fait battre un ban
que si Prince-Joseph n'est pas trouve dans deux fois vingt-quatre
heures, le roi sera mis a mort (53) ; le roi fait battre un ban annoncant
le manage de ses trois filles a ceux qui seraient ddsignds dans un
tournoi (61) ; le roi des rats fait battre un ban pour savoir ou se trouve
le chateau disparu du gendre du roi (63).
266. Le cote gauche. — Le poil, la plume et la patte magiques de
trois animaux sont tous pris du cote" gauche (2, 52) ; la petite jument
dit a Thomas-bon-chasseur de prendre dans son oreille gauche de la
graisse dont sa blessure sera guerie (54).
267. Vert. — Les Sept-montagnes-vertes (7); le prince de 1'EpeV
verte (11); Pois-verts et son cure (21); la Belle-jarretiere-verte (49).
268. Randonnees et leurs personnages. — (a) "Minette m'a vole*
mes roulettes:" Minette, pere, loups, veau, vache, faux, truie, chenes,
mere des vents (38). (6) Randonnee berceuse: bebe, loup, chien, baton,
feu, eau, bceuf, boucher, b6be* (73). (c) Randonnee du petit bouquin:
bouquin, chien, baton, feu, eau, boeuf, boucher, chou (74).
Nombres mystiques et autres.
269. Trois et ses multiples. — (a) Trois jours sans manger; a trois
jours de distance (9 exemples); x trois princesses, princes, freres, sceurs,
f6es, etc. (17 exemples); trois objets (6 exemples); bottes de trois
lieues (conte 49) ; trois quarts de trois minots d'argent (conte 70) ;
trois souhaits accordes (conte 69) ; trois fois (54, 65) ; en trois bonds
(48); trois voyages (69); trois ans (66); trois ans et trois jours (66);
trois semaines (51, 53). 2 (6) Trente hommes, trente pieds, trente
cordes de bois (59, 62, 63). (c) Trois cents piastres (66). Total,
54 exemples.
270. Sept et ses multiples. — (a) A sept ans, dans sept ans, tous les
sept ans (7 exemples); sept personnes (53, 54, 59, 66); sept lieues
(6 exemples); a sept heures (53, 54); sept cents piastres (52); sept
fois (48, 55) ; sept chaises (61) ; sept sons de musique (55). 3 (6) A 1'age
1 Les exemples de cette liste n'ont 6t6 pris que dans cette nouvolle seiie de contes.
2 Voir 16 (Ibid.). » Voir 17 (Ibid.).
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 27
de quatorze ans (52). (c) A vingt-et-un ans (52, 64, 69). Total,
33 exemples.
271. Quatre1 et ses multiples. — (a) Quatre personnes (50, 55, 64);
suspendu par quatre chaines d'or (49, 50, 62, 64) ; quatre jours (49, 54) ;
quatre sous de salaire (53, 55); quatre chevaux (51); fendu en quatre
(58). (b) Quarante hommes, quarante paires de chevaux (53, 62).
(c) Quatre cents piastres, quatre millions (3 exemples dans le conte 53).
Total, 20 exemples.
272. Cent.— Cent pieds en l'air (58, 62) ; cent ecus (62) ; cent lieues
(49) ; cent f ois plus instruit que . . . (53) ; depuis cent ans (2 exemples
dans 51).
273. Mille. — Mille lieues (51, 55); mille pieds (49); mille ans (55);
mille piastres (2 exemples dans 52); cent mille brasses d'eau (56).
274. Un an et un jour. — "II a passe* ici il y a un an et un jour" (48) ;
il demande un an et un jour de son temps (48) ; ils se marieront dans un
an et un jour (49); la metamorphose doit finir dans un an et un jour
(50) ; etc. Total, 8 exemples. 2
275. Un an. — Un an d'attente, un an de voyage; au bout d'un an;
etc. (48, 50, 53, 66).
276. Midi ou minuit. — A midi juste, les betes ou les grants qui
gardent la fontaine magique dorment (53, 54); a minuit, le voleur
entre (68).
277. Autres nombres. — (a) Douze (59, 66, 69). (b) Cinq et multiples:
cinq (64, 66); dix (42, 57); quinze (48, 50, 51, 52, 56, 59, 63); vingt
(59, 59); cinquante (53, 55, 57, etc.); cinq cents (51, 52); cinq mille
(71). (c) Deux et multiples: deux (5 exemples); deux cents (59).
(d) Autres nombres: six (48, 59); un mois (51); quatre ou cinq, cinq ou
six, sept ou huit, huit ou neuf (48, 52, 68); une demi-heure (50); les
trois quarts de plus (52); soixante pieds de long (52).
LES CONTES.
48.3 "prince en nuit et bete feroce kn jour."4
Une fois, c'etait un habitant qui avait trois filles. Comme ils vivaient
ensemble dans les prairies, loin de tout le monde, il ne leur arrivait
pas souvent d'aller a la ville.
Le pere, un bon jour, se decide de partir pour la ville. "Que
voulez-vous que je vous apporte?" demande-t-il a ses filles. Les
1 Voir 18 (Ibid.) . 2 Cent et un (voir 19, (Ibid.).
3 Les numeros de la premiere et de la seconde s6rie de contes canadiens sont con-
s^cutifs.
4 Recueilli a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915, de Georges-S. Pelletier,
cui dit l'avoir appris, il y a plus de trente-cinq ans, dans les chantiers (des forets ou
se fait la coupe du bois) du Wisconsin, d'un Canadien de langue francaise.
28 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
deux plus a gees repondcnt: "Apportez-nous chacune une belle robe."
Mais la cadette ne parle pas. "Et toi, ma chere! Que veux-tu
que je t'apporte? Tu n'as pas encore parleV' Elle r^pond: "Mes
sceurs ont demands des belles robes. Quant a moi, vous m'appor-
terez un bouquet, si vous y pensez; si vous n'y pensez pas, ca sera en-
core bon — une robe, 9a coute si cher!" Le pere part et file vers
la villi. La, il se promenc un petit brin, achete deux robes a ses
lilies liens, mais oublie le bouquet de sa cadette.
I n grand vent se leve et la tempete se prepare, quand il est en
eheinin pour revenir chez lui. Dans la poussiere et la noirceur, il
perd son chemin et s'ecarte. "Seigneur! c'que j'vas done faire?"
Apercoit une petite lumiere, pique apres 1 la petite lumiere. En
approchant, il apercoit un beau chateau, dont la porte est entre-
baillec. II entre, et il trouve 9a ben de son gout. Mais, il ne sait
pas 011 mettre ses chevaux. "S'U y avait ici une place pour les che-
vaux, il se dit, ca serait ben commode." Une porte s'ouvre aussitot.
Du 'grain,'2 du foin, il y en a en masse.3 II soigne ses chevaux; et
de la, s'en retourne a la grande salle d'entr^e. II s'assit et se met a
jongler. 4
Tout a coup, devant une porte qui s'ouvre, il apercoit une table
ben greyee avec de quoi 5 manger; mais personne, nulle part. II s'as-
sied a table et, commc il a faim, il mange une bouchee, je vous le
garantis! Apres souper, il se dit: "C'est bien curieux; il n'y a personne
ici!" Et il ne comprend pas ce que 9a veut dire. Jongle encore
de son ecartage et se demande comment faire pour retrouver son
chemin. En s'asseyant, il tate dans ses poches. mais il ne trouve
rien a fumer, pas meme le coton6 d'une feuille.7 Une autre porte
s'ouvre devant une table bien greyee de tabac, de pipes et d'allumet-
tes — tout a son gout.
Quand il a fume comJi\jaut, il sent le pesant* venir, et il dit:
"Sacre! je me coucherais bien, s'il y avait une place." Aussitot,
tout pres, il y a un beau lit, ou il se couche et dort.
En se reveillant, le lendemain matin, il s'en va voir a ses chevaux,
rien de plus presse! Ses chevaux ont tant mange qu'ils sont saouls.
Revenu dans la salle, il trouve la table mise, et il ddjeune sans voir
l'ombre d'une personne. Quand ses chevaux sont atteles pour partir.
une porte s'ouvre devant le plus beau jardin qui se soit jamais vu.
Ca le surpasse! II n'y comprend rien. II entre dans le jardin et en
1 Va droit vers. . .
2 Parmi les paysans canadions, le mot "grain" est ordinairement pris dans le sens
de '.-ivoine.'
3 En quantity. * I.e., a songor, a rSver.
6 Pelletier dit "de quoi o manger."
8 La tige ou les fibres. ^ D'une feuille de tabac.
8 Le pommeil.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 29
fait le tour. Comme il va pour sortir, il apercoit un bouquet sans
pareil. "Ah! il dit, la plus jeune de mes filles m'a demande de lui
apporter un bouquet; je ne pourrais pas lui en trouver de plus beau
que celui-ci." Casse le bouquet, et c'qui ressoud1 a lui? Une bete
f£roce: "Eh, eh, mon ami! dit la bete, qui vous a dit de casser ce bou-
quet?" — "Personne ne me l'a dit." — "Quelqu'un vous Pa deman-
de; sans ca, vous ne Pauriez pas casse." — "Je ne pensais pas voler
en cassant ce bouquet, vu qu'il y en a tant." La bete dit: "Ce bou-
quet va vous couter cher." — "Comment 9a?" — "Ce bouquet, dans
un an et un jour, va vous couter la vie ou la vie de la fille qui vous Pa
demande. A'cfheure, je vas vous enseigner le chemin qui conduit
chez vous." A la porte du chateau, la bete ajoute: "Si, dans un an
et un jour, vous et votre fille n'etes pas tous deux ici, votre vie sera
au boute." 2 Rendu a la maison, Phabitant donne les robes a ses filles,
et le bouquet, a la cadette.
Au bout d'un an et un jour — Panned s'gtait vite ^coulee! — il dit
a sa fille cadette: "Greye-toi ! Nous allons en ville, aujourd'hui."
Le m3me soir, en arrivant au chateau de la b6te feroce, Yhabitant
met ses chevaux dedans, 3 les soigne au foin et a Pavoine, et il s'en vient
trouver sa fille. On ne voit encore personne, au chateau. Une
porte s'ouvre, et sur une table bien grfyee, il y a deux couverts de
servis, au lieu d'un. Apres souper, quand vient Pheure de se coucher,
au lieu d'un lit, comme la premiere fois, il y en a deux. lis se cou-
chent et dorment.
Le lendemain matin, le pere va faire son train 4 comme d'habitude,
et quand il vient dejeuner, il y a deux couverts de servis. Quand
ils vont pour repartir, une porte s'ouvre sur le jardin, et ils entrent
tous les deux faire un tour. Arrives la ou se trouve le beau bouquet,
qu'est-ce qui ressoud f 5 La bete feroce. La fille commence a reculer,
recule. 6 "Ah, ah! mon amie, dit la bete, je ne veux faire ici de mal
a personne. Mais, il faut que vous m'epousiez. Autrement, la vie
de votre pere va y passer, parce que, il y a un an et un jour, il a casse
ce bouquet pour vous." — "Depuis que 7 c'est moi qui en suis la cause,
elle dit, j'aime mieux vous epouser que de laisser perir mon pere."
L' habitant prend la foret et s'en retourne chez lui en braillant, 8 pen-
dant que sa fille reste au chateau, avec la bete feroce — un homme
amorphcfie, qui, le jour, est en bete feroce et, la nuit, en beau prince.
Au bout d'un an, la fille commence a trouver le temps long. Qa
fait bien longtemps qu'elle est partie de chez elle! La nuit, elle ne
s'ennuie pas avec le beau prince, son mari; mais, le jour, pendant
1 Ce qui arrive ... 2 Finie.
3 Pour "dans 1'ecurie." * Sa besogae; i.e., soigner ses animaux.
5 Arrive. • Pelletier dit: "tirer de Varriere, tire."
7 Puisque. 8 Pleurant.
30 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
qu'il est parti, en bete fdroce, elle pense a ses parents et s'ennuie.
Le soir, elle demande au prince: "Y a-t-il un moyen pour que j'aille
chez nous, les voir ?" — "Oui, il y a un moyen; et il ne faut pas perdre
grand temps. Je vas te l'enseigner; mais prends bien garde de me
tromper." — "Je t'en donne ma parole! je ne te tromperai point."
— "A'ct'heure, il faut que tu jettcs tous mes joyaux sur la table.
Quand tu 1'auras fait, tu pourras partir, et dans un ' rien de temps,'
tu seras rendue. Pour revenir, tu feras la meme chose. Mais 6coute!
II ne faut pas que tu restes chez vous plus que trois jours." En jetant
les joyaux sur la table, dans un 'rien de temps/ la voila rendue chez
son pere. Ses gens sont bien contents de la voir revenue.
Le temps ne parait pas long; ca jase tant! Le troisieme jour passe,
et le quatri^me arrive. Elle jette vitement ses joyaux sur la table.
D'un coup elle est rendue dans le jardin de son chateau, Elle fait
le tour du jardin, mais sans trouver la bete fe>oce. Entendant une
plainte qui vient du ruisseau, elle apercoit la bete qui acheve de se
mourir. "Ah! tu es arrived a temps. Un peu plus tard, tu m'aurais
trouve* mort." Prenant sur ses genoux le prince metamorphose,
elle reussit a le ramener a la vie, petit a petit.
II y avait bien deux ans que la fille vivait dans le chateau avec son
prince, quand, un jour, une vieille f6e vient lui rendre visite. Le len-
demain et les jours suivants, la f6e revient encore jaser. A la fin,
elle demande: "Comment se fait-il que, le jour, il est en bete feroce,
et, la nuit, en beau prince ? Tache done d'apprendre de lui comment
il faut s'y prendre pour le 'd&ivrer.'" Et elle sort du chateau sans
que personne ne la voie.
Le soir, le prince ne veut rien dire a sa femme qui cherche a tout
savoir:1 "J'ai peur, ma chere, que tu me trahisses; et je n'ose te le
dire."
Quand la fee revient, le lendemain, chercher des nouvelles, elle est
desappoint£e de ne pas apprendre le secret.
Le soir, comme sa femme lui demande encore son secret, il se dit:
"C'est pourtant pas mal sur. Personne ne vient ici a qui elle peut
le dire." II se decide alors a c6der: "Pour me delivrer de cette peau
de bete, il faudrait faire un feu pour la bruler tout entiere et pour
que pas un poil ne reste. Sans 9a, tu ne me reverrais jamais de ta
vie."
Une fois le secret r£v£le a la vieille sorciere, le lendemain, elle se
frappc dans les mains en disant: "Dis2 done rien! Ce soir, j'arran-
gerai bien ca."
Se pr£parant a se coucher comme d'habitude, le soir, le prince jette
sa peau de bite au pied de la couchette, 3 se couche et s'endort. La
1 Pelletier dit: "qui se met apres lui pour tout savoir."
2 Xe dis. . . 3 Lit; ce mot n'est pas ici un diminutif.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 31
fee, de son cote\ prepare un bon feu dans la cour, et quand elle le voit
bien chaud, elle vient sur le bout des pieds dans la chambre du prince,
pogne la peau et la jette dans le feu. "Eh! eh! tu m'as trahi! " crie le
prince, en faisant un saut de quatre pieds de haut, dans le lit. En
trois bonds, il saute dans la forSt, ou il disparait, sa femme courant
derriere, mais sans pouvoir le rejoindre. Avant de disparaitre, il
lache un cri: "Ma femme, tu m'as trahi! Pour me retrouver, il fau-
dra que tu uses une paire de sabots d'acier de six pouces d'6paisseur. l
Autrement, jamais tu ne me reverras." Voyant ca, elle revient au
chateau, se greye de quoi manger, part derriere la bete feroce dans la
foret. et file, file. Apres une escousse, 2 se sentant fatiguee, elle s'as-
sied et, seule dans la foret, elle se met a pleurer. Puis, se relevant,
elle marche encore, marche. Quatre ou cinq jours apres, elle arrive
chez un forgeron. "Bonjour, monsieur le forgeron!" — "Bonjour,
ma chere dame!" — "Vous n'avez pas vu un beau prince passer ici?"
— "Oui, quelqu'un a passe" ici il y a sept ou huit jours." — "Mon-
sieur le forgeron, c'6tait mon mari!... Comment me demandez-
vous pour me faire une paire de sabots en acier, de six pouces d'epais-
seur?" — "Ma chere dame, je demanderais un an et un jour de votre
temps." II s'agissait done pour elle de rester chez le forgeron, a son
service, pendant un an et un jour. Comme c'6tait la le seul moyen
d'obtenir des sabots d'acier, elle donne un an et un jour de son temps.
Pendant ce temps, elle jongle a3 un moyen de rejoindre son mari.
Au bout d'un an et un jour, le forgeron lui remet sa paire de sabots
d'acier de six pouces d'6paisseur. Avec ses sabots, elle prend la foret
et file, file. Apres une quinzaine de jours, elle rencontre une vieille
fee. "Bonjour, vieille f6e!" — "Bonjour, ma fille! Dis-moi done
ou tu vas? Je n'ai pas coutume de laisser passer les gens ici."
— "Vous n'avez pas vu un prince passer ici, il y a a peu pres un an
et un jour?" — "Non, il m'est d^fendu de laisser passer personne
ici. Mais peut-etre a-t-il passe durant la nuit." — "Bonne fee!
laissez-moi done passer, moi qui suis a la recherche de mon mari.
Vous voyez mes sabots d'acier? Je ne le retrouverai que quand ils
seront us£s." La fee r£pond: "Passe done et va ton chemin!" Mais
elle la rappelle et lui dit: "Embarque dans les sabots que voici, et traine
apres toi tes souliers d'acier. Comme ca, ils s'useront, et tu seras
bien plus vite rendue. Mais je ne sais pas si mes deux sceurs vont te
laisser passer. Elles sont bien plus malignes que moi; elle le sont
comme sept fois le diable. Je me demande comment elles vont pren-
dre ca. . ." En lui donnant une petite paire de ciseaux, la fee dit:
"En pointant ces petits ciseaux vers quelque chose, tout ce que tu vou-
dras faire sera fait dans le 'temps de rien,' et de soi." — "Merci, bonne
1 Pelletier disait: "de six pouces d'epais." 2 I.e., un laps de temps.
3 Reflechit, songe a. . .
32 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
vieille f£e!" dit la femme, en mettant lcs ciseaux dans sa poche. Puis,
embarguarU dans ses nouvcaux sabots, elle traine les siens en arriere
d'elle, avec une petite corde, et file, file.
Rendu a la porte dc la deuxieme vieille fee, elle reconnait sa maison,
parce qu'il y a cinq ou six pouces de mousse, sur le toit. Comme la
premiere fee lui avait dit: "Une fois rendue chez ma sceur, tu revireras
mes sabots de bord, etils reviendront me trouver," elle revire les sabots,
qui s'cn retournent seuls dans la foret. La vieille fee sort de sa
maison et se met apres la voyageuse: "Dis-moi d'ou c'que tu pars et
d'ou c'que tu viens?" — "Je cherche mon mari." — "J'ai bien envie
de t'e'trangler! II n'y a pas moyen que je te laisse passer ici." — "Ne
faites pas <ja, bonne vieille fe'e! II faut que je retrouve mon mari,
que j'ai perdu il y a plus d'un an et un jour." A la fin, la vieille se
r£soud a, la laisser passer, et lui enseigne le chemin et l'endroit ou est
la troisi&me fee. "Merci, bonne vieille fee, merci bien!" Elle est a
peine partie que la vieille la rappelle: "Viens ici, j'ai un petit present
a te faire. Peut-etre te causera-t-il plus tard du bonheur." Et
elle lui donne un petit violon qui, aussitot qu'on hale sur Varchette,
joue d sept lieues a la ronde. 1
Avant qu'elle reparte, elle lui dit: "Prends bien garde a toi! Mon
autre sceur, que tu vas voir, est bien plus maligne que moi. C'est
d'elle que tu apprendras si ton mari s'est rendu a la montagne Vi-
treuse, tout pres de la." Comme sa sceur, elle lui donne une paire
de sabots, en disant: "Mets-les et traine les tiens en arriere de toi,
pour qu'ils s'usent plus vite; et, arrivee chez ma sceur, revire les
miens de bord, pour qu'ils reviennent." En disant "Merci!" la
voyageuse repart et file dans la foret.
Une fois rendue a la maison couverte de mousse de la troisieme f£e;
elle revire les sabots de bord, met ses sabots d'acier de six pouces
d'£paisseur, et s'en va frapper a la porte. En fureur, la vieille sor-
ciere2 ouvre la porte, Elle a Fair d'une bete feroce qui, avec ses
grandes dents dans une gueule d'un pied de large, veut deVorer sa
visiteuse. 3 "Bonne vieille fee, ne me devorez pas! Je suis a la re-
cherche de mon mari, qu'il me faut retrouver." En achevant de
lui raconter son histoire, elle dit: "Votre sceur m'a parle de vous, et
elle croit que mon mari a du passer ici, il y a un an et un jour." La
f£e rdpond: "Oui; quelqu'un a passe ici, il y a un an et un jour." —
"Voulez-vous m'aider a, le retrouver, bonne fee?" — "A'ct'heure,
dit la fee, je ne vois pas d'autre moyen que mes sabots. Mets mes
sabots et traine les tiens apres toi, pour qu'ils s'usent plus vite. Et
1 I.e., se fait entendre a. . .
2 Au lieu du mot "fee," Pelletier emploie ici le mot "sorciere," indiquant ainsi que
les deux sont synonymes.
3 Pelletier dit: "sa visite."
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 33
quand tu seras rendue pres de la montagne Vitreuse, tu les revireras
de bord, pour qu'ils reviennent ici. Avant que tu partes, j'ai un petit
present a te faire: voici une serviette qui te donnera tout ce que tu
souhaiteras a boire et a manger, aussitot que tu l'6tendras sur tes
genoux." La voyageuse est a peine repartie que la fee la rappelle
et dit: "En arrivant pres de la montagne Vitreuse, tu verras qu'il
est impossible d'en approcher. Au bas de la cote, il y aura des cor-
beaux mangeant les betes mortes que le roi y fait jeter. Quand les
corbeaux viendront manger, tu sauteras sur le plus gros, et tu ne
le lacheras pas tant qu'il ne t'aura pas promis de te porter a la mon-
tagne Vitreuse." — "Merci, bonne fee!" dit la femme, en partant.
Rendue a la montagne Vitreuse, elle revive les sabots de bord, et
s'en va s'asseoir pres des betes mortes, en attendant l'arrivee des
corbeaux. Tout a coup un nuage approche; ce sont les corbeaux
qui arrivent et se mettent a, devorer la charogne. La femme pogne
le plus gros des corbeaux. "Largue-moil" dit le corbeau. "P'en'-
toute!1 II faut que tu me portes au haut de la montagne Vitreuse."
Avant de partir, elle greye de quoi manger pour le corbeau, dans un
panier, et elle monte sur son dos. Le corbeau prend sa vol£e, et en
montant vers la montagne, chaque fois qu'il ouvre le bee en se retour-
nant, elle lui jette un quartier de boeuf pour lui donner la force de
monter. Le corbeau se retourne si souvent que la viande commence
beto 2 a manquer. II faut done la manager. Juste a temps, en arri-
vant au bord de la montagne Vitreuse, le corbeau se retourne en ou-
vrant le bee. Mais comme il n'y a plus de viande, le corbeau la laisse
tomber a terre, vire de bord et s'en va.
La voyageuse prend le chemin du chateau et elle apprend, le long
de la route, que son prince s'etait remane" en secondes noces. En
arrivant au chateau, elle le rencontre bien, mais elle a de la misere a
le reconnaitre, et lui ne se souvient de rien. N'osant pas lui parler,
ni dire qui elle est, elle s'engage servante pour mettre la table et
servir le roi. II y a la des servantes partout, d'un bord et de l'autre.
Elle s'assied, prend ses petits ciseaux et commence a, tailler quelque
chose. Les servantes la regardent faire, et s'en vont trouver la prin-
cesse: "Princesse, votre nouvelle servante a des petits ciseaux sans
pareils. Aussitot qu'elle taille quelque chose ca se fait dans un
'rien de temps.' II faut le voir!" La faisant appeler, la princesse
demande: "Veux-tu me vendre tes petits ciseaux?" — "Non, ils ne
sont pas a vendre, mais a gagner." — "Que faut-il faire pour les
gagner?" — "II faudra que vous me laissiez passer la nuit avec le
prince. J'ai a lui parler." — "Vous voyez bien qu'il n'y a pas de
bon sens a ca, et seulement pour une paire de ciseaux." — "C'est
1 Pour pas en tout, pas du tout. 2 Bientot.
34 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
comme vous dites." Les servantcs s'approchent en arriere de la
princesse et elles lui disent: "Vous avez de l'eau d'endormitoir; vous
en donnerez un verre a votre prince avant qu'il s'endorme, et la ser-
vante ne pourra pas jaser avec lui." Tou jours que le marche" est
fait, et la servantc donne ses ciseaux.
Le soir, on fait boire un verre d'eau d'endormitoir au prince; et
quand la servante vient pour lui parler, il dort et il dort. Elle com-
mence a le pousser; mais il dort. Pas moyen! "Jamais je ne pourrai
croire que c'est impossible de le reveiller!" En le secouant, elle dit:
"Je suis ta femme, la fille d'habitant qui t'a Spouse pour l'amour d'un
bouquet. Reconnais-moi done!" Malgr6 qu'il reste sans connais-
sance, elle continue: "Tu vois bien, j'ai ton jonc et le mouchoir ou
ton nom est marque\ Ah! je vois bien que tu ne peux pas me recon-
naitre et que je vas perir ici. Pour que tu te souviennes de moi, je
laisserai un mot derriere un cadre."
Le lendemain matin, pour se venger, la princesse fait jeter 1 sa
nouvelle servante dans les basses-fosses, pour qu'elle y perisse.
Quand le prince s'en va faire son train2 et son ouvrage, un valet,
qui couchait pres de sa chambre et qui avait eu connaissance de ce
qui s'etait passe, la nuit, lui dit: "Sire le roi! allez done voir derriere
un cadre, dans votre chambre. Vous y trouverez un mouchoir, un
jonc et une lettre. Si vous allez les chercher, celle qui les y a mis
trouvera bien moyen de continuer a vous parler de la meme maniere."
Bien content, le prince s'en va voir a sa chambre, trouve les objets et
la lettre. Mais, il ne comprend pas grand'ehose a tout ga.
La servante, dans sa prison, prend sa petite serviette, I'escoue, 3
la met sur ses genoux. Voila qu'il s'y trouve tout ce qu'il faut pour
manger et pour boire. Celles qui la guettent s'en vont rapporter
ga a la princesse, qui s'empresse de venir. "Veux-tu me vendre
cette serviette?" demande-t-elle. "Non! elle n'est pas a vendre,
mais a gagner." — "Que faut-il faire pour la gagner?" — "II faut
que je passe la nuit avec le prince. Autrement, je garde ma petite
serviette." La princesse pense: "Dis-moi done! moi qui voulais la
faire perir dans les basses-fosses, il va falloir que je la laisse sortir."
Mais elle tient tant a la serviette qu'elle accepte, et le marche passe.
Le valet vient trouver le prince et lui dit: "Tachez done, mon mat-
tre, de vous tenir reveille, ce soir. Celle qui vous a parle n'a plus
que deux fois a revenir. Apres ga, sa vie sera au boute." Le roi,
qui commence a se souvenir du temps pass£, mais sans en etre sur
et certain, se promet bien de ne pas dormir. Mais quand sa prin-
cesse revient, le soir, lui donner de l'eau d'endormitoir, comme un fou
il la prend et s'endort. Quand la servante arrive pour jaser avec
1 Pellctier dit: "saprer sa. . . servante dans. . ."
2 Soigner ses animaux. 3 I.e., la secoue.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 35
lui, il est la qui dort et dort. Elle a beau vouloir le r£veiller, il dort.
La, derriere la porte, la princesse ecoute tout ce qu'elle dit, et se doute
bien de sa trahison. x Voyant que rien ne peut rSussir, la servante
se dit: "Si nous ne pouvons pas nous parler demain soir, ici, je serai
mise a mort. Je n'ai plus qu'un article qui m'aidera a te voir." Vers
le matin, elle sort, emportant le jonc qu'elle a laiss£, la veille.
La princesse la fait encore jeter dans les basses-fosses, pour qu'elle
y perisse. A la servante il ne reste plus que le petit violon que lui a
donne la vieille f£e. En y pensant, le violon se met a jouer, rien de
plus beau, d sept lieues a la ronde. La princesse commence a danser,
danse, et rien ne peut l'arreter. Tout le monde danse aussi, que la
poussiere en revole. "Bonne servante! arretez done votre violon!"
Mais la servante n'ecoute point, et tout le monde continue a danser
de plus belle. La princesse, en dansant, vient lui demander: "Arretez
done votre violon!" — "Je ne l'arreterai rien que si vous me promettez
de me laisser passer la nuit avec le prince." — "Qa n'a pas de bon
sens, ma servante," repond la princesse. Mais on vient lui dire a
l'oreille: "Acceptez done! Si vous donnez au prince de l'eau d'ew-
dormitoir, ca sera comme les autres nuits." La princesse dit a la
servante: "Arrete ton violon! J'accepte." Tout le monde est trempe
en navette, 2 a force de danser.
Le soir arrive^ la princesse verse encore de l'eau d'endormitoir. Mais,
se doutant du tour qu'elle veut lui jouer, le prince se met a jaser et,
faisant semblant de rien, il renverse son verre, et s'en va se coucher.
La princesse vient voir s'il dort bien; et comme il ronfle, elle decide
d'envoyer la servante a sa chambre. En arrivant, la servante s'as-
sied sans dire un mot et attend que tout le monde dorme, dans le
chateau. Quand le temps est venu, elle parle: "Cou'don, mon mari!
ne m'as-tu pas dit, une fois, que je te retrouverais apres avoir use" une
paire de sabots d'acier de six pouces d'6paisseur ? Eh ben! mes sabots
sont uses et je t'ai aujourd'hui retrouve." Le voyant reveille, elle
continue: "Te souviens-tu de Yhabitant qui a casse* un bouquet dans
le jardin de ton chateau, quand tu 6tais amorphose en bete feroce, le
jour, et en beau prince, la nuit? C'est moi, ta femme, qui viens te
reconnaitre aujourd'hui, apres avoir use une paire de sabots en acier
de six pouces d'6paisseur. Une vieille sorciere etait venue au cha-
teau et nous avait trahis, tous les deux. Mais je t'ai retrouve\ Re-
connais-tu ton mouchoir brode, que voici? Ton nom 'Prince en
nuit et bete feroce en jour' y est ecrit." Le prince repond: "Demain,
il y aura une decision, vu que je suis marie en secondes noces."
Le prince, de bon matin, fait venir tous ses valets et ses servantes
a table, pour dejeuner. Quand ils ont mange\ il dit: "Ecoutez! une
1 Voici le texte de Pelletier: "Elle voit bien que c'est quelque Iraki qu'elle veut
lui faire."
' Mouill^ comme une lavette.
36 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
fois, j'avais une valiso ct unc clef qui l'ouvrait bien. l Ayant perdu
cette clef, un jour, j'en ai rachete" une autre. Mais, aujourd'hui,
j'ai retrouve- la vieille clef qui fait mieux que la neuve. Laquelle
des deux clefs dois-je garder?" Les servantes et les valets disent
tous: "Depuis que2 vous avez trouve* la vieille clef, la meilleure des
deux, jetez de cote" la neuve." — "Bien! j'ai 6t6 trahi, il y a [plus d']un
an et un jour; mais je viens de retrouver ma femme, qui a use" une
padre de sabots d'acier de six polices d'6paisseur pour venir a moi.
C'est elle, ma femme!" A la deuxieme femme, Ton dit: "Puisque ce
n'est pas vous, la princesse, venez a la cuisine, ou vous resterez comme
servante." Mais elle repond: "Jamais je ne m'engagerai ici comme
servante. Avec les petits ciseaux, la serviette et le violon que j'ai
eus, je devrais etre capable de gagner ma vie. Bonsoir, la compa-
gnie! Et toi, la princesse! bonne chance avec ton mari, que j'ai
epouse* comme toi!"
49. LA BELLE-JARRETIERE-VERTE. 3
Une fois, c'est bon de vous dire, c'etait un roi, qui avait trois gar-
cons.
II leur demande un jour quel metier ils veulent choisir. II y en
a un qui dit: "Papa, moi, j'apprends le 'metier' de franc voleur."
L'autre dit: "Moi, j'apprends le 'metier' de cultiver la terre." Le
troisieme, dont le nom est Beau-prince, dit: "Je prends le 'metier' de
jouer aux des." Le roi repond: "Mon garcon, c[e n]'est pas un beau
'metier' [que celui de] jouer aux des. Tu devrais faire un autre choix."
— "Papa, moi, je fais a mon idee."
Beau-prince part done et il s'en va se chercher des des. Le long
du chemin, c'qu'il rencontre? Monsieur Bon-eVeque. "Bonjour,
monsieur Bon-eveque!" — "Bonjour, monsieur Beau-prince! voulez-
vous jouer une partie de des?" — "C'est bon! on jouera ben." Les
voila qui se mettent a jouer aux des. C'est Beau-prince qui gagne.
Bon-eveque dit: "Que me demandez-vous, Beau-prince ?" — "Je
vous demande que le chateau de poupa soit tout en or et en argent
et soit souleve sur quatre chaines d'or." Bon-eveque repond: "Allez-
vous-en! tel que vous demandez 9a sera fait." Beau-prince part,
et tel qu'il l'a demande, c'est fait. S'en allant trouver son pere et sa
mere, il dit: "Vous ne pensiez pas que jouer aux des etait un bon 'me-
tier.' Eh ben! voila votre chateau vire 4 en or et en argent. Pas
un roi n'en a de si beau."
1 Pelletier dit: "qui faisait ben dessus." - Puisque.
3 Recite" par Achille Fournier, a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915.
Fournier dit avoir appris ce conte d'un Canadien-frangais, dans les chantiers du New-
Hampshire, il y a a peu pres trente ans. "Quand j'etais jeune, dit Fournier, j'appre-
nais ces contes-la en les entendant une seule fois. Je pouvais les retenir mot a mot."
4 Change.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 37
Le lendemain matin, Beau-prince repart encore. C'gw'il rencontre ?
Monsieur Bon-eveque. "Bonjour, monsieur Bon-eveque!" — "Bon-
jour, monsieur Beau-prince!" — "Voulez-vous jouer une partie de
des avec moi, monsieur Bon-eveque ?" — "C'est bon, on jouera ben!"
Jousent1 aux des. Voila Beau-prince qui gagne encore. "Qu'est-ce
que vous me demandez, Beau-prince?" — "Je vous demande que les
batiments2 de mon pere soient souleves sur quatre chaines d'or, et
que les ecuries et les animaux soient tous en or et en argent." — "Tel
que vous le demandez, ga le sera." Beau-prince revient chez son pere.
En arrivant, il voit que tel qu'il Pa demande ga Vest. "Vous voyez
papa! il dit, vous pretendiez que jouer aux des n'etait pas un bon
'metier.' Mais voila votre chateau et vos ecuries en or et en argent.
II n'y a rien de plus beau pour un roi." — "Mon garcon, tu as eu de
la chance, ce coup-ici, 3 mais peut-etre pas un autre coup." — "Papa,
on peut toujours avoir de la chance, aux des."
II repart encore, le lendemain matin. C qu'il rencontre? Mon-
sieur Bon-eveque. "Bonjour, monsieur Bon-eveque!" — "Bonjour,
monsieur Beau-prince! Voulez-vous jouer une partie de des?" —
"C'est bon! on jouera ben." lis se mettent a jouer aux des. Voila
Beau-prince qui perd. "Que me demandez-vous, monsieur Bon-
eveque ?" — "Je te demande de venir me trouver, dans un an et un
jour, a cent lieues Pautre bord du soleil? Beau-prince s'en revient
chez eux, monte a sa chambre, ou il reste trois jours sans boire ni
manger-. Son pere dit: "Je ne sais pas ce qu'a Beau-prince. II ne
sort pas de sa chambre; et il y a trois jours qu'il n'a bu ni mange." A
sa femme, la reine, il dit: "Va done voir ce qu'il a. Peut-etre lui
est-il arrive quelque malheur."
Sa mere s'en va le trouver. Elle demande: "Qu'as-tu done, Beau-
prince ? II y a ben trois jours que tu es dans ta chambre sans boire
ni manger." II repond: "Dans un an et un jour, il faudra que j'aille
trouver monsieur Bon-eveque a cent lieues de Pautre bord du soleil."
La reine dit: "Mon garcon, il est bien temps que tu partes." Ses pa-
rents lui greyent un sac de provisions; et il part en voyage.
Parti, il rencontre une vieille magicienne, qui lui demande: "Ou
vas-tu done, Beau-prince?" — "Je m'en vas trouver monsieur Bon-
eveque a cent lieues de Pautre bord du soleil, dans un an et un jour.'
— "Ben! Beau-prince, il va betd* venir ici trois filles. Une d'elles
s'appelle la Belle-jarretiere-verte. En arrivant ici, sur la greve,
elles mettront leur butin 5 sur une roche, et elles se changeront en ca-
nard [pour nager dans la mer]. Tu prendras la belle jarretiere verte,
tu la mettras dans ta poche, et tu te cacheras un peu plus loin. Quand
1 Pour "ils jouent."
2 Ici dans le sens d'ecuries, hangars et autres dependances.
3 Cette fois-ci. 4 Bientot. 5 Habits.
38 Journal of American Folk-Lore .
la Bclle-jarreti6re-verte reviendra chercher sa jarretiere, elle ne la
trouvera point." De fait, la Belle-jarretiere-verte revient chercher
sa jarretiere; trouve1 pas de jarretiere. Elle dit a ses sceurs: "II est
venu un jeune homme ici, beto. 2 C'est peut-etre lui qui a pris ma
jarretiere verte? Je vas aller le trouver." Elle s'approche du jeune
homme et demande: "Est-ce3 toi, Beau-prince, qui a pris ma belle
jarretiere verte?" — "Non, ce n'est pas moi." — "C'est toi qui Fas
pris." — "Ben! ma Belle-jarretiere-verte, je ne te la donnerai pas
tant que tu ne ra'auras pas passe cette riviere." — "Es-tu fou?
Je vas te passer la riviere sur mon dos, d'ct'heure !" — "Belle prin-
cesse! faites-en votre resolution." Elle se change en canard, et lui
passe la riviere sur son dos.
Un coup de l'autre bord de la riviere, elle dit: "Beau-prince, tu
vas trouver la mon p&re, qui est Bon-eveque. 4 Pour commencer,
il va te faire coucher dans la cave, sur les petaques. 5 Ensuite il va te
donner a, faire, dans la journee, un batiment couvert en plume, pour
y marcher jusqu'd la cheville du pied. 6 Et puis, il t'offrira une
vieille ou une nouvelle hache. Prends la vieille! II te dira (T'es pas
encore trop fou.' Apres ca, il va te faire vider un lac mille lieues de
long sur mille pieds de creux,7 dans ta journee. Pour ca, il t'offrira
une chaudiere neuve ou un panier tout perce. Prends le panier perce !
II te fera ensuite construire sur ce lac un pont de mille lieues de long,
dans ta journee." Elle ajoute: "A'ct'heure, tu vas coucher ici; et,
demain matin, tu iras cogner a la porte du chateau de Bon-eveque."
II cogne a la porte, le lendemain matin, pan, pan, pan! "C'qu'il
y a la?" — "Je suis Beau-prince." — "Rentrez, monsieur Beau-
prince!"
Quand le soir arrive, Bon-eveque l'envoie coucher a la cave, sur
les patates. C[e nj'etait pas bien drole pour un prince, de coucher
sur un tas de patates, lui qui avait toujours eu un bon lit.
Le lendemain matin, il y avait un gros madrier sur la trappe, pour
empecher Beau-prince de sortir. Mais Beau-prince l'envoie revoler
mille pieds en 1'air. Bon-ev6que dit: "T'es ben malin, Beau-prince.
Tu sors ben rudement de la cave!. . . Aujourd'hui, je vas te donner
une bonne journee a faire. Tu auras a faire, dans ta journee, un
batiment couvert en plumes pour y marcher jusqu'd la cheville du
pied. Quelle hache prends-tu, la vieille ou la neuve ?" — "Je prends
la vieille." — "T'es pas trop bete, Beau-prince."
1 Elle ne trouve pas sa jarretiere.
2 II y a quelques instants.
3 Comme toujours, Fournier disait: "C'est-i toi. . ."
* Beau-prince 6tait 6videmment rendu a cent lieues au-dela du soleil, comme il le
d£sirait.
5 Pour "patates" ou "pommes de terre."
8 Couvert d'assez de plumes pour qu'il y en ait jusqu'a la cheville de son pied.
7 De profondeur.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 39
Beau-prince prend sa vieille hache et s'en va batir sa grange. Un
volier l d'oiseaux passe. II les abat tous sur la grange avec sa branche
d'epines. La Belle-jarretiere-verte vient lui dire: "Tu garderas une
plume dans ta poche." Le soir, Beau-prince va demander a Bon-
eveque de venir 'recevoir' son ouvrage. Bon-eveque vient, grimpe
sur la grange, et se met a y marcher dans la plume jusqu'a la cheville
du pied. "L'ouvrage est-f benfaitef" demande Beau-prince. "Mais,
repond Bon-eveque, ily manque une plume, Beau-prince?" — "La
voila, Bon-eveque, la plume."
Le soir arrive, on envoie encore Beau-prince coucher sur les patates,
dans la cave. Le lendemain matin, il fait revoler mille pieds en Fair
le madrier qui, en retombant, casse une jambe a la femme de2 Bon-
eveque. "Mais, Beau-prince, tu me d^montes! Te voila ben malin;
tu vas tous nous tuer! Je te donne encore une tache3 a accomplir
dans ta journee. C'est un lac de mille lieues de long et de mille
pieds de creux que tu vas avoir a vider. Voila une chaudiere neuve
et un panier tout perce. Lequel prends-tu?"4 — "Je prends le
panier tout perce." — "T'es toujours pas trop fou!"
Beau-prince s'en va sur le rebord du lac, et il se met a en vider
l'eau avec son panier. Mais l'eau coule a mesure et revient dans le
lac. II n'etait pas capable de rien faire. La Belle-jarretiere-verte dit:
"Beau-prince, quand tu voudras faire ton ouvrage, t[u n] 'auras rien
qu'a dire 'A moi, la Belle-jarretiere-verte!' et je le ferai pour toi.
Poupa dira 'C'est la Belle-jarretiere-verte qui t'a aide?' Mais tu
repondras M[e n]'en ai pas connu, de Belle- jarrtiere-verte.' " Vers
la fin de la journee, il appelle: "A moi, la Belle-jarretiere-verte!" Et
la Belle-jarretiere-verte vide le lac. "Venez voir votre lac! "dit Beau-
prince a Bon-eveque. Bon-eveque repond: "C'est la Belle-jarretiere-
verte qui a fait ton ouvrage?" — "J[e n]'en ai jamais connu, de Belle-
j ar retiere- verte. ' '
Le lendemain matin, Bon-eveque l'envoie construire un pont de
mille lieues de long, sur le lac. La princesse lui dit: "Aujourd'hui,
j[e n]'irai pas en crieture,h mais en souris; et je t'enseignerai. Ton
ouvrage se fera pareil." En arrivant au bord du lac, Beau-prince
commence a jeter des cailloux dans l'eau, jette des cailloux. Mais
il n'est pas capable de rien faire de bien. Voyant ca, il se couche en
disant: "Je penserai a ma Belle-jarretiere-verte, et mon pont sera
fait." II s'endort et commence a ronfler. Vers le soir, il se reVeille,
et dit: "Ma Belle-jarretiere-verte, a moi!" Elle arrive en souris,
1 Un vol.
2 Fournier disait: "la bonne-femme d Bon-eveque. . ."
3 Fournier employa ici le mot anglais "vmejob."
4 Fournier dit "lequel tu prends ?" L'in version interrogative des pronoms ne se
retrouve que rarement dans la bouche des paysans canadiens.
5 Crieture ou creature, i.e., femme, n'est pas pris dans un sens pejoratif.
40 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
disant: "Si tu avais pense* a moi plus vite, ton pont serait fini." D'un
tour de main,voila le pont fait, que la poussiere en revole a sept lieues
a la ronde." Beau-prince s'en va dire a Bon-eveque: "Venez voir
votre pont!" Bon-6veque, le soir, s'en vient avec sa vieille, dans
son carrosse [auquel sont] atteles deux beaux chevaux noirs, avec
un harnois1 blanc. En partant, il dit: "Beau-prince, embarque et
viens 'recevoir' ton ouvrage avec moi." — "Non, repond Beau-prince;
quand j'ai eu de l'ouvrage a 'recevoir,' j'y suis alle" tout seul. Je
n'ai pas eu besoin de vous." Bon-eveque en carrosse commence a
traverser le pont. La poussiere 1'abime, et il a de la misere a register.
Le soir, Bon-eveque dit: "Beau-prince, tu vas 'aller veiller,'2 a soir,
avec ma Belle-jarretiere-verte, dans sa chambre d'en haut." Beau-
prince part, et s'en va 'veiller' en haut avec la Belle-jarretiere-verte.
Elle dit: "Papa est apres affiler son couteau pour te tuer. J'ai des
bottes de trois lieues du pas. Sauvons-nous, 3 tous les deux! Je mets
ici un pois et une feve qui volent au plancher d,hauti et de haut en
bas, et ca va faire ho treu dehaha, ho treu dehaha! et poupa croira que
nous sommes encore dans ma chambre a jouer aux cartes. Durant
ce temps-la, on va filer notre chemin."
Apres une escousse,5 Bon-eveque crie d'en bas: "Viens-t'en done,
Beau-prince! C'est le temps de cesser de jouer au ho treu dehaha
et de t'en revenir." Mais ca continue a jouer ho treu dehaha, ho treu
dehaha. A dix heures, Bon-eveque crie: "Beau-prince, viens-t'en !
Si je monte a la chambre de ma Belle-jarretiere-verte, je vas te des-
cendre." Mais le ho treu de haha continue toujours. Bon-eveque
monte, et trouve le pois et la feve qui sautent au plancher d'haut en
faisant ho treu de haha. "Ben, il dit, quand on pense,6 ma vieille!
Ma Belle-jarretiere-verte est partie avec lui. Vite, ma bonne-femme,
prends tes bottes de sept lieues le pas." Et Bon-eveque donne
apres7 Beau-prince. La Belle-jarretiere-verte dit: "Papa s'en vient
pour nous pogner. 8 Tu me le diras, quand il sera tout pres." Une
minute apres, il dit: "Tiens! voila ton pere qui arrive." Elle prend
une brosse et la jette derriere elle. A Bon-eveque cette brosse parait
comme une grosse montagne de pains. "Mais, il dit, qui aurait ce
beau pain-la par chez nous, serait ben content!" II s'en retourne
done chez lui, le dire a sa vieille. Elle repond: "Bougre de fou! c'est
une brosse qu'elle a jetee derriere elle. Je vas y aller." Mettant
ses bottes de sept lieues, elle adenne 9 apres. La Belle-jarretiere-
verte dit: "Mouman s'en vient, sa caline10 drete a pic sur la tete."
1 Harnais. 2 Aller passer la soiree.
3 Foumier dit: "Saprons le camp. . ." 4 Plafond.
6 Apres un certain temps. 6 Dans le sens de "qui l'aurait cru ?"
7 I.e., donne la chasse, poursuit. 8 Saisir.
9 Pour "Elle donne apres. . .," i.e., elle part a leur poursuite.
1 ° Coiffure de femme.
Conies Populaires Canadiens. 41
La voyant approcher, elle fait paraitre comme un lac devant elle, et
elle se change avec Beau-prince en canards, tous les deux. Ayant un
petit sac d'avoine, la vieille appelle les canards: "Mes petits, mes
petits! venez done manger de l'avoine." Le canard Beau-prince
cherche tout le temps a y aller. Mais la Belle-jarretiere-verte le
picoche toujours sur le bee pour le faire revirer. La vieille dit: "Ben,
ma bougrese! tu [ne] t'en souviendras pas plus jeune." La Belle-
jarretiere-verte demande a Beau-prince: "Tu ne sais pas ce que ma-
man vient de dire?" — "Non." — "Eh ben! tu vas t'en aller seul
au chateau de ton pere. Mais prends bien garde de te laisser em-
brasser par personne. Car, si tu le fais, tu oublieras tout ce qui
s'est passe1 durant ton long voyage. Et si personne ne t'embrasse,
dans un an et un jour, nous nous marierons." La-dessus, ils se s£pa-
rent, la Belle-jarretiere-verte s'en allant a la ville, et lui sus eux. l
Comme il arrive, on vient lui demander des nouvelles du long voyage
qu'il a fait. Mais il ne leur en dit rien. Fatigue comme il est, il va
se coucher dans son bon lit.
Apprenant l'arrivee de Beau-prince, la voisine, sa marraine, s'en
vient 'a la course' le voir. On lui dit: "II est coucheV' Mais ca
[ne] fait rien; elle passe dans sa chambre, et elle l'embrasse bien des
fois, pendant qu'il dort.
Quand Beau-prince se reveille, il ne se souvient plus de rien en'toute.
II a oublie son long voyage. On lui demande de raconter ses aven-
tures; mais il n'en peut rien dire. C'est comme si rien ne s'£tait passe.
Apres quelque temps, ne se souvenant plus de la Belle-jarretiere-
verte. le voila en frais de se marier a une autre. Le roi, son pere,
invite tout le monde de la ville a venir aux noces, et aussi, sans la con-
naitre, la Belle-jarretiere-verte.
Pendant la noce, les invites se mettent a conter des histoires et
a chanter des chansons. La Belle-jarretiere-verte, elle, est tran-
quille, et ne parle point. On lui dit: "Mademoiselle, vous n'avez
pas une petite chanson a nous envoy erf" Elle repond: "Non! je n'ai
qu'une petite curieusite a vous montrer." On aimait bien les curieu-
sites. Montre. C'est un petit coq et une petite poule qu'elle met
sur la table. La petite poule fait le tour de la table pit pit pit pit!
Et elle dit: "T'en souviens-tu, mon petit coq, quand tu voulais ma
Belle-jarretiere-verte? Te souviens-tu que je t'ai passe la riviere
sur mon dos?" — "Non!" repond le petit coq. La petite poule
continue : "Tu as le cceur dur, mon petit coq. Te souviens-tu quand
je t'ai fait coucher de l'autre cote de la riviere, et quand je t'ai dit
d'aller au chateau de Bon-eveque, le lendemain matin?" — "Non!"
— "Tu as le cceur dur, mon petit coq. T'en souviens-tu, t'en sou-
viens-tu?" Et elle fait le tour de la table pit pit pit pit! "T'en
1 Chez eux.
42 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
souviens-tu, mon petit coq, quand je t'ai fait construire, dans ta jour-
nee, un batiment eouvert en plumes, pour y marcher jusqu'a la che-
ville du pied." — "Non!" La petite poule fait encore le tour de la
table pit pit pit pit! "T'en souviens-tu, mon petit coq, quand je
t'ai aid6 a vider le lac de mille lieues de long, et mille pieds de creux,
dans ta journ£e?" — "Non!" — "Tu as le cceur dur, mon petit coq;
tu as tout oublie\ T'en souviens-tu, mon petit coq, quand je t'ai
fait batir un pont de mille lieues de long, dans ta journee; et que,
pour t'aider, je ne me suis pas montree en crieture, mais en souris?"
— "Non! repond le petit coq, je ne m'en souviens point." — "T'en
souviens-tu, mon petit coq, quand mon pere t'a envoye" 'veiller'
avec moi, dans ma chambre, et quand j'ai dit a un pois et a une feve
de sauter au plancher d'haut, ho treu dehaha, ho treu dehaha t" — "Non!"
— "Tu as le cceur dur, mon petit coq. T'en souviens-tu quand mon
pere a 'donne apres' nous, avec ses bottes de sept lieues du pas ? J'ai
jete" une grosse brosse derriere moi, et ga lui a paru une grosse mon-
tagne?" — "Non!" — "Tu as le cceur dur, mon petit coq. T'en
souviens-tu, mon petit coq, quand ma mere a 'donne- apres' nous, sa
cdline drete a pic sur la tete, et 'les oreilles dans le crin ?" ' ] — "Non! "
— "Tu as le cceur dur, mon petit coq. T'en souviens-tu, mon petit
coq, quand ma mere a dit 'Tu [ne] t'en souviendras pas plus jeune' ?"
— "Oui, je m'en souviens!" dit le petit coq. Tout a coup la m6-
moire revient a Beau-prince. II se souvient de tout. La petite
poule fait encore le tour de la table pit pit pit pit! et elle dit: "S'ai-t-i
gagne mon petit coq?" Tout le monde autour de la table se met
a se frapper dans les mains, en disant: "Oui! la petite poule a gagne"
le petit coq." Beau-prince s'ecrie: "C'est moi, le petit coq!" Et
la Belle-jarretiere-verte dit: "C'est moi, la petite poule!" Le roi
continue: "Puisque c'est comme 9a, Beau-prince, tu vas epouser la
Belle-jarretiere-verte." Rien ne l'empechait, car dans ce pays-la
on faisait les noces quatre jours avant le mariage. Beau-prince
s'est done enfin marie a sa Belle-jarretiere-verte, dont le pere, Bon-
eveque, restait a cent lieues Y autre bord du soleil. Le roi dit : "A'ct'heu-
re, mon garcon, je vas te donner mon chateau et mon royaume." C'est
ce qu'il a fait.
Et moi, ils m'ont renvoye ici vous le raconter.
50. LE CHATEAU DE F^LICIT^. 2
Une fois, c'6tait un vieux qui vivait au bord 3 d'une foret, avec ses
trois filles.
1 M6taphore, pour "en colere."
2 Recueilli k Saintc-Anne, Kamouraska, en aout, 1915. Le conteur, Narcisse
Thiboutot, dit avoir appris ce conte de son oncle, feu Charles Francoeur, il y a plu-
sieurs amides.
3 Thiboutot disait: "dans le bord."
Conies Populaires Canadiens. 43
Le vieux, un bon matin, part et gagne dans la foret, pour se casser
une brassee de petites branches avec quoi ses filles cuiraient le dejeu-
ner. Une fois sa brassee de branches cassee et ramassee, qu'est-ce
qui ressoud a lui? Un petit lievre. "Grand-pere, dit le lievre, pour
avoir casse cette brassee de petites branches, il faut me donner la
plus jeune de tes filles. Autrement, c'est ta mort." Voyant ca,
le bonhomme dit: "Je vas t'abandonner ma brassee de branches."
— "Non, tu ne peux pas le faire. Moi, je suis le plus beau des prin-
ces, amorphose pour tous les jours de ma vie. Quand meme tu me
laisserais ta brassee de branches, ta vie est au boute si tu ne veux pas
me donner la plus jeune de tes filles; je Vamorphoserais pour le reste
de ta vie." Le vieux repond: "Je vas aller trouver ma fille, et si elle
consent, je te l'amenerai. Si elle ne consent pas, je reviendrai
mourir."
Rendu a la maison, il dit a sa cadette: "Ma fille, un de nous — toi
ou moi — doit sacrifier aujourd'hui sa vie a cause de la malheureuse
brassee de petites branches que je viens de casser dans la foret. Le
maitre de la foret est un prince amorphose sous la forme d'un petit
lievre. Si tu consentais a devenir sa femme, dans un an et un jour
il serait demarphose." l La fille repond: "Ah! s'il n'y a que ca a faire,
je vas y aller, poupa." Le pere s'en va done mener sa fille a l'endroit
ou il avait casse la brassee de petites branches. Qu'est-ce qui arrive
a lui? Le petit lievre, qui dit: "Tu vas me suivre, toi qui es la meil-
leure des filles. Je t'emmene a mon chateau, ou tu seras la plus
belle de toutes les princesses." Partis, ils se rendent ensemble au
chateau, dans la foret.
Au chateau, le soir venu, le petit lievre se change en un beau prince,
et dit: "Ma belle, ga durera pendant un an et un jour; car, j'ai trois
cent soixante-six peaux de lievre, que j'aurai a mettre, une chaque
jour. Une fois toutes ces peaux repassees, je redeviendrai le plus
beau prince de la terre." — "S'il n'y a que ca a faire, repond la jeune
fille, tache de tenir bon, 2 et je t'aiderai."
Apres une quinzaine de jours, la jeune fille commence a s'ennuyer.
Une idee lui venant, elle se dit: "Si je prenais toutes ces peaux de lievre
et les faisais bruler a petit feu dans la cheminee, ca lui prendrait bien
moins de temps a redevenir prince, d'dmeure. 3 Qa serait bien plus
desennuyant de rester au chateau, ailleurs que* de passer les jour-
nees dans la foret." Dans la cheminee elle allume le feu, prend les
peaux de lievre et les fait bruler a petit feu. Quand la derniere peau
acheve de bruler, le petit lievre entre. "Ah, il dit, ma femme! qu'est-
1 De-metamorphose.
2 Thiboutot disait: "tache de toffer" (de l'adjectif anglais "tough")-
3 I.e., a demeure, definitivement.
4 4.u lieu de. . .
44 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
ce que tu es a faire, la ? C'est pour lc coup que tu me perds, jusqu'a
la fin do ta vie; car, je suis le fils du roi, dans un pays bien eloigne d'ici.
A'ct'heure, il me faut partir et retourner chez mon pere. Si tu n'es
pas capable de me retrouver d'ici a un an et un jour, tu ne seras plus
ma femme." Partant, il lui donne son mouchoir, ou se trouve son
portrait et ou son nom est ecrit aux quatre coins. Le voila qui part,
pendant que sa femme guette, pour voir sur quel bord il s'en va.
Quelques jours apres, elle aussi prend le chemin, et elle marche,
marche bien longtemps, a la recherche de celui qu'elle a perdu. Un
jour, elle arrive a une petite habitation, au milieu d'un bois; cogne
a la porte. Une grosse voix repond: "Entrez!" Elle entre: "Bon-
jour, grand'mere!" — "Bonjour, princesse!" La vieille femme ajoute:
"Que cherchez-vous ?" 1 — "Grand'mere, je suis a la recherche d'un
prince qui 6tait, le jour, sous la forme d'un lievre. Apres l'avoir
trahi en faisant bruler ses peaux de lievre au feu de la cheminee, je
l'ai perdu; il m'a quitted en disant: 'Si tu ne m'as pas retrouve dans
un an et un jour, tu ne seras plus ma femme.' " La vieille femme
demande: "Savez-vous quel est son pays?"2 La princesse repond:
"Tout ce qu'il m'a dit, avant de partir, c'est qu'il restait au chateau
de Felicite, suspendu par quatre chaines d'or, sur la montagne Vitree."
La vieille dit: "Vous n'avez qu'a attendre ici jusqu'a ce soir. Mes
garcons sont les quatre Vents, soite:3 le Vent-du-sw, le Vent-d'est, le
Vent-de-nord et le Vent-de-1'ouest. Chaque jour, ils vont bien loin,
dans leur course. S'ils ont vu le chateau de Felicity sur la montagne
Vitree, ils pourront vous y conduire."
Sur le soir, voila le Vent-du-sw qui arrive a toute vitesse. La
mere lui lache un cri: "Toi, n'arrive pas si vite, d soir; la cabane en
craque effrayant." En entrant, le Vent-du-sw dit: "De la viande
fraiche, m'a* en avoir a manger, a soir!" — "Comment, mon ver de
terre! dit sa mere, manger de la viande fraiche? Qu'est-ce que tu
veux dire?" — "Oui, la princesse que vous logez, m'a la manger."
— "Touches-y, pour voir, a la princesse!" Une fois qu'il est calme,
sa mere lui demande: "Es-tu alle loin, aujourd'hui?" — "Ah! il re-
pond, je suis alle bien loin, bien plus loin qu'hier." — "Si tu es alle si
loin, as-tu vu le chateau de Felicite, suspendu par quatre chaines d'or,
sur la montagne Vitree?" — "Non, je ne l'ai pas vu. Mais le Vent-
d'est, qui est alle' bien plus loin que moi, l'a peut-etre vu, lui."
Le Vent-d'est ressoud d'une telle vitesse qu'il jette quasiment la
cabane a terre. Sortant avec sa canne, la vieille crie: "Toi, n'arrive
pas si vite, d soir. Je ne veux pas que tu brises la cabane et nous
1 Thiboutot dit: "De quoi'ce que vous etes en recherche?"
2 Le texte de Thiboutot est: "Savez-vous de quel pays qu'il est?"
3 Soit, a savoir.
4 Pour "je m'en vas. . ." •*,
Conies Populaires Canadiens. 45
obliges a coucher dehors." II repond: "Ah, ah, grand'mere! vous
avez de la visite, d soir? M'a toujou ben la manger, pour mon sou-
per." — "Touches-y, pour voir, toi!" Quand il s'est un peu calme,
elle lui demande: "As-tu 6te" bien loin, aujourd'hui ?" — "Oui, j'ai 6te
bien loin." — "Si tu es alle si loin, as-tu vu le chateau de Felicite,
sur la montagne Vitree ?" — "Non, je n'ai pas vu le chateau de Feli-
cite, sur la montagne Vitree." Au bout d'une petite escousse, voila
le Vent-de-nord qui ressoud, ventant d'une force 6pouvantable et
gelant tout. Sortant a la porte, la vieille dit: "Si tu ne peux pas arri-
ver plus doucement que ga, tu vas voir que je vas te tranquilliser, moi!"
Quand il s'est apais<§, elle demande: "Es-tu alle loin, aujourd'hui?"
— "Oui, mouman, j'ai £te bien loin." — "As-tu vu le chateau de Feli-
cite, sur la montagne Vitree?" — "Ah, par exemple! je ne suis pas
encore alle assez loin pour voir ga." — "Le Vent-de-1'ouest, lui, m'a
Fair a etre alle bien plus loin que vous autres. II n'est pas encore
arrive. Peut-etre a-t-il vu le chateau de Felicite ?"
A peu pres une demi-heure plus tard, voila un petit vent chaud qui
ressoud — le Vent-de-1'ouest. "Tiens! dit la mere, en sortant, il a
vu quelque chose, lui; il arrive tranquillement et tout joyeux. Vent-
de-1'ouest, qu'as-tu vu, aujourd'hui?" — "Mouman, j'ai vu une
chose que je n'avais jamais encore vue." — "Qu'est-ce que c'est done ?"
— "J'ai vu un chateau suspendu par quatre chaines d'or, le chateau
de Felicite, sur la montagne Vitree." Sa mere demande: "La mon-
tagne Vitree, est-elle bien haute ?" 1 — "Ah! si c'est haut? Je pense
ben que c'est haut! C'est une montagne toute en verre et coupee a
pic tout autour." — "Demain, dit la vieille femme, tu vas avoir a y
conduire cette jeune crieture."2 Le Vent-de-1'ouest repond: "Mou-
man, si je suis pour y mener cette crieture, demain, il me faut, a soir,
manger de la bouillie au sucre." La bonne-femme greye le chaudron,
prepare une chaudronnee de bouillie, et fait manger le Vent-de-1'ouest
com'i'faut. Quand il a bien mange, elle dit: "A'ct'heure, mes gar-
cons, allez vous coucher, et, demain matin, toi, le Vent-de-1'ouest, tu
iras mener cette crieture a la montagne Vitree."
Le lendemain matin, avant le depart, la vieille donne a la prin-
cesse un petit roueV, une paire de ciseaux et une quenouille, disant:
"Tiens! ga te servira." Comme il y a d6ja un an moins deux jours
que le prince metamorphose" en lievre est parti, il faut se d£pecher.
Le Vent-de-1'ouest part done, et dans un 'rien de temps' il arrive
avec la princesse pres de la montagne Vitrei. Comme le chateau de
Felicite 6tait bien haut, il prend de Verre 3 et arrive sur la^montagne,
ou il laisse. la voyageuse.
1 Le texte ici est: "C'est-i ben haut?"
8 "Creature;" ici, il n'est pas employe" dans un sens pgjoratif.
3 Terme de marine, dont le sens est ici "prendre son elan."
46 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Rendue au chateau, celle-ci demande la place de cuisiniere. Les
noces du prince — qui se remarie — ayant lieu dans deux jours, on a
bien besoin de cuisinieres. Le roi dit:"Es-tu bonne pour faire roth-
la viande?" — "Certainement, monsieur le roi."
Le jour de la noce, la nouvelle cuisiniere prend le mouchoir brode"
que lui avait donne* le prince sous la forme d'un lievre, et elle s'en sert,
a la cuisine. Apercevant le mouchoir, le prince reste tout surpris.
Quand 'ga vient au soir,' le roi dit a sa nouvelle femme, avant de
se coucher: "II faut que j'aille parler a la servante." Comme de
raison, il se doute bien que sa premiere femme est venue le rejoindre
avant [la fin de l']an et un jour. x Mais il ne peut pas voir ni parler a
la servante.
A la cuisine, le lendemain, la servante du roi prend son petit roueV
et se met a filer toutes sortes de cotonnages; et quand elle les devide
sur la tournette, ca devient la plus belle soie qu'il y ait au monde.
Voyant ces choses, la nouvelle femme du roi veut les avoir. Mais la
servante repond: "Si vous voulez avoir mon roueV, ma quenouille et
mes ciseaux, il faut que vous me laissiez prendre votre place, ce soir,
aupres du prince." — "Puisqu'il le faut, repond la princesse, j'y
consens."
La nuit venue, la premiere femme du prince vient le trouver et se
met a lui raconter l'histoire du prince amorphose en lievre, dans la
foret, de son depart precipite* et de sa promesse 'que si sa princesse le
retrouvait avant un an et un jour, elle serait encore sa femme.' Com-
me tu le vois, il y a eu un an et un jour hier que tu es parti, et tu t'es
marie malgre* que je sois revenue. As-tu raconte ta promesse a ton
pere, le vieux roi?" — "Non, j'avais tout oublie." — "II faut que tu
lui en paries, pour que je sache si je suis encore ta femme, oui ou non."
Le jeune prince, le lendemain matin, va tout raconter a son pere,
qui repond: "Mon garcon, si c'est elle qui t'a delivre quand tu etais
dans la foret, amorphose en lievre, et si tu lui as promis que jusqu'[au
bout d']un an et un jour elle resterait ta femme si elle pouvait te re-
trouver, c'est decide, c'est a toi d'y passer. Quant a l'autre, tu es
mieux de la ramener a son pere au plus vite, avant qu'elle s'accoutume
a ta maison." C'est ce qui est arrive au cours de la journ^e.
Le prince, depuis ce jour, a2 toujours reste* au chateau de Feli-
city, sur la montagne Vitrei, avec celle qui l'avait deUivre* de ses peaux
de lievre, dans la foret. Vieux comme il est, son pere le roi est bien
content de tout leur donner, son chateau et sa couronne.
Et aujourd'hui ils sont ben ben, 3 la.
1 Thiboutot disait incorrectement: "Avant un an et un jour."
2 Le conteur eut mieux dit "e3t toujours restee" comme, dans son idee, Taction est
sensee se continuer jusqu'aujourd'hui.
3 I.e., tres heureux.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 47
51. TI-JEAN ET LE PETIT VACHER. *
Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'etait un roi.
Apres s'etre promene" dans ses parterres, un jour, il s'en va dans
sa foret. Apercevant une petite cabane de branches, il y entre, et
il trouve une pauvre femme, toute seule avec son petit gargon, le
plus bel enfant 'du jour.' 2 "Mais, madame, il dit, par quelle aven-
ture etes-vous ici, 3 dans cette casane?"* Elle repond: "Monsieur,
j'ai eu les yeux arrach^s par une vieille magicienne, qui m'a envoyee
dans cette foret." Le roi demande: "Est-ce dans les bois, seule,
que vous avez eu cet enfant?" — "Oui," et elle ajoute: "C'qui lui
donne sa nourriture, c'est une biche qui vient tous les jours se faire
traire. 5 Nous vivons tous les deux de ce lait." — "Madame, votre
petit gargon a-t-il et6 baptise ?" — "Non, il n'a pas 6te baptise." —
"S'il ne Fa pas ete, m'a6 le baptiser, moi." II le baptise done, et l'ap-
pelle Ti-Jean. Avant de repartir, il dit a la mere: "Dans sept ans,
vous me l'enverrez."
Au bout de sept ans, le petit gargon etait joliment grand — c'est
qu'on grandit vite dans un conte! Sa mere l'envoie chez le roi. En
arrivant pres du chateau, il rencontre le petit vacher du roi, qui lui
demande: "Dis-moi done, mon petit gargon, ou7 tu vas?" — "Je
m'en vas trouver le roi, mon parrain. C'est le roi qui m'a baptist,
dans une casane, il y a sept ans; et il a dit a mouman de m'envoyer a
lui, au bout de sept ans." Le petit vacher dit: "Ben, mon petit gar-
gon, on va changer d'habillement, 'tous les deux.' Tu vas prendre
ma place ici, et moi, la tienne. Si tu ne veux pas, je te tue, et je te
mets en charpie." Ce n'est pas tout! II lui fait faire serment sur
i'alumelle de son couteau de ne jamais 'le declarer.'8 Croyant que
c'etait la un vrai serment, Ti-Jean garde les vaches pendant que le
petit vacher prend sa place, s'en va au chateau du roi, et cogne a la
porte. "C'qu'il y a, la?" — "Sire le roi, c'est l'enfant que vous
avez baptise dans les bois, il y a sept ans." — "Mais, dit le roi, tu
promettais de faire un plus bel enfant que ga. T'es laite 9 comme le
1 Recueilli . a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915, d'Achille Founder,
qui dit l'avoir appris d'un Canadien-francais, dans les chantiers du New-Hampshire,
il y a bon nombre d'annees.
2 Dans le sens de "qui soit au monde."
3 Fournier disait: "par quelle aventure que vous ites ici ?"
4 Du mot latin "casa," maison, et peut-etre derive directement de "caserne."
Le sens en est ici "petite maison."
6 Fournier, comme tout autre paysan, disait ici "tirer."
6 Pour "je m'en vas. . ."
7 Fournier dit: "Oil c'que tu vas?"
8 I.e., 'declarer' le vacher, e'est-a-dire, reveler sa perfidie.
9 I.e., tu es laid.
48 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
diable!" II l'envoie jouer avec les petites princesses, dans leur cham-
bre. Qa ne prend pas de temps, les petites princesses ne veulent
pas le voir p'en'toute. l Le soir, quand Ti-Jean arrive, elles s'en vont
le rencontrer; et toutes autour de lui, elles lui font une petite niche
icite, une petite niche la. L'autre en est jaloux, et dit au roi: "Votre
petit vacher se vante de pouvoir aller chercher votre princesse, qui a
£te* enlevee par le vieux magicien." Le roi clemande a Ti-Jean: "C'est-?'
vrai que tu t'es vante* de pouvoir aller chercher ma princesse, que le
vieux magicien a enlevSe ?" — "Sire le roi, repond-il, je ne m'en suis
pas vant6; mais s'il le faut, je vas y aller."
Voila Ti-Jean parti, avec un petit sac de provisions qu'il se met en
bretelle sur le dos. II arrive au bord de la mer, a un quai ou pas un
navire n'a accosts depuis cent ans. Tout a, coup, c'est un gros bati-
ment qu'il voit venir. En haut, se tenant en avant du mat de la
misaine, un matelot, en l'apercevant a ras le quai, lui crie: "Mon
petit gargon, c'que tu fais, la?" II repond: "II me faut aller cher-
cher la princesse que le vieux magicien a enlevee, il y a sept ans."
Le matelot dit: "Va demander au roi ce qu'il te faut. Fais-toi don-
ner un batiment charge de bceuf, un batiment charge de riz, et un
stimeur 2 comme il n'y en a pas de plus rapide sur mer, 3 et une armee
a bord, pour faire la guerre au vieux magicien." Ti-Jean retourne done
voir le roi, et lui dit: "Sire le roi, si vous voulez que j'aille chercher
votre princesse, il faut que vous me donniez ce que je vas vous deman-
der."— "C'que c'est?" demande le roi. "II me faut un batiment
charge* de bceuf, un batiment charge de riz, et un stimeur comme il n'y
en a pas de plus rapide sur mer, et une armee a bord." Le roi repond:
"Tu vas avoir de ce qu'il te faut, un batiment charge de bceuf, un bati-
ment charge* de riz, et un stimeur qu'il y a Hen qui aille plus loin sur
mer."
Voila mon garcon qui greye ses batiments et son stimeur. II part
avec son armee, ses marins, et le matelot du mat de la misaine, qu'il
emmene avec lui pour le piloter — c'6tait son pilot. 4
Une fois sur mer, ils marchent, marchent, marchent pendant trois
mois. Tout a coup, c'gu'ils voient ? Un tapon 5 noir. C'est le roi
des aigles qui arrive. Ti-Jean lui dit: "Roi des aigles! si je te don-
nais ce batiment charge* de bceuf, me laisserais-tu passer, 'aller et
revenir'?"6 — "Oui, je te laisserais passer, 'aller et revenir.' " II
ajoute: "Si tu viens a avoir besoin de nous autres, les aigles, tu n'auras
qu'a dire 'Roi des aigles!' et je serai 7 a toi." Et se jetant sur le bati-
1 Pas en tout, i.e., paa du tout.
2 De l'anglais 'steamer.'
3 Fournier dit: "un stimeur, comme ily a Hen qui aille plus vite que ca sur mer. . . "
4 Prononce" "pilo."
6 I.e., une tache noire (dans le firmament).
8 En allant et en revenant. 7 Viendrai.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 49
ment de boeuf, tous les aigles se battent pour avoir de la viande; mais
il y en a la moitie qui n'en eurent point.
Ti-Jean et son batiment marchent encore un mois. II y avait
loin a aller pour trouver le vieux magicien! Un bon matin, c'qu'ih
voient? Encore un tapon noir. C'que c'etait? Le roi des fre-
milles.1 "Ah, roi des fremilles, il dit, arrete done un peu! Si je te
donnais ce batiment charge de riz, me laisserais-tu passer, 'aller et
revenir?'" Le roi des fremilles dit: "Je te laisserai passer, 'aller et
revenir;' et si tu viens a avoir besoin de moi, tu n'auras qu'a dire 'Roi
des fremilles!' et je serai a toi." Toutes les fremilles s'abattent sur
le batiment de riz, et prennent chacune un brin de riz. Mais il y a
tant de fremilles qu'elles se battent pour savoir qui aura le riz. Et il
y en a la moitie qui n'en eurent point.
Toujours que, a la fin, ils arrivent au pays du magicien, et ils accos-
tent a un vieux quai. Ti-Jean part et s'en va chez le voisin du vieux
magicien qui garde la princesse, et il fait demander a la princesse de
venir le trouver. En arrivant, la princesse demande: "Tu es venu
me chercher? Le magicien, lui, ne voudra pas me laisser partir. II
va commencer par te faire enlever la montagne de terre devant son
chateau; il te fera ensuite transporter la montagne de pierre qui se
trouve en arriere de son chateau. Apres ca, il te demandera de lui
remettre la vue comme a l'age de quinze ans." Ti-Jean dit: "Que
faire?" Elle repond: "Invite-le a aller voir ton batiment; et nous
trouverons un moyen de nous sauver, sans qu'il puisse nous rejoindre."
Ti-Jean, le lendemain matin, s'en va voir le vieux magicien: "Bon-
jour, vieux magicien!" — "Bonjour! qu'est-ce que tu viens faire ici?"
— "Je viens chercher la princesse." — "Tu as bien des choses a faire
avant d'emmener la belle princesse. II faut que tu otes la montagne
de terre de devant mon chateau." Ti-Jean se retourne et dit: "Roi
des fremilles, a moi!" Voila toutes les fremilles qui viennent, et
prennent chacune un brin 2 de sable. II y a tant de fremilles qu'elles
se battent a qui aurait du sable; et la moitie n'en eurent point. S'ap-
prochant du magicien, Ti-Jean dit: "Votre montagne de terre est
partie, vieux magicien. Je peux-t-z* 3 emmener la belle princesse ?"
Le magicien repond: "Tu as encore bien de quoi a faire avant de l'em-
mener. II faut que tu otes ma montagne de pierre, en arriere du cha-
teau." Se retournant, Ti-Jean dit: "Roi des aigles, a moi!" Tous
les aigles arrivent, prennent chacun une roche. II y a tant d'aigles
que la moitie [d'entre eux] n'ont point de roche, et se battent d qui*
en aura. Voila la montagne qui disparait. Ti-Jean dit: "Vieux ma-
1 Pour "founnis." 2 Grain.
3 Pour "peut-il;" la forme interrogative de la troisieme personne du singulier passe
ici a la premiere en y ajoutant le pronom "je."
4 Fournier dit "se battent a gui-c'qui en aurait."
50 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
gicien, jc pcux-t-i emmcner la belle princesse, a'ct'heure? Votre
montagne de pierre est partie." Le magicien repond: "II faut d'abord
que tu me remettes la vue comme a l'age de quinze ans." Ti-Jean
trouve un petit pot de graisse l dans son armoire, frotte les yeux du
magicien, qui voit clair comme a l'age de quinze ans. "A'ct'heure,
vieux magicien, je pourrais-£-i emmener la princesse?" II repond:
"Non, la princesse est trop belle pour que je te la donne, a'ct'heure
que je vois clair comme a l'age de quinze ans." — "Si vous ne voulez
pas me la laisser emmener, gardez-la! Mais venez tou jours faire un
tour a mon batiment." Le vieux magicien s'y rend avec sa prin-
cesse. La princesse saute a bord, Ti-Jean ensuite. Pendant qu'on
retient le magicien sur le quai, Ti-Jean coupe les cordages. Le bati-
ment part; et le magicien reste a terre. Voila le batiment rendu
a cinq cents lieues dans le large. Le magicien s'arrache les cheveux
de voir la belle princesse partie. Sur la greve2 il y avait une vieille
chaloupe qui n'avait pas servi depuis cent ans. Prend 3 la chaloupe,
la coltore, 4 la calfeutre com'i'faut, et part. Le voila rendu a cinq
cents lieues dans le large. Q& marche! Ti-Jean arrive chez le roi
des fremilles. "Roi des fremilles, a moi! Si vous le laissez passer,
on5 est fini." — "II ne passera pas ici, le bonhomme!" r6pond leroi
des fremilles. Quand le magicien arrive, il dit a ses fremilles: "Per-
sons sa chaloupe!" Les voila qui se mettent a sa chaloupe, percent
sa chaloupe. II faut bien qu'il prenne terre, sa chaloupe faisant6
eau comme un panier. Une fois a terre, il arrange sa chaloupe, la
cheville, la calfeutre, et la coltore. II envoie encore un elan dans le
large, et le voila rendu a mille lieues. Ti-Jean regarde 'dans' sa lon-
gue-vue. Apercevant le magicien qui arrive, il dit: "Roi des aigles,
a moi! Si vous le laissez passer, on est fini." Les aigles se jettent
sur la chaloupe, et devorent le bonhomme. Les quartiers revolent
sur tous les bords.7 Ti-Jean dit: "Victoire, la princesse!"
Vers la fin du voyage, Ti-Jean met dans le haut des mats le pavilion
et le portrait de la princesse. Le roi, qui passe son temps a regarder
la mer avec sa longue-vue, voit arriver le batiment. Remarquant
le portrait dans le haut du mat, il dit: "Ah! le petit vacher ramene la
princesse." Quand le batiment accoste, il est au quai qui attend.
Sa princesse d6barque et embrasse son p&re. Le petit prince — le
traitre — va lui tendre la main, mais elle lui donne 'une claque sur
1 A maints endroits, dans les contes de Founder, le 'petit pot de graisse' sert a
delivrer d'une metamorphose.
2 Founder dit: "Sur le bord de la greve."
3 Le magicien prend . . .
4 De l'anglais "coal-tar," goudron de houille; ce nom devient verbe, ici.
6 Pour "nous sommes finis (perdus)."
8 Founder disait: "Sa chaloupe prenait l'eau. . ."
7 I.e., les morceaux volent de tous cot6s.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 51
la gueule,' en disant: "Tiens, tu merites ga!" Le roi, lui, ne sait pas
ce que 5a veut dire. II lui demande: "Mes petites princesses ont
Fair de te hair 'a plein.' C'que ca veut dire, done ?" Mais lui s'en
va chez le boucher, et dit: "Ti-Jean, le petit vacher du roi, va venir
ici. Je veux qu'il soit tue, par parole de roi!"
Le boucher a tue Ti-Jean.
La princesse delivr£e sort du chateau en passant par son chassis
et venant trouver le boucher, elle dit: "Boucher! vous avez tue" Ti-
Jean. Je vas le faire revenir. *■ Et si vous pouvez le retuer 2 e'est a
moi que vous aurez affaire." Ayant fait un petit sifflet, elle siffle,
et voila Ti-Jean qui se met a grouiller. Elle le lui met dans la bouche.
Ti-Jean fait des grimaces, se met a rever et a gigoter. 3 Le revoild
vivant.
En partant de chez le boucher, Ti-Jean achete du bceuf et va en
porter a ses matelots pour qu'ils en mangent. "Mais, Ti-Jean, disent
les matelots, tu as etc" bien longtemps a ton voyage! Qu'est-ce qui
t'est arrive?" II repond: "J'ai attendu apres le boucher qui n'avait
pas de bceuf de tue."
Partant de de'ld, Ti-Jean s'en va chez le roi. II entre au chateau,
et dit au roi: "A votre grand fricot,* a 5 soir, je 'pretends' que 6 toutes
les portes et les chassis soient fermes. J'ai une grande histoire a
vous conter. Mais faites d'abord conter celle de votre petit prince,
pour voir si elle a Pair a avoir de 'Failure.' " 7
Le soir, a son fricot, le roi fait conclamner les portes et les chassis,
et il dit a son petit gargon: "Conte-nous done ton histoire!" — "Sire le
roi, e'est moi que vous avez baptise* dans les bois, il y a sept ans,8 et
vous m'avez appele Ti-Jean." Se retournant vers le petit vacher, le
roi dit: "Et toi, mon petit vacher, conte-nous done ton histoire." —
"Sire le roi, mon histoire va etre plus longue a conter. C'est moi
que vous avez baptise dans un bois, pres de vos parterres, il y a sept
ans; et vous m'avez appele Ti-Jean. En voyant ma mere aveugle,
dans sa casane, vous lui avez demande si j'avais £te baptise. Ma mere
repondit: 'Non!' et vous avez dit: 'Je vas le baptiser; et au bout de
sept ans vous me l'enverrez.' Quand je venais a votre chateau,
j'ai rencontre votre petit vacher. II m'a demanded 'Ou vas-tu?' Je
lui ai repondu: 'Je m'en vas chez le roi qui m'a baptist, dans un bois,
il y a sept ans.' Mais le petit vacher m'a pris mes habits en me don-
nant les siens. II m'a dit: 'Si tu me declares, je te tue.' Et sur l'alu-
1 Revenir a la vie.
2 I.e., s'il vous arrive de le tuer encore.
3 Le conteur faisait ici des gestes comiques.
4 Souper de gala. 6 Ce soir.
6 Je desire que ... 7 Du bon sens.
8 Ici le conteur emploie inconsciemment le chiffre mystique "sept," sans remar-
quer qu'il a du se passer des annees depuis que l'enfant s'est presente au roi.
52 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
melle d'un couteau il m'a fait faire serment de ne rien dire." — "Ah,
mon Gieu! l que j'ai mal 'dans le' ventre! dit le petit vacher. Je vou-
drais sortir." 2 Le roi dit: "Parole de roi! personne n'ira dehors icite,
a soir. Tu vas passer 3 ton mal de ventre ici, dans le chateau." Et se
retournant vers Ti-Jean, il dit: "C'est done toi que j'ai baptise" dans
un bois, il y a sept ans?" — "Oui, sire le roi, c'est moi." Le roi de-
mande: "Qu'est-ce que tu lui ordonnes,4 au petit vacher?" — "Je
lui ordonne d'etre ecartele" 5 par quatre chevaux" — II 6tait aussi pire
que les Allemands, ce petit gueux! On fait 6carteler le petit vacher
par quatre chevaux.
Comme Ti-Jean avait bien gagne la princesse en la delivrant, au
chateau du vieux magicien, il Fa 6pousee. Le roi lui a donne son cha-
teau et son royaume, en disant: "Voila ce qui te revient."
C'est tout. Et moi, ils m'ont renvoye ici vous le raconter.
52. la sirene. 6
Une fois, c'C'tait un homme et une femme, et leur petit garcon,
Georges.
Cet homme, un habitant du long 7 d'un fleuve, avait une goelette
dont il se servait par escousses 8 pour charrier les effets des marchands
de la place.9 Sa femme lui disait souvent: "Mais, abandonne done
ces voyages-la!" — "Ma pauvre femme, repondait-il, tu vois toujours
ben que si j' 'abandonne de voyager avec ma goelette, nous allons crever
de faim. Je voyage, et on n'a pas encore assez d'argent pour ren-
contrer10 nos affaires. On serait bien certain de manger notreterreen
deux ans, si on n'avait rien autre chose pour vivre."
L'habitant, un bon jour, part pour la ville avec sa goelette remplie
des plus beaux poissons qu'on ait jamais vus. II vend sa charge de
poisson, et revient chez lui avec sept cent piastres. Donne l'argent a, sa
femme. Au bout de quinze jours, tout l'argent est depense. II dit:
"Mais, ma pauvre femme, je ne peux pas m'imaginer ce que tu as
fait de tout cet argent." — "Ah bien! elle r6pond, il me faut suivre la
mode comme les autres" — la mode 6tait aux grandes plumes sur les
chapeaux, et aux robes a, cinq ou six stages! Le mari r6pond: "Tu
serais bien mieux de n'avoir qu'une plume a ton chapeau et qu'un
1 Dieu. 2 Le petit vacher cherche, par une feinte, a s'6vader.
3 Dans le sens de "guerir."
4 Dans le sens de "a quoi condamnes-tu . . ."
6 Fournier disait icartiller.
6 Conte r6cit6 en juillet, 1915, a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, par Narcisse Thiboutot,
qui l'apprit de son oncle, feu Charles Francceur, de qui il ne l'entendit reciter peut-
etre qu'une fois.
7 Vivant au bord d'un fleuve. 8 A intervalles.
9 De l'endroit, du village. l ° Anglicisme
Conies Populaires Canadiens. 53
etage a, ta robe." — "Ah! plutot que de t'amuser icite a, l'histoire des
modes, tu ferais bien mieux d'aller a la peche encore une fois."
II repart done avec sa goelette pour la peche. Rendu a Fendroit
ou il avait pris tous ses beaux poissons, voila une tempete qui s'eleve.
II ne sait pas s'il doit perir ou resister a la tempete. Plus la tempete
approche, plus la mer est grosse, et plus sa goelette veut verser.
Tout a coup, c'qui sort de l'eau ? Une serev£. x "Tu as eu peur, elle
dit, hein?" — "Oui! j'ai eu peur." — "Tu es venu pecher ici, F autre
fois, et tu as pris toutes sortes de beaux poissons. Mais, cette fois-ci
ta charge de poisson va te couter cher; ou bien, tu vas perir." — "Que
faut-il que je te donne pour ma charge de poisson?" — "II faut que
tu me donnes ton fils Georges, a ton prochain voyage. Si tu ne le
fais pas, tu es bien certain de perir." L'homme reste un moment
songeur, pensant en lui-meme: "Pour avoir ma charge de beaux pois-
sons, je vas le lui promettre, mais je ne reviendrai plus ici, jamais."
II promet done a la sirene de lui emmener son fils, a, son prochain voya-
ge. La sirene dit: "Jette ton filet a, Feau, et tu vas hdler les plus beaux
poissons qui se soient jamais pris." Quand sa goelette est bien rem-
plie, elle ajoute: "Prends bien garde a toi de m'oublier!" — "Crains
pas! la sirene, je ne t'oublierai pas, certain"
II s'en va a. la ville vendre son poisson. En ville, qu'est-ce qui
vient le trouver ? Le roi de la place. Le roi lui demande: "Comment
veux-tu pour ta charge de poisson?" — "Ma charge de poisson n'est
pas a vendre si je ne vends pas ma goelette avec." Le roi dit: "Je
veux hen acheter le poisson, mais pas la goelette." — "Si tu ne veux
pas acheter ma goelette, donne-moi mille piastres pour ma charge de
poisson." Le roi lui paye mille piastres. Le pecheur prend sa course
vers chez eux. Comme il arrive, sa femme lui demande: "As-tu fait
un bon voyage ?" — "Oui, mais pour en faire un autre, ca me coutera
cher." — "Comment, pour en faire un autre, ca te coutera cher?"
II ne veut pas, d'abord, lui raconter l'histoire; mais il finit par dire:
"Si je retourne a, la peche, je serai oblige d'emmener avec moi Georges,
mon petit gargon, qui a Fage de sept ans; et tu ne le reverras plus,
jamais."
Au bout d'une couple de mois, tout l'argent est defense. La femme
se met encore apres son mari: "Va done faire une autre peche!" A la
fin, il se decide de partir. En appareillant sa goelette, il songe toujours
a, ce que la sirene lui a dit. II pense: "Si je n'emmene pas mon petit
garcon, e'est certain que je vas perir." II retourne a la maison et dit
a Fenfant: "Viens done a la goelette avec moi." Se doutant de Faf-
faire, la femme les suit a, bord, fait entrer le petit garcon dans la cham-
bre, et pendant que son mari detache les cordages, le fait debarquer
en cachette. '
1 Thiboutot pronongait "serene," ce qui vient sans doute de "sirene."
54 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Parti, le pecheur file en pleine mer, vers l'endroit ou il 6tait d6ja
alle\ Pendant qu'il jongle, l qu'est-ce qu'il voit? La sirene. "Com-
ment, malheureux, tu viens encore chercher du poisson, et tu ne m'as
pas amene" ton enfant!" — "Pardon, la sirene! mon enfant est dans
la chambre de la goelette. Je l'ai fait embarquer avant mon depart,
et je dois te le livrer comme je l'ai promis." — "Oui, tu dois me le
livrer! Mais tu ne l'as pas avec toi; ta femme l'a fait debarquer pen-
dant que tu d^tachais la goelette. Tu vas te charger de poisson
pareil, cette fois-ci. Mais il faut que tu me Pamenes, a ton prochain
voyage. Le poisson que tu vas prendre de ce coup-icite, c'est le plus
beau poisson qui s'est jamais pris." Le pecheur emplit sa goelette
du plus beau poisson de la mer, et s'en va a la ville, le vendre.
En ville, le fils du roi vient et lui demande: "Comment demandes-tu
pour ton poisson et ta goelette?" — "Je demande mille piastres, et
je ne veux plus toucher aux cordages de la goelette." Ayant recu
son prix du fils roi, il prend les chars 2 et s'en retourne chez lui.
En voyant sa femme, il dit: "J'ai vendu ma goelette avec la plus
belle charge de poisson au fils du roi." Elle r£pond: "Pourquoi
c'que t'as ete vendre ta goelette ? Nous n'avions que ca pour vivre, et
tu faisais de si bonnes peches." — "J'aime mieux vivre sur ma terre
avec mon enfant que de le perdre en allant pecher."
Apres avoir travaille dur pendant une couple d'annees sur sa terre,
il est oblige de la vendre avec tout ce qui lui reste.
Deux ans plus tard, il travaille a la journee, faisant de Tabatis
pour les autres.
A Page de quatorze ans, son fils Georges va le trouver, et lui de-
mande son canif pour se faire un sifnet. A son pere qui lui donne son
canif, il dit: "Merci, poupa! je pars en voyage." Le pere repond:
"Fais pas ca, mon garcon; reste ici!" — "Bonjour, poupa!" II
ajoute: "Mouman vous a fait vendre ma vie, et je ne veux pas qu'il
vous arrive malheur a cause de moi. J'aime autant partir de moi-
meme, aujourd'hui, que de me faire livrer." 3
Une fois parti, il prend un petit chemin le long d'un bois, et marche
pendant trois jours. Le long du chemin, il passe pres de la carcasse
d'un vieux cheval, et il entend un train epouvantable. Un lion, un
aigle et une chenille se battent ensemble. 4 Bien en peine, Georges
se dit: "Si ces betes m'ont vu, c'est bien fini de moi." Tout a coup
Paigle arrive derriere lui et dit: "Venez icite, jeune homme. II y a
trois jours que nous, un lion, un aigle et une chenille nous battons
1 I.e., est songeur.
2 "Prendre le train," curieuse anomalie dans un conte de fee.
3 Livrer a la sirene.
* Ici est introduit un episode semblable a un de ceux du "Corps-sans-ame" du
meme conteur (voir The Journal of American Folk-Lore, vol. xxix, No. cxi, p. 27).
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 55
pour manger le vieux cheval, et nous n'avons pas encore fini de nous
battre. Venez done nous le separer." — "Mon aigle, je pense bien
que vous avez fini de manger le vieux cheval, et que e'est d'et'heuve
mon tour." L'aigle crie: "Ne craignez pas, monsieur! Je reponds de
votre vie." Le jeune homme revive et comme il arrive a l'endroit ou
est la carcasse, le lion et la chenille lui disent: "Separe-nous ca, et ce
que tu feras sera ben faite." II prend le canif qu'il avait regu de son
pere, * coupe le cou du cheval, et donne la tete a la chenille, disant:
"Toi, la chenille, tu n'es pas grosse, voici ta part. Mange toute la
viande apres ca, suce toute la moelle dans les os, et le crane te servira
d'abri dans le mauvais temps." — "Merci, monsieur, repond la che-
nille, e'etait justement pour ce morceau que je me battais." De son
canif le jeune homme eventre le cheval, donne la fovsuve 2 a l'aigle, et
dit: "Toi, l'aigle, on te voit souvent sur la greve, mangeant toutes
sortes de restes. T'es bon pouv manger 9a." — "Merci, monsieur
e'est pour la forsure que je me battais." — "Toi, le lion, dit le jeune
homme, tu as des bonnes dents pour les gros os; tu vas manger le res-
tant." Le lion dit: "Merci, monsieur, e'est justement pour ca que,
moi, je me battais depuis trois jours." Toutes bien contentes, les betes
disent: "II faut vous recompenses " — "Dites-nous done, demande le
lion, ou vous allez de ce pas-la ?" — "Ou je vas de ce pas-la ? Je ne le
sais quasiment pas plus que vous. Quand j'avais Page de sept ans,
mon pere, pour sauver sa propre vie, m'a promis a une sirene pour
une charge de poisson qu'elle lui avait donnee. A'ct'heure, pour me
rechapper, je cherche une place ou je pourrai rester jusqu'a la fin de
ma vie." Le lion dit: "Mon jeune homme, je vas t'indiquer ou se
trouve un roi 3 dont le pays est amovphose, et dont le chateau est au
fond de la mer, sous cinq cents brasses d'eau. Pour descendre a ce
chateau, ou tu pourras demavphosev le roi et epouser sa princesse,
souviens-toi d'une chose: sur le chateau, au niveau de Peau, il y a une
croix plantee sur une colonne surmontant la cheminee. Si tu trouves
la croix, tu es bon pour le reste." — "Merci, le lion! Je vas essayer
de gagner la." L'aigle dit: "Monsieur, servez-vous de nous pour
faire tout ce chemin. Quant a moi, je vous donne cette plume. Vous
n'aurez qu'a dire: 'Adieux, aigle!' et vous deviendrez aigle, le plus
beau de tous les aigles, volant les trois quarts plus vite que tous les
autres." Le Hon ajoute: "Prends le poil blanc qui se trouve sous ma
patte gauche d'en arriere. Si tu veux te mettre en lion, 4 tu n'auras
qu'a penser a moi, et tu seras le plus fort de tous les lions." La che-
1 Apparemment un canif magique.
2 Corruption de "fressure;" ici, le sens accoutume de ce mot semble etre unique-
ment "le foie."
3 Thiboutot dit: "M'en va t'enseigner ou c 'qu'il y aun roi que son pays est amorpho-
se."
4 I.e., te changer en lion.
56 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
nille dit: "Moi, jc ne suis pas grosse; mais ca ne fait rien. Arrache
ma patte gauche d'en arriere, et quand tu voudras devenir chenille,
tu n'auras qu'a penser a la vertu 'de ma chenille,' et tu seras la plus
petite de toutes les chenilles." Les remerciant bien, Georges con-
tinue son chemin.
Arrive" au bord d'un fleuvc, il s'assied. Qu'est-ce qu'il voit venir,
au loin ? Un pigeon si fatigue" de voler qu'il est pret a tomber a l'eau.
Comme il pense a son aigle, le jeune homme devient aigle, prend sa
volee vers le pigeon, et le rapporte a terre, sous son aile. Le pigeon
lui dit: "Pour commencer, si je ne t'avais pas eu, je me serais noye.
Ensuite, j 'arrive d'une place dont j'avais longtemps entendu parler:
c'est de la ville d'un roi amorphose. J'y ai vu une croix a fleur d'eau,
en pleine mer. Toi, l'aigle, qui voles vite, tu pourrais la voir si tu
voulais." Toutes informations prises du pigeon, l'aigle prend sa
volee vers la croix sous l'eau. En y arrivant, il l'examine com'i'faut,
et il y voit tout le long une petite craque. 1 II se change en chenille,
descend dans la petite craque le long de la croix, jusqu'a ce qu'il arrive
a la cheminee. Rendu au pied de la cheminee, il apercoit la princesse
qui fait a diner. Toujours sous forme de chenille il se glisse dans le
'rempli' 2 de sa robe.
Sitot la nuit venue, il se change en homme, s'assied a la tete du lit
de la princesse et demande: "Comment peut-il se faire que ce beau
chateau soit ainsi a cinq cents brasses sous l'eau?3" — "Je ne le
sais pas, moi, repond la princesse; pendant le temps que vous resterez
ici, je vas prendre information de mon pere." — "Princesse, prenez
bien garde de 'me declarer' a votre pere. Mais vous saurez que je
peux me changer4 en lion, en aigle et en chenille; et s'il y a quelque
moyen de delivrer votre ville, j'essaierai a le faire. Autrement, vous
ne trouverez jamais a vous marier." La princesse repond: "Qa fait
quelques annees que poupa a fait mettre un ban dans tout le pays que
celui qui delivrerait la ville m'aurait en mariage." — "Puisque c'est
comme ca, repond le jeune homme, informe-toi de ton pere pour
savoir ce qu'il faut faire."
En 'etendant' la table 5 pour le dejeuner, le lendemain, la princesse
dit a son pere: "Mais, poupa, je ne pourrai jamais me marier, icite, a
cinq cents brasses sous l'eau; jamais qu'on vous connait personnel6
C'est bien pour le coup que je vas restervieille fille." — "Toi, ma fille, re-
pond le roi, sais-tu ce qu'il faudrait faire pour te marier ? II faudrait
1 I.e., fissure, crevasse.
2 Ici dans le sens de "pli."
a Thiboutot disait: "a cinq cents brasses en-dessous de l'eau."
4 Thiboutot disait toujours "me mettre en lion."
6 Ce terme est une survivance, ou signifie simplement "d6ployer la nappe et y
mettre ce qu'il faut pour dejeuner."
6 Pour "jamais on ne connait qui que ce soit."
Conies Populaires Canadiens. 57
tuer le serpent qui se trouve dans la savane rouge, fendre le serpent,
prendre le pigeon dans son corps, fendre le pigeon1 prendre les troisceufs
dans son corps, et venir en casser un sur le bois de la croix. L'eau
baisserait jusqu'a la cheminee. Prendre 2 le deuxieme ceuf, le casser
sur le bord de la cheminee. L'eau baisserait jusqu'au de la porte.
Prendre le troisieme ceuf, le casser sur le seuil de la porte; et les
chemins seraient partout aussi sees qu'ils l'6taient auparavant.
Tu peux etre certaine, ma fille, que tu as le temps de mourir avant
que tout ca soit fait." — "Ah, mon pere, e'est plus que certain! Je
mourrai vieille fille." Le roi en est bien decourage.
Le soir, la princesse raconte tout a petit Georges, qui dit: "Prin-
cesse, je vas essayer." Georges, le lendemain matin, se transforme
en chenille, grimpe dans la cheminee jusqu'au pilier, ou il prend la
craque; et, a, la fin, il arrive a la croix. Sur la croix, il regarde de tous
cotes, cherchant ou est la savane rouge. Se changeant en aigle, il
vole vers le soleil levant, arrive a la grande savane, et apercoit l'ani-
mal de serpent, de soixante pieds de long, dormant au soleil. Se
mettant en lion, il saute sur le serpent. Ce sont des cris, des siffles 3 et
des hurlements. Le lion dit: "Siffle, crie, hurle! Tu vas mourir
quand meme." Contre la force du lion le serpent ne peut register, et
voila que des morceaux de serpent revolent idle et la. Le serpent
mort, le lion redevient homme; et homme, Georges prend son canif,
eventre le serpent. Apres le pigeon qui s'envole vite, Georges,
change" en aigle, donne a plein vol. Pogne le pigeon, l'eventre, prend
les trois ceufs dans son corps, les place bien soigneusement dans son
mouchoir, et reprend son vol vers la croix sous l'eau. Se jouquant 4
sur la croix, il prend un ceuf et le casse sur le bois. L'eau baisse
jusqu'a la cheminee. Descendu sur la cheminee, il casse un autre
ceuf. L'eau descend jusqu'au seuil de la porte. Tout le monde dans
la ville est epouvante. Arrive sur le seuil de la porte, il y casse le
dernier ceuf. Voila toute l'eau partie.
Le roi et sa ville 6tant demarphoses, Georges, quelque temps apres,
epouse la princesse.
Peu de temps apres, Georges dit a sa femme: "Allons faire un tour,
pour voir mon pere et ma mere." Sachant que ces gens n'6taient pas
bien riches, la princesse se greye un sac de provisions, et dit: "Appor-
tons-nous des vivres pour une quinzaine de jours."
Comme ils s'en allaient en voiture, le long du fleuve, Georges dit a
sa femme: "J'ai bien soif; je debarque et je bois ici." — "Ah, elle dit,
attends done! Tu boiras plus loin." II repond: "Dans ce petit
1 Ce theme se retrouve aussi dans le conte du 'Corps-sans-ame' (The Journal of
American Folk-Lore, vol. xxrx, p. 27.)
2 Pour "il faudrait prendre."
3 Des sifflements. * Se juchant sur.
58 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
russeau1 tombant au fleuve, l'eau doit etre bonne." II debarque de
la voiture et commence a boire, au bord du fleuve. La sirene, qui
6tait la a l'attendre, Yenvale.2 "La sirene! crie la princesse, que
viens-tu de faire, la ?" — "Je viens de prendre ce qui m'appartient.
Son pere me Fa promis quand il avait sept ans; et il est rendu a vingt-
et-un ans. J'avais a le prendre ou je pouvais l'attraper." — "La
sirene, si tu voulais etre raisonnable, tu ouvrirais la bouche pour qu'il
se passe la tete. Je veux lui dire un dernier mot, puisque c'est la der-
nidre fois que je dois le voir." — "Je ne peux pas," repond la sirene.
Bien sur que s'il pouvait seulement sortir la tete, il ne serait pas long
a se dependre ; la princesse tourmente done la sirene. A la fin, celle-ci
consent a s'ouvrir la bouche, pour qu'il se sorte la tete et regoive le
dernier mot. Georges en se sortant la tete pousse un cri: "Adieux,
aigle!" Et il sort de la aussi vite qu'il y est entre. Sautant en
voiture avec sa femme, il dit: "Jamais de ma sacree vie je n'irai boire
au bord du fleuve."
Georges trouve son pere et sa mere vivant encore a la meme place.
Bien pauvres, le pere travaillait a la journee, et la mere ne suivait pas
tant la mode. Apres quelques jours, Georges et sa femme revinrent
chez le roi, qui leur a donne tous ses biens et son royaume. Aujour-
d'hui, c'est Georges qui a la couronne du roi.
En m'en allant, l'autre jour, a la Riviere-Ouelle, 3 je l'ai bien ren-
contre qui faisait un tour de voiture. J'ai voulu l'emmener pecher
la loche, au fleuve; mais il n'a pas voulu. "Tu ne me feras pas pren-
dre de meme, toi! il m'a repondu: la sirene est peut-etre la." Quand
j'ai vu ca, je me suis en revenu ici a pied. II 6tait en voiture,4 mais
il n'a pas seulement eu le cceur de me faire embarquer. Et je suis
arrive ici sans un sou.
53. PRINCE-JOSEPH.5
Une fois, il est bon de vous dire que c'est un roi et Prince-Joseph.6
Le roi demande, un jour, a ses trois gargons lequel d'entre eux est
capable d'aller lui chercher de l'eau de la rajeunie a la fontaine des
geants.7 Ti-Jean dit: " Poupa, m'a y aller." Ti-Jean part done
1 Pour "ruisseau." 2 I.e., l'avale.
3 Le village voisin de celui du conteur.
4 Thiboutot emploie ici le mot anglais "buggy."
5 Raconte' par Achille Fournier, a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915.
Fournier apprit ce conte, il y a plus de vingt ans, d'un vieillard illettre, nomme
Miville, de Saint-Roch-des-Aulnaies.
6 "Prince- Joseph" est le nom qu'employait a, peu pres invariablement Fournier.
Dans sa premiere phrase, toutefois, il dit "le prince Joseph."
7 Fournier prononcait "gian."
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 59
sur son batiment, niarche, marche, et arrive a une lie, ou il debarque.
II marche sur le beau chemin bien grave1 et arrive la ou une vieille
femme garde les moutons du roi. II 'bande' 2 son fusil pour tirer sur
les moutons. "Prenez garde, dit la vieille, de tuer de ces moutons,
que je garde pour un roi." Ne l'£coutant pas, Ti-Jean tue un mou-
ton. La vieille dit: "Je vous amorphose en masse de sel, dont vous
ne pourrez plus sortir." 3
Voila un an 6coul<§, et le roi attend toujours son garcon, qui ne
ressoud point. Ti-Pierre dit: "Papa, je vas y aller, moi." Sur son
batiment, Ti-Pierre part, marche, et arrive a Tile ou avait debarque*
son frere. La ou la vieille femme garde les moutons du roi, il 'bande'
son fusil pour tirer sur un mouton. La vieille dit: "Prenez garde de
tuer un des moutons du roi, que je garde. Si vous le faites, ca ne
sera pas bien." II tue un mouton; et la vieille ajoute: "Vous avez
tue" un mouton du roi; je vas vous amorphoser en masse de sel, avec
votre frere."
Apres un an, Prince-Joseph dit: "Papa, je vas y aller." Parti sur
son batiment, il arrive a la meme ile que ses freres. Marche, marche
sur le beau chemin grave, et arrive au troupeau de moutons. Bande
son fusil pour tirer sur les moutons, lui aussi. "Prenez garde! dit la
vieille; si vous tuez les moutons que je garde pour le roi, ca sera pas
ben." — "Bonne vieille, ca sera comme vous dites. Je ne tuerai pas
de vos moutons. . . Je gagerais ben que mes freres ont tue un mou-
ton ?" — "Oui, et je les ai amorphoses en masses de sel." — "Comment
ca cotiteraiW pour les racheter?" — "Pour les racheter 9a couterait
quatre cents piastres." Prince-Joseph donne les quatre cents pias-
tres a la vieille, qui dit: "Prenez ce petit pot de graisse et frottez ces
deux petites buttes de sel. Ce sont vos deux freres amorphoses" II
frotte les buttes de sel, et voila ses deux freres redevenus hommes.
lis s'embarquent tous les trois sur le batiment de Prince-Joseph,
marchent, marchent et arrivent a une petite ville toute en cristal,
rien de plus beau! Au haut de la porte d'un hotel, c'est ecrit: "Mes-
sieurs, entrez ici! II y a de quoi4 vous divertir." A Ti-Jean et Ti-
Pierre qui entrent le maitre5 dit: "Je ne crois pas que vous ayez
assez de biens pour sortir d'ici. Si au bout d'un an et un jour vous
n'avez pas paye" ce qu'il me faut, vous serez pendus a la porte de mon
hotel." Prince-Joseph, lui, avait continue son chemin, comme il ne
voulait pas s'arreter a la ville de cristal. Le long de sa route, il ren-
contre une vieille magicienne qui lui dit: "Vous avez un pont tout en
1 Pour "macadamise ;" le mot "grave" vient peut-etre de "gravel<§"?
2 Archaisme.
3 II semble ici que Ti-Jean est emprisonne dans une masse de sel.
4 Fournier dit: "de quoi d vous divertir."
5 Fournier dit: "le maitre d'hotel," pour "le proprietaire."
60 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
rasoirs a traverser. A midi juste, vous embarquerez sur le dos du
vieil ours blanc, le seul qui traverse sur ce pont-la." A midi juste,
Prince-Joseph traverse le pont de rasoirs a cheval sur Tours blanc, entre
au chateau des grants, ou il prend de l'eau de la rajeunie a la fon-
taine. II ouvre une porte et apercoit une belle princesse endormie.
Regardant a sa montre, il voit qu'il n'y a plus que cinq minutes avant
que les grants se reveillient. J Se depechant, il prend la princesse, la
met a cheval sur son ours blanc, et traverse le pont de rasoirs. Les
grants se reVeillent et, s'apercevant de ce qui vient d'arriver, ils
crient: "Ah, mon petit ver de terre, qui aurait pu te pogner t'aurait
croque la croque au sel."
En arrivant a bord du batiment, la princesse dit a Prince-Joseph:
'Trends bien garde d'acheter de la viande fraiche. Si tu en achetais,
ca serait ton malheur."
En passant a la petite ville de cristal, Prince- Joseph voit que tout
y est en deuil. II s'approche et voit ecrit au-dessus de la porte de
l'hotel: "Les deux fils de [tel] prince seront pendus demain matin
s'ils n'ont pas paye ce que ca leur couterait pour sortir d'ici." Entre
dans l'hotel, Prince-Joseph demande au maitre: "Avez-vous ici des
princes qui doivent etre pendus?" — "Oui, ils le seront demain ma-
tin, a sept heures." Prince-Joseph reprend: "Ce sont mes freres.
Comment ca couterait, pour les racheter ?" — "Qa couterait quatre
milhons, pour les racheter." Payant les quatre millions, Prince-
Joseph ramene ses freres, avec lui, sur son batiment.
Le voyant fatigue, ses freres lui disent: "Va te coucher! Nous
allons mener le batiment." Pendant que Prince-Joseph, couche,
dort, ses freres lui volent l'eau de la rajeunie et lui mettent dans sa
poche, a la place, une bouteille de saumure.
Comme ils arrivent ensemble chez leur p&re le roi, celui-ci est bien
presse de leur demander qui a rapporte de l'eau de la rajeunie. Prince-
Joseph repond: "Poupa, c'est moi qui ai rapporte de l'eau de la rajeu-
nie." II frotte les yeux de son vieux pere avec la saumure. "Mal-
heureux enfant! crie le roi, tu veux m'oter la vie." Et il ordonne a
ses valets d'aller le mener dans la foret, de lui arracher le cceur, la
forsure 2 et la langue, et de les lui rapporter. Les valets se disent entre
eux: "C'est de valeur3 de tuer Prince-Joseph, lui qui est si bon pour
nous; il a toujours du bon tabac et des allumettes pour nous, quand
il nous en faut. Nous avons une petite chienne; tuons-la, et appor-
tons-en le cceur, la forsure, et la langue au roi." Quand ses valets
lui rapportent 9a, il s'ecrie: "Ah, le malheureux enfant, qui voulait
tuer son pere!" Et de rage il mord 4 le cceur, la forsure et la langue
de la petite chienne, les prenant pour ceux de Prince-Joseph.
1 Pour "se reVeillent." 2 Fressure.
3 C'est regrettable. < Fournier dit: "mord sur la. . . "
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 61
Dans la foret, Prince-Joseph s'en va chez un petit charbonnier qui
faisait du charbon a, quatre sous par jour. II demande a loger a la
femme du charbonnier. "On n'est pas ben riche, elle repond, mais si
vous voulez loger ici, restez." Quand le charbonnier, son mari,
arrive, il dit: "Ma femme, tu n'aurais pas du loger un bel stranger
comme lui, en beau drap fin; tu vois ben qu'on n'est pas assez riche
pour lui." Prince-Joseph repond: "J'aime autant loger su1 les pau-
vres que su les riches." Le lendemain matin, il donne quatre cents
piastres a la vieille pour aller en ville chercher des provisions. En
ville, la vieille se promene et fait sa dame avec cet argent. Le monde
se met a se demander ce que ca veut dire; elle a tant d'argent, et son
mari ne gagne que quatre sous par jour!
Au petit charbonnier Prince-Joseph demande: "Voulez-vous chan-
ger d'habillement2 avec moi?" Prince- Joseph change son bel habit
en drap fin pour celui que le charbonnier a sur le dos depuis cinquante
ans et qui est noir comme le poele.
Un coup3 change d'habit, Prince-Joseph s'en va a la fourche des
chemins, ou il se met dans une cage de planches. II est si mal habille
qu'il a quasiment honte. C'qui passe par la? Un seigneur avec
sa femme. "Si tu veux, dit la femme a son mari, nous allons engager
ce petit homme. Qa, m'a l'air d'une physionomie d'homme acheveV' 4
Le seigneur repond: "Ma femme! si tu ne cherches qu'a engager tous
les courailleux de chemins, je m'en irai par derriere la voiture et tu
t'en iras avec lui." La dame fait embarquer Prince- Joseph, s'en va
seule avec lui. En passant chez un tailleur, elle lui fait faire un bel
habillement. Le voyant bien habilte, elle dit: "A'ct'heure, mon jeune
homme, tu vas aller a l'6cole."
A l'Scole, la premiere semaine, Prince- Joseph n'apprend rien enHoute. 5
La deuxieme semaine, il apprend quelque chose ; 9a va mieux. La
troisieme semaine, il 'fait des regies' 6 au maitre d'ecole, qui, n'y
comprenant plus rien, ecrit au seigneur: "Si ce n'est que pour rire de
moi [que vous me l'avez confie] vous pouvez garder chez vous ce jeu-
ne homme: il est cent fois plus instruit que moi."
Le seigneur met Prince-Joseph a ses livres de compte, et trouve
bientot qu'il fait seul la besogne de quarante hommes. II renvoie
done tous ses commis excepte sept. Un jour, il dit a Prince-Joseph:
"Aujourd'hui, je te donne quatre heures pour regler les livres de
compte." Dans quatre heures de temps, tous les comptes sont
1 Su pour "chez."
2 Habillement, parmi les paysans canadiens, a le sens de "habit."
3 Une fois... 4 I.e., parfait.
5 Du tout.
6 On emploie aussi dans le meme sens l'expression "faire de la loi a quelqu'un,
ou "en remontrer a. . ."
62 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
regies; et le seigneur voit que Prince- Joseph a du talent epouvan
table. x
Qa fait que 2 je reviens a la princesse que Prince-Joseph avait <Mi-
vr6e au chateau des grants. Elle fait battre un ban 3 que si Prince-
Joseph n'etait pas trouve" dans deux fois vingt-quatre heures, le roi
lui-meme serait mis a mort. Voila le roi bien en peine. II dit a ses
valets: "Je vous ai envoy e* tuer Prince- Joseph dans la for6t, et il faut
que je le trouve dans deux fois vingt-quatre heures!" Le voyant si
abattu, les valets lui disent: "Ce n'est pas Prince-Joseph que nous
avons tu6, mais une petite chienne qui nous suivait dans la for6t.
C'est son cceur, sa langue et sa forsure que nous avons apportes."
Le roi fait atteler deux beaux chevaux noirs a sa voiture, part, et
arrive tout droit a la porte du seigneur. C'qu'il voit? Le nom de
Prince-Joseph ecrit sur le haut de la porte du seigneur. Le roi entre
et demande: "N'avez-vous pas ici Prince- Joseph ?" — "Oui, Prince-
Joseph est ici. Vous pouvez le voir dans sa chambre." Arrivant a
Prince-Joseph, le roi dit: "Je te demande pardon, mon fils, de t'avoir
envoye* garrocher4 dans la foret." Prince-Joseph repond: "Papa,
vous n'avez pas besoin de me demander pardon. J'ai ete trahi, et
vous aussi avez ete trahi."
Voila Prince-Joseph qui embarque dans la voiture de son pere, et
s'en va avec lui au chateau. Arrive, le roi dit a ses valets: "Con-
damnez les portes et les chassis, pour que personne ne sorte d'ici d5
soir."
Le soir, au souper, le roi dit: "Mes garcons, vous allez conter votre
histoire, d'ct'heure. Toi, Ti-Pierre, et toi, Ti-Jean, contez votre his-
toire!" Tous deux, ils disent: "Papa, c'est moi qui es alle chercher de
l'eau de la rajeunie a la fontaine des geants, pour vous ramener la vue
comme a l'age de quinze ans." Le roi dit: "Toi, Prince-Joseph, conte
ton histoire, d'ct'heure." — "Powpa, mon histoire va etre plus longue
que la leusse. 6 C'est moi qui es alle chercher de l'eau de la rajeunie a
la fontaine des geants, pour vous remettre la vue comme a l'age de
quinze ans. Quand je suis arrive sur l'ile de la vieille gardant les
moutons pour un roi, j'ai 'bande' mon fusil pour tirer sur les moutons.
Elle me dit: 'N'en tue pas; je les garde pour un roi; et Qa serait ton
malheur si tu en tuais.' Je n'en ai pas tu6, comme l'avaient fait mes
freres, mais j'ai ecoute* la bonne vieille, a qui j'ai paye quatre cents
piastres pour mes freres qui avaient 6te changes en buttes de sel." —
"Mon Gieu!7 que j'ai mal au ventre! Faudrait que j'aille dehors,
poupal" disent Ti-Pierre et Ti-Jean, en se serrant le ventre a deux
mains. "Parole de roi, personne n'ira dehors, icite, a soir!"
1 Extraordinairement. 2 Pour "voila que. . ."
s Fournier disait: "mettre un ban." 4 Pour "lapider."
6 Ce soir. « Pour "la leur." 7 Mon Dieu!
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 63
Qafait que le roi dit a Prince-Joseph: "Quoi'c' que tu leur ordonnes l
a tes freres?" — "J'ordonne qu'on les mette dans les basses-fosses,
pour qu'ils ne revoient jamais le jour." C'est ce qui est fait, sans
que personne repete.
Le roi dit a Prince-Joseph: "A'ct'heure, tu vas heriter de mon cha-
teau et de mon royaume." Pour son mariage a la belle princesse
qu'il a delivrSe au chateau des geants, on a fait des belles noces. On
a danse et on a fete!
Et moi, ils m'ont renvoye ici vous le raconter.
54. THOMAS-BON-CHASSEUR. 2
Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'etait un vieux bucheron, sa
femme et leur enfant, qui vivaient au milieu des bois.
Le pere, un jour, meurt. Sa vieille reste seule avec son petit
garcon, dont le nom est Thomas-bon-chasseur.
Devenu pas mal grand, Thomas-bon-chasseur dit a sa mere: "II
n'y a pas grand'chose a, faire ici, et c'est mal'ise, seul au milieu des
bois, de gagner sa vie. II me faut partir et chercher du monde."
Quittant sa pauvre mere, il prend la foret, file, arrive a un chateau,
et entre chez le roi: "Bonjour, monsieur roi! je suis venu m'engager.
Avez-vous besoin d'un jeune homme?" — "Oui, certainement ! je
vous engage." Voila Thomas-bon-chasseur engage\
Plusieurs jours apres, en arrivant de la chasse, le roi dit: "Qa fait
d6ja quelque temps que tu es ici, et tu ne m'as pas encore dit ton nom.
Cou'don, comment t'appelles-tu ?" — "Mon nom est Thomas-bon-
chasseur." — "Sacreye! tu as un bon nom; et je me demande si tu es
aussi bon chasseur que ton nom porte." Ce nom-la fait bien plaisir
au roi, lui qui passe tout son temps a chasser, dans la foret. "Je ne
le sais pas, r^pond Thomas-bon-chasseur; je n'ai jamais chasse."
Le roi, un matin, prend sa longue-vue, regarde vers la foret, et dit :
"Thomas-bon-chasseur, apercois-tu le gibier, la-bas, dans les bois?"
Prenant la longue-vue, le jeune homme regarde, regarde, mais ne
voit rien, moins que rien. Jette la longue-vue et regarde avec ses
yeux vers la foret. "Mais oui, je vois le gibier." — "Essaie done
de le tuer," dit le roi, en lui donnant son fusil. Thomas-bon-chasseur
vise, pan! tue le gibier. Le roi n'en revient pas, lui qui ne peut voir
le gibier qu'avec sa longue-vue. Et le roi aime bien son 'engageV
Le lendemain, le roi dit a sa femme: "A'ct'heure, ma vieille, je vas
rendre visite au roi mon voisin, qui m'invite depuis longtemps.
1 Quel est le chatiment que tu leur infliges ?
2 Racont6 en juillet, 1915, a Sainte-Anne. Kamouraska, par G.-Seraphin Pelletier,
qui dit l'avoir appris, il y a plus de trente ans, d'un Canadien-francais qui le racontait,
dans les chantiers du Wisconsin.
64 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Rien ne m'empeche, vu que Thomas-bon-chasseur pourra avoir bien
soin de toi, lui qui est un chasseur clepareille." Fait seller le meilleur
cheval de son dcurie, prend un sac d'argent et part. Voila le roi parti,
filant a travers la foret. A peine arrive chez le roi qui 1'a invito, on
le fait prisonnier, et le roi lui dit: "Tu vas aller faire la chasse a mon
lion. Autrement, demain matin, tu seras pendu a la porte de mon
chateau." Le prisonnier repond: "Bien! ca me fait de la peine,
monsieur le roi. 'Depuis le temps' x que vous m'invitez a venir vous
rendre visite! Et c'e'tait seulement pour m'emprisonner et me faire
chasser votre lion. Vous savez bien que je ne peux pas le faire.
Mais, je vous demande une grace. Mon 'engage' Thomas-bon-
chasseur est un chasseur depareille. II fera la chasse a votre lion
pour moi, et pan! il le tuera votre lion." Le roi r£pond: "C'est bon!
je vous accorde cette grace." Le prisonnier envoie un mot a sa fem-
me: "Dis a Thomas-bon-chasseur de venir au plus vite, et donne-lui
un sac d'or et un sac d'argent. Au plus vite!"
Thomas-bon-chasseur se greye, prend un sac d'or et un sac d'ar-
gent, selle le meilleur cheval de l'ecurie, et file au plus vite. Dans
la foret, c'qu'il rencontre? Un vieillard sur une petite jument.
"Bonjour, bonjour, Thomas-bon-chasseur!" — "Comment se fait-il
que vous savez mon nom?" — "Moi, je sais le nom de tout le mon-
de. Tu ne changeras pas de cheval avec moi ? " — "II n'y a pas moyen
de changer de cheval avec vous, repond Thomas-bon-chasseur. Vous
me dites que j'ai encore pas mal loin a aller; et il faut pour ca un bon
cheval. Au chateau du roi, il y a peut-etre de belles princesses et, avec
cette petite jument, je ne pourrais pas sortir de la foret." Le vieux re-
pond: "Tu peux parler du tien! Avec lui tu mourras avant d'arriver
chez le roi." Passant tout droit, Thomas-bon-chasseur marche encore,
un petit boute. "Mais, je suis bien bete! se met-il a penser. Si je
suis pour mourir dans les bois avec le mien, pourquoi [ne] pas chan-
ger? Le vieux! il crie, bon vieux! je suis pret a changer." lis chan-
gent de chevaux, 'change pour change.'
Avec sa petite jument Thomas-bon-chasseur part dans la foret et
file. Pique la petite jument, et ca mene, 9a mene! Comme il n'a
pas bu ni mange" depuis trois ou quatre jours, il a bien faim; c'est
pourquoi il pique sa monture encore plus fort. "Ho done, Thomas-
bon-chasseur! dit la petite jument, tu me m&nes bien vite!" — "Com-
ment, tu paries, toi ?" — "Oui, je suis bien forcee de parler. Tu
me menes plus vite que mes forces [ne le permettent]." — "Oui, mais
il me faut bien arriver; je creve de faim." La petite jument dit:
"Pique ma patte gauche, et tu auras du pain et du vin a boire et a
manger." Thomas-bon-chasseur arrete, pique la patte gauche de
la jument, trouve a boire et a manger, rien de mieux! La jument
1 Dans le sens de "il y a bien longtemps que. . ."
Conies Populaires Canadiens. 65
dit: "Sais-tu, d'ct'heure ce que tu vas avoir a faire chez le roi ou tu
vas?" — "Non?" — "Eh bien! c'est pour le d&ivrer que ton roi te
fait demander. Quand tu arriveras au chateau, on viendra avec du
foin et de l'avoine pour me soigner; mais r^ponds: 'Remportez-le!
Mon cheval ne mange que du pain et du vin, comme moi.' Le roi
qui a emprisonne" ton maitre te menera ici et la, dans son chateau,
et te fera tout voir. II te demandera de faire la chasse a son Hon.
Tu diras: Tas aujourd'hui; c'est impossible! II me faut une couple
de jours de repos.' "
Tout ca arrive comme la petite jument l'a dit. Apres une couple
de jours de repos, Thomas-bon-chasseur va trouver la jument, pour
avoir des conseils. Elle lui dit: "Si tu fais tou jours ce que je te dirai,
tout ira bien. Demain matin, nous irons a la chasse au lion. Avant
ton depart, le roi t'offrira un des trois sabres qui sont au bas de l'esca-
lier, en te rew/ jimandant de prendre le neuf. Prends bien garde a
toi! Prends le plus vieux des trois, qui fera bien ton affaire."
Le lendemain matin, a neuf heures, Thomas-bon-chasseur se pre-
pare pour la chasse au lion. Ne reussissant pas a lui faire choisir
le sabre neuf, le roi part pour ouvrir la barriere du pre" ou se trouve
le lion. "Aye, aye! dit Thomas-bon-chasseur. Monsieur le roi,
qu'allez-vous faire la ? Si ma jument n'est pas capable de sauter
cette petite barriere en partant, c'est inutile d'aller a la chasse au
lion." D'un bond la petite jument saute dans le pre" au Hon. La
peur prend le lion, qui se sauve, passe la barriere, gagne la riviere et
saute par-dessus la riviere. Le poursuivant, Thomas-bon-chasseur,
sur sa petite jument, saute un peu plus fort, depasse le lion en Pair,et
lui tranche le cou au-dessus de l'eau.
L'autre bord de la riviere, la petite jument dit: "Thomas-bon-chas-
seur, ca me forcerait un peu de sauter la riviere deux fois coup su
coup. II y a ici un bon chemin 'du roi' 1 et, un peu plus bas, un beau
pont; si tu veux dire comme moi, nous allons y passer." — "Je con-
sens," dit Thomas-bon-chasseur. "Mais ecoute bien! dit la jument,
prends garde a toi de bar alter, 2 le long du chemin. Qa te causerait
malheur." Marche un petit bout sur le chemin du roi. Ce qu'il
apercoit? Quelque chose qui reluit, rien de plus beau, le long du
chemin. S'en approchant, c'qu'il voit? Une belle chevelure d'or.
Debarque, prend la chevelure d'or, la met dans sa chemise, et repart.
En chemin, il pense: "Si j'avais la princesse a qui appartient cette
belle chevelure d'or je serais l'homme le plus heureux au monde." La
petite jument, elle, ne dit rien en'toute. En arrivant au chateau,
Thomas-bon-chasseur met sa [monture] dedans et la soigne comme
1 Nom qu'on donne encore aux grandes voies publiques, dans la province de
Quebec.
2 Folatrer, s'amuser.
3
66 Journal of American F oik-Lore.
de coutume, au pain et au vin. Dans le ch&teau, ce jour-la, Thomas-
bon-chasseur est roi et maitre, comme le roi lui-meme.
Montant a sa chambre, le soir, il se met a jongler. l Pendant
plusieurs jours il reste renferm6, sans boire ni manger. Les ser-
vantes viennent le trouver et, se mettant apres lui, lui demandent:
"Qu'avez-vous ? Vous etes le roi et maitre ici; s'il y a quelque chose
qui ne va pas, dites-le-nous." Mais il ne r6pond pas. La plus jeune
des servantes se doute de quelque chose. Montant a sa chambre,
elle regarde par la serrure et apercoit la belle chevelure d'or qui reluit
et 6claire toute la chambre plus qu'aucune lampe [ne le ferait]. Elle
descend a la course et va parler au roi, disant: "II y a de quoi, dans sa
chambre." Le roi repond: "Va lui dire de venir ici me voir." A
Thomas-bon-chasseur qui descend, le roi demande: "Qu'as-tu done a
jongler dans ta chambre, en face de ce qui reluit tant?" — "Mon-
sieur le roi, je n'ai rien." — "Tu as quelque chose, je le sais." Tho-
mas-bon-chasseur est done oblige d 'aller chercher la belle chevelure
d'or et de la montrer au roi: "Ah, ah! tu avais bien de quoi jongler!
A'ct'heure que tu as fait la chasse au lion, Thomas-bon-chasseur, il
faut que tu ailles chercher la princesse a qui appartient cette belle
chevelure d'or. Si tu ne le fais pas, demain matin, a neuf heures, tu
seras pendu a la porte de mon chateau."
Thomas-bon-chasseur s'en va trouver sa petite jument en braillant.
"Ah! repond la jument, qu'est-ce que je t'ai dit? Que si tu barattais
en chemin, il t'arriverait malheur. . . Va dire au roi que, demain,
tu vas aller chercher la princesse, qui est gard6e par sept geants."
Le lendemain matin, Thomas-bon-chasseur part sur sa petite ju-
ment et s'en va tout droit chez les sept geants. En arrivant a leur
chateau, il offre de leur vendre sa jument pour qu'elle promene la prin-
cesse autour de leur beau rond. 2 Les grants sont bien consentants.
Le plus gros d'entre eux s'en va pour monter a cheval en disant:
"M'a faire le tour du rond, pour voir." — "Ah non, par exemple!
dit Thomas-bon-chasseur; cette petite jument n'est pas faite pour
des gros animaux comme vous autres. Qa l'£craserait! Elle n'est
que pour les princesses." Les geants commencent a bougonner.
Thomas-bon-chasseur leur dit: "Quand la princesse aura fait trois
tours, si la petite jument est consentante, vous pourrez aller a che-
val." Voyant 5a, les grants consentent et font venir la princesse
[aux cheveux d'or]. Lui aidant a monter a cheval, Thomas-bon-
chasseur sort de sa poche le ruban que la petite jument lui a conseille
d'apporter, et il entoure les jambes de la princesse en les attachant
a sa [monture], pour qu'elle ne tombe pas. La jument part comme
la poudre, fait le tour du rond et revient. Les grants se frappent
1 I.e., ii songer, k rSver. ' Hippodrome.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 67
dons les mains en riant, et la princesse rit aussi. Un g6ant dit: "Moi
aussi, je suis content, Qa me desennuiera de faire le tour du rond a
cheval." Thomas-bon-chasseur dit: "Au troisieme tour, la jument
sera a vous." II monte a cheval derri^re la princesse et fait le tour
du rond au galop. En repassant pres des geants, il crie: "C'est le
troisieme tour. Apres ca, la jument est a vous autres." Filant a
l'e'pouvante, la jument, a l'autre bout du rond, saute par-dessus le
mur de pierre et file a l'6pouvante, en galopant dans les airs. Les
grants sont la, embete*s, regardant Tun d'un cote, l'autre, de l'autre.
A la fin, un g6ant met ses bottes de sept lieues [au pas1], et il part a
leur poursuite.
La petite jument dit: "Thomas-bon-chasseur, regarde en arriere,
et tu me le diras, si un nuage noir approche." Peu apr6s, Thomas-
bon-chasseur dit: "Un nuage noir approche vite effrayant." La
jument dit: "Jette une 6caille en arriere." Plus tard, comme le nuage
approche encore, elle dit: "Jette une Scaille en arriere." Plus tard,
comme le nuage approche encore, elle dit: "Jette une 6trille en arrie-
re." L'Scaille et l'e'trille se changent en montagnes d'Scailles et
d'6trilles, empechant le g6ant de passer. 2
En arrivant au chateau, Thomas-bon-chasseur demande au roi
d'6pouser la princesse qu'il vient de delivrer. Le roi r£pond: "II n'y
a pas moyen que tu l'epouses d'ct'heure. Tu n'auras ma princesse
que si tu vas chercher son livre que les grants adorent et gardent
dans leur chateau." — "Vous savez bien, monsieur le roi, que c'est
impossible!" — "Impossible ou non, tu vas aller chercher ce livre.
Sinon tu seras pendu demain matin a sept heures, a la porte de mon
chateau." Thomas-bon-chasseur en braillant s'en va voir sa petite
jument. "Ah, ah! je t'avais bien dit qu'il t'arriverait malheur si tu
t'arretais a baratter le long du chemin. Va dire au roi que tu iras
demain, qu'aujourd'hui, c'est impossible- Demain, voici ce qu'il te
faudra faire: habille en vieux, tu te rendras pres du chateau des grants;
avec le panier que tu apporteras, tu sasseras de l'eau au russeau3
jusqu'a ce que le panier en ressorte rempli de poisson. Prends ton
poisson et va demander aux geants, pendant qu'ils 'font boucherie4
de' betes a cornes, de changer du poisson pour du bceuf. Moi, je
resterai a la barri&re, a t'attendre."
Le surlendemain, Thomas-bon-chasseur, habille en vieux, s'en va
au chateau des sept geants. Comme le vieux bonhomme a fret 5 et
tremble, les grants lui disent: "Va done te chauffer a ras 6 le feu, dans
le chateau." Ne demandant pas mieux, le vieux entre en regardant
1 Pelletier dit ici "sept lieues a la ronde."
2 II est Evident que les episodes des 'obstacles magiques' et des 'epreuves de prl-
tendants' sont tres abr£g6s ici.
3 Ruisseau. * Abattent.
BFroid. 6Presdu...
68 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
partout, a la recherche du livre de la princesse. Apercoit le livre sur
une co-rniche; prend le livre, le met dans sa poche, et sort vitement.
II dit aux geants: "Mes petits enfants sont tous seux,1 a la maison, et
il faut que je m'en aille au plus vite, pour pas qu'il leur arrive malheur.
Donnez-moi du boeuf pour mon poisson." Un g£ant prend un mor-
ceau de bceuf et le jette dans le panier du vieux, d'ou le poisson
revole. A la barri&re, Thomas-bon-chasseur saute sur sa jument,
prend la foret et file.
S'apercevant que le livre de la princesse est parti, un g£ant dit:
"C'£tait encore Thomas-bon-chasseur." Saute encore dans ses
bottes de sept lieues [au pas2], et part; mais, c'est impossible de re-
joindre la petite jument, [qui galope dans les airs].
Au chateau du roi, Thomas-bon-chasseur va presenter le livre a
la princesse. "Monsieur le roi, me donnez-vous la princesse d'ct'heu-
re?" — "Non! pas encore. J'ai une chose de plus a te demander:
il me faut 1'eau d'enmiance, 3 qui est gard^e par toutes les betes feroces
de la terre." La petite jument dit a Thomas-bon-chasseur, qui
vient la trouver en braillant: "Si tu n'es pas trop gauche, tu rappor-
teras une bouteille d'eau d'enmiance pour la princesse, et une pour
toi."
Thoma3-bon-chasseur embarque sur sa petite jument, prend la foret
et file a Fepouvante. A l'autre bout d'une for6t, c'qu'il apercoit?
Un gros pont vitreux. "C'est la, il faut crere!"* pense-t-il. "Attends
ici jusqu'a midi juste," dit la petite jument, en s'arretant net. "A
midi juste, les betes feroces seront toutes endormies, comme de
coutume." Sur sa petite jument, Thomas-bon-chasseur, a midi
juste, traverse le pont vitreux. Une fontaine se trouve au bout du
pont. "C'est ici!" dit la jument. Thomas-bon-chasseur y remplit
deux bouteilles d'eau d'enmiance, une pour la princesse et une pour
lui. Comme il va pour partir, il remarque la porte entre-baill6e du
chateau; regarde, et apercoit la plus belle princesse du jour. "Ah,
ah! il faut toujours que j 'aille embrasser la princesse, avant de partir."
Embrasse la princesse, embarque sur sa petite jument et prend le pont
vitreux. Monte" au milieu du pont, il entend un hurlement epouvan-
table. Reveillees, toutes les betes les entourent pour les devorer.
La petite jument dit: "Dans mon poitrail, je perds tout mon sang.
Prends une pinc6e de graisse dans mon oreille gauche et mets-la a
mon poitrail, qui gue>ira." Thomas-bon-chasseur met de la graisse
au poitrail de la petite jument qui, guerie, reprend sa course vers la
foret et file chez le roi.
1 Seuls.
2 Pelletier dit encore ici, ". . .de sept lieues a la ronde."
3 Peut-etre une corruption des mots "eau de jouvence."
4 Croire.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 69
En presentant l'eau d'enmiance a la princesse, Thomas-bon-chasseur
dit au roi: "Y a-t-il moyen a'ct'heure que j'epouse votre princesse?"
— "Non, il n'y a pas encore moyen. Par exemple, je n'ai plus qu'une
chose a te demander: c'est de faire bouillir du plomb et de l'etain
ensemble. 'Depuis ce temps/1 j'en ai tant entendu parler! Mais
jamais je ne l'ai vu faire."
Pendant que, rien de plus presse, le roi fait greyer un feu, mettre
un chaudron rempli detain et de plomb dessus, la princesse et Tho-
mas-bon-chasseur montent chacun a leur chambre. La princesse
se lave 2 d'un bout a l'autre dans l'eau d'enmiance, jusqu'a ce qu'il
n'en reste plus la grosseur d'une tete d'epingle. Thomas-bon-
chasseur, dans sa chambre, en fait autant. Tous deux ils viennent
se promener autour du chaudron en attendant que bouillent le plomb
et Tetain. Quand les bouillons commencent a crever, la princesse
se laisse tomber dans le chaudron. Le roi s'approche et lui tend la
main. Mais elle le hale dans le chaudron ; et, dans 'un rien de temps/
le roi est fondu. Comme elle tend la main a Thomas-bon-chasseur,
il se laisse tomber dans le chaudron, ou tous deux ils plongent comme
des canards. Voila a quoi servait l'eau d'enmiance.
En sortant du chaudron, Thomas-bon-chasseur demande a la prin-
cesse: "Je peux-t'i vous 6pouser au lieu du roi?"3 — "Oui, le roi est
fondu!" On fait done des noces, et pendant trois jours Thomas-bon-
chasseur s'amuse sans penser a la petite jument qui lui a rendu tant
de services. Le troisieme jour, il dit: "II faut que j'aille voir a ma
petite jument, qui m'a tant rendu service." Va voir. C'qu'il trouve ?
Sa petite jument eouchee sur le cote, mourante. "Ah, ah! Thomas-
bon-chasseur, je ne pensais pas que tu m'oublierais de meme, moi
qui t'ai tant rendu service." — "Ah, pauvre petite jument, que me
faut-il faire?" — "A'ct'heure, prends le vieux sabre avec quoi tu as
tranche* la tete du lion, et coupe-moi le cou; c'est tout ce que tu as a
faire." — "Ah non, ma pauvre petite bete! je ne suis pas pour le
faire; tu m'as trop rendu service." — "Thomas-bon-chasseur, fais
ce que je te dis, si tu veux etre heureux dans le monde. Te souviens-
tu de la belle chevelure d'or 4 que tu as trouvee, un jour, sur ton che-
min? Eh bien! tranche-moi la tete. Si tu ne le fais pas, ma vie est
au boute." Thomas-bon-chasseur ramasse le vieux sabre et, en d£-
tournant la tete, tranche le cou de la petite jument. II part sans
regarder, mais encore curieux, avant de sortir, il jette un regard.
C'qu'il apercoit? Une princesse encore plus belle que celle qu'il
Spouse justement. "Quoi faire, a'ct'heure?" se demande-t-il. Comme
1 Depuis si longtemps . . .
2 Pelletier disait: ". . . se graisse d'un bout a l'autre de l'eau dUenmiance."
3 Cette phrase indique que le roi lui-m£me etait le rival de Thomas-bon-chasseur.
4 Ce passage semble imptiquer que la petite jument elle-m&me est la princesse aux
cheveux d'or; ce qui n'est, toutefois, pas probable, a en juger par le contexte.
70 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
il h£site, voila une autre princesse qui ressoud de lamontagne vitreuse,
avec un petit gargon. x "Voyons, Seigneur! j'en ai trois au lieu
d'une, d'ct'heure. Me voila bien en peine! Je voudrais bien en pas-
ser une couple a un autre." La princesse qui avait 6t6 la petite ju-
ment dit: "Tu n'en as delivre" qu'une, et c'est moi qui ai delivre les
deux autres. Vivons tous les quatre ensemble au chateau, et ta-
chons de nous accorder. Toi, Thomas-bon-chasseur, tu es devenu
roi et maitre ici, a la place de celui qui a pe>i dans le chaudron de plomb
et d'6tain fondu." 2
55. LE MlSDAILLON. 3
C'est bon de vous dire qu'une fois il y avait une veuve et son petit
garcon.
La veuve travaillait chez le roi pour gagner sa vie, vu qu'elle etait
pauvre 'a plein.' Le garcon 6tant devenu joliment grand et capable
de travailler, le roi dit: "La mere! amenez done votre petit garcon
ici, avec vous." Elle demande: "Pour quoi faire ?" — "Q& lui appren-
dra a travailler, et ga vous sauvera de le faire vivre." La veuve
emmene done son garcon chez le roi avec elle. Donnant une brouette 4
et une pelle au gargon, le roi lui fait sarcler les allees de son jardin.
Chaque jour, a midi, il vient lui donner une beurr£e, et, le soir, il lui
paie un sou. Mon gargon aime ga, rien de mieux; rien de plus beau!
Le voila homme fait, et sa mere vieille. Un jour, il dit a sa mere:
"Vous etes assez vieille, et je suis capable de gagner votre vie et la
mienne." — "Pauvre enfant! je pourrais bien encore t'aider." —
uP,en'toute!b vous avez assez travailld, dans votre vie." Pendant bien
des annees, il travaille chez le roi.
Un soir, il dit a sa mere: "'Depuis le temps que'6 je travaille chez le
roi, je devrais avoir gagne* quelque chose." La mere dit: "Va done le
voir." La journee faite, il demande au roi de tirer les comptes pour
savoir ce qui en est. Le roi regarde dans son livre, compte, compte et
compte. A son serviteur il revient quatre sous. Le serviteur dit a
sa mere: "Qa n'est pas assez; je m'en vas ailleurs." — "Prends garde!
r£pond sa mere; notre ville est si pauvre qu'il n'y a pas de gages."
— "II faut que je voie; j'avais gagne* plus que ga, chez le roi."
1 II s'agit ici de la princesse qu'il a 'embrasseV au chateau ou se trouvait la fontaine
d'enmiance.
2 On neglige assez curieusement ici de reparler du roi fait prisonnier et dont Thomas-
bon-chasseur n'dtait que le valet. Ces inconsequences sont d'ailleurs fr£quentes
dans les contes populaires.
3 Recite1 par Paul Patry, a Saint- Victor, Beauce, en aout 1914.
4 Ici pronone6e barouette.
6 Pour pas en tout, i.e., "pas du tout."
8 Dans le sens de "il y a si longtemps que. . ."
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 71
II marche toute la journee, le lendemain, cherchant partout; mais il
ne trouve pas un pouce d'ouvrage. "Je te le disais bien, repete sa
mere; il n'y a ici rien a gagner." Repart le lendemain, et remarche
toute la journee, mais pour rien. Comme il n'a pas d'avances1 et
comme il faut toujours manger, il retourne chez le roi, et dit: "II n'y a
pas de quoi! 2 il faut bien que je gagne quelque chose." Le roi repond:
"Qa me fait bien de la peine, mais j'en ai pris un autre a ta place."
II cherche encore de l'ouvrage pendant une journee, et il ne lui reste rien
a manger. Retourne encore chez le roi: "II me faut de quoi gagner,
'sans ceremonie;'3 nous n'avons plus rien a manger." Le roi dit:
"Je n'ai qu'une chose a t'offrir; si tu refuses, c'est la fin." — "Qu'est-ce
que c'est?" — "Un de mes batiments part pour un long voyage sur
mer; veux-tu t'engager cuisinier?" II accepte et va dire a sa mere:
"Le roi m'a engage!" — "Tant mieux! ca nous sauvera toujours de la
mort." S'en allant trouver le roi : "Qui fera vivre ma mere ?" Le roi
repond: "Je la ferai vivre com'i'faut." En le voyant partir, la mere
dit: "Bon voyage, pauvre enfant!"
Le batiment part avec le jeune homme, et disparait sur la mer.
Apres plusieurs annees de voyages, les marins 's'ecartent' 4 sur la
mer. Affam6s, ils ne savent plus ou aller. lis tirent a la courte paille
pour savoir qui d'entre eux se fera manger. Le sort tombe sur le
cuisinier, qui va etre tu6 et mange\ Une idee lui vient — le danger
donne des idees! Demande au capitaine de le laisser monter dans le
plus haut mat pour voir s'il ne trouverait pas une terrasse quelque part.
Le capitaine consent. Mon gars monte dans le plus haut mat, et il
regarde partout avec la longue-vue. "Je vois de l'atterrage!" Le
batiment s'en va frapper la, tout dret. Ce n'est qu'une ile. Comme
ils y descendent tous pour chercher de quoi manger, des fruitages, mon
petit jeune homme est bien decourage. Sans chercher a manger, il
marche sur l'ile. II arrive devant une porte ouverte, dans un rocher;
entre, et apercoit un vieillard aux cheveux blancs comme la neige,
assis dans un fauteuil. Sur une table devant lui se trouve un m£dail-
lon.5 "Bonhomme, tu dors, et tu n'as pas besoin de ce medaillon."
II prend le medaillon, le met dans sa poche, et il sort.
Pendant ce temps, dans un siffle,6 l'ile devient garnie de serpents.
Effrayes, les matelots se sauvent a bord de leur batiment, qui prend
le large. Trouvant le batiment parti, le jeune homme pense: "Je suis
pour mourir; mais ils ne me tueront toujours pas." II ouvre son me-
1 I.e., d'economies.
2 Patry dit: "II n'y a pas de galagne!"
3 Moquerie dont le sens est "a tout prix."
4 Se perdent.
5 Patry dit "une montre;" mais, d'apres son explication, il s'agissait plutot d'un
medaillon.
6 I.e., dans un instant.
72 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
daillon, et il y apercoit un portrait. "Jeune homme, que cl6sires-tu ?"
demande le portrait. "Je desire etre sur le pont de mon batiment."
Aussitdt, il s'y trouve transports. Les matelots disent: "On te cher-
chait, et te voila!" — "Ah! dit le capitaine, tu te cachais?" De
nouveau, ils se preparent a le manger. Mais il dit: "Mon capitaine,
il y a longtemps que je ne suis pas alle a l'eglise pour me confesser.
Permettez-moi done d'entrer dans ma chambre et de faire un acte de
contrition." — "Oui," repond le capitaine. "Mes matelots, dit-il en
se retournant, frappez-le sans qu'il en ait connaissance et pour qu'il
meure de suite." En repondant "Oui," ils se placent a chaque cote"
de la porte. Le petit jeune homme, lui, se jette a genoux dans sa
chambre et fait un acte de contrition. Puis il ouvre sa montre. "Que
d£sires-tu ?" demande le portrait. "Je desire qu'il y ait ici une table
bien garnie de boire et de manger pour tout l'equipage, sans rien
manquer." l Tout de suite il y a une table bien garnie pour tout
l'equipage, sur le pont du batiment. Apres avoir bien mange avec les
autres, il ouvre encore sa montre: "Jeune homme, qu'est-ce que tu
desires ?" — "Je me desire chez mon roi, au port de mer d'ou je suis
parti sur le batiment. Et d'un crac 2 le batiment y est transports.
Quand le roi embarque a bord, le capitaine vient lui donner la main.
"Comment g'a Ste?" — "C'etait bien triste, mais nous voila bons!
Vous savez, monsieur le roi, vous pouvez considerer votre cuisinier;
comme on avait tire" a la courte paille pour le manger, il s'est mis a
genoux pour prier, et il nous a attire de quoi boire et manger." — "Puis-
que e'est comme ca," dit le roi, qui est bien content, "je vas te donner
ma fille a marier."
Apres le mariage, le roi dit: "II n'y a rien a gagner, nulle part;
restez au chateau avec moi." — "Monsieur le roi, je vas essayer de
vivre par moi-meme, si e'est possible." A sa femme il dit: "II faudrait
se bdtir3 et avoir un parterre en rond, d'ou on verrait le fleuve tout
autour, rien de plus beau!'' Quand ils arrivent en voiture, au plus
beau de la ville, il dit a sa femme: "Qa te plairait-t, ici?" — "Q& me
plairait bien, mais e'est bourre" de maisons." II repond: "Q& [ne] fait
rien. Revire-toi." Elle se revive, et il ouvre sa montre. "Jeune
homme, que d6sires-tu ?" — "Je me dSsire un chateau ici, tel que le
oi n'en a jamais vu, avec son nom et celui de la reine ecrits en lettres
d'or au-dessus de la porte; je souhaite tout ce qu'il y faut, et toutes
sortes de 'beautes.' "4 Et le chateau apparait devant eux. Pendant
qu'ils marchent dans 1'allSe, ils entendent sept sons de musique, ce
qu'il y a de plus beau. Jamais on n'a vu de chateau si merveilleux.
— Je n'en ai pas de pareil, moi! Vous? II y entre avec sa dame, et
souhaite a boire et a manger sur une table, dans son salon. Le repas
1 Et qu'il n'y manque rien. 2 En un instant.
3 I.e., se construire une maison. * Belles choses.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 73
est servi, rien de mieux. "A'ct'heure, il faut retourner chez mon pere."
lis s'en vont chez le roi, a, qui ils disent: "Quand vous voudrez venir
nous voir, vous ferez le tour de la ville, et vous trouverez votre nom et
le notre ecrits sur notre porte." Le roi repond: "Oui!"
Le lendemain, le roi attelle, s'en va faire un tour dans la ville, et
trouve un chateau n redoublant plus beau que le sien . . . , bien bati !
II entre. On est bien content de le voir. Son gendre l'amene dans
son salon, ou se trouve la table la mieux garnie pour boire et pour
manger qu'on ait jamais vue.
Un prince allait depuis longtemps 'voir' l la princesse, avant qu'elle
se marie. Apres un long voyage, il arrive, et demande au roi: "Ou est
done la princesse?" Le roi repond: "Elle est mariee. . . Et e'est a
un cuisinier qui s'est fait batir le plus beau chateau de la ville. C'est
bien aise de trouver ce chateau : mon nom et le sien sont Merits en grosses
lettres d'or au-dessus de la porte." Le prince dit: "M'a toujou ben
aller les voir." Et il trouve leur chateau de suite, comme de raison,
pendant que le cuisinier, lui s'adonnait a etre dans la ville a jaser un
peu. Le prince entre, et il trouve que tout est bien beau, au chateau.
II demande a la princesse: "T'es ben icite?" — "Ah! oui." Elle l'em-
mene visiter toutes les chambres, partout, en marchant en avant de
lui, d'une chambre a l'autre. Quand elle lui montre sa chambre, il
apercoit le medaillon a la tete du lit. Sans qu'elle le voit, il le prend et
le met dans sa poche. Ayant tout visite, il lui souhaite le bonsoir et
s'en va.
Rendu dehors, il ouvre le medaillon. Le portrait lui dit: "Jeune
homme, qu'est-ce que tu desires?" — "Je me desire au fond de la mer
la plus creuse avec le chateau et la princesse." Le voila au fond de la
mer avec le chateau et la princesse.
Le cuisinier, dans la ville, s'en revient chez lui. Plus de chateau,
ni femme, ni rien! Vous pensez bien que c'est un homme devisage!-
II part et s'en va en pleurant chez son beau-pere le roi. "Qu'est-ce
que Vast" — "Parlez-m'en pas! mon chateau et ma femme, tout est
parti, et je ne sais pas ou c'est." Le roi aussi est bien decourage. II
dit: "Tiens! pauvre enfant, tu es un bien bon garcon!" II lui donne
quatre beaux jeunes chevaux charges d'or et d'argent, et il dit: "De-
pense toute! II faut que tu trouves ta femme et ton chateau."
Voila le gendre du roi parti. II marche tant qu'a la fin il a bien fait
deux fois le tour de la terre, et il a depense tout son argent. II est la,
sans un sou, et ses chevaux mines, quand un [colporteur3] arrive.
II lui dit: "Veux-tu acheter mes chevaux? Je n'ai plus rien." Le
colporteur demande: "Comment-c'4 tu demandes? J'ai rien que5
1 I.e., courtisait.
2 Dans le sens de "profondement 6tonne' et desappointe."
3 Patry disait pkdleur (de l'anglais "pedler").
4 Pour "combien demandes-tu ?" 5 Pour "Je n'ai rien que."
74 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
cinquante sous1 dans ma poche. Les veux-tu?" II repond: "Oui!"
Ayant recu ses cinquante sous, il part a pied, et marche, marche.
II arrive au bout du chemin, oil il n'y a plus qu'un sentier. 2 Au bout
du sentier se trouve une maison. Rentre dans la maison, et y voit des
gens pas riches, qui n'ont rien que du 'pain de caribou' (pain d'orge).
C'est encore pareil! Paye son pain cinquante sous, le met sous son
bras, part et marche. II prend le petit sentier dans le bois, en pen-
sant: "II faut toujours bien que je p6risse!" Bien loin, dans un bois
epouvantable, il arrive dans une petite aire qu'il y a. C'qu'il trouve,
la? Un petit chateau couvert de paille et de joncs de mer. II entre.
Un vieillard aux cheveux blancs comme de la neige y est assis. "Cher
jeune homme, d'ou venez-vous? Voila mille ans que je suis ici, et
vous etes le premier homme que je vois." — "Ah, il repond, mon
'vieux vieillard!' J'avais un beau chateau et ma femme. Tout a dis-
paru, et je ne sais pas ou c'est. J'ai depense' a les chercher la charge
d'or et d'argent de quatre chevaux, et je ne les ai pas encore trouves."
Le vieillard dit: "Restez ici pour la nuit. C'est moi qui suis le maitre
de tous les oiseaux qui vivent sur la terre. S'ils peuvent le voir, je
saurai demain matin ou est votre chateau." De maniere que le jeune
homme y couche. Le lendemain matin, le pere 3 sort a la porte, appelle
toutes 'sortes d'especes' d'oiseaux, et il leur demande s'ils ont vu
quelque part un chateau tel qu'il leur depeint. Les oiseaux, en
arrivant, disent: "Nous ne l'avons pas vu." Pas un ne Fa vu. II ne
manque plus qu'un vieux corbeau — ca faisait plus de mille ans qu'il
roulait, 4 ce corbeau-la. Le vieillard dit: "Si le corbeau ne Fa pas vu,
pas un autre ne Fa pas vu, pas un autre ne Fa vu, parce que 9a fait
sept ou huit fbis qu'il fait le tour de la terre." Voila le vieux corbeau
qui arrive. "Mon corbeau! demande le vieillard, as-tu vu tel chateau,
de telle maniere?" Le corbeau repond: "Non!" — "II n'est pas sur
la terre, ton chateau, dit le maitre des oiseaux. A'ct'heure, je ne vois
pas d' autre chose 5 . . . Vous irez trouver une de mes sceurs, qui
reste de Fautre bord de la grand'mer bleue." II dit a son corbeau:
"Tu vas aller mener cet homme-la chez ma sceur." II lui donne a
manger com' V 'faut. Au garcon il dit: "Apportez dans vos poches
quelques morceaux de ce caribou que j'ai tu6; parce qu'il criera, quand
la faim le prendra." A peine monte sur le dos du corbeau voila mon
jeune homme parti. II le claque; etl'oiseau vole, et puis vole. Quand
il a fait un bon boute, il se retourne, et ptd. . . . ptd!6 Le jeune homme
1 Patry dit cent.
2 Au lieu de "sentier" Patry disait chantier.
3 Pour "le vieillard."
4 Patry dit ronnait (anglicisme) de "run." "Rouler" est un synonyme souvent
usitd ici.
6 A faire que ceci:. . .
8 Ici le conteur imitait le cri rauque de l'oiseau.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 75
lui jette un morceau de viande dans la gueule, l et il claque! La mer
bleue avait mille lieues de traverse. 2 L'oiseau vole encore pas mal
loin, et ptd, ptd! II lui faut encore un autre morceau de viande.
Vers le soir, ils arrivent de l'autre cote" de la mer bleue, pres d'un
petit chateau, au bord de la mer, pauvre, couvert en jonc, et avec une
petite porte. Le [voyageur] entre, et il y trouve une vieille femme
habiltee rien qu'avec ses grands cheveux3 blancs comme la neige.
"Cher ami, dit-elle, comment ga se fait que vous etes venu jusqu'ici ?
II y a deux mille ans que je suis ici, vous etes le premier homme que je
vois. Dites-moi done ce que vous cherchez ?" II repond: "Ma vieille
mere, je cherche mon chateau et ma femme." — "Vous allez rester
jusqu'a demain matin. C'est moi qui suis la maitresse de tous les
poissons de la mer." Le lendemain matin, la vieille s'en va au bord de
la mer, et elle fesse dans Peau. A toutes esp^ces de poissons qui
viennent a elle, elle demande: "Avez-vous vu tel chateau?" Aux
autres poissons qui arrivent elle repute: "Avez-vous vu tel chateau?"
Mais personne ne l'a vu. Tout a coup arrive une vieille rate d'eau,
qui dit: "Je Pai trouv6, moi; j'acheve d'y percer une planche, pour
arriver a une 'tinette' de confitures." La bonne-femme lui demande:
"Pourrais-tu avoir le medaillon que le prince cache si bien ?" La rate
dit: "Oui, je ere que je peux y aller; mais c'est loin, au fond de la mer
la plus creuse. Demain matin, je serai peut-etre revenue." La
vieille rate part, marche, marche, et arrive au chateau, au fond de
la mer la plus creuse, pendant que le prince et la princesse dorment,
tous les deux. Cherchant partout dans leur chambre, la rate finit par
trouver le medaillon a la tete du lit. Elle le prend, et se sauve avec,
en passant par le trou par ou elle est entree.
Le lendemain matin, comme de fait, la rate ressoud avec le medaillon.
La vieille dit au jeune homme: "Tiens! voila votre medaillon." Con-
tent, je vous garantis qu'il Pest! "Bonne vieille! il dit, que desirez-
vous pour votre recompense ?" — "Pauvre enfant! 9a fait si longtemps
que je suis ici seule avec les poissons. . . Souhaite-moi morte et dans
le paradis." Le jeune homme ouvre son medaillon, qui lui dit: "Que
veux-tu?" II repond: "Je souhaite la vieille fee morte et dans le
paradis." La voila morte et partie. Quand il Pouvre encore, le
medaillon dit: "Qu'est-ce que tu desires?" — "Je me desire rendu au
petit chateau du 'vieux vieillard' d'ou je suis parti." Le voyant
arriver, le vieillard dit: "Bonjour, bonjour! as-tu reussi?" — "Ah!
il dit, oui! Bon vieux, que desirez-vous pour la chance que vous
m'avez donnee?" — "Pauvre enfant! il y a bien longtemps que je suis
seul ici, a patir. Souhaite-moi quelque chose a boire et a manger,
1 Pour "bee." 2 I.e., de largeur.
3 Patry ici ajouta: "Dans le temps passe\ les f6es ne s'habillaient qu'avec leurs
cheveux."
76 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
et une belle bouteille de brandy." A peine ces choses sont-elles souhai-
tees qu'elles arrivent. Tout y est, tout ce qu'il faut au vieillard pour
boire et manger tant qu'il restera la, et une belle bouteille de brandy.
— Je n'ai pas eu la chance de passer par la, parce que j'y aurais pris un
coup!
De la, le jeune homme part et marche, marche. Quand il a fait un
bon bout, il ouvre son medaillon. "Jeune homme, qu'est-ce que tu
desires ?" — "Je me desire rendu au chateau de mon beau-pere, le roi."
Et le voila rendu au chateau du roi. On le trouve bien change! Q&
fait longtemps qu'il est parti, bien des annees. Le roi lui demande:
"Bien, as-tu pu trouver ta femme?" II r6pond: "Oui! vous allez
venir avec moi, vous et la reine." Et tous trois ils partent pour la
place ou etait son chateau avant de disparaftre. La, le jeune homme
prend son medaillon et l'ouvre. "Qu'est-ce que tu desires?" Le
gendre du roi repond: "Je desire mon chateau ici, tel qu'il 6tait."
Voila le chateau revenu, avec sa femme et le gars (qui lui a joue ce
tour). Le roi dit: "A'ct'heure, quelle justice veux-tu lui faire, l a ce
gars-la, qui est parti de meme avec ta femme?" Le jeune homme
repond: "Je lui souhaite une musique2 pour qu'il coure les chemins
tout le reste de sa vie, en tournant la manivelle."
Quant a lui, il est bien content de retrouver sa femme et de vivre
avec elle, jusqu'a la fin de ses jours. Son medaillon, il ne l'a plus
laisse trainer, je vous en donne ma parole!
Je ne sais pas ce qui leur est arrive depuis ce temps. Ils sont
peut-etre encore la, badame!3 Mais je n'y suis pas alle depuis; et 5a
fait bien des annees. Vous savez, c'est un peu plus vieux que moi!
56. LE CHATEAU ROND DE LA MER ROUGE.4
Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'6tait un roi, sa femme et leur
enfant, un petit gargon.
Le roi dit, un jour, a sa femme: "Je vas au'ourd'hui visiter mes par-
terres, dans ma foret. Viens-tu avec moi?" — "Oui, allons-y en
voiture!"
Le long du chemin, dans la foret, c'qu'ils voient a terre? Une
petite serviette blanche. Le roi dit a la reine: "Je debar que pour la
ramasser." — "Mon mari! ne touche pas a cette serviette. II ne faut
1 I.e., quel chatiment lui infliges-tu.
2 I.e., orgue de Barbaric
3 Exclamation dont le sens vague se rapproche ici de "qui sait!"
4 Recueilli en juillet, 1915, a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, d'Achille Fournier. Ce
conte vient d'un Canadien de la rive nord du fleuve Saint-Laurent, a qui Fournier
l'entendit reciter, il y a plus de cinq ans. Ici le conteur ajouta: "Si j'avais cru devoir
vous dormer ces contes par ecrit, j'en aurais bien appris deux mille Rien ne m'etait
plus facile, et j'en ai tant entendu conter!"
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 77
pas ramasser ce qu'on trouve dans le chemin." — "Bien! si la serviette
est encore la quand nous repasserons, je la ramasserai."
En s'en revenant, le roi voit la serviette a la meme place, le long du
chemin. II debarque de sa voiture et la ramasse. Qu'est-ce qui sort
de sous la serviette? Une vieille fee galeuse. "Tiens! dit la fee, je
viens d'arracher les deux yeux a ta femme, que tu vas chasser pour
toujours dans la foret, pour m'epouser a sa place." En pleurant a
tue-tete la reine part avec son petit garcon dans la foret, pour ne plus
jamais remettre les pieds au chateau du roi, qui est bien force d'epouser
la sorciere.
Une fois son enfant devenu grandette,1 la femme aveugle Penvoie
au chateau du roi. En rencontrant le roi, le garcon dit: "Bonjour!
je viens vous trouver, poupa." — "Mon petit garcon! tu vas rester
avec nous, d'ct'heure. Tu m'as Fair pas mal fin." La belle-mere le
regarde de travers, sans rien dire.
Quelques jours apres, la femme dit au roi: "Ton petit gars passe
son temps a se vanter. II a dit qu'il 6tait capable d'aller chercher
le chateau au fond de la mer Rouge, a cent mille brasses d'eau." Le
roi dit: "Mon garcon! tu t'es vante" [de pouvoir] aller chercher le cha-
teau de la mer Rouge, a cent mille brasses d'eau? Tu vas y aller!"
— "Poupa! je ne m'en suis pas vante\ Mais j'irai ben, s'il faut y
aller." Et il part avec un petit sac de provisions sur son dos, le pau-
vre petit gars!
Le voila qui arrive a une petite cabane de branches, dans les bois.
Pan, pan, pan! a la porte. "Entrez!" C'est une grande f6e effrayan-
te, a qui le feu sort par la bouche, qui ouvre la porte. "Mon petit
gars, tu as l'air a avoir peur de moi?" — "Oui, j'ai pas mal peur." —
"Ou c'que tu vas done, mon petit garcon?" — "Je m'en vas chercher
le chateau rond, a cent mille brasses d'eau, dans la mer Rouge. Etes-
vous capable de me dire ou il est, vous?" Elle r^pond: "Non, je ne
suis pas capable de te le dire. Mais j'ai deux de mes sceurs qui res-
tent plus loin, dans la for£t. Quand tu arriveras chez la premiere,
demande-lui ou est l'autre." — "Merci, grand'mere!" Le. garcon
part, marche encore une journ^e, et arrive chez la f6e, vers le soir.
Cette fee est encore plus affreuse que sa sceur, et le feu lui sort long
comme le bras de la bouche. Le petit garcon n'ose pas meme appro-
cher de sa cabane. "Mon petit gars! elle dit, tu as Pair a avoir
peur?" — "Oui, grand'mere, j'ai pas mal peur de vous. Vous 6tes
assez effrayante, avec ce feu qui vous sort de la bouche." — "N'aie
pas peur! Je ne te ferai pas de mal. Mais dis-moi ce que tu cher-
ches." — "Je cherche le chateau qui est a mille brasses d'eau, dans
la mer Rouge." La fee r6pond: "Bien! j'ai une de mes sceurs qui
reste plus loin, dans la foret. Vas-y! et elle t'enseignera ou est le ch&-
1 I.e., passablement grande.
78 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
teau rond de la mer Rouge." II repart dans le chemin qu'elle lui
enseigne, marche toute la journ^e et arrive, vers le soir, a une petite
cabane de branches. La vivait la troisieme fee, la plus abominable
de toutes. "Mon petit gars! tu n'oses pas approcher de ma cabane?
Tu as peur?" — "Oui, grand'mere, j'ai pas mal peur." — "Que cher-
ches-tu, ici ?'? — "Etes-vous capable de m'enseigner ou est le chateau
rond, a cent mille brasses d'eau, dans la mer Rouge?" — "C'est ce
qu'on va voir! r6pond la sorci&re. Le roi des poissons va venir ici,
beto,1 et je vas lui demander ou est le chateau." La f6e va dehors
crier: "Roi des poissons, roi des poissons!" Et au roi des poissons
qui arrive, elle demande: "Sais-tu ou est le chateau rond, a cent mille
brasses d'eau, dans la mer Rouge? L'as-tu jamais vu?" — "Oui, je
1'ai vu, repond le roi des poissons; c'est la-bas, tout dret, au tapon2
clair qu'on voit au fond de l'eau." La fee dit au petit garcon:
"Tiens! tu vas prendre ma petite chaloupe a deux rames et tu vas te
rendre la, tout dret." — "Merci, grand'mere!"
Le garcon commence a ramer vers le tapon clair. Le voila qui
arrive droit au chateau, accoste sa petite chaloupe d ras,z et apercoit
trois princesses, au deuxi&me 6tage du chateau. "Mon petit jeune
homme! disent-elles, ou vas-tu?" — "Je vas chercher le chateau rond,
a cent mille brasses d'eau, dans la mer Rouge. C'est-i icite?" —
"Oui, c'est icite" Quand il approche, elles disent: "Bien! mon petit
gargon, nous allons t'aider a monter ici." Lui jetant des cordages,
elles lui disent: "Attache-toi le pied!" Et, tirant toutes les trois a
l'autre bout de la corde, elles le montent a elles, les pieds en l'air et
la tete en bas. Rendu en haut, elles lui demandent ensemble toutes
les trois: "Voyons! laquelle de nous veux-tu epouser?" II y en avait
une de quinze ans, une de vingt ans et une de vingt-cinq ans. C'est
a celle 4 de quinze ans qu'il se marie.
Le soir, quand il se couche, c'qu'il voit dans la chambre d'a cote?
Trois lumieres. II demande a sa princesse: "Qu'est-ce que 9a veut
dire, ces trois lumieres?" — "Bien, mon cher petit mari, ca me coute
de te le dire." — "Mais pourquoi done?" — "Je vas te le dire; mais
prends bien garde de 'me declarer.' Ces deux lumieres, ce sont des
ciarges.5 lis sont la vie de mes sceurs; si tu tuais6 ces deux lumieres,
mes sceurs tomberaient raide mortes." — "Et l'autre lumiere ?" —
"C'est la vie de la vieille fee galeuse, qui est mariee au roi. Dans
un plat, sur la table, sont les deux yeux qu'elle a arrach£s a la prin-
cesse du roi. Si tu tuais cette chandelle, la vieille f£e galeuse tombe-
rait raide morte."
1 Bientot. 2 I.e., une tache. un point.
* I.e., tout pres.
4 Fournier disait: " . .la celle de. . ."
6 Cierges. . 6 fiteignais.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 79
Pendant la nuit, le jeune homme se leve et va tuer deux lumieres
les sceurs de sa princesse. Puis il s'en revient se coucher tranquille-
ment. C'qu'il apercoit, au-dessus de son lit, le lendemain matin?
Une poignee avec des cordes. "Dis-moi done, ma femme, ce que ca
veut dire ?" — "Mon cher mari, tu n'aurais qu'a tirer sur ces poi-
gnees pour te trouver transports a la porte du chateau du roi et de
la vieille fee galeuse."
En se levant, la princesse va voir aux lumieres, et trouve ses deux
sceurs mortes. "Ah, mon cher mari, tu as tue mes sceurs ?" — "Oui,
ma femme! Si je ne les avais pas eu tuSes, e'eut ete mon malheur. l
A'cVheure, j'en suis dSbarrasseV'
Comme le jeune homme va tirer sur les poignSes en se souhaitant
transports avec le chateau rond a la porte du chateau de son p6re, la
vieille fee galeuse se met a se plaindre en disant: "Ah, que je suis ma-
lade, mon mari! Mon Gieu!2 que j'ai mal au ventre!" — "Mais, dit
le roi, qu'as-tu done, ma femme ?" — "Ah, que je suis done malade,
Seigneur!" Le jeune homme entre et dit: "Tiens, ma vieille 'possSdee!'
C'est toi qui as arrache les deux yeux de ma mere en l'envoyant pour
toujours dans la foret. Aujourd'hui, j'ai ta vie dans ma main. Tu
vas mourir." II tue le cierge, et la fee tombe raide morte. "Mais,
mon petit garcon, dit le roi, qu'as-tu fait la ?" — "Poupa, aimez-
vous mieux cette vieille fee galeuse que votre femme, une princesse?
Venez avec moi, dans la foret, chercher ma mere aveugle, pour la
ramener." Tous les deux, ils s'en vont en voiture dans la foret et
arrivent a l'endroit oil la princesse aveugle vit seule, dans une cabane.
A sa mere le jeune homme remet les deux yeux qu'il a pris chez la fee;
et voila qu'elle recouvre la vue. Le roi la pogne par le cou et l'em-
brasse; vous pouvez bien vous l'imaginer elle Stait autrement plus
belle que la vieille fSe galeuse!
Revenus ensemble au chateau, le petit prince vecut toujours heu-
reux avec la petite princesse du chateau rond de la mer Rouge, et le
roi, avec sa femme. Prenez-en ma parole! II n'eut jamais l'idee,
depuis, de ramasser les serviettes, le long du chemin.
Et moi, ils m'ont renvoye" ici vous le raconter.
57. LE SABRE MAGI QUE. 3
Une fois, c'Stait un nomme* Petit-Jean, dont le pere Stait roi.
Pour tout heritage, Petit-Jean recoit de son pere un sabre coupant
sept lieues a la ronde. Avec son sabre, il part a pied pour voyage.
1 Le texte de Foumier, ici, est: "Si je les avais pas eu tu£es, e'etait mon malheur."
2 Dieu.
3 Conteur, Achille Foumier, qui apprit ce conte d'un Canadien, dans le New-
Hampshire, il y a une trentaine d'annles. Recueilli a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska en
judlet, 1915.
80 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Le voila qui entre dans un bois, ou il y a bien long 'de traverse.' Tou-
jours, apres bien des journeys, il arrive a une petite ville.
L'ennui le prenant, il veut revenir chez son pere. Quand il s'in-
forme du chemin a suivre, on lui repond: "II y a deux chemins; le
premier est le chemin ordinaire, mais l'autre a cinquante lieues de
raccourci. Monsieur, prenez le chemin de raccourci; mais vous
trouverez, a certains endroits, qu'il n'y a pas de pont sur les rivieres. "
Petit-Jean repond: "Oui, je pique au raccourci; quand il me faudra
un pont sur les rivieres, je couperai avec mon sabre un gros arbre,
qui me servira de pont."
II part, marche et arrive a une grande riviere. Comme il n'y a
pas de pont, avec son sabre il coupe deux arbres qu'il fait tomber de
travers sur la riviere. S'en servant comme d'un pont, il traverse,
marche encore, et arrive a une ville. La, il s'en va a un hotel et de-
mande a loger. Ayant faim, il demande a manger au maitre et dit:
"Donnez-moi une bolee de cortons." l — "Mon pauvre ami, repond
Photelier, la viande ici est une chose bien rare; le roi n'est pas capa-
ble de garder d'animaux. Ses vaches et ses bceufs ont tous 6te de-
truits dans la foret. Les armees qu'il a envoyees pour garder les
animaux ont, elles aussi, toutes pe>i. C'est une chose bien curieuse
et triste." Petit-Jean reprend: "Va dire au roi que s'il m'envoie
dans la foret garder ses animaux, il n'aura pas a craindre de malheur."
L'hotelier part et s'en va dire au roi: "Sire mon roi, il y a chez nous un
nomme' Petit-Jean qui pretend etre capable de garder vos animaux,
dans la foret."
Le lendemain matin, le roi envoie ses valets chercher Petit- Jean.
Aussitot que Petit-Jean arrive, il demande: "Tu pretends etre capa-
ble de garder mes vaches dans la foret, toi?" — "Oui, sire le roi, la
peur ne me connait point." II part avec le troupeau du roi, et s'en va
vers la foret. Les bceufs ont de la misere a marcher et les vaches
tricollent2 dans le chemin. Mais Petit- Jean les mene en criant:
"Hatohol, hatohol!" Rendu dans la for6t, il s'assit* sur une souche,
en gardant ses animaux. Fatigue* d'etre assis, a la fin, il part, et s'en
va vers la montagne. En chemin, il apercoit un petit bonhomme,
pres d'un ruisseau, qui se met les pieds dans l'eau, commence a gran-
dir, et grandit a, vue d'ceil. II grandit, grandit et devient si grand
qu'il depasse la montagne, en haut. C'etait lui, cet etre-la, qui d6-
truisait les troupeaux et les armies du roi. Petit-Jean, qui n'a peur
de rien, prend son sabre et se tenant sur le haut de la montagne,
d'un coup de sabre, lui 'd^colle la tete de sur ses 6paules.' Redescen-
dant de la montagne, il apercoit un beau chateau, ou il entre et ren-
contre trois princesses. "Mais, princesses, par quelle aventure etes-
1 Panne appretee; rillettes du pays.
2 Chancellent. 3 S'assied.
Conies Populaires Canadiens. 81
vous ici?" 1 — "Bien! repondent-elles, nous sommes 'gardens' par
trois geants." — "Ah je sais c'que vous etes cCct'heure. Demain,
je viendrai vous chercher, moi qui ai d£truit le petit bonhomme qui
grandissait en se mettant les pieds dans le russeau. 2 Demain, je
ferai p6rir les geants."
Quand Petit-Jean ramene les vaches du roi au chateau, ce jour-la,
elles ont du lait 'a plein.' "Sire le roi, demande Petit-Jean, vous
n'avez pas de princesses?" Le roi repond: "J'avais trois filles, trois
belles princesses. Mais je ne sais pas ow'c'quelles sont. II y a plus
de dix ans qu'elles ont 6te enlevees." — "Je sais ow'c'qu'elles sont,
moi. Elles ont 6t6 enlevees par trois grants, qui vivent dans le cha-
teau de la montagne. Quelle recompense me donnerez-vous, sire le
roi, si je me bats avec les grants et si je delivre vos princesses ?" — "J'ai
d6ja essay e" de faire detruire les grants par mes armies, mais sans reus-
sir. Si tu delivres mes princesses, tu pourras epouser celle qui te
plaira le plus."
Le lendemain matin, Petit-Jean part encore pour la foret, avec ses
vaches. II y a la tellement de bonne herbe que les vaches se soulent
dans un 'rien de temps' et n'ont plus besoin de manger. Pendant
ce temps-la, Petit-Jean s'en va de l'autre bord de la montagne, au
chateau des geants. Les geants etant sortis, Petit-Jean se fourre
sous une cuve. En arrivant, le soir, les geants disent: "Qa sent la
viande fraiche! Qu'est-ce que 9a veut dire, nos princesses ?" — "Vous
voyez bien que vous etes fous, puisqu'il n'y a pas de viande fraiche,
ici. Reposez-vous et dormez tranquilles."
Une fois les geants couches et endormis, Petit-Jean sort de sous la
cuve avec son sabre, et, dans un clin d'ceil, il tue les trois geants. Aux
prisonni&res il dit: "Princesses, vous allez vous en venir avec moi, au
chateau de votre pere le roi." Et ils s'en vont tous les quatre au cha-
teau du roi. "Laquelle de mes princesses veux-tu epouser ?" demande
le roi a Petit-Jean. Celui-ci repond : "C'est la plus jeune que j'epouse."
Pendant les noces, le roi donne a Petit-Jean son chateau et son
royaume, en lui disant: "Qa te revient, puisque seul, avec ton sabre,
tu as ete capable de detruire ce qui avait cause la perte de toutes mes
armees."
C'est tout, 3
1 Le texte du conteur ici, est: "Par quelle aventure que vous etes icite?"
2 Ruisseau.
3 A en juger par la secheresse de ce recit, il est evident que Fournier en avait oubHe
nombre de traits.
82 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
58. LES TR01S FRERES ET LA BETE-A-SEPT-TETES.1
Une fois, c'est bon de vous dire, il y avait un roi.
Ses trois garcons, un jour, viennent lui dire: "Poupa, nous avons
tous les trois decide" de partir. Donnez-nous chacun un chien, un
poney, un lion et une fleur de votre rosier." 2 A chacun de ses fils le
roi donne un chien, un poney, un lion et une rose.
Partis tous les trois en voyage, les freres arrivent a la fourche des
quatre chemins.3 L'un d'eux, nomine" Petit-Jean, dit: "Vous, mes
freres, restez ici a m'attendre. Je vous laisse ma fleur; gardez-la
bien. Mais si elle vient a palir, accourez a, mon secours." Ses freres
y ayant consenti, il part et s'en va. Arrive chez un forgeron comme
il n'y en a gu&re, de nos jours. II se fait faire par le forgeron un sabre
coupant d sept lieues a la ronde. Vingt piastres, c'est le prix que lui
demande le forgeron.
Le sabre sur son epaule, Petit-Jean part et arrive dans une petite
ville voisine. La ville est toute en deuil. Entrant chez un vieillard,
il demande: "Mais pourquoi done la ville est-elle toute en deuil ?" Le
vieillard respond: "Une des princesses du roi va etre deVor6e par la
Bete-a-sept-tetes, demain matin, sur la plus haute montagne." Petit-
Jean couche chez le vieux, cette nuit-la, et, le lendemain matin, il
monte sur la haute montagne, ou la princesse va etre devoree. "Belle
princesse, dit-il, que faites-vous, ici?" Elle r6pond: "A tous les sept
ans, la Bete-a-sept-tetes deVore une des princesses de mon pere." —
"Bien! moi, je suis venu combattre avec la Bete-a-sept-tetes. Si
vous voulez promettre de m'6pouser, je vas vous sauver la vie." La
princesse repond: "Certainement, je le promets; et vous Faurez bien
gagne si, en tuant la bete, vous me sauvez la vie."
Tout a coup on entend un vacarme 6pouvantable. Voila la Bete-
a-sept-tetes qui, s'approchant, se fait un chemin a travers le bois et
renverse les arbres sur son passage. Comme elle approche, Petit-
Jean, du premier coup de sabre, lui abat cinq tetes. "Quartier pour
un quart d'heure!" demande la Bete-a-sept-tetes. Le quart d'heure
pass6, la bete s'elance de nouveau. Petit-Jean, avec son sabre,
envoie revoler a cent pieds en l'air les deux tetes qui lui restent. Aussi-
tot qu'il met son sabre sur le dos du [monstre], les tetes se fendent en
quatre. "Princesse, dit-il, donnez-moi votre mouchoir de poche,
pour que j'y mette les sept langues de la bete." Ayant enveloppe"
1 Recueilli a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915. Le conteur, Achille
Fournier, dit avoir appris ce conte, il y a bien longtemps, de Jer6mie Ouellet, aussi
de Sainte-Anne.
2 Voici le texte du conteur: "On voudrait avoir chacun un chien, chacun un poney...
et chacun une fleur"...
3 Fournier disait: "aux quatre fourches des chemins."
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 83
les langues dans le mouchoir, il ajoute: "Vous, princesse, retournez au
chateau de votre pere. Moi, je retourne chez le vieillard qui me
loge." Et il part seul.
En chemin, la princesse rencontre le charbonnier du roi, qui dit:
"C'que c'est que ca? Tu devais etre deVoree ce matin par la Bete-
a-sept-tetes, et te voila?" Avant qu'elle puisse tout lui expliquer,
le charbonnier reprend: "II faut que tu declares a ton pere que c'est
moi qui t'ai delivr£e et qui ai tue~ la bete; autrement, je te fais mourir."
II faut bien qu'elle le lui promette! Toujours qu'elle part avec lui,
dans son tombereau, et remonte a la montagne. La, il prend les sept
tetes de la bete, les met dans le tombereau et redescend au chateau
du roi. "Sire le roi, c'est moi qui ai delivre votre princesse et qui ai
tue* la Bete-a-sept-tetes avec ma pelle et mon pic." N'en revenant
pas,1 le roi dit: "Et moi qui ai envoye une centaine d'arm^es pour la
d^truire, sans y jamais arriver!"
C'est done le charbonnier, qui pretend avoir d&ivre* la princesse,
qui l'a gagnee et qui va l'6pouser.
Quand les noces commencent, Petit-Jean dit a son chien: "Va me
q'ri le plus beau roti qui se trouve sur la table de noces, chez le roi."
A la porte, le chien gratte et sile. La princesse dit: "Laissez-le done
entrer." Apres avoir regarde le chien, la princesse va trouver son
pere le roi: "Poupa, voulez-vous m'accorder une grace ?" — "Qu'est-
ce que c'est done, ma fille?" — "Donnez-moi le plus beau roti sur
votre table." — "Foi de roi, prends-le." Prend le roti sur la table,
sort et va l'accrocher au cou du chien, qui repart et va trouver son
maitre.
Une fois le chien revenu, Petit-Jean dit a son petit poney : 2 "Toi, va
chez le roi, me chercher le plus beau pain qui se trouve sur sa table."
Quand le petit poney cogne a la porte du chateau, la princesse le fait
entrer. L'ayant regarde, elle part et va trouver son pere: "Poupa,
une deuxi&me grace: je voudrais le plus beau pain qui se trouve sur
votre table." — "Foi de roi, prends-le encore." Elle le prend, sort
et va l'accrocher au cou du petit poney, qui s'en retourne a son maitre.
Petit- Jean dit alors a son lion: "Toi, va me chercher la plus belle
bouteille de champagne sur la table du roi." Quand le lion arrive au
chateau, en grondant, on lui ouvre la porte. Le lion entre et s'ap-
proche du roi, qui a quasiment peur. "Mon pere, dit la princesse,
prenez garde de vous faire d£vorer. Donnez-moi pour lui la plus
belle bouteille de champagne sur votre table." — "Foi de roi, don-
nez'f." A ses valets le roi dit: "Vous autres, allez voir ou c'que 3 va
tout ce manger-la. II y a quelque chose qui ne va pas." Les valets
partent sur les traces du lion et arrivent chez Petit-Jean. En en-
1 De surprise.
2 Fournier pronongait pdne 3 Ou est-ce que . . .
84 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
trant, les valets disent: "Qu'est-ce que 9a veut dire ? Vous faites tout
charrier le manger du roi." Petit-Jean r6pond sans se d6ranger:
"Allez dire au roi qu'il vienne me trouver, s'il a affaire a moi. Ce
n'est pas a vous autres, mais au roi que je parlerai." Les valets r6pe-
tent 9a au roi, qui s'en va tout droit chez Petit-Jean. "Dis-moi
done ce que ca veut dire? Tu fais tout charrier mon manger, ce
matin ?" — "Sire le roi, pourquoi n'avez-vous pas fait inviter ce
vieux-ci a votre fete? II faut qu'il mange lui etou et qu'il se sente
des noces,1 comme tout le monde que vous avez invite." Le roi r£-
pond: "Vous viendrez tous les deux, d soir, et vous souperez au cha-
teau."
Le soir arrive^ Petit-Jean emmene le vieux avec lui, et il entre au
chateau avec le sabre sur son epaule. Entr£, il plante le sabre dans
le mur, pres de la porte. Le chateau en branle2 — c[e n]'6tait pas
qu'un petit sabre!
Pendant le souper, Petit-Jean dit: "A'd'heure, sire le roi, faites
conter son histoire a votre charbonnier. Mais auparavant, faites
condamner tout,3 pour que personne ne sorte d'ici." Le roi dit:
"Mon petit charbonnier, conte-nous ton histoire." Le charbonnier
commence: "Sire le roi, e'est moi qui ai d^truit la Bete-a-sept-tetes
avec ma pelle et mon pic. Et j'en ai rapporte" les sept tetes dans mon
tombereau." — "Sire le roi, dit Petit-Jean, e'est-i la coutume, 9a?
Avez-vous deja vu des tetes sans langue? Celui qui aurait les sept
langues serait-il plus creyabe4 que celui qui a les sept tetes?"
Comme les sept tetes de la bete sont sur la table, dans un grand plat
d'or rempli d'eau, Petit-Jean les vire dans le plat, et il fait voir que,
dans leur gueule, il n'y a pas de langue. II repete: "Sire le roi, celui
qui aurait les langues serait-il le plus creyabe ?" — "Ben sur!" repond
le roi. Petit-Jean prend les sept langues dans son mouchoir, et les
remet dans les sept gueules, telles qu'elles 6taient. Le roi dit: "Ah
oui! celui qui a les sept langues est bien plus croyable que celui qui a
les sept tetes." — "Ah, ah! hein, hein, hein!... Sire le roi!" dit le
charbonnier, en se tenant le ventre a deux mains et en grima9ant,
. . ."Sire le roi! j'ai les 'coliques cord6es.' Laissez-moi sortir d'ici?"
— "Personne n'ira dehors icite,d soir; parole de roi! personne n'ira
dehors." Se tournant vers Petit-Jean, il lui demande: "A'ct'heure,
qu'est-ce que tu lui ordonnes,5 au charbonnier?" — "C'est moi qui va
le mettre en fricassee. Je vas le d6truire comme j'ai d^truit la Bete-
a-sept-tetes." Prenant son sabre, dans un clin d'oeil, il le met en
charpie. A la place du charbonnier, c'est lui qui epouse la princesse.
1 Fournier disait: "de la noce."
2 Fournier dit: "Le chateau n'en branle."
3 Condamner les portes et les fen6tres.
4 Croyable.
6 Dans le sens de "a quoi le condamnes-tu ?"
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 85
Le soir, dans sa chambre, il plante son sabre dans le milieu du lit:
"Qu'est-ce que ga veut dire? demande la princesse; tu as plante ton
sabre dans le milieu du lit." II repond: "Mais pourquoi cette petite
lumiere que je vois, la?" — "Tous les ceuses1 qui s'en sont appro-
ches, repond la princesse, n'en sont point revenus." Une fois la
princesse endormie, Petit-Jean se leve et s'en va voir la petite lumiere.
C'qu'il y a, la? Une vieille magicienne qui, d'une voix claire, lui
dit: "Tiens, Petit-Jean, prends done cette tite2 corde et touche done
a ces tis animaux." Petit- Jean prend la petite corde et met la main
sur les petits animaux. Le voila amorphose 3 en masse de sel, incapa-
ble d'en sortir.
La-bas, a la fourche des chemins, ses freres voient palir la rose de
Petit-Jean. Un de ses freres dit: "Je vas a son secours." Allant
chez le meme forgeron, lui aussi se fait forger un sabre coupant d sept
lieues a la ronde.
Apres avoir passe" chez le vieux qui avait loge son frere, il se rend
au chateau du roi. II ressemblait tellement a Petit-Jean — les trois
freres se ressemblaient comme trois gouttes d'eau — que, le voyant
entrer, la princesse dit: "Voyons, mon cher mari, d'ou c'que tu viens
done ?" Faisant semblant de rien et lui laissant croire qu'il est Petit-
Jean, il repond: "Je re viens de faire un tour dans la ville, pour m'a-
muser, comme il n'y a rien a faire ici."
Le soir venu, lui aussi plante son sabre dans le milieu du lit. La
princesse dit: "Mon cher mari, pourquoi plantes-tu ton sabre dans le
milieu du lit?" — "Pourquoi cette petite lumiere-la?" demande-t-il.
Elle repond: "Mais je te l'ai dit, iiier soir: tous ceux qui y vont voir
n'en reviennent point." Quand la princesse est endormie, lui aussi
s'en va voir la lumiere. II arrive chez la vieille magicienne, qui dit
[de sa voix criarde et grele]:4 "Prends done cette tite corde et touche
done a ces tis animaux." Prend la petite corde et touche aux petits
animaux. Le voila amorphose en masse de sel.
Comme il avait, lui aussi, laisse sa rose a son frere, a la fourche des
chemins, la rose palit.
Voyant ga, le troisieme et dernier frere part, se rend chez le meme
forgeron et se fait faire un sabre coupant a sept lieues a la ronde. Le
forgeron dit: "II vous en faut done bien, de ces sabres-la, vous autres!"
— "N'importe! il nous en faut encore un."
Quand, comme son frere, il arrive chez le roi, la princesse dit: "Mon
cher mari! mais, £'es toujours parti; tu ne restes pas avec ta femme.
Je ne t'aurais jamais cru si trotteux que ga." — "Tais-toi done, ma
femme! J'ai bien des affaires a regler, et je n'ai pas encore assez de
temps, dans le jour."
1 Ceux. 2 Petite. 3 M6tamorphose\
4 Le conteur ici imitait d'une maniere comique la voix de la sorciere.
86 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Le soir, comme ses fibres, il plante son sabre dans le milieu du lit.
"Mais, mon mari! pourquoi plantes-tu toujours ton sabre dans le mi-
lieu du lit?" — "Ma femme, quelle est cette petite lumiere que je
vois la?" — "Q& fait d6ja deux fois que je te le dis, et tu me le rede-
mandes toujours. Tous ceux qui vont voir cette petite lumiere n'en
reviennent jamais. La vieille sorciere les metamorphose en masses
de sel."
Quand la princesse est endormie, le jeune homme va voir la petite
lumiere. La vieille lui dit de sa voix grele: 'Trends done cette lite
corde et touche a ces Us animaux." II repond: "Arrete un peu, toi!
Je ne suis pas pour toucher a tes petits animaux." Siffle apres son
lion et son chien; et, quand ils ressoudent, il leur dit: "Mon chien, mon
lion, deVorez-la. . . . Mais attendez un petit brin. Toi, vieille sor-
ciere, il faut que tu fasses revenir mes freres." Elle repond: "Prends
le petit pot de graisse dans l'armoire et frottes-en les petites buttes que
tu vois la." Prend le petit pot de graisse et frotte les buttes. Voila
ses freres d61ivr£s et bien contents. Le lion et le chien ne font de la
sorciere qu'une gueul^e.
"Tiens! se disent les trois freres, nous nous ressemblons tant que
la princesse ne pourra peut-etre pas dire qui est son mari. Allons la
voir, et ne lui disons pas qui est Petit-Jean." Comme ils arrivent au
chateau, chez la princesse: "Qui est votre mari, belle princesse?
Pouvez-vous le dire?" Elle h^site et ne sait qui prendre, puisqu'ils
e ressemblent comme trois gouttes d'eau. Petit-Jean lui fait un clin-
d'ceil. Elle dit: "C'ti-ld1 est mon mari." — "Ah, mon bougre, tu lui
as fait un clin-d'ceil!" — "Oui, gredins2 que vous etes! Je ne vou-
lais pas la mettre si en peine."
Et moi, ils m'ont renvoye" ici vous le raconter.
59. LE CONTE DE FESSE-BEN. 3
Une fois, e'etait un vieux et une vieille. Leur seul enfant etait un
petit garcon; Fesse-ben, c'6tait son nom.
A Fage de sept ans, Fesse-ben n'avait pas encore sorti de la maison.
Son pere, un jour, dit: "Fesse-ben, viens avec moi dans les bois cher-
cher une petite brassee de branches, pour faire du feu." Parti avec
son pere, le petit garcon le suit a la foret. Dans la foret, son pere
lui casse une brassee de branches. "Tiens, mon petit garcon! apporte
ga a ta mere, qu'elle fasse cuire de la bouillie, aujourd'hui." — "Ben,
poupa, allez done la porter, votre brassee de branches. Moi, je vas
m'en casser une, et je vous rejoindrai beto." Le pere parti pour la
1 Pour "ce petit-la." 2 Fournier prononcait "gueurdin."
3 Recitd par Narcisse Thiboutot, a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en aout, 1915.
Thiboutot dit avoir appris ce conte a Sainte-Anne; mais il ne se souvient pas de qui.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 87
maison, Fesse-ben entre dans la 'sucrerie,' * arrache six erables, les
attache en une botte qu'il met sur son dos, et il descend chez son pere.
En arrivant a ras la maison, il jette sa botte d'erables a terre; la terre
en branle — six erables, imaginez-vous, 9a fait un tas de bois! "Dis-
moi done! crie le bonhomme son pere, mon petit gargon, pourquoi en
as-tu tant descendu ?" 2 — "Ben, poupa, on va pt'et'ben en avoir assez
pour sept ans." lis se mettent tous deux a d^biter et a fendre ce
bois. Me croirez-vous ? Debits et fendu, ils en eurent pour sept
ans, a bruler ce bois.
Au bout de sept ans, Fesse-ben a done quatorze ans. Son pere lui
dit: "Mon petit Fesse-ben, allons chercher une brassee de bois, ce
matin." Ils partent ensemble pour la foret. Dans la 'sucrerie,' le
pere casse une petite brassee de branches, et dit: "Tiens, Fesse-ben
apporte ga!" L'enfant repond: "Allez-vous-en avec votre brassee.
Moi, je vas m'en casser une." Le bonhomme parti, Fesse-ben arra-
che douze erables d'un tour de main, attache les Arables en une botte
met la botte d'erables sur son dos, et descend chez son pere. Arrive
a la maison, il lache la botte d'erables a ras la maison, ce qui fait un va-
carme enrayant. Des branches tombent sur la couverture, £crasent
la couverture. La maison tumbe a terre ! Le bonhomme et sa vieille,
dans la maison, se font ecraser, badame! Courant vitement chez le
voisin, Fesse-ben dit: "Quand on pense! 3 En arrivant avec ma petite
brassee d'erables, j'ai bien brise la maison. Mon pere et ma mere,
je le ere ben, sont ^erases." — "Vas-y voir, toujours; depeche-toi!"
repond le voisin. S'approchant de la maison £croulee, Fesse-ben re-
garde, releve les debris et les fait revoler dans le champ d'a cote\ Son
pere et sa mere, il les trouve ecrases. Le voisin a qui il va le dire re-
pond: "Un beau gars! tu fais bien mieux de partir et de ne jamais te
remontrer ici, parce qu'on va te prendre et t'emprisonner." — "Ah!
il n'y a pas de danger qu'ils me prennent. Je me sauve!" II part,
marche, marche.
En chemin, il apprend que le roi du canton a besoin d'hommes.
Arrive chez le roi, a qui il demande: "Monsieur le roi, vous avez besoin
d'un homme 'engage' ? Comment-c'que vous payez ?" — "Je paye
cinquante sous par jour." — "C'est bon! m'a4 travailler ici."
Le roi, le lendemain matin, lui demande: "Ton nom?" II repond:
"Je m'appelle Fesse-ben." — "Tu t'appelles Fesse-ben, toi ? Je
n'ai jamais encore entendu ce nom-la." — "Qa se peut ben." — "Com-
me ga, mon Fesse-ben, tu vas aller faire des fosses, aujourd'hui, avec
1 Au Canada, ce mot a pris le sens de foret ou bois d'erables ou Ton fait le 'sucre
du pays.'
2 Ici et dans d'autres contes, on peut remarquer que les paysans canadiens parlent
du haut et du bas de leurs fermes. Cela vient probablement du fait que la plupart
d'entre eux vivaient d'abord le long des vallees.
3 Sens: "Qui l'aurait cru!" * I.e., Je m'en vas. . .
88 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
mon homme." Fesse-ben part et s'en va travailler. Comme la terre
est pas mal dure a 'manceuvrer,' la pelle ne r^siste pas longtemps au
bras de Fesse-ben; casse la pelle. "S'il n'a pas de meilleures pelles
que celle-la, dit Fesse-ben, moi, je ne suis pas pour m'amuser long-
temps ici." S'en allant trouver le roi, il dit: "Cou'don, vos pelles
sont bonnes a rien, pour travailler aux fosses." — "Comment, mes
pelles sont bonnes a rien? Mon homme a toujours travaille avec
ces pelles-la." — "Si elles sont bonnes pour lui, moi, je trouve qu'elles
ne valent rien." — "Eh bien! va t'en faire faire une a ton gout, chez
le forgeon." l Fesse-ben s'en va chez le forgeron, se fait faire une
pelle pesant cinq cent livres. S'en allant les montrer a- son maitre,
il dit: "Tiens, monsieur le roi, d'ct'heure je suis greye a mon gout
pour travailler aux fosses." — "Puisque tu es si bien greye, tu vas
aller creuser une fontaine dans le rocher." — "Oui, mais avant de
creuser cette fontaine, monsieur le roi, il va falloir faire un marcheV'
— "Quel marche veux-tu faire ?" — "Le marche que je veux faire avec
vous? Quand j'aurai travaille ici pour vous pendant un an, jevous
donnerai une claque au derriere, au bout de l'annee." Le roi repond :
"C'est un marche bien ais6; j'accepte." Fesse-ben ajoute: "Puisque
le marche" est passe" entre nous, il faut en faire un papier." Une fois
le papier fait, le roi dit: "A'ct'heure, tu vas aller creuser ta fontaine
dans le rocher."
Fesse-ben, la premiere journee, fait une fontaine de vingt pieds de
creux et de quinze pieds de rond, dans le roc. Mais il n'y a pas une
goutte d'eau. Quand le soir, il rapporte ca au roi, le roi repond: "C'est
rien! travaille toujours la tant que tu n'auras pas trouve l'eau, quand
meme 9a serait a deux cents pieds de creux." L'intention du roi, c'est
de faire p6rir Fesse-ben en remplissant la fontaine sur lui — il avait
peur de lui, et voulait s'en debarrasser. Quand Fesse-ben est a tra-
vailler dans la fontaine la deuxieme journee, le roi envoie quinze
hommes pour debouler2 la terre sur sa tete, quand il est au fond.
Voyant la terre qui deboule, Fesse-ben saute dehors et va dire au roi:
"Monsieur le roi, vous n'avez pas enferme" vos poules, d matin. Elles
sont la a gratter au bord de la fontaine, me deboulant du sable dans
les yeux." — "C'est rien! repond le roi; s'ils ne les ont pas renfermes,
je vas aller y aller voir." Voyant qu'il ne peut pas faire perir Fesse-
ben, dans la fontaine, le roi se dit: "II faut trouver un autre moyen."
La nouvelle courait que, dans une 'paroisse' voisine, sept diables
s'6taient empar6s d'un moulin a farine. Le roi se dit: "Fesse-ben,
mets du grain dans des poches, attelle le bceuf, et va au moulin faire
moudre le grain." Ayant mis du grain dans les poches, Fesse-ben
attelle le bceuf et s'en va au moulin. Au moulin, la porte est fermee.
1 Pour "forgeron."
2 I.e., descend, tombe en roulant; vient de "d6" et de "boule" (n. f.).
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 89
Cogne a la porte. "Le meunier, leve-toi!" Qa ne se leve pas; per-
sonne n'ouvre la porte. "Ah, ah! il dit, arrete un peu! Si tu ne te
leves pas, je defonce la porte." Defonce la porte, entre son grain
et se met a le moudre lui-meme. Comme il acheve de moudre son
grain, il entend un train 6pouvantable dans la chambre voisine.
"Quand j'aurai charge" mes poches de farine, se dit Fesse-ben, j'irai
voir ce qui se passe la." En arrivant a sa charette, c'qu'il trouve?
Le boeuf pleume l et la viande toute mangee. La peau et les os, c'est
tout ce qui reste. "Ah! dit Fesse-ben, ce sont les meuniers qui s'amu-
sent; ils ont pleume mon boeuf; mais ils n'auront pas tant de plaisir2
beto, quand j'irai les voir." Cogne a la porte: "Zfouvrez-moi la porte!"
Personne ne veut ouvrir. Donne un coup de genou dans la porte,
qui defonce. Les diables tous ensemble se jettent sur lui. En po-
gnant un par la queue, il l'entraine dehors en disant: "C'est toi qui a
pleume mon bceuf ? Je vas t'atteler a sa place, a la charrette."
Comme les six autres diables courent apres lui, il les attrape tous, et
les attachant par la queue, il les attelle a la charrette. Les frappant
avec une canne, il crie: "Mes maudits! si vous avez pleume mon boeuf,
vous allez ramener ma charge de farine."
Le roi, au chateau, voit arriver les sept diables atteles a la char-
rette. II crie: "Fesse-ben, lache ca, lache ca!" — "Comment, lacher
9a? Pensez-vous qu'au moulin on pleumera mon bceuf et que je
reviendrai sans farine?" Le roi demande : "Mais pourquoi as-tu em-
mene" ces diables-la ici ?" — "Monsieur le roi, ils ont tue et mange" mon
bceuf; il n'en restait plus que la peau et les os. Comme je ne voulais
pas rapporter la farine a mon cou, je les ai atteles. A'ct'heure, il faut
qu'ils me promettent, avant de repartir, de ne plus mettre les pieds
dans ce moulin.", Aussitot qu'il commence a leur donner la volee,
les diables promettent de ne plus retourner au moulin.
Dans ce temps-la, le roi entendit conter qu'il y avait la Bete-a-reni-
fler, dans un moulin a carder. II se dit: "C'est la qu'il faut envoyer
Fesse-Ben, pour le faire d£truire. II faut que je m'en defasse avant
la fin de l'annee; autrement, je serais un homme mort." Donnant
de la laine a Fesse-ben, il dit: "Va la porter au moulin a carder; et tu
attendras qu'elle soit prete, pour la rapporter." Prenant le tapon3
de laine sous son bras, il part pour le moulin a carder. Mais ce n'est
pas un moulin a carder : c'est la Bete-a-renifler. Elle n'avait que
des petites narines, cette bete-la! Elle lui renifle sa laine. Elle aurait
pu renifler une grange toute ronde. "Vous etes trop presses, les gens
du moulin, dit Fesse-ben. J'ai peur que vous ne le soyez pas autant a
me remettre ma laine." Apres avoir un peu attendu, il dit: "Donne-
moi ma laine; elle doit etre ecardee. Vous aviez Fair si presses d'avoir
1 ficorche. 2 Ici Thiboutot se sert du mot anglais "fun."
3 Pour "paquet."
90 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
ma laine que Pouvrage n'a pas du retarder." Pas de r^ponse. Ne
voyant personne, Fesse-ben dit: "Eh ben! je vas le rapporter sur mon
dos, le moulin a carder. Qa sera plus commode pour Panned pro-
chaine." Prend la Bete-a-renifler et se la met sur le dos — II 6tait
fort, cet animal! bien plus fort que moi! Fesse-ben n'est pas encore
arrive* a sept lieues de chez son maitre que le chateau du roi veut se
defaire. Qa, n'en fait, un vent! Le chateau veut partir. Le roi
envoie du monde dire a Fesse-ben: "Lachez done cette bete-la, au
nom de monsieur le roi!" . Fesse-ben repond: "Qa, ne presse pas; c'est
le moulin a carder que je rapporte pour qu'il ne soit pas aussi loin,
Pannee prochaine. C'est pour ca que je le rapproche." — "Lache
ca, lache ca! disent les gens; ne viens pas plus pres: le chateau du roi
veut se briser!" Lachant la bete a terre, Fesse-ben s'en va trouver
le roi. "Cou'don, dit le roi, en voila des jeux pour faire briser mon
chateau!" — "Quels jeux?" — "Oui, tu rapportais la Bete-a-reni-
fler, et mon chateau voulait se deTaire, tellement elle reniflait." Fesse-
ben repond: "Savez-vous ce qu'elle a fait? Elle a renifle" mon tapon
de laine. II me fallait done rapporter la bete pour avoir la laine." —
"C'est bon, c'est bon! dit le roi, va de suite la reporter ou tu Pas prise,
cette 'affaire-la.' "• Qa, renifle tellement que mon chateau en craque
sn tous les sens."
Ce n'est pas tout. Comme le roi partait en guerre contre un pays
voisin, il dit, le lendemain: ""Fesse-ben, tu vas aller a ma place porter
le pavilion, a la tete de mon armee." — "Monsieur le roi, si vous
m'envoyez a votre place, tachez de me donner un vieux cheval; je ne
veux pas ^tre trop bien greye de chevaux." En partant pour la ba-
taille, le roi veut lui donner une carabine. "Le roi, je n'ai pas besoin
de ga," repond Fesse-ben. Et le vlon2 parti pour aller a la rencontre
de Pennemi. Quand il en approche, il prend son cheval par la queue,
et, se lancant dans les rangs de Parmee ennemie, pan, pan! son cheval
a la main, il frappe de tous cot6s, et il tue tous les ennemis 'a noir.' 3
Quand il n'en reste plus qu'une couple, des fuyards, il se regarde
dans les mains: "Ah! il dit, il ne me reste plus que la queue de mon
vieux cheval: le reste est tout use! Quant a ces deux-la? Je les
laisse aller." La guerre finit d'en par la. Fesse-ben rapporte le
pavilion d'honneur. 4 Le voyant revenir, le roi n"est pas rougeaud,' 5
et il se dit: "S'il faut qu'il reste ici jusqu'a la fin et me donne une
claque au derriere, m'a prendre le bord." 6
II lui vient a l'id£e d'envoyer Fesse-ben a un endroit dangereux, dont
il a entendu parler; c'est a une batisse remplie d'or et d'argent, et
1 I.e., chose-la, e'est-a-dire la bete.
2 Voila. 3 I.e., sans exception.
4 La victoire. 6 'Rassure,' i.e., il est saisi de frayeur.
6 Dans le sens de "e'en est fini de moi;" expression souvent usit6e parmi les paysans.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 91
gardee tout le tour par des renforts, et ben greyee de canons. Don-
nant deux poches a Fesse-ben, le roi dit: "Va me chercher une poche-
tte d'or et une pochetee d'argent a la batisse aux renforts. En y en-
trant tu donneras cette lettre au premier."1 Fesse-ben prend la
lettre et part a pied pour chercher une pochetee d'or et une pochetee
d'argent. Avant de le laisser entrer on lui demande quelle affaire
il a. II remet la lettre, ou le roi a ecrit: "Tuez-le au plus vite!" On
lui ferme la porte au nez. Voila le canon et les fusils qui tirent sur
lui. Les balles et les boulets lui glissent sur le ventre en s'aplatis-
sant — il avait la peau du ventre dure comme [celle d'une] puce. 2 II
crie: "Tenez-vous tranquilles, mes polissons! Je n'aime pas qu'on
me lance des pois, moi," Le chef dit a ses hommes: "Aye! Tirez, et
tuez-le! le roi le demande." Les balles sifflent et lui petent dans le
visage et partout; mais ce monsieur a la peau dure, certain! II brise
la porte avec son genou, entre, prend une pochetee d'or et une pochetee
d'argent, et il revient les donner au roi. Le voyant arriver, le roi
se dit: "Mais, comment 9a se fait, ils ne l'ont toujours pas tu6" ?"
II n'y a plus que deux jours avant que l'annee soit finie. C'est
pourquoi le roi n'a pas grand'facon, et il evente, se demandant quoi
faire.
Le bout de l'annee arrive\ Fesse-ben dit au roi: "Monsieur le roi,
il y a un an d matin qu'on a passe" un marcheV' Le roi r£pond: "Si
tu aimes mieux, Fesse-ben, m'a te donner la pochetee d'or et la poche-
tee d'argent plutot que de me laisser donner une claque au derriere."
— "Ah, monsieur le roi! pour une 'parole de roi!' je ne trouve pas que
vous teniez beaucoup a votre honneur." — "J'aime mieux. . ." Tout
en parlant, il se retourne vers la porte, ou un quUeux s'adonne a ren-
trer. "Bon queteux, comment c'que tu demandes pour te laisser
donner une claque au derriere par cet homme?" — "Donnez-moi
trente sous; ca sera assez." Le roi dit: "Ah, je vas vous donner
cinq piastres." — "Monsieur le roi, vous etes ben charitable!" Au
queteux Fesse-ben dit: "Venez, monsieur le queteux, si vous etes pret.
Mon temps ici est fini, et je vas vous donner ca de suite, avant de
partir." Pendant qu'il emmene le queteux sur la galerie, le roi et la
reine s'en vont regarder a la fenetre. "Etes-vous pret?" demande
Fesse-ben. Le queteux r6pond: "Oui." Fesse-ben ajoute: "Pliez-
vous un peu en vous mettant les mains sur les genoux, pour me don-
ner une chance." Fesse-ben lui 'pousse une claque au' derriere, et
voila le qutteux parti a monter dans les airs, si loin qu'on l'a perdu
de vue. Est-il revenu? Je ne le sais pas. L'avez-vous revu, vous
autres ? Moi qui suis reste" ici, je ne l'ai jamais rencontre" depuis.
1 Chef, maltre.
2 Thiboutot disait "dur comme une puce."
92 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
60. LE COQ, LA POULE ET LA VACHE. 1
Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'6tait2 un vieux et une vieille,
des bucherons qui avaient trois petites filles.
Avant de partir pour la fore% le bucheron dit: "Ma femme, tu en-
verras une des petites filles me porter a diner, a midi." La mere
envoie done la plus grande des petites filles porter a diner a son pere.
En s'en allant, le long du chemin, l'enfant se met a jouer avec des
fleurs et s'eloigne du sentier. Elle s'£carte et, en cherchant son che-
min, elle arrive a une petite maison ou vit un vieillard dont la grande
barbe blanche traine quasiment a terre. Comme la nuit est proche, la
petite fille demande: "Grand-pere, je pourrais-£'t avoir a loger ici, d
soir?" — "Oui, ma petite fille. Mais aujourd'hui, j'ai oublie de don-
ner a diner au petit coq, a la petite poule et a la vache. Va les soi-
gner pour moi, et demande-leur si tu peux coucher ici." Partie pour
leur donner a manger, la petite fille oublie de le faire; et quand elle
leur demande: 'Me peux-tfi avoir a loger ici, d soir?" ils repondent:
"Non!" et tous trois ils disent: "Puisque tu as oublie de nous donner
a manger, nous allons te mettre dans les basses-fosses, a la cave."
C'est ce qu'ils font.
Quand le vieux bucheron revient chez lui, le soir, il dit: "Ma fem-
me, tu ne m'as pas envoye a diner, aujourd'hui, et j'ai eu a m'en
passer." — "Mais oui! j'ai envoye notre petite fille. Elle ne s'est
done pas rendue a toi?" — "Non, je ne l'ai pas vue." — "C'est une
chose bien curieuse!"
Avant de repartir pour bucher, le lendemain, le bucheron dit: "En-
voie-moi une petite fille avec mon diner, a midi."
La deuxieme des petites filles s'en va porter a manger a son pere.
Mais, elle aussi s'ecarte en jouant avec des fleurs, le long du chemin.
En marchant, elle arrive a la petite maison du vieillard a la longue
barbe, elle entre, et elle voit le vieillard assis sur une chaise. "Mon-
sieur, je pourrais-i'* avoir a loger, ici ?" — "Oui, ma petite fille. Mais
n'oublie pas d'aller donner a diner a la petite poule, au petit coq et a
la vache." Malgre sa promesse, la petite fille l'oublie comme sa
sceur, et quand, le soir, elle va leur demander: "Est-ce que je pourrais
coucher ici?" le petit coq et la petite poule repondent: "Puisque tu
as oublie de nous donner a diner, tu ne pourras pas coucher ici. Mais
tu vas aller rejoindre ta sceur, dans les basses-fosses, a la cave."
En revenant a la maison, le soir, le bucheron dit: "Ma femme, tu
ne m'as pas envoye porter a diner, aujourd'hui?" — "Mais oui; j'ai
1 Recueilli a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en aout, 1915. Conteur, Achille Four-
nier, qui a r6cemment appris ce conte d'un Canadien de la rive nord du Saint-Laurent.
2 Le texte de Fournier, dans cette formule est habituellement: "Une fois, e'etait
bon de vous dire, c'dtait un vieux et une vieille. . ."
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 9S
envoyS la seconde de nos petites filles." Le pere dit: "Cette pauvre
enfant, elle a du s'6carter, je ere hen."
Le lendemain, le bucheron part encore pour la foret en disant: "Au-
jourd'hui, ne manque pas de m'envoyer porter a diner par la derniere
de nos petites filles."
La mere envoie done sa derniere petite fille. Tout se passe de la
meme maniere; Fenfant s'Scarte en jouant avec des fleurs, et elle
arrive chez le meme vieillard. "Je pourrais-^' avoir a loger ici, a
soir?" demande-t-elle. Le vieillard dit: "Oui, mais n'oublie pas
de soigner mon coq, ma poule et ma vache." A midi, Fenfant de-
mande: "Ou avez-vous mis le grain pour soigner les animaux?"
Quand le vieillard lui a donne le grain, elle s'en va soigner le petit
coq, la petite poule et la vache.
Le soir, elle demande a coucher au petit coq et a la petite poule,
qui repondent: "Va coucher dans cette chambre, la." Elle va
done y coucher.
Durant la nuit, elle entend un train epouvantable. En se reveil-
lant, elle pense: "Dis-moi done ce qui se passe ici? x J'ai peur!" Le
train cesse, et elle s'endort.
Quand elle se reveille, le lendemain matin, elle se trouve dans un
beau chateau, le plus beau des chateaux. Le vieillard a grand'barbe ?
C'Stait un beau prince metamorphose, qui, revenu a lui, dit: "Tiens,
ma petite fille, e'est toi qui m'a d&ivre. J'Stais amorphose, mais je
suis revenue parce que tu n'as pas oublie" comme les autres de donner
a manger a mon petit coq, a ma petite poule et a ma vache. A'ct'heu-
re, va a la cave chercher tes deux petites sceurs." A la cave, la petite
fille retrouve ses deux sceurs, qu'elle ramene avec elle. Le beau prince
lui dit: "C'est toi qui m'a delivrS, moi et mon chateau. II faut done
s'Spouser." II Famene visiter son chateau, le plus beau des cha-
teaux, tout grkje en or et en argent; et il lui dit: "Ma belle petite fille,
tout ca t'appartient."
lis se sont done mariSs et ils ont tou jours vecu heureux. Et moi
ils m'ont envoye vous le raconter. 2
61. LE PETIT TEIGNEUX. 3
Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, e'etait un vieux et une vieille qui
restaient dans un bois. Quand ils firent F'achat' d'un petit garcon,
ils Fappel&rent Petit-Jean.
1 Fournier dit "dans ce chateau," bien que, plus haut, il ait dit "petite maison."
2 II est Evident que cette version est trds abreg6e. La raison en est sans doute que
Fournier, suivant son propre aveu, ne peut plus aujourd'hui retenir un conte aussi
facilement que dans son enfance.
3 Recueilli a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915. Conteur, Georges-S.
Pelletier.
94 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Petit-Jean commence a grandir. Comme il grandit pas mal viter
il se trouve joliment grand quand, un jour, son pere meurt.
Restant seule dans la foret, la vieille et son petit garcon sont telle-
ment pauvres qu'ils ne vivent que de racines et d'herbages.
Petit-Jean, un bon matin, dit a sa mere: "II faut que je parte."
Ayant mis le petit habillement que sa mere lui greye, il part et file
dans la foret.
Apres avoir marche* une couple de jours, qu'est-ce qu'il rencontre?
Une bonne vieille fee. "Dis-moi done ou c'que tu vas, mon petit
ver de terre?" — "Parlez m'en pas! je suis parti de chez nous pour
m'engager, afin de gagner ma vie et celle de ma mere." — "Puisque
e'est de meme, je vas te laisser passer. Mais, jamais je ne laisse pas-
ser personne dans cette foret." Quand Petit- Jean s'eloigne, la fee le
rappelle et lui donne une petite canne de souhaite-vertu1 en disant:
"Tout ce que tu souhaiteras avec cette petite canne sera accorded "
Avec sa canne, Petit-Jean prend la foret et file.
Pas loin de la, ce qu'il apercoit ? Un grand trou sans fond. S'en
approchant, il se penche au-dessus et se met a regarder. "Eh misere!
il se dit, ca m'a Fair ben creux! Si j'allais voir au fond, je me demande
ce que j'y trou verais." Avec sa petite canne a souhaite-vertu il se
souhaite dans le fond du trou. Dans un 'rien de temps,' le voila
rendu. Rendu, il se trouve en plein milieu d'un beau 'chemin du
roi,' conduisant a un chateau sur une montagne. Prenant le mon-
tage, 2 il monte, monte, et arrive au chateau le plus beau du monde,
en or qui reluit au soleil. Mais, on n'y voit personne. Aussitot
entr£, Petit-Jean commence a tout visiter, une salle apres l'autre.
Dans une salle, il voit sept chaises rangees alentour. II s'assied sur
une chaise. Apres une escousse, 3 il entend un train 'de sorcier.' 4
Qu'est-ce qui arrive? Sept geants qui descendent aussi vite que
ca 'peut porter.' 5 Voila Petit-Jean qui se fourre sous une chaise,
pendant que les geants entrent, se saprent5 le derriere sur leurs chaises
et se mettent a jaser de leur journee et de tout ce qu'ils ont fait. Sous
la chaise, ou il entend tout, Petit-Jean a si peur qu'il tremble comme
une feuille [au vent], et il jongle, 7 pour savoir comment sortir de la.
Tout a coup un geant lache un gros pet. Ti-Jean sort a la course de
sous la chaise, et dit: "Bonjour, poupa!" en lui donnant la main. Le
geant repond: "Dis-moi done, mon petit ver de terre, comment tu es
venu sous ma chaise ?" — "Mais, poupa! e'est vous qui m'avez en-
voy 6 dans ce monde icite. Misere!8 comment voulez-vous que j'y
arrive autrement?"
1 Un talisman ou charme.
2 I.e., la c6te, ou le chemin qui monte. 3 Apres quelques moments.
4 I.e., epouvantable, comme en font les sorciers. 6 Qu'ils peuvent aller.
6 Se jettent. 7 Songer, penser fixement. 8 Exclamation.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 95
Voila Petit-Jean roi et maitre au chateau, ou les grants le 'portent
sur la main.' 1 C'est Petit- Jean par-ci, Petit-Jean par-la, tellement
on l'aime!
Avant de partir, le lendemain matin, les geants disent: "Petit-Jean,
voici les clefs du chateau. Tu peux visiter toutes les chambres. Mais
prends bien garde a toi d'ouvrir la porte que voila." — "Craignez
pas!" r^pond Petit-Jean.
Apres avoir passd la journee a la chasse, les grants reviennent le
soir. "Bonsoir, Petit-Jean!" — "Bonsoir, les geants!" Tout au
chateau est net, propre, reluisant. Les geants sont bien contents
de voir l'ouvrage si bien fait.
La deuxieme journee, encore pareil. Petit- Jean fait l'ouvrage a
perfection, travaille depuis le matin jusqu'au soir, sans ouvrir les
portes. Mais il est bien curieux, et ca le tente de tout visiter. En
arrivant le soir, les grants demandent: "Comment f'a ete, aujour-
d'hui, Petit-Jean ?" — "Ben ete, comme de coutume." Les grants
se couchent et dorment, sans s'occuper de rien, comme ils s'en rappor-
tent a leur petit garcon.
Une fois les grants repartis, le lendemain matin, Petit-Jean se dit:
"lis m'ont tant detendu d'ouvrir cette porte qu'il me faut y aller
voir, aujourd'hui." Pogne la clef et ouvre la porte. Qu'est-ce qu'il
apercoit? Un dalot2 dans lequel, jour et nuit, coule de la belle or.
Comme il se penche pour se regarder dedans, sa chevelure tombe dans
l'or. Quand il la retire, c'est la plus belle chevelure d'or qui sesoit
jamais vue sur la terre. Voila Petit- Jean pas mal en peine. "Sacr6!
ils vont ben s'apercevoir que je suis entre" ici. Comment faire?" II
cherche partout et regarde sur les tablettes. A la fin, il trouve du
brai, avec quoi il se fait une calotte, pour cacher sa belle chevelure
d'or. "lis vont pourtant s'en apercevoir!" il se dit, bien en peine.
Quand, le soir, les geants arrivent au chateau: "Ah! ils disent, ah,
petit ver de terre! Tu es alle" a la chambre [defendue]; c'est pas
maVise3 a voir." — "Ah oui! je me suis tromp6; je n'ai pas su me
regler." — "Petit-Jean, il n'y a pas d'autre moyen que de t'6ter la
vie. C'est ce que nous nous sommes promis." Le plus gros des
grants dit: "Laissons-lui la vie, d soir. Mais, nous lui oterons demain
matin. II n'y a toujours pas moyen qu'il sorte d'ici." Aussitot les
grants couches, sans se faire prier Petit-Jean prend le 'chemin du roi'
et file un boute. Arrive* au trou par ou il eteit descendu, il regarde en
fair et, apercevant une eteile, il se dit: "Gageons que c'est par la
que les geants passent!" Prend sa canne de souhaite-vertu, et il se
souhaite rendu en haut. Le voila en haut, sur la terre. La, il prend
la foret, et il marche, marche.
1 I.e., ont pour lui tous les 6gards possibles.
2 Terme de marine. 3 Malais<S.
96 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Apres avoir marche* trois ou quatre jours, il arrive au chateau d'un
roi; entre chez le roi. "Bonjour, monsieur le roi!" — "Bonjour, petit
teigneux!" — "Monsieur le roi, avez-vous besoin d'un jeune homme?"
— "Oui, petit teigneux, j'en aurais besoin d'un pour soigner mes vo-
lailles et mes dindons." Voila Petit-Jean engage* chez le roi.
La plus jeune des filles du roi,les trois plus belles princesses du jour,
a bien connaissance de quelque chose : tous les soirs, le petit teigneux
ote sa perruque et va se promener dans la foret, son 6"p6*e sur l'6paule.
La jeune princesse garde ca ben secrete, en se demandant ce qui est
pour arriver.
Un matin, toujours, un des jardiniers du roi tombe malade. Com-
me il n'y a personne pour le remplacer, le roi fait demander le petit
teigneux. "Veux-tu etre jardinier?" Voila Petit-Jean devenu jar-
dinier.
Le lendemain matin, le petit teigneux part avec les jardiniers
pour le jardin. Mais plutot que de travailler, il se promene, jase.
Comme il n'arrose rien, tout seche au soleil. Les autres disent: "II
va en avoir, un beau bouquet, a presenter a la princesse, d soir!"
Apres avoir bien travaille\ chacun des jardiniers a, le soir, un
beau bouquet a presenter a chacune des princesses. Voyant ca, Pe-
tit-Jean aussi se casse un bouquet. " Miser e! il dit, ga ne fera pas! II
est tout sec." Avec sa petite canne, il se souhaite le plus beau bou-
quet du jardin. "Comment ca se fait?" se demandent les jardi-
niers. Un d'eux dit: "C'est moi qui avais le plus beau bouquet, et
le sien etait tout sec." Voila la chicane qui prend entre eux. "J'a-
vais laisse" mes plus belles fleurs dans mon jardin, dit un autre. Ga-
geons qu'il les a cass6es pour s'en faire un bouquet ?" lis retournent
voir au jardin, mais tout est bien la, et rien n'est d6range\ Les jar-
diniers n'en reviennent pas de voir le petit teigneux donner le plus
beau bouquet qu'ils aient jamais vu a la plus jeune princesse.
C'est encore la meme histoire, le lendemain. Petit-Jean s'apporte
une chaise au jardin. Bien assis, il se berce, bailie et 'cogne des
clous,' l au soleil. Les jardiniers se mettent a dire: "II va en avoir
un beau, aujourd'hui! Sur ses plates-bandes tout est sec, tout est
mort!"
Le soir venu, Petit-Jean se casse un petit bouquiete, et, avec sa canne,
il se souhaite le plus beau bouquet qui se soit jamais vu sur la terre.
Son beau bouquet, il le donne encore a la plus jeune des princesses.
Celle-ci voit bien que quelque chose ne fait pas,2 la-dedans; mais elle
n'en dit pas un mot. Le petit teigneux, lui, s'en va coucher a son
poulailler, tandis que les autres s'en vont a leur belle maison.
Au poulailler, Petit-Jean ote sa calotte de brai et s'en va se prome-
1 I.e., dort en inclinant la tete et la relevant en sursaut, tour a tour.
2 Quelque chose de curieux.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 97
ner dans la cour. L'apercevant, la jeune princesse se dit encore: "II
y a quelque chose qui ne va pas!"
Toujours que, le lendemain, le roi fait battre un ban qu'il donne-
rait ses filles en mariage a ceux que toucheraient les boules d'or. Et
il invite tous les jeunes gens de la 'paroisse' a venir a la fete.
Une fois les 'cavaliers' 1 r^unis, on les fait passer par rangs devant
les princesses, qui ont chacune une boule d'or a jeter a celui qu'elles
d^sirent comme 6poux. La plus ag^e des princesses jette sa boule
d'or; la deuxieme jette sa boule; la troisi&me ne jette pas sa boule. Le
roi dit: "II me semble que j'avais fait battre un ban pour vous pu-
blier2 toutes. Comment se fait-il que, quand les 'cavaliers' passaient en
rang, toi, ma [cadette], tu n'as pas jete* ta boule d'or?" La jeune
princesse r6pond: "Tout le monde n'est pas encore passe\ Je n'ai en-
core vu ni les bossus, ni les teigneux." — "Quoi, ma fille, voulez-vous
me faire insulte?" — "NOn, mon pere."
Le lendemain, on fait passer par rangs tous les jeunes gens de la
paroisse, les petits teigneux comme les autres. La jeune princesse
jette sa boule d'or au petit teigneux, le jardinier du roi, pour l'6pouser.
Le mariage se fait; mais le roi est bien insulte" de voir sa princesse
6pouser le petit teigneux, son jardinier. La noce a peine finie, le roi
les met tous les deux a la porte, en leur disant de ne plus revenir.
Voyant 9a, le petit teigneux s'en va dans la foret avec sa belle
princesse, et ils marchent. Le roi se dit: "Tant mieux, Seigneur, s'ils
sont partis! M'avoir fait une insulte de meme!" Mais la vieille
reine, elle, est bien triste de voir sa fille partie.
Rendu assez loin dans la foret, le petit teigneux s'apercoit que sa
femme est fatigued de marcher. Ils s'arretent dans une petite
eclaircie. La princesse se couche par terre, la t£te sur les genoux de
son mari, et elle s'endort. Quand elle est bien endormie, le petit
teigneux prend sa canne a souhaite-vertu, et il se souhaite le plus beau
chateau au monde, mais auquel il doit manquer un ch&ssis.
Toujours triste, la vieille reine, le lendemain matin, sort de son cha-
teau. Regardant vers la foret, elle apergoit quelque chose qui reluit,
rien de plus beau. "Mon vieux! viens done voir ca," elle crie au roi.
"Dis-moi done ce qu'il peut bien y avoir la? 'Depuis le temps
qu'on' reste ici, 3 on n'y a jamais rien vu de pareil."
Le roi fait atteler une voiture et envoie ses valets voir ce qui reluit
comme ga, dans la foret. C'est le petit teigneux que les valets trou-
vent dans son chateau. C'gw'il leur ordonne ? "Allez dire au roi de
venir me voir." Apprenant ga, le roi se dit: "Puisque je l'ai chasse*
d'ici, c'est bien a moi a aller le voir, le premier." II est pas mal en
1 Au Canada, ce mot est pris dans le sens de "pr6tendant."
2 Pour annoncer votre mariage.
3 Cette locution "depuis le temps que" ici implique qu'une longue pSriode s'est
ecoulee.
4
98 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
peine de voir que le petit teigneux, pour qui il a 6te" si dur, est riche
et possSde un chateau plus beau que le sien. En s'y rendant, il dit:
"Je ne peux pas oublier qu'il est mon gendre." Une fois son beau-
pere arrive* a son chateau, le petit teigneux lui fait tout visiter. II
n'y a rien de plus beau. Passant devant la fenetre qui manque, le
jeune homme dit: "II n'y a pas de chassis dans cette fenetre. C'est
a vous d'en mettre une." Le roi fait venir tous ses ouvriers qui se
mettent a l'ouvrage et travaillent jour et nuite. Mais il n'y a pas
moyen d'arriver! "Vous etes aussi bien d'abandonner, dit le petit
teigneux. Je vois que vous n'y arriverez jamais. Je vas le faire
poser, moi."
Quand, le lendemain matin, le roi vient voir, le chassis est bien
pos6, je vous le garantis! l C'en etait un poids de moins sur le cceur
du roi! Son gendre n'etait plus un petit teigneux, mais Petit-Jean,
qui avait la plus belle chevelure d'or du monde. lis sont restes a
son chateau le restant de leurs jours.
Et moi, ils m'ont renvoye ici vous le raconter.
62. SALADE ET POMMES D'OR. 2
Une fois, c 'etait un vieux et une vieille, qui avaient une fille et deux
petits garcons, Ti-Jean et Ti-Pierre. Le vieux etait bucheron, et il
'buchait' du bois a la corde.
Quand il commence a diner au bois, un bon jour, c'qui vient a lui ?
Un petit oiseau. "Ah! si je peux pogner ce petit oiseau pour mon
Ti-Jean, je serai done fier. Pogne le petit oiseau et se dit: "Apres-
midi, je ne 'buche' point. Je vas porter l'oiseau a mon petit gars."
Ti-Jean est content, c'est pas rien!3 L'oiseau que son pere a pris
est si beau qu'on n'en a encore jamais vu de plus beau. II chante,
il turlute, rien ne bat4 ce ramage-la. Le bucheron se dit: "Demain,
il faut que j'essaie encore d'en prendre un."
Le lendemain matin, il retourne 'bucher/ 'buche' jusqu'a midi.
Quand il commence a diner, c'qui ressoud? Encore un beau petit
oiseau. "Ah! si je peux prendre celui-la, je serai bien fier. Mes
petits garcons auront de quoi 5 s'amuser, quand ils en auront chacun
un." Prend le petit oiseau, s'en retourne chez lui, et donne l'oiseau
1 L'episode bien connu de la fenetre aux pierres precieuses, ou le roi epuise tous ses
tresors, est ici bien incomplet.
2 Recueilli a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915. Le conteur, Achille
Fournier, dit avoir appris ce conte d'un mendiant qui l'avait raconte, il y a pres de
cinquante ans, chez un nomme Godefroy Ouellet, aux Sables (pres de Sainte-Anne).
C'6tait la coutume de ces passants, dit Fournier, de 'conter des contes' aux gens qui
leur donnaient l'hospitalit^ pour la nuit.
3 C'est extraordinaire. 4 Anglicisme.
5 Fournier dit: ". . .de quoi d s'amuser."
Conies Populaires Canadiens. 99
a Ti-Pierre. Les enfants mettent dans de petites cages leurs oiseaux,
qui turlutent le ramage le plus beau.
C'qui arrive, la? Le fils d'un roi, qui examine les petits oiseaux.
"Ah, qu'ils turlutent bien!" pense-t-il. En les examinant, il voit
6crit sur l'aile d'un des oiseaux: "Celui qui mangera mon coeur aura,
tous les matins, sous sa t&e, cent 6cus." Regarde a l'autre oiseau.
C'gu'il voit 6crit sur son aile? "Celui qui mangera ma t£te sera
'recu' roi." Le fils du roi dit au bucheron: "Si vous voulez tuer et
me faire cuire les deux petits oiseaux tout ronds, l j'epouserai votre
fille." Le vieux r^pond: "Je vas en parler a mes petits gars. S'ils
veulent, tant mieux! S'ils ne veulent point, je n'en ferai rien." Et il
s'en va trouver ses petits garcons et leur dit: "Le fils du roi est pr6t a
6pouser votre sceur si vous voulez laisser cuire vos petits oiseaux tout
ronds." lis r£pondent: "II ne faut pas faire perdre un bon parti
comme ca a notre sceur. Tuez-les!" Le bucheron tue les oiseaux
et sa bonne-femme les met bouillir dans le chaudron. Pendant qu'ils
cuisent, Ti-Jean dit: "Moi, je vas toujou ben manger le cceur de mon
petit oiseau." Et Ti-Pierre dit: "Moi, je vas manger la tete du mien."
Le fils du roi revient, examine ses oiseaux dans le chaudron, et deman-
de: "Madame, ces petits oiseaux sont-ils tels que je vous les ai deman-
ded ? La t6te de l'un et le cceur de l'autre sont partis. Si vous vou-
lez que j 'Spouse votre fille, chassez vos petits garcons pour que jamais
je ne les revoie de ma vie." Le pere rapporte ces paroles a ses petits
gargons. "Oui, papa, nous allons partir pour toujours. Nous mar-
cherons tant que la terre nous portera, et jamais nous ne remettrons
les pieds ici."
lis partent, marchent toute la journee. Le lendemain, ils arri-
vent a une maison dans la foret. Entrent dans la maison, et ils y
voient un vieux et une vieille. "Bonjour, bon vieux! bonjour, bonne
vieille!" — "Bonjour, bonjour! Ou allez-vous2 done, mes petits
gars?" — "Nous sommes partis de chez notre pere pour n'y plus
remettre les pieds de notre vie." — "Mes petits garcons, si vous vou-
lez rester ici avec nous, nous sommes prets a vous garder. A notre
mort, ce que nous avons vous restera."3 Les petits garcons disent:
"Nous aurons soin de vous, grand'mere et grand-pere."
Le soir arrive^ ils s'en vont se coucher dans leur lit. Quand, le
lendemain matin, la vieille fait leur lit, gling, gling, gling, un tas d'ar-
gent tombe a terre. La vieille ne sait pas ce que ca veut dire. "Mes
petits gars ! vous avez mis ce tas d'argent sous votre tete 4 pour voir
si on est voleur?" — "Grand'mere, nous n'avons pas mis d'argent
sous notre tete." Les petits garcons se disent: "Demain matin, il
1 Tout en tiers. 2 Fournier dit: "Ou c'que vous allez ?"
3 Fournier dit: "Vous aurez de quoi c'qu'on Va (l: fausse liaison), mats (i.e. quand)
c'qu'on meure."
4 Oreiller.
100 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
faudra bien voir ce que ca veut dire." Ti-Jean dit: "C'est peut-6tre
le cceur de mon petit oiseau qui me l'a donne\" Qa fait que,le lende-
main matin, il regarde encore sous sa tete: cent 6cus! II dit: "Je
suis bon, d'd'heure; j'ai trouve" cent 6cus sous ma tete. C'est assez
pour vivre."
Les deux freres s'en vont done a la ville, ou ils entrent dans un hotel
et demandent a loger au propri^taire.1 "C'est bon, mes petits gars!
r^pond-il, vous resterez tant que vous voudrez, si vous avez de quoi
payer."
Quand, le lendemain matin, les servantes font le lit des enfants,
gling, gling, gling, voila un tas d 'argent qui tombe a terre. Elles
courent trouver leur maitre et disent: "Ces petits garcons-la sont
riches a plein, et ils mettent de l'argent sous leur tete." Mais les
garcons lui disent: "C'est pour vous payer qu'on l'a mis la."
En se promenant dans la ville, ils apprennent que la princesse doit
etre donn£e en mariage a celui qui, en passant sur le pont, le leverait
cent pieds en l'air, sur quatre chaines d'or. Bien des fils de roi vien-
nent et passent sur le pont, mais sans pouvoir le lever. Ti-Jean dit:
"Je pourrais bien avoir ce don-la, moi; j'y passe." Passe sur le pont;
le pont ne 16ve point. Ti-Pierre dit: "Je vas y passer, moi." Passe
sur le pont; le pont leve cent pieds en l'air, sur quatre chaines d'or.
Le roi dit: "C'est Ti-Pierre qui a gagne* ma princesse." Et le mariage
ne prend pas de temps a se faire.
Voila Ti-Jean tout fin seul. II s'en retourne a l'hotel et dit au
maitre: "II me faut deux chevaux pour aller faire le tour de la grosse
montagne." — "Ne vas pas la, dit l'autre; si tu y vas, ce sera ton mal-
heur. Tous ceux qui y sont all6s n'en sont jamais revenus." Ti-
Jean attelle les deux chevaux et s'en va faire le tour de la grosse mon-
tagne. II rencontre une vieille2 qui dit: "Viens done, mon Ti-Jean,
voir ta grand'm&re. Qa fait longtemps que tu m'as vue." — "Com-
ment, vous etes ma grand'mere, vous?" — "Oui, je suis ta grand'-
mere." Elle fait prendre une tasse de the a Ti-Jean, qui vomit de
suite le cceur d'oiseau 2 et perd [ainsi] son don.
Continuant sa route avec ses deux chevaux, il rencontre un homme
avec un fusil. L'homme demande: "Veux-tu changer tes deux che-
vaux pour mon fusil?" Ti-Jean repond: "Es-tu fou? Donner mes
deux chevaux pour un vieux fusil tout rouilleM" L'autre repond:
"C'est la un bon fusil. Tout ce que je veux tuer3 avec, je le tue."
Ti-Jean dit: "Voila mes deux chevaux. Je te les donne pour ton fusil."
S'en revenant chez le vieux et la vieille, au bord 4 du bois, Ti-Jean
dit: "Vous viendrez ce soir avec vingt paires de chevaux chercher le
1 Fournier dit "maitre d'hdtel."
2 La sorciere lui fait avaler un vomitif pour s'emparer du charme qu'il a avale\
3 Fournier dit: "Tout ce que je pense de tuer avec. . ."
4 Le texte est ici: "dans le bord du bois."
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 101
gibier que j'aurai tue\" Et dans le bois, il tire du fusil toute la jour-
n£e. Le soir, il y a la charge de quarante paires de chevaux de gibier.
Ti-Jean retourne faire un tour le long de la grosse montagne. La
meme vieille dit: "Viens done voir ta pauvre grand'mere, que tu n'as
pas vue depuis si longtemps." — "Tu m'as vole" mon don. Ah! tu
voudrais bien encore me jouer un tour?" — "Non, tu es fatigue\
Viens passer la nuit ici." Un coup couche" sur un sofa et endormi, la
vieille l'envoie bien loin dans les airs, sur un 'paten.'1
En se rSveillent, Ti-Jean pense: "Dis-moi done ou je suis! Ou
c'qu'elle m'a envoye\ la vieille sorciere?" C'qu'il voit venir? Un
grot aigle! "Aie, associg! Comment me demandes-tu pour me des-
cendre a terre?" L'aigle r6pond: "Je ne suis pas capable de te des-
cendre." — "Essaie, toujours!" Voila Ti-Jean sur le dos de l'aigle
qui descend. Mais a trente pieds de terre, l'aigle Yechappe. Ti-Jean
tombe a quatre pattes dans un jardin, sur un carre" de salade. "Bien!
je vas toujours manger une feuille de salade." II en mange une
feuille, et le voila en poulain. "C'que e'est qu'ra? Me voila en pou-
lain, d'et'heure!" Et il se met a trotter autour du jardin. Arrive" a
un beau pommier, il mange une pomme. II devient un beau prince.
En pensant: "Voila bien mon affaire!" il met une couple de pommes
dans sa poche, et apporte une brassee de salade. II s'en va au cha-
teau de la vieille magicienne, et laisse la salade au bord du ruisseau,
devant la porte.
Le voyant entrer, la magicienne dit: "Ah, e'est toi!" — "Oui, tu
m'as jou6 un beau tour!" — "Qu'apportais-tu dans tes bras, avant
d'entrer?" demande-t-elle. "J'apportais la meilleure salade qui se
trouve dans le royaume, et je l'ai laissee pr£s du ruisseau." 2 A une
servante la magicienne dit: "Va chercher la salade; mais prends bien
garde d'en manger!" Au bord du ruisseau, la servante lave la salade,
en mange une feuille, et la voila changed en pouliche. Au lieu de
s'en retourner au chateau, elle prend le chemin de ratable, et se met
dans une barrure du fond. "Mais, vieille magicienne, dit Ti-Jean, la
servante va bien manger toute la salade. Elle ne revient plus." La
vieille envoie la princesse, sa prisonniere, laver la salade au bord du
ruisseau. En lavant la salade, la princesse pense: "Quand meme
j'en mangerais une feuille, ca ne ferait rien." Mange une feuille, et
la voila en belle pouliche brune, qui prend le chemin de ratable.
"Mais, bonne vieille! dit Ti-Jean, votre princesse va bien manger
toute la salade, elle ne revient plus." La magicienne r6pond: "II
me faut done y aller." Au bord du ruisseau, en lavant la salade, elle
pense: "Elle m'a l'air ben bonne." Elle en mange une feuille, et la
voila en vieille jument, la peau collee aux cotes, et tricollant 3 dans le
1 Terme de marine, dont le sens est ici devenu plus 6tendu.
2 Fournier disait "russeau." 3 Chancelant.
102 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
chemin. Voyant ca, Ti-Jean se dit: "A'ct'heure, ma vieille sorciere,
il faut que tu vomisses mon cceur d'oiseau." Une gaule a la main,
il s'en va a ratable, et il se met a bucher sur1 la vieille jument, qui
rue et qui rue. "Ah, ma vieille sorciere! Je vas varger2 a tour de
bras tant que tu n'auras pas vomi mon cceur d'oiseau." En tom-
bant raide morte, la vieille jument remet le cceur d'oiseau, que Ti-
Jean s'empresse d'avaler. Le revoild avec son don.
II se dit:"Il faut que j'aille inviter mon frere Pierre a mes noces. "
En arrivant au chateau, il dit: "Bonjour, mon frere Pierre!" — "Bon-
jour, Ti-Jean!" — "Pierre, viens-tu a mes noces, demain matin?" —
"Tu te maries?" — "Ben sur que je me marie!" — "Ti-Jean, prends
garde de me faire marcher pour rien. Autrement, parole de roi, tu
seras pendu a la porte de mon ch&teau." — "Mon Ti-Pierre, tu n'as
pas besoin d'aller si vite. Ma princesse va 6tre cent fois plus belle
que la tienne."
Le lendemain matin, Ti-Jean se presse et mene son frere au chateau
de la vieille sorciere. "Qu'est-ce que tu as, Ti-Jean ? tu ne te maries
point? Tu ne vas pas chercher ta pretendue?" — "Ma pretendue
n'est pas loin: elle est a Potable." Les deux freres s'en vont en-
semble a l'6table. Lui montrant la belle pouliche brune, Ti-Jean
dit: "La voila!" — "Mais, Ti-Jean, tu veux te marier a une pouliche
d'ct'keure?" — "Va-t'en au chateau,Ti-Pierre, et j'irai betd te rejoindre
avec ma princesse." Son frere sorti, il prend sa pomme et la fait
manger a la pouliche, qui devient une princesse, cent fois plus belle
que celle de Ti-Pierre. Voyant arriver au chateau cette belle prin-
cesse, Ti-Pierre dit: "Tu me le disais bien, Ti-Jean, que ta princesse
est cent fois plus belle que la mienne. Et tu n'as pas menti !".ft £a
fait qu'ils ont fait les belles noces; ils ont danse* et fete* — c'6tait le
'temps passeY3 ils s'amusaient! Pendant le mariage, ils sont alle\s
faire manger l'autre pomme a la pouliche dans la barrure du fond, qui
est redevenue servante, et qui les a toujours bien servis, le reste de
ses jours.
Moi, ils m'ont renvoye* ici, a Sainte-Anne de la Pocatiere, vous le
conter.
63. LE CONTE DES RATS. 4
Une fois, c'6tait une veuve et son seul enfant, un garcon. Comme
ils vivent dans une place pauv' pauvy pauv,' 5 un bon jour ils ne trou-
vent plus rien a manger.
1 Frapper a bras raccourci.
2 Pour "verger;" i.e., frapper fort avec une verge.
3 Quand on dit 'temps passeY on parle d'une epoque assez eloigned.
4 Raconte" par Paul Patry, en aout, 1914, a Saint- Victor, Beauce.
6 Forme iterative, exprimant le superl'atif .
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 103
Le petit garcon avait eleve" un beau gros coq, gros 'de m6me.' L II
dit done a sa m&re: "Je m'en vas vendre le coq, pour avoir de quoi
manger." II part avec son coq sous son bras, s'en va a la ville, mar-
che, marche.
Le long du chemin, dans un bois, il rencontre une fee qui dit: "Ah,
mon jeune homme, ou vas-tu?" — "Je m'en vas a la ville vendre
mon coq. On n'a plus rien a manger." — "Quand tu vendras ton
coq, r6serve-t'en done la tete, que tu m'apporteras a ton retour." —
"Ah, bonne mere, je le ferai."
Rendu au march6, on vient marchander son coq. C'est une pias-
tre pour le coq. Un monsieur dit: "On va l'acheter." — "Je de-
mande une piastre, et je me reserve la tete du coq." Le monsieur
dit: "Qa fait bien mon affaire. Moi, je serais bien en peine pour le
tuer." Le garcon coupe la tete du coq, la met dans sa poche, donne
le coq et prend sa piastre, avec laquelle il va s'acheter deux pains.
Comme il passe dans le bois, en s'en revenant, la vieille fee de-
mande: "As-tu reserve* la tete de ton coq?" — "Ah! il dit, oui; la
voila!" Bien contente, elle la prend, et laisse aller le garcon un petit
bout. "H6! elle crie, attends done!" II demande: "Quoi?" Elle
dit: "Je ne t'ai pas donne de recompense." En lui donnant un petit
morceau d'argent, elle dit: "Tu iras chez l'orfevre et tu te feras faire
une bague. Tout ce que tu souhaiteras, la bague te l'accordera."
Quand il arrive a la maison, sa pauvre mere est bien contente de
le voir avec ses deux pains. II y a si longtemps qu'elle n'a pas fait
un bon repas. lis mangent done tous les deux.
Le lendemain, il s'en va chez l'orfevre a qui il demande: "Comment
voulez-vous pour me faire une bague?" L'orfevre repond: "Tu me
donneras les retailles, pour mon paiement." Le petit jeune homme
s'en revient chez eux, 2 et il dit a sa mere: "A'ct'heure, vous ne patirez
plus. Descendez dans la cave, et allez qWiz du lard." — "Mais, mon
pauvre enfant, ca fait quinze ans qu'il n'y en a plus." II repete:
"Vite, allez-y voir!" C'est bien plein de beau lard, a la cave. C'est
ce qu'il vient de d^sirer avec sa bague. II souhaite deux huches
pleines de pain; et voila deux huches bien pleines de beau pain. Tous
les jours, il souhaite ce dont il a besoin; 4 et tous deux, sa m6re et lui,
sont bien nourris, rien de mieux!
Un bon jour, le voila sur l'age; il veut se marier. Le roi restait
dans un petit chateau, au coin d'une rue, pas loin. Le garcon dit a
sa mere: "Allez-donc demander au roi sa fille en mariage pour moi."
Elle repond: "Laisse5 done! 'c'est a croire que'6 je vas aller deman-
1 Gros "comme ceci;" le conteur y ajoutait un geste.
1 Chez lui, chez sa mere. 3 Querir, chercher.
* Patry dit: "tout ce qu'il a besoin." 5 Dans le sens de "Allez done!"
e Signifie : "Tu te trompes si tu penses que. . ."
104 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
der la fille du roi pour toi." — "Allez, allez! s'il ne veut pas, il la gardera."
La bonne-femme s'en va done parler de de'ga1 au roi. "Ah! dit le
roi; le petit gredin! II faut qu'il soit puni. Va lui dire que si, de-
main, il ne m'a pas range* trente cordes de bois a ma porte, il sera
pendu. Qa lui montrera a me demander ma fille.'' Sa m&re s'en va
en braillant le lui dire. "Ne pleure done pas, il rSpond, ne pleure
done pas! Je m'en vas 'bueher.'"2
S'en allant dans la ville, il engage trente hommes pour 'bueher'
le lendemain. Quand les trente hommes arrivent, il part avec eux,
et il les m£ne dans la 'sucrerie' 3 du roi, a ras sa cabane, et il leur dit:
"Buchez!" La 'sucrerie' du roi 6tait belle, ca ne se battait pas. 4 Les
hommes 'buchent' les belles Arables, qui tombent drues. Le roi se
dit: "II faut toujours que je voie ou ils 'buchent.' " Et le valet qu'il
envoie revient en disant: "Monsieur le roi, e'est pas des bebelles!5 Ils
'buchent' dans le cceur de votre belle 'sucrerie;' et ils en ont un 6talage
de coupe\ e'est pas Hen!"* Le roi envoie ses troupes pour prendre
les bucherons. Trouvant le jeune homme assis sur une souche, qui
regarde 'bueher' ses hommes, les soldats disent: "Vous voila tous
prisonniers." Mais lui, il dit: "En vertu de ma bague, qu'ils soient
tous morts, excepts un qui ira porter la nouvelle au roi!" Ils meu-
rent tous; et celui qui reste en vie court dire au roi: "Ils sont tous
morts, vos soldats." Le roi envoie done une troupe bien plus forte
pour prendre les bucherons. Les voyant arriver, le jeune homme,
assis sur une souche, dit: "En vertu de ma bague, je souhaite qu'ils
meurent tous, excepte celui qui en ira porter la nouvelle au roi!" Et
les voila tous morts.
Le soir, le jeune homme va dire au roi: "Vous pouvez compter vos
trente cordes de belle Arable, devant votre porte."
Le lendemain, il se dit: "II m'en faut, du bois, moe-tou.7 Le roi,
lui, a de la belle Arable; mais moi, je suis un monsieur, il me faut du
pommier." Et il emm&ne ses bucherons dans le verger du roi. Les
voyant arriver, le roi part et vient trouver le jeune homme, disant:
"Ne 'buche' pas dans mon verger. Viens-t'en!" L'emmenant avec
lui, il ajoute: "A'ct'heure, je vas te donner ma fille en mariage." Et
il le marie a sa fille.
Une fois mari6, le gendre du roi se souhaite un chateau bien plus
beau que celui du roi, et toutes sortes de belles choses dedans. Au
1 Parler de cela.
2 Ici v. n., dans le sens de "abattre des arbres pour en faire du bois de chauffage."
3 I.e., foret d'erables ou Ton fabrique le sucre durable.
4 Anglicisme pour "il n'y en avait point de plus belle."
6 Ce n'est pas des jeux d'enfants; bSbelle signifie "jouet."
8 Dans le sens de "e'est serieux!"
7 I.e., a moi et tout, a moi aussi.
Contes Popidaires Canadiens. 105
chateau, ce tricheux, l il couche avec sa bonne-femme. Elle lui de-
mande: "Par quel moyen as-tu tant de vertu?"2 — "Tiens, ma fem-
me, il repond, tu ne le r£peteras pas! Mais, voici une bague dans
mon doigt; tout ce que je souhaite d'elle, je l'ai."
Pendant que le jeune homme est content de vivre si bien, la femme,
elle, n'aime pas son mari 'a plein.' 3
A la fin, une nuit, pendant qu'il dort, elle lui mouille le doigt et lui
ote sa bague. Sans bague il n'a pas plus de 'vertu' qu'un autre. Le
roi lui dit: "Ah! tu vas voir d'ct'heure, mon gars!" Envoyant la po-
lice, il le fait prendre et attacher, pour qu'on le porte au pays des rats,
ou il se fera devorer pour sa penitence. On l'attache a une voiture
dans une poche; et deux hommes partent avec lui pour le pays des
rats, marchent, marchent.
C'6tait pas mal loin, le pays des rats. En passant a la porte d'une
auberge, les hommes disent: "On va toujours entrer prendre un coup;
il y a encore un bon bout a faire." Pendant qu'ils boivent, un gros
matou jaune, gros 'de meme/4 passe tout pres de la voiture. "Mon
bidou, mon bidou, viens ici!" dit le jeune homme. Comme le chat va
le trouver, il le prend et le cache dans son capot.
Sortant de l'auberge, les soldats repartent avec la voiture, et ils
filent. Ils arrivent au pays des rats pendant un jour de parade.
Tous les rats sont habilles en soldats, et leur roi, avant qu'ils partent
pour la guerre, en fait la revue. II y a une grosse batisse remplie de
troupes, partout, partout, et le roi des rats, sur un theatre, fait un
sermon, preche, et les instruit. Voyant arriver un homme dans un
sac, il dit: "En voila toujours un beau gros. Ce n'est pas le premier
que ce roi m'envoie. II faut faire une fete avec." Le roi crie: "Mes
rats!" Les rats se tassent autour de l'homme. Les uns disent: "M'a 5
lui manger le nez;" les autres: "Af'a lui manger les joues." Mais
lui, il tire la tete de son matou en dehors du sac, et rrndo, rrndo . . . ; il
largue 6 le chat, qui se met a courir rrang-tit-tit, rrang-tit-tit! II vous
etrangle une bande de rats! Leur roi dit: "Cou'don,7 mon ami!
votre bete va tout manger mon peuple." L'homme repond: "Oui,
je vous fais tous devorer d net 8 par ma grosse bete." — "Comment-
c'que vous me demandez pour garder ta bete ? II y a assez de monde
de mort." — "Je te demande d'aller chercher ma bague ou elle se
trouve, chez le roi; autrement, je vous fais tous manger a net."
Le roi des rats fait battre un ban parmi son peuple, pour appren-
dre ou est le chateau du roi. Quand ils sont tous assembles, une
1 Dans le sens de "veinard." 2 Pouvoirs.
3 I.e., ne 1'aime pas beaucoup.
* I.e., comme ceci — un geste accompagnait ces mots.
B I.e., je m'en vas . . . , je vas . . .
6 Terme marin; signifie "lacher."
7 ficoute done! 8 Sans exception.
106 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
vieille rate dit: "Moi, je connais ben ce chateau-la. J'y ai mange
ben des tinettes de viande, de beurre et de confitures; je connais 5a!
Mais il y a loin a aller, et je suis vieille. J'y ai d£ja rencontre" une
grosse fc>6te noire1 itou. II faudrait ben que je sois accompagn6e."
Une petite rate, sa cousine, la plus ratoureuse2 de toutes, dit: "Je vas
aller avec vous." Pendant qu'elles sont parties, l'horame garde son
matou dans le sac.
Rendue au chateau du roi, la vieille rate dit a sa petite niece:
'Trends garde!" Elles entrent par un trou dans la chainbre du roi,
pendant qu'il dort, la nuit. La petite rate dit: "La bague n'est pas
ais6e a trouver. II l'a dans sa bouche, parce qu'elle est nulle part
ailleurs. Mais, tu vas voir, il la crachera bien!" La petite rate
s'en va dans la cusine, et se tortille la queue dans de la moutarde
qui se trouve sur une planche. Comme le roi dort sur le dos, la
petite rate lui passe la queue sur la 'gueule.' Le roi fait: "Pouah!"
et il se met a cracher, et crache la bague dans la place. La vieille
rate prend la bague et file vers le trou.
En s'en allant, la petite rate dit a la vieille: "Cou'don, ma tante,
donne-moi done la bague. Qa, me fera honneur de l'avoir gagnee,
comme ca empechera le chat de devorer tous les rats." La vieille
r£pond: "J'aime autant la garder. Une vieille comme moi passera
pour bien habile." 3
Pendant que, sur un pont, elles traversent une riviere, la difficulty
prend entre les deux rates. En se chamaillant, elles echappent la
bague, qui tombe au fond de la riviere. La vieille dit: "Si tu m'avais
seulement laiss6e tranquille, la bague ne serait pas la."
En arrivant chez leur roi, elles disent: "La bague nous a echappe"
sur le pont, et elle est tomb£e dans le fond de la riviere." — "Ah! en
voila encore une affaire!" dit le roi. II refait battre un ban pour sa-
voir si quelqu'un connait cette rivi&re. Un vieux rat avait ete 'de
cer6monie' 4 avec une grenouille de cette rivi&re-la. "Ah! il dit, je
connais bien ca!" Le roi dit: "Pars vitement, et va voir si tu peux
avoir la bague." Voila le vieux parti. Arrive" au bord de la riviere,
il se met a son langage5 avec la grenouille: "Brik-brak-brak." La
grenouille ressoud. "Bonjour, bonjour! depuis 'ce temps que' 6 je ne
t'ai pas vue! C'est bien depuis qu'on7 a ete 'de cer£monie' ensemble."
Et ils commencent a s'embrasser. "Dis-moi done ce que tu cherches ?"
demande la grenouille. "Ah, pauvre enfant! Je cherche une bague
1 Un autre chat. 2 Rus6e; radical, "tour."
3 Patry employa ici le mot anglais "smart."
4 Patry ajouta en explication: ". . .avait 6t6 compere;" i.e., avait 6te" parrain en
compagnie de . . .
8 Se met a parler son langage.
8 Dans le sens de "combien longtemps il y a que ..."
7 Que nous. . .
Contes Poptdaires Canadiens. 107
qui a e^e" perdue au fond de la rivi&re." La grenouille commande a
toutes ses petites grenouilles et a ses crapauds de se mettre tous c6te
a c6te et de marcher tout le long, dans le fond de la rivi&re. On
trouve la bague. La 'commere' du vieux rat la lui rapporte. Bien
content, il la remercie, l'embrasse, lui souhaite le bonjour, et il part.
Arrive au chateau de son roi, il lui remet la bague. Bien content,
le roi, a son tour, la donne au jeune homme, qui dit: "A'ct'heure
qu'est-ce que tu souhaites? J'ai fait du mal a tes troupes." Le
roi respond: "Ramene ta bete, et remets mon monde en vie." — "En
vertu de ma bague, dit l'homme, je souhaite tous les rats en vie."
Et tous les rats, en revenant a la vie, se sauvent a toute 6pouvante.
Le jeune homme se souhaite rendu dans son chateau. Le voyant
arriver le roi dit: "C'est ben le boute ! Le voila revenu avec sa bague,
que j'ai perdue. II va tous nous mettre a mort." Se jetant aux ge-
noux de son gendre, il lui demande pardon en lui remettant sa fille.
Mais le jeune homme repond: "Gardez-la, votre fille; elle est trop
tricheuse! Je vivrai a mes depens, et restez tranquille." Qa fait que
le roi et son gendre ont chacun vecu a leurs depens.
Quant au gendre, je ne sais pas s'il s'est remarie. Je n'en ai plus
entendu parler.
64. LE COQ ET LES RATS. l
Une fois, c'est une veuve qui a trois garcons, dont le plus jeune
s'appelle Jean.
A l'age de vingt-et-un ans, Jean apprend que la guerre vient d'ecla-
ter. Avant de partir pour la guerre, il dit a sa mere: "Quant a la
poule que j'ai mis couver, et a mon coq, je vous dis de ne pas les ven-
dre ni les changer, durant mon absence."
Quelque temps apr&s, quand Jean 2 est a la guerre, trois fees vien-
nent chez sa mere pour acheter le coq. La veuve repond: "Ce coq
est a Jean, mon garcon; et il m'a bien defendu de le vendre entre ci
et qu'il revienne." — "Ah! repondent les fees, s'il vous Fa defendu,
on va vous le changer pour un pareil." — "Le changer? Non, je
ne le change pas; il m'a defendu de le changer ni de le vendre."
D6sappointees, les fees s'en vont.
Le lendemain matin, la plus agee des fees dit: "Retournons-y.
Mais apportons une lampe d'argent pour l'offrir a la veuve, en echan-
ge pour le coq." Arrivees chez la mere de Jean, les fees disent: "Cette
lampe d'argent vous serait bien plus utile qu'un coq. La mere,
1 Raconte" a, Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915, par Narcisse Thiboutot,
qui dit avoir appris ce conte de son oncle, feu Charles Francceur, il y a sept ou huit
ans.
2 A certains endroits, le conteur dit "petit Jean," au lieu de "Jean."
108 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
vous n'avez rien ici pour vous 6clairer." — "C'est vrai, on n'a rien
pour s'6clairer; mais mon gargon Jean m'a dit de ne pas vendre son
coq. Je ne veux done plus que vous reveniez me b&drer l pour 9a."
Voyant qu'elles ne peuvent reussir, les fees retournent chez elles, la
t£te basse.
Un jour, comme ga fait longtemps que Jean est a la guerre, une
des f£es dit: "Cou'don, je vas acheter le coq, moi." Elle retourne chez
la veuve, achete le coq, l'apporte chez elle et dit a sa servante: "Tu
vas tuer le coq et le faire cuire tout rond, avec la tete." La servante
tue le coq, et le fait cuire avec la tete. Quand le coq est cuit, un petit
jeune queteux passe, entre et demande a manger. Prenant la tete
du coq, la servante la lui donne. "Merci!"dit le jeune quUeux, en
prenant la porte et en s'en allant chez la m6re de Jean. "Tiens,
grand'mSre, dit-il, on m'a donne" la tete d'un coq pour mon diner.
Jetez-la a votre chatte, qu2'elle la mange." La veuve prend la tete
de coq et la serre dans sa commode.
Dans l'entrefaite, voila Jean qui revient de la guerre. "Et mon
coq, demande-t-il en entrant, l'avez-vous encore?" — "Non; hier, je
l'ai vendu aux fees." — "Mais, mouman, je vous avais bien defendu
de le vendre." — "Oui, mon petit Jean; mais ga faisait bien longtemps
qu'elles me badraient." — "C'est-i pas rien!5 Au moins, si vous
aviez garde* la tete." — "Mon petit gargon, je l'ai icite, la t6te; elle
est bien serr6e." La veuve remet a son gargon la tete de coq. Rou-
vrant la tete, Jean y prend la bague qui s'y trouve, et il se la met dans
le doigt. Avec sa bague, il souhaite d'avoir le plus beau chateau de
la terre, brillant comme des 6tincelles et suspendu sur quatre chaines
d'or. Aussi vite qu'il Fa desire* il se trouve assis dans un chateau
brillant, suspendu sur quatre chaines d'or.
S'adonnant d4 passer par la, le roi s'6crie: "Qu'est-ce que c'est, ga?
qu'est-ce que c'est, ga? D'ou est venue cette batisse, en si peu de
temps? Je n'ai jamais vu rien de si beau." Le roi appelle un valet
pour yi 5 demander le nom du roi a qui appartient ce chateau. A
celui qui entre s'informer, on repond: "Je suis petit Jean; c'est mon
nom."
Le roi, le lendemain, envoie un valet inviter petit Jean a souper
avec lui. "C'est bien vrai, repond petit Jean, que je suis oblige*
d'oben- a, la parole du roi. Mais retournez l'inviter a venir me rendre
visite et a prendre le diner chez moi, demain midi." Le valet va dire
a son maitre: "Monsieur le roi,le jeune roi Jean me prie de vous dire
que si vous pouviez aller diner avec lui, demain midi, il pr^fererait
1 De I'anglais "to bother." J Abreviation de "pour qu'elle. . ."
3 I.e., est-ce assez malheureux!
4 I.e., passant la par pur hasard. B Yi pour "lui."
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 109
§a." 1 Le roi fait done greyer sa vieille reine et sa princesse, et dit:
"On va prendre le diner chez le jeune roi Jean."
Vers midi, Jean souhaite avec sa bague d'avoir la plus belle des
tables, garnie des meilleurs mets qui se puissent trouver. En entrant,
le roi dit: "Jeune roi Jean, jamais je ne pourrai comprendre comment
vous avez fait batir ce chateau en si peu de temps, a ma porte, et sans
que j'en aie connaissance." — "Ah, monsieur le roi, ce n'est rien. 2
II y a bien des choses plus difficiles que je pourrais faire." Tout en
parlant, le vieux roi demande a Jean voir3 s'il est garcon. "Ah oui,
monsieur le roi, repond Jean; je n'ai que ma vieille mere avec moi."
Le trouvant de son gout 'a plein/ le roi tourne et tourne, et lui offre
quasiment sa fille, la princesse. Comme Jean ne demande pas mieux,
la noce se fait au plus vite — les rois ne prenaient pas grand temps
a faire une noce, dans le 'temps passe" !
Quelque temps apr&s le mariage, le roi dit: "Mon Jean, allons faire
un tour de chasse." — "Oui, allons-y!" r£pond Jean. lis greyent
tout leur manege, prennent ce qu'il leur faut pour huit jours de chasse,
et ils partent. Jean oublie bien sa bague, qu'il laisse accroch^e a la
tete de son lit.
Pendant leur absence, les trois f6es viennent trouver la jeune prin-
cesse, lui demandant si elle n'a pas de vieilles bagues a changer pour
des neuves. "Oui, r£pond la princesse, mon mari en a une qui com-
mence a ternir. Je suis prete a la changer." Les f£es lui donnent
trois bagues en ^change de la sienne, et elles s'en vont.
Aussitot qu'elles ont la bague, les fees souhaitent que le chateau
fonde4 comme le ferait en 6te* un chateau de glace. D'un crac5 le
chateau est fondu, et la princesse est prise dans ce bourbier.
Revenant de la chasse, le roi et Jean regardent partout. Point
de chateau! Jean dit: "Ma femme m'a trahi! Elle a du changer
ma bague que j'avais oubli^e." — "La bague que tu avais oubhe'e?
dit le roi; je pense, mon Jean, que ce n'etait qu'un chateau de glace. "
— "Ah non, monsieur le roi! Ma femme a du changer la bague que
j'avais laiss^e a la tete de mon lit. Elle m'a trahi." En colere, le
roi dit: "Tu m£rites d'etre puni seV6rement. Je reprends ma fille;
et pour te punir, on va rassembler tous les gens de la place pour de-
cider quel sera ton chatiment."
Quand les gens furent rassemble's, un dit: "Faisons-le bruler a
petit feu." Un autre dit: "On va le noyer." Un troisteme dit:
"Envoyons-le sur l'ile aux rats." Les ayant tous entendus, le roi
decide: "Je consens qu'on l'envoie sur l'ile aux rats pour le faire
1 Thiboutot disait: "II prSfererait plutdt ca que de venir."
2 Fournier disait "e'est rien!" 3 Pour voir si. . .
4 Le texte de Fournier ici est: "Souhaitent que le chateau fut fondu comme e'edt
6t€ un chateau de glace. . ."
6 Dans un instant.
110 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
deVorer par les rats." Faisant gr6er sa chaloupe, le roi dit a Jean:
"Allons, embarque!" Jean demande: "Avant d'embarquer, sire
mon roi, m'accordez-vous la gr&ce de prendre mon gros chat, qui
s'appelle Thorn1?" — "Apporte-le, ton Thorn1; tu n'en as toujours
pas pour si longtemps a vivre."
Le voila done parti pour Tile aux rats, ou on va le reconduire.
Rendus a Tile, les valets du roi ne peuvent pas accoster; les rats,
comme des demons, veulent se lancer sur la chaloupe. A la fin, Jean
prend son chat sous son bras et dit: "Mon Thorn1 ', il faut que tu
sauves la vie a ton maitre. Sinon, il va mourir en brave." Le chat
repond: "Ne crains pas, mon maitre!" Jean lache son chat en di-
sant: "Thorn', divertis-toi sur File, et strangle autant de rats qu'il y
en a." Thorn' se lance a coups de dents et de griff es, et tue les rats
par piles. La peur finit par prendre les rats. Voila leur roi qui
arrive: "Arretez, monsieur, arretez votre bete! On va vous laisser
tranquille." Lachant un cri, Jean dit: "Thorn', avant d'arreter,
divertis-toi! II y a encore trop de rats sur File." Le roi des rats
repute: "Monsieur, arretez-le! je vous promets qu'on vous fera aucun
mal." Jean dit a son chat: "Thorn', viens-t'en icite." Et le chat
revient pres de son maitre en se lachant les babines.
Le roi des rats demande: "Monsieur, pour quelle raison etes-vous
venu ici?" — "Pour la raison que j'avais un chateau brillant, sus-
pendu sur quatre chaines d'or, en avant de celui du roi. Apres
avoir epouse la princesse du roi, je partis pour la chasse. Pendant
mon absence, ma femme m'a trahi en changeant ma bague, que des
fees sont venues lui demander. Cette bague 6tait une bague 'de
vertu,' l avec laquelle il me suffisait de souhaiter quelque chose pour
l'avoir. Roi des rats! si tu n'es pas capable de trouver ou est ma ba-
gue, tu peux etre certain que toi et tes rats, vous allez tous mourir.
Thorn' va se divertir a son gout, si tu ne peux pas m'aider." — "Ah,
monsieur, arretez! Elle n'est pas ici, sur mon terrain, votre bague;
mais elle est peut-etre sur celui de la reine des souris." Le roi des
rats attelle deux mulots sur son carrosse, prend une souris pour cocher,
et il s'en va trouver la reine des souris. Voyant arriver le roi des rats,
la reine des souris dit: "Que venez-vous faire ici, aujourd'hui, le roi
des rats?" — "Ah ! si tu savais, la reine des souris ! Toute ma place
est bouleversee par une bete dont le maitre m'a dit que si je ne retrou-
vais pas sa bague perdue, tous mes rats seraient mis a mort." La
reine des souris rdpond: "Moi, je n'ai pas eu connaissance de cette
bague, sur mon terrain. Mais, la reine des grenouilles2 le saurait
peut-etre bien." — "Eh bien! je vas aller le dire a la bete qui veut
tous nous detruire."
1 Bague enchanted. Ailleurs, G.-S. Pelletier appelle ces objets "des souhaite-
verlu."
2 Prononce' gomouilles.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. Ill
Le roi des rats revient dire a Jean: "Monsieur, la bague n'est pas
sur le terrain des souris; mais la reine des grenouilles en saurait peut-
etre quelque chose." Jean r6pond: "Oui, si la reine des grenouilles
le veut, elle peut me retrouver ma bague. Mais il faudra qu'elle
envoie a sa recherche quatre grenouilles, quatre rats et quatre souris.
Si elle ne me rapporte pas ma bague entre ci trots jours, 1 vous serez
tous mis a mort." Quand elle apprend ca, la reine des grenouilles
dit: "On va essayer." Appelant une vieille grenouille: "Serais-tu
capable d'aller chercher la bague que les fees ont changee chez le roi
Jean? Si tu me la rapportes, je te donnerai de la creme au sucre."
La grenouille respond: "Oui, j'en serai peut-etre capable; mais il faut
que tu envoies quatre jeunes grenouilles avec moi." On grfye la
goelette pour traverser, et a bord montent les quatre grenouilles avec
quatre rats et quatre souris.
Quand la goelette arrive dret en face de chez les fees, debarquent les
rats, les souris et les grenouilles. Ensemble ils se glissent vers la
maison des f£es, regardent par la porte entre-b&illee, et apercoivent la
plus vieille des fees, la bague au doigt, et couched sur un canape\
Voyant la chatte sous le poele, les rats n'osent pas entrer. La plus
petite des souris se glisse derriere le balai, dans le coin, et elle attend
que le chat soit sorti. Apres une escousse, la petite souris saute au
doigt de la f6e, fait tomber la bague, qu'elle prend et apporte a la
goelette.
On met a la voile pour s'en retourner au pays des grenouilles. En
route, un rat dit: "C'est moi qui ai trouve" la bague." — "Ce n'est
pas toi, dit la souris; tu as eu peur d 'entrer quand tu as vu la chatte
sous le poele. Moi, je suis entree comme une brave, en me glissant
derriere le balai. J'ai ensuite saute" au doigt de la f£e, et me suis
sauvee avec sa bague." Dans sa colore, le rat attrape la souris en
disant: "Tu vas me la donner." — "J'aimerais mieux la perdre que
te la donner." Saute sur le bout de la goelette, saute sur le flange; 2
la petite souris echappe la bague a l'eau.
Bien piteuse, la petite souris vient dire a la vieille grenouille: "J'ai
perdu la bague." Comme c'est en pleine nuit, la vieille grenouille
'prend un apercu sur' une 6toile.
Avant d'arriver chez la reine des grenouilles, on hisse le pavilion
de deuil. Les voyant venir, le roi des rats dit a la reine des gre-
nouilles: "II leur est arrive malheur; ils sont en deuil." En d£bar-
quant, la vieille grenouille va dire a sa reine: "On a perdu la bague
dans le fond de la mer. Courue par le rat, la petite souris, qui avait
gagne la bague, s'est sauvee sur le flange et a echappe la bague a l'eau,
en pleine mer. Le rat, vous savez, se souvenait de vos paroles : 'Celui
1 Entre ci et le troisieme jour. . .
2 Peut-gtre de l'anglais "flange," rebord, saillie.
112 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
qui rapportera la bague sera soigne" a la bouillie au sucre.' ' La
reine des grenouilles dit: "Ma vieille grenouille, es-tu capable, avec
cinq jeunes grenouilles, d'aller chercher la bague la ou elle a ete" per-
due?" — "Oui, ma reine, nous allons essayer."
Suivie de cinq grenouilles, la vieille se rend, la nuit suivante, a
l'endroit ou la bague est tomb^e a 1'eau. Regardant a l'6toile, elle
dit: "C'est icite; j'en juge par l'6toile." Attendant le lendemain, au
jour, le capitaine de la goelette prend une planche, met une petite
grenouille dessus, et la lache doucement a Teau. La grenouille cher-
che la bague, cherche, mais ne trouve rien et se neye. l Voyant ga,
la vieille grenouille dit: "Moi, j'y vas." Plonge et reste deux heures
sous l'eau. On en est 'occupeV 2 dans la goelette; et on se dit: "Elle
va se noyer." Mais non, elle revient avec la bague dans sa gueule,
grimpe sur la goelette, se glisse a sa chambre et fait hisser le pavilion
de joie, pendant qu'on revient chez la reine des grenouilles.
Les voyant arriver, la reine des grenouilles dit au roi des rats: "lis
l'ont retrquv6e: voyez le pavilion de joie." En debarquant, la vieille
grenouille va porter la bague a la reine des grenouilles. "Tiens, la
reine, dit -elle, allez porter la bague a qui elle appartient." La reine
r6pond: "Vas-y toi-meme avec le roi des rats, comme c'est toi qui as
travaille" a deUivrer notre pays et le sien." La vieille grenouille s'en
va done trouver Jean, et dit: "Monsieur Jean, voila la bague dont
vous avez parle" au roi des rats. Une fee l'avait obtenue de votre
femme en ^change [de trois bagues neuves]. A'ct'heure, on vous la
donne en vous demandant de laisser la paix a notre pays." — "Ah!
dit Jean, la bonne reine des grenouilles! Je t'en remercie bien des
fois, et je te souhaite d'etre plus heureuse que jamais. Moi, je m'en
retourne a mon chateau." Prenant la bague, il se la met au doigt.
"Je desire que mon chateau se trouve encore a la meme place, sus-
pendu sur quatre chaines d'or, devant celui du roi." Aussitot sou-
haite, aussitot faite.
Se reveillant, le lendemain matin, le roi apergoit un beau chateau
brillant devant le sien, et il voit le roi Jean se promenant sur la
galerie. "Comment ga se fait? dit le roi. Encore un qui se batit
un chateau devant le mien!"
Jean arrive et dit: "Monsieur le roi, rendez-moi ma femme. Je
veux lui faire pleurer son tort. Ma femme, voila son histoire: Pen-
dant que nous 6tions a la chasse, elle avait change" ma bague 'de
vertu' avec une f6e. La f6e souhaita mon chateau morfondu3 en
mar£cage, et la princesse resta prise dans le bourbier. La fee con-
naissait la vertu de ma bague, mais ma femme n'en connaissait rien;
1 Noie.
2 Inqui6te\
3 Probablement une corruption de "fondu."
Conies Popvlaires Canadiens. 113
et vous, monsieur le roi, vous disiez : 'Ton chateau, c'etait un chateau
de glace!'" Le roi dit: "Mon Jean, je t'en demande bien pardon.
Mais, aujourd'hui, ta femme a appris la vertu de ta bague, qu'elle
ne changera plus, pendant que nous serons a la chasse. Quant
aux gens qui te condamnaient, on va les punir com'i'faut." Ceux qui
voulaient faire bruler Jean, on les fait bruler. Ceux qui avaient dit
"Noyons-le!" on les rah/e. Et ceux qui avaient conseille" de Ten-
voyer a File aux rats, on les m&ne a File aux rats.
Tout en finit par la. Le roi, lui, a continue jusqu'a aujourd'hui a
vivre avec Jean, son gendre. Et moi, ils m'ont renvoye* ici. Depuis
ce temps-la, j'ai eu de la misere 'en d£mon,' l icite.
65. LA FABLE DE l'oURS ET DU RENARD. 2
Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'etait un renard et un ours.
Un bon matin, durant l'hiver, le petit renard se met dans un banc
de neige, devant la maison de Tours, et il se met a hurler, hurle. Sor-
tant de sa maison, Tours demande: "Qu'as-tu done a hurler, mon
petit renard?" II r£pond: "On m'appelle pour etre compere; mais je
ne veux pas y aller." — "Mon petit renard, vas-y done: ils vont te
donner a manger com'i'faut. S'ils m'appelaient comme ca, j'irais
bien, moi qui ne fais que me licher la patte." Le petit renard s'en
va, fait un tour, entre [sans qu'on le voit] dans la depense de Tours,
et commence a 'manger la tinette' 3 de beurre. Quand Tours le voit
repasser, il demande: "Comment Tappelles-tu, ton filleul?" — "Ah!
il dit, je Tai appele CommenceV'
Le lendemain matin, le petit renard revient encore sur le banc de
neige, devant Tours, et il hurle, hurle. "Qu'est-ce que tu as done, mon
petit renard, a tant hurler?" — "Parlez-m'en pas! on m'appelle
encore pour [etre] compere; mais moi, je ne veux pas y aller." — "Vas-y
done! on te soigne si bien, quand tu es compere!" Voila mon petit
renard qui part, fait un tour, entre [sans qu'on le voit] dans la defense
de Tours, et mange la moitie' du beurre, dans la tinette. 4 Le voyant
repasser, Tours lui demande: "Comment-c'que tu Tas appele, ton
filleul?" — "Je Tai appele A-moiquie." — "C'est un beau nom, mon
petit renard. Ce n'est pas bien de te faire prier comme ca pour etre
compere."
Encore la meme chose ; le lendemain matin, le petit renard se plante
dans le banc de neige, et se met a hurler. Hurle, hurle, mon petit
1 J'ai eu beaucoup de misere.
2 R6citee par Achille Fournier, en aout, 1915, a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska.
Fournier apprit cette fable, il y a longtemps, d'Edouard Lizotte, aussi de Sainte-
Anne.
3 C'est-a-dire le contenu de la tinette.
4 Fournier dit: "mange la tinette de beurre a moiquie."
114 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
renard. L'ours demande: "Mais, pourquoi tant hurler, mon petit
renard?" — "On m'appelle encore pour 6tre compare, et moi, je ne
veux pas y aller." — "Mon petit renard, vas-y done! Tu reviens
toujours saoul, quand tu es compare. Si on m'y invitait moi, je ne
demanderais pas mieux." Fait un tour, le petit renard, et entre dans
la depense de Tours, ou il mange le reste de la tinette de beurre. Le
voyant repasser, Tours demande: "Comment Tas-tu appel6, ton fil-
leul?" — "Je Tai appele" Cu\-liche." L'ours r£pond: "C'est un beau
nom, ca, mon petit renard. Je voudrais bien qu'ils m'appellent
pour [§tre] compere, moi qui ne vis qu'a me licher la patte."
Quand il va chercher du beurre dans sa tinette, Tours trouve tout
le beurre parti. S'en allant voir le renard, il dit: "Mon petit re-
nard, je ere ben que tu m'as joue un tour. Tu disais qu'on t'appelait
pour [etre] compare; mais c'est ben des menteries. Tu t'en allais
'manger ma tinette' de beurre. Leurs noms, tu disais, etaient Com-
mence, A-moiqutt et QvX-liche; mais, mon petit renard, m'a te devorer
d'et'heure." — "[Ne] me devore done point pendant que tu es si fache\
Tiens! on va se coucher, et celui qui, demain matin, aura du beurre
au derriere, ca sera lui qui aura mange" le beurre." L'ours finit par
etre consentant. lis se couchent et dorment.
Durant la nuit, le renard se leve et met du beurre au derriere de
Tours. S'apercevant qu'il est graiss6, en se reVeillant, Tours se dit:
"C'etait done moe qui Tavais mange!"
En prenant le chemin, un peu plus loin, le petit renard crie: "Je t'ai
jou6 un tour, Tours. Tu n'es pas ben fin, je te le garantis! A'ct'heu-
re, liche-toi la patte!"
Et moi, ils m'ont renvoye ici vous dire que le petit renard est bien
plus fin que l'ours. 1
66. jean-cuit. 2
C'etait un roi qui s'appelait Jean-Cuit. 3 Et son seul fils s'appelait
aussi, comme lui, Jean-Cuit.
Le garcon 6tait sur Tage de se marier, et son pere et sa mere deve-
naient vieux. Un jour, le pere dit: "Cou'don, mon jeune hornme,
nous veld4 vieux. £a nous ferait bien plaisir de te voir marie; et tu
ne m'as pas Tair a faire grand'ehose." — "Mon pere, dans cette place-
ci, je ne trouve pas 'de mon gout.'" 5 — "C'est bon! je vas te greyer
un batiment." De fait, il lui greye une belle frigate, et il y met de
Tor et de Targent.
1 Prononc6 Your.
2 Racont6 par Paul Patry, a Saint- Victor, Beauce, en aout, 1914. Patry, dans sa
jeunesse, apprit ce conte de son frere, Fr6d6ric Patry, alors rSsidant a Halifax, N.-E.
3 Le nom "John Cook" donne par le conteur, est ici traduit.
* Voila. B I.e., je ne trouve personne a mon gout.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 115
Voila le jeune homme parti en voyage, s'en allant de ville en ville,
et d'une province a l'autre. II n'en1 trouve pas de son gout, nulle
part.
Arrive a une ville bien eloigned, apr&s avoir longtemps voyage^ il
d£barque, et il se met a se promener dans la ville. II rencontre ben
une petite fillette d'une douzaine d'annees, belle! ce gw'une2 creature3
peut etre belle. Elle s'en va, portant un petit pot rempli de lait, pour
son petit fr&re. Sa mere est veuve et pauvre, pauvre.4 "Ma petite
fille, ou vas-tu?" demande Jean-Cuit. "Monsieur, je suis all£e cher-
cher du lait 'par charite" pour mon petit frere. On est si pauvre!" —
"Oui?" II met la main dans sa poche, hale un cinq louis d'or, et le
lui donne en disant: "Ma petite fille, je peux te faire l'aum6ne comme
n'importe qui. A'ct'heure, ou restez-vous ?" 5 Elle repond: "Nous
restons dans une petite maison, la, au coin de la rue."
Partant en courant, la petite fille s'en va trouver sa mere, et elle
lui dit: "Mouman, j'ai rencontre le plus bel homme! II a mis la
main dans sa poche, et il m'a donne cet argent." Suffit que sa fille
est si belle, la mere croit que c'est de l'argent pour lui jouer un tour.
Elle prend l'argent et, fachee, le jette sur son lit. Sa fille ajoute:
"Mouman, il m'a dit qu'il allait venir, beto." — "Oui?" repond la
mere.
Jean-Cuit fait un petit tour dans la ville, mais ne trouve rien de
mieux que la petite fille. II s'en va done a la maison de la veuve. Le
voyant entrer, l'enfant dit: "Tiens, maman, maman, c'est ce mon-
sieur-la." La mere prend la parole, et dit: "Cest-i vrai, monsieur,
que c'est vous qui avez donne cet argent-la, a ma petite fille ?" — "Oui,
madame! Elle m'a appris que vous etes pauvre. Je peux done vous
faire l'aumone comme n'importe qui. A'ct'heure, la mere,6 j'aurais
une chose a vous demander." — "Qu'est-ce que c'est?" — "C'est
demander votre fille en mariage." La mere repond qu'elle est bien
trop jeune. Jean-Cuit reprend: "Oui, madame, elle est trop jeune;
mais je ne suis pas un batard; et avant que je sois alle demander a
mon pere sa permission pour me marier, aller et revenir, ca me pren-
dra trois ans. C'est ben loin, voyez-vous!" II ajoute: "Mais que
je revienne,7 elle sera d'age." Dans la ville, il y avait une ecole.
Jean-Cuit decide la mere a y mettre sa fille; et comme elle est consen-
tante, ils partent et s'en vont mettre la fille a l'ecole. Avant de
sortir, Jean-Cuit dit: "Si c'est de son gout, quand je reviendrai, nous
nous marierons. Si ca n'est pas de son gout, eh ben! j'en chercherai
1 I.e., de jeune fille. 2 I.e., autant qu'une. . .
3 Ce mot est, parmi les paysans canadiens, tres souvent substitue au mot "femme,"
et son sens est exactement le mime.
4 La r6p6tition ici comporte un superlatif .
5 [Toi et tes parents].
6 Vocatif . 7 I.e., quand je reviendrai.
116 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
une autre. D'ici a ce que je revienne, laissez-la a l'^cole ou la meil-
leure maitresse va l'instruire, la nourrir, l'habiller 'sur le plus beau.'" l
Ayant demande" son prix a la maitresse d'6cole, 2 il lui donne la moitie"
de ses gages pour trois ans 'de temps,' et lui pro-met le restant a son
retour. II donne aussi de l'argent a la veuve pour qu'elle vive sans
misere. Lui, il est riche et fils de roi!
Revenu chez son pere, il lui demande la permission de se marier.
Et il ajoute: "II me faudrait de Tor et de l'argent; ma 'belle-mSre' 8
est veuve et pauvre." Le roi, son pere, lui regr&ye son batiment, en
y mettant de l'or et de l'argent.
Pendant ce temps-la, la veuve a bien hate de voir revenir Jean-
Cuit, et elle va souvent au bord de la mer voir s'il arrive.
Un jour, une fregate se montre et hisse le pavilion de Jean-Cuit.
C'est lui! La bonne-femme est fiere. En d6barquant, Jean-Cuit
dit: "A'cVheure, allons voir la belle!" Et avec la veuve, il s'en va
chez la maitresse d'6cole. II dit: "C'est moi qui ai mis la petite fille
ici pour la faire instruire."
Cogne a la porte de sa chambre: "Mademoiselle, monsieur Jean-
Cuit est arriveV' Elle repond: "Oui!" Elle a bien profits, grandi,
et grossi, rien de plus beau! Jean-Cuit lui donne la main en disant:
"Mademoiselle, votre id£e a-t-elle chang^?" Elle repond: "Oui!
mon idee a pas mal change". Dans ce temps-la j'aimais gue're; 4 mais
a'ct'heure j'aime 'a plein.' " — "Comme ca, c'est-il de votre gout
que nous nous marions?" Elle repond: "Oui! c'est un bonheur que
je ne pensais jamais avoir."
lis se sont mari6s.
Jean-Cuit demande a sa belle-m6re: "Voulez-vous venir avec
nous, sur ma fregate? Nous allons partir." Mais elle repond: "J'ai
encore des enfants ici; et je m'ennuierais, si loin, si loin!" On lui
donne alors de l'or et de l'argent a la banque,6 pour qu'elle vive sans
travailler tout le reste de sa vie, elle et ses enfants. Jean-Cuit et sa
femme s'embarquent, partent et filent.
Jean-Cuit a 6te" si longtemps a son voyage que quand il arrive a
son pays, son pere et sa mere sont morts. Etant leur seul enfant, il
est devenu roi et maitre, avec la couronne.
II y avait bien quelques ann£es qu'il vivait avec sa femme quand
il entendit parler d'un pays 61oign6, ou on pouvait acquerir une
grande quantity de richesses. II en parle a sa femme, qui n'aime
pas beaucoup a le laisser partir pour ce pays. A force de la prier,
il finit par la gagner. II se fait grayer deux batiments.
1 I.e., la vetir des plus beaux habits.
2 II y a incertitude ici quant a savoir si Patry voulait dire "maitre" ou "maitresse"
d'6cole.
3 Par anticipation. * Prononce" "gyir."
5 II est curieux de voir ici un trait aussi moderne.
Conies Populaires Canadiens. 117
Son voisin £tait un bourgeois presque aussi riche que lui. Comme
ils 6taient bons amis, le voisin s'en va reconduire Jean-Cuit a ses bati-
ments. Jean-Cuit pleurait en partant. "Qu'as-tu a pleurer?" lui
demande son ami. II r6pond: "Ecoute! je laisse ma femme, et je lui
cause bien de l'ennui, a elle etou." L'autre dit: "Cou'don, des femmes,
il y en aura partout pour toi, le long du chemin." — "Ah oui, mon voi-
sin; mais pas comme la mienne. J'ai une brave et honnete femme!"
Le voisin r£pond: "Bah! tu as trop confiance en ta femme. Veux-tu
gager que, pendant ton absence, j'aurai les monies avantages que tu
as eus?" Jean-Cuit respond: "Non! et je gage bien pour bien que
non." * En gageant, ils se donnent la main. Jean-Cuit embarque
et file.
Le voisin, le soir, vient 'veiller' chez la femme de Jean-Cuit. "Bon-
soir!" — "Bonsoir!" Elle lui donne une chaise, et ils commencent a
jaser; jasent, jasent jusqu'a neuf heures. Apres avoir jase* encore
une petite escousse, 2 il part et s'en va. En s'en allant, il se dit: "Je
pense que mon affaire est bonne."
Le lendemain au soir, il revient encore au chateau de Jean-Cuit,
pour 'veiller' avec sa femme. Elle lui demande: "Venez-vous cher-
cher quelque chose?" — "Non! je viens 'veiller' pour jaser et vous
desennuyer. Suffit que vous e'tes toute seule." — "Eh bien! elle
dit, c'est le cas, je suis seule. Une 'veill^e,' c'est superbe! mais pas
la deuxieme." Elle dit: "Sortez, ou bien je vous flambe la tete."
Mon gars part piteux. II est loin d'avoir eu des avantages !
Qa fait §u'il attelle ses chevaux a son carrosse, et il se promene
devant le chateau de madame Jean-Cuit, bien piteux, la tete entre
les jambes. Une servante dit a la dame: "C'est curieux, le voisin se
promene devant le chateau, la tete entre les jambes et ben piteux.
Qa m'a Fair qu'il s'ennuie depuis que monsieur Jean-Cuit est parti."
Sortant au coin du chateau, la servante s'adonne a le voir passer.
"Mais, dites-moi done, monsieur, est-ce a cause du depart de mon-
sieur Jean-Cuit que vous avez l'air si piteux?" — "Ah! il dit, made-
moiselle, quand m6me je vous raconterais ma peine, vous ne seriez
pas capable de m'arracher de de'ld. Je suis bien malheureux!" —
"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" — "Quand meme je vous le dirais, vous n'etes
pas capable de m'arracher de de'ld. Mais, des fois, on trouve plus
dans deux tetes que dans une." II lui raconte tout, sa gageure de
bien contre bien, et les avantages de madame Jean-Cuit. La ser-
vante dit: "Je vas vous enseigner un plan, moi. A chaque fois qu'il
arrive ici un vaisseau, une valise venant de Jean-Cuit est apport^e au
chateau, dans la chambre de la dame. Et il vient d'en arriver un;. . .
comprenez-vous ?" II r£pond: "Oui, je comprends!" S'en allant
1 H parie sa fortune entiere contre celle de son voisin.
8 Quelques moments.
118 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
dans la ville, il se met dans une valise barrant dedans et dehors. Et
il se fait porter, dans la valise, a bord du batiment. De la, deux
matelots apportent la valise dans la chambre de madame Jean-Cuit.
La servante lui avait dit: "Si vous y voyez quelque chose a f aire, c'est
le seul moyen, le plus proche."
Rendu la, pendant la nuit, il sort de sa valise. II la voit au clair
de lune, dormant sur le dos; rien n'est plus beau! "Ah! il pense, c'est
de valeur x de trahir une si belle et si brave femme." Voyant qu'elle
avait un signe sur l'estomac, il dit: "Si j'avais ca, je reussirais peut-
etre a quelque chose." II prend done son canif, et il coupe ce petit
signe a ras. 2 Enveloppe dans un petit papier, il le met dans sa poche,
et s'en retourne dans sa valise, qu'on enleve, le lendemain.
Au bout d'un an, Jean-Cuit ressoud sur son batiment charge de
pierres fines, et de toutes sortes d'agres3 monstreux.4, II revient
bien riche! Rien de plus presse, le voisin s'en va le voir a bord.
Jean-Cuit, lui, avait toujours eu sa gageure sur le cceur. Quand le
bourgeois lui donne la main, le voyageur dit: "Bien, notre gageure. . .
Comment-c'gu'on en est?" — "Eh bien! Jean-Cuit, tu as perdu."
— "Ah, par exemple! tu m'en baras 5 toujours des preuves." — "Oui!"
Et prenant ce qu'il a garde, il dit: "As-tu vu ce signe sur l'estomac de
ta femme? Je l'ai apporte* comme preuve des avantages que j'en ai
obtenus." Malin et prompt comme il n'y en a pas, Jean-Cuit de-
vient sans connaissance [de fureur]. II part et s'en va au chateau.
Le voyant arriver, mon Dieu! rien de plus vite fait, sa femme se jette
dans ses bras. Mais il la repousse: "Va-t'en, mechante que tu es!"
— "Mon Dou, qu'est-ce que je puis bien avoir fait?" Et elle se
jette a ses genoux en demandant pardon. "Pas de pardon! Va-t'en,
mechante que tu es!"
Se retournant, il dit a deux serviteurs de la saisir, de l'emmener
dans la foret, de la tuer, et de lui en rapporter la langue et le cceur.
Elle lui demande: "Veux-tu que j'apporte mes vetements de noces?"
— "Va-t'en, mechante! Apporte ce que tu voudras. Mais, vous,
rapportez-moi la langue et le cceur."
Les voila partis. La petite chienne de la dame, qui est toujours
avec elle, les suit dans la foret. Rendue au fond des bois, la dame se
jette a genoux en disant aux serviteurs: "Tuez-moi!" — "Non, nous
ne vous tuerons pas. Vous avez ete une trop bonne maitresse pour
nous. On aime autant endurer la mort que de vous tuer." lis trou-
vent un plan: "II ne nous a pas vus. Apportons-lui la langue et le
cceur de la petite chienne; dans la colere ou il est, ca vale contenter."
i I.e., regrettable.
2 I.e., pres de la peau. 3 D'objets.
* Pour "monstrueux," mais dans le sens de "extraordinaire."
6 I.e., donneras. Au Lexique de l'ancien francais, de F. Godefroy, on trouve:
"Barer, v. a. . . proposer des raisons contre quelqu'un ou contre quelque chose."
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 119
Tuent la petite chienne, prennent la langue et le cceur, et disent a la
femme: "Vous, allez a votre chance; on ne vous tuera pas." Reve-
nant au chateau, ils disent a Jean-Cuit: "Voila la langue et le cceur de
votre femme." Jean-Cuit les jette a ses pieds, pilote 1 dessus, en di-
sant: "Mechante que tu es, tu ne me deshonoreras plus!" Prenant
son petit portemanteau, il y met son butin, 2 part et s'en va.
De son cot6, dans la foret, la femme part, marche, marche jusqu'a
ce qu'elle arrive dans un pays tout en guerre. Une fois rendue la,
elle s'habille en seldarz et s'engage dans l'armee. Elle est bien de-
courag£e. Soldat, elle se met a se battre. Elle commence beto a
gagner partout. D'une bataille a l'autre, et de victoire en victoire,
la voila devenue generaux 4 du roi. Ne se nommant pas, elle restait
tou jours habiltee en seldar. Elle gagnait aussi beaucoup d'argent.
La guerre finie, elle se dit: "Je vas chercher jusqu'a ce que je trouve
mon Jean-Cuit. On a du nous jouer un tour." S'achetant un beau che-
val, elle embarque en selle, et elle marche, marche, allant d'une ville
a l'autre. Elle finit par V6chouer' dans une ville ou il y a un gros
magasin, avec sept commis. La, elle va loger, tout pres. Comme
elle est le generaux du roi, on la traite bien. Le maitre de l'hotel
monte a sa chambre et se met a jaser. II lui demande: "D'ou venez-
vous done ?" — "Je viens d'un tel pays, ou il y a eu une guerre epou-
vantable, et ou il ne reste plus guere de monde."
C'est aussi dans cette ville que Jean-Cuit s'£tait engage comme com-
mis, au gros magasin.
Le lendemain de son arrived, le general du roi s'en va voir le bour-
geois du magasin et lui dit: "Dans le pays voisin, tant de monde ont
peri a la guerre qu'il n'y a plus de commis. Pourrait-on en trouver
ici?" Le bourgeois repond: "Moi, j'en ai sept ici, et j'ai un nomine*
Jean-Cuit. C'est un homme de plait, 5 qui vend autant a lui seul que
mes six autres commis. II a une intelligence terrible." 6 Le general
lui demande: "Comment lui donnez-vous de gages par ann6e?" — "Je
lui donne trois cents piastres par annee." L'autre dit: "Ce n'est pas
le prix d'un bon commis. S'il est comme vous dites, moi, je lui don-
nerais cinq cents piastres par annee." Le bourgeois dit: "C'est un
si bon garcon que je ne lui ferais pas perdre de gages. Si votre off re
lui plait, je suis pret a le laisser aller avec vous." On fait done mon-
ter Jean-Cuit, et on se met a parler. Le general dit: "Vous n'avez
que trois cents piastres par annee, ici; moi, je vous en promets cinq
cents." Le maitre lui dit: "Mon Jean-Cuit, tu es un si bon homme
1 I.e., les foule aux pieds.
2 Linge et effets personnels.
3 Telle est la prononciation de Patry du mot "soldat."
* I.e., g6n£ral; elle 6tait de'guis^e en homme.
B I.e., qui plait. 6 Extraordinaire.
120 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
que je ne veux pas te faire perdre cette chance." Le g6n£ral emmene
done Jean-Cuit avec lui.
Le long du chemin, ils s'en vont a cheval tous les deux, sans se
parler. Le g6ne"ral du roi chante et turlute. l Jean-Cuit, lui, a 'la
tete entre les jambes;'2 il ne parle pas. Le g£n6ral du roi prend la
parole: "Dis-moi done, Jean-Cuit, ce que tu as? Tu ne paries pas
du tout." — "Ah! il dit, je n'ai rien." Le general reprend: "C'est
pas ga! Moi, j'aime qu'un homme soit gaillard, et qu'il 'fasse des
histoires.'3 Je n'aime pas un homme sonjdr* de meme." Ils font
encore un bout sans parler. "Tiens! tu entends, Jean-Cuit, il faut
que tu sois joyal.5 II faut 'faire des contes.'"6 L'autre repond:
"General du roi, quand meme je vous conterais mes peines, jamais
ga ne reviendra." Le general repond: "Encore, 9a peut revenir; les
peines, on les laisse la!" — "Non, ga ne se peut pas." Et il commen-
ce: "Un jour, j'etais fils unique chez mon pere le roi. Mon p&re me
dit: 'Mon jeune homme, te voila sur l'age et tu ne cherches pas k te
marier.' Je lui donne pour raison que je n'en trouvais pas de mon
gofit, dans la place. II dit: lM'a te greyer une belle frigate d'or et
d'argent.' Je partis et me rendis d'une ville a l'autre. Dans une ville
ou je d^barquai, en me promenant je rencontrai la plus belle enfant
qu'on puisse voir, et qui, dans sa main, avait un petit pot. Je lui
demandai ou elle allait. Elle me dit qu'elle allait chercher du lait pour
son petit frere, que sa mere 6tait veuve et pauvre. Je pris cinq louis
d'or, les lui donnai en lui demandant ou elle restait. Elle me repon-
dit que c'6tait dans une petite maison au coin de la rue. Apres avoir
fait un petit tour dans la ville, je me rendis a cette maison, et je de-
mandai a la veuve sa fille en mariage. La mere me r6pondit qu'elle
etait trop jeune. 'Mais je ne suis pas un batard, je lui dis; il me faut
aller demander la permission a mon pere; et comme ga prend trois
ans et trois jours a faire le voyage, elle sera deja en age quand je revien-
drai.' Pendant mon voyage, elle etait dans une 6cole, a s'instruire.
Quand je revins, elle 6tait grande, grosse et grasse, elle comme il ne
s'en £tait jamais vu sur la terre, et bonne crieture!7 Nous nous sommes
maries. Revenus a mon pays nous avons trouve* mon pere et ma
mere morts, tous les deux. Je restai roi et maitre, et avec la couronne.
'Ce que c'est'8 quand on est pour avoir une malchance! J'entendis
parler d'une place ou on acqueVait une quantity de richesses. Je
1 I.e., fredonne. 2 Marche d'un air abattu.
3 I.e., qu'il badine. 4 I.e., songeur.
6 I.e., jovial. Voir Godefroy, Lexique de l'ancien francais, p. 294: "1. Joiel,
adj., joyeux."
6 Badiner.
7 Patry disait ces mots, "bonne crieture" avec un accent si sincere qu'il est difficile
d'en oublier la modulation.
8 Dans un sens vague mais approchant "curieux destin!"
Contes Popvlaires Canadiens 121
voulus y aller. Ma femme n'en raffolait pas. A force de la tour-
menter, je finis par la gagner a me laisser partir a bord d'une belle
fregate que je m'6tais grdyee. Comme je partais, mon voisin, un
bourgeois presque aussi riche que moi, vint me reconduire. Comme
de raison que ca me faisait de la peine de partir. J'en pleurals. Le
bourgeois dit: 'Jean-Cuit, tu pleures! C'que t'as, done?' Je lui r£-
pondis: 'Tu sauras que je me cause de l'ennui et a ma femme e'tou; et
ca me fait de la peine de partir.' Le bourgeois reprit la parole et dit:
'Tais-toi done, Jean-Cuit! II y aura des femmes partout, le long du
chemin, pour toi.' Je lui ai rendu reponse qu'il n'y en avait pas
comme ma femme. Mon bourgeois, en me donnant la main, me dit:
'Veux-tu gager que d'ici a trois jours, j'aurai d'elle les memes avan-
tages que tu as eus?' Rien de plus presse, je lui donnai la main, et
je gageai bien pour bien. Je partis. Je voyageai. D'une maniere,
j'avais fait un bon voyage; j'avais redouble ma richesse. A mon re-
tour, le bourgeois s'en vint me recevoir a bord de mon batiment, en
me donnant la main. Mais moi, cette gageure-la m'etait restee sur
le coeur. Je lui demandai: 'Mon voisin, comment est notre gageure?'
II repondit: 'Mon Jean-Cuit, tu as perdu!' Je lui en demandai des
preuves. En hdlant un petit papier, il dit: 'Oui. . . Tiens! il dit; as-tu
vu ce petit signe sous l'estomac de ta femme? Je n'ai pas pu tout
apporter; j'ai eu d'autres choses aussi.' Moi qui suis malin, x je devins
sans connaissance, en m'en allant a mon chateau. Ma femme vint
se jeter dans mes bras. Mais je ne connaissais plus rien. Je la re-
poussai: 'Va-t'en, mechante femme que tu es!' L'envoyant mener
dans une foret, je lui fis arracher la langue et le cceur, que je frottai
sous mes pieds. Pensez-vous, general du roi, que je puis avoir le
cceur content? Tant que je vivrai, je serai malheureux." — "Pouah!
dit le general; laissez done ca!" lis continuent leur route, marche,
marche.
Un jour, ils passent devant l'ancien chateau de Jean-Cuit. "Tiens!
general du roi. dit-il, e'etait la ma 'pretention.' " 2 — "Oui ?" — "Oui."
Ils s'en vont loger chez l'aubergiste voisin.
Le general du roi dit aux serviteurs: "Ayez soin de mon commis
comme de moi, puisqu'il a 6t4 cree a l'image de Dieu comme moi, et
donnez-lui une aussi belle chambre qu'a moi."
Le general du roi fait la connaissance du bourgeois qui avait fait
perdre sa gageure a Jean-Cuit. II lui dit: "Je suis un homme venant
de bien loin. J'aimerais a connaitre et a parler avec les gens de la
ville." Le bourgeois dit: "C'est une bonne idee!" D'un crac,3 il
fait greyer a souper et inviter les messieurs de la ville.
1 I.e., emporte\ 2 I.e., mon heritage. 3 Dans un instant.
122 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Apres souper, a table, les invites se mettent chacun a conter des
histoires pour faire rire. Le bourgeois dit: "Moi, je puis vous conter
une histoire de finesse, ! qui est 'arrivee bien reelle.' " — "Qu'est-ce que
c'est, qu'est-ce que c'est?" — "Un jour, mon voisin, le fils d'un roi,
s'appelait Jean-Cuit. Ne trouvant par ici personne de son gout a
qui se marier, il se greya une belle frigate, et s'en alia d'une ville a
l'autre. A une ville 'placeV a trois ans et trois jours de voyage d'ici,
il acquit la plus belle et la meilleure crieture qu'on puisse voir. Plus
tard, il apprit que dans un certain endroit, sur une ile, on trouvait
des quantities de richesses. A force de 'tourmenter' 2 sa femme, il
finit par la decider de le laisser aller. Mais en partant, il pleurait.
Comme je l'accompagnais a bord de son batiment, je lui demandai:
'Jean-Cuit, tu pleures; qu'est-ce que tu as?' — 'Comme de raison, il
repond, je cause de l'ennui a ma femme et a moi tou.' 3 Je pris la pa-
role et dis: 'Ah, Jean-Cuit, des femmes, il y en a partout, le long du
chemin, pour toi.' — 'Ah! il dit, oui, mais pas comme la mienne.' Je
lui r^pondis: 'Je gage bien pour bien que j'aurai de ta femme les memes
avantages que toi.' La gageure faite, il partit. Quand il revint, rien
de plus presse, je m'en allai le rejoindre a bord de son batiment, et,
me donnant la main, il dit: 'Mon bourgeois, comment-c'qu'est notre
gageure?' Je repondis: 'Jean-Cuit, tu as perdu.' II dit: 'Tu m'en
baras toujours bien des preuves.' — 'Oui!' je lui dis, en lui montrant
un petit signe que j'avais pris sous l'estomac de sa femme. II est bon
de vous dire que je m'etais fourre dans une valise barrant dehors et
dedans, et qu'on avait mis la valise dans la chambre de madame Jean-
Cuit. Durant la nuit, je sortis. Sur son lit, elle dormait d'un pro-
fond sommeil. 'Ah! je dis, c'est de valeur de trahir une si brave et si
honnete femme.' Mais je ne savais pas comment faire pour ne pas
perdre mon bien. Elle avait un signe sous l'estomac. Je pensai: 'Si
je l'avais, je gagnerais peut-etre?' Je l'enlevai avec mon canif qui
coupait comme un vrai rdsoue, 4 et je le mis dans ma poche. 'Malin'
comme etait Jean-Cuit, en voyant ca, le voila sans connaissance. Ar-
rive1 chez lui, il envoie des serviteurs mener sa femme dans la foret et
lui arracher la langue et le cceur. Et depuis ce temps-la, personne n'a
jamais revu Jean-Cuit."
Tous les gens se mettent a rire, en disant: "Qa, c'est un vrai tour."
Et le bourgeois, en se carrant, repond: "Oui!" Le general du roi
dit: "C'est bien! je veux qu'on ferme ici toutes les portes. On va
jouer du sabre, et je ne veux pas qu'on sorte." Jean-Cuit se leve et
dit au bourgeois: "Malheureux! c'est-i vrai que, pour cette affaire, tu
as ote la vie a ma femme ?" Le general du roi dit: "Attendez un peu,
je vas passer seul dans la petite chambre, la." Dans son porte-man-
1 I.e., de ruse. 2 Prier, solliciter.
3 I.e., et tout, aussi. 4 Rasoir.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 123
teau, le croirez-vous ? elle avait encore sa robe de noces. Et dans
une minute, elle revient en belle robe blanche, comme au jour de ses
noces. "Tiens, mon Jean-Cuit, me reconnais-tu ?" Et lui, il perd
quasiment connaissance de voir sa femme revenue.
"Ah! disent les gens, que voulez-vous qu'on lui fasse a'cVheure, g6-
ne>ale du roi ?" On envoie chercher la fille qui a trahi sa maitresse,
et devant tout le monde, on la met sur un 'ber de grille/ et on la fait
bruler. La graisse, on l'a prise pour graisser les roues des voitures. x
Et le bourgeois? lis le mettent entre quatre murailles, ou il v6"cut
jusqu'a la fin de ses jours rien qu'au pain et a l'eau.
Jean-Cuit et la g6ne>ale du roi retournerent a leur chateau, ou ils
vScurent heureux avec tous leurs biens et ceux du bourgeois. Depuis
ce jour, Jean-Cuit n'a plus voyage\
Et moi, on m'a envoye" ici vous le raconter.
67. LES TROIS POILS d'OR. 2
Une fois, il est bon de vous dire que c'Stait un prince. II se maria
un jour a une princesse, la fille d'un autre roi — les princes se marient
toujours entre eux-autres.
Un bon matin, il parle d'aller faire un voyage dans un pays stran-
ger, pour acheter des marchandises et des soieries. Ce'qui vient le
trouver? Le seigneur de la place. "Mais, il dit, ou vas-tu done, le
prince? Tu viens de te marier, et tu pars d6ja en voyage pour les
pays etrangers." — "Eh oui! j'ai a faire ce voyage." — "Veux-tu
gager avec moi que m'a avoir des faveurs de ta princesse avant 'le
retour de' ton voyage ?" — "Oui, batege! on va gager bien contre bien.
Si tu as des favours de ma princesse avant mon retour, tu auras mes
biens; et si tu n'en as pas, j'aurai les tiens."
Le prince parti, le seigneur va, le soir, trouver la princesse. Une
fois, en passant, il vole une jarreti&re sur sa chaise. Comme il y
retourne le lendemain matin, "Mais, monsieur le seigneur, dit la
princesse, vous venez ici done bien souvent. Vous pouvez rester
chez vous; je n'ai pas besoin de vous, icite." Le seigneur sort a sa
courte honte, et il vole une chemise de la princesse qui pend a une
corde a linge dans la cour.
Le lendemain, il fait habiller sa servante en queteuse, et il l'envoie,
portant un panier, demander son pain chez la princesse. La queteuse
demande a loger pour la nuit. On la loge.
A la fin cle la soiree, la princesse se retire dans sa chambre, se desha-
bille, et ote ses anneaux, qu'elle met dans un tiroir de sa commode.
1 Patry disait: "Les roues des ouaguines" (de l'anglais "wagons").
2 Raconte" par Achille Fournier, a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915.
Founder retint ce conte apres l'avoir entendu une seule fois, il y a a peu pres quarante
rns, d'un Canadien-frangais, dans le Massachusetts.
124 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Dans un coin, a la noirceur, la que"teuse la guette, et voit tout ce qu'elle
fait. La belle princesse avait bien trois poils d'or sur l'^paule gauche.
Aussitot qu'elle est endormie, la servante s'approche sur le bout des
pieds, vole les anneaux dans le tiroir de la commode, arrache les trois
poils d'or de la princesse et revient chez son maitre, le seigneur.
"Tiens! seigneur, elle dit, voila les trois poils d'or qu'elle avait sur
l'6paule gauche, et voila les anneaux qu'elle avait mis dans le tiroir
de sa commode, avant de se coucher." — "Je te remercie bien, ma
servante; c'est ca qu'il me fallait."
Le prince revient de son voyage. Comme il debarque de son bati-
ment, le seigneur vient le rencontrer. "Voyons, il dit, comment
c'a 6t6, a ton voyage?" — "£"a bien 6t6, a mon voyage." Le sei-
gneur reprend: "Mais g'a n'a pas si bien et^ icite. J'ai eu des faveurs
de ta princesse, avant ton retour." — "Qu'est-ce que tu as eu?" —
"J'ai eu sa jarretiere!" — "7"as eu sa jarretiere? Ah, ah! fas bien
pu la voler sur sa chaise, dans le chateau." — "Mais, c'est pas toute!
Voila sa chemise, qu'elle m'a donnee." — "Ah! sa chemise? T"as
bien pu la voler quand elle a etendu son butin sur la corde." — "Mais
c'est pas toute: j'ai ses anneaux." — "Ah! t'as pas encore gagne mes
biens. II faut d'autres choses que 5a." — "Mais, j'en ai encore. Con-
nais-tu ces trois poils d'or, qu'elle avait sur son epaule gauche ?" Le
prince revive de bord et s'en va trouver sa femme. II dit: "Ma femme,
grey e-toi\ J'ai tout perdu mes biens." II embarque avec sa femme
dans une piraque,1 et il s'en va a la mer.
Au milieu de la mer, il jette sa femme a l'eau, et il s'en va ailleurs.
La princesse ne s'etait pas noy£e. Son butin la faisait flotter sur
l'eau. La voila qui prend terre. A terre, elle s'en va dans une ville;
et la, elle s'habille en avocat.
Le prince, lui, marche et il marche 'tant que la terre le portera.'
Apres bien longtemps, il arrive dans la ville ou se trouve sa femme.
Mais il ne la reconnait pas, quand il la rencontre. Elle lui demande:
"Monsieur, oil c'que vous allez done?" — "Ou c'que je vas? Je
marche 'tant que la terre me portera.' " — "Mais, vous avez dft avoir
quelque chose de bien 6pouvantable, pour marcher tant que la terre
vous portera?" — "Ah oui! j'ai gage bien contre bien avec un sei-
gneur qu'il n'aurait pas de faveurs de ma princesse avant mon retour
de voyage. Quand je suis revenu, il m'a montre sa jarretiere, il m'a
montre sa chemise. J'ai dit: '!T'as bien pu les prendre toi-meme sur
la chaise, et pi,2 sur la corde.' II m'a aussi montre ses anneaux. Et
il m'a montre- les trois poils d'or qu'elle avait sur son e'paule gauche."
— "Bien, monsieur, elle dit, vous avez gage" bien contre bien avec
lui? Qu'est-ce que vous me donnez, a moi, si je vous plaide votre
cause et si je la gagne ?" Avocat comme elle est, elle s'en va parler
1 I.e., pirogue. 2 I.e., puis.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 125
au juge, fait prendre le seigneur; et les voila en proces. Quand le
seigneur est en cour, sous sarment,1 l'avocat lui demande : "Mon-
sieur le seigneur, n'auriez-vous pas pu voler cette jarretiere sur une
chaise?" — "Oui, j'ai vole" la jarretiere sur une chaise." — "Vous
auriez bien pu voler la chemise sur la corde ou elle 6tait 6tendue, de-
hors ?" — "Oui." — "Vous auriez bien pu envoyer votre servante en
queteuse demander a loger chez la princesse?" — "Oui." — "Elle n'a
pas vole" les anneaux dans le tiroir de la commode de la princesse?" —
"Oui." — "Pendant qu'elle dormait, elle ne lui a pas arrache' les trois
poils d'or qu'elle avait sur son 6paule gauche ?" — "Oui." — "Monsieur
le juge, vous en avez pris note? Qafait que. . . le seigneur a-t-il perdu
ses biens, monsieur le juge?" — c'est la femme avocat qui plaide sa
[propre] cause! Elle se retourne vers le prince, son mari, et elle lui
demande: "Pourriez-vous reconnaitre votre femme si vous la voyiez?"
II r£pond: "Oui, je la reconnaitrais." L'avocat 'dit ni un ni deux,'2
mais il passe dans une chambre voisine. De la chambre il sort une
princesse, sa femme, qui dit: "Me reconnais-tu, mon mari?" — "Ah
oui! je te reconnais, ma femme." Elle le prend par le cou et lui donne
un beau bee en pincette, la, devant tout le monde. Le juge dit: "Mon-
sieur le prince, vous avez gagne" tous les biens du seigneur, que je con-
damne."
Le prince s'est en alle avec la princesse, sa femme, a son chateau,
ou ils ont toujours v£cu. heureux, depuis. Quant au seigneur, lui, il
s'est mis, a son tour, a marcher 'tant que la terre le portera;' et il
marche encore.
68. LE GRAND VOLEUR DE PARIS. 3
Une fois, il y avait, a Paris, un homme qui £tait voleur de son
metier.
Ayant entendu parler qu'en France se trouvait le plus fin voleur de
la terre,4 il se dit: "Si j'allais le rencontrer ? Qui sait! il ne serait peut-
etre pas plus fin que moi."
Le grand voleur de Paris part et s'en va en France. II y arrive un
dimanche matin, avant la messe. Entend la messe en France.
1 Serment.
2 I.e., sans perdre un instant.
3 Raconte par Narcisse Thiboutot, en aout, 1915, a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska.
Le conteur apprit ce conte, il y a une dizaine d'annees, d'un nomme Tabel ( ?) Dionne,
du meme endroit, et alors ag6 d'a peu pres 65 ans.
Une autre version de ce conte, sous le nom de "Le grand voleur provincial," fut
aussi recueillie a Sainte-Anne, .d'Achille Founder. Cette version sera plus tard
publiee.
4 Le conteur, dans sa naivete, place ici Paris hors de France; et pour lui "France"
semble etre un nom de ville. II ne se maintient toutefois pas dans cette erreur,
daas la suite, comme il dit ailleurs: ". . .royaume de France."
126 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
En sortant de P6glise, il regarde partout en remarquant, pour voir
s'il ne rencontrerait pas le voleur de France. Tiens! tout d'un coup,
il apercoit un homme qui s'approche tranquillement d'un monsieur
et, faisant semblant de rien, hdle la montre du monsieur et la met
dans sa poche, sans que l'autre s'en apercoive. Le voleur de Paris
s'en va le trouver: "Monsieur, ce ne serait pas vous, par hasard, le
grand voleur de France, dont on parle tant?" L'autre repond:
"Oui, c'est ben moi! Et je suis a la recherche du grand voleur de Paris,
que je voudrais bien rencontrer." — "Ben! on est tous les deux de
compagnie." x
Le grand voleur de France dit: "II y a ici, en France, un roi qui est
bien riche. II faudrait le2 voler. Mais, pour pouvoir le voler, il
faudrait se mettre tous deux en society. Vouloir le voler seul, c'est
se faire prendre, certain." Le voleur de Paris demande: "Sais-tu ou
est son argent?" — "Son argent est dans une batisse de pierre, dont
la porte est en fer. C'est moi qui l'ai batie pour lui. Pour pouvoir y
entrer, j'y ai laisse une pierre [mobile], 3 qu'on peut arracher au be-
soin."
La nuit suivante, le grand voleur de France dit au grand voleur de
Paris: "Allons tous les deux avec chacun une poche a la batisse ou le
roi garde son argent." Arrive" la, il dit a son associ6: "C'est moi qui
y entre, le premier soir. Mais demain, 9a sera ton tour, le grand
voleur de Paris." Une fois rentre\ le voleur de France emplit les deux
poches 'bien pleines' d'or et d'argent. Sorti, il remet la pierre com'i'-
faut, a sa place, prend le chemin et s'en vient a sa maison avec l'autre
voleur.
Le lendemain, pendant que le roi examine ses richesses, il s'apergoit
que Pargent a 6te brasse\ Bien tracass6, il s'en va chez une sorciere
des environs, et lui demande: "De quelle maniere faut-il m'y prendre
pour attraper le voleur qui prend mon argent?" Elle repond: "Je
ne vois pas d'autre chose que 5a: quelqu'un a une clef qui fait sur
votre porte." — "Qa ne se peut pas, repond le roi; il n'y a qu'une ser-
rure et une clef comme celles-la dans tout le royaume de France." —
"Eh bien! laissez faire encore. Qui sait? C'est peut-etre une idee
que vous vous faites, sans que personne n'y soit alle." — "C'est tou-
jou ben curieux!" dit le roi, en s'en allant.
La nuit d'apres, les deux voleurs retournent encore a la batisse ou
le roi garde ses richesses, chacun avec une poche. C'est au tour du
grand voleur de Paris a entrer. II entre, emplit les deux poches d'or
et d'argent, sort de la, remet la pierre a sa place com'i'faut; et tous les
deux, ils s'en retournent tranquillement.
1 Pour "de compagnie, ensemble."
2 I.e., voler ses biens.
3 Thibout6t se servait'ici d'un terme anglais: une pierre de lousse (de "loose").
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 127
Le roi s'apercoit, le lendemain, que ses richesses ont encore dimi-
nue\ II retourne chez la sorciere, et lui dit: "L'or et l'argent fondent!
Je ne peux pas comprendre comment ca se fait." La sorciere repond:
"Le voleur, c'est peut-etre celui qui a fait votre batisse? Qui sait
s'il n'a pas laisse" une pierre [branlante], l pour entrer par la dans
la batisse, se charger d'or et d'argent,et remettre la pierre, en partant?"
— "Comment faire pour le savoir?" demande le roi. "Pour le savoir,
dit la sorciere, il faut enlever For et l'argent de la batisse, la remplir 2
de paille, mettre le feu a la paille, et faire le tour en dehors, pour voir
si la boucane 3 sort a quelque place."
Le roi, le lendemain, fait charroyer tout son or et son argent ail-
leurs, emplit la batisse de paille, y fait mettre le feu, et ferme la porte.
En guettant, dehors, il voit la boucane sortir tout le tour d'une pierre.
II essaie de hdler la pierre. La pierre branle et s'ote facilement. Le
roi s'en va tout droit trouver la sorciere. "II y a une pierre [bran-
lante], par ou il peut entrer facilement." La sorciere repond:
"A'd'heure, reportez-y votre or; et puisqu'il entre en otant la pierre,
etendez-y 4 un sabre a la marchette.5 Peut-etre ne sera-t-il 6 pas assez
fin pour regarder avant d'entrer; et, en entrant, il se fera couper le
cou." Le roi ne prend pas de temps a faire tout ce que la sorciere
a dit.
Le lendemain soir, les deux voleurs se disent encore: "II faut aller
chercher une poche d'or et une poche d'argent." Rendus, le grand
voleur de Paris dit au grand voleur de France: "C'est a ton tour de
rentrer, d soir." Le grand voleur de France hale la pierre, et se de-
peche a rentrer sans regarder. Le sabre part et crac! la t^te tombe
la, a terre. II s'est fait trancher la tete!
Ne le voyant pas revenir, le grand voleur de Paris entre, prend la
tete couple de son associe et l'apporte, laissant la le corps; et il s'en
va la jeter a la riviere.
Quand le roi revient, le lendemain, il trouve le corps du grand voleur
de France; mais, point de tete! S'en allant voir la sorciere il dit: "On
a trouve* le corps, mais sans tete. Et il n'y a pas moyen de trouver
de traces a suivre." La sorciere dit: "Pour savoir qui a pris la tete
du voleur et pour retrouver votre or et votre argent, il n'y a qu'une
chose a faire : prenez un chariot, mettez-y le corps sans tete du voleur,
et envoyez vos valets dans toutes les rues de la ville, a la suite du cha-
riot. Si le voleur etait marie, quand ils verront passer son corps sans
tete, sa femme ou ses enfants pleureront. Qa sera signe que c'est la
la maison du voleur, ou votre or et votre argent se trouvent."
'eThiboutot repete encore ici: "Une pierre de lousse."
2 Le texte: "la remplir 'ben pleine' de. . ."
3 Fumee. ''Boucane" est d'origine amencaine (aborigene).
4 Tendez-y. 6 "Marchette," terme d'oiseleur.
6 Thiboutot disait: "Peut-6tre bien qu'il. . ."
128 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Le roi fait grdyer un chariot, ou il fait mettre le corps du voleur.
Le lendemain matin, il envoie ses valets avec le chariot dans toutes les
rues de la ville, rue par rue. Mais personne ne pleure, nulle part. II
ne reste plus qu'une petite rue, en arriSre. "II faut toujours y passer,
pour finir," se disent les valets. Entrent dans la petite rue. En
arrivant a la maison du grand voleur de France, qui 6tait marie" et
avait six enfants, voila qu'ils entendent pleurer et se lamenter dans
la maison. Le grand voleur de Paris, qui restait la, chez le voleur
de France, £tait en frais de se faire la barbe, et il avait pris la precau-
tion de bien affiler son rasoir. Quand les valets du roi entrent, ils
demandent aux enfants: "Qu'avez-vous a pleurer?" Ils repondent:
"C'est poupa, c'est poupa!" Le grand voleur de Paris avec son rasoir
venait de se couper le doigt, et le sang coulait partout. II dit: "Eh
oui, ces pauvres enfants! ils pleurent parce que je viens de me couper
un doigt. . . Pleurez done pas, mes enfants! II n'y a toujours pas de
danger que j'en meure." Voyant ca, les valets s'en vont sans rien
dire, et racontent leur journ^e au roi.
Retournant chez la sorciere, le roi dit: "Les enfants n'ont pleure"
qu'a une place; et quand on y est entr6, les enfants disaient: 'C'est
poupa, c'est poupa!' En se faisant la barbe l'homme de la maison
s'6tait estropie" a un doigt. C'est bien pour ca que les enfants pleu-
raient." La sorcieire respond: "Ecoutez, monsieur le roi, c'6tait la
la maison que vous cherchiez, par rapport x si l'homme qui s'est coupe
le doigt est le grand voleur de Paris, il est bien fin, et, apres avoir em-
porte" la tete de son associ£, il 6tait bien capable de se couper le doigt.
Pour le prendre je ne vois qu'un moyen, le seul moyen: c'est de faire
une f£te et d'y inviter tous les messieurs de la ville, les notaires, les
docteurs, 2 les marchands et les autres. Faites la 'veilleV longue, et
gardez-les a coucher. Mais recommandez-leur de ne pas faire d'af-
front a votre princesse. Si le grand voleur de Paris y est, lui, il sera
bien assez fantasse 3 pour ne pas vous 6couter. C'est la le seul moyen
de le trouver."
Le roi, le lendemain, fait inviter tous les notaires, les docteurs et
les marchands a venir prendre le souper avec lui et a faire une 'veillee'
de contes. Tous ces gens sont bien contents de venir; le grand voleur
de Paris est un des premiers a arriver. Apres souper, ce sont les
contes. On s'amuse 'a plein.' A onze heures du soir, le roi dit: "Mes
amis, il est trop tard pour retourner chez vous, a soir. Vous allez
rester ici a coucher, pour ne pas deVanger le monde, dans la ville; et
demain matin, vous retournerez chacun chez vous." Les invites ne
demandent pas mieux que de rester au chateau, chez le roi. Ils accep-
tent done d'y coucher.
1 I.e., parce que. 2 I.e., m£decins.
3 Fantasque, impudent.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 129
Quand il commence a etre tard, le roi leur montre ou ils doivent
coucher. En passant devant la chambre de sa fille, il dit: "II y a ma
fille, la princesse. Sa chambre est ici; et je ne pense pas qu'il y en ait
parmi vous d'aseez effronte pour oser lui faire insulte." Tous repon-
dent: "II n'y a pas de danger, monsieur le roi!"
Quand ca vient vers les deux heures, dans la nuit, le grand voleur
de Paris pense en lui-meme: "Je serais bien mieux couche [dans la
chambre d6f endue]." II part et s'en va s'y coucher. La princesse
se reveille, mais le grand voleur de Paris dort comme un bon. Pre-
nant son petit pot de peinture [ind£lebile], elle lui fait une marque au
front. Puis elle met le petit pot sur le coin de sa commode.
Se reVeillant de bonne heure, le matin, le grand voleur de Paris se
leve, se regarde dans le miroir, et apergoit la marque, sur son front.
"Ah, ah! il dit, c'est parce que j'ai couche" ici que je suis marque? Je
vas marquer les autres pareil." Prend le petit pot de peinture de la
princesse, et s'en va marquer tous les autres. II n'en oublie pas un.
En finissant, il se dit: "Les voila tous pris, comme moi." Quand il a
remis le petit pot la ou il Fa trouve, il revient se coucher parmi les
autres.
Le matin, le roi vient leur dire: "Levez-vous!" Ils se levent: "Mais!
crie le roi, vous avez tous fait insulte a, la princesse ? Vous etes tous
marqueV — "Non, sire mon roi! Non, sire mon roi! On n'a pas
fait insulte a votre princesse, certain!" — "Ah! il dit [vous avez ete
bien effrontes]." Vers huit ou neuf heures du matin, tous les invites
repartent et s'en vont chacun chez eux.
Bien embete, le roi s'en va tout raconter a la sorciere. "Bien, elle
dit, monsieur le roi, il faut que le grand voleur de Paris jut de la bande.
II s'est fait marquer, bien sur; et, comme il est bien fin, il est alle"
marquer tous les autres. Pour le prendre, je ne vois qu'un seul
moyen. Dans la porte qui ouvre sur la chambre de la princesse, je
ferais greyer une trappe qui balance; j'inviterais tous les messieurs a
votre fete, comme Fautre jour, et je les garderais a coucher. Si le
grand voleur de Paris y est, il sera bien assez fantasse pour [aller a la
chambre de la princesse]. II tombera dans la cave en mettant le pied
sur la trappe qui balance. Faites faire la cave si creuse qu'il ne peuve
pas sortir. La vous le prendrez."
Apres avoir fait faire une trappe qui balance, le roi invite les memes
gens que la premiere fois. Durant la 'veillee,' on conte des histoires, on
chante et on se divertit bien. La veillee pas mal avanc^e, le roi dit:
"Mes amis! je ere ben que vous faites mieux de rester a coucher, pour
ne pas deranger les gens de la ville, qui dorment depuis longtemps."
— " C'est ben, monsieur le roi, on va rester a coucher." — "Par exem-
ple! dit le roi, je ne voudrais pas que vous alliez tous a la chambre de
la princesse lui faire insulte." — "Ah, craignez pas, monsieur le roi!"
5
130 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Quand ca vient sur les minuit, le grand voleur de Paris se dit: "Celui
de la princesse est bien meilleur que le mien. II faut que j'y aille en-
core, cette nuit — il n'6tait pas qu'un petit gars! Comme il arrive a
la porte de la princesse, la trappe balance, petam,' pam'! Voila le
voleur dans le trou. "Au voleur! au voleur!" il commence a crier.
Tous les messieurs se levent 'a la course' et vont a tatons vers la place
d'ou viennent les cris. Arrives a la porte, sur la trappe qui balance,
pouf! pouf! pouf! — il me semble encore de les entendre tomber dans
la cave. Grimpant sur eux, le grand voleur de Paris vient a, bout de
sortir de de'ld. Aussi vite qu'il entend le train, le roi se leve et vient
pres de la trappe. "Vous etes tous dans la chambre de la princesse ?"
— "Non, sire le roi! On entendait crier 'au voleur!' et on est venu
voir." Le roi s'en va sans rien dire, laissant les messieurs dans la
cave, le restant de la nuit.
Le lendemain matin, le roi dit: "Si le grand voleur de Paris est icite
et s'il est garcon, je lui donne ma fille en mariage, moyennant qu'il se
declare a moi et me promette de ne plus me voler, ni de faire des choses
comme il en a deja faites." Le grand voleur de Paris, qui est juste en
face de lui, se leve la main en Pair, et dit: "C'est moi, sire le roi!" Le
roi lui donne la main et dit: "On va faire des noces, entendu que x tout
notre monde est ici." Apres les noces, il donne 'toute' sa couronne a
son gendre, le grand voleur de Paris qui, depuis, s'est trouve* a toujours
bien vivre.
Moi, ils m'ont envoy e" ici; mais, ils ne me donnent jamais un sou.
69. fr£d£rico va au ciel. 2
Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'e'tait Notre-Seigneur, qui mar-
chait sur la terre.
II s'adonne bien a passer ehez un nomine" Fr6derico, qui £tait apres
fendre du bois a ras sa maison. Frederico avait une misere 'epouvan-
table' a fendre son bois — rien que des rebuts.3 "Bonjour, monsieur
Frederico!" dit Notre-Seigneur. "Bonjour, mon Seigneur! " — "Veux-
tu me donner a loger, Frederico?" — "Oui, je vous donne a loger. On
n'est pas ben grandement; mais ca fait rien;* on se tassera plus."
Notre-Seigneur pense : "C'est lui qui est le plus tendre ; j'ai deman-
ds partout a loger, et tous m'ont refuseY'
Frederico se remet a fendre son bois, et tout marche [comme] sur
des roulettes, les quarqiers 5 revolent sur tous les bords, rien de plus beau!
1 Pour "attendu que."
2 Recueilli a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915. Le conteur, Achille
Fournier, dit avoir appris ce conte, il y a une quinzaine d'annSes, d'un nomm6 Jer6mie
Ouellet, aussi de Sainte-Anne.
3 Des buches nou6es.
4 Q& fait ne rien, dans le sens de "n'importe!" 6 Quartiera.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 131
Quand vient le temps de repartir, le lendemain matin, Notre-Sei-
gneur dit: "Fr6derico, j'ai trois souhaits a t'accorder; lequel prends-
tu: le paradis, le picatoire1 ou Penfer?" Apr&s avoir pens6, Fre"d6-
rico rgpond: "Je prends Reste colle! Et quand je dirai: Reste colleM
ca ne pourra plus d6coller. Je prends le violon qui fait danser bon
gre mal gr6, et aussi le sac ou rentre tout ce qu'on y souhaite. Lui
ayant accorde Reste colleM le violon et le sac, Notre-Seigneur continue
son chemin.
Dans sa vie, Fr6d6rico fit bien du mal.
Voila le M£chant2 qui, a la fin, s'en vient le chercher, en disant:
"Cou'don, Frede>ico, je suis venu te chercher." — "Ben ! laisse-moi
toujours souper, avant de partir. Assis-toi la, sur le sofa, en m'atten-
dant." Aussitot le diable assis, Frederico dit: "Reste colleM" Voila
le diable coll£; [ne] peut plus se d£coller. — "Mais, Fr£denco, t&che
done de me d^coller! D6colle-moi done!" — "Ah! si tu veux rester
encore un an sans revenir, m'a te d^coller." — "C'est bon, Fr6d6rico!"
Une fois le diable parti, Fr6denco m&ne toujours le mSme jeu, fai-
sant encore du mal.
Au bout d'un an, le diable revient le chercher, pendant qu'il est
apres souper. "Voyons, mon Frederico, es-tu pret a, t'en revenir,
d'ct'heureV — "Laisse-moi toujours souper. Tiens! il dit, monte
dans cette talle de cenelles, et manges-en, en m'attendant." Aussi-
t6t le diable monte dans la talle d'£pines, 3 Fr6d6rico dit: "Reste
colleT' Prenant son violon, Frddenco se met a jouer, et le diable
danse 'comme un poss£d6' dans les epines, qui le piquent. "Lache-
moi, Fre'd^rico, lache-moi! Si tu m'aides a, sortir d'ici, je te donne-
rai encore un an." Frederico dit: "C'est bon!" et le diable file.
Une fois tranquille, Fr6d6rico recommence a rouler son train ordi-
naire, et a faire autant de mal qu'il le peut.
Au bout d'un an, le diable arrive encore chez Fr£d6rico, mais, cette
fois, il est venu4 en souris. 5 Fr6d£rico, qui est a souper, lui dit:
"Ma petite souris, fourre-toi done dans mon sac, et grignote en m'at-
tendant." Une fois la souris dans le sac, [magique, dont elle ne peut
sortir], Fr£d6rico s'en va le porter chez un forgeron. La, il fait 'forger'
son sac par deux forgerons, qui fessent avec deux gros marteaux:
"Aye, Frederico, ldche-moi, lache-moi!" — "Ah! je [ne] te l&cherai
que si tu veux me promettre de ne jamais avoir droit sur moi et si tu
me donnes douze damned de ton enfer." — "Oui, oui, mon Fr6d6rico!
Les douze damnes, je te les donne; tu viendras les chercher." Le
1 Purgatoire. 2 Le diable.
3 Apparemment le conteur considere comme synonymes les termes "talles de
cenelles" et "talles d'epines."
4 Les paysans canadiens emploient le preterit indSfini au lieu du present defini,
qui semble inusite\
s I.e., sous forme de souris.
132 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
march** en est fait; le diable a renonce" a ses droits sur Fr6d<5rico, qui
est clair. l
Un bon jour, Frederico prend son sac a sel et part pour voyage.
Arrive a la porte de l'enfer, il se fait remettre ses douze damnes,
qu'il fourre dans son sac. Le voila qui arrive a la porte du paradis,
son sac sur le dos. Pan, pan, pan! a la porte. "C'qui y'a laV —
"C'est Frederico qui est idler — "Comment, Frederico? Mais
quelle affaire as-tu, icite?" — "Je viens vous demander a loger."
Notre-Seigneur repond: "C'est 'mal commode,2 de te donner a loger,
mon Fr6denco! Tu as fait bien du mal, dans ta vie." — "Mais,
qu'est-ce que ca veut done dire ca? Quand vous etes venu loger
chez moi, sur la terre, je vous ai recu avec vos apotres. Et moi, vous
me refuseriez a loger?" — "Bien! rentre, mon Frederico. Saint
Pierre, ouvre-lui la porte." Voila mon Frederico entre dans le pa-
radis. Notre-Seigneur lui dit: "Ah! mon Frederico, tu as 1'air ben
content d'etre rendu au paradis?" — "Oui, j'en su3 ben content.
Mais je [ne] suis pas tout seul. J'ai dans mon sac douze damnes que
j'ai fait sortir de l'enfer." Ouvrant son sac, il commence a fronder
les damnes dans le fond du paradis. En terissant,4 les damnes even-
tent partout, et trouvent le paradis ben curieux et ben beau, apres &tre
sorti de l'enfer.
Qa fait que Frederico a toujours reste au paradis depuis, avec ses
apotes,5 les douze damnes qu'il avait retires de l'enfer. Et moi,
i m'ont renvoye vous conter ca, icite.
70. LE CONTE DU VINAIGRIER.6
Une fois, e'etait un vinaigrier qui avait passe1 sa vie a faire du
vinaigre. II avait un garcon qu'il tenait toujours renferme' chez lui.
A Page de vingt-et-un ans, le garcon n'avait jamais encore mis les
pieds dehors. Son pere lui dit: "Mon gars, tu as aujourd'hui vingt-
et-un ans. Tu vas aller faire un tour a la ville." Et il l'habille du plus
beau butin qu'il peut y avoir.
Rendu a la ville, vis-a-vis du chateau, le garcon du vinaigrier s'ar-
r6te et regarde la princesse du roi, qui se promene sur la galerie. Se
mettant a cote1 du chemin, il regarde la princesse toute la journee, sans
boire ni manger.
1 De l'anglais "clear," libere, a qui on a donne" conge\ Fournier a probablement
emprunte" ce terme anglais quand il etait a l'emploi des compagnies de chemin de
fer et de coupe de bois.
2 Ce n'est pas facile. 3 J'en suis. . .
4 En atterrissant, de Atterrir, prendre terre. s Ap6tres.
6 Ricite' par Narcisse Thiboutot, a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en aout, 1915.
Appris, il y a pres de cinq ans, de son grand-pere Louis Levesque, maintenant age"
de 70 ans, du raeme endroit.
Contes Populaires Canadiens. 133
Le soir venu, il retourne chez son pere et lui dit: "J'ai vu un cha-
teau et la plus belle des filles! Je ne sais pas a qui la fille appartient,
si c'est une princesse ou une seigneuresse." Le pere repond: "Tn
viendras demain me conduire a ce chateau."
Le fils du vinaigrier, le lendemain, conduit son pere au chateau
ou se promenait la princesse. Quand ils arrivent, elle est encore la,
sur la galerie, a se promener. Se retournant vers son pere, le gargon
dit: "Tiens! la voila, la fille que je veux." Son pere riyi1 et s'en
retourne chez eux sans attendre son fils, qui ne revient que le soir.
"Aurais-tu dessein de l'epouser?"2 demande le pere. Le gargon re-
pond: "Oui, mon pere!" — "Bien! demain', j'irai avec toi; et je par-
lerai pour toi."
Le lendemain soir, le vinaigrier met ses overalls 3 r^oires, ses souliers
de bois, prend sa canne de fer et se rend chez le roi.
Avant d'entrer, il dit a son gargon: "Je vas frapper a, la porte. S'ils
nous disent de rentrer, nous* rentrerons tous les deux. Mais s'ils5
me disent de rentrer, tu resteras a la porte." Le vinaigrier frappe a
la porte du chateau. "Ouvre et entre!" repond la servante. Entre,
le vinaigrier demande a voir le'roi. Aussitot le roi arrive, le vinaigrier
dit: "Votre fille est a marier dans quelque temps, j'entends dire ? Mon
gargon a 1'age de vingt-et-un ans, et il n'est jamais sorti de la maison
jusqu'a il y a deux jours. Quand je Pai envoye a la ville, avant-hier,
il a vu votre princesse qui l'a tant charme" qu'il m'emmene vous en
parler et vous demander si elle l'accepterait en mariage." Le roi
repond: "Oui, mais si vous l'aviez emmene, on aurait pu voir quelles
manieres qu'il a et sa mine aussi." Le vinaigrier repond: "Eh ben!
il est a la porte. On m'a dit de rentrer; ga fait que je suis rentre' seul.
Lui, il m'attend la." Le roi est surpris, lui qui a pas mal de monde
'en veillee.' Toujours, il fait entrer le gargon du vinaigrier, parmi le
monde. S'approchant de sa fille, le roi lui demande: "Le trouves-tu
de ton gout?" — "Certainement, repond la princesse: c'est un homme
bien mis, bien plante, qui parait comme on n'en voit pas." Les gens
de la veillee se mettent a en rire un peu. Le roi dit: "Mes amis, n'en
riez pas. C'est un gargon que je 'considere pour' en faire mon gendre
et lui donner ma couronne." Le 'cavalier'6 de la princesse, qui est
la, n'aime pas beaucoup cette conversation-la.
1 Preterit du verbe rire.
2 Thiboutot dit: "de la marier;" ici "marier" est pris dans le sens de "se marier."
3 Terme anglais pour "salopettes," mot ici inconnu.
4 II ne faut pas oublier que le pronom sujet 'nous' est le plus souvent remplace
par 'on,' chez les paysans canadiens-francais. Au lieu de futur,le verbe "aller" avec
I'innnitif se rencontre ordinairement; ainsi au lieu de "nous entrerons," on dit "on
va rentrer."
6 Au lieu de "s'il. . ." Thiboutot dit "si i.."
* Pr6tendant a la main de . . .
134 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Voila le roi en frais de parler d'arrangements avec le vinaigrier.
Demande au vinaigrier: "Que pouvez-vous donner a votre garcon
pour avantager ma fille?" — "Monsieur le roi, a son mariage, je vas
lui donner trois quarts J de trois minots [chacun] bien pleins d'argent;
et, apres ma mort, il en aura trois autres quarts de trois minots." Le
roi est 6tonne\ "Comment avez-vous pu faire, pour tout ramasser
cet argent?" — "Pour tout ramasser cet argent, monsieur le roi, je
n'ai pas fait comme vous faites, a soir. Quand je gagnais de l'argent,
je le mettais dans mes quarts, ailleurs que2 de faire des petites 'vert-
ices,' d'inviter Pierre et Jacques a manger tout mon bien." Le roi
n'en revient pas! II finit par dire: "C'est pourtant bien vrai. . . Vi-
naigrier, nous ferons les noces quand vous voudrez."
Au bout de trois jours, le vinaigrier a marie* son garcon a la prin-
cesse du roi, qu'il a avantagCe de trois quarts de trois minots d'ar-
gent ben sonnant. lis ont fait des grosses noces. Moi, ils m'ont
invito, et j'y suis alle\ Je leur ai conte* quelques petites histoires
'comme ci comme ca';3 et ensuite, ils m'ont renvoye* ici pour vous
les conter, a vous autres.
71. l'ev£:que. 4
Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'etait trois jeunesses qui voulaient
vivre sans travailler.
Ils partent tous les trois ensemble, prennent le chemin, s'en vont
chez Peveque, et lui volent ses habillements, pendant qu'il dort.
C'qu'ils rencontrent le long du chemin ? Un bonhomme qui quete.
"Monsieur, lui demandent-ils, qu'est-ce que vous faites avec cette
poche sur le dos?" — "Ce que je fais, mes petits amis? Je demande
mon pain." — "Le pere, voulez-vous vous engager?" — "Oui, je suis
bien pret a m'engager." — "Comment c'que vous vous appelez?" —
"Je m'appelle monsieur LeVeque." — "Ben! on vous engage." II
demande: "Pour quoi faire?" Leur r£ponse est: "C'est pour tou-
jours dire 'Oui.' " II s'engage done pour toujours dire "Oui."
Ayant habille le queteux en eveque, ils lui mettent un bonnet carre
et lui donnent une crosse. Puis ils Vembarquent dans une voiture,
et lui disent: "Tiens-toi drete." En r£pondant "Oui," le queteux se
tient drUe comme un piquietef pendant qu'on s'en va avec lui a
i'hotel. La ils demandent au maitre de l'hotel: "On pourrait-i loger
monsieur l'£veque ici?" — "Oui." — "II faudrait une belle chambre
1 Barils. 2 Au lieu que de . . . 3 Tel que tel.
4 Recueilli en juillet, 1915, d'Achille Fournier, & Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska.
Fournier obtint ce conte de Joseph Ouellet, du meme endroit, il y a une vingtaine
d'ann6es.
5 Piquet.
Conies Populaires Canadiens. 135
bien dressee pour monsieur Peveque." On lui donne la plus belle
chambre de Photel; et il faut voir comme on se d^peche pour mon-
sieur Peveque. On lui dit: "Assoyez-vous dans ce sofa." II repond:
"Oui," et se laisse tomber si dret dans le sofa a, ressorts qu'il y cale
par-dessus la tete.
De la, les trois jeunesses s'en vont au plus gros magasin de la place,
et ils achetent des soieries et toutes sortes de marchandises. Ayant
achete pour cinq mille piastres de marchandises, ils disent: "Envoyez
le compte a Photel; monsieur Peveque paiyera." l Le marchant s'en
va trouver 1'eVeque: "Monsieur 1'eVeque, allez-vous payer le compte
des jeunesses a mon magasin?" — "Oui," il repond — il etait engage
pour dire "Oui!"
Avec les cinq mille piastres de marchandises les jeunesses sacrent 2
lew camp.
Le marchand vient avec son compte, le lendemain, en disant: "Mon-
sieur PeVeque, je vous apporte le compte pour les marchandises
que j'ai vendues a vos serviteurs, hier. Vous allez payer?" II re-
pond: "Oui," mais sans payer. Le marchand lui donne le compte en
£crit. L'eVeque repond: "Oui,. . . mais je ne sais pas lire." — "Com-
ment? un eVeque qui ne sait pas lire!" — "Oui, je suis un Leveque,
mais [non] pas un eveque — grand monseigneur!" — "Qu'est-ce
que ca veut dire?" — "Je suis queteux 'de mon metier,' qui ai laisse"
ma poche a cote du chemin quand les trois jeunesses m'ont engage"
pour toujours dire 'Oui.' Quant a, vos soieries et vos marchandises,
je ne peux pas les payer, n'etant qu'un queteux."
Otant ses habits d'eVeque, le bonhomme Leveque s'en va chercher
sa poche, le long du chemin, et reprend son 'metier.'
Les jeunesses? Ce qu'ils ont fait? Je ne le sais pas; ils ont du
aller commercerz leurs marchandises et leurs soieries dans un autre
pays.
C'est toute! Moi, ils m'ont renvoye ici vous conter ca.
72. LE DIABLE ET LA MARIEE.4
Une fille avait deux 'cavaliers.'5 Elle en aimait un, mais Pautre,
elle ne pouvait pas le souffrir. Celui qu'elle aimait etait un garcon
pauvre. Les parents preferaient Pautre, qui £tait plus a Paise.
La fille se dit, un jour: "Si je me marie6 a ce garcon-la, je veux
1 Paiera. 2 Prennent le camp, d£guerpissent. 3 Vendre.
4 Recueilli a Lorette, Quebec, en aout, 1914, de Mme Prudent Sioui (nee Marie
Picard), qui 1'avait appris de sa mere. Sa mere, a son tour, le tenait de son pere.
6 Pretendants.
6 La conteuse dit: "Si je le marie. . ." Chez les paysans canadiens, "marier quel-
qu'un" signifie "se marier a. . . "
136 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
ben que le diable m'emporte en corps et en ame, et en vie!" Elle
disait 5a d'un bon cceur. i
Le temps passe. A la fin, les choses arrivent corame le veulent les
parents. La fille se marie au garcon qu'elle n'aime point.
En sortant de l'eglise, apres la messe du mariage, elle apercoit deux
cochers dans un carrosse auquel sont atteles deux beaux chevaux.
Un cocher descend et la fait embarquer dans son carrosse. Une fois
la mariee dans le carrosse, et avant que le mari ait le temps de monter,
carrosse, chevaux, cochers et mariee, tout a disparu. Bien surpris, les
gens de la noce se regardent sans rien comprendre. Le marie et les
autres sont bien tristes, et ils ne peuvent pas s'expliquer 9a. lis s'en
vont en disant: "Qu'est-ce que ca veut dire?"
Le frere de la mariee a encore plus de peine que les autres. Etant
bitcheron, tous les jours, il va '6wc/zer' dans les bois. Un soir, il s'as-
soit sur un arbre qu'il vient d'abattre, et commence a penser a sa
sceur. Tout a coup, un homme arrive devant lui. Le biicheron ne
sait pas comment cet homme a pu arriver si vite devant lui — c'etait
le diable!
Le nouveau-venu dit: "Tu as l'air bien triste! Qu'est-ce que tu
as? Tu parais avoir bien de la peine?" — "Ah oui! j'en ai." —
"Mais, pourquoi done?" — "Voila longtemps que ma sceur s'est ma-
riee. La journee de ses noces, elle a disparu, et on n'en a jamais eu
ni vent ni nouvelle depuis. On ne sait pas quel bord elle a pris." Le
diable lui demande: "Veux-tu voir ta soeur?" — "Bien sur! je serais
fier de la voir." — "Si tu veux la voir, promets-moi de lui oter son
jonc de mariage, qu'elle a dans son doigt. Si tu me le promets, je
t'emmene la voir." — "Oui, je te promets de lui oter son jonc." Sans
se douter qu'il a affaire au diable, il embarque sur son dos aussitot
qu'il lui dit: "Embarque! Qa ne prendra pas de temps a, se rendre."
Rendu dans un appartement, il se trouve seul en face de sa sceur, qui,
le voyant, lui dit: "Ah, pauvre frere! Je sais ce que tu veux faire: tu
viens chercher mon jonc de mariee. Je restais ici, sans rien endurer;
d'et'heure, je souffrirai [le] martyre. C'etait bien ennuyant, mais, au
moins, c'etait tout." — "Je ne l'apporterai pas," repond son frere.
"II faudra bien que tu l'apportes; tu ne sais pas a qui tu as affaire."
Se mettant la tete dans la porte, le diable dit: "Jase tant que tu vou-
dras avec ta sceur; mais quand tu partiras il faudra que tu apportes
son jonc." L'homme repond: "Je vous dis que je ne l'apporterai
pas!" La femme dit: "Mon frere, tu fais mieux de l'apporter. Tu
n'es point ton maitre ici. . . Te souviens-tu de la journee ou2 papa
voulait me marier au garcon3 a l'aise que j'ai fini par accepter pour
1 I.e., de tout son coeur, avec sinc£rite\
2 Mme Sioui disait: "de la journee quand."
3 La conteuse disait: "voulait me faire marier avec le gargon."
Contes Populaires Canadiens.
137
mari? Je lui ai r£pondu: 'Je veux bien que le diable m'emporte en
corps et en ame, et en vie, si je l'epouse.' Eh bien! aujourd'hui, je
suis en enfer. Avec mon jonc beni, je ne pouvais pas sounrir; mais
quand tu l'auras apporte, je souffrirai [le] martyre." Le garcon veut
'tenir son bout' l et ne pas emporter le jonc beni de sa sceur, mais
contre la volonte du diable, il ne peut rien faire.
Le diable l'a ramene sur la terre et l'a remis dans le bois, la ou il l'a
pris.
73. RANDONNEE BERCEUSE. 2
A - ■ /iuegro , ^
Fautal-ier cher-cher leloup Pourve-nir man-ger [be -be]
$
k
E
J j 1 LJ"
Leloupn[e]veut pas man-ger [be - be]; [Be- be]n[e]
J-O-ii
^^
* &
veat pas i:air[e]do- do. Be - be's fais do- do, Katlimi-gol
1 . Faut aller chercher le loup {2 fois)
Pour venir manger beb6 3
Le loup n[e] 4 veut pas manger beb6
[Bebe] ne veut pas fair[e] dodo.
Bebe, fais dodo,
Katlinnqo ! 5
2. Faut aller chercher le chien {2 fois),
Pour venir mordre le loup (2 fois).
Le chien n[e] veut pas morclre le loup;
Le loup n[e] veut pas manger bebe;
Bebe" ne veut pas fair[e] dodo.
Bebe, fais dodo,
Kallinngo!
3. Faut aller chercher l[e] baton (2 fois),
Pour venir battre le chien (2 fois).
L[e] baton n[e] veut pas battre le chien;
Le chien n[e] veut pas mordre le loup;
1 Resister, suivre son idee.
2 Rengaine chantee pour endormir un enfant; recueillie sous la dictee de M. Lou-
vigny de Montigny, d'Ottawa, qui l'a apprise de son pere, a Saint-Jerome, P. Q., il
y a a peu pres vingt-cinq ans.
3 On substitue ici le nom de l'enfant qu'on endort.
4 Les muettes entre crochets s'61ident.
5 Les lignes qui s'ajoutent a chaque couplet se chantent comme celle-ei.
138 Journal of American Folk-Lore .
Le loup n[e] veut pas manger beb6;
B6b6 ne veut pas fair[e] dodo.
B6b6, fais dodo,
Katlinngo!
4. Faut aller chercher le feu (2 fois),
Pour venir bruler l[e] baton (2 fois) ■
Le feu n[e] veut pas bruler le baton;
L[e] baton n[e] veut pas battre le chien ;
Le chien n[e] veut pas mordre le loup;
Le loup n[e] veut pas manger b6b6;
B6b6 ne veut pas fair[e] dodo.
B6be\ fais dodo,
Katlinngo!
5. Faut aller chercher de l'eau (2 fois),
Pour venir 6teindr[e] le feu (2 fois).
L'eau ne veut pas 6teindr[e] le feu;
Le feu n[e] veut pas bruler l[e] baton;
L[e] baton n[e] veut pas battre le chien;
L[e] chien n[e] veut pas mordre le loup;
Le loup n[e] veut pas manger b6b6;
B6b6 ne veut pas fair[e] dodo.
B6b6, fais dodo,
Katlinngo!
6. Faut aller chercher le bceuf (2 fois),
Pour venire boire l'eau (2 fois).
Lie bceuf ne veut pas boire l'eau;
L'eau ne veut pas eteindr[e] le feu;
Le feu n[e] veut pas bruler l[e] baton;
L|e] baton n[e] veut pas battre le chien;
Le chien n[e] veut pas mordre le loup;
Le loup n[e] veut pas manger b£b6;
B6be' ne veut pas fair[e] dodo.
B6b6, fais dodo,
Katlinngo!
Faut aller chercher l[e] boucher (2 fois),
Pour venir tuer le bceuf (2 fois).
L[e] boucher veut bien tuer le bceuf;
Et le bceuf veut bien boire l'eau;
L'eau veut bien 6teindre le feu;
Le feu veut bien bruler l[e] baton;
L[e] baton veut bien battre le chien;
Le chien veut bien mordre le loup;
Le loup veut bien manger b<5b6;
B6be" veut bien faire dodo. . .
B6be" fait dodo,
Katlinngo!
Conies Populaires Canadiens.
139
P
74. RANDONNEE DU PETIT BOUQUIN. l
Allegro
£ES
Cji^i J:
Allegro
Fi-chons le p[e]'tit bouquin; Fichonsle— gardera (fit's).
s
On va cher-cher bou-quin pourfairfejman-ger te chou (bis)
p ' MHl
«= 3 j;
£
Bou - quio[oe]veut pas man - ger le chou.
Fichons le p[e]tit bouquin; 2
Fichons le gardera (bis). 3
1 . On va chercher bouquin pour fair[e] manger le chou 4 (bis) .
Bouquin [ne] veut pas manger le chou. 5
Fichons le petit bouquin; 6
Fichons le gardera (bis).
2 . On va chercher le chien pour f aire manger bouquin (bis) .
Le chien [ne] veut pas manger bouquin;
Bouquin [ne ]veut pas manger le chou;
Fichons le petit bouquin,
Fichons le gardera (bis).
3. On va chercher l[e] baton pour faire battre le chien (bis).
Baton [ne] veut pas battre le chien;
Le chien [ne] veut pas manger bouquin;
Bouquin [ne] veut pas manger le chou.
Fichons le petit bouquin;
Fichons le gardera (bis).
4. On va chercher le feu pour faire bruler baton (bis).
Le feu [ne] veut pas bruler baton;
Baton [ne] veut pas battre le chien;
Le chien [ne] veut pas manger bouquin;
Bouquin [ne] veut pas manger le chou.
Fichons le petit bouquin;
Fichons le gardera (bis).
1 Ritournelle chantee, recueillie de Mme Alphonse Perrault, de Woodroffe, Ottawa,
le ler Janvier, 1916. Mme Perrault l'a apprise de son pere, feu Alphonse Larocque,
qui savait beaucoup de vieilles chansons.
2 Bouquin ou petit bouc, est un mot inusite en Canada. En Louisiane il apparait
sous la forme de "Bouki," dans un conte recueilli par A. Fortier (Memoirs of the
American Folk-Lore Society, vol. ii, 1895, p. 31).
3 Refrain dont les mots sont, dans leur ensemble, denues de sens.
4 La premiere ligne de chaque couplet se chante comme celle-ci.
5 Toutes les lignes qui s'accumulent se chantent ainsi.
6 Solo ensuite repute par le chceur.
140 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
5. On va chcrcher de l'eau pour e'teindre le feu (bis).
L'eau [ne] veut pas ctcindre le feu;
Le feu [ne] veut pas bruler baton;
Baton [ne] veut pas battre le chien;
Le chien [ne] veut pas manger bouquin;
Bouquin [ne] veut pas manger le chou.
Fichons le petit bouquin;
Fichons le gardera {bis).
6. On va chercher le boeuf pour faire boire l'eau (bis).
Le bceuf [ne] veut pas boire l'eau;
L'eau [ne] veut pas 6teindr[e] le feu;
Le feu [ne] veut pas bruler l[e] baton;
L[e] baton [ne] veut pas battre le chien;
Le chien [ne] veut pas manger bouquin;
Bouquin [ne] veut pas manger le chou.
Fichons le petit bouquin;
Fichons le gardera (bis).
7. On va chercher l[e] boucher pour faire tuer le bceuf (bis).
L[e] boucher veut bien tuer le bceuf;
Le bceuf veut bien boire l'eau;
L'eau veut bien eteindr[e] le feu;
Le feu veut bien bruler baton;
Baton veut bien battre le chien;
Le chien veut bien manger bouquin;
Bouquin veut bien manger le chou.
Fichons le petit bouquin;
Fichons le gardera (bis).
Section d'Antheopologie,
Ottawa, Can.
Faceties et Contes Canadiens. 141
FACETIES ET CONTES CANADIENS.
PAR VICTOR MORIN.
75. LES A VENTURES DE MICHEL MORIN.
Les faceties qu'on a groupees autour du nom de Michel Morin sont
nombreuses et variees, comme on peut s'en rendre compte en lisant
celles que le "Journal of American Folk-Lore" a publiees dans sa livrai-
son de janvier-mars, 1916 (p. 125). Elles paraissent toutes avoir une
commune origine, qu'il est cependant difficile de decouvrir. l Les ver-
sions que j'en connais proviennent de quelques anciennes families des
comtes de Saint-Hyacinthe et de Bagot, qui etaient originaires de la
region de Montmagny-Bellechasse; c'est de la sans doute que leur etait
venu le recit des aventures de notre heros, car on disait que "les par-
roisses d'en bas de Quebec" etaient remplies du bruit de ses exploits.
II est peut-etre a regretter que la 16gende ne nous ait laisse que de
maigres renseignements sur la carriere de ce prototype populaire de
Tartarin, dont elle n'a guere conserve que les derniers exploits. Mais,
comme pour bien des heros, la mort de Michel Morin est le moment le
plus interessant de sa vie !
"Monsieur Michel Morin" etait "homme d'eglise." Le latin qui
6maille le recit de ses prouesses indique d'ailleurs qu'il ne faisait que
cotoyer la liturgie. Etait-il sacristain, maitre-chantre ou marguillier ?
II a tout aussi bien pu etre Fun que Fautre. Dans la "cantate" citee
plus loin, le cure* se d^sole a la pensee que "la voute de P6glise ne
resonnera plus au son de sa voix," et il se demande "qui charmera
d£sormais nos oreilles au son des cloches ?" II aurait done £te* a la fois
chantre et bedeau. Personne, toutefois, ne peut douter de l'important
personnage qu'6tait Michel Morin — a ses propres yeux.
Les saillies dont il accompagne, dans son testament, la distribution
de ses biens imaginaires, les onomatopees, telles que "britchte, bretchte,"
se retrouvent dans toutes les versions; mais les variations des fragments
rimes indiquent assez que le texte original a subi de fortes atteintes,
dans la tradition orale. II semble meme qu'au cours de leurs migra-
tions, les conteurs ont du modifier Fordre et la forme des Episodes.
Ainsi, celui de la perte du "bel ane, dans la grenouillere," debute de la
facon suivante, dans le recit que j'en ai toujours entendu:
Un jour, Michel Morin
Etait dans son jardin
Apres planter des rabioles,
Tout en jonglant des fariboles.
1 Dans Les derniers Bretons (nouv. ed., p. 226) d'Emile Souvestre — un £erivain
breton — nous lisons: "Le Michel Morin de le Lae . . . poeme — ceuvre qui n'a
rien de breton" . . . — C.-M. B.
142 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Quand tout a coup r'soudit l
Un de ses voisins, qui lui dit:
— "Bonjour, monsieur Michel Morin! "
— "Bonjour, p'tit Jean, voisin!"
— "Voulez-vous me preter
Votre bel ane, pour aller porter
Le linge de ma commere
A la grenouillere ?"
J'ai fait allusion, il y a instant, a la predilection des conteurs pour les
bouts a rimes ou a assonances — les "rimettes a Marichette^ comme ils
les d6signaient pittoresquement — . En voici un exemple que je puis
reconstituer a peu pres exactement, comme il m'a 6te raconte tres
souvent:
Un jour, Michel Morin,
Leve de grand matin,
S'en allait au moulin
Porter du sarrasin,
Quand lui dit son voisin
Sur un ton baladin:
— "II est trop grand matin,
Monsieur Michel Morin,
Pour aller au moulin
Y faire moudre du grain."
— "S'il est trop grand matin,
R6pond d'un air malin
Monsieur Michel Morin,
Pour aller au moulin,
II est bien trop matin,
Monsieur Michel Flandrin,
Pour fair' le galopin,
A courir les chemins!"
Enfin le trepas heroiique de Michel Morin a etc" chants de bien des
manieres, voire meme en latin — de cuisine! La "cantate" suivante
fut executee avec grande pompe dans une soiree recreative a laquelle
j'assistais comme eleve, au college de Saint-Hyacinthe (Que.), il y a
environ trente-cinq ans:
MICHELI MORINI
FUNESTUS TRESPASSUS!2
Rami in supremo nidum
Pia garrula percharat.
Numerosa cohua
1 Ressoudre, expression signifiant "rejaillir, survenir a l'improviste, arriver," etc.,
et qu'on croit venir du verbe latin resurgere (cf. S. Clapin, Dictionnaire canadien-
frangais).
2 Gaston de Montigny, il y a a peu pres vingt-cinq ans, apprit une version analo-
gue, au College de Joliette (Que.).
Faceties et Contes Canadiens. 143
Dimancho assemblata
Tachat perchis si tapantes
Envoyare piam possunt
Ad Gyabolum (au diable !)
— Arduum opus! —
Michelus Morinus
Audiit hurlamenta rientium;
Tanquam cervus essoufflatus
Currit totis jambis,
Sonat tellus sabotato pede.
Turn vaillantissimus heros,
Sub chapotum troussans crines,
Sabotosque dechaussans,
Sese deshabillat.
Grandi signat cruce frontem ;
In manibus crachat;
Elato pede grimpat in ormum.
— " Quo tua, exclamat parochus,
Vaillantia portat ?
Ergo voce tua
Nee plus resonabit
Eglisae vouta;
Nee plus chantabis;
'Iste Confessor Ddmini, sacratus
'Festa plebs cujus
'Celebrat per orbem,
'Hodie Icetus meruit secreta
'Scandere caeli.'
Siste Michele!
Quis post haec
Charmabit oreillas
Clocharum sonitu ?
Siste ergo!
Atque te redde,
Michele,
Meis prieris!"
Michelus Morinus
Brancha forte sedebat;
Tunc Michelus sedebat
Brancha rongeata a vermis
Tunc ilia:
"Cri, era, cri, era, crac ! ! ! "
De brancha in brancham
Degringolat,
Atque fecit
Pouf!...
Hurlat:
"Ai, oi! ai, oi! ai, oi! "
Sed frustra;
Mortuus est.
Sic moruit Michelus Morinus.
144 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
[Note. — Aux versions de M. Victor Morin nous en ajoutons une
autre tres incomplete, recueillie aux Eboulements, comte de Charlevoix,
en 1916, d'Edmond Boudreau, un mousse de 22 ans, qui l'a imparfaite-
ment apprise de M. V£zina-Tremblay, un homme age, du memo endroit.
LE PAUVRE MICHEL MORIN.
Bel genius est,
Gent tele de join,
. . . (dans) la commune;
Sept jours passes a la bru[m]e.
Lorsque j'apercus le docteur Brdm (Abraham),
Qui prechait fortement fort
Sur les dimes de la mort
Pdpe gat6, pdpe gate!
"Je vous salue Marie! . . .
Leve-toi done, pauv' Lanore (Leonore), pour faire des crepes a ce pauvre Michel
Morin, qui travaille jour et nuit!
... A l'heure de notre mort, ainsi soit-il! "
Voila qu'elle se leve, qu'elle met sa camisole blanche et son bonnet de
nuit. Elle commence a faire des crepes, (en fait) pendant trois jours.
Voila ce pauvre Michel Morin [qui] prend son fusil sur son epaule,
montant la cote Pierre, pour [y] denicheter les pipes et les bouteilles
d'eau-de-vie. De pistes de renard, [il] n'en avait jamais tant vu; mais
de pistes de lievre, [il y en avait encore] plus. II rencontre un lievre.
Touchant: Pouf! II le descenda. Mangea son gibier.
En passant sur un pont, il rencontre trois de ses amis, qui lui deman-
dent de quoi pour se regaler en maitre. II se debarassif de ses vete-
ments; il prit une plonge. On le crut noye, mais pas du tout! II
ressouda avec trois brochees de poisson, longs. . ., longs comme d'icife
d aller a demain. [II en fit] une matelote de cent soixante et douel ( ?)
pouces.
C'etait un jeudi, lorsqu'il rencontra la blanchisseuse qui portait le
linge. Elle lui demanda le bel ane. "Prenez-le, je vous le permets."
C'est en passant le russeau (ruisseau) de Qualbec [qu']il s'embourba de
la queue jusqu'au bee, [a cause] des coups [qu'on lui donna] pour le faire
Faceties et Contes Canadiens. 145
relever. [Michel Morin] pleura pendant longtemps, autant comme la
sainte Madeleine a pleure dans toute sa vie.
Or, ce pauv' Michel Morin monta dans un arbre pour denichefer
des m[e]rles. II monte . . . Quand il fut rendus a la tete, il s'ecria :
"Victoire! dans un instant, je vas l'avoir." Mais la branche cassa; il
descenda de branche en branche. II tomba haut-en-bas; il se cassa les
reins. "Vite, vite ! allez chercher le notaire, que je fasse mon testament."
Arrive le notaire.
"Ecrivez, notaire!
. . . Trois pieces de terre
Sur la cote Pierre . . ."
Sa femme s'avance a lui,
Elle a bien dit :
"Nous n'avons pas trois pots
De li moineaux."
— "Oui, ma femme!"
"Ecrivez, notaire!" Son fils s'avance d lui. "Est-ce que je n'aurai
pas quelque don de vous, mon pere ?" — "Avance, mon fils! je te donne
mon creux, mon estomac et mon tabac." — "Merci bien, poupa!"
Son fillew s'avance d lui. "Est-ce que je n'aurai pas quelque don de
vous, mon parrain?" — "Avance, mon fillew/ Je te donne fagots de
beaute, fagots d'epines, fagots de renfort collure, un bon rondin pour te
degourdir les reins. Tu passeras pour le meilleur forcateur (fagoteur)
de France." — "Merci bien, mon parrain!" II y avait une vieille cuisi-
niere qui faisait la cuisine depuis trente ans ; [elle] avance d lui et elle dit :
"Est-ce que je n'aurai pas quelque don de vous, mon maitre ?" — "Oui,
avance, Claudine, avec tes grosses babines! Prends trois ceufs de la
grosse poule noire; tu t'en feras une omelette, dans la grande chaudiere
de fer. Tu en auras meme pour te decaremer; [mais ca] »e te figera pas
sur le cceur." — "Merci bien, mon maitre!" Le notaire prend parole:
"Ecrire tout ce que vous me dires, ca prendrait un livre entier." —
"Ecrivez, notaire! c'est moi qui vous le dit. Vous ne trouverez [pas
tous les jours] de ces hommes d'avantages ! "
(Voila Michel Morin mort.) [Ah!] que nous avons perdu gros en
perdant ce pauvre Michel Morin, [lui] qui nous contait souvent l'histoire
des esprignes (spring: ressorts), chez sa tante et sa cousine. [II faut
dire] qu'il avait toujours bon compte; il gagnait bonnes gages. . . , mais il
tenait toujours le large!. . .
C.-M. Barbeau.]
146 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
76. JEAN BARIBEAU.
Parfois nos conteurs, tourment6s par des auditeurs insatiables, se plaisent a les
mystifier en leur r6citant une rengaine, ou trait qui forme une chalne sans fin, en se
rep^tant. Une des rengaines les plus remarquables et qui remporte le plus de succes
est celle de "Jean Baribeau:"
Jean Baribeau naquit de parents pauvres, mais voleurs. Ceux-ci,
qui l'aimaient de l'amour le plus tendre, le chasserent de leur maison, a
l'age de trois ans. C'est alors qu'il se dirigea vers la capitale, pour y
completer ses eludes.
Mais les luttes politiques et les chagrins d'amour le conduisirent
bient6t aux portes du tombeau. On appella les medecins les plus re-
nomm6s, et, grace a leurs soins 6clair6s, il expira. Sa fiancee lui fit 6riger
un monument magnifique, sur lequel ces mots furent graves:
"Ci-git Jean Baribeau, ne* de parents pauvres, mais voleurs. Ceux-ci
qui l'aimaient de l'amour le plus tendre. . ." (Recommence et r6p£te
ad libitum.) l
Apres quelques recriminations de la part des auditeurs que cette repetition ennuie,
le conteur feint de sortir du cercle vicieux dans lequel il tourne, en changeant ainsi le
r6cit:
Sa fiancee lui fit faire des fune>ailles magnifiques. Tout le monde
pleurait; le chef des pompiers pleurait dans son casque. De ce casque
d6ja plein, une larme glissa, tomba, germa, poussa. Le fils du roi,
passant par la, tr£bucha, tomba, se tua. Son pere, qui l'aimait a la
folie, lui fit des funerailles magnifiques. Tout le monde pleurait; le
chef des pompiers .. . (Recommence^.
Apres s'etre ainsi payd deux fois la tete de ses auditeurs, le conteur peut ordinaire-
ment jouir d'un repos bien gagne\
77. VENTRE DE SON !
Voici une formule en usage chez les nourrices, dans la region de Saint-
Hyacinthe. On attire l'attention de l'enfant, en le tenant debout devant
soi et en frappant du bout du doigt chaque partie de son corps, quand
on la nomme:
Ventre de son!
Estomac de plomb!
Gorge de pigeon!
Cou tordu!2
Menton fourchu!
1 M. Louvigny de Montigny a entendu maintes fois la premiere partie de cette
rengaine, dans les comtds environnant Montreal.
2 Cette ligne a 6t6 ajoutee ici par M. Louvigny de Montigny, qui, il y a plus de
vingt-cinq ans, entendit reciter cette formule, dans le comte' de Berthier.
Faceties et Contes Canadiens. 147
Bouche d'argent!
Nez cancan!
Joue bouillie
Joue r6tie!
Petit ceil!
Gros ceil!
Oreillon!
Oreillette!
Sourcillon !
Sourcillette!
Cogne, cogne,
Cogne la caboche!
78. LA SERVIETTE MAGIQUE. l
C'est done pour vous dire qu'il y avait, une fois, un roi et une reine
qui avaient trois princes. Le roi aimait bien les deux plus vieux, mais
il dejetait le plus jeune, Petit- Jean.
Un jour, les deux princes lui demandent de leur gr6er chacun un
batiment, pour aller voir du pays. Le roi leur donne a chacun un
beau batiment, avec des serviteurs. Le plus jeune prince, lui demande
aussi un batiment ; mais son pere ne veut pas lui en donner. La reine
dit au roi: "Sire le roi, il faut que vous fassiez autant pour Petit- Jean
que pour ses freres, parce qu'il est votre enfant, lui aussi." Le roi
n'est pas content, mais il donne tout de meme un batiment a Petit-
Jean, et il dit a ses serviteurs, s'iJs ont la chance de l'abandonner quel-
que part, de le laisser la et de s'en revenir sans lui, avec le batiment.
Les trois freres partent done sur la mer et arrivent a une place ou il
y a trois bras de mer. Le plus vieux dit: "Je prends ce bras de mer-ci;"
le second dit: "Je prends celui-la;" Petit-Jean n'a pas a choisir; il
continue dans le bras de mer qui est tout droit en face de lui.
Petit-Jean arrive a une ile ou il n'y a personne; il voit un petit chemin
qui part du bord de la mer et monte du cote d'un grand bois. II se
fait descendre a terre et dit a ses hommes de l'attendre jusqu'au coucher
du soleil, pendant qu'il ira voir ou ce chemin conduit. Mais a peine
a-t-il disparu dans le bois que les serviteurs retournent au batiment, et
le capitaine part, laissant Petit-Jean sur l'ile.
Lorsque Petit-Jean revient au bord de la mer, il apercoit son bati-
ment qui s'en va; ce qui le met bien en peine. II fait des signes; mais
ca ne sert a rien, et il voit bien qu'on l'a trompe. II retourne dans le
chemin sans savoir ce qu'il fera, parce qu'il n'a rien a manger; il n'a
rien pour se defendre contre les betes feroces.
1 Raconte par Joseph V6ronneau, journalier, de Saint-Basile-le-Grand (Chambly),
qui l'ayait appris, dans son enfance, a Sainte-Julie (Vercheres). M. Morin s'6-
tant fait raconter ce conte, a pu, deux jours apres, le dieter assez fidelement et sans
notes. Le recit du conteur occupe plus d'une heure.
148 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Une vieille vient a lui, qui lui dit: "Bonjour, mon Petit-Jean!"
— "Bonjour, bonne memere!" — "Qu'est-ce que tu viens faire ici,
mon Petit-Jean ?" — "Je ne sais pas ce que je viens faire, bonne
memere! J'ai 6t6 abandonne par mon batiment; je n'ai rien a manger,
et j'ai bien peur d'etre deVore par les betes f^roces." La bonne vieille,
6tant une f£e, lui donne une petite serviette en lui disant: " Tiens, mon
Petit-Jean, prends cela; quand tu voudras manger, tu 6tendras ta
serviette par terre et tu diras:
Tar la vertu de ma serviette,
Je veux que le couvert se mette;'
Et tu en auras pour ta faim et pour la faim de tous ceux que tu vou-
dras." — "Merci, bonne memere!" qu'il lui dit; et il continue dans le
chemin.
Arrive au bord du bois, Petit-Jean commence a avoir faim, et il se
dit: "II faut que j'essaie la vertu de ma serviette." II Intend a terre
sur l'herbe, en disant:
"Par la vertu de ma serviette,
Je veux que le couvert se mette
Pour la faim de Petit-Jean."
Aussitot se trouve toute espece de gibier roti et toute sorte de friandi-
ses ; Petit- Jean mange a sa faim ; et, bien content, il prend la serviette
et la remet dans sa poche.
Arrive' dans le bois, il apercoit venir un geant qui fait revoler la
poussiere cent pieds de haut. Des que le g£ant le voit, il lui cr^e:
'•Que viens-tu faire ici, ver de terre?" Petit-Jean lui rejpond: "Je
cherche mon chemin." Le geant lui dit: "Je vas te montrer ton che-
min tout de suite, en t'avalant en deux bouche'es, car je n'en ai pas pour
le creux de ma grosse dent." Petit-Jean lui repond : "Combien vous en
faudrait-il comme moi, pour manger a votre faim?" — "II m'en fau-
drait quatorze comme toi." — "Dans ce cas-la, repond Petit- Jean, il y
a moyen de s'entendre; si je vous donne a manger a votre faim, vous
n'avez pas besoin de m'avaler?" Le geant lui dit: "Ce n'est pas le
temps de rire, parce que j'ai faim." Petit-Jean lui repond: "C'est-il
un marche" fait?" Et il 6tend sa serviette, en disant:
"Par la vertu de ma serviette,
Je veux que le couvert se mette
Pour la faim du g6ant."
Aussitot la terre est couverte de pates, de rotis et de toutes sortes de
friandises. II y en a tant que le geant en a pour rassasier sa faim, et
Faceties et Conies Canadiens. 149
il lui en reste encore. II dit a Petit-Jean: "Tu devrais bien me donner
ta serviette." Petit-Jean repond: "Non, j'en aurai encore besoin."
Le g£ant reprend: "Mange a ta faim avec ce qui reste, et donne-moi
ta serviette." Petit-Jean ne veut pas. Le geant dit: "Si tu ne veux
pas me la donner, veux-tu la changer?" — "Qu'est-ce que vous allez
me donner ?" — "Je vas te donner mon sabre de sept lieues, qui coupe
a n'importe quelle distance jusqu'a sept lieues." Petit-Jean a une
idee; il dit: "C'est un marche fait." II donne sa serviette et prend le
sabre.
Le geant part. Quand il a fait une lieue, Petit-Jean prend son sabre
et lui coupe la tete. II va alors chercher sa serviette, qu'il met dans sa
poche, et il continue son chemin, pensant: "Je n'aurai pas peur a
present de me faire deVorer par les betes feroces."
Un peu plus loin, il voit venir un autre g£ant qui fait revoler la
poussiere a deux cents pieds de haut. Le geant lui dit, en le voyant:
"Que viens-tu faire ici, ver de terre ?" Petit-Jean repond: "Je cherche
mon chemin." — "Je vas te le montrer tout de suite, ton chemin! Je
n'en ai pas pour ma grosse dent de toi." — "Combien vous en faut-il
comme moi pour vous rassasier ?" — "II m'en faudrait au moins vingt."
— "S'il ne vous faut que cela, repond Petit-Jean, il y a moyen de s'ar-
ranger." II deplie sa serviette et dit:
'Par la vertu de ma serviette,
Je veux que le couvert se mette
Pour la faim du geant."
Aussitot la terre est couverte de toute espece de viandes et de friandises,
et le geant mange a sa faim. II dit a Petit-Jean: "Tu devrais bien me
donner ta serviette." Petit-Jean repond: "J'en ai encore besoin."
Le geant lui dit: "Mange a ta faim, et tu n'en auras plus besoin."
Petit-Jean reprend: "J'en aurai besoin demain, parce que la faim me
reviendra." — "Si tu ne veux pas me la donner, veux-tu la changer?"
— "Qu'est-ce que vous allez me donner?" r6pond Petit-Jean. "Je
vas te donner mon cor merveilleux; tu n'as qu'a souffler dedans, et il
en sortira tous les hommes dont tu auras besoin et qui travailleront
pour toi." — "Mais si je n'ai pas ma serviette pour les nourrir, repond
Petit-Jean, qu'est-ce que j'en ferai?" — "Tu n'auras qu'a 'retirer ton
vent' et les hommes rentreront dans le cor merveilleux." Petit-Jean
a une id£e; il donne sa serviette, prend le cor merveilleux et continue
son chemin. Lorsqu'il a fait environ une lieue, il se retourne, prend
son sabre de sept lieues et coupe la tete du geant. II va chercher sa
serviette et continue son chemin.
II arrive en face d'un beau chateau tout mure, sans porte ni chassis. \
II voudrait bien entrer dans le chateau pour voir ce qu'il y a dedans,
1 Dans le sens de "fenetre."
150 Journal of American Folk-Lore .
mais comment fairc? Prcnant son cor merveilleux, il en fait sortir
mille ouvriers, a qui il commande cle faire une porte dans le chateau.
Quand ils ont fini, il 'retire son vent/ et les ouvriers rentrent dans le
cor. Entre" dans le chateau, il passe de chambre en chambre. Dans
une belle grande chambre, il apercoit une belle princesse, qui lui dit:
"Sauve-toi vite, mon Petit-Jean! Je suis gardee ici par trois grants,
et s'ils te voient, ils vont te tuer." — "Ou sont-ils, vos geants?"
— "II y en a deux qui sont sortis, et l'autre me gardait pendant leur
absence; mais comme ils ne sont pas encore revenus, mon gardien est
alle" se coucher et il dort dans la chambre du fond." Petit- Jean pense:
"Je vas aller voir ce qu'il a Fair." II entre dans la chambre du geant,
prend son sabre et lui coupe la tete. Revenant trouver la princesse,
il lui dit: "Belle princesse, venez voir votre g£ant," et il lui montre la
tete qu'il vient de couper; puis il l'invite a venir se promener dans le
jardin. La princesse r£pond: "II n'y a pas de porte ni de chassis."
— "J'ai fait faire une porte par mes serviteurs." En marchant dans
le chemin, Petit- Jean lui montre les deux autres geants qu'il a tu6s. La
princesse commence a trouver Petit-Jean bien de son gout; mais elle
lui dit: "II y a encore une vieille fee mauvaise qui va t'amorphoser,
si elle t'apercoit." — "Oil est-elle, cette vieille fee-la?" demande
Petit- Jean. "Elle se cache dans un rocher, sous la terre," r£pond la
princesse. Au bout du jardin, Petit-Jean apercoit une mer de glace.
A travers la glace passent des mats de batiments. La princesse dit:
"Tu vois la les batiments des princes qui sont venus pour me delivrer;
la vieille fee les a amorphoses; elle a change" la mer en glace, et les bati-
ments sont au fond, avec les princes et leurs serviteurs dedans."
Tout a coup, la vieille fee sort du bois; la princesse se sauve dans le
chateau. La f£e apercoit Petit-Jean et leve le bras pour lui jeter un
sort; Petit-Jean prend son sabre et lui coupe le bras. La vieille fee
ramasse son bras et part a la course en criant. Petit-Jean la suit.
Elle arrive devant un gros rocher, qu'elle leve avec son autre main, et
elle entre dans la terre. Petit-Jean essaie de lever le rocher, mais il
n'en est pas capable. II souffle dans son cor merveilleux, d'ou il sort
mille hommes. Aussitot qu'il leur commande de soulever le rocher, ils
le soulevent; et Petit-Jean entre dans la caverne de la fee. II l'apercoit
au fond de la caverne; elle avait ses deux bras, mais son bras coupe
6tait pose" a l'envers. Petit-Jean la voit qui arrache son bras pose" a
l'envers, qui le repose a, l'endroit, et qui le frotte avec un onguent
merveilleux, pris dans un petit pot a cote d'elle. Le bras coupe devient
pareil a l'autre. Petit-Jean prend alors son sabre et coupe la tete de la
fee. Comme elle cherche son petit pot d'onguent pour se recoller la
tete, Petit-Jean saute dessus, prend le pot et se sauve avec.
Passant par le jardin de la f£e, qui est couvert de fleurs d'or, il se
fait un casseau de bouleau et le remplit de grappes de raisin toutes en
Faceties et Conies Canadiens. 151
or pur. Comme il traverse la mer de glace pour entrer au chateau,
Petit-Jean glisse, tombe a terre et echappe son pot d'onguent, qui se
casse sur la glace. L'onguent se repand sur la glace et la fait fondre.
Tous les batiments emprisonnes sous la glace remontent sur Peau.
Dans le plus beau des batiments, il y a un prince qui s'appelle le Prince-
fendant, envoye" par un roi pour delivrer sa fille, la Belle-princesse.
Petit-Jean voit aussi les batiments de ses deux freres, mais il ne se fait
pas reconnaitre.
Le Prince-fendant entre au chateau pour delivrer la princesse et
l'emmener avec lui sur son batiment. La princesse lui dit qu'elle
est d61ivr£e et qu'elle veut bien s'en aller avec lui, mais qu'elle ne veut
pas partir sans que Petit-Jean la suive. "Comment, dit le Prince-
fendant, vous n'6tes pas pour emmener avec vous ce trafneur de
greves?" Elle repond: "Je ne m'en irai pas sans Petit-Jean." Petit-
Jean monte done sur le batiment avec elle, et le batiment part. Mais
un qui n'est pas content, e'est le Prince-fendant; faut voir la princesse
avec Petit-Jean, tout le temps, dans la cabine du batiment, tandis que
le prince se promene dehors, au mauvais temps, pour donner ses
ordres !
Au bout de quelque temps, le Prince-fendant, voulant se debarrasser
de Petit-Jean, se met a crier: "Venez voir une belle sirene." La prin-
cesse et Petit-Jean sortent de la cabine. Petit-Jean, qui £tait parti
pour voir du pays, demande ou est la sirene. Le Prince-fendant
repond : "Elle est accrochee apres le gouvernail." Petit-Jean se penche
pour la voir; le Prince-fendant lui donne une poussee et le jette a l'eau.
La princesse a bien de la peine, mais le Prince-fendant ne veut pas
arreter son batiment pour un "trafneur de greves." La princesse
lui dit: "Je veux que vous mettiez tout le batiment en noir." — "Qa
ne faisait pas Faff aire du Prince-fendant, parce que le roi lui avait dit :
'Si tu ramenes ma princesse vivante, je veux que tu arrives, si e'est
le jour, avec tes pavilions tout autour du batiment, et avec des lumieres
tout autour, si e'est la nuit. Si tu la ramenes morte, je veux que le
batiment soit tout en noir, et si tu ne la ramenes pas, je ne veux pas te
voir.' " II pense done qu'avec le batiment en noir, le roi croira que sa
princesse est morte et qu'il le fera pendre.
Aussi, lorsque le batiment arrive devant le chateau, le roi vient a sa
rencontre et lui dit d'un air fach6: "Ma princesse est morte done?"
Le Prince-fendant repond: "Elle n'est pas morte, mais elle n'en vaut
pas beaucoup mieux, parce qu'elle s'est amourachee d'un traineur de
greves, tombe a l'eau pendant le voyage, et qu'elle ne veut pas me
regarder." Le roi est bien content quand meme de retrouver sa fille.
L'emmenant au chateau avec le Prince-fendant, il veut la marier tout
de suite; mais elle pense a Petit- Jean et demande un an et un jour,
pour se preparer.
152 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Allons voir ce que faisait Petit-Jean, pendant ce temps-la. Tombe
du batiment, il s'etait mis a nager, et il s'etait accroche" a des morceaux
de mats d'un batiment qui avait fait naufrage. En flottant sur ces
morceaux de bois, il s'etait rendu jusqu'a une ile, ou il n'y avait person-
ne. Heureusement qu'il avait sa serviette magique, son cor merveil-
leux et son sabre de sept lieues. Avec ca, il n'6tait pas en peine; mais
il se lamentait d'avoir perdu sa princesse. II deplia sa serviette et,
apres avoir bien mang6, il fit sortir deux mille hommes de son cor
merveilleux et leur ordonna de lui construire un batiment, pour courir
apres sa princesse. Lc temps passait et le batiment montait; mais
Petit-Jean n'avait pas de toile pour faire des voiles; il n'etait pas plus
avancS, parce que 9a n'est pas commode de mener avec des rames
un gros batiment, sur la mer.
Un bon jour, il apercoit sur la mer une planche qui vient tout droit
vers son ile; sur cette planche, que voit-il? La vieille fee, la bonne
memere, qui lui dit: "Mon Petit-Jean, tu m'as Fair a avoir bien de la
peine." II repond: "Qui, bonne memere, parce que j'ai perdu ma
princesse; et je ne peux pas partir'd'ici." Elle dit: "Monte sur ton
batiment, mon Petit-Jean, et tu vas voir comme ca va marcher."
Petit-Jean monte sur son batiment ; la fee attache une corde en avant,
et elle part sur sa planche, en trainant le batiment.
En un rien de temps, le batiment est rendu en face du chateau du
roi. Mais Petit-Jean n'est pas bien presentable, pour aller faire visite
a la princesse; depuis bientot un an, il a les memes habits; il est pas
mal en guenilles. La fee lui dit: 'Trends ce papier et va trouver
l'aubergiste qui tient le grand hotel, sur la cote; il te dira quoi faire."
Petit-Jean prend le papier, remercie la bonne memere et va trouver
l'aubergiste. En lisant le papier, l'aubergiste dit: "Je ferai pour toi
tout ce qui est necessaire, parce que e'est la bonne fee qui m'a etabli
ici." II part avec Petit-Jean et va lui acheter un habillement de coton
bleu, en disant: "Le roi engage des jardiniers pour son jardin, qui est.
grand comme une terre; il en a deja plusieurs, mais peut-etre pourra-t-il
t'engager, et tu verras la princesse."
Petit-Jean va trouver le roi et demande a s'engager comme jardinier.
"J'en ai deja cinquante, repond le roi, et je n'en ai plus besoin."
— "Si vous le voulez,sire le roi, je travaillerai pendant la nuit, tandis
que les autres se reposeront, et je vous garantis que vous serez content
de moi. Si vous n'etes pas content, vous me paierez, et je m'en irai."
Le roi le prend a l'essai pour une nuit. Petit-Jean souffle dans son cor
merveilleux, d'ou il sort mille hommes, qu'il fait travailler toute la
nuit dans le jardin. Au lever du jour, le jardin, qui est grand comme
une terre, est tout sarcle\ Petit-Jean fait plus d'ouvrage pendant une
nuit que les cinquante jardiniers pendant une semaine. Le roi appelle
les cinquante jardiniers, les paie et leur dit de s'en aller, vu qu'il garde
seulement Petit-Jean, pour avoir soin de son jardin.
Faceties et Contes Canadiens. 153
Pendant tout ce temps-la, le roi voulait marier sa princesse au
Prince-fendant, mais elle, pendant un an et un jour, s'attendait de voir
revenir Petit- Jean.
Le roi avait deux autres filles plus ag6es que la princesse, et il voulait
les marier toutes les trois en meme temps. L'ainee devait se marier
dans un an moins un jour, la deuxieme dans un an juste, et la Belle-
princesse dans un an et un jour, apres le temps demande.
Le temps etant arrive pour son mariage, l'ainee fait demander a son
pere toutes les roses de son jardin. Pierrot, le domestique, va les
chercher; il y en avait mille. Le roi dit: "La plus vieille de mes filles
appartiendra a celui qui m'apportera autant de roses qu'il y en a dans
mon jardin." L'aine" de ses freres vient trouver Petit- Jean, et, ne le
connaissant pas, lui dit: "Beau jardinier, voulez-vous me faire un
bouquet de mille roses, pour la princesse? Aussitot que je serai
mari£, je vous donnerai ce que vous voudrez." Petit-Jean lui dit que
ca n'est pas possible, parce que le roi a demande toutes les roses de son
jardin. Le prince est bien chagrin. Petit-Jean se fait connaitre a, lui
et lui dit: "Demain matin, a sept heures, tu auras tes mille roses."
Aussit6t le soleil couche, Petit-Jean prend son cor merveilleux, en fait
sortir mille hommes, a qui il ordonne d'aller chacun de leur cote* et de
lui rapporter chacun une rose. Le lendemain matin, a sept heures,
il donne a son frere un bouquet de mille roses. Lorsque la princesse
vient pour faire son choix, entre tous les princes elle prefere le frere de
Petit-Jean, qui avait les mille roses.
Le lendemain, c'est le tour de la deuxieme princesse, qui, elle, fait
demander toutes les fleurs du jardin. Pierrot va les chercher; il y en
avait deux mille. Le second frere de Petit-Jean vient le trouver et lui
demande deux mille fleurs, afin d'etre choisi par la princesse. Petit-
Jean lui dit: "Tu les auras demain matin, a sept heures sonnant." Le
soir, apres soleil couche, il prend son cor merveilleux, en fait sortir deux
mille hommes, et les envoie chercher chacun une fleur, qu'ils lui appor-
tent. II les donne a son frere, a sept heures du matin. . La princesse
vient faire son choix, et elle prend pour mari le second frere de Petit-
Jean.
La Belle-princesse, le jour de son mariage arrive, se doute bien qu'il y
a quelque chose de peu naturel chez le jardinier de son pere. Elle en-
voie Pierrot lui dire de lui apporter toutes les fleurs du jardin, et de
les apporter lui-meme, a sa chambre. Petit-Jean arrive avec trois mille
roses; il y avait mis des grappes d'or du jardin de la fee; 5a faisait un
'beau bouquet, je vous le dis!' La princesse le reconnait tout de
suite. Elle dit: "Mon Petit-Jean, le Prince-fendant pense bien m'a-
voir en mariage aujourd'hui, mais c'est toi que je choisirai."
Elle demande a son pere de faire venir tous les jeunes gens du royau-
me, pour faire son choix. Le roi assemble les princes, les comtes, les
154 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
marquis; il y en a bien cinq cents. La princesse s'avance, mais elle
n'apercoit pas son Petit-Jean. Elle dit: "Sire le roi, mon pere, ce n'est
pas franc. Je vous avais demande* de faire venir tous les jeunes gens,
et il n'y a que des princes, des marquis et des comtes. Faites venir
tout le monde, les grands et les pctits, les beaux et les laids; qu'ils
soient tortus ou bossus, ca ne fait pas de difference; et je ferai mon
choix." Ne pouvant rien refuser a sa fille, le roi fait venir tout le
monde. Petit-Jean se trouve a cotd du Prince-fendant. La princesse
arrive et s'en va de ce cot6-la. Le Prince-fendant pense bien que c'est
lui qui va etre choisi. Mais la princesse salue Petit-Jean, et l'emmene
avec elle. Le Prince-fendant ne se possede pas. II dit: "Sire le roi,
c'est une insulte a vous et a moi: votre princesse prend votre jardinier!
A votre place, je ne lui donnerais pas autre chose qu'une paillasse pour
heritage, et je l'enverrais avec son amoureux, pour ne jamais les
re voir."
Le roi donne a sa princesse une paillasse, un tombereau et un vieux
cheval boiteux, dont les os percent la peau; et il les envoie au chateau
des Quatorze-lieues — ainsi appele parce que le chateau se trouvait a
quatorze lieues de la. II leur dit qu'il ne voulait plus les revoir.
Petit-Jean et sa princesse partent avec leur vieux cheval, leur
tombereau et leur paillasse et s'en vont au chateau des Quatorze-lieues.
Petit-Jean n'est pas en peine, car il a sa serviette magique, son cor
merveilleux et son sabre de sept lieues.
Le lendemain matin, il voit arriver au chateau le serviteur Pierrot.
Ayant craint qu'ils meurent de faim, la reine avait decide le roi a en-
voyer leur praie (proie), de quoi manger.
Petit- Jean s'6tait d6ja achete deux beaux chiens, qu'il nommait
Bouie et Pataud. II les appelle et dit a Pierrot: "Le roi envoie du
manger pour mes chiens; jette-le leur a terre, qu'ils le mangent."
Pierrot tourne le plat a l'envers, et les chiens mangent tout; il s'en re-
tourne bien confus et raconte au roi ce qui lui est arrive. Le roi dit:
"Ce n'est pas possible!" Le lendemain, il renvoie Pierrot avec du
manger pour la journee. Petit-Jean appelle encore ses chiens, pour
qu'ils mangent tout. II dit a Pierrot: "Tu apprendras au roi que je
n'ai pas besoin des restants de sa table pour manger; j'en ai assez pour
donner a manger a mes chiens; si tu as faim, Pierrot, passe par la cuisi-
ne, avant de repartir."
Le Prince-fendant, qui etait reste chez le roi, dit: "Pierrot ne dit
peut-etre pas vrai; je vais aller voir ce qui en est." II part, le lende-
main matin, avec Pierrot. II apercoit Petit-Jean qui fait manger a ses
chiens les vivres que le roi lui envoie. II raconte 9a au roi et lui dit:
"A votre place, je les chasserais de ce chateau; car c'est une insulte
qu'ils vous font de refuser le manger que vous leur envoyez par bonteV'
Le roi se rend au chateau des Quatorze-lieues, qu'il fait fermer par ses
Faceties et Contes Canadiens. 155
serviteurs. II dit a Petit- Jean et a sa princesse de s'en aller "a la grace
du bon Dieu," ou ils voudraient, parce qu'il ne veut plus les revoir.
Petit-Jean et sa princesse partent, traversent le bois et arrivent a
un bel endroit, encore sur les terres du roi. Petit-Jean dit: "Nous
aliens nous batir ici." II fait sortir deux mille hommes de son cor
merveilleux et se fait batir un beau chateau, bien plus beau que celui
du roi. II met de Tor fondu sur les boules de ses poteaux de cloture,
des grappes d'or du jardin de la f£e. Tout cela reluit au soleil, a dix
lieues a la ronde.
Un bon soir, arrive a son chateau un vieux queteux qui demande la
charite\ Petit-Jean lui dit: "Entrez, pepere! vous allez manger
avec nous autres." II deplie sa serviette magique et fait servir a
souper pour trois personnes. Le vieux ne veut pas manger a table
avec Petit- Jean et la princesse; mais Petit-Jean lui dit: "On n'est pas
fier, et vous allez manger avec nous autres." Le vieux finit par accep-
ter. Apres avoir soup6, il plie son surtout en quatre et le met sur le
plancher, se preparant a se coucher pour la nuit. Petit-Jean lui dit:
"Je ne veux pas de 'tralne-place' ici; vous allez monter dans la chambre
des strangers, et e'est la que vous coucherez." Le vieux ne veut pas;
il commencait a avoir peur, parce qu'il se trouvait trop bien traite.
Mais il finit par monter. l Le lendemain, au point du jour, il se depe-
che de s'en aller. Petit-Jean l'apercoit et lui crie: "Ce n'est pas comme
9a qu'on s'en va! Vous allez dejeuner, avant de partir." Le vieux trem-
ble en pensant que sa derniere heure est arrivee. Mais Petit-Jean le
fait dejeuner, et il lui donne cinq belles pieces d'or pour lui faire la
charite*. Le vieux le remerciant, Petit-Jean lui dit: "Pour tous remer-
ciements, si vous allez vers le chateau du roi, vous lui direz ce que vous
avez vu ici."
Comme de fait, le vieux arrive au chateau du roi et demande a cou-
cher; mais le Prince-fendant, qui est la, r6pond: "Pas de 'traine-place'
ici!" Heureusement que la reine arrive; elle lui donne a souper; et,
apres souper, le vieux lui parle du chateau ou il avait couch£, la veille.
Le roi ne savait pas qu'il y avait un si beau chateau si pres de chez lui;
il dit: "Je vas aller voir demain qui est-ce qui s'est permis de se batir
un chateau sur mon terrain." Parti avec le Prince-fendant, dans un
beau carrosse, il arrive chez Petit- Jean, sans savoir qui vivait la. Par
le chassis Petit-Jean les voit venir, mais il ne se derange pas. Le roi
frappe a la porte. Petit- Jean sans se lever dit: "Entrez!" Ils otent
leurs chapeaux. Petit-Jean leur pousse a chacun une chaise avec le
bout de son pied, et sans se lever. Ils sont pas mal genes; ils ne re-
connaissent pas Petit-Jean, dans un si beau chateau; le roi ne veut pas
1 Ici nous omettons un detail evidemment moderne, ajout6 par le conteur: "Dans
la chambre des etrangers, le vieux va pour se coucher; mais il ressoud sur le 'lit a
ressorts,' et il en est tout £peur6, croyant que e'est la un piege."
156 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
lui Faire dc reproches de s'etre dtabli sur son terrain, pensant: "S'il se
iiu A en guerre avec moi, il doit etre bien puissant, et il pourrait m'em-
mener en esclavage!" Aussi il lui fait bonne fagon et il l'invite a
venir le voir, a son chateau. Aussit6t qu'il est parti, Petit-Jean pense :
"II faut y aller tout de suite." Faisant atteler son carrosse d'or
et d'argent a quatre chevaux, il part avec sa princesse. Qa ne
leur prend pas de temps a rejoindre le roi, qui se retourne et aper-
coit comme un soleil venant derriere lui; mais le carrosse de Petit-
Jean passe si vite qu'il voit comme un autre soleil en avant de
lui. Petit-Jean arrive au chateau du roi longtemps avant lui. II
va trouver la reine et se fait reconnaftre, puis il lui dit : " Vous
allez inviter tous les princes, les marquis et les comtes du royaume a
venir souper." La reine dit qu'elle n'a pas ce qu'il faut pour cela.
Petit-Jean repond: "Ne vous en inquietez pas." II deplie sa serviette
magique et commande:
"Par la vertu de ma serviette,
Je veux que le couvert se mette
Pour cinq cents personnes."
Aussitot, les tables sont chargees de toute espece de mets. Le roi
arrive avec le Prince-fendant. Petit-Jean tire son cor merveilleux et
fait sortir cinq cents hommes, leur disant: "Allez inviter tous les prin-
ces, les comtes et les marquis du royaume a venir souper chez le roi."
On les voit tous arriver; et il y a un grand festin.
Apres le souper, comme c'est la coutume chez les rois, chacun se met
a raconter des histoires. Quand le roi a raconte la sienne, il demande
une histoire a Petit-Jean. Petit-Jean repond qu'il n'en sait pas. Et
comme le roi en veut absolument une, Petit-Jean repond: "Eh bien!
c'est une histoire vraie que je vas vous raconter; mais pour cela, faites
barrer toutes les portes et les fenetres du chateau, pour que personne ne
puisse sortir avant que j 'aie fini de raconter mon histoire, et sans votre
permission." Le roi fait barrer toutes les portes et les fenetres et or-
donne a des soldats de les garder. Petit-Jean commence a raconter
l'histoire de ses voyages, que je viens de vous dire. Lorsqu'il arrive a
parler de la sirene au milieu de la mer, le Prince-fendant commence a
se sentir malade, il va trouver le roi et lui dit: "Sire le roi, permettez-
moi de sortir, parce que je ne suis pas bien; je n'ai pas digere mon
diner." Petit-Jean repond: "Personne ne sortira avant que j'aie fini."
Et le Prince-fendant devient blanc, vert et de toutes les couleurs, a
mesure que Petit-Jean continue son histoire. Quand il finit, le roi
comprend bien ce qu'a voulu faire le Prince-fendant; il embrasse done
Petit- Jean et sa princesse, en leur disant qu'ils allaient toujours rester
avec lui. "Et a present, dit le roi, que voulez-vous que je fasse du
Prince-fendant?" — "Je ne veux pas que vous lui fassiez grand'ehose,
Faceties et Contes Canadiens. 157
r6pond Petit- Jean; mais si vous tenez absolument a lui faire quelque
chose, j'ai ici mes quatre chevaux, qui n'ont rien a faire; faites-les tirer
a ses quatre membres." Le roi fait atteler les quatre chevaux aux
jambes et aux bras du Prince-fendant et les fait tirer. Le Prince-
fendant devient un prince fendu. Petit-Jean et sa princesse retour-
nent a leur chateau, et ils ont continue a visiter le roi et la reine.
Mais depuis ce temps-la, comme ils paraissaient mieux aimer rester
en famille, j'ai cesse de les voisiner.
Montreal, Can.
TABLE DES MATIERES.
CONTES POPULAIRES CANADIENS.
Seconde Serie.
Par C.-Marius Barbeau.
PAGE
Preface 1
Le style et les themes mythologiques 3
Les contes 27
48. Prince en nuit et bete feroce en jour 27
49. La Belle-jarretiere-verte 36
50. Le chateau de Felicity 42
51. Ti-Jean et le petit vacher 47
52. La sirene 52
53. Prince-Joseph 58
54. Thomas-bon-chasseur 63
55. Le medaillon 70
56. Le chateau rond de la mer Rouge 76
57. Le sabre magique 79
58. Les trois freres et la Bete-a-sept-tetes 82
59. Le conte de Fesse-ben 86
60. Le coq, la poule et la vache 92
61. Le petit teigneux 93
62. Salade et pommes d'or 98
63. Le conte des rats 102
64. Le coq et les rats 107
65. La fable de Tours et du renard 113
66. Jean-Cuit 114
67. Les trois poils d'or 123
68. Le grand voleur de Paris 125
69. Fr6derico va au ciel 130
70. Le conte du vinaigrier 132
71. L'eveque 134
72. Le diable et la mariee 135
73. Randonnee berceuse 137
74. Randonnee du petit bouquin 139
(159)
160 Table des matieres.
FACETIES ET CONTES CANADIENS.
Par Victor Morin.
PAGE
75. Les aventures de Michel Morin 141
76. Jean Baribeau 146
77. Ventre de son! 146
78. La serviette magique 147
THE JOURNAL OF
AMERICAN FOLK-LORE.
Vol. XXX.— APRIL-JUNE, 1917.— No. CXVI.
ORAL TRADITION AND HISTORY.1
BY ROBERT H. LOWIE.
A little over a year ago I protested against the acceptance of oral
traditions as historical records.2 I held then, as I do now, that those
who attach an historical value to oral traditions are in the position
of the circle-squarers and inventors of perpetual-motion machines,
who are still found besieging the portals of learned institutions. The
discussion precipitated by my remarks in the journal mentioned,3
and still more a great many private debates with fellow-students,
have not shaken my confidence in the soundness of the views pre-
viously voiced; but they have shown conclusively that I had mis-
conceived the psychology of the situation. Instead of being a high-
priest hurling anathemas against the unregenerate heathen, I found
myself a prophet preaching in the wilderness, a dangerous heretic,
only secretly aided and abetted by such fellow-iconoclasts as Drs.
P. E. Goddard and B. Laufer. I cannot regard it as a healthy condi-
tion of affairs in science when the adherents of antagonistic views see
no virtue whatsoever in each other's position. Perchance there is
some hidden source of misunderstanding that only need be revealed
to make co-existence, if not amity, in the same logical universe,
possible. I therefore avail myself of the present opportunity to
present without primarily polemical intent the logical issues as they
present themselves from my angle of vision.
In the first place, it may not be unnecessary to state that in denying
to oral traditions of primitive tribes their face value, we are not
denying to them all value whatsoever. On the contrary, it is clear
that even the wildest and manifestly impossible tales may be of the
utmost importance as revelations of the cultural status of the people
who cherish them, whether as annals of incidents that once occurred
1 Address of the retiring President, delivered at the Annual Meeting of the American
Folk-Lore Society in New York, Dec. 27, 19 16.
2 American Anthropologist, N.S., 17: 596-599.
3 Ibid., 599-600, 763-764.
VOL. XXX. — NO. Il6. — 11. l6l
1 62 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
or as purely literary products of the imagination. In addition to
this willingly granted psychological significance of such narratives,
we may also admit a genuinely historical value, though not of the
kind associated with this term in the present discussion. Traditions
share with archaeological specimens, social usages, religious phenomena,
and what not, the characteristic that likeness in distinct tribes calls
for interpretation. Such interpretation may in many instances reveal
beyond cavil, or at least indicate in a tentative way, an historical
nexus otherwise unsuspected; and in such cases we are justified in
speaking of an historical value of traditions, not in the sense that the
traditions themselves embody truths which the ethnologist or folk-
lorist must accept, but in the sense in which the same type of divina-
tion ritual, the same type of age-society, the same-type of stone-axe,
in different regions, may have an historical bearing. I will not abate
one jot from this minimum historical estimation of tradition, nor will
I concede an additional iota. Let us examine on what grounds such
additional claims can be advanced.
Against the sceptical attitude advocated by myself a very interesting
argument has been advanced, which takes us directly into the heart
of the problem. "Because some traditions are manifestly unhis-
torical," I have been reproached, "you rashly infer that no tradition
has historical validity." With some claim to credence, I may plead
that the rather elementary logical considerations here advanced are
not entirely beyond my ken. They have nothing to do with the case,
however, for this rests not on a necessarily imperfect induction, but on
more general logical, psychological, and methodological principles.
That sum-total of lore which corresponds in primitive communities
to what in our own culture we embrace under the headings of science
and philosophy also comprises elements, in varying degrees of sys-
tematization, which are in native consciousness equivalent to what
we call history. My general attitude towards these elements is
simply this: If we do not accept aboriginal pathology as contributions
to our pathology, if we do not accept aboriginal astronomy, biology,
or physics, why should we place primitive history alone on a quite
exceptional pedestal, and exalt it to a rank co-ordinate with that of
our own historical science? This is the, to my mind, absolutely
conclusive argument, which is independent of, though strengthened
by, the number of cases, really tremendous, in which the glaring
disparity between primitive history and our conception of the physical
universe renders acceptance of tradition impossible.
The really interesting problem to me is, not what degree of im-
portance shall be attached to so-called historical traditions, but what
psychological bias could conceivably make scholars attach greater
weight to aboriginal tales of migration than to aboriginal beliefs as
Oral Tradition and History. 163
to levitation or the origin of species. While in the nature of the
case demonstration is impossible, I have a very strong suspicion that
lurking behind the readiness to accept primitive for real history is
the naive unconscious assumption that somehow it is no more than
fair to suppose that people know best about themselves. This assump-
tion, of course, need only be brought up into consciousness to stand
revealed in its monstrous nakedness. The psychologist does not ask
his victim for his reaction-time, but subjects him to experimental
conditions that render the required determination possible. The
palaeontologist does not interrogate calculating circus-horses to ascer-
tain their phylogeny. How can the historian beguile himself into
the belief that he need only question the natives of a tribe to get at
its history?
It may be objected that primitive astronomy and natural history
do coincide in some measure with our equivalent branches of learning,
and that consequently there is a presumption in favor of the view
that primitive and civilized history also overlap. To urge this is to
ignore a vital aspect of the situation. We accept primitive observa-
tions of the stars or on the fauna or flora of a country as correct in
so far as they conform to what we independently ascertain by our
own methods. However, we neither derive the least increment of
knowledge from this primitive science nor are we in the slightest meas-
ure strengthened in our convictions by such coincidence. Exactly
the same principle applies to the domain of history. When a Crow
tells me that his tribe and the Hidatsa have sprung from a common
stock, this is correct but purely superfluous information, for I arrive
at this result with absolute certainty from a linguistic comparison.
In history, as everywhere else, our duty is to determine the facts
objectively; if primitive notions tally with ours, so much the better
for them, not for ours.
As a matter of fact, the case for primitive history is very much
weaker than for primitive natural science. Natural phenomena are
not only under the savage's constant observation, but a knowledge
of them is of distinct importance to his material welfare. It is not
strange, that, say, the Plains Indians knew the habits of the buffalo,
or should be conversant with the topography of their habitat. On
the other hand, the facts of history are definitely removed from the
sphere of observation when they have once taken place. More than
that, the facts of what we call history are, as a rule, not facts which
fall under primitive observation at all, but transcend it by their
complexity and the great spans of time involved. It is as though we
expected primitive man not merely to note the particular effects of
rain on a hillside, but to form a conception of erosive processes on the
modelling of the earth. This leads us to a point of fundamental
importance.
164 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
There is all the difference in the world between correct statements
of fact and historical truths. That my neighbor's cat had kittens
last night may be an undeniable fact, but as a contribution to our
knowledge of present-day political and social progress it is a failure.
That Tom Brown moved south has one meaning when it suggests
that he transferred his baggage from the Borough of the Bronx to a
Harlem flat, and a very different one when the implication is that
he, with thousands of his followers, migrated from Greenland to
Patagonia. Now, my contention is briefly this: that the facts which
we want to ascertain as historians are mainly of the latter order,
while the facts recollected (so far as they are recollected) by primitive
men are of the neighbor's-cat's-kittens order. In other words, I
deny utterly that primitive man is endowed with historical sense or
perspective : the picture he is able to give of events is like the picture
; of the European war as it is mirrored in the mind of an illiterate
peasant reduced solely to his direct observations.
V^ I will illustrate my contention by actual illustrations. If we
examine an account by natives of events so recent that their authen-
ticity need not be questioned, we discover what is already known to
us from other fields of inquiry; viz., that the aboriginal sense of values
differs fundamentally from ours. Nothing is more erroneous than to
accept uncritically, say, a native statement that the ceremony of a
neighboring tribe is either akin to or different from one of his own
people. A trifling difference in dress may lead to an assertion of
complete diversity, while a superficial resemblance may lead to a far-
reaching identification. If we glance through calendar counts and
Indian traditions as to actual events, nothing is more striking than
the extraordinary importance assigned to trivial incidents. Such
things may be absolutely true, but from none of them is the fabric of
history made. On the other hand, if we turn to occurrences of tre-
mendous cultural and historical significance, the natives ignore them
or present us with a wholly misleading picture of them. Since I
cannot at the present moment go through the entire literature of the
subject, I will select a few instances that may fairly be taken not only
as representative, but as constituting an argument a fortiori.
There are few events that can be regarded as equalling in importance
the introduction of the horse into America; moreover, this took place
within so recent a period, that trustworthy accounts of what hap-
pened might reasonably be expected. Nevertheless we find that the
Nez Perce give a perfectly matter-of-fact but wholly erroneous account
of the case,1 while the Assiniboine connect the creation of the horse
with a cosmogonic hero-myth.2 If we turn from the origin of the
1 Spinden, JAFL 21 (1908) : 158. 2 Lowie, The Assiniboine (PaAM 4 : 101).
Oral Tradition and History. 165
horse to the correlated phenomenon of the first appearance of the
whites, corresponding facts stare us in the face. An Assiniboine gives
a tale not in the least improbable of the first meeting with whites;
only the leader of the Indians at the time is said to be the culture-
hero.1 Among the Lemhi Shoshone I failed to find any recollection
of Lewis and Clark's visit, but secured a purely mythical story about
a contest between Wolf (or Coyote) as the father of the Indians,
and Iron-Man, the father of the Whites.2 Do we fare any better
when we turn from these representatives of a cruder culture to peoples
who have attained the highest status north of Mexico? Zuni oral
tradition has it that the village at which Niza's negro guide Estevan
lost his life, and which Niza himself observed from a distance, was
K'iakima. In a masterly paper Mr. F. W. Hodge has torn into shreds
the arguments advanced on behalf of the aboriginal view. He estab-
lishes the fact that the village in question was Hawikuh, and that
"Zuni traditional accounts of events which occurred over three
centuries ago are not worthy of consideration as historical or scientific
evidence." 3
The general conclusion is obvious: Indian tradition is historically
worthless, because the occurrences, possibly real, which it retains,
are of no historical significance; and because it fails to record, or to
record accurately, the most momentous happenings.
This conclusion is, I am perfectly well aware, an as yet imperfect
induction. To examine its ultimate validity, a special inquiry is
necessary, for which I should like to outline the guiding principles.
The historical sense of primitive peoples can be tested only by a
scrutiny of unselected samples of their historical lore. It will not do,
as some of our colleagues are wont, to reject manifestly absurd tales
and to retain those which do not contravene our notions of physical
possibility; for by this process we get, in the first place, a selected
series of cases, and, secondly, already prejudge the whole matter by
assuming that what is not ridiculously false is historically true. We
must rather embrace in our survey every single statement which,
whether miraculous or not from our point of view, is to the native
psychology a matter of history. To this mass of material we must
then apply our canons of trustworthiness; and from a comparison of
the cases in which objective evidence supports the native statements
with those in which such evidence is contradictory we may arrive
at a statistically tenable attitude as to the general probability of
their accuracy. Had such a test been made on unselected material,
one of my critics would not have dared assert a probability of nine-
tenths for native statements as to the direction from which a tribe
1 Lowie, The Assiniboine (PaAM 2 : 231).
2 Lowie, The Northern Shoshone (PaAM 2 : 251/.).
3 F. W. Hodge, "The First Discovered City of Cibola" (AA 8 [1895] : 142-152).
1 66 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
came. In such a test as I propose, aboriginal statements that a
certain tribe originated in the very spot in which it now lives must
be considered exactly on the same plane as any other tradition.
Similarly, all statements of a heavenly or underground origin are of
equal importance, for our purpose, with any other migration legends.
The fact that they are regarded as historical by the natives, is decisive
as to their inclusion on equal terms in any such survey as I here
suggest. Now, we know that very few of our Indians could have
descended from the skies or climbed from an underground world
within the period of tribal differentiation of the American race; and
we also know that very few of them could have arisen in the territory
they now occupy, or could have occupied it for very long periods. The
Yuchi, for example, have no migration legend, and consider them-
selves the original inhabitants of eastern Georgia and South Carolina ; l
but we have recently been reminded that while the English colonists
of 1670 refer to them as a very powerful nation, the earlier Spanish
explorers between 1539 and 1567 mention no such tribe.2 The assump-
tion, consequently, is that they moved into their later habitat about
the latter part of the sixteenth century. This case may be taken as
typical. If events dating back three hundred years are no longer
recollected, we must discount the evidence of such traditional lore,
and cannot accept absence of migration stories as proof of long-
continued occupancy.
What, however, of the cases in which native traditions agree with
objective results? The fact is simply this. The number of cardinal
directions is four, or, if we include heaven and earth, six. The prob-
ability that a tribe will, in a purely mythical way, ascribe its origin
to any particular one of these directions, is therefore one-fourth or
one-sixth. Pending the statistical inquiries I have suggested, I wish
to record emphatically the impression gained from years of experience
with Indian mythology, that the proportion of historically correct
statements will not be found to exceed that to be expected on the
doctrine of chances.
My position, then, towards oral tradition, may be summarized as
follows: It is not based, in the first instance, on a universal negative
unjustifiably derived from a necessarily limited number of instances,
but on the conviction that aboriginal history is only a part of that
hodgepodge of aboriginal lore which embraces primitive theories of
the universe generally, and that its a priori claims to greater respect
on our parLar.eJBiL Such claims must be established empirically, if
at all; but, so far as my experience extends, the empirical facts are
diametrically opposed to such claims. The primitive tribes I know
1 Speck, Ethnology of the Yuchi Indians (U Penn i [No. i] : 8).
2 Swanton and Dixon, "Primitive American History" (American Anthropologist,
N.S. 16 : 383).
Oral Tradition and History. 167
have no historical sense; and from this point of view the question
whether they retain the memory of actual events, while interesting
in itself, is of no moment for our present problem. The point is, not
whether they recollect happenings, but whether they recollect the hap-
penings that are historically significant. Otherwise a perfectly true state-
ment may be as dangerous as a wholly false one. If the correct descrip-
tion of an excursion to a northern hunting-ground by part of a tribe
is interpreted as the account of a permanent northern migration by
the entire population, the result is wholly destructive of history.
This leads us from the field of academic discussion to that of prac-
tical work. The question that confronts the ethnological practitioner
is not whether primitive history in general is trustworthy, but whether
a particular aboriginal statement is correct or not. Now, what are
the criteria by which its accuracy can be established? The only
criterion that has ever been applied, to my knowledge, is that of
physical possibility. But, as our Nez Perce illustration shows, this
test is worthless: we simply shift, to use Tylor's expressive phrase,
from untrue impossibilities to untrue possibilities. We^know now
that even trifling stories of war and quarrels are often not records of
actual occurrences, but part and parcel of folk-lore, as their geo-
graphical distribution clearly shows.1 We know the force of the
human tendency to mingle fancy with fact, to introduce rationalistic
after-thoughts, to ignore the essential and apotheosize the trivial, not
only from ethnological literature, but from a study of our civilization.
Our own historical perspective is only a slowly and painfully acquired
product of recent years. That like other sciences it developed ulti-
mately from a prescientific interest in past events, that in this purely
genetic sense our history is an outgrowth of primitive tradition, is
beyond doubt; but, as we cannot substitute folk-etymology for
philology, so we cannot substitute primitive tradition for scientific
history. Our historical problems can be solved only by the objective
methods of comparative ethnology, archaeology, linguistics, and physi-
cal anthropology.
American Museum of Natural History,
New York.
1 Boas, The Eskimo of Baffin Land and Hudson Bay (BAM 15 : 362).
168
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
TALES FROM GUILFORD COUNTY, NORTH CAROLINA.
BY ELSIE CLEWS PARSONS.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
1. (a) Tar Baby 171
(b) In the Briar-Patch . . 171
2. Big Fraid and Little Fraid. 172
3. Playing Dead Twice in the
Road 172
4. Rabbit makes Fox his Rid-
ing-Horse 173
5. The Race: Relay Trick . . 174
6. The Race: Slow but Steady 174
7. Above the Ground and
under the Ground . . . 175
8. No Tracks Out 175
9. In the Chest 175
10. Pay Me Now 176
11. Talks Too Much 176
12. Dividing the Souls .... 177
13. The Insult Midstream . . 177
14. Watcher Tricked 178
15. The Insult Midstream;
Watcher Tricked; Mock
Funeral
16. Brush-Heap A-fire . .
17. The Spitting Hant .
18. Fiddling for the Devil
19. "Fixed"
20. Alligator's Tail; In
Briar-Patch . . . ,
21. The Devil Marriage
22. Blue-Beard ....
23. Tickling 'Possum. .
24. The Frog
25. Woman up a Tree .
26. Old Man on a Hunt
27. Fishing on Sunday .
28. The Little Girl and Her
Snake 185
th
178
179
179
180
180
180
181
183
183
183
184
184
185
PAGE
29. The Woman-Horse .... 186
30. Racing the Train 186
31. "Man Above" 186
32. The Three Little Pigs. . . 186
33. The Witch Spouse .... 187
34. Out of Her Skin 187
35. Mustard-Seed 188
36. Feasting on Dog 188
37. Keeping Pace 189
38. Buger 189
39. The Witches and the Dogs. 189
40. Fatal Imitation 190
41. The Pumpkin 190
42. The Turnip 191
43. The Single Ball 191
44. As Big a Fool 191
45. Pleasing Everybody ... 192
46. (a) Playing Godfather . . 192
(b) Jumping over the Fire. 193
47. The Step-Mother 193
48. The Best Place 194
49. Woman on House-Top . .194
50. The Talking Bones .... 194
51. The Haunted House . . . 195
52. The Black Cat 195
53. Self-Confidence 196
54. The Woman-Cat 196
55. The Murderous Mother . . 196
56. The Cat who wanted Shoes 197
57. Straw into Gold 198
58. Three-Eyes 198
59. The Frog who would fly. . 198
60. Brave Folks 199
61. The Adulteress 199
62. Anyhow 200
In the following collection we see the art of the folk-tale in its last
stage of disintegration. The tale is cut down or badly told or half
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 169
forgotten. And the narrator explains, "Lor', my gran'daddy tol'
me that tale, but I hasn' thought of it for thirty years. I'se been
working too hard." The intrusion of the popular anecdote (see Nos.
30, 48) and of the story drawn directly or indirectly from a literary
source (see Nos. 22, 32, 45, 53, 55, 57) is another evidence of the
passing of the "ol'-timey story."
Some of the tales appear to be holding their own better than others.
Nos. 1, 9, 10, 25-28, 39, 49, 51, 52, 54, are very generally known.
No. 21, a very interesting variant of the widespread tale of the Devil
marriage, is obviously an exotic. The mere fact that the verses were
sung (or, rather, chanted) proves that it was borrowed from a region
where the "sing" is an important part of the tale. The elimination
of the "sings" from the other tales, "sings" found in variants else-
where, is another evidence of tale disintegration. For example: in
the Bahama variants of Nos. 27, 33, 39, which I have collected, the
"sings" are retained.
Between the Bahama Islands and the Carolinas there is an historical
connection which may account in part for the number of tales they
have, I find, in common. During the period of the Revolutionary
War a number of Tories known as United Empire Loyalists migrated
from the Carolinas to the Bahamas; and they took with them, of
course, their household slaves. In connection with this migration,
it was of interest to find that what is still current belief in the Bahamas
serves as a tale in North Carolina. I refer to the magical beliefs
embodied in Nos. 28, 34, 35.
Below is a list of the narrators of the tales.
1. Henry Smith. About 70. Born and bred in Ida County, North
Carolina.
2. Lulu Young. About 25.
3. Carter Young. About 70. Father of Lulu, Nancy, and Katherine
Young. Born in Guilford County; but he has lived in Alabama,
Georgia, Mississippi.
4. George Marshall. About 73. Born in Rockingham County.
5. Bill Cruse. About 68. Born and bred in Forsyth County.
6. Sam Cruse. About 30. Son of Bill Cruse. He has lived in Ohio.
7. Maude Stockton. About 30. Born and bred in Rockingham County.
8. Author, a school-girl of sixteen. Her mother dictated these tales to
her. Her mother is the daughter of Margaret Burke (see No. 9,
below).
9. Margaret Burke. According to her "free papers," she is 87; but she
states that the papers, in order to guarantee her freedom, made her
out 21 when she was only 10. Free-born of free parents. Used to
live in Rockingham County. Her mother had lived in Robertson
County.
10. Katherine Young. About 16. Sister of Lulu Young.
11. Lamy Tatum. About 80. Sister of Margaret Burke (No. 9).
170 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
12
15
Mary Dalton. About 50.
Mary Bunch. About 45.
A boy of 12 in Greensborough.
15. Nancy Young. About 15. Sister of Lulu Young (No. 2).
16. Rufus Warren. About 50.
17. John Marshall. About 40. Son of George Marshall (No. 4).
18. Jennie Tatum. About 25.
Bibliography.
Since I am giving a full bibliography of both European and African
parallels of many of the tales in the Bahama tales to be published
as a memoir of the American Folk-Lore Society, I have limited the
following bibliography, for the most part, to North American Negro
parallels.
Bell, H. J. Obeah. London, 1889. Cited Bell.
Backus, E. M. Animal Tales from North Carolina (JAFL 9 : 290). 1898.
Cited JAFL 9 : 290.
Chambers, R. Popular Rhymes of Scotland. London & Edinburgh, 1870.
Dorsey, J. O. Two Biloxi Tales [Alabama Indians] (JAFL 6 : 48). 1893.
Cited JAFL 6 : 48.
Edwards, C. L. Bahama Songs and Stories (MAFLS 3). 1895. Cited
• MAFLS 3.
Folklore. London, 1904, 1915. Cited FL 15, FL 26, respectively.
Folk-Song Society Journal. London, 1905-06. Cited FSSJ 2 : 297-
299.
Fortier, A. Louisiana Folk-Tales (MAFLS 2). 1895. Cited MAFLS 2.
Harris, J. C. Uncle Remus, His Songs and His Sayings. New York &
London, 191 5. Cited Harris 1.
— Nights with Uncle Remus. Boston & New York, 191 1. Cited Harris 2.
— Uncle Remus and his Friends. Boston & New York, 1892. Cited
Harris 3.
Hoke, N. C. Folk-Custom and Folk-Belief in North Carolina (JAFL 5 :
119). 1892. Cited JAFL 5 : 119.
Jacobs. English Fairy Tales. Cited Jacobs.
Jacottet, E. The Treasury of Ba-Suto Lore. Morija, Basutoland &
London, 1908. Cited Jacottet.
Jekyll, W. Jamaica Song and Story (Pub. Folk-Lore Soc, 55). London,
1907. Cited Pub. Folk-Lore Soc. 55.
Jones, C. C. Negro Myths from the Georgia Coast. Boston & New York,
1888. Cited Jones.
Journal of American Folk-Lore. Cited JAFL.
Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society. Cited MAFLS.
Parsons, E. C. Folk-Tales of Andros Island, Bahamas. MS. Cited
Parsons.
Smith, P. C. Annancy Stories. New York, 1899. Cited Smith.
Udal, J. S. (FL 26 : 281). 1915.
Werner, A. African Folk-Lore (The Contemporary Review, 70 : 383).
1896. Cited CR 70 : 383.
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 171
I. (a) TAR BABY.1
De fox, in order to git de rabbit, he fixes a tar bucket to his milk-
house door to ketch de rabbit when he comes in to eat his butter.2
An' den de rabbit seen de bucket sittin' dere, an' he spoke to it.
"Who's this?" An' it didn't say nothin'. An' den he said, "If you
don' speak, I'll hit you." An' he hit with one foot, an' it stuck in de
tar bucket. Den he hit with de oder one. An' it stuck. De rabbit
said, "If you don' speak, I'll hit you with de oder foot; an' it is rank
pison an' it will kill yer." De fox come an' said he was goin' to kill
de rabbit. An' de rabbit says to de fox, "If you don' kill me, I'll
pray some for yer." An' de fox.tol' de rabbit he wanted to hear him
pray then. An' de rabbit prayed, —
" Duck do stay in de water,
Duck do stay in de water,
Duck do stay in de water."
An' de fox said to de rabbit, "01' Rabbit, hush! Let me go to town
to get me wife an' chil'ren, let them come hear you pray."
(6) IN THE BRIAR-PATCH.3
Once de farmer had a spring of very good water. Ev'ry mornin'
he'd go to de spring, he would fin' it muddy. He had studied all day
long some plan to ketch Mr. Rabbit. He would come ev'ry mornin'
an' wash his face in de spring befo' de farmer could get there. So he
made up his mind to play a trick on him. He made a tar baby 4 an'
sot it near de spring. De nex' mornin' bright an' early Mr. Rabbit
came down about de spring. He seen de tar baby, an' he did not like
de looks of him. But he thought he would speak. So he said,
"Good-mornin'!" An' de tar baby did not say a word. An' agin
he said, "Good-mornin'!" An' de tar baby did not speak. An' he
walked up close to it, an' he said, " If you don't speak to me, I will
smack you in de spring." De tar baby yet hadn't spoken. An' he
said, "I will tach you some manners if you have not got any." An'
he drawed back his front paw an' smacked de tar baby. An' it stuck
there. An' he drawed back his oder one an' smacked him. An' he
said, "If you don't turn me aloose, I will kick you into de spring."
1 Informant i. I give titles in all cases as a matter of convenience. The narrator
sometimes says a phrase or two which appears to serve him as a kind of title, but usually
he starts in without this preliminary. Compare JAFL 9 : 290; Jones, IV; Harris 1 : II;
MAFLS 2 : 98; MAFLS 3 : 73; this number, p. 222; Parsons, X. See Bibliography,
p. 170.
s Variant: Man fixes a tar-bucket for one who is muddying his spring.
3 Informant 2. It is not unlikely that this variant is literary. Several of my younger
informants stated that they had read "Tar-Baby" in a book. For the concluding pattern
see Harris 1 : IV, XII; this number, pp. 181, 225; Parsons, X {variant).
* Variant: Wax doll.
172 Journal oj American Folk-Lore.
An' he dravved back an' kicked de tar baby with all his might. Both
feet stuck there. "If you don't turn me aloose, I will bite you."
An* he bit de tar baby. It was not very long befo' de farmer come
down to see how his plan had worked out. He seen Mr. Rabbit stuck
there fast. "Oh, yes ! you're de one wha' ha' ben a-muddlin' my spring.
I'm gwine to eat you fur my dinner." Mr. Rabbit begin ter baig the
farmer to let him aloose, but he would not do it. Now home he got,
more harder de rabbit baigged de farmer. He passed by a briar-
thicket; an' de rabbit said to de farmer, "You can roast me, you ken
skin me alive, but please don't throw me in de briar-thicket!" l De
farmer thought that would be de best way to get shed of him, Mr.
Rabbit, was to throw him in de briar-patch, so he throwed him as
fare as he could. Just betime he taut [touched] de ground, he kicked
up his heel2 an' commenced sayin', "I was bred an' born in dis briar-
patch."3
2. BIG FRAID AND LITTLE FRAID. 4
Boy was afraid. When he went after de cows. Man put on a
sheet to scare the boy. Monkey heard the man. He put on a sheet
to scare the man. When he started to scare the boy, Monkey said,
"Run, Big Fraid! Little Fraid will ketch you!" 5
3. PLAYING DEAD TWICE IN THE ROAD. 6
01' Rabbit an' Fox went a-fishin'. 01' Rabbit he was lazy, an' he
wouldn't fish none; an' ol' Fox kep' a-tellin' him he'd better fish.
An' he started home, an' ol' Rabbit tol' him to give him some fish.
An' de ol' fox said he wouldn't give 'em none to save his life. De
ol' rabbit asked ol' Fox if he see a heap of rabbits layin' in de road,
would he pick 'em up. An' he said, not 'less he see a heap of 'em.
He run round den an' got in de path ahead of him, an' lay down like
as he was dead. 01' Fox he come on an' kicked him outside of de
road. An' ol' Rabbit ran 'round again, an' got in de road an' lay
down like he was dead. An' ol' Fox said, "Hum! I pick you up."
1 Variant: Man whose milk and butter Rabbit has been eating says, "I am going to
boil you an' roas' you." . . . — "Don't throw me in the briar-patch. Will scratch my
eyes out."
2 Variant: Say, "Kiss my foot."
3 Variant: Fox said he would throw him in the briars. B'o' Rabbit said, "Dat's
where I was bred an' born."
4 Informant 3.
6 Variant: Boy, seeing man and monkey on roof, said, "Dere sits big buger, little
buger sittin' behin' him." Man runs. "Run, Big Buger! Little Buger ketch youl"
(See p. 227.)
8 Informant 4. Compare Harris 1 : XV; Harris3 : XXII; MAFLS 2 : 109; Parsons,
VIII.
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 173
He turned in den an' lay him on a log aside of his fish, an' goes back
an' gets de oder one. When he got back again, ol' Rabbit took his
fish an' was gone.
4. RABBIT MAKES FOX HIS RIDING-HORSE.1
De fox an' de rabbit was goin' to see de girl. An' de rabbit he got
sick an' he tol' de fox he couldn't go. An' de rabbit says to de fox,
"If you tote me, I ken go." — "I can't tote you." — "If you don't,
I can't go, I'm so sick." An' de rabbit says, " If you take me on your
back, I can go." An' de fox took him on his back; an' de rabbit says,
"Fox, I'm so sick I can't stay up yer back unless I put a saddle on."
An' he says to de fox, "I'll have to put a spur on my heel. I'm used
to ridin' with a spur on my heel." An' de fox says to de rabbit,
"When you git up into de yard, I'll stop den, an' you ken get down."
An' de rabbit he stuck his spur into de fox, an' made de fox run in
front of de door where de girls could see. An' de rabbit hollered out
to de girls, "Girls, I told you Mr. Fox was my ridin'-horse ! "
{Second Version.-)
Mr. Bar an' Mr. Rabbit dey was goin' a-cortin' to see Miss Lizzy
Coon. Mr. Rabbit he wanted to git in ahead of Mr. Bar; an' he
went out one day, an' de garls was all dere, an' he tole de garls Mr.
Bar was his ridin'-horse, an' if dey didn't believe it, nex' time he come
roun' he'd show 'em.3 So he slipped around an' went by Mr. Bar's
house to see him, to set a day when dey was to go 'bout together.
He went on to Mr. Bar's house dat day, an' de time he got dere he
was powerful sick. He couldn't walk, he couldn't sit up, he couldn't
do no way. He got after Mr. Bar, an' let him put a saddle on him
to let him ride him over dere, he was so sick. He had a cowhide
to ride with, an' he put a spur on too. He got on nearer to de house,
an' he wanted him to git down. He said, "Jus' go a leetle farder, a
leetle farder!" 4 He put de spur on him, an' rode him up to de yard
an' jumped off, an' said, "Good even', ladies! I tol' you Mr. Bar
was my ridin'-horse."
1 Informant i. Compare JAFL 25 : 285-286; Jones, VII, XIII; Harris 1 : VI;
MAFLS 2 : 112-113; Parsons, XVII; Smith, 17-18.
2 Informant 4.
8 Variant: Fox an' Rabbit was courtin' one place. Talkin' 'bout Mr. Fox. "Lor'
me! dat's my ridin'-horse." — "Oh, no!" says the girl. "Yes, you come down the
street, an' I'll show you how it is."
4 Variant: Fox and Rabbit agree to ride each other by turns. " Jes' before they get
to de bars, Mr. Fox said, "Mr. Rabbit, get down! let me ride you." — "Please, Mr. Fox,
let me stay on till we get through de bars." He shoved his spur in the ol' fox's side.
Ht run de ol' fox up to de house." . . . — Another variant: Fox and Rabbit come to a
river. "Hop on my back," says Fox to Rabbit. "Your legs short, my legs long."
174 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
5. the race: relay trick.1
De deer an' de tarpin was goin' to run de race. An' de tarpin he
gits three others besides himself, which- made four, an' he placed them
along his race-path. When they started to race, de tarpin an' de
deer together they had such a certain distance to run. Then when
they run that distance, de deer hailed to de tarpin, "Where you at
now, brother Tarpin?" De tarpin says, "Here me, on ahead here!"
Then when they started to run again, when they went a certain
distance, de deer said again, "Where you at now, brother Tarpin?"
An' de tarpin says, "Here me, on ahead here!" An' de nex' time
they started agin, an' run a certain distance agin, an' de deer hailed
to de tarpin agin, "Where you at now, brother Tarpin?" Tarpin
said, "Here me, on ahead here!" An' dis time, de las' race, de deer
says, "I must outrun dat tarpin." An' he says, "Where you at now,
brother Tarpin?" An' de tarpin says, "Here me, on ahead here!"
An' de deer, bein' so outrun by de tarpin, he runs to de tarpin, an'
he jus' stomps de tarpin all to pieces. From that day to this a deer
has no use for a tarpin.
{Second Version?)
One time dere was a rabbit an' a tarpin. Dey was goin' to run a
race. De tarpin would run under de groun', while de rabbit would
run on top of de groun'. 01' Tarpin went an' put a tarpin at ev'ry
pos'. Five-mile race. Ev'ry time ol' Rabbit let out, he run to his
pos'. He says to Tarpin, "Wha' you?" — "Here me!" He run on
to ev'ry pos'. "Wha' you?" — "Here me!" When he got his five-
mile pos', he called out, "Wha' you?" — "Here me!"
6. the race: slow but steady.3
Terpin made a bet. Terpin could beat the snail. Bet so many
dollars. Started out. Mr. Terpin he crawled along. Night come,
he had to rest. Mr. Snail crawlin' all the time, night an' day. "Mr.
Snail, how you gettin' 'long?" — "You sleep, an' I keep a-pullin'.
I'll beat you." Gain half a day on Terpin. "You here, Mr. Snail?"
— "Yes, I here." Mr. Terpin says, "You beat me, isn't you? I
expect that you so round you jus' roll downhill. I have to crawl."
Mr. Terpin jumped on Snail an' tried to kill it. "I got a house on
me too. You can't ketch me." Mr. Terpin killed Mr. Snail.
1 Informant i. Compare JAFL 9 : 290, (I) ; Jones, VII; Harris 1 : XVIII; MAFLS
3 : 69; Parsons, L; Pub. Folk-Lore Soc. 55 : XII.
2 Informant 5.
3 Informant 3. See this number, pp. 214, 226.
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 175
7. ABOVE THE GROUND AND UNDER THE GROUND.1
Devil an' a prospec' went to farmin'. Devil said he would take
everything grown in the groun'; an' Prospec', out of de groun'.
Plant a crop o' corn. Prospec' got all de crop, Devil didn't get
nothin'. Devil said, "We'll try it again. I'll take what grows out
de groun', you take what grows in de groun'." — "All right." Planted
a crop of potatoes. Prospec' he got dat crop.2 Devil said, "You
can't whip me." Prospec' said, "All right, try dat. What you
want me to fight with?" Devil say, "I'm going to take de foot ad
[adze?], you take de peg-an'-awl." — "All right, we'll have to fight
dis battle in a hogshead." 3
8. NO TRACKS OUT.4
Once there was a rabbit, an' he was travellin'. Come to Mr. Fox's
house. Fox call out, "Mr. Rabbit, come spend de night wi' me!
Lots o' rabbits spend the night with me." — "Mr. Fox, I see lots of
tracks going in, but none comin' out. So I guess I'll have to journey
on."
9. IN THE CHEST.5
De ol' rabbit an' fox. He said to de rabbit, "I hear Dan Jones'
hounds acomin'." 01' Rabbit says, "What mus' I do?" — "You
get in de chest, an' I will lock you up. Den I can run." De rabbit
got in de chest, an' de fox locked him up. Put him on a kettle of
water. An' set down in a corner an' commenced pettin' [patting; i.e.,
beating time] an' singin', —
"Rabbit good fry,
Rabbit good boiled,
Rabbit good stew,
Rabbit good any way.
I eat Mr. Rabbit."
An' he pour de water over de chest. "Gettin' hot in here," said ol'
Rabbit. "Turn over an' get cool!"
{Second Version*)
De fox an' de rabbit knowed where dere was a whole lot of oranges
an' apples. An' so dey made a plot to call each other an' go befo' de
1 Informant 6. Compare JAFL 6 : 48.
2 Variant: Rabbit agreed with Fox that he, Fox, would "take all what grows on top
of de groun' an' I take all what grows under de groun'." That's a bargain. " I take all
de 'taters an' gi' you all de vines."
3 It was explained that the "foot ad" was a tool that had to be drawn inward, whereas
the peg-an'-awl could be struck outwards.
4 Informant 6. See this number, p. 222.
8 Informant 2. Compare Harris 1 : XIV.
6 Informant 7.
176 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
light come. An' de ol' fox he went off an' left de ol' rabbit, an' got
his an' come back home. Den went over to de ol' rabbit's house.
Says, "I know where a whole lot of apples an' oranges is. Come on,
Mr. Rabbit, an' go with me!" Went on with him home. Said,
they begin to fuss an' quarrel. Said, after a while de fox says, "Mr.
Rabbit, jump in my chist! a whole lot of hound-dogs is comin' after
you." He got in de chist, an' de ol' fox begin' to shut de do', fastened
de chist-lid down, put him a kittle of water on de fire, begin to bore
holes in de chist. De rabbit would say, "What are you doin', Mr.
Fox?" — "I'm goin' to give you air." Then he got his kittle of
water an' begin to pour into the little cracks. The rabbit would say, —
"Chick a flea
Bitin' me."
De ol' fox say, "Turn over on de oder side."
10. PAY ME NOW.
Bout de fox an' de goose. Once de ol' fox went to de ol' goose's
nest, an' said, "Mrs. Goose, I want them little baby." She said,
"Please don't take my little babies! To-morrow mornin' come over
soon, an' I will go with you where ol' hawg got a whole lot o' little
baby-pigs." * An' the nex' mornin' they went. An' she got up on
top of the log an' he at de do'.2 An' de ol' dawg got after de fox,
an' he run, an' call out, "I'll pay yer for it, Mis' Goose! I'll pay yer!"
01' Goose was flyin'. An' she say, "Pay me now, pay me now!"
(Second Version?)
De rabbit tol' de fox he knowed where dere was some geese hid. An'
de fox he went to git de geese. An' de dawg was in dere, an' de dawg
after de fox an' chased de fox; an' he run, an' he says, " Brother Rabbit,
I'll pay you for this." An' de rabbit says to de fox, "Pay me now!"
De fox says, " I ain't got time to tarry here now, for de greyhounds is
on behind." An' de fox he run so hard an' he run all night long, an'
just at sun-up he crossed over de mountins; an' de sun lookin' so
red behind de fox, he says, "I run so hard, I set dis old world on fire,
an' now I'm runnin' by de light of it."
II. TALKS TOO MUCH.4
Man goin' along found skeleton of a man's head. "OF Head,
how come you here?" — "Mouth brought me here. Mouth's goin'
1 Informant 2. Compare Jacottet I : 40.
2 Variant: "Mr. Fox, you stan' right here. De ol' hawg goin' come out." Ol' Fox
went out his hole. De ol' goose commence peckin' on de log to scare out de hawg. De
ol' dawg come.
• Informant 1.
4 Informant 6. Heard in Greensborough.
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 177
to bring you here." He goes up to de town an' tellin' about de ol'
head. A great crowd of people went with him down there. They
called on this head to talk to them. The head never said nothin'.
They fell on this feller an' beat him. The ol' Head turned an' said,
"Didn't I tell you Mouth was goin' to bring you here?"
{Second Version.1)
In slave'y time colored man travellin' 'long came to where dere
was a terrapin. Terrapin spoke to him. Said, "One day you shall
be free." He done him so much good, he jus' couldn' keep it. Goes
up to his master's house, an' says, "A terrapin spoke to me this
mornin'." An' his master say, "What did he say?" — "One day
you shall be free." — "I'm goin' down here, an' if this terrapin don't
talk to me, I'm goin' to whip you to death." So he called upon de
terrapin, an' he went back in his house. He commence whippin' dis
colored feller. He near by whipped him to death. So de ol' terrapin
raised up on his legs an' says, "It's bad to talk too much."
12. DIVIDING THE SOULS.2
One time a colored man an' a white man out hick'ry-nut huntin'.
Found big hick'ry nut an' small walnut. Lay 'em up on de gate-
post. Go into de graveyard. Say, " We'll divide what we got. You
take this one, an' I'll take the other." They divided all dey had in
de graveyard. Then said, "We'll go up to de gate-pos' an' divide.
You take the black, an' I'll take the white." Man on outside goin'
along, an' he heard 'em talkin'. An' he become frighten. An' he
went back to his neighbor's house where there was an ol' man had the
rheumatism. An' he said, "You go with me. I'll tote you." Goes
on with him, an' he says, "Jesus Christ an' the Devil is up there
dividin' up the dead." An' when they got along near the gate-post
says, "You take the black one, an' I'll take the white one." So he
throws this white man down, an' he run off. An' the ol' man beat
him back home.3
13. THE INSULT MIDSTREAM.4
De rabbit went to de river, an' he couldn't git across, an' wanted
de elephant to carry him across on his back. An' de elephant said
he couldn't carry him. An' de rabbit said, "If you carry me across,
I'll pay you." An' de rabbit says to de elephant, "Oh, you so slow,
you not get across to-night." An' de elephant says to de rabbit,
1 Informant 6.
2 Informant 6. See this number, p. 215.
3 Compare this number, p. 184.
4 Informant 1. Compare Parsons, II.
VOL. XXX. — NO. Il6. — 12.
178 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
"What did you say?" Rabbit says, "Nuffin. I says good piece to
de bank yet." Then, when de elephant got close enough fur de
rabbit to jump off him, de rabbit jumped off, an' he says to de elephant,
"You old scoundrel, you! you wouldn' get across to-night nohow."
14. WATCHER TRICKED.
Once dere was an ol' frawg an' rabbit fell out over a 'possum.
An' said, de ol' rabbit an' frawg did hung (fit) [fight]. An' de ol'
'possum it clamb de tree. An' de ol' frawg said to de 'possum,
"Ain't you goin' to help me out?" De ol' 'possum still staid up de
tree. An' de rabbit tol' de frawg if de 'possum wouldn't come down,
to watch it till he run to de house an' git de axe. De 'possum says,
"Mr. Frawg, look up de tree." An' de 'possum had filled his mouth
full o' tobacker. An' when de frawg looked up de tree, de 'possum
spit his eyes full of 'backer-juice. So when de rabbit come, "Mr.
Frawg, where is Mr. 'Possum?" So de rabbit said, "I'm goin' to
kill you." So he sang back, an' oder old frawg, "I'm goin' to have
your head an' guts." 1
(Second Version.-)
Said once dere was a terpin an' a frawg. De terpin lived two or
three miles from de frawg's house. De ol' frawg had a knack ev'ry
night of blockin' de path. De terpin was goin' to kill de frawg.
So de terpin went home after his axe, an' he tol' ol' Rabbit to watch
Frawg while he was gone. So de ol' frawg he jumped into de brush-
pile. After a while de terpin come back. Says, "Mr. Rabbit, where
is Mr. Frawg?" Says, "He's in dat brush-pile." So he hid down on
de brush-pile. An' de ol' frawg jumped into a hole of water an' begin
to sing, —
"You can't git me now,
You can't git me now!"
15. THE INSULT MIDSTREAM;3 WATCHER TRICKED; MOCK FUNERAL.
Once on a time as a rabbit went on his journey. He came to river
that he couldn't cross. Mr. Fox being near, and seeing his condition,
said, "Get into my ear, and I will carry you across for ten dollars."
Mr. Rabbit got into Mr. Fox's ear, and was carried safely across.
After reaching the other side, Mr. Fox ask for his pay. Mr. Rabbit
jumped out and ran into a hole near by.
After this, Mr. Fox ask Mr. Red-Bird to get a shovel to dig him out.
1 Informant 7. See No. 15. Compare Jones, XXXVIII. XLIII; Harris 1 : X;
Harris 2 : XLVII; MAFLS 2:115.
2 Informant 7.
3 Informant 8. See No. 13; also p. 233.
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 1 79
Mr. Red-Bird went after the shovel. While he was gone, Mr. Rabbit
threw dirt in Mr. Fox's eyes. So when Mr. Red-Bird came back,
Mr. Rabbit could not be found, as Mr. Fox's eyes was filled with dirt
and he didn't know which way he was gone.1 So he was deprived
again of his dime.
After a period of wandering, Mr. Rabbit was asked to a party, but
he would not go in. So he [Mr. Fox] was deprived of his dime once
more.
Mr. Fox planned again. This time he died, and his request was
that Mr. Rabbit should prepare him for his burial. But Mr. Rabbit
said he never believe Mr. Fox was dead unless he turned over. So he
turned over. And Mr. Rabbit ran off laughing, and saying, "I never
saw a dead man turn over before." 2
1 6. BRUSH-HEAP A-FIRE.3
Come 'long de rabbit. Seed de terpin in de brush-heap. "What
are you doin' dere?" — "Waitin' fur company." Tol' him go 'long
with him, he'd be company. Started along wid him. Couldn't keep
up wid him. De rabbit said, "You better go back where you was."
— "If I knew you was going to do this, I'd not come along." Old
Turtle crawled back. "Where are you now?" — " In de brush-heap."
01' Rabbit set de brush-heap on fire. (Done him up.) "I reckon
'you'll run now!" — "No, I'll crawl, I reckon." — "You'll do it
mighty fas'."
17. THE SPITTING HANT.4
Said that a man went to camp. An' they fix the supper down
before the fire. An' said there was a man come down the steps an'
hawked an' spitted over his fry meat. He tol' him he better not do
that any mo'. Said he hawked an' spitted again. Said the man
cursed him, an' he tore him to pieces. Said the sperit tore his entrails
out. An' hung him up in the joisters.
{Second Version. h)
Travellin' in the country, sellin' tobacker. 'Plied at ol' school-house
to stay all night. 'Long came ol' big hant — eyes equal to moons,
head equal to a barrel, a tail six or seven feet long. He settin' up
to de fire. An' he spit over his master's tea. Dis colored man says,
"Don't you do dat no more." Chum! Spit. Nex' 'ply was, " Don't
1 See p. 178.
2 Compare Jones, XLVI; Harris 2 : LXII; MAFLS 3 : 76 (XV); Parsons, XLI; Pub.
Folk-Lore Soc. 55 : V; Smith, 9-10.
3 Informant 9. Compare Jones, I.
4 Informant 2. Compare Harris 2 : LV; JAFL 13 : 26 (VII); Parsons, LXXXIX.
5 Informant 5.
i8o Journal of American Folk-Lore .
you do dat no more. I hit you sure." Chum! Colored man struck
him. An' dis big hant an' the colored man ran 'round de house.
His master run to de door 'cause he extra man. He called to his
master to he'p him. Master replied, "He's reachin' up an' tearin'
off de pieces. I can't go in." Den he went on to de neighbor's
house. He called to de neighbor, "Would you go back an' he'p me?"
This has been often de case — people tore up dere.
1 8. FIDDLING FOR THE DEVIL.1
Man's wife a-been a-tellin' him not to go playin' the fiddle so much.
Man had been gone six months. He saw a man comin' on a nice
black horse. He said he wouldn't trouble him but for two tunes.
The Devil's black joke was the last tune. He come off his horse, an'
he got down an' he danced it. When he danced, he give him fifty
cents in money. An' that was horse-manure. When he went home,
he put his hand in his pocket, an' it was nothin' but horse-manure.
Devil had a club foot. "Now," said she, "you been playin' the
fiddle for the Devil." An' he never went no more.
19. "fixed." l
Man went to a man's house to stay all night. Man of house said,
"I tell you my case." Woman was keeping his wife from having
a child — fixed her. (Heap cu'ious things in de worl'.) Told him
next morning what to do. Send servant to neighbor's house after fire.
Somebody settin' at chimney ask, "How is the mistress?" — "Well
as she could be expected of. She had a fine son." She reached up
the chimney-corner an' pulled down a sack. Out popped something.
She said, "God's above the Devil." When he [the servant?] got
back, she did have a fine son, sure enough.
20. alligator's tail; in the briar-patch.2
01' 'Possum tol' ol' Rabbit one day, if he get him a piece of ol'
Alligator's tail, he'd give him forty dollars. He studied an' studied
about it, an' he didn't know what to do about it. One day he came
along ol' Alligator, an' dey walked an' talked an' walked an' talked
an' went a long ways together. Rabbit he had a little hatchet in his
overcoat-pocket, an' he chopped off alligator's tail, an' picked it up
an' run with it. Alligator said, "Never mind, never mind ! Match yer
for it, match yer for it, if it take yer seven year!" 01' Rabbit turned
'round. "Meet in such a field, ol' straw field, fight about it, see
about it." They meet tha'. 01' Alligator got there first. 01' Rabbit
1 Informant 9. 2 Informant 4. See this number, pp. 171, 225.
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 181
sot it all a-fire all 'round. They met tha'. "Match yer for it,
match yer for it, if it take seven year!" 01' Rabbit tol' him meet
him in such an' such a place agin. "Fight about it, see about it."
01' Rabbit he goes an' sets him a steel trap. 01' Rabbit he got out
tha', an' ol' Alligator says, "Please, brother Rabbit, let me out!
Please, brother Rabbit, let me out!" He let him out den, an' ol'
Alligator made out if he was goin' to throw ol' Rabbit in de ribber.
De rabbit made out like as he wanted him to throw him in de ribber.
An' he said he wouldn't throw him in the ribber, he'd throw him in de
briar-patch, he wanted to punch his eyes out. He throwed him in
de briar-patch. 01' Rabbit jumped up an' said, "Dat's de very place
I wanted to git a long time ago."
21. THE DEVIL MARRIAGE.1
One time a lady said she was never goin' to marry a man unless he
was dressed in gol'. Her father had a party,2 en a man came dressed
in gol'. Somebody at the gate. Man's son ran out, car'ed him to
where the ol' people were. "Look as if you was havin' some to do
here." — "Yes,^BKd the man of the house, "you better go an' take
part with thert™ Hfean's daughter took man dressed in gol' for her
partner. LittlpHj ^Kibout twelve noticed him, en said, "Sister,
don't you notice his |H?" — "What's wrong? Why, no!" — "Why,
sister, they ain^jpetnin' but nubbed.3 Notice them when he get
playin'. You ask moder what's the matter wi' his feet." — "Frien',
what's de matter wi' your feet?" — "I fell in the fire when I was a
little feller like you, en my feet got burned off." Now his hand burned
too. He said he fell in the soap-pot when he was a small boy.4 He
fixed to be married. Dat night said he mus' go home. He kyar'ed
dat man's daughter back with him. She says, "You let brother go
with me. I'm goin' to a strange place. I like to have some of my
people goin' with me." Little boy says, "Sister, don't you notice
how he done? When he got up in his buggy, he throw out an aigg.
He say, 'Hop en skip. Betty, go 'long.'" Betty des flew. He went
until he came to where was a great big smoke. Girl said, "Mister,
what sort of a big smoke? I can't go through dat smoke." — "Oh,
dat my han's burnin' off new groun'. I go en lay that smoke." —
"Sister, don't you take notice what he said. 'Hop, skip, Betty,'
'till we come to this smoke. He stop Betty, he lay this smoke. Is
1 Informant 3. Heard by my informant at Macon, Ga. Compare Jones, XXXIV;
MAFLS 2 : 69; Parsons, XXIII; Pub. Folk-Lore Soc. 55 : XXXIV, L.
* Variant: Her father, the king, gave a big dance. This variant and the following
were told me by Young's daughter Katherine, who had heard the tale only from her father.
3 Variant: Clubbed.
I Variant: His father was making a plant-bed, and he ran through. His mother was
making a pot o' lye, and he grabbed in it.
182
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
youwillin' to go back home with me, sister? That ain't nothin' in de
worl* but the Devil." Brother threw out an aigg, en said, "Wheel,
Betty!" En Betty wheel. "Betty, go 'long! Hop en skip!" En
Betty flew back home to her father,
should we see but the Devil comin'. l
En behol'! next mornin' what
He went up to de gate. He
says/ —
01' witch4 says,
" Enbody here?
Enbody here?
Name Ma'y Brown
Genral Cling town." 3
"Somebody here,
Somebody here.
Name Ma'y Brown
Genral Cling town.
"What is whiter,
What is whiter,
Than any sheep's down
In Genral Cling town?
"Snow is whiter,
Snow is whiter,
Than any sheep's down
In Genral Cling town.
"What is greener,
What is greener,
Than any wheat growed
In Genral Cling town?
"Grass is greener,
Grass is greener,
Than any wheat growed
In Genral Cling town.
"What is bluer,
What is bluer,
Than anything down
In Genral Cling town?
"The sky is bluer,
The sky is bluer,
1 Ol' Betty turned an' went back to his master. That man know that Betty turn up
to dat lady's house an' car'ed her home. He gettin' in his cheriot an' come back as
hard as he could.
2 Young chanted the following. Obviously he had originally heard it sung.
3 "That was hell."
* Variant: The lady brother went an' got an ol' woman who could answer that ol'
man's questions. If that ol' woman couldn't have answered one of them questions, she'd
[he'd] have got that girl.
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 183
Than anything down
In Genral Cling town.
"What is louder,
What is louder,
Than any horns down
In Genral Cling town?
"Thunder is louder,
Thunder is louder,
Than any horns down
In Genral Cling town." x
01' Bad Man (ol' Scratch) said he won her soul. 01' witch taken sole
off shoe en throw at him. He jumped at it en took it down.2
22. BLUE-BEARD.3
He had a big basket he car'ed on his back. He'd go to people's
house an' beg fur something to eat; an' when de pretty girls would
come out an' gi' him something to eat, he grabbed 'em in the basket
an' run away wi' them. He had a fine large place he car'ed 'em to —
to his kingdom. He gi' 'em de keys. He tol' 'em everything there
belonged to them but one room. "Don't go in there." He tol' 'em
the day they went in that room, they would be put to death. Married
seven times, an' all was sisters. The seven wife one day, when he was
gone away, she taken the keys an' looks in dat room. Finds all her
sisters dead in there in a pile. She is so excited, she dropped the
keys an' got them bloody. So he come back an' call for his keys.
She kep' them hid from him for several days, didn' want him to see
'em. At las' she brought them out an' give them to him. He tol'
her to say a prayer. She prayed seven times. An' her seven brothers
came jus' as he went to kill her. An' he ran away into the woods,
an' never been seen since.
23. TICKLING 'POSSUM.4
Coon tol' 'Possum, "Why you didn't fight?" 01' 'Possum said
Dog tickle him so he couldn't fight fur laughin'.
24. THE FROG.5
One time there was a lady, kind of a witch like. She took the frawg,
she skinned the frawg, she stuffed the hide with wheat bran. She
1 Compare JAFL 12 : 129, 130.
* Variant: He said, "Skip er light, Betty, an' go 'long."
3 Informant 2. The source of this tale is not, I incline to think, literary; at least,
not immediately literary. But the Young girls have many visitors, both negro and
white ; and the sources of their tales are various, and not to be learned with certainty.
4 Informant 3. Compare Jones, I; Harris 1 : III.
6 Informant 3.
184 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
sot the frawg on the hear[th] befo' the fire. An' she tol' that frawg
to go where she want to stop at. An' whenever she got thar, Frawg
come ameetin' of her. "I want my daughter to come whar I is."
Next day say, "You come back here an' sit down whar you star'
from, so I know what to do." De frawg come back, an' sot down an'
said, "Meet me." Car'ed de woman, an' de frawg come jumpin'
in from under de house where was goin' in.1 Sure enough, she blessed
de frawg befo' de master, an' de master shot her down in de yard.
25. WOMAN UP A TREE.2
Once it was a woman up a tree, an' her man (Mr. Fox) come an'
waited for her. So he diggin' her grave. An' she yet hadn't come.
He said, "Soon time for her to come. I wonder what's the reason
she don't." Put down his shovel an' spade. He said, "I can't
dig her grave to-night." An' he went away. The nex' mornin' he
went to see her. An' she said, —
"I riddle um awry, I riddle turn a right,
Where did I see you las' Friday night?
When de wind did blow, my heart did ache,
To see what a hole that fox did make." 3
26. OLD MAN ON A HUNT.4
A crowd of boys went out a-huntin' one night. One said to their
grandfather, "Don't you want to go too?" — "No, I can't walk."
01' man never walked. "I'll tote you." De dogs treed something.
Whatever it was they treed said, "Sunday night, Monday night,
Tuesday night, Wednesday night, Thursday night, Friday night,
Saturday night, Sunday night, ol' Raccoon sees no rest." 5 The
boys broke an' ran, an' dropped de ol' man. When they got back to
de house, de ol' man was sittin' dere. "Grandpa, how did you come
here?" He said, "I come in wid de dogs." 6
1 The only explanation I could get from those present was that the frog told the woman
what to do.
2 Informant 2. "One Moonlight Night" (FSSJ 2 : 297-299); "Mr. Fox" (Jacobs).
3 Second version: Riddle em, riddle em, riddle em right,
Where was I las' Friday night?
De wind did blow, de leaves did quake,
To see what a hole dat fox did make.
Third version: Me riddle, me riddle, me riddle de ri',
Whar' were you las' Friday night?
Fourth version: I sot high an' look low.
Behol', behol'! de fox dig, dig.
4 Informant 2.
6 Variant: " Poor ol' 'possum don' see no rest." This line is sometimes sung or chanted.
e Variant: "Had no more use for de rheumatism." Compare No. 12.
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 185
27. FISHING ON SUNDAY.1
There was a boy always made a business of going fishin' on Sunday.
Mother said it was not right to go fishin' on the Sabbath day.2 Boy
said he could ketch more fish that day. Caught a fish. The fish
said, —
"Clean me, Simon.3
Eat me, Simon.
Now lay down, Simon."
He busted open.4
{Second Version.'0)
01' uncle Daniel said he was an awful good fisher. An' people
would tell him it was wrong. An' they went on a Sunday, an' he
throwed his hook in. An' something bit his hook that could talk.
An' said, "Pull me up, Daniel!" God makes a lenger hup, Daniel,
huh.6 "Carry me to de house, Daniel!" Told him, "Clean me,
Daniel! Get your pot, Daniel! Go to spring, Daniel! Put me on,
Daniel! I'm done, Daniel. Take me up, Daniel! Eat me up,
Daniel ! The last mouthful you eat, your soul shall be sudden apick 7
(go to torment).
28. THE LITTLE GIRL AND HER SNAKE.8
De chil' would go out an' sit in de chimney-corner to eat. Her
moder axed her, "Why you go out o' de house to eat?" She said she
had to go. De moder followed her. She put a spoonful of milk in her
mouth an' den a spoonful in de snake mouth. De moder said dat
would never do fur her chil' to eat with a snake. De chil' said, "Ive
been eatin' for some time with dat snake." Her moder said, "I'm goin'
to kill dat snake." — "Won't be worth while to kill dat snake, I'll
die." — "No, you won't." Moder killed dat snake, an' de girl die.9
1 Informant 9. Generally known. Compare MAFLS 2 : 120; Parsons, XXV.
2 "It's sure wrong to go fishin' on Sunday," commented the narrator's daughter, a
woman about fifty-five. And she told a story of how she once went and was almost
"drownded."
3 In telling this tale, a girl in another family called the boy Jacky. Her mother cor-
rected her, saying, "Simon, my mammy said to me." In the Bahaman tale the boy is
called Simon.
4 Variant: "An' the fish went back to de sea."
5 Informant 7.
6 I was unable to get any explanation of this sentence.
7 An expression not known to other informants.
8 Informant 9.
9 Variant: "She got de snake breat'." The belief is current in the Bahamas that
if you kill the snake or the cat working witch for a person, the person will die, too.
i86 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
29. THE WOMAN-HORSE.1
Two farmers lived close together. They didn't like each other.
One farmer had a fine piece of tobacker, an' at night a great big ol'
white horse would come in his field an' tear his tobacker to pieces.
So he made up his mind to stop it that night. He went to de fence
an' gethered him up a rail, an' sot down. An' when de horse come,
an' at full speed, he knocked it backuds with the rail. It was that
other man's wife he foun' layin' over the other side of the fence a-
shiverin'.
30. RACING THE TRAIN.2
Once there was two Archman who had never seen a train. They
decided they wanted to see one. They went out in the road an' lay
down till the train came along. Train came along an' frightened
them. An' they run along the railroad, follerin' the train. One of
them left the railroad-track an' ran into the woods. The other
remained on the railroad-track, an' called to him runnin' in the woods
if he couldn't outrun the train on that pretty road, how could he runnin'
in the woods?
31. "man above." 3
Man was jealous of his wife, an' he come in one day an' ask her who
had been there. An' she said, "No one." But he said, "Yes, there
have, an' I'm goin' to beat you." She said, "Well, you can, but
there's a man above knows all things." An' the man above said,
"Yes, an' there's a man under the bed knows as much as I do."
32. THE THREE LITTLE PIGS.4
01' Fox got little Whitey an' car'ed him off one day. Nex' day he
come an' got Brownie. Nex' day he come to get little Blacky. He
went into his house an' shut his door. An' he could not get in.
Blacky had to go to de market nex' day to buy a big dinner-pot an'
some cabbage. As he was comin' home, he heard de fox in de wood
comin' behin' him. He jumped in de pot an' commence rollin'
down de hill so fas' he lef de fox behin'. He run in de house an' shut
de do', an' put his pot o' water on de fire. An' de fox jumped up on
top of de house an' jumped down de chimney. Little Pig commence
dancin' an' singin', —
1 Informant 2.
* Informant 5. This story can hardly be accounted a folk-tale — as yet. I include
it, however, as an illustration of the type of narrative which appears to be taking the
place of the more familiar tale in North Carolina. Anecdotes about Irishmen have a
distinct vogue. Indeed, the Archman has become as much of a stock character as
Rabbit or Hant.
8 Informant 5.
4 Informant 2. Compare JAFL 9 : 290; Pub. Folk-Lore Soc. 55 : XXVI.
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 187
"Oh, my! by de hair of my chin, chin, chin,
Dat is de way to take foxes in."
33. THE WITCH SPOUSE.1
There was a woman who wouldn' eat like people. She would cook
that man's, her husband's, dinner. He would ask her to come in an'
eat. She would crumble her bread up jus' the same as a little sparrer.
She had a quill she would crumble it up with, an' eat it like a sparrer.
At night, when he would go to sleep, she would slip out an' dress
herself an' go out to de graveyards. An' one day, when they had a
buryin', he decided to watch her. That night, when she got up an'
got dressed an' went out, he dressed an' went out behin'. He hid
behin' a bush. She would dig up that body an' cut off slashes of 'em
jus' like meat, an' eat 'em. When he seed her do that, he jus' tipped
on back to de house an' get back to de bed befo' she get there. An' she
came back in the night, an' got undress an' got back into the bed.
He made no noise, like he never been up. An' nex' day he went to de
king, her father, an' tol' him about it. An' when she got there, he
got after her about it. An' she was ketchin' her husban', an' beated
him half to death about it. An' she was gone, an' never was foun'
any mo'.
34. OUT OF HER SKIN.2
Two ladies livin' togeder. Plenty to eat, dress fine. "I'm goin'
off to-night." Pull off deir top garment an' pulled off deir skin.
Went out by de chimney. Came back by de chimney. Said, "Hit
tit, here we go!" Man in store losin' his goods. Said, "May be
witch." — "No witches in this part of country." — "How you ketch
'urn?" Get two pods of red pepper. Come down chimney. "Hit,
tit, down we go!" One went to his [her] skin, couldn't get in. It was
hot to him [her]. Started to put 'em on. "Dis is hot, sister."
Said, "Skinny, don' you know me?" Skin never did speak.3 "Lor',
1 Informant 10. Heard by my informant from Fannie Wason of Blew's Creek.
Compare Harris 3 : XI; MAFLS 2 : 7, 27, 117 (X); Parsons, XX; Pub. Folk-Lore
Soc. 55 : XXIV, XLIII; JAFL 9 : 127.
2 Informant 3. On Andros Island, Bahamas, the gist of this tale was given me as
an actual occurrence. Salt and pepper were put in the disembodied skin, and the same
words were said by the owner on her return: "Kinny, 'Kinny, don' you know me?"
For the belief in the Leeward Islands, see Udal, J. S. (FL 26 : 281) ; for it elsewhere in the
Southern States see JAFL 12 : 110-111; 22 : 253; this number, p. 209; for it in Guiana
see p. 242 of this number.
' In connection with this tale the following jingles were recited by others present: —
If I jump in your skin,
I'll be your popper.
When you jump out, I jump in,
An' there'll be you agin.
You jump out, I jump in.
I'll be in my skin agin.
1 88 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
sister, what shall we do? Only two hours to live. Suppose some one
come in." — "I'm goin' to wrap up in a sheet, keep de daylight
from shinin' on us. Soon de daylight strike us, drop dead." As
soon as de day light 'em, clin! one drop dead.1 Clin! oder one drop
dead.
{Second Version.2)
Stealing molasses from cellar. Man watched, an' three witches
came. Each said, "In an' out I go." Dropped her garments an'
went into the cellar. Man kept the suits of the witches. They found
out who was taking the molasses.
35. MUSTARD-SEED.3
01' witch goin' from house to house. Too much work to do in one
place. People throwed mustard-seed in her way. Had to pick up
one by one befo' she lef'.4 "Here I am, where shall I hide myself?"
Says, "I'll never get in a place like that again. Bes' way to carry
gol' an' silver with me. I've done foun' out they can't do anything
with the mustard-seed while I carry the gol' an' silver." After she
got her gol' an' silver, she did go all right. Didn' have to pick up
the seed. Made good time then.
36. FEASTING ON DOG.5
De ol' man was gone with a sack, like as he was going 'possum-
huntin'. He came home, an' he said to his wife he'd get de dinner.
So after they had dinner, she brushed up de scraps an' de bones, an'
she called her dog Hector. "What you call Hector fur?" he said.
"You done suck up his bones." 6
(Second Version.7)
01' woman an' man didn't have nothing to eat. She tol' him to go
out an' get something. If he didn't bring home something, he
couldn't lay in de bed with her dat night. He went out. He brought
back something, an' he cooked it. "Dis is mighty curious meat,"
she said. "I eat it, but it didn't set right with me." — "You said I
1 Compare CR 70 : 383.
2 Informant 11.
3 Informant 12.
4 In the Bahamas, corn or "benny" will be poured out before the house-door or
inside the haunted room to distract the "speerit" or "hant." It must be picked up
grain by grain. For like belief or practice in Jamaica and in Grenada see FL 15 : 214;
Bell 167. For the belief in Guiana see p. 242 of this number.
6 Informant 13.
6 Variant: "You the bigges' fool I know. Ain't you done eat Gunner, an' now you
want ter feed him."
7 Informant 9.
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 189
couldn't lay in de bed with you if I didn't bring something to eat.
It is mighty curious meat. It's a dawg."
37. KEEPING PACE.1
The man was comin' from de mill, an' he seen a pretty white bed
rnade up on one side de road. An' he got down offen his horse an'
th'owed a rock on to de bed. An' he went on to de oder side. An'
he th'owed it again. An' it rose up an' got on de horse's back behin'
him. An' de horse was jus' a-runnin'. An' she says, "Lor' me! isn't
we ridin' fine? I can ride as fas' as de horse can go."
38. BUGER.2
Was a man went to visit. Saw a little white baby on the roadside.
Picked it up, an' it growed an' growed an' growed. He had to put
it on his back. An' when he got home, it was a great big white woman.
She said, "Take me back where you car'ed me from." It was a buger.
39. THE WITCHES AND THE DOGS.3
One time a woman had two little boys. They were mighty mean
little boys, and she couldn't do anything with 'em, 'an she had tol'
'em she was goin' to give them to the ol' witch. One evening the
witch came up, an' she tol' the witch what time she was going to send
these boys to the spring. An' the witch cut [caught] the little boys
an' carried them home. Put 'em in the bed. They begin to whet
an' tap their knives an' say, —
"I'll whet my knife,
I'll tap my knife,
I'll go through ham an' fat to-night." 4
"Are you asleep?" 5 Little boys said, "No, not quite." — "What's
de matter?" They says, "My head is not high enough." An' they
fixed their heads. Again, —
"I'll whet my knife,
I'll tap my knife,
I'll go through ham an' fat to-night."
"Are you asleep?" — "No, not quite." — "What's the matter?" —
"I haven't got kiver [cover] enough." They began, —
1 Informant 2. Compare this number, p. 209.
2 Informant 10. A common synonyme for ha'nt, meaning "ghost" or "apparition."
3 Informant 7. Compare Harris 3 : XI, XII; MAFLS 2 :2s (VII), 83 (XXII);
MAFLS 3 : 92; Parsons, XXX; Smith, 55-56.
4 Variant.' I go through fat an' lean to-night.
1 The second syllable is emphasized and drawled out.
190 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
" I'll whet my knife,
I'll tap my knife,
I'll go through ham an' fat to-night."
"Ain't the boys sleepin' good?" one said to another. The boys had
fall over a stick of wood what was under the bed. They put the
stick of wood in the bed, an' they crawled under the house an' went
back to the spring, an' clam' the tree. The witches passed 'em. One
gets de lantern, an' de oder the axe. They found 'em up a tree. They
begin to cut the tree. The little boy axed to pray.
" King Kilus,1
King Lovus, l
I'm only twenty-five 2 miles from home."
An' dey begin to cut. An' the dogs would howl. Little boy axed to
pray again.
" King Kilus,
King Lovus,
I'm only a little way from home now."
An' the dogs come an' killed the witches, an' carried the little boys
home.
40. FATAL IMITATION.3
One time an ol' rooster an' a rabbit farmin'. One day tol' de
rooster ter come to de fiel' ter hoe corn. 01' Rabbit down in de fiel'.
01' Rooster up to de house. 01' Rooster come back, put his head up
on his wing. 01' Rooster tol' Rabbit his wife cut off his head. 01'
Rabbit went tol' his wife, "Wife cut off my head." She said, "Oh,
it will kill you." — "Cut off my head." When she got to cuttin'
it off, he said, "Stop, stop!"
41. THE PUMPKIN.4
Tol' Jack to get de fastes' horse in de lot. He got up on de horse
to go out on de plantation to drop de pum 'kin-seed. He made a
hole wi' de stick, dropped de seed. Horse ran as fas' as he could.
1 Names of dogs. In one variant the dog's name is Carlo.
2 Variant: Forty.
3 Informant 14 This pattern is common among Portuguese-Negro tales I have col-
lected from Cape Verde Islanders. See this number, pp. 226, 237.
4 Informant 3. This tale and the following present a type whose pattern or ornament
is maximum exaggeration. These two tales are instances of the same type I have found
well marked in Bahama and in Cape Verde Islands tales. This type of expression appears
to make a peculiar appeal to certain narrators, who indulge in it whenever the tale affords
opportunity. These narrators are comparatively few.
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 191
Vine ran faster. You clim' up on top of that leaf an' holler.1 Dat
pum'kin-vine had pum'kins on it. My marster had two hawgs. Dey
went away. De hawg-feeder name Jack. "Jack, we got to look for
dem hawgs. Won't do to let 'em run away. Go to house, ask
mistress for half a shoulder of meat, an' cook me some bread." De
hawgs had eat a, hole in dat pum'kin, an' staid in dere until nex'
plantin'-time. From dat pum'kin-vine they build a hotel in Richmon'.
Made pretties' doors an' winders you ever saw.
42. THE TURNIP.2
One day there was a man in this country. An' he called to de man
to stay all night. His name was John. He 'plied to him, "What's
your occupation?" Says, "Turnip-grower." Says he cultivated an
acre of land. He put it knee-deep manure. He sowed de seed.
Didn't but one come up. It growed so big that they put a fence
aroun' it. It raised de fence.3 Says, "What's your occupation?"
He said, "Pottery." He was three weeks amouldin' a big pot. It
wore out three-power hammer before it struck the ground. He 'plied
to him, "What you better do in that big pot?" He said, "Jus' to
cook that turnip in." 4
43. THE SINGLE BALL.5
[I failed to record this tale. It was told me substantially as it
is given in "Negro Myths from the Georgia Coast," No. XLIX, and
as it was subsequently told me by a native of New Providence,
Bahamas, — a white man, who had heard it in boyhood from Bahaman
Negroes.]
44. AS BIG A FOOL.6
Man was goin' cortin', an' he tol' de girl, an' de ol' woman an' de
ol' man both, he wasn't agwine to marry her.7 He tol' 'em he'd ride
1 Lulu Young told me about a stalk of corn that "kep' on growing. There was a
squirrel up on the ear of corn. The man climb on up. It kep' growing. He had to take
an' made a ladder to come back on to de groun' on."
2 Informant 5.
3 Variant: A band of soldiers come along. Come up a storm, an' they shelter
under one leaf of the turnup.
4 Variant: They made a barrel to cook the turnup in, — a mile long an' half a mile
wide.
5 Informant 1.
6 Informant 4.
7 The first incident of this familiar tale of "The Three Sillies" is omitted. It
was given me by another narrator as follows: "De ol' man went out first to milk
de cows. He staid so long, de ol' lady went. She staid so long, de girl went. Staid
so lonj, de feller went. He asked them what was de matter. They said they was studyin'
'bout what ter name de firs' chil'."
192 Journal of American Folk-Lore .
three miles, an' ef he could fin' three as big a fool as they was, he'd
come back an' marry her. An' he went on 'bout a mile, an' the
first man he see was tryin' to pull a cow up on de house to eat the moss
off the house. He axed the man what was he doin'. He said he was
haulin' the cow up to eat the moss. He axed him why didn't he get
up an' throw it down. "Thank you kindly, Sir Stranger, many a
cow's neck I've broke tryin' to pull it up to eat the moss off my house."
He went on, an' the nex' man he come across was tryin' to put on his
pants. He had 'em hangin' on a tree, an' he was runnin' an' tryin'
to jump in 'em. Man axed him what he was doin', an' why didn't
he take 'em down an' put 'em on right. "Thank you kindly, Sir
Stranger, many a time I've cracked my. shins tryin' to put on my
pants." He went on about a mile furder, an' seed a little boy runnin'
through the house with a wheel-bar' as hard as he could go. He
axed him what he war doin'. He said he was haulin' sunshine to
dry the house. He went back then, an' married the girl.
{Second Version.1)
In a city they was goin' to take an' cut off all de people's ears if
they didn't believe in the law. If a foolish one they fin', they wouldn't
cut off their ears. One man got a chain, tie his cow, got 'round on
yonder side of his house, an' pulled up his cow. The king come along.
What was he doin'? He said, "There a vine on top of my house,
I'm pulling the cow up to eat the vine off." An' they didn't cut off
their ears.
45. PLEASING EVERYBODY.2
01' man an' little boy was gwine to town one day. He was walkin',
an' the little boy was ridin' a mule. An' they met a man, an' he asked
why didn't they both ride. They both got on de mule, an' went on a
piece. He met another man. An' he asked, "What are you doin'?
Why don't you both tote that mule?" They both gathered him up
then, an' tote him. They got to a bridge, an' de mule got scared an'
got loose on 'em, an' jumped off an' killed hisself. 01' man said,
"Thah, now, that's what I git by tryin' to please everybody."
46. (a) PLAYING GODFATHER.3
There was a fox, a rabbit, an' a bear. They lived in a house to-
gether. They was all married. They had a large pot of lard.4
1 Informant 2. Compare JAFL 12 : 109.
2 Informant 4.
* Informant 15. Heard by my informant from Mary Dalton. Compare Jones,
XXIV; Harris 1 : XVII; MAFLS 2: 19, 33 (XIII); Parsons, I.
* Variant: Bucket of butter in de branch. This and the following variants were
given by Mary Dalton herself. See this number, p. 215.
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 193
They was all workin' in the back, an' all was goin' to dinner at twelve
o'clock. An' Brother Rabbit he holler, an' say now, "Miou!" —
"What's the matter, Brother Rabbit?" He say, "My wife call me."
— "Well, go see what she wants." He'd go to the pot of lard an'
he'd eat half of it. He says, "What did she want?" He say, "She
wants name de baby." — "Whatch yer name it?" — "Sure-It's-
Good." l He waited a while longer. He holler, "Miou!" — "Whatch
yer want?" He said, "Name de baby." — "Whatch yer name it?"
Said, " Half-Gone." 2 He worked a while longer. He holler, " Miou ! "
again. "What's de matter, Brother Rabbit?" — "Me wife callin'
me." — "Go see what she want." — "What she want?" — "Name
the baby." — "What did you name it?" — "Lick-de-Bottom." 3 He
hadn't been gone to de house. He had eat up all the lard. They all
was goin' to feast. After dey got through their work, when they went
up to eat the lard, they saw it was gone. Dey axed him what had
become of it. Said, "Tain't me, tain't me!"
(b) JUMPING OVER THE FIRE.
Terpin, Rabbit, Squirrel, Fox, all had a choppin'. Fox put the
butter in the spring-house to keep it fresh. Rabbit claimed to have
some of his folks sick. In the intervals of the choppin' he'd go an'
get him a supply of butter. Asked how they was. He say, "No
better." In a short while he went again. So he went a third time.
"How are they now?" — "All gone now." At twelve o'clock ol'
Fox went to de spring fer more meal. Foun' his butter licked up
clean. Claimed some of them had eaten it. 01' Rabbit fell on a
plan for them to fin' who had eaten the butter. "We'll build a big
fire, an' all mus' go 'round an' jump over this fire." So ol' Rabbit
jumped further than any. All jumped over safe but ol' Terpin.
He falls in, an' the rest says, " Pile chunks on him. He's the one who
eats the butter." 4
47. THE STEP-MOTHER.5
A woman had three children. She died. De man married again.
Dey was mighty nice-lookin' children when der moder was alive. Den
one of them looked so bad. She was taken. Anoder one looked so
bad, de man went to see an ol' woman to find out from her what was
the matter wid de children. They was mighty near gone. "I
ain't a-going to break peace. [Said the old woman,] "You cut you five
1 Variant: Beginder.
2 Variant: Half-Way.
3 Scrape-Bottom.
4 Irformant 16. Compare Harris i : XVII; Harris 2 : XLII.
5 Informant 9.
VOL. XXX. — NO. Il6. — 13.
194 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
switches. An' you go to de house 'fore de horn blows for dinner, an'
set in the chimney-corner." ' She greased one of them on mouth and
hands, like dey had eat.2 She wasn't puttin' a thing in them. "If
you tell your daddy dat you don't eat your dinner, I'll kill you."
She took another one of de children, an' when she was greasin' it,
he came in. De children told de people deir moder throw dirt in de
pan in de play-house for' em to eat. He took his switches an' whipped
his live wife. His children lived an' was the same after dat.
48. THE BEST PLACE.3
There was an ol' man, an' he had a wife, an' she was always fussin'.
One day she said to him, "I wish I was in heaven!" — "I wish I
was in de still-house!" he said. "You always did wish to be in de
best place."
49. WOMAN ON HOUSE-TOP.4
Man asked her would she have anything that she found in her
sack. She must go up on top of de house an' stay there. "I'll have
a young man in de mornin'." She done froze. De man was in de
sack. He was goin' to have her, but she was done dead.
(Second Version.5)
01' lady wanted to marry. Devilish young boys put a wet sheet
aroun' her. She went out on top of de house, takin' her seat up dere.
Said, awful cold. De owl cried, "Huh, huh! Huh are you?" She
answered, "Anybody, Lord, jus' so it's a man."
50. THE TALKING BONES.6
Said once a man was going off to take off tobacker. It was sleetin'
an' snowin'. He come to an old house an' took out de mules for a
camp. Said dere was bones in de house. An' de owner of the house
told him if he would go an' take one of dem bones, he would give him
a whole lot of money. He begin to pick up de bones. Some one said,
"Don't take dat one, that bone is mine."7 Another said, "Don't
take dat bone, that bone's mine." An' he picked up anoder one an'
started to run, an' something tore him all to pieces.
1 This was outside.
2 It seems to have been a notorious trick for a niggardly mistress to get a meat-skin
from the smoke-house and grease the mouths of her child slaves whenever she expected
company.
3 Informant 17.
4 Informant 9.
6 Informant 18.
6 Informant 7.
7 Said in high-pitched, shrill, squeaking voice.
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 195
51. THE HAUNTED HOUSE.1
Come along a woman with three children. She met a man. " Could
I stay all night at your house?" Three miles from here he had a
house. "You're welcome to go. If you stay all night and tell me
in the morning, I give you the house. You'll see things. You can't
stay there." Gave her a light, a flat lamp with a rag put in it. She
found dat house just like people had left it. She fed de children.
After a while something made a fuss. She kept a-readin' de Bible.
Do' came open, a man came in.2 Looked as if he was wrapped in a
sheet. "In the name of the Father, the Son, an' the Holy Ghost,
what do you want here?" She said dat three times. Then he spoke.
"You light your light sufficient an' go with me in the cellar. You
take a knife an' a fork. Do what I tell you, an' I'll 'pear no more."
He showed her what to stick de knife at, an* what to stick de fork.
"Next morning you 'quire for de three brothers an' sister, an' go in
an' find dis fork an' knife sticking up in de cellar. You'll find a pot
of money, an' divide it up wit dese people. I'll 'pear no more." De
man who owned de house give her de place. My mammy said her
mammy knowed it was so, an' told her about it.
52. THE BLACK CAT.3
A man had a house an' lot. He'd give it to any man who'd go an'
stay all night. An' one ol' black man said he could stay dere. An'
he took his Bible an' his light, an' sot down dah an' went to readin'.
An' he looked 'round, an' da sat an ol' black cat aside of him. De
ol' black cat said, "Dere's nobody here but I an' you to-night." He
said, "Dere'd be nobody here but you directly, neither." 4 He broke
out an' run, an' got powerful tired, an' sat down on a log to rest;
an' he looked around, an' dah sat de ol' black cat again. An' he said,
"Dat was a right good race we had up here." An' he [the man] said,
"We're goin' to have anoder one too." 5
1 Informant 9.
2 Variant: Down came a foot. Down came a leg. Down another leg. Down a
body. Down his head. All jined up.
3 Informant 4. See p. 224 (No. 7).
* Variant: Something came an' put out his candle. Thing said, " Seem to be two o' us
here to-night." Man said, "Won't be long won't be but one." — Another variant: Man
taken off his shoes. Something come an' says, "Tain't nobody taken off his shoes but
you an' me to-night." Man putten on his shoes. Man says, "Yes, an' in a few minutes
I'll have mine on."
6 Variant: An' he came to a fence an' stop to rest. An' the hant [in the shape of a
person] says to him, "We had a powerful race, didn't we?" An' he says to him, "Yes,
an' if you wait a minute, we'll have another one." — Another variant: He put out as hard
as he could rip runnin'. Says, "Ain't nobody runnin' but me an' you ternight." He lit
out again an' runnin'. Then he sot down an' res'. Said, "We sure have taken a good
rest." The man say, "Yes, an' I'm goin' to take anoder one."
196 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
53. SELF-CONFIDENCE.1
01' Tarpin started to cross the road. One of his neighbors saw him
a week a-crossin'. Tree fell jus' as he got across. He said, "Ain't
it well to be pyrt!" 2
54. THE WOMAN-CAT.3
Der was a man owned a mill, an' he couldn't stay at it late. Some-
thing would run him away.4 One day an ol' traveller 5 come along,
an' asked him what would he give him to stay dere dat night. He
said he would give him mos' anything if he would stay. So he went
in, an' takin' his book, his Bible, an' surd, an' sat down an' kimminced
a-readin'. It was eight or nine cats6 came in 'rectly after dark, an'
staid there until gettin' late. An' one of them made a drive at de
man, an' he up with his surd an' cut his right front foot off. An'
dey all left then. Nex' mornin' he went up to de house fur breakfast.
An' de miller he was gettin' breakfas'. His wife was not able.7 He
wanted to know what was de trouble. He said she was cuttin' a
ham-bone in two an' hurt her han'. He showed the man a ring, an'
asked him would he own it. He said he would. He said that was
his wife ring he bought him [her] befo' dey was married. So they went
in de room an' asked her was dat her ring. She said it was not. Then
they looked, an' her right han' was cut off at de wrist.
55. THE MURDEROUS MOTHER.8
An ol' man caught a 'possum, an' carried it home for his wife. An'
she put it on an' baked it. An' she kept a tastin' until she eat it all
up.9 An' she had a little boy name Finlay. An' she said, "If I give
yo a piece of butter an' bread, can I kill you?" — "No'm." — "Say
'yes,' Finlay." She cut his head off an' his fingers, an' put his head
in de bed, an' his fingers on de stone. An' de ol' man come. An' de
bird flew in his do'. Says, "Wonder where is po' little Finlay!"
1 Informant 12.
2 Pert, meaning lively.
3 Informant 2.
4 Variant: She turn to a horse an' run the men away from the mill.
6 Variant: Preacher.
6 Variant: First came in was a white cat. Taken seat up there beside the man.
Nex' was a yaller cat. The white cat said, "Come in, pussy, like I had to do." The
yaller cat was taken a seat. Nex' was a black cat. "Come in, pussy, like I had to do."
. . . — Another variant: Something like a rabbit.
7 Variant: "My wife in bed." — "Get her up." Got her up. She was out of her
skin. It was jus' like a beef. — Another variant: She had shoes on her hands, like a horse.
He took and killed her.
8 Informant 7. Compare MAFLS 2 : 61, 75.
For this opening cf. "The Milk-White Doo" (Chambers, p. 49).
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 197
"Just look on de bed, you'll find his head.
Look on de stone, you'll find his fingers."
Then the ol' man prayed, "Drap a little marble stone." There
dropped a stone an' killed the ol' lady.1
{Second Version.2)
De mother cooked a 'possum, an' she kept a tastin' it till she ate it
all up. Then she takin' her little girl an' cut her head off an' cooked
her. An' ol' par't [parrot] he would say, "Where's little Nellie?
Where's little Nellie?" She would shoo him off. An' when her
husban' come at dinner, he wanted to know where was the baby.
She says she eat her dinner an' gone to sleep. An' ol' par't would
come an' say, "Where's little Nellie?" He said, —
"Little Nellie is dead.
Look in de bed,
An' you'll see her head."
An' he looked an' found her head. He take it an' put her in a barrel,
poured lamp-oil over her, an' drove spikes, sot it a-fire, an' rolled her
off down the hill.
{Third Version})
"If I give you a lump of sugar as big as my fist, can I kill you?"
De chil' said, "Yes." She took it out to de chop-block, an' she laid
it on de block an' she chopped off its head. De fader came home.
De moder cooked her, an' gave her to de fader to eat. De speerit
came an' said,
"My mother killed me.
My father ate me.
My brothers buried my bone
Under a marble stone."
56. THE CAT WHO WANTED SHOES.2
Once dere was a man named Tom Conder. It was a great large
cat come in his house, an' staid for twelve months. He got ready to
go to town with some 'backer. An' de cat said to him, "I want you
to bring me back a pair of shoes. If you don't, I will destroy your
wife an' childrun while you gone." So he promised her he would.
He tol' some fellows about de cat talkin'. Dey said it was a witch,
an' fur him to bring it off de nex' day, an' they would meet him an'
kill it. An' so he gethered it up to carry it to town to get a shoe.
When he met 'em, they wanted to know what he had in his sack.
1 Another stone dropped, but what it did the informant forgets.
2 Informant 2.
198 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
One said, "Have you got liquor?" An' he said, "No." Then the
oder jerked de sack off his back, an' out jumped de cat, an' de dogs
ran in behind it.
57. STRAW INTO GOLD.1
Once dere was a queen married a c'uel man. He would put a lot
of straws down an' tell her to turn 'em into gold by de time he get
back. One day she was a grievin' because she could not turn 'em
into gold. An' a ol' man come along an' axed her why does she weep,
kind miss. "Because I cannot turn those straws into gold." An' he
said, "I will turn 'em into gold fur you if you will give me your first
chil'." An' he did. An' he come again fur dechil'. She did not recep
[?] to him to take de chil' jus' den. An' he said, "If you will tell me
my name, I will not take it." Another man come an' tol' her to write
down all de dead an' all de livin' people names. An' she did. One
day ol' man was a-huntin'. He seen a little cabin in de forest. He
heard a noise. He went close an' listened, an' he heard an ol' man
singin', —
"To-day I was buried,
To-morrow I was brew.
And then for de queen chil'
I shall take.
I'm so glad then she do not know
That my name is Tambutoe."
He went back to take de chil'. She said, ".You go away, ol' Tambu-
toe!"
58. THREE-EYES.2
Once a woman had three children. She was sendin' to mind de
cow in de bottom. She would stick a pin in her sister's ear an' put
her to sleep. An' then she would take a little red switch an whup
on de ground, an' fix a nice table fur dinner. Then she would wake
up her sister, an' they would eat. Her mother sent de three-eyed
girl one day to watch um. She taken an' stickin a pin in the three-
eyed girl's head ; an' two eyes went to sleep, an' one eye watched her
an' seed how she fixed her lunch.
59. THE FROG WHO WOULD FLY.3
Once there was a frog that wished to fly. So some ducks decided
to carry the frog. The ducks got a stick, and told the frog to take
1 Informant 2. Compare Smith, 20-24.
2 Informant 2.
3 Informant 7. This tale is a variant, I surmise, of a tale I found common among the
Cape Verde Islanders, in which the birds lend their feathers and take them back again.
The tale is also known to the Pueblo Indians. The only other American variant of the
tale I have found is from Jamaica (Pub> Folk-Lore Soc. 55 : XL).
Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina. 199
hold of it in the middle with his mouth. The ducks took hold of the
stick at each end. They went flying up in the air with the frog.
They got up in the air, and met a gang of birds; and they said, "What
a beautiful frog!" And the frog began to swell. "What a beautiful
frog!" The frog swelled. And went to open his mouth to speak a
word to the birds, and opened his mouth and turned the stick aloose,
and fell to the ground and bursted himself open.
60. BRAVE FOLKS.1
Man an' his wife livin' in a small log-cabin. One day settin' by
the fire. A big bear walked in. So dis man he become frighten.
He jumped upstairs. He was settin' up there, lookin' at his wife
kill this bear. After she killed him, then he says, "What brave folks
are we!"
6l. THE ADULTERESS.2
While de man was gone from home, anoder man come and get in
de bed. This man come home, an' said, —
"01' lady, ol' lady, what's dat tied out dar?" —
"You fool, you fool! you blin' as you can be.
It is nothing but a milch-cow my mother sent to me." —
"I been here, I been here, forty years or more,
I never seen a milch-cow with saddle on before.
"01' lady, ol' lady, what's dat on de floor?" —
"You fool, you fool! you blin' as you can be.
It is nothing but a churn my mother sent to me." —
"I been here, I been here, forty years or more,
I never saw a churn with heel-tops on before.
"01' lady, ol' lady, what's dat hangin' up?" —
"You fool, you fool! you blin' as you can be.
It is nothing but a strainer my mother sent to me." —
"I been here, I been here, forty years or more,
I never saw a strainer with a brim on it before.
"01' lady, ol' lady, what's dat in de bed?" —
"You fool, you fool! you blin' as you can be.
It is nothing but a baby my mother sent to me." —
"I been here, I been here, forty years or more,
I never saw a baby with a mustache on before."
1 Informant 6.
2 Informant 7. Neither my informant nor a much older woman who knew this
fragment of the ballad of "Our Gude Man Came Hame at E'en" had any knowledge of
its being sung. On Andros Island, Bahamas, it is still sung.
200
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
62. ANYHOW.1
Once dere was three little children. Their mother had died. An'
de people around had told de moder before she died dey'd treat her
children kind. An' said, one day after de moder was buried, de children
would go to some of de people round's house, an' said 'last de people
drove 'em from de do' an' said de little children made a song: —
Moderate. ^
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At the Cross I'll die.
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On . . my way to heav- en, an-y -how.
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2. Tell moth-er . . thatshe must die, That you treat us children kind, you know,
MJ JVJl-J J ^^^5%
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At the Cross I'll die. ... On my way to heav-en, an-y - how.
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But at the Cross I'll die. .
I'm on my way to heav-en an-y - how.
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Thank God ! an - y - how.
New York.
1 Informant 7. The framing of this "spiritual" with narrative has a comparative
interest for the student of the cante-fable in the Bahamas and elsewhere.
Folk-Lore of Guilford County, North Carolina. 201
NOTES ON FOLK-LORE OF GUILFORD COUNTY,1 NORTH
CAROLINA.
BY ELSIE CLEWS PARSONS.
RIDDLES.
Riddles 1 to 23 appeared to me to be more generally known than
riddles 24 to 56; but, without further collecting, the impression
must be taken as in a measure haphazard. But that riddles 1 to 23
have a general circulation I can assert.
I. Round as a biscuit,2
Deep as a cup,
All king's 3 horses
Can't pull it up.
2. Round as a biscuit,
Busy as a bee,
The prettiest little thing
I ever did see.
3. A house full, a yard full,
An' can't ketch a spoonful.
4. Long legs an' short thighs,
Bald head an' no eyes.
5. Long legs an' short thighs,
Rusty back an' bullet eyes.
Ans. — Well.
Ans. — Watch.
Ans. — Smoke.
Ans. — Tongs.
Ans. — Frog.
6. Dead in de middle,
Live at each end.
Ans. — A man and a horse ploughing.
7. Four standin',
Four hang downward,
One twis' about,
An' two look about.4
Ans. — Cow.
8. Black an' white an' red all over.
Ans. — Newspaper.
1 Several informants came from Rockingham County, and one family from Forsyth
County.
2 Variant: Hoop.
3 Variant: Sixteen.
4 Variant (White man): Four standers,
Two hookers,
Two lookers.
202 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
9. Runs all around the house
An' makes one track.1
Ans. — Wheelbarrow.
10. I went up a heap o' steeple,
There I met a heap o' people,
Some pernicky, some pernacky,2
An' some de color brown terbacky.
Ans. — Bees, yellow-jackets, and waspes.
11. Green as grass, an' grass it's not.
White as snow, an' snow it's not.3
Red as blood, an' blood it's not.
Black as ink, an' ink it's not.
12. Goin' to everybody's house,
An' didn' go in.
Ans. — Blackberry.
Ans. — Path.
13. Eleven pears was hangin' high,
Eleven men went ridin' by.
Each man was takin' a pear,
An' lef eleven hangin' dere.
Ans. — "Each Man" was the man's name.
15. A man shook it an' shook it,
An' ol' lady took up her apern and took it.4
Ans. — Apple-tree.
16. Large at the bottom,
Small at the top,
Thing in the middle
Goes flippity flop.
Ans. — Churn.
17. I rode over London Bridge,
Yet I walked.
Ans. — " Yet I " was the name of a dog.
18. Long slick black feller,
Pull his tail an' make him beller.
Ans. — Shotgun.
19. Little red ridin' coat,
The longer she lives,
The shorter she grows.
Ans. — Candlestick.
1 Variant: What runs all the time an' makes but one track?
2 Variants: Some was nick, some was nack. Some was nickel.
3 Variant: White as milk, an' milk it taint.
4 Variant: Up went the ol' lady apern,
An' she took it.
Folk-Lore of Guilford County, North Carolina. 203
20. Over water, under water,
Got a tongue,
Never drunk a drop.1
Atis. — Wagon.
21. Run an' never walk,
Tongue an' never talk.
Ans. — Wagon.
22. Runs all day, an' comes home with
its tongue out at night.
Ans. — Wagon.
23. (a) Love I hold in my right hand,
Love I see in yonder tree.
If you tell me that riddle,
You may kill me.
Ans. — Her parents didn' want her to get
married. If she fix up a riddle they
couldn' unriddle, they would agree.
If not, they would kill her. She had a
dog name Love. Put a piece in her
glove, another piece in a tree.
(b) Love, Love,
Love I stand,
Love I see,
Love I hoi' in my right hand.
Unriddle that,
You can hang me.
Ans. — They was goin' to hang a woman.
They tol' her if she tell a big riddle
they wouldn' hang. She taken an'
killed a dog. She had a dog name
Love. Had a piece of em stuck up in a
tree, had a piece in her han', a piece
in her shoe.
In the two preceding riddles (23, a and b) the answer was given before
the riddle; so that the riddle was set into a tale, so to speak. The
like method was followed in what appears a variant of the same
riddle.2
(c) Said once there was a man who had done a hanging crime. He was
going to be hung. An' de men tol' him if he tol' a riddle dey couldn'
unriddle, dat they wouldn't hang him. So he said, —
Hone [horn] ate a hone in a high oak-tree.
Unriddle dat, you may hang me.3
1 Variant: It goes to the brook,
An' got a tongue,
But won't drink.
2 See, too, "Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina" (p. 184). "Woman up a
Tree" was given to me indifferently, either as a tale or as a riddle.
3 The criminal, it was explained, had a dog named "Horn," and he it was who ate a
horn.
204 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
24. Legs an' don't walk,
Face an' don't talk.
25. Goes all day,
Sits in a corner all night.
26. You've got it. You know it.
Somebody else use it more than you do.
27. De hog under the hill,
The more corn you give her,
The more she squeal.
Ans. — Clock.
/Ins. — Shoe.
Ans. — Name.
28. All through the woods,
An' hasn' got but one eye.
Ans. — Gris' mill.
Ans. — Axe.
29. Blackie upstairs,
Whitie downstairs.
Ans. — Hen lays downstairs and goes up.
30. Bum bum in the house,
Bum bum outdoors,
Bum bum everywhere it goes.
Ans. — Bumblebee.
31. I wash my han's in water
Neither rain nor run.
I dry my han's on a napkin
Neither wove nor spun.
Ans. — Wash in watermelon, dry on the rind.
32. Crooked as a rainbow,
Teeth like a cat.
Guess all your lifetime,
You never guess that.
Ans. — Saw.
33. Open like a barn door,
Shuts up like a bet (bat).
Guess all your lifetime,
You never guess that.
34. I ain't got it,
I don't want it,
If I had it,
I wouldn't take the world for it.
Ans. — Bald head.
35. What is leaves its tongue out, cold or hot?
Ans. — Dog.
Ans. — Umbrella.
Folk-Lore of Guilford County, North Carolina. 205
36. Three legs up,
Cold as a stone.
Six legs down,
Blood an' bone.
Ans. — A man riding a horse
with a pot on his head.
37. I had a dog.
He had a name.
I lay you can't tell me l
What his name.
Ans. — "You Know," his name.
38. When it goes in,
It's stiff an' stout.
When it goes out,
It's floppin' about.
Ans. — Cabbage.
39. The ol' lady pitted it,
An' she patted it.
The ol' man undressed,
An' jumped at it.
Ans. — Bed.
40. Between heaven an' earth
An' not on a tree.
I've tol' you,
Now you tell me.
Ans. — Nut on a tree.
41. Hold my cock,
Until I back my ass,
An' I will show you my nuts.
Ans. — A man selling nuts,
with a cock in his hand.
42. Way over yonder, in yonder flat
I saw ten thousan' workin' at that.
Some wore green coats, some wore black.
Come, good scholar, an' unriddle that!
Ans. — Bugs of some kind.
43. Roun' as a ball,
Sharp as an awl.
Those can't guess
Are no account at all.
Ans. — Chestnut-burr.
44. Lil had it before.
Paul had it behin'.
Miss Miller had it twice in the same place.
Girls all have it,
An' the boys can't have it.
45. Red inside,
Black outside.
He raise his leg up an' shoves it in.
1 This should be "You Know," I infer.
Ans. — Letter /.
Ans. — Boot.
206
46.
47-
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Excuse my revelation.
Weak but willin',
Poor but proud,
See me keep a-comin'.
Tongue-tied,
Three-posted,
Short hair I wear,
Pay fer sittin' down.
The answer was forgotten.
King meet king in king's lane.
King said, "King, what is thy name?"
Silk is my saddle, gold is my bowl.
I've tol' you my name three times in a row.
Ans. — "Three Times."
As I went over London Bridge,
I heard some cough an' call.
His leg was bone, his teeth was hone [horn].
Unriddle that riddle, I give you all my cone [corn].
Ans. — A rooster.
49. In the water, under the water,
An' never gits wet.
50. Titty titty upstairs,
Titty titty downstairs.
Don' min' titty titty bite yer.
Ans. — Duck-egg.
Ans.
Rat.
51. Humpy Dumpy on de wall,
Humpy Dumpy had a fall.
Fourscore men can't put Humpy Dumpy togeder again.
Ans. — Egg.
52. Black within,
Red without.
Four corners round about.
Ans. — Fireplace.
53. 01' lady peewee
Wade in de water knee dee[p].
She looked at me wi' a funny eye.
Ans. — Sun.
54. Go all around the house
An' throw white gloves in the winder.
55. I was four weeks old
When Cain was born.
Not five weeks old yet.
Ans. — Snow.
Ans. — Moon.1
1 This riddle and the following were told me by a white woman. She had heard them
in youth from an old Negro.
Folk-Lore of Guilford County, North Carolina. 207
56. God never did see,
George Washington scarcely ever did,
And we see every day.
Ans. — Our equals.
COUNTING-OUT GAME.
Hentry, mentry, coutry corn,
Apple seeds an' briar thorn.
William Trimbletoe
He's a good fisherman.
Ketches hens,
Put 'em in a pen.
Some lays eggs,
Some lays none.
Wil' briar, limber lock,
Ten geese in de flock.
The clock fell down,
The mouse ran aroun',
OUT spells Begone.1
( Variant.)
William, William Trimbletoe
He's good fisher.
Catch him hen.
Put um in de pen.
Some lays eggs,
Some don't.
Wil' briar, limber lock,
Ten geeses in de flock.
Flock fell down,
Mouse cut aroun'.
OUT tawny spell go tee out.
The counting is done on the two forefingers of each player, the
fingers together in a circle. The player counted out must withdraw,
and bark like a dog, or crow like a rooster.
CLUB-FIST.
Wha' you got dere?
Bread an' cheese.
Wha's my share?
In the wood.
Wha' the wood?
Fire burned it down.
Wha' the fire?
Water put it out.
Wha' the water?
Ox drunk it.
Wha' the ox?
1 Compare N. C. Hoke, "Folk-Custom and Folk-Belief in North Carolina" (JAFL 5 :
119).
208 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Butcher killed it.
Wha' the butcher?
Rope hang him.
Wha' the rope?
Rat gnawed it.
Wha' the rat?
Cat catched it.
Wha' the cat?
Dead an' buried
Benin' de church door.
Fee fo, first um speaks,
Shows his teeth,
Gets a box an' a pinch.1
OLD CHRISTMAS IN GUILFORD COUNTY, NORTH CAROLINA.
"Nex' Friday will be 01' Christmas," said Henry Stockton, a Negro
of about forty, before whose fireplace I was at the time sitting. "My
gran'mammy used to take a piece of coal an' mark up here each day
after Christmas for twelve days," and he pointed to the whitewashed
lintel of the fireplace.
By him and by many others, old and young, white and colored, I
was told that on Old Christmas "day broke twice," that the Poke
{Phytolacca americana L.) stalks and the hop-vines put up early in
the morning to go back again when the sun is well up; and that before
"sun-up," or more commonly at midnight, the beasts, the cows, and
the horses fell on their knees to pray. "We had an' ol' horse called
Nellie," said one girl, "an' one year Popper took us out to see her at
midnight. She was sure lyin' down." — "I'd like to go out to the
barn to see," said an older white woman.
On Old Christmas even to-day the older people will not work.
One old colored woman had a story of how one year in her youth her
mother had forgotten about the day, and was spinning. Her mother's
sister came in, and exclaimed about it. "But it's not 01' Christmas,"
said her mother. "Yes, 'tis. I know it is 01' Christmas, because I
saw the hop-vines up." Apart from not working on the day, there
seems to be no other way of celebrating.
I may add that formerly in celebrating Christmas, old people
told me, the stocking of a naughty child would be filled with switches,
and switches only. Aunt Lamy Tatum told me that her mother's
threat of these switches made her good before Christmas. Aunt
Lamy's great-nephew believed in the filler of stockings, in Santa
Claus, until he was eighteen.
New York.
1 Variants: (a) Whoever grin
Gets a pinch an' a box an' a smack.
(&) Gets nine slaps an' ten pinches.
(Given by a white woman.)
Tales from Maryland and Pennsylvania. 209
TALES FROM MARYLAND AND PENNSYLVANIA.
BY ELSIE CLEWS PARSONS.
The first tale was related to me by Georgie Welden of Wayne, Pa.
Nos. 2 and 3 were told by Helen Seeny of Maryland, No. 2 having
been related to her by her grandmother, a native of Maryland. Nos.
4-7 were told by Mary Smith of Lincoln, Pa.; and Nos. 8-1 1, by
Ruth Holmes, who heard No. 8 from her grandmother from Char-
lotteville, Va.
I. KEEPING PACE.1
Once upon a time there was a fox and a lion. They were going
to have a race. The lion said that he could beat all the fox racin'.
The fox said that he couldn't beat him racin'. So they got under the
mark. They both started out the same time. The lion was runnin'
so fast that the fox couldn't keep up with him. So he jumped on the
lion back. And when they got to the place, the fox was there too.
So that the way it ended out.
2. OUT OF HER SKIN.2
There was a man, an' he had a wife, an' everybody said she was a
witch. They would complain 'bout the nightime they would hear
a hollerin' an' say it was a witch. So this ol' man he wanted to find
out whether his wife really was a witch. So he staid awake one
night to watch her. So she got up 'bout twelve o'clock o'night, an'
she shook herself, an' her skin all came off. So he was watchin' all
the time. An' after she went out, he found the skin all fixed up like
a person sittin' in the corner. So he got up an' takin' her skin an'
filled it full o' salt. So when the ol' woman came round about four
o'clock in the mornin', an' she went to put her skin on, an' she pulled
an' pulled, an' so she got it half way on an' couldn't get it any further.
So de ol' man he jumped up, an' he frightened her so, she fell down
dead with her skin half way on.
{Second Version})
Once was a man and a woman, and they was both witches. And
once they was out one night and didn't have no place to go. And so
1 Informant Georgie Welden. See this number, p. 189.
2 Informant Helen Seeny. See this number, p. 187.
3 Informant Helen Seeny.
VOL. XXX. — NO. Il6. — 14.
210 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
they went to some man and woman's house. And they give 'em a
place to stay for de night. So round about twelve o'clock the old
woman got up an' she rubbed her skin, and her skin all fell off. And
the man did the same. So when she got ready to go out, she puts
a white cap on her head, an' she said, "I cast away." And he said,
"I after you." And so they went out, an' they went to some man's
store. And they went in there to take things, and they made a
bargain they would divide even up. So after they got 'em, the ol'
woman seemed to think the ol' man was takin' more than what
belonged to him. So when she got ready to go, she wanted to punish
him. And she didn't know no other way, so she snatched this white
cap off his head. And she said, "I cast away." An' he said, "I
after you." But he forgot he didn't have his cap on his head, so he
couldn't get out. So de nex' mornin', when de man came down to
the store, he found the ol' man couldn't get out thro' the keyhole.
When they found him, he didn't have no skin on him. The man said
a man like that didn't have no business to be livin' in the world, so
they was going to have him hung. So they had this man all in the
wagon to take him to be hung. So they looked up in the sky, an'
they seen something flyin'. Looked like a big bird, yet too large to
be a bird. So what they thought to be a bird lit down on this wagon
what the man was in, and it was the ol' woman. So she put this
white cap on this ol' man's head, an' she said, "I cast away," an' he
said, "I after you." And they both got away free. That's all.
3. TABLECLOTH, DONKEY, AND CLUB.1
Once upon a time there lived a woman an' a boy in a house together,
Jack an' his mother. An' Jack's father was dead. So Jack's mother
planted some barley. An' she told Jack to get the barley. Jack was
lazy, an' he didn't want to gather it. So one day she whipped him
with a broomstick, an' made him go to gather it. An' Jack made
up his mind then that he would go an' gather the barley. So when
he went to gather the barley, the wind had blown it away. There
was an oak-tree standin' in the field where the barley had been, so
Jack picked up a club an' commenced to beat on the tree. So there
came along a little old man while Jack was beatin' on the tree. An'
he said to Jack, "Jack, my son, what are you doin'?" An' I said,
"I'm beatin' the wind for blowing my barley away." So the little
man reached in his pocket, an' he took out something that looked to
be a handkerchief to Jack. An' instead of being a handkerchief, it
was a tablecloth. An' so the old man said, "Spread, tablecloth,
spread!" An' so it spread, and there was a lot of all different kinds
of food on it. So the ol' man said to Jack, "Take this home, an' it
1 Informant Helen Seeny.
Tales from Maryland and Pennsylvania. 211
will pay your mother for the barley." But instead of going home,
Jack went to a half-way house to play, an' he staid there all night.
An' he said to the people when he went to bed, "Do not tell this
tablecloth to spread." But as soon as he was in bed, they told the
tablecloth to spread. So in place of Jack's tablecloth they put their
own, an' kept Jack's. So the next mornin' Jack got up overjoyed,
an' took the tablecloth an' ran home. So he says to his mother,
"Mommer, I have something to pay for all your good barley, even
though the wind has blown it away." He says, "Just tell this table-
cloth to spread." An' they told the tablecloth to spread, an', instead of
spreading, it lay still. So his mother whipped him an' sent him out
again. And he went down the field an' beat the same oak-tree.
And the little old man came along again, an' he said, "Jack, my son,
what are you doing to-day?" So he says, "Didn't the tablecloth
repay your mother for the barley?" An' Jack said, "No, when I
told it to spread, it lay still on the table." So by this time there
came a donkey up. So the little old man he said, "Tell this donkey
to shake." An' Jack told the donkey to shake. An' he shook a
pack of gold out of one foot, and a pack of silver out of the other.
But, instead of going home this night, he went back to the half-way
house again; but he cautioned them to be sure not to tell the donkey
to shake. But it wasn't long before he had gone to bed but they went
to the stable and told the donkey to shake. And when they found
out that he shook a pack of gold out of one foot, an' a pack of silver
out of the other, they put their donkey in place of his. So the next
mornin' he got up an' rode the donkey home to his mother; an' he
said to her, "Now, this time, mother, I really have got something
that will pay you for your barley." He says, "Let's tell this donkey
to shake." But the donkey stood still. So the old lady beat him an'
sent him away again. So this time, while he was beatin' on the tree,
the little old man came along again. So he says, "Jack, my son,
what are you doin' this mornin'?" Jack says, "I'm still beatin' the
wind for blowing my barley away." So this time the little old man
gave Jack a club. An' he told Jack whatever he wanted the club to
beat, to tell it, "Beat, Club, beat!" So Jack went to the half-way
house again with the club. So he said to de people before he went
to bed, "Be sure and don't tell this club to beat." So Jack went up-
stairs, but he didn't go to bed this time; an' wasn't long till he heard
the old man say, "Beat, Club, beat!" an' the club commenced to
beat on the man. And the old man stood it as long as he could, an'
the woman told it to beat her. So they couldn't stand it no longer,
so they called for Jack. When Jack came down, he asked them what
was the matter. And the man said he had told the club to beat, an'
it beat on him. So Jack says, "Give me my donkey an' tablecloth,
212 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
and I'll stop the club from beatin'." So, to keep from gettin' beat
any more, they give Jack his donkey and tablecloth. So Jack took
the donkey an' the tablecloth an' the club, all three, home to his
mother. So Jack says, "Mother, I am quite sure this time I have
more than enough to pay you for all the barley you have planted."
So he says, "Tell this tablecloth to spread." So he says, "Tell this
donkey to shake." An' then he says, "Tell this club to beat." An'
it beat her. And he says, "That's the way it felt when you beat me."
So, after it beat her a while, he told it to stop. An' after the club
had stopped beatin', they lived happy together always after, by the
use of the tablecloth, club, an' donkey.1
4. JACK AND THE BEAN-POLE.2
Jack an' his mother lived together, an' they had planted some beans.
And it seemed that one bean had strayed off from the rest, an' it
grew up right alongside of the house. Their house was right below
a hill, and Jack had always wondered what was on top of the hill.
So one day Jack climbed a bean-pole to get up to the top of the hill.
So, when he had got to the top, he saw a palace, an' he went to this
place to see who lived there. So, when he had got there, he found
it was a giant's castle, but the giant wasn't at home. But his wife
was. Jack was tired and hungry. So he asked the lady to take him
in and give him something to eat. So she did so. But she told him
not to let her husband catch him there. So, while Jack was eating,
the giant came to the door. She told Jack to hide, an' Jack hid in
the chest behind the door. So the giant came in. He said, —
He said, —
"Fe, fi, fo, fum,
I smell the blood of an Englishmune."
" Be he alive or be he dead,
Fe, fi, fo, fum!"
But his wife told him that he didn't, that it was only some mutton
that she was cooking. So the giant sat down to eat his supper; and
after he had finished eating, he called to his wife, and told her to bring
him the wonder-box, which he was supposed to have taken from
Jack's father before Jack's father died. So, while the giant was
sitting there looking in the box, he fell asleep. An' Jack slipped
out of the chest behind the door, an' took the wonder-box home to
his mother. So it wasn't very long till Jack made up his mind to
make another trip back to the castle of the giant. So, when Jack
went back this time, he tried to put on like another poor little boy
1 Compare Parsons, LXXXVIII; Smith, 29-30. 2 Informant Mary Smith.
Tales from Maryland and Pennsylvania. 213
that was half starved. So he begged entrance at the door of the
castle from the wife. And she didn't want to have him in, and she
told him about the boy that had took the wonder-box from her
husband. So he begged so hard that she left him in, an' she gave him
some bread and milk to eat. And again, while Jack was eating, the
giant came. And as he came in the door, he said, —
He said,
"Fe, fi, fo, fum,
I smell the blood of an Englishmune."
" Be he alive or be he dead,
Fe, fi, fo, fum!"
And Jack jumped in the salt-cellar. His wife said, "No, there hasn't
been any one here to-day." She says, "I'm only roastin' some pork
for your supper." So, after he ate his supper, the giant sent for his
golden hen that lay the golden egg. So his wife went and brought it
for him. And while the giant was playing with the egg that the hen
had laid, he fell fast asleep. An' Jack carried off the hen and the egg
down the bean-stalk to where his mother lived. But Jack still thought
that he wanted to visit the castle again. So this time, when he went
up the bean-stalk to the giant's castle, he was in the appearance of a
newsboy selling papers. So, while the wife went to get the money
to buy a paper, the giant appeared, and Jack hid in the closet. And
the giant repeated again, —
He said,
"Fe, fi, fo, fum,
I smell the blood of an Englishmune."
" Be he alive or be he dead,
Fe, fi, fo, fum!"
So the wife said, "No, there hasn't been any one here to-day." And
after the giant had ate his supper, he called for his harp, the only
thing that he had left, an' this was a magic harp. So it commenced
to play, an' it played so sweetly that the giant fell fast asleep and
commenced to snore. And as the harp stopped playing, Jack came
out of the closet, took the harp, and started to the door. But the
harp began to play, and it woke the giant up. An' the giant followed
Jack out of the door, an' Jack run as fast as he could down the bean-
stalk, an' the giant started to follow. But as the giant reached the
top, Jack cut down the bean-stalk with an axe; an' as the giant stepped
on, he fell down an' broke his neck. An' Jack and his mother always
lived happy afterward with the property of the father which the
giant had stolen an' Jack had restored again.
214 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
5. IN THE WELL.1
There was a deep well, an' there was a little bit of water in the
bottom of it. An' so one day a fox chanced to goin' by, an' he fell in.
So a billy-goat came by. And the fox called to him, an' he asks him
to help him out. An' the billy-goat said he couldn't. But the fox
said, "There is fine fresh water down here, brother Goat." So the
goat was thirsty. So he went to get a drink; and when he went to
get a drink, he fell in; an' the fox said, "Help me out, then I'll help
you." So the goat agreed to do so. So the fox said, "Let me jump
upon your back an' climb out, then I'll reach down an' help you up."
So the goat was silly enough to do so. But when the fox had got out,
he said, "I'm sorry, brother Goat, but my paws are too short to reach
you." So he ran away an' left the poor goat in the water, after he
had helped him out.
6. THE RACE.2
Once upon a time there was a tortoise and a rabbit lived in a forest
together. So the rabbit says to the tortoise, "How slow you walk!"
So there was a river not far away, where water-lilies grew. So the
tortoise said to the rabbit, "I'll run a race with you." So the rabbit
laughed at the tortoise. So the rabbit asked where he wanted to
run a race to. The tortoise said, "Down to the river, where the
water-lilies grew." And the rabbit said, "You'll grow old and die
before you get there." But the turtle said to the rabbit, "Who
shall we have for a judge to this race?" An' the rabbit said, "We'll
get Mr. Wolf for a judge." So they said, one, two, three, an' away
they went. So the rabbit ran right fast till he got in sight of the river
where the water-lilies grew. And he lay down in the shade to rest.
While he was resting, he fell fast asleep. And when he awoke again,
it was the next day at dinner-time. So he was very hungry; and he
ran into a near field an' eat some clover, an' he didn't know that the
tortoise had passed him while he was asleep. So after he had ate his
dinner, he ran right fast to the goal. But who should he find when
he got there, waiting for him, but the tortoise who he had laughed at
the day before.
7. THE FROZEN TAIL.3
Once there was a fox an' a rabbit. They was in partnership.
The rabbit used to go fishing a lot. The rabbit told the fox he could
show him where there was a nice lot of fish. The rabbit said, " Don't
pull up until you feel your tail getting stiff an' heavy." After a
1 Informant Mary Smith.
2 Informant Mary Smith. Compare Parsons, L (1). See this number, pp. 174, 226.
3 Informant Mary Smith. Compare JAFL 12 : 112.
Tales from Maryland and Pennsylvania. 215
while the fox said, "My tail getting heavy, can I pull up?" Rabbit
said, "No, don't pull up yet. Wait till you get a few more on. Pull
up now! You got a nice bunch on." His tail stuck, was froze.
"That's just what I wanted, Mr. Fox, you treated me so dirty."
8. DIVIDING THE SOULS.1
Once there were two men, an' they were out one afternoon fishin'.
They caught a large basket of fish. It was growin' towards evening.
One of the men says, "Where shall we go to count the fish?" The
other man says, "Oh, we'll find a place." So they went on till they
come to a graveyard. So they stopped. They went in an' started
a-countin', "One for me, an' one for you." They had dropped two
fish on the road. They kept on saying, "One for me an' one for you,
two for me an' two for you." One of the preacher's friends come
along. He stopped an' listened, an' they were in their fifties. He
thought the Devil and the Lord was in the graveyard dividin' up
people. So he goes to the preacher's house. And he said, " Reverend
John, your preachin's true, but the Devil an' the Lord's in the grave-
yard dividin' up people." Says, "How do you know? I don't
believe you." Says, "Well, get your hat and come an' see." When
they had got to the graveyard, they heard the two fishermen say,
"Let us go after the other two!" So they both ran home as fast as
they could go.
9. PLAYING GODFATHER.2
Once there was a family of bears. They lived in a little hut in
the woods. One day father Bear went to town and bought a large
tub of butter. On his way home he met b'o' Wolf. The wolf says
to brother Bear, "What have you got there?" He says, "Some butter
for my family." The wolf says to brother Bear, "How long do you
think that butter's going to last you?" He said, "It will last over
winter." So they all went out to work in the field. B'o' Wolf say,
"Listen! I hear my wife callin' me." So he left the field an' snuk
around back of brother Bear's house. He went in an' ate the top off
brother Bear's butter. Then he went back to the field an' said to
brother Bear, "I had a little niece born to-day;" and brother Bear
said, "What did you name it?" He said, "I named it Top-Off."
So the next day they was out in the field again, and he said to brother
Bear, "Listen! don't you hear my wife callin' me again?" B'o' Bear
said, "No, I don't hear no one callin' you." He said, "Well, I do.
I mus' go." So he goes back to b'o' Bear's house, an' eats half of the
butter. So he comes back again, an' says, "I had another niece born."
1 Informant Ruth Holmes. See this number, p. 177.
2 Informant Ruth Holmes. See this number, p. 192.
216 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
An' b'o' Bear says, "What did you name her this time?" He said,
"Oh, I named her Half-Gone." He said, "Half-Gone, that's a peculiar
name!" So the third day he went back an' finished it. So b'o' Wolf
said to b'o' Bear, "This was the last one she's goin' to have. Because
it was the last one, I named it All-Gone." So the corn and potatoes
was ripe in b'o' Bear's field, an' he was goin' to have a big supper.
So they had a big time, Mis' Bear an' b'o' Bear fixin' for the supper.
So they went to look for the butter, an' it was gone. So b'o' Bear he
didn't know what to make of that. So he said to b'o' Fox, "Some-
body takin' my butter, an' I'm goin' to give a party, an' after the
party I'm goin' to have everybody sit in a row in the sun, an' the one
that had taken the butter it will show on their mouth. An' brer
Fox said, "I don't blame yer, brother Bear." So brer Bear gave a
big party, an' he invited all his friends. He told them how he missed
his butter. They all agreed with his plans. So, after the party was
over, they all sat in a circle in the sun, an' the grease was all runnin'
down brer Fox's mouth, an' all their eyes were turned to brother Fox.
So brer Bear said to brer Fox, "I'll let you off this time, but next time
I'll hang yer." So the party ended, an' they all went on their way.
10. VOICE ABOVE.1
Brer Fox was goin' round makin' a lot of trouble. So he drove
brother Bear's wife from home by goin' round makin' mischief on her.
Said he seen her go down to the pond and flirt with brother Turtle.
So after she had gone, it was too late for brother Bear, an' he was sorry.
So they made up their minds to hang him. So brother Bear an' a
lot of his friends got a rope an' hid behind some thickets. When
brother Fox went by, they caught him an' take him to the church.
So brer Fox said, " Plea§e let me go say good-by to my wife an' children
first." Brer Bear was the judge. He gave brer Fox five minutes.
He went down to a large pond, an' he met his friend the stork. He
sat down an' began to cry. The stork said, "What's the matter,
friend of mine? Can I help you out any way?" Brother Fox said,
"Oh, yes! they're goin' to hang me." He said, "You go on ahead of
me, an' when they start to hang me, you git up in the ceilin', an' jus'
say these words, 'Don't kill him, don't kill him!'" So the stork said
"All right!" So he went to the church, and the bear was very glad
to have him. The stork got in a corner by himself. They put brer
Fox in the electric chair, an' was jus' gettin' ready to push the button,
an' the stork flew up in the ceilin' an' begin to sing, "Don't kill him,
don't kill him!" An' they all stopped an' listened; and brother Fox
said, 'Listen! do you hear that?" An' brother Bear say, "Yes, what
is it?" He said, "the Lord sendin' his angels down to tell yer not
1 Informant Ruth Holmes.
Tales from Maryland and Pennsylvania. 217
to kill me." So they all got scared an' left the church, an' left brother
Fox in the 'lectric chair. An' when they had gone, brer Fox got way
up in top of a big tree, an' he laughed an' laughed till he cried. He
said, "O brer Bear! I got the best of you, after all." That's all.
II. THE DISMEMBERED GHOST.1
Once there was a man, an' he wanted a place to lodge jus' fur the
night, him an' his friends. So the man saw a little light 'tween the
trees, an' he followed the light. It led him to a little house way
back in the woods. It was an old man standin' in the door. The
man says, "Say, Mister, have you got a place where I can lodge all
night?" He says, "There's a little house back there, but it's haunted.
If you can stay in it, all right." He says, "I can stay any place the
Devil can stay." So he says, "Come on, fellers, we've got a good
place!" So the man says, "We can have a nice game of cards here
too." They all got around the table, an' had jus' finished a game of
cards, when one man looked up, an' a pair of legs came down. He
said, "Come on, let's go!" The other men said, "Let's stay here an'
see what the end of it is." So they played a second game, an' a body
came down. An' they kep' on playin', an' two arms came down. The
other man says, "How much longer you goin' to stay here?" He
said, " Don't be so scared ! nothin' ain't goin' to bother you." He says,
"I'm right here; if anything bothers you, it will bother me too."
Then the head come down. The man that was standin' in the middle
of the floor said, "Well, what are yer doin' playin' cards in my house?"
So they all got up from the table, lef everything they had, an' ran to
the man's house. The man says, "What's the matter, fellers?"
The men say, "We can't stay in that place." The man says, "Well,
you said you could live anywhere the Devil was." They say, "I
know, but I can't live there." That's all.
1 Informant Ruth Holmes. See this number, p. 195.
218
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
RING-GAMES FROM GEORGIA.
BY LORAINE DARBY.
I SAW in southern Georgia a number of ring-games which I believe
are peculiar to the colored children of that region. One of the prettiest
is "The May-Pole Song." One girl skips about inside the ring, and
at the singing of the fourth line bows to the one she chooses. Then
both "jump for joy," a peculiar step rather like a clog, which outsiders
find very difficult to learn. Then the song is repeated, the second girl
choosing; and so on.
ift
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S3
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All around the May-pole,
The May-pole, the May-pole,
All around the May-pole,
Now, Miss Sallie, won't you bow?
Now, Miss Sallie, won't you jump for joy,
Jump for joy, jump for joy?
Now, Miss Sallie, won't you jump for joy?
Now, Miss Sallie, won't you bow?
A game which is most amusing to watch is "Good Old Egg-Bread."
The leader shouts one line, and the others answer with the next.
The rhythm is very strong, and they stamp their feet most energetically
as they circle.
Did you go to the hen-house?
Yes, ma'am!
Did you get any eggs?
Yes, ma'am!
Did you put 'em in the bread?
Yes, ma'am!
Did you stir it 'roun'?
Yes, ma'am!
Did you bake it brown?
Yes, ma'am!
Did you hand it 'roun'?
Yes, ma'am!
Ring-Games from Georgia. 219
Good old egg-bread,
Shake 'em, shake 'em!
Good old egg-bread,
Shake 'em, shake 'em!
Did you go to the lynchin'?
Yes, ma'am!
Did they lynch that man?
Yes, ma'am!
Did the man cry?
Yes, ma'am!
How did he cry?
Baa, baa!
How did he cry?
Baa, baa!
Did you go to the wedding?
Yes, ma'am!
Did you get any wine?
Yes, ma'am!
Did you get any cake?
Yes, ma'am!
How did it taste?
So good !
How did it taste?
So good !
Good old egg-bread,
Shake 'em, shake 'em!
Good old egg-bread,
Shake 'em, shake 'em!
Bow, Mr. Blackbird, bow, Mr. Crow.
Bow, Mr. Blackbird, bow no mo'!
Similar to this is "'Way Down Yonder."
Way down yonder
Soup to soup!
Where dem white folks
Soup to soup!
Just singin' an' prayin'
Soup to soup!
Tryin' to make man
Soup to soup!
Biscuits hot
Soup to soup!
Corn-bread cold
Soup to soup!
Thank God Almighty
Soup to soup!
Just give me a little mo'
Soup to soup!
220 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
In "Old Green Field," too, the leader and the ring sing alternately.
One inside chooses, and the action follows the words.
Old green field,
Rock to your love!
Old green field,
Rock to your love !
Tell me who you love!
Rock to your love!
Tell me who you love!
Rock to your love!
O Miss ! your name is called.
Come, take a seat right beside your love!
Kiss her once and let her go.
Don't let her sit in this chair no mo'.
Old green field,
Rock to your love! •
Old green field,
Rock to your love!
"Take Your Lover in the Ring" plainly dates from slavery times.
My old mistress promised me
Before she died she would set me free.
Take your lover in the ring.
I don't care!
Take your lover in the ring.
I don't care!
Now she's dead and gone to hell.
I hope that devil will burn her well!
Take your lover in the ring.
I don't care!
Take your lover in the ring.
I don't care!
It's a golden ring.
I don't care!
It's a silver ring.
I don't care!
In "High O" the action is very swift. A girl skips quickly once
around inside the ring, chooses another, and takes her place.
In come another one,
High O!
A mighty pretty little one,
High O!
Then get about, go!
High O!
Then get about, go!
High O!
Ring-Games from Georgia.
221
Perhaps the most charming of all is "This Lady wears a Dark-
Green Shawl." The action is carried out by two in the centre, choosing
as in the other games, in turn.
m Jk-e-s-j
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This lady she wears a dark-green shawl,
A dark-green shawl, a dark-green shawl.
This lady she wears a dark-green shawl —
I love her to my heart!
Now choose for your lover, honey, my love!
Honey, my love! honey, my love!
Now choose for your lover, honey, my love! —
I love her to my heart!
Now dance with your lover, honey, my love! etc.
Throw your arms 'round your lover, etc.
Farewell to your lover — etc.
Kalamazoo, Mich.
Journal oj American Folk-Lore.
FOLK-TALES COLLECTED AT MIAMI, FLA.
BY ELSIE CLEWS PARSONS.
Nos. 1-13 a were told me by George Washington. Born in 1850,
he grew up in Manatee County, Florida. His mother was a Virginian ;
his father, a native of Charleston, S.C. They were married in
Charleston. Then the wife was sold down to Manatee County. Her
husband ran away from his master and followed her. His master
recovered him, but subsequently sold him for eighteen hundred dollars
to the owner of the wife. Nos. 13 b-16 were told by Scott Payne. He
was born in 1863 at Tallahassee, Fla., and came to Miami in 1896.
He was, he said, '"bout de oldes' citizen."
I. NO TRACKS OUT.
De dogs held a convention. Up came de fox. Says de dog to Mr.
Fox, "We had a convention las' night. An' we decided not to bother
with the fox any mo'." De dog says to Mr. Fox, "You may go on."
De fox den says to Mr. Dog, "Kent I git a hen?" — "Yes, you may."
But Mr. Fox said to de dog, "I hear a barkin' behin' me." — "Oh,"
says Mr. Dog to de fox, "We have agree to disagree. You better run
along an' let de hen go." De dog said to Mr. Fox, "The reason why I
said let him go, because you all tracks goin' an' none comin' back." l
2. TAR BABY.
De rabbit said, "I see a boy sittin' up yonder. What is that?" —
"Oh!" said, "it's simply a boy. Are there any harm in him?" —
"No." — "May I go an' hit him?" — "Oh, yes!" De rabbit walks
up to de tar boy an' slaps him. Dat han' got fastened. "Oh!" he
says, "I have another one." He taps him with that, an' that got
fastened. "Oh!" he says, "I have another one." He tap him with
that, an' that got fastened. "Oh!" he says, "the fou't' more power-
ful than all." He slap him with that one. That got fastened. He
says, "O boy! if you will let me go, I'll never come to see you any
mo'." He says, "I see now that you are not a tar baby, but a devil-
ketcher." 2
3. AHSHMENS AT DE WELL.3
One said to the oder, "Let me go an' ketch hold de winders. So on
we will go an' ketch each oder until we reach de water." When de
1 See this number, p. 175. 2 See this number, p. 171. 3 Title given by narrator.
Folk-Tales collected at Miami, Fla. 223
twelf one got down to de level feet, de one who had hoi' de winder
said, "O Pat! let me take my han' aloose an' ketch a fresh hoi'."
An' de one at de bottom -said, "Pat, I'm drinkin' de mos' water,
because I'm at de bottom." 1
4. DE DEER AN' DE HUNTIN' MAN.2
He says, "You go to de stand whiles I go an' drive; an' when he
come out, you shoot him." De deer came by. De huntsman come
up and ask him, "Did you see him come by?" — "Yes, I did." —
"Why didn't you shoot him?" — "Because he came by with a chair
on his head. An' de reason I didn't shoot him, de rate he's at, he will
soon kill himself." — "About how many knots you think he was
makin' an hour?" — "Oh, about forty knots an hour." — "Where
do you think he's at now?" — "At Philadelphy." — "What did he
hit dere?" — "Big Clarence pos'." — "How long you think he will
be in dyin'?" — "Oh, he's dead now."
5. ON THE DEER'S BACK.
Two Ahshmen went huntin'. They came across a deer asleep.
Pat with the axe an' he jumped on de deer's back. De deer awoke
from his sleep, an' he run off. Pat on de deer's back hollered back to
his pardner, an' says, "Pat, the Devil has got me at las'! Now, tell
me, Pat, what side mus' I hit him on?"
6. SAMSON AND SATAN.
Satan said to Samson, "They tell me that you are the strongest
man in the world." Samson says, "Yes, I s'pose I am. Let us to-day
try our strength." Satan said to Samson, " I will fus' try de hammer
dat knock upon anvil." Samson says to Satan, "T'row dat hammer
up, see how high you can t'row it." He t'rowed it seventy-five miles.
Samson says, "Why, Satan, have you another hammer?" He says,
"Why, yes!" He says, "What's the name of that hammer?" — "De
one dat we wel's ahn (weld iron) with." He says, "How high can
you t'row dat one?" — "Oh," he says, "'bout a hundred miles." —
"Oh," he says, "you can't t'row at all. I t'ought you was a man."
He says, "Now, Satan, you stan' back! you ahn't a man at all."
Samson steps an' takes up de anvil an' looks up ter de skies, an' said,
"Michael an' Rafeel an' all de holy angils," he says, "stan' back,
because here comes de anvil!" An' when he swing de anvil twice,
Satan said to Samson, he said, "Don' do that! Save heaven an' de
hos'." He said, "If you knock 'em outer existence, what shall we
dofelivin'?"
1 Compare W. A. Clouston, The Book of Noodles (New York, 1888), pp. 46, 47.
2 Title given by narrator.
224 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
7. ME TOO.
De man got frightened atde ghos'! He leetle Fido dawg wid him.
De man he ran, de leetle dawg behin' him. De man got tired an'
stopped, an' said, "I'm tired." De leetle dawg said, "Me too."
Said, "Fido, I didn't know you could talk. Let's us go furder." l
8. THE DAMAGED LOCOMOTIVE.
'Bout a man who got drunk an' lay on de side de railroad. He
lays his han' across de steel. He was asleep an' forgot about de
train comin' dat way. De train come along, cut off his arm. His
pardner said to him, "What do you want me to do? Mus' I go an'
get a doctor?" He said, "No, go an' get my lawyer." — "What fer?"
He said, "I have run over de locomotive an' knock off one of de
drivers. De reason why I want a lawyer, I want to enter suit between
myself an' de locomotive. I think I have damaged de locomotive.
I want to pay de damage." Got de lawyer. "De locomotive sued
me for damage." — "What was de charge de locomotive heve against
you?" asked de lawyer. "I broke de driver." — "De State attorney
wants to know from me what is de driver." He said, "Dat t'ing dat
you tu'n over." — "Did you ketch de driver in you han'?" — "I did,
si'." — "What did you do to de driver?" — "I car'ed it home with
me, si'." — "What did you do when you got home?" — "I put it
in my trunk, si'." — "What did you do with the arm you said de
driver cut off?" — "I put it in de trunk wi' de driver." — "How
much did it cost you to injur' dat locomotive?" — "It jus' cos' me
my arm, si', dat's all."
9. AFTER SEVEN YEARS.
This man was named Logan. His wife was wery sick. Sent Mr.
Logan in haste fur de doctor. He went in haste, an' staid seven years.
An' when he came back, he came in such a hurry till he fell down an'
broke his jug. When he got at de house of his sick wife, he ask, "Is
my wife yet alive?" Says, "Lor', she has a strong constitution to
live dat long." He goes in to speak to his wife. "Husban', why you
tarr' so long?" — "I was in hopes, wife, by dis time, I was in hopes
dat you were dead, because my second wife was out dere in de garden
now." — "Tell her to come in." — "Good-mornin', Mis Rollin!"
Second wife says, "Good-mornin', Mis Rollin!" back. Says Mis
Rollin de fus', "How you gettin' long?" — "Oh," she said, "Gettin'
'long fine." She says, " Is dat so! Ken you an' me both be married
ter de same man an' agree?" — "We ken on conditions, provided
dat you sleep in a separate room to yerself, an' Mr. Rollin an' I be
1 See this number, p. 195 (No. 52).
Folk-Tales collected at Miami, Fla. 225
in a room ter ourselves." Said, "Another t'ing, you get out of my
house! because dis is my house." — "All right, Mis Rollin, I go, but
I see Mr. Rollin later."
10. IN THE BRIAR-PATCH.
Fox says, "I t'row you in de briar-patch." — "Oh," he says,
"brother Fox, please don' t'row me in de briar-patch!" — "Oh,
I'se going to t'row you in 'gardless of what might be de result of my
t'rowin' you in it, 'cause I don' like yer." De fox takes up de rabbit.
"Please," he says, "don' t'row me in de briar-patch, please, si'!"
Fox t'row de rabbit in de briar-patch. Rabbit stud at de edge of de
briar-patch an' looked at de fox. He says, "Brother Fox, do you
know dat dis is my house? Good-mornin', sir!" :
II. THE BOY AND THE COLT.
De colt was at de river drinkin' water. De boy hid hisself way in
de bushes. De boy said to hisself, "What a good time I'm goin' to
have terday shovin' dat colt inter de river!" De boy didn't know at
dat time dat while de colt was drinkin' water, he had one eye upon de
boy. De boy makes a lunge at de colt. De colt see de boy comin' to
him. De colt step aside an' t'row hisself into de river. After much
scramblin' an' scufflin', de boy got out de river. De boy said to his-
self, "It is a good thing dat I laugh befo' I lunge at de colt, because
dere was no time to laugh in de river."
T2. DE TERPIN AN' DE BOY.2
Now, de terpin was on a log. An' de eye dat de boy could see was
shut. De terpin eye that he had on de boy was open. De boy
stepped into de pond, an' he walks up ter ketch de terpin. When he
sees de terpin, de terpin sees him. He hollers ter people on de sho',
"Come an' he'p me ketch de terpin, because de terpin got me, an'
he'p us ter tu'n de terpin loose!"
13. THE RACE.
De terpin had a race with de rabbit. De terpin go long at each
mile-pos'. De rabbit he ran to de secon' mile-pos'. He see de terpin.
He says, "Broder Terpin, I will go an' take a leetle nap an' git me
dinner. I beat yer at de en'." While de rabbit takin' a nap, Terpin
studyin' him over. Placed anoder terpin at de third mile-pos'.
Rabbit still asleep. Rabbit awoke from his sleep. He see a terpin
at de fou't' mile-pos'. Jumps out ter go. "Oh, I lef it behin' me!"
1 See this number, pp. 171, 181. 2 Title given by narrator.
VOL. XXX. — NO. Il6. — 15.
226 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
not knowin' dat a terpin was at de fif mile-pos'. When he got to de
fif mile-pos', de terpin was dere. "Oh," de terpin said to brother
Rabbit, "while you was nappin' an' eatin' dinner I was studyin' on
him." But de rabbit failed to know the secret of de terpin convention.
Dey met de night befo' de race, an' plotted to place a terpin at each
mile-pos'. De agreement was in de terpin convention also, when
dey see Rabbit comin', dat dey was to go in de groun', so dat Rabbit
wouldn't see de terpin. But when he reach at de fif mile-pos', he
seen de terpin, because it was agreed among de terpin at de fif mile-pos'
he would not go in de groun' so dat de rabbit could see him. So de
rabbit would consider to himself, "While I was asleep an' eatin' dinner,
de terpin1 kep' goin'."
{Second Version.)
Dey had a race, an' dey had miles posts, an' dey had ten miles
to run. De gopher placed a gopher at every mile-pos'. Dey start,
an' he say, "Here dere, gopher, are you ready?" An' he say, "Yere,
I'm ready." So dey started. Nex' pos' he said, "Gopher, wha'
are you?" An' Gopher said, "I'm right here." De nex' mile-pos',
"Here dere, Gopher, are you dere yet?" — " Yere, I been here long
time. I'm waitin' on yer." So dat's de reason he don't like a gopher
to-day. He stump him when he meet him. De gopher out-tricked
him.
{Third Version.)
De rabbit an' de wolf was to have a race. So de rabbit he takes
his other rabbits an' placed them on de mile-poses. When he got
ready, he say, "O Brur Wolf! le's go from here!" He say, "You
dere?" He say, "Yere, I been here long time." He say, "Brur
Rabbit, what make your eyes so big?" 2 — "By Gawd! dey always
been big."
14. FATAL IMITATION.
De rooster was outside one day wi' his head tucked under his wing.
De rabbit met de rooster, an' he says, "Look here, brur Rooster! I
met you de oder day, an' yer head was off." He say, "How was
dat?" — "Oh," he say, I had de of lady chop my head. I jus' lay
it aside so I could sun it." An' de rabbit he thought he could play
de same trick, so he went home an' tol' his ol' lady to chop his head off.
So dat was de las' of his head. The rooster was smarter than the
rabbit was.3
1 See this number, pp. 174, 214. 2 Compare MAFLS 2 : 25 (VII).
3 See this number, pp. 190, 237.
Folk-Tales collected at Miami, Fla. 227
15. BIG FRAID AND LITTLE FRAID.
Once de man had a monkey. He had a boy who was never scary.
He always says to his boy, "Why don't you go an' drive dem cows
up befo' it git late?" He says, "O Popper! I'm not scary, be late,
be dark any time. I'm not scary." So de ol' man he allow he'd go
to de bed an' take a sheet off de bed to go to scare de boy. So de
monkey he t'ought he'd do the same trick. So he went to de table an'
he got de white tablecloth. So while de ol' man was sittin' on de
big en' of de log, de monkey was sittin' on de en' behin' de ol' man.
So he says, "Yond's a ghost, hum! Oh, dere's two of 'em!" So
instead of the ol' man scarin' de boy, de boy scare de ol' man. " Run,
big fraid, little fraid will ketch you. Can't you run?" Den de ol'
man fell in de do', an' de monkey on top of him scared to death.1
l6. GOD AND MOSES.
Said a fellow named Moses, an' he was prayin' to God to take
him out de world. An' while he was prayin' to God to take him out
de worl', "Who dere?" — "Moses." — "Who dere?" — "God." —
"What God want?" — "Want po' Moses." — "Who?" he said.
"God." — "Moses hain't here, his wife here, his wife do as well." —
"Come here, Moses, an' go to God." Say, "Where my shoes?" —
"You know where you shoes are. Dey under de bed dere." —
"Where's my hat?" — "You know where you hat is. You go git it."
— "O God! stan' one side! you so high, I can't go over you. You so
wide, I can't go around you. You so low, I can't go under you.
Stan' one side!" Den he stood one side. Him an' God, what a race
den dey had! An' he jumped over a high railin' fence, an' de fence
fell on him, an' he said, "Get off me, God, get off me!" An' God
never did get off.2
New York.
1 See this number, p. 172. 2 Compare Harris 3 : IV.
228 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
FOUR FOLK-TALES FROM FORTUNE ISLAND, BAHAMAS.1
BY W. T. CLEARE.
I, 2. BARTERING MOTHERS; THE BURIED TAIL.2
Once upon a time there were two good old friends, b'o Boukee and
bV Rabby. The times were so hard, that they couldn't get anything
to eat. B'o' Rabby say to b'o' Boukee, "Let us sell our moders."
B'o' Boukee say, "All right." B'o' Rabby say, "You tie your moder
with chain, and I tie my moder with string." After doing this, they
started off. When dey arrived in de bush, b'o' Rabby say, "B'o'
Boukee, beat your moder, make her walk faster, and I will beat my
moder." B'o' Rabby got one stick and beat his moder, and de
string broke and his moder run away. B'o' Rabby commenced to
cry, and say, "My moder gone." And he told b'o' Boukee go sell
his moder. B'o' Boukee say, "All right. You stay here until I
comes back."
B'o' Boukee sold his moder for a horse and cart loaded with pro-
visions, and he start. back to b'o' Rabby. B'o' Rabby say, "B'o'
Boukee, you hear de news? " B'o' Boukee say, " I ain't hear no news."
B'o' Rabby say, "One big ship come in the harbor dere. You go
run, and leave de horse and cart with me. I will mind it fur you go
see. You can run furder than me." So B'o' Boukee started to run,
and b'o' Rabby jump in cart and make horse run for his house. He
chop up the cart for fire-wood, he put provisions under the bed, and
cut off the tail of the horse and make him run away. He took the
tail and a pick-axe and shovel, and went back where b'o' Boukee
started to run. When b'o' Boukee come back, he find b'o' Rabby
digging. "What you doing?" he say. "Digging you horse," b'o
Rabby say. "See his tail I holding on to?" B'o' Rabby and b'o
Boukee dug and dug, but the tail broke whenever they pulled. B'o
Rabby say, "I tired. I going home. You come with me, b'o
Boukee, and I will give you some flour I have." B'o' Boukee went
and b'o' Rabby gave him some flour from under the bed. B'o
Boukee look. He say, "Dis looks like my flour." B'o' Rabby say,
"You got mark on your flour. I gib you a little flour to eat, and you
1 These tales were told by Da Costa, a Negro about thirty years of age. He and his
people are natives of Long Cay, Fortune Island.
2 Compare Harris i : XX; Harris 2 : XXXIX; G. W. Dasent, Tales from the Norse,
App. "Anansi and Quanqua" (New York and Edinburgh, 1904); for Italian and Norse
variants, Jahrbuch f. Romanische v. Englische Literatur, VIII (1867): 249-251; see also
this number, pp. 230-231. — E. C. P. For fuller titles see Bibliography on. p. 170.
Four Folk-Tales from Fortune Island, Bahamas. 229
say this is your flour. Fse no t'ief. Get away from my door!"
He then kicked b'o' Boukee, and b'o' Boukee run, and see me, and
told me that b'o' Rabby stole his grub.
3, 4. DEAD OR ASLEEP;1 GETTING THE OTHER FELLOW TO TAKE YOUR
PLACE.2
B'o' Rabbit and b'o' Bear fell out, so b'o' Bear say when he met
b'o' Rabbit there would be trouble. When b'o' Rabbit saw b'o'
Bear coming, he move along. One day b'o' Rabbit was going down
de road. He met one hoss sleeping. He look, and see b'o' Bear
way off. He holler, and say, "B'o' Bear, make haste, come so!"
B'o' Bear walk fast. B'o' Rabby say, "B'o' Bear, come! I show you
one dead hoss." B'o' Bear say, "The hoss be sleeping, sure." B'o'
Rabbit say, "You stronger than me. You hold his tail, and I will
beat him with stick." B'o' Bear got hold of de tail; but b'o' Rabbit
say, "De tail might slip. Let me tie your hands." B'o' Bear say,
"All right." B'o' Rabbit then went and cut stick and commenced to
beat the hoss, and de hoss flew up and run with b'o' Bear to his tail.
B'o' Rabbit he sing out, "Hold the hoss, b'o' Bear! Don't let him
go!" But b'o' Bear could not hold the hoss. By-by the string
broke and b'o' Bear let go of the hoss, and b'o' Rabbit run for the
bush and hid close to a field belonging to one b'o' Nanza.
Now b'o' Nanza had one trap set in de field, and b'o' Rabbit got
cot. B'o' Bear say, "Ah, I cot him now. Why he stand in the field?
I go see."— "B'o' Rabbit," he say, "why you stand in de field?"
B'o' Rabby say, "I watch dis field for ten pence an hour, but," he
say, "B'o' Bear, I want go to dance. You want dis job?" B'o'
Bear say, "Done." B'o' Rabbit say, "You pull dis t'ing open so I
can get my leg out and then you can get in." B'o' Bear did so and
the trap cot him, and b'o' Rabbit run away and go tell b'o' Nanza
that t'ief stole his corn. B'o' Nanza run. He find b'o' Bear in de
trap. "What you do here?" he say. "Watching dis field for ten
pence an hour," he said. "All right," b'o' Nanza say, "you watch
until I get back." B'o' Nanza went home, got a pot of hot water, and
when he get back he threw de hot water over b'o' Bear, and b'o' Bear
jumped and left his trousers and run home and say b'o' Rabbit stole
'em while he was in the sea.
Fortune Island,
Bahamas.
1 Compare Harris 2: II, XXXVI. — E. C. P.
2 MAFLS 2 : 89; Jones, LII; Harris 1 : XXIII, XXIX; Harris 2 : XXXI, XXXII;
"Folk- Tales from Georgia" (JAFL 13 : 22, IV); Folk-Lore Record, 3 [pt. 1] : 54
(Jamaica); "Stories from Tuxtepec, Oaxaca" (JAFL 25 : 200-202); "Notes on Mexi-
can Folk-Lore" (JAFL 25: 205, 236); E. Cosquin, Contes Populaires de Lorraine, X,
XX, LXXI; Bolte und Polivka, Anmerkungen zu den Kinder- u. Hausmarchen der
Briider Grimm (Leipzig, 1913), LXI; this number, p. 237. — E. C. P.
230 Journal of American Folk-Lore .
TEN FOLK-TALES FROM THE CAPE VERDE ISLANDS.
BY ELSIE CLEWS PARSONS.
The following tales were collected from Portuguese-Negro immi-
grants resident in Rhode Island and Massachusetts. They represent
a fragment of what may be called the Lob and Subrinh cycle of tales,
the Cape Verde Islands variant of the familiar cycle of the ill-matched
companions, — the one, big, greedy, and dull ; the other, little, tem-
perate, and quick. Boukee and Rabbit of the Bahamas are exact
counterparts, for example, of Lob and Subrinh.
The Portuguese dialect is that of Fogo Island, my very helpful
interpreter and teacher being a Fogo-Islander, Gregorio Teixeira Silva.
1-2. BARTERING MOTHERS; THE BURIED TAIL.
Un bes tenba grand' fom' na terr'. Lob' purgunta Pedr', "Pedr',
milho'nu ba bend' nosma' pa'milh'?" — " 'Nhor', si',"ePedr'cuntina
fral, "ma' de nho e mas fort' de qi de me. Nho marral na cord' de coc'
me un ta marr' de me cu cord' de fale." Pedr' fra se ma', "Oh ma'
un 'ranj' pa' nu ba cidad' bend' nos ma' pa' milh'. Oqi nu ba na
sert' cab', nha ta puxa, nha ta scapa, nha ta ben cas'." Depo's ma
de Pedr' ja scapa, ell' corr'. Pedr' fra Lob', "Milh' qi nu bend' ma
de nho, nu ta usal prumer', depo's un ta ba pega' nha ma', nu ta ben
bendel." 'Es ba na lugar unde qi staba pob'. Alii 'es bend' Lob
ma' pa' quat' sac' de milh'. Lob' pega burr'. Ell' caraga de milh
na cost'. Ell' fra Pedr' pa' ba pa' diant' cu burr'. Pedr' ba cu
burr' pa' dent' de lam' na berade riu. Ell' cort' burr' rab', ell' unterra
na lam'. Ell' dixa pont' for'. Depo's ell' ben pa' traz, ell' chuma
Lob' cuma burr' ja unterra dent' de riu. Lob' tra se casac'. "Un
ta puxal for'," ell' fra. Ell' peg' na rab'. Pedr' peg' tambe'. Ell'
fase cuma ell' sta judal, ma' Lob' ta puxa pa' riba Tubinh' l ta puxa p'ra
baxo. Assi' un poco Pedr' larg' rab' e Lob' tomba dent' de riu.
Ell* foga.
[Translation.2]
Once there was a great famine in the land.3 Lob asks Pedr, " Pedr,
shall we sell our mothers for corn? " — " Yes, Sehnor; " and Pedr goes on to
say, "Your mother is stronger than mine. Tie her with a rope.4 I'll
tie mine with ravellings." Pedr says to his mother, " 0 mother! we have
1 See p. 233, note 2.
2 Informant, Jose Campinha of San Anton. See this number, pp. 228-229.
3 Variant: There was no rain. Lob and Tubinh gathered no crop, and they had been
hungry for three days. (Fogo.)
4 Made of cocoanut-fibre.
Ten Folk-Tales from the Cape Verde Islands. 231
made a plan to go to town to sell our mothers for corn. When we go a
certain distance towards town, do you pull away, escape, go home." After
Pedr's mother has run away and escaped, Pedr says to Lob, " The corn
we get for your mother let us first use, then we will get my mother, we will
sell her." l They went on to a place where there were people. There they
sold Lob's mother for four sacks of corn. Lob gets burros, he loads the corn
on their backs. He tells Pedr to go ahead with the burros. Pedr goes with
the burros to the mud on the side of the river. He cuts off the tails of the
burros. He buries them in the mud, he leaves their tips out. Then he
turns back. He calls to Lob that the burros are stuck in the river. Lob
takes off his coat. " We'll pull them out," he says. He takes hold of a
tail. Pedr takes hold too, he makes out he is helping. But as Lob pulled
up, his nephew pulled down. After a little Pedr let go the tail, and Lob
fell into the river. He was drowned.
3-5. THE BIRDS TAKE BACK THEIR FEATHERS; THE INSULT MIDSTREAM ;
PLAYING DEAD.
Er' un lob' e un tubinh'. Tenba un' balh' na lheu. Tubinh' ungana
Lob'. Ell' fral cuma er' fest' e ca balh'. Lob' pedi pas' pa' pistal
penn' pa' ell' pode ba es' fest' na lheu. Pas' dal perm'. Ell' ba
lheu. Nobe hor', balh' cunca. Lob' staba cu raib' pamode e balh'
e ca fest'. Lob' purgunta Tubinh' se ca ten nad' qi cume? Tubinh'
raspondel, "Nao, es' e ca fest', e balh'." Prumer' qi balh' e Corb'.
Lob' cu raib' cunca cant', —
"Corb' pret'!
Bu cuda ma bo e gent'.
Bo e bunit'
Se bu ca ta staba
So ta grabata milh' de gent' na cob'."
Corb' tumal se penn'. Sugund' sahi ta balh' e Manelob'. Lob' cant', —
"Manelob'!
Bu cuda ma bo e gent'.
Bo e bunit'
Se bu ca ta staba
So ta bisia burr' cu cabr' mort' pa' bu cume."
Manelob' tumal se penn'. Out'o ta balha e passadinh'. Lob'
cant', —
" Passadinh'!
Bu cuda ma bo e gent'.
Bu ca olh' pa' qel bu boc' brumelh'
Se ca hera pa' bu boc'
Bo hera bunit'."
1 Variant: Lob, who had his mother tied on a four-inch rope (or the biggest rope in the
world), warns Tubinh his mother will jerk away. When she does, Lob says he is not going
to give Tubinh any of the corn and beans he will get for his mother. He gets six sacks of
corn. (Fogo.)
232 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Pasadinh' tumal se penn'. O't'o ta balha e Chinchirot', —
"E bu Chinchirot'
Bu cuda ma bo e gent'.
Bu ca rapara pa' bu bariga grand' e pe dalgad'
Se ca hera pa' qel
Bo hera bunit'."
Chinchirot' tumal se penn'. Out'o ta balha e Sotador. Lob' cant', —
"E bu Sotador!
Bu cuda ma bo e gent'.
Si bu ca ta staba traz de galinh' de gent' tud' hor'
Bo hera bunit'."
Sotador tumal se penn' que ell' daba ell'. Out'o ta balha e Galinh'
de Gine. Lob' cant', —
"Bu Galinh' de Gine!
Bu cuda ma bu e gent',
Ma' bu ca rapara pa' qel bu cabec' sec'.
Se ca pa bu cabec'
Bo hera bunit'."
Galinh' tumal se penn'. Seis hor' de palmanhan, balh' caba', tud'
'es ba pa' ses cas'. 'Es dixa Lob' ell' so' na lheu. Lob' cunca ta chora.
Nes hor' ben ta passa Tia Peix' Caball'. Ell' purgunta Lob,' " Cusa qi
bu ten?" — "Pas' pistan ses penn', un ben balh', ora qi manxe, 'es
tuma ses penn', 'es ba, 'es dixan 'li me so'." Peix' Caball' fral, "Se
bu ca hera malbad' un ta lebabo pa' terr'. "Lob' prometel, "Se nha
leban pa' nha terr', un ta paga nha ben." — "Bon, salta na nha cost'."
E peix' cunca ta nada' pa' terr'. Na metad' de caminh', Lob' fra, "O
qi grand' mama! O qiun chiga terr', un ta rincal undel for'." Peix'
Caball' purguntal, "Cusa qi bu fra?" — "Nada, un fra ma bu e
nadader'." 'Sim qi 'es chiga terr', Lob' bua na terr', ell' rincal un
mama sqerd' de Peix' Caball'.
Peix' Caball' fica detad' na prai', ta chora. Tubinh' ben ta passa,
ell' purguntal cusa qi ell' sta chora'. Peix' Caball' fra Tubinh', "Un
tras Lob' de qel lheu, 'sim qi ell' chiga terr' ell' rincan nha mama."
Tubinh' fral, "Se bu ta pagan algun cusa, un ta po nha Ti' Lob' dent'
de bu mon." — "Tia Peixe Caball' fral, "Se bu po Lob' na nha mon,
un ta pagabo cusa qi bu pedin." Tubinh' ba pa' cas'. Ell' chiga
pert' de cas', ell' chuma, se mulhe' rixo. Ell' fral, " Panh' fac', machad',
tagara, nu ba pa' bera mar' mata' un bac' qi sta la detad'." Lob'
staba pert', ell' obi, ell' fra, "Tubinh', qel bac' e de me e ca de bo, un
dixal 'li. Se bu po mon nel, un ta dabo un tir'." Antan Lob' fra se
mulhe', "Panh' nha fac', machad', tagara, nu ba pa' prai'." Ell'
chiga prai', ell' subi riba de Peix' Caball' pel mata'. Peix' Caball'
pegal na un pern', lebal pa' mar'. Mulhe' de Lob' bira ta chora,
Ten Folk-Tales from the Cape Verde Islands. 233
Lob' chumal, "Mulher, ca bu chora, ell' sta brinca cu me, ell' ca ta
fasen nada." Peix' Caball' murgulha cu ell' pa' fund'. 'Es ben riba,
Lob' olha mulher ta chora. Ell' fral, "Ca bu chora, ell' sta brinca
cu me. Se ell' ba fund', ell' ca ben mas, antan chora." Peix' Caball'
murgulha mas fund'. Lob' quas' fogad'. Ell' chuma se mulher,
ell' fral, "Chora, agoe hor' de chora', es' e ca brincadera." Peix' ere
ranjal. Ell' murgulha cu ell' pa' fund'. E 'li e fim de 'Nho' Lob'.
[Translation.1]
There was a wolf and a tubinh? ■ There was going to be a dance on an
island. Tubinh fooled Lob; he told him how it was a feast, not a dance.
Lob asked the birds to give him feathers so he could go to the feast on the
island. The birds give him the feathers, he goes to the island, at nine
o'clock the dance starts up. Lob is in a temper because it is a dance, not a
feast. Lob asks Tubinh, "Is there nothing to eat?" Tubinh answers,
"No, this isn't a feast, it's a dance." 3 The first to dance was Crow. Lob,
in a passion, begins to sing,4 —
"Black Crow!
You think you are somebody,
You are fine
If you were not digging up people's corn in the ground."
Crow takes from him his feather. Next to dance is Manelob.5 Lob sings, —
"Manelob!
You think you are somebody,
You are fine
If you were not on the lookout for dead donkeys and goats to eat."
Manelob takes from him his feather. Next to dance is Bluejay. Lob
sings, —
"Pasadinh'I
You think you are somebody.
You do not see your own red mouth.
If you did not have your mouth,
You would be fine."
1 Informant, Pedro Teixeira of Fogo. See this number, pp. 177, 178, 198, and espe-
cially Pub. Folk-Lore Soc. 1904 : No. XL. For No. 3 see Braga, Contos tradicionaes
do povo portuguez, p. 67. For No. 5 see also G. McC. Theal, Kaffir Folk-Lore (London,
1886), 115-116; Jacottet 1: 14-16. For full titles see Bibliography, p. 170.
2 Tubinh (Xubinh) is dialect for subrinho ("nephew"). The creature referred to is
known to be the nephew of Wolf (Lob) ; but the kinship term is used, as in this instance,
as a generic term, or more commonly as a proper name. In some of the islands Tubinh
is called Pedr.
3 It is customary, however, to serve canja (a stew of hominy and rice and chicken)
before midnight at a balh, and black coffee at 4 a.m. A dance may begin at any hour,
even in the morning, and it may last two or three days.
4 Although my informants did not sing, Lob's insults to the birds, they said, are usually
sung.
' Manelob da Silva. "Mane" is dialectical for "Manuel." "Manuel, wolf of the
wood," appears to be the island sobriquet for "vulture."
234 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Bluejay takes from him his feather. Next to dance is Chinchirot'.
"And you, Chinchirot'!
You think you are somebody,
You don't see your big belly, your (?) leg.
Were you not thus.
You would be fine."
Chinchirot' takes from him his feather. Next to dance is Hawk. Lob
sings, —
"And you, Satador!
You think you are somebody.
If you were not always after people's chickens,
You would be fine."
Hawk takes from him the feather he had given him. Next to dance is
Guinea-Hen. Lob sings out, —
"You, Galinh' de Gine!
You think you are somebody;
But you don't see your own measly head.
If you didn't have your head,
You would be fine."
Hen takes from him her feather. At six in the morning the dance was over,
everybody went home and left Lob on the island. Lob began to cry.
Just then there came by aunt Peix' Caball'.1 "What's the matter with
you?" she asks Lob. "The birds loaned me their feathers. I went to the
dance, then . . . they took their feathers, they went, they left me alone."
Peix' Caball' said, "If you were not so bad, I'd carry you to your country."
— " If you take me to my country, I'll pay you well," promises Lob. " Well,
jump on my back!" and the fish began to swim to land. Half way across,
Lob says, "Oh, what big breasts! When I get ashore, I'm going to bite one
of them off." — "What's that you say?" asks Peix' Caball'. "Nothing, I
said you were a swimmer." As soon as they make the shore, Lob jumps on
the ground, tears off the left breast of Peix' Caball'.
Peix' Caball' lies crying on the beach. Tubinh passes by, he asks her
why she is crying. Peix' Caball' says to Tubinh, "I brought Lob across
from that island, as soon as we landed he tore off my breast." — "If you
pay me something, I'll put uncle Lob into your hands," says Tubinh. Aunt
Peix' Caball' says, "If you put Lob into my hands, I'll give you whatever
you ask."
Tubinh starts for home. He nears the house; he calls out to his wife,
" Get knife, machad, tagara,2 we go down to the sea to kill a cow lying there!"
Lob was close by; he hears; he says, "Tubinh, that cow is mine, it is not
yours. I left her there. If you put a hand on her, I put a shot into you."
Then Lob says to his wife, "Get my knife, machad, tagara, we are going to
the beach!" He reaches the beach, he goes up on Peix' Caball' to kill her.
Peix' Caball' grabs him by the leg, she drags him into the sea. Lob's wife
screams. Lob calls back to her, "Wife, don't cry! she is just playing with
me, she is not going to do anything." Peix' Caball' dives down with him.
1 Horse-fish, a creature with the head of a horse, the tail of a fish.
2 A machad is a large knife. A tagara is a large wooden dish.
Ten Folk-Tales from the Cape Verde Islands. 235
They come up. Lob sees his wife still crying. He says, "Don't cry! she
is just playing with me. If she goes to the bottom and doesn't come up,
cry then." Peix' Caball' dives again deeper. Lob is almost choked. He
calls to his wife. He says, "Cry, this is the time to cry, this is not play."
Peix' wanted to settle him. She dove with him to the bottom. And that
is the end of Nho Lob.
6-IO. HOLDING UP THE CAVE; FATAL IMITATION; THE TOOTHPICK;
THE PASSWORD; GETTING THE OTHER FELLOW TO TAKE YOUR
PLACE.
(6) Ti' Lob' e Subrinh' Pedr' ba pa' camp' furt' pore'. 'Es lebal
dent' d'un lap', 'es fase lum', 'es po caleron riba. Ti' Lob' sint' nun
jarga de lum', Pedr' no't'o banda. Qant' caleron sta quasi cusid', Pedr'
panha un pedrinh', ell' tra pa' riba na cumer' de lap'. Qant' ell' cahi,
ell' fra, "Ti' Lob', lap' sta bafano, nho labanta, nho aguental." Pedr'
tra caleron pa' for', ell' cume tud' comid', ell' ba, ell' dixa Ti' Lob'
aguentad' na lap'. Ell' aguental tres dia, dipo's ell' bua nun jarga,
ell' cahi, ell' racha cabeg'. Qanto ell' ben cas', ell' purgunta se mulhe',
Zabel Goncalbe, se ell' olha Pedr'. "Nao, un ca olha Pedr'," ell'
raspondel, " milho' bu largal de mon, bu sinta na cas', ell' ta matabo."
— "Me qi ta matal. Me e filh' de nha pa', filh' de nha ma. Un ta
matal ell'. E nha subrinh'."
(7) O't'o dia Pedr' ben pa' dent'. Ell' fra, "'Nha' Zabel, unde Ti'
Lob'?" Lob' sta ungachad' bax' de cama. Ell' fra se mulhe' pa' ca
fra undi ell' sta. Ell' ere pega' Pedr'. Pedr' tenba un garafon de
mel qi ell' basa na se cabeg'. Qanto ell' tra se chape' Zabel Goncalbe
cuda mel era sange. Ell' pupa. Lob' sahi debax' de cama, "O nha
filh', O nha filh', qen qi fasbo es' cusa?" Ell' crama pa' Pedr'. "Es'
ca nad', Ti' Lob'," raspond' Pedr'. "Un fra un ome pa' dan cu mach-
ad' na cabeg' qi fasel." Ti' Lob' po mon na cabeg' de Pedr', depo's
ded' na boc'. Ell' fica sustad'. Ell' chuma se mulhe' pa' panha'
machad' dan cu ell' na cabeg' pa' fase' mel ben. " Dan cu ell' ! Dan cu
ell'!" De prumer' pancad', ell' tral sange. "Dan cu ell' o't'o bes!"
ell' pupa. "Dancu ell' o't'o bes!" Ell' dal cu ell' o't'o bes. Ell' abril
cabeg' in dos. Dipo's ell' ba colhe' palh' texera, balep, fedegos' pel
fase' pacha pa' se cabeg'.
(8) Qanto se cabeg' ja sara, ell' sahi, ell' ba bera prai' jobe' Pedr'.
Pedr' era piscado' na prai'. Lob' cunga ta coje lap' cu carangex'.
Pe de carangex' entra Lob' na dent'. Pedr' qi staba na o't'o banda
de prai' unde ell' olha Ti' Lob', e Ti' Lob' ca olhal. Pedr' ben pa'
riba, ell' fra, "Un ben pan ben tra qel pe de carangex' pa' nho." Ell'
panha picaret' pa' ell' tral ell'. "Nao cu qel, nao," Lob' nega. Depo's
ell' panha barra de fer' pa' ell' tral ell.' "Nao cu qel, nao," Lob'
nega. Ell' panha po. "Nao cu qel, nao," Lob' nega. "Tra nho
236 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
ell' cu nha ded'." — "Bon," 'Nho' Lob' fra. Ell' pegal dent', ell'
tral un padas de ded'. "Ti' Lob', un ben pan fra nho unde que nho
ta acha cusas bon pa' nho cume', "Subrinh' fral. "Ago nho morden
nha ded', un ca ta fra nho." — "O, Tubinh', un ta po padas pa'
tras inda qi ell' custan tra pada' de nha ded'."
(9) Pedr' leba Lob' na pont' de prai'. Staba peix' qi ta ben tudo dia
oqi mar' ta ben riba ta ba p'ra baxo qi Pedr' ta mamaba. " Fra ' mama
baix' oqi nho ere, 'mama riba' oqi nho ten bastant'," Pedr' fra Lob'.
Lob' fra, "Mama riba," ma' ell' ca larg', mar' ba p'ra bax', ell' ba cu
ell'. "Ma' Peix' Caball', bu sta leban na bon caminh', ta balanca
na ondia," Lob' fra. Ell' lebal pa' for' pa' mar'. "Dixan ba 'go,"
Lob' fral, "un lenbra de Zabel Goncalbe." — "Me un ca tenebo, bu
qi tenen," raspond' Peix' Caball', "qenha e bu?" — "Me e Ti' Lob'."
" Un dabo nha mama, un cuda e Pedr'. Un gosta de Pedr' pamode ell'
ta sta cu mi oqi mar' sec' pa' pas' ca cumen. Des bes un ta pobo na
terr'. Ma' ca bu ben mas."
(10) A ssim qi Ti' Lob' chiga terr', ell' corre pa' cas' ta jobe' Pedr'
"Unde Pedr'?" ell' purgunta Zabel Goncalbe. "Ca bu purguntan,'
ell' raspondel cu raiba. "Se bu ca dixa Pedr' qeto, ell' ta matabo.'
Ma' Lob' sahi for' o't'o bes ta jobe' Pedr'. Pedr' staba marrad
pamode 'es pegal na furta dent' de mandiocera. "Xubrinh', cusa qi
bu sta fase 'li?" Ti' Lob' purguntal. "Ten un fest' 'li," Pedr
rasponde. "'Es ere pan cume', ma' un ca ere cume', 'es marram'
"Marran," Ti' Lob' fral, "un ta dismarrabo, bu ta marran." Lob
olha 'es ta ben cu gamela. Ell' cuda cuma 'es staba ta trasel algun
cusa de cume, ell' bira ta bua' de content'. "Pedr' e dod' ell' ca ere
qel cusa bon!" Dent' de gamela staba ferr' qente, e 'es chugil cu ell'.
"E ca mi, e Pedr'," ell' grit'. "E ca mi, e Pedr*!" La nun cutel'
Pedr' staba saqedo ta toe' se tamborinh'. Ell' ta cant, —
"Deng deng, nha tamborinh.'
Curup curup, nha parente.
Un marr' Pedr',
Un ca marr' Lob',
Lob' de cu quemad'."
'Es chucil qel ferr' qente tres bes. "E ca mi, e Pedr'," ell' cuntina ta
grita'. Depo's 'es largal, ell' ba cas'. Ell' deta pa' un sumana. E1P
fra se mulhe' cuma ell' staba na fest' ell' tuma gata. Ell' fasel caldo
pa' ell'.
Sapatinh' corr' pa' mar' abax*.
Qen qe mas grand', ta ba sere'.
Qen qe mas piqinin', ta ba panhal.
Qen qe ca fie', cont' di se.
Ten Folk-Tales from the Cape Verde Islands. 237
[Translation.1]
(6) Uncle Lob and nephew Pedr went out into the country and stole a pig.
They took it into a cave, made a fire, put on the pot. Uncle Lob sat on one
side of the fire, and Pedr on the other. When the pot was almost cooked,
Pedr took a little stone, he threw it up to the roof of the cave. As it
fell down, he said, "Uncle Lob, the cave is coming down on us, get up and
hold it up!" Pedr took out the pot, ate up all the food, he went off, he left
uncle Lob holding up the cave. He held it up for three days, then he jumped
aside, he fell down, he split open his head.2 When he came home, he asked
his wife, Zabel Goncalbe, if she had seen Pedr. "No, I haven't seen Pedr,"
she answered, "You better let him go and stay home. He'll kill you." —
"I'm going to kill him. I am the son of my father and the son of my mother.
I'm going to kill him. He is my nephew."
(7) Next day in comes Pedr. He says, " Nha Zabel, where's uncle Lob?"
Lob had hidden himself under the bed. He told his wife not to tell where
he was. He wanted to catch Pedr. Pedr had a large bottle of molasses
which he had dumped on his head. When he took off his hat, Zabel Goncalbe
thought the molasses was blood. She screamed. Lob came out from under
the bed. "O my son, my son! who has done this thing?" he exclaimed to
Pedr. "This is nothing, uncle Lob," answered Pedr. "I told a man to
give it to me on the head with a machad, which he did." Uncle Lob put his
hand on Pedr's head, then his fingers into his mouth. He was astounded.
He called to his wife to get the machad to give it to him on the head to make
the molasses come. "Give it to me, give it to me!" At her first blow
she drew blood. "Give it to me again!" he cries. "Give it to me again!"
She gave it to him again. She split his head in two. Then she went and
collected pailh teixeira, balsam, and fedigosa to make a plaster for his head.
(8) After his head had mended, he started out to the beach to find Pedr.
Pedr was a fisherman on the beach. Lob began to pick up and eat snails
and crabs. A claw stuck in Lob's teeth. Pedr, who was at the other end
of the beach, where he saw uncle Lob, and uncle Lob didn't see him. Pedr
came up, and said, "I've come to pull out that claw for you." He took a
pick-axe to take it out. " No, not with that," objected Lob. Then he took
an iron bar to take it out. "No, not with that," objected Lob. He took
a stick. "No, not with that," objected Lob. He said, "I will take it out
with my fingers." — "Good," said Nho Lob. He closes his teeth, he takes
a piece out of the finger. "Uncle Lob, I came here to tell you where you
could get something good to eat," said Subrinh. "Now you've bitten my
finger, I won't tell you." — "O Xubrinh! I'll put the piece back, even if
I have to take a piece out of my own finger."
(9) Pedr takes Lob to the end of the beach. There was a fish which came
in and out every day with the tide, and which Pedr used to nurse. "Say,
'Mama bax' when you want her, 'mama riba' when you've had enough,"
Pedr said to Lob. Lob said "Mama riba," but he wouldn't let go; and as
1 Informant, Matheus Dias of San Anton. For No. 6 see Harris 3: LIV; Jacottet 1:
44, n. 1; Theal, p. 113; Boas, "Notes on Mexican Folk-Lore" (JAFL 25 [1912] : 206,
237); K. T. Preuss, Die Nayarit Expedition (Leipzig, 1912), 1 : 290. No. 7 as well as
No. 10 are patterns from the cycle of Big Klaus and Little Klaus, or, to use the Cape
Verde names, of Jonson and Jonsinh. For No. 7, see this number, pp. 190, 226; for
No. 10, p. 229.
2 Variant: "I came by there yesterday, and saw him still holding it up" (Fogo).
238 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
the tide went out, she went out with it.1 " Mother Peixe Caball', you are
carrying me on a good road, rocking among the waves," said Lob. She
took him far out to sea. "Let me go now!" said Lob, "I remember Zabel
Goncalbe." — "I haven't got you, you've got me," rejoined Peixe Caball'.
"Who are you?" — "I'm uncle Lob." — "I gave you my breast, thinking
you Pedr. I like Pedr because he stays by me when the tide is low against
the birds who would eat me. This time I'll put you ashore. But don't
come again."
(10) As soon as uncle Lob reached land, he ran home to find Pedr. " Where
is Pedr?" he asked Zabel Goncalbe. "Don't ask me," she answered in a
temper. "Unless you leave Pedr alone, he will kill you." But Lob started
out again to find Pedr. Pedr was tied up because they had caught him
stealing in a mandiocera.2 "Xubrinh, what are you doing here?" asked
uncle Lob. "There's a festa on here," answered Pedr. "They want me
to eat, but I don't feel like eating, so they have tied me up." — "Tie me,"
says uncle Lob. "I'll loose you, and you tie me." Lob sees them coming
with a gamella.3 Thinking they are bringing him something to eat, he jumps
with joy. "Pedr is crazy not to want those good things!" In the gamella
was a red-hot iron, and they shove it at him. "It's not me, it's Pedr!"
he yells. "It's not me, it's Pedr!" Away on a little hill stood Pedr,
playing his tamborinh and singing, —
"Drum, drum, my taborinhl
Run,4 run, my kinsman!
I tied Pedr
I did not tie Lob,
Lob was who burned."
They shoved the red-hot iron three times into him. "It's not me, it's
Pedr!" he kept yelling. Then they untied him. He went home. He
kept his bed for one week. He told his wife he had been to a feast and got
drunk. She made a broth for him.
Little shoes run down the beach.
Whoever is the biggest will go (?)
Whoever is the smallest will get them.
Whoever does not like it, let him tell his own.6
Newport, R.I.
1 Mama, "mother," "breast;" bax (baixo), "down;" riba, "up." We have here a
somewhat confused use of the "open sesame, close sesame" pattern. That pattern is
well used in another Cape Verde tale in connection with a fruit-tree. "Down" or "up"
is said to the tree. (A variant is found in the Bahamas.) In this tale the pattern is trans-
ferred from the tree to the fish.
2 Patch of manioc.
3 Large wooden platter.
4 Curup is an onomatopoetic word for the sound of feet.
6 This is one of the formula endings common to all the Cape Verde Islands. Properly
told, every tale should have such an ending, although it may be omitted, as in the pre-
ceding tales, either from carelessness or from sophistication.
Surinam Folk-Tales. 239
SURINAM FOLK-TALES.
BY A. P. AND T. E. PENARD.
Dutch Guiana, or Surinam, with its diverse population, offers an
exceptionally fertile field to the student of folk-lore.
Scattered through the jungles bordering the numerous waterways,
especially on the banks of the more or less inaccessible creeks, and
in the open savannas, there are several tribes of Indians. There also
are the so-called Boschnegers (Bush Negroes), descendants of Negroes
who escaped from slavery in the early days, and, in defiance of the
authorities of the time, set up independent communities in the wilder-
ness, retaining many of their African customs and beliefs. But for
the investigator who does not care to experience the hardships and
dangers of a trip through the wild river-lands, in the sun-baked
savannas, or to the practically unknown hinterland, there still remain
excellent opportunities in city, town, and plantation, among the
extremely mixed and interesting population in which the Negro element
heavily preponderates.
So far as the writers are aware, no Negro folk-tales from Surinam
have ever been published in English, and even in other languages the
number published is comparatively small. The following bibliography,
comprising only those items in which the tales are actually recorded,
while not very extensive, is probably not far from complete.
1. M. D. Teenstra. De Landbouw in de Kolonie Suriname. Groningen
1835, Tweede Deel, p. 213.
Two fragments.
2. J. Crevaux. Voyages dans l'Amerique du Sud. Paris, 1883. 190 p.
One story.
3. H. van Cappelle. Surinaamsche Negervertellingen (in Elsevier's
Maandschrift, November, 1904, 14 [No. 11] : 314-327).
Two stories and reference by title to six others. The author states
also that twenty-five stories were collected for him by Mr. M. H.
Nahar. The writers are not aware that they have been published.1
4. — Suriname in VVoord en Beeld (in Nederlandsche Zeewezen, July 15,
1905, 4 : 212-214).
One story.
5. (H. F. Rikken). Ma Kankantrie (in De Surinamer, Paramaribo, 1907,
Chapter VI).
Five stories. This work is one of the most interesting dealing with
the negro folk-lore of Surinam.
1 Since the above was written the stories referred to (39 instead of 25) have been
published by Dr. van Cappelle in Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde van
Ned. Indie; The Hague, 1916, Deel 72, Afl. 1 en 2, 233-379.
240 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
6. H. Siebeck. Buschnegermarchen aus Surinam (in Hessische Blatter
fur Volkskunde [Leipzig, 1908], 7 [pt. 1] : 10-16).
Three stories, collected by F. Stahelin.
7. F. Stahelin. Tiermarchen der Buschneger in Surinam (in Hessische
Blatter fur Volkskunde [Leipzig, 1909], 8 [pt. 3] : 173-184).
Six stories.
8. (Anonymous). De Spin en de Teerpop (in Voor Onze Jeugd; Bijlage
van het Maandschrift Op de Hoogte, March, 191 1, 8 : 40-41).
One story, by " Tante Jo."
9. J. G. Spalburg. Bruine Mina, De Koto-Missi. Paramaribo, 1913,
pp. 10-12.
One story.
10. H. Schuchardt. Die Sprache der Saramakkaneger in Surinam
(Verhandelingen der Koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen te
Amsterdam; Amsterdam 1914, Afd. Letterkunde, Nieuwe Reeks,
Deel 14, No. 6, p. 41).
One story.
The sounds of the words in the Negro language appearing in this
article are as follows : —
. . like
a in what
(<
e " red
(<
ee " feet
0 . .
"
0 " more
an .
<<
ow " cow
oe . .
(t
00 " boot
The consonants have the same sound as in English, with the excep-
tion of j, which is pronounced like y in year.
In general, the spelling will be found to agree with that given either
in Wullschlagel's Deutsch-Negerenglisches Worterbuch (Lobau, 1856)
or in Focke's Neger-Engelsch Woordenboek (Leiden, 1855); but the
writers have deviated from both authorities wherever they deemed it
advisable for the sake of uniformity, without introducing forms which
would confuse the Dutch reader. The Dutch diphthong oe, having
the sound of 00 in the English word boot, has been retained for the
same reason.
The Surinam Negro is an excellent story-teller, and many of the
tales collected show no mean attainment in the art. As may be
expected, many of the stories may be traced to African sources,
naturally influenced by the New-World surroundings. A number are
of undoubted European origin, retold with characteristic alterations
and additions. There are also some which seem to have no exact
counterpart elsewhere.
The stories lose much by translation, and there can be no doubt
that one must be thoroughly familiar with the expressive Negro
language in order to appreciate them to the fullest extent. There is
Surinam Folk-Tales. 241
always that intangible something in the manner of the narrator,
the quaint and often forceful expressions, the hushed whisper or sudden
outburst, the gesture, the imitative speech, the chanting phrase or
little song, the occasion upon which they are told, the very environ-
ment, that impart to these stories an interest which it is impossible
to maintain in translation or to appreciate in the comfort of a well-
lighted library in a distant land.
As in other places in the West Indies, the stories go by the name
Anansi-(s)tori (e.g., Spider-Stories), because in the majority of them
Anansi, the Spider, is the chief actor. But there are many so-called
Anansi-tori in which Spider does not play any part; and even the
orthodox European nursery-tales, such as "Cinderella" and "Little
Red Riding Hood," sometimes go by the same name.
Anansi is a wise, wily, treacherous rascal; a liar, a thief, and a
murderer. His chief claim to attention lies in the display of his
matchless cunning, which upon all occasions stands him in good
stead and often is the means of saving his life. He is a supernatural
being, now appearing in human form, then again as the bona-fide
spider of our natural-histories. He possesses the power to increase
his size or diminish it at will, and his resources are without limit.
Indeed, he is a wonderful creature, this Anansi.
The name "Anansi" applies to all members of the order Araneina.
Sometimes the narrator refers specifically to the large bush-spider
{My gale sp.), but he has particularly in mind the husky, long-legged
crab-spider (Heteropoda venatoria) commonly found in dwelling-houses
in Surinam. These harmless house-spiders conceal themselves in the
triangular spaces formed by the overlapping boards, where the latter
are secured to the upright studding and columns of the buildings.
These little holes are called postoros or postoe holo ("post-holes").
This curious life-habit of the spider gives rise to the closing state-
ment of a large number of the stories, to the effect that to this day
Anansi lives in the postoros. And so also there is a series of stories
accounting for the markings on the spider's back, — usually the result
of a beating he receives at the hands of some one he has deceived.
But the explanatory element is not essential to the majority of the
stories. In many of the tales exhibiting this tendency the object is
not to account for some natural fact ; but rather, in the development
of the plot, circumstances arise which lend themselves readily to an
amusing explanation of the origin of some trait or fact, and furnish the
narrator with a suitable formula for the end of his story. In some,
however, the motive is deliberately explanatory. The story of "How
Man made Woman respect him," here related, is of this type; and so
are a number of others collected, among which we may mention tales
accounting for the origin of Monday and the origin of labor-pains.
vol. xxx. — no. 116. — 16.
242 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Among the animal-actors we find Dog, Horse, Ass, Cow, Goat, Cat,
Rat, Elephant, Whale, Deer, Howling Monkey, Agouti, Aboma (Boa
constrictor and Eunectes murinus), Snake, Caiman, Tortoise, Snail,
Toad, Vulture, Cock, Hen, Wren, Sen-sen (cricket), Cockroach, Fly,
and many others. But chief of these is Tiger (the jaguar), the mortal
enemy of Anansi. Kings and princesses, and ordinary men and
women, also play their part; and trees, vegetables, celestial bodies,
inanimate objects, diseases, and even Death itself, are characters
endowed with the power of speech. Then, too, there are hosts of
mythical beings, among which may be mentioned the watramama
(a water-spirit), the boesi-mama (a wood-spirit), the jorka (ghost),
the bakroe,1 the leba,2 the mysterious azema,3 and a legion of other
takroe sani ("bad things").
Anansi-tori are not told exclusively to children. They form an
important diversion for the older people. They are told in the
mining-camps, around the camp-fire in the woods, at small gatherings,
and at wakes (dede-hoso). But they are gradually going out of
fashion, and the day is not far when they will be completely supplanted
by the European tales. It is considered unlucky to tell Anansi-tori
in the daytime; but, if this is to be done, the narrator may avert the
1 The bakroe is commonly conceived as a dwarf, one side of whose body is wood, and
the other flesh. When any one approaches him, the bakroe presents his side of wood to
receive the blows which he expects; but he may also take the form of an old woman,
an animal, a headless cock, or an inanimate object. He haunts bridges, ditches, and
wells. Bakroes are not very malicious unless molested, but they allow themselves to be
used by the obiaman ("sorcerer") in his evil practices.
2 The Leba is the spirit of Misery. She is described as having the appearance of an
old woman whose body is completely covered with rags. She is bowed down by a heavy
burden of debts and sins, a portion of which she is constantly attempting to pass to the
unwary wanderer who approaches her. Especially children fall an easy prey to her
cunning. The presence of leba in a person manifests itself by loss of appetite, listlessness,
— a feeling as if the body were carrying an unnatural weight. At first amulets are
applied; and all kinds of light objects, such as dry leaves or pieces of cork, are wrorn
by the sufferer with the idea of reducing the heavy weight. But if these means fail, then
the patient must submit to the wiwiri-watra ("herb-water") treatment, which is adminis-
tered by the obiaman.
The reader will find more detailed descriptions of leba and bakroe in an article by
F. P. and A. P. Penard entitled "Surinaamsch Bijgeloof," in the Bijdragen tot de Taal-,
Land-, en Volkenkunde, Deel 6y,Afl. 2 (The Hague, 1912), 157-183.
3 The azema, or azeman, is represented as an old woman who can cast off her skin
and pass through very small openings, such as keyholes. She sucks the blood of her
victim, who gradually loses his health. The azema may be caught in various ways. One
way is to find the skin she has cast off, and rub the inside of it with Cayenne pepper: the
azema will not be able to put on the skin, and may be captured. Another way is to
throw some rice in front of the door: the azema feels compelled to pick up the grains,
which takes her so long that she is still busy at daybreak, when she may be captured.
The notion of azema is evidently closely allied to that of the Werwolf and the Vampire.
Surinam Folk-Tales. 243
evil consequences of his indiscretion by first plucking a hair from his
eyelids.
The Anansi-tori is formally opened with the words " Er tin tin,'"
the meaning of which is substantially "Once upon a time." The
expression is universal; and even riddles are introduced by this for-
mula: thus, —
Er tin tin, mi mama habi wan pikin, a habi dri hai;
Ma alwasi san doe hem, nanga wan hai nomo a de krei.
Wan kokronoto.
Once upon a time, my mother has a child, it has three eyes;
But no matter what ails it, with one eye only it cries.
A cocoanut.
If the story is not popular, the listeners will at once interrupt with
the words, " Segre din din," the meaning of which is not known to the
writers; but it is not improbable that it is merely a convenient
rhyme to "Er tin tin." If the story is monotonous or poorly told, the
narrator is interrupted by an amusing conversation between two or
more of the audience, followed by a so-called koti-singi ("cutting-
song"), in which all present join. This usually has the desired effect
of discouraging the story-teller. Below is an example of the dialogue
and koti-singi:
First Speaker. A kroejara ("canoe") is coming from Para.
Second Speaker. What is in the kroejara?
First Speaker. A big pagara.1 And in it there is a smaller pagara. And
in this one there is a still smaller pagara, etc.
Second Speaker. And what is in the very smallest pagara?
First Speaker. A letter. And in this letter there is a reply containing
the koti-singi, "Fin, fin, fin, tori; ja ha lei agen, ha lei agen."2
The four stories here recorded have been selected from a number of
Negro tales collected by one of the writers 3 in Surinam. It is the
intention to publish in the near future the entire collection, comprising
more than eighty tales, some of which were taken down in the original
Negro dialect, the so-called Sranam- or Ningre-tongo (Surinam or
Negro language), known briefly as Ningre (Negro). The first three
stories were chosen because they have not previously been recorded
from Surinam. The fourth is included to show the Surinam nar-
rator's treatment of familiar themes.
1 A sort of basket.
- "Fine, fine, fine story; yes, he lies again, he lies again."
3 A. P. Penard.
244 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
I. HOW MAN MADE WOMAN RESPECT HIM.
Er tin tin, women had no respect for men. They were always
scolding their husbands, and calling them all kinds of bad names,
such as "Stupid," "Lazy," "Beast." Anansi, too, was treated in
this manner, and it humiliated him very much indeed. "I must put
an end to this," he muttered. "I'll teach my wife better manners;
I'll make her respect me. Mi sa sori hem fa watra de go na kokronoto
here." »
Anansi set to work and dug a deep well; and when it was deep
enough, he called his wife, and asked her to bring him a ladder so that
he could climb out. Scolding and jawing, as usual, she brought the
'ladder and set it in place. With spade in hand, Anansi climbed out
of the pit; but, just as he reached the top of the ladder, he slyly
dropped the spade into the pit, pretending that it was an accident.
"Ke!"2 he exclaimed, turning to his wife, "I have just dropped the
spade into the well, and I am so tired. Tangi tangi, (please) will you
go down and get it for me?" His wife scolded him dreadfully, but
she went down the ladder to fetch the spade. As she stooped to pick
it up, Anansi quickly pulled up the ladder, and his wife was caught in
the trap.
She began to rave and tear, called Anansi everything that was bad,
and commanded him to lower the ladder; but Anansi paid no attention.
He just smiled, and noted with satisfaction that the water was begin-
ning to flow into the new well. And as the water rose, his wife scolded
less and less, until it was on a level with her stomach. Then she asked
her dear Anansi for the ladder, but Anansi paid no attention. When
the water was up to her breast, she beseeched her good Boss (Basi)
for the ladder; but Anansi paid no attention. When the water was
up to her neck, she tearfully begged her beloved master to lower the
ladder; then Anansi gave in. He lowered the ladder; and his wife,
wet and shivering, meekly climbed out of the well.
But after that day she became very obedient and respectful; she
never scolded her husband any more, and always addressed him as
"mi masra" ("my master"). Other women followed her example
and also became very obedient; and so to this day every woman
respects her husband, and calls him "Basi," or "mi masra."
2. ANANSI EATS MUTTON.
Er tin tin, Anansi's wife had a fine fat sheep that she herself had
raised. Anansi often begged her to slaughter the sheep; but she
steadily refused, and scolded him angrily for his greediness. "I will
1 I will show her how the water goes into the cocoanut's belly.
2 A common exclamation, usually denoting pity or sympathy.
Surinam Folk-Tales. 245
teach my wife not to be so stingy," muttered Anansi one night as he
went to bed.
Next morning he did not get up, but pretended to be very sick.
He trembled and shook so, that his wife became alarmed, and asked
him what ailed him and what she could do to relieve him. " Ke!"
replied Anansi weakly, "I don't know what the matter is, but I feel
awfully sick." So he told his wife to consult with the loekoeman, l
whom she would find under the big kankantri 2 in the forest. His
wife did not know the loekoeman, but she started out to find him.
As she was going out, Anansi requested her to take the children with
her. "They make such a terrible noise, that I shall go crazy," he
explained.
Well, as soon as his wife had departed, Anansi jumped out of bed
and disguised himself as an old loekoeman. He pulled an old hat well
over his eyes, and, hurrying over a short cut which he knew, reached
the kankantri before his wife. After a while his wife and children
arrived, and greeted him politely with a kosi, 3 without seeing through
the disguise. "Ke, mi papa,"4 spoke his wife, "masra Anansi is
very sick. He has convulsions and terrible pains in his stomach, so
he has sent me to you for some medicine to cure him."
The loekoeman consulted with the spirits, shook his head thought-
fully, and said, "My good woman, your husband is a very good friend
of mine; and so I will tell you a good medicine to cure him, and it
will not cost you anything for the advice. My friend Anansi is very
sick indeed; his spirit longs for mutton, and the poor man is slowly
dying from this craving. You must serve him a nice fat sheep,
nicely cooked, and he alone must eat it. You and the children must
not even taste it, otherwise the takroe sani ('evil thing') that possesses
him will surely kill him. Nothing else can save him."
Anansi 's wife thanked the loekoeman and left. As soon as she was
out of sight, Anansi hurried home over the short cut, removed his
disguise, and jumped into bed, where he awaited the return of his
wife and children.
In a short while they arrived, and told Anansi what the loekoeman
had said. Anansi praised the loekoeman'1 s wisdom. He said that
the advice was good, and he felt that the medicine would cure him.
With unwilling hands his wife and children prepared the sheep for
Anansi in a most appetizing manner. Anansi ate so much mutton
that he nearly burst, while his wife and children looked on with longing
eyes. When he had swallowed the last mouthful, he smacked his
1 The "doctor," a higher authority than the kartaman ("fortune-teller," "sooth-
sayer"), but not so powerful as the obiaman ("sorcerer").
2 Ceiba pentandra Gartn.
3 A slight bending of the knees as a mark of respect; a "courtesy."
4 Ke, "my father."
246 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
lips, thanked his wife, and advised his children to follow their good
mother's example and never to be stingy or greedy.
3. JAUW'S DREAM.
Er tin tin, there were two friends, Jauw and Kwakoe, who thought
very much of each other. Where any one saw Jauw, he would be
sure to find Kwakoe; and where any one saw Kwakoe, he would be
sure to find Jauw; they were inseparable. Even at night they went
to bed together; and if one of them should fall asleep first, the other
would lie quietly beside him until he, too, fell asleep.
Well, one night the two friends went to bed as usual, and it happened
that Jauw fell asleep first. Kwakoe, who was lying with his face
toward Jauw, was greatly surprised to see a mouse come out of Jauw's
nose and noiselessly leave the hut. Kwakoe wanted to find out more
about this wonderful animal, for he knew that it could not be an
ordinary mouse; so he got up quickly and followed the little beast.
The mouse moved stealthily in the dark shadows, took the road,
and entered the forest, through which it led the way to a giant
kankantri whose trunk was completely hidden in a tangle of boesi-
tetei x that hung about it. Cautiously the mouse looked around, and,
swiftly climbing up one of the bush-ropes, disappeared between the
clumps of boesi-nanasi 2 that grew thickly upon the branches of the
big tree. But Kwakoe, from behind a near-by bush, had seen every-
thing, and patiently he awaited the mouse's return.
Well, after a long time the mouse again made its appearance from
among the mass of boesi-nanasi, came down the same bush-rope,
and returned to the village by the same road. The strange little
animal went straight to the hut of the two friends, entered cautiously,
and ran quickly into Jauw's nose before Kwakoe, who had followed it,
had a chance to grab it.
As soon as the mouse had vanished, Jauw awoke with a yawn,
stretched himself lazily, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, saying to
his friend, "Kwakoe, man, I dreamed a wonderful dream, which I
shall not soon forget. Ka,z but a man's head can take him to strange
places!" Kwakoe, curious to know if Jauw's dream could have any
connection with what he had just seen, asked him to tell him about it;
so Jauw proceeded to relate his dream: —
"Well, then, friend Kwakoe, I dreamed that I quietly left the hut,
followed the road a ways, and entered the forest. And I walked until
I came to a big kankantri all covered with boesi-tetei and boesi-nanasi.
1 Bush-ropes, lianes.
2 An epiphyte, Tillandsia usneoides Linn.
3 A long-drawn-out exclamation in very common use. It generally conveys the idea
of surprise or wonder.
Surinam Folk-Tales. 247
I looked around to make sure that nobody was watching, and then
I climbed up one of the bush-ropes. Hidden between the branches I
discovered a great, big box, — so big that I could easily enter it through
the keyhole. And what do you think I found in the box, Kwakoe?
It was full of gold money, — just gold money, nothing else but gold
money. Baja,1 I was surprised. Happy to think that you and I
would not have to work any more, I spent a long time counting the
money. Then I crawled out of the box through the keyhole. I
wanted to take the box back with me, but it was too heavy; so I
decided to go home and get you to help me cut down the kankantri.
I slid down the same bush-rope, and came home to tell you all about it.
But you know how it is with dreams, Kwakoe. As soon as I entered
the hut, I awoke. Ka, but a man's head can take him to strange
places! "
Kwakoe, who had listened with great interest while Jauw related his
dream, asked, "Do you think, friend Jauw, that you would recognize
the kankantri if you should see it again?" — "Certainly I would,"
replied Jauw, "never before in my life have I seen such a big kankantri,
or one so completely covered with boesi-tetei and boesi-nanasi. But
why do you ask me that, Kwakoe?"
Thereupon Kwakoe told Jauw that it was his plan to search for the
kankantri, and that Jauw would do better to get up and help grind the
axes, so that they would have no difficulty in cutting down the tree
which he thought they would have no trouble in finding. But Jauw,
who knew nothing of the mouse in his own head, laughed at Kwakoe,
saying that he had no desire to get up so early in the morning for the
purpose of sharpening axes to cut down a kankantri he had never
really seen, and that he could not see how an intelligent man like
Kwakoe could put so much faith in dreams.
Then Kwakoe told Jauw that he did not believe in dreams, either,
but that this was no ordinary dream; and he related to Jauw his
experience with the wonderful mouse. Jauw was amazed at what
Kwakoe told him, but he was sure that Kwakoe would not tell him a
lie; so he consented to go out and help sharpen the axes.
At daybreak the two friends entered the forest, and soon they came
to the giant kankantri into which the mouse had climbed during the
night. As soon as Jauw saw the big tree all covered with boesi-tetei
and boesi-nanasi, he exclaimed, "Kwakoe, this is the kankantri I saw
in my dream. It can be no other."
Kwakoe and Jauw now went to work with their axes. It was not
an easy matter to cut down such an enormous tree ; but the thought of
finding the treasure in its branches spurred them on, and at last the
forest giant tottered and crashed down with a noise like thunder.
1 Baja, or simply Ba, means "friend" or "brother."
248 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
And, sure enough, from its branches fell a large box. As it struck
the ground, it broke open from the force of its own weight, and
the bright gold pieces which Jauw had seen in his dream scattered
and rolled over the ground. The two friends, in their joy, embraced
each other, and declared that the mouse which had come out of Jauw's
nose must have been his good spirit. "Ka!" exclaimed Kwakoe, "it
was a good thing for you that I did not catch the mouse when I tried,
or you would be a dead man now."
Kwakoe and Jauw gathered up their treasure and carried it safely
home. They celebrated by giving a great feast, to which everybody
in the village was invited. At the feast they made it known how they
came into possession of the golden treasure. They spent their money
so freely, that the gold coins soon spread over the whole world and
became known to every one; for I must tell you that before Kwakoe
and Jauw found their treasure, gold coins were not known to any one
on earth.
4. SNAKE AND HUNTER.
Er tin tin, there was a big fire in the wood. All the trees were in
flames, and nearly all the animals were burned to death. To escape
the terrible heat, Snake lowered himself into a deep hole. The fire
raged fiercely for a long time, but was at last extinguished by a heavy
rain. When all the danger was past, Snake attempted to climb out
of the hole, but, try as he would, he could not scale the steep sides.
He begged every one who passed to help him; but nobody dared to
give him assistance, for fear of his deadly bite.
Well, at last Hunter came along. He took pity on Snake and
pulled him out. But as soon as Snake was free, he turned upon Hunter
with the intention of biting him. "You must not bite me after my
kind act," said Hunter, warding him off. "And why shouldn't I
bite you?" asked Snake. "Because," explained Hunter, "you should
not do harm to him who has shown you an act of kindness." — "But
I am sure that everyobdy does," hissed Snake. "You know the
saying, 'Boen no habi tangi.'"1 — "Very well," proposed Hunter,
"let us put the case before a competent judge!" Snake agreed, so
together they started for the city.
On the way they met first Horse, next Ass, then Cow. To each of
these Hunter and Snake told their story, and to each they put the
question, "Ought any one to return Evil for Good?" Horse neighed,
saying that he was usually whipped for his good services to man.
Ass hee-hawed, saying that he was beaten with a stick for his good
services to man. Cow bellowed that she expected to be slaughtered
for her good services to man. Snake then claimed that he had won
1 A common proverb; literally, "Good has no thanks."
Surinam Folk-Tales. 249
the case, and lifted his head to strike Hunter; but Hunter said, "I
don't agree yet; let us put the case before Anansi, who is very wise!"
Snake agreed, and so they continued on their way.
Well, they came to the city where Anansi dwelled, and it so hap-
pened that they found him at home. They told Anansi how Snake
had let himself down into a deep hole to escape the terrible fire that
was raging in the wood; how he had begged everybody who passed
for assistance; how Hunter had helped him out of the hole; and how
Snake had then tried to bite Hunter. They also told Anansi how they
had met Horse, Ass, and Cow, and how each of them had told them
that " Tangi foe boen na kodja." l And so they had come to Anansi,
who was very wise, that he might settle the dispute fairly.
Anansi looked thoughtful, and, shaking his head, said, "My friends,
I cannot say who is right until I have seen with my own eyes how
everything happened. Let us go back to the exact spot."
Well, then all three walked back to the hole in the wood out of
which Hunter had helped Snake, and Anansi asked them to act out
everything just exactly as it had happened. So Snake slid down
into the hole and began calling for assistance. Hunter pretended to
be passing, and, turning to the hole, was about to help Snake out again,
when Anansi stopped him, saying, "Wait, I will settle the dispute now.
Hunter must not help Snake this time. Snake must try to get out
without any assistance, so that he may learn to appreciate a kind act."
Snake was obliged to remain in the hole, and he suffered much from
hunger. At last, after many unsuccessful attempts, he managed to
get out. But experience had been a good master, and Snake had
learned. his lesson well.
Well, it came to pass that some time later Hunter was caught
poaching in the king's woods and was thrown into prison. Snake
heard of it and made up his mind to help Hunter, so he hastened to
the king's palace. Unobserved he approached the king. When he
saw a good chance, he suddenly bit the king, and succeeded in making
his escape before any one could catch him.
Then he made his way to the prison in which Hunter was confined,
and found a way to enter it. He calmed Hunter's fears, and said,
"A while ago you did me a favor, and now by experience I have learned
to appreciate it. I come to aid you. Listen! I have just bitten the
king, and he is very sick from the effects of the poison; in fact, he is
on the point of dying. I bring you the only remedy for my deadly bite.
It is known to me alone. Send word to the king that you can cure
him, but that you will not do so unless he promises to give you his
only daughter in marriage." So saying, Snake gave- Hunter the
remedy, consisting of three different kinds of leaves, and then he
departed.
1 A common proverb; literally, "Thanks for good is the cudgel."
250 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Hunter did as Snake advised him. He sent word saying that he
could cure the king, and asked as reward his release from prison and
the king's daughter in marriage. Fearing death, the king consented,
and allowed Hunter to try the remedy. The king was quickly restored
to health. Hunter married the princess, and the teller of this tale
was present at the wedding.
Arlington, Mass.,
March 14, 1916.
Primitive Stone Artifacts in Surinam. 251
POPULAR NOTIONS PERTAINING TO PRIMITIVE STONE
ARTIFACTS IN SURINAM.
BY A. P. AND T. E. PENARD.
Primitive stone implements have been found in various parts of
Surinam from the Boven Marowyne (Upper Maroni) to Nickerie,
but they are not very common; and, so far as the writers know,
probably not more than two hundred axes and adzes from this region
have found their way into the museums and private collections of
the world. The writers have made a large collection of these imple-
ments from this locality, and in so doing have had many opportunities
of noting the superstitions and notions the natives have regarding
them.
The stone "axes" herein referred to are generally of three distinct
types: viz., —
(1) Simple celts, large or small unnotched specimens. In most
cases the butts are more or less battered. They were probably used
as adzes, wedges, chisels, scrapers, etc. Formerly the heavy club
(aputii) was provided with one of these celts on the under side near
one of the ends. A few specimens are double-edged.
(2) Unnotched specimens of the so-called "winged" type, in which
the butts are comparatively large, having generally prominent, though
sometimes very slight, protuberances. The edge is at the small end.
They may have been hafted; but it is also possible that they were
intended for use as hand-tools, for which purpose they seem well
adapted. Some specimens of this type are very symmetrical, and
the workmanship is excellent.
(3) Specimens with notches at the sides, evidently for the purpose
of hafting. Sometimes these lateral notches extend as grooves over
the faces for a short distance, rarely completely encircling the axe.
In some cases the notches are ill-defined, forming large, shallow de-
pressions. The specimens vary in size from very small to enormous
affairs weighing more than fifteen hundred grams. Occasionally they
possess features which are apparently ornamental, such as gracefully
curved sides or a coating of pigment. This type comprises the finest
specimens found in Guiana.
We have also heard of other types of stone objects: viz., —
(4) A stone having the form of a multi-pointed star, herein referred
to as the "thunder-stone mother."
(5) A stone of pyramidal shape with sharp edges.
(6) A stone with serrated edge, supposed to be a saw.
252 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
The well-known cassava graters, and the large flat stones upon
which the cassava bread was baked, have not as yet been clothed with
curious popular notions.
Previous to the advent of the Europeans, stone axes were un-
doubtedly in common use by the Indians; but the white man's
appearance sealed their fate. The Indians were quick to recognize
the superior qualities of the steel blades of European make, and did
everything in their power -to obtain them. In the year 1604 Capt.
Charles Leig l made a voyage to Guiana, and in the narrative of this
voyage we find the following passage, showing how highly the Indians
prized the steel axe, and the great amount of labor they were willing
to perform for the sake of obtaining a single specimen : —
"Upon our return to Wiapoco, we gave the Indians for their trouble,
and for providing us with food, an axe, for which all of them would have
cruised with us for two or three months had the opportunity offered;
and for another axe they brought us provisions for two months, consisting
of bread, drink, crabs, fish, and such meat as they procured for themselves."
But the manufacture of stone axes did not cease entirely, and
it is not unlikely that many were made after the arrival of the Euro-
peans. In fact, a few specimens have been found which so closely
resemble the European type with its wide bit, that we wonder if they
were not made in imitation of the European shape. Barrere 2 pictures
an hache de pierre of this shape. Im Thurn 3 describes a specimen of
this type, and mentions this fact; and the writers are in possession of
a similar specimen bearing evidence of the same nature, though less
pronounced.
As the Indians gained possession of the coveted steel axes, their
own stone blades gradually fell into disfavor. In time they became
relics of a forgotten past, around which clung vague memories of their
former use. Bat at last even these memories faded, and to-day
there are few Guiana Indians who know the origin and functions of
the stone objects which played so important a role in the life-history
of their forefathers.
In the years from 1772 to 1777 Capt. John G. Stedman 4 conducted
an expedition against the revolted Negroes in Surinam. His elaborate
work describing this expedition, and containing general information
1 Zeetogt van Kapiteyn Charles Leig gedaan na Gujana ... in het jaar 1604 (Leyden,
1706).
2 Pierre Barrere", Nouvelle Relation de la France Equinoxiale (Paris, 1734). See
illustration opposite p. 168.
3 E. F. Im Thurn, Among the Indians of Guiana (London, 1883).
4 J. G. Stedman, Narrative of a five years' expedition against the revolted Negroes
of Surinam, on the Wild Coast of South America (London, 1796).
Primitive Stone Artifacts in Surinam. 253
regarding the natural history and the natives of Surinam, appeared in
the year 1796. In one of the plates we find an illustration of a war-
club, at one end of which is inserted what seems to be a stone.
Teenstra,1 in his work on the agriculture of Surinam, which appeared
in 1835, also mentions the war-club with the stone insert; and to-day
we occasionally hear tales in which reference is made to the stone
axe in its true capacity. The following Carib legend may serve as
an example : —
The "bad spirits" (Joleka), in trying to surpass God (Tamusi), who
was busy creating the animals, created Monkey {Meku); but when
they blew into it the breath of life, they blew it upside down. Then God
made Man. The "bad spirits" ridiculed Man because of the smoothness
of his skin and absence of any tail. But Man saw Monkey in a tree,
and shot him with an arrow and killed him. Monkey, whose tail was
curled around a branch, did not fall to the ground, but remained hanging
in the tree. Then Man sharpened a stone into an axe, with which he cut
down the tree. He rubbed two sticks together to produce fire, roasted
Monkey, and ate him.
We mention these things as indicating that the true nature of the
stone axes must have been more generally known to the natives in
comparatively recent times; and that the curious notions respecting
these relics, whether introduced from elsewhere or whether arising
independently in this locality, may be considered as reasonably
modern, at least in Surinam.
Many are preserved by the Indians, Negroes, and Mulattoes as
curiosities, or as amulets and charms. They ascribe to these stones
mysterious properties, and for this reason can seldom be induced to
part with them. The writers experienced not a little difficulty in
procuring the specimens of their collection. The same difficulty has
been experienced by other collectors in purchasing objects of this
nature from the natives, not only in Surinam, but also in other parts
of South America and the West Indies.
The Indians use the smoother specimens for polishing the clay in
the manufacture of pottery. Workers in the bush sometimes use
them as whetstones, for which purpose they are considered excep-
tionally good. The notched specimens are sometimes attached to a
cord, and, used in this manner, are regarded as formidable weapons.
The widespread belief that these objects drop from the clouds
during thunder-storms is also prevalent here, but opinions vary as
to the number supposed to fall with each clap of thunder. Some say
one large and exactly twelve smaller ones. Others say one large
or else from seven to twelve smaller ones. Still others say one large
in addition to from seven to twelve smaller ones. Then again it is
1 M. D. Teenstra, De Landbouw in de Kolonie Suriname (Groningen, 1835).
254 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
said that the number depends entirely upon the size: if very large,
there is only one; if small, the number is seven; for intermediate
sizes the number varies accordingly. As a reason for believing that
more than one fall, it is argued that a number of these thunder-stones
are sometimes found within a comparatively small radius.
The color of the thunder-stone is said to correspond to that of the
cloud from which it falls. If the storm is violent and the sky very
dark, the thunder-stone will be dark; if the storm is less violent and
the sky grayer, the thunder-stone will be of paler hue. And so the
darkest are considered the most powerful, and strike deepest into
the earth. It is held that the very darkest thunder-stones strike so
hard and penetrate so deeply, that it requires seven years for them to
work up gradually to the surface; while the paler specimens enter the
earth to a depth of a few feet only, or may be found upon the surface
still glowing hot from the lightning. In this connection, it may be
said that the specimens vary greatly in color and shades, from gray,
buff, bluish, and reddish, to nearly black, depending not only upon
the character of the stone and exposure to weather, but to a great
extent upon the nature of the soil in which they have been buried
for a long period of time.
A Negro told us that he was standing in his field at Lelydrop, in
the Para district, when a thunder-storm came up. Suddenly there
came a heavy stroke of lightning, which struck an enormous locust-
tree 1 near him. The tree was split in two and uprooted, and came
down with a terrible crash, leaving a big hole in the ground where
the roots had been. In describing it, the man said that the hole was
so big that it saved him the trouble of digging a water-hole or well
(watra-oro). Exposed upon the bottom of this hole, he said, was a
tremendous thunder-stone, which was still white-hot, and which,
upon cooling, had the color of gray marble.
One day, after a thunder-storm, a little boy brought to one of the
writers an ordinary big field-stone which he could hardly lift. He
said that his mother had sent him with it, saying that it had fallen
from the sky during the storm, and that when she picked it up it was
still warm. He also said that his mother expected much money for
it, because it was such a big stone.
It is said that lightning cannot strike where they are kept, and
for this reason many are preserved in the houses of the credulous.
C. J. Hering 2 relates the following anecdote: —
"A young man from the civilized class informed me that his mother
possessed a thunder-stone, which she kept over the lintel of her front door;
1 Hymencea courbaril Linn.
2 C. J. Hering, "De Oudheden van Suriname," in Catalogus der Nederlandsche
West-Indische Tentoonstelling te Haarlem, 1899 (Amsterdam, 1899).
Primitive Stone Artifacts in Surinam. 25
his mother attached great value to the object, and would not part with it
for anything, because she believed that the stone gave protection to her
house against lightning. He did not dare to turn the stone over to me,
because he feared his mother's displeasure. I advised him to wait until
there was a violent thunder-storm, and then to take away the stone. He
did this; and when the storm had passed, his mother told him that she owed
the preservation of her house, and everything that was in it, to the thunder-
stone which she had placed over the door, and which had now disap-
peared. The young man was thus free from the suspicion of having taken
the stone."
A friend of the writers once saw a big stone axe on the ground,
under the spout of a water-conductor. When he stooped to pick it
up, an old woman who occupied the house stopped him ; she objected
to his taking the stone, because, she explained, it protected her house
against lightning. But she could not have valued this protection very
highly, for after some bartering she parted with it for one gulden.1
Some people say that the masons who built the foundation-walls
of the Lutheran Church at Paramaribo placed under each of the four
walls seven stone axes, presumably as a precaution against lightning.
These notions are not confined to the genuine primitive implements,
but may be applied to any unusual stone object. Thus one day a
Negro brought us a common European paper-weight, which was
made of stone, and which had the form of a book. He said seriously
that it was not an ordinary thunder-stone, but one that had been
thrown down by God; he said it was a "God's book" (Gado-boekoe) .
We have been told that during a thunder-storm a thunder-stone
will become restless, and will tremble and shake in an uncanny manner.
The perspiration will stand out upon it, and the whole surface will
become moist, although the stone may be kept in a perfectly dry
place. These actions on the part of the thunder-stone should clearly
demonstrate its supernatural origin.2
But the real test to determine the genuineness is to wind a string
firmly around the middle of the object, and then apply a flame to it.
If the string does not burn, the object is a true thunder-stone of the
best quality; if the string burns partially, the object is a thunder-stone
of poorer quality ; if the string burns rapidly and completely, the object
is of earthly origin.
Occasionally a stone axe is found embedded in a full-grown tree,
where it had probably been placed by an Indian long ago, when the
tree was a sapling. This was done in the process of natural hafting.
One specimen in the writers' collection was found thus embedded in
1 Forty cents in United States money.
2 It is not difficult to conceive the source of this notion. A sharp thunder-clap,
causing the windows to rattle and the walls to shake, would very likely affect the equilib-
rium of one of these objects lying on its convex surface upon a vibrating shelf, and the
moisture in the atmosphere would probably condense upon the cold surface of the stone.
256 Journal of American Folk-Lore .
the trunk of a locust-tree near Lelyclorp. Two others, both of the
"winged" type, were found in hollow trees in the Boven Saramacca
(Upper Saramacca) district. Incidents like these serve only to fan
the flames of superstition in regard to a supernatural origin.
A study of the names of stone axes in the Negro and Indian languages
of Surinam will serve to show how far the words reflect a belief in the
celestial origin of these objects, or to what extent they indicate a
knowledge of their proper function.
The Negroes call them onweri-ston ("thunder-stone"), from the
Dutch onweer ("thunder") and English "stone." They have no
other names for these objects, and the majority believe in them im-
plicitly as true thunderbolts.
The Arawaks call them (a)kurakali-siba ("thunder-stone"). The
Arawak word for axe is bain or bare We have never heard this word
used in combination with the word for "thunder" to describe these
objects. Since these Indians must at some time have had a more
appropriate word for the stone axe, it is obvious that they have
apparently ceased to regard these objects as tools or weapons.
The Kalinias (Caribs) call them jepipa (from epia, "to part;"
epiaka, "to chop, to cleave;" epiakoto, "to cut apart"), hence this
name reflects a knowledge of their true nature; but they also refer to
them more fancifully as konomeru-jerembo 1 or kofiomeru-jeri ("thun-
der-axes" or "thunder- teeth"), revealing the same notion in regard
to a celestial origin.
C. H. de Goeje says that the Trios (Caribs) inhabiting the south-
eastern part of Surinam call the axe yepipa 2 or pohpu, and that the
Ojanas refer to them as potpu.3 The names pohpu and potpu are
probably derived from putu, the heavy club of rectangular cross-
section with sharp edges; the ends are larger than the middle, and near
one end was formerly embedded a stone celt. The word for "stone"
is topu: hence putu-topu, or simply potpu ("club-stone"). If this
derivation is correct, then both names, yepipa and potpu, seem to
indicate a knowledge of the true nature of the stone axe.
The Kalinias say that Thunder (Konomeru) 4 holds the thunder-
1 Konomeru-jerembo, konomeru-jerumbo, or simply jerembo, jerumbo, erembo, erumbo.
The word for "tooth" is jeri. The ending mbo signifies the "being" or "essence," thus
literally the "essence" of the tooth. As long as the tooth is in the mouth, it is jeri;
when removed from the mouth, it is jerembo. It is then the essence of the tooth, and, ac-
cording to the Kalinias, shall again becomejm when the eternal time-cycle completes itself.
But the word for the primitive "axe" is also jerembo, on account of its obvious analogy
to a tooth; and we wonder if the first implement of this nature was not made in imitation
of the human tooth. The steel axe is called wui-wui.
2 C. H. de Goeje, Etudes Linguistiques Caraibes (Amsterdam, 1909).
* C. H. de Goeje, Bijdragen tot de Ethnographie der Surinaamsche Indianen (Intern.
Archiv fur Ethnographie, Suppl. to vol. xvii, 1906).
4 From kono (= "rain") and merit (= "mark"): hence kono-tneru (= "mark or
indication of rain").
Primitive Stone Artifacts in Surinam. 257
axes {konomeru-jerembo) between his teeth. But they do not always
have in mind the common stone axe; for some say that the thunder-
axes are transparent, and that when they strike the ground, they
form tubes "resembling blowpipes." l
The writers have in their possession a small pencil drawing made by
a Carib Indian, representing the thunder-axe. It is a small rectangle,
measuring 17 mm. by 7 mm., the entire area of which is pencilled in.
The rectangle rests upon one of its long sides. The two lower corners
are slightly curved to a radius of approximately 3 mm., while the two
upper corners are perfectly square. If the figure were not so wide,
it could easily be conceived to represent a square-butted blade of the
notched type, but the notches are missing. It is possible that the
Indian who drew it had in mind the common stone celt; but, if so,
why did he round those particular corners and leave the others square?
Another pencil drawing, made by a Carib Indian, represents Thunder
himself. The outline bears unmistakable resemblance to a stone
implement of the "winged" type, and there is no doubt that it was
intended as such. The figure is entirely pencilled in, and measures
17 mm. from butt to edge, and 14 mm. over the wings. The pro-
portions are good.
A more elaborate drawing of the thunder-axe was made by the
Carib magician {pujai) Saka 2 of the Para district. He explained
that it was the symbolic representation of the "feathered" thunder-
stone. The main part of this drawing is readily recognized as an
axe-blade of the notched type. The drawing of the blade measures
24 mm. from butt to edge, and 22 mm. across the face. The cutting
edge of the blade is surmounted by a "feather-crown" represented
by a curved line drawn parallel to and lying about 3 mm. outside the
blade proper, from about the middle of one side passing around the
edge to the middle of the other side. Over this portion a number of
radial lines are shown extending from the outline of the blade to and
slightly beyond the outer line. Extending outward from the middle
of the edge are three parallel lines about 5 mm. apart. The middle
one of the three is 20 mm. long, while the two outside are only 13 mm.
each. Saka explained that the thunder-axe consists of three parts
1 Our informant may have had reference to the fulgurites or "lightning-tubes" pro-
duced when lightning strikes in the loose sand. These remarkable sand-tubes are some-
times as much as 5 cm. in diameter, and may attain considerable depth. The vitrified
sand along the sides of the tubes may have been responsible for the notion of the trans-
parent konomeru-jerembo. The Negroes are familiar with these lightning-tubes, and
believe that they are made by ordinary thunder-stones. One man, on being asked what
his reason was for thinking so, said that he had found thunder-stones very near such
tubes.
2 Saka is the secret name of this Kalinia medicine-man. His pujai name is Alitia-
lowa; his travelling name is Alinsi; his ordinary name is Joseph.
VOL. XXX. — NO. Il6. — 17.
258 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
as shown by him, — the feather-crown (umalidi) ; the interior iitiano),
containing the "spirit of the electric eel" (pulake-jumu; and the
three pointed arrows * (tukusi-wala) .
Legends tell us that Thunder does not throw the stone-axe himself.
His son Lightning (Kape-kape) 2 is the official hinder, but Thunder
directs him. In the legend of the Rain-Spirits (Konopojumu), Thun-
der, full of wrath at the would-be ravisher of his daughters the Rain-
Maidens, shouts to Lightning to hurl the axe. Lightning does so,
splitting the tree under which the Indian had sought shelter, and
driving him into the open, where his sisters the Rain-Maidens pursue
their victim and pelt him unmercifully. No matter where he goes,
they follow him. The land is threatened with a deluge. So the other
Indians hide him under a large pot, where Thunder and his daughters
cannot find him. And to this day Thunder, Lightning, and the
Rain-Maidens wander about, appearing now here, now there, looking
for the culprit; and they mistake other Indians for him, and then
Lightning hurls the axe, and Thunder calls to his daughters, "Pelt
him, pelt him! Spare him not, for he deserves it." 3
The following Carib legend, explaining the origin of the axe, may
be of interest here: —
Very long ago men did not know anything about the axe. It was in the
time when the heart spoke, and the only word was Se. The heart had but
to say "Se"' ("desire"), and man had all he could wish. In thosedays the
Indians wished only what God (Tamusi) willed; but gradually, as time went
on, they wished what God did not want them to have, and then there came
an end to the language of Se. And God punished them severely; and the
punishment was that they had to invent the axe, and since that time they
have been obliged to work very hard with it to supply the wants of daily life.
Following is a Carib Aula 4 (or "Word") : —
KONOMERU-AULA.
1. Au Konomeru, nono tekekanie au weianiera.
2. Nono telengane no, au Konomeru.
3. Tonomu malole tekane, Konomeru au weianiera.
1 It is worthy of note that the feather-crown, as drawn by Saka, has very much the
appearance of the upper portions of some of the more elaborate rock inscriptions to be
found in Guiana. Compare especially with the petroglyph found near the Marlissa
rapids in the Berbice River, reproduced on the cover of Timehri, Journal of the Royal
Agricultural and Commercial Society of British Guiana (see the lower figure at the extreme
left).
2 Also Kabe-kabe, or Tiabe-tiabe.
3 F. P. and A. P. Penard, Indiaansche Legenden en verhalen. De Surinamer, 20
December, 1908.
4 The Aula (or "Word") of anything is its life description, its being. The above
Aula is one of a large number communicated by the Kalinia priests or medicine-men
(Pujais) to F. P. and A. P. Penard. They will all be published in a work of encyclopaedic
character on the Kalinias of Surinam. This work is now in manuscript form.
Primitive Stone Artifacts in Surinam. 259
4. W-utolime ero maniali s-akoto janie.
5. Koi omia toko taulo to mame.
6. Kape-kape je maponombo.
7. Erembo au wokasan, au Konomeru.
WORD OF THE THUNDER.
i. I am the Thunder, the terror of the earth reflects my one-ness.
2. The earth I do vibrate, I the Thunder.
3. All flesh fears, that reflects the one-ness of the Thunder.
4. I pass along my held.
5. With swiftness all must move out of the way.
6. The lightning precedes me.
7. The thunder-axe I have made, I the Thunder.
In another Aula, the Okojumu-aula ("Word of the Snake-Spirit"),
there is also a reference to the thunder-axe, and we quote here the
portion bearing on the subject.
1. Au Pulake-jumu apotu moloman, Au ere-mbo, Au topu tano.
2. Au Puju potelu, konomeru maro kape-kape Au wokosan.
1. I am the force of the spirit of the Pulake,1 the thunder-axe, the stone.
2. I am the force of the firefly, thunder and lightning I have created.
A Carib medicine-man informed us that he was able to read in a
stone axe the entire past of an Indian, as if it were a book.
Especially the Negroes regard the thunder-stones with superstitious
awe, and attribute to them various wonderful properties. It is
believed that the mere possession of these objects prevents sickness
and disease, and even the slightest touch may restore an affected part
to perfect health. Properly applied, they may be used to cure all
kinds of diseases, especially those caused by evil spirits. Small pieces
of the stone are broken off, ground into a fine powder, and mixed
with legitimate medicines. Sometimes they are placed in drinking-
water; and the water is then considered excellent for persons suffering
from convulsions, lameness, and other ailments, but especially is
it considered an excellent tonic for building up the system and for
developing strength.
A woman told us that she had completely cured herself of rheuma-
tism by bathing every morning at five o'clock in a tub of thunder-stone
water. Another woman said that she had cured three of her children
of convulsions by means of powder made from a thunder-stone.
A man said that he had cured himself of a severe lameness in his back,
and congestion of the lungs, by the use of thunder-stone water mixed
with some water in which an ass had snorted, and a little sand taken
from the spot on which an ass had rolled, and that his back had not
1 Gymnotns electricus Linn.
260 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
only regained its original strength, but had become as strong as that
of the ass.
Furthermore, the strength of thunder-stone water depends largely
upon the color of the thunder-stone, and it is most powerful while it
thunders. The darkest stones are of course the most potent; and
the more violent the storm, the more efficacious the thunder-stone
water. Thus a person who bathes in water containing a black
thunder-stone may become so strong that he can kill another man with
one blow of his fist; and the most remarkable thing about it is that
the body of the person who meets his death in this manner is so heavy,
that it requires three times as many men to lift it as would be necessary
for an ordinary corpse.
They are potent factors in driving away evil spirits, and give satis-
factory protection against "bad things" (takroe sani) of all descrip-
tions. For this purpose they are also worn around the neck, suspended
by means of a suitable string or necklace. One of the specimens in
the writers' collection has apparently been used in this manner. The
specimen is of the notched type; it is not a large one, measuring 72
mm. in length, 69 mm. in width, and 16 mm. in thickness; it weighs
x47-5 grams. Near the edge there is a small hole 9 mm. in diameter,
intended for the string. The stone is covered with a dark patina,
the entire surface being very smooth and highly polished from constant
rubbing.
We have heard of a mason who, while working in a cemetery, found
a basket containing seven stone axes, where they had probably been
placed to prevent some spirit or other from leaving the cemetery to
haunt elsewhere.
The so-called "thunder-stone mother" (onweri-ston mama) is con-
ceded to be the most potent of all thunder-stones. A man who
occasionally bought specimens for the writers, once told them that a
very old woman who lived just outside the city possessed one of these
wonderful stones, and kept it in a white bowl filled with water.
She would not sell it at any price, because she said her good health
and old age were due to drinking this thunder-stone water. He
described the stone as a six-pointed star about two inches in diameter.
The edges of the triangular (?) rays were, on both sides of the star,
as sharp as a knife; it was of very dark color and beautifully polished.
We did not put much faith in this account, assuming that it was
probably an object of European make. Indians with whom we con-
sulted in regard to stones of this nature had never seen any like it;
but some time afterwards we met an old medicine-man who said
that he had seen such a stone, but in describing it he said there were
only five points instead of six. We immediately took steps to secure
the one in the old woman's possession; but unfortunately she had
Primitive Stone Artifacts in Surinam. 261
died in the mean time, and the bowl with its contents had been
buried with her "so that her spirit might not return to look for it."
Not only do thunder-stones drive away the bad things, but they
attract the good. An acquaintance once saw a man fishing, who
used, instead of the usual lead weight or common stone, a thunder-
stone, which he believed attracted the fish to his line. He would not
sell the stone, although he was offered a good price for it.
The scarcity of these objects is accounted for by some who say
that a person, having found one of these onweri-ston, cannot find
another for a period of seven years. Of course, a number are destroyed
in preparing powders for medicines, as we have just mentioned; but
another factor in the destruction of these relics is the belief that they
contain precious metals or gems, and many are destroyed in the vain
attempt to secure the treasure. De Booy : found this same notion
in the West Indies, and ascribed it to the suspicion the natives have
that the white man collects these relics in order to extract from them
the precious metals they contain.
This is true in Surinam also. The natives cannot understand why
the white man, who is not superstitious, will pay out perfectly good
money for these stones unless they contain something of value.
Indeed, we have been definitely informed that the treasures for which
the white man seeks must have their origin in the celestial nature of
these objects.
The collector must be constantly on his guard to distinguish between
true popular notions, and the ridiculous, valueless statements made
by the vendor with the deliberate intention of deceiving the buyer.
For example, one morning a man brought us a very big field-stone
which he pretended was a real thunder-stone. The deception was
obvious. Putting one hand upon it, we said sarcastically, "This
stone is warm, and thunder-stones are always cold, are they not?"
Without a moment's hesitation the man answered, "That is true, sir,
but this is not an ordinary thunder-stone; in fact, it is a so-called
'sun-stone.' You see, I understood that you bought all kinds of
stones that fall from the sky, and, although this particular stone was
not thrown down by the lightning, nevertheless it fell out of the sun
in the sky. On my way over I carelessly carried the stone in the sun,
and it just naturally attracted the sun's rays to itself and became
warm, as you now perceive."
Arlington, Mass.,
Oct. 16, 1916.
1 Theodoorde Booy, " Certain West Indian Superstitions pertaining to Celts" (JAFL
28 : 81).
262 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
BANTU TALES.
BY R. H. NASSAU.
The following tales correspond to the English tales published in
Volume 28, pp. 32-36, of this Journal. They are given here in the
Bantu dialects as told to the author.
ALPHABET.
The consonants are pronounced as in English, except that g is
always hard.
The vowels are pronounced as in the languages of southern Europe : —
a like a in father (e.g., kalaka, "to speak").
a " law (
e " they (
e " met (
i " machine (
u " rule (
dve, "thou").
elabe, "a branch").
uheke, "beach").
ikadu, "a hand").
umbaka, "one").
Diphthongs: ai (e.g., paia, "my father").
au (e.g., au, "not-he").
Every syllable is closed with a vowel. The accent is on the penult.
When a final vowel is followed by an initial vowel, either the vowels
coalesce, or one of them is elided.
In the case of two or more initial consonants, a slight vowel-sound
is permitted to precede: e.g., Mpongwe = uMpongwe (ng is nasal).
HO TIMBAKENI O MAKODO ("LET US GO BACK TO THE PLACE THAT
WAS LEFT").1
{Benga Dialect.)
Ba diyakindi bamo babale, mbweyi na balongi. Wa umbaka,
There were men two, friends and neighbors. The one,
Ogula, a vaki, na, "MwSla! mbi ngi te mbi kekS o 'hiki ya
Ogula, he spoke, saying, "Chum! I am I going to. a country
yavidSngo o ujopo; na, o ivala jam£, mbi dikanakandi na nav£
of far-off to travel; and, in going my, I leave with you,
ekamu ulega mwame' mwa sitanye. Tataka mwa bwam\ o pel'
this barrel my of sitanye. Take care it good, for sake
'ame." (Sitanye ekanS e diyakindi beja ba jakindi o ehe tit.)
mine." (Sitanye this it was food they ate in land that.)
1 See JAFL 28 : 32.
Bantu Tales. 263
Mbweyi 'aju, Boloba, a yavwanaki, "E; ndi, yan£ e 'be elombo
Friend his, Boloba, he replied, "Yes; but, that it is not thing
ehakwe!" Wa mbweyi umbaka, Ogula, a kSkindi, ka ma-a
it to be done." The friend one, Ogula, he went, and him-he
vala o 'he t£ ya yavidengo. O ulingo mwa a diyakind* ome, e
travelled to land that of far-away. In while that he was there, it
hamakindi, na, mwada wa mbweyi 'aju Boloba, a 'mbakind* o
happened that wife of friend his Boloba, she was about to
jana mwana; ka jemi te i pangi ma iyombuwa ja beja ka beja,
bear a child; and womb that it not cause her longing of any food,
kabo y& sitanye iuStS t£. Buhwa bwe, ka ma-a hahalakidi momi
except it sitanye very that. Day open, then her-she begged husband
'aju o pel6 ya beja t£; nandi, a lingwaki na ma, tina ya na a uwaki
her for sake of food that; and, he was angry with her, cause of that she asked
ma, na, a weyaka mohano mwaju. Ndi, e diyaki ya nyanga te\
him that he destroy promise his. But, it was it same that,
buhwa ka buhwa. O madikanido, ka ma-a va, na: "'Mba, na,
day by day. At last, then him-he said, thus: "Me, thus,
oningg yli te nonan£, mbi ka nyangandi hika; ndi mbi ka nangandi
if it is so, I will lose money; but I will take
pani sitanye ya mbweyi 'ame. O ma-a ka 'mbak' o timba,
at once sitanye of friend my. When him-he will be about to return,
benge mbi ka hamband* epakwe o peT 'aju." A nangindi ulega te ;
then I will buy another for sake his." He took barrel that;
o m^-a diyaki a dubuwa mwa, hika i kwakind' o ndek*. A
when him-he was he opening it, money it fell on floor. He
vaki, na: "NonanS! Ekamu u ndi ulega mwa mbweyi 'am6 a
said, thus: "So then! This it is barrel which friend my he
vaki, na, u diyaki mua sitanye; ekamu mua hika ? Bwam'! nandi,
said, that, it was of sitanye; this of money? Well! then,
mbi to nanga hika, na mbi timbake ma sitanye; ikabojana, ma
I let take money, and I return him sitanye; for, him,
ndi a tubaki 'sitanye.'" O ulingo mwa jomu jamepumau tombidi,
is he named 'sitanye.'" When space of ten of years it passed,
ka mbweyi 'aju Ogula a pakindi. Ka momo tekan6 Ogula a va
then friend his Ogula he arrived. And man this Ogula he said
na wa mbweyi Boloba, "Bweyakide 'mba ulega muame uame u
to the friend Boloba, "Hand me barrel my which-I it
dikanidi na nave." Mbweyi 'aju Boloba a bweyakidi o ma ajadi
left with you." Friend his Boloba he handed to him unto
pani, ulega mwa sitanye. O Ogula a dubwaki mua, a duwaki
promptly, barrel of sitanye. When Ogula he opened it, he found
ulega ti na sitanye ya kya, na e ha be bango. Ka ma-a mama,
barrel full with sitanye of new, and it not is rotten. Then him-he wondered,
na: "Mbi dikanindi na mbweyi 'ame" Boloba ulega mwa hika, na
thus: "I left with friend my Boloba barrel of money, and
ma>a ka-timbaka 'mba, ulega mwa sitanye?" Ogula a ndakiyi
him-he gives back me barrel of sitanye? " Ogula he called
264 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
mbweyi 'aju, na: "Mbweyi 'am£! O haka IS 'mba nde? Umba
friend his, thus: "Friend my I You do ? me what. Me
ndi moto a dikanidi na nav£ ulega mwa hika; na, o ka timbaka
am person he left with you barrel of money; and you do return
'mba ulega mwa sitanye?" Mbweyi 'aju Boloba a yavwanaki,
me barrel of sitanye?" Friend his Boloba he replied,
"Yanee 'be nonane; o dikanaki 'mba sitanye; k' umba 'mba timba
"That it is not so; you left with me sitanye; and me- me return
ave" tepg sitanye. E! Mwera! ave-o yejekend' o iba hika oviya
you also sitanye. O Chum! you-thou trying to steal money from
umba-mbi jadi!" Upakwe mane Ogula ma, na: "Ave ndi wa jadi
me-I unto!" Other one Ogula him, thus: "You are who is
a yejeke o iba oviya umba hika 'ame. Ndi, nyanga 've-o vaki
he trying to steal from me money my. But, since you-thou say
nonane, o 'ka, na nave-wa saja o boho bwa batodu." Upakwe
so, you come, and you-thou enter complaint to face of elders." Other
Boloba a vaki, na: "Njambo eyamu ! ho to vala ka saja."
Boloba he said, thus: "Affair good! we let go to make complaint."
Ba valindi, kwanga na o ba-ba pakindi o batodu ba jadi.
They went, until that when them-they came to elders they unto.
Mbweyi wa boho; Ogula, de, na upako mwaju, na: "Ho
Friend the first, Ogula, standing, with statement his, thus: "We
hamindi, o mbi lenakidi o-pele ya ekenda o 'he te ya yavid£ngo,
happened, when I decided about of journey to land that of far,
benge mbi dikaki na mbweyi 'ame ulega mwame mwa hika, na-na
then I left with friend my barrel my of money, that
a ka bandamakide mwa o-peT 'amS. Tepe, mbi haki ehaliya o
he should take care it for sake my. And, I pretended to
ma-a jadi, na, u diyaki sitanye, obanga ma yowengo na u diyaki
him-he unto, that, it was sitanye, lest, him, knowing that it was
hika, vendetwa a ka dubuwa mwa." Mbweyi 'aju Boloba a vaki,
money, perhaps he would open it." Friend his Boloba he said,
na: "Mbweyi 'ame a dikaki n' umba ulega mwa sitanye; o ma-a
thus: "Friend my he left with me barrel of sitanye; when him-he
pakidi, k* umba-mbi timbidi ma tepe ulega mwa sitanye. Ka okava
arrived, then me-I returned him also barrel of sitanye. And here
a pandi na iyabana, na, nana u diyaki mwa hika. Ndi,mbi vakS,
he comes with deception, thus, that it was of money. But, I say,
na, mbu yen£ke hika." Ba batodu ba vaki, na: "NonanS! upako
thus, I-not see money." The elders they said, thus: "So! matter
nd* ekamu! Ave, Ogula, wa moto wa pels ya bohoboho, o lemakandi;
is this! You, Ogula, the person of side of first, you err;
o dikanindi na Boloba, wa pele epakwe, sitanye, ka ma-a timbaki
you left with Boloba the side other, sitanye, and him-he returns
ave tep6 sitanye. Nandi, o vahaka 16 o ibakiya ma hika nde?"
you also sitanye. Now, you wish ? to steal from him money why?"
O Ogula a yokaki, na jeku, a senjaki upako te, na: "E diyake!
When Ogula he heard, in wrath, he abandoned affair that, thus: "Let it be!
Bantu Tales. 265
Hika te e diyakind'e ame mete; tombekete ya pela, mbi 'bS n'
Money that it was mine very; even if it lost, I am-not
isala!" Bana babu babale, na majoka o uhenge, wa mwana wa
with care!" Children their two, with plays in street, the child of
a duwakidi hika te, Ogula, a vaki na upakwe na: " M wera ! mbambaye !
he owned money that, Ogula, he said to other, thus: "Chum! really!
Hangwe a haka le nde na hika ya paia? Paia a dikaki
your father he does ? what with money of my father? My father he left
na hangwe ulega mwa hika, ka hangwe a vahakand* o 'ba ya
with your-father barrel of money, and your-father he is wishing to steal it
na iba bo-ibaka." Wa upakwe wa mwana wa Boloba, a va, na:
with stealing only stealing." The other, the child of Boloba, he said, thus:
"E 'be nonane; hangwe ndi a di a yejeke o 'ba hika ya paia;
"Itis-notso; your-father is he who he attempt to steal money of my-father;
ikabojana hangwe a dikaki na paia sitanye; nandi okava a
because your-father he left with my-father sitanye; and here he
vahakand' o nanga hika oviya o ma-a jadi?" Upakwe, wa mwana
wants to take money from at him-he unto?" Other, the child
wa Ogula, a va, na: "Mwera! na nave wa jawe, o ndi yenengo
of Ogula, he said, thus: "Chum! since you-thou born, you are seeing
sitanye ya bemba ulingo mwa jomu ja mepuma na ya-ya jongoliye?"
sitanye it exist while of ten of years and it it-not rot?"
Upakwe a yavwanaki, "Nyawe." Wa upakwe, mwana wa Ogula, a
Other he answered, "No." The other, child of Ogula, he
badindi, "Sitanye, a jaka paia a dikaki y£ jomu t£ ja mepuma
added, "Sitanye, he had my-father he left it ten that of years
ekadi, ya jongoliye, na y^-ya bundakana?" Buhwa ka buhwa, ba
that, it-not rot, and it it-not decay?" Day by day, they
lilimakindi na usaju te. O ba batodu ba yokaki o pele tenS,
continued in discussion that. When they elders they heard of side that,
benge ba vaki, na: "Ho timbakeni o jaji." 0 ba-ba
then they said, thus: "Let us go back to beginning." When them-they
timbidi upoko te, ya na u sajakwe pe, ba vaki, na: "Endi nonane.
returned case that, for that it be tried again, they said, thus: "It is so.
Av£, wa ekane, Ogula, wu dikaka sitanye. O dikindi hika; ikabojana
You, of this, Ogula, you-not left sitanye. You left money; because,
sitanye e 'be na ngudi o diya ulingo mwa jomu ja mepuma, na y^-ya
sitanye it is not with power to lay while of ten of years, and it it-not
jongoliye. O dikaki hika. Nangaka hik5 'ave." Ka ma-a nanga
spoil. You left money. Take money your." And him-he took
hik< 'aju.
money his.
OVER- SLEEPING AND OVER-EATING — WHICH IS WORSE?1
(Batanga Dialect.)
Viya-vibe na Ejedi-ebe ba pangaki mbweyi. Ejedi-ebe a keki
Sleep-Bad and Eating-Bad they contracted friend. Eating-Bad he went
1 See JAFL 28 : 34 (No. 8).
266 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
ka lumbiya o mboka ya Viya-vibe. Wa ekanfi a kenjaki mangi
to visit at town of Sleep-Bad. Of this he prepared kinds
ma beja mShSpi, londango ndabo ya ntuntu ti. Ejedi-ebe a
of food all, filling house of whole full. Eating-Bad he
yinginaki pani o ndabo, na raa-a na savulaka a miyaki belombo
entered at once in house, and him-he with gluttony he swallowed things
byehepi be diyakidi o ndabo. B£nge\apumaki. O ma-a mbakind*
all they were in house. Then, he went out. When him-he was about
o vala, a vaki na mbweyi 'aju Viya-vibe, na: "Nandi, mb( 'alandi o
to go, he said to friend his Sleep-Bad, thus: "Now, I'm going to
wahu; o ka pandi ka lumbiya 'mba na hwi ibale. O ja hwi
my-home; you must come and visit me in days two. When those days
ibale ja timidi, moto t6kan£, Viya-vibe, a umuwa, na, bo-tamwaka o
two they fulfilled, person this, Sleep-Bad, he arose, and, walking-walking on
njea 'aju, a pakindi o mboka ya mbweyi 'aju Ejedi-ebe. Pani, wa
way his, he came to town of friend his Eating-Bad. At once, this
ekanS a valind* ulengS o 'hiki, ka kenja beja o pelS ya mwengi mwaju,
one he went hunting in forest, to provide food for sake of ' guest his,
ma-a diyaki diya o mboka; ka ovone a kwakind* o viya. Molo
who he was staying in town; and there he fell in sleep. Head
mwaju u diyaki o-he okava, na nyol* 'aju ovonS, na bevandi bya
his it was below here, and body his there, and limbs of
nyolo be hambakudwe' ngetanfengo o he. O Ejedi-ebe a timbaki
body they stretched out full length on ground. When Eating-Bad he returned,
oviya o 'hiki, a duwaki mbweyi 'aju wimbili o he, pani te ka ma-a
from at forest, he found friend his spread out on ground, like that as him-he
wango, ma tepS na viya vingng na ovang-ndo au yokaka elombo.
dead, him also with sleep great that therefore he-not hear thing.
Na ipikiliya ja na mbweyi 'aju a weyakwS, Ejedi-ebe a lingwaki,
With thought of that friend his he was killed, Eating-Bad he was angry,
na: "Ba 16 ba nja ba weyaki mwengi o mbok' 'ame?" Vakana, a
thus: "They? they who they killed visitor in town my?" So, he
umuwa, ka ma-a vala ka weya bato ba ikaka ipakwS, o pele ya
arose, and him-he went to kill people of family another, for sake of
ikundwg ja mbweyi 'aju.
avenging of friend his.
O ma-a timbidi, a kabakindi mbweyi 'aju, Viya-vibe, umuwango
When him-he returned, he found friend his, Sleep-Bad aroused
oviya viya viaju, ma tepS diya. BSngS, bato ba vaka, ka ba-ba
from sleep his, him also sitting. Then, people they came, and them-they
va na Ejedi-ebe, na: "E le nja tina eyavS e weyaki bato?"
said to Eating-Bad, thus: "It ? what reason of-yours it kill people?"
Vakana, ba ndakiyi ehoka, ka ba-ba kalaki upoko t£, ba vanaka
So, they summoned council, and them-they talked matter that, they bring
itube" o Ejedi-ebe a jadi. Ndi, ma a vaki, na: "A 'be 'mba a ka
accusation to Eating-Bad he unto. But, him, he said, thus: "He is-not me heshall
bakakudwe; Viya-vibe a lukakand* o tubweV' Ndi, batodu o ehoka
be charged; Sleep-Bad should be accused." But, elders in council
ba lenaki, na, Ejedi-ebe a diyaki kobango.
hey decided, Eating-Bad he was guilty.
Bantu Tales. 267
TWO PEOPLE WITH ONLY ONE EYE.1
{Batanga Dialect.)
Ba diyakindi bato babale, wa momo na wa mwajo. Wa ekanS a
They were people two, a man and a woman. The this he
diyaki pagu; nonanS tep£ a diyaki upakw£. Ba diyaki na diha
was blind; so also he was other. They were with eye
jaka. Oningg wa umbaka, a diye na diha, a vahakind* o yene
one. If the one, he-not was with eye, he wished to see
elombo, a ka yalaka kabo a ta uwa upakwS, na: " Veke 'mba diha
thing, he will be able except he first ask other, thus: "Give me eye
tA" Buhwa baka wa momo a valindi o 'hiki, bapengo diha te
that." Day one the man he went to forest, carrying eye that
na ma; ka ma-a yen£ ele ya boi. BengS a timbaki; na, o
with him; and him-he saw tree of honey. Then he returned; and, when
ma-a pakidi o ndab* 'aju, a langwaki wa mwajo, "Mbi ndi
him-he arrived at house his, he told the woman, "I am
duwango boi o ele; ho to vala vake ka puduwa om£, na ka
finding honey in tree; we let go to-morrow to dig there, and to
hoduwa bwa oviya utema mwa ele." Vakana, buhwa bwe, wa
pull out it from inside of tree." So, day open, the
momo batango dihi, a bapakindi wa mwajo o ukanga mwaju;
man wearing eye, he carried the woman on back his;
ka ba-ba vala, ka ba-ba pa o tina ya ele te\ Ovon£, wa
and them-they went, and them-they arrived at base of tree that. There, the
momo a hubakindi wa mwajo, ka ma-a nanga ubaki mwaju na
man he put down the woman, and him-he took axe his and
ukwala. A betakind' ele te\ ka ma-a kwelg ka ma-a lena, ka
machete. He climbed tree that, and him-he chopped and him-he cut, and
ma-a puduwa o uhamba ka ma-a hoduwa ekoda ya boi. Benge
him-he dug in hollow, and him-he pulled comb of honey. Then
a kala, ka ma-a yama o mwajo a jadi, na: "Ta longa elinga,
he spoke, and him-he called to woman she unto, thus: "Must weave basket,
o ya ka vamwS ukana te\" Mwad* 'aju a yavwanaki o ma-a
in it will be put honeycomb that." Wife his she replied to him-he
jadi, "Mbi ka yeneele, o mbi ha bS na diha? Mbi diye na
unto, "I shall see how, when I not am with eye? I not being with
diha, mbi ka yene IS o longa? Yangwakiya 'mba diha!" Vakana,
eye, I shall see how to weave? Fling for me eye!" So,
wa momo a hodwaki diha tS oviya utema mwaju, ka ma-a yanguwa
the man he pulled eye that from inside its, and him-he flung
ja o ebyabya 'aju o he. Wa mwajo a bweyaki diha te pani,
it to lap her at ground. The woman she caught eye that at once,
ka m^-a vama ja hohonganengo bandabanda o utema mwaju mete.
and her-she fastened it properly tight in inside her very.
A yalakind* o lena mekilibanjo na melabi; benge" a longaki ehini ya
She began to cut sticks and twigs; then she wove frame of
1 See JAFL 28 : 35.
268 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
elinga. O ma-a makidi ilonga jaju, wa momo a kalaki na ma,
basket. When her-she finished weaving its, the man he spoke to her,
na: "Yangwakiya 'mba diha t6!" Vakana, a yangwaki diha t6,
thus: "Fling for me eye that!" So, she flung eye that
na ikenge, na a uhwaki ja o ma-a jadi, kwanga o bena byaju bwe;
with skill, and she threw it to him-he unto, far as to hands his open;
ka ma-a bweya ja, ka ma-a vame ja o iboko viaju o molo mwaju.
and him-he caught it, and him-he put it in place its in head his.
Ulingo tombango, ka wa mwajo a kala, na: "Lomakiya 'mba boyi;
While passed, and the woman she spoke, thus: "Send for me • honey;
mbi vahakand* o ja." Ndi, wa momo a yavwanaki, "Ta venga! O
I wish to eat." But, the man he replied, "Just wait! You
ka jate o buhwa, o mbi ka pate." Ndi, wa mwajo a va, na: "Mbi
will eat to-day, when I shall arrive." But, the woman she said, thus: "I
vahakandi ja pele." Vakana, wa momo a uhwaki o ma-a jadi,
wish it at once." So, the man he threw to her-she unto,
mbeyi ya ukana. Ndi, au yokaka o ya-e kwakidi, na au
piece of honeycomb. But, she-not hear when it-it fell, and she-not
yowaka iboko viyaju vi diyakidi; ka ma-a va, na: "Lomakiya
know place its it was; and her-she said, thus: "Send for
'mba diha, na ovane ndo mbi ka tala ukana." O ya, wa momo
me eye, that therefor I shall pick comb." On that, the man
a yangwaki pS diha te o ma-a jadi o ebyabya 'aju. Wa mwajo
he flung again eye that to her-she unto in lap her. The woman
a nangaki ja, ka ma-a vame ja o iboko vyaju vya molo. A duwaki
she took it, and her-she put it in place its of head. She found
iboko vya ukana u diyaki u kwa, na ma-a yalaki o ja boyi. Benge,
place of comb it was it fell, and her-she began to eat honey. Then,
wa momo a va na ma, "Yangwakiya 'mba diha te oba okava." Wa
the man he said to her, "Fling for me eye that over here." The
mwajo a yangwaki diha t£ o ma-a jadi; ndi ja-i kwakindi o elabe,
woman she flung eye that to him-he unto; but it-it fell on branch
ka ja-ja kakamakiya o hangang ya ulabe. O njo te, inani i pandi.
and it-it stuck in middle of branch. At then that, bird it came.
Wa momo, a diyaki a vengaka, na au yowaka na diha te i diyaki
The man, he was he waiting, and he-not know that eye that it was
'hwango, a sombiyaki p6, na: "Yangwakiya 'mba diha te." A
thrown, he ordered again, thus: "Fling forme eye that." She
yavwanaki, "Diha t£ i ndi oba ovone." Ndi wa momo a yavwanaki,
replied, "Eye that it is up there." But the man he answered,
"Nyawe, mbi 'be na ja!" Kawa mwajo a timbaki "O yabakiye
"No, I not-am with it." And the woman she responded, "You deceive
'mba." Njo tS, inani t£ i miyaki diha, ka ja-ja veveki. Wa
me." Time that, bird that it swallowed eye, and it-it flew. The
momo a ulwakudwe ka ma-a diyaki mboka ya hako; ka wa mwajo
man he was changed and him-he was town of house-ants; and the woman
tepS a ulwakudwS, ka ma-a diyaki ukongolo mwa nyelelS.
also she was changed, and her-she was hill of white-ants.
Ambler, Pa.
Annual Meeting of the American Folk-Lore Society. 269
TWENTY-EIGHTH ANNUAL MEETING OF THE
AMERICAN FOLK-LORE SOCIETY.
The Council meeting of the Society was held on Dec. 27, 1916, at
the American Museum of Natural History, New York, President
Lowie in the chair. Present: Messrs. Boas, Dixon, Peabody, Tozzer,
and Mrs. Elsie Clews Parsons. At this meeting the Secretary and
Editor reported as follows: —
secretary's report.
The membership of the Society, including the libraries subscribing
to the Journal, is as follows: —
1913. 1916.
Honorary members 12 10
Life members 10 11
Annual members 389 380
411 401
Subscribing libraries 162 170
The Secretary announces with great regret the death of George
Laurence Gomme and Giuseppe Pitre, honorary members of the
Society.
Charles Peabody, Secretary.
editor's report.
During the past year four numbers of the Journal have been printed,
— the December number for 191 5, being the Hispanic Number of that
year; the first number of 1916, being the French Number for that
year; and the second and third numbers for 1916. The printing of
a Memoir by Miss Eleanor Hague on "Spanish-American Folk-Song"
has also been begun. At the present time the fourth number of 1916
and the first number of 1917 are in the hands of the printer.
During the past few years, material for the Folk-Lore Journal
has been increasing in bulk, so much so that the four numbers no
longer accommodate the material that is offered for publication.
A number of papers presented are so long that they might well be
published as Memoirs, and the question arises what to do in regard
to the increasing material. The membership fee of three dollars is so
low, that the Society is not justified in furnishing to its members more
than a journal of approximately four hundred pages. For this reason
it is suggested that longer papers be published in the form of Memoirs,
270 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
to be furnished to contributors to the Publication Fund and to
subscribers to the Memoirs.
Work on the Index is progressing rapidly now. The contents of
the first twenty-five volumes have been listed, and the manuscript
is ready including the letter /. It is hoped that the preparation of
the manuscript will be completed by the spring of the coming year.
The material for the first Negro Number has been collected by Mrs.
Parsons, who is in charge of this subject, and it is hoped that the first
Negro Number may appear early in the coming year.
Franz Boas, Editor.
The Secretary's and Editor's Reports were accepted as read.
treasurer's report for i 916.
RECEIPTS.
Balance from 1915 $1,486.26
Hispanic Society contribution 350.00
Carnegie Peace Foundation contribution 200.00
Charles Peabody contribution 350.00
Interest 33-8o
G. E. Stechert, sales of Journal and Memoirs 360.00
C. M. Barbeau, sales of Journal in Canada 43-50
Publication Fund 80.00
Life Member 50.00
Yearly members 904.14
Total receipts $3,857.70
DISBURSEMENTS.
Manufacture of Journals:
July-September, October-December, 1915, January-March, April-June, 1916. $1,504.65
Work on Index 213.00
Clerical work for Editor '. 150.00
Rebates to Branches 90.16
Postage 5.30
Collections 1.24
Total expenses $1,964.35
Balance on hand Jan. 1, 1917 1.893.35
$3.857-70
Alfred M. Tozzer, Treasurer.
Audited.
R. B. Dixon
'. J
r Auditors.
C. Peabody,
Professor Dixon and Dr. Peabody were appointed auditors.
The Editor was granted authority to arrange rates and a possible
change of publisher for the Society.
Annual Meeting of the American Folk-Lore Society. 271
On motion of Professor Boas, a vote of thanks was passed to the
Secretary for his assistance to the Editor.
The following officers for 191 7 were nominated by the Council: —
President, Robert H. Lowie.
First Vice-President, G. L. Kittredge.
Second Vice-President, J. Walter Fewkes.
Editor, Franz Boas.
Assistant Editors, G. L. Kittredge, A. M. Espinosa, C.-M.
Barbeau, Elsie Clews Parsons.
Permanent Secretary, Charles Peabody, Harvard University,
Cambridge, Mass.
Assistant Secretary, A. V. Kidder.
Treasurer, A. M. Tozzer, 7 Bryant Street, Cambridge, Mass.
Councillors, for three years, R. B. Dixon, E. Sapir, A. L. Kroeber;
for two years, Phillips Barry, C.-M. Barbeau, A. M. Espinosa; for
one year, B. Laufer, E. K. Putnam, Stith Thompson.
The annual meeting of the American Folk-Lore Society was held
at the same place immediately following the Council meeting, President
Lowie in the chair. It was held in affiliation with the American
Anthropological Association and Section H of the American Associa-
tion for the Advancement of Science.
A communication from the American Association for the Advance-
ment of Science was read, offering special terms for new members
who should be members of the affiliated societies.
The officers nominated by the Council were unanimously elected.
The following communications were then presented : —
"Oral Tradition and History" (presidential address), Robert H.
Lowie.
"A Prehistoric Wind-instrument from Pecos, N. Mex.," Charles
Peabody (discussed by Spinden).
"La Gui-Annee, a Missouri New- Year's Custom," Anne Johnson
(read by Peabody, discussed by Belden).
"Bible Stories among the American Indians," Stith Thompson
(discussed by Sapir, Lowie, Michelson, Spinden).
"The Origin of Wampum; an Algonkin Tale," Harley Stamp.
"Three Matrix-Tales, — 'Big Klaus and Little Klaus,' ' Erdman-
neken,' and ' Ali Baba,' among Bahamans and Cape Verde Islanders,"
— Elsie Clews Parsons (discussed by Boas and Goddard).
The following were read by title :
"The Resources of Canadian Folk-Lore," C.-M. Barbeau.
"Fire-Origin Myths of the American Indians," Walter Hough.
Charles Peabody, Secretary.
272 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
LOCAL MEETINGS.
Missouri Branch. — The tenth annual meeting of the Missouri Branch
of the American Folk-Lore Society was held in St. Louis, in conjunction
with the State Teachers' Association, on the 16th and 17th of November,
1916. The programme of the first session comprised the presidential
address, "The Folk-Lore of Flowers that grow in Missouri," Miss Mary
A. Owen; "Italian Folk-Lore in Missouri," Miss Rala Glaser and Miss
Ellen Lawton; "Old Ste. Genevieve," Mrs. Edward Schaaf; "The Loca-
tion of the Indian Heaven," Dr. W. L. Campbell; Round Table on
children's games, Miss Leah R. C. Yoffie, leader. At the second session
Dr. C. H. Williams of Columbia described "Ballad Conditions in Bollinger
County," and Mr. E. E. Chiles of St. Louis presented a Missouri version of
the ballad of "The Hangman's Tree." The officers for 1917 are: President,
Miss Mary A. Owen; Vice-Presidents, Miss Lucy R. Laws, Mrs. Eva W.
Case, Miss Jennie M. A. Jones, Mrs. Edward Schaaf; Secretary, Professor
H. M. Belden, Columbia; Treasurer, Professor C. H. Williams, Columbia;
Directors, Dr. A. E. Bostwick, Miss Jennie F. Chase, Miss Leah R. C. Yoffie.
Kentucky Folk-Lore Society. — The Kentucky Folk-Lore Society
held an open meeting in Louisville on April 25, during the sessions of the
Kentucky Educational Association. About a hundred people were present.
The following programme was given: presidential address, "Folk-lore
Work to be done," Dr. E. C. Perrow; "Rhymes from the Kentucky High-
lands," Prof. H. H. Fuson; "Feuds of Eastern Kentucky," Miss Myra
Sanders; "Remarks on the Philology of Current English in Kentucky,"
Dr. W. J. Grinstead; "Elizabethan Atmosphere in the Kentucky Moun-
tains," Professor J. W. Raine. Interest in folk-lore is widening somewhat
in Kentucky. More collectors of material are in the field than there were
formerly, and a larger number of people show a general interest in the
subject. Lack is felt, however, of an organ of publication in Kentucky
that might print material of too distinctly local interest and of too small
scope to seek admittance into the "Journal of American Folk-Lore."
Since last October the Secretary of the Kentucky Branch Society has
edited a column of folk-lore once a month in the feature section of the
"Louisville Courier-Journal." This column serves as a small outlet of
folk-lore expression, and advertises the work of the Society; but the space
allotted for this purpose is not adequate. The officers for 191 7 are: Presi-
dent, E. C. Perrow; Vice-Presidents, Miss A. A. Cassity, Mrs. Ewing
Marshall; Secretary, D. L. Thomas, Danville; Treasurer, John F. Smith,
Berea.
D. L. Thomas, Secretary.
The Virginia Folk-Lore Society. — The fourth annual meeting of
the Folk-Lore Society of Virginia met Dec. I, 1916, at Richmond, Va.
About fifty enthusiasts on the ballad were present; and new interest was
aroused by the report of Dr. C. Alphonso Smith, the Archivist, who reported
Local Meetings. 273
a most encouraging year of ballad finds, numbering, in all, twenty-eight,
most of them variants of those previously obtained. The most interesting
event of the year from a ballad viewpoint was the visit to Virginia of Mr.
Cecil J. Sharp, who has collected the words and music to more ballads
surviving in England than any one else, living or dead. He spent several
months in the mountains of North Carolina, where he collected about two
hundred and sixty songs and ballads with their tunes. These are now being
published in book form. The following officers were elected for 1917;
President, Mr. John M. Stone; Vice-President, Miss Martha M. Davis;
Secretary-Treasurer, Dr. W. A. Montgomery, Richmond; Archivist, Dr. C.
Alphonso Smith.
vol. xxx. — no. 116. — 18.
274 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
NOTES AND QUERIES.
Proverbs from Abaco, Bahamas. — The following proverbs were col-
lected on Abaco, in the Bahama Islands.1
i. Hard head bud (bird) don' make good soup.
(Disobedient children don't turn out well.)
2. Beeg eye choke puppy.
(Equivalent to, " Don't bite off more than you can chew.")
3. Married got teet (teeth).
(Marriage isn't all bliss, and sometimes you get bitten.)
4. Better fer belly fer bus' en fer good wittles fer was'e. (Jamaica.)
5. Foller fashion kill monkey.
(Some people strain themselves to death trying to ape their neighbors.)
6. Too much sit-down break trousers.
(If you are lazy, you won't have any clothes to wear, as they wear out
just the same.)
7. When cockroach have dance, he no ax fowl. (Jamaica.)
(Don't invite your enemies, they will only pick you to pieces.)
8. Loose goat do' know how tie' goat feel, but tie' goat know how loose
goat feel.
(When a man is free and able to go about at will, he doesn't realize how
blessed he is; but he soon realizes how fortunate he used to be, if he
gets into trouble and is no longer free.)
9. God do' like ugly.
10. Do' t'row way dirty water till yer know where clean water dere.
(Be content with what you have until you see your way clear to some-
thing better.)
11. Easy, easy, kech (catch) monkey.
(Go cautiously and you will succeed.)
12. E'ry John Crow t'ink 'im pickaninny white. (Jamaica.)
(The blackest man thinks his own children the finest, and that they
can do no wrong.)
13. Some mans does dead befo' dem time.
(They make trouble for themselves.)
14. When man drunk, him stagger; when woman drunk, him lay down.
(Women go to extremes more than men.)
15. Do' go da road, 'tis one bad road; de longes' road carry yer home safes'.
(Short cuts don't pay.)
Hilda Armbrister,
1 For Nos. 2, 3, s, 6, 7, 12, cf. "Creole Folk-Lore from Jamaica" (JAFL 9 : 38.
Nos. 72. 44. 6S. 13. So, 28). — E. C. P.
Notes and Queries. 275
Riddles from Andros Island, Bahamas. — The following riddles slipped
in as I was engaged in collecting the " ol' storee" of Andros. Had I collected
the riddles more systematically, undoubtedly I should have gotten a very
large number, as riddles are a favorite pastime of all Andros-Islanders.
1. Me riddle me riddle burandy oh,
Perhaps I can clear dis riddle,
An' perhaps you can.
My fader had a cheer [chair], his own.
Couldn't come in an' set in it,
But some one else, a stranger,
Could come in and set in it.
Ans. — His daughter. He couldn't marry his
own daughter. A stranger had to
come an' marry her.
2. Me riddle me riddle me randy oh.
Perhaps you could clear dis riddle,
An' perhaps you can't.
Some t'ing
Go up an' come down
An' eat grass.1
3- Me riddle me riddle me randy oh.
Here's a t'ing.
White outside
An' yaller inside.
4. T'ree sisters standin' together,
None can't touch each oder.
5- Little Nan Nan in a short petticoat,
De larger she get de shorter she be.
Ans. (?)
Ans. — Egg.
Ans. — Pot foot.
Ans. — Candle.
6. My fader had seven sons,
An' all seven couldn' talk to each oders.
Ans. — Seven stars.
7. Here's a t'ing.
Knockin' up to de sea night an' day,
An' none could talk to each oder.
Ans. — Sea and rock.
8. My fader had a son twenty years
An' never eat a meal of victuals.
Ans. — Clock.
'The propounder of this riddle and of a few of the others referred to them as "sweet
riddles."
276 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
9. Here's a t'ing.
Green outside
An' yaller inside.
Ans. — Papaw.
10. Here's a t'ing.
White to de en',
Black to de middle.
11. My fader had a sheet,
An' he kyouldn' fol' it.
Ans. — Walking-stick.
Ans. — Sky.
12. De black man settin' on de red man head.
Ans. — Pot settin' on fire.
13. Me riddle me riddle me randy oh.
Perhaps you could tell me,
Perhaps you can't.
It was something
White outside,
Red inside.
Ans. — Foul egg.
14. Something roun'.
It rolls all day,
An' it stop at night.
Ans. — Tongue.
15. It's astonish to see de dead carr' de livin*.
Ans. — Boat.
16. Here's a t'ing.
Black outside
An' black inside.
Ans. — Umbrella.
17. My fader had thirty white horses an' one red one.
Ans. — Teeth and tongue.
18. What kyan an ol' woman
An' young one kyan't?
Ans. — Green pease and dry pease.
19. Me riddle me riddle me randy oh.
Perhaps you can,
Perhaps you can not.
Me fader had a t'ing.
It white inside,
It green outside.
Ans. — Cocoanut.1
1 Told in Nassau, New Providence.
Notes and Queries. 277
20. Me fader had a t'ing.
You drink de blood
An' t'row away de back.
Ans. — Cocoanut.1
21. M struck R, an' W run.
Ans. — Moses struck the Rock, and Water ran.
The following were given me as "toas" [toasts]: —
In spring I looks gay
Dress in handsome array.
De cooler it grew,
I t'row off my clothing,
In winter quite naked appear.
De hardes' work my mudder give me
To pass de ladies wine.
De hardes' work my fader give me
To cut down pine.
Elsie Clews Parsons.
New York.
1 Told in Nassau, New Providence.
278 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
BOOK REVIEWS.
H. E. Krehbiel, Afro-American Folk-Songs. New York, G. Schirmer &
Co., 1915.
Folk-lorists and ethnologists, particularly those with musical bent,
should welcome this recent result of many years of interested study on the
part of Mr. Krehbiel, and thank him for once more bringing to the attention
of the musical public the wealth of folk-song material lying hitherto almost
completely ignored in our Southern States.
It seems as if constant reiteration of this fact is still necessary, considering
the strange lack of interest in a music so unique and beautiful. Carl
Engel,1 as early as 1866, urged its careful study, and yet in 1917 the work
is only begun.
The book, which Mr. Krehbiel avowedly did not intend to be scientific,
because of the layman's generally careful avoidance of such literature, is
sufficiently popular for the merest dabbler, yet highly instructive and inter-
esting. The chapters on " Music Among the Africans " (No. V), " Struc-
tural Features of the Poems" and "Funeral Music" (No. VIII), and
" Songs of the Black Creoles" (No. X), are especially interesting to the
ethnologist, particularly No. X, which goes into the linguistic structure of
the songs.
Musicians and folk-lorists will enjoy the numerous fine examples of songs
of different types scattered throughout the book. The only wish of the
reviewer is that there had been more of these, even if it made necessary
less of the entertaining chat which often accompanies them.
The study of modes used brings out the fact that there was a quite com-
mon use of the minor scale with the raised sixth and frequently missing
seventh. The example given on p. 52, which Mr. Krehbiel has analyzed
as based on the whole-tone scale, seems to the writer to belong to the group
of songs illustrating this particular kind of minor. The presence of the
perfect fourth involving two and one half steps, occurring as an important
part of the melody in the three different sections, would seem to preclude
the possibility of a whole-tone basis. The analysis seems much more
satisfactory if the three sections which are identical melodically, are con-
sidered as being in B, E, and A minor respectively, the change of key being
easily accounted for by the alternation of solo and chorus, the solo resuming
the melody where the chorus stopped after a very long note.
In the light of the author's scathing criticisms of Dr. Wallaschek's
attitude toward American Negro music, his own remarks on that of the
American Indian are rather surprising. It may be because up to the present
time published collections in any large number have not been available.
The writer cannot pass by the remarks on p. 91, referring to the alleged
lack of interest of scientists and museums in the collection of songs. In
spite of the fact that for many years no one could be found who would
transcribe the records in any number, scientists have continued to collect
1 Studies in National Music (London, 1866).
Book Reviews. 279
them. There are, to be sure, no African collections in this country, though
there are large ones in Europe.
But American museums do not lack collections from other places. The
American Museum of Natural History has over fifteen hundred records,
some Siberian and Eskimo, many Chinese, and hundreds of Indian songs.
There are many more in Washington, and at the Victoria Museum in
Ottawa, Can. The failure has not been on the part of the ethnologists,
but entirely on the side of the musicians. However, they are now being
studied, and eventually there will be plenty of material for comparison.
That the music of the North American Indians " conforms to a stereotyped
formula, having a high beginning and repetitions of a melodic motif on
lower degrees of the scale," is true only of certain types of songs, and quite
corresponds to conceptions of form suitable for certain kinds of European
music, with this exception: that it cannot as yet be stated in how far this
recognition of form is conscious with the Indian. But Indian songs, as a
whole, are full of variety and beauty. They are by no means entirely
"ritualistic or performed by obligation," as any number of love and purely
descriptive songs will prove; while these, as well as war-songs, are often
fine specimens of melodic and rhythmic composition.
Another point to be noticed is the study made of the kind of scales used
by the Afro-Americans and those used by Europeans. The Afro-American
songs are preponderatingly major and pentatonic, and, so far as present
data go, so are the majority of the songs of the world. That edicts pro-
hibiting sad or minor songs could have been so widely effective among the
Negroes as to be felt, seems doubtful. It is more likely due to a psycho-
logical rebound in the make-up of the Negro. That these songs are mostly
religious or labor-songs may have something to do with it.
Perhaps environmentalists will find something interesting in Mr. Kreh-
biel's statement, taken from Engel, that apparently countries of high lati-
tudes make greater use of minor modes, Russia, Sweden, Norway, and
Denmark being examples.
To my mind, it would seem rather a matter of temperament and diffusion.
Surely the " sorrow and suffering " of the Russians cannot be held entirely
responsible for their frequent use of minor, any more than climate, of
which, as Mr. Krehbiel observes, there are all kinds in Russia. There are
other peoples who have also suffered oppression and slavery, whose songs
are chiefly major.
Such generalizations as the above have left out of consideration many
places of high latitude not yet heard from; and it would seem necessary to
obtain data from these, as well as from peoples of experiences similar to
those of the Russians, before drawing definite conclusions.
There are too many interesting points in the book to note properly in a
review. Saving a few instances like the above, it is a valuable contribution
to the subject of American folk-lore. The author styles it a " pioneer."
It is certainly a worthy one. With his collection and long acquaintance
with the subject, really serious students of American folk-lore and music
(and there are a number) will have only one wish, — that there could have
been more of it.
Helen H. Roberts.
New York City.
280 Journal of American Folk-Lore .
Marel Cook Cole, Philippine Folk Talcs. Chicago, A. C. McClurg & Co.,
1916. xv + 213 p. $1.25 net.
This interesting little volume is avowedly an attempt to offer to the
general public " a comprehensive popular collection " of Philippine folk-
tales. Perhaps emphasis should be placed on the word " popular," for a
comparison of Mrs. Cole's versions of the tales with the earlier printed ac-
counts at hand reveals the fact that the present stories are literary retellings
with the aim of making acceptable narratives. In this respect the author
has succeeded beyond a doubt: she has a freshness and directness of style
that are at once engaging. If entertainment were the primary object of
the collection, we should need to say no more. In the Preface (p. v),
however, the author expresses " the hope that this collection will give to
those who are interested opportunity to learn something of the magic,
superstitions, and weird customs of the Filipinos, and to feel the charm of
their wonder-world as it is pictured by these dark-skinned inhabitants of
our Island possessions." It is perhaps not impertinent to inquire how far
this hope is reasonable, in consideration of the nature and arrangement
of the tales and the paucity of explanatory notes.
The material is grouped by tribes, not by literary types. The Tinguian,
a non-Christian unit inhabiting northern Luzon, are represented by twenty-
three stories, more than one-third of the total number in the collection.
Inasmuch as every one of the Tinguian folk-tales (which are made up of
myths, legends, and fables) has already appeared in print (see " Traditions
of the Tinguian," by Fay-Cooper Cole, Chicago, 1915), it is to be regretted
that our author, in some sort of parallel table, does not refer to the printed
sources of these stories, so that those who are " intelligently interested "
might compare the literary, remodelled version with the bald, literal transla-
tion from the original text. The Igorot are represented by seven stories of
various sorts, six of which have appeared earlier in Seidenadel's " Language
of the Bontoc Igorot " or Jenks's " Bontoc Igorot." The former is not
mentioned; Dr. Jenks, however, is given credit for his four folk-tales.
The five Bukidnon stories, the two Bagobo, the two Bilaan, and the two
Mandaya may be in print here for the first time, though one can hardly
be certain. The Subanun story of " The Widow's Son " is accredited to
Mr. Christie, and the Moro account of the " Mythology of Mindanao " to
Dr. Saleeby. The other Moro story, " Bantugan," however, is left parent-
less, though, if we remember correctly, it was printed by Mr. Porter in the
" Journal of American Folk-Lore " some dozen years ago. The Chris-
tianized tribes represented in Mrs. Cole's collection are the Ilocano (five
stories), the Tagalog (four), and the Visayan (eight). Of the Ilocano tales,
we are able to point out the source of one, " The Story of a Monkey "
(p. 183), which is not a Filipino story at all, but an Indian tale. It is almost
word for word Mrs. Kingscote's " Monkey and the Tom-Tom " (" Tales of
the Sun," London, 1890, p. 187), and one wonders by what bit of inadvert-
ence it became incorporated in the Ilocano group. Of the Tagalog stories,
two appeared in 1907 in the " Journal of American Folk-Lore," and were
originally collected by Fletcher Gardner. The last four stories in the book
(Visayan animal-tales) also first appeared in the same volume of the same
journal. If our author had followed the method of Joseph Jacobs in his
" Indian Fairy Tales " with regard to sources, or of W. H. D. Rouse in his
Book Reviews. 281
" Talking Thrush " with regard to modifications of the original versions,
or had combined the two methods, her collection would have been far more
valuable from the " interested reader's " point of view, and would have
lost none of its charm.
Some objection might be raised to the lack of genre classification of the
stories, if their aim is to convey information as to the " magic, superstitions,
and weird customs of the Filipinos." Obviously there is a great difference
in value between a myth and a world-wide hero-tale, or a legend and a
fable, as cultural records. Magic, superstitions, and weird customs are
usually found in narrative form embedded in fairy or demon stories; but
this class of tales is almost altogether neglected in the collection. Creation
stories, " just-so " stories, droll stories, legends, and myths so ancient that
they survive only as entertaining tradition, are mixed up indiscriminately,
with the result that the general reader cannot help but have a distorted
and confused impression of the " wonder-world " these eleven distinct
tribes have imaged for themselves.
The main value of the book is that it will serve to stimulate interest in
the folk-lore of a section of the Orient which has been studied during the
last two decades mainly from the point of view of its economic, political,
and historical significance, but which is deserving of the most intelligent
investigation by all who appreciate the worth of the labors of the brothers
Grimm and their host of followers.
D. S. F.
THE JOURNAL OF
AMERICAN FOLK-LORE.
Vol. XXX.— JULY-SEPTEMBER, 1917.— No. CXVII.
BALLADS AND SONGS.
EDITED BY G. L. KITTREDGE.
The thanks of the Society are due to the many contributors who
have furnished material for this report and have allowed the editor to
make such use of their collections as space permitted. Their names are
duly mentioned in each instance.1 Professor Belden has not only given
free access to his store of texts, but has fortunately been at hand for
consultation. Miss Loraine Wyman has been very generous with
the songs and ballads recently collected by her in Kentucky, a part
of which — but by no means all — may be found in the first volume
of "Lonesome Tunes." 2
THE ELFIN KNIGHT (Child, No. 2).
Child was the first scholar to print an American version from oral
tradition (1883; 1 : 19 [J, from Massachusetts, 1828]). Other American
versions or variants have since appeared from time to time. See
JAFL 7 : 228-229 (from Massachusetts; reprinted in Child, 5 : 284);
13:120-122 (Georgia); 18:212-214 (Barry, Massachusetts and
Rhode Island); 19 : 130-131 (California); 23 : 430-431 (Vermont);
1 The following lists and reports are cited by the name of the author in each case:
Belden, A Partial List of Ballads and other Popular Poetry known in Missouri, 2d ed.,
1910 (Missouri Folk-Lore Society); Barry, privately printed list of ballads, etc.; Shearin
and Coombs, A Syllabus of Kentucky Folk-Songs, Lexington, Ky., 191 1 (Transylvania
Studies in English, No. ii); Frank C. Brown, Ballad Literature in North Carolina (re-
printed from Proceedings and Addresses of the Fifteenth Annual Session of the Literary
and Historical Association of North Carolina, Dec. 1-2, 1914); Bertrand L. Jones, Folk-
Lore in Michigan (reprint from Kalamazoo Normal Record, May, 1814, Western State
Normal School, Kalamazoo, Mich.); John H. Cox, reports of the West Virginia Folk-
Lore Society, in West Virginia School Journal and Educator (Morgantown, W.Va.t
vols. 44-46); Pound, Folk-Song of Nebraska and the Central West, 1915 (Nebraska
Academy of Sciences, 9 : No. 3).
2 Lonesome Tunes, Folk Songs from the Kentucky Mountains, the words collected and
edhed by Loraine Wyman, the Pianoforte Accompaniment by Howard Brockway,
Volume One (New York, The H. W. Gray Co. [1916]).
VOL. XXX. — NO. 117. — 19 283
284
Journal of American Folk- Lore.
26 : 174-175 (Texas, from Ireland). B. L. Jones (p. 5) records
two copies from Michigan, one beginning, —
"Where are you going?" "I'm going to Lynn." l
Let every rose grow merry in time.
See also Pound, pp. 10-11. Barry (in JAFL 18 : 214) called attention
to the fact that the ballad was published in this country about 1844
in "Songs for the Million," and reprinted the text ("Love's Impos-
sibility"). Later he found a remarkably full and interesting text
in a broadside in the Harris collection (Brown University), — "Love
Letter and Answer," "Hunts and Shaw, N. E. corner of Faneuil Hall
Market, Boston." 2 This has twelve stanzas, and includes both Lynn
and Cape Ann.3
A good version may be found in Walter Rye, "Songs, Stories, and
Sayings of Norfolk" (1897), pp. 7-8. The ballad is well known in
England as "Scarborough (Whittingham) Fair" (Child, 2 : 495-496;
4 : 440; 5 : 206; Baring-Gould, "A Book of English Nursery Songs
and Rhymes," No. 1, pp. 3-4; Sharp, "One Hundred English Folk-
songs," No. 74, pp. xxxvi-xxxvii, 167-169, with references). Compare
Greig, "Folk-Song of the North-East," C; Joyce, "Old Irish Folk
Music and Songs," No. 117, pp. 59-60.
[Strawberry Lane.]
Communicated in 1914 by Mr. E. Russell Davis, as remembered
by his mother and himself from the singing of his grandfather, Mr.
William Henry Banks (born 1834), a vessel-owner of Maine.
, 1-
T
3
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As I was a-walk-ing up Strawber - ry Lane,.. Ev - er - y
m
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rose grows mer - ry and fine,
2
I chanced for to meet
1-4
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pret - ty, fair maid, Who said she would be a true - lov - er of mine.
1 Compare Child's F (Kinloch's MSS.): "Did you ever travel twixt Berwick and
Lyne?" (i : 17).
2 Hunts and Shaw were at this address during a part of 1836 and of 1837 only.
3 The man asks, "O where are you bound, are you bound to Lynn?" The girl's
question is, "O where are you bound, are you bound to Cape Ann?"
Ballads and Songs. 28 s
1. As I was a-walking up Strawberry Lane, —
Every rose grows merry and fine, —
I chanced for to meet a pretty, fair maid,
Who wanted to be1 a true-lover of mine.
2. "You'll have for to make me a cambric shirt, —
Every rose grows merry and fine, —
And every stitch must be finicle work,
Before you can be a true-lover of mine.
3- " \ou'll have for to wash it in a deep well, —
Every rose grows merry and fine, —
Where water never was nor rain ever fell,
Before you can be a true-lover of mine."
The man goes on to make several more conditions. Finally the
girl turns on him thus: —
4- "Now, since you have been so hard with me, —
Every rose grows merry and fine, —
Perhaps I can be as hard with thee,
Before you can be a true-lover of mine.
5- "You'll have for to buy me an acre of ground, —
Every rose grows merry and fine, —
Before you can be a true-lover of mine.
6. "You'll have for to plough it with a deer's horn, —
Every rose grows merry and fine, —
And plant it all over with one grain of corn,
Before you can be a true-lover of mine.
7- "You'll have for to thrash it in an eggshell, —
Every rose grows merry and fine, —
And bring it to market in a thimble,2
Before you can be a true-lover of mine."
THE FAUSE KNIGHT UPON THE ROAD (Child, No. 3).
The following delightful version was secured by Belden in 1916
It was sent to him by Miss J. D. Johns of St. Charles, Mo., who
learned it from her uncle, Mr. Douglas Voss Martin. He learned it
when a boy in Virginia from his grandmother, Mrs. Eleanor Voss
who was a Scotchwoman. Mr. Cecil J. Sharp has recently found the
ballad in the South, but his version is very different from that of Miss
Johns. Barry gives a fragment of one stanza from Maine (Irish in
source) in JAFL 24 : 344.
1 Or "said she would be."
2 Or, "And take it to market where man never dwelled."
286 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
The False Knight.
1. "Where are you going?" said the false knight, false knight,
"Where are you going?" said the false knight Munro.
"Well," said the little boy, "I'm going to school,
But I'll stand to my book al-so."
2. "What you got in your basket?" said the false knight, false knight,
"What you got in your basket?" said the false knight Munro.
"Well," said the little boy, "my breakfast and my dinner,
But I'll stand to my book al-so."
3. "Give my dog some," said the false knight, false knight,
"Give my dog some," said the false knight Munro.
"Well," said the little boy, "I won't give him none,
But I'll stand to my book al-so."
4. "Then I'll pitch you in the well," said the false knight, false knight,
"Then I'll pitch you in the well," said the false knight Munro.
"Well," said the little boy, "I'll pitch you in first,
But I'll stand to my book al-so."
And he pitched him in the well and went on to school.
LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT (Child, No. 4).
For a list of American variants, see Tolman and Kittredge in JAFL
29 : 156-157. Cox prints a West Virginia version in the "West
Virginia School Journal and Educator" (44 : 269), and reports others
(45 : J59! JAFL 29 : 400). B. L. Jones reports three variants from
Michigan and prints one stanza ("Folk-Lore in Michigan," p. 5).
C. Alphonso Smith reports the ballad from Tennessee ("Summer
School News," 1:1, No. 12, July 31, 1914, Summer School of the
South). See also Child MSS., xxi, 4, articles 4 and 6 (Harvard
College Library); Reed Smith (JAFL 28 : 200-202); F. C. Brown,
p. 9; Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin, No. 2, p. 3; No. 3, p. 2;
No. 4, p. 4. Miss Loraine Wyman and Mr. Brockway have printed
a version from Kentucky ("Six King's Daughters," with music) in
"Lonesome Tunes," 1: 82-87. Professor Belden has collected nine
variants.1
THE TWA SISTERS (Child, No. 10).
The first scholar to publish an American text of this ballad was
Child, who printed, in 1883, as version U (1 : 137), a fragment of
four stanzas (with burden), communicated by Mr. W. W. Newell
from the recitation of an old woman who had learned the song in
Long Island, N.Y. This fragment was a near relative of Child's R,
1 On recent English tradition, see Sharp, One Hundred English Folksongs, No. II,
pp. xxi-xxii, 29-31 ("The Outlandish Knight").
Ballads and Songs.
287
a version current in England, and of his S, a Scottish fragment from
Kinloch's MS. In 1884 Child printed (as Y) a Kentish version
(from Percy's papers), which was sent to Percy in 1770 and 1775
(1 : 495-496); and this is also near akin to the American text, which
thus appears to be of respectable antiquity. Since Child's death,
better copies of the American version have been collected. See JAFL
18: 130-132; 19: 233-235; 28: 200-202; Belden, No. 2; Shearin
and Coombs, p. 7; F. C. Brown, p. 9; Pound, p. 11 ; Virginia Folk-
Lore Society, Bulletin, No. 2, p. 3; No. 3, p. 2; No. 4, p. 5; No. 5,
p. 5 ; Cox, 44 : 428, 441-442; 45 : 159 (cf. JAFL 29 : 400). Belden
has collected five variants, in all of which the miller is hanged for
"drowning Sister Kate." There is an American text in Child's MSS.,
xxi, 10, article 5, which ends as follows: —
The miller he was burnt in flame,
The eldest sister fared the same.
I.
The West Countree.
Communicated by Professor Belden, 1916, as written down from
memory by Mrs. Eva Warner Case, with the assistance of her mother
and grandmother; Harrison County, Missouri.
£E^
There was an old man lived in the West (Bow down) , There was an old man lived
m-
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in the West (The bow's a-bend o'er me), There was an old man lived
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i
in the West, He had two daugh-ters of the best (I'll be
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true, true to my love if... my love will be true to me),
1. There was an old man lived in the West,
Bow down,
There was an old man lived in the West,
The bow's a-bend o'er me,
There was an old man lived in the West,
He had two daughters of the best.
I'll be true to my love, if my love will be true to me.
288 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
2. The squire he courted the older first,
But still he loved the younger best.
3. The first that he bought her was a beaver hat.
The older thought right smart of that.
4. The next that he bought her was a gay gold ring.
He never bought the older a thing.
5. "Sister, O Sister! let's walk out,
And see the ships all sailing about."
6. They walked all along the salt-sea brim,
The older pushed the younger in.
7. "Sister, O Sister! lend me your hand,
And then I'll gain the promised land."
8. "It's neither will I lend you my hand nor my glove,
And then I'll gain your own true love."
9. Sometimes she'd sink, sometimes she'd swim,
Sometimes she'd grasp a broken limb.
10. Down she sank and off she swam,
She swam into the miller's dam.
11. The miller went fishing in his own milldam,
And he fished this lady out of the stream.
12. Off her finger he pulled three rings,
And dashed her in the brook again.
13. The miller was hanged on his own mill-gate
For the drowning of my sister Kate.
II.
There was an Old Woman Lived on the Seashore.
Communicated by Professor Louise Pound, 1916. "In a manu-
script collection of songs in the possession of Mrs. Mary F. Lindsey,
of Hebron, Neb. Dated 1870." It has obviously been used as a
dance-song.
1. There was an old woman lived on the seashore,
Bow down,
There was an old woman lived on the seashore,
Balance true to me,
And she had daughters three or fore.
Saying, Fit be true to my love,
If my love is true to me.
Ballads and Songs. 289
2. The oldest one she had a beau
3. Her beau he bought her a beaver hat,
And sister Kate got mad at that.
4. The oldest and yongest were walking the seashore;
The oldest pushed the yongest ore.
5. She bowed her head and away she swam
6. The miller threw out his big long huck
And safely brought her from the brook.
7. He took from her fingers gold rings ten
And plunged her back into the brook again.
8. The miller was hung on his own mill-gate
For robbing poor sister Kate.
LORD RANDAL (Child, No. 12).
Innumerable copies have been collected in America: see the refer-
ences given by Tolman and Kittredge (JAFL 29 : 157). Add JAFL
22 : 75, 77 (tune); 23 : 443~444 (tunes); 26 : 353; 27: 59, 62, 63;
28 : 200-202; Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin, No. 2, p. 4; No. 3,
p. 3; No. 4, p. 5; No. 5, pp. 5-6; F. C. Brown, p. 9; Cox, 45 : 160
(JAFL 29 : 400). Miss Josephine McGill has recently printed a full
text, with music, in her "Folk-Songs of the Kentucky Mountains"
(New York, 1917), pp. 18-22. l
A copy from Ohio communicated by Professor John S. Kenyon of
Butler College, Indianapolis, in 1914, as written down by Mr. Robert
Buck, agrees with one of Professor Tolman's (JAFL 29 : 157) not only
in the hero's name (Johnny Ramble), but in the vigor of the bequest
to his "true-love," — "hell fire and brimstone."2 Another, from
southern Indiana, communicated by Mr. Wallace C. Wadsworth,
ends curiously: —
"What will you will to your sweetheart, Jimmy Ransing, my son?
What will you will to your sweetheart, my dear little one?"
"A bunch of balm to make her bones grow brown,
For she is the cause of my long lying down."
This, too, is similar to Tolman's copy, just mentioned: —
"All hell and damnation, for to parch her soul brown,
For she is the one that has caused me lie down."
1 For recent English tradition add Journal of Folk-Song Society, 5 : 117-120, 122-
123, 244-248; Broadwood, English Traditional Songs and Carols, pp. 96-99; Sharp,
One Hundred English Folksongs, No. 18, pp. xxv-xxvi, 44-45.
2 Compare Child's A, 10: "I leave her hell and fire."
290
Journal of American Folk-Lore .
In two copies communicated by Miss Louise Whitefield Bray in
1914, as sung by New York children ("Henry, or Hendry, my Son"),
a sister is the poisoner, apd in one of these there is an additional
stanza after the bequest of the "ropes to hang her:" —
"Who will you have to the funeral, Henry, my son?
Who will you have to the funeral, my loving one?"
"All but sister, all but sister!
Make my bed; I've a pain in my side,
And I want to lie down and die."
In this same copy we have a bequest "to baby," namely, "gods and
angels" (in the other, "a kiss from heaven").
Another copy (apparently from the same source as Miss Bray's)
has "guardian angels" as the bequest "for baby," and "a rope to
hang her" as that "for sister." It concludes: —
"Who do you want at the funeral, Henry, my son?
Who do you want at the funeral, my loving one?"
"All but sister, all but sister!
Make my bed; I've a pain in my head,
And I want to lie down and die."
"How do you want your bed made?" etc.
"Long and narrow, long and narrow.
Make my bed," etc.
This was communicated by Mr. John R. Reinhard, of Mount Holyoke
College, in 191 7, as taken down by one of his students who did "settle-
ment work" in New York in the summer preceding, and heard it
sung by the children.
An excellent version, genuinely traditional, and running stanza for
stanza with Child's A, has been communicated by Professor Belden
(1916), who received it from Mrs. Case (see p. 322, below). The
tune follows : —
jfx
S
is is i-
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H«S2-
^
s
Oh, where have you been, Lord Randal, my son? Oh, where have you been, my
I
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handsome young man? Oh, I've been to the wildwood; Moth - er, make my bed
i
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f — ^ ■ — *~
soon,.. I'm wea - ry of hunt-ing and I fain would lie down.
Ballads and Songs. 291
SIR LIONEL (Child, No. 18).
The peculiar version of this ballad known as "Old Bangum and the
Boar" was discovered in Missouri by Professor Belden, who published
a fragment of three stanzas in this Journal in 1906 (19 : 235) .l In
1912 he published a fragment of seven stanzas (JAFL 25 : 175-176).
A Virginian version was printed (with the tune) by Professor Grainger
in the "Focus" for February, 1914, 4 : 48-49 (still incomplete).2
Other Virginian copies are reported in the Bulletin of the Virginia
Folk-Lore Society (No. 4, p. 5; No. 5, p. 6). A five-stanza variant
(with tune) is published by Miss McGill in her " Folk-Songs of the
Kentucky Mountains " (191 7), pp. 78-81. Professor Belden now com-
municates an excellent text, received by him in 191 6 from Mrs. Eva
Warner Case (see p. 322, below). This is most nearly related to
Child's D and E.3
Meanwhile "Old Bangum" has been published in England under
the title of "Brangywell" and "Dilly Dove" in two texts (with
tunes) taken down in Herefordshire in 1905 and 1909. The former
is now reprinted for comparison. The tunes, both English and
American, show considerable variety.
Bangum and the Boar.
The following text (with the tune) is communicated by Professor
Belden, who received it (with the tune) in 1916 from Mrs. Eva Warner
Case. Mrs. Case writes: "This song was furnished me by Miss Jose-
phine Casey, head of the domestic art department in the Manual Train-
ing High School of Kansas City, Missouri. Miss Casey is a grandniece
of General Zachary Taylor, . . . president of the United States from
1849 to 1850. General Taylor and President Madison were both
great-great-grandsons of James Taylor, who came from Carlisle,
England, to Orange County, Virginia, in 1638, and both were hushed
to sleep by their negro 'mammies' with the strains of 'Bangum and
the Boar.'"
1. Old Bangum would a-wooing ride,
Dillum down1, dillum down;
Old Bangum would a-wooing ride
With sword and buckler by his side.
Cum-e-caw cud-e-down
Kill-e-quo-qum.
2. Old Bangum rode to Greenwood-side,
And there a pretty maid he spied.
1 Compare Belden's Partial List, No. 3.
2 Compare Focus, 3 : 394; Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin, No. 3, p. 3.
3 Compare st. 2 with C 2, D 1; 4 with C 4, D 3; 5 with C 5, D 4; 6 with C 7, D6 ;
7 with C 9, D 7.
292 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
3. "There is a wild boar in this wood
That'll cut your throat and suck your blood."
4. "Oh how can I this wild boar see?"
"Blow a blast, and he'll come to thee."
5. Old Bangum clapped his horn to his mouth
And blew a blast both loud and stout.
6. The wild boar came in such a rage
He made his way through oak and ash.
7. They fit three hours in the day;
At last the wild boar stole away.
8. Old Bangum rode to the wild boar's den
And spied the bones of a thousand men.
Brangywell.1
From1 Ella Mary Leather, "The Folk-Lore of Herefordshire"
(Hereford and London, 1912), pp. 202-203. From the singing of
Mrs. Mellor at Dilwyn, 1905.
1. As Brangywell went forth to plough,
Dillum, down dillum;
As Brangywell went forth to plough,
Killy-co-quam;
As Brangywell went forth to plough,
He spied a lady on a bough,2
Killy-co, cuddle-dame,
Killy-co-quam.
2. "What makes thee sit so high, lady,
That no one can come nigh to thee?"
3. "There is a wild boar in the wood,
If I come down, he'll suck my blood."
4. "If I should kill the boar," said he,
"Wilt thou come down and marry me?"
1
5. "If thou shouldst kill the boar," said she,
"I will come down and marry thee."
6. Then Brangywell pulled out his dart
And shot the wild boar through the heart.
1 "'Brangywell' has the g hard: the word may be a phonetic degradation of Egrabel
(see Child)" (Leather, p. 204).
2 Compare the fragment of two lines in Notes and Queries, ioth Series, 2 : 128: —
Franky Well went out to plough,
He spied a lady on a bough.
Ballads and Songs. 293
7. The wild boar fetched out such a sound
That all the oaks and ash fell down.
8. Then hand in hand they went to the den
And found the bones of twenty men.
THE CRUEL MOTHER (Child, No. 20).
A copy from Nova Scotia was published in this Journal by Professor
W. R. Mackenzie in 1912 (25 : 183-184). See also Bertrand L. Jones,
"Folk-Lore in Michigan," 1914, p. 5 (from South Carolina by way of
Kentucky; a fragment of three stanzas); Cox, 46 : 64-65 (9 stanzas
with refrain; cf. Cox, 45 : 159; JAFL 29 : 400). See also Shearin
and Coombs, p. 7; Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin, No. 3, p. 3;
No. 4, p. 5; No. 5, p. 6; Reed Smith, JAFL 27 : 62; 28: 200-202.
Words and music are given by Miss McGill, "Folk-Songs from the
Kentucky Mountains," 1917, pp. 82-86 ("The Greenwood Side").
One stanza from Kentucky (with the melody) is printed in the " Journal
of the Folk-Song Society," 2 : 109-110. For recent English tradition
see the same, 3 : 70-72; Sharp, "One Hundred English Folksongs,"
No. 13, pp. xxiii, 35.
THE TWA BROTHERS (Child, No. 49).
For American texts see Child, 1 : 443-444 (New York and Massa-
chusetts) ; JAFL 26 : 353, 361-362 (Pound, Nebraska from Missouri l) ;
27 : 595 28 : 200-201; 29 : 158 (Tolman, Indiana). Compare Shearin
and Coombs, p. 7 (Shearin, "Modern Language Review," 6 : 514;
"Sewanee Review," January, 191 1); Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bul-
letin, No. 3, p. 3; No. 4, p. 6; No. 5, p. 6; Cox, 45 : 160 (cf. JAFL 29:
400).
A brief but impressive version ("John and William") has just been
published (with the music) by Miss Josephine McGill in her "Folk-
Songs of the Kentucky Mountains" (191 7, pp. 54-58). It contains
the following stanza (6), which agrees with Child B 10, C 18: —
She mourned the fish all out of the sea,
The birds all out of the nest;
She mourned her true love out of his grave
Because that she could not rest.
Compare B 10: —
She put the small pipes to her mouth,
And she harped both far and near,
Till she harped the small birds off the briers,
And her true love out of the grave.
1 Compare Pound, p. 10.
294 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
AndC 18: —
She ran distraught, she wept, she sicht,
She wept the sma birds frae the tree,
She wept the starns adoun frae the lift,
She wept the fish out o the sea.
As a whole, Miss McGill's version stands nearest to Child's B.
[The Two Brothers.]
Communicated by Professor Belden. Sent to him without title
in the summer of 1913 by Mrs. George H. Barnet of Columbia, Mo.,
who learned it from her mother.
1.
"Go away, go away, and let me alone,
For I am too young and small."
2. His brother took out his little penknife,
Both sharp and keen at the point,
And he pierced it in his younger brother's heart
Between the short ribs and the long.
3. "O brother, O brother, when you go home
My mother will ask for me;
Tell her I'm down in Dublin town,
Sleeping beneath the churchyard tree."
4. His brother took off his shirt
And he ripped it from seam to seam,
And he bound it around his younger
Brother's precious bleeding heart.
YOUNG BEICHAN (Child, No. 53).
"Young Bakeman" was reprinted by Barry in 1905 from a Coverly
broadside (Boston, early nineteenth century; JAFL 18: 209-211).
This same version occurs in two American broadsides of the first
part of the nineteenth century in the Harvard College Library, —
(1) "Sold, wholesale and retail, by L. Deming, No. 62, Hanover
Street," Boston;1 (2) "Printed and sold at No. 26, High Street,
Providence," R.I.2 It is found also in "The Forget Me Not Song-
ster" (New York, Nans & Cornish [about 1840]), pp. 171-174, from
which Belden reprinted it in "Modern Philology," 2 : 301-305.3
A version in a much more popular tone (resembling Child's L) has
been found in oral circulation in this country, and has been several
1 In lot No. 130. Deming was at 62 Hanover Street from 1832 to 1836.
2 25242.5.13 F (281).
3 Belden's copy of the book lacked the title-page. The running heading of The Forget
Me Not Songster is "Popular Songs."
Ballads and Songs. 295
times published: see JAFL 20 : 251-252 (Miss Pettit); 22 : 64-65
(Beatty); 26 : 353 (Pound: cf. 27 : 59); 28 : 149-151 (Perrow); Cox,
46 : 20, 22; Wyman and Brockway, "Lonesome Tunes," 1 : 58-
61 (with music). This version is like the regular English broadside
(Child's L) l in some points in which both differ from A and B, but
cannot (at least in the forms collected by Pound, Perrow, and Cox)
be derived from any broadside that I have seen. The test is the
boring of the hero's shoulder (as in Child's A, B, D, E, H, I, N), which
has disappeared from the broadside version, but is retained in Pound,
Perrow, and Cox. Miss Pound's text reads, —
They bored a hole through his left shoulder
And bound him fast unto a tree
And gave him nothing but bread and water.
Bread and water once a day.2
Perrow has, —
They bored a hole in his left shoulder
And nailed him down unto a tree
And gave him nothing but bread and water
And bread and water but once a day.3
Cox, —
They bored a hole through his left shoulder,
And through the same a rope did tie,
They made him load cold calks of iron,
Till he took sick and like to a died.4
The regular broadside text reads (with variations), —
All in the prison there grew a tree,
Oh! there it grew so stout and strong,
Where he was chained by the middle,
Until his life was almost gone.6
And this turn re-appears in the version now in oral circulation in
England: see Kidson, "Traditional Tunes," pp. 32-36; Broadwood
and Fuller Maitland, "English County Songs," pp. 62-63; Sharp
and Marson, "Folk Songs from Somerset," No. 65, 3 : 28-31 ; "Journal
1 See Child, i : 455, 476-477; 2 : 508-509; 3 : 507; 5 : 220.
2 "Indiana MS. book of ballads. Property of Edna Fulton, Lincoln," Neb. "Most
of the pieces in the book were entered before the Civil War."
3 Stanza 3, JAFL 28 : 150 ("From North Carolina; mountain whites; MS. lent E. N.
Caldwell; 1913").
4 Stanza 3, West Virginia School Journal and Educator, 46 : 20. This stanza is missing
in the variants collected by Miss Pettit (JAFL 20 : 251-252), Beatty (22 : 64-65), and
Miss Wyman (Lonesome Tunes, 1 : 58-61). So also in the text in Burne and Jackson,
Shropshire Folk Lore, pp. 547-548.
6 Bebbington, Manchester, No. 31.
296 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
of Folk-Song Society," 1 : 240-241; 3 : 192-200; Sharp, "One Hun-
dred English Folksongs," No. 6, pp. 17-19. Broadwood and Rey-
nardson's No. 22 ("Sussex Songs," p. 43) is a fragment. For Scot-
land, see Gavin Greig," Folk-Songs of the North-East," lxxviii (not
the broadside).
The Harvard College Library has the following broadsides of "Lord
Bateman," all substantially identical in text: —
25242.2, fol. 144 (Pitts); 25242.4, i, 196 (J. Catnach, = 25242.10.5,
fol. 3); same, i, 208 (no imprint); 25242.17, iii, 49 (J. Kendrew,
York); same, iii, 143 (Forth, Pocklington) ; iv, 19 (no imprint); vi,
137 (Bebbington, Manchester, No. 31, = ix, 31); Child Broadsides
(H. Such, No. 472); 25242.18, No. 15 (R. Evans, Chester); Child
MSS., xxiii, 53 (E.Hodges;1 Catnach); also an eighteenth-century
chapbook, "A Favourite Garland" (25276.43.58, No. 17: Preston, E.
Sergent), which contains "Young Beckman" in a text resembling
that of the broadsides. Founded on the broadside version is "The
grand serio-comic opera of Lord Bateman, and his Sophia. By
J. H. S.2 late J. H. P. (Jas. Rogers, Middle Hill Press, 1863).
Further 'American references are Shearin and Coombs, p. 7; Pound,
p. 9; F. C. Brown, p. 9; Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin, No. 2,
p. 4; No. 3, p. 3; No. 5, p. 6; JAFL 22 : 78; 27 : 61-62; 28 : 200-
202; Cox, 45 : 160 (JAFL 29 : 400); "Berea Quarterly," October, 1915
(18 : 12). Professor G. L. Hamilton has called my attention to the
fragments in Edward Eggleston's "Transit of Civilization" (New
York, 1901), pp. 137-138 (cf. p. 119). The ballad was printed as a
child's book some forty years ago by McLoughlin Brothers, New York,
the famous publishers of picture-books in colors.
"The Turkish Lady" sometimes appears as the title or sub-title
of "Young Beichan." There is, however, another ballad (or song)
called "The Turkish Lady," — in a cheap literary style, — which
has often been printed, and has obtained some oral currency. It tells
substantially the same tale, but briefly, and names no names.
Barry has reprinted this "Turkish Lady" (JAFL 23 : 449-451) from
"The Forget Me Not Songster" (New York, Nafis & Cornish), pp.
169-170 (where it immediately precedes "Lord Bakeman"). It occurs
also in "The Forget Me Not Songster" (Philadelphia and New York,
Turner & Fisher), pp. 248-249, and in the "Washington Songster"
(same publishers), pp. 131-132 (Brown University, Harris Collection).
"The Turkish Lady" may be found in an eighteenth-century
chapbook, "Jockie to the Fair" (etc.), in the Boswell collection,
28, No. 43, and 29, No. 41 (Harvard College Library). It begins,
"You virgins all I pray draw near;" and ends, "By this you see
1 Also in Child Broadsides (25242.5.6, No. 7).
« J. H. Scourfield.
Ballads and Songs. 297
what love can do." See also the following broadsides in the same
library: Child Broadsides, 25242.5.6, No. 3 (Pitts, early nineteenth
century); 25242.5.7, p. 82 (early nineteenth century; no imprint);
25242.10.5, fol. 119 ("The Turkish Rover," a slip; "Swindells,
Printer"); 25242.5.13 F (282) (Devonport, Elias Keys, two editions).
There is a copy in Kinloch's MSS., 1 : 263-266; 5 : 53-56 ("The
Turkish Lady and English Slave"), which Child transcribed in full,
but afterwards rejected (Child MSS., xxiii, 53, article 4). Child notes
{ibid.) that Kinloch's version is nearly the same as that in Logan,
"A Pedlar's Pack," pp. 11-18 (from a garland of 1782), and that there
is a text from singing in Christie's "Traditional Ballad Airs," 1 : 246-
247. 1 For a small fragment (with tune) see "Journal of the Folk-
Song Society," 1 : 113. Compare Campbell's poem, "The Turkish
Lady" ("Poetical Works," 1828, 2 : 133-135).
THE CHERRY-TREE CAROL (No. 54).
Miss Josephine McGill contributed an excellent version of "The
Cherry-Tree Carol" to this Journal in 191 6 (29 : 293-294; tune, 29:
417). Words and music are now included in her "Folk-Songs from
the Kentucky Mountains," 1917, pp. 59-64 ("The Cherry Tree").
Professor C. Alphonso Smith printed a fragment of one stanza (from
Virginia) in Bulletin, 1915, No. 4, p. 6 (see JAFL 29 : 294). In No. 5,
1916, p. 6, he reports "an excellent version from Campbell County,"
Virginia, and the tune from Culpeper County. For recent English
copies and tunes, see "Journal of Folk-Song Society," 3 : 260-261 ;
5 : 11-14, 321-323; Sharp, "English Folk-Carols," Nos. 3, 4, pp.
7-10; Shaw and Dearmer, "The English Carol Book," 1913, No. 6,
p. 14; 2 Gillington, " Old Christmas Carols," Nos. 9, 16, pp. 14, 24.
There is a fine Gaelic song very like this carol in Carmichael,
"CarminaGadelica,"2 : 162-163, No. 195, called Ciad Mierail Chriosd
("First Miracle of Christ").
YOUNG hunting (Child, No. 68).
A copy of the version current in America under the name of "Love
Henry," "Loving Henry," or "Lord Henry," was contributed to
this Journal by Miss Pettit in 1907 (20 : 252-253), as taken down in
Knott County, Kentucky. It is nearest to Child's F (Motherwell's
MS.). A similar text ("Love Henry") was printed some years ago
in Delaney's "Scotch Song Book No. I," p. 6 (New York, William W.
1 See also Child's Ballads, i : 463.
2 The carol occurs in the broadside Divine Mirth, issued by Pitts and by J. & C. Evans
(Child MSS., xxiii, 54, articles 1 and 2: Harvard College). One stanza of the piece is
printed in Notes and Queries, 4th series, 3 : 75 (from tradition).
298
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Delaney).1 Variants of this version are reported by Mrs. Olive Dame
Campbell, "The Survey" (New York, Jan. 2, 1915), 23 : 373; Cox,
45 : 160 (cf. JAFL 29 : 400) ; Smith, Bulletin, No. 5, p. 6; Shearin and
Coombs, p. 8; Belden, No. 3; JAFL 18 : 295.
Interesting variants of "Loving Henry" have been communicated
recently by Miss Loraine Wyman, Professor Belden, and Mr. Wallace
C. Wadsworth.
I.
Loving Henry.
Communicated, 191 6, by Miss Loraine Wyman, as taken down by
her from the singing of Lauda Whitt, McGoffin County, Kentucky,
in that year.
*#
m
E^S
V 9 v L- -
" Get down, get down, lov-ing Hen-ry," she cried, "and stay all night with
*5=*
3
t:
No.
me,.. This cost^- ly cord a-roundmy waist, I'll make sublime to thee."
1. "Get down, get down, loving Henry," she cried,
"And stay all night with me;
This costly cord around my waist
I'll make sublime to thee."
2. "0 1 can't get down, O I can't get down,
And stay all night with you;
For there's another girl in the Eden land
That I love far better than you."
3. As he reared in his saddle stirrups,
To kiss her lily white cheeks,
All in her hand she held a sharp knife,
And in him she stabbed it deep.
4. "Live hours, live hours, loving Henry," she cried,
"Live hours some two or three;
For there's no girl in the Eden land
That will wait the coming of thee."
5. "I can't live hours, I can't live hours,
I can't live hours two or three;
For don't you see my own heart's blood
Come flowing out of me?"
Barry prints a melody for "Young Hunting" in JAFL 18 : 295 (cf. Barry's list,
18).
Ballads and Songs. 299
6. "Must I go east, must I go west,
Or any way under the sun,
To get a doctor so good and kind
As to heal the wounded one?"
7. "You need not go east, you need not go west,
Nor no way under the sun ;
For there's no doctor but God alone
Can heal this wounded one."
8. She took him by the yellow hair,
She took him by the feet,
She threw him over the downward wall,
Where the water was cold and deep.
9. "Lie there, lie there, loving Henry," she cried,
"With water up to your chin;
For there's no girl in the Eden land
To await your long coming in."
10. "O don't you see that sweet little bird
A-flying from vine to vine?
It's searching for its own true love,
Just like I search for mine.
11. "Fly down, fly down, you sweet little bird,
And sit upon my knee;
For I have a golden cage at home
Hanging in the green willow tree."
12. "I won't fly down, I won't fly down,
And sit upon your knee;
A girl who would murder her own true love
I'm sure would murder me."
13. "O if I had my cedar bow,
And arrow tied with string,
I'd plunge a diamond through your heart;
No longer you'd sit and sing."
14. " But if you had your little elder bow,
An arrow tied with string,
Away to some tall tree I'd fly,
And there I'd sit and sing."
II.
[ Young Henry.]
Written down by Miss Vivian Bresnehen of Brookfield, Mo., from
the singing of her father, who learned it from a hired man on the farm
when he was a boy, in Linn County, about 1875. Communicated by
Professor Belden, 191 7.
vol. xxx— no. 117. — 20
joo Journal of American Folk-Lore.
i. "Light down, light down, Young Henry," she said,
"And spend a night with me:
Your bed shall be made of the softest down;
'Tis the best I can give thee."
2. "I won't light down, I can't light down,
And spend a night with thee:
There's another girl in Archer's land
I love much better than thee."
3. As he bent over his saddle-bow,
To give her kisses three,
With the little penknife in her right hand
She pierced his heart full deep.
4. "Fie, fie, fair Eleanor," he said,
"Why did you do that to me?
There's not another girl in all the land
I love as well as thee."
5. "Live half an hour, Young Henry," she said,
"Live half an hour for me,
And all the men in our town
Shall give relief to thee."
6. "I can't live half an hour," he said,
"I can't live half an hour for thee,
For don't you see my own heart's blood
Welling out of me?"
7. Some took him by his yellow hair,
And others by his feet,
And threw him into a pool of water
That was both cold and deep.
8. "Lie there, lie there, Young Henry," she said,
"Till the flesh rots off your bones;
And that pretty girl in Archer's land
Shall long for your return home."
9. A pretty parrot swinging in a willow tree,
Hearing all they had to say,
Said, "Yes, that pretty girl in Archer's land
Shall long for his return home."
10. "Fly down, fly down, pretty parrot," said she,
"And alight on mjj right knee,
And your cage shall be made of the yellow beaten gold
And swing in the willow tree."
11. "I can't fly down, I won't fly down,
I won't fly down," said he,
"For you have murdered your own true love
And soon would you murder me."
Ballads and Songs. 301
12. "If I had a bow in my right hand,
And an arrow to the string,
I would shoot you a dart right throughj:he heart,
That you never should sing again."
13. "If you had a bow to your right hand,
And an arrow to the string,
I would raise my wings and fly away;
You never should see me again."
III.
Love Henry.
Communicated in 1916 by Mr. Wallace C. Wadsworth, as taken
down from the singing of his mother and grandmother shortly before.
Mr. Wadsworth notes that his grandmother had learned the song
when young. "The district in which she was born, and has lived
until the last few years, is a rather isolated farming community in
southern Indiana, where all the people . . . are descendants of early
settlers. Tracing farther back, they are nearly all from early English
New England or Virginia stock."
1. "Sit down, sit down, Love Henry," she said,
"And stay all day with me,
And you shall have red cherries, as red,
As red as they can be."
2. "No I won't sit down, for I can't sit down,
And stay all day with thee;
For there's a pretty little girl in the Orkis land
That I love much better than thee."
3. And as he stooped o'er her pillow soft,
To give her a kiss so sweet,
With a little penknife in her right hand
She pierced his heart full deep.
4. "Oh fie, fie, fie, Fair Ellen," he said,
"How can you serve me so?
There's not a girl in all this world
That I love as well as thou."
5. "Oh live, live, live, Love Henry," she said,
"One-half an hour for me,
And all the doctors of Fairfreld Town
Shall be here with thee."
6. "No I will not live, for I cannot live
One-half an hour for thee;
For I'm sure I feel my own heart's blood
Come a-trinkling down my knee."
302 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
7. She called unto her waiting-maid,
"Can you keep a secret for me?"
8. One took him by his long yellow hair,
Another by his feet;
They threw him into the cold well-water,
Which was both cold and deep.
9. "Lie there, lie there, Love Henry," she said,
"Till the flesh rots off your bones,
And the pretty little girl in the Orkis land
Will look long for your return home."
10. A parrot sat in the willow tree,
And heard what she had to say,
As she said, "The pretty little girl in the Orkis land
Will look long for your return home."
11. "Fly down, fly down, pretty parrot," she said,
"And sit on my right knee,
And your cage shall be lined with yellow beaten gold
And hung on the willow tree."
12. "No I won't fly down, nor I sha'n't fly down,
And sit on your right knee,
For you have murdered your own true love;
Full soon you would murder me."
13. "If I had my own true bow,
With an arrow to the string,
I'd shoot a dart right through your heart;
You never would sing again."
13. "And if you had your own true bow,
With an arrow to the string,
I would raise my wings and fly away;
You never would see me again."
FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM (Child, No. 74).
To the references given by Tolman in this Journal, 29 : 160, add:
27 : 58-62; 28 : 200-203; "Focus," 4 : 426-427; Cox, 45 : 159, 378,
388 (JAFL 29: 400); Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin, No. 2,
p. 4; No. 3, p. 3; No. 4, p. 6; No. 5, p. 7; F. C. Brown, p. 9. A
text from Harlan County, Kentucky ("Sweet William and Lady
Margery," fourteen stanzas), with the music, is in Wyman and
Brockway, "Lonesome Tunes," 1 : 94-99. It resembles Child's B
and the Massachusetts variant printed by Child, 5 : 293-294. Miss
McGill's "Sweet William" (twenty stanzas, and tune) is also to be
classed with Child's B ("Folk-Songs of the Kentucky Mountains,"
1917, pp. 69-77). Professor Belden has four variants.
Ballads and Songs. 303
[Lydia Margaret.]
Communicated, 1914, by Mr. S. B. Neff, as written down in that
year from memory by his father, Mr. Francis Marion Neff of Ridge-
way, Mo., aged about seventy-six, who was born in Indiana, and
removed to Missouri at about the age of twenty. Mr. F. M. Neff had
never seen the ballad in print.
1. Sweet William arose on Monday morning,
And he dressed himself in blue:
"Come and tell unto me that long, long love
That's between Lydia Margaret and you." 1
2. " I know no harm of Lydia Margaret,
And she knows no harm of me;
But to-morrow morning at the eight o'clock hour
Lydia Margaret my bride shall see."
3. Lydia Margaret was sitting in her upper bar door,
A-combing her long yellow hair,
As she spied Sweet William and his own dear bride,
As they to the church drew near.
4. She threw down her fine ivory combs,
Her long yellow hair also;
And she threw herself from the upper bar door,
And the blood it began to flow.
5. "I had a dream the other night —
I feared there was no good —
I dreamed that my hall was full of wild swine
And my true love was floating in blood."
6. He called down his merry maids all,
He called them by one, two, and three,
And he asked the leave of his own dear bride:
"Sweet one, may I go and see?"
7. He rode and he rode till he came to Lydia Margaret's door,
And he tingled on the ring;
And there was none so ready as her own dear brother
To rise and let him in.
8. "Oh where is Lydia Margaret to-day?
Oh where is she, I say?
For once I courted her for love,
And she stole my heart away.
9. "Is she in her bedchamber,
Or is she in her hall,
Or is she in her own kitchen
Among her merry maids all?"
1 The last two lines are to be repeated.
304 Journal of American Folk-Lore .
10. "She is neither in her bedchamber,
She is neither in her hall,
But yonder she lies in her own coffin,
As it sits against the wall."
11. "Fold down those lily-white sheets;
Oh fold them down!" he said,
And as he kissed her clay-cold lips,
His heart was made to grieve.
12. Lydia Margaret [died] as if it was to-day,
Sweet William he died on the morrow;
Lydia Margaret she died for pure, pure love,
And Sweet William he died for sorrow.
13. Lydia Margaret was laid in the high churchyard,
Sweet William was laid in the mire;
And out of Lydia Margaret's bosom sprang a rose,
And out of Sweet William's was a brier.
14. They grew and they grew to the church steeple top,
They grew till they couldn't grow any higher;
And there they tied in a true lover's knot,
The red rose and the brier.
THE LASS OF ROCH ROYAL (No. 76).
Professor J. H. Cox prints a complete copy from West Virginia
which closely resembles that in Jamieson's "Popular Ballads" (1806,
1 : 37-44) ,x and undoubtedly goes back to print, though learned by
Cox's informant from an oral source ("West Virginia School Journal
and Educator," 45 : 347-349, cf. 159). Stray stanzas from the ballad
(cf. Child's J, 2 : 225) turn up now and then in this country, sometimes
alone, and sometimes in unexpected contexts: see Child, 3 : 512
(two stanzas from "the Carolina mountains"); "Focus," 4 : 49 (the
same two, from Virginia); Babcock, "Folk-Lore Journal," 7:31,
reprinted by Child (3:511-512; the same two stanzas in song of
parting lovers, from Virginia); "Focus," 3 : 275 (in a song of parting
lovers, from Virginia);2 Belden, No. 91 (in a parting song, from
Missouri); Bascom, JAFL 22: 240 (in "Kitty Kline," from North
Carolina); Shearin, "Modern Language Review," 6:514-515 (in
"Cold Winter's Night," Kentucky);3 Lomax, "North Carolina Book-
1 Jamieson's text was reprinted by Child in 1857 in his earlier collection, English and
Scottish Ballads, 2 : 99-105. Cox's text is nearer to Jamieson than to Scott (Minstrelsy,
1802, 3 : 51-59). Both Jamieson and Scott go back to Mrs. Brown (see Child, 2 : 213).
2 This little song consists of the same stanzas, with a chorus and one concluding
stanza. This last appears, oddly but effectively, as stanza 4 in an interesting version of
"The Hangman's Song" ("The Maid Freed from the Gallows," Child, No. 95) recently
obtained by Miss Loraine Wyman in Kentucky and published in Lonesome Tunes, 1 : 48.
3 Compare Coombs and Shearin, Syllabus, p. 8; Shearin, Sewanee Review, July, 191 1.
Ballads and Songs. 305
let," 11 : 29-30 (in a comic song); Perrow, JAFL 28 : 147-148 (in
"Careless Love," from Mississippi); Cox, JAFL 26 : 181, and "West
Virginia School Journal," 44: 216-217 (in "John Hardy").1 Compare
F. C. Brown, p. 9; C. Alphonso Smith, Bulletin, No. 2, p 5; No. 3,
p. 4; No. 4, p. 6; No. 5, p. 7; Reed Smith, JAFL 28 : 201, 202.
For "The Lass of Ocram" (or "Aughrim"), of which Child prints
an Irish version from Michigan (2:213) and also (3:510-511) a
Roxburghe copy (Roxburghe, 3:488; Ebsworth, 6 : 609-615), see
the Pitts broadside (Harvard College, 25242.28), and a garland printed
by E. Sergent, Preston (25276.43.58, No. 53).
THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL (Child, No. 79).
Since Miss Backus's North Carolina version of the ballad ("There
was a lady fair and gay") was printed in Child, 5 : 294,2 many variants
have been collected in this country, belonging to that same general
version. Belden publishes a text (from Missouri) in JAFL 23 1429;
Emma Bell Miles, one in "Harper's Magazine" for June, 1904 (109:
121-122); Cox (44 : 388 and 45 : 11-12) publishes a fragment and a
complete copy, both from West Virginia, and reports other variants
(cf. 45 : 160; JAFL 29 : 400) ;3 Miss McGill gives words and tune in
her "Folk-Songs from the Kentucky Mountains," pp. 4-8. See also
Shearin and Coombs, p. 9 ("Lady Gay," closely resembles Miss
Backus's text); F. C. Brown, p. 9; Virginia Folk-Lore Society,
Bulletin, No. 4, p. 7; No. 5, p. 7; JAFL 27 : 59-62; 28 : 199-202,
A peculiar version in Mrs. Leather's "Folk-Lore of Herefordshire"
(1912, pp. 198-199) contains a stanza adapted from "The Carnal
and the Crane" (Child, No. 55) :4 —
Then Christ did call for the roasted cock,
That was feathered with his only hands;
He crowed three times all in the dish
In the place where he did stand.
I.
Children's Song.
From Professor Walter Morris Hart of the University of California ;
communicated by Mrs. Agnes McDougall Henry, M.L., formerly of
that university. Professor Hart writes, concerning this and other
1 As to "John Hardy," see JAFL 22 : 247; 29 : 400; Shearin and Coombs, p. 19;
Berea Quarterly, 14 : 26; F. C. Brown, p. 12; Cox, 45 : 12, 160.
2 Reprinted in JAFL 13 : 1 19-120.
3 Cox (44 : 388) also prints two stanzas of a version corresponding to Child's A, which
appears to have been brought to West Virginia from Ireland.
4 Compare Broadwood, English Traditional Songs and Carols, pp. 74-75, 122; Sharp,
English Folk-Carols, No. 1, pp. 2-4; Journal of Folk-Song Society, 1 : 183; 4: 22-25;
a broadside of about 1780, Worcester [England], J. Grundy (Harvard College Library,
25242.5.5 [149, No. 13]); Notes and Queries, 3d series, 3 : 94.
306 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
ballads (Dec. 10, 1915): "They were sung to her by the mother of a
family in the mountains of western North Carolina, whose name,
Ellen Crowder, will recall to ballad-lovers, perhaps not impertinently,
the 'blind crouder' of Sidney's immortal comment on Chevy Chace.
'One day,' writes Mrs. Henry, 'while Ellen was absorbed in splitting
a broom, I mentioned "Barbara Allen." In that unguarded moment
she began to sing the first verse. I found that she and her husband
and sisters sang a good many ballads years ago, but they had forgotten
all except the four versions I am sending you. When I inquired why
they had ceased singing them, the reply was, "No one seemed to take
delight in them any more, so we laid them by." It appears that the
ancestors of these people were in the mountains of North Carolina
before the Revolution, and that they have been illiterate up to the
present generation. Even now it is a matter of pride that one or two
members of the family are good "scribes." ' "
1. The starry light and the lady bright,
Her children, she had three.
She sent them away to the North country
To learn those gramerie.
2. They hadn't been gone but a very short time,
Scarce three months and a day,
Till death came rushing along o'ver the land
And swept those babes away.
3. Their mother came as far to know,
She wrung her hands full sore.
"The less, the less, the less!" she cried,
"Shall I see my babes no more?"
4. "There were a king in heaven," she said,
"That used to wear a crown;
Send all my three little babes to-night
Or in the morning soon."
5. Or Christmas times were drawing nigh,
The nights were long and cold;
Her three little babes came rushing along
Down to their mother's hall.
6. She fixed them a table in the dining room,
Spread over with bread and wine,
Saying, "Eat, O, eat my sweet little babes;
Come eat and drink of mine."
7. " Mama, we cannot eat your bread,
Nor we can't drink your wine;
For yonder stands our Saviour dear,
And to him we'll return."
8. She fixed them a bed in the backmost room,
Spread over with a clean sheet,
Ballads and Songs. ^07
And a golden wine upon the top of them,
To make them sweeter sleep.
9- "Take it off, take it off," says the oldest one,
"The cocks they will soon crow;
For yonder stands our Saviour dear,
And to him we must go."
10. "Cold clods lays on our feet, mama;
Green grass grows over our heads;
The tears that run all down our cheeks
Did wet the winding sheets."
II.
Three Little Babes.
From Professor Louise Pound. Reported from Burt County
Nebraska, by L. A. Quivey of Salt Lake City, Utah. See Miss
Pound's Syllabus, p. 10.
«
1. Christmas time was drawing near,
And the nights were growing cold,
When three little babes came running down
Into their mother's fold.
2. She spread a table long and wide,
And on it put bread and wine:
"Come eat, come drink, my sweet little babes;
Come eat and drink of mine."
3- "We want none of your bread, mother;
We want none of your wine;
For yonder stands our blessed Lord,
And to him we will join."
4. She made a bed in the very best room,
And on it placed clean sheets,
And over the top a golden spread,
The sweeter they might sleep.
5- "Take it off, take it off," cried the eldest one,
"Take it off," cried he;
"For I would not stay in this wicked world,
Since Christ has died for me."
6. "A sad farewell, kind mother dear; w
We give the parting hand,
To meet again on that fair shore
In Canaan's happy land.
7- "A tombstone at our head, mother;
The cold clay at our feet;
The tears we have shed for you, mother,
Have wet these winding sheets."
308 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
III.
The Lady Gay.
Communicated by Miss Loraine Wyman, as sung by Jasper Day
at Pine Mountain, Ky., May 4, 1916.
1. There was a lady, there was a lady gay,
Had handsome children three,
And sent them away to some northern countree
To learn those grammaree.
2. They hadn't been gone so mighty long,
Scarcely three months to a day,
Death came hastling along
And stole those babes away.
3. It was near Old Christmas time
When she prayed for her little babes;
It was near Old Christmas time
When her three little babes were sent home.
4. The table was ready set,
And on it she placed bread and wine:
Says, "You three little babes,
Come and eat, come and drink of mine."
5. "I don't want your bread,
I don't want your wine.
Yonder stands our Saviour dear;
To him we must resign."
IV.
The Three Little Babes.
Communicated by Professor Belden. He received it in 1905 from
Professor A. R. Hohlfeld, who had it from Miss Mary Pierce, Nashville,
Tenn. Miss Pierce heard the song in the Cumberland Mountains
(Stonington Springs, Tenn.) in 1901.
1. A lady and a lady gay,
Children she had three,
She sent them away to a northern college
For to learn some grammaree.
2. They hadn't been gone but a very short time,
About three months and a day,
Till death came over the broad, broad land,
And swept those babes away.
3. And what will the dear mother say
When she does hear of this?
She'll wring her hands, she'll scream, and say,
"0, when shall I see my three babies?"
Ballads and Songs.
309
4. 0, Christmas time is a-drawing near,
The nights grew long and cold:
The three little babes came a-lumbering down
All into the mother's room.
5. The table was set and a cloth spread on;
It was set with bread and wine;
"Sit down, sit down, my three little babes,
And eat and drink of mine."
6. "O, mother dear, we cannot eat your bread,
Neither can we drink your wine,
For yonder stands our Saviour dear,
To whom we are design."
7. The bed was fixed in the far back room,
A golden sheet spread on.
"Lie down, lie down, my three little babes,
And sleep till the morning soon."
LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD (Child, No. 8l).
This famous ballad, one of the finest that exist, is well preserved in
America. This Journal has printed a version from Nova Scotia,
collected by Professor W. R. Mackenzie of Washington University,
St. Louis (23:371-374; 25:182-183: "Little Matha Grove").
Texts are reported from Kentucky by Shearin and Coombs (p. 8,
"Lord Vanner's [or Lord Daniel's] Wife"),1 from Virginia by Professor
C. Alphonso Smith (Bulletin, No. 3, p. 4), from North Carolina by
Professor F. C. Brown (p. 9, cf. JAFL 28 : 201), from South Carolina
by Professor Reed Smith (JAFL 28 : 201), and a fragment from West
Virginia by Professor J. H. Cox (46 : 22, 64).
I.
Lord Orland's Wife.
Collected by Miss Loraine W'yman, 1916, as sung by Hillard Smith,
Carr Creek, Knott County, Kentucky.
EJ7 r> /
I — >s^* a S
ii
fca
The first came in was a gay la - dye; The next came in was a
fair - est oi7. them all, The fair - est of., them all.
1 Compare Shearin, Modern Language Review, 6 : 514; Sewanee Review, July, 1911.
310 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
i. The first came in was a gay ladye;
The next came in was a girl;
The third came in was Lord Orland's wife,
The fairest of them all.
2. Little Mathew Grew was standing by;
She placed her eyes on him:
"Go up with me, Little Mathew Grew,
This livelong night we'll spend."
3. "I can tell by the ring that's on your finger
You are Lord Orland's wife."
" But if I am Lord Orland's wife,
Lord Orland is not at home."
4. The little footpage was standing by,
Heard all that she did say:
"Your husband sure will hear these words
Before the break of day."
5. He had sixteen miles to go,
And ten of them he run;
He run till he came to the broken bridge,
He smote his breast and swum.
6. He ran till he came to Lord Orland's hall,
He ran till he came to the gate,
He rattled those bells and he rung:
"Awake, Lord Orland, awake!"
7. "What's the matter, what's the matter, little footpage?
What's the news you bring to me?"
"Little Mathew Grew's in the bed with your wife;
It's as true as anything can be."
8. "If this be a lie," Lord Orland he said,
"That you have brought to me,
I'll build a scaffold on the king's highway,
And hanged you shall be."
9. "If this be a lie I bring to you,
Which you're taking it to be,
You need not build a scaffold on the king's highway,
But hang me to a tree."
10. At first they fell to hugging and kissing,
At last they fell to sleep;
All on the next morn when they awoke,
Lord Orland stood at their bed feet.
11. "O how do you like my curtains fine?
O how do you like my sheets?
O how do you like my gay ladye,
That lies in your arms asleep?"
Ballads and Songs.
3ii
12. "Very well I like your curtains fine,
Very well I like your sheets;
Much better I like your gay ladye,
That lies in my arms and sleeps."
13. "Get up, get up, little Mathew Grew,
And prove your words to be true.
I'll never have it for to say
A naked man I slew."
14. The first lick struck little Mathew Grew struck,
Which caused an awful wound ;
The next lick struck Lord Orland struck,
And laid him on the ground.
15. "O how do you like my curtains fine?
O how do you like my sheets?
O how do you like little Mathew Grew,
That lies on the ground and sleeps?"
16. "Very well I like your curtains fine,
Very well I like your sheets;
Much better I like little Mathew Grew,
That lies on the ground and sleeps."
II.
Little Mathew Grove.
Collected by Miss Loraine Wyman, 1916, as sung by Sallie Adams,
Letcher County, Kentucky.
Oh, first came down drest in red; Next came down in green; Next came down as Lord
£
Dan- iel's wife, As fine as an - y queen, As fine as an - y queen.
1. First came down dressed in red;
Next came down in green;
Next came down as Lord Daniel's wife,
As fine as any queen.
2. She stepped up to little Mathew Grove;
She says, "Go home with me to-night."
"I can tell by the little ring you have on your hand,
You are Lord Daniel's wife."
3. "It makes no difference whose wife I am,
To you nor no other man:
My husband's not at home to-night;
He's in some distant land."
312 Journal of American Folk-Lore .
4. The little footpage was standing by,
Heard every word was said :
"Your husband surely will hear these words
Before the break of day."
5. He had sixteen miles to go,
And ten of them he run;
He run, he run to the broken broken bridge,
He smote on his breast and swum.
6. He run till he came to Lord Daniel's hall,
He run till he came to the gate,
He rattled those bells and he rung.
7. "What's the matter, what's the matter, little white footpage?
What's the news you bring to me?"
"There's another man in the bed with your wife,
As sure as you are born."
8. "If this be a lie," Lord Daniel said,
"That you have brought to me,
I'll build me a scaffold on the king's highway road,
And hanged you shall be!" (bis)
9. "If this be a lie I bring to you,
Which you're taking it to be,
You need not build a scaffold on the king's highroad,
But hang me to a tree."
10. He gathered up an army of his men,
And he started with a free good will;
He put his bugle to his mouth,
And he blowed both loud and shrill.
11. "Get up, get up, little Mathew Grove;
Get up, then put on your clothes!"
"Lord Daniel surely comes home this night,
For I hear his bugle blow."
12. "Lie still, lie still
And keep me from the cold!
It's nothing but my father's shepherd,
Blowing of his sheep to the fold."
13. From that they fell to hugging and kissing,
From that they fell asleep,
And when they waked up, Lord Daniel
Was standing at their feet."
14. "How do you like your pillow, sir?
How do you like your sheet?
How do you like the gay ladye
That lies in your arms and sleeps?"
Ballads and Songs. 313
15. "Very well I like your pillow, sir;
Very well I like your sheet;
Much better I like your gay ladye,
That lies in my arms and sleeps."
16. "Get up, get up, little Mathew Grove;
Get up and put on your clothes!
It never shall be said in this wide world
A naked man I slew."
17. "You have two bright swords," he said,
" Me not so much as a knife."
"You may have the very best sword,
And I will take the worst." 1
18. "You may take the very first lick,
And make it like a man;
And I will take the very next lick,
And kill you if I can."
19. Little Mathew struck the very first lick,
Lord Daniel struck the floor;
Lord Daniel took the very next lick,
Little Mathew struck no more.
20. He took the ladye all by the hand,
Says, "Come sit on my knee!
Which of those men you love best —
Little Mathew Grove or me?"
21. "Much better I like your rosy cheeks;
Much better I like your chin:
Much better I like little Mathew Grove
As you and all your kin."
22.
he led her to the hall;
He drew his sword and cut off her head;
He stove it against the wall.
III.
Lord Daniel's Wife.
Collected by Miss Loraine Wyman, 1916, in Kentucky.
1. The first came down all dressed in red;
The next came down in green;
The next came down was Lord Daniel's wife,
She's as fine as any queen.
1 This fragment was also collected by Miss Wyman: —
"Give me a show for my life," he said,
"Give me a show for my life;
For you have two bright swords by your side,
And I have not so much as a knife."
314
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
2. "Come and go home with me, little Gaby," she said,
"Come and go home with me to-night."
"For T know by the rings on your fingers
You are Lord Daniel's wife."
3. He had sixteen miles to go,
And ten of them he run;
He rode till he came to the broken-down bridge,
He held his breath and swum.
4. He swum till he come where the grass grows green,
He turned to his heels and he run;
He run till he come to Lord Daniel's gate,
He rattled those bells and rung.
5. He travelled over hills and valleys,
Till he come to his staff stand still;
He placed his bugle to his mouth
And blew most loud and shrill.
6. He took little Gaby by the hand,
And led her through the hall;
He took his sword, cut off her head,
And kicked it agin the wall.
IV.
Little Matthy Groves.
The following excellent copy, with the melody, was sent to Professor
Belclen in 1916 by Mrs. Eva Warner Case, as written down from
memory, with the assistance of her mother and grandmother. It
comes from Harrison County, Missouri.1
I.
n
~E
a high hoi - i - day,
%*■ ft*
On a high
hoi - i - day,
on
The
3=5*:
-I 1=
1
ve - ry first day of the year, Lit - tie Mat - thy Groves to
t^w^^mp
-1 1 rv
m
:#- -J- —I-
church did go, God's ho - ly word to hear, hear, God's ho - ly word to hear.
1 See p. 322, below.
Ballads and Songs. 315
1. On a high holiday, on a high holiday, .
The very first day of the year,
Little Matthy Groves to church did go
God's holy word to hear, hear,
God's holy word to hear.
2. The first that came in was a gay ladie,
And the next that came in was a girl,
And the next that came in was Lord Arnold's wife,
The fairest of them all.
3. He stepped right up unto this one,
And she made him this reply,
Saying, "You must go home with me to-night,
All night with me for to lie."
4. "I cannot go with you to-night,
I cannot go for my life;
For I know by the rings that are on your fingers
You are Lord Arnold's wife."
5. "And if I am Lord Arnold's wife,
I know that Lord Arnold's gone away;
He's gone away to old England
To see King Henery."
6. A little footpage was standing by,
And he took to his feet and run;
He run till he came to the water-side,
And he bent his breast and swum.
7. "What news, what news, my little footpage?
What news have you for me?
Are my castle walls all toren down,
Or are my castles three?"
8. "Your castle walls are not toren down,
Nor are your towers three;
But little Matthy Groves is in your house,
In bed with your gay ladie."
9. He took his merry men by the hand
And placed them all in a row,
And he bade them not one word for to speak
And not one horn for to blow.
10. There was one man among them all
Who owed little Matthy some good will,
VOL. XXX. — NO. 117. — 21
3i 6 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
And he put his bugle horn to his mouth
And he blew both loud and shrill.
11. "Hark, hark! hark, hark!" said little Matthy Groves,
"I hear the bugle blow,
And every note it seems to say,
'Arise, arise, and go!'"
12. "Lie down, lie down, little Matthy Groves,
And keep my back from the cold!
It is my father's shepherd boys
A-blowing up the sheep from the fold."
13. From that they fell to hugging and kissing,
And from that they fell to sleep;
And next morn when they woke at the break of the day,
Lord Arnold stood at their feet.
14. "And it's how do you like my fine feather-bed,
And it's how do you like my sheets?
And it's how do you like my gay ladie,
That lies in your arms and sleeps?"
15. "Very well do I like your fine feather-beds,
Very well do I like your sheets;
But much better do I like your gay ladie,
That lies in my arms and sleeps."
16. "Now get you up, little Matthy Groves,
And all your clothes put on;
For it never shall be said in old England
That I slew a naked man."
17. "I will get up," said little Matthy Groves,
"And fight you for my life,
Though you've two bright swords hanging by your side,
And me not a pocket-knife!"
18. "If I've two bright swords by my side,
They cost me deep in purse;
And you shall have the better of the two,
And I will keep the worse."
19. The very first lick that little Matthy struck,
He wounded Lord Arnold sore;
But the very first lick that Lord Arnold struck,
Little Matthy struck no more.
20. He took his ladie by the hand
And he downed her on his knee,
Saying, "Which do you like the best, my dear,
Little Matthy Groves or me?"
Ballads and Songs. 317
21. "Very well do I like your rosy cheeks,
Very well do I like your dimpled chin;
But better I like little Matthy Groves
Than you and all your kin."
22. He took his ladie by the hand
And led her o'er the plain;
He took the broad sword from his side
And he- split her head in twain.
23. "Hark, hark, hark, doth the nightingale sing,
And the sparrows they do cry!
To-day I've killed two true lovers,
And to-morrow I must die."
BONNY BARBARA ALLAN (Child, No. 84).
Many American copies are registered in this Journal, 29: 160-161,
where Tolman prints a Virginian text. See also 20:256-257; 22:
74 (tune only); 25 : 282 (tune only); 26 : 352; 27 : 59, 62-63; 28:
200-202. Compare Belden, No. 7; l F. C. Brown, p. 9; Virginia Folk-
Lore Society, Bulletin, No. 2, p. 3; No. 3, p. 4; No. 4, p. 7; No. 5,
p. 8; B. L. Jones, "Folk-Lore in Michigan," p. 5; Cox, 45 : 159
(JAFL 29 : 400) ; South Carolina Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin, No. I
(1913), p. 4; "Berea Quarterly," October, 1915 (18:12,15). C.
Alphonso Smith reports the ballad from Tennessee ("Summer School
News," July 31, 1914, 1:1, No. 12, Summer School of the South).
Words and tune (from Knott County, Kentucky) are given in Wyman
and Brockway, "Lonesome Tunes," 1 : 1-5; and in McGill, "Folk-
Songs from the Kentucky Mountains," pp. 39-44. Professor W. M.
Hart has communicated a variant from North Carolina.
To the references to American song-books in JAFL 29 : 160, note 2,
may be added: "The American Songster," Baltimore, 1836 (John
Kenedy, editor and publisher), pp. 7-10 (so also in later editions: New
York, Nans and Cornish, about 1840; Cornish, Lamport & Co., 1850) ;
"Barbara Allen," etc., a garland printed in Philadelphia about 1820
(Harvard College, 25276.43.81).
LADY alice (Child, No. 85).
Child included in his collection (2 : 279-280) an American version
contributed to "Notes and Queries," in 1856 (2d series, 1 : 354), by
a Philadelphia lady, as sung forty years before. Professor E. C.
Perrow gives a text from North Carolina in JAFL 28 : 151-152.
Virginian texts are printed in "The Focus," 3 : 154-155; 4 : 50-51.
Mrs. Campbell prints two stanzas from northern Georgia in "The
Survey" (New York, Jan. 2, 1915, 33 : 373). See also JAFL 27 : 62;
1 Belden now has about a dozen variants.
318 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
28 : 200-202; F. C. Brown, p. 9; Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin,
No. 2, p. 5; No. 3, p. 4; No. 4, p. 7; No. 5, p. 8; Cox, 45 : 159 (JAFL
29 : 400). Cox prints a West Virginia variant (46 : 124). For recent
English contributions see "Journal of the Folk-Song Society," 3 : 299-
302; 4 : 106-109.
lamkin (Child, No. 93).
To the references in this Journal, 29 : 162, add F. C. Brown, p. 9;
Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin, No. 3, p. 4. For England see
"Journal of the Folk-Song Society," 5 : 81-84; Sharp, "One Hundred
English Folksongs," pp. xxviii, 62-64 (No. 27) ; "Notes and Queries,"
nth series, 8 : 108.
THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS (Child, No. 95).
The first American copy to be printed was published by Child
(5 : 296), — "The Hangman's Tree," from Virginia by way of North
Carolina. Others have appeared in JAFL 21 : 56 (West Virginia,
Reed Smith); 26: 175 (from an Irish servant in Massachusetts);1
27 : 64 (South Carolina, Reed Smith) ; and Miss Wyman and Mr.
Brockway have included still another (with the music) in their "Lone-
some Tunes," 1 : 44-48 ("The Hangman's Tree," from Harlan County,
Kentucky). See also Reed Smith (JAFL 27 : 59-63; 28 : 200-202);
F. C. Brown, p. 9; Cox, 46 : 359 (JAFL 29 : 400). For England see
Broadwood and Fuller Maitland, "English County Songs," pp. 112-
113 ("The Prickly Bush"); Sharp, "Folk Songs from Somerset," 5:
54-55 ("The Briery Bush"); Sharp, "One Hundred English Folk-
songs," No. 17, pp. xxiv-xxv, 42-43; "Journal of the Folk-Song
Society," 2 : 233-234; 5 : 228-239.
Professor C. Alphonso Smith reports several Virginia variants, with
specimens, and gives an extremely interesting account of the per-
formance of the piece among the negroes of Albemarle County as
"an out-of-door drama" some twenty-five years ago.2 An account
of a similar performance in England may be found in the "Journal
of the Folk-Song Society," 5 : 233~334.3 Compare the first version
printed below. Professor Smith also reports a variant from Tennessee
("Summer School News," July 31, 1914 (1 : 1, No. 12, Summer School
of the South).
1 Barry prints a tune from Ireland in JAFL 24 : 337 (Hudson MS., Boston Public
Library, No. 121).
2 Ballads Surviving in the United States, reprinted from the January, 1916, Musical
Quarterly, pp. 10-12. See also the Bulletin of the Virginia Folk-Lore Society, No. 2,
p. 5; No. 3, p. 8; No. 4, p. 7; No. 5, p. 8.
3 Here reference is made to Mary A. Owen's Voodoo Tales (published in England
under the title of Old Rabbit the Voodoo), New York, 1893, pp. 185-189, especially
pp. 188-189 (also in Philadelphia ed., 1898, Old Rabbit's Plantation Stories, same pages).
Ballads and Songs. 310
I.
[The Golden Ball.]
Child's version F is a fragment which "had become a children's
game, the last stage of many old ballads" (2 : 346). This appears
to be the case also with the text now printed, in which the lost object
is a golden ball, as in the tale that embodies Child's version H. What
precedes the first and second stanzas appears to be a prose dialogue
introductory to the ballad, and accompanied by action. The text
was communicated by Mr. John R. Reinhard, who procured it from
one of his pupils in Mount Holyoke College, Miss Mary F. Anderson.
Miss Anderson heard it in New York in the summer of 1916, from
children among whom she was doing "settlement work."
"Father, father, may I have my golden ball?"
" No, you may not have your golden ball."
"But all the other girls and boys have their golden balls."
" Then you may have your golden ball; but if you lose your golden ball,
you will hang on yonder rusty gallery.
" Father, father, I have lost my golden ball! "
" Well, then you will hang on yonder rusty gallery."
1. "Captain, captain, hold the rope;
I hear my mother's voice.
Mother, have you come to set me free,
Or have you come to see me hang
On yonder rusty gallery?"
"No, I have come to see you hang
On yonder rusty gallery."
2. "Captain, captain, hold the rope;
I hear my sister's voice.
Sister, have you come to set me free,
Or have you come to see me hang
On yonder rusty gallery?"
"No, I have come to see you hang
On yonder rusty gallery."
3. "Captain, captain, hold the rope;
I hear my baby's voice.
Baby, have you come to set me free,
Or have you come to see me hang
On yonder rusty gallery?"
"Da, da." [Gives him the ball.]
The last stanza varies with the following: —
"Captain, captain, hold the rope;
I hear my sweetheart's voice.
Sweetheart, have you come to set me free,
Or have you come to see me hang
320
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
On yonder rusty gallery?"
"Yes, I have brought your golden ball,
And come to set you free;
I have not come to see you hanged
On yonder rusty gallery."
II.
The Hangman's Tree.
Communicated by Professor Belden. Sent in by Mr. E. E. Chiles
of the Soldan High School, St. Louis, as remembered by his wife from
the singing of a housemaid, Elsie Ditch, on a farm near Plattin, Mo.,
in 1900. This agrees with Miss Wyman's text (and some others)
in making the victim a man, and the rescuer his sweetheart.
B
ft^=^=?=
4=
re
^
w
zjn
1. "Hangman, dear hangman, do up your rope
For just a little while;
For yonder comes my father dear,
Who's travelled many a mile.
2. "Father, dear father, have you brought me the gold?
Have you come to buy me free?
Or have you come to see me hung
Upon the gallows tree?"
3. "Son, dear son, I've brought no gold,
Nor come to buy you free,
But I have come to see you hung
Upon the gallows tree."
And so on through mother, sister, brother, until his sweetheart comes:
4. "Hangman, dear hangman, do up your rope
For just a little while;
For yonder comes my sweetheart dear,
Who's travelled many a mile.
5. "Sweetheart, dear sweetheart, have you brought the gold?
Have you come to buy me free?
Or have you come to see me hung
Upon the gallows tree?"
6. "Sweetheart, dear sweetheart, I've brought the gold,
I've come to buy you free;
I have not come to see you hung
Upon the gallows tree."
Ballads and Songs. 321
III.
Hangman Song.
Communicated by Professor W. M. Hart, 1915. From Mrs.
Ellen Crowder, mountains of western North Carolina (see p. 306, l
above) .
1. "O hangman, O hangman, just wait awhile,
Just wait a little while!
I believe I see my dear father;
He's travelled for many a mile.
2. "O father, O father, have ye brought me your gold?
Or have ye bought me free?
Or have ye come to see me hung
All on that lonesome tree?"
3. "O daughter, O daughter, I've not brought you my gold,
And I've not bought you free,
For I have come to see you hung
All on that lonesome tree."
(Similar verses for mother, brother, and sister.)
10. "O hangman, O hangman, just wait a while,
Just wait a little while!
I believe I see my true lover;
He's travelled for many a mile.
11. "O sweetheart, O sweetheart, have ye brought me your gold?
Or have ye bought me free?
Or have ye come to see me hung
All on that lonesome tree?"
12. "O sweetheart, O sweetheart, I've brought you my gold
And I have bought you free,
For I've not come to see you hung
All on that lonesome tree."
THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON7 (Child, No. IO5).
Child had a copy from Indiana ("received from an Irish lady,"
2 : 426) which he did not print, as being from a broadside partly made
over by secondary tradition.2 Copies are reported from Virginia
(Bulletin of the Virginia Folk-Lore Society, No. 4, pp. 7-8), Kentucky
(Shearin and Coombs, p. 8; 3 letter from Professor E. C. Perrow, Feb.
1 The woman who sang this had been taught that the maiden was to be hanged for
the theft of a golden cup.
2 It is preserved among the Child MSS. (xviii, 31, article 10) in the Harvard College
Library.
3 Compare Shearin, Modern Language Review, 6 : 514; Sewanee Review for July, 1911.
ad-
journal of American Folk-Lore.
12, 1914), Georgia (Reed Smith, JAFL 28 : 200), Michigan (B. L.
Jones).
A text from Missouri (with the tune) is communicated by Professor
Belden as sent to him by Mrs. Eva Warner Case. Mrs. Case gives
the song from memory, "with the assistance of her mother and
grandmother." "It was commonly sung," she writes, "in Harrison
County, Missouri, as late as 1890. The settlers here were of Virginia
and Kentucky stock, with a sprinkling of Tennesseeans, and many of
the songs had been in the family at the time of their coming from
England." Mrs. Case's text corresponds pretty closely to the old
broadside reproduced (inexactly) by Percy and (accurately) by Child
(2 : 427-428). It omits stanza 2 only. Stanza 11 shows an amusing
variation.
"Then will I sell my goodly steed,
My saddle and my bow;
I will into some far countrey,
Where no man doth me know" (Child, st. 11).
"If she be dead and I am a-living,
She's lying there so low,
Oh take from me my coal-black steed,
My fiddle and my bow!" (Case, st. 10).
The following fragment was communicated in February, 191 6, by
Mr. Wallace C. Wadsworth from recitation, apparently in Indiana.
1. One eve the maids of Hazelton
Went out to sport and play,
But the bailiff's daughter of Hazelton
She slyly stole away.
2. There was a youth, a well-beloved youth,
The squire's only son,
And he fell in love with the bailiff's daughter,
And she lived in Hazelton.
SIR HUGH, OR THE JEW'S DAUGHTER (Child, No. I55).
To the material and references collected in this Journal, 29 : 164-166,
it may be added that Cox reports nine variants from West Virginia
(45 : 160; JAFL 29 : 400); B. L. Jones (p. 5), one from Michigan;
and Perrow, one from Kentucky (letter of Feb. 12, 1914). Compare
also Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin, No. 2, pp. 3, 6; No. 3, p. 5;
No. 4, pp. 4, 8; No. 5, p. 8; "Berea Quarterly," October, 1915 (18:
12). Belden has three variants. See also Sharp, "One Hundred
English Folksongs," No. 8, pp. xx-xxi, 22-23.
Ballads and Songs. ^fiZ
THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT (Child, No. 1 62).
In this Journal, 18 : 294, Barry notes a broadside of "Chevy Chace"
printed by N. Coverly, Jr., Boston (early nineteenth century), and
gives the tune from a Newburyport (Mass.) manuscript of 1790.
"The Death of Old Tenor," a Massachusetts song of 1750, is to the
tune of "Chevy Chace" (Massachusetts Historical Society Proceed-
ings, 20 : 30). The Harvard College Library has a broadside (ap-
parently American) of "Chevy Chace" (25242.53 [312]) dating from
the eighteenth century.
THE GYPSY LADDIE (Child, No. 200).
For American copies see Child, 4:71-73; JAFL 18:191-195;
19:294-295; 24:346-348; 25:173-175; 26:353; G.B.Woods,
"Modern Language Notes," December, 1912 (reprinted in "The
Miami Student," Jan. 9, 1913); McGill, "Folk-Songs from the
Kentucky Mountains," 1917, pp. 14-17. One stanza from West
Virginia (Child's J, st. 1) is printed by Cox, 44 : 428 (with a burden),
two texts are reported by him (45 : 160; JAFL 29 : 400). Compare
Belden, No. 10; Pound, p. 10; F. C. Brown, p. 9; Virginia Folk-Lore
Society, Bulletin, No. 3, p. 5; No. 5, p. 8; JAFL 22 :8o; 27: 59,
62-63; 28:200-202; Dr. Bertrand L. Jones has found the ballad
in Michigan. The lady repents in a text printed in "Arlington's
Banjo Songster" (Philadelphia, cop. i860), pp. 47-48.
The ordinary English broadside version (Child's Gb) is different.
See the following Harvard broadsides,1 all of which agree closely in
text: 25242.17, ii, 21 (G. Walker, Jr., Durham); ii, 171 (Carbutt,
Tadeaster); ii, 191 (Forth, Bridlington; same in iii, 19); iv, 131 (J.
Gilbert, Newcastle-upon-Tyne); iv, 208 bis (Forth, Pocklington) ;
25242.5.6 (161), No. 9 (= 25242.27, p. 211); 25242.25, p. 37 (Pitts);
so in "A Garland" (E. Sergent), 25276.43.58, No. 21. Similar is the
text in Gillington and Sellars, "Songs of the Open Road," No. 7,
pp. 16-17; their No. 5 (pp. 12-13) differs.
"The Wraggle Taggle Gypsies," a version now in oral circulation
in England,2 with a pleasing tune, is likely to become current per ora
virion in this country from the singing of the Fuller Sisters and
others. Collectors in search of American texts should take notice and
examine pedigrees when this turns up anywhere.
For copies of "The Gypsy Laddie" ("The Gypsy Davy"), revised
or altered with comic intent, see Belden, JAFL 25 : 171 (fragment);
broadside, H. de Marsan, New York, List 3, Song 28 (Brown Univer-
1 Such's broadside No. 46 (25242.17, xi, 46) varies from these.
2 See Sharp and Marson, Folk-Songs from Somerset, No. 9, 1 : 18-19 (cf- P- 61).
Sharp, One Hundred English Folksongs, No. 5, pp. xviii, 13-16; Baring-Gould MS;
(Harvard College Library), p. 5; cf. Notes and Queries, nth series, 18 : 176 (1913)-
324
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
sity); De Witt's " Forget-Me-Not Songster," p. 223; Hooley's
"Opera House Songster," p. 46.
The Gypsy Davy.
From Mrs. William L. R. Gifford, 1914, as remembered from the
singing of Mrs. Catharine Bonney Dexter in Rochester, Mass., about
1872. Mrs. Dexter was born in 1832, and died in 1898. She learned
the ballad from her mother, Mrs. James Ruggles (born Toppan),
who came from Newburyport, Mass. This is a variant of Child's
version J (Maine and Massachusetts).
E15
£
t,
My lord came home quite late one night, In - quir - ing for his
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ser-vant made him this re -ply: "She's gone with a Gyp - sy Da - vy. "
1. My lord came home quite late one night,
Inquiring for his lady.
The servant made him this reply:
"She's gone with a Gypsy Davy."
Raddle daddle dingo day,
Raddle daddle dingo davy.
The servant made him this reply:
"She's gone with a Gypsy Davy."
2. "Go saddle for me the white," said he,
"The brown is not so speedy.
I'll ride all night and I'll ride all day
Till I find my charming lady."
Raddle daddle, etc.
Ballads and Songs. 325
3. My lord rode down by the water's side,
The waters there flowed freely;
The tears were trickling down his cheeks,
For there he spied his lady.
Raddle daddle, etc.
4. "Will you forsake your house and lands?
Will you forsake your baby?
Will you forsake your own true love
And go with a Gypsy Davy?"
Raddle daddle, etc.
5. "I care not for my house and lands?
I care not for my baby,
I care not for my own true love,
And I'll go with a Gypsy Davy."
Raddle daddle dingo day,
Raddle daddle dingo davy.
" I care not for my own true love,
And I'll go with a Gypsy Davy."
BESSY BELL AND MARY GRAY (Child, No. 201 ).
A fragment of two stanzas from West Virginia is printed by Cox
(44 : 428; cf. 45 : 160, JAFL 29 : 400). The ballad is reported from
Virginia by Professor C. Alphonso Smith, Virginia Folk-Lore Society,
Bulletin, No. 5, p. 8 ("Musical Quarterly," January, 1916).
james Harris (the daemon lover) (Child, No. 243).
In 1858 Child, in his first collection of ballads, noted that this
ballad "is printed in Philadelphia as a penny broadside, called The
House Carpenter" and quoted two stanzas of this broadside from
"Graham's Magazine." l The passage in the magazine is interesting
on account of its statement that "many old English songs . . . are
reprinted in this country in a mutilated form." 2 The broadside in
question Child was never able to procure ; but in 1904 the same version
was found by Barry in one of H. de Marsan's broadsides;3 and since
its publication in this Journal (18 : 207-209), it has turned up rather
often in oral circulation, sometimes of long standing. The de Marsan
broadside, by the way, is a re-issue of one published by J. Andrews of
New York (whom de Marsan succeeded in business) in 1857 or there-
about.4
1 English and Scottish Ballads, 5 (1858) : vi-vii (Additions and Corrections). See
also Child's final collection, The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, 4 : 360.
2 Graham's Illustrated Magazine, Philadelphia, September, 1858 (53 : 277).
3 Modern Language Notes, 19 : 238.
4 The Andrews broadside (List 5, Song 90) is in the Harris Collection (Brown Univer-
sity).
326 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
For American oral copies see JAFL 19 : 295-297 (Belden, Missouri) ; l
20 : 257-258 (Miss Pettit, Kentucky) ; 25 : 274-275 (Barry, Penn-
sylvania); 26 : 352, 360-361 (Miss Pound, from Illinois by way of
Nebraska).2 A fragment of thirteen lines from Virginia is printed in
"The Focus," 4 : 162, and other Virginia variants are reported by
C. Alphonso Smith (Bulletin, No. 3, p. 5; No. 4, pp. 4, 8; No. 5, p. 9),
as well as texts from North and South Carolina (Bulletin, No. 2, p. 6).
Professor Smith gives two tunes in the "Musical Quarterly" for
January, 1916. F. C. Brown (p. 9) reports the ballad from North
Carolina, and Mr. W. R. Taylor has communicated a copy from that
State. Mrs. John C. Campbell has a copy from Georgia, as well
as copies from Kentucky. Shearin and Coombs reported Kentucky
variants in 191 1 (p. 8).3 Professor Reed Smith reports the ballad
from South Carolina (JAFL 27 : 63; cf. 28 : 200-202). Cox prints a
good text from West Virginia (44 : 388-389), and reports several
variants (44 : 388; 45 : 159; JAFL 29 : 400). Texts from Kentucky
have been communicated by Miss Loraine Wyman and Mr. Wallace
C. Wadsworth, and one from Missouri by Professor Belden (from
Mrs. Eva Warner Case).4
Baring-Gould took down a long text of this ballad (from singing)
at Holcombe Burnell, Devon, in 1890 (Baring-Gould MS., Harvard
College Library, pp. 95-96, 98). Three stanzas of another variant
are printed in the "Journal of the Folk-Song Society," 3 : 84, where
Mr. Sharp observes that the theme "is allied to Jemmie and Nancy
of Yarmouth." As to the latter piece (also known as "The Yarmouth
Tragedy; or, The Constant Lovers," and common in broadsides and
garlands), see JAFL 26 : 178.5
1 Belden's Partial List, No. n; cf. Modern Philology, 2 : 575. He now has seven
variants.
2 Compare JAFL 27 : 59; Pound, p. 10.
3 Compare Shearin, Modern Language Quarterly, 6 : 514; Sewanee Review, July, 191 1.
See also Berea Quarterly, October, 1915 (18 : 12, 17).
4 The tunes sent in by Miss Wyman and Mrs. Case are given on p. 327.
6 Additional references for the printing of "The Yarmouth Tragedy" in this country
are: an American broadside of about 1830-40 without imprint, "Jemmy and Nancy"
(Harvard College, "1916, lot 12"); The American Songster, [edited and published] by
John Kenedy, Baltimore, 1836, pp. 193-200 ("Jemmy and Nancy"); the same, Cornish,
Lamport & Co., 1851, pp. 193-200 (also New York, Nafis & Cornish); The Pearl Songster,
New York, C. P. Huestis, 1846, pp. 109 et seq. (Brown University); The New American
Songster, Philadelphia, D. Dickinson, 1817, pp. 59-66 (Brown University). For Great
Britain add the following Harvard broadsides — 25242.19, ii, 21, " The Yarmouth Tragedy;
or, The Constant Lovers" (John Evans); 25242.31 PF (Stonecutter Street, Fleet Market);
25242.58, fol. 37, "Jemmy and Nancy of Yarmouth" (no imprint) — and the following
garlands: 25276.43.5 (Newry, 1790); 25276.43.23, No. 3 (Glasgow); 25276.43.58, No. 76
(Preston, E. Sergent). Compare Ashton, Real Sailor Songs, No. 64; Crawford Cata-
logue, No. 783; Ebsworth, Roxburghe Ballads, 8 : 181.
Ballads and Songs.
327
(From Miss Wyman.)
3
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my own
"Well met, well met,.
true love, .... Well
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mi
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met, well met,"., said he; "I've just' re - turned from the
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1 1 1 1 — *-«~
old salt sea, And it's all for the sake... of... thee."..
(From Mrs. Case.)
^^
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-#• -J- -#■ "
"Well met, well met, my own true love, Well met, well met, "said
^=^
he, "I've just re - turned from the salt bri - ny deep, And it's
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*— *
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all for the love of... thee; I've just re - turned from the
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^
— ■ »-t* — i— *
salt bri- ny deep, And it's all for the love of... thee."
HENRY MARTYN (Child, No. 250).
For American texts see Child, 4:395; 5:302-303; JAFL 18:
135-136 (Barry), 302-303; 25 : 1 71-173 ("Andy Bardan," Belden,
Kentucky). The ballad is reported from South Carolina by Professor
Reed Smith (JAFL 27 : 63) and from West Virginia by Professor Cox
(45 : 160; JAFL 29 : 400).
For recent English tradition see Broadwood, "English Traditional
Songs and Carols," pp. 30-31; Kidson, "Traditional Tunes," pp. 29-
32; Baring-Gould and Sheppard, "Songs of the West," No. 53, 3 : 2-3;
"Journal of the Folk-Song Society," 1:44, 162-163; 4:301-303;
Sharp, "One Hundred English Folksongs," No. 1, pp. xvii, 1-3.
Harvard College has the piece in a number of broadsides: 25242.
10.5, fol. 6 (Bebbington, Manchester); 25242.17, iii, 100 (J. Forth,
Pocklington, No. 146); v, 194 (Rial & Co.); x, 136 (Bebbington).
328 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
our goodman (Child, No. 274).
To the references given by Tolman and Kittredge in this Journal,
29 : 166-167, add: Cox, 45 : 58, 92 (two copies printed from West
Virginia), 160 (cf. JAFL 29:400); Reed Smith (JAFL 27:62, 63;
28:200-202); Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin, No. 2, p. 6;
No. 3, p. 5; No. 4, p. 8; No. 5, p. 9; F. C. Brown, p. 9; B. L. Jones,
"Folk-Lore in Michigan," p. 5.1 A version with indecorous exten-
sions has obtained wide currency in America.
THE WIFE WRAPT IN WETHER'S SKIN (Child, No. 277).
A good version from Massachusetts, traceable to the early years of
the nineteenth century, was printed in 1894 in this Journal (7 : 253-
255), and reprinted by Child (5 : 304). Other texts are given by
Belden (from Missouri) in JAFL 19 : 298 (cf. his List, No. 12) and
Cox (45 : 92-93; cf. 45 : 159, JAFL 29 : 400). Compare Shearin and
Coombs, p. 8 (Shearin, "Modern Language Review," 6 : 514); F. C.
Brown, p. 9; Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin, No. 4, p. 8; No. 5,
p. 9; Reed Smith (JAFL 27 : 62).
For recent British tradition see Ford, "Vagabond Songs," 2 : 185-
187; Gavin Greig, "Folk-Song of the North-East, " cxxii; Broadwood
and Fuller Maitland, "English County Songs," pp. 92-93; "Journal
of the Folk-Song Society," 1:223-225 (with references); Sharp,
"Folk-Songs from Somerset," No. 97, 4:52-53 ("One Hundred
English Folksongs," No. 70, pp. xxxv-xxxvi, 158-159).
A good text from Harrison County, Missouri, with the tune, has
been communicated by Professor Belden, to whom it was sent by Mrs.
Eva Warner Case in 191 6. Mrs. Case wrote the ballad down from
memory, with the assistance of her mother and grandmother.2 This
version is similar to that printed in JAFL 7 : 253-255 (Child, 5 : 304),
but shows many slight variations. The stanzas run even with that
version, and the burden is substantially identical. The first four
stanzas are as follows : —
1. Sweet William he married him a wife,
(Jennifer, June, and the rosymaree)
To be the sweet comfort of his life
(As the dew flies over the green vallee).
2. It's she couldn't into the kitchen go,
For fear of soiling her white-heeled shoes.
3. It's she couldn't wash, and it's she wouldn't bake,
For fear of soiling her white apron-tape.
1 An English broadside text (in the Scottish dialect) without imprint (but before 1831)
is in the Harvard College Library (25242.18, No. 4).
2 See p. 322.
Ballads and Songs. 329
4. It's she couldn't card and it's she wouldn't spin,
For fear of spoiling her delicate skin.
the farmer's curst wife (Child, No. 278).
Belden printed a text from Missouri in JAFL 19 1298-299; and
Barry has since published three copies, — two from Massachusetts
and one from Maine (JAFL 24:348-349; 27:68), — but none of
these are complete. A curious version (without the devil) may be
found in Lomax, "Cowboy Songs," pp. 110-111 ("The Old Man
under the Hill"). Texts are reported from Virginia by C. Alphonso
Smith, Bulletin, No. 4, p. 8; No. 5, p. 9. Reed Smith reports the
ballad from South Carolina (JAFL 28 : 201). Miss Josephine McGill,
in a brief paper on the "Survival of the English Folk Ballad" (in the
Louisville "Courier- Journal" for Jan. 14, 1917),1 quotes the concluding
couplet-stanze of a Kentucky version: —
She was seven years going, and seven coming back,
But she asked for the baccy she'd left in the crack.
This recalls the end of the Scottish text in Child (version B), —
She was seven year gaun, and seven year comin,
And she cried for the sowens 2 she left in the pot.
For recent English tradition see "Journal of the Folk-Song Society,"
2 : 184-185; 3 : 131-132 (and references). The Harvard College
Library has the piece in a slip issued by Pitts, "The Sussex Farmer"
(25242.25, p. 97).
The Old Woman and the Devil.
Communicated by Professor Belden. From Mrs. Edward Schaaf,
St. Mary's, Ste. Genevieve County, Missouri, 1914.
1. The good old man went out to plow
Sing tory a loo, walked out to plow,
Up stepped the old devil, "How are you now?
Sing tory a loo, how are you now?
2. "It's one of your family I have come for,
Sing tory a loo, that I have come for.
3. "It is neither you nor your eldest son;
It is your old scolding wife, she is the one."
1 In a series of articles on Kentucky folk-lore published in the Courier- Journal on the
second Sunday of every month, under the auspices of the Kentucky Folk-Lore Society.
2 Oatmeal soured and then boiled thick.
330 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
4. "Take her and welcome, with all your heart!
I hope to my soul you will never part."
5. He picked her up upon his back,
Like an old bald eagle went off in a rack.
6. He had not gotten more than half his road,
Before he said, "Old woman, you are a hell of a load."
7. He set her down all for to rest;
She up with a stick and hit him her best.
8. He picked her up upon her back,
Like an old bald eagle, went off in a rack.
9. He travelled on until he came to his gate;
He gave her a kick, said "There is your place."
10. Ten little devils strung on a wire;
She up with her foot and kicked nine in the fire.
11. One little devil peeping over the wall
Sang "Daddy take her back, she'll murder us all."
12. The good old man was peeping out of a crack;
Here came the devil wagging her back.
13. "Now, old man, see what a woman can do;
She can rout her husband and kill devils too.
14. "Now, old woman, on earth you must dwell;
You are not fit for heaven, and they won't have you in hell."
THE SWEET TRINITY (THE GOLDEN VANITY) (Child, No. 286).
To Child's version B belongs the Vermont text ("The Little Cabin
Boy") printed in JAFL 18 : 125-127 (cf. 18 : 127). To Child's
version C belong Belden, No. 78 (JAFL 23 : 429-430); "Focus," 4:
158-159; Wyman and Brockway, "Lonesome Tunes," 1:72-75;
McGill, "Folk-Songs from the Kentucky Mountains," pp. 96-102.
See also Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin, No. 3, p. 5; No. 4, p. 8;
F. C. Brown, p. 9; Cox, 45:160 (JAFL 29:400); Shearin and
Coombs, p. 9 (Shearin, "Modern Language Review," 6 : 514); "Berea
Quarterly," October, 1915 (18 : 18); Reed Smith (JAFL 28 : 200-202).
Dr. B. L. Jones has found the ballad in Michigan.
The ballad is common in modern English broadsides, usually under
the title of "The Golden Vanity; or, The Lowlands Low." See
Harvard collection: 25242. 11. 5, fol. 107 (Such; same in 25242.17, xi,
31, and among the Child Broadsides); 25242.17, iii, 46 (J. Easton,
York); same, iii, 150 (Forth, Pocklington) ; iv, 124 (J. Gilbert,
Newcastle-upon-Tyne); v, 68 (J. Cadman, Manchester); x, 207
Ballads and Songs. 331
(J. Bebbington, Manchester). These broadsides are all alike, corre-
sponding to Child's version Ca (Pitts). Closely similar are copies
from recent singing in England, a number of which are noted by Child,
(5:I37-I38); see also Broadwood and Fuller Maitland, "English
County Songs," pp. 182-183; Baring-Gould and Sheppard, "Songs
of the West," No. 64, 3 : 24-25;* "Journal of Folk-Song Society,"
1 : 104-105; 2 : 244; Sharp, "One Hundred English Folksongs," No.
14, pp. xxiii, 30-37.2 Greig's variant, however, in "Folk-Song of the
North-East," cxvi, belongs under Child's B. Ashton's copy, in "Real
Sailor Songs," No. 75, is Child's A.
The Merry Golden Tree.
Communicated by Professor Belden, 1916. From Mrs. Eva Warner
Case, from memory, with the assistance of her mother and grand-
mother, as sung in Harrison County, Missouri.3 This copy is note-
worthy because of the poetical justice offered in the concluding
stanza, which distinguishes it from all versions heretofore recorded.4
The text belongs in general to version C, but it has a special touch of
its own : —
Down went the vessel and down went the crew,
And down to join the cabin-boy went the captain too!
Finis coronat opus!
1. "O captain, dear captain, what will you give to me,
If I'll sink for you that ship called the Merry Golden Tree,
As she sails in the Lowlands lonesome low,
As she sails in the Lowlands low?"
2. "It's I will give you money and I will give you fee;
I have a lovely daughter I will marry unto thee,
If you'll sink her in the Lowlands lonesome low,
If you'll sink her in the Lowlands low."
3. He bent upon his breast and out swam he;
He swam until he came to the Merry Golden Tree,
As she sailed in the Lowlands lonesome low,
As she sailed in the Lowlands low.
4. He took with him an auger well fitted for the use,
And he bored nine holes in the bottom of the sloop,
As she sailed in the Lowlands lonesome low,
As she sailed in the Lowlands low.
1 Reprinted sumptuously, New York, 1899 ("The Golden Vanity and The Green
Bed"), with colored illustrations.
2 Compare Masefield, A Sailor's Garland, pp. 149-152.
5 See p. 322.
4 Compare Child's remarks on his versions B and C as distinguished from version A
(5 : 136).
VOL. XXX. — NO. 117. — 22
332 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
5. He bent upon his breast and back swam he;
He swam until he came to the Turkish Revelry,
As she sailed in the Lowlands lonesome low,
As she sailed in the Lowlands low.
6. "Captain, O captain, take me up on board;
For if you don't, you've surely broke your word,
For I've sunk her in the Lowlands lonesome low,
For I've sunk her in the Lowlands low."
7. "It's I'll neither give you money, now will I give you fee,
Nor yet my lovely daughter will I marry unto thee,
You may sink in the Lowlands lonesome low,
You may sink in the Lowlands low."
8. He bent upon his breast and down sank he
Right alongside of the Turkish Revelry,
And he sunk her in the Lowlands lonesome low,
And he sunk her in the Lowlands low.
9. Down went the vessel, and down went the crew,
And down to join the cabin-boy went the captain too,
And sunk in the Lowlands lonesome low,
And sunk in the Lowlands low.
CAPTAIN WARD AND THE RAINBOW (Child, No. 287).
Barry reprinted "Captain Ward" in this Journal (18 : 137-138)
from a Boston Broadside ("Captain Ward, the Pirate") of the early
nineteenth century (N. Coverly, Jr.). A fragment from Michigan
contributed by Dr. Alma Blount (JAFL 25 : 177-178) sticks in some
points more closely than Coverly to the black-letter text. The ballad
was also issued as a broadside in Boston about 1825 ("Cor. of Cross
and Tilton sts. ": Harvard College, 25242.5.5 [125], p. 9) and in a
chapbook ("Captain Ward and the Rainbow," etc.) in Philadelphia
by R. Swift, about 1820-30 (25276.43.81). It is included in "The
Forget Me Not Songster" (New York, Nafis & Cornish), pp. 41-44;
the same (Philadelphia and New York, Turner & Fisher), pp. 200-203;
and "The Pearl Songster," 1846 (New York, C. P. Huestis), pp.
136-139 (Brown University).
The Harvard College Library has two eighteenth-century broad-
sides of this ballad, — 25242.5.5 (176) (Pitts); 25242.23, p. 11, —
also H. P. Such's broadside, No. 501, "Ward the Pirate" (25242.26,
p. 54). See also Greig, "Folk-Song of the North-East, " cxiv, cxvii,
cxxviii; Ashton, "Real Sailor Songs," No. 3; Kidson, "Traditional
Tunes," p. 99; Barrett, "English Folk-Songs, " No. 36, pp. 62-63;
"Journal of the Folk-Song Society," 2 : 163-164.
Ballads and Songs. 333
THE MERMAID (No. 289).
A fragmentary American text (with tune) was published by Barry
in JAFL 18 : 136 (from Vermont), as taken down in 1905 (cf. 22 : 78);
a good copy (from Missouri), collected by Belden, is in 25 : 176-177;
another (from Tennessee), in "The Focus," 3:447-448 and (with
tune) 4 : 97-99. l Miss McGill gives words and music in her "Folk-
Songs of the Kentucky Mountains" (191 7, pp. 45-49). The ballad
is also reported from Virginia (Bulletin, No. 2, p. 6; No. 3, p. 5; No.
4, p. 9; No. 5, p. 9);2 from Mississippi by Perrow (JAFL 27 : 61,
note 2); from Nebraska by Miss Pound (p. 10).
"The Mermaid" doubtless owes much of its currency in America
to its inclusion in various "songsters." It is found, for example,
in "The Forget Me Not Songster" (New York, Nans & Cornish;
also St. Louis and Philadelphia), p. 79; "Pearl Songster" (New
York, 1846), p. 155; "Uncle Sam's Naval and Patriotic Songster"
(New York, Philip J. Cozans), pp. 40-43. 3 It was issued as a
broadside by Leonard A. Deming about 1838-40 ("at the Sign of the
Barber's Pole, No. 61 Hanover St. Boston and at Middlebury, Vt.":
Harvard College, 1916, lot 12), and by H. de Marsan, New York
(List 14, No. 56), about 1861. Its perpetuation is more or less
insured by its inclusion in "Heart Songs" (Boston, 1909).4
A fragmentary text, taken down by Kittredge in 1878 from an old
Massachusetts lady who had learned it about 1808, has the first
stanza of Child's version A (5 : 149), which is lacking in all other
versions, British or American, so far as has been ascertained.5 At all
events, it does not occur in any of those here registered, or in any of
the following English broadside copies: Ebsworth, in his Roxburghe
Ballads, 8:446-447; Harvard College, 25242.4, i, 207 (J. Arthur,
Carlisle); 25242.17, iii, 36 and 102 (John Harkness, Preston, No. 146);
same, iv, 16 (John Gilbert, Newcastle-upon-Tyne), 147 (John Ross,
Newcastle-upon-Tyne); v, 141 (J. Catnach) ; xi, 53 (H. Such, No. 53);
25242.28 (Pitts). Perhaps this stanza was adapted from the be-
ginning of Martin Parker's famous "Neptune's Raging Fury" (Rox-
burghe Ballads, ed. Ebsworth, 6 : 432; Ashton, "Real Sailor Songs,"
No. 76; Masefield, "A Sailor's Garland," pp. 160-163).
1 Compare Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin, No. 2, p. 6.
2 The ballad is printed in A. F. Wilson's Songs of the University of Virginia, 1906.
3 There is a comic version in The " We Won't Go Home till Morning " Songster (New
York, R. M. DeWitt), pp. 8-9.
4 Whence it is extracted in the Boston Transcript, Feb. 14, 1914.
5 Except the variety of A in " The Sailor's Caution ' ' cited by Child (5 : 148). Ashton's
second version (Real Sailor Songs, No. 42) is Child's A; his first (No. 41) accords with
the regular broadside.
334
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
CHARMING BEAUTY BRIGHT.
"Once I did court a fair beauty bright" is published in this Journal
(26 : 176-177) from Massachusetts tradition of long standing. Perrow
gives a copy from Mississippi (JAFL 28 : 147); Tolman, one from
Indiana (29 : 184-185, "The Lover's Lament"). What seems to be
a fragment of this song is printed in "Journal of the Folk-Song
Society," 2 : 81. Miss Loraine Wyman has communicated a text
("Charming Beauty Bright") collected by her at Beaver Creek,
Knott County, Kentucky, in 1916, which closely resembles that from
Mississippi (see below). She also contributes three tunes (see below).
Charming Beauty Bright.
Communicated by Miss Loraine Wyman, as sung by Rob and Julia
Morgan, Beaver Creek, Knott County, Kentucky.
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Once L.lov'd a., charming beau - ty bright, And on her
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Once I] court - ed a charm - ing beau - ty bright, And on her I
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pla- ced my own heart's delight, I... courted her for love, and love I did ob-
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Ballads and Songs.
335
III.
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ob-tain,
I'm sure that she'd no rea- sons to me to complain.
1. Once I courted a charming beauty bright,
And on her I placed my own heart's delight;
I courted her for love, and love I did obtain;
I'm sure that she had no reasons to me to complain.
2. Her old parents were against it, they came this for to know,
They strove to part us both by day and by night;
They locked her all in her chamber and kept her concealed,
And I never got a sight of my love any more.
3. One day to the window she was forced to go,
To see if her true love endured yet or no;
He lifted up his head with his eyes shining bright,
For his only thoughts were of his heart's delight.
4. And then to the army he was forced to go;
Seven years he served there; in seven years he returned back again;
And when her old mother saw him coming, she wrung her hands and cried,
Saying, "O once my daughter loved you and for your sake has died."
5. Then he was taken like a man going to be slain,
And the tears fell from his eyes like big drops of rain,
Saying, "O where be her grave? O I wish mine were there too!"
THE DILLY SONG.
"The Dilly Song" was discussed in a learned paper by Mr. Newell
in 1891, — "The Carol of the Twelve Numbers" (JAFL 4 : 215-220).
He gives two texts, one from Massachusetts and one from New York,,
the latter coming from certain Cornish miners. Compare Barry, No.
68 ("The Twelve Apostles"); Shearin and Coombs, p. 34 (text
printed) .
For British tradition see Robert Chambers, "Popular Rhymes of
Scotland" (1870), pp. 44-47 (Buchan's MS.) (ed. 1842, pp. 50-51);
Mrs. Gutch, "County Folk-Lore," 6 (East Riding of Yorkshire
336
Journal of American Folk- Lore.
[Folk-Lore Society]) : 183-184; S. O. Addy, "Household Tales with
other Traditional Remains" (1896), pp. 148-151; Baring-Gould and
Sheppard, "Songs of the West," pp. 52-53; Baring-Gould, "A Book
of Nursery Songs and Rhymes," pp. 62-64, No. 50; M. E. G., "The
Old Nursery Rhymes, or The Merrie Heart" (5th ed.), pp. 179-182;
Broadwood and Fuller Maitland, "English County Songs," pp. 154-
159 ("The Twelve Apostles") ; Charles Kent, "The Land of the Babes
in the Wood" (1910), pp. 77-79; "Notes and Queries," 1st series, 9:
325; 4th series, 2 : 324, 452, 599-600; 3 : 90; 10 : 412-413, 499-500;
6th series, 12 : 484-485; 7th series, 1 : 96 (cf. 118-119, 206), 315-316,
413-414 (cf. 7 : 264, 438, 495); nth series, 9 : 250; Andrew Lang,
"Longman's Magazine," 13 : 327-330 (cf- 439-441. 556-557); W. H.
Long, "Dictionary of the Isle of Wight Dialect," pp. 152-154; Sharp,
"One Hundred English Folksongs," No. 97, pp. xlii-xliv, 226-229
("The Ten Commandments"); Lina Eckstein, "Comparative Studies
in Nursery Rhymes," pp. 152 et seq.
The version printed below, though it stops with seven, shows many
points of interest, particularly in its odd changes at the hands of
tradition.
Come and I Will Sing You; or, The Dilly Song.
From Miss Loraine Wyman, as sung by L. E. Meece, 1916, Pulaski
County, Kentucky. As to the tune, Miss Wyman writes that there
"are slight melodic changes" for each stanza.
W
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will sing you." "What will you sing me?"
T
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"And what shall be your one?'
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of them is one that sings, 'It's hard to be a - lone.'"
1. "Come and I will sing you."
"What will you sing me?"
"I will sing you a one."
"And what shall be your one?"
"One of them is one that sings
' It's hard to be alone.' "
2. "I will sing you a two."
"And what shall be your two?"
Ballads and Songs. 337
"Two are the little old babes,
Dressed all in green,
And one of them is one that sings
4 It's hard to be alone.' "
3. "I will sing you a three."
"And what shall be your three?"
"Three of them are drivers;
Two of them are little old babes
Dressed all in green,
And one of them is one that sings
4 It's hard to be alone.' "
4. "I will sing you a four."
"And what shall be your four?"
"Four are the gospel-makers;
Three of them are drivers;
Two are the little old babes
Dressed all in green,
And one of them is one that sings
4 It's hard to be alone.' "
5. "I will sing you a five."
"And what shall be your five?"
Five are the shining stars;
Four are the gospel makers;
Three of them are drivers;
Two of thpm are the little old babes
Dressed all in green,
And one of them is one that sings
4 It's hard to be alone.' "
6. "I will sing you a six."
" And what shall be your six?"
44 Six of them disciples;
Five are the shining stars;
Four are the gospel-makers; *
Three of them are drivers;
Two are the little old babes
Dressed all in green,
And one of them is one that sings
4 It's hard to be alone.' "
7. "I will sing you a seven."
44 And what shall be your seven?"
44 Seven to seven went to heaven;
Six of them disciples;
Five are the shining stars;
Four are the gospel-makers;
Three of them are drivers;
Two are the little old babes
Dressed all in green,
And one of them is one that sings
4 It's hard to be alone.' "
338 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
THE DROWSY SLEEPER.
"The Drowsy Sleeper" was printed in this Journal in 1907 1 from
a copy collected by Miss Pettit in Kentucky (20 : 260-261), and
attention was called to its connection with a Nithsdale song given in
part by Allan Cunningham in his edition of Burns, 1834 (4 : 285), as
well as with a Sussex song and a Catnach broadside. In 1908 Belden
printed three versions, two from Missouri and one from Arkansas,
in Herrig's " Archiv," 119: 430-431. Other copies have since come in;
and these are worth publishing, not only because of the literary rela-
tions of the piece, but also because of the curious varieties in which
it occurs and its mixture with other songs.
The English song published by Sharp under the title of "Arise,
Arise" ("Folk-Songs from Somerset," No. 99, 4 : 56-57; "One Hun-
dred English Folksongs," No. 47, pp. 106-107), is related to "The
Drowsy Sleeper." Stanza 1 (Sharp) corresponds to stanza 1 of
version III (p. 341, below); stanza 2, to stanzas 3 and 4; stanza 3,
to stanza 5; Sharp's stanza 5 resembles Miss Wyman's stanza 8
(p. 340, below), and his eighth stanza agrees with the last stanza of
Belden 's version II (" Archiv," 119:431). Sharp's version agrees pretty
closely with the Catnach broadside entitled "The Drowsy Sleeper"
(Harvard College, 25242.2, fol. 172). See also "Journal of Folk-Song
Society," 1 : 269-270 ("O who is that that raps at my window?").
The conclusion of versions IV and V (below) shows admixture of
"The Silver Dagger;" 2 and this is true also of a broadside text of
"The Drowsy Sleeper," published by H. J. Wehman, New York
(No. 518, "Who's at My Bedroom Window?" Harvard College
Library).
I.
The Drowsy Sleeper.
Communicated by Professor Belden, 1916. From Mrs. Eva Warner
Case, as written down from memory, with the assistance of her
mother and grandmother (Harrison County, Missouri).3 This is very
similar to the third version published by Belden in Herrig's " Archiv "
(H9-.43I).4
1 Compare Shearin and Coombs, p. 23 ("Bedroom Window"); Belden, No. 18;
Barry, No. 37.
2 See p. 361, below. Belden has two variants which show this same admixture.
' See p. 322, above.
4 Belden notes that the last four stanzas of his third version (which correspond to the
last four of Mrs. Case's) do not properly belong to this song. For Case, stanza 5, cf.
JAFL 29 : 183-184; Belden, No. 88; Shearin and Coombs, p. 26; Wyman and Brockway,
Lonesome Tunes, 1 : 57; McGill, Folk-Songs from the Kentucky Mountains, p. 23.
For stanzas 4, 7, cf. "The Butcher's Boy" (Tolman, JAFL 29 : 169-170, stanzas 5, 8).
Ballads and Songs.
A-wake, a -wake, you drow-sy sleep, er. A-wake, a . wake, 'tis
most day! How can you bear for to lie and Blmn.ber
When
your
true leer is ..„ . fag , . w~? How can yo„ bear *
for to
and slum-ber When your true lov - er
I. "Awake, awake, you drowsy sleeper,
Awake, awake, 'tis almost day!
How can you bear for to lie and slumber
When your true lover is going away?
How can you bear for to lie and slumber
When your true lover is going away?"
2. "Go way, go way, you'll wake my mother,
And that will be sad news for me;
You must go way and court some other,
For she is all the world to me.
You must, etc.
3- "Go way, go way, you'll wake my father;
He now lies on his bed of rest,
And in his hand he holds a dagger
For to kill the one that I love best.
And in his hand, etc.
4- "Go fetch to me both pen and paper,
^ That I may set me down and write.
I'll tell you of the grief and sorrow
^ That trouble me both day and night.
I'll tell you, etc.
5- "I wish I were a little swallow,
Or else some lonesome turtle dove;
I'd fly away over hills of sorrow
And light upon some land of love,
I'd fly away, etc.
6. "In yonder field go stick an arrow:
I wish the same was in my breast;
I'd bid adieu to sin and sorrow,
And my poor soul would be at rest.
I'd bid adieu, etc.
340 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
7. "Go dig my grave in yonder meadow;
Place marble stones at my head and feet,
And on my breast a turtle dove,
To show the world that I died for love,
And on my breast," etc.
II.
The Drowsy Sleeper.
From Miss Loraine Wyman, 1916, as sung by Mary Ann Bagley,
Pine Mountain, Kentucky, May, 1916.
1. "Awake, awake, you drowsy sleeper;
Awake, arise, it's almost day.
How can you bear to sleep and slumber,
When your old true love is going away?"
2. "Who's this, who's this at my bedroom window,
That calls for me so earnestly?"
"Lie low, lie low; it's your own true lover:
Awake, arise, and go with me."
3. "Go, love, go and ask your mother
If you my bride can ever be;
If she says no, come back and tell me,
It's the very last time I'll trouble thee."
4. " I dare not go and ask my mother,
Or let her know you are so near;
For in her hand she holds a letter
Against the one I love so dear."
5. "Go, love, go and ask your father
If you my bride can ever be;
If he says no, come back and tell me,
It's the very last time I'll trouble you."
6. "I dare not go and ask my father,
For he lies on his bed of rest,
And by his side lies a deadly weapon
To kill the one that I love best."
7. "I'll set my boat for some distant river,
And I will sail from side to side;
I'll eat nothing but weeping willows
And I'll drink nothing but my tears."
8. "Come back, come back, O distracted lover!
Come back, come back," said she;
"I'll forsake my father and mother
And I will run away with thee."
Ballads and Songs. 341
9. "O Mary, loving Mary, you've almost broke my heart;
You caused me to shed many a tear;
From South Carolina to Pennsylvania
My weeks and years with you I'll spend."
III.
The Drowsy Sleeper.
From Professor Louise Pound, 1916. "Brought to Nebraska in a
manuscript book of ballads from Indiana, the property of Edna
Fulton of Havelock, Nebraska."
1. "Arouse, arouse, ye drowsy sleepers;
Arouse, arouse, 'tis almost day:
Open your door, your dining-room window,
And hear what your true lover say."
2. "What is this that comes under my window,
A-speaking to me thus speedily?"
"It is your Jimmy, your own true Jimmy,
A-waiting to speak one word with thee."
3. "Go away from my window; you'll waken my father,
For he's taking of his rest;
Under his pillow there lies a wepon,
To pierce the man that I love best.
4. "Go away from my window; you'll waken my mother,
For tales of war she will not hear;
Go away and court some other,
Or whisper lowly in my ear."
5. "I won't go away and court any other,
For here I do no harm;
I only want you from your own dear mother,
To wrap you in your lover's arms.
6. "I wish I was down in some lonesome valey,
Where I could neather see nor hear:
My food it should be grief and sorrow,
My drink it would be the briny tear.
7. "Down in a valley there lies a sharp arrow:
I wish I had it across my breast;
It would cut off all grief and sorrow
And lay this troubled heart to rest."
IV.
From Dr. Alma Blount of the State Normal College, Ypsilanti,
Mich., March 12, 1914, as learned (about fifteen years before) by
Miss Myrtle Stalker of Cheboygan, Mich., from a maid in the family,
thought to be Irish.
1. "Ah, Mary dear, go ask your mother
If you my wedded wife can be;
342 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
If she says no, return and tell me,
And I'll no longer trouble thee."
2. "I dare not go and ask my mother,
For she is bound to set us free;
So, Willie dear, go seek another —
There's prettier girls in the world than me."
3. "Ah, Mary dear, go ask your father
If you my wedded wife can be;
If he says no, return and tell me,
And I'll no longer trouble thee."
4. "I dare not go and ask my father,
For he is on his bed of rest,
And beside him lies the silver dagger,
To pierce the heart that I love best."
5. So Willie took the silver dagger
And pierced it through his aching heart,
Saying, "Adieu, adieu to you, kind Mary;
Adieu, adieu, now we must part."
6. So Mary took the bloody dagger
And pierced it through her snow-white breast,
Saying, "Adieu, adieu, to you, cruel parents;
Adieu, adieu — I died for love."
V.
Willie and Mary.
From Miss Pound. "Reported by Mrs. I. E. Diehl (a Nebraskan)
of Robinson, Utah." Compare Pound, Syllabus, pp. 18-19.
1. "Oh who is at my bedroom window?
Who weeps and sighs so bitterly? "
"O Mary dear, go ask your mother
If you my wedded bride may be;
And if she says nay, then come and tell me,
And I no more will trouble thee."
"O Willie dear, I dare not ask her,
For she lies on her bed of rest;
And by her side there lies another"
"O Mary dear, go ask your father
If you my wedded bride may be;
And if he says nay, then come and tell me,
And I no more will trouble thee."
"O Willie dear, I dare not ask him,
For he is on his bed of rest,
And by his side there lies a dagger,
To pierce the one that I love best."
Ballads and Songs.
343
Then Willie drew a silver dagger
And pierced it through his aching breast,
Saying his farewell to his own true lover,
"Farewell, farewell, I am at rest."
Then Mary drew the bloody dagger
And pierced it through her snow-white breast,
Saying her farewell, "Dear father, mother,
Farewell, farewell, we're both at rest."
FANNY BLAIR.
"Fanny Blair" appears to be a street-ballad of Irish origin. It
occurs in English broadsides: for example, Harvard College, 25242.10.5
fol. 149 ("Hodges, Printer, from Pitts' Marble Warehouse") ; 25242.18,
No. 23 (R. Evans, Chester, before 1831). A number of American
song-books also contain it: "The Forget Me Not Songster" (New-
York, Nafis & Cornish), pp. 102-103 (or Philadelphia and New York,
Turner & Fisher, pp. 21-22); "The Pearl Songster" (New York,
C. P. Huestis, 1846), pp. 126-127; '"The Popular Forget-me-not
Songster," pp. 107-108; " The New American Song Book and Letter
Writer " (Louisville, C. Hagan & Co.), pp. 107-108. Sharp found the
song in Somerset, but in so confused a form that he substituted
a broadside text (Catnach): "Folk Songs from Somerset," No. 117,
5:43-45 (cf. p. 86); "One Hundred English Folksongs," No. 46,
pp. xxxii, 104-105.
Fanny Blair.
Communicated by Miss Loraine Wyman, as sung by Sallie Adams,
Kentucky, in 1916.
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344 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
i. One morning, one morning, one morning in May
This young man came to me and these words he did say:
"There's vengeance sworn against you by young Fanny Blair."
2. There is young Fanny Blair scarce eleven years old:
I'm a-going to die and the truth I'll unfold, —
I never had dealings with her in my time.
Isn't it hard I have to die for another man's crime?
3. Just before they counted table, young Fanny was there,
Brought up and profess herself did prepare,
With the Judge's hard swearing I'm ashamed for to tell:
Says the Judge, "Your old mother has tutored you well."
4. There is one more thing of my old parents I crave —
In the midst of their garden for to dig my grave.
I come by dispectal parents, that's what you may know —
I was born in old England, brought up in Tyrone.
FLORELLA.
"Florella" is widely current, and passes under many names, —
"Florella," "Florilla," "The Death of Sweet Florilla," "Flora Ella,"
"Floella," "Fair Florella," "Fair Ella," "Fair Aurilla," "Poor Lora,"
"Poor Lurella," "Blue-eyed Ella (or Nellie)," "Nell (or Nellie)
Cropsy," "Emma," "Abbie Summers," "Pearl Bryn," "Down by
the Drooping Willows (or Down by the Weeping Willow)," "Dear
Edward," "The Jealous Lover," etc. It is printed in JAFL 20 : 264-265
(Miss Pettit, Hindman, Kentucky); 22 : 370-372 (Barry, New Hamp-
shire and Massachusetts; cf. tune in 22 : 79); 28 : 168-169 (Perrow,
North Carolina). Several variants from Virginia are published by
Grainger in "The Focus" (4:358-370). Belden reports others
from Missouri (JAFL 25 : 10-11; cf. No. 26 in his Partial List),1
Shearin and Coombs from Kentucky (Syllabus, p. 28), Miss Pound
from Nebraska (p. 17); F. C. Brown from North Carolina (p. 10);
B. L. Jones from Michigan (p. 3).2 Mr. Edward C. Smith has com-
municated a copy from West Virginia, and Miss Loraine Wyman one
from Kentucky.
In some of these versions the murderous lover is actuated by
jealousy; in others,, by the common motive of riddance. Quite a
different ballad is "Oxford City" (p. 356, below), in which the jealous
man poisons his sweetheart in a glass of wine.
THE FORSAKEN GIRL.
A four-stanza version of "The Forsaken Girl" (from Miss Pettit,
Kentucky) was printed in this Journal (20 : 268), and it was pointed
1 Belden has collected no less than fifteen variants.
2 A copy from Happy Hours is reprinted in the Boston Transcript for Jan. 13, 1912.
Ballads and Songs.
345
out that the song resembles a piece variously known as "The Poor
Stranger" (Christie, "Traditional Ballad Airs," 2 : 220-221), "Sweet
Europe" (Sharp and Marson, "Folk Songs from Somerset," No. 46,
2:42-43), and "The Happy Stranger" (Pitts slip ballad, Harvard
College, 25242.2, fol. 114). In this the forsaken girl is comforted by
another "poor stranger" of the opposite sex, and (in the broadside)
the pair are happily married. A fragmentary text recovered in Mis-
souri by Belden (and printed below) belongs to this latter set, and
shows striking similarities both to Christie and to the Pitts broadside.
A text much like Miss Pettit's, but containing the introductory
first stanza ("I walked out one morning so early in spring"), which
that lacks, is published, with music, in Miss McGill's "Folk-Songs
from the Kentucky Mountains" (pp. 50-53), and Belden has a copy
from Missouri which accords well with Miss McGill's. Compare
Shearin and Coombs, p. 25 ("A Poor Strange Girl"). See also "The
Wagoner's Lad" and "Old Smoky" (p. 351 and note 1, below).
An interesting adaptation of " The Forsaken Girl," made by some
Texan in the time of the Civil War, is printed as "The Rebel Pris-
oner" in "Allan's Lone Star Ballads. A Collection of Southern
Patriotic Songs made during Confederate Times," compiled and re-
vised by Francis D. Allan (Galveston, 1874), pp. 80-81. It begins, —
One morning, one morning, one morning in May,
I heard a poor soldier lamenting, and say,
I heard a poor soldier lamenting, and say,
"I am a rebel prisoner, and Dixie is my home!
" O Mollie! O Mollie! it was for your sake alone
That I left my own country, my father to moan,
That I left my poor father, far away to roam —
I am a Rebel prisoner, and Dixie is my home! "
The Onconstant Loveyer.
Communicated by Professor Belden. From G. C.
Columbia, Mo., 191 1.
Broadhead,
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346 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
1. One morning, fair morning, one morning in May,
I spied a fair damsel a-raking of hay;
I walked up to her and made a congee,
And asked her pardon for making so free.
2. "Polly, pretty Polly, will you take it unkind
If I come and sit by you and tell you my mind?
Polly, pretty Polly, will you take it amiss
If I come and sit by you and give you a kiss?"
She hanged down her head and fetched a long groan,
And said, "I'm a poor girl afar away from home.
4. " Meetings for pleasure, partings in grief,
But an onconstant loveyer is worse than a thief;
A thief can but rob you of all that you have,
But an onconstant loveyer will tote you to your grave." '
For comparison the first two stanzas of the Pitts broadside version,
"The Happy Stranger," are appended. The "congee" (not in Pitts)
appears in Christie's version.
1. As I was a walking one morning in spring,
To hear the birds whistle and nightingales sing
I heard a young damsel making her moan,
Says I am a stranger and far from my home.
2. I stepped up to her and bending my knee,
And asked her pardon for making so free,
I take pity on you by hearing your moan
For I am a stranger and far from my home.2
The following ditty is given as an interesting example of the way
in which folk-song behaves. It cannot be called, obviously, a version
of "The Forsaken Girl," but it has a touch of that song in the second
stanza.
Down in the Valley.
Communicated by Professor Belden. Sent to him by Miss Goldy
M. Hamilton, who had it from Frank Jones, West Plains High School,
Missouri, 1909-10.
1. Down in the valley, valley so low,
Late in the evening, hear the train blow;
1 For this last stanza see " The Unconstant Lovier," in Unsworth's Burnt Cork Lyrics
(New York, cop. 1859), p. 39.
2 Pitts slip, Harvard College, 25242.2, fol. 114.
Ballads and Songs. 347
The train, love, hear the train blow;
Late in the evening, hear the train blow.
2. Go build me a mansion, build it so high,
So I can see my true love go by,
See her go by, love, see her go by,
So I can see my true love go by.
3. Go write me a letter, send it by mail;
Bake it and stamp it to the Birmingham jail,
Birmingham jail, love, to the Birmingham jail,
Bake it and stamp it to the Birmingham jail.
4. Roses are red, love, violets are blue;
God and his angels know I love you,
Know I love you, know I love you,
God and his angels know I love you.
THE GREEN MOUNTAIN.
A rather confused version of four stanzas may be found in "The
Songster's Museum; or A Trip to Elysium, Northampton, Mass."
(1803), pp. 111-112 (Boston Public Library). There is a better text
(six stanzas) in "The Forget Me Not Songster" (New York, Nans &
Cornish, ca. 1840), pp. 80-8 1.1 A good copy occurs in a Boston
broadside of about 1830 in the Harvard College Library, 25242.5.13 F
(282).2 A fragment of the piece has become combined with "The
Wagoner's Lad" (JAFL 20 : 269).
For English versions see Broadwood and Fuller Maitland, "English
County Songs," pp. 136-137 ("Faithful Emma"); "Journal of the
Folk-Song Society," 1:122-123; 4:310-319. Compare "Streams
of Lovely Nancy." 3
On Yonder High Mountain.
Communicated by Professor Angelo Hall of Annapolis, 1914, as
sung by his aunt, Mrs. Elmina Cooley, who died twenty years before.
Mrs. Cooley got the song from her father, Theophilus Stickney,
before 1833. He was born in Jaffrey, N.H., in 1814, and belonged
to the Stickney family of Rowley, Mass.4
1 This copy was noted by Barry. See also The Forget Me Not Songster (Philadelphia
and New York, Turner & Fisher, ca. 1840), pp. 15-16.
2 "Sold Wholesale and Retail, corner of Cross and Fulton sts., Boston."
3 For this see JAFL 20 : 268, and add the following Harvard broadsides: 25242.4, ii, 50
(Pitts, early); 25242.26, p. 34 (H. Such); 25242.17, v, 160 (Catnach); same, x, 137.
4 This text, with the tune, is printed (all except the fourth stanza) in An Astronomer's
Wife, the Biography of Angeline Hall, by her son, Angelo Hall (Baltimore, 1908), p. 18,
from which the air is here reprinted.
VOL. XXX. — NO. 117. — 23
348
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
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limestone so white; "Tis a guide for the sail - or in the dark stormy night.
1. On yonder high mountain there the castle doth stand,
All decked in green ivy from the top to the strand (or stern) ;
Fine arches, fine porches, and the limestone so white:
'Tis a guide for the sailor in the dark, stormy night.
2. 'Tis a landscape of pleasure, 'tis a garden of green,
And the fairest of flowers that ever was seen.
Fine (or for) hunting, fine fishing, and fine fowling also —
The fairest of flowers on this mountain doth grow.
3. At the foot of this mountain there the ocean doth flow,
And ships from the East Indies to the Westward do go,
With the red flags aflying and the beating of drums,
Sweet instruments of music and the firing of guns.
4. Had Polly proved loyal, I'd have made her my bride,
But her mind being inconstant it ran like the tide.
Like a ship on the ocean that is tossed to and fro
Some angel direct me! Oh, where shall I go!
5. Had Polly proved loyal, I'd have made her my bride,
But her mind being inconstant it ran like the tide.
The king can but love her, and I do the same.
I'll crown her my jewel and be her true swain.
IN GOOD OLD COLONY TIMES.
(Ballad of the Three.)
To the American versions recorded in this Journal (29 : 167) l should
be added a text sent to "Notes and Queries" from Philadelphia in
1868 (4th series, 2 : 569) in reply to a request (1 : 389); it begins,
"In good old colony times." In the same place is printed an English
version in four stanzas, beginning, —
King Arthur ruled this land,
He was a mighty king.
1 Belden has two copies from Missouri. Neither begins with the characteristically
American "In good old colony days" (but one lacks the first stanza).
Ballads and Songs.
349
The editor remarks that more than twenty other correspondents had
sent copies, varying only in trifling points.1 A three-stanza text
("King Arthur had three sons") is in "Notes and Queries," 4th series,
2 : 237. See also Broadwood and Fuller Maitland, "English County
Songs," pp. 20-21 ("King Arthur"); Miss Mason, "Nursery Rhymes
and Country Songs," p. 7 (" King Arthur's Three Servants," beginning
"In good King Arthur's days"); Sharp, "One Hundred English
Folksongs," No. 80, pp. xxxviii, 180-181 ("Three Sons," beginning
"There was a farmer had three sons"). A somewhat similar song
begins, —
When Arthur first in court began
To wear long hanging sleeves,2
He entertained three serving men,
And all of them were thieves.
This was arranged as a glee for three voices by Dr. Callcott: see
Richard Clark, "The Most Favourite Pieces performed at the Glee
Club, the Catch Club, and other Public Societies" (London, 1814),
p. 338; "The Vocal Library," No. 1080, p. 406; "Notes and Queries,"
4th series, 3 : 19, 158.
AN INCONSTANT LOVER.
Communicated by Miss Loraine Wyman, as sung by Ora and Polly
Dickson, Letcher County, Kentucky, May, 1916.
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1 A version with additional stanzas occurs in Beadle's Dime Song Book No. 12 (cop.
1864), p. 39, and The "We Won't Go Home till Morning" Songster (New York, R. M
De Witt), p. 19. There is a text beginning "Old Daddy Hopkins had three sons" in
Frank Brower's Black Diamond Songster (New York, Dick & Fitzgerald, cop. 1863), p. 42.
See also The Stonewall Song Book (nth ed., Richmond, 1865), p. 34.
2 So far, this ditty parodies the famous old broadside ballad "The Noble Acts of King
Arthur" (Garland of Good Will, Percy Society, p. 38; Roxburghe Ballads, ed. Ebsworth,
6 : 722; Old Ballads, 1723, 2 : 21; Child, English and Scottish Ballads, 1857, 1 : 124).
350 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
1. To meeting, to meeting, to meeting goes I,
To meet loving Susan, she's a-coming by-and-by;
To meet her in the meadow it's all my delight,
I can walk and talk with her from morning till night.
2. For meeting is a comfort and parting is a grief;
An inconstant true love is worse than a thief:
A thief will only rob you and take what you have,
But an inconstant true love will bring you to your grave.
3. Your grave it will rot you and turn you into dust,
And there's not one in twenty you'll dare for to trust;
They'll kiss a poor maiden, and it's all to deceive,
And there's not one in five hundred you'll dare to believe.
4. Come, young men and maidens, take warning by me:
Never place your affections on a green willow tree;
The top it will wither, and the roots they will rot,
And if I'm forsaken, I know I'm not forgot.
5. If I am forsaken, I am not forsworn;
And you're badly mistaken if you think I do mourn;
I'll dress myself up in some high degree,
And I'll pass as light by him as he does by me.
Miss McGill publishes a version of this song ("The Cuckoo"), with
two tunes, in her "Folk-Songs from the Kentucky Mountains,"
pp. 34-38. The concluding stanza in her text is, —
Cuckoo is a pretty bird, she sings as she flies,
She brings us good tidings, and tells us no lies;
She sucks all sweet flowers to keep her voice clear,
She never cries "Cuckoo" till spring of the year.
This stanza occurs in Miss Wyman's version of "The Wagoner's
Lad," "Lonesome Tunes," 1 : 64 ("Loving Nancy").1 Shearin and
Coombs, p. 24, record a version of "Cuckoo" which resembles Miss
McGill's.2
Belden has a Missouri version ("Sweet William") that runs even
with Miss Wyman's for the first five stanzas, but ends with the
cuckoo. Stanzas 5 and 6 are as follows: —
5. If he has forsaken, why, I have forsworn,
And he is very much mistaken if he thinks I will mourn;
I'll dress up in my finery and go out for to see,
I'll pass as lightly by him as he can pass by me.
1 Big Laurel Creek, Pine Mountain, Kentucky.
2 Compare F. C. Brown, p. 12; Notes and Queries, 1st series, 10: 524 (query from
Philadelphia); Barry, No. 84.
Ballads, and Songs. 351
6. Oh the cuckoo is a pretty bird, he sings as he flies;
He brings us glad tidings and tells us no lies;
He feeds on young birds to make him sing clear,
And when he sings cuckoo the summer draws near.
A Mississippi song called "Forsaken," printed by Perrow (JAFL 28:
169-170), has defiant sentiments, and resembles in part stanza 5
(just above). It has also a touch of what serves as stanza 3 of "The
Wagoner's Lad" in Miss Pettit's version (JAFL 20 : 269).
For "The Cuckoo" ("The Inconstant Lover") see also "Notes and
Queries" (1869, 4th series), 3 : 205; 3 : 365 (as heard fifty-five years
before from a nurse); Barrett, "English Folk-Songs, " No. 47, p. 81;
Baring-Gould and Sheppard, "A Garland of Country Song," No. 1,
pp. 2-3; Sharp and Marson, "Folk Songs from Somerset," No. 72, 3:
48-50; Sharp, "One Hundred English Folksongs," No. 35, pp. 82-83
(cf. pp. xxix-xxx); Hammond, "Folk-Songs from Dorset" (Sharp,
"Folk-Songs of England," 1), No. 11, pp. 24-25; "Journal of the
Folk-Song Society," 3 : 90-91. All of the foregoing have the lines
about the cuckoo. These, however, are lacking in a version in the
"Journal of the Folk-Song Society," 1 : 208, as in Miss Wyman's
version (p. 349, above). They occur independently as a nursery
rhyme or popular saying: see Halliwell, "Nursery Rhymes of Eng-
land," 5th and 6th eds., Nos. 495-496, pp. 251-252; "Notes and
Queries," 1st series, 11:38; 4th series, 3:205; 5:596; Northall,
"English Folk-Rhymes," pp. 268-269; "Folk-Lore Record," 2 : 58;
Crossing, "Folk-Rhymes of Devon," p. 114, note; and some of them
are inserted (with changes) in "The Seasons" (Baring-Gould and
Sheppard, No. 19, stanza 6, p. 41).
The first and second stanzas of "An Inconstant Lover" appear in
"Old Smoky," printed by Professor E. C. Perrow in JAFL 28 : 159
(from North Carolina). "Old Smoky" is a strange but singable and
pleasing compound of "The Wagoner's Lad," l "Courting too Slow," 2
"The Forsaken Girl," 3 and the present piece.
Three stanzas of "The Inconstant Lover" appear as a two-stanza
song with chorus in a copy from Hallsville, Boone County, Missouri,
obtained in 191 3, and now communicated by Professor Belden.
1 For "The Wagoner's Lad" see JAFL 20 : 268-269 (cf. "The Rue and the Thyme"
[Greig, Folk-Song of the North-East, lxxxiv, Ixxxvii]); 22 : 387; Wyman and Brockway,
Lonesome Tunes, 1 : 62-64 ("Loving Nancy"); Shearin and Coombs, p. 20.
* See JAFL 20 : 273-274 ("Loving Nancy"); Shearin and Coombs, p. 26 ("Lovely
Nancy"); Logan, A Pedlar's Pack, p. 364; broadside, Harvard College, 25242.28
("Courting too Slow," no imprint). Compare Shearin and Coombs, p. 26 ("My Bonnie
Little Girl").
3 See p. 344, above.
352
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Forsaken.
1. Come all ye pretty fair maids take warning by me,
Never place your affection on a sycamore tree,
For the leaves they will wither, and the balls they will dust,
There ain't one boy in a thousand that a poor girl can trust.
Chorus.
Forsaken, forsaken, forsaken by one!
Never place your affection on a poor boy so free;
He's out on the water, he'll sink or he'll swim;
If he can live without me, I can live without him.
2. Come all ye pretty fair maids, take warning by me,
Never place your affections on a poor boy so free;
He'll hug you and kiss you, and tell you more lies
Than the sands of the seashore or the stars of the skies.
THE INQUISITIVE LOVER.
This interesting song, collected by Miss Loraine Wyman in Ken-
tucky, is a curious variant of a black-letter "ballad " of the seventeenth
century preserved in the Roxburghe, Pepys, and other collections
("Roxburghe Ballads," ed. Ebsworth, 7:295-296): "The Young
Man's Resolution to the Maiden's Request." The original consists
of ten stanzas. For similar pieces see Ebsworth, "Roxburghe Bal-
lads," 7:297-299, 341; "Bagford Ballads," 2:534-535. Many
parallels to the impossible contingencies that make the humor of
these songs are cited by Child (1 : 437).
The Inquisitive Lover.
Communicated by Miss Loraine Wyman, as taken down in 1916
from the singing of L. E. Meece, Pulaski County, Kentucky.
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Ballads and Songs.
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353
did en -treat To tell her when I meant to mar - ry. "Sweet •
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heart, ' ' said I, "if you must know, Go mark these words as I re-veal them . ' '
1. As I walked through the pleasant grove,
Not alone, as might have been supposed,
I chanced to meet some friend of mine,
Which caused me some time to tarry,
And then at me she did entreat
To tell her when I meant to marry.
2. "Sweetheart," said I, "if you must know,
Go mark these words as I reveal them;
So plainly print them on your mind,
And in your heart do you conceal them;
For of these things you may make no doubt,
And if of the same you will be weary;
So now I will begin to tell you
When I do intend to marry.
3. "When hot sunshiny weather won't dry up mire
And fishes in green fields are feeding,
When man and horse the ocean plow,
And swans upon dry rocks are swimming;
When every city is pulled down,
Old English into France is carried,
When indigo dyes red and brown,
Then me and my true love will marry.
4. "When countrymen for judges sit,
And lemons fall in February,
When millers they their tolls forget,
Then me and my true love will marry;
When cockle shells lie in the streets,
No gold to them can be compared,
When gray goose wings turn to gold rings,
Then me and my true love will marry.
THE JOLLY THRESHERMAN.
This is a condensed rifacimento of a favorite seventeenth-century
black-letter ballad found in the Roxburghe (3 : 308), Pepys (2 : 56;
C. 22, fol. 157), and other collections (Ebsworth, Roxburghe Ballads,
7 : 328-330): "The Noble-Man's Generous Kindness; or, The Country
Man's Unexpected Happiness." The original has seventeen stanzas.
354 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
The ballad appears, practically unchanged, in a Newcastle broad-
side of the eighteenth century printed by Robert Marchbank, with the
full title (Harvard College, 25242.31 pf);1 also in a late eighteenth-
century slip (without imprint) under the title of "My good old Lord
Fauconbridge's generous gift,"2 and under the title of "Generous
Gift" in broadsides issued by Pitts (25242.2, fol. 139) and Catnach
(the same, fol. 183). A copy, but slightly altered, occurs in Johnson's
famous work, "The Scots Musical Museum," part iv (1792), pp.
384-385, No. 372 ("The Poor Thresher"); it is said by Stenhouse to
have been contributed by Burns.3
The condensed version, substantially equivalent to that com-
municated by Professor Broadus (below), occurs in various modern
broadsides, — "The Squire and Thrasher" (or the like), "printed for
John Carrots" (Harvard College Library, 25242.17, ii, 25); Forth,
Bridlington, No. 158 (same, iii, 184); Walker, Durham, No. 36
(same, vi, 79); J. O. Bebbington, Manchester, No. 318 (same, x, 66);
H. P. Such, No. 556 (Child Broadsides).
For recent oral tradition see Broadwood and Reynardson, "Sussex
Songs," No. 14, pp. 28-29 ("The Nobleman and the Thresherman ") ;
Broadwood and Fuller Maitland, "English County Songs," pp. 68-69
("The Thresherman and the Squire"); "Journal of the Folk-Song
Society," 1 : 79-80 ("The Thresherman and the Squire"); 2 : 198
("The Jolly Thresherman"); 3:302-304 ("The Thresherman and
the Squire").
The Jolly Thresherman.
Communicated by Mr. E. K. Broadus (now professor in the Univer-
sity of Alberta), Jan. 27, 1908. From Miss Rosalie M. Broadus of
Alexandria, Va. Taken down from the singing of a Virginia woman
aged about eighty-five.
1. As I was a-travelling all on a summer's day,
I met a jolly thresherman all on the highway;
With his flail all o'er his shoulder and a bottle full of beer,
He was happy as a squire with ten thousand a year.
2. Says I to this jolly thresherman, "And how do you do
To support your wife and children as well as you do?
Your family is so great and your wages are so small,
I scarce know how you do to maintain them at all."
3. "Sometimes I reap, and sometimes I mow;
A-hedging or a-ditching sometimes I do go.
Oh! there's nothing goes amiss with me, a wagon or a plow,
For I earn all my money by the sweat of my brow.
1 From this it was printed by Dixon, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of England'
Percy Society, 17 : 98-100 (Bell's edition [1846], Ancient Poems, etc., pp. 148-151).
2 Harvard College broadsides (1917, lot 10).
3 See Stenhouse's edition (1853), 2 : 384-385, and note (4 : 344).
Ballads and Songs. 355
4. "When I come in at night, wet and weary as I be,
The youngest of my children I dandle on my knee,
While the others they come round me with their sweet prattling noise:
Oh! that is the pleasure a poor man ejnoys."
5. "Well, since you are so kind and loving to your wife,
Here's a thousand acres of good land, I'll give it for your life;
And if I do see you are about to take good care,
I'll will it forever to you and your dear."
THE OLD MAID'S SONG.
A very pretty piece, three stanzas and a refrain, entitled "The Old
Maid's Song," of which words and melody were collected by Miss
Wyman and Mr. Brockway in Pulaski County, Kentucky, recently,1
has been printed in their "Lonesome Tunes," 1 : 65-67. It runs as
follows : —
The Old Maid's Song.
1. I had a sister Sally that was younger than I am,
She had so many sweethearts she was forced to deny them;
But as for my own part I never had many;
If you all knew my heart, I'd be thankful for any.
Come a landsman, a pinsman, a tinker or a tailor,
A fiddler or a dancer, a ploughboy or a sailor,
A gentleman or a poor man, a fool or a witty,
Don't you let me die an old maid, but take me out of pity.
2. I had a sister Susan that was ugly and ill-shapen,
Before she was sixteen years old she was taken;
Before she was eighteen, a son and a daughter;
Here I'm six-and-forty and never had an offer.
3. I never will be scolding and I never will be jealous,
My husband shall have money to go to the ale house,
And while he's there spending, I will be home saving,
And I leave it to the world if I'm not worth the having.
This song, now in active oral circulation, is a re-arrangement of
certain stanzas of "The Wooing Maid," a ballad by the famous
Martin Parker, which is preserved in a seventeenth-century broadside
in the Roxburghe collection, 1 1452-453 ("Roxburghe Ballads," ed.
Chappell, 3 : 51-56) .2 The ballad is in two parts, — the first con-
sisting of five stanzas, the second of nine. The following are the
stanzas used in the Kentucky song (all from part ii) .
1 From the singing of Mr. L. E. Meece.
2 Signed "M. P." "Printed at London for Thomas Lambert, at the signe of the
Hois-shoe in Smithfield." The ballad was entered in the Stationers' Register to Thomas
Lambert, 1635-36 (Arber's Transcript, 4 : 366), as Chappell notes (3 : 678).
356 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
2. Sure I am unfortunate, of all my kindred,
Else could not my happiness be so long hindred:
My mother at eighteene had two sons and a daughter,
And I'm one and twenty, not worth looking after.
3. My sister, that's nothing so handsome as I am,
Had sixe or seven suters, and she did deny them;
Yet she before sixteene was luckily marry'd :
O Fates! why are things so unequally carry 'd?
4. My kinswoman Sisly, in all parts mis-shapen,
Yet she on a husband by fortune did happen
Before she was nineteene years old, at the furthest;
Among all my linage am I the unworthiest?
8. He neither be given to scold nor be jealous,
Here nere shall want money to drink with good fellows:
While he spends abroad, I at home will be saving,
Now judge, am not I a lasse well worth the having?
9. Let none be offended, nor say I'm uncivill,
For I needs must have one, be he good or evill :
Nay, rather then faile, He have a tinker or broomman,
A pedler, an inkman, a matman, or some man.
Come gentle, come simple, come foolish, come witty,
0 let me not die a maid, take me for pitty.
The italicized lines are used as a refrain at the end of each four-line
stanza.
A version similar to Miss Wyman's occurs in modern English
broadsides: "The Love Sick Maid" (Pitts: Harvard College Library,
25242.28); "The Lovesick Maid" (Catnach: 25242.17, vii, 162).
A different song, apparently founded on this (or directly on Parker) is
"Don't Let Me Die a Maid" (Catnach, 25242.10.5, fol. 147; G.
Jacques, Manchester: 25242.17, i, 102).
OXFORD CITY.
"Oxford City" is common in English broadsides, and is still sung
in England. See the Harvard broadsides: 25242.2, fol. 260 ("The
Newport Street Damsel," T. Batchelar, Moorfields); 25242. 11. 5,
fol. 72 (= 25242.17, iv, 92; v, 227) ("Oxford City," J. Catnach);
25242.17, v, 48 (no imprint); same, x, 30 (probably Bebbington,
Manchester, No. 280); xi, 50 (Such, No. 50; also a broadside printed
by T. Birt (lot bought in March, 1916, p. 40). Compare "Journal of
the Folk-Song Society," 2:157-158 ("Newport Street"); 2:200
("Oxford City").
Ballads and Songs. 357
Oxford City.
Communicated in 191 o by Mr. F. C. Walker, among several pieces
taken down by him in St. John, N.B., from the recitation of Mr.
Robert Lane, who emigrated from England at a very early age. The
songs "mainly descended to him from his mother, a native of Bristol."
Mr. Walker noted the close resemblance of this piece to the Harvard
broadsides.
1. It was of a fair maid in Oxford City,
And unto you the truth I'll tell;
She by a servantman was courted ;
She sometimes told him she loved him well.
2. She loved him true but at a distance;
I fear she did not seem to be so fond.
He says, " My dear, I fear you slight me;
I fear you love some other one.
3. "And all for the sake of that true lover
I soon shall end your tender life."
He says, " My dear, why can't we marry
And at once put an end to all strife?
I'll work for you both late and early,
If you will be my wedded wife."
4. She says, " My dear, we're too young to marry,
Too young to claim our marriage bed ;
And when we're married, we're bound forever,
And then, my dear, all joys are fled."
5. This fair maid she was invited,
Invited to a dance to go.
The wicked young man he quickly followed,
And he there prepared for her overthrow.
6. He saw her dancing with another,
And jealousy was in his mind.
How to destroy his own true lover
This false young man he was inclined.
7. When the dance it was all over,
He gave to her a glass of wine.
She drank it up, but, quickly after,
"Take me home, my dear," she cried.
8. "For the glass of wine you lately gave me,
It's made me very ill indeed."
9. As this young couple went home together,
He unto her these words did say:
"It was rank poison that I gave you in your liquor
For to take your tender life away.
358 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
io. "And I drank the same myself,
So I shall die as well as you."
And in each other's arms they died;
So, young men, beware of jealousy.
POLLY VANN (MOLLY WHAN).
Jamieson founded his ballad of "Lord Kenneth and Fair Ellinour" l
on his recollection of the story of "a silly ditty of a young man, who,
returning homeward from shooting with his gun, saw his sweetheart,
and shot her for a swan;" and, in circulating "Lord Kenneth" (as a
printed sheet) among his friends in 1799, he prefixed a note to that
effect, remarking that he had not been able to procure a copy. In
1803 he mentioned the ditty as "the tragic ballad of 'Peggie Baun'"
in his list of desiderata in the " Scots Magazine," 65 : 700. In 1806 he
was able to publish an incomplete text, " Peggy Baun," in his " Popular
Ballads" (1 : 194) from the recitation of a maidservant. He apolo-
gized to his readers "for attempting to introduce such paltry stuff
to their notice."
A slip issued by Pitts very early in the nineteenth century contains
a variant under the style of "Molly Whan" (Harvard College,
25242.4, ii, 67); and almost the same text, similarly entitled, occurs
in "The Lover's Harmony" (London, about 1840), p. 158.2
J. Andrews (38 Chatham Street, New York) published a text about
1857 in one of his broadsides (List 5, Song 50): "Polly von Luther
and Jamie Randall" (Harris Collection, Brown University). Shearin
and Coombs, p. 28, describe the ballad (from Kentucky) under the
title of "Polly Vaughn."
Barry (JAFL 22 : 387) prints a four-stanza medley ("Mollie Bawn"
or "At the Setting of the Sun ") which contains four lines of the ballad.
The song now in circulation in England, known to collectors as "The
Shooting of his Dear," is a disordered form of the broadside. It may
be found in Sharp and Marson, "Folk Songs from Somerset," No. 16,
1 : 32_33; "Journal of the Folk-Song Society," 2 : 59-60.
I.
Polly Vann.
Child MSS., Harvard College Library, ii, 107-108, in the hand of
the late Mr. W. W. Newell. "From Mrs. Ellis Allen, West Newton,
Mass., born in Scituate, now 89 years old." A similar text is printed
in "Family Songs,"3 compiled by Rosa S. Allen (Medfield, Mass.,
1899).
1 Popular Ballads, 1 : 193-199.
2 Issued in fifty numbers of eight pages each ("Pitts, Printer").
3 Compare Frank Smith, Dover Farms, pp. 28-29.
Ballads and Songs.
359
1. "Beware all ye huntsmen who follow the gun,
Beware of the shooting at the setting of the sun,
For I'd my apron about me, and he took me for a swan,
But O and alas! it was I, Polly Vann!"
2. He ran up to her when he found she was dead,
And a fountain of tears for his true love he shed.
3. He took her in his arms, and ran home, crying, "Father,
Dear father, I have shot Polly Vann.
I have shot that fair female in the bloom of her life,
And I always intended to have made her my wife."
4. One night to his chamber Polly Vann did appear,
Crying, "Jamie, dear Jamie, you have nothing to fear,
But stay in your own country till your trial comes on,
You shall never be condemned by the laws of the land."
5. In the heighth of his trial Polly Vann did appear,
Crying, "Uncle, dear uncle, Jamie Randall must be clear,
For I'd my apron about me, and he took me for a swan,
But O and alas! it was I, Polly Vann!"
6. The judges and lawyers stood round in a row,
Polly Vaun in the middle, like a fountain of snow.
II.
Mollie Bond.
From Miss Loraine Wyman, as sung by Lauda Whitt, McGoffin
County, Kentucky, 1916.
-K-«-
t
tt
Be
Come all you young men who nan - die a
gun,
I
w
2
-#~8-
warn - ed of shoot- ing af - ter the down sun..
1. Come all you young men who handle a gun,
Be warned of shooting after the down sun.
2. A story I'll tell you; it happened of late,
Concerning Mollie Bond, whose beauty was great.
3. Mollie Bond was out walking, and a shower came on;
She sat under a beech tree the showers to shun.
4. Jim Random was out hunting, a hunting in the dark;
He shot at his true love and missed not his mark.
360 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
5. With a white apron pinned around her he took her for a swan;
He shot and killed her, and it was Mollie Bond.
6. He ran to her; these words to her he said,
And a fountain of tears on her bosom he shed:
7. Saying, "Mollie, dear Mollie, you're the joy of my life;
I always intended to make you my wife."
8. Jim ran to his uncle with his gun in his hand,
Saying, "Uncle, dear uncle, I've killed Mollie Bond.
9. "With her apron pinned around her, I took her for a swan;
I shot and killed her, and it was Mollie Bond."
10. Up stepped his dear uncle with his locks all so gray,
Saying, "Stay at home, Jimmie, and do not run away.
11. "Stay in your own country till your trial comes on;
You shall not be molested if it costs me my farm."
12. The day of Jimmy's trial Mollie's ghost did appear,
Saying to this jury, "Jim Random, come clear!
13. "With my apron pinned around me he took me for a swan,
He shot and killed me, and now I am gone."
III.
Molly Baun.
From Miss Wyman, as sung by Sallie Adams, Letcher County 4
Kentucky, May, 191 6.
1. Jimmie Randall was a-hunting, a-hunting in the dark;
He shot at Molly Bawn O and he missed not his spot.
Molly Bawn O was a-walking when the shower came down;
She sat under a green tree the shower to shun;
With her apron pinned around her he took her for a swan;
He shot her and he killed her, it was poor Molly Bawn.
2. He runned up to her with his gun in his hand:
"Dear Molly, dear Molly, you're the joy of my life;
For I always intended to make you my wife."
He went to his old uncle with his locks all so gray:
"Dear uncle, dear uncle, I've killed Molly Bawn:
With her apron pinned around her I took her for a swan.
3. "I shot her, I killed her; it was poor Molly Bawn."
"Stay at home, Jimmie, and don't run away;
They never shall hang you, and I'll spend my whole farm."
On the day of Jimmie's trial young Molly did appear,
Saying, "Judges and jury, Jimmie Randall come clear!
With my apron pinned around me he took me for a swan,
And through his misfortune it was poor Molly Bawn."
Ballads and Songs.
361
POOR GOENS.
Shearin and Coombs record "Poor Goens," p. 18. The following
copy was communicated by Miss Loraine Wyman, as "sung by Rob
Morgan, Hindman, Ky., May, 1916."
Goins.
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Come all of you young peo - pie who lives far and
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BE
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near, Come all of you young peo - pie who lives far and
^1
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near; I'll tell you of a mur - der done on the Black Spur.
1. Come all of you young people who lives far and near,
I'll tell you of a murder done on the Black Spur.
2. They surrounded poor Goins, but Goins got away;
He went to Eli Boggs' and there he did stay.
3. Old Eli's son Hughie his life did betray
By telling him he'd go with him to show him the way.
4. They took up the nine miles spar boys they made no delay,
Afraid they would miss him and Goins get away.
5. When they saw him coming, they lay very still,
Saying, "It's money we're after, and Goins we'll kill."
6. They fired on poor Goins, which made his horse run;
The shot failed to kill him; George struck him with a gun.
7. "Sweet heavens, sweet heavens!" poor Goins did cry,
"To think of my poor companion, and now I must die."
8. And when they had killed him, with him they would not stay;
They then took his money and then rode away.
9. I wish you could have been there to hear her poor moan:
"Here lies his poor body, but where is his poor soul?"
THE SILVER DAGGER.
Miss Pettit's Kentucky version ("The Green Field and Meadows")
was printed in this Journal (20 : 267). A West Virginia text com-
362
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
municated by Professor Cox (from Mr. Edward C. Smith) corresponds
to this ("The Warning Deaths"). Compare Shearin and Coombs,
p. 27 ("Lovely Julia");1 Belden, No. 22 (cf. JAFL 25 : 12-13) ;2
Barry (JAFL 25 : 282, tune); Pound, pp. 17-18. For the occasional
contamination of "The Silver Dagger" with "The Drowsy Sleeper"
see pp. 342-343, above. The text printed below has three stanzas
more than Miss Pettit's.
The Silver Dagger.
Communicated by Piofessor Belden, as received from Mrs. Eva
Warner Case, Harrison County, Missouri.
1 N
=£=!
J
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Come young and old, and pay at - ten - tion To these few
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lines I'm go - ing to write. They are as true as ev - er was
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writ - ten Con - cern - ing a young and beau - ti - ful maid.
1. Come young and old, and pay attention
To these few lines I'm going to write.
They are as true as ever was written
Concerning a young and beautiful maid.
2. A young man courted a handsome lady;
He loved her as he loved his life,
And ofttimes he would make his vowings
To make her his long and wedded wife.
3. Now when his parents came to know this,
They strove to part them day and night,
Saying, "Son, O son, don't be so foolish,
For she's too poor to be your wife."
4. Young William down on his knees pleading,
Saying, "Father, father, pity me.
Don't keep me from my dearest Julia,
For she is all this world to me."
5. Now when this lady came to know this,
She soon resolved what she would do,
To wander forth and leave the city,
In the pleasant groves no more to roam.
1 Compare p. 12 ("Rosanna"); Sewanee Review, July, 1911.
5 Belden now has six variants.
Ballads and Songs. 363
6. She wandered down by the lonely river,
And there for death she did prepare,
Saying, "Here am I a youth come mourning,
And soon shall sink in deep despair."
7. She then picked up a silver dagger,
And pierced it through her snow-white breast.
At first she reeled and then she staggered,
Saying, "Fare you well, I'm going to rest."
8. Young William down by the roadside near by,
He thought he heard his true love's voice.
He ran, he ran like one distracted,
Saying, "Love, O love, I fear you're lost."
9. Her cold dark eyes like diamonds opened,
Saying, "Love, O love, you've come too late,
Prepare to meet me on Mount Zion,
Where all our joys will be complete."
10. He then picked up this bloody dagger
And pierced it through his own true heart,
Saying, "Let this be a woful warning
That lovers here should never part."
THE SOLDIER'S WOOING.
For "The Soldier," or "The Soldier's Wooing," see Tolman (JAFL
29 : 188); Belden, No. 84; Pound, p. 14; Virginia Folk-Lore Society,
Bulletin, No. 4, p. 5. Miss Pound's copy (brought to Nebraska from
Missouri by Mrs. B. B. Wimberley of Omaha) agrees pretty well with
Barry's text (JAFL 23 : 447-449) for the first five stanzas, but brings
the tale to a rapid conclusion in the sixth: —
The first one he came to, he run him through the brain;
The next one he came to, he served him just the same.
"Hold on," said the old man, "don't strike so bold,
And you shall have my daughter and ten thousand pounds of gold."
SWEET WILLIAM (THE SAILOR BOY).
See Christie, "Traditional Ballad Airs," 1 : 248-249 ("The Sailing
Trade"); Broadwood and Fuller Maitland, "English County Songs,"
PP- 74-75 ("Sweet William"); "Journal of the Folk-Song Society,"
1 : 99-100 ("A Sailor's Life"); 2 : 293-294 ("Early, early all in the
spring"); Sharp, "One Hundred English Folksongs," No. 72, pp.
162-163, xxxvi; Catnach broadside ("The Sailor Boy and his Faithful
Nancy," Harvard College, 25242.17, vii, 198); "Merry Songs,"
London, J. Davenport, No. 15 (25243.20, fol. 48, about 1810, "The
Sailor Boy"). There is an Irish-American copy in the Child MSS.,
ii, 142 ("'Tis early, early all in the spring"). See also Barry, No. 42.
vol. xxx. — no. 117. — 24.
364
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Miss Pound (pp. 42, 69) records two variants from Nebraska ("Sailor's
Trade," "Sailor Boy").
Sweet William.
Communicated, 1917, by Mr. C. McPh. A. Rogers, to whom it was
sent by Mr. John D. Mclnnis of Meridian, Miss. Mr. Mclnnis
writes, April 4, 191 7: '"Sweet William' ... I heard in the moun-
tains of East Tennessee during the Civil War. It was sung by an
ignorant mountain-girl, who accompanied herself with an accordion.
The song still lives in the mountains. It was heard there two summers
ago by a grandson of mine, who had heard me sing it." Stanzas I,
5, and 6 appear in part in "The Butcher's Boy" and elsewhere (see
JAFL 29 : 169-170).
1. She sot down, she wrote a song,
She wrote it true, she wrote it long,
At ev'ry line she dropped a tear
And ev'ry word cried, "O my dear!"
2. She cast her boat upon the tide
That she might sail the ocean wide,
An' ev'ry ship that she passed by
She thought she heard her William cry.
3. "O sailors, O sailors, pray tell me true,
Has my sweet William been sailin' with you?'
"No, no, purty Miss, he isn't here,
He's drowned in some deep, I fear."
4. Her boat was cast upon the san\
She wandered fur in a furrin Ian',
O'er valleys low, o'er hills so high,
Still she heard Sweet William cry.
5. Three Eastern men went ridin' by;
They spied her on a limb so high;
They tuk her down fuh to be at rest;
A turkle dove lit on her breast.
6. So dig her grave both deep and steep,
An' put the marble at the head and feet,
Cyarve on that stone a turtle dove
To signify she died of love.
Ballads and Songs. 365
THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS.
The text here printed is worth notice because of its long period of
demonstrable oral transmission in America.- It was taken down by
G. L. Kittredge, Dec. 30, 1877, from the singing of Mrs. Sarah G.
Lewis of Barnstable, Mass. (born in Boston, 1799). Mrs. Lewis
learned the song when a young girl from her grandmother, Mrs.
Sarah Gorham.
1. The first day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Some part of a juniper tree,
And some part of a juniper tree.
2. The second day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Two French hens,
And some part of a juniper tree,
And some part of a juniper tree.
3. The third day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Three turkle doves, two French hens,
And some part, etc.
4. The fourth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Four colly birds, three turkle doves, etc.
5. The fifth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Five gold rings, etc.
6. The sixth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Six geese a-laying, etc.
7. The seventh day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Seven swans a-swimming, etc.
8. The eighth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Eight *
9. The ninth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Nine lambs a-bleating, etc.
10. The tenth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Ten ladies dancing, etc.
11. The eleventh day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Eleven lords a-leading, etc.
12. The twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Twelve bells a-ringing, etc.
In a copy from Quincy, Mass., sent to Child March 30, 1881 (Child
MSS., ii, 190-194; cf. xxi, 4, article 6 a), the series is, a partridge
and a pear-tree, two turtle doves, three French hens, four colly birds,
1 Forgotten by the singer.
366 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
five gold rings, six geese a-laying, seven swans a-singing, eight ladies
dancing, nine fiddlers fiddling, ten rams a-bleating(P), eleven stags
a-leaping, twelve bulls a-roaring. In a Massachusetts text from Miss
Julia M. Maynard the series runs, a part of a juniper tree, two turtle
doves, three French hens, four Cornish birds, five gold rings, six
geese a-laying, seven swans a-swimming, eight herds a-grazing, nine
ladies dancing, ten fiddlers fiddling, eleven golden pippins, twelve
silver florins. In another, communicated a few years ago by Mr. J. S.
Snoddy, as "sung by Mrs. Uriah Holt, Andover, Mass., 95 years old,"
we have, a partridge upon a fair tree, two turtle-doves, three collie
birds, four American hens, five gold rings, six geese a-laying, seven
swans a-swimming, eight ladies dancing, nine lords a-leaping, ten
bells a-beating, eleven hounds a-howling, twelve knights a-riding.
See " Family Songs," compiled by Rosa S. Allen (1899), for still another
Massachusetts text. In a variant taken down in 1916 by Miss Loraine
Wyman in Pulaski County, Kentucky, there are but seven gifts, — a
partridge in a pear-tree, two turtle-doves, three French hens, four corn
boys, five gold rings, six geese a-laying, and seven swans a-swimming.
In a full Missouri copy in Belden's collection we have "eight deers
a-running, nine wolves a-howling, ten ladies dancing, eleven lords
a-Umping, twelve bulls a-bellering." Compare Barry, No. 67.
For English and Scottish versions see Halliwell, " Nursery Rhymes,"
1842, No. 226, pp. 127-128 (2d ed., 1843, No. 272, pp. 155-156; 5th
and 6th eds., No. 346, pp. 184-188); Chambers, "Popular Rhymes of
Scotland" (ed. 1870), pp. 42-43; Bruce and Stokoe, "Northumbrian
Minstrelsy," pp. 129-131; "Notes and Queries," 1st series, 12 : 506-
507; Husk, "Songs of the Nativity," pp. 181-185; Balfour, "County
Folk-Lore," 4:138 (Stokoe's text); Baring-Gould, "Songs of the
West," 4 : xxxiii-xxxiv ; Gomme, "Traditional Games," 2 : 315-321;
Sharp, "One Hundred English Folksongs," No. 96 : xlii, 224-225;
"Journal of the Folk-Song Society," 5 : 277-281. There is a similar
French song in the "Revue des Traditions Populaires," 7 : 34-36
(with tune).
In a broadside of about 1800 or perhaps earlier (Angus, Printer),
entitled "The Twelve Days of Christmas" (Harvard College Library,
25242.5.5.149, No. 15), the series is, a partridge in a pear-tree, two
turtle-doves, three French hens, four colly birds, five gold rings,
"six geese a laying, seven swans a swimming, eight maids a milking,
nine drummers drumming, ten pipers playing, eleven ladies dancing,
twelve lords a leaping."
The following Shetland version, which resembles Chambers's text,
is in the Child MSS., iii, 17 (Harvard College Library). It was sent to
Child in 1880 by Mr. Arthur Laurenson, who received it from Mr. R.
Sinclair, Jr., of Shetland, in whose handwriting it is.
Ballads and Songs. 367
Come now let me see
Who learns this carol and carries it for me.
The king sent his ladie the first Yule day
One peeping.1
[The series is given in reverse order by Mr. Sinclair: — ]
Thirteen knights a merry fighting.
Twelve hawks a merry hunting.
Eleven maids a merry meeting.
Ten hares a merry beating.
Nine hounds a merry hunting.
Eight bulls, they were brown.
Seven crowns a merry carolling.
Six swans a merry swimming.
Five geese, they were gray.
Four starlings.
Three gold rings.
Two pedricks.2
One peeping.
t
THE YORKSHIRE BITE (THE CRAFTY PLOUGHBOY).
The favorite broadside ballad of "The Yorkshire Bite" or "The
Crafty Ploughboy" was duly registered by Child (5 : 129) as a parallel
to "The Crafty Farmer" (No. 283), though not a version of it.3
Barry published a fragmentary copy, obtained in Boston from singing,
in this Journal, 1910 (23:451-452), with the tune, and added an
amusing and instructive traditional tale. A better text, from the
Child MSS., is given below; it was sent to Child in 1889. Professor
F. C. Brown (p. 7) reports (1914) the ballad as collected by Mrs.
John C. Campbell of Asheville, N.C.4 Dr. Bertrand L. Jones has
found it in Michigan.
"The Crafty Ploughboy" (sometimes with a sub-title, "The High-
wayman Outwitted") occurs in the following Harvard broadsides:
25242.17, i, 86 (G. Jacques, Manchester); same, iii, 49 (J. Kendrew,
York); iv, 153 (W. R. Walker, Newcastle-upon-Tyne); ix, 113 (John
O. Bebbington, Manchester, and J. Beaumont, Leeds, No. 117);
xii, 64 (H. Such, No. 217); 25242.28 (no imprint); Irish broadside
in lot of Aug. 31, 1916 ("The Robber Outwitted"). An American
broadside of about 1820-30 has recently been acquired, "The York-
shire Bright . . . Printed and Sold at No. 25, High Street, Provi-
dence, where are kept for sale 100 other kinds Songs."
1 [That is, papyngo, parrot.]
2 [That is, partridges.]
3 "The Crafty Farmer" itself has not yet turned up in this country. It was published,
however, in The Universal Songster, or Museum of Mirth (London, 1825-26; also 1834),
2 : 357-358, — a book whose title was copied by C. Gaylord, Boston, 1835.
4 Compare JAFL 28 : 199.
368 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
It is still sung in England: see "Journal of Folk-Song Society,"
2 : 174-176 ("The Lincolnshire, or Yorkshire, Farmer"). Greig has
found the piece in oral circulation in Scotland ("Yorkshire Farmer,"
"Folk-Song of the North-East," xxxv).
[The Yorkshire Bite.]
From Child MSS., Harvard College Library, xxvii, 188 (1), written
down for Professor Child, April 10, 1889, by Mr. J. M. Watson, of
Clark's Island, Plymouth, Mass., as imperfectly remembered by him
from the singing of his father, Mr. A. M. Watson, of the same place.
At the same time Mr. Watson sent a very interesting version of
"Archie o' Cawfield," 1 also remembered from his father's singing.
1. If you please to draw near,
You quickly shall hear;
It is of a farmer who lived in Yorkshire.
A fine Yorkshire boy he had for his man,
And for to do his business: his name it was John.
Lod-le-tol, lod-le-tol, lod-le-tedle, lod-le-tay.
2. Right early one morning he called to his man;
A-coming in to him, he says to him: "John,
Here, take you the cow to the fair,
For she is in good order, and she I can spare."
3. The boy took the cow away in a band,
And arrived at the fair, as we understand;
A little time after he met with three men,
And he sold them the cow for a six pound ten.
4. They went into a tavern, 'twas there for to drink,
The farmers to pay the boy down his chink;
But while the highwayman was a-drinking of his wine,
He says to himself, "That money is mine."
5. (The boy speaks to the landlady about this conspicuous-looking
man, as to what he shall do with the money.)
"I will sew it in the lining of your coat," says she,
"For fear on the road robbed you may be."
6. (The boy starts on his way home on foot; the highwayman
follows him on horseback, and very politely offers him a lift on his
journey; the boy accepts his invitation and gets up behind him.)
7. They rode till they came to a dark, narrow lane;
The highwayman said, "I must tell you in plain,
Deliver that money without any strife,
Or else I shall surely take thy sweet life."
1 Printed by Child, No. 188 F (3 : 494).
Ballads and Songs. 369
8. The boy he thought 'twas no time to dispute,
So he leaped from the horse without fear or doubt;
The money from the lining of his coat he tore out,
And among the long grass he did strow it about.
9. The highwayman got down from his horse;
Little did he think it was to his loss;
For while he was picking all the money that was strowed,
The boy jumped on horseback and home he rode.
10. The highwayman shouted and bid him for to stand;
The boy didn't hear him, or wouldn't understand.
Home to his master he did bring
Horse, bridle, and saddle, and many a pretty thing.
11. The maid-servant saw John a-riding home;
To acquaint the master she went unto his room.
"What! have you a cow turned into a horse?"
12. "Oh, no! my good master; your cow I have sold,
But was robbed on the road by a highwayman bold.
While he was picking up all the money that was strowed,
I jumped on his horse's back and home I rode."
13. The farmer he did laugh while his sides he did hold:
"And as for a boy, you have been very bold;
And as for the villain, you have served him very right,
For you have put upon him a true Yorkshire bite."
14. (They overhaul the holsters and find great store of treasure, —
diamond rings, necklaces, bracelets, etc. The boy says, — )
" I trow,
I think, my dear master, I've oversold your cow."
[This paper was all in type before the appearance of " English Folk
Songs from the Southern Appalachians comprising 122 Songs and
Ballads and 323 Tunes collected by Olive Dame Campbell and Cecil
J. Sharp" (New York, Putnam, 1917). — G. L. K.]
370 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
NOTES ON THE "SHIRBURN BALLADS."
BY HYDER E. ROLLINS.
The volume of "Shirburn Ballads, 1585-1616," which Mr. Andrew
Clark published at Oxford in 1907, contains eighty ballads from a
manuscript in the library of the Earl of Macclesfield at Shirburn
Castle, Oxfordshire, and nine from MS. Rawlinson poet. 185 in the
Bodleian Library. The collection is remarkable for its highly sensa-
tional journalistic ballads, but also includes a number of "pious
chansons," several "good-nights," a few ballad-romances, and poems
by Sir Edward Dyer and Campion. Evidently the MSS. were, as
their editor believes, compiled chiefly from broadsides printed during
1585-1616; but many of the ballads had been issued earlier than
1585, while nearly all of them were re-entered at Stationers' Hall
after 1616.1 Confining his attention almost entirely to the formation
of a reliable text, Mr. Clark attempted to date only two or three of
the ballads, but referred his readers to J. W. Ebsworth's "Roxburghe
Ballads" for details about such of the "Shirburn Ballads" as are there
reprinted.
It is the purpose of the following notes to show that a large number
of the "Shirburn Ballads" were at one time or another entered in the
Stationers' "Registers," and to supply other pertinent facts, some of
which may be of interest to students of Elizabethan literature; but
no account is taken of the ballads commented on by Ebsworth, or of
such well-known ballads as "The Widow of Watling Street," "Titus
Andronicus," or "King Henry II and the Miller," even when these
have not been adequately discussed in the "Roxburghe Ballads."
My notes follow the numbering of the ballads in Mr. Clark's edition.
2. "The lamentation of Jhon Musgrave, who was executed at Kendall
for robbinge the king's Receiuer of great store of treasure." On Aug. 19,
I598, John Musgrave was granted "the long serjeantship of Gillesland,
co. Cumberland, with the castle and manor of Askerton; also of the office
of bailiff of Askerton" (Cat. State Papers, Domestic, 1580- 1625, p. 390);
on June 3, 1606, the Commissioners of the Border transferred Sir Henry
Leigh's troop of horse to "John Musgrave, of Plumpton, nominated by the
Earl of Cumberland" (Ibid., 1603-10, p. 319); and on Jan. 10, 1608, the
goods, lands, etc., of John Musgrave, of Catterlen County, Cumberland,
1 It is surprising to find how many of these ballads were re-entered for publication
on Dec. 14, 1624. In addition to those commented on in my notes, Clark's Nos. 1, 15,
23, 26, 28, 30, 41, 46, 50, 51, 55, and 59 were registered on that day. Many of his num-
bers were also licensed for publication on March I, 1675; for example, Nos. 3, 11, 15, 23,
24. 27, 30. 33. 55. 79-
Notes on the " Shirburn Ballads." 371
who had been executed for felony, were attainted and forfeited to John
Murray (Ibid., p. 395).
The refrain of the ballad,
Downe Plumton Parke as I did passe,
I hard a Bird sing in a glend, etc.,
is referred to in Fletcher's "Captain" (3 : iii), where Jacomo says, "Thou
know'st I can sing nothing But Plumpton-Park.'" Buzzard, in Richard
Brome's " English Moor " (3 : ii), sings " Down Plumpton-park, &c."
3. This ballad begins "Good people all, repent with speede," under
which title it was registered on Dec. 14, 1624 (Arber's Transcript of the
Stationers' Registers, 4: 131). On March 1, 1675, it was licensed as "A
warning for all worldlings to dye " (Eyre's Transcript, 2 : 498).
4. "The lover's replye to the maiden's fye fye," beginning "In the mery
month of Maye," is very probably "a newe northeren songe, shewinge the
discourse of Twoo Louers, beginninge, of late in the moneth of May &c,"
which was registered by Stafford on April 9, 161 1 (Arber, 3 : 457).
5. "A warning or Lanthorne to London. A dolefull destruction of faire
Jerusalem, whose miserye and vnspeakable plague doth most iustlye deserve
God's heavye wrath," was perhaps "A newe ballad of the destruccon of
Jerusalem," registered on Aug. 15, 1586; it was certainly "A warninge or
Lamentacon to London of the Dolefull Destruccon of fayre Jerusalem,"
registered on June 8, 1603, and re-entered on Dec. 14, 1624 (Arber, 2 : 454;
3 1236; 4 : 131).
6. "A proper new ballad intituled: — A Bell-man for England," be-
ginning "Awake! Awake! Oh Englande!" This was licensed on Dec. 6,
1586 (Arber, 2 : 461), as "a ballad intituled. A belman for England &c
certified by master Hartwell to be alowed leavinge out the ij staues yat are
crossed." It had been printed before Nov. 21, 1580, however, for its first
line is the tune of No. 43, below.
7. "A right excellent and godly new Ballad, shewinge the vncertainetye
of this present lyfe, the vanitye of the alluring world, and the vnspeakable
ioyes of heaven prepared for those that vnfainedly beleeve in the Lord
Jesus," beginning "All carefull Christians, marke my Song," was registered
by Henry Carr on May 3, 1591 (Arber, 2 : 581), as "a godly new ballad
Describinge the vncertenty of this present Lyfe the vanities of this aluring
world, and the Joyes of heaven &c." As "All carefull Christians" it was
re-entered on Dec. 14, 1624 (Arber, 4 : 132).
8. "A right Godly and Christiane a.b.c," beginning "Arise, and walke
[i.e., wake] from wickednesse," and ending with a prayer for King James.
Chappell (Roxburghe Ballads, 3 : 159) and Collier (Extracts from the Regis-
ters, 1 : 1) believed that this was the ballad of "a Ryse and wake" which
Collier printed as his very first entry (1557). They were wrong, however,
for that ballad is preserved in Bodleian MS. Ashmole 48 (Songs and Ballads,
ed. Thomas Wright, i860, pp. 168-169). The present ballad was licensed
by John Aide in 1564-65 as "an a b c with a prayer;" perhaps it is "a godly
A.B.C," licensed by Edward White on Aug. 19, 1579; and it is certainly
the "Christians A B. C" which was licensed on Dec. 14, 1624 (Arber, 1:
269; 2 :35s; 4: 132).
9. This ballad bears the date 1614 in its title, and as "who veiwes the lif
of mortall" (its first line) it was registered on Dec. 14, 1624 (Arber, 4 : 132).
372 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
io. "Of a maide nowe dwelling at the towne of meurs in dutchland,
that hath not taken any foode this 16 yeares, and is not yet neither hungry
nor thirsty; the which maide hath lately beene presented to the lady eliza-
beth, the king's daughter of england." " The true and lyvely picture of Eve
ffliegen of Meaces who hathe liued 14 yeares without meate or drincke,
translated out of Dutche by Thomas Wood," was licensed as part of a book
on Aug. 24, 161 1 (Arber, 3:464). It is extant. An eight-page quarto-
called " The Protestants and Iesuites together by the eares in Gulickeland.
Also, A true and wonderfull relation of a Dutch maiden (called Eue Fliegen
of Meurs in the County of Meurs) who being now (this present yeare) 36
yeares of age, hath fasted for the space of 14 yeares,1 confirmed by the testi-
mony of persons, both Honourable and worshipfull, as well English, as Dutch.
Truely translated according to the Dutch Coppy. . . . Imprinted for Nicholas
Bourne, 161 1 " — was recently sold in the Huth Library sales (see Sotheby's
"Catalogue of the Huth Collection, Sixth Portion," 1917, p. 1697). The
wonderful Miss Fliegen is referred to as " the Dutch Virgin, that could live
By th' scent of flowers," in Jasper Mayne's " City-Match " (Dodsley-Hazlitt's
Old Plays, 13 : 236-237), and as "The Maid of Brabant, that lived by her
smell, That din'd on a rose, and supt on a tulip," in Davenant's " News from
Plymouth" {Works, 1873, 4:114). Compare also Fletcher's "miraculous
maid in Flanders. . . . She that lived three year without any other suste-
nance than the smell of a rose " (" Love's Cure," in Works, ed. Dyce, 9 : 126).
George Hakewill too, as Hazlitt and the editors of Davenant point out, ac-
cepted Miss Fliegen's story as true. " This we have confirmed," he wrote
in his "Apologie of the Power and Providence of God," 1635 (quoted by
Hazlitt, Old Plays, 13 : 236 n.), "by the testimony of the magistrate of the
towne of Meurs, as also by the minister, who made tryall of her in his house
thirteene days together, by all the meanes he could devise, but could detect
no imposture."
13. "An excellent newe dyttye, wherein fayre Dulcina complayneth for
the absence of her dearest Coridon, " with the refrain " Forgoe me now, come
to me soone." This is undoubtedly " The ballet of ' Dulcina,' to the tune of
' fforgoe me nowe come to me sone,' " which John White and Thomas Lang-
ley registered on May 22, 1615 (Arber, 3 : 567). The tune of "fforgoe me
nowe" comes from the widely popular ballad beginning "As at noon Dulcina
rested," and preserved, among other places, in the "Percy Folio Loose
Songs" (ed. Furnivall, 1868, pp. 32 et seq.).
16. "Miraculous Newes from the cittie of Holdt in Germany, where there
were three dead bodyes seene to rise out of their Graues vpon the twentieth
day of September last 1616." On Oct. 20, 1616, John Barnes registered a
pamphlet called "miraculous signes of the Lord in Holdt in the province
of Menster of 3 dead bodies that did arise out of their graues, and spake of
the Lordes Judgmentes," and also "a ballett of the same matter" (Arber,
3 : 596).
18. "The sinner, dispisinge the world and all earthly vanities, reposeth
his whole confidence in his beloved Saviour, Jesus Christ." In 1570-71
William Griffith registered this as "a ballett how yat men shulde put
thayre hole trust in Jhesus &c" (Arber, I : 437).
24. "A most excellent and worthy dytty, shewing the wonderfull miracles
1 In Hazlitt's Hand-book (1867, p. 277) the time is given by mistake as " 24 yeares."
Notes on the " Shirburn Ballads." 373
of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, which he did while he remained on
the earth, to the great comfort of all the godlye." This was registered on
Sept. 11, 1578, as "A ballat of many miracles donne by our saviour Jhesus
Christ while he remained on the earthe perfect man sume only excepted;"
on Aug. 8, 1586, as "A Dittie of ye Miracles of Jhesus Christ &c;" and on
Dec. 14, 1624, under the title of its first line, "When Jesus Christ was 12"
(Arber, 2 : 337, 452; 4 : 132). On March 1, 1675, it was re-entered as "A
new ditty shewing the wonderfull miracles of our Lord Jesus Christ " (Eyre,
2 : 497).
25. "The lamentation of Henrye Adlington, a fencer, one of the cuttinge
crewe of London, who, for murther, was executed without Algate, and yet
hangeth in chaines." In Stow's "Annales" (1631, p. 789) occurs this
passage: "The II. of January [1599/1600], Henry Adlington, a Fencer was
hanged without the bars of Aldgate for killing of a man there, and after
hanged in chaines on the Miles end."
29. "A pleasant ballad of the mery miller's wooing of the Baker's daughter
of Manchester." Perhaps this is the "ballett of a mylner" which Wally
and Mrs. Toy registered in 1557-58. It is certainly "A Ballad Intituled,
The Millers daughter of Mannchester," which Henry Carr licensed on
March 2, 1581 (Arber, 1 : 76; 2 : 390).
32. "A new ballade, shewinge the cruell robberies and lewde lyfe of
Phillip Collins alias Osburne, commenlye called Phillip of the West, who
was prest to death at newgate in London the third of December last past
I597-" I can find out nothing about Philip, but, as he is called "the Devill
of the west" and is said to have lived in Devonshire, this account of his
"lewd life" is evidently connected with the ballad of "the Devill of Devon-
shire and Wilkin of the West his sonne" which Edward White registered
on Oct. 16, 1594 (Arber, 2: 662). The ballad was licensed on June 13, 1631,
as " Philipp surnamed ' the Deuill in the West ' " (Arber, 4 : 254).
33. "Pride's fall: or a warning to all English women, by the example of
a Strang monster, borne of late in Germany by a proude marchant's wife in
the city of Geneua, 1609." Clark calls attention to the pamphlet (registered
on Aug. 15, 1608) from which this ballad is obviously derived; but both
pamphlet and ballad were probably descendants of "a little booke intitled
an admonition to all women to see the iust Judgement of God for the
punishement of pride purtraied in a wonderfull child," to which the clerk
added the note, " Concerninge a child borne with great Ruffes" (cf. stanza
15). This "little booke" was registered on May 17, 1587 (Arber, 2 : 470).
The ballad was also licensed on March 13, 1656, and on March 1, 1675
(Eyre, 2 : 37, 498).
36. "A new Ballad intituled A myrrour or lookinge glasse for all sinners,"
beginning "O mortall man, bedrencht in synne," and ending with a prayer
for Queen Anne. The ballad contains such lines as "Thy youth is [as] the
growinge grasse; /thine age resembleth withered hay," from which it seems
probable that this is the ballad called "the vnconstant state and tyme of
mans lyfe," registered in 1561-62 (Arber, 1 : 175). Possibly it was "a
lokynge glasse," 1568-69; it was probably "a ballad entituled a lookinge
glasse for eche Degree," May 18, 1595; it was certainly registered on
Dec. 14, 1624, as "O mortall man bedrencht" (Arber, 1:381; 2:297;
4: 132).
374 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
37. "An excellent merye songe of the freier and the boye." This was
registered by Edward White on Aug. 16, 1586 (Arber, 2 :45s). "Books"
about the friar and the boy were registered in 1557-58 and 1568-69 (Arber,
1 : 75, 389).
38. "A most miraculous, strange, and trewe. Ballad, of a younge man of
the age of 19 yeares, who was wrongfully hangd at a towne called Bon in the
lowe Countreyes since Christmas last past 1612; and how god preserued
him aliue." This was summarized from a book, "A true descripcon of a
yongman of Dort whiche hanged at Bon ffyue dayes longe, beinge faultlesse
and howe God miraculously preserued him that he dyed not, it happened
in this yeare 161 1," which Edward Aide registered on Feb. 13, 1612 (Arber,
3 : 477)-
40. A well-known hymn, beginning "Jerusalem, my happy home," under
which title it was registered on Dec. 14, 1624 (Arber, 4 : 131).
42. "A pleasant newe Ballad, of the most blessed and prosperous Raigne
of her Maiestye for the space of two, and fortye yeeres, and now entring into
the three and fortith to the great ioy and comfort of all her Ma. faythfull
subiects." The date of this ballad is, as Clark points out, 1600, but ap-
parently the ballad was sung on each anniversary of the queen's accession.
Thus on Nov. 3, 1602, Edward Aide licensed "A Comfortable songe or
thanks gyving to be songe the xvijth Day of Nouember for the most gratious
and happie Reigne of our souereigne lady quene Elizabethe," perhaps a re-
issue of No. 42; a similar ballad had been registered by Edward White
on Nov. 15, 1594, two days before the anniversary, and on the same day
WThite entered another ballad closely corresponding in title to No. 42 (cf.
Arber, 2 : 664, 665; 3 : 220).
43. "The belman's good morrow, . . . To the tune of A-wake, a-wake,
O England," beginning " From sluggish sleep and slumber." Edward White
registered " the bell mannes good morrowe" on Nov. 21, 1580, and the ballad
of "From sluggish sleepe" was re-entered on Dec. 14, 1624 (Arber, 2 : 382;
4: 131). Another copy of the ballad is found in Brit. Mus. Add. MS.
15,225, from which (but not in connection with the entries given above)
two stanzas of it are reprinted in Collier's "Extracts," 1 : 229.
49. "A lamentable ballad called The Ladye's fall," which, as Ebsworth
notes, was registered by William White on June 11, 1603, was re-entered on
Dec. 14, 1624 (Arber, 3 : 237; 4 : 131). "Did you make the Ladies Downe-
fall? " asks a lady of Mr. Courtwell in the comedy of " Captain Underwit,"
c. 1640 (Bullen's Collection of Old English Plays, 1883, 2 : 350). The last two
lines of the ballad are quoted (from the " Old Ballad of the Lady's Fall ") on
the title-page of George Lillo's "London Merchant," 1731.
57. "The Lover, being sorrowfull for the death of his Lady E. C. writteth
this Epitaph followinge." Perhaps this is the ballad of "an lamentable
complaynte of a gent for the Death of his moste ffaythfull mistres," regis-
tered by Thomas Purfoote in 1569-70 (Arber, I : 401).
61. "Mr. Attowel's Jigge: betweene Francis, a Gentleman; Richard, a
farmer; and their wives:" a jig, or farce, of 240 lines in four acts, or scenes,
each sung to its own tune. This was registered by Thomas Gosson on Oct.
*4> T595 (Arber, 3 : 49), as "A pretie newe J[ijgge betwene ffrancis the
gentleman Richard the farmer and theire wyves." Clark identifies Mr.
Attowel with Hugh Atwell, "who died in 1621. He had been one of the
'children of her Majesty's revels,' and in Elizabeth's reign a member of
Notes on the " Shirburn Ballads." 375
Edward Alleyn's Company of actors. He acted in Ben Jonson's Epi-
coene." Clark believes that Hugh Atwell either wrote or acted in the jig;
but Hugh cannot have written it. Mr. Attowel was, instead, George
Atwell, who " received payment on behalf of the combined Strange's and
Admiral's men for performances at court " on Dec. 27, 1590, and Feb. 16,
1591 (Henslowe's Diary, ed. Greg, 2:240). He is mentioned in "Hen-
slowe's Diary" again on June 1, 1595, at which time he was probably a
member of the Queen's Company {Ibid., 1:6; Murray's English Dramatic
Companies, I : 15). Hugh Atwell, on the other hand, is first heard of in
1609-10 {Henslowe 's Diary, 2 : 240). There is another copy of this jig in
the Pepysian collection (see Hazlitt's Hand-book, 1867, p. 17; and his
Collections and Notes, second series, p. 20). The great importance of this
piece has been realized neither by Clark nor by his readers.1 A jig may be
defined as a miniature farce written in ballad measure, and, at the end of
a play, sung and danced on the stage to a ballad or dance tune.
62. "The poore people's complaynt: Bewayling the death of their famous
benefactor, the worthy Earle of Bedford. To the tune of Light a love."
This was registered by Yarrath James on Aug. 1, 1586 (Arber, 2 : 450),
as "The poore peoples complaint vpon therle of Bedfordes death." The
tune is named after a ballad by Leonard Gibson (Lilly's Collection of 79
Ballads, p. 113).
63. "The pittifull lamentation of a damned soule" was registered by
A. Lacy, in 1565-66 (Arber, 1 : 297), as "a ballet intituled ye lamentation
of a Dampned soule &c," and by Edward White, on Aug. 1, 1586 (Arber,
2:451), as "The Damned soules complaint." Compare the ballad of
"The Damned Soule in Hell" which Collier printed, from his MS. "of the
time of James I," in his "Extracts" (1 : 117).
64. "The torment of a Jealious minde, expressed by the Tragicall and
true historye of one commonlye called ' the Jealous man of Marget' in Kent."
A reading of the piece will show that it was the ballad of "A medicin for
Jealous men with ye trial of a wife" which John Danter registered on July
25, 1592 (Arber, 2 : 617).
65. "A pleasant new Ballad, shewing how Loue doth bereaue a man of
health, witt, and memorye." Possibly this was "a ballett of Love" regis-
tered by John Sampson in 1560-61, or the ballad "loue" registered by
Thomas Colwell in 1562-63 (Arber, 1 : 154, 210); but the identification
cannot be proved.
66. "The complaint of a widdow against an old man," beginning "Shall
I wed an aged man, /that groaneth of the Gout," was registered by William
Pickering on Sept. 4, 1564 (Arber, 1: 263), as "shall I Wed an Aged man/
with a complaynte of a Wedowe agaynste an olde man."
67. "A true discou[r]se of the winning of the towne of Berke by Grave
Maurice, who besieged the same on the 12 day of June 1601, and continued
assaulting and skirmidging there vntill the last day of July, at which time the
towne was yeelded," was evidently (as Clark hints) summarized from "A
true report of all the procedinges of Grave Morris before the towne of Berk
in June and July 1601," a pamphlet registered by William Jones on Aug. 3,
1601 (Arber, 3 : 189).
1 But see an announcement of a proposed paper on "Extant Elizabethan Jigs" (which
came to my attention after these notes were made), by Professor C. R. Baskervill, in the
Publications of the Modern Language Association of America, 29 : xxvii.
376 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
75. "A new ballad of the Parrator and the'Divell" was registered"(as Ebs-
worth, "Roxburghe Ballads," 8 [pt. 1] : xxxvii, notes) on Dec. 14, 1624, and
June 1, 1629 (Arber, 4 : 131, 213). Perhaps it is the ballad of "The Devil"
which the fiddler in Fletcher's "Monsieur Thomas" (3: iii) says he can
sing. It is quoted in Middleton's "Family of Love" (4 : iv, 112 etseq.): —
Lipsalve. . . . We have, my noble paritor, instant employment for
thee; a grey groat is to be purchased without sneaking, my little sumner:
where's thy quorum nomina, my honest Placket?
Gerardine. Sir, according to the old ballad,
My quorum nomina ready have I,
With my pen and inkhorn hanging by.
77. "An excellent new ballad, shewing the petigree of our royal King
lames, the first of that name in England. To the tune of Gallants all come
mourne with mee." The ballad of "ye kinges pettygree" was registered
by William White on June II, 1603; five days later he registered "another
Ballet Called Gallantes all Come Mourne with me," which, however, must
have been a re-issue, as this ballad furnished the tune to No. 77 (see Arber,
3 : 237, 238).
Page 334. * A ballad beginning "Prepare with speed" was registered
under that title on Aug. 15, 1586 (Arber, 2 : 454).
Page 335. "A sounge of the guise of London," with occasionally the
refrain "Will you buy any Broome, Mistris?" was registered by Wolf on
May 16, 1599, as "The Crye of London, together with the song;" perhaps
it was William Griffith's ballad of "buy Bromes buye," 1563-64 (Arber,
I 1238; 3 : 145).
Page 337. "A sounge in praise of the single life. To the tune of The
goste's hearse alias The voice of the earth." This "dreary piece," as Clark
calls it, is the work of Thomas Deloney; it is printed in his "Garland of
Good Will" {Works, ed. Mann, pp. 328 et seq.), and presumably appeared
before March 5, 1593, the date on which the "Garland" seems to have been
registered (Arber, 2 : 627). Thomas Nashe evidently had this ballad in
mind when, in his "Have With You to Saffron AValden," 1596 {Works, ed.
McKerrow, 3 : 88), he remarked of Harvey, "I deeme that from the harsh
grating in his eares & continuall crashing of sextens spades against dead
mens bones (more dismall musique to him than the Voyce or Ghosts Hearse)
he came so to be ii*censt & to inueigh against the dead."
Page 351. "A pretie new ballad, intituled willie and peggie. To the
tune of tarlton's carroll," signed "Finis: qd Richard Tarlton," was regis-
tered by John Wolf on Sept. 26, 1588, twenty or more days after Tarlton's
death, as "a newe ballad intytuled Peggies Complaint for the Death of her
Willye" (Arber, 2 : 501). This ballad, the existence of which seems gen-
erally to have been overlooked, is of much importance. In Spenser's
"Teares of the Muses" (1591) occurs a passage lamenting that
he the man, whom Nature selfe had made
To mock her selfe, and Truth to imitate,
With kindly counter vnder Mimick shade,
Our pleasant Willy, ah is dead of late:
With whom all ioy and iolly meriment
Is also deaded, and in dolour drent.
1 From this point the ballads are taken from MS. Rawlinson poet. 185, and are not
numbered.
Notes on the " Shirburn Ballads." 377
Dryden suggested that Spenser was referring to Shakespeare, and this was also
the opinion of Simpson (School of Shakspere, 2 : 390), because "Shakspeare
was dead to the London stage, that is, in 1589 and 1590, while the Martinist
controversy filled the theatres with theological scurrility." Dr. Furnivall,
in a note to Simpson's explanation, said, "The general opinion of the best
critics now is, that these words do not refer to Shakspere, but probably to
Lilly" (who actually died in 1606). Others have suggested Sir Philip Sidney
(died 1586). Halliwell-Phillipps owned a copy of the 161 1 edition of Spen-
ser's "Works," in which a manuscript note, written about 1628, identified
Willy with Richard Tarlton (see his "Calendar of Shakespearean Rarities,"
1887, pp. 17-18); he accepted this identification, and astutely guessed that
the ballad registered by Wolf in September, 1588, dealt with Tarlton and
hence proved that Tarlton was known by his friends as "Willy" (see his
"Outlines of the Life of Shakespeare," 1887, 2 : 394-395). Unquestionably
the ballad of "Willie and Peggie" (which had not before been connected
with Wolf's entry) retells the main facts of Tarlton's life, though without
mentioning his name; but the signature puzzles Clark. He thinks it
probable, however, "that we should set aside 'quod Richard Tarlton,' and
take the verses as a lament, by an unknown pen, over the famous jester.
... In that case, strong support is given to the suggestion that by pleasant
Willy Spenser meant Tarlton." The entry of the ballad at Stationers'
Hall less than a month after Tarlton's death makes his identification with
Willy almost conclusive; moreover, signing a ballad with the name of the
person about whom it was written was the regular habit of ballad-mongers.
Spenser's own lines are obviously more appropriate when applied to Tarlton
than to any of his rival claimants.
The ballad is quoted by Cocledemoy in Marston's "Dutch Courtezan"
(2 : i, 183-184) and by Simplicity in "The Three Lords and Three Ladies of
London" (Dodsley-Hazlitt's Old Plays, 6 : 393). From Simplicity's remark,
"This is Tarlton's picture," and Wealth's rejoinder that there is no "fineness
in the picture," it is clear that a wood-cut of Tarlton ornamented the ballad.
No commentator on the play has understood these remarks, which instead
are everywhere explained as "alluding to some wood engraving of Tarlton,
which Simplicity had in his basket" (Ibid., 396-398).
Page 354. " A proper new ballett, intituled Rowland's god-sonne. To the
tune of Loth to departe." This is a jig (cf. No. 61, above) in four acts, or
scenes. It was evidently very popular on the stage, for John Wolf regis-
tered "a ballad . . . Intituled The firste parte of Rowlandes godson mor-
alized" on April 18, 1592, and "a ballad entytuled the Second parte of
Rowlandes god sonne moralised. &c" on April 29 (Arber, 2 : 609, 610).
The speaker of the prologue to Nashe's "Summer's Last Will and Testa-
ment," 1592 (Works, ed. McKerrow, 3 : 235), remarks: "Why, he [Nashe]
hath made a Prologue longer then his Play: nay, 'tis no Play neyther, but a
shewe. He be sworne, the Iigge of Rowlands God-sonne is a Gyant in
comparison of it." The music of "Loath to depart" is preserved among
John Dowland's collections in the library of the University of Cambridge
(Halliwell-Phillipps, MS. Rarities of Cambridge, p. 8).
New York University.
378 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
THE THREE DREAMS OR "DREAM-BREAD" STORY.
BY PAULL FRANKLIN BAUM.
In the "Disciplina Clericalis," Petrus Alphonsi, a Spanish Jew who
was baptized in 1106, relates the following story: —
Two burghers and a simple peasant, on their way to Mecca, found them-
selves with no food except enough flour to make a single small loaf of bread.
The two burghers took counsel together how they might cheat their com-
panion of his share, and proposed that whichever of the three should have
the most wonderful dream while the bread was baking should have the loaf
all to himself. Thinking .thus to deceive the peasant, they placed the
dough in the ashes and lay down to sleep. But the peasant saw through
their trick, arose and ate the loaf when it was half baked, and lay down
again. Then one of the burghers, as though frightened by his dream,
awoke and called the other. "What's the matter?" — "I've had a wonder-
ful dream. Two angels opened the gates of heaven and brought me before
the Lord." — "That is a splendid dream," replied the other; "but I
dreamed that two angels came, clove the earth asunder, and took me into
hell." The peasant heard all this, but nevertheless pretended to be asleep.
The burghers, however, who were taken in by their own trick (decepti et
decipere volentes), called him to wake up. "Who is calling me?" he cried
in great terror. "Have you come back?" — "Where should we come back
from?" — "Why, I just had a dream in which I saw two angels take one
of you and open the gates of heaven and lead him before the Lord; then
two angels took the other of you, opened the earth, and led him into hell.
And when I saw this, I realized that neither of you would return, so I got
up and ate the bread." *
This story of the biter bit is, like so many stories, as old as the hills,
and yet current still, in one form or another, on both sides of the
Atlantic. Since its appearance among the animal tales of the East,
it has been through many vicissitudes and has served many purposes;
but the nature of mankind does not change greatly with the centuries,
and this little anecdote seems to have retained a certain interest and
1 Petri Alfonsi Disciplina Clericalis (ed. A. Hilka and W. Soderhjelm, Helsingfors,
191 1 [Acta Soc. Scient. Fennicae, 38 : No. 4]), p. 27 (XIX. "Exemplum de duobus
burgensibus et rustico"). The same text, without apparatus, in Carl Winter's Sammlung
mittellateinischer Texte. I regret that the volume which is to contain the notes to
Hilka and Soderhjelm's edition has not appeared. For a full bibliography of Petrus and
the various editions of the Disciplina cf. Victor Chauvin, Bibliographic des Ouvrages
Arabes (Liege, 1905), 9: u( seq. The earliest edition was by Labouderie, for the
Societe des Bibliophiles (Paris, 1824), and contained, besides the Latin text, the twelfth-
century prose and the thirteenth-century verse translations into French mentioned on
p. 384 below. The edition of F. W. V. Schmidt (Berlin, 1827) has valuable notes. On
Petrus see also Menendez y Pelayo, Origines de la Novela (Madrid, 1905), 1 : xxxvii el seq.
The Three Dreams. 379
value, both for its clever illustration of the turning worm and for its
moral application. Petrus himself, though a poor Latinist, was a
man of considerable understanding. "Fragilem etiam hominis esse
consideravi complexionem," says he in the prologue of his work,
"quae ne taedium incurrat, quasi provehendo paucis et paucis in-
struenda est; divitiae quoque eius recordatus, ut facilius retineat,
quodammodo necessario mollienda et dulcificanda est; quia et ob-
liviosa est, multis indiget quae oblitorum faciant recordari. Propterea
ergo libellum compegi, partim ex proverbiis philosophorum et suis
castigationibus, partim ex proverbiis et castigationibus Arabicis et
fabulis et versibus, partim ex animalium et volucrum similitudinibus."
And this libellus with its thirty-odd tales is one of the main inlets of
Arabic — and therefore Indian and Persian — stories into the West.
The simplest and perhaps the earliest form of the "dream-bread"
story contains neither dream nor loaf. We begin — like the musing
organist, doubtfully and far away — with the very ancient fable of
the oldest animal, and bespeak the reader's suspension of disbelief
until we can resolve the dissonance. The original "form of this fable
is probably found in the 'Culla Vagga' portion of the Vinayapitaka,
one of the oldest parts of the Buddhist books, which Professor Cowell
thinks can hardly be later than the third century B.C." l
Long ago a partridge, a monkey, and an elephant lived inharmoniously
together in a great banyan-tree. It occurred to them that if they knew
which of them was the eldest they could honor and obey him. So they
asked one another what were the oldest things they could remember. The
elephant recalled walking over the banyan-tree when it was so small it
did not reach his belly. The monkey said when he was young he used to
sit on the ground and eat the topmost shoots of the tree. "In yonder
place," said the partridge, "was a great banyan whose fruit I once ate and
voided it, and from the seed sprang this tree." The others then agreed
the partridge was the eldest. They obeyed and honored him, and he
admonished them in the five moral duties.2
1 W. A. Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions (Edinburgh and London), 2 : 91. The
same material is found also in Clouston's The Book of Sindibad (Appendix : 217 et seq.).
I am indebted to Clouston for much of my Oriental matter.
2 Compare Upham, Sacred and Historical Books of Ceylon, 3 : 292, for the same
fable (Gottinger Gelehrter Anzeiger, 1857, p. 1772). The following (from Gottinger
Gelehrter Anzeiger, I. c: Memoires sur les contrees occidentales, traduits du Sanscrit en
Chinois, en l'an 648, par Hiouen-Thsang, et du Chinois en Francais par M. Stanislas Julien)
is a simpler and perhaps still older version: In the time when the Tathagata lived the
life of a Bodhisatva, when he saw the people of his generation did not observe the tradi-
tions, he took the form of a bird, and, approaching a monkey and a white elephant,
asked them, "Which of you saw this holy fig-tree first? " The two began to debate, and
finally adjusted themselves to their rank according to their relative ages. The effect of
this spread, until all men, both lay and clergy, followed their example. — For another
variant, adding a hare to the other three, cf. Clouston, Popular Tales, 2 : 92 (note 2).
Clouston gives other Sanscrit variants, and also quotes from Cowell, "The Legend of the
VOL. XXX. — NO. II7. — 25
380 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
We approach much nearer the story of the "Three Dreams" with
a Mongolian version of the above fable, in which a wolf and a fox take
a skin full of fat to the top of a mountain. "There is not enough for
both of us," says the fox, "and it cannot be divided. Let one of us
eat the whole." — "But which of us?" asks the wolf. "The elder,"
answers the fox. "When I was young," says the wolf, lying, "Mount
Sumern was only a clot of earth in a bog, and the ocean was only a
puddle." Whereupon the fox begins to weep, because (he explains)
he once had two cubs, and the youngest was just the wolf's age.1
A more elaborate tale from the Introduction of the "Sindibad
Namah" — a poetical version, written in Persian a.d. 1375, of the
"Book of Sindibad," which is as old as the tenth century — makes
the transition practically complete.
Two intimate friends, an old wolf and a fox, travelling together, were
joined by a camel. They went on for a long time through a desert, their
only food a pumpkin. At length, tired, parched, and hungry, they came
to a pool, set forth their pumpkin, and after much discussion decided it
should go to the eldest. Said the wolf: "Indian, Tajik, and Turk know
that my mother bore me a week before God created heaven and earth, time
and space. Therefore I have the best right to the pumpkin." — "Yes,"
said the fox, "I was standing by and lit the taper the night you were born."
Hearing these speeches, the camel bent forward and snapped up the pump-
kin, saying, "It is impossible to conceal a thing so manifest as this, — that
with such a neck and haunches and back as mine, it was neither yesterday
nor last night that my mother bore me." 2
Oldest Animals," in Y Cymrodor, October, 1882. In the Mabinogion, Arthur's mes-
sengers in search of Mabon, son of Modron, go to the ousel, then to the stag, the owl, the
eagle, and the salmon (cf. Lady Guest's ed., London, 1842, 4 : 297 el seq.). A note, p. 361,
refers to the same tradition in Davydd ap Gwilym's Yr Oed, in which there are only three
animals. Because three is the usual number in the Orient, Cowell thinks Davydd's
version is the older. Compare also another Welsh story in Ausland, 1857, No. 17, p. 398.
— Professor Archer Taylor of Washington University, to whose invaluable aid this article is
greatly indebted, sends me the following additional references on Sending to the Older
or Oldest: Folklore, 1 : 504, 20 : 243; Folk-lore Journal, 1 : 318; Jahresbericht iiber die
Erscheinungen auf dem Gebiete der germanischen Philologie, 10 : 129; Germania, 37:
363; Zs. d. Vereins fur Volkskunde, 7 : 207; Bolte und Polivka, Anmerkungen, 2 : 400;
Rhys, Cymmrodorion, 1896; Asbj0rnsen og Moe, Norske Folke-Eventyr, Kj0benhavn,
1876, No. S, "Den syvende Far i Huset," p. 21; D. H. Hyde, Legends of Saints and Sin-
ners, p. 56; W. M. Parker, Na Daoine Sidhe (Gaelic Fairy Tales), Glashu, 1908, pp.
34-39; J. G. Campbell, Superstitions of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland (Glasgow,
1900), p. 64; R. Basset, Nouveaux contes berberes (Paris, 1897), No. 76, pp. 30-31;
Belkassen ben Sedira, Coursde langue kabyle, pp. ccxxiii-ccxxiv; Chauvin, Bibliographie,
7:61, (note 4); Hahn, Griech- und Albanesische Marchen, No. 15 (Am. J. Philology,
37:4i5)-
1 Clouston, Popular Tales, 2 : 93-94; variants, p. 94 (note 1); and cf. Belkassen ben
Sedira, reference on p. 379, note 2, above.
2 Asiatic Journal, 35 (1841) : 175. Compare Chauvin (op. cit., 8 : 73 [No. 40]; and
pp. 1 el seq.) for the different versions of the Sindibad. The Introduction, which contains
this story, does not appear in the earlier extant versions. Clouston (The Book of Sindi-
The Three Dreams. 381
A similar story of a camel, a steer, and a goat, who find a bit of
grass that each wants to eat, occurs in Volume 6 of the "Mesnewi"
of the thirteenth-century Persian poet Dschelaleddin Rumi;1 and in
another volume (2 : 288, No. lvi) there is a still closer parallel to the
exemplum of Petrus in the story of a Moslem, a Christian, and a Jew.
A Moslem, a Christian, and a Jew were travelling together, and on the
way they found a ducat. Since they could not agree how to divide it,
the Jew suggested that they buy some flour, butter, and sugar, and make a
sort of halwa, or cake, that they all could eat. The others agreed; but
when the halwa was finished, the Jew said: "Now we shall quarrel over the
larger and smaller portions. I think it is better that we go to sleep, and
allow whichever of us has the most beautiful dream to eat the whole cake."
The other two agreed to this also. But while they were asleep, the Jew ate
the halwa all himself. When they awoke, the Moslem told how the Prophet
had appeared to him in a vision, had led him into Paradise, and had shown
bad) conjectures that the Sindibad Namah may "more faithfully reflect the Book of
Sindibad than the older texts" (p. lii). Certainly the story of the camel, the wolf, and
the fox, may be assumed to be older than the Sindibad Namah.
What appears to be a weakened form of this tale is given by Decourdemanche from a
Turkish text of the Sindibad, translated from the Persian about the middle of the six-
teenth century (Revue des Traditions Populaires, 14 [1899] : 325-327)- The story is
told in considerable detail. The three animals have a bit of bread which they decide to
award to the one who proves his general superiority. Each makes his boast in turn;
then the camel raises his head, and says, "A person of my build is by nature purer of
soul than a being of proud and envious spirit, even though of intelligent actions." And the
others accept his argument and adjudge him the bread!
Somewhat analogous is "Le plus menteur des trois" given by R. Basset ("Contes et
legendes arabes," No. CCXXI) in Revue des Traditions ^Populaires, 14(1899): 291.
Three persons found a ducat (dinar), and instead of sharing it they agreed to award it
to the one who could tell the biggest lie. "My father was a perfumer," commences one,
"and from an egg that he bought a magnificent cock was hatched. When it grew up, my
father packed his perfumes in a valise and went about the town on the cock's back. But
one day the cock was wounded, a veterinary recommended a kind of date to be applied
to the wound, and soon a palm-tree grew up on the cock's back. In order to get the dates
the neighbors threw bricks into the tree; the dates fell, but the bricks remained until
a small valley was formed, which my father ploughed with a pair of oxen and sowed to
melons. When these were ripe, I cut one of them open, but in doing so lost my knife.
So, attaching a string to my waist, I descended into the melon. There I found three
persons walking about, and asked them if they had seen my knife; they had spent ten
days there looking for their camels, but they had seen no knife. I then returned to my
rope and ascended." The others said: "Take the ducat. There never was a greater
liar than you." — There is a very curious variant of this story in R. M. Dawkins, Modern
Greek in Asia Minor (Cambridge, 1916), p. 535.
Compare also FF Communications 2 : 21 (No. 95 A): "Three fellows tell lies in such
a way that each is confirmed by the next one's." — Grundtvig, Danske Folkeaventyr,
3 (1883): 152. — See, further, Revue des Traditions Popuiaires, 7: 188, note 2 and
references.
1 Mesnewi, 6 : 310, No. lxii. Compare Hammer-Purgstall, Bericht iiber den zu Kairo
in J. d H. 1251 (1835) in sechs Foliobanden erschienen tiirkischen Commentar des Mesnewi
Dschelaleddin Rumis, in Sitzungsberichte der Wiener Akademie, 7 : 705.
382 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
him the splendors thereof. He continued with a long description of the
roses, the pleasant odors, the milk and honey, the beautiful boys, and the
houris with black eyes and eternal youth. "That is magnificent!" cried
the Jew; "you would have deserved to eat the halwa." The Christian
then related how the Lord Jesus appeared to him and for his sins damned
him to hell; and he described most vividly the torments he saw there.
"That is a very interesting dream," said the Jew, "and one not unworthy
of the halwa. But, my friends, Moses appeared to me and said, 'One of
thy companions is in Paradise, and the other is in hell, whence there is no
return; eat, therefore, the halwa, that it may not spoil.' And this counsel
I followed faithfully."
From the Persian this story was probably translated into Arabic
in the "Nozhat el Odaba," a collection of witty and diverting tales
from various sources.1 It may be conjectured that it was this very
tale, or a closely similar variant of it, that Petrus Alphonsi made over
into the exemplum of the two burghers and the peasant. But there
is another version which Petrus may have known and adapted, —
that of Judas and the goose, related in the Huldreich redaction of the
"Toldoth Jeschu." 2
On the journey from Rome to Jerusalem, Jesus, Peter, and Judas stopped
at a small inn, and mine host had only one goose to offer his three guests.
Jesus then took the goose and said, "This is verily not sufficient for three
persons; let us go to sleep, and the whole goose shall be his who shall have
the best dream." Whereupon they lay down to slumber. In the middle
of the night Judas arose and ate the goose. When morning came, the three
met, and Peter said, "I dreamed I sat at the foot of the throne of Almighty
God." And to him Jesus answered, "I am the son of Almighty God, and
I dreamed thou wert seated near me; my dream is therefore superior to
thine, and the goose shall be mine to eat." Then Judas said, "And I,
while I was dreaming, ate the goose." And Jesus sought the goose, but
vainly, for Judas had devoured it.
On the relationship of the "Nozhat el Odaba" version and Petrus's
"De duobus burgensibus et rustico," Gaston Paris expressed some
doubt. "On a cru voir la [in the 'Nozhat el Odaba'] la forme primi-
tive de ce recit, extraordinairement repandu au moyen age, et on a
juge que cette forme primitive etait juive; mais l'une et l'autre con-
clusion sont tres douteuses." 3 Certainly the conduct of the Jew here
is typical of his race's emphasis on terrestrial rather than future re-
wards. But Paris was hardly justified in reasoning that the story
1 Hammer, Rosenol, 2 : 303 (No. 180). Other stories in this collection later became
current in western Europe. — The above summary is based on the Arabic version. A
more accurate translation than Hammer's is given by R. Basset, Contes et legendes
arabes, No. CCCCLXXXV, "Le meilleur reve " (Revue des Traditions Populaires, 15
[1900] : 668 et seq.), from MS. fonds arabe No. 3594, fol. 123, of the Bibliotheque Nationale.
2 Historia Jeschuae Nazareni (Leyden, 1705), p. 51. From one point of view, this
version may be regarded as a Jewish parody of the miraculous feeding of the five thousand.
' Gaston Paris, Poesie du moyen age, Ipeme serie, p. 159.
The Three Dreams. 383
could not have been of Jewish origin, because the Jews who must have
written it lived after the advent of Mohammedanism, and therefore
believed in a future life; for there is nothing in the action of the Jew
who ate the halwa to preclude such a belief. He saw an opportunity
to outwit his companions, and he took it. As is the case with all
similar transactions, — not to speak it profanely, — religion does not
enter the question. Again, Paris was probably right in feeling that
this tale was not designed to glorify unreservedly the man who duped
the others, though, as will appear later, the middle ages saw it dif-
ferently; but he should not support his opinion by reference to the
version in which the leading role is assigned to Judas, "qu'ils [the
Jews] n'ont nullement voulu rehabiliter." For the whole "Toldoth
Jeschu" has Judas for its hero; his function is to overcome Jesus and
to glorify the Jews.
As between the Persian-Arabic version, however, and the Judas
version, the former is, I think, a rather better story, and is much
closer to the form Petrus gave it in the " Disciplina Clericalis." 1 The
Judas version has a rather ad-hoc air, as though the tale of how a
clever Jew got the best of a Moslem and a Christian had been worked
over to give another instance of how Judas outwitted Jesus and one
of his followers. There is nothing to indicate which developed first
in point of time; but the presence of the one version in the work of
Rumi, and the absence of the other from the earlier redactions of the
"Toldoth," lends favor to the hypothesis that the Judas version is a
later adaptation. There is, however, no reason to suppose that
Petrus was not acquainted with both, — with the latter during the
years before his conversion to Christianity; and with the former, in
his capacity of Arabic scholar, interested, as his work plainly shows,
in all sorts of Oriental stories that could be made into moral or
ethical examples.
The little book that Petrus "put together" in Latin in the early
years of the twelfth century won an immediate and enduring popu-
larity. The latest editors have traced sixty-three manuscripts con-
taining the whole or portions of the "Disciplina Clericalis," from the
twelfth to the fifteenth centuries, — sixteen in Germany, fourteen in
England, thirteen in France, and the rest in Austria, Italy, Belgium,
Switzerland, Spain, Holland, and Sweden.2 Moreover, in the thir-
teenth century the work was turned into elegiac couplets.3
1 Clouston says, "If Alphonsus adapted his story from the above, — and it is not
unlikely that he was acquainted with the 'Toldoth Jesu' before he became a convert to
Christianity, — it must be allowed that he greatly improved upon his model." — Popular
Tales, p. 89, note i.
2 Compare Introduction to the Hilka-Soderhjelm edition.
3 Edited in part by J. Stalzer, Stiicke der Disciplina Clericalis des Petrus Alfonsi in
lateinischen Versen der Berliner Handschrift Diez, B 28 (in Dritter Jahresbericht desk. k.
384 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Translations were equally numerous.1 At the end of the twelfth
century the "Disciplina Clericalis" was translated into French prose.
In the thirteenth century there were two French-verse translations.
From a lost French rendering in prose we have a Picard version of
the beginning of the fourteenth century, a French version of the third
quarter of the fifteenth century, and a Gascon version (earlier called
Catalan) of the late fourteenth or early fifteenth century. Two
fifteenth-century manuscripts of the Bibliotheque Nationale contain
a free rendering of four of Petrus's exempla, independent of the French
prose rendering of the whole "Disciplina."2 A prose translation
was made by LeGrand d'Aussy.3 Steinhowel translated parts of the
"Disciplina" in his /Esop;4 and separate tales have occasionally
been translated by others. An old Spanish translation, besides the
"Libro de los enxemplos," was noted by Amador de los Rios.5
Gering mentions a fourteenth-century Icelandic rendering, now lost.6
Staats Realgymnasiums in Graz) . No. xiii (pp. 28-30) is De tribus sociis, duobus diuitibus
et uno paupere. The early part of the story is slow moving; but after the rustic eats the
cake (a little before the middle of the prose version, about two-fifths from the end of the
metrical version), the narrative is condensed, so that the two dreams occupy only a distich
each. The final speech of the rustic, however, is greatly amplified. When he learns that
his companions have "returned," he says, "I will tell you my dream: —
"Inprudens obdormieram; dum dormio uidi
Maxima; quidquid id est, gloria uestra fuit.
E uobis unus migrauit in atria caeli,
Illic angelicae constituere manus.
E uobis reliquus baratri descendit ad ima:
Quis neget, angelicas id potuisse manus?
Haec equidem uidi nee spes fuit inde reuerti;
Solus eram, dolui, fragmina panis edo.
Disposui partes nee erat, qui tollere uellet;
Solus eram, dolui, fragmina panis edo.
Exul clamam, sed frustra clamo remotis;
Solus eram, dolui, fragmina panis edo.
Edi, quod superest; Mech perueniamus eundo.
Aut eras aut hodie perficiemus iter." (vv. 61-74.)
1 The most important references are in Chauvin, I. c. See also G. Paris, Litterature
francaise au moyen age (4th ed., 1909), p. 300.
* Compare Hilka-Soderhjelm, 2 : 54 and p. xiv. The Gascon version is edited by
J. Ducamin (Toulouse, 1908).
3 Fabliaux et Contes (Paris, 1779; 3d ed., 1829): Lesdeux bourgeois et le villain, 2 :
393. LeGrand was translated into English by G. L. Way and G. Ellis (London, 1796-
1800; new ed., 1815). German translation of LeGrand, Halle u. Leipzig, 1797. Douce
made an Analysis of Petrus Alphonsus for Ellis, Metrical Romances, pp. 39 et seq.
* See below, p. 391.
5 Hist. crit. de la lit. espanola, 2 : 294 (No. 2); Chauvin, 9 : No. 22*.
6 Hugo Gering, Islendzk /Eventyri (Halle, 1882), 1 : xii, and cf. 2 : 139. Af tveimr
burgeisum ok kotkarli (1 : 192-194) is a modern translation (1690). The same story was
The Three Dreams. 385
The earliest separate version of the "Three-Dreams" story that I
have found is in elegiac couplets in a Vatican manuscript of the
twelfth to thirteenth centuries.1 From the point of view of style
and narrative technic, it is the most remarkable, not to say astonishing,
of all the versions. The author was something of a humanist, but
hardly, one may suppose, a story-teller by native gifts. There is no
direct evidence that he drew from the work of Petrus. He may have
known it through oral tradition; for, in showing that Jacques de
Vitry did not make use of Petrus as a source, Goswin Frenken has
pointed out how the tales of the "Disciplina Clericalis" became
current among the folk very early.2 The story begins, —
Consocii, quid? — Iter rapiamus. — Quid placet? — Ire
Ad sacra. — Quando? — Modo. — Prope. — Fiat ita.
Addatis peram lateri. — Ecce. — Crucem scapulo. — Ecce.
— Et baculum manibus. — Ecce. — Venite, bene est.
I mo male est. — Quid abest? — Expensa. — Quid ergo
In gremio portas? — Ecce tot. — Hoc nihil est.
Ohe! moram facimus; jam sol declinat; eundum est
Quam citius; procul est urbs; stimulate gradus.
Sed quis ad hospitium prior ibit? — Si placet, ibo.
— Sed placet; ergo praei, plus pede namque potes;
Fert bene. Prsecedit solus; soli remanemus,
Jamque referre licet quidquid utrique libet.
The rustic comes back with only a little food; and all three make the
usual pact.
Sed sint urbani cum semper in urbe dolosi,
Suspicor in sociis non nihil esse doli,
comments the peasant to himself —
Tutius est etenim ventris sedare furorem
Et removere famem quam retinere fidem.
Then the first urbanus tells his dream of beholding the signs of the
zodiac, the motions, cycles, and epicycles of the spheres, and the
whiteness of the moon, —
Singula quid numerem? Sed singula quis numerabit?
Ut breviter dicam, non rediturus eram.
translated, under the title " Underliga drommar," from Isl. .Event., by Gustaf Cederschiold
("Medeltidsberattelser," in Nyare Bidrag till Kannedom om de Svenska Landsmalen,
V: 6 : 53-54).
1 MS. 344 of the Library of Queen Christina. Published by Wattenbach in Anzeiger
fur Kunde der deutschen Vorzeit, 1875, col. 343; and by Haureau in Notices et extraits,
29 (part 2) : 324. Immediately preceding this tale in the manuscript is another by the
same author and in the same manner, — De tribus sociis (Haureau, XXXI).
2 Die Exempla des Jacob von Vitry (Munchen, 1914), pp. 38-41.
386 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
The other had had a horrible dream of the Fates and the Furies, of
Tityus, Tantalus, Ixion, Sisyphus, —
Vidi quam multas, vidi puduitque videre
Claustrales dominas femineosque viros.
Singula quid numerem? Sed singula quis numerabit?
Ut breviter dicam, non rediturus eram.
— Hsec vidi et libum, quia neuter erat rediturus,
Feci individuum quod fuit ante genus.
The brevity and phrasing of the peasant's final reply are certainly
well conceived. As Haureau says, "le paysan, ayant dupe les deux
clercs, les raille en bon logicien." This is our humanist's contribution
to the story; and for its sake we are almost bound to forgive him his
jockey style and his cheap attempt at vivacity and sprightliness,
besides a false quantity or two.
The next appearance of this tale is in the "Speculum Laicorum,"
written probably not long after 1272, and usually ascribed to John of
Hoveden. Here it is ticketed, "Refert Petrus Alphonsus." l It
occurs again, with the same source indicated, in the "Scala Cceli"
of Johann Gobii, Jr., composed about 131 6. Here it is simply three
men who, entering a desert, have only a bit of flour; and the two
knaves prepare their "dreams" beforehand, knowing their companion
cannot think up a better one.2 This version is greatly abbreviated,
and the language differs considerably from that of Petrus; and
although there are a few verbal agreements, such as "dixerunt ad
invicem" and at the end "surrexi et comedi panem," it is probable
that Johann Gobii was writing dOwn the tale from memory rather
than condensing a text of the "Disciplina Clericalis" that he had
before him.
Not much later, in the second quarter of the fourteenth century,
the story was retold briefly by the Anglo-Norman Nicholas Bozon,
in his "Contes moralises;" 3 and at greater length by Ulrich Boner
in his "Edelstein," 4 one of the first books printed in Germany.
Bozon told it to illustrate the proverb, "Qui omnia cupiunt omnia
perdunt." 5
1 Ward-Herbert, Catalogue of Romances, 3 : 370 et seq., and 403 (No. 542). MS.
Royal 7 D. i, f. 98 b, of the British Museum, a collection of Church tales made in the
second half of the thirteenth century, relates the same story: "The scholars dream for
their lost loaf (derived from Petrus Alfunsi)." — Ward-Herbert, 3:490 (No. 143).
In a similar collection of the mid-fifteenth century (MS. Harley 206, f. 100 b) "three
brothers agree that their last cake shall go to whichever of them has the most wonderful
dream." — Ward-Herbert, 3 : 700 (No. 24).
2 Ed. Ulm, 1480, s. v. "Deceptio."
3 Ed. L. T. Smith et Paul Meyer (Soc. des anc. textes fran.), Paris, 1889, No. 141,
pp. 173 et seq.; note to 141, p. 293.
' Ed. Franz Pfeiffer (Leipzig, 1844), Fab. 74, pp. 130-133.
6 Compare LeRoux de Lincy, Livre des proverbes, 2 : 274, 407, 488. — P. Meyer,
Bozon.
The Three Dreams. 387
Three companions on a pilgrimage reach a city where the only food
they can obtain is some flour; out of this they make a tortel, which they
agree to award to the one who has the best dream. The two fall asleep;
but the third, thinking they mean to deceive him, takes the tortel and le
mangea chascun mye. They awake, relate their dreams, and begin to
call him. "What is it?" he cries in great fear; "I am astonished to see
you back. I dreamed that two angels carried you off, one of you to heaven,
the other to hell, and I knew no better counsel than to console myself by
eating all our tortel." Whereupon the others said, "Qi tot coveite tot perde."
Boner's version is in 57 rhymed couplets. He says at the outset
that two of the travellers were wise and scoundrelly. The third was
a simple-minded fellow; but hunger kept him awake while the others
slept, and as soon as the bread was baked he ate it all by himself.
After recounting their dreams, the two knaves call him, and, to his
question how they got back, reply: "Where were we? du macht wol
toben." — "Ich tobe nicht," says he, "I had a wonderful dream that
depressed me, that I lost you both," etc. The story ends on a moraliz-
ing note, albeit rather casuistical and unchristian: it was just and
proper that the simple man should enjoy the bread; for his two com-
panions scorned him and would have wronged him, but he avenged
himself, —
ouch ist ez war
daz dik diu trugenheit zergat
so wol diu rechtekeit gestat.1
Boner says he drew from the Latin; and his source would therefore
probably have been the "Disciplina Clericalis." The "du macht wol
toben," however, suggests Bozon's "es tu aragez?" — for which there
is no corresponding expression in Petrus.
Probably at about the same period was written the version of our
tale in the "Gesta Romanorum," cap. 106.
Three men on a pilgrimage agree, at the suggestion of one of them, to
assign their only loaf to him who shall have the most remarkable dream.
While the others are asleep, the one who had proposed the idea gets up,
eats the bread, — "nee unicam micam sociis suis dimisit," — and then calls
his companions. The one had seen a golden ladder descending from
heaven, on which angels were going and coming; and they took his soul
from his body, and he saw the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and the
ineffable joys of heaven. The other had dreamed that demons with fire
and iron instruments extracted his soul from his body and condemned him
to remain in hell. The third says: "Hear my dream. An angel came to
me and said, 'Beloved, wouldst thou see where thy companions are?'
1 Boner's version was printed by J. J. Bodmer und J. J. Breitinger, Fabeln aus den
Zeiten der Minnesinger (Zurich, 1757), — LXXIV, "Von kuindiger einvaltekeit," —
pp. 177-181, with a final couplet:
Sordibus imbuti nequeunt dimittere sordes
Fallere qui didicit fallere semper amat.
388 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
I replied, 'Yea, Lord, for we have a single loaf to divide amongst us, and
I fear they may have gone off with it.' — 'Not so,' said he, 'the bread is
near thee; but first follow me.' He took me to the gate of heaven, and at
his bidding I laid my head under the gate, and saw you seated on a golden
throne, with much food and the best of wines beside you. The angel said
to me: 'Lo, thy friend has abundance of every joy and of food, and there
he will remain eternally, since he cannot depart from the celestial realms.
Now, come with me, and I will show thee thine other companion.' He led
me to the gate of hell, and there I saw thee — as thou hast said — in severest
torments, but with bread and wine in great plenty. Then I said to thee,
'Beloved companion, it pains me to behold thee in these torments.' And
thou answeredst me, 'Here I shall remain, because I have deserved it;
but rise quickly and eat the loaf, for thou wilt never see me or our companion
again.' And — as thou hast said — I went out and ate the loaf."
The compiler of the "Gesta" illustrated by this tale the truth,
"Quod est vigilandum contra fraudes diaboli, ne nos decipiat;" but
the modern Christian is a little astonished at the manner and method
of application. The three companions stand for three kinds of men,
— the first for Jews and Saracens; the second, for the rich and mighty
of this world; the third, for the perfect men who fear God. The loaf
is the heavenly kingdom. The Jews and Saracens sleep in their sins,
and expect to reach heaven through the Mosaic law and the promise
of Mahomet. But their hope is a dream. The rich and mighty,
heedless of all warning, accumulate sins, and at death will go down to
eternal punishment. The Christian, however, who does not slumber
in sin and unbelief, but is wakeful in good works, he shall have the
loaf that is the heavenly kingdom. But we must watch out for the
wiles of the devil, lest he take us in.1
The "Gesta Romanorum" was translated into many languages,
including Polish and Russian, and enjoyed a wide popularity.2 Our
tale appears, for example, as chapter 49 in "Der Romer Tat:" "Von
dreien gesellen vnd von einem prot." 3 It is not in any of the
English translations of the "Gesta."
M. Paul Meyer has suggested with much reason that this version
was based, not on the "Disciplina Clericalis," but on Bozon. "II
semble que l'auteur des Gesta Romanorum, tout en amplifiant selon
1 Gesta Romanorum (ed. H. Oesterley, Berlin, 1872), pp. 436-438. On pp. 728-729
Oesterley gives a long list of references to other versions of the story. The Gesta Roma-
norum is edited by Wilhelm Dick, from an Innsbruck MS. of the year 1342, in Erlanger
BeitragezurenglischenPhilologie, VII (1900), " Traumbrot," pp. 160 etseq. A translation
of the Gesta Romanorum version was published by Carl Simrock (Deutsche Marchen
[Stuttgart, 1864], No. 42, "Die drei Traume").
2 Compare Ward-Herbert, 3 : 183 et seq.
3 Ed. A. Keller, Quedlinburg u. Leipzig, 1841, pp. 73-75. A slightly condensed
version, from a fourteenth-century manuscript, and without the moralization, is printed
in Fabeln aus den Zeiten der Minnesinger, pp. 244 et seq. In the Violier des histoires
romaines (ed. Brunet, Paris, 1858) the story is in chapter XCV, p. 246.
The Three Dreams. 389
son usage, ait suivit Bozon plutot que Pierre Alphonse. Les details
omis par Bozon manquent dans les Gesta, et ce que les Gesta ajoutent
au recit de Bozon ne vient pas de Pierre Alphonse et peut etre considere
comme pure amplification. II y a aussi dans les Gesta un mot qui,
sauf le cas d'une coincidence fortuite, parait bien deceler l'imitation.
L'un des compagnons, dit l'auteur des Gesta, se leve et mange tout le
pain: 'Nee unicam micam sociis suis dimisit.' De meme Bozon:
'Si s'en va al tortel et le mangea chascun mie.' II y a dans la Disci-
plina: 'At rusticus, perspecta eorum astutia, dormientibus sociis
traxit panem semicoctum, comedit et iterum jacuit.'" 1
John Bromyard, sometime a chancellor of Cambridge University,
gives the story a different turn in his "Summa Praedicantium,"
written probably near the middle of the fourteenth century. Certain
executors, he says, argued that if the defunct was in heaven he would
have no need of his wealth, if he was in hell it would be of no use to
him, and if he was in purgatory he would finally get through without
it; so they divided it among themselves. "De quibus[dam] dicitur,
quod inter ea convenerunt, quod dormirent, & qui pulchrius somniaret,
panem totum comederet, uno ergo somniante, quod esset in ccelo, &
alio, quod esset in inferno. Tertius interim panem comedit. Et illi,
qui dormierunt somn[i]um suum, nihil inuenerunt. (Psal. 75) Sic
isti dicentes eum esse in ccelo, uel in inferno, bona interim deuorant." 2
There is nothing to indicate whence Bromyard took this story, but
the almost casual way in which he uses it suggests that he was telling
it from memory.
The version in the " Seelentrost " is brief: —
Once there were three companions who had only one loaf of bread. Two
of them planned to trick the third out of his share; but he overheard them
rehearse their "dreams," — "Ich wil sagen, mich doicht des, dat ich bi
unse here gode sei'sse, und du salt sagen, dat dich doicht, dat du bi unser
lever frauwen seisses," — and secretly ate the bread. The two repeated
their dreams; the third said he saw them sitting there, and, since they would
not need the loaf, he ate it; "und alsus bewisten sich de loegenhaftliche
drome." 3
The express statement that two of them put their heads together
with the intention of deceiving the other suggests that the author
drew directly from the "Disciplina Clericalis" (or perhaps from
1 P. Meyer, op. cit., p. 293.
2 Summa Praedicantium E, 8, 14, ed. Venice, 1586.
8 Franz Pfeiffer, Beitrage zur Kenntnis der Kolnischen Mundart, in Frommann's Die
deutschen Mundarten, 2: 11-12 (No. 82). The "Seelentrost" exists in a Low-German
manuscript of 1407; it was first printed in 1474 (Paul's Grundriss, 2 (part 1) : 350; here,
however, the reference to " Zeitschrift fur deut. Mundarten " is an error). In the Sjalens
Trost (ed. G. E. Klemming, Stockholm, 1871-73), pp. 477-478, "De otrogne reskamra-
terne," the moral is omitted.
390 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Boner), since this motive does not appear in the other versions. But
the changes, particularly the substitution of dining with Jesus and
the Virgin for the journeys to heaven and hell, and the simplicity of
the other details, would seem to indicate that the author had the tale
from oral tradition.
At the very beginning of the fifteenth century our story intruded
itself into /Esopic literature; for the so-called " Magdeburger ^Esop,"
in Middle Low German rhymed couplets, frequently attributed to
Gerhard von Minden, contains a version entitled "Van twen gesellen
unde hfismanne." *
Two companions were on a pilgrimage, and a peasant was with them.
When they had only enough meal left to make one loaf of bread or cake,
the two plotted how to cheat the peasant of his share, although he had
always been a good companion. He agreed to their plan of giving the
whole loaf to the one who had the best dream, but suspected they were
trying to deceive him; so he ate the bread in the night. The denouement
is as in Petrus. The two cursed the peasant for a slindig man, and con-
fessed that his cunning was too much for them.
The poet concluded (rather euphuistically), —
"Untruwe nu nicht gudes en reit,
de truwe der untruwe wedersteit,
de truwe nu vorderven en leit.
Den untruwen man untruwe sleit
jo mit valle ores heren.
Al de sik an untruwe keren
unde untruwe ore kinder leren,
de moten to lest der ere enberen."
The resemblances between this version and "those of Boner and the
"Gesta Romanorum" (the most likely sources) are not sufficient to
make it probable that the author followed either of them. He may
have used the "Disciplina" directly, but there is no external evidence.
No. XXVII of "El Libro de los Enxemplos," compiled by Climente
Sanchez in the early part of the fifteenth century, is almost a literal
translation from the "Disciplina." Here the moral is, as usual:
"E ansi acaescio que aquellos que quisieron enganar a su companero
por su sotilleza fueron enganados." 2
The story is in at least one manuscript included among the exempla
of Jacques de Vitry,3 but it is not in the usual canon. Nor does it
1 W. Seelman, Gerhard von Minden, No. XCI, pp. 134-136 (Niederdeutsche Denk-
maler, II, Bremen, 1878).
2 Gayangos, Bibl. de Autores Espafioles (Madrid, i860), 51 : 453-454. Morel-Fatio
("Romania," 7: 481-526) supposes the Libro to be a translation of a Latin Alphabetum
Exemplorum. Compare T. F. Crane, Exempla of Jacques de Vitry (London, 1890),
pp. ciii-civ.
* P. Meyer, op. cit., p. 293, note 1.
The Three Dreams. 391
appear in the "Alphabetum Narrationum" of Etienne de Besancon,
though both the English and the Catalan fifteenth-century transla-
tions of this work contain it,1 both drawing directly, as it seems, on
Petrus, and not one from the other. The Catalan version bears the
rubric "Eximpli de los ciutadans qui volien enganar un aldea, e
laldea engana los ciutadans, segons que recompte Pere Alfons," and
illustrates the maxim "Deceptor aliquando decipitur quibus decipere
volebat." 2 The English version begins, "Petrus Alphonsus tellis
how" . . . and ends with the quotation, '"Fallere fallentem non est
fraus,' etc." 3 The story must have been added to the "Alphabetum
Narrationum" from the "Disciplina" some time between ca. 1300,
when the compilation was made, and the date of these translations.
About the year 1480, through Heinrich Steinhowel our tale renewed
its /Esopic connections, but apparently in complete independence of
the " Magdeburger yEsop." 4 Steinhowel's Latin version has almost
no verbal similarity to the "Disciplina Clericalis," except one strik-
ing passage where the two are nearly identical, but in the details
of the narrative they agree fully.5 Steinhowel prefixes his moral:
"Sepe cadit homo in foveam, quam fecit alteri." In his German
translation, which he made "nit wort vss wort, sunder sin vss sin,"
the story is entitled "Von dryen gesellen, ainem puren und zweyen
burgern." It begins with the same argument, and ends, "Also
schluog untriiwe ieren aignen herren." About 1483 Jules Machault,
a monk at Lyons, translated Steinhowel into French; and in 1484
Caxton translated Machault's /Esop into English. About 1485 a
Dutch translation of Machault was made. In the same year appeared
an " Italian version of Steinhowel by one Tuppo," says Joseph Jacobs,6
but Oesterley implies that the Italian ^Esops of Del Tuppo and Zucchi
were independent of Steinhowel; and in Cesare De Lollis's intro-
duction to "L'Esopo di Francesco del Tuppo" 7 there is no mention
of Steinhowel's work. Hain mentions a Bohemian translation (Prague,
■ l Compare Crane, op. cit., pp. Ixxii, cv, et seq.
2 Recull de eximplis e miracles, etc. [Barcelona, 1880], 1 : 185-186 (No. CCI).
3 Alphabet of Tales (ed. M. M. Banks [E. E. T. S.], London, 1904). PP- 166-167, No.
CCXXXVIII. This story is apparently not in MS. Harley 268 (second half of the
fourteenth century), which contains 792 exempla. On Etienne cf. Crane, op. cit., pp.
lxxi-lxxii and notes. Herbert (Catalogue, 3 : 423 et seq.) thinks that the Alphabetum
Narrationum was by Arnoldus, and was written ca. 1308. Etienne died 1294.
* Steinhowels Asop (ed. by H. Oesterley [Litt. Verein in Stuttgart], Tubingen, 1873),
pp. 311 et seq. Compare Hermann Knust, Steinhowels ^Esop, in Zs. f. deut. Philologie,
19 : 197 et seq.
6 Petrus reads: "Rusticus vero callide et sicut territus esset respondit: Qui sunt qui
me vocant? At illi: Socii sumus. Quibus rusticus" . . . Steinhowel: "Rusticus vero
callide, quasi perterritus, respondit: Qui sunt hii, qui me vocant? et illi, socii tui sumus,
rusticus ait" . . .
6 Fables of ^Esop (London, 1889), 1 : 186.
7 Alia Libreria Dante in Firenze, Num. 13, 1886.
392 Journal of American Folk-Lore .
1487). In 1496 Steinhowel was translated into Spanish. Whether
the story of the "Three Dreams" is in the Dutch, Italian, and
Bohemian versions, I have been unable to ascertain. It must have
been in Machault, since it appears in Caxton under the "Fables of
Alfonce." "The V fable is of the feythe of the thre felawes. Ofte
it happeth that the euyll which is procured to other cometh to hym
which procureth it: as it apperyth by the felawes" x . . . Goedeke
refers to this tale in the Spanish "Ysopo" of Madrid, 1644, fol. 162,
which cannot be other than the early Spanish translation of Stein-
howel.2
Hans Sachs tells the story for Jan. 7, 1530, and says it is —
"ein guette abentewr,
Die ist zwar erst geschehen hewr
Dort in dem oberlande."
Two burghers and a peasant are on a pilgrimage to Mecca. They have
one evening a single ayerkuchen, and the two burghers plan to cheat the
peasant (who fras almal vil) of his share by the dream device. While he
is asleep, as they suppose, they rehearse their "dreams;" in the morning
he feigns surprise at finding them still there, and explains why he ate the
cake.
Also geschicht noch den listigen knaben,
Die eim ein grueben graben,
Und fallen self darein.
Untrew wird zaler sein.3
The editors note several parallels, but overlook Steinhowel. It
was suggested by A. L. Stiefel 4 that Sachs's source was not the
"Gesta Romanorum" (as Goetze and Drescher said), but Steinhowel,
since this tale is not in the German "Gesta." Stiefel was wrong in
the latter statement; but it is clear that Sachs could not have used
the "Gesta," because he says the travellers were on their way to
Mecca, whereas Mecca is not mentioned in the "Gesta Romanorum"
version. The parallels that Stiefel points out between Steinhowel
and Sachs are quite convincing, however; the only important change
made by Sachs is the substitution of the Eierkuchen for the unbaked
loaf. The argument is clinched by the fact (overlooked by Stiefel)
that Hans Sachs copied Steinhowel's moral: "Offt beschicht, das
ainer selber in ain gruoben felt, die er ainem andern hat gemachet."
1 Ed. J. Jacobs, 2 : 266 el seq.
2 K. Goedeke, Parallelen II, in Orient und Occident, 3 (1864) : 191-192. Oesterley
(Gesta Romanorum, pp. 728-729) cites simply, "Ysopo, coll. 5, bl. 152."
3 Goetze und Drescher, Samtliche Fabeln und Schwiinke von Hans Sachs (Neudrucke
deut. Litt. werke des XVI. u. XVII. Jhds., Nos. 164-169), 3 (1900) : 54-56 (No. 17, "Der
ayerkuchen").
4 "Neue Beitrage zur Quellenkunde Hans Sachsischer Fabeln und Schwanke," in
Koch's Studien z. vergl. Lit. gesch., 8 (1908) : 278.
The Three Dreams. 393
The transition from the mediaeval versions of our story to the
Renaissance adaptations is completed by Joachim Camerarius. His
title is "Somniatores." 1
Three travellers, crossing a barren and desert country, run short of food,
and two of them scheme to defraud the third of his share. They make
the familiar covenant; and the one who was supposed to be rather stupid
gets up while the others are asleep and eats the whole stock of food — there
is no mention of bread in particular. Then the others relate their dreams.
"I thought I was snatched by a great power like a storm," says the first,
"and I sat before the throne of Jove." — "I was borne by a similar force
like a whirlwind down to the jaws of the earth," says the other, "and I
stood in the realm of Dis."
The denouement is the same as in Petrus; but besides Paganizing
the dreams, — perhaps, as Schmidt suggests, to avoid giving offence
with the two visions of heaven and hell, but rather, I think, because
the airing of classical information was then in vogue, — Camerarius
expresses the moral in the words of Lucretius: —
"Circumretit enim vis atque iniuria quemque
Atque unde exorta est, ad eum plerumque revertit." 2
A version from the early sixteenth century — "Van drie ghesellen
met eender Koecke" — is mentioned by J. W. Muller in "Een en
ander over de Veelderhande Heneuchlijcke Dichten, Tafelspelen ende
Refereynen." 3
From all points of view, I think, the crown and summit of the story
of the "Three Dreams" is the version by Giraldi Cintio, in his
"Ecatommiti," the third tale of the first decade.4 Giraldi has re-
worked the material completely, and has arrived at a different moral
from that of the other adaptations, but the outline and framework
remain essentially the same. For realistic effect he chose as a back-
ground the famine at Rome in 1527, which would still be a distinct
memory in the minds of his older readers.
To the other miseries of our city which we have left behind [says the
speaker] was added that of famine: it was impossible to obtain food any-
where. In a certain house, however, three men — a philosopher, an
1 Fabulae ^Esopicae, plures quingentis et aliae quaedam narrationes . . . compositae
studio et diligentia Ioachimi Camerarii (London, 1571). No. 259:284-285. Same in
Fabulae /Esopi (Niirnberg, 1546), No. 260 : 194-196; and Argentorati (1557), No. 260.
Goedeke cites the edition of 1564 (p. 212), and gives Steinhowel as the source. Schmidt,
in his edition of Petrus (p. 144), quotes Camerarius from Lange, Democritus ridens (Ulm,
1689), p. 107 (which Oesterley gives as a separate reference), and says Petrus is the source.
2 De rerum naturae, 5 : 1150-1151. Compare Hesiod, Works and Days, 264-265.
3 Tijdschrift voor nederlandsche Taal- en Letterkunde, 18 (1899) : 207-208.
4 Gli Ecatommiti ovvero Cento Novelle di Gio. Battista Giraldi Cintio (Firenze,
1833), in Raccolta di Novellieri Italiani, Parte Seconda, pp. 1825-1828. The Ecatommiti
was first printed in 1565.
.394 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
astrologer, and a soldier — found enough flour to make one little cake.
Since they were all very hungry, and the cake would not be enough for all
three, they decided it was better for one of them to have it alone; but,
after they had agreed upon this, they still disputed who should be the for-
tunate one. The philosopher said the cake should be given to him, because,
inasmuch as he knew all nature, his was the noblest of the arts. But the
astrologer replied that, if nobleness consisted in knowledge, the cake
ought to be his, because, while the philosopher was acquainted with every-
thing beneath the moon, by nature mutable, his own knowledge transcended
the heavens and included eternity. Then the soldier, not wishing to be
outdone, maintained that without the protection of the sword against evil
persons the arts could not exist, and therefore he ought to have the cake, —
quanto il conservare avanza tutto quello, che senza il conservare se ne} andrebbe
in nulla.
At this pass, since there was no prospect of settling the contest, the soldier,
who had a keen mind, proposed that they should put the cake in the fire to
bake, and, since it was late, they should retire; and the cake should go
to him whom Heaven granted the most beautiful dream. The other two
smiled at this idea, convinced they could invent a finer dream than his.
In the morning the philosopher said he dreamed he saw the Master of
Nature reduce the chaos of uncreated things to perfect order, giving each
its place and quality, uniting amicably the four hostile bodies, i.e., fire, air,
water, and earth; endowing his creations with life and motion and intel-
ligence according to their degree, from the lowest form of nature to man,
who was granted the power to act with the light of reason only a little less
than divine. When the soldier heard this and all the other marvels the
philosopher related, he said, "Your dream is certainly a splendid one; it
seems that while you slept, Nature herself appeared to you and revealed all
her secrets." The astrologer said he thought his dream was superior to
that, as the things of heaven, which are eternal and immutable, are grander
and nobler than the things of earth, which are by nature corruptible.
He dreamed that he ascended from earth through the spheres of water, of
air, and of fire, to the circle of the moon, and on to the heaven of Mercury,
of Venus, and at length to the sphere of the Sun, heart of heaven; that on
the way he passed the twelve great signs, the seats of Mars, Jupiter, Saturn,
and finally rose into the all-embracing primum mobile, where the mysteries
of the universe were revealed, — the intermovements of sun, moon, stars,
and spheres, the altitude of heaven, the vanity of human endeavor, and
many other marvellous matters.
When the astronomer was silent, the soldier, who had frequently smiled
to himself while listening to these fictions, said he was ill-fitted to contend
with such masters of wisdom as his two friends, and ought to yield them the
prize at once; but, inasmuch as they had made the covenant, he would
narrate his dream, — how this land was so beset with enemies that he was
obliged to fight, and how, when he was returning home victorious and
joyful, a tearful dishevelled maiden appeared before him, beseeching him
to protect her against a lover, who, because she would not yield to him,
had falsely accused her before the magistrate, and saying she was con-
demned to die unless some knight would defend her; how he fought, and
after a great struggle overcame, the false accuser; how he was himself
The Three Dreams. 395
wrongly accused because he had undertaken the defence of the maiden; and
how, wearied and distraught, he went to the little cake, and, to keep up
his strength, ate it. "Such was my dream," said the soldier, "which I
relate not so much to compare with yours as to show that I am the loser.
And now I leave you to decide which of you shall enjoy the cake."
But the philosopher and the astronomer, though they argued at great
length, could come to no agreement, and finally said they would divide it
equally between them. They went, accordingly, to the hearth, and found
the ashes undisturbed. One of them took a stick and poked in the ashes,
and, not discovering the cake, called out to the other that it was not there.
Then they summoned the soldier, and accused him of having eaten it.
"It would not be strange," said he, "if, while you were giving free rein to
fancy, wherein there is no eating and drinking, I, remaining on the earth,
had devoted my attention to terrestrial matters; and while your subtle
imaginings led you to the enjoyment of spiritual viands, I had given myself
the pleasure of such food as the body needs; and since you have appeased
the hunger of your minds at this rich board, so I have had from these ashes
such solid and material food as is fitting for my hunger."
The two saw that they had been mocked, and that without the knowledge
of books he had in this case been wiser than they. But because he was
armed and was strengthened by the food he had taken, and they were weak
with hunger, they could only vent their anger on him, and recognize that
in this world one must turn one's mind to practical matters. For they
who give themselves over to contemplation alone may be called wise, but
never prudent.
Giraldi's style is awkward and heavy, but it is evident from this
rough summary that he possessed considerable narrative skill. The
vision of the philosopher and the wonder-journey of the astrologer
are well conceived, even if not well executed; and the humor of the
soldier's story, in the manner of the late decadent and extravagant
romances, with its anticlimactic conclusion, is cleverly managed.
The way in which the soldier comments on the first two dreams is
suggestive of the Jew in the Persian-Arabic version; but we cannot
suppose that Giraldi knew any other than the familiar version of
the tale as Petrus told it. This method of attaining a little veri-
similitude, as well as the idea of giving the third member of the com-
pany a separate narrative, must be set down to the credit of Giraldi.
For the most part, the whole story exists for its unexpected turn at
the end. Giraldi has made of the philosopher and the astrologer
two fairly good types, and the soldier is almost an individual character.
After this single excursion into the higher circles of narrative
fiction, "The Three Dreams" descended to the category of the brief
anecdote whose chief use was
To point a moral and adorn a tale.
It was included in the "Facetie de Barlacchia," which was many
vol. xxx. — no. 117. — 26
396 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
times reprinted under various titles from about 1580 onwards: "& il
Barlacchia disse molte picevolezze, & intra l'altre a certo proposito
questa nouelletta. Che furono tre uiandanti, quali facendo un lungo,
e pericoloso viaggio, si trouarono in grandissime boscoglie, perche
haueuano consumate tutte le cose da mangiare portate con loro,
eccetto un pane solo, erano in gran pensiero della loro uita" . . .
The party sit down on the grass beside a fountain, and a little later
the two who looked upon their companion as a simpleton are astonished
at his cleverness, and admit they have been taken in; "e per quel
giorno, se uollano mangiare, furono costretti procacciarsi dell' herba." l
LeGrand d'Aussy cites the same tale in "Faceties et mots subtilsen
francois et en italien," fol. 24. Gabriel Chappuys practically trans-
lated the Barlacchia version in his " Les Facetieuses Journees, contenans
cent certaines & agreables Nouuelles: la plus part aduenues de nostre
temps, les autres receuilles & choisis de tous les plus excellents autheurs
estrangers qui en ont escrit" (Paris, 1584), Journee V, nouuelle vii
(fol. I5ia-I52b).
Carlo Casalicchio relates the usual story in the sixth chapter of the
fifth decade of the second century of his "Utile col Dolce," first
printed in 1671 and many times reprinted. The only variation of
interest is that the hero is not a rustic, but a city man.2
Count d'Ouville, about 1640, adapted the story to the tradition of
Gascon wit and astuteness, and incidentally brought it back to one of
its early forms before Petrus introduced it into Europe. Or perhaps
d'Ouville simply wrote down a version that was already current
among the people.
A Spaniard and a Gascon met at a French inn. The hostess had only a
piece of mutton and a partridge, and both guests wanted the partridge.
To prevent their quarrelling, the hostess persuaded them to try the mutton
and a salad, and to award the partridge next morning to whichever had
had the finer dream. While the Spaniard passed the night in excogitation,
the Gascon arose and ate the1 partridge. The next day the Spaniard told
how he had dreamed the heavens opened and angels bore him aloft with
splendid music. The Gascon replied, "Cap de bious ie vous ay bien veu
aller en Paradis, i'ay creu que vous n'en reuiendriez point. Ce qui fait
que i'ay mange la perdrix." 3
The same version is told in slightly different language in " Nouveaux
contes a. rireetaventuresplaisantes dece terns, ou recreations francoises"
(Nouvelle edition, augmentee & corrigee, Cologne, 1709), "Un Espag-
nol & un Gascon en dispute pour une Perdrix." 4
1 Scelte di Facetie, Motti, Burle, e Buffonerie Del Piouano Arlotto & altri Autori.
Di nuouo racconcie, e messe insieme. Venetia, 1599. Facetie de Barlacchia, fol. 59a-6ob.
2 G. Marchesi, Per la storia della novella italiana nel secolo 17 (Roma, 1897), p. 182.
3 Les Contes aux Heures Perdues du Sieur D'Ouville (Paris, 1655), 1 : 365. On
d'Ouville cf. Ristelhuber, Elite des Contes du Sieur d'Ouville (Paris, 1876), Introduction.
4 P. 312. Oesterley, referring probably to an earlier edition, gives the page as 273.
The Three Dreams. 397
Toward the end of the eighteenth century Barthelemi Imbert
honored the more usual version with a rendering in irregular metre,
entitled "Les deux bourgeois et le villain." l Since he follows the
" Disciplina" story in the main outline, and since he has used the same
title, he presumably drew from the Old French translation printed by
Labouderie or from the modern version by LeGrand D'Aussy. He
modernized the details, however, and in having the first bourgeois
taken to hell by two angels, and the second to paradise by two
cherubim, he departed from his source. The last stanza will illustrate
Imbert's manner.
Le Villageois les entend a merveille;
Mais il feint de dormir. Les deux amis s'en vont
Droit a son lit; on le reveille;
Et lui, comme sortant d'un sommeil tres profond,
D'un air tout effraye: — Qui m'appelle? quoi? qu'est-ce?
— Votre reve? allons, le terns presse.
— Oh! j'en ai fait un singulier,
Repond le villageois; et j'ose parier
Qu'a. coup siir vous en allez rire.
Lorsque je vous ai vus, par des chemins divers,
Transports, l'un au ciel, l'autre dans les enfers,
J'ai songe qu'a jamais ange, diable ou diablesse
Vous retiendroient: dans ce malheur nouveau
Je me suis leve vite, et malgre ma tristesse,
Tout bonnement j'ai mange le gateau.
And finally, in the nineteenth century, with the title "Der ange-
nehmste Traum," our story was taken into the Nasreddin tradition
by a German poet writing under the name of Murad Efendi.2
Einmal, 's war auf einer Reise,
Traf der Chodja zwei Genossen,
Einen Popen, einen Rabbi,
Die zur Fahrt sich an ihn schlossen.
Langs des Wegs bemerkt der Chodja
Einer Miinze Glanz im Grase,
Winkt dem Popen, doch der Rabbi
Hatte d'riiber schon die Nase,
Seine Hand darauf der Pope.
1 Barthelemi Imbert, Choix de Fabliaux, mis en vers (Geneve et Paris, 1788) 1 : 290.
2 Nassreddin Chodja, Ein osmanischer Eulenspiegel, von Murad Efendi, 2d ed.,
Oldenburg (preface dated Konstantinopel, 1877), pp. 82-85 (No. 23). For a transcript
of this version I am indebted to Professor Taylor, who used a copy very courteously lent
him from the John G. White Collection of the Cleveland Public Library. On Nasreddin
see the excellent edition by A. Wesselski, Weimar, 191 1 (reviewed in Narodpisny Vest-
nik Ceskoslovenskoy, 7-8, Aug.-Sept. 1912; and by R. Basset in Revue des Traditions
Populpires, 27 [1912] : 540). The collection of Murad Efendi was mentioned by R.
Kohler, Klein. Schriften, 1 : 481 et seq.
398 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
The Chodja Nasreddin put an end to the lively dispute of the priest and
the rabbi by suggesting that they buy a " honey-cake" with the money at the
next inn. But when they came to divide the cake, another quarrel arose.
Hei! War das ein Schelten, Fluchen
Des Beschnitt'nen und GetauftenI
Wenn in einer Mordspelunke
Trunkene Matrosen rauften,
War's nicht toller; ja, schon streiften
Ihre Barte an's Zerzausen.
Again Nasreddin quieted the contestants by proposing to decide the
ownership by the dream test. The two then soon fell asleep, but
Nur dem Chodja fiel kein Mohnkern
Auf das Bett von griinen Blattern,
Nein, er nickt erst ein nachdem er
Einiges vorher vollbrachte.
The rabbi dreamed that Abraham led him to a great hall where all the
treasures of the world were spread out, and invited him to take whatever
he wished. The priest dreamed he was in heaven among the Elect, and
saw also the torments of the damned. Nasreddin stroked his beard, and
a satisfied smile played about his lips; —
Und er lasst sich also horen :
"Mir auch naht im Traume endlich
Unser — doch ihr seid ja Giaurs — ;
Nun, der sagte mir verstandlich:
Jener Jude schwelgt in Schatzen,
Wird des Naschwerks nicht bediirfen,
Und in seinem Himmel seh' ich
Himmelsthau den Pfaffen schliirfen,
Darura, Nassreddin — ich rath es — ,
Iss den Kuchen! — Nun, ich that es."
This lively version strongly suggests the story of the Moslem,
the Jew, and the Christian, related above. It is chiefly in narrative
technic that the two differ. The three persons are the same, and
finding of the coin and the purchase of the honey-cake (halwa) are
identical. The protagonist, however, is not the Jew, but Nasreddin,
the Mohammedan, and therefore the "dreams" are re-adjusted to
suit the change of emphasis. Whether Murad Efendi's source was
the Persian "Mesnewi" or the Arabic "Nozhat el Odaba," I do not
know. It is more likely that the story circulates orally among the
Mohammedans, perhaps associated with Nasreddin; or it may be
that Murad Efendi was the first to adapt it to the tradition of the
famous humorist.
The story of the "Three Dreams" is found also in "Almanach
pittoresque" (1848, pp. 186-188; 1876, pp. 232-236) and in Charles
Simond, "Les vieux fabliaux francais" (No. 104 of Nouvelle bib.
pop. a 10 c, 1888), pp. 29-30; and in "Marmite," 1894, No. 20
The Three Dreams. 399
(Chauvin). Bolte, in J. W. Muller's article mentioned above, gives
references to "[Der Kurzweilige] Polyhistor" (1719, p. 32) and to
" Vademecum fur lustige Leute" (1767, 1 : No. 60). Further, Oesterley
cites "Nugae Doctae" [Gaudentii Jocosi], 146. I regret that these
works have been inaccessible to me. Oesterley 's reference to Vincent
of Beauvais, "Speculum Morale," 1,1, 26, is an error.
Thus the little story which Petrus Alphonsi eight hundred years
ago brought from Africa to Spain, and in uncouth Latin started on its
way through the languages of Europe, has had a continuous literary
career in one form or another practically down to the present. It has
been turned and turned about for many divers purposes, — to point
a Christian moral and to make a witty, somewhat sacrilegious jest;1
to illustrate a practical maxim, and to spin an interesting yarn.
In the middle ages it was included among the exemplary anecdotes
which preachers used to drive home a pious lesson, and from thence
it passed into the jest-books and repertories of professional wits. But
all the while it was being copied and reshaped in manuscripts and
printed books, it was also circulating orally. Sometimes, indeed,
when we find it written down, we cannot be certain whether the author
has conveyed it from a book he was just reading, or has committed it to
writing as nearly as he can remember the way he heard it told the
evening before. A holy friar from the provinces, say, comes up to
Paris to listen to the famous scholars at the University, or to see the
Passion performed; and in the course of a sermon on covetousness
one morning he hears the little anecdote of the two travellers who tried
to cheat their companion, but were themselves outwitted. Months
later, when he has occasion to preach on deceitfulness, he recalls
the story, and adapts it as well as he can. So Bromyard applies it to
the greedy heirs, and Steinhowel uses it to show how a man often
falls into the pit he has digged. The literary and oral propagation
of course went on at one and the same time; and for every written
instance we have of it, we may be sure there were a dozen or a score
of oral repetitions.
Naturally the evidence that can be produced of its popularity
among the folk is comparatively recent. It is probable that many of
the tales from the "Disciplina Clericalis" passed almost at once to the
unlettered, and circulated freely among them; but of course we
cannot prove such a thing by documents. We have, however, indirect
evidence of the wide and early popularity of this particular story in
the fact that it has turned up recently in Italy and Sicily, in England
and the United States, and among the Slavs of southeastern Europe.
Doubtless also it may be heard in other lands, but the instances and
versions are unrecorded.
1 See " Note " at the end of this article, p. 409.
400 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
To the indefatigable Pitre we owe the following version, called
"Lu monacu e lu fratellu," taken down at Palermo.1
Once there was a monk who went with a friar to a town in the country
to conduct the Easter services. One of the citizens brought him a large
fish, which he gave to Giovanni, the friar, to cook. Nothing more was said
about it until the following night, when the friar, suspecting the monk
was planning to eat it by himself, said, "What shall we do with the fish?
It is getting rotten." — " What do you want to do with it? we have enough
for to-night." — "Enough, father! ca io sugnu cu la panza a lanterna!" —
"But I was thinking" . . . — "Thinking what?" — "Thinking that one
of us, either you or I, ought to eat the whole fish." — " WThy so, father?"
— "Because I wish it so. Now, the one who has the best dream to-night
shall have the fish all to himself." Giovanni, who was as sly a fellow as
the monk, agreed to this plan; but in the night he rose, ate the fish , up
clean, and washed it down with a bottle of wine. Next morning the monk
wakened him and asked what he had dreamt. He insisted, however, on
hearing the monk's dream first. "I dreamed," said the monk, "that the
Lord called me to the glory of Paradise. The angels, archangels, seraphim,
and all the saints came singing most beautiful songs. The angels took me
by the hand and raised me from my bed. I seemed to die with joy. I
flew on and on, just as if I had wings. . . . And I awoke and found myself
in my bed! — Now tell me your dream." — "I, father, when I saw your
Reverence ascending to Paradise with the angels, archangels, seraphim, and
all the saints, I called and called to you, but your Reverence never heard
me. What could I do? I went and ate the fish." When the monk heard
this, he looked, and, lo, the fish was gone! "Ah! did, Fra minnilni, me la
facistivid Io mi cridia cchiil scartu di vui, e vni mi cantastivu monacu! Haju
'mparatu a costi mei!"
In another volume Pitre prints a version called "I tre amici,"
which he had from Dr. Ludovico Paganelli, and which was taken
down in Castrocaro.2
Three friends arrive at a little inn, and after a light supper go to bed,
telling the host they want a breakfast before they start in the morning.
"Impossible," says the host; for he has only one-quarter of a turkey, a
little bread, and the wine they see in the bottle, — not more than a glassful.
The friends decide that since there is not enough for all of them, the one
who has that night the most beautiful dream, or the ugliest, can have the
food. They make the host witness and judge of their wager. At dawn
one of them awakes, and, feeling hungry, eats all he can find. A little
later the others rise: one had dreamed he went to heaven, the other that
he went to hell; the third, knowing that they would not return, had eaten
1 Giuseppe Pitre, Fiabe, novelle e racconti (Palermo, 1875), 3 : 296 et seq., No.
CLXXIII. Compare T. F. Crane, Italian Popular Tales (Boston, 1885), pp. 154 et seq.,
and 356. Pitre mentions (p. 299) "una lezione di Polizzi-Generose," with the title,
"Lu Pridicaturi," differing but little from this.
2 Fiabe, 4 : 405-407. Imbriani prints the same version in La novellaja fiorentina
(Livorno, 1877), pp. 616-617, No. L.
The Three Dreams. 401
the food. The host judges the first dream the most beautiful, the second
the most horrible, and the third the most logical, and condemns the first
two to pay all expenses. This they agree to do, and then set out on their
way, planning to satisfy their appetite at the next inn, — "come fecero."
A. Longo gives a version in which the three travellers are a Sicilian,
a Calabrian, and a Neapolitan,1 for, like the Gascon, the Sicilian
is proverbially cleverer than his neighbors.2
A Swiss version, "Der einfaltige Geselle," in the "Kinder- und
Hausmarchen" collected by Otto Sutermeister, follows closely Boner's
"Von drien Gesellen." 3
Three wandering companions agree to have everything in common, both
good and evil. "Zwei davon hatten's aber hinter den Ohren und hielten
zusammen heimlich, dass sie den Dritten, der ein einfaltiger Geselle war,
liber den Loffel balbierten." They lost their way in a desert country,
and decided to make a cake of their last bit of meal. The story develops
in the usual way, and the "simpleton" concludes pleasantly, "Nehmet
nichts fur ungut."
From northern Tyrol comes the following version : 4 —
Two travelling workmen met on the road, became good friends, and at
night, when they lay down in the hay to sleep, one of them, a Tyrolian,
proposed that whichever of them had the cleverer dream should eat the
whole of the excellent ham he had with him. The Tyrolian dreamed he was
borne to heaven in a golden wagon. But the other said, "i ho de sogar im
Troum geseahe, how you went to heaven in a golden wagon of golden cloud,
and were admitted by Petrus. So, ietz bhiiet Gott Kamerad! Im Himmel
bruchst koan Schingge meh, hon e mer denkt und ho mer di Schinggle guet
schmecke lo."
Our story appears also as a wholly irrelevant prelude to an Austrian
variant of the familiar compact with the Devil.5
Once two brothers wandering through a forest were joined by a third
youth; and all three made the agreement to travel together until they
should reach a town where they could all find work. They had little success
in this, however; so that finally their money was all gone, and they had
only one bit of bread left, too small to divide. The elder of the brothers,
Hanns, proposed that they give it to whichever should have the best dream
that night. Next morning Hanns said, "I dreamed I was in Paradise,
where I had all I wanted to eat and drink." The younger brother had a
1 Aneddoti Siciliani, No. LXVII, "II Siciliano, il Calabrese ed il Napolitano."
2 Pitre, Fiabe, 3 : 159, note 1.
3 Kinder- und Hausmarchen aus der Schweiz (2d ed., Aarau, 1873), pp. 34 et seq.
(No. 11). In a note, pp. 206-207, the editor recognizes Boner as the probable source.
4 Adolf Dorler, Marchen und Schwanke aus Nordtirol und Vorarlberg, in Zs. des
Vereins fur Volkskunde, 16 (1906) : 290 (No. 20, "Der beste Traum").
6 Theodor Vernaleken, Osterreichische Kinder- und Hausmarchen (Wien, 1864),
pp. 214 et seq. (No. 41, "Herr Kluck").
402 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
similar dream; he was in Heaven. Said the third, "Since I knew you were
in Paradise and you were in Heaven, I ate the bread, because I was very
hungry here in the forest." The two brothers were very angry; but soon
afterwards they fell in with some robbers, and their companion was killed.
The next day [continues the story] the two brothers came to a large castle,
and in the great hall was a table on which lay a paper with the words
"Herr Kluck." Hanns pronounced the name, and a mannikin appeared,
offering to fulfil all their desires. Through him they avenge themselves
on some peasants who had flogged them; the younger brother returns
home with a purse full of money; Hanns wins a king's daughter by perform-
ing three difficult feats, and builds himself a splendid palace. Then Herr
Kluck asks back the magic piece of paper, and all Hanns's good fortune
melts away. But by a ruse he obtains the paper again, and obliges the
Devil to promise never to disturb him.
In Hungary we can follow our story from a literary source to a folk-
tale. The ancient native Hungarian popular tales and legends have
now disappeared. The stories that we find current to-day among the
people date almost entirely from the middle ages, and many of them
are demonstrably of literary origin. About 1680 Johann Haller,
to while away the long hours of prison life, translated several Latin
works into Hungarian, and published them in 1695 with the title
"Harmas Historias" ("Tripartite History"). The second part of
this work consisted of a rather free rendering of the "Gesta Roma-
norum." The "Harmas Historias" is still a prime favorite among the
folk. Well-worn copies are jealously preserved as heirlooms. And
the story of the "Three Dreams" has thus passed from Haller's
translation of the "Gesta Romanorum" into a Magyar folk- tale.
A gipsy and his Hungarian godfather returning from an unsuccessful
fishing-trip are about to lie down to sleep in a wood, when they hear a
rustling among the bushes and catch a young pig. They make a fire and
roast their pig; but the Hungarian says: "If we divide this morsel, neither
of us will be satisfied: it would be worse than not eating at all. I think we
had better go to sleep, and whichever of us has the finer dream can have
the roast pig." The gipsy is content, for he thinks he can tell a story that
will surprise his companion, and he falls asleep. The Hungarian, however,
devours the pig without delay. In the morning the gipsy tells how he
dreamed he saw a ladder let down from heaven; angels were going up and
down, and they called him, until finally he went up with them and had
supper with the Lord Jesus. "I saw you," answers the Hungarian, "and
I thought you were so well off you would never come back. So I ate the
pig by myself." And in vain did the gipsy complain, and ask why he
hadn't left at least a bit of the ear.1
As in France and Italy it is the Gascon or the Sicilian who always
1 A. Schullerus, Introduction to Ungarisehe Volksmarchen ausgewahlt und iibersetzt
von Elisabeth Sklarek (Leipzig, 1901), pp. X et seq. Haller's translation was edited by
L. Katona, Budapest, 1900 (rev. Zs. des Vereins fur Volkskunde, 13 : 348).
The Three Dreams. 403
outwits his companions, so in England it is, of course, the Irishman.
Clouston says the story in which "the Irishman dreamt he was
hungry, and so got up and ate the loaf," is found in the Joe Miller
collections.1 The same tale was related to a friend of mine in London
not long ago by a man who would hardly have had it from a printed
source. Another friend related the usual version, but with three
Irishmen, to a man in Nebraska; and the man said he had heard it
"just the same, except that the third dreamed he ate the loaf." An-
other friend heard the following version in Maine from a New York
State man.
Three men went camping one summer in Maine, and after a few days they
discovered to their regret that there was only a half-pint of whiskey left.
"This certainly isn't enough for three of us," said one. "Let us put it
away, and the one who has the best dream to-night can have it all." In
the morning the first two men told of marvellous dreams they had had;
but the third said, "I dreamed I got up in my sleep, went down to the cup-
board, and drank that half-pint." His companions rushed to the cupboard,
and, sure enough, his dream had been a true one.
The usual story of the dreams, as well as its cousin, in which the
last bit of food goes to the one who makes the cleverest quotation,2
is known in Canada also. The fact that both these stories occur side
by side, as it were, among the French Canadians, leads one to suspect
that the source is some such collection of faceties as d'Ouville's,
rather than a general oral transmission of the mediaeval tale.
Three men and their cook were hunting in a forest; and at the end of
the day, during which they had eaten nothing, they found they had only
one partridge. "Let us keep it for breakfast," they said, "and he shall
have it who dreams the best dream." The next morning one of them says,
"I dreamed I was married to the most beautiful princess in the world." —
"Ah! that was a fine dream," say the others. "I dreamed of the Holy
Virgin," said another, "and that I saw her in all her beauty." — "I
dreamed," said the third, "that I was in heaven, where I saw God himself."
Then the cook added: "I too had a fine dream. I dreamed that I ate the
partridge; and I see that it has come true, for I cannot find it this
morning." 3
Recently a Rumanian Jew who has been in the United States only a
few years told the more familiar version of the story, with three Jews
for the characters. The first dreamed he was in Paradise; the second,
that he was living in the days of the Jewish Empire; the third, that
he ate the loaf of bread. The narrator said this tale was current in
Rumania, and was especially popular as a parable with the Jewish
1 Popular Tales, 2 : 86.
2 See " Note " at the end of this article, p. 409.
3 C.-M. Barbeau, "Contes Populaires Canadiens," in JAFL 29 (1916) : I34-I35«
404 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
nationalists. The first dreamer, they say, lived in the ideal past, the
second in the times of Jewish greatness, and the third devoted himself
to the flesh-pots of the present. Thus the old story receives a new
application. Petrus Alphonsi could hardly have supposed so much
practical wisdom was latent in one of his exempla.
That this story is well known among the Slavic peoples of Europe
to-day, we have abundant evidence; and there can be no doubt, I
think, that it reached them through translations of western European
literary versions. I can see no reason for assuming that this tale,
at least, came to them directly from the Orient. Not only could it
have been easily transmitted from the Magyars, who had it from the
"Harmas Hist6rias," to their eastern neighbors, but also more directly
by means of the Polish and Russian translations of the " Gesta Roma-
norum," or the Bohemian translation of Steinhowel.
A Russian version of the story as told by Petrus occurs in A. N.
Pupin's "O russkich narodnych skazkach," in "Otecestv. zapiski,"
CV, ii, p. 61. The corresponding tale in the Russian "Povesti izi>
Rimskich'b Dejanij," which does not vary in any important detail
from the Petrine original, may be found in Pupin's "Ocerk literaturnoj
istorii star. pov. i skazok russkich," p. 190. After the tale became a
possession of the Slavic folk, the number of persons was frequently
reduced to two, and, as is natural, the background of the story was
adapted to the national customs and local surroundings.1
Sumtsov (in " CoBpeMeH. Majiop. 3THorp.," 2 179) gives a Little
Russian version. In the " C6opHHK-b MaTepiajiOBTj ajih onHcamH
M-BCTHocTefi njieMeH-b KaBKa3a. " (16 [1893] : 293-295) ,2 there is an
interesting version entitled "Kto yMHbie?"
A gipsy and a Russian go travelling together on a long journey, but
take with them only a small quantity of food, — one loaf of bread, twenty
eggs, and one roast pig. At length only the pig remains; and the gipsy,
becoming more and more hungry, and all the while afraid the Russian will
eat it by himself, finally says, "Friend, let us go to sleep, and whichever of
us has the best dream shall eat the whole pig." The Russian agrees, and
they both lie down. The gipsy stays awake, however, trying to think up
a clever dream, but at last has an inspiration and falls asleep. The Russian
has been waiting for this; and as soon as he sees the gipsy sound asleep, he
gets up, eats the pig to the very bones, and lies down again. Soon after-
ward the gipsy wakes up, and calls to his friend, "Come, let's tell our
dreams!" — "I had a very poor dream," answers the Russian. "Mine
1 Gregor Krek, Einleitung in die slavische Literaturgeschichte (Graz, 1887), p. 780,
note 1. The works referred to by Krek and various others, relating to the Slavic versions
of the story, it has been impossible for me to obtain. G. Polivka, in a review of the
Ethnographical Publications of the Shevchenka Society (in Archiv fur slavische Philologie,
22 [1900] : 301), gives one or two other references which I have been unable to trace.
2 Cejio CnaccKoe, CraBponojibCKOft ry6epHin, HoBorpHropbeBCKaro yt3,na.
3aB-fe,ayK)maro CnaccKHM"b ymiJiHiueM-b, HnKo.iaH Pa6bix"b.
The Three Dreams. 405
was a splendid one," says the gipsy. "I dreamed I was walking from
mountain to mountain, from mountain to mountain, till I came to a very
high one, where I could hear the language of the angels. There was a
staircase which led up to heaven; and there I ascended and sat down with
the angels, who were having a feast. I ate and ate all I wanted, and I
still feel as if I wasn't hungry." — "I saw you eating there in heaven,"
says the Russian, "and I knew you would not want the pig, so I ate it my-
self." The gipsy rushed to the bag, but the pig was gone: there was not
even a smell left.
A version in which the prize is once more a goose, as in the ante-
Petrine tale of Judas, is reported by Radlov among the Tartars.1
Three companions — a priest, an orator, and a marksman — set out on
a journey, and on the way the marksman shoots a goose. They halt,
make a fire, and roast it, but agree to allot it to the one who has the best
dream. While the others are asleep, the marksman gets up and eats it.
When the others awake, the priest says: "You are an orator, your dream
will be the best. Tell us it." The orator replies: "I became in my dream
a dove, and flew to heaven. In the first section I saw the angels; in the
second, the souls of the dead prophets." — "When I saw you had become
a dove," said the priest, "I changed myself to a hawk and pursued you."
Then the marksman said: "When I saw you both had flown away, I said
to myself, 'They will not return;' and I got up and ate the goose, and put
the bones in the kettle." When they looked in the kettle, there were the
goose's bones.
In a Bohemian version there are again but two contestants, and the
coveted food is a hare.
As a gipsy and his master are walking along, the master shoots a hare,
but the gipsy claims it. To settle the dispute the master says, "I'll have
it roasted to-night, and whichever of us has the better dream shall eat the
hare to-morrow." The gipsy objects that one can have good dreams only
in a soft comfortable bed; so the master invites him home, and has the
cook prepare him a couch in the kitchen. Merely to see the hare
roasting has made his mouth water. He pretends to fall asleep, but fur-
tively watches to see where the cook puts the hare after it is done. At
midnight he gets up and devours it. In the morning he asks the master
what sort of dream he has had. "I dreamed," replies the master, "I was
walking among fragrant roses, and I came to a golden staircase leading up
to heaven." — "I dreamed I saw you from a distance," says the gipsy.
"You went up to heaven, and I knew you would not come back, so I ate
the hare myself." The master was so pleased by this answer, that he
ordered an extra slice of ham to be given to the gipsy, but bade him never
to go shooting hares again.2
1 W. Radloff, Die Sprache der turkischen Stamme Siid-Siberiens, i. Abt., Proben der
Volkslitteratur. Ubersetzung. IV Theil. (St. Petersburg, 1872) Tartaren der Kreise Tara,
Tobolsk und Tumen (5. "Die drei Gefahrten"), p. 130.
2 J02. L'. Holuby, Povesti a rozpravocky z Bosackej doliny, No. XXXIV, "Ciganov
sen," in Slovenski Pohl'ady, 16 (1896) : 326-327.
406 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
In Croatia the story is told that a Greek and a Bacvanin, on the
way to Pest, stopped at an inn to eat the liver of a lamb they had
purchased.
"But this is not enough for both of us," said the Greek, and proposed
the dream covenant. The Bacvanin, however, before going to sleep, ate
half the liver. In the morning he said to the Greek, "You are the elder,
tell me what you dreamed." — "I saw heaven open like pure gold," replied
the Greek, "and there was a golden staircase down to earth; and God
called me to Paradise, and I went up." — "I dreamed the same thing," said
the Bacvanin; "but, I said to myself, he will never come back from there,
so I had better eat what is left." The Greek was angry, and explained that
he really had had no such dream, he was only joking. "While you were
joking," answered the Bacvanin, "I wasn't. Look what remains of the
liver." 1
Matous Vaclavek ("Nekolik pohadek a povesti z moravskeho
Valasska," Prague, 1897, p. 89, No. 35) gives another Slavic version;
and Polivka 2 refers to another in an article in the "Sbornik" of
the Agram Academy. This last appears to be also in a collection
edited by Vuk Vr evic (Ragusa, 1894).3 A Serbian version appears
in Vuk Stevanovic Karadzic's "Srpske Narodne Pripovijetke " (1897,
p. 366, No. 5). The well-known Rumanian author, Anton Pann,
who has given several popular tales a literary dress, tells the same
story in his " Povestea vorleci cu trei calatori si cele trei Pani."
These works I have unfortunately been unable to obtain. There
are further references in "Zs. fur Osterreichsche Volkskunde," 3 : 377
and 4 : 160; and "Volkskunde" 18 : 83.
Finally, from Slavonia comes the only version of our story which
cannot be told entire "in the presence of Mrs. Boffin."
An avaricious Serbian priest was returning from a festival with his gipsy
servant named Makarya. The priest's knapsack was filled with meat and
wine; but though it was a long journey, and Makarya complained of being
hungry, the priest would not touch his food. At length he promised to buy
his servant a goulash; but whenever they came to an inn, he pretended to
fall asleep, and so avoided paying for the goulash. At night they reached
home. The priest, in order to escape sharing his food with Makarya,
whose hunger had now increased mightily, said they would go to sleep, and
whichever dreamed the better dream should have all the food and wine
they had brought with them and also sleep with the priest's wife. "I
shall dream of meat, cakes, wine, and birds," said Makarya; "but you are
learned and wise, and will dream something clever." But his hunger
would not let him rest, and as soon as he saw the priest was fast asleep,
he got up, ate the food and drank the wine in the knapsack, and lay with
1 Mijat Stojanovic, Sala i zbilja, u Senju, 1879, p. 24. Perhaps the story of the man
who ate the Leberlein is related to this; see Paul's Grundriss, II, i, 135.
2 Zs. des Vereins fiir Volkskunde, 16 : 210.
* Compare Vlad. Corovic in Srpski knizevni Glasnik, 15 : 378 et seq.
The Three Dreams. 407
the priest's wife (whom he assured he was acting under her husband's
orders). Then he fell asleep. At dawn the priest awoke and asked
Makarya what he had dreamed. The servant replied, "I dreamed that I
drank the wine, ate the meat, and lay with your wife." — "But listen to
me," cried the priest. "I, my dear fellow, stood on yonder hill, when sud-
denly the heavens opened, there was a glimmer of gold, angels let down a
ladder and took me up into heaven." — "It's true," said Makarya. "I
saw you up there, and thought you would never return, so I ate the meat
and wine you had in the knapsack; — konda je moj kurac vas a Gavrijel
je vama reko, da se kurcem, u kojem vina jeba, ne smije u nebo. Stoga
sam otisao popadiji pa sam vas kurac istresao!"1
When one looks back over all these variants of the "Three Dreams"
story, — a little tedious in the bulk, but interesting enough in detail,
— one is struck by the variety of tunes that have been played on a
few notes, and especially the number of wise precepts that have been
drawn from it, not always, to be sure, with impeccable logic by the
mediaeval moralists; and, secondly, one is struck by the persistence
of certain main motifs; such as two of the travellers combining against
one, and the journeys to heaven and hell, whence there is no return.
So long as the transmission of the tale is literary, the perpetuation
of these details is natural, although allowance is to be made for the
larger element of conscious arbitrary reworking of the material among
literary adapters than among the folk; but that the dream of a
celestial translation should persist in folk-versions like the Sicilian
and the Slavonian, in which all the details differ from the norm or
"Disciplina Clericalis" version, except the fundamental idea of un-
suspected cleverness turning the tables on the deceiver, is remarkable.
Such persistence of a motif which is not necessarily inherent in the
story, indicates that the story itself existed as a unit, and was probably
circulated as a unit, and was not in its various phases the result of
a more or less independent and spontaneous working of the popular
mind ; so that, if we could recover its whole history, we should be able
to arrange all the versions on an orderly family-tree, or suspend them
from an x, which would be Petrus Alphonsi.
The story of the travellers who dream for a small quantity of food
belongs, properly speaking, no doubt, to the larger group of tales in
which three persons strive for the possession of a precious article,
frequently a ring. It belongs also, on another side, to a group of
tales in which the characteristic motif is that one of two or more
companions who is supposed to be the stupidest proves the cleverest.2
1 " Ino pop, ino cigo sauja " (The priest dreams one thing, the gipsy another),
Siidslavische Volksiiberlieferungen, etc., No. 4, in ' AvOpcoiro^vreia, 2 (1905) : 306—308.
2 Compare, e.g., the story of the four Brahmin, three of whom were learned in
science, the fourth endowed only with common sense. Against the advice of the fourth,
the three restore to life a dead lion, and are devoured for their pains. — Pantschatantra
(ed. Benfey, 1859), 2 : 332-334. C. Swainson, (Folk Lore and Provincial Names of British
408 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
But our story has maintained itself intact since before the time of
Petrus Alphonsi, with the dreams as its fundamental motif. Some-
times, especially in the Slavic versions, there are two persons instead
of three, sometimes the participants are of equal rank and intelligence
(though usually the race is won by the dark horse), and often the
accessory details show the greatest possible variety; but always the
main feature of the story that remains constant is the ingenious
dreamer outdone by the practical dreamer.
With the single exception of Cintio's "Ecatommiti," the story has
avoided the highways of sophisticated literature. It is essentially a
folk-story. Even such "learned " works as the " Disciplina Clericalis "
and the "Gesta Romanorum," compiled primarily for the use of
preachers, were founded on popular psychology. The later printed
volumes in which it appeared were all intended ultimately, if not
directly, for popular consumption. Characteristically enough, the
mediaeval conies moralises were succeeded by the jest-books of the
Renaissance; and the "dream-bread" story took its place in both.
It is interesting to see what pious and useful lessons the mediaeval
preachers extracted from it or attached to it, — lessons which to the
advanced intelligence of modern times seem sadly or amusingly
illogical. But the mediaeval mind was logical according to its own
lights. One may wonder what the author of the "Gesta Romanorum "
secretly thought of the elaborate moralizations he attached to every
tale: perhaps he was dreadfully in earnest with them, perhaps he took
them not quite so seriously. At all events, he was sincere in his intent
to teach; and of his success there can be no possible doubt. The
mediaeval man delighted immensely in stories as stories. If you
wanted to teach him, you combined instruction and narration, a
story and a moral. Therefore a good moral deserved a good story;
and vice versa. And there was no need to split hairs over strictly
logical consistency.
The purely folk-versions of the story, on the other hand, illustrate
the people's fondness for a story with a good clear point. Unlike the
ordinary fabliau, it is strictly decent, and can be told in any company;
though, like everything else, it can be given an indecent turn if the
teller desires. In varying forms it has pleased its audience for over
eight hundred years, and, if we count its Oriental forebears, for many
hundred years more. And it is still alive, a rudis fabella sed efficax.1
Birds) gives a story which is perhaps related to the "Three Dreams" type: the cock,
the cuckoo, and the black cock bought a cow, and agreed to award it to whichever
awoke first in the morning (p. 120).
1 A version appears in a little book, Hebrew Jokes (New York, Wehman Bros.).
The Three Dreams. 409
Note.
Early in the sixteenth century there appeared in the " Joci ac Sales"
of Luscinius an interesting offshoot of the above story, more strictly
anecdotic, which has passed apparently into popular tradition.
Obsonium delicatum tribus theologiae tyronibus Lutetiae, adeo fuit
pusillum et tenue, ut facile potuerit semel faucibus comprehendi ac de
glutiri. Pactis igitur inter se melius uideri, ut unius appetentiae fiat satis,
qui illo solus uescatur, quam si in tres particulas discindi curetur. Caeterum
praeferendum in hac re merito uideri, cum qui ex sacris Uteris, atque iis
euangelicis, sententiam, huic negotio magis congruam in medium afferret.
Primus igitur. Desiderio inquit, desideraui hoc obsonium manducare.
Et alius idem, Domum ait, quam piam ingressi comedite quae apponuntur
uobis. At tertius direpto obsonio et uno ructu deuorato. Si totum ait
euangelium euoluatis, non occurret uerbum magis idoneum rebus prae-
sentibus, quam extremum illud quo usus est Dominus, uidelicet, Consum-
matum est.1
This same anecdote was copied from Luscinius (or, rather, from the
extract from Luscinius in the 1602 edition, by Michael Scotus, of
"Mensa philosophica") by Johann Sommers as the 37th tale of his
"Emplastrum Cornelianum : " "Van dreyen Studenten welcher vnter
jnen ein kostlich essen fur sich allein behalten solt." It is found also
in the "Conviviales Sermones" of Johann Gastius (1 : 211, Basel,
J549)) whence it was translated in the "Facecies et motz subtilz"
(1559, fol 24a). I take these notes from Wesselski, in "Euphorion,"
I5 (I9°5) : I0- Wesselski quotes from B. Hertzog's "Schildwacht:"
" Wie etliche Lecker mauler sich vereingigten wer die Hechtleber essen
solte," in which the first seizes the fish, crying, "Memento mori;"
the second says, "Amen amen dico tibi hodie mecum eris etc.;" the
third eats the liver, saying, " Ita consummatum est;" and the servant,
who was also a Bible student, knocks the one who has eaten the
liver on the head, so that he sinks under the table, and says, "Et
inclinato capite emisit spiritum." Further, Wesselski cites Bolte
on Montanus (No. 63: 649 et seq ) for other references, and gives two
more variants. In the first of these, from "Facecies et motz subtilz"
(1559, fol I5a), three Franciscans in Florence divide their only fish,
one taking the head, one the middle, and one the tail, each with an
appropriate quotation from the Gospels; and the fourth [sic], with the
words, "Et non est qui se abscondat a calore eius," pours the dish of
hot oil on the others. The second variant is the 108th Discorso of
Tomaso Garzoni's "Piazza universale di tutte le professioni del
1 Joci ac sales mire festivi ab Ottomaro Luscinius Argentino partim selecti ex bonorum
utriusque linguae authorum mundo, partim lemgis peregrinationibus uisi et auditi, ac in
Cenlurias duas digesti. [1524], No. CLXI. Compare H. A. Lier in Archiv fur Lit. gesch.,
1 1 : 49 et seq.
410 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
mundo " (Venice, 1616, fol. 33ib; first ed. 1579) : three Germans decide
to award the gallina to the one who uses the worst Latin.
This same anecdote is translated in "Scelta di facezie cavate da
diversi autori," p. 112 (LeGrand d'Aussy, 3d ed., 2:395); and a
variant is given by Count d'Ouville, "De trois compagnons en vn
Cabaret." There were no means for gambling for the one egg, so
they agreed to give it to the one who could say the best word from the
Bible . One said "Jesus Nazarenus;" the second, "Rex Judaeorum;"
the third, "Consummatum est." — Contes aux Heures Perdues (Paris,
1652), 2 : 253-254.
In a version current among the French Canadians, three Gascons
have only one egg left, and decide that the one who finds the best
Latin for it can eat it. One says, "Est cassatus," and breaks it; the
second, "est salatus," and salts it; the third, "Et consummatus est,"
and swallows it. — C.-M. Barbeau, JAFL 29 : 135.
Moreover, this variant of the dream story has, through literary
sources of course, reached the Slavs. Krek (/. c.) mentions a Serbian
version in which three monks have only one fish, and agree to give it
all to whichever makes the pattest quotation from Scripture. The
oldest, raising the fish in the air between two spoons, says, "Lazarus,
arise!" The second cuts the fish in two, takes one half, and gives
the rest to the others with the words, "They parted my garments" . . .
But the third takes the whole fish and begins to eat it. The others
protest, but he bids them wait till he has finished. Then he rubs his
paunch, and says in a loud voice, "This day thou shalt be with me in
Paradise."
Harvard University.
Local Meetings. 411
LOCAL MEETINGS.
The Folk-Lore Society of Texas. — The last meeting of the Folk-
Lore Society of Texas was held at San Marcos on April 27 and 28. The
officers for the year 1917-18 are: President, Clyde C. Glasscock; Vice-
Presidents, Mrs. Adele B. Looscan, W. S. Hendrix; Secretary, W. P. Webb,
San Antonio; Treasurer, Stith Thompson, Austin; Councillors, Mrs. Lillie
T. Shaver, L. W. Payne, Jr., Miss Dorothy Scarborough. The next meet-
will be held at Houston.
Stith Thompson.
Mexican Branch. — At the instance of Mr. Manuel Gamio, the Branch
Society of the American Folk-Lore Society in Mexico is being re-organized.
As a result of this re-organization, a number of contributions on Mexican
folk-lore have reached the editor. These are to be published in the next
Hispanic Number of the Society.
Ontario Branch. — Through the efforts of Mr. C.-M. Barbeau, a new
branch of the American Folk-Lore Society is being organized in Ontario. It
is intended that this branch shall devote itself particularly to the collection
of the folk-lore of the English-speaking people of that province.
412 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
NOTES AND QUERIES.
Priscilla Alden — A Suggested Antecedent. — The expression "O
speak for thyself, John!" has such a familiar ring, that even students of
literature, if asked to identify it, are likely to be ready with a reply. Yet,
with all its seeming familiarity, this maidenly appeal is not so well known
as at first one is likely to think. It is not from the popular poem, "The
Courtship of Miles Standish." It is not the reply of the Puritan maiden,
"Why don't you speak for yourself, John?"
"O speak for thyself, John!" is a quotation from an original folk-ballad,
composed at an uncertain date, at least two hundred years before Long-
fellow was born. The first notice we have of the ballad is that given by
the celebrated Bishop Percy, the ballad collector. It is recorded that he
found it in the house of a neighbor, Humphrey Pitt, of Shiffnal, in Shrop-
shire, England, in a manuscript the leaves of which were being used by a
maid for lighting fires. How long before being copied the ballads of this
manuscript, which Percy dated 1650, had been circulating orally among the
people, one must hesitate to conjecture. It is enough for us to know that
the manuscript, containing our ballad "Will Stewart and John," from which
comes the quotation, was first published by Bishop Percy and his nephew
in 1794.
It is manifestly a Scottish popular ballad, and was so accepted by Pro-
fessor Child in his complete collection of English and Scottish popular
ballads. The poem is built upon a story of romance and love.
Will Stewart is sick for the love of a young maiden whom he has never
seen, the Earl of Mar's daughter. His brother John, either from brotherly
affection or from love of adventure, makes Will happy by agreeing to conduct
his courtship for him. Proceeding to the castle of the Earl of Mar, John
presents himself and asks for service. Pleased with the young man's
appearance, the earl engages him as his daughter's chamberlain. In this
situation, John has little difficulty in going about his particular mission.
On the following Sunday, as the family are returning from church, he
ventures to the maiden his proposal.
"'O speake for thyself, John Stewart,' she saies,
'A welcome man that thou shalt be.'"
But John Stewart, unlike John Alden, resisted the charming appeal,
and kept true to his trust. With such glowing words did he inform her
of his brother's riches and honor, his beauty and love, that she concludes, —
" ' By my faith then, John Stewart,
I can love him hartily.' "
After overcoming many difficulties, Will Stewart and the young lady
elope, incur the violent displeasure of the Earl of Mar, and live in estrange-
ment from him for a twelvemonth. Then a child is born, the parents
agree to re-marry for form's sake, in the presence of the earl, and a complete
reconciliation is effected, —
Notes and Queries. 413
"And William Stewart is Earl of Marr,
And his father-in-law dwells with him indeed."
Thus ends a thoroughly human story of an ardent lover and an obdurate
father. As usual, love finds a way.
Is there any literary relation between John Stewart and John Alden?
between the reply "0 speake for thyself, John Stewart," of the Earl of
Mar's daughter, and the "Why don't you speak for yourself, John?" of
Priscilla Mullens? It is obvious that they have much in common, — the
two bold, brave men, loving at a distance; the two friends who agree to
act as go-betweens and carry on the courtship; the two innocent, unspoiled
maidens; the close identity of their replies. There is but one essential
difference, — John Alden, while attempting to court Priscilla for the bashful
captain, loves her himself; on the other hand, John Stewart is disinterested
in the Earl of Mar's daughter, except in the fact that his brother loves her.
Furthermore, Longfellow, though a lover of ballads and a frequent com-
poser of them, fails to mention any connection between the New England
tradition and the Scottish popular ballad. Of his poem he wrote Charles
Sumner on July 10, 1858, "I wrote you about my new poem, "Miles
Standish," founded on the well-known adventure of my maternal ancestor,
John Alden. The heroine's name is Priscilla; and so you have the chief
characters, and the chief incident before you, — taking it for granted that
you remember the traditional anecdote (of Priscilla's reply)."
If, however, one may conjecture about the facts underlying a tradition,
one may venture a possible explanation. Ballads lived in oral circulation
often for generations and generations. Particularly romantic, striking, or
odd anecdotes, often in ballad form, were floating everywhere. These
peculiar stories invariably attached themselves to the heroes of each com-
munity. The popular heroes were magnetic centres to which these inci-
dents gravitated and clung. It is certain that there were no more popular
heroes in Colonial New England than John Alden and Miles Standish.
Therefore the striking story of the ballad, circulating among the settlers
fresh from the mother country, would normally have attached itself to these
heroes. Whether the explanation accords with the facts or not, it is interest-
ing thus to associate one of the finest bits of folk-lore with one of our most
fascinating metrical romances.
G. B. Franklin.
Colby College,
Waterville, Me.
The John G. White Collection. — "The John G. White Collection
of Folk-Lore, Oriental and Mediaeval Literature, and Archaeology," now
owned by the Cleveland Public Library, comprises thirty thousand volumes
and pamphlets, with additions at the rate of two thousand or three thousand
pieces annually, and is available for loan to those interested, whether
residents of Cleveland or not. The material is now in order, and a librarian
in charge.
In the general field of folk-lore the material is large. It includes the chief
magazines, such as "Melusine," "Revue des Traditions Populaires," "La
Tradition," "Ons Volksleven," "Folk-Lore," "Dania," "Archives Suisses
des Traditions Populaires," "Archivio per le Tradizioni Poplari," "Volks-
kunde," etc.
414 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Local folk-lore has several thousand volumes and pamphlets, German
being particularly strong. Other subjects of note are ballads (a very large
collection), fables, proverbs, gipsies, saints' lives, and mediaeval romances
and legends. There is an excellent Faust collection, including many German
and Dutch chap-books. "Tyll Eulenspiegel" and the "Seven Wise Mas-
ters," "Rtibezahl" and the Norse sagas, should also be mentioned. On
witchcraft there is less material, but there are some rare and early works,
and pamphlets infrequently met with, especially in German. Alchemy
and astrology have not been purchased to any large extent. The collection
on the American Indians has developed recently. There are also, of course,
books on plant and animal lore and other similar matters, and a number of
chap-books and broadside ballads.
Much in the other parts of the collection will also be of interest. Oriental
literature is perhaps the most notable feature, Sanscrit, Arabic, and Persian
books being very numerous. In all, a hundred and forty languages from all
parts of the world are represented in the collection. Some of the other
features are Oriental history, especially that of India; mediaeval literature,
present in great abundance (except that purely linguistic material and the
philological journals have not, as a rule, fallen within the scope of the
collection); archaeology, chiefly Asiatic, including a long series of the
publications of the Archaeological Survey of India and neighboring countries;
Assyriology; Egyptology (all the principal archaeological series being avail-
able); Mexican and Maya picture-writing; Western editions of works on
China and Japan; early Irish and Welsh literature, ethnology, and early
travel, a number of the geographical publishing societies having been added
of late. Finally, in catalogues of manuscripts in European and Oriental
libraries, the White collection stands among the first three or four in the
country.
While no printed lists are in existence, any desired book can be found
readily, and loans will gladly be made. Applications should be made, if
possible, through the library of the institution with which the applicant
is connected; those not in a position to comply with this rule should state
their case. The period for which books are loaned is ordinarily two weeks,
with the privilege of renewal for two weeks more; but other arrangements
may be made if need warrants. All communications should be addressed
to the Librarian, Public Library, Cleveland, O.
Alabama Folk-Lore. — At a meeting of the English Teachers' Association
held at Birmingham, Ala., April 7, 1 91 6, Professor N.I. White read a paper
on the collection of folk-lore, which contained "The Yankee Soldier," Negro
songs heard on a farm in Alabama, "Simon Slick," a hunting-song from
Alabama, Negro hymns, and "Sistah Mary Wove Three Links of Chain."
These are published in the " Official Proceedings of the Thirty-Fifth Annual
Convention of the Alabama Educational Association " (Birmingham, 1916),
35: 119-126.
THE JOURNAL OF
AMERICAN FOLK-LORE.
Vol. XXX.— OCTOBER-DECEMBER, 1917.— No. CXVIII.
TOTEMIC TRACES AMONG THE INDO-CHINESE.
BY BERTHOLD LAUFER.
A recent article by Henri Maspero l affords me a welcome occasion
to acquaint American students of anthropology with some data rela-
tive to certain totemic traces to be found among the Indo-Chinese
stock of tribes. As these facts are not generally known or have
hardly transgressed the boundaries of the sinological domain, it is
hoped that they may prove of some utility to American anthro-
pologists interested in the much-ventilated subject of totemism.
Maspero's new information is based on the communications of an
individual from the so-called "Black Tai." The whole Tai population
of Tonking and southern China is familiar with the usage of family
names. This practice is not borrowed by them from the Chinese or
Annamese, but, on the contrary, represents an indigenous custom
which is reflected in the religious life of the Tai. The Black Tai
believe that after death the soul of the individual is divided, — one
remaining in the house, another resting in the grave, and another
residing in heaven. Every family inhabits a special place in the
villages of the souls, where it resides under the rule of its particular
god of the dead, a Celestial Father (Pit-then), who bears the family
name of the family under his sway. Thus there is a Pu-then styled
Kwang for the family Kwang. Every Black-Tai family adheres to
particular alimentary restrictions. Some of these, according to Mas-
pero, are connected with the name by means of simple homonymy;
others appear to bear no relation to the name. The family Ld-kam,
for instance, which forms the aristocratic family that supplies the
village and district chiefs, is forbidden to eat the flesh of the bird
tang-lo, fruits of the tree tang (this word agrees in tone with the element
tang of tang-lo), and fungi growing on the same tree or at its foot.
The family Ka must abstain from eating the flesh of the "cock of the
pagodas" (nok kot-ka), as well as the buds of a certain flower termed
1 De quelques interdits en relation avec les noms de famille chez les Tai-Noirs (Bull,
de l'Ecole frangaise d 'Extreme-Orient, 16 [1916] : 29-34).
VOL. XXX. — NO. Il8 — 27 415
416 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
ka. Young bamboo-sprouts (no lav) are interdicted to the family
Lau. The bird me and the fish me (nok me, pa me) form the taboo
of the family Me. The members of the family Tdng must avoid
eating the turtle-dove (nok sau-tong), and must not wear on their
caps a copper point (tong). The family Ma is not allowed to feed on
the flesh of the horse (to ma). The use of a fan (vi) is forbidden in
the family Vi when rice is served during meals. While the linguistic
relation of these interdictions is easily grasped, it is not apparent,
however, or obscured in the following cases. The family Leo is not
allowed to eat the blackbird nok ieng and the water-fowl nok hdk.
The family Liiong abstains from fungi growing on the trunk
of a branchless tree. Or the family Kwang does not partake of the
flesh of cat, tiger, and panther. If one of these families eats any
things tabooed, even unknowingly, he will lose his teeth. There is
no expiatory ceremony known, and no rite is practised to raise the
taboo.
In regard to the family Kwang, to which his informant belonged,
Maspero gives more particulars. This family owes its superior rank
to the concept that its ancestor was the first to emanate from the
primeval gourd which produced mankind; immediately after him
appeared the ancestor of the Liiong. The Kwang belong to the
family of the tiger, which they name by a term of respect, "grand-
father" (pu). The degree of relationship is not ascertained: they
do not descend from a tiger, nor are the tigers descendants of a trans-
formed ancestor of their own; but it is certain that there is some sort
of affinity. For this reason cat and tiger flesh are prohibited; the
cat represents a highly prized dish of the Black Tai. The members of
the family are immune from attacks of the tiger, and are not allowed
to attack him or to take part in a tiger-hunt. Solely as an act of
self-defence may they kill him. When they note a dead tiger on their
road, or when the villagers carrying a slain tiger pass their habitation,
they must without delay perform a minor ceremony. Taking a small
piece of white cloth and throwing it over the corpse, they signify by
this act that they have entered into mourning in his honor, and that
the term of mourning is over. The prayer said on this occasion is of
great interest, for it reveals the inner relations of the family to the
tiger and the latter's influence on their welfare and that of their
progeny. It runs as follows: —
"The grandfather is dead, leaving his children and grandchildren behind.
The children and grandchildren ought to wear mourning in conformity
with the rites, but the children and grandchildren were not able to go into
mourning; the children and grandchildren terminate their mourning for
the grandfather. There you are! [The piece of white cloth is then thrown
over the tiger's corpse.] Protect your children, protect your grandchildren!
Totemic Traces among the Indo-Chinese. 417
Those of you who survive, make them grow, let them prosper! In their
work let them succeed, in their affairs let them do well ! In their journeyings
may they be without accident, wherever they may be, bless them! May
they never see what is wrong, and never know bad omens! Let your chil-
dren and grandchildren live long, ten thousand years, a hundred thousand
harvests, eternally!"
On the other hand, the affiliation with the tiger also has its draw-
backs. It causes the spirits to detest the members of this family.
They have to keep aloof from sacred places. The field where the district
festival {long long) is held to commemorate the commencement of
agricultural pursuits, and the spot consecrated to the spirit of the
district (Fi miidng), are interdicted to them at all times. During the
festivals they take part in the offerings; but they are not permitted
to enter, and may attend only outside. At their village ceremonies
they have to keep behind the other families, and the functions of
master of ceremony occupied by the old men are closed to them.
Finally the priest of the district, whose office is hereditary in the Liiong
family for all the Black-Tai regions, must not marry a woman of the
Kwang family; even his brothers fall within this rule. However, the
affinity with the tiger is not transmitted by the mother, but solely
by the father. Whether similar beliefs and ceremonies with reference
to the taboos prevail among the other families, says Maspero, is not
known to him; in the case of the family Vi it appears to him difficult
to admit that the fan might play there the same role as the Kwang
assign to the tiger. He thinks that among all peoples of southern
China and northern Indo-China the tiger, from a religious viewpoint,
is an animal so different from others, that it would be unwise to con-
clude the existence of similar rites in other families. This caution is
praiseworthy, as is also the author's reserve in drawing any conclusions
from his notes. He even avoids the terms "totem" and "totemism"
and any theoretical discussion. His data, needless to add, are of
intense interest to anthropology, and, if occasion offers, should by all
means be completed. A complete list of all these Black-Tai families
should be drawn up, and their ancestral traditions should be placed
on record. Meanwhile it may be useful to render accessible the avail-
able data on real or apparent totemic phenomena within the Indo-
Chinese group.
Aside from the Black Tai, actual observations of totemic phenomena,
as far as the Indo-Chinese are concerned, were only made among the
Lolo, first by A. Henry.1 According to this author, "Lolo surnames 2
always signify the name of a tree or animal, or both tree and animal;
1 Journal Anthropological Institute, 33 (1903) : 105.
4 It is not correct to speak of Lolo surnames. The Lolo, like the Tibetans, did not
have family names before contact with Chinese. The Sinicized Lolo adopted Chinese
surnames.
41 8 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
and these are considered as the ancestors of the family bearing the
name. This name is often archaic. Thus the surname Bu-luh-beh is
explained as follows: Bu-luh is said to be an ancient name for the
citron, which is now known as sa-lu.1 The common way of asking a
person what his surname is, is to inquire, 'What is it you do not touch?'
and a person of the surname just mentioned would reply, 'We do
not touch the sa-lu, or citron.' People cannot eat or touch in any
way the plant or animal, or both, which enters into their surname.
The plant or animal is not, however, worshipped in any way." The
Lolo are a widely extended group of tribes, and those studied by Henry
are those of Se-mao and Meng-tse in Yiin-nan.
The term "totemism" with reference to the Lolo was then actually
employed by Bonifacy,2 who believed that certain animal legends,
traces of exogamy, and certain taboos, might be considered as sur-
vivals of a very ancient totemic organization, but that the proofs are
lacking. In my opinion, the data offered by the author reveal no
survivals allowing of any conclusion as to former totemism. If, for
instance, the newly-weds among the Lolo are not allowed to cut
bamboo or to eat the young bamboo-sprouts, this is easily explained
from the legend of the first couple who performed their marriage
under a bamboo that made speech to them. Bonifacy's material on
the Lolo, especially as to social and religious life, belongs to the
best we have.
In the "Notes ethnographiques sur les tribus de Kouy-tcheou"
(Kuei-chou), by A. Schotter,8 which must be taken with great reserve,
we meet a heading "Totemisme chez les He-miao" (Hei Miao), but
the notes appearing under this catch-word are disappointing. The
author learned that a certain family of the tribe, Pan, abstains from
beef, and received as explanation thereof the following story. One of
the ancestors of the Pan was much taken by the charms of a young
girl of the family Tien of the same tribe, whose hand was refused
him nine times. Finally the condition was imposed on him that he
should sacrifice an ox, but not partake of its flesh. The Pan family
went beyond this request, and all its descendants avoid the meat of
any sacrificed ox. Another piece of evidence: the Tien do not eat
dog-flesh. A young mother died, leaving a small girl about to die for
lack of milk. She was suckled by a bitch, and, out of gratitude to
her nurse, never touched canine flesh, cursing those of her descendants
who would not imitate her example. It is obvious that these two
cases are simple taboos, the legends being invented in order to explain
This word is related to Nyi Lolo c(u-se-ma and Tibetan ts'a-lum-pa (see T'oung Pao,
17 [1916] : 45)-
2 Bull, de l'Ecole francaise, 8 (1908) : 550.
Anthropos, 6 (1911) : 321.
Totemic Traces among the Indo-Chinese. 419
them, and bear no relation to totemism. Finally also N. Matsokin,1
with reference to Schotter and some other sources, has spoken about
totemism among the Lolo and Miao.2 It is notable that the two men
who were best familiar with the life of the Lolo — Vial and Lietard,
two Catholic missionaries — have nothing to report that might be
interpreted as totemism. At all events, if totemism ever existed
among the Lolo, only scant survivals of it have remained. The inde-
pendent Lolo, who are not yet explored, may offer better guaranties
in contributing to this problem.
I now proceed to place before the reader in literal translation some
ancient Chinese records that speak for themselves, and that have the
advantage of not being biased by any modern totemic theory. The
numerous aboriginal tribes inhabiting the territory of southern and
southwestern China are designated by the Chinese by the generic
term "Man" or "Nan Man" ("southern Man"). The following
legend is told in the Han Annals concerning the origin of the Man.3
"In times of old, Kao-sin Shi4 suffered from the robberies of the K'ttan
Jung.5 The Emperor, being grieved at their raids and outrages, attempted
to smite them by open attack, but failed to destroy them. Thereupon he
issued a proclamation throughout the empire: 'Whoever shall be able to
capture the head of General Wu, the commander of the K'iian Jung, will
be offered a reward of twenty thousand ounces of gold, a township com-
prising ten thousand families, and my youngest daughter as wife.' At
that time the Emperor had raised a dog whose hair was of five colors
[that is, manicolored], and whose name was P'an-hu.6 After the issue of
1 Materinskaya filiatsiya v vostocnoi i tsentralnoi Asii (The Matriarchate in Eastern
and Central Asia), pt. 2 : 94-96 (Vladivostok, 1911).
2 Several conclusions of this author are inadmissible, owing to his blind faith in Schot-
ter's uncritical data. He accepts from him the statement that "the antique form of the
Chinese character for Miao represented a cat's head and signified a cat." Hence in
Matsokin's mind the cat becomes a totem of the Miao. This is a sad illusion. The
tribal name Miao is a native Miao word, and its significance cannot be interpreted from
any arbitrary manner in which the Chinese please to convey this word to their writing.
In fact, neither the word nor the Chinese character with which it is written has anything
to do with the cat, which is mao, but not miao, in Chinese; and, even if the Chinese
should etymologize the name in the sense of "cat," the conclusion as to a cat-totem among
the Miao would be an utter failure. Nor is it correct, as asserted by Matsokin, that the
eagle is a totem of the Miao.
3 Hou Han shu, Ch. 116, p. 1.
4 One of the early legendary emperors of China, alleged to have reigned about 2436 B.C.
6 That is, "Dog Jung." "Jung" was a generic term for barbarous tribes in the west
of China.
6 The characters representing this name have the meaning "tray" or "plate" and
"gourd." In explanation of this name, the Wei lio, written by Yu Huan in the third
century a.d., has this anecdote: "At the time of Kao-sin Shi there was an old woman
living in a house belonging to the Emperor. She contracted a disease of the ear, and, when
the object causing the complaint was removed, it turned out to be as large as a silkworm-
420 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
this order, P'an-hu appeared at the gate of the palace, holding a man's
head in his jaws. The officials were surprised, and examined the case.
In fact, it was the head of General Wu. The Emperor was greatly pleased,
but considered that P'an-hu could not be married to a woman or be invested
with a dignity. He deliberated, as he was anxious to show his gratitude,
but did not know what was fitting to do. The Emperor's daughter heard
thereof, and held that the pledge which the Emperor had made by the
proclamation of his order should not be broken. She urged him to keep
his word; and the Emperor, seeing no other expedient, united the woman
with P'an-hu. P'an-hu took her, set her on his back, and ran away into
the southern mountains, where he stopped in a stone house situated over
a precipice inaccessible to the footsteps of man.1 Thereupon the woman
cast off her royal dress, tied her hair into a p^u-kien knot, and put on tu-li
clothes.2 The Emperor was grieved, and longed for her. He sent mes-
sengers out to make a search for his daughter. Suddenly arose wind, rain,
thunder, and darkness, so that the messengers were unable to proceed.
After the lapse of three years she gave birth to twelve children, — six boys
and six girls. After P'an-hu had died, the six boys married the six girls.
They used the bark of trees for weaving, and dyed this stuff by means of
plant-seeds. They were fond of manicolored clothes, and cut them out
in the form of a tail. Their mother subsequently returned home and told
the story to her father. The Emperor thereupon sent messengers to bring
all the children. Their clothes were striped like orchids, and their speech
sounded like chu-li.3 As they were fond of roaming over hills and ravines,
but did not care for level country, the Emperor, in conformity with this
trend of mind, assigned to them renowned mountains and extensive marshes.
Subsequently they increased and ramified, and were called Man Barbarians.
Outwardly they appeared like simple folk, but inwardly they were clever."
cocoon. The woman placed it in a gourd, which she covered with a tray. In a moment
it was transformed into a manicolored dog, which hence received the name P'an-hu."
Compare also Chavannes, T'oung Pao, 6 (1905) : 521. This is etymological play made
after the event, and is without relation to the original form of the legend. In all prob-
ability, P'an-hu is a word derived from a language of the Man, with a quite different
meaning. The ancient pronunciation of the word was *Ban-ku, and ku is a Man word
meaning "dog." The term will be treated in detail in a forthcoming study of the writer
on the languages of the Man.
1 The Commentary adds the following. This place is identical with what at present is
called Mount Wu in the district of Lu-k'i in Ch/en chou (in Hu-nan Province). Accord-
ing to the Wu ling ki, by Huang Min, this mountain is about ten thousand li high [Chinese
determine the height of mountains by measuring the length of the road leading from the
foot to the summit]. Half way on the mountain there is the stone house of P'an-hu,
which can hold ten thousand people. Within there is his lair, where his footprints are still
left. At present, in front of the caves of Mount Ngan, are to be found ancient remains
of stone sheep and other stone animals, which are indeed very curious. Also many rock
caves as spacious as a three-roomed house may be seen there. The Yao hold that these
stones resemble the shape of a dog. According to The Traditions of the Customs of the
Man (Man su hiang chuan), they represent the image of P'an-hu.
2 This means that she adopted the hair-dressing and costume of the indigenous Man
tribes. The commentary admits that the two terms p^u-kien and tu-li are unexplained;
they doubtless represent words derived from a language of the Man.
* The commentator remarks that chu-li is the sound of the speech of the Man bar-
barians. The meaning is that their speech was crude and uncultivated.
Totemic Traces among the Indo-Chinese. 421
This tradition makes a dog the ancestor of the Man; and his
descendants cut their clothes out in the form of a dog's tail, their
coat-of-arms. The relationship of the Man to the Chinese is empha-
sized; their languages, in fact, are closely allied. They are character-
ized as hunters in the mountains and marshes, where they have fields
cultivated by very primitive methods, while the plains are reserved
for the agriculture of the colonizing Chinese. The modern Man
have preserved this tradition with some variants. Some tribes still
abstain from the flesh of the dog. Among the Man Tien, who style
themselves "Kim Mien" (Mien = Chinese Man, that is, "man"),
they have images representing the creator Pien-Kan seated on a
throne and holding a flower in his hand ; beneath him is shown a dog
being carried on a palanquin by two men. A man-dog appears in
their decorative art. The Man Kao-lan still profess to have descended
from the ancestor-dog P'an-hu. They state that the lozenges em-
broidered on the shoulders of their women's dress indicate the spot
where the paws of the ancestor rested when he cohabited with the
princess.1 The chiefs of the Yao retained P'an as their name: thus
there was a Yao chief P'an Kuei in the beginning of the fifteenth
century.2 They also sacrificed to P'an-hu at New- Year offerings of
meat, rice, and wine. There is a peculiar tribe of several hundred
families living fifteen miles east of Fu-chou, in Fu-kien, called Sia.
They are said to be descendants of a dog-headed ancestor, styled
Go Sing Da, whose image is worshipped in the ancestral hall on the
fifteenth of the eighth month and on New- Year's Day. After this
it is kept locked up, as they are ashamed to let others see it.3
One of the powerful kingdoms of the Southwestern Man at the time
of the Later Han dynasty (a.d. 25-220) was called Ye-lang, bordering
in the east on Kiao-chi (Tonking). The Chinese have preserved to
us the following ancient tradition with reference to the origin of royal
power among this people.
"In the beginning, a woman was bathing in the T'un River, when a large
bamboo consisting of three joints came floating along and entered between
the woman's legs. She pushed it, but it did not move. She heard an
infant's voice inside, took the bamboo up, and, returning home, split it.
She found in it a male child, and reared him till he had grown up. He
developed warlike abilities and established himself as Marquis of Ye-lang,
assuming the family name Chu [that is, Bamboo]." 4
The foundation of the kingdom of Nan-chao in Yiin-nan, the
1 E. Lunet de Lajonquiere, Ethnographie du Tonkin septentrional, pp. 210, 252, 253,
272, 280.
2 G. Deveria, La Frontiere sino-annamite, p. 90.
3 F. Ohlinger, Chinese Recorder, 17 (1886) : 265, 266.
4 Hou Han shu (Annals of the Later Han Dynasty), Ch. n6, p. 6 b; Hua yang kuo
chi, Ch. 4, p. 1 b.
422 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
populace of which belonged to the T'ai family, is thus narrated in the
Han Annals: ! —
"The ancestor of the Ngai (or Ai-)Lao barbarians was a woman, Sha-yi
by name, who dwelt on the Lao mountain.2 Once when she was engaged
in catching fish, she came in contact with a drifting piece of wood, which
caused her a feeling as if she had conceived. Accordingly she became
pregnant, and, after the lapse of ten months, gave birth to ten sons. Sub-
sequently the drifting log was transformed into a dragon, who appeared
on the surface of the water. All of a sudden Sha-yi heard the dragon speak
thus: 'Those sons begotten by me, where are they now?' Nine of the sons
became frightened at sight of the dragon and fled. Solely the youngest
child, who was unable to run away, set himself on the back of the dragon,
so that the dragon could lick him. In the mother's native [literally, 'bird']
language, 'back' is termed kiu, 'to sit' is called lung:3 hence the name ' Kiu
Lung' was conferred on the child. When he had grown up, his elder
brothers inferred from Kiu Lung's strength that he had been licked by his
father, and, on account of his cleverness, proceeded to elect him king.
Afterwards there was a couple living at the foot of Mount Lao. Ten
daughters were born to them. These were taken as wives by Kiu Lung
and his brothers. At a later time, when they had gradually increased in
number, all the tribesmen cut and painted [that is, tattooed] their bodies
with designs representing a dragon, and wore coats with tails. After Kiu
Lung's death, several generations succeeded to him. Eventually the tribe
was divided under the rule of petty kings, and habitually dwelt in places
scattered in the ravines and valleys far beyond the boundaries of China.
While, intercepted by mountains and rivers, the populace strongly increased,
it had never held any intercourse with China."
The term "Dragon-Tails" (lung wei) was still applied to the later
dynasty Nan-chao. The dragon-tail is an analogon to the dog-tail
of the Nan Man.
In 1635 a Chinese, Kuang Lu, who had been in the service of a
female chieftain of the Miao, published a small book under the title
"Ch'i ya," which belongs to the most interesting and instructive
documents that we have on the Miao. This author (Ch. 1, p. 17 b)
mentions a tribe under the name "Tan," who lived on river-boats,
subsisting on fish, without engaging in agriculture and intermarrying
with other people. They called themselves "dragon-tribe" (lung
chung) or "men of the dragon-god" (lung shen jen). They painted a
1 Hou Han shu, Ch. 116, p. 7 b.
2 A native tradition is more explicit on the origin of Sha-yi. She was the wife of
Mong Kia Tu, who was the fifth son of Ti Mong Tsti, son of Piao Tsii Ti, who is identified
with King Acoka of Magadha. One day when Mong Kia Tu was fishing in Lake Yi-lo,
south of the city of Yung-ch'ang, he was drowned, whereupon Sha-yi came to this place
to weep (see E. Rocher, T'oung Pao, 10 [1899] : 12; Deveria, La Frontiere sino-annamite,
p. 118; C. Sainson, Histoire du Nan-tchao, p. 25).
3 Modern Chinese kiu was in Old Chinese *gu, and gu is a typical Indo-Chinese word
for "back" (see T'oung Pao, 17 [1916] : 52). Lang or lung in Siamese means "to sit."
The compound signifies "sitting on the back" (namely, of the dragon).
Totemic Traces among the Indo-Chinese. 423
snake on their temples for purposes of worship, and the records of
population they styled "dragon-doors" {lung hu).1 The remains of
the Tan are still to be found in the floating river-population of Canton.2
The Western K'iang (Si K'iang) were a large group of nomadic
tribes, the present province of Kan-su forming the centre of their
habitat, who must be regarded as the forefathers of the Tibetans.
A brief notice on their social organization is preserved in the Han
Annals.3
"There was no fixed distinction of families and clans: the designations
of tribes were derived from the personal name of the father or from the
family name of the mother. After the twelfth generation, marriages were
permitted in the same clan. On the father's death, the son married his
step-mother.4 When an elder brother died, a new marriage was arranged
for his widow; so that there were no widows in their country. Their tribal
divisions were numerous, but they did not have any institution like princes
and officials. They did not take regard of elders, but it was the strongest
man who was elected chief by the tribes. When he weakened, he was
relegated to the common people; and then they vied with one another in
a contest of strength to find out who was the bravest."
A division of the K'iang bore the name Wu-yi Yiian-kien. The
designation Wu-yi (*Mu-yit) is explained by a gloss to mean "slaves,"
as they were held in serfdom by the Duke Li of TVin in the fifth
century B.C. Subsequently they were split into several tribes, each
with a special appellation. One of these was called the "Yak (li-niu)
Tribe;" these were the K'iang of Yiie-si. The K'iang of Kuang-han
styled themselves "White-Horse (pai ma) Tribe;" those of Wu-tu
had the name "Wolf (ts*an lang) Tribe." 5 The annalist then con-
tinues, —
"Jen and his younger brother Wu alone remained in Huang-chung [in
the present prefecture of Si-ning in Kan-su], and took many wives. Jen
had nine sons, who formed nine tribes. Wu had seventeen sons, who
formed seventeen tribes. The rising power of the K'iang began from this
time."
Yii Huan, in his "Wei lio," written in the third century a.d., enum-
erates the following three clans of the K'iang, — the Ts'ung-ts'e 6
1 The Chinese count the number of families by doors.
2 See Notes and Queries on China and Japan, i : 15, 28, 107.
3 Hou Han shu, Ch. 117, p. 1.
4 The same custom is related by the Chinese in regard to the ancient Hiung-nu (Huns)
and T'u-kiie (Turks). It means, of course, that it was bound up by the law of inheritance
of these peoples, and that the son fell heir to his father's entire property, inclusive of his
women, slaves, etc. See also G. Soulie (Bull, de l'Ecole francaise, 8 [1908] : 362, note 2).
6 Hou Han shu, Ch. 117, p. 3. The term lslan seems to refer to a particular species
of wolf, but its meaning is not explained. This account relates to the fourth century B.C.
6 The compound consists of two plant-names, — tsKung referring to garlic (see T'oung
Pao, 17 [1916] : 96), and ts'e, to a plant yielding a red dye (Lithospermum officinale). It is
424 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
(Garlic) K'iang, the Pai-ma (White Horse) K'iang, and the Huang-niu
(Yellow Ox) K'iang, — adding that each of these tribes has its chiefs,
and that among the last-named the women give birth to a child after
six months.1 The same author speaks of another group of tribes,
called "TV1 the descendants of the Si Jung, and related to the K'iang
in language and customs. Some divisions of this people were termed
by the Chinese "Green and White Ti," from the color of their costume;
but another clan styled itself "Ti Jan," the latter word designating a
reptile under which it was classed.2
From a passage in the Annals of the Sui Dynasty,3 we note that a
clan of the K'iang, scattered in the country Fu (2000 li northwest of
Se-ch'uan), was named "Pai Kou" (White Dog).
In the age of the Sui dynasty (a.d. 590-617) a tribal group of the
K'iang became known to the Chinese under the name "Tang-hiang,"
the element Tang appearing as Tangud or Tangut {-ud being a Mongol
termination of the plural), the Turkish and Mongol designation of the
Tibetans. To the Tang-hiang belonged the Tang-ch'ang and Pai-lang
(White Wolves), who conferred on themselves the name "Monkey
Tribe" (Mi-hou Chung).4 In fact, the monkey belonged to the
sacred animals of the ancient Tibetans, and was sacrificed with sheep
and dogs once a year, when the officers assembled for the ceremony of
the minor oath of fealty.5 In their own traditions the Tibetans have
preserved at great length the story of how they descended from the
alliance of a monkey with a female giant (Rakshasi).6 But there is
no evidence that the monkey ever was the totem of a Tibetan clan,
or that a Tibetan clan named itself for the monkey; the latter, how-
ever, as shown by the Chinese account of the Tang-hiang, may have
been the case in ancient times.
In regard to the Chinese, the existence of totemism is denied by some
authors, while others are inclined to uphold it.7 Neither the one nor
the other can be asserted in our present state of knowledge. We must
not forget, of course, that Confucius, who made the Chinese what a
more probable, however, that tsKung-tsle relates solely to a single species, presumably to
a wild Allium.
1 Chavannes, T'oung Pao, 6 (1905) : 528.
2 Ibid., pp. 521-522.
3 Sui shu, Ch. 83, p. 8 b.
* Ibid., p. 2 b.
6 Kiu T'ang shu, Ch. 196 A, p. 1.
6 See, for instance, Rockhill, Land of the Lamas, pp. 355-361. For a complete
bibliography of the subject, see Laufer (T'oung Pao, 2 [1901] : 27-28).
7 A. Conrady, "China" (in Pflugk-Harttung's Weltgeschichte, p. 491). The evidence
merely rests on the interpretation of names. Conrady's popular history of China is
modelled on Lamprechtian ideas of evolution, which are interpreted, and partially in a very
forced way, into the given material. This method is not to be taken seriously; the critical
anthropologist will understand without comment.
Totemic Traces among the Indo-Chinese.
425
French writer aptly styled affreusement bourgeois, has spoiled China
completely for the ethnologist. Certainly the Chinese never were
those angels of virtue that we are prone to make them out in reading
the tenets of their moral creed. Morals look well on paper always and
everywhere. There was a prehistoric age when also the Chinese, like
their congeners the T'ai, Miao, and Tibetans, did not pose as the
champions of morality, but behaved like real and natural men. This
has been very clearly shown in a most interesting study by M. Granet.1
While no positive data are as yet available, from which conclusions
as to a former totemic organization could be drawn, there are some
indications which may be suggestive. Unfortunately the development
of social organization in China has never been investigated by modern
scientific methods.
The number of family names derived from words designating plants
and animals is comparatively large. Following is an alphabetical
list of the more common ones: —
FAMILY NAMES BASED ON PLANTS.
Ch'i, white jasmine (Jasminum sam-
bac) .
Chu, bamboo.
Ch'u, hay, straw.
Hing, apricot.
Hu, gourd, calabash.
Hua, flower.
Hum, Sophora japonica.
Huan, Sapindus mukorossi.
Jang, stalk of grain.
Jul, small budding plants.
Jung-kuan, family of the Hibiscus.
Ki, thistles.
Ki, several species of Rhamnus and
Zizyphus.
Ken, root.
Ku, cereals.
Kua-t'ien, gourd-field.
K'uai, a rush (Scirpus cyperinus).
Kuei, cinnamon-tree ( Cinnamomum
cassia).
K'uei, Amarantus.
Ku, chrysanthemum.
Kuo, fruit.
Lai, goosefoot ( Cheno podium album).
Li, plum (Prunus triflora).
Li, lichee (Nephelium litchi).
Li, chestnut (Castanea vulgaris).
Liao, Polygonum.
Liu, willow (Salix babylonica) .
Lu, a reed (Phragmites).
Ma, hemp.
Mai, wheat.
Mang, a grass (Erianthus japon-
icus) .
Mao, reeds, rush.
Mei, plum (Prunus mume).
Mi, hulled rice.
Mou, barley.
Mu, tree.
Ngai, Artemisia vulgaris.
Po, thickly growing vegetation.
Po, arbor- vit« (Thuja orientalis).
Sang, mulberry-tree.
Sing, a marshy plant.
Su, grain.
T'an, Dalbergia hupeana.
T'ang, Pyrus.
T'ao, peach.
T'ao, rice.
Ti, Prunus japonica.
Tou, beans.
Tsao, various aquatic plants.
Tsao, jujube (Zizyphus vulgaris).
Tse, Cudrania triloba.
Tsi, panicled millet.
1 "Coutumes matrimoniales de la Chine antique" (T'oung Pao, 13 [1912] : 517-558),
426
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Ts'ung, a conifer.
T'ung, Paulownia imperialis.
Ts'e, calthrop (Tribulus terrestris).
Wei, grass.
Yang, poplar.
Yu, elm (Ulmus campestris).
FAMILY NAMES BASED ON ANIMALS.
Chi, leech.
Chi, ringed pheasant.
Ch'i, worm.
Chui, piebald horse.
Ch'ung, general term for reptiles
and insects.
Fang, bream.
Fu, wild duck.
Fung, male phoenix.
Hiao, owl.
Hiung, bear.
Ho, crane.
Hu, fox.
Hu, tiger.
Hui, venomous snake.
Jan, boa.
Ki, fowl, chicken.
K'l, piebald horse.
K'in, birds in general.
Kou, dog.
Ku, heron.
Kt), colt of a horse.
Lang, wolf.
Lin, fish-scales.
Lo, white horse with black mane.
Lu, stag.
Lung, dragon.
Ma, horse.
Mong, tree-frog.
Ngo, moth.
Niu, ox.
Pai-ma, white horse.
Pao, dried fish.
Pao, panther.
Pao-p'i, panther's skin.
Pei, cowrie-shell.
Piao, tiger-cat; stripes of a tiger.
Pie, fresh- water turtle (Trionyx
sinensis) .
Se, team of four horses.
She, serpent.
Sia, chrysalis of a mantis.
Tiao, sable.
Ts'ing-niu, dark ox.
Ts'ing-wu, dark raven.
Tsou, small fishes, minnows.
Tsou, a fabulous beast.
Tsf), fish-hawk, osprey.
Ts'ui, bird-down.
Ts'ui, kingfisher.
T'un, sucking-pig.
Wu, raven.
Yang, sheep.
Yang-she, sheep-tongue.
Yen, swallow.
Yen, wild goose.
Yu, polecat.
Yu, fish.
It should be understood, of course, that it is by no means implied
that the foregoing names had a totemic origin. This remains to be
investigated by tracing in detail the history of these families bearing
such names. In some cases it is certain that such names are not
connected with a totem, but have a quite different origin. For in-
stance, a man in the sixth century B.C. bore the family name Chuan,
a word designating a large fish found in the Tung-t'ing lake. He
killed Wang Liao, prince of Wu, with a poisoned dagger which was
concealed in the belly of this fish served to him at dinner. This story
plainly accounts for the origin of the family name. The list of these
plant and animal family names, however, is interesting in itself, and,
it is hoped, may prove a stimulus to serious investigation.
Field Museum of Natural History,
Chicago, III.
Kaska Tales.
427
KASKA TALES.1
BY JAMES A. TEIT.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Preface 427
1. Story of Beaver 429
2. Origin of the Earth . . . 441
3. The Great Flood .... 442
4. Origin of Fire, and Origin
of Death 443
5. Raven, or Big-Crow . . . 444
6. Big-Man (D6ne Tco') . . . 444
7. The Brothers, Big-Man, and
the Giants 445
8. The Giants and the Boys . 448
9. Bladder-Head Boy; or, The
Monster that ate People. 450
10. The Kaska Man who made
Whales 451
11. War with the Swan People . 453
12. The Deserted Woman . . 455
PAGE
who married
13. The Sisters
Stars
14. The Man who cohabited
with his Sister . .
15. Story of the Water-Man
16. The Deceitful Wife .
17. The Owl- Woman . . ,
18. The Dog-Man and Dog
Children
19. Story of Lynx-Man . .
20. The Fog-Man
21. Rabbit-Man (Ga/tcoeze')
22. Wolverene
23. Wolverene and his Wives
24. Wolverene and Wolf . .
25. Story of the Baby stolen
by Wolverene 471
457
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
467
469
470
47i
PREFACE.
The following collection of tales or traditions is from the Kaska of
the northern interior of British Columbia. The Kaska and Tahltan
are closely related tribes of the Nahani division of the Athapascan
stock, and occupy territories adjacent to each other. The Tahltan
inhabit the whole region of the upper Stikine River, and extend easterly
to Dease Lake and River, where they meet the Kaska, who claim the
country from there down to the Liard. The Tahltan are thus chiefly
on the Pacific drainage slope, and the Kaska altogether on the Arctic
slope. Owing to their location, the Tahltan have an abundance of
salmon in their country, while the Kaska have none. Both tribes live
1 The present collection of Kaska tales, together with another one of Tahltan tales,
was collected by Mr. J. A. Teit in the seasons of 1912 and 1915 in the region of Stikine
River, British Columbia. These two seasons of field-work were devoted to a general
ethnological investigation of the Tahltan and Kaska Indians, under the auspices of the
Geological Survey of Canada. The present publication embraces the mythological
results of the trips. Other aspects of the ethnology collected by Mr. Teit will be published
by the Geological Survey from time to time in the form of special monographs. To
facilitate the appearance of Mr. Teit's Tahltan and Kaska tales, the Geological Survey of
Canada has authorized its Division of Anthropology to intrust their publication to the
American Folk-Lore Society. — E. Sapir, Head of Division of Anthropology, Geological
Survey of Canada.
428 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
chiefly by hunting and trapping, but the Kaska depend more on the
chase than do the Tahltan. Large game-animals are abundant, con-
sisting of moose, caribou, sheep, goat, and bear. Marmots are plenti-
ful in certain parts, and buffalo are said to have been fairly numerous
at one time in the more eastern sections of the country.
The Kaska are entirely surrounded by Athapascan tribes, while the
Tahltan are neighbors of tribes of two other stocks; viz., the Tlingit
to the northwest and west, and the Niska and Kitksan tribes of the
Tsimshian stock to the southwest. To the south the Sikani, Carrier,
and Chilcotin tribes of the Athapascan stock separate the Tahltan
and Kaska from the Shuswap and Lillooet, the nearest tribes of the
interior Salish. Owing largely to their position, the Tahltan had a
great deal of intercourse with the Tlingit, much more than with any
other people. Intercourse and trading were chiefly by way of Stikine
River. Trade was in the hands of the Tlingit of Wrangell and vicinity,
who annually transported goods by canoe up the river to the head of
canoe navigation, a little above Telegraph Creek and close to the head-
quarters of the Tahltan. The people of the latter tribe acted as
middlemen in passing coast products inland, and inland products
coastward. The main trade-route between the far east (the Macken-
zie valley and the plains) and the Pacific coast in this part of British
Columbia lay through the Tahltan and Kaska territory, and there is
evidence of a number of cultural features having penetrated a long
distance in both directions along that route. Here, as in other parts
of the west, the main trade-routes lay as nearly east and west as the
physical features of the country allowed; while other routes running
north and south within the interior were unimportant, notwithstanding
the fact that the nature of the country generally was favorable for
travel and intercourse.
It may be expected that dissemination of tales has occurred chiefly
along the main trade-routes, where intercourse between the tribes was
most frequent and closest. Hence throughout the interior, dissemina-
tion of tales has followed east and west lines rather than north and
south. As the same conditions as to routes prevailed in the southern
interior as in the northern, it seems probable that a number of the
incidents in tales of the Tahltan and Kaska which correspond with
those in tales of the interior Salish have not passed directly from
Athapascan to Salish tribes, or vice versa, but have reached both from
the same eastern and western sources, — chiefly, it seems, the latter.
The Tahltan assert that in the old trading-rendezvous on the upper
Stikine, members of the two tribes associated there for weeks together,
and that one of the features of meeting was story-telling. Tahltan
raconteurs told their stories one day, and Tlingit told theirs the
following day. Sometimes they thus told stories turn about for
Kaska Tales. 429
weeks. Occasionally the tribes competed in story-telling to see which
had the most stories. As a result, it came to be acknowledged that the
Tlingit had considerably more stories than the Tahltan. In this way,
it is said, the Tahltan learned Tlingit stories, and vice versa.
It is therefore not surprising to find many elements of Tlingit origin
in Tahltan tales. It seems that most stories of the Raven cycle, and
many other tales, have been borrowed almost in their entirety. On
the other hand, the Kaska tales show much less indication of Tlingit
influence, and probably a little more of influence from the east. On
the whole, they are probably more purely Athapascan. The impor-
tance of the chase (especially hunting of caribou) is reflected in the
tales of both tribes. Fishing is not prominent, excepting in tales
borrowed from the Tlingit. Root-digging and berrying, features often
referred to in Salish tales, are almost entirely absent. Tales of Euro-
pean origin appear to be altogether unknown. I inquired for such
tales as those of Petit Jean, John the Bear, and others, but without
result. About one hundred and fifty themes, episodes, and incidents
occurring in tales of the interior Salish (chiefly Shuswap), regarding
which I made inquiry, I failed to obtain among the Tahltan, and there
are also many others that are absent.
All the Tahltan tales, with the exception of six, were collected
during the course of my work among the tribe in 1912. Almost all of
them were obtained from Tuu:'ts ("strong rocks"), also known as
" Dandy Jim," of the Nahlin clan of the Raven phratry of the Tahltan.
He was selected by the tribe as the best-qualified person to give me
information on their general ethnology, mythology, and so on. The
other six tales were obtained at Telegraph Creek in 191 5 from Jim
and others. The Kaska tales were collected at the foot of Dease Lake
in 1 91 5, my informants being Tsonake''l, also known as Albert Dease,
and his wife Nettie Mejade'sse, both members of the Kaska tribe.
In every case I collected all the tales my informants knew.
Historic traditions, such as tales of war-expeditions and migrations,
are not included in the present collection. I have included a number
of variants of incidents in the text. I have added some explanatory
notes where these seemed to be required. The comparative notes,
excepting those referring to the interior Salish, Chilcotin, and some of
the Tsetsa'ut notes, were added by the Editor of the Journal.
I. STORY OF BEAVER.
A long time ago, when all the animals were people, Beaver was a
great transformer. He travelled along a wide trail that was much
used. Along the trail were many monsters that preyed on people.
He came to a place where people always disappeared. Wolverene
killed them. His house was at the foot of a glacier, between two
43° Journal of American Folk-Lore.
rocky bluffs. The glacier was very slippery, and people crossing it
slid down to the bottom, where they were transfixed on a spear placed
there by Wolverene. As soon as something touched the spear, Wol-
verene knew it, and came out at once. If they were dead, he carried
the bodies home; if they were only wounded, he killed them. His
house was full of peoples' bones. Beaver went down this slide, and,
cutting his lips with the spear so that they bled, pretended to be dead.
Wolverene knew something had been caught, and came out smiling
and very happy. When he saw Beaver, he said, "What a large
beaver!" Then he laughed, and said, " I have caught this clever man."
He carried the body home and put it down in his house. He had four
flensing-knives. He used one after another, but they would not cut
Beaver's skin. Then he searched for the fourth knife. Beaver knew
that this knife would cut him, so he opened his eyes to see where he
might find a stick. One of Wolverene's children noticed him, and
called out, "Father, the Beaver has opened his eyes!" Wolverene
answered, "You are mistaken. How can a dead man open his eyes?"
Beaver jumped up and seized a stick, with which he broke Wolverene's
arms and legs. He killed him, and put his body before the fire to
roast. He also killed all Wolverene's children, and treated their
bodies likewise.1
Beaver went on, and came to a bluff overlooking a deep creek. He
heard a dog barking below the cliff. He listened, and approached
cautiously. Presently he saw a man on the top of the cliff, and went
to him. This was Sheep-Man, who killed people by pushing them
over the cliff. His wife attracted them by barking like a dog, and any
who were not killed outright by the fall were clubbed by her at the
bottom of the cliff. When Beaver reached Sheep-Man, the latter
said, " Look at the sheep down below!" Beaver said, "You look first,
you saw them first." They quarrelled as to who should look over the
brink first. At last Sheep-Man looked, and Beaver at once pushed
him over. He was killed by the fall.2 When Sheep-Man's wife heard
the thud of something falling at the base of the cliff, she ran out
quickly, and began to club the man before she noticed that it was her
own husband. She then looked up and saw Beaver, who threw a rock
at her head and killed her. This is why the head of the mountain-sheep
is so small between the horns; and the tongues of sheep are black because
they once ate men.
Beaver travelled on, and came to a large camp of Sheep people.
The women were good, and called to him, "Why do you come this
way?" He answered, "I am looking for friends who have passed
1 Bellacoola (Boas, JE i : 86, Sagen 250), Eskimo (Boas, BAM 15 : 176), Loucheux
(Camsell-Barbeau, JAFL 28 : 255), Tsetsa'ut (Boas, JAFL 10 : 46).
2 Chilcotin (Farrand, JE 2 : 26), Pend d'Oreille (Teit, MAFLS 11 : 116), Sahaptin
(Farrand-Mayer, MAFLS 11 : 152); see also RBAE 31 : 803.
Kaska Tales. 431
along this trail." The Sheep men followed him, and he ran among
bluffs and rocks. It became dark; but they pursued him, just the
same, by scenting him. He went down a steep place, and the Sheep
did not know exactly which way he had gone. There his trail was a
sheer cliff . They called out, "How did you get down?" and Beaver
directed them to the sheer cliff. The Sheep then all ran over the cliff
and were killed.1
In the morning an old woman and girl arrived there. The woman
proposed to marry Beaver, and had told the girl that when she slept
with him, she (the girl) must club Beaver while he was asleep. Beaver
refused the request of the women, and killed them both.
Beaver proceeded on his journey, and, after crossing a mountain, sat
down on the trail. He saw a man coming, carrying a stick with a
hook at the end. This was Marten-Man, who killed people (by
hooking them between the legs). Beaver placed a piece of sheep's
flesh between his legs and sat still. Marten asked many questions of
Beaver. They conversed together and told stories to each other.
Meanwhile Marten pushed his stick underneath the snow and hooked
the meat. Beaver ran away, and Marten chased him. As he ran,
Beaver dropped pieces of sheep's fat. Marten could not catch him,
and turned back to his camp. He said to his wife, "I have lost some
very fat game. The fat kept dropping from him as he ran. We will
shift camp, and I will track him." Next morning Marten tracked
Beaver, and his wife and children followed behind. Beaver lay in
wait for Marten, and killed him. He cut off one arm, and covered
the rest of the body with snow. Then, making a camp, he scattered
pieces of sheep's fat about, and put Marten's arm on a hook to roast.
He had just hidden himself when Marten's family appeared. The
children were delighted, saying, "Father has killed some fat game.
See the camp, and the arm roasting, and the pieces of fat scattered
about ! " They ran around on their snowshoes, laughing, and gathering
up the pieces of fat. When Beaver appeared, the eldest boy was going
to shoot him with an arrow ; but Beaver called out, " Don't ! I am going
to marry your sister." His mother took hold of his arm, and said,
"Don't shoot! He will be your sister's husband." Beaver said,
"I will make a big fire, so that the meat will roast quickly." They
did not know that it was Marten's arm. Beaver brought in some
wood covered with snow and put it on the fire, which now became
smoky and nearly went out. He asked the mother and children to
get down on their hands and knees and blow on the fire. When they
did so, Beaver clubbed them, and killed them all excepting the youngest
child, who ran away and climbed a tree. Beaver could not catch him,
1 See Kutenai (Boas, BBAE 59 : 269, and notes 311 [Blackfoot, Shoshoni, Tsetsa'ut,
Uinta Ute]).
VOL. XXX. — NO. Il8. — 28.
432 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
so he transformed him into the animal marten, saying, "Henceforth
you shall be an ordinary marten, and shall eat rabbits and mice. You
shall never again eat men."
Beaver continued his journey along the trail.1 When near a small,
round lake, he saw that a giant was following him. He went around the
lake, and the giant chased him. Beaver ran round and round the
lake, the giant behind him. The latter could not catch him, and began
to slacken his pace. He said to Beaver, "How can I catch you?"
Beaver answered, "Make ready everything required for frying and
cooking my meat, then make a snare, set it, and catch me." The
giant did as advised. Beaver put a large tree-stump in the snare and
hid in the brush. The giant felt something in his snare, and began
to pull on the line. It was very heavy, and he gave a mighty tug.
The stump gave way, and, flying up, struck him on the forehead. The
wound bled much, and the giant licked and swallowed the blood as it
ran down his face. He was very tired and hungry, for he had chased
Beaver all day. He sat down, and thought, "What shall I eat?" He
thought of eating his ears, but said, "No! if I eat my ears, I shall spoil
my hearing." He thought of his nose, and said, " No! if I eat my nose,
I shall no longer be able to smell." He thought of all the different
parts of his body, and at last of his privates. He could not think of
their being of much use, so he cut them off and ate them. He felt sick,
and said to himself, "I am getting very sleepy." He was dying, but
did not know it. He lay down and died.
Beaver continued his travels, and came to the edge of a large river.2
Happening to look round, he saw another giant coming. He took off his
clothes, and painted himself with the white powdery substance that
covers the outside bark of cottonwood-trees. He looked like a ghost.
He put little sticks in his eyes to keep the eyelids open, and stood rigid
and immovable alongside the trail. As the giant approached, he said,
"That game looks very strange." He took his axe and made as if he
would strike; but Beaver never moved, or winked an eye. The giant
said, "This cannot be game." The giant tickled him in different parts
of the body, but Beaver neither moved nor laughed. The giant said
again, "This is funny." He poked his finger in Beaver's anus, and
then smelled of it, saying, "Well, this smells like game, but the body
does not act or look like game. This is very strange." He departed
wondering. Beaver ran away and climbed a tree. The giant changed
his mind, and returned to examine him again. When he arrived at
the place and found that he was gone, he said, "I am very sorry I did
not hit him with my axe. It was surely game." He followed the tracks
1 Also known to the Tahltan.
2 The following incident is also known to the Tahltan. See Tsetsa'ut (Boas, JAFL
10 : 40.
Kaska Tales. 433
to the bottom of a tree near the water-edge, but never looked up into
the tree. He saw Beaver's reflection in the river, and said, "There
he is!" He struck at the reflection with his axe. Then he moved to
the side and struck again. The giant kept this up for a long time, and
was completely soaked with the splashing of the water. He had about
made up his mind that he could not kill him, when Beaver laughed.
The giant looked up into the tree and saw him.1 He said, "I will
shoot you," and he put an arrow on his bow. Beaver called, " Don't!
If you shoot me, I shall fall into the river, and you will lose me." The
giant said, "I will fire the tree;" and Beaver answered, "You mustn't.
If you do that, you will burn me up, and lose all my fat." The giant
said, "I will chop down the tree;" and Beaver answered, "No! if you
do that, the tree will fall into the water, and you will lose me." The
giant said, "Then how shall I get you?" Beaver answered, "Get a
long pole and put a noose at the end and catch me." The giant agreed
to this. Beaver said, "Go up on yonder hill and cut a pole." The
giant went up, and, seeing a good-looking pole, called out to Beaver,
"Will this one do?" Beaver answered, "No, go farther! that is not
the right kind." Beaver kept on urging the giant to go farther, until
he reached the top of the mountain. The giant showed a pole from
there; and Beaver called out, "That one will do, now put a noose on it
and get everything ready." Beaver then came down out of the tree,
and swam across the river. When the giant came back, he missed
Beaver, and said, "He has got away. I am very sorry I did not shoot
him." Beaver talked to him from across the river. The giant asked
him, "How did you get across there?" and Beaver answered, "I made
my blanket into a canoe by tying it up and putting a board in the
bottom." The giant did this, and when nearly across began to sink.
He called out, "Help! I am sinking!" and pushed out the pole he had
cut for Beaver to catch it and pull him out. Beaver took hold of the
pole and pushed the giant under water and drowned him.
Beaver now made a canoe and went down the river. He saw smoke
and a camp, and put ashore and tied up his canoe. This was the camp
of Woodchuck, who ate men. He said to Beaver, "I am a good man,
and treat my guests well. I shall cook, that you may eat, for you must
be hungry." He cooked a mixture of human and other flesh. Beaver
knew the human flesh and would not eat it. Woodchuck became
angry, jumped on him, and scratched him. They fought a long time;
and Beaver killed Woodchuck and threw his body into the river. He
then burned his lodge and all his belongings.
Continuing down the river, Beaver reached the camp of Bushtail-
1 See Boas BBAE 59 : 305, note 3 (Assiniboin, Bellacoola, Blackfoot, Caddo, Chilcotin,
Comox, Haida, Kutenai, Kwakiutl, Nootka, Ojibwa, Osage, Quinault, Shuswap, Thomp-
son, Tsimshian). Also known to Tahltan.
434 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Rat, who was also a cannibal. He said to Beaver, " Be my guest; I am
a good man, and will treat you well. I will cook food for you." He
cooked a kettleful of flesh, which when done he served on a dish. He
put the human flesh on the side of the dish next to Beaver, who did not
touch it, but ate only from the other side of the dish. Rat was very
angry, and he and his wife jumped on Beaver. They fought a long
time and nearly killed Beaver, who in the end succeeded in killing both.
When nearly dead, Rat-Man called out, "I have two caches! The
good meat is in the eastern one, and the poor meat in the western one."
Beaver went to the eastern cache, and saw that it contained dried
human flesh. He burned up the two caches and also Rat's lodge, and
all the implements which he used for killing people.
Beaver continued his journey down the river, and came to the place
where Kingfisher lived. He lived by spearing fish, and did not kill
people. Beaver hid his canoe, changed himself into a large salmon,
and swam to the place where Kingfisher used to draw water. King-
fisher saw him, and ran back to get his spear. He returned quickly
and speared the salmon; but his spear-point broke off, and the fish
swam away with it. Kingfisher was very sorry to lose his spear-head.
He went back and sat down. Soon Beaver came along in his canoe.
He had the spear-head hidden in a box in the canoe, where it could not
be seen. Kingfisher said, " O my friend ! I have just lost a big fish that
went off with my spear-head. Had I caught the fish, we should have
eaten together. I should have cooked it for you." Beaver went up
to Kingfisher's lodge, where his host made him fall asleep and then
read his thoughts. He found out that the spear-head was in Beaver's
canoe, and went to search for it ; but he broke up the whole canoe before
he succeeded in finding it.1 When Beaver awoke, he went down to the
canoe and found it broken. He reproached Kingfisher, saying, "I
thought you said you were a good man and always treated your guests
well. Now you have broken my canoe." Kingfisher said, "I wanted
to get my spear-head, so that I may be sure to get food. If you are not
satisfied, I will throw a sleep on you again." Beaver did not kill King-
fisher, because he was not a cannibal. He lived entirely by killing fish.
When Beaver was leaving, Kingfisher said to him, "You will find
Otter-Man living lower down ; he is a bad man, and eats people. Look
out for him! He has a rope stretched across the river a little above
the surface of the water, and any canoe which hits it is cut to pieces."
Beaver repaired his canoe and continued his journey. He watched
for the rope. When he was near it, he lifted it up with a stick which
he had taken aboard, and passed underneath. Some distance below
1 See notes in RBAE 31 : 606, No. 67 (Bellacoola, Chilcotin, Comox, Fraser Delta,
Haida, Kwakiutl, Loucheux, Shuswap, Thompson, Tlingit). The author inquired for
this tale among the Tahltan, but did not find it. See also MAFLS 11 : 17.
Kaska Tales. 435
he saw smoke on a point, put ashore, and came to the camp of Otter-
Woman, who had in her privates animals that bit and killed men.1
The woman ran down to meet him, and cried, "You must be my hus-
band!" She hurriedly bundled his belongings into her game-bag, tied
it up, and was about to carry it up to her lodge. Beaver said, "Stay!
I want to drink some cold water. Will you fetch me some?" She
hurriedly brought some water from near by; but Beaver said, "That
is no good, it is too warm. Go up to the spring in the mountain and
get some really cold water." When she had gone, Beaver cut one of
the strings of the bag. Otter- Woman at once knew, and turned back.
Beaver beckoned her to go on ; and when she was far away, he cut the
other strings of the bag, took out his belongings, and embarked in the
canoe. He went downstream to an island where he made up his mind
to camp over night. Otter- Woman came back, jumped into the river,
swam to the island, and went to his camp. Beaver killed two beavers
at this place for food. Otter-Woman took the skins, tanned and
dressed them, sewed them into mitts for Beaver, and laid them by his
side. Beaver and Otter-Woman staid on opposite sides of the fire.
When Beaver awoke, he found the mitts the woman had made, and,
looking across the fire, he saw her lying naked with her legs apart, in
a tempting attitude. Beaver heated a stone, and, instead of having
connection with her, he pushed the stone into her vagina and killed
her. A weasel and mink came out, and he killed them.2 These ani-
mals bit men who had connection with the woman, and killed them.
Beaver continued his voyage down the river. He saw the smoke
of a big camp, and put ashore. Here lived Shrew-Woman, who
was very small and very wise.3 The smoke from her lodge rose out
of the grass. She asked him where he was going and where he had
come from. When he told her, she advised him not to go farther down
the river. She said, "An evil being lives lower down. He is gifted
with great magical power, and has many cannibal monsters under his
control. Above his house are two huge snake-like monsters with
hairy manes, that lie one on each side of the river.4 When they sleep,
their eyes are wide open ; and when awake, their eyes are shut. When
anything comes down the river, they both dart out their heads and seize
and devour it." Beaver said he was hungry, and Shrew cooked a few
1 See notes in RBAE 31 : 604 (No. 63), 614 (No. 12), 773, 809 (Arapaho, Bellacoola,
Chilcotin, Comox, Dakota, Fraser Delta. Jicarilla Apache, Kwakiutl, Lillooet, Maidu,
Pawnee, Sahaptin, Shoshoni, Shuswap, Thompson, Wichita [also in the Old World]).
Also known to the Tahltan. See also MAFLS 11 : 17, 152.
2 See Tsetsa'ut (Boas, JAFL 10 : 46).
3 Compare many tribes where a mouse is an old woman noted for wisdom, and people
ask her for advice, — a small black mouse among the Tahltan, the short-tailed mouse
among the Shuswap. See Kwakiutl (for instance, JE 3 : 12), Tahltan, Thompson (MAFLS
6 : 64; JE 8 : 209), Tlingit (RBAE 31 : 838), Tsimshian (RBAE 31 : 752).
4 See RBAE 31 : 797.
436 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
salmon-eggs for him in a tiny kettle. Beaver thought to himself,
"That is not enough." Shrew read his thoughts, and said, "You will
find there is enough." As the eggs cooked, they and the kettle grew
bigger, and Beaver found he could not eat all.1 When Beaver left,
Shrew gave him two fish to throw, one on each side, to the snakes when
he reached them. He came down midstream in his canoe; and as he
approached the snakes, he saw that their eyes were shut. He then
knew they were awake; and, as he passed between them, they darted
out their heads to devour him. He threw a fish into the mouth of
each; and while they were devouring the fish, he passed on out of reach.
A short distance below this place he saw two girls, sisters, playing on
the shore. He went ashore above them, and, changing into a blue-
bird, flew near them. The sisters thought the bird could not fly very
well, and chased it. At last the younger girl caught it and carried it
home. When they reached their lodge (they slept together, and apart
from their parents), the elder sister offered to buy the bird from the
younger one by paying her a silver spoon she owned. The younger
one agreed, and they exchanged. The elder girl took the bluebird
to bed with her, and placed it between herself and her sister. When
she awoke, she found a young man lying between them, and the bird
was gone. The girls began to cry, for they knew their father would
kill the man.2 They left him and went to breakfast. Their father
noticed tears in their eyes, and asked them why they were crying.
At last they told him of the young man, and he told them he wanted to
see him. They brought the man to him, and he at once seized him and
put him into a large kettle that he had on the fire. He kept him in
there for two days boiling, then he lifted the lid to see if he were prop-
erly cooked. Beaver had changed himself into a little bird; and when
the lid was lifted, he flew out and escaped.3 The cannibal tried hard
to catch him, but without avail. During the interval the sisters felt
very sorry for the man and cried often. That night Beaver came to
them and slept between them as a man. In the morning they cried
again, for they knew that their father would try again to kill him.
Their father heard them, and knew the man was there. When they
went to breakfast, their father asked them, and they finally told him
the man was there. He said to them, "All right, you may keep him as
1 Compare incidents of the magic kettle or dish which cannot be emptied: Bellabella
(Boas, Sagen 223, 227), Chippewayan (Petitot 369), Kathlamet (Boas, BBAE 26 : 103),
Kwakiutl (Boas, Sagen 154), Lillooet (MAFLS 6 : 96), Micmac (Rand 24), Newettee
(Boas, Sagen 181) Nootka (Boas, Sagen 103), Ponca (CNAE 6 : 138, 139), Shuswap
(Boas, Sagen 4; JE 2 : 644, 648), Thompson (MAFLS 6 : 43; JE 8 : 221, 315). Also
known to the Tahltan.
2 See RBAE 31 : 797.
1 See RBAE 31 : 806 (Tlingit, Haida, Tsimshian, Tsetsa'ut); also known to the
Tahltan.
Kaska Tales. 437
a husband, and he shall work for me." He told his son-in-law, "You
must finish my canoe for me," and showed him a large, partly finished
canoe, the sides of which were kept apart by a cross-stick. When
Beaver went inside to work, the cannibal pulled out the stick, and
the sides closed in and imprisoned Beaver.1 The cannibal went home
and told his wife that the strange man was dead or a prisoner. Shortly
afterwards he returned to the canoe, and found it split and his son-in-
law gone. Beaver had burst the canoe by spreading his elbows.
Next morning the cannibal heard his daughters crying again ; for they
knew the difficult tasks their father would give to their husband, and
that if he failed in any of them, he would lose his life. That day the
cannibal told his son-in-law that he wanted some eagle-feathers for
his arrows, and directed him to a big tree where the Bald-Headed
Eagle lived, who ate people. Beaver climbed the tree, and found only
two young Eagles in the nest. He asked them when their parents
would come home; and they answered, "Our mother will come with
wind and rain at noon, carrying the legs of a man. Our father will
come with wind and hail in the evening, carrying the upper part of a
man. He eats the rest." One of Eagle's children always told his
parents everything. He therefore could not be trusted, so Beaver
killed him. Beaver said to the other, "When your mother comes, tell
her your brother got sick in the head and died ; and you are sick in the
head now too, and will die by and by if you eat any more of that meat
she brings. You must not eat any of the meat. If she asks what
it is that smells like a man around here, tell her it is only the smell of
the game she brought." Beaver hid with a club outside the edge of
the nest. When the Mother-Eagle arrived, she asked why her son
was dead, and the boy told her all as directed by Beaver. He also
refused to eat of the meat she had brought. The mother said, "Very
well, I will eat the meat myself." When she had eaten just a little, a
piece stuck in her throat and threatened to choke her. She then knew
there was something wrong. Beaver jumped up and clubbed her, and
threw the body away. Beaver told the boy to tell the same story to
his father, and, if the latter asked where his wife was, to tell him she
had not yet come home. When the Father-Eagle arrived, he asked
for his wife. When he was told that she had not yet come, he said,
"That is strange, she always arrives here before me." The boy re-
fused to eat the meat he brought; so the father began to eat it himself,
choked on it, and was killed by Beaver, who now descended, plucked
the feathers out of the dead birds, and returned.2 The cannibal was
1 See RBAE 31 : 801 (Bellacoola, Chilcotin, Chinook, Comox, Coos, Fraser Delta,
Haida, Kodiak, Kwakiutl, Lillooet, Newettee, Nootka, Quinault, Squamish, Thompson,
Tlingit, Tsimshian).
1 See BBAE 59 : 286 (Arapaho, Assiniboin, Beaver, Chilcotin, Chippewayan, Dog-
Rib, Gros Ventre, Hare, Jicarilla Apache, Kutenai, Okanagon, Ponca, Sanpoil, Shoshoni,
Shuswap, Sia, Thompson, Uinta Ute).
438 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
much surprised that Beaver had returned alive. Next day he told his
daughters that their husband had to get sinew for tying the feathers
on his arrows. When they told Beaver, he sent one of them back to
learn where he had to go; and her father told her he had to go to the
hairy cannibal monster who lived beyond Shrew -Woman's house.
On the way Beaver called on the Shrew and told her of the task he had
to perform. She said to him, "I will help you." They went off to-
gether; and when near the monster's place, she dug a hole for Beaver
in which to conceal himself. The hair was worn off the monster's
haunches through sitting on the ground. When Shrew drew near,
the monster asked her what she wanted. She said, "I want you to
help me. I am cold, and I want some of the long hair from your body
to weave a blanket for myself." The monster told her to pluck some
hair from his haunches. She pretended to pull the hair, and said,
"The hair is too tough and coarse here, it will not pull out." He told
her to try another place. She did so, and said the same. Finally
she said, "The hair under your arm seems to be the best. I will pluck
some from there." The monster said, "All right." She pulled out
much of the hair from under the arm over the heart, and left a bare
spot. Beaver then shot an arrow at this vital place and mortally
wounded the beast, who immediately crawled into his hole or den.
Shrew crawled in, and found he was dead. Shrew- Woman now had
plenty of meat, and she cut out the sinew for Beaver, who went back
with it. When Beaver brought home the sinew, the women were
glad, and their father was very angry.1 Next morning he told his
daughters to tell their husband to get glue to fasten the feathers and
sinew on his arrows. He sent one of his wives back to ask where to
get it. Her father said, "Down there in the lake." There lived a
monster-fish, probably a kind of pike or a sturgeon, that ate people as
they went along the shore. Beaver took his spear and went to the
lake and speared the fish, which moved the whole lake in his death-
struggles. When he was dead, Beaver cut out the part used for glue
from behind the dorsal fin, and returned home. The cannibal was
now very angry, and said to his wife, "This fellow has killed all my
pets that kill men, and my arrows are not yet made."2 Next day he
sent him for paint to paint his arrows with, and sent word that it was
up the river where he had passed. As Beaver went by, he called on
Shrew-Woman for advice. She told him that the snake-monsters he
had passed coming down the river lay on the paint. She said she
would assist him. She made a man of clay to throw into the middle
of the river. She said, "When they see him, they will pounce on him,
1 Kutenai (Boas, BBAE 59 : 105).
2 See Beaver (Goddard, PaAM 10 : 235), Gros Ventre (Kroeber, PaAM 1 : SS-90),
Okanagon (Gatschet, Globus 52 : 137).
Kaska Tales. 439
and then you may steal the paint from underneath the tail of the one
on this side of the river." Beaver brought back the paint. The
cannibal now transformed his daughters into grizzly bears, and put
them on a side-hill across the river. He pointed out the bears to his
son-in-law, and said, "Do you see those bears across the water? Let
us go and kill them! You will go on the top of the hill, I shall drive
them to you, and you will shoot them." He gave his arrows to Beaver,
who saw that none of them had heads. Beaver, however, was pre-
pared for this, and had hidden two bone arrow-heads in his hair.
When Beaver got to the top of the hill, he put the bone heads on two
arrows. The cannibal drove the bears, and, when they came near the
top, Beaver shot the headless arrows at them; but they all broke, and
none of them penetrated.1 He then fired the arrows with heads, and
killed both the bears.2 The cannibal was very angry, and chased him
with a knife. As he could not run fast, he called on his wife, who was
fleet of foot, to chase Beaver. When she had nearly caught up with
Beaver, the latter made the ground crack behind him, and the woman
fell down. Again she gained on him; but he reached a lake, jumped
in, and changed himself into a beaver. The cannibal said to his wife,
"You can run fast; go back and fetch my net, that I may catch him."
The woman brought the beaver-net, and they set it in the lake. They
tried for several days, but could not catch Beaver. The cannibal
then called for the man (bird) with a big stomach 3 to come and drink
up the lake. He came and drank the lake dry. Beaver then hid in
the mud, and the cannibal and his wife probed all over for him. At
last they felt him, and Beaver realized that he was in extreme danger.
He called on Snipe, saying, "Quick! They have found me. Hurry
and punch a hole in the stomach of that bad man (bird) !" Snipe ap-
proached the Bird-Man, who was sitting quite still on the edge of the
basin where the lake had been. He was so full of water he could not
move, and felt very heavy. He said to Snipe, " Don't come near me!"
Snipe answered, "I shall not harm you. I am just looking for food
near you." Snipe made a swift stroke with his bill, and punched a hole
through Bird-Man's stomach and belly; and the water gushed out,
and soon filled the lake.4 Beaver began to swim about, and the canni-
bal and his wife rushed hurriedly away for fear of drowning. The
woman told her husband to come home, saying he could not beat their
son-in-law. On the way back they came to the bodies of their daugh-
ters, and began to cry. Beaver followed them, and, coming to the
1 See RBAE 31 : 742 (Bellacoola, Chilcotin, Okanagon, Shuswap, Thompson, Tlingit,
Tsimshian, Wasco); also Teit, MAFLS 11 : 79. Also found among the Tahltan.
2 Also known to the Tahltan.
3 A kind of bird. The narrator had forgotten the name.
4 See BBAE 59 : 304 (Beaver, Chihula, Huron, Luiseno, Micmac). See also Lillooet
(JAFL 25 : 333), Thompson (JE 8 : 254).
440 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
place, said, "Why do you cry? They are only sleeping." He said
to the bodies of the bears, "Wake up!" and they arose and changed
into the women they had been. They went off with him as his wives.
The cannibal man was now powerless to do harm, and consented fully
to his daughters marrying Beaver. Before they parted, he gave each
of them a feather, which he told them to put in the water wherever
they got their drinking-water. He told them that the feathers, al-
though in the water, would always be dry as long as their husband
remained faithful to them and did not go with other women, but the
moment he was unfaithful the feathers would become wet. They
were then to leave their husband and return home. Beaver went back
to his own country,1 and took his wives with him. The women ex-
amined the feathers every day, and knew that their husband was
faithful. A long time afterwards Beaver met his former wife, who
made love to him. He was unable to resist, and had connection with
her. On the following morning, when his wives went for water, they
found the feathers wet. They said, "We will leave our husband, for
our father told us to do this.2 Heat will come, and the people will
suffer for this." Soon great clouds appeared, and the women disap-
peared in them.3 Such a great heat came, that finally the water
boiled. People jumped into the streams and lakes to cool themselves,
and died. Beaver's first wife was the first one to die of the heat.
Beaver put his brothers in a shady place, and covered them thickly
with brush and grass to keep them cool. All the people died excepting
Beaver and his brothers.4 When the weather became cool again,
Beaver made snowshoes for his brothers, and left them. He went off
to search for his wives. He found their tracks and followed them.
He found their old camps, with lynx-meat cooked by suspending it from
a pole with hook and line before the fire. He did not touch any of the
meat, and always camped off to the side. At last he came to a camp
where the wood was still smoking. It was their last camp before
reaching their parents. Beaver camped to the side of it. That night
his father-in-law came into his camp and took up his place on the oppo-
site side of the fire. Both men hung their trousers above the fire to
dry. Neither of them spoke. In the night the cannibal interchanged
the trousers, putting his own where Beaver's had been. Beaver arose
1 Some say "in the sky;" others, "to the east."
2 See RBAE 31 : 780 (Bellacoola, Chilcotin, Haida, Lillooet, Seshelt, Tlingit, Tsim-
shian); see also Tsetsa'ut (JAFL 9 : 267).
3 Some people say "they ascended to the sky."
* See Bellabella (Boas. Sagen 216, 234; RBAE 31 : 886), Bellacoola (Boas, Sagen 246;
JE 1 : 96; JE 10 : 87), Kutenai (Boas, BBAE 59 : 49, 67; VAEU 23 : 164), Kwakiutl
(Boas, Sagen 157), Newettee (Boas, Sagen 173; CU 2 : 127), Shuswap (Sagen 5), Tsetsa'ut
(Boas, JAFL 9 : 268), Tsimshian (Boas, RBAE 31 : 727). A similar tale is also found
among the Tahltan ("Story of the Sun").
Kasha Tales. 441
very early in the morning, threw the cannibal's trousers into the fire,
and put on his own. When the cannibal discovered that he had no
trousers, he said it would be very bad for him if the sun got up and he
were without trousers. Beaver had two pairs, and the cannibal
begged Beaver to give him one pair. When the sun was about to get
up, Beaver took pity on him and gave him a pair, which he at once put
on. The cannibal then acknowledged that Beaver was more powerful
than he, and left him, ascending towards the sky.1 Beaver watched
where he went, and, following, came to where his wives were. He
took them back, and travelled to where people were. After he had
met them, they all travelled together. As they journeyed, two Ravens
began to fly ahead of them. The Ravens drove all the game away, so
that the people could not get any. It was winter, and they began to
starve. When people died, the Ravens picked out their eyes. At last
all the people had died excepting Beaver and his wives. The Ravens
flew over them, saying, "Yes, you are alive yet, but it will not be for
long. You will soon be dead too, and then we shall eat your eyes."
The Ravens always flew ahead of them wherever they travelled, and
at night roosted on a tree near by. It was moonlight, and Beaver
burrowed under the snow until he was past the tree where the Ravens
were sleeping. Then he ran ahead, and found the country full of
caribou and other game that the Ravens had been driving ahead. He
killed many caribou, and returned the way he had come.
Beaver now pretended to be dead to deceive the Ravens. He told
his wives to put his hands up near his eyes and cover him with brush.
The Ravens awoke at daybreak, and, looking down, saw that Beaver
seemed to be dead. Beaver's wives left, crying. The Ravens flew
over their heads, saying, "Yes, by and by you will be dead also, and
we shall pick out your eyes." They flew back and alighted on the
brush. Here they disputed as to which eye each would take. Beaver
suddenly seized their legs, and they begged to be let off. Beaver,
however, had no mercy on them, and burned them alive in the camp-
fire, saying, "What about the people you have killed? Why should
I spare you? " Beaver now went out to where he had killed the caribou.
When he was about to return home, he smeared blood over his snow-
shoes, so his wives would know that he had killed game.2
2. ORIGIN OF THE EARTH.
Once there was no earth. Water was where the earth is now. The
world was as a great lake. The animals and birds wanted to have an
earth, and proposed to dive for it. The earth was very deep under the
1 Some people say "to the sky," for this cannibal was the Sun and lived there.
2 The narrator said that there was more of this story, but he did not remember it.
See BBAE 59 : 303 (Arapaho, Beaver, Blackfoot, Chippewayan, Comanche, Gros Ventre,
Jicarilla Apache, Kutenai, Nez Perce, Pawnee, Thompson; see also Caddo).
442 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
water. Beaver and Muskrat, and all the animals and birds, divedr
but none of them reached the bottom. None of them staid under
water longer than half a day. At last Diver (a bird) went down.
After six days he came up quite exhausted and speechless. His
friends examined his toe-nails, and found mud or earth under them.
From this they formed on top of the water a new earth, which grew
until it formed the present earth. At first it was merely mud and
very soft. Later it became firm, and trees and vegetation began to
grow on it. Now the earth is old and dry. Perhaps it is drying up.1
3. THE GREAT FLOOD.
Once there came a great flood which covered the earth. Most of
the people made rafts, and some escaped in canoes. Great darkness
came on, and high winds which drove the vessels hither and thither..
The people became separated. Some were driven far away. When
the flood subsided, people landed wherever they found the nearest
land. When the earth became dry, they lived in the places near
where they had landed. People were now widely scattered over the
world. They did not know where other people lived, and probably
thought themselves the only survivors. Long afterwards, when in
their wanderings they met people from another place, they spoke dif-
ferent languages, and could not understand one another. This is why
1 The narrator stated that this was originally a long story. He had forgotten the
cause ascribed for the Flood, its duration, and many etails that he had heard. Compared
Algonquin (Charlevoix; see Barbeau, GSCan 80 : 295), Arapaho (Dorsey and Kroeber,
FM 5:1, 3, 4, 6, 20 note), Assiniboin (Lowie, PaAM 4: 101; Potts, JAFL 5 : 73),
Beaver (Goddard, PaAM 10: 256), Blackfoot (Wissler, PaAM 2 : 151; John Maclean,
Canadian Savage Folk, p. 51), Carrier (Morice, TCI 5 : 10), Cherokee (Mooney, RBAE
19 : 239), Chippewayan (Petitot 378; Lowie, PaAM 10 : 195), Cree (Russell 206; Skinner,
PaAM 9 : 83; JAFL 29 : 346; John Maclean, Canadian Savage Folk, p. 75; Petitot 472;
Swindlehurst, JAFL 18 : 139; Simms, JAFL 19 : 340), Delaware (Chamberlain, JAFL 4:
210; Brinton, The Lenape and their Legends, p. 134), (?) Dog-Rib (Petitot 317; Sir John
Franklin, Narrative of a Second Journey to the Shores of the Polar Sea [London, 1828],
p. 292), Fox (Jones, JAFL 14 : 234; 24 : 209; PAES 1 : 363), Gros Ventre (PaAM 1 : 60),
Hare (Petitot 147), Hidatsa (Maximilian Prinz zu Wied, Reise in das Innere Nord-
Amerika 2 : 221), Huron and Wyandot (Barbeau, AA 16 : 290; GSCan 80 : 39, 48, 50,
[Brebeuf] 293), Hale, JAFL 1 : 180; W. E. Connelley, Wyandot Folk-Lore [Topeka,
1899], p. 67), Iowa (cited by Boas, JAFL 4 : 15; Dorsey, JAFL 5 : 300), Kathlamet
(Boas, BBAE 26 : 23), Loucheux (Camsell-Barbeau, JAFL 28 : 249), Maidu (Dixon,
BAM 17 : 39), Menominee (Hoffman, RBAE 14 [pt. 1] : 114; AA [old series] 1890 : 243-
258; Skinner, PaAM 13 : 259), Miwok (Kroeber, UCal 4 : 188, 202), Mohawk (Hewitt,
RBAE 21 : 286), Newettee (Boas, Sagen 173, CU 2 : 223), Ojibwa (Schoolcraft, Hiawatha
39; Skinner, PaAM 9:175; De Jong, BArchS 5:14; Carson, JAFL 30:486; Jones,
PAES 7 [pt. 2] : 151, 271, 405; A. J. Blackbird, History of the Ottawa and Chippewa
Indians of Michigan [Ypsilanti, 1887], p. 76; Radin, GSCan 48 : 20; J. G. Kohl, Kitschi-
Gami [Bremen, 1859], 1 : 326, 2 : 224); Chamberlain [Missisauga], JAFL 3 : 150; for other
Ojibwa references see Chamberlain, JAFL 4 : 193; Speck [Timagami], GSCan 71 : 36),
Onondaga (Hewitt, RBAE 21 : 180), Sarcee (Simms, JAFL 17 : 180; E. F. Wilson,
BAAS 58 [1888] : 244), Salinan (Mason UCal 14 : 82, 105), Seneca (Converse, Bulletin
Kaska Tales. 443
/there are now many different centres of population, many tribes, and
many languages . Before the flood, there was but one centre; for all
the people lived together in one country, and spoke one language.1
4. ORIGIN OF FIRE, AND ORIGIN OF DEATH.
Long ago the people had no fire. Of all the people, only Bear had
fire. He had a fire-stone, with which he could make fire at any time.
He jealously guarded this stone, and always kept it tied to his belt.
One day he was lying down by the fire in his lodge when a little bird
came in and approached the fire. Bear said, "What do you want?"
and the bird answered, "I am nearly frozen, and have come in to
warm myself." Bear told it to come and pick his lice. The little
bird assented, and began to hop all over Bear, picking his lice. While
doing this, it also picked the string which fastened the fire-stone to
Bear's belt. When the string was completely picked asunder, the bird
suddenly snatched the stone and flew off with it.2 Now the animals
had already arranged for the stealing of the fire, and waited in line,
one behind another.8 Bear chased the bird, and caught up with it
just as it reached the first animal of the line. As it threw the fire to
him, he ran with it; and, as Bear in turn overtook him, he passed it on
to the next; and so on. At last the fire was passed to Fox, who ran
up a high mountain with it. Bear was so exhausted that he could
not follow Fox, and turned back. Fox broke up the fire-stone on the
top of the mountain, and threw the fragments a piece to each tribe.
Thus the many tribes all over the earth obtained fire; and this is why
there is fire in the rocks and woods everywhere now.
Fox then descended to a creek and threw a stick down into the water,
saying, "When people die, they shall come back to life again, even as
this stick rises again to the surface of the water; also old people, when
they die, shall come back young again." Just then Bear came there,
and, feeling angry because the people had stolen his fire, he threw a
N.Y. State Museum 125 : 33), Shoshoni (Lowie, PaAM 2 : 19, 247), Yokuts (Kroeber,
UCal 4 : 204, 209, 218, 229; Powers, CNAE 3 : 383; Potts, JAFL 5 : 73), Yuchi (Gatschet,
AA [1893], 279, 280; Speck, UPenn 1 : 103). The author did not find this incident
among the Tahltan, although he inquired for it. See also P. J. de Smet, Letters and
Sketches (Philadelphia, 1843), p. 40, probably Cree; N. Perrot, Memoir on the Manners,
Customs, and Religion of the Savages of North America (in E. H. Blair, The Indian
Tribes of the Upper Mississippi Valley, 1 : 35), probably Ottawa.
Mr. Robert T. Aitken has kindly given me the following additional references:
Iroquois (David Cusick, Ancient History of the Six Nations, p. 1), Montagnais (?)
(Lejeune, Jesuit Relations 5 : 155, recapitulation 6 : 157).
1 Compare Bellacoola (Boas, Sagen 243), Carrier (Morice, TCI 5 : 10), Comox (Boas,
Sagen 95), Lillooet (Teit, JAFL 25 : 342), Makah (?1 (Swan, Indians of Cape Flattery, 57),
Squamish (Boas, Sagen 57), Thompson (Teit, MAFLS 6 : 20, 44; JE 8 : 333), Tsetsa'ut
(Boas, JAFL 9 : 262), Tsimshian (Boas, Sagen 278, RBAE 31 : 243), Twana (Eells, Am.
Antiquarian 1 : 70 [Clallam, Lummi, Puyallup]).
2 See Tsetsa'ut (Boas, JAFL 9 : 262); RBAE 59 : 299, 301; Teit (MAFLS 11 : 2).
* See BBAE 59 : 301 (note 3).
444 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
big rock into the water on top of the stick, so that the stick never came
up again. Bear then said, "Henceforth, when people die, they shall
be dead always, and shall never come back again." If Fox's stick
had come up again after being hit by the rock, Fox would have won,
and people would have had their lives renewed each time they died.
There thus would have been no real death.1 Bear now, having no
fire, said, "I will make a hole in the earth, so I shall be able to keep
warm in the winter-time. I shall make my hole right on the trail."
Fox said, "If you make your house right on the trail, people will al-
ways find you. Make it on the mountains." This is why bears now
make dens in the mountains.
5. RAVEN, OR BIG-CROW.2
The Kaska have a story of Raven, who acts as a transformer and
trickster. The story is not well known to most of them, and may have
been borrowed, at least in part, from the Tahltan. My informant
would not attempt the telling of this story, as he said he did not know
it well enough, and none of the other Kaska who happened to be at
hand knew it any better. Among the incidents in this story are those
of Raven defecating and asking his excrements for information,3 and
of Raven sending his penis across a river, where it enters a girl. Musk-
rat called out, "Cut it with grass!" Adsit4 thinks this incident may
have been borrowed from the Cree, who have a story of the culture-hero
getting Muskrat to swim across a river with his penis, which then
enters a girl. The latter gets sick, and Muskrat calls out to cut it with
grass.5
6. BIG-MAN (DENE Tc6).6
Big-Man was in the world very long ago. He was of huge stature,
and had no hair on his head. When he stood erect, his head touched
the sky. Once a long time ago the sky was very close to the earth,
1 See BBAE 59 : 303 (Arapaho, Assiniboin, Blackfoot, Caddo, Cheyenne, Coeur
d'Alene, Comanche, Coos, Dieguefio, Dog-Rib, Eskimo, Hare, Klamath, Kutenai, Lillooet,
Maidu, Miwok, Pawnee, Porno, Quinault, Sanpoil, Shasta, Shoshoni, Shuswap, Takelma,
Thompson, Ute, Wintun, Wishosk, Yana; see also Luisefio). Also known to the Tahltan.
Compare p. 486 of the present number of this Journal.
2 There exist analogous Tahltan stories of Raven. — J. T.
3 See BBAE 59 : 294, note 5 (Chilcotin, Chinook, Flathead, Kathlamet, Lillooet,
Nez Perce, Okanagon, Shoshoni, Shuswap, Takelma, Thompson).
* George Adsit of Telegraph Creek, B.C., has lived for many years among the Cree,
Kaska, and Tahltan.
6 See MAFLS 11 : 71, 189; and RBAE 31 : 722 (Arapaho, Alsea, Assiniboin, Blackfoot,
Gros Ventre, Kalapuya, Menominee, Molala, Nez Perce, Shasta, Shuswap, Thompson,
Tillamook, Tututine, Wishram).
6 See BBAE 59 : 289, note 2 (Caribou-Eaters [Etheneldeli], Dog- Rib, Kato, Kutenai).
Similar tales occur among the Tahltan.
Kaska Tales. 445
and therefore it was always cold weather. At this time there was no
room for Big-Man. When he travelled, he had to crawl, for the sky
was very low. After a time he became angry at this inconvenience,
and began to push the sky up. He kept on pushing it up, until at last
he was able to stand at full height. The sky was now high, and far
from the earth, and this made the weather on earth much milder.
Since then it has been as it is now. Big-Man was a good man, and
never harmed Indians. Some think he went to the sky-world, or
somewhere up above, and that the rain is his tears.
7. THE BROTHERS, BIG-MAN, AND THE GIANTS.1
Two brothers lived together.2 The younger one hunted all the
time; while the elder staid in camp, cooked, and kept house. The
latter began to dislike his younger brother, and would not give him
anything to eat when he came home.8 One day the younger brother
became very hungry, and killed a porcupine. He made a fire, and
cooked it on a hook suspended from a pole near the fire. When
it was about half done, a giant came, and the lad ran up a tree.
The giant smelled of the porcupine, and threw it away. Finding the
lad's snowshoes, he ate out the fillings. Then he began to chop down
the tree in which the lad was. The lad cried for his elder brother, who
went there at once. When the giant saw him approaching, he was glad,
for he saw in him a meal. The elder brother offered to help the giant,
and took the axe. He said, "That boy is very bad. He always does
mean things. I will help you chop the tree, so that we may get him
and eat him." He swung the axe with great vigor; and the giant,
standing a little too close by, received a cut on the brow from the back
of the axe. The man said to him, "Stand farther away, I might hit
you hard." He chopped hard and wildly, swinging his axe around. He
watched his chance, gave the axe a great swing, and, instead of hitting
the tree, cut off the giant's head. The brothers opened it, and many
mosquitoes flew out, which were his brains. This is the reason why
giants are so foolish and easily fooled, and also the reason that mosquitoes
are in the world now. Had they not opened the giant's head and let the
mosquitoes out, there would be none of these insects now.4 The elder
brother cooked the porcupine, and gave half to his brother. After this,
they shared equally when eating. Now they travelled on, and always
camped in new country.
1 The Tahltan have an analogous story of "Big-Man and the Boy."
* Some informants say that the two brothers left their father and went hunting. They
were lost, and led a nomadic life.
3 Compare Chilcotin (Farrand, JE 2 : 41), Lillooet (Teit, JAFL 25 : 314), Shuswap
(Teit, JE2 :672). — J. T.
4 In two Tahltan stories ("The Brothers and the Giant" and "The Man who fooled
the Cannibal Giant") similar incidents occur.
446 Journal of American Folk-Lore .
They came to a region where there were no porcupines. They could
not get anything to eat, and were famished. The elder brother be-
came very hungry and very weak. At last he could travel no farther, so
he camped in the snow and made a big fire. He thought he would kill his
younger brother and eat him. The latter lay on the opposite side of
the fire, and watched him. When the fire had been burning some time,
the elder brother heard a sizzling noise on his brother's side of the
fire, and went to investigate. He found that they had lighted their
fire over the frozen carcass of a buffalo that had been killed fighting,
and the side of the animal was cooking. They cut it up and ate some
of it, and the elder brother became stronger. The younger brother
now hunted and killed some fat buffalo, the ribs and inside fat of which
he carried home and fed to his brother, who ate so much that he nearly
burst. The younger one said to him, "Eat some more!" but he an-
swered, "I cannot." The younger one said, "Eat more, be sure you
have your fill. You thought of eating me." The elder answered,
"My stomach was empty, that is why I thought that way; now I am
full." They became good friends, and went on to a new locality.
One day, when travelling, they came to a porcupine's den in the
rocks. The}'- saw Big-Man approaching, and, never having seen him
before, they were afraid, and went into the porcupine-hole. Big-
Man asked them to come out, saying that he would not harm them.
The elder brother came out, but the younger one was afraid and staid
in. Big-Man was angry because the younger brother would not trust
him: so he made the rocks grow together, and thus prevented him from
getting out.1 Big-Man told the elder lad that he wanted him to help
him get back his wife, whom a giant had stolen. Big-Man had two
large dogs which he used as pack-animals. They were the grizzly
and the black bears.2 Now the giant travelled, carrying the lad under
one arm; and very soon they reached a different country, where every-
thing was of enormous size. A very large kind of beaver formerly in-
habiting the world was to be found here. The beavers had hairy tails.
The giant and the lad reached a large lake in which there were many
beavers. Big-Man caught them in nets. He ate them, and threw away
the tails. The lad hid himself, and cooked and ate one of the tails.
Big-Man asked him what he was eating, and the lad told him. Big-
Man said, " Put some in my mouth, I want to taste it." When he had
tasted the beaver-tails, he said, "That is the best food I ever ate," and
he told the boy to gather all the tails he had thrown away.3 Big-Man
sent the lad out to scout. He said, "Look about and see if you can
1 The rest of the story is similar to the Tahltan story, " Big-Man and the Boy." See
the same story, Tsetsa'ut (Boas, JAFL 10 : 43).
2 See RBAE 31 : 798 (Chinook, Fraser Delta, Nootka, Thompson); Shuswap (JE
8 : 636); Thompson (Teit, JE 8 : 365; MAFLS 6 : 34).
3 Lillooet (Teit, JAFL 25 : 333). Thompson (JE 8 : 255). —J. T.
Kaska Tales. 447
see a big lake with what looks like an island in the middle." Big-Man
was fond of the lad, and always called him "Grandson." The lad
went up on the top of a high hill and looked around. He saw what
looked like an island in the middle of a lake, and returned to tell Big-
Man. The latter said, "That is the giant fishing."
Now they prepared to fight the giant. Big-Man made bow and
arrows and spear, and the boy made a beaver-tooth axe. He intended
to take a large beaver-tooth for the axe, but found he could not lift it,
so he took a young beaver's tooth. Big-Man told the boy to go near
the lake and to bark like a dog. He said, "The giant will become frigh-
tened and run home. You follow him up, barking, and I will lay in
wait for him on the trail between the lake and his house." The fish
the giant was catching in the lake were all covered with hair. When
he heard what he thought was a dog barking, he put his pack of fish on
his back and ran for home. When he came close enough, Big-Man fired
an arrow at him ; but the giant jumped aside, and the arrow missed him.
Then Big-Man attacked him with the spear, but the giant evaded the
thrusts. Now they seized each other and wrestled. After a long
time Big-Man became weak, and called on the boy for help. The
latter ran up, and, striking the giant with his beaver-tooth club, ham-
strung him, and he fell down. They then killed him.
Now they went to the giant's house. When the giantess saw them,
she called out, "Why did you kill my husband?" She threw huge
rocks at Big-Man, but the latter jumped aside and avoided them.
The giantess stood up and put her breasts on Big-Man's shoulders.
They were so heavy, he nearly fell down. They wrestled; and the
boy cut the sinews of her legs as he had her husband's, and she fell
down.1 They killed her and her babies and all her children. The
babies were of the size of tall men. Big-Man took back his wife,
and thanked the boy for his help.
The boy wanted to return to his own country and see his parents.
He had been away a long time. He knew his country was far off, and
he did not know where it was nor how to reach it. Big-Man knew
his thoughts. He said, " I will give you one of my dogs to ride. When
you get out of food, kill him and eat him; but be sure to preserve one
arm-bone, and keep it close to your head when you sleep. It will be
bare when you fall asleep; but when you awake, it will be clothed with
meat. Thus you will always have food to eat. I shall also give you a
walking-stick. When you retire, always stick it up near the head of
your bed. In the morning you will find the stick pointing a certain
way, which will be the direction you must follow for that day. Thus
you will know your road. Some morning when you find that the stick
has fallen down and is lying flat, and your bone is devoid of meat, you
1 Kathlamet (Boas, BBAE 26 : 92), Micmac (Rand 196).
VOL. XXX. — NO. Il8. — 29.
448 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
will know you are near your destination, and will reach home that day."
Big-Man also told him that he would not see him again, but that he
would know by signs when he died. He said, "When I die or am killed,
you will see the sky all red: that is my blood. You will also see rain
fall: that is my tears." Big-Man gave him his grizzly-bear dog to
ride. The lad had only gone a little way when the bear began to
growl and wanted to fight him. He called back to Big-Man, who
changed the dogs, and gave him the black bear to ride.
He went on until he came to a country where there was no game, and
became hungry. Then he killed the bear and ate it, but kept the bone,
as advised. One morning when he awoke, he saw that the stick had
fallen down and that there was no meat on the bone. He was glad,
and he reached his parents that day. That is why black bears are much
better eating than grizzly bears, and also why grizzly bears are mean some-
times and want to fight people. That is also probably why people say
that bears were originally dogs.
Not long afterwards the lad saw the sky all red, and rain fell. He
then knew that his friend Big-Man was dead. That is why people say
now that a red sky is blood (or Big-Man's blood) ; and when rain falls, it
is tears (Big-Man's tears).1
8. THE GIANTS AND THE BOYS.
Two boys were stolen by a giant, who gave them to his wife to
fatten for him. He hunted beaver all the time, and killed plenty;
but he was very fond of human flesh, and preferred it. He always
told his wife to cook something nice for him, meaning the boys; but
she always cooked beaver-meat, as she liked to keep the boys to help
her fetch water and do other things. At last she thought her husband
would some time get angry if she did not take his suggestions : so one
morning early, after her husband had gone hunting, she woke up one
of the boys and told him to take the buckets and go for water. She
wanted him to be absent, so that he would not know that she had
killed his brother.
As soon as he left, she pulled off his brother's penis, and then killed
him. The lad heard his brother's cries, and knew what had happened.
He kicked the buckets to pieces, and then went back to the house,
where he called, "Give me the arrows! I see a grouse on the water-
trail ! " She gave him the arrows. He broke them to pieces, and then
ran away. As he did not return, the giantess went to see what was
keeping him so long. When she saw the buckets and arrows broken,
she called to her husband , who came back and started with a spear in
pursuit of the boy. The boy hid in a crevasse of a glacier, where ice
was piled up. The giant was too large to enter, and he could not
1 Tsetsa'ut (Boas, JAFL 10 : 46).
Kaska Tales. 449
break the ice : so he poked in the hole with his spear, thinking he
could thus kill the boy. The boy rolled up his blanket and put it to
one side. The giant thought this was the boy, and kept stabbing it.
The boy hit his own nose and made it bleed, and rubbed the blood on
the spear-point. The giant thought he had killed the boy, so he left
his spear there and went home. He told his wife, "You killed one for
me yesterday, and I have killed one for you to-day." She had already
cooked the boy's privates and his body, and now the couple ate all
except the bones.
The giant told his wife, "We will shift camp to where the other boy
is, and eat him next. When they reached the ice, he told his wife to
crawl in and bring out the body. She crawled in, and found nothing
but blood-stains. The giant said, "His body is certainly there.
Where are your eyes?" His wife then pointed out the broken spear,
and they knew that the boy had escaped. After feeling around in the
hole, the giant started in pursuit.
The boy reached a place at a large lake where there was a large camp
of people fishing. They made ready all their weapons, and sharpened
many sticks. When the giant arrived, he asked, "Has my grandson
come here?" and the people answered, "Yes, he is here." The giant
said, "His grandmother weeps for him, and I have come to get him."
He asked the boy if he would come back; and the boy answered, " Yes."
The people invited the giant in, asked him to be seated, and gave him
fish to eat. After eating, the giant asked the boy to louse his head.
The boy loused his head. The people stuck the sharpened sticks into
the ground all round, and the boy tied the ends of the giant's hair to
the sticks. While the boy was lousing his head, the giant thought of
eating the boy, and pierced his leg with a bone. The boy jumped away,
and the giant reached out to catch him. As he did so, he found that
his hair was tied to pegs all round, and that he could not arise.1 The
people then attacked and killed him.
The giant had told his wife to follow him. The people made a new
camp on the way she was to come, and prepared to receive her. They
cooked the fat from the stomach of her husband, and had it ready for
her. When she arrived, she was carrying a bundle, and pretended
that it was a baby. She herself cried, imitating a baby. Then
she would say, "The baby is not crying: I am doing this to fool the
Indians." She asked where her husband was, and the people told
her he was at the camp beyond, but would soon be back. She an-
swered, "My husband is not in the habit of going to other camps."
The people had already told her the camp she was now in was made
by her husband especially for her. They assured her that her husband
would be back soon, and said to her, "Sit down, and we will give you
1 Chinook (Boas, BBAE 20 : 18).
450 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
something good to eat." She sat down on the pretended baby. The
people asked to see her baby; but she said, "It cries when anybody
looks at it." The people gave her her husband's fat to eat. She said
it had a bad taste, and they told her it was perhaps a little old. She
began to eat again. Some of the people went behind her, and tied
the ends of her hair to the neighboring willow-bushes while the others
spoke to her and entertained her. When all was ready, they began
to laugh at her, and said to her, "That was your husband's fat you ate."
She got angry and opened the sack she carried, in which were stones
for throwing at the people. The people attacked and killed her.
When they opened the bundle to look at the baby, they found only
the bones of the boy she and her husband had eaten.
9. BLADDER-HEAD BOY; OR, THE MONSTER THAT ATE PEOPLE.
A man with his wife and baby were travelling all the time, and net-
ting beaver on the lakes and streams. They came to a big lake, which
they crossed, and camped on the other side. One day the woman was
dragging to camp a skin toboggan with beaver-meat, carrying her
baby on her back. She noticed some large animal approaching, and,
being afraid to turn around, looked back between her legs. She saw
that the animal was an a.tix' ,l and became very much afraid. She
scattered all the meat in the snow and ran to camp. Her husband
would not believe that she had seen this animal, and told her she was
simply excusing herself for having given the meat to her sweetheart.
She pulled up her clothes, and said, "You can see I have been with no
man." He laughed, and went off to set his beaver-nets. On his re-
turn, he went to bed, and was soon sound asleep and snoring. The
woman cut a trail to escape through the willow-brush near camp.
She then lay down on the opposite side of the fire from her husband,
with her moccasins on and her baby in her arms, ready to run. During
the night she heard the animal coming, and poked her husband with a
stick to awaken him; but he slept on. She then ran away, and the
animal came into camp and ate her husband. Afterwards the animal
followed the woman's tracks, making sounds like a person crying.
The woman reached a place on the lake where many people were
camped, and warned them. The people made many holes close to-
1 A very large kind of animal which roamed the country a long time ago. It corre-
sponded somewhat to white men's pictures of elephants. It was of huge size, in build like
an elephant, had tusks, and was hairy. These animals were seen not so very long ago,
it is said, generally singly; but none have been seen now for several generations. Indians
come across their bones occasionally. The narrator said that he and some others, a
few years ago, came on a shoulder-blade which they at first thought was a peculiarly
shaped rock, sticking out of the ground. This was on the top of a mountain near the
Hyland River. The shoulder-blade was as wide as a table (about three feet), and was
covered with about seven inches of moss.
Kaska Tales. 451
gether in the ice of the lake, so that the animal, in approaching, would
break through and drown. When it came to this place, the ice broke
with its weight; but the animal walked along the bottom of the lake,
broke the ice ahead of him, and came out to where the people were.
The woman with the baby ran away. The other people were so scared
that they could not run. They fell down quite helpless, and some of
them were as if asleep.
In the camp was a boy who was ill treated by everybody. Even
the old women stepped over him, and treated him as if he were a dog.
He looked as though he had no hair, because he wore a moose-bladder
over his head. Only his grandmother knew that he was like a shaman.
He had magic trousers and magic arrows. Now, his grandmother
nudged him, and said, "See what is coming!" He said to her, "Get
my trousers and arrows." He donned his trousers and seized his bow
and arrows. He jumped, and shook his head. The bladder burst,
and his hair fell down over him. He shot an arrow right through the
animal. Then he jumped to the other side and shot an arrow back
through it again. Thus he shot until he killed the animal. The
people were very thankful, and gave him two girls to be his wives, but
he accepted only one of them. They made him their chief. This is
why since then people have had chiefs. The woman who ran away came
back again.
10. THE KASKA MAN WHO MADE WHALES.1
A Kaska man was married to a Tlingit woman, and lived near the
ocean. His sister lived in the same village, and was married to the
brother of his wife. Beyond, out in the ocean, was an island of ice
just like a glacier, and no one had ever been able to climb it. The
people were hunting seals near there in a large canoe. They said,
"The Kaska are good climbers; they are an inland people. We
should like to see our son-in-law try to climb up on the island." The
Kaska man said he would try. He put on his snowshoes and snow-
shoe-spurs, took his walking-stick with spiked end, and landed. He
did not have much difficulty in climbing the ice, and soon reached the
top. The Tlingit were jealous, and shouted loudly; then they turned
the canoe and paddled away. A boy on board, who was his brother-
in-law, was sorry, and paddled the opposite way to the other paddlers,
for he did not want to desert him.
The Kaska man felt very sad when he saw that he was deserted, and
finally lay down on the ice and fell asleep. It seemed as if he dreamed,
1 See RBAE 31 : 818 (Haida, Rivers Inlet, Tlingit, Tsimshian). Also known to the
Tahltan.
For the incident of the invisible arrow see RBAE 31 : 820 (Bellabella, Bellacoola,
Comox, Coos, Haida, Kwakiutl, Lower Fraser River, Nass, Newettee, Nootka, Tlingit,
Tsimshian).
452 Journal of American Folk-Lore .
but it was reality. Some one spoke to him, and asked him to come
down underneath. He went down into a house which was the Seal
people's house, and saw many people there. They asked him how he
had come to be asleep overhead, and he told them. One of the Seal
men was sick. He had been speared by a Tlingit, and the harpoon-
head was in his flesh. The shamans of the Seal people did not know
what was the matter with him nor how to relieve him. They had tried
all kinds of treatment. Some of them proposed that they ask the
stranger to try and cure him. The Kaska man knew at once what was
the matter. He blew on the wound, and then pulled out the harpoon-
head without any difficulty. All the people were glad. They asked
the Kaska if he wanted to go home, and he said, "Yes," They put
him in a distended seal-bladder, the neck of which they tied securely,
and then set him afloat in the sea. They told him he must think only
of his home. If he thought of anything else, he would immediately
return. When he hit the sand and heard the noise of the waves on the
shore, he would know he was at home, and might then open the bladder
and get out. When he had reached half way to his destination, he
thought of the place he had left, and immediately went back. The
people warned him again, and sent him forward. Several times this
happened. At last he managed to concentrate his thoughts long
enough on his home, which he now reached very quickly. He sent
back the bladder to the Seal people as soon as he got out of it. He
told his wife of his experiences, and asked her not to tell any one.
Now he went in the bush near the seashore and carved a number of
pieces of wood in the shape of whales, and threw them into the water
end first. All of them were too light, and bounced up too quickly.
He tried all kinds of wood. At last he made them of a hard heavy
wood. When he threw them into the water, they went down a long
way, and rose to the surface afar off. He transformed them into whales
and sent them to catch seals. When they accomplished this, he called
them back. He said to them, "Now, you must go to meet the large
canoe with the seal-hunters, overturn it, and smash it; but you must
spare the boy, and leave him a piece of canoe to float on." The Whales
did as directed, and all the seal-hunters were drowned excepting the
boy.1 He called the Whales back, and said to them, "Now you shall
be real whales, and go in the ocean as you will. You shall overturn
canoes sometimes, and shall also eat seals. You shall be the largest
and strongest animals of the ocean." This is why the Tlingit say it
was a Kaska man who created the whales.
1 For the making of the artificial whale see RBAE 31 : 822 (Haida, Nass, Tlingit,
Tsimshian); and the making of artificial animals or of swift canoes (Comox, Haida,
Lkufigen, Nass, Newettee, Nisqually, Quinault, Tlingit, Tsimshian; also Thompson [Teit.
JE 8 : 272]).
Kaska Tales. 453
II. WAR WITH THE SWAN PEOPLE.1
Once a man had a wife who had many brothers. He hunted caribou
all the time, and his wife staid in camp and prepared the meat and
skins. One day when carrying caribou back-fat, and while on his
way home from hunting, he heard cries from down below, near his
camp. He hurried there, and found that a strange man had taken his
wife. She had held on to the willows, but he had dragged her along
and put her in his canoe. He was just pushing off when the husband
arrived at the water-edge. The husband told the man to let him see
his wife; but the man would not do this, and kept her down in the
bottom of the canoe. The husband asked the stranger many ques-
tions ; and the latter answered freely, for he thought there was no pos-
sibility of his ever being followed. He learned that the stranger was a
Swan man. He belonged to the Swan people, who often stole women
from the Indians. They lived in a high cold country a long distance
off. Between their country and the Indian country the sky intervened ;
but at intervals it would rise for a short time, and then fall again on the
water. At these times people could pass through from one country
to the other. The man stated that there was snow in his country
already, and that the winter had set in. The husband asked him how
he did on the way going home. He answered, " I anchor my canoe
with a stone every night, and go on in the morning." The husband
then asked him to give him something that would satisfy him for the
loss of his wife, and he gave him an arrow. Then the stranger de-
parted, never expecting that people could possibly follow him.
The husband now gathered all his own friends, his wife's brothers
and all her friends, to make up a large war-party. They made many
canoes, many snowshoes, many moccasins, and many arrows and
spears. They started on the track of the Swan man over the lake.
At night they lashed all their canoes together and anchored them.
After many days they arrived at a place where there seemed to be a
hole in the sky. The sky was rising and falling at short intervals at
this place. They watched a chance when the sky rose above the
water, and rushed through. The sky came down and hit the last man.
They thought this bad luck: so they gave this man a canoe, and sent
him back.
It was summer in their own country, but on the other side of the
sky it was already winter. At last they saw smoke on the shore, and
came to an old camp. The people had lately left this camp, excepting
two old women 2 and a girl. They had gone off on their early winter
1 The narrator said he thought the scene of this story was somewhere near the ocean
or a very big lake. The last part of the story is called " The Child Story," but he did not
remember the details of it.
s Some informants say that the women were very old and blind, and therefore not
able to travel with the people.
454 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
hunt in the interior. The war-party hid near the camp. One old woman
said to the other, "Put a stick on the fire." She got up and pulled a
log along to put it on the fire. One of the war-party, concealed in the
bushes near the fire, took hold of the opposite end of the stick. He
pushed it and pulled it, causing the old woman (who held on) to go
backwards and forwards. The other woman laughed, saying, "Why
does she go back and forth in that way?" The woman holding the
log made a sign to her to keep quiet, and not to laugh. Then she
whispered, "Maybe there is some one here. You know there was a
woman stolen by our people lately."
The war-party now cached their canoes, put on their snowshoes, and
followed the people's tracks. They intended to kill the old women on
their return. The Swan people were still travelling every day, the
men hunting, and the women dragging the toboggans and making the
camps. The captive woman had not slept with her new husband yet.
She always lingered behind, dragging her toboggan; and when she cut
brush for the camp, she always did so back on the trail. An old woman
also followed behind, being unable to drag her toboggan as fast as the
others.
The husband who had lost his wife was chief of the war-party.
After a number of days they caught up with the Swan people, and the
chief went ahead to reconnoitre. He saw his wife cutting brush, and
he stopped. She came back along the trail, and saw him. She was
glad, and about to rush towards him; but he said to her, "Don't come
near me, only speak! We are famished. Can you get food for us?"
The old woman was not far away, and she had much meat in her
toboggan. The captive woman went to her, and told her how her axe
had broken, and that she wanted some sinew to tie the stone to the
handle again. The old woman said, "Go to my toboggan and take
out some sinew." She went there, and took out meat and replaced
it with brush. She then hauled the meat back to the war-party.
Again she hauled back brush to camp, and told the old woman her axe
had broken again. The old woman told her to take some more sinew,
and she took meat and carried it to the war-party. The chief (her
former husband) said to her, "To-night put fresh meat on the men's
snowshoes and on their arrow-points (and spear-points?), so that it
will freeze on, and they cannot use them. In the morning a strong
wind will blow, and then we shall come. Keep your husband l awake
by playing and fooling with him until he is tired. He will then sleep
soundly."
Her new husband was chief of the Swan people. When nearly day-
break, the woman built a fire, and one man started out to hunt. Then
a strong cold north wind began to blow, and nothing could be seen
1 Some people say "two husbands."
Kaska Tales. 455
outside the camp except the driving snow. The war-party crept up
in the storm, and the woman ran out and joined them. They attacked
and killed all the people. The only one who escaped was the man
who had gone hunting.
When they returned to the camp near where they had cached their
canoes, they found that the two old women and the girl had changed
into mice. They set out on their return journey on the lake, and
came to the place where sky and water met. They found that the
sky had frozen to the water, and that they were barred by what seemed
a wall of ice. All the shamans and the animals tried to make a passage
through, but without result. The Lynx jumped at the ice wall, trying
to make a hole with his nose, and drove it back into his face. This is
why he has now such a short blunt nose. At last Weasel made a hole
and passed through; the next animal, a little bigger, enlarged the hole
and went through; and thus they enlarged the hole, a bigger animal
passing through each time. At last the moose went through, and
then they took the canoes through.1 The party then travelled back
the way they had come, and reached home in safety.
Now the Mice women in Swan land travelled into the interior to
find their people. The girl with the old women was sister to the man
who had gone hunting and thus escaped death. They found his tracks
and followed him; but he always kept ahead of them, and camped
alone. They could not overtake him. The old women had a dog that
could speak like a person. This dog always went forward to the
hunter's camp, and brought back meat for the women and the girl.
Thus they continued journeying until they reached a large camp of
Swan people who were their friends. The hunter would not camp
with them, however, because his sister (the Mouse girl) was pregnant,
and he was ashamed. He had never had connection with her, so he
was much ashamed when people said he was the father of his sister's
child. He became so much ashamed that he committed suicide.
(Here follows the child story, which I did not record.)
12. THE DESERTED WOMAN.2
A man and his wife were travelling with other people. The woman
had a heavy load, and was following behind. She came to a hill where
the people had slid down with their toboggans on the snow. Here
she found a ball of fat which must have been lost from one of the
toboggans. When she reached camp, she showed the fat to her hus-
band. He became angry, and accused her of having a sweetheart,
which she denied. He said, "Your sweetheart must have paid you in
1 See Tsetsa'ut (Boas, JAFL 9 : 261).
2 See Thompson (Teit, JE 8 : 237). The Tahltan have an analogous story of "The
Deserted Woman."
456 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
fat." (This is why some married people are now suspicious of each
other, and accuse each other of infidelity without sufficient reason.) In
the morning the husband burned his wife's clothes and tools, the people
extinguished the fires, and all of them deserted the place, leaving the
woman to die of cold and starvation. Only her sister-in-law had pity
on her, and told her she had left a little fire for her in one place.
As soon as the people were out of sight, the woman blew on the
embers left by her sister-in-law, and made a small fire. Numbers of
rabbits began to come to the deserted camp. She found some scraps
of sinew at a place where the men had been making arrows. She
made a snare with these, and caught a rabbit. She took the sinews of
its legs and made another snare. Thus she continued catching and
living on rabbits. She made needles and awls of their bones, thread
of their sinews, and clothing and blankets of their skins. She took
great care not to let the lire go out, as she had no axe or any tools for
making fire. She collected whatever fire-wood she could find. She
had no snowshoes, and could not go very far, for the snow was deep in
that place.
At last March came, and spring was near. There was a hard, thick
crust on the snow. One day she tapped on her knee, and said, " I wish
some of you people would come this way ! " She said this almost with-
out thinking, as if in fun. Soon afterwards a moose ran past the camp,
and a man on snowshoes in pursuit on the crust. Seeing the moose
had passed near the camp, the man asked the woman how long since
it has passed or how far ahead it was. She pointed out to him the
branches of a tree still moving which it had touched in passing, and
made a sign that it had just gone out of sight. The man went on,
after telling her that his brother was following and would camp there
that night. The brother came along, following the tracks, and, seeing
the camp, left his blankets there with the woman. The first brother
killed the moose, and that night both brothers returned to the woman's
camp heavily laden with moose-meat. They cooked meat and gave
some of it to the woman. During the course of the evening they
asked the woman why she was alone, and why she wore only rabbit-
skin clothing, and she told them all. They said, "When we return to
our camp, we shall tell our mother." They told their mother, who
said, " I am almost blind now, and I am very glad you have found this
woman. She will be a wife for you, and will sew your clothes." They
took the woman to wife, and she made for them fancy clothes of moose
and caribou skin, embroidered richly with quill-work, and feather
head-dresses. (This is why men are now jealous of a good wife, who
looks after them well and makes fancy clothes for them.) She also made
good clothes for herself. (This is why men now like a woman who
dresses neatly and well.)
Kaska Tales. 457
The woman staid with her husbands and mother-in-law in one place.
After a time her former husband arrived, and, finding tracks, he fol-
lowed them to the camp. He was surprised to find his former wife
there, finely dressed, well provided with meat, and having two hus-
bands. He offered to buy her back with a stone axe and arrows. The
woman took the axe and threw it into deep water, and threw the arrows
into the fire. She said to him, "Don't you remember how you left me
to starve? I shall never go with you now!" He departed crying.
(This is why, when a good woman separates from a bad man, she becomes
better off, and never returns to him.)
13. THE SISTERS WHO MARRIED STARS.1
Once two sisters made camp together, and before retiring looked up
at the stars. They saw two particularly brilliant stars, — a red and
a white one. One sister said to the other, "I shall take that red one
for my husband, and you may take the white one." That night, when
asleep, they went up to the stars, and awoke next morning in the sky,
each with a man by her side. The sister who had chosen the red star
was covered with a red blanket belonging to the man with whom she
slept, and the man of the other sister had a white blanket. The women
lived with these men in the sky -world, as they knew no way of getting
back. Their husbands hunted every day, and killed plenty of game.
Thus they had an abundance of food.
The women decided to try and get back to earth. They cut up
skins and made a very long rope. When their husbands were away
hunting, they worked at digging a hole in a hidden place in the timber.
At last they dug through, and could see the earth beneath. They tied
a stone to the end of the rope and let it down, but the rope was too
short. By adding rope to rope they at last found that the stone
reached the earth. They made many pairs of gloves to wear while
sliding down the rope, to prevent friction on the hands and to guard
against the rope getting worn out. One day when their husbands
were away, the younger girl slid down and reached the earth, and the
elder followed her.
When the men returned from hunting, they searched for the women,
and, finding the hole and rope, they threw the latter down. The
sisters found they had alighted on the top of a large tree near a main
trail where people were constantly passing. They saw the Moose,
Wolf, and many others pass. As each one passed, he called, "My
brother-in-law is coming behind!" At last the Wolverene came in
sight, carrying his snare on his back. (This is why the wolverene now has
1 See BBAE 59 : 309 (Arikara, Assiniboin, Blackfoot, Caddo, Chilcotin, Dakota,
Cos Ventre, Kutenai, Micmac, Otoe, Pawnee, Quinault, Sanpoil, Shuswap, Songish,
Thompson, Tsetsa'ut, Wichita; see also Arapaho, Crow). Known to the Tahltan.
458 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
the peculiar marks on his back like a snare.) When he arrived under the
tree, the women whistled, and he looked up. When he saw the
women there, he was glad, and climbed the tree. When he reached
them, he wanted to have connection with them; but they said, "Take
us down first!" He carried one of them down, and then wished to
have connection with her; but she said, "Bring my sister down first."
He ascended and brought down the other woman. Then he wanted
to have connection with both; but they told him, "You must provide
us with food first, for we are hungry." Wolverene went off and stole
dried meat from somebody's cache. When they had eaten, he de-
manded again to have connection with them. They told him, "Our
father advised us never to have a man unless he was able first to provide
fat caribou-meat. You cannot expect to have a woman until it is cer-
tain you are able to kill fat caribou." He went off hunting, and the
sisters fled. They ran until they came to the canyon of a river, which
they were unable to pass. They sat down, and before long they saw
Wolverene coming. He was carrying a heavy pack of fat caribou-
meat. As soon as he arrived, he wanted to have connection with the
women, without even waiting to take his pack off. The sisters knew
what he would do when he reached them, and had arranged that one
of them would pretend to let him have connection, and the other one
would then kick him over the cliff. One woman lay down near the
edge of the cliff, and he went to have connection with her. She told
him the right way to do was first close his eyes and fold his arms. The
other sister then kicked him over the cliff into the river below. The
women then ran along the canyon to a narrow place, where a large man
(who was a kind of snipe) aided people in crossing. There was very
bad water (rapids) in the river at this place. They called on the man
to help them cross; and he stretched his long legs across, and they
walked over on them. They said to him, "We will pay you porcupine-
quill garters if you will let Wolverene drop into the river. When he
comes, just stretch one leg across, and turn it when he is half way
over." He agreed, and they gave him the garters. Wolverene came
along, carrying his pack. He said to the man, "Where did you get
my garters? I will kill you if you do not help me to cross at once."
The bird man stretched one leg across for him to walk on. When he
was half way over, he turned his leg, and Wolverene fell into the river
and was drowned.1
The sisters went back to their parents, and lived with them. They
told their parents, "When we travel, you must go ahead and make
bridges for us over every creek, and even over every swampy place
and wet spot." Their father always did this. At last one time, feeling
tired, he neglected to bridge one little spot. The sisters never came
» Crane bridge. See Waterman (JAFL 27 : 43); Blackfoot (Uhlenbeck, VKAWA 13:
130); Sahaptin (MAFLS 11 : 177).
Kaska Tales. 459
to camp, and their mother went back to look for them. She found
that they had turned into beavers, and had already built a house.
After this they were beavers.
14. THE MAN WHO COHABITED WITH HIS SISTER.1
A man lived in one place with his two wives, who were sisters.
The elder had four children, and the younger none. In another place
not far away lived his sister, who was married to a brother of his
wives. The man always killed plenty of marmots, and the family
were well provided for. After a time he brought home no marmots,
and the family began to be hungry. He had become enamoured of his
sister, who was a young girl, and he visited her constantly. He killed
his sister's husband (brother to his wives), cut his body open, and def-
ecated inside. He brought all the meat to his sister, and none to his
family, for he wished them to starve to death. He claimed that he
had bad luck and could get no game. Sometimes he was away as long
as five nights, and returned without anything. The women managed
to live by snaring ground-squirrels. They noticed that their husband
was always fat and contented-looking, and he never slept with them.
They became suspicious, and one day the elder wife followed him.
When he was out of sight, she ran; and when in sight, she lay and
watched. She took advantage of the nature of the ground, and fol-
lowed him until §he saw him enter his sister's camp. She hid and
watched until she saw him leave the camp for the purpose of visiting
his marmot-traps. He was dressed in new clothes, while, when he
came home to them, he always wore old ragged clothes. When he
was out of sight, she approached the camp, and, in passing by the
place where they got water, she saw the defiled body of her brother
lying there. She entered the camp, and saw much meat there.
She said to her sister-in-law, "Oh, you are well off! Your husband
must be a good hunter, for you have plenty of meat on hand. Our
husband cannot get anything, and we are starving." Her sister-in-
law then cooked some liver for her, although there was an abundance
of good meat in the camp. After eating, she said to her sister-in-law,
" I think you have many lice in your head. I will louse you before
I go." The girl accepted the service, and laid her head in the woman's
lap. After lousing her a little while, the woman took the two bone
scratchers which were suspended by a string around the girl's neck,
and with one in each hand ran them into the girl's ears and killed her.
She pounded up some dried meat, and filled the girl's mouth and nos-
trils with it. Then, taking a pack of the best meat and fat, she went
home, and fed her children with fat. When the man returned to his
sister's camp, he found her dead, and was very sorry. He took his
1 Also known to the Tahltan.
460 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
pack of marmots to his own camp, where he said to his wives, " I have
had good luck this time, and have brought you some meat; but you
must make a camp for me some distance away, as I want to be alone.
If I sleep with you, my bad luck may return." His real reason was,
that he might be alone, and thus be able to cry without being noticed.
The women made a camp for him a little ways off, arranged every-
thing nicely, and put a block of wood under his pillow. That evening
they fed the children with some roots. One of them cried for fat; and
the women, fearing their husband had heard it, said, "It is roots the
child means. How could he know about fat? He has never been
used to eating it."1 Their husband went over to his camp, and they
could hear him crying. After a while he fell asleep, and they could
hear him snoring. The two women then went over and clubbed
him to death on the head. Before he died he cried, "You have killed
my sister, and now you kill me!" (This is why men sometimes take a
fancy to their sisters, and even cohabit with them. Had not this man in
mythological times become enamoured of his sister, men would not do
so now.)
The elder sister now proposed that they should go to where their
late husband's brother lived, and tell him what had happened. He
was unmarried and lived alone. The younger sister was afraid, saying
that he would kill them; but at last she agreed to go. They gathered
all their meat together, and took all the marmots from the traps, and
made a cache of all. Then they burned the body of their husband
and departed. When they drew near their brother-in-law's camp,
the elder sister said, " I am not afraid. I don't care if he kills me. I
shall go and see him." She went into the camp, carrying her baby on
her back, and told the man of the killing of his brother and sister,
giving him full details. He said to her, "You have done right. My
brother did evil, and acted like a dog." The woman told him that
her sister was afraid, and remained some distance away with the chil-
dren. He said, "Tell her to come in. She need not be afraid. I do
not blame you for what you have done." She went into camp with
the children, and the two sisters became the wives of their brother-in-
law.
15. STORY OF THE WATER-MAN.2
Some people who lived near a lake were troubled by a water-man
who lived in the middle of the lake. He fooled and ate people. In
the centre of the lake could be seen numerous very long strings, like
weeds, on the surface of the water. This was his hair. On the edge
of the lake was a thing growing, in substance like a stick, and in shape
like a man's penis. This was his penis. The people had tried many
1 See Eskimo (Nelson, RBAE 18 : 467); Russell (JAFL 13 : 15); Jettg (JAI 38 : 341).
1 Tsetsa'ut (Boas, JAFL 10 : 48).
Kaska Tales. 461
times to break it, but could not accomplish it. They practised bathing
in cold water to make themselves strong, so that they might break
it, but without avail. Among the people who were making medicine
that they might attain power to break it was an orphan boy who lived
with his uncle, who had two wives. His uncle and the younger wife
treated him badly. Each succeeding night the boy tried to break the
penis, and at last one night he accomplished the feat. He put it to-
gether again, and said nothing. Next morning his uncle, accompanied
by many men, went to try again, and it broke easily.1 All were glad,
and went back to camp rejoicing. They composed a song on the occa-
sion. They thought they could now conquer the water-man.
Next morning they went in a large canoe to kill the water-man.
The boy's uncle stood in the prow of the canoe to do the killing.
When they embarked, he had told the boy to go home, as he would
be of no use; but the boy went, nevertheless, and sat in the stern of the
canoe. His uncle seized the water-man by the hair, and was about to
strike at him, when the latter moved his head; and he fell out of the
canoe, and was at once killed by the water-man. The boy then arose,
and, running forward to the bow of the canoe, seized the water-man's
hair and killed him. He struck off his head as easily as cutting fat.
The people then returned, singing a song of victory and a death-chant
together. The boy's uncle's wives heard the singing, and began to
paint themselves, as they thought their husband was the victor. The
elder was doubtful as she heard the two kinds of songs; but the younger
one kept on painting herself, although the paint constantly scratched
her face. The boy had made it do this.
When all the people learned of the boy's victory, they made him
chief, and he became renowned throughout the country. He took
his uncle's elder wife to be his wife, but would have nothing to do with
the younger one.2
l6. THE DECEITFUL WIFE.
A woman had two husbands 3 who were brothers, and their mother
lived with them. She and her mother-in-law shifted camp while her
husbands went hunting. When about to make camp, she noticed
that she had forgotten her needle-case in the last camp, and she went
back for it. On her return she fell in with a war-party of many men,
who intended to attack her people. They had connection with her
until she became quite exhausted. They told her not to tell the people,
gave her a lot of ptarmigan, and let her go. She carried the birds to
camp and gave them to her mother-in-law. The latter asked her
1 See Tlingit (Swanton. BBAE 39 : 145, 289).
2 A Tahltan story, "The Deserted Orphan and the Goat Chief," is similar to the end
of this story.
* Notice the common reference to women with two husbands in Kaska. It appears
also in Tahltan myths. This does not occur in any Salish stories that I have collected.
462 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
how she came by them, and she told her that she had killed them with
stones. The old woman examined them, and saw that they had been
killed with arrows. She said to her daughter-in-law, "Get some water
for your husbands; they will be coming home soon." When she had
returned with the water, she immediately lay down and slept, for she
was very tired. Just when the men were coming, the old woman
spilled the water, then woke up her daughter-in-law and sent her for
more water. She noticed that she was very lame. While she was
gone, the woman showed the birds to her sons, who at once knew there
was something wrong. They had brought home some fat caribou-
meat. They told their mother they would have a last big feed to-
gether, and that when the meal was finished she must go out and try to
escape. They cooked and ate a hearty meal. When the repast was
over, the old woman took the pails, pretending that she was going for
water. She left the camp, and ran off into the woods. The men built
up a huge fire so as to intensify the darkness surrounding it. They
then attacked and killed their wife, because she had deceived them.
The war-party heard her cries and rushed into the camp. The brothers
ran out in the darkness and escaped. This is why since then women have
been deceitful and hide their actions and wrong doings.
17. THE OWL- WOMAN.1
A woman lived with her daughter, who had two husbands who were
brothers. She was visited by two men who, she thought, were her
sons-in-law. She made up her mind to get rid of her daughter and
have her sons-in-law for herself. She told her daughter to climb up a
tree where the owl lived, and get some owl-feathers for her. Her
daughter refused, saying that she was afraid she might turn into an
owl ; but her mother persuaded her that there was no danger. When
half way up the tree, the girl's clothes dropped off, and feathers
began to grow on her, and she became an owl. The old woman
dressed in her daughter's clothes, fixed up her face and hair to make
herself look young, and then sat down in a new camp she had made to
await the coming of her sons-in-law. After they came home, she re-
marked as she was eating, "I am young yet, see how sharp my teeth
are! " and again, as she got up, " I am young yet, see how quickly I can
get up! I am like a young woman." The men noticed that she got
up slowly like an old person ; and this, with the remarks she had made,
caused them to be suspicious. They pulled back her head and her
hair, and recognized her as their mother-in-law.2 Thinking she had
killed their wife, they killed her, and then went to their old camp.
On the way they passed the tree where their wife was, and saw her.
1 A similar story is found among the Tahltan. 2 See RBAE 31 =605 (No. 64). 861.
Kaska Tales. 463
They begged of her to come back to them; but she answered, "No,
you have killed my mother, so I shall remain an owl."
18. THE DOG-MAN AND DOG-CHILDREN.1
A family consisting of parents and daughter lived together. They
had an old dog who always lay at the entrance of the lodge. When-
ever the girl went outside, she had to step over the dog. One day they
moved camp, and as usual put a pack on the dog. When they reached
the camping-place, the dog was missing. The parents sent the girl
back to look for him. She met a good-looking man accompanied by
a dog carrying a pack. He asked her where she was going, and she
told him she was looking for their dog, who had gone astray with his
pack. He answered, "This must be your missing dog. I found him,
and am bringing him along." The girl, becoming fascinated with the
man, ran off with him, and camped in a different place. The man
hunted, and always obtained plenty of game. He told his wife,
"When you throw away bones, never throw them far." The woman
noticed that when her husband hunted, she always heard barking
where he was. She asked him about this, and he answered that he
knew nothing of the barking. She also noticed that the bones she
threw out were always eaten up or gone in the morning.
One night she pretended to sleep, and watched. Her husband arose,
and soon afterwards she heard something eating the bones outside.
She looked, and saw that it was an old dog. She now knew that her
husband was a dog or dog-man, and, taking a club, she struck the old
dog on the head and killed him. She then went back to her parents and
told them she had been living with a man, and that she was pregnant.
Her mother, thinking she would have a nice baby, prepared for it by
making a fine marten-skin robe, and a nice bed for the baby to be born
in. The girl gave birth to seven pups; and her mother became so
angry and disgusted, that she snatched away the robe, took away all
the food and everything in the lodge, and left the place. Her father
and all the people also deserted her.
1 The narrator said that he thought this story may have come from the Tahltan to the
Kaska some time ago, as both tribes have the story localized in the Tahltan country.
See RBAE 31 : 785 (Bellacoola, Chilcotin, Comox, Kwakiutl, Nootka, Quinault); Carrier
(Morice, TCI 5 : 28); Cheyenne (Kroeber, JAFL 13 : 182); Chinook (Boas, BBAE 20 :
17); Dog-Rib (Petitot 311; Franklin, Second Voyage, p. 308); Eskimo (Rink, Tales and
Traditions of the Eskimo, 471; Boas, RBAE 6 : 630; Murdoch, American Naturalist,
1886 : 594; Boas, JAFL 7 : 207; Holm, Meddelelser om Gronland 39 : 270); Fraser
Delta (Boas, Sagen 25; MAFLS 11 : 130); Hare (Petitot 314); Kathlamet (Boas, BBAE
26 : 155); Lillooet (JAFL 25 : 316); Squamish (Hill-Tout, BAAS 1900 : 536); Thompson
(Teit, MAFLS 6 : 62, JE 8 : 354, MAFLS 11 : 30); Tlingit (Krause, Die Tlinkit Indianer,
p. 269); Tsetsa'ut (JAFL 10 : 37); also Coos (Frachtenberg, CU 1 : 167). Known to
the Tahltan.
VOL. XXX. NO. Il8. — 30.
464 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
The girl lived by picking berries. When their mother was away
gathering food, the pups turned into children and played together.
There were six boys and a girl, and the girl always watched while the
others played. The mother noticed, when she came home, that the
brush on the floor of the lodge was disturbed and turned over, as if
children had been playing; and she thought it strange that dogs should
do this. She picked up some rags and made them roughly to resemble
clothes, which she stuck up within view of the lodge one day when she
was out. The girl watched this, thinking it was her mother. The
latter crept around behind, seized the dog-skins the children had dis-
carded, and threw them into the fire. The girl, however, managed to
get on part of her skin, and thus remained half dog. Later the mother
managed to get the rest of her skin, and she then became like her
brothers.
The dogs were now really children, and they grew up fast. The
young men hunted, and always brought back plenty of game. They
had the power of scenting game, as dogs do, and therefore were very
successful in hunting.
Now, the mother was suspicious that one of her sons slept with his
sister, and she determined to find out which one it was. She smeared
pitch all round where her daughter slept, and next morning she noticed
the side of her youngest son marked with pitch. She was sorry about
this, and began to travel with her family. When about to cross the
Stikine River in the Tahltan country, she said to the girl, "Look at
your brothers bathing in the river down below ! " As soon as she looked,
all were changed to stone, including the mother. Some were ashore
at the time, and some were in the river. All of them are now rocks to
be seen at this place.1
19. STORY OF LYNX-MAN.2
Once a long time ago a man was hunting in the mountains with his
wife. At that time there was no game in the low parts of the country.
People lived on sheep, marmots, and ground-squirrels, all of which
abounded in the mountains. The man wanted to procure some eagle-
feathers: so, taking a rope with him, and accompanied by his wife, he
went to a cliff where there was an eagle's nest. He tied the rope around
his waist, and got his wife to lower him down. Just when he had
reached the ledge where the nest was, Lynx-Man appeared at the brink
of the cliff, and ordered the woman to let go the end of the rope. Being
afraid, she did as directed. Lynx-Man then took her away to a place
in the bottom-lands where the brush was very thick and there were
many Jack pines. Here he set many snares, and always caught plenty
1 Tsetsa'ut (Boas, JAFL 9 : 257). 2 A similar story occurs among the Tahltan.
Kaska Tales. 465
of rabbits. He cooked and offered the woman rabbits, but she would
not eat. On the way to this place the woman had carried some grouse
that Lynx-Man had caught, and, as she went along through the
brush, she plucked the birds and dropped the feathers along the way
as a sign.
When the Mother-Eagle came back to the nest, she found the man
there. She said, "What are you doing here?" and he answered, "I
came here to get some eagle-feathers. My wife let me down, and I
had barely reached the ledge when for some reason the rope fell down.
Now I have no means of getting up or down." Eagle said, "Why,
Lynx has stolen your wife; that is why the rope fell down. Get on my
back, and I will take you down and show you where to find your wife."
The man did not answer, as he was afraid, and Eagle knew it. She
said, "There is no danger. I am able to carry you. Put that big
stone on my back, and I will show you." The man did as directed,
and the Eagle flew away with the stone on her back, and threw it off
on the opposite mountain. Returning, the man got on her back, and
she flew down with him.1 Eagle then said, "Watch my flight. I will
fly to where your wife is. When I circle four times, you will know she
is directly below where I am." Eagle flew off, and the man watched.
After flying some distance, Eagle circled twice, and then went on.
After a time she circled four times, and then returned. On arriving
back, Eagle asked the man if he had noticed where she went, and he
answered, "Yes." Eagle then told him there was a large Caribou
below where she had circled twice, and his wife's camp was underneath
where she had circled four times. Eagle plucked a number of feathers
from her body and gave to the man, saying, "I will now leave you.
My children are hungry, and I must go and feed them."
The man went to where the Eagle had circled twice, and found a
caribou there, which he killed. He then went on, and came to Lynx's
camp, where he found his wife alone. She was glad to see him, and
said to him, "When Lynx comes, you must say you are my brother,
and address him as brother-in-law." Towards evening Lynx came to
camp, carrying a load of rabbits. When he saw the man, he drew his
bow and was about to shoot at him. The woman cried out, "This
is my brother come to visit me. Don't shoot at him!" Lynx said,
"Oh, my brother-in-law indeed!" and came into camp. He cooked
many rabbits for his supposed brother-in-law. That night, when
Lynx-Man was asleep, the man and woman killed him. Then they
shifted camp to where the carcass of the caribou was.
1 See Sanpoil (Gould, MAFLS n : 108), Thompson (Teit, JE 8 : 371).
466 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
20. THE FOG-MAN. l
A man and his wife were out hunting. They had two daughters
who staid in camp. There was little to eat ; and the girls, being hungry,
ate about half of the back-fat that remained in the camp. Their
mother was angry when she returned and found that they had eaten
so much fat. She said to them, "Go up in the mountains and marry
Fog-Man. He is a good hunter, and always has plenty of fat." The
girls ran away from home, and, going up in the mountains, came to the
place where the Fog people draw water. They met a woman there
who was the mother of Fog-Man. The girls told her their story, and
she said she would tell her son.
Fog-Man had two wives, Porcupine and Beaver. They were bad
women. They ate people, and they were always angry and cross.
As soon as Fog-Man learned of the girls from his mother, without say-
ing anything, he arose and hit Porcupine with his axe, and drove her
from the house. He said, "Go up to the timber-line among the balsam
and become a porcupine. People will eat you." Then he hit Beaver
with a stick, and drove her, too, from the house. He said, "Go down
to the river and become a beaver. People will eat you also." He
brought the girls in, and now had two good wives. He hunted and
put up a great quantity of meat of caribou, sheep, etc., and fat ground-
hog. He made a very big cache of meat in the mountains. Then he
went to visit his parents-in-law, taking his wives with him, and plenty
of meat. He staid a long time with his wives' people; and while he
remained there, the people always had plenty to eat, for Fog-Man was
a good hunter. His chief food was sheep's horns, which he called fat,
and cut just like back-fat.
Each of his wives bore him a son. One day some of the people
quarrelled with him, and he left them. On his way home he put a
mountain on the top of his meat-cache, so that the people could not
get at it. They could find no game, and were starving. They went
to the cache to get meat, but were unable to remove the mountain
which covered it. The woman (viz., mother-in-law) sent Fog-Man's
sons to look for their father. She said to them, "When you see your
father's tracks and follow them, paint the soles of your feet with red
paint, and never look back." They did as directed, and found their
father. Many Fog people were living there. When they went in,
they gave the lads sheep's horns to eat.
When Fog-Man heard that the people were starving, he was sorry.
He went to the cache and took the mountain off the top. The people
now had plenty to eat. Fog-Man's mother-in-law ate so much fat,
that she became too full, and, when reaching over to take some more,
1 The Tahltan have a similar story ("Ca'kina"). See Tlingit (Swanton, BBAE 39 :
222, 280).
Kaska Tales. 467
she broke in two.1 After this, people used caches and put up meat in
caches. Fog-Man taught them. This is why the Indians now cache
their meat and make caches.
21. RABBIT-MAN (Ga'.TCOEZE') •
Rabbit-Man was very clever. He was a shaman and next in power
to Beaver. He had two brothers and a sister. The latter was married
to Bear-Man, and the two brothers lived with them. Rabbit lived
alone in another place.
Bear became angry because his young brothers-in-law were lazy,
and he made up his mind to starve them. He made them always
camp behind himself and his wife, in a different place, and gave them
raw liver. Rabbit-Man knew that his brothers were badly treated,
and went to see them. He saw that his brothers had no fire and no
good food to eat. After making a big fire for them, he asked where
Bear-Man was camped. They said, "On ahead," and indicated the
spot. Rabbit went to Bear's camp, and found only his sister (Bear's
wife) there. He saw much fat meat there. Without saying a word,
he helped himself to the meat, and went back and fed his brothers.
When Bear came home, he missed the meat, but said nothing. As
he changed his moccasins, he thought of Rabbit. He knew that he
had come, and he knew that he was a very clever man. Soon after-
wards Rabbit appeared, and asked Bear if he had seen any moose or
buffalo when hunting, and Bear replied that he had seen three. Rab-
bit proposed that they should go after them at once; but Bear said
that he was too tired, and could not go until morning. At last Rabbit
persuaded him to go that night. They chased the moose (or buffalo)
and killed two. One ran off, and Rabbit went after it. He ran it
down, killed it, and cached the meat in the snow.
On returning to Bear, he told him that he had failed to catch the
runaway. Bear prepared to pack the two animals they had killed by
tying them together, while Rabbit was to go ahead and break a trail
for him to follow. Bear said, "My load is very heavy; break a good
trail for me, and pick good easy ground." Rabbit made a trail through
bad places and straight up steep places. At last he went up a very
steep place, and Bear became angry. He said to himself, "I will fix
him when I get to camp!" When Bear reached the top of the de-
clivity with his heavy load, his head was bent down, and he was out of
breath. Rabbit hit him on the head with a club and killed him. He
rolled over backwards with his heavy pack. Rabbit then returned to
camp, and told his sister, "Your husband wants you to meet him.
He is tired." She answered, "No, my husband never yet asked me to
1 Tsimshian (Boas, RBAE 31 : 825).
468 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
meet him." Rabbit persisted in the truth of his statement, and at
last she went. He killed her at the same spot where he had killed her
husband.
Rabbit now returned to his brothers, and took them to the place
where he had cached the meat. There they camped, and cooked and
ate much. Now, Bear-Man had many friends, and they came to take
revenge. Rabbit gave each of his brothers a feather. He told them,
if they were attacked, never to move or to say anything, but just to
watch his eyes. He said, "While I sit, you sit; and when I get up, you
get up." The Bear people came and attacked the camp. Rabbit got
up; his brothers did the same, and all changed into feathers.1 They
blew away on the wind, and came down a long ways off, where they
changed back to their natural forms and camped. Rabbit hunted and
killed many moose, so they had plenty to eat. He said to his brothers,
"Live here until I return. I am going to kill our enemies."
Rabbit arrived at the camp of an old Bear-Man, who was sharpening
sticks.2 He said to him, "Why are you making these sharp sticks?"
and Bear answered, "To kill Rabbit-Man." (Bear did not recognize
Rabbit, for he had changed his appearance.) Rabbit asked old Bear-
Man how he used the sticks, and the latter showed him. Rabbit took
up the stick, and, pointing it at Bear's head, said, "Oh, this way!"
and then pierced him with it, killing him.
Rabbit went on to a camp of many people near a lake.3 Changing
himself into a young rabbit, he sat down near the hole in the ice where
the people got water. Some women carrying water saw him and
caught him. They took him to camp and showed him to the other
people, who thought it strange that there should be a young rabbit in
the middle of winter. They all examined him, passing him from hand
to hand. Wolverene was the last one to examine him. After looking
at him very closely, he said, "Perhaps this is Rabbit-Man," and threw
him into the fire. Rabbit jumped out of the fire, and ran away as if
lame. The people followed him, trying to catch him. He ran out in
the middle of the lake, chased by the people. He made a gale of wind
come and blow all the snow off the ice, which became so smooth and
slippery that the people could not stand up. He then took a stick
and killed one after another.
Wolverene had not followed him. He thought himself smart, and
sat in the camp smiling to himself. Rabbit entered, and, striking him
across the arms and legs, broke them. He put his body on a spit and
set it up before the fire to bake. He then gathered all the children
together, chinked up the brush lodge, and set fire to it. When all were
1 See Chilcotin (Farrand, JE 2 : 24, 25), Thompson (Teit, MAFLS 6 : 74, 75; JE
8 :265). — J. T.
2 See Lillooet (Teit, JAFL 25 : 295), Thompson (JE 8 : 226, 227). — J. T.
3 Also known to the Tahltan ("Raven and QExtsa'za"). — J. T.
Kasha Tales. 469
burned up, he went home. This is how wars started among the Indians.
At one time war was unknown. Rabbit introduced war, and the
Indians imitated him. Since then there has been war among tribes
and families. Had Rabbit not introduced war, people would know
nothing of war now.
22. WOLVERENE.1
Wolverene had two wives and several children. His wives' mother,
and two brothers of his wives who were yet boys, lived with them.
He always caught many beavers, and gave plenty of meat to his mother-
in-law and brothers-in-law as well as to his own family. He was very
quick at setting beaver-nets, for he used his penis as an ice-chisel.
The boys tried to find out how he managed to set the nets so quickly,
but he always managed to conceal himself when making holes in the
ice. One day, however, they happened to see him, and made remarks
about the shape of his ice-chisel. One of his own sons told him of
these remarks. He became angry, and said he would starve them.
After that he fed his own wives and children, as usual, but gave nothing
to his mother-in-law and brothers-in-law. He allowed them a fire,
however, but he gave orders to his wives not to give them any food.
When Wolverene's daughter saw that her grandmother was starving,
she went to her mother, saying she was very hungry, and asked her for
some beaver-meat. Pretending to eat the meat, she passed it down
her dress, and carried it to her grandmother and the boys. The latter
now began to hunt, for they were very hungry. One day they
chased a moose by the place where Wolverene was working beaver on
the ice. They asked him if the moose was far ahead ; and he answered,
"Just a little ways." The lads chased the moose a very long way
before they caught up with it and killed it. They brought back
some meat and fat to their camp. That night they broke some bones
to extract the marrow, and Wolverene heard them. He called out,
"Oh, you have some meat! You are eating marrow-bones." The
old woman was angry, and answered back, "No, you are mistaken.
We are breaking old bones. Where should we get meat? We are
starving."
That night, when Wolverene was asleep, the old woman and boys
shifted camp to where the moose was. Next morning Wolverene
noticed that there was no fire at their camp, and sent one of his sons
over to find out the reason. He came back and told his father that
there were no people there. Wolverene knew now that the lads had
killed the moose. He made up his mind to follow them, and told his
wives to go ahead. He would stay behind and finish catching
beavers, and then overtake them. He killed a number of beavers, and,
taking one of them on his back, he set out. Before long he passed his
wife, who was pregnant, and therefore walking very slowly.
1 Also known to the Tahltan ("Wolverene and the Brothers").
470 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
When he reached the people's camp, he said, "I have brought you
some good meat; " and he gave the beaver to his mother-in-law. He
had defecated inside the beaver. The old woman threw it away,
saying, "We do not eat your dirt." Wolverene said, "How nice the
moose-fat smells!" The people said, "We will feed you fat; sit down
and close your eyes." He was not particular now about concealing
his privates, but sat down before the fire and lifted up his apron (or
shirt?), exposing himself to view. When he shut his eyes, the people
poured hot grease on his privates. He began to scratch at the burnt
place; and while he was doing this, they clubbed and killed him.
They then went out and met the wife who had the children and was
pregnant, killed her, and cut open her belly. They also killed all the
children excepting the youngest, who managed to escape and climbed a
tree. Here he became a wolverene, and said, "Henceforth I shall
break into people's caches, and steal out of their marten-traps."
23. WOLVERENE AND HIS WIVES.1
Wolverene married the eldest of many sisters, and took her to his
house. He hunted all the time, and always had plenty of meat and
fat. He had a hole in the ground under his house, into which he put
his wife. He kept her there, and fed her just fat meat and fat. He
never gave her any water to drink. When she was very fat, he killed
her and ate her (or cached her meat). He then went crying to his
mother-in-law's house, saying that his wife was dead. He cried so
much, that they took pity on him, and he got the next oldest sister for
a wife. He did the same with her. Thus he married and killed all
the sisters excepting the youngest two.
At last the youngest sister of age was given to him. She thought
something was wrong, and was on her guard. He treated her the
same way. When she had been some time in the hole, she asked him
why he had never slept with her; and he answered, "I don't want to
spoil my food." She then told him to give her something to kill mice
with, for they were annoying her terribly. He gave her a long, sharp
piece of antler. While he was absent hunting, she dug a tunnel with
the tool, until she got out to the bank of the creek. She was too fat
to walk, so she rolled to the creek and drank. She then rolled onto a
log, and floated downstream to the place where her mother drew water.
Her sister, a little girl, came for water, and saw her. She went back
and told her mother, who said, "Don't say that you saw your sister!
She is dead." However, she went and brought her daughter up to the
camp. She fed her nothing but water, so that she might get thin.
Wolverene thought she had died, and shortly afterwards appeared,
1 See Eskimo (Boas, RBAE 6 : 633; Rink, Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo, 106;
Holm, Meddelelser om Gronland 39 : 235), Shusvvap (Teit, JE 2 : 702).
Kaska Tales. 471
crying, and saying that his wife had died. The woman's mother hid
her. Wolverene smelled her, and sniffed, saying, "Ah! What do I
smell? It smells like an old cache." Then he thought his wife
might have escaped somehow, and went back to see if she was still in
the hole or cache. He was wont to leave his victims in the hole for a
time after they were dead. His brothers-in-law followed close behind
him. WThen he went into the hole to see if his wife was there, they hid
close to the edge. When he stuck his head up to come out, they hit
him and killed him.
24. WOLVERENE AND WOLF.
Wolverene and Wolf were brothers-in-law and lived together.
Wolf had no wife, while Wolverene had a large family. They hunted
in company, Wolf traversing the high mountains, and Wolverene
following the timber-line below him. Game was very scarce. By
and by the deep snow prohibited their hunting on the high grounds,
and they had to hunt lower down in the woods, where game was still
less abundant. One day they came on a cache of dried meat made by
some people (Indians) in a bad precipitous place near a waterfall, and
beyond their reach. Wolverene was very anxious to get at the cache,
and thought by jumping against it he might knock it down. Wolf
would not attempt it, and declared that if Wolverene jumped, he
would not reach the cache, and would simply fall down on the steep,
smooth ice below, and perhaps kill himself. Wolf declared he was
going home, and, just as he was leaving, Wolverene made the jump.
He fell short of the cache, landed on the steep ice, and was precipitated
to the bottom, breaking his arms and legs. Wolf lifted him up;
but he could not get him out of there, nor set his broken limbs.
Soon afterwards some people came along to get meat from the cache,
and found Wolverene lying there with his arms and legs broken.
They knew he had been trying to steal, so they clubbed and killed
him. As he was dying, he said to the people, "No matter if you kill
me, I shall steal from your caches just the same. There are many
of us." This is why the wolverene is now such a thief, and breaks into
people's caches and steals their meat. Wolf returned to camp, and reared
WTolverene's family.
25. STORY OF THE BABY STOLEN BY WOLVERENE.
A man and his wife were travelling towards where the people lived.
The woman was taken in travail, and, as was the custom of the people,
she had to go in retirement during and for some time after her con-
finement. When they camped for the night, the husband made a
camp for himself, and another for his wife some distance away.
472 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
One night a giant came to the woman's camp, threw a noose
around her neck as she was sitting at the fire, choked her, and dragged
her body away in the snow. The baby, which remained alone, began
to cry. The husband called out to his wife, "Why does the baby cry so
much? " Receiving no response, he went over to see. When he arrived,
the baby was quiet, and he found Marten suckling the baby with
his tongue. He asked him what he was doing; and he said, "I am
suckling the baby with my tongue, for his mother is dead." The
husband took his bow and arrows and followed the giant's track in the
dark, and after a time came to where the giant had lighted a big fire
and was about to eat. He saw him sucking the milk out of the
woman's breasts, and then he put them on sticks before the fire to cook.
The man crawled up close to the giant, and fired an arrow into his
body. The giant immediately put his hand up to the place, and said,
"My! A spark has burned me! " He said to the fire, "Why did you
do that?" Again the man shot him, and he did the same. Then he
said, " It is strange, I feel sleepy." He lay down, saying, " I will sleep
a little while before eating the breasts." He was dying, and did not
know it.
When the man returned, he found Marten caring for the baby,
and suckling him, as before. The man gave his breasts to the baby,
and milk came. After that, in the day-time Marten suckled the baby
with his tongue, and at night the father gave him his breasts. At last
they reached the people, and the man gave his baby to the women to
rear. He hunted, and every five days returned to see his baby, and
was glad to see that he was doing well.
One day, when he was away hunting, Wolverene came to the camp
and told the people the father had sent him to get the baby and take
it to him. The people thought this strange, but gave him the baby.
After five days the father came back, and asked to see the baby. The
people said, "Why, don't you know, Wolverene came here some days
ago, saying that you had sent him for the baby, and we gave it to him."
The man stated that he had not sent Wolverene, and at once started
in pursuit of him. At Wolverene's first camp he found baby-moss,
his son being still a baby; at the second camp, small snowshoes, show-
ing that the baby was now a boy and walking; at the third camp he
found larger snowshoes, and saw that the boy had been using small
arrows; at the fourth camp the snowshoes and arrows were larger; and
at the fifth camp the tracks showed that the boy was now a man.
Next day he found where the boy and Wolverene had separated, and
he followed the tracks of the former.
The Wolverene always counted the lad's arrows when he returned
home at night. When the man came to his son, the latter thought
him very strange, for he did not remember having seen people. His
Kaska Tales. 473
father told him, "You are my son." He showed him his breasts,
saying, " I suckled you. Wolverene stole you, and I have followed you
a long way." The lad at last believed him. His father said, "Tell
Wolverene, when you see him to-night, to follow the sun on the morrow,
and camp where the sun goes down, and there you will join him to-
morrow night. Also tell him that you shot an arrow up in a tree, and
you are going back after it."
That night Wolverene counted the birds the lad had shot, and his
arrows, and found one of the latter missing. Wolverene agreed to
the boy's proposal. In the morning he travelled towards the setting
son, while the lad returned. That night the lad did not come to camp,
and next morning Wolverene started to look for him. He came to
the lad up in the top of a tree, pretending to look for his arrow, and
his father standing at the bottom. Wolverene asked the latter who
he was, and what he was doing there; but when the man answered and
talked with him, Wolverene told him to shut up or he would kill him.
The father had already arranged with his son how they would act.
Wolverene told the boy to come down out of the tree; but he answered,
"Father, I can't descend, my moccasins are frozen to the tree."
Wolverene said, "Very well, don't try to come down, you may fall.
I will climb up and carry you down." When Wolverene got beside
him, he turned around to get in position to carry him down, and the
lad struck him on the head, knocking him off the tree. His father at
the bottom of the tree then killed Wolverene, who was already stunned
by the fall.
Spences Bridge, B.C.
474 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
SOME CHITIMACHA MYTHS AND BELIEFS.1
BY JOHN R. SWANTON.
When Louisiana was settled by the French, the Chitimacha Indians
were found living between the Mississippi River and Bayou Teche.
There were several bands occupying different parts of this area, but
the last to maintain a separate existence was that in the Indian Bend
of Bayou Teche, where is now the village of Charenton. About a
dozen families of mixed-bloods are still to be found there. One
industry, the making of cane baskets, is kept up; and for this the
tribe is justly famous, their work being vastly superior to that of any
other Southern Indians. Unfortunately but four individuals have a
speaking knowledge of the old tongue; and, still more unfortunately,
only a very few texts may be obtained from these, the greater part of
the features of the language being accessible only by a painful system
of cross-questioning, which must be in large measure blind. During a
recent visit to these Indians, and while securing additional linguistic
information in this way, I obtained fragments of a few myths. These
are of interest, owing to the very paucity of Chitimacha material, and
also because most of them are different from the stories I have obtained
from other Southern tribes. The European connection of some, if
not all, of them, is apparent; but I shall not attempt any classification.
The only other Chitimacha myths with which I am acquainted are
those recorded by me and printed in Bulletin 43 of the publications
of the Bureau of American Ethnology, and some fragments secured
through Martin Duralde and published in the same place. My new
fragments are. as follows : —
BUZZARD AND WOLF.
Buzzard once went to Wolf and persuaded him to kill a cow, so
that both could have something to eat. Wolf did so, and he drank
the animal's blood on the spot; but he does not like raw meat, so he
left his share to soften. While he was gone, however, Buzzard, who
eats flesh in any condition, devoured not only his own portion, but
Wolf's as well ; and when Wolf came back, there was nothing left.
MAN, BEAR, AND TIGER-CAT.2
An old Indian used to spend all of his time hunting, and there was a
Bear that also spent all of his time rambling about in the woods.
1 Published by permission of the Smithsonian Institution.
2 It is claimed that the tiger-cat is bigger than the panther. See Bolte und Polivka,
Anmerkungen zu den Kinder- und Hausmarchen der Briider Grimm, 2 : 96.
Some Chitimacha Myths and Beliefs. 475
One time the Indian shot a Tiger-Cat. Then the Tiger-Cat went to
the Bear, and said, "You do not know how an Indian can knock
you over." — "I should like to see the creature that can knock me
over," said Bear. "He can do it, all right," said Tiger-Cat. Then
Bear said he would like very much to meet this being, and Tiger-
Cat agreed to guide him to the Indian. They travelled on, and by
and by came to where a child was playing. Bear wanted to run upon
it; but Tiger-Cat laughed at him, and said, "Do you think that is a
man? We have not found a man yet." So they went on, and
presently they came to a youth bringing in fire-wood. Bear wanted
to run upon him also; but Tiger-Cat said, "That is not a man, either."
At last, however, they came in sight of the old Indian. Then Tiger-
Cat said, "While you run in upon him, I will hide here; and if you
run away, don't pass near me." Bear assured him he would not,
and then he rushed at the Indian. The Indian was too quick for
him, however, and shot him; whereupon he turned about, and ran
off as fast as he could go, in his haste passing right by the place where
Tiger-Cat was concealed. Then the Indian caught sight of Tiger-
Cat, and shot him too, so that both of the animals rushed off through
the woods with the utmost speed. Said Tiger-Cat, "Didn't I tell
you not to run near my hiding-place?"
THE LABORS OF RABBIT.
One time Rabbit went to God and asked him for more power; but
God said, "You have power enough already," and to prove it he set
Rabbit various tasks. One of these was to bring him the canine
teeth of Alligator. So Rabbit hunted about until he found Alligator.
Alligator was awake, however, and told Rabbit that he would devour
him. Rabbit said that he could not do it, and they disputed for some
time. By and by, however, Rabbit went away; and when he came
upon Alligator next time, Alligator was fast asleep. Then Rabbit
took a cord and tied Alligator's great canine teeth firmly to a tree.
That done, he set the grass on fire all about. Alligator began to feel
the heat, woke up suddenly, and gave such a jerk that he pulled his
teeth out, which Rabbit took back to God.1
For a second task God sent Rabbit to bring one of the tusks of
Elephant. So Rabbit went to a place near Elephant's home and
began cutting hay. Elephant came along, and asked what he was
doing; and Rabbit said, "I am cutting hay, and, if you will take it
home, I will go shares with you." Elephant thought this was a good
bargain, so he agreed and let Rabbit pile the hay upon his back.
Then Rabbit tied a rope to one of Elephant's tusks, in order, as he
said, to lead him, and they started along. Presently a rain came up;
and Rabbit said, "Let us go in under that live-oak tree yonder, so
1 Compare Harris, Nights with Uncle Remus, No. XXVI.
476 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
that we can keep dry!" When they got there, he tied the rope with
which he was leading Elephant securely to a limb. Then, unnoticed
by Elephant, he set fire to the hay which the latter was carrying.
Of a sudden Elephant began to feel the burning: he sprang quickly
to one side to get out from under the hay, and his tusk was broken off.
"Give this to me," said Rabbit. "Why, what do you want of it?
Still, as it isn't of any more use to me, you may have it." So Rabbit
seized it and went back to God.
Again, God sent Rabbit to bring Rattlesnake to him. Rabbit took
a stick and hunted about until he found Rattlesnake lying asleep,
and he laid the stick down beside him. Forthwith Rattlesnake woke
up, and said, "Why do you do that?" — "I want to see how long you
are," answered Rabbit, and he began to measure him. Presently
Rabbit said, "Let me tie you to the stick." Rattlesnake refused at
first; but Rabbit said, "I must tie you in order to get your measure,
because you are so crooked." Finally Rattlesnake let him have his
way; and Rabbit tied him firmly to the stick, and carried him back
to God.
After Rabbit had performed the last of his tasks, of which there
were many more than my informant could remember, God said, "You
see that you are clever enough, and do not need any more power."
THE ORIGIN OF DEATH.1
Anciently there was no death in the world; but finally a man fell
sick, and the people sent Rabbit to God to inquire whether he would
die. God said, "No, he will not die, he will get well." Rabbit
started back with this answer; but in his haste he stumbled and fell
on his face, and in doing so split his nose in the manner in which it is
seen to this day. And unfortunately this caused him to forget the
message he had received, so he retraced his steps and asked the
question over again. This time, however, God was angry at being
disturbed a second time, and he said, "Tell them he will have to die."
Since then there has been death on earth.
THE PUNISHMENT OF RABBIT.
Rabbit fooled the people so much, that finally they wanted to kill
him. So he said to them, "All right, then, since I have to stay some-
where, I will go to live with God." When God saw him, however,
he said, "Go back! your place is in the brush and weeds." But when
Rabbit got back to the place where men were living, he told them that
God had said their place was to be in the brush and weeds. The
Indians, therefore, all went in among the brush and weeds; and that
is how they came to have their homes there. Finally, however, God
» Leonhard Schultze, Aus Namaland und Kalahari, p. 448; W. H. I. Bleek, Reynard
tTae Fox in South Africa, p. 69; O. Dahnhardt, Natursagen 3 : 22.
Some Chitimacha Myths and Beliefs. 477
heard of the new deception Rabbit had practised; and he punished
him by depriving him of speech and sending him also into the brush
and weeds, where he had told him his place was to be.
COMMENTS.
The last of the three tasks recorded in the story of "The Labors of
Rabbit" I have taken down before, as have other students; and the
motive for these tasks, proof of Rabbit's all-sufficient cleverness, recurs
frequently. This is, however, so far as I can remember, the first
time in which several tasks have been mentioned; i.e., it is the first
time that the "labors of Hercules" idea has been found grafted on
this story. All Louisiana Indians have much to say of Elephant,
who is inconsistently represented as a man-eater. It is probable that
the name has been associated with a monster which played a great
part in true Indian stories, but the two have been almost inextricably
confounded. The bear mentioned in stories is said not to be the com-
mon black bear, but a brown bear found more often toward Texas.
A more truly Indian story of the origin of death was given by the
same informant, and is incorporated into Bulletin 43 (see p. 358).
ADDITIONAL NOTES.
A few additional notes regarding Chitimacha beliefs and medical
practices may be given.
The Chitimacha thought that if in youth a man killed a lizard,
when he grew up he would get lost in the woods. Anciently one of
the professional doctors or shamans called Hekx-atxko'n, and his
entire family, turned into bears, and for this reason a doctor could
not eat bear-meat without becoming sick.
It was believed that if one took a sharp splinter obtained from a
cypress that had been struck by lightning, and with it drew blood
by cutting about a decayed tooth which was causing trouble, the
tooth would come out of itself in pieces. All of the old doctors kept
such splinters, but not in their houses, lest lightning be drawn to
them. Sometimes they used them in bleeding a person. If such a
splinter were in a person's body, it would not heal; and I suppose that
they were made use of in witchcraft, but of this I am not sure. It is
to be noted that the Natchez had somewhat similar ideas regarding
trees that had been struck by lightning. There was also a vine
called "toothache medicine" or "toothache grass" (i tekxnic po)
which was used for an ulcerated tooth. It has a white flower, and,
when taken into the mouth, burns like pepper. Kimukun atxki'n
was the name of a plant used to heal sores. The bark was mashed
up and laid upon the sore. The leaves of two distinct kinds of sumac
478 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
were smoked, one commonly, mixed with tobacco, the other by those
practising witchcraft. The former was called kacu' or bacuktd; the
latter, kiteka'nk cue. The bark of this last is rougher than that
of the other.
There are a few plants, besides, for which I have only the native
names and the uses. Such were the na'xte po ("striking medicine or
plant"), used when one had been struck by lightning; wa'pHin po
("knife medicine"), used to cure knife-wounds; tusku'n katsi' po,
used when one ran a nail into his foot; kq'na po ("eye medicine");
mo'xmoxman, a bitter herb, like quinine in taste, and good for fevers,
such as malaria; po'xko'nk, used as an emetic; cump, formerly em-
ployed in yellow-fever. Still another medicine was called tco'takopu',
which seems to contain the word tco'ta ("crawfish"). It has a red
flower, and a root like that of an onion. Plants that will counteract
the poison of snakes are said to be identified by following a king snake
after it has had an encounter with a venomous serpent. It is claimed
that it will go to a particular plant after having been stung by a copper-
head, another after having been stung by a water-moccasin, and so
for the other poisonous serpents, including the several varieties of
rattlesnake. My informant claimed that both ash and cane were
poisonous to a rattlesnake, and that if cane were run through any
part of a rattlesnake's body, it seemed to paralyze the whole.
Bureau of American Ethnology,
Smithsonian Institution,
Washington, D.C.
Malecite Tales. 479
MALECITE TALES.
BY FRANK G. SPECK.
The following Malecite tales furnish us with variants of some themes
already known, and a few which are not represented in the material
now in print from this tribe. The first two tales relating to the culture-
hero Gluskap are typical of the region. In W. H. Mechling's collec-
tion,1 the lengthy composite culture-hero cycle which he gives contains
these episodes, although not in similar associations. In the second
story, particularly, a feature of significance is the social explanatory
element accounting for the transformation of human beings into
marine animals. There is reason to consider this tale in its present
form as one of considerable importance, because, in a related form, it
occurs among the neighboring Penobscot as a social origin myth, with
its scene transferred to the Penobscot valley. The pattern of the
story occurs three times in Mechling's Malecite collection, once in
Rand's Micmac tales, and in Leland's mixed Wabanaki series, — all
in differing associations, yet not in the form recorded here as an ex-
planatory factor. In regard to the culture-hero tales of the Wabanaki
tribes, the elementary ideas seem to be largely common property to all.
The versions, however, vary considerably in composition around cer-
tain central features. There is, moreover, some variation in the ver-
sions given by different narrators in the same tribe, as a comparison
of Mechling's and Jack's with those given here will show. A more
detailed study of the mythology of the northeast, I feel safe in saying,
will show the same thing that we see manifested in a minor degree in
these collections; namely, the process of element composition in myth
cycles, to which Dr. Boas has already called attention.2 The other tales
in this collection, through sheer accident in the circumstances of selec-
tion among narrators, are new to the records of Malecite folk-lore.
It seems improbable, from the present aspect of the situation, that
any amount of myth-collecting will be likely to exhaust the possi-
bilities among the eight hundred Malecite now living.
I. GLUSKAP AND HIS GRANDMOTHER.3
Gluskap lived with his grandmother in a stone canoe which was an
island. In this they floated about on the water. Gluskap became
1 W. H. Mechling, Malecite Tales (Memoir 49, Anthropological Series, No. 4, GSCan).
2 F. Boas, Development of Folk Tales and Myths (Scientific Monthly, October, 1916);
and Introduction to the Traditions of the Thompson River Indians (MAFLS 7 [1898]).
3 Narrated by Gabe Paul (age 57), at present living at Oldtown, Me., but born and
raised at Central Kingsclear, N.B. For another version of the stone canoe, beaver
pursuit, and origin of Reversing Falls feature, cf. W. H. Mechling, Malecite Tales (Memoir
49, Anthropological Series, No. 4, Geological Survey of Canada, p. 1); and E. Jack,
Maleseet Legends (JAFL 8 : 194). The wind episode is given by Mechling in another
association (op. cit., pp. 45 and 49).
VOL. XXX. — NO. Il8. — 31.
480 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
lonesome for companions, and asked his grandmother whether or not
there were other people in the world. She told him that there were
other people far up the river (St. John's River). Then they paddled
their island canoe into St. John's harbor, where the canoe went aground
and is now to be seen as Partridge Island lying in the mouth of the
harbor. Gluskap then got out of the canoe, and started to hunt the
beaver who lived in the river above the falls now known as the Re-
versing Falls. At the first pursuit the beaver ran away up-stream,
whereupon Gluskap broke the dam and caused the falls to be as they
now are. Then Gluskap pursued him, and, in order to drive him back
down-stream, threw an immense stone up-river ahead of the beaver.
This stone may still be seen at Tobique, about two hundred miles from
the mouth of the river. Then his grandmother told him that there
were people at Tobique, and he started up-river to find them. On the
way up, Gluskap had to leave his snowshoes behind, as the snow began
to melt, and the walking became very bad. The snowshoes may still
be seen as the islands in the river called Snowshoe Islands. When he
got to Tobique, he found the people so small, that he called them
midgets. He was not satisfied. Then he returned to the coast to
his grandmother, and the beaver got away.
As they were going about on the water in a canoe, the wind became
so strong that they could not fish. Gluskap's grandmother then told
Gluskap that he would have to fix the wind so that it would not blow
so strongly. Said Gluskap, "I know how," and with that he stood up
in the canoe, and with his stone knife stabbed into the air. The wind
calmed ; the sea soon became so calm that the fish could not live ; the
water became thick and foul. Then Gluskap started travelling to
find the source of the wind and to remedy matters. He came to where
a large bird lived, and found him lying with one wing cut off. Then
he healed the wing and told the bird to fan the air a little at a time,
and then allow it to become calm, and then again to fan a little. Since
then it has been thus; and the sea is at times rough, and again becomes
calm so that people can travel abroad on it.
2. MALECITE VERSION OF THE WATER-FAMINE AND HUMAN TRANSFOR-
MATION MYTH.1
Aglabe'm kept back all the water in the world; so that rivers
1 Narrated by Gabe Paul. A portion of this tale, the killing of "Akwulabemu," is
recorded by Mechling in three places. In one, Gluskap is the hero (op. cit., pp. 6-7);
in two others, Gluskap is not directly concerned with the event (op. cit., pp. 46 and 53-54).
H. Stamp (JAFL 28 : 247) provides another variant, with Aza (John) as the hero. The
same motive occurs in S. T. Rand, Legends of the Micmacs (p. 68); and a Passamaquoddy
occurrence, following rather closely the one cited above, is given by C. G. Leland,
Algonquin Legends of New England, pp. 114-119. For the spelling of Indian words see
Phonetic Transcription of Indian Languages (Report of Committee of American Anthro-
pological Association) .
Malecite Tales. 481
stopped flowing, and lakes dried up, and the people everywhere began
dying of thirst. As a last resort, they sent a messenger to him to ask
him to give the people water; but he refused, and gave the messenger
only a drink from the water in which he washed. But this was not
enough to satisfy even the thirst of one. Then the people began com-
plaining, some saying, "I'm as dry as a fish," "I'm as dry as a frog,"
"I'm as dry as a turtle," "I'm as dry as a beaver," and the like, as
they were on the verge of dying of thirst. At last a great man was
sent to Aglabe'm to beg him to release the water for the people.
Aglabe'm refused, saying that he needed it himself to lie in. Then
the messenger felled a tree, so that it fell on top of the monster and
killed him. The body of this tree became the main river (St. John's
River), and the branches became the tributary branches of the river,
while the leaves became the ponds at the heads of these streams. As
the waters flowed down to the villages of the people again, they plunged
in to drink, and became transformed into the animals to which they
had likened themselves when formerly complaining of their thirst.
3. GLUSKAP ASSIGNS THE ANIMALS ' FOOD.1
Once, as Gluskap was wandering along the beach, he saw a number
of animals quarrelling over the division of meat in the carcass of a dead
whale which had floated ashore. Gulls were screaming and quarrelling
over strips of flesh hanging from the head and body; ants were quarrel-
ling over portions of the brain inside the skull. Gluskap ordered them
to stop quarrelling, and announced that henceforth foxes and their kin
should eat the meat on the bones, that the gulls should find their sub-
sistence on the fat of the carcass, that the ants should have the skull
and its contents, and that the spider should own the skeleton, inside
which he might spin his web to capture his prey. Since then the
animals have followed this division of food. The ants built their
house of dirt over the skull. So to-day when the Indians see an ant
hill, which they sometimes call "whale head," the mound reminds them
of the story.
4. THE BEAVER AND THE MUSKRAT CHANGE TAILS.2
Long ago the beaver possessed a long, narrow tail ; and the muskrat
had a short, broad one. The beaver liked to dive, but his tail did not
help him very much; while the muskrat found that his tail dragged
when he wanted to swim fast. Each one thought that the other's tail
would suit him better, so one of them proposed an exchange. There-
1 Compare Mechling (op. cit., p. 61) for a similar idea in a broken version, where Fisher
divides a snake's head, and again (p. 77) where Partridge divides a moose-head.
2 Narrated by Old Joe Francis. An identical version is recorded from the Ojibwa of
Rama (cf. G. E. Laidlow, Ojibwa Myths and Tales [Annual Archeological Report of
Ontario, 1915, p. 73]).
482 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
upon the muskrat took the long, narrow tail ; and the beaver took the
broad, flat one ; and they have had these ever since. Once the muskrat
asked the beaver to change back again, but the beaver refused.
5. THE BEAVER AND MUSKRAT CHANGE THEIR HAUNTS.1
The muskrat used to live in the kind of poplar-grove that the beaver
haunts now, while the beaver used to eat sweet flag2 and live in the
marshes. Thinking that their haunts were not suited to them, it was
proposed that they exchange; and the beaver took the muskrat 's
neighborhood, and the muskrat moved to the meadows. Since then
their habits have been as they are now.
6. THE WOMAN WHO MARRIED A DOG.
There was once a woman who admired the face of a dog. That
night the dog turned into a man and became her husband. He told
the woman, however, never to make any reference to the fact. She
did as he said for a long time, until one day she observed some dogs
chasing a bitch about the village, whereupon she asked him if he
would like to be one of the dogs. "Yes," he declared, and immedi-
ately turned back into a dog and ran away with the others.
7. THE EXPERT SAILOR.3
{A European Story.)
There was once a man who had too many children, so he told his
youngest boy to go away and make his living somewhere else. The
boy wandered down by the seashore, where he saw a ship in the harbor.
The crew were on shore cutting timber. He went up to the captain
and asked to be hired as a sailor. The captain asked him what he
could do. He said that he was an expert and could do anything on
board ship that nobody else could do. The captain hired him. Dur-
ing the first week at sea the expert sailor made a hiding-place for him-
self in the hold among the cargo, and saved part of his daily rations,
which he stored away in his hiding-place. Before long a great storm
came up; and when the ship began to toss, and the water to wash over
the deck, the new man hid himself away, where he lived for a week on
the stored provisions. No one knew where he was, but it was thought
that he had been washed away in the tempest. One calm night, when
all but the deck watch had turned in, he let himself over the side of
the vessel, swam out a little ways, and then began shouting for some
one to throw him a rope. The watch heard him, and the crew was
1 Narrated by Sapiel Paul.
2 A corns calamus,
» This and the ensuing tale were narrated in English by Gabe Perley of Tobique, N.B.
Malecite Tales. 483
awakened to drag him aboard. "Where have you been?" said the
captain. "We thought you were drowned overboard." — "No,"
said the expert, " I was knocked overboard in the storm, and it blew so
hard that I have been swimming ever since, and couldn't catch up with
you until now. Ki'i' but I'm hungry!" They were greatly impressed,
and he was given food, which he finished with due appreciation.
Pretty soon the vessel reached a port; and while she lay in the harbor
loading, to pass away the time the captain made a wager with the
captain of another vessel that he had the most expert sailor in his
crew. The next day the captain told the expert sailor that he wanted
him to outdo the other crew's champion in the rigging. The sailor
agreed, but was inwardly very much frightened, for he had never been
on the mast. The first feat which the champion of the other crew
performed was to run up and down the rigging and sit on the cross-
trees. The expert sailor then started up the rigging for his turn. As
he climbed, he became more and more dizzy, until, reaching the cross-
trees, he hardly turned around before he swirled and fell toward the
deck. Just before striking, however, he caught the end of a dangling
rope, and hung there until he came to himself. When they got him
safely down, his captain was very proud of him. The champion of the
rival crew gave up, for the thing was a little beyond his ability.
The next day they arranged for a swimming-race. The captain
told the expert sailor to get whatever he needed in preparation ; so the
expert sailor went ashore, and bought twenty-five dollars' worth of
pork and beans, warm flannels, a cap, tobacco, and a bottle of rum.
Next morning he piled them on the deck near the rail; and when his
rival came on board, they prepared for the start. The expert sailor
began binding up his goods, while the other man began taking off his
clothes. "What are you going to do with all those provisions?" the
latter asked. "Why, I'm going on a swimming-race, and I may be
gone for a week or so. I'll want all the warm clothes, food, and drink
I can take, and I can't loan any to you." — "Where are you going
to swim to?" the other swimmer asked. "I'm going until I strike the
first land," said the expert. The other man gave in.
8. POLTCI'TC HOODWINKS THE KING.
{A European Story.)
A man named Poltci'tc l became a great friend of the king. The
king used to visit him and talk with him so much, that Poltci'tc de-
cided to play a trick on him. Poltci'tc happened to know where a
band of robbers were accustomed to gather. He prepared an old
1 Po'Uci'tc means "little Paul." The form of the name is in part Micmac (,-tci'tc,
Micmac diminutive). This might be a clew to the secondary origin of the tale.
484 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
door with hinges and chains on it, and carried it up into the tree one
day, under which the robbers came at night to divide their money.
That night while the robbers were counting, and quarrelling over the
money, just as one of them said to another, "The Devil take you!"
Poltci'tc let fall the door. The robbers ran away in a fright. Poltc'itc
came town, took their money, and went home. The next morning
when the king came to see him, he found Poltci'tc sweeping the money
in a pile out of his door.1 "Where did you get so much money, Pol-
tci'tc? I didn't know you were so rich." — "Oh," said Pol-
tci'tc, "I sold my hog and got a dollar for every bristle on his hide."
Then king then went home, and ordered all his hogs in the royal stables
to be killed and their skins taken to the hide-merchant. His servant
sold the hides for five dollars a hundred pounds, and brought the
money to the king. He was very angry at Poltci'tc and decided to
have him killed. That night Poltci'tc took the pig's bladder, filled it
full of blood, and hung it around his wife's neck. The next morning
when the king came to have Poltci'tc killed, he found Poltci'tc in a
great rage with his wife, belaboring her and crying, "I will stop your
scolding, take that, take that!" At the same time he took his knife,
stabbed her in the neck apparently, and the blood flew all over when
he dragged her into the other room, and left her quiet. Before long
she came out very subdued, and went about her work. The king
forgot his anger, and said, "How do you do that? That is a fine way
to stop a scolding woman. Just the thing for my wife." — "With
this knife," said Poltci'tc. The king borrowed the knife, went home,
and, as soon as his wife began to scold him for being so easily duped,
he fell upon her and stabbed her in the throat. "I will stop your
scolding, take that, take that!" And when the blood flew all over, he
dragged her in the other room, where she remained quiet. The king
waited for her to come out subdued and go about her work, but she
didn't come. "Now Poltci'tc must die," for the king was very angry
this time. He ordered Poltci'tc to be put in a bag and thrown into
the rapids. The driver took him to the head of the falls, but on the
way stopped at the inn to have a drink, leaving Poltci'tc in the bag
outside on the cart. In the mean time a farmer came along driving a
herd of beautiful cattle. Poltci'tc was singing. "What are you
singing about there in the bag?" — "Oh," sang Poltci'tc, "I'm going
to heaven, I'm going to heaven to-day." — "Ki'i". That's where I
want to go. How do you get there?" — "I'll get there in this bag,"
said Poltci'tc. The farmer urged Poltci'tc to change places with him,
giving him his cattle for the privilege. Poltci'tc agreed, was released
by the farmer, bagged him in his place, and trudged away with the
cattle. Now the driver came out and took the bag to the water's edge,
1 See Elsie Clews Parsons (MAFLS 13 : 92, note 2).
Malecite Tales. 485
saying, "Good-by, Poltci'tc!" — "I'm not Poltci'tc!" shouted the
man in the bag. "Yesv you are!" Splash! Poltci'tc, driving his
cattle home, met the king on his way to the scene. " Well, well ! where
did you get those beautiful cattle? I thought you were drowned,"
said the king. "Yes," said Poltci'tc, "I was thrown over, but
not quite near enough to the falls; for where I fell, I found these cattle
in the bottom of the river, but just a little farther there were twice as
many and twice as handsome. The next time be sure to have me
thrown nearer the edge of the falls. I wish I could go back and get
them now," added Poltci'tc. "Oh, no!" said the king, "let me go!
Those are the best animals I have ever seen." Then he ordered him-
self to be bagged and thrown in on the brink of the falls, and they car-
ried out his order.1
University of Pennsylvania,
Philadelphia, Pa.
1 C.-M. Barbeau, " Contes populaires Canadiens" (JAFL 20 : 101); A. M. Espinosa,
"Comparative Notes on New-Mexican and Mexican Spanish Folk- Tales " (JAFL 27:
221); Bolte u. Polivka, 2:1.
486 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
NOTES AND QUERIES.
The Origin of Death. — The story of the origin of death, due to a de-
cision of two personages, one of whom wants man to be immortal, while the
other one wishes him to die, is widely spread in western North America.
Among the Thompson Indians, Coyote and Raven discuss whether man
is to be immortal or mortal. Raven wants man to die, because otherwise
there would be too many people. He calls them his enemies. In a council,
Raven, Crow, Fly, Maggot, vote for death, because they want to feed on
corpses. Coyote wants death to be like sleep. The decision is made in
favor of Raven, and Raven's daughter is the first one to die. When Raven
wishes to change the decision, Coyote says that it cannot be altered (Teit,
MAFLS 11 : 1). In another version Spider says that Ant will cut himself
in two, and will die. Ant replies that he will revive after a few days.
Spider wants people to remain dead, because otherwise there would be too
many. Fly is consulted, and decides in favor of Spider, because he wants
his children to live on the dead bodies. Spider's child dies, and in vain he
regrets the decision (Teit, JE 8 : 329). In still another version Raven
asks Old-One to let his child die for good (Teit, JE 8 : 330). — In the
Kutenai tale the chief wishes that everybody shall die twice. The people
agree, excepting Raven, who wants to eat the eyes of corpses. His decision
is accepted. The people kill Raven's two children, and he wishes in vain
to have the previous decision reversed (Boas, BBAE 59:213). — The
Lillooet versions are as follows: Some one asks Raven that people shall die.
Raven consents. The man's child dies, and he regrets the decision (Teit,
JAFL 25 : 356). In another version Raven wins over Old-One, and there-
fore people die. Raven's child is the first one to die, and he regrets the
decision (Teit, JAFL 25 : 356). It seems likely that in the former Lillooet
version the persons have been reversed by mistake. — A Shuswap fragment
probably refers to the same tale. The son of Old-One dies, and thus death
is introduced (Teit, JE 2 : 746). — A Sanpoil tale is not very clear. A man
kills and buries his son, and his sister disappears in the cave in which her
brother had been buried. Fox, Hawk, and Eagle try in vain to bring her
back. Three days after this the Vulture loses his daughter, and asks the
chief to restore her to life. Then he is told, that, since at his instance it was
decided that people shall die, the girl cannot be restored (Gould, MAFLS
11 : 106). — The Ute tell of the discussion of two brothers. The younger
one wants man to return after death; the elder one wants him to remain
dead. The younger then kills the elder one's child, which, owing to the
previous decision, cannot return to life (Powell, RBAE 1 : 44). — The
Shoshoni version is very brief. Wolf says that the Indians shall not die.
Coyote wants them to die (Lowie, PaAM 2 : 239). — The Assiniboin say
that Inkton'ml discussed the question of life and death with the animals.
Some one wanted people to revive after four days, but Pkto^m1 decided
they should remain dead (Lowie, PaAM 4 : 104). — The Quinault tell that
Eagle's child dies, and Raven decides that it must remain dead (Farrand,
JE2 : in). — The Coos say that the child of a man dies. His cousin wants
Notes and Queries. 487
it to remain dead, while he himself wants it to come back after four days.
Then the child of the other man dies and cannot be revived (Frachtenberg,
CU 1 : 43; translation in lower Umpqua, CU 4 : 41). — In Takelma, Coyote
refuses to lend his blanket to a Bug whose child has died because he does
not want it to revive. Then Coyote's child dies, and cannot be revived on
account of his previous refusal (Sapir, UPenn 2 : 99, see also JAFL 20: 49). —
The Klamath say that death was arranged in a discussion between K'mu'-
kamtch, Mole, Fly-Bug, and Garter-Snake. Garter-Snake wants man to
shed his skin as he does, while the others want man to grow old and die
(Gatschet, CNAE 2 : 103). — Professor Kroeber informs me that the Yurok
have several versions of the tale of the origin of death, in all of which the
larva of a locust, sometimes associated with the mole, appear as the actors.
Often they are designated as "those through whom we die." According to
one version, they plot death, and they are evils that are partly checked; in
another one there is an argument in which they prevail over their opponents.
The latter become anchored under certain rocks along the course of the
river in which their spirits still reside. — The Hu'pa tell that the culture-hero
tries to travel around the world to make it large enough for people, when old,
to be rejuvenated. His enemies plot to prevent this, and place women in
his way who seduce him and thus thwart his plan. Therefore man is mortal
(Goddard, UCal 1 : 132). — According to the Shasta, Cricket's child dies,
and Coyote wants it to be buried. He wants man to die, because the world
will be too full. When Coyote's child dies, the previous arrangement can-
not be changed (Dixon, JAFL 23 : 19; Kroeber, UCal 4 : 180). — In another
version the same story is told of Spider and Coyote (Frachtenberg-Farrand,
JAFL 28 : 209). — Among the Wintun, Olelbis wants people to go up to
the sky when old, to bathe there, and return young. He orders Buzzard
to build a road for this purpose. Coyote tells Buzzard to stop work.
Coyote is the first to die (Curtin, Creation Myths of Primitive America,
163, 174). The Achomawi tell that Fox wants man to come back after
death. Coyote wants him to remain dead. Nobody comes back after
death, and so Coyote prevails (Powers, CNAE 3 : 273). — The Yana
tell that Coyote, Cottontail-Rabbit, Gray-Squirrel, and Lizard are in
a sweat-house. Coyote wants man to die. The others object, and want
the dead to come back. Lizard causes a man to become sick. He dies,
and is buried in a sweat-house. He moves until Coyote kicks the grave.
Then the people make a rattlesnake, which kills Coyote's son. Although
he wishes him to revive, the former decision cannot be changed (Sapir,
UCal 9 : 91). — Among the Maidu, Earth-Namer wants people to come
back to life. Coyote objects. Then Coyote's son is bitten by a rattlesnake
and dies. In vain he wishes him to revive (Dixon, BAM 17 : 46, 47; PAES
4 : 29, 51). In another Maidu version, Earth-Initiate wants people to re-
vive. Coyote objects (Dixon, BAM 17 :43; JAFL 16 : 34). Still another
Maidu version has been recorded by Merriam. Hi'-kaht wants people to
revive. Meadow-Lark objects, and Coyote agrees with Meadow-Lark.
Then Coyote's child is bitten by a rattlesnake and dies. It cannot be re-
vived on account of the previous decision (Merriam, The Dawn of the World,
55). The Nishinam (southern Maidu) say that Moon wanted men to
return, as the moon waxes and wanes. Coyote wanted bodies to be cre-
mated. Then Moon created the rattlesnake, which killed Coyote's child,
488 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
and the decision could not be changed (Powers, CNAE 3 : 341). — The
Wishosk have a similar contest between Frog and Spinagarlu. Frog's child
dies, and Spinagarlu decides that he shall remain dead. Later on Spina-
garlu's child dies and cannot be revived (Kroeber, JAFL 18 : 96, 499). —
In a Miwok tale, Black-Lizard wants people to revive. Meadow-Lark re-
fuses, saying that dead bodies stink (Merriam, I.e., 55). In another version
Falcon tries to revive his wife, but Meadow-Lark says that he smells a dead
body. If he had not done so, the dead would revive after four days {Ibid.,
132). In still another version Coyote is south of the first person that died;
Meadow-Lark, north. The corpse stinks. Coyote wants to revive the
dead one, but Meadow-Lark objects, saying that there will be too many
people (Kroeber, UCal 4:203). — The Gashowu Yokuts say that some
people wanted the dead to lie near the house for three days. Meadow-Lark
disliked the smell, and persuaded people to burn the body (Kroeber, UCal
4 : 205). A rather confused statement has been recorded among the
Truhohi Yokuts. Two insects argue. One of them does not want many
people to live. He arranges that medicine-men shall kill people, and that
there shall be a ceremony for the dead. Coyote agrees. Other people do
not like it. Apparently this belongs to a similar tale. A Yauelmani
Yokuts story seems to be confused with the origin of the human hand. It
is stated that Coyote brought it about that people die because human hands
are not closed like his. Lizard then made the human hands as they are;
but Coyote ordained that man should die. — Among the Yuki, death is
brought into the world through the instrumentality of Coyote, whose son
dies and is buried by him. The creator offers to restore him to life, but
Coyote insists that the dead shall remain dead (Kroeber, UCal 4 : 184). —
The Porno of Clear Lake believe that Meadow-Lark is responsible for per-
manent death (Merriam, I.e., 213). — The Luiseno tell of a quarrel in
which Fog, Thunder (?), and Wind (?) wanted man to die, while others
wanted him to live and change. No further details are given, but the myth
seems to form part of that of the dying god (Kroeber, JAFL 19 : 313). — ■
Among the Diegueno the people deliberate whether they shall die forever,
leave for a time and return, or live forever. The Fly decides that they are
to die forever (Du Bois, JAFL 14 : 183). — The Papago say that a Worm
wanted people to die, and that death was introduced as a result of a discus-
sion in which it was said that the world would be too small if everybody
continued to live (H. R. Kroeber, JAFL 25 : 97). — The Cceur d'Alene tale
probably belongs here, although the record differs somewhat in type. A
woman has twin children who faint away. When their mother returns in
the evening, she notices tracks of feet. She observes the children secretly,
and hears them arguing. The one says it is better to be dead ; the other one
wishes to be alive. When they discover her, they stop talking; and since
that time people die. Apparently this story contains elements of the dog-
mother story1 (Teit, MAFLS 11 : 125).
I doubt whether the Wishram story of the origin of death belongs here.
Coyote's and Eagle's wives and their two sons die. They are brought back
from the country of the Ghosts, but Coyote lets them escape from the box
in which they are carried. Therefore people die for good. If he had not
done so, they would come back to stay in our world during the fall and spring.
1 See, for instance, Thompson Indians (Teit, MAFLS 6 : 62; 11 : 30).
Notes and Queries. 489
Of somewhat different type is the story of the Plains. Two individuals
agree that if an object thrown into the water comes up after having been
thrown in, man shall revive. If it stays at the bottom, he shall remain dead.
In a tale of the Hare Indians the beetle agotsute {Lamia obscura) and Frog
argue. The former wants man to die; the latter, to live. The former
throws a stone into the water, which sinks, and therefore man dies (Petitot,
115). — The Dog-Rib Indians say that the animals wanted the dead to be
like seeds thrown into the water, that spring to life. The culture-hero
Chapewee, however, decided that they were to be like stones, that disap-
pear (Sir John Franklin, Narrative of a Second Expedition to the Shores
of the Polar Sea [London, 1828], p. 293). — The Kaska tell that Fox and
Bear have a contest. Fox throws a stick into the water, which rises to the
surface: therefore old people are to come back young. Then Bear throws a
stone on top of the stick, so that it does not come up again, and therefore
people do not revive after they have died (Kaska, JAFL 30 : 434, 444).
— In an Arapaho story, buffalo-chips are thrown into the water, which
float. Then a stone is thrown in, which sinks (Dorsey and Kroeber,
FM 5 : 17). In another Arapaho version a stick is thrown first, then
a buffalo-chip, pith, and a stone. The story is referred to the whites and
the Indians, pith representing the whites {Ibid., FM 5 : 81). The same
tale occurs among the Blackfeet. Old-Man throws into the water a
buffalo-chip, saying that if it floats, people shall be dead for four days.
Old-Woman does not accept this, but throws a stone into the water,
saying that if it sinks, people shall remain dead forever (Wissler, PaAM
2 : 20). In another version the woman's child dies a few days after, and
cannot be revived on account of the previous decision (Grinnell, Blackfoot
Lodge Tales, 138). In a North Piegan version the same discussion occurs;
but when Old-Man throws the buffalo-chip, Old-Woman transforms it into
stone (Wissler, PaAM 2:21). At another place it is stated that a woman's
child is sick. Old-Man goes to a river with the mother, and asks her
whether he shall throw a stone or buffalo-chip. If what he throws floats,
the child will recover; if it sinks, it will die. She chooses the stone, which
sinks, and therefore the child dies. Therefore all the people must die
(Grinnell, Blackfoot Lodge Tales, 272). — In a Cheyenne tale it is agreed
that if a stone floats, and if a buffalo-chip sinks, man is to live. WThen the
stone is thrown into the water, it floats for a moment and finally sinks.
When the chip is thrown in, it sinks for a moment and then rises (Kroeber,
JAFL 13 : 161). — In the Comanche story it is said that in former times the
dead came to life after four days. Coyote throws a stone into the water
and says the dead shall do as the stone. As it did not come back, the dead
remain dead (Lowie-St. Clair, JAFL 22:280). — The Jicarilla Apache
say that Raven divined to see whether people would die. First he threw
into the water a stick on which skins are stretched when drying. When
this came to the surface, he tried again and threw a stone muller. It did
not come to the surface, and therefore people die (Goddard, PaAM 8 : 194).
Russell records the same story from the Jicarilla Apache, telling that a log
was thrown into the water which sank (JAFL 11 : 258). — The Navaho tell
of a divination. The hide-scraper is thrown into the water; and the dis-
putants say that if it floats, man is to live. When Coyote divines, he throws
a stone into the water, and, since it sinks, man is mortal. He says that if
490 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
man were not mortal, the earth would be too small (Matthews, MAFLS
5 >77)>
Hans Egede has also recorded a similar tale from Greenland. A dispute
arose between two men regarding the advantages of having man die. Since
that time man is mortal. (See also Rink, Tales and Traditions of the
Eskimo, 41; David Crantz, Historie von Gronland [Barby, 1765], 262.)
I do not feel quite certain that this story is correctly interpreted. It is
probably analogous to the story of the origin of day and night, told on the
west coast of Hudson Bay (Boas, BAM 15 : 306).
Petitot (114) records another Hare-Indian tale, in which it is said that a
man and his wife were playing and dancing on the border of the sky. They
began to cry, "Oh, our children!" and since that time man is mortal.
It appears from these notes that the story of the origin of death due to a
discussion occurs in two principal forms, — a western one, in which the
decision is made in a council; a second one, in which the decision is due to an
act of divination. In the former case all the typical forms of the story end
with the incident that the child of the person who instituted death dies, and
that then the decision cannot be revoked. This story is found in a con-
tinuous territory extending from southern California northward as far as
Lillooet. It is probably not known to the coast tribes in the region of the
Columbia River. The second type, in which death is due to the outcome
of divination, has been recorded among northern Athapascan tribes, the
Arapaho, Blackfoot, Cheyenne, Comanche, Jicarilla Apache, and Navaho.
It is therefore characteristic of the whole region of the eastern foot-hills of
the Rocky Mountains and of the adjoining territory. It cannot be stated
with certainty how far east it extends in the Mackenzie area.
Outside of the district here described, tales of other types are found. The
tales of the origin of death which are found on the North Pacific coast north
of Vancouver Island have been discussed in my summary of Tsimshian my-
thology (RBAE 31 : 663). — In the Pawnee tale of the origin of the basket-
game the origin of death is mentioned. The gods make the images of a boy
and of a girl. They give arrows to the boy, and order him to shoot animals
in order to see whether man is to be mortal or immortal. They say, "Let
him kill one of the animals; and whatever kind he kills, let it be so!" There
is no further explanation of the incident (Dorsey, CI 59 : 44). In a quite
different tale, Lightning places the constellations on the ground. They
would have lived on earth an immortal race if a wolf had not been sent by
the star Fool-Coyote to steal Lightning's bag. The Wolves are killed by the
people, and thus death is introduced (Dorsey, MAFLS 8 : 17). — The
Caddo say that Coyote was dissatisfied because some dead returned while
others staid away. Therefore he arranged so that everybody should remain
dead (Dorsey, CI 41 : 14). In another version it is said that all the people
want the dead to return after a short time. Coyote wants them to remain
dead. The dead are revived in a medicine-lodge to which the souls come in
a whirlwind. Coyote shuts the door of the lodge when the whirlwind ap-
proaches, and since that time people die {Ibid., 15). — The tales of the
Cherokee (Mooney, RBAE 19 : 254) and of the Zuni (Cushing, RBAE
13 : 72), and of other tribes farther to the east, do not belong here (see also
Cree [Simms, JAFL 19 : 334], Winnebago [Radin, JAFL 22 : 311]).
In the territory under discussion there are also some tales of the origin of
Notes and Queries. 491
death that do not belong here, as the Hupa story of the child of the culture-
hero that was taken out of its grave by its father, but ran back ten times.
For this reason people remain dead (Goddard, UCal 1 : 224).
Franz Boas.
Columbia University,
New York.
Ojibwa Tales. — The following tales were collected from Ojibwa Indians
in western Ontario. Since they were written down from dictation of inter-
preters given in broken English, only brief abstracts are given here.
Nenabosho. — I. While Nenabosho was setting hooks for fish, he saw his
cousin the Wolf, and his nephews the young Wolves. They invited Nena-
bosho to go along with them. At night, when they camped, Nenabosho
declared that the place was too cold. They went on to another place, which
was still colder. The Wolves turned around three times, and lay down
without blankets. Nenabosho did the same, but nearly froze. The young
Wolves covered him with their tails, and he became so warm that he ordered
them to take off the dog-tails.
2. They had nothing to eat, and the old Wolf said that he had some dry
meat at the place where they were going. The Wolf brought back some
willow-sticks and cedar-bark, and told Nenabosho that he would not be
allowed to eat of them until the next day. The willow and bark were given
to Nenabosho as his pillow. During the night he felt that they were getting
soft. He bit out a piece and found that it was meat. Then Nenabosho
and the Wolves separated; and Nenabosho travelled on, accompanied by
one of the young Wolves.
3. The young Wolf told Nenabosho that he made fire by rubbing the
back of his neck, and by jumping to and fro over a pile of wood. He in-
structed him not to try until he had reached the place where Wolf had left
his pack. Nenabosho tried to make fire this way, and, when he succeeded,
threw away his own fire-drill. The next time he tried, he was unsuccessful,
and had to look for his fire-drill.
4. Nenabosho dreamed that his nephew was going to be drowned. He
told him always, before crossing a hollow in the ground, to throw a stick
into it. While hunting a caribou, the Wolf forgot about these instructions
and was drowned.
5. Nenabosho cried on account of the death of his nephew. He saw a
Kingfisher looking into the water. The Kingfisher told him that a white
water-lion had captured the young Wolf. Nenabosho was instructed to go
up the river to a sandbar near the end of the world, where the water-lions
used to bask in the sun. Kingfisher also instructed him to build a raft on a
high peak, and to put one pair of every kind of animal on the raft. He told
him to make two arrows with iron points, and to hide in a hollow stump on
the sandbar. Nenabosho obeyed. He went into the stump, and saw snakes
and lions coming out of the water. When they were asleep, he shot the
white lion with his two arrows. Water came out, and Nenabosho took to
his raft. He attached a bark line to Beaver and let him dive. After a while
lie pulled up the Beaver, who was drowned. Next he sent Otter, and
finally Muskrat, who brought up some mud. Nenabosho blew on it until
it became very large. Then he sent Fox to run around the world to see if
it was large enough. Fox did not come back, and Nenabosho let all the
animals go.
492 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Nenabosho went on, and met the great Frog, who was going to cure the
white Lion. The Frog told him what he was going to do. Nenabosho
killed him and put on his skin. He went to the sick Lion, sent all the people
out of the lodge, shoved his arrows in, and thus killed him. Then he ran
away with his nephew.
While going away, he met the Lion's widow, who was picking willows to
make a line, intending to make a table (?) for the dead Lion. He killed the
woman, put on her clothes, and went back in her shape. He sent out the
people, cut up the Lion, and threw the pieces away.
6. Nenabosho set trout-hooks, and first caught small trout, which he
threw away, because he wanted to catch Ogima, chief of the Trouts. In
the spring he went fishing in his canoe. He called his nephew Weasel, hid
him under his coat, and went fishing. He called out, "Swallow my bait! "
and Ogima caught and swallowed Nenabosho and his canoe. Weasel bit
the heart of Ogima, who was thus killed. Ogima was buried by the Trouts
in the middle of the lake; but Nenabosho raised a gale, which made the body
of Ogima drift ashore. Then he cut his way out. He went to his grand-
mother's lodge, and on his way found many dead birds. The birds had
teased the old woman, imitating Nenabosho's voice. He drained a pond
and boiled the trout in it. He drained another pond, and put the fat into
it. Then he went up a mountain and called all the animals. Rabbit came
first and jumped into the fat. The last to come was Moose, who pulled
Rabbit out of the fat, cleaned him, and threw him aside. Moose told Rabbit
that he was too small to join in the feast. They quarrelled, and
Rabbit said that in future it would be difficult for man to hunt moose, but
that man would succeed in killing him, anyway. After everybody had gone,
Rabbit dipped up fat wfth a forked stick, rubbed it on his neck and under
his fore and hind legs, saying that that would be all the fat he was going to
have.
The Fisher. — The Fisher people lived on one side of a lodge; the chief
lived in the centre; on the other side lived the Turtles. The Turtles did
not tend the fire; and when the Turtles sat near it, they hid under logs,
putting out only their heads. Since the fire struck the chin and throat of
the Turtles, these were scorched.
The people would go out hunting, and bring in beaver-meat. The
Turtles were given only a small piece of the beaver-shoulder.
In spring there was very little food left in the village. A boy went squirrel-
hunting. He saw a squirrel which was nibbling at a piece of a pine-cone.
When about to shoot the squirrel, the latter instructed the boy to break
his bow and arrows, to cry until nearly dead, and then to tell the people that
he wanted them to get the summer. The boy obeyed. The people first
thought that he cried for his broken bow and arrows. They made new ones
for him; but finally, when the boy nearly died, he said, "If the chief brings
the summer, I shall recover." The chief ordered the small Turtle, the big
Turtle, Otter, Crow, and Beaver to accompany him. They went to the
place where lived the Eagle who owned the summer. On their way they
met Caribou, Moose, Muskrat, Owl, and Hawk, who accompanied them.
The chief ordered Moose, Caribou, Red Deer, and Bear to swim across a
channel, on the other side of which the village of Eagle was situated; and
he told Beaver, Muskrat, and Mouse to gnaw through Eagle's canoes and
Notes and Queries. 493
paddles. Then he sent Crow to fly to Eagle's lodge. Crow was unable to
do so. He told Owl, who was also unable. Finally Hawk went. He
peeped into the lodge through a hole, was discovered by the people, and his
face was scorched. The next morning Moose, Caribou, Bear, and Red
Deer were sent to swim in the water. The Fisher told the Eagle to give
chase. When the hunters went out, their canoes were found to be leaking,
and they were drowned. Meanwhile Chief Fisher went into the lodge,
where he saw something shining tied around a pole. He cut it open with
his knife, and the summer came out. Eagle returned to the lodge; and when
he found the summer gone, he flew away pursued by Crow.1 Crow alighted
on a rock far out at sea. The Eagle rushed down, struck the Turtle which
lay in wait. The Turtle caught him and drowned him. Then Crow and
Turtle went home, singing, —
' ' Ah-mee-ko-dee-nee-gah-nug
Gah-nah-nee-nees-mo-tee-go-yunk
O-gee-mah-nee-nee-sah-nahn."
When Fisher, Moose, Caribou, Red Deer, Link (a fish), and Frog came
back, the chief asked how many months the year was to have. Moose said,
"As many months as there are hairs on my body;" Link said, "As many as
the eggs that I hatch." The same fish said, "As many months as I have
intestines." The chief did not accept these. Then the Frog said, holding
up his hands, "As many as I have fingers." Thereupon the Moose hit the
Frog with a stick. The chief accepted the number of months suggested by
the Frog.2
The Eagle's people tried to kill Chief Fisher, who climbed a tree. The
Eagle tribe hit the middle of his tail, and broke it. Then the Fisher went
up into the sky, and became a constellation.
Wm. Carson.
St. Louis, Mo.
Notes on Peoria Folk-Lore and Mythology.3 — Peoria folk-lore and
mythology are comparatively well preserved; but it should be added that
many European (French) elements have been incorporated, and yet ap-
parently the Peoria Indians are unaware of their foreign origin; and, what
is more, these European elements in some cases have been attached to
native cycles. Tales that are patently European in origin are those of the
hat that produces soldiers, wolf fishing through ice with his tail, the smoke-
house, the adventure of wolf with the supposed dead horse, the one-eyed
man who shot his wife's colt, the man and his wife who played stallion and
mare. In the cases of one or two tales it is doubtful whether they are
native or European. The difficulty is that there is one cycle of how fox
1 See BBAE 59 : 301 (Assiniboin, Chippewayan, Crow, Gros Ventre, Ojibwa, Shoshoni,
Shuswap, Thompson, Yana; also Chilcotin).
2 See RBAE 31 : 728 (Assiniboin, Fox, Haida, Hare, Ojibwa [Jones, PAES 3 : 485'
Shoshoni, Shuswap, Tlingit, Tsimshian).
3 Summary of part of an address before the Anthropological Society of Washington,
and one before the American Anthropological Association. The information is based
upon three weeks' field-work among the Peorias in August and September, 1916, under
the joint auspices of the Bureau of American Ethnology and Illinois Centennial Com-
mission. Printed by permission of the Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution.
494 Journal of American Folk-Lore .
dupes wolf which is European, and another which is demonstrably native;
and, owing to the psychological similarity of the two series, it is impossible
to determine whether the tale is native or European without access to
large European collections. A European tale attached to a native cycle is
"Seven-Heads," which is associated with the cycle of the culture-hero; so is
the story of how the raccoon tied bells on the wolf. The native story then
proceeds nearly as in Jones's "Fox Texts" up to the point where the wolf
bumps into the trees.
Lest it be thought that European elements completely dominate Peoria
folk-lore and mythology, I hasten to say that the native elements are far
more numerous. In a comparative study of aboriginal Peoria folk-tales
and mythology, we are very much handicapped by the fact that, though
there is abundant published and unpublished Ojibwa material, we have
almost no Ottawa, Algonkin, and Potawatomi collections at hand to know
whether the Ojibwa material is characteristic for the group. It will be re-
called that Peoria linguistically belongs with this group of Central Algon-
quian languages (see the 28th Annual Report of the Bureau of American
Ethnology). In short, our problem is whether the members of the Ojibwa
linguistic group also have a mythology and folk-lore more closely resembling
each other than those of other linguistic groups. Professor Dixon, in his
comparative study of Central and Eastern Algonquian folk-tales and my-
thology, published some years ago in this Journal (22 : 1-9), came to the
conclusion that Fox and Potawatomi folk-lore and mythology formed a
group as opposed to Ojibwa. In short, the distribution of the tales and
myths did not coincide with the linguistic units. (At the time, the lin-
guistic classification of Algonquian tribes was not known, though it was
generally conceded that Ojibwa, Ottawa, and Potawatomi were extremely
close linguistically.) However, the actual Potawatomi material was, and
still is (see addition at the end), entirely too inadequate to safely generalize
from. The Peoria tales and myths collected by myself, though supple-
mented in one or two cases by those gathered by the late Dr. Gatschet, are
sufficiently numerous to partly answer the question. First oFall, it is evident
that we have plains and plateau elements which are not Central Algon-
quian at all. Such are the tales of Wamba qui penem longam habuit et
feminam trans flumen stupravit;1 the adventure of the culture-hero and the
supposed dead woman; the story of how the culture-hero fell in love with his
daughter and married her, and his subsequent detection. From a study
of other native Peoria folk-tales and myths we get the impression that we
have two periods to deal with, — an old one of associations with the Ojibwa
group, and a recent one of relations with the Sauk, Fox, and Kickapoo group.
This corresponds to the linguistic facts (see the "Journal of the Washington
Academy of Sciences," 7 : 231). The tale of the bungling host's adventure
with the squirrel, and his failure to get meat from his wife's back, belong to
the older set; that of the bungling host's adventure with the beaver, with
the more recent one; and the mistaking the pubic hairs of the culture-hero
for bear-hair also belongs to the latter set (formerly thought to be Kickapoo
only1). The flight of the culture-hero with the geese probably also belongs
to the former set. Naturally a good many tales of the culture-hero are
found in both groups. One informant substituted the wolf for the culture-
hero in many of these. Among the Peoria tales that have not thus far
1 Potawatomi also, Michelson, information, 1917.
Notes and Queries. 495
been recorded elsewhere, are those of how the culture-hero failed to get
spotted clothing like a fawn's hide, and how he failed to get long hair like
a woman's; the man who was such a poor hunter that he couldn't even
catch a raccoon (extremely obscene); how opossum mistook his fur for
drizzling rain, his ears for the sky, his testicles for papaws; the girl who
turned into a soft-shelled turtle to marry the painted turtle; the contest
between the rabbit and bear (opossum in one version) as to whether there
should be daylight or darkness. On the whole, the number of tales that
have not thus far been recorded elsewhere is greater than one would ex-
pect; however, it may be that collections from the Potawatomi and Ottawa
would reduce the number. Some of the episodes that occur elsewhere are
arranged in a quite novel grouping. For instance, the tale of Snapping-
Turtle on the warpath ends with his escape in the water; the second part
(his revenge when they attempt to catch him in the water) is attached to
the wolf cycle after the wolf has entered the water.
Addition, December, 1917. — Two weeks' field-work with the Potawatomi
last fall have made it clear that Professor Dixon's contention that Pota-
watomi and Fox form a separate group among Central Algonquians as re-
gards folk-lore and mythology is a mistaken one. We must rather assume
an early association with Ojibwa, and a later one with Fox. Plains and
plateau elements also occur. European elements are quite numerous. In
the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 2 : 298, I have shown
that the Peoria system of consanguinity has patently been affected by that
of the Sauk, Fox, and Kickapoo. The data obtained in actual field-work
confirm this in every way.
Truman Michelson.
Bureau of American Ethnology,
Washington, D.C.
All-Souls Day at Zuni, Acoma, and Laguna. — Towards the end of
October1 the Zuni celebrate ahoppa awan tewa ("the dead their day").
It is announced four days in advance from the house-top by santu weachona'-
we, the saint's crier.2 He also calls out that it is time to bring in wood.
A portion of whatever is cooked on ahoppa awan tewa is thrown on the
house-fire3 by the women, or carried by the men to the "wide ditch" on
the river-side, where possessions of the dead are habitually buried.4
At nightfall boys go about town in groups, calling out, " T sale' mo,
tsale'mo!" 5 and paying domiciliary visits. At the threshold they make
1 In 1915 ahoppa awan tewa was on Oct. 30; in 1916, on Oct. 17. How the day is
reckoned I do not know. It is said vaguely that the day falls some time after the
kohaiito; i.e., the beginning of the count of forty-nine days to the advent of shalako.
According to one informant, the date falls five days after the new moon after the full
moon of the kohaiito.
2 The Catholic Church has been disestablished in Zuni for a century; but an image of
the saint has been preserved, and her cult in part kept up.
3 To remember the dead, it is a daily practice, both at Zuni and at Laguna, to drop a
bit of food on the fire or crumble it on the floor.
4 One informant stated that at supper every member of the household put a piece of
meat or bread on the fire.
6 A "Mexican" word, but the meaning is unknown. One informant thought it
meant "Give me to eat." See B. Freire-Marreco, "New-Mexican Spanish Folk-Lore"
(JAFL 29 [1916] : 538-539)-
VOL. XXX. — NO. 117. — 32.
496 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
the sign of the cross, saying the "Mexican" prayer, polasenya;1 and the
inmates give the boys presents of food, — bread or meat. In spite of the
"Mexican" features of ahoppa awan tewa, the Zuni assert that the day
has always been observed by the people, and that it is in no wise a Catholic
ceremonial.
In Catholic Acoma the Catholic character of the day is of course recog-
nized. It is known as a church celebration to fall on a calendar day,
Nov. I or 2, guessed my informant. At Acoma, too, parties of boys, as
many as ten perhaps, will go around town, calling " Tsale'mo, tsale'mo!"
They also ring a bell. Their "Mexican" prayer is, "Padre spirito santo
amen." They are given food. Food is also taken to the cemetery and
placed around the foot of the wooden cross which stands there in the centre.
The war-chiefs stand on guard. By morning, however, the food has dis-
appeared. What becomes of it my informant did not know.
At Laguna, food is also taken to the cemetery. The day is called shuma
sashti ("skeleton day") ; and to give to the dead on shuma sashti, the fattest
sheep and the best pumpkins and melons are saved. A story goes that
once a young man was told by his mother to bring in for the occasion the
fattest two lambs of their flock. The young man objected. Soon there-
after he fell sick, and he lay in a trance for two or three days, until the
medicine-man restored him. On coming to, he reported he had been with
the dead. The church was full of them. Happy were they who had been
well-provided for by their families. The unprovided were befriended by
the provided.
On shuma sashti, candles are set out on the graves. A little ball of food
made up of a bit of everything served to eat is also put on the fire. The
boys who go about getting food call out, "Sare'mo, sare'mo!" Their
" Mexican " prayer is called porasinia.
Elsie Clews Parsons.
New York.
A Zuni Folk-Tale. — ■ Recently, when I was looking over some old
field-notes, I came across a hitherto unpublished short Zufii folk-tale which
1 recorded during ray first visit to the pueblo of Zuni.2 Nai'uchi,3 the
narrator, called it "The Origin of the Dragon-Fly; or, Why the Chief Priests
receive the First Harvest from the Fields." The story was jotted down
1 The index-finger of the right hand is bent, and the thumb held close to it and erect.
As they touch the respective places, the following words are said: "Left temple [da sanlu],
right temple [kulusi], middle breast [lenulshta], forehead [imimiku], left shoulder [liplan-
seniola], right shoulder [ios], forehead to chin [imimipali], middle breast [eleleho], left
temple [eleshpintu], middle chin [santu], blowing into hand [amikiasusi]." The current
Spanish formula is: Por la serial de la Santa Cruz. De nuestros enemigos libranos
Senor. En el nombre del Padre, del Hijo, y del Espiritu Santo. Amen.
Although as given me at Zuni some of the motions are faulty, the characteristic
Spanish position of hand is observed, and the "amen "is said characteristically with
fingers to lips. This conclusive motion at Zuni is peculiarly interesting, as it seems to
combine the Catholic motion and the Zuni breath rite (yechuni).
2 Compare my Reizen en Onderzoekingen in Noord-Amerika (Leiden, 1885), pp.
2 73-306.
3 A chief priest of the Bow, and famous theurgist, who died in 1904. Nai'uchi was
one of Cushing's staunchest friends, and later also of Mrs. Stevenson.
Notes and Queries. 497
by me, largely in my native language and partly in English, just as it was im-
mediately translated, period by period, by the late Frank Hamilton Cushing.
In reading it again after so many years, I find that this tale presents a
blank, though apparently of little importance, which I shall indicate in the
text. I presume this is due to my somewhat defective rendering of Cush-
ing's version. Besides, there are one or two short passages in the story
which now I am at a loss to interpret satisfactorily in connection with the
text. I shall pass them over tacitly. Nevertheless I venture to publish
the story as it is and for what it is worth, unaltered as regards its contents.
I have only corrected and rewritten my bilingual rendering of Cushing's
dictation into proper English, and added a few explanatory footnotes.
Moreover, as far as I know, this tale was never published elsewhere, either
by Cushing or by any other writer on Zuhi folk-lore. The story follows: —
Long ago, in the town of Ha'wik'uh,1 the people were very careless and
neglectful. They wasted their food. The old men advised them to be
careful, but in vain.
Then the Gopher, the Squirrel, the Wood-Rat and several Insects held a
council in order to gather up the food; but at last nothing was left. In the
beginning of winter, famine came. The gods were angry.
So the people left, and went to the A'mukwikwe 2 to get food. Ha'-
wik'uh was deserted, with the exception of two children, — a brother and
his little sister. They were left behind while sleeping.
When the children woke up, they had nothing to eat. Thus the boy
went out to catch snow-birds. On coming back, he said to his sister,
" I am going to make a toy for you." Thereupon he made a cage and a
figure in the form of a dragon-fly 3 with black stripes and blue eyes, and
hung up the cage. Then the boy put his sister on a cat's fur and told her
to amuse herself with the toy.
After a while both fell asleep; but the Dragon-Fly made such a noise,
that the children woke up. Thereupon the Dragon-Fly told them not to
sleep, but to build a fire, and to loosen the string which fastened him to the
cage, and let him out. The children did so, and the Dragon-Fly flew away.
He ultimately reached the Lake of the Dead,4 and there he went to the
place where the dead were dancing. The dancers, seeing the Dragon-Fly»
stopped, and asked him whence he came. The Dragon-Fly answered,
"From Ha'wik'uh, where the people were starving. There are two children
left, and I come to ask you how I could help them; for I am sure you can
do something."
So the dead gathered corn and melons, which they gave to the Dragon-
Fly. They put these things up as compendiously as possible in order to
1 Ha'wik'uh, Aguico of the Spaniards, was the largest and principal town of Cibola.
It is situated twelve miles southwest of the present Zuni.
2 Hopi or Moqui Indians.
3 The dragon-fly is one of the Zufli rain symbols.
4 Ka'thlu-el-lon or Ko'thluwala'wa, a sacred lake and village situated about sixty
miles southwest of Zufii town, near the junction of Little Colorado and Zuni Rivers. It
plays a prominent part in Zuni mythology and religion. The dead go first to Ko'thlu-
wala'wa, the abiding-place of the Council of the Gods, and they often return hither to
dance.
498 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
lessen the weight. "Give all this food to the children," the dead said
when the Dragon-Fly took leave; and off he went.
On his return to Ha'wik'uh, the Dragon-Fly found the children sleeping.
He then put a part of the food-seeds he brought with him into the soil, in
order to supply means of subsistence for some future day. Thereupon the
children woke up, crying. "Don't weep!" the Dragon-Fly said to them,
"there is food for you."
The children, seeing it, ate till their hunger was stilled; but the following
days they found just as much to eat, for the food-supply seemed inexhaus-
tible. . . .
[Here I find a small blank in my notes, and also a few somewhat obscure
passages.]
. . . After a while the Dragon-Fly told the children he again wanted
to leave. Hearing this, they wept. So the Dragon-Fly said, "Let me go!
I shall soon be back."
Thereupon he flew to the Land of Everlasting Summer, along the corn-
fields, where he met the beautiful Corn- Maidens of the Blue and Yellow
Corn.1 They rejoiced and wished to detain him ; but the Dragon-Fly refused,
not knowing on which plant he was going to alight. He then asked the
Corn-Maidens to go to Ha'wik'uh in order to nurse the abandoned children..
The Dragon-Fly, however, went there before the Corn-Maidens. As
they went also, it began to rain, which was caused by the Corn-Maidens.
On entering the room of the children, the Corn-Maidens found them
asleep. So the Dragon-Fly woke them up, saying, "Your mothers have
come."
Thereupon the Corn-Maidens, while nursing and petting the children,
said to them, "You must rise early and eat your breakfast, for your grand-
father is coming back from the A'mukwikwe; but don't give him any food."
When the grandfather arrived, he was very much astonished to find the
children still alive. He talked to them, but they did not answer; and,
though he offered them food, they refused to partake of it.
Then the grandfather went out to gather fire-wood. During his absence
the children ate the food which the Corn-Maidens had given them. They
did the same the next day and the day following.
So the grandfather wondered what the children lived on, and tried, but in
vain, to find out.
Thereupon the Corn-Maids told the children, "When your grandfather
comes again for the fourth time, you must talk to him and explain." The
boy did so, and said, "We have now mothers, and thus it is we are still
living."
Then the Dragon-Fly said to them, "I am going to leave you; hence-
forth I want to live in freedom as a flying being." So he flew again to the
Death Lake, where the deceased were dancing. They asked where he came
from, and they gave him plumes.
Thereupon the gods gathered corn-seeds and planted these round Ha'-
wik'uh, and sent rain.
The grandfather, seeing this, went back to the A'mukwikwe to call back
1 Mythological beings to the number of eight or ten. Those of the Blue and Yellow
Corn are the leaders of the others. It is believed that the Corn-Maidens give fertility
to the soil, thus fostering the growth of food-plants.
Notes and Queries. 499
the people of Ha'wik'uh. He told them the children they left behind were
now the richest in town.
When the people returned, they found that the corn and other food plants
had ripened. So they felt happy, and were thankful for the service the
children had done them. Desirous of rewarding the boy, it was decided
he should be a priest of the Bow. Thence it is that we [that is, the A'shiwi,
which is the own tribal name of the Zuni, meaning "the flesh"] always
depend on the priests, and plant every year for them. Therefore let us be
deferential to the priests.
Thus shortens my story.
H. F. C. ten Kate.
ASHIYA, NEAR KOBE, JAPAN.
Canadian Branches of the American Folk-Lore Society. — The
officers of the Canadian Branches of the American Folk-Lore Society
are the following. Quebec Branch: President, Ernest Myrand, Quebec;
Vice-Presidents, E. Z. Massicotte and Victor Morin, Montreal; Secretary,
C. M. Barbeau, Ottawa; Treasurer, F. W.Waugh, Ottawa. Ontario Branch:
President, Alexander Fraser, Toronto; Vice-Presidents, Lawrence J. Burpee,
VV. J. Wintemberg, Ottawa, and W. H. Clawson, Toronto; Secretary, C. M.
Barbeau, Ottawa; Treasurer, F. W. Waugh, Ottawa.
5oo
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
OFFICERS OF THE AMERICAN FOLK-LORE SOCIETY (1917).
President, Robert H. Lowie.
First Vice-President, G. L. Kittredge.
Second Vice-President, J. Walter Fewkes.
Councillors, For three years: R. B. Dixon, E. Sapir, A. L. Kroeber. For two years:
Phillips Barry, C.-M. Barbeau, A. M. Espinosa. For one year: B. Laufer, E. K. Putnam,
Stith Thompson. Past Presidents: H. M. Belden, John A. Lomax, Pliny Earle Goddard.
Presidents of Local Branches: Charles Peabody, A. M. Tozzer, E. C. Perrow, Miss Mary
A Owen, Haywood Parker, Reed Smith, Clyde C. Glasscock, John M. Stone, John Har-
rington Cox.
Editor of Journal, Franz Boas, Columbia University, New York, N.Y.
Permanent Secretary, Charles Peabody, Cambridge, Mass.
Assistant Secretary, A. V. Kidder, Cambridge, Mass.
Treasurer, Alfred M. Tozzer, Peabody Museum, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.
Auditing Committee, Roland B. Dixon, A. V. Kidder.
MEMBERS OF THE AMERICAN FOLK-LORE SOCIETY
(FOR THE YEAR 191 7).
HONORARY MEMBERS.
* Juan B. Ambrosetti, Buenos Ayres, Ar-
gentina.
Ven. John Batchelor, Sapporo, Japan.
Francisco Adolpho Coelho, Lisbon, Por-
tugal.
Sir James George Frazer, London, England.
Henri Gaidoz, Paris, France.
Edwin Sidney Hartland, Gloucester, Eng-
land.
Friedrich S. Krauss, Vienna, Austria.
Kaarle Leopold Krohn, Helsingfors, Fin-
land.
Paul Sebillot, Paris, France.
LIFE MEMBERS.
Eugene F. Bliss, Cincinnati, O.
Seth Bunker Capp, Philadelphia, Pa.
Hiram Edmund Deats, Flemington, N.J.
Joseph E. Gillingham, Philadelphia, Pa.
Archer M. Huntington, New York, N.Y.
Paul Kelly, London, England.
Frederick W. Lehmann, St. Louis, Mo.
Joseph Florimond Loubat, Paris, France.
Miss Mary A. Owen, St. Louis, Mo.
Mrs. Elsie Clews Parsons, New York, N.Y.
Felix Warburg, New York, N.Y.
ANNUAL MEMBERS.
Boston Branch.
President, Charles Peabody.
First Vice-President, Alfred V. Kidder.
Second Vice-President, Helen Leah Reed.
Secretary, Mrs. J. W. Courtney.
Treasurer, Samuel B. Dean.
Miss Aldrich, Auburndale, Mass.
Mrs. Monroe Ayer, Boston, Mass.
F. N. Balch, Boston, Mass.
Mrs. E. D. Bangs, Boston, Mass.
Mrs. Jacob A. Barbey, Jr., Brookline, Mass.
Phillips Barry, Cambridge, Mass.
Mrs. F. D. Bergen, Cambridge, Mass.
Miss Eleanor Bigelow, Brookline, Mass.
Dr. Clarence Blake, Boston, Mass.
C. P. Bowditch, Boston, Mass.
Miss Louise Brooks, Boston, Mass.
Miss Abby Fanvell Brown, Boston, Mass.
H. Addington Bruce, Cambridge, Mass.
Mrs. William M. Butler, Boston, Mass.
Miss Mary Chapman, Springfield, Mass.
Miss Ellen Chase, Brookline, Mass.
Mrs. A. E. Childs, Boston, Mass.
Mrs. S. Adams Choate, Boston, Mass.
Miss Rosa Churchill, New Britain, Conn.
Miss M. Anna Clarke, Boston, Mass.
Mrs. Otto B. Cole, Boston, Mass.
* Deceased.
Members of the American Folk-Lore Society.
501
Mrs. G. A. Collier, Boston, Mass.
Mrs. Joseph W. Courtney, Boston, Mass.
Mrs. Ralph Adams Cram, Boston, Mass.
Mrs. Robert Cushman, Brookline, Mass.
Samuel B. Dean, Boston, Mass.
Miss Grace Donworth, Boston, Mass.
Miss Marie Everett, Boston, Mass.
Professor Charles E. Fay, Medford, Mass.
Frederick P. Fish, Brookline, Mass.
Miss Margaret Fish, Brookline, Mass.
Miss Emma J. Fitz, Boston, Mass.
Miss Mary E. Foster, Cambridge, Mass.
Robert Gorham Fuller, Dover, Mass.
Mrs. Thomas G. Girer, Flcssmoor, 111.
Marshall H. Gould, Boston, Mass.
Mrs. John Chipman Gray, Boston, Mass.
Mrs. H. A. Hall, Boston, Mass.
Miss Alice M. Hawes, Boston, Mass.
H. D. Heathfield, Boston, Mass.
Miss Louise Hellier, Boston, Mass.
Mrs. C. A. Hight, Brookline, Mass.
A. Marshall Jones, Boston, Mass.
Miss Rebecca R. Joslin, Boston, Mass.
Miss Marion Judd, Boston, Mass.
Mrs. Fred Kendall, Boston, Mass.
Miss Louise Kennedy, Concord, Mass.
Dr. Alfred V. Kidder, Cambridge, Mass.
Mrs. David P. Kimball, Boston, Mass.
Delcevare King, Boston, Mass.
Professor George Lyman Kittredge, Cam-
bridge, Mass.
Miss Lucy A. Leonard, Cambridge, Mass.
Mrs. M. V. Little, Boston, Mass. '
Mrs. Daniel Lothrop, Boston, Mass.
Ralph Lowell, Boston, Mass.
Mrs. Alexander Martin, Boston, Mass.
Henry L. Mason, Boston, Mass.
Albert Matthews, Boston, Mass.
Miss Bee Mayes, Boston, Mass.
Dr. Philip A. Means, Boston, Mass.
Dr. Sara Newcomb Merrick, Wellesley,
Mass.
Miss Elizabeth Miller, Brookline, Mass.
Miss Sophie Moen, Boston, Mass.
Mrs. Jane Newell Moore, Cambridge,
Mass.
Mrs. Everett Morss, Boston, Mass.
Dr. Horace Packard, Boston, Mass.
Mrs. William A. Paine, Boston, Mass.
Dr. Sarah E. Palmer, Boston, Mass.
Dr. Charles Peabody, Cambridge, Mass.
Thomas E. Penard, Arlington, Mass.
Miss Georgiana Pentlarge, Boston, Mass.
Dr. Emily F. Pope, Boston, Mass.
Miss Caroline Pousland, Cambridge, Mass.
Mrs. W. G. Preston, Brookline, Mass.
Mrs. F. W. Putnam, Cambridge, Mass.
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Miss Helen Leah Reed, Cambridge, Mass.
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Miss Dora Roberts, Boston, Mass.
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Miss Fanny Russell, Cambridge, Mass.
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William Whittemore, Boston, Mass.
Ashton R. Willard, Boston, Mass.
Cambridge Branch.
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Vice-President, Mrs. E. F. Williams.
Treasurer, Carleton E. Noyes.
Secretary, Mrs. W. Scudder.
Professor Irving Babbitt, Cambridge,
Mass.
C. F. Batchelder, Cambridge, Mass.
C. T. Carruth, Cambridge, Mass.
Allen H. Cox, Cambridge, Mass.
Professor R. B. Dixon, Cambridge, Mass.
E. B. Drew, Cambridge, Mass.
Arthur Fairbanks, Cambridge, Mass.
Professor W. S. Ferguson, Cambridge,
Mass.
Professor M. L. Fernald, Cambridge, Mass.
Professor E. W. Forbes, Cambridge, Mass.
Professor J. D. M. Ford, Cambridge, Mass.
Mrs. W. H. Graves, Cambridge, Mass.
Franklin Hammond, Cambridge, Mass.
Professor William Fenwick Harris, Cam-
bridge, Mass.
Professor Alfred Hoernle, Cambridge,
Mass.
Dr. E. A. Hooton, Cambridge, Mass.
Allen Jackson, Cambridge, Mass.
Mrs. A. E. Kennelly, Cambridge, Mass.
Francis Kershaw, Cambridge, Mass.
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Professor H. S. Langfeld, Cambridge,
Mass.
Miss Margaret A. Leavitt, Cambridge,
Mass.
Dr. E. R. O. von Mach, Cambridge, Mass.
Professor L. S. Marks, Cambridge, Mass.
Mrs. G. N. McMillan, Cambridge, Mass.
Professor W. A. Neilson, Cambridge, Mass.
Mrs. Richard Norton, Cambridge, Mass.
Carleton E. Noyes, Cambridge, Mass.
James A. Noyes, Cambridge, Mass.
Professor W. J. V. Osterhout, Cambridge,
Mass.
Miss Lucy A. Paton, Cambridge, Mass.
Dr. Charles Peabody, Cambridge, Mass.
Mrs. Charles Peabody, Cambridge, Mass.
Professor J. W. Platner, Cambridge, Mass.
Dr. Benjamin Rand, Cambridge, Mass.
Professor F. N. Robinson, Cambridge,
Mass.
Mrs. Winthrop S. Scudder, Cambridge,
Mass.
502
Journal of American Folk-Lore .
Professor P. J. Sachs, Cambridge, Mass.
Professor A. M. Tozzer, Cambridge, Mass.
Miss Bertha Vaughan, Cambridge, Mass.
Mrs. Edward Waters, Cambridge, Mass.
Hollis Webster, Cambridge, Mass.
Professor K. G. T. Webster, Cambridge,
Mass.
Mrs. Walter Wesselhoeft, Cambridge,
Mass.
Emile F. Williams, Cambridge, Mass.
Professor H. S. White, Cambridge, Mass.
Professor C. H. C. Wright, Cambridge,
Mass.
Miss Sara Yerxa, Cambridge, Mass. .
Missouri Branch.
President, Miss M. A. Owen.
Vice-Presidents, Mrs. Eva Warner Case,
Miss Jennie M. A. Jones, Miss Lucy R.
Laws, Mrs. Edward Schaaf.
Secretary, Professor H. M. Belden.
Treasurer, Professor C. H. Williams.
Professor H. M. Belden, Columbia, Mo.
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Dr. W. L. Campbell, Kansas City, Mo.
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Miss Jennie F. Chase, St. Louis, Mo.
Miss Ruth Chiwis, St. Charles, Mo.
Mrs. M. B. Gissing, Farmington, Mo.
Miss Rala Glaser, St. Louis, Mo.
Mrs. C. P. Johnson, St. Louis, Mo.
Miss Lucy R. Laws, Columbia, Mo.
Professor J. L. Lowes, St. Louis, Mo.
Miss Ethel M. Lowry, Columbus, Kan.
Mrs. John R. Moore, Macon, Mo.
Miss Mary A. McColl, St. Louis, Mo.
E. Curran McCormick, Jr., Columbia, Mo.
Professor W. Roy McKenzie, St. Louis, Mo.
Miss Eloise Ramsey, St. Charles, Mo.
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Miss Ethel G. Sprague, Kirkwood, Mo.
North Carolina Branch.
President, Haywood Parker.
Secretary-Treasurer, F. C. Brown.
Mrs. Mary Parker Battle, Rocky Mount,
N.C.
Professor F. C. Brown, Durham, N.C.
Charles Bruce, Richmond, Va.
General Julian S. Carr, Durham, N.C.
Professor E. V. Howell, Chapel Hill, N.C.
Logan D. Howell, New York, N.Y.
Texas Branch.
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Vice-Presidents, Miss Junia Osterhout,
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Secretary-Treasurer, Dr. Stith Thompson.
Miss Lilia M. Casis, Austin, Tex.
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Professor John A. Lomax, Austin, Tex.
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Professor L. W. Payne, Austin, Tex.
Professor J. E. Pearce, Austin, Tex.
Edward R. Rotan, Waco, Tex.
Mrs. Oscar M. Suttle, Corpus Christi, Tex.
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Dr. Stith Thompson, Austin, Tex.
Members at Large.
Hon. J. L. Allard, Quebec, P.Q.
Dr. H. M. Ami, Ottawa, Ont.
Arthur Amos, Quebec, P.Q.
Miss H. A. Andrews, New York, N.Y.
C.-Marius Barbeau, Ottawa, Ont.
Dr. S. A. Barrett, Milwaukee, Wis.
Laurent Beaudry, Ottawa, Ont.
Maurice Bastien, La Jeune Lorette, P.Q.
Professor Jean Baptiste Beck, Bryn Mawr,
Pa.
John Bennett, Charleston, S.C.
Charles J. Billson, Martyr Worthy, Hants,
England.
Professor Franz Boas, New York, N.Y.
Remi Bolduc, Beauce, P.Q.
Mrs. John G. Bourke, Omaha, Neb.
Professor H. C. G. Brandt, Clinton, N.Y.
Hon. L. P. Brodeur, Ottawa, Ont.
Professor A. C. L. Brown, Evanston, 111.
Philip Greely Brown, Portland, Me.
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Most Rev. Paul Bruchesi, Montreal, P.Q.
Professor Edward S. Burgess, Yonkers,
N.Y.
Mrs. Natalie Curtis Burlin, New York,
N.Y.
W. S. Campbell, Norman, Okla.
Raoul Carignan, Lachine, P.Q.
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Mrs. Gerald Cassidy, New York, N.Y.
Rt. Rev. C. P. Choquette, St. Hyacinthe,
P.Q.
College de Ste. Anne de la Locatiere,
Kamouraska, P.Q.
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Professor J. H. Cox, Morgantown, W.Va.
Stewart Culin, Brooklyn, N.Y.
P. T. Curry, Danville, Ky.
Hon. J. L. Decarie, Quebec, P.Q.
Robert W. Deforest, New York, N.Y.
J. Alex Devean, Meteghan, N.S.
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Mrs. Estelle Hearte Dreyfus, Los Angeles,
Cal.
Rt. Rev. Dudger. Dumais, Ste. Anne,
Kamouraska, P.Q.
Professor L. H. Elwell, Amherst, Mass.
Professor Aurelio M. Espinosa, Leland
Stanford University, Cal.
Professor Livingston Farrand, Boulder,
Col.
Professor J. W. Fewkes, Washington, D.C.
Hon. C. A. Ficke, Davenport, Io.
Members of the American Folk-Lore Society.
503
Miss Alice C. Fletcher, Washington, D.C.
Rt. Hon. Sir Charles Fitzpatrick, Ottawa,
Ont.
Professor J. B. Fletcher, New York, N.Y.
Hon. E. J. Flynn, Quebec, P.Q.
Professor E. M. Fogel, Philadelphia, Pa.
Walter G. Fuller, Sturminster Newton,
Dorset, England.
Hector Gaboury, Alfred, Ont.
Miss Emelyn E. Gardner, Ypsilanti, Mich.
Alfred C. Garrett, Philadelphia, Pa.
Dr. Joseph Gauvreau, Montreal, P.Q.
Charles Gendron, Quebec, P.Q.
L. P. Goeffrion, Quebec, P.Q.
Dr. Pliny Earle Goddard, New York, N.Y.
Dr. George Byron Gordon, Philadelphia,
Pa.
Rt. Rev. Amedee Gosselin, Quebec. P.Q.
Hon. Sir Lomer Gouin, Quebec, P.Q.
Dr. George Bird Grinnell, New York, N.Y.
Miss Louise Haessler, New York, N.Y.
Dr. Stansbury Hagar, New York, N.Y.
Miss Eleanor Hague, New York, N.Y.
Mrs. Dwight B. Heard, Phoenix, Ariz.
J. C. Hebert, Montmagny, P.Q.
R. W. Heffelfinger, Los Angeles, Cal.
Mrs. S. T. Henry, Great Neck Station,
L.I., N.Y.
E. W. Heusinger, San Antonio, Tex.
Fred W. Hodge, Washington, D.C.
Berry B. Holland, Memphis, Tex.
Miss A. B. Hollenback, Brooklyn, N.Y.
Professor W. H. Holmes, Washington, D.C.
Mrs. T. J. Hoover, London, England.
Walter Hough, Washington, D.C.
J. F. Huckel, Kansas City, Mo.
Dr. H. M. Hurd, Baltimore, Md.
Indian Affairs Department, Ottawa, Ont.
Institut Canadien, Quebec, P.Q.
Professor George P. Jackson, Grand Forks,
N.D.
Dr. A. Jacobi, New York, N.Y.
Sir Louis A. Jette, Quebec, P.Q.
Hon. John C. Kaine, Quebec, P.Q.
Mrs. John Ketcham, Chenoa, 111.
Henry E. Krehbiel, New York, N.Y.
Professor A. L. Kroeber, San Francisco,
Cal.
Colonel George E. Laidlaw, Victoria Road,
Ont.
Gustave Lanctot, Ottawa, Ont.
Romeo Langlais, Quebec, P.Q.
G. La Rochelle, Ottawa, Ont.
J. Larocque, Ottawa, Ont.
Hon. Gardiner Lathrop, Chicago, 111.
Dr. Berthold Laufer, Chicago, 111.
Rt. Hon. Sir Wilfrid Laurier, Ottawa, Ont.
Laval University Library, Montreal, P.Q.
Laval University Library, Quebec, P.Q.
W. D. Lighthall, K. C, Westmount, P.Q.
Rev. Lionel Lindsay, Quebec, P.Q.
Edward Lindsey, Warren, Pa.
C. Lombardi, Dallas, Tex.
Dr. R. H. Lowie, New York, N.Y.
Benjamin Smith Lyman, Philadelphia, Pa.
Professor J. M. Manley, Chicago, 111.
Aime Marchand, Quebec, P.Q.
Dr. J. Alden Mason, Chicago. III.
E. F. Massicotta, Montreal, P.Q.
Most Rev. O. E. Mathieu, Regina, Sask.
Rev. F. C. Meredith, Maebashi, Japan.
Rev. Dr. M. A. Meyer, San Francisco, Cal.
Benjamin Michaud, Quebec, P.Q.
Dr. Truman Michelson, Washington, D.C.
Miss Julia Miller, Davenport, Io.
Hon. W. G. Mitchell, Quebec, P.Q.
Montreal City Library, Montreal, P.Q.
Montreal Civic Library, Montreal, P.Q.
Louis Morin, Beauce, P.Q.
Victor Morin, Montreal, P.Q.
Dr. Lewis F. Mott, New York, N.Y.
Mrs. Roy K. Moulton, New York, N.Y.
Ernest Myrand, Quebec, P.Q.
Mrs. John Lloyd McNeil, Durango, Col.
Rev. Dr. James B. Nies, Brooklyn, N.Y.
Rev. Dr. Authur Howard Noll, Monterey,
Tenn.
Professor G. R. Noyes, Berkeley, Cal.
Rt. Rev. Denis J. O'Connell, Richmond,
Va.
Miss Mary Moore Orr, Brooklyn, N.Y.
John Edward Oster, New York, N.Y.
Dr. Achille Paquet, Quebec, P.Q.
Mme. C. Parent-Major, Ottawa, Ont.
Rev. V. Pauze, Assomption, P.Q.
Professor A. S. Pease, Urbana, 111.
Rt. Rev. Francois Pelletier, Quebec, P.Q.
George H. Pepper, New York, N.Y.
Hon. N. P. Perodeau, Quebec, P.Q.
Antonio Perrault, Montreal, P.Q.
Professor E. C. Perrow, Louisville, Ky.
Mrs. T. L. Perry, Asheville, N.C.
Harold Pierce, Philadelphia, Pa.
Professor Edwin F. Piper, Iowa City, Io.
Senator Pascal Poirier, Ottawa, Ont.
Miss Louise Pounds, Lincoln, Neb.
Principal of Normal School, Chicoutimi,
P.Q.
Principal of Normal School, Hull, P.Q.
Principal of Jacques Cartier Normal
School, Montreal, P.Q.
Principal of Normal School, Joliette, P.Q.
Principal of Laval Normal School, Quebec,
P.Q.
Principal of Normal School, Nicolet, P.Q.
Principal of Normal School, Ste. Anne de
Bellevue, P.Q.
Principal of Normal School, St. Hyacinthe,
P.Q.
Principal of Normal School, St. Pascal,
Kamouraska Co., P.Q.
Principal of Normal School, Three Rivers,
P.Q.
Principal of Normal School, Valleyfield,
P.Q.
Principal of Normal School, Rimouski, P.Q.
Edward K. Putnam, Davenport, Io.
Miss Elizabeth D. Putnam, Davenport, Io.
Professor Robert Ramey, Norman, Okla.
L. A. Richard, Quebec, P.Q.
Mrs. Thomas Roberts, Philadelphia, Pa.
Dr. Geza Roheim, Budapest, Hungary.
504
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Rev. Camille Roy, Quebec, P.Q.
Ferdinand Roy, Quebec, P.Q.
L. S. St. Laurent, Quebec, P.Q.
Professor Marshall H. Saville, New York,
N.Y.
Jacob H. Schiff, New York, N.Y.
Dr. Duncan C. Scott, Ottawa, Ont.
Rev. H. A. Scott, Sainte-Foy, Quebec, P.Q.
Seminary, Chicoutimi, P.Q.
Seminary, Rimouski, P.Q.
Joseph B. Shea, Pittsburgh, Pa.
Professor W. P. Shepard, Clinton, N.Y.
Henry W. Shoemaker, New York, N.Y.
Dr. Arthur Simard, Quebec, P.Q.
Joseph Simard, Quebec, P.Q.
Dr. Joseph Sirois, Quebec, P.Q.
Alanson Skinner, Brooklyn, N.Y.
Professor C. Alphonso Smith, Annapolis,
Md.
Professor Reed Smith, Columbia, S.C.
Societe St. Jean Baptiste de Montreal,
Montreal, P.Q.
Mrs. Charlotte H. Sorchan, New York,
N.Y.
Dr. F. G. Speck, Philadelphia, Pa.
Dr. H. J. Spinden, New York, N.Y.
Dr. Harley Stamp, Philadelphia, Pa.
Taylor Starck, Northampton, Mass.
Simon G. Stein, Muscatine, Io.
H. S. Stiles, New York, N.Y.
Dr. John R. Swanton, Washington, D.C.
J. de L. Tache, Ottawa, Ont.
Professor J. M. Telleen, Cleveland, O.
Cyrille Tessier, Quebec, P.Q.
Hon. J. A. Tessier, Quebec, P.Q.
Professor D. L. Thomas, Danville, Ky.
Professor A. H. Tolman, Chicago, 111.
Dr. Arthur Vallee, Quebec, P.Q.
Lee J. Vance, Yonkers, N.Y.
Louis Vessot-King, Montreal, P.Q.
Miss H. N. Wardle, Philadelphia, Pa.
Washington Public Library, Washington,
D.C.
Frederick W. Waugh, Ottawa, Ont.
Professor Hutton Webster, Lincoln, Neb.
George F. Will, Bismarck, N.D.
William J. Wintemberg, Ottawa, Ont.
Dr. Clark Wissler, New York, N.Y.
Miss Loraine Wyman, New York, N.Y.
LIST OF LIBRARIES, COLLEGES, AND SOCIETIES, SUBSCRIBERS
TO THE JOURNAL OF AMERICAN FOLK-LORE FOR THE
YEAR 1917.
For list of libraries, colleges, etc., subscribers to the Journal for
191 7, see this Journal, 29 : 572-574.
SUBSCRIBERS TO THE PUBLICATION FUND (1917).
C. P. Bowditch,
P. G. Brown,
Miss Eleanor Hague,
A. Marshall Jones,
Miss S. E. Miller,
J. B. Nies,
J. B. Shea,
S. G. Stein.
INDEX TO VOLUME XXX.
On account of the diversity of matter contained in the "Journal of American
Folk-Lore," a certain amount of classification of the contents seems desirable. In
consulting the index, matters pertaining to the following subjects should be looked
up under those headings.
Ballads,
Etiology,
Games,
Incidents and objects in myths,
Music,
Rhymes,
Songs,
Superstitions,
Tales,
Tribes.
Acoma, All-Souls Day in, 496.
Ai-lao, tradition regarding origin of the,
422.
Alabama folk-lore, 414.
Alden, John, a maternal ancestor of Long-
fellow, popular hero in Colonial New-
England, 413.
and John Stewart, difference between,
413-
Alden, Priscilla, 412, 413.
All-Souls Day at Zuni, Acoma, and Laguna,
495. 496.
American Folk-Lore Society, address of
the retiring President at Twenty-
Eighth Annual Meeting, 161-167.
Canadian branches, officers of, 499.
Kentucky Branch, local meetings, 272.
local meetings, 272, 273, 411.
Mexican Branch, 411.
Missouri Branch, Tenth Annual Meeting,
272.
Ontario Branch, 411.
report of Editor, 269, 270.
— of Secretary, 269.
— of Treasurer, 270, 271.
Twenty-Eighth Annual Meeting, 269-
271.
Anansi, characteristics of, 241.
Anansi-tori, formal opening for, 243.
taboo against time for telling, 242.
Andros Island, Bahamas, ballad sung on,
199.
disembodied skin salted and peppered on,
187.
see Bahamas.
Animal actors in Surinam folk-tales, 242.
protectors, 14.
Anthropomorphism, 6.
Antidote for poison of venomous serpent,
identification of, by Chitimacha, 478.
Arawaks, stone axes among, 256.
Armbrister, Hilda, Proverbs from Abaco,
Bahamas, 274.
Ash poisonous to rattlesnake, 478.
A'shiwi ("the flesh"), tribal name of the
Zuni, 499.
505
Atwell, George, the Mr. Attowel of the
"Shirburn Ballads," 375.
Atwell, Hugh, wrong identification of, by
Clark, 374.
Axe, Carib legend explaining origin of, 258.
embedded in full-grown tree, 255, 256.
European steel, value of, in Guiana, 252.
stone, for protection against lightning,
255-
Axes, origin of stone, in Surinam, indicated
by their names, 256.
the names of stone, in the Negro and In-
dian languages of Surinam, 256.
Azema described, 242.
Bakroe, forms taken by, and places where
found, 242.
Bahamas, belief in, regarding the killing of
a snake or cat working witch, 185.
Boukee and Rabbit in folk-lore of, 230.
folk-tales of, and of the Carolinas, much
the same, 169.
Four Folk-Tales from Fortune Island,
228, 229.
name for "corn" in, 188.
practice in, of pouring corn before house-
door, or inside haunted room, to dis-
tract spirit, 188.
proverbs from, collected on Abaco, 274.
riddles from, collected on Andros Island,
275-277-
see Andros Island.
Ballad-mongers, habit of. relating to sig-
natures, 377.
Ballads:
Bangum and the Boar (Missouri variant
of Child, No. 18), 291, 292.
Bessy Bell and Mary Gray (Child, 281),
325-
Bonny Barbara Allen (Child, 84), 317.
Brangywell (variant of Child, No. 18),
292.
Captain Ward and the Rainbow (Child,
287), 332.
Children's Song (North Carolina variant
of Child, 79), 305-307-
506
Index.
Ballads, continued:
Fair Margaret and Sweet William
(Child, 74). 302.
Florella, current under various names,
344-
Hangman Song (North Carolina variant
of Child, No. 95), 321.
Henry Martyn (Child, No. 250), 327.
James Harris (The Demon Lover)
(Child, No. 243), 325-327-
Ladv Alice (Child, No. 85), 317.
Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight (Child,
No. 4), 286.
Lamkin (Child, No. 93), 318.
Little Mathew Grove (Kentucky variant
of Child, No. 81), 311-313.
Little Matthy Groves (Missouri variant
of Child, No. 81), 314-317-
Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
(Child, No. 81), 309.
Lord Daniel's Wife (Kentucky variant of
Child, No. 81), 313, 314.
Lord Orland's Wife (Kentucky variant of
Child, No. 81), 309-311.
Lord Randal (Child, No. 12), 289, 290.
Love Henry (Indiana variant of Child,
No. 68), 301, 302.
Loving Henry (Kentucky variant of
Child, No. 68), 298, 299.
Lydia Margaret (Missouri variant of
Child, No. 74), 303, 304.
Our Goodman (Child, No. 274), 328.
Sir Hugh, or the Jew's Daughter (Child,
No. 155), 322.
Sir Lionel (Child, No. 18), 291.
Strawberry Lane (Maine variant of
Child, No. 2), 284, 285.
The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington
(Child, No. 105), 321, 322.
The Cherry-Tree Carol (No. 54), 287.
The Cruel Mother (Child, No. 20), 293.
The Elfin Knight (Child, No. 2), 283-285.
The False Knight (Missouri variant of
Child, No. 3), 286.
The Farmer's Curst Wife (Child, No.
278), 329-
The Fause Knight upon the Road
(Child, No. 3). 285.
The Forsaken Girl, 345.
The Golden Ball (variant of Child, No.
95), used as a game by New York
children on the lower east side, 319.
The Gypsy Davy (Maine and Massa-
chusetts variant of Child, No. 200),
324. 325-
The Gypsy Laddie (Child, No. 200), 323.
The Hangman's Tree (Missouri variant
of Child, No. 95), 320.
The Hunting of the Cheviot (Child,
No. 162), 323.
The Jolly Thresherman, 353, 354.
The Lady Gay (Kentucky variant of
Child, No. 79). 308.
The Lass of Roch Royal (No. 76), 304.
The Maid freed from the Gallows (Child,
No. 95), 318.
The Mermaid (No. 289), 333.
The Merry Golden Tree (Missouri
variant of Child, No. 286), 331, 332.
The Old Woman and the Devil (Missouri
variant of Child, No. 278), 329, 330.
The Sweet Trinity (The Golden Vanity)
(Child, No. 286), 330.
The Three Little Babes (Tennessee vari-
ant of Child, No. 79), 308, 309.
The Twa Brothers (Child, No. 49), 293.
The Twa Sisters (Child, No. 10), 286,
287.
The Two Brothers (Missouri variant of
Child, No. 49), 294.
The West Countree (Missouri variant of
Child, No. 10), 287, 288.
The Wife of Usher's Well (Child, No. 79),
305-
The Wife wrapt in Wether's Skin (Child,
No. 277), 328.
The Yorkshire Bite (The Crafty Plough-
boy), 367-369-
There was an Old Woman Lived on the
Seashore (Nebraska [1870] variant of
Child, No. 10), 288, 289.
Three Little Babes (Nebraska variant of
Child, No. 79), 307.
Young Beichan (Child, No. 53), 294-297.
Young Henry (Missouri variant of Child,
No. 68), 299, 300.
Young Hunting (Child, No. 68), 297.
See also Songs.
Ballads (Shirburn), Notes on the, 370-377.
Ballads and Songs, 283-369.
Bamboo, ancestor of the Ye-lang, 421.
family name among the Chinese, 425.
Bantu Tales, 262-268.
Barbeau, C.-M., Contes Populaires Canadi-
ens (Seconde serie), 1-140.
cited, 403, 410.
Bath of thunder-stone water a cure for
rheumatism, 259.
Baum, Paull Franklin, The Three Dreams
or "Dream-Bread" Story, 378-410.
Bear abundant in region of Kaska and
Tahltan, 428.
of the Louisiana Indians, a brown bear,
477-
Beasts kneel at midnight on Christmas, 208.
Berrying and root-digging, mention of, in
Kaska and Tahltan tales rare, 429.
Bibliography of Negro tales, 170.
of Negro folk-lore, Surinam, 239, 240.
Black Tai, taboos among, 415-417.
Boas, Franz, quoted, 2.
The Origin of Death, 486-491.
Boesi-nanasi, an epiphyte (Tillandsia wsne-
oides Linn.), 246.
Boesi-tetei, bush-ropes, 246, 247.
Bonifacy, work among the Lolo of, 418.
"Book of Sindibad" in tenth century, 380.
Borrowing in tales, 429, 444.
Boukee and Rabbit in Bahama folk-lore, 230.
Boven Saramacca (Upper Saramacca)
district, "winged" axes embedded in
hollow trees found in, 256.
Index.
507
British Columbia, tales from northern
interior of, 427.
trade-routes in, 428.
Buffalo fairly numerous in eastern sections
of Kaska and Tahltan territory, 428.
Canadian-French tales, customary begin-
nings for, 23.
— customary endings for, 23, 24.
— form and style of, 23-26.
— personages in, 3-6.
— powers and attributes of personages in,
6, 7-
— preface to, 1, 2.
— prepared under auspices of Geological
Survey of Canada, 2
— style and mythological subjects of, 3.
Canja, a stew of hominy, rice, and chicken,
233-
Canoe navigation in British Columbia,
head of, 428.
Carib legend, 253, 258.
Caribou, importance of hunting of, reflected
in Kaska and Tahltan tales, 428, 429.
Carson, Wm., Ojibwa tales, 491-493.
Cat, eaten by Black Tai, 416.
not a totem of the Miao, 419 (note 2).
Celts of "winged" type from Surinam
described, 251.
Surinam belief as to celestial origin of,
261.
with ornamental features, 251.
Cemetery, spirits prevented from leaving,
by thunder-stones, 260.
Charm against evil consequences from
telling Anansi-tori in the day-time,
243-
Charms, 7, 8.
Child accepts as Scotch the ballad of "Will
Stewart and John," 412.
final collection of, 325.
first American text of "The Twa Sisters"
printed by, in 1883, 286.
version from oral tradition of the
"Elfin Knight" printed by, in 1883,
283.
first American copy of "The Hangman's
Tree" published by, 318.
Children an easy prey to the leba, 242.
Chitimacha, myths of, show evidence of
European connection, 474.
notes regarding beliefs and medical
practices of, 477, 478.
speaking knowledge of the old tongue of,
confined to four individuals, 474.
superstitions of, 477, 478.
Chitimacha Myths and Beliefs, Some,
474-478.
Christmas celebrated in North Carolina by
stopping work, 208.
observed by plants and beasts, 208.
Clark, Andrew, publisher in 1907 of the
"Shirburn Ballads " (1585-1616), 370.
Cleare, W. T., Four Folk-Tales from For-
tune Island, Bahamas, 228, 229.
Cleveland Public Library owner of the
John G. White Collection of Folk-
Lore, Oriental and Mediaeval Litera-
ture, and Archaeology, 413.
Clever personages, 4, 396, 401, 402.
Club of Surinam formerly provided, near
end, with celt, 251.
Club-fist, 207, 208.
Color of thunder-stone a criterion of its
power, 254, 260.
affected by soil and weather, 254.
Contes Populaires Canadiens (Seconde
serie), 1-140.
Contests, rivalries, and tournaments, 18-
20. See Incidents.
Convulsions cured by powder of thunder-
stone, 259.
Corn-Maidens in Zuni mythology give
fertility to the soil, 498.
Corpse of one killed by blow from strength
derived from thunder-stone extremely
heavy, 260.
Couplet on the happy reconciliation
between the Earl of Mar and his
daughter, 413.
Courtship of Will Stewart conducted by
John Stewart, 412.
Crane bridge, the place where wolverene
was dropped into the river, 458.
Criminal escapes hanging through a riddle,
203.
Criterion by which to test the accuracy of
an aboriginal statement, 167.
Cushing, Frank Hamilton, Zuni tale trans-
lated by, 497.
Customs (Acoma):
on All-Souls Day, 496.
Customs (Kaska):
woman remains in retirement during and
for some time after confinement, 471.
Customs (Laguna):
dropping food on fire or on floor, in
remembrance of the dead, 495.
on All-Souls Day, 496.
Customs (Zuni):
dropping food on fire or floor in remem-
brance of the dead, 495.
on All-Souls Day, 495, 496.
Cypress-tree struck by lightning, use of
splinters from, in medical practice, 477.
Dance on Cape Verde Islands, refreshments
served at, 233.
Darby, Loraine, Ring-Games from Georgia,
218-221.
"Day broke twice" on Old Christmas in
North Carolina, 208.
Dease Lake, British Columbia, tales col-
lected on, 429.
and River, British Columbia, tribes
living on, 427.
Devil, 4, 16.
Disintegration of folk-tales shown by elim-
ination, 169.
Dog, ancestor of the Man tribes, 419-420.
descendants of, cut out clothes in shape
of dog's tail, 421.
5o8
Index.
Dog, flesh of, not eaten by the Man, 421.
Dragon, ancestor of the Ai-lao, a T'ai
tribe, 422.
Dragon-fly, a Zufii rain symbol, 497.
Drawing of thunder-axe by Carib Indian,
257.
"Dream-bread " story, 378-410.
"Edelstein," one of the early books printed
in Germany, 386.
Elephant represented by Louisiana Indians
as a man-eater, 477.
English and Scottish Popular Ballads,
The, the final collection of Child, 325.
Environment, influence of, on Surinam
story-teller, 241.
Equilibrium of inanimate objects affected
by sharp thunder-clap, 255.
Etiology:
Origin of ending of Anansi stories, 241.
Origin of Carib axe, 258.
why bears make dens in mountains,
444.
why black bears are better eating than
grizzly bears, 448.
origin of constellation, 493.
why death is in the world, 476, 486-491.
origin of earth, 441-443. See also
Muskrat.
why there is fire in rocks and woods,
comparative notes, 443.
why giants are easily fooled, 445.
origin of gold coins, 248.
why grizzly bears are mean sometimes
and want to fight people, 448.
-why the Indians cache their meat, 467.
why Indians have their homes among the
brush and weeds, 476.
origin of languages, 443.
why the lynx has a short blunt nose, 455.
why man is mortal, 476, 487, 491.
why some married people unjustly
accuse one another of infidelity, 456.
origin of the marten, 432.
why men sometimes cohabit with a
sister, comparative notes, 460.
why men like a woman who dresses well,
456.
origin of months, 493.
why mosquitoes are in the world, 445.
why the mountain-sheep's head is small
between the horns, 430.
why people have had chiefs, 451.
why people say that when rain falls, it
is tears, 448.
why people say that a red sky is blood,
448.
origin of ponds at source of St. John s
River, 481.
why rabbit's nose is split, 476.
origin of Reversing Falls, 480.
origin of St. John's River, 481.
why the separation of a good woman
from a bad man is a benefit, 457.
cause for markings on spider's back, 241.
summer, origin of, 493.
why the Tlingit say a Kaska man created
whales, 452.
why the tongues of sheep are black, 430.
how war started among the Indians, 469.
why the wolverene has peculiar marks
on his back, 458.
why the wolverene is a thief, 470, 471.
why women are deceitful, 462.
why the Zufii plant every year for the
priests, 499.
European connection evidenced in Chiti-
macha myths, 474.
Faceties et Contes Canadiens, 141-157.
Famine at Rome in 1527 as a background
for story, 393.
Fan tabooed to a family of Black Tai, 416.
Feather crown of thunder-axe compared
with rock-inscriptions found in Guiana,
258.
Fishing a prominent feature in tales bor-
rowed from Tlingit, 429.
Folk-Lore Society of Texas, 411.
Folk- Tales collected at Miami, Fla., 222-
227.
Formula with pantomime, for amusing
children in region of Saint-Hyacinthe,
146.
Formulas for beginning tales, Anansi-tori,
243, 244, 246, 248.
Canadian-French, 23.
— ending tales, Canadian-French, 23, 24.
of Cape Verde Islanders, 238.
— magic, 7.
Foundation-walls of Lutheran Church at
Paramaribo, 255.
Four Folk- Tales from Fortune Island,
Bahamas, 228, 229.
Franklin, G. B., Priscilla Alden — A
Suggested Antecedent, 412, 413.
Game, counting-out, 207.
Game less abundant in the woods than on
high ground, 471.
Game-animals abundant in region of Kaska
and Tahltan, 428.
Games. See Ring-games.
Gamella, a large wooden platter, 238.
Gascons proverbially clever, 396, 401, 402.
Geological Survey of Canada, publications
under auspices of, 427.
Gesture, expression, and manner of Surinam
narrator, powerful adjuncts to in-
terest in stories, 241.
Gifts, differing series of, in various versions
of "The Twelve Days of Christmas,"
366, 367.
Goats abundant in region of Kaska and
Tahltan, 428.
Grenada, practice in, of pouring corn before
house-door, or inside haunted room,
to distract spirit, 188.
Guiana, Dutch, a fertile field for folk-lore,
239-
British, Journal of the Royal Agricultural
and Commercial Society of , 258.
Index.
5°9
Guiana, notched and ornamented celts
from, 251.
practice in, of throwing rice before door
of house to capture witch, 242.
similarity of the feather crowns of the
thunder-axe found in, to the rock-
inscriptions found there, 258.
value of steel axe among Indians of, 252.
Haller, Johann, in 1680, translated Latin
works into Hungarian, 402.
Halwa, a cake of flour, butter, sugar, 381.
Ha'wik'uh, principal town of Cibola, 497.
Hawikuh, the village, according to Hodge,
where Estevan lost his life, 165.
Henry, A., observations by, of totemic
traits among Lolo, 417.
Hering, C. J., anecdote by, 254, 255.
History, aboriginal, 162.
Hodge, F. W., on Zuhi geographical state-
ments, 165.
Hop-vines on Christmas, 208.
Horse, widely differing accounts of first
appearance of, by Indian tribes, 164.
Horse-fish, a creature with the head of a
horse and the tail of a fish, 234.
Hungary, disappearance from, of ancient
native popular tales and legends, 402.
Hunting, importance of, reflected in tales
of Kaska and Tahltan, 429.
and trapping chief occupation of the
Kaska and Tahltan, 427.
Hyland River, British Columbia, shoulder-
blade of an enormous animal found
on top of mountain near, 450.
Incidents and objects in myth:
adventures of Nenabosho, 491, 492.
advice for Anansi g'ven gratis by the
doctor, 245.
— which, when carried out, brings harm
to advised one, 432, 433.
Aglabe'm causes a water famine, 480.
— killed by falling tree, 481.
"Ain't it well to be pyrt!" 196.
air, stabbed into, becomes calm, 480.
All-Gone, wolf's last niece, 216.
alligator and rabbit walk and talk to-
gether, 180.
— caught in trap set by rabbit, 181.
— fast asleep trapped, 475.
— threatens to get even with rabbit, 180,
181.
— throws rabbit into brier-patch, 181.
— tied by his teeth to a tree, 475.
Anansi appealed to on the question of
returning evil for good, 249.
— disguised as a doctor, 245.
— eats so much that he nearly bursts, 245.
— entraps his wife, 244.
— gives advice for his own cure, 245.
— humiliated by treatment of wife, 244.
— looks with longing eyes on a fine fat
sheep belonging to his wife, 244.
— near top of well, drops his spade be-
hind him, 244.
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
Anansi pays no attention to his wife, till
fear forces her to call him "my master,"
244.
— plots to teach his wife better manners,
244.
— sick, sends his wife for the doctor, 245.
— teaches snake, 249.
— with his wife at the bottom of the
well, pulls up the ladder, 244.
"An' the fish went back to de sea," 185.
animal, huge, not seen for many genera-
tions, 450.
animals steal fire, 443.
— called to a feast of fat, 492.
— kings of, 5, 6, 49, 50.
— quarrel over carcass of dead whale,
481.
— transformed into gold and silver, 37.
ant, food assigned to, 481.
ants, king of assists Ti-Jean, 49, 50.
— remove mound of sand, 49.
antler, wolverene's wife digs tunnel with
sharp piece of, 470.
"Anybody, Lord, jus' so it's a man," 194.
appearances sometimes deceitful, 216.
apple, magic, 101, 102.
archmen who had never seen a train, 186.
arm-bone of a dog, 447.
army for waging war on old magician, 48.
arrow as recompense for wife, 453.
— invisible or magic, comparative notes,
451-
arrow-heads of bone put on headless
arrows render them effective, 439.
arrows, headless, given to beaver,
comparative notes, 439.
— magic, kill a huge animal, 451.
— invention of, comparative notes, 438.
ascent to sky, of cannibal, where he lives
as sun, 441.
ass gives his opinion on returning evil
for good, 248.
aunt Peix' Caball', the horse-fish, 234.
awls made from bones of rabbits, 456.
axe, beaver-tooth, 447.
— giant's, 432, 433.
— hard work with, as a punishment, 258.
babe, grows up to white woman, 189.
— growth of, traced from camp to camp,
472.
— picked up on roadside, 189.
— suckled by marten, 472.
from breasts of father, 472.
— with a mustache, 199.
baptism of poor boy by king, 47.
bar of iron as a toothpick, 237.
bargain between Buttocks (Fesse-ben)
and king, 88.
— between Tubinh and horse-fish, 234.
barley blown away by the wind, 210.
barn covered with feathers ankle-deep,
38, 42.
barrel a mile long and half a mile wide, 191.
basket full of holes offered prince to
drain lake with, 38, 39.
5io
Index.
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
bathing girls leave clothes on rock, 37.
— woman and bamboo, 42 1 .
bean and pea, magic, 40, 42.
bean-stalk with giant on top cut down,
213.
bear and rabbit go a-courting Miss
Coon, 173.
— angry at loss of butter, threatens to
eat up fox, 114.
with his brothers-in-law, deter-
mines to starve them, 467.
— as judge, 216.
— bird steals fire-stone from, 443.
— boasts of his superiority over Indian,
475-
— death of, avenged by his friends, 468.
— equipped with saddle, 173.
— finding himself greasy, believes he
ate butter, 114.
— gives advice to fox, 113, 114.
— helping rabbit out of trap, is caught
himself, 229.
— old white, the only one who can cross
bridge of razors, 60.
— only one who had fire long ago, 443.
— plan of, for finding out thief, 216.
— teaches rabbit how to use sharpened
sticks, and is killed by them, 468.
— throws rock into water on top of
stick, and decrees that people, when
they die, shall remain dead, 444.
— with heavy load, at top of steep
declivity, killed by rabbit, 467.
— worsted in encounter with Indian,
475-
beast, ferocious, by day, and prince at
night, 35-
— snorting ("carding-mill"), 89.
carried on back of strong youth to
king, 90.
beasts, ferocious, guard fountain of
youth, 68.
Beautiful-Green-Garter (Belle-jarretiere-
verte), as a duck, carries Beau-
Prince across the river on her back, 38,
40.
Beautiful-Princess asks her father to
assemble all the young people to
witness her choice of husband, 154.
— awaits the return of Little-John, 151,
153-
— imprisoned in castle guarded by three
giants, 150.
— mourns for Little-John, 151.
— orders for her marriage all that re-
mains in the garden, and that the
gardener bring it, 153.
— recognizes Little-John in her father's
gardener, 153.
— refuses to leave her prison without
Little- John, 151.
beaver and his brothers only ones saved
after a severe heat, 440.
— and his cannibal father-in-law in-
terchange trousers, 440.
beaver and muskrat exchange tails, 482.
comparative literature, 481.
— and Sheep-Man quarrel, and latter
is pushed over cliff, comparative notes,
430.
— and wolverene, comparative notes,
430.
— directs giant how to catch him, 433.
— dives for earth, 442.
— diving, finds his tail a hindrance, 481.
— encounters otter-woman, who forces
him to become her husband, 435.
— enormous, with hairy tail, 446.
— former home and food of, 482.
— hides spear-head of kingfisher in
his canoe, 434.
— kills beavers for food, 435.
dangerous woman by means of
heated stone, 435.
marten-man, 431.
monsters who prey on people, 430.
woman and girl who propose to
marry him, 431.
— more powerful than cannibal, 441.
— on seeing giant coming, paints him-
self to look like ghost, remains rigid
until giant departs, then climbs a
tree, 432.
— overcomes all monsters whom he
meets on his travels, 432.
— prefers muskrat's tail to his own, 481.
the poplar-grove to the marshes,
482.
— pretends to be dead, and deceives
ravens, 441.
is captured by wolverene,
later kills wolverene and his children,
430.
— pursued by cannibal, jumps into
lake and changes himself into a beaver,
439-
by cannibal's wife, makes ground
crack behind him, and woman falls
down, 439.
by giant, who finally eats part of
his own body and dies, 432.
by Gluskap, but finally escapes,
480.
comparative notes, 479.
— put into kettle to boil by father of
sisters, 436.
— reflection of, seen in river by pursuing
giant, 433.
— sent out by Nenabosho, drowned, 491.
— sleeps at night between sisters as a
man, 436.
— a great transformer, 429.
— transforms himself into the animal
beaver, 439.
into a bluebird and flies near
two sisters playing on shore, 436.
— turns into little bird and escapes from
boiling kettle, 436.
— in form of bluebird is bought by elder
sister from younger, for silver spoon,
436.
Index.
5"
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
beaver visits kingfisher, who makes his
guest fall asleep, and then reads his
thoughts, 434.
— wife of fog-man, driven to the river,
466.
beaver-meat with excrement given by
wolverene to his mother-in-law, 470.
beaver-net set in lake to catch beaver,
439-
beaver-nets, wolverene expert at setting,
469.
beavers, Big-Man catches, in nets, eats,
and throws away tails, 446.
beaver-tails, Big-Man and lad eat, com-
parative notes, 446.
beaver-tooth axe and club, 447.
bed appears mysteriously, 28.
bed of salad, 101.
beef asked in exchange for fish at castle
of giants, 67, 68.
— ship loaded with, 48.
beggar exchanges his clothes for those of
the bishop, 134.
— treatment of, at fine castle, 155.
at king's palace, 155.
"Beginder," a variant of "Sure-It's-
Good," rabbit's name for baby, 193.
betrayal of prince, 12, 16, 35.
Bible-reading to drive away ghost, 195,
196.
Big-Crow or Raven, 444.
Big-Man, bald, 444, 445.
— brothers afraid of, 446.
— causes rocks to grow together, and
prevents lad from getting out of
porcupine-hole, where he had hidden,
446.
— has as pack-animals grizzly bear and
black bear, 446.
bird, fabulous, 13.
— fanning the air, raises the wind, 480.
— picks string which fastens fire-stone
to bear's belt, and flies off with it, 443.
— runs away with eye while owners of it
are disputing, 268.
— tells father of fate of his son, 196.
Bird-Man's belly, hole punched in, by
snipe, to recover water, 439.
birds each give wolf feathers, that he
may go to a feast, 233.
— gang of, exclaim, "What a beautiful
frog!" 199.
— master of, old man with snow-white
hair, 74.
— talking, 74, 439.
birth of niece celebrated by a feast of
butter, 215, 216.
bishop, pretended, 134, 135.
blacksmith, dons clothing of prince, and
vice versa, 61.
— king's servant orders shovel made by,
88.
— forges a magic sword, 82, 85.
blanket mistaken for boy» and stabbed by
giant, 449-
blind woman in forest sends son to king's
castle, 77.
eyesight of, restored by
son, 79.
Blue-Beard carries off girls in his basket,
183.
bluebird becomes young man, 436.
blue jay insulted by wolf, 233.
— takes his feathers away from wolf, 234.
boat, holes pierced in, to disable it, 50.
— of witch, youth rows to castle in Red
Sea in, 78.
bone objects to being picked up, 194.
bone scratcher for killing sister-in-law,
459-
book of princess guarded by giants, 67.
boots. See Seven-league, Three-league.
bouquet, fatal, 3, 10, 28, 29, 34, 35.
being picked, ferocious beast ap-
pears, 29.
— the most beautiful, ever seen, 29, 96.
bow to violin, 32.
box breaks open in falling, 248.
— filled with gold, 247.
— with keyhole large enough for a man
to enter, 247.
boy, by help of ring, causes death of king's
soldiers, 104.
— congratulates himself that he didn't
lose his laugh, 225.
— goes to town to sell his cock, 103.
— hides in crevasse of glacier, 448.
— marries uncle's elder wife, compara-
tive notes, 461.
— plans to shove colt in river, but is
thrown in himself, 225.
— prays to dogs, 190.
— taking price of cock, reserves the head,
103.
— wearing moose-bladder on head, 451.
— who had been treated like a dog, is
made chief, 451.
boys adopted by forest fairies, 99.
— changed to stone, comparative notes,
464.
— mean little, carried away by witch,
189.
— out hunting, frightened by words of
raccoon, 184.
— put a stick of wood in witches' bed,
in place of themselves, and escape,
190.
— stolen by cannibal giant, 448.
bread, mountain of, appears as obstacle
to pursuit, 40.
breaking of enchanted flowers causes
ferocious beast to appear, 29.
— of enchanted branches causes hare
to appear, 43.
breasts of father yield milk, 472.
— of woman roasted for food, 472.
brier-patch and rabbit, 172, 181, 225.
bride, on leaving church, forced into
carriage and disappears, 136.
bridge a thousand leagues long over
lake, 39.
512
Index.
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
bridge a thousand leagues long produced
by turn of hand, 40.
— crane, comparative notes, 458.
— of crystal, leads to fountain of youth,
68.
— hung on four golden chains, 100.
— magic, 42.
— of razors, 60.
brine, bottle of, substituted for stolen
"water of youth," 60.
brother, younger, hunts, while elder
keeps house, 445.
— of stolen bride visited by stranger,
136.
brothers, discovering deception of their
mother-in-law, kill her, 462.
brothers-in-law of wolverene starving,
469.
brush thrown behind one, produces huge
mountain, 40, 42. See Obstacles.
buffalo-chip transformed into stone, 489.
bundle supposed to be baby contains
only bones, 450.
bungling host. See Fatal imitation.
Bushtail-Rat a cannibal, 433, 434.
Buttocks (Fesse-ben), story of, 86-91.
buzzard devours wolf's portion of fresh
meat as well as his own, 474.
cannibal, angry, chases beaver with a
knife, 439.
— ascends to sky, where he lives as sun,
44i-
— Bushtail-Rat is, 434.
— sets tasks for son-in-law, 437.
— transforms daughters into grizzly
bears, 439.
— tries to catch little bird (transformed
man), but fails, 436.
— and wife, in pursuit of Beaver, rush
away for fear of drowning in lake, 439.
on way, come across bodies of
their daughters, 439.
cannibals feast on privates and body of
boy, 449.
canoe anchored with stone, 453.
— Beaver hides spear-head of King-
fisher in his, 434.
— becomes Partridge Island in St.
John's River, 480.
— between sides of which son-in-law of
cannibal is imprisoned, found split,
and son-in-law gone, 437.
— of Beaver broken by Kingfisher in
search for spear-head, 434.
— stone, an island, 479.
canoes and paddles of eagle gnawed, 492.
— cached, 455.
— cut to pieces by rope stretched across
river, 434.
— swift, making of, comparative notes,
452.
canyon crossed on legs of snipe, 458.
See Crane bridge.
card-party frightened by voice from
ghost, 217.
card-playing, 40.
caribou killed by beaver, 441.
castle, apparently without occupants, 94.
— and princess disappear under sea
when enchanted locket is stolen, 73.
— beautiful, 36, 93, 94, 97, 104, 108, 112,
155-
with name in golden letters over
door, 72, 73.
Beautiful-Prince must return alone
to father's, 41.
— enchanted, 22, 28-30, 35.
— falls in an instant, 109.
— hung on four golden chains, 36, 44.
— in forest, 43, 63.
— little, covered with straw and sea-
weed, 74, 75.
— of giants, 60, 62, 63, 212, 213.
book of princess guarded in,
67.
left in charge of Petit- Jean, 95.
princess of golden hair guarded
in, 66.
— of Good-Bishop, 41, 42.
— of Happiness, 42-46.
— on crystal mountain, 33, 44.
— round, of the Red Sea, 76-79.
— spied out by queen, 97.
— submerged, 55, 56.
— without doors or windows, 149.
— transformed into gold and silver, 36,
37-
cat asks her master for shoes, 197.
— in sack, 197.
— ol' black, and ol' black man, alone in
haunted house, 195.
— right front foot of, cut off, 196.
— said to be a witch, 197.
caterpillar by day, changes into man at
night, 56.
— fisherman's son, in form of, crawls
into folds of princess's dress, 56.
— use of left hind-foot of, in transforming
to small caterpillars, 56.
cats of all colors, 196.
cattle at bottom of river, 485.
cellar, prince has to sleep on potatoes in,
38, 39. See Dungeon.
hain of men down the well-rope, 222,
223.
Chapewee, culture-hero of the Dog-Rib,
decrees death, 489.
charcoal-burner falsely claims to have
delivered princess, 83.
child baptized in forest by king, 47.
— feeds snake, 185.
— is ransom for father, 15.
children, amusing themselves, forget
their father, 92.
— brother and sister, deserted in time
of famine, 497.
chimney, entrance to submerged castle
by, 55. 56.
— entrance by, 187.
Chinchirot', insulted by wolf, takes away
his feathers, 234.
Index.
513
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
choppers put their butter in spring-
house, 193.
churn with heel-tops, 199.
clapping of hands, 42, 66, 67.
cliff-ogre, comparative notes, 430, 431.
clogs, magic, of steel, 8, 22, 31, 32, 35.
cloud, black, 67.
club beats the inn-keeper and his wife,
211.
— beaver-tooth, 447.
— that obeys orders, 211.
coach and span of two beautiful black
horses with white harness, 40.
cock punishes children who forget him,
92.
coins found every morning under the
pillow of him who eats the heart of
bird, 99.
Conder, Tom, promises to bring shoes
for his cat, 197.
corn to be picked up grain by grain, 188.
Corn-Maidens mother the motherless
children, 498.
corn-stalk grows so high, that a man,
having climbed up on it, needs a
ladder to get to earth again, 191.
cost of injuring a locomotive, 224.
council decides against Eating-Bad, 266.
— held at Ha'wik'uh for conservation
of food, 497.
countryman hidden in valise, gets access
to queen's chamber, 118.
cow, opinion of, on returning evil for
good, 248.
— pulled on to house to be fed with moss
from its top, 192.
— punishes children who forgot her, 92.
cowherd, king's, and Little-John, ex-
change places, 47.
— traitor, receives just deserts, 51.
cows of king guarded by Little- John in
forest, 80.
crane bridge, comparative notes, 458.
crew of sloop sent out by frogs, 111.
cross, egg broken on wood of, causes
water to recede, 57.
— on submerged castle, 55-57.
crow and owl unable to fly to eagle's
lodge, 493-
— insulted by wolf, takes his feather
away from him, 233.
— lets woman on his back fall to earth
when meat she was feeding him gives
out, 13, 33.
— pursues eagle, 493.
— young man carried on back of, to
other side of sea, 74.
crystal city, 59.
— mountain, princess and little boy re-
turned from, 70.
curry-comb thrown behind prevents
giant from passing, 67. See Obstacles.
dance attended by birds and wolf, 233.
dance, magic violin causes everybody to,
35-
Daniel, uncle, hears fish speak, 185.
daughter, youngest, 3, 28, 29.
death, Kaska story of origin of, 443, 444.
— of princess announced to king by ar-
rival of ship dressed in black, 151.
— origin of, comparative notes, 444,
486-491.
— the penalty for breaking fatal
branches, 43.
deer and tarpin race, 174.
deserted children, 497.
— woman, comparative notes, 455.
Devil a guest at a party, 181.
— and farmer bargain as to ownership of
their crops, 175.
— and the Lord dividing up the people,
215.
— bagged, 131.
— chooses weapon with which to fight
farmer, 175.
— dances, 180.
— dancing on thorns and spines, 131.
— gets Pat, 223.
— gives the woodcutter one more res-
pite, 131.
— king's cowherd called as homely as the,
48.
— married, 181.
■ — renounces all rights to the wood-
cutter, 132.
— with club-foot, 180.
Devil's term for "hell," 182.
Devil-ketcher, 222.
devils, seven, possess a flour-mill, 4, 88.
released on promise never to enter
mill again, 89.
skin some oxen and eat meat, 89.
yoked to cart in oxen's place and
made to haul flour, 89.
dice, third son of king chooses profession
of playing at, 36. See Gambling.
— game of, played by prince and bishop,
37-
"Didn't I tell you Mouth was goin' to
bring you here?" 177.
dinner-pot a refuge for little black pig,
186.
disbelief in law to be punished by loss of
ears, 192.
dispute by ravens over eyes of Beaver,
441.
distaff, magic, 45, 46.
ditch, king sets servant task of digging,
88.
diver (bird) diving for earth, brings up
mud or earth under his toe-nails,
442.
dog, ancestor of the Man, 421.
dog, arm-bone of, bare when lad slept,
covered with meat when he awoke,
447-
— comes to aid of master, 86.
— eaten by his master and his wife,
188.
— female, nourishes blind woman and
little son in forest, 47.
5*4
Index.
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
dog, female, suckles small girl about to
die for lack of milk, 418.
— given by king to his departing sons,
82.
to lad by Big-Man to ride, and
to eat when out of food, 447.
— heart, tongue, and haslet of, sub-
stituted for those of prince, 62.
— reveals to king abiding-place of his
daughter's deliverer, 83.
— tickle 'possum, 183.
— transformed into man, 482.
— with hair of five colors, 420.
dog-man and dog-children, comparative
notes, 463.
dogs carry boys home, 190.
— hold a convention, 223.
— kill witches, 190.
dog-skins, discarded, thrown into fire,
464.
donkey shakes gold and silver out of
his feet, 211.
— with magic powers exchanged, 211.
"Don't kill him," as if from the Lord,
216.
door opens of itself, 28.
dowry of the Beautiful-Princess, 154.
dragon belching out fire, 7.
Dragon-Fly directs children what to do,
and flies away, 497.
— having provided for starving children,
returns to his old life, 498.
— reaching the Lake of the Dead, se-
cures corn and melons for starving
children, 497.
— visits Land of Everlasting Summer,
498.
dream of Jauw, 246, 247.
— of Thomas-bon-chasseur, 66.
— that was real, 452.
— of traveller who lost his way, 28.
Dreams, The Three, with comparative
literature, 378-410.
ducks, couple transformed into, 41.
— girls change into, to swim, 37.
— help the frog to fly, 198, 199.
dungeon, 34, 35.
— first wife of prince thrown into, by
second wife, 15.
— king's sons ordered put into, 63.
— see Cellar.
eagle indicates by her motions the
location of camp, 465.
— owns summer, 492.
— proves her ability to carry heavy
weight on her back, 465.
— takes man on back to show him where
his wife is, comparative notes, 465.
— talking, 54, 55.
— transformation of fisherman's son
into, 56, 57.
eagle-feathers, son-in-law sent by can-
nibal to obtain, 437.
eagles devour magician, and pieces fly
to all sides, 50.
eagles in leaking canoes drowned, 493.
— killed by Beaver to get their feathers,
437-
— king of, assists Little-John on promise
of shipload of beef, 48.
tells Little-John to call on him
when in need, 48.
— remove huge pile of rocks, 49.
ear of animal, grease from left, stops
bleeding, 68.
ears to be cut off for not believing in
law, 192.
earth, Kaska story of origin of, 441,
442.
comparative notes, 442, 443.
— seen through hole in sky, 457.
earthworm, 60.
Eating-Bad angry with the people, 266.
— shows himself a glutton, 266.
— vies with Sleep-Bad in providing an
entertainment, 266.
eating salad-leaf, effect from, 101.
egg thrown by the Devil as a charm,
181, 182.
eggs of pigeon, three magic, 57.
elders accuse Boloba of trying to cheat
his friend, 264, 265.
elephant and rabbit take shelter under
tree, 475.
— carries rabbit across river, 177.
— to free himself from burning hay,
jumps up suddenly, breaking off his
tusk, 476.
elopement of Beautiful-Prince with
Beautiful-Green-Garter, 40.
embrace, prince warned not to receive,
from any one, 41.
enchantment broken, 30, 31, 57, 59,
69. 93-
— secret of breaking, revealed, 16.
evil being with magical powers, 435.
evil, opinion of animals on returning,
for good, 248.
exchange of clothing, 47, 61.
excrement consulted by Raven, 444.
— on beaver-meat given to mother-in-
law, 470.
eye, the property, by turns, of a man and
his wife, 267.
eyes of dead eaten by Raven, 441.
— of king's wife snatched out by
sorceress, that latter may marry king,
77-
— of woman wrested by old witch, 47.
eyesight. See Sight.
fairy asks boy for head of cock, 103.
— good, gives Little-John a fairy nap-
kin, 148.
helps Little- John, 152.
— receives head of cock, and as rec-
ompense gives boy piece of silver for
ring, 103.
— wicked, changes sea to ice, and all
ships founder, 150.
faithlessness of cannibal's son-in-law
causes great heat, 440.
Index.
5i5
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
famine, 230, 497.
farmer and Devil bargain as to owner-
ship of their crops, 175.
— angered by finding his spring muddy,
171.
— exchanges place with Poltci'tc, 484.
— fooled by rabbit, 172.
— gives his cattle for a chance to get to
heaven, 484.
farmers at variance, 186.
fasting because of bad luck, 37.
fat from stomach of giant cooked, 449.
— of a carcass given to gulls, 481.
fatal bouquet, 3, 10, 28, 29, 34, 35.
— branches, 43.
— imitation, 190, 226, 237.
father and child plan to kill wolverene,
473-
— convinces son that he is his father, 473.
— eats of the head of his child cooked
by the mother, 197.
feast at castle of king, 128, 129.
— of fat, 492.
feather dipped in water a test of faith-
fulness, 440.
— missing, 39.
— use of, in transforming to swiftest of
eagles, 55.
feathers ankle-deep as covering to barn,
38.
— dropped along the way as a sign, 465.
— transformation into, comparative
notes, 468.
feet become clubbed from falling in
fire, 181.
fete made by king, in which he will give
his three daughters in marriage, 97.
fight between alligator and rabbit in a
straw-field, 180.
filial love shown by youngest daughter
by marrying monster, 11.
finger as a toothpick, 237.
fire, jump over, to discover thief, 193.
— made by jumping over a pile of wood,
491.
by rubbing back of neck, 491.
— of giants, old man warms himself at,
67.
— theft of, 443, 444.
comparative notes, 443.
— to burn skin of monster to release
prince, 16.
skins of hare to release prince,
43-
— witch burns skin of beast in, 30, 31.
fish caught on Sunday speaks, and goes
back to the sea, 185.
— fed to cannibal monster, 436.
— most beautiful, 52-54.
son of fisherman demanded by
siren in payment for, 53.
fisher and turtles live on opposite sides
of lodge, 492.
fisher chief assembles a party to capture
the summer, 492.
fisherman catches beautiful fish at sea
from schooner, 52, 53.
— prevents sacrifice of son by selling
fish and schooner to king's son, but
is himself impoverished, 54.
— sacrifice of son of, demanded by siren,
52.
son of, prevented by mother 53.
— sells fish to king, 53.
— son of, meets lion, eagle, and cater-
pillar quarrelling over carcass of old
horse, 54.
rewarded by animals with
magic gifts, 55. 56.
thirsty, drinks at river, whence
siren appears and swallows him, but
allows last word with princess, 58.
helped by eagle, flies to prin-
cess, and with her to king, who gives
them his kingdom and crown, 58.
transformed into an eagle and
caterpillar, reaches princess, 56.
transforms himself into a man,
and learns that princess is promised
to whomsoever shall deliver city, 56.
transforms himself agian, de-
livers the city, and marries the prin-
cess, 57-
fishes, king of, 78.
flag as signal, 111, 112.
flesh, human, cooked, 430, 431, 433,
434-
flight, magic, by placing jewels on table,
8, 23.
— on crow's back to crystal mountain,
33-
— on eagle's back, comparative notes,
465.
flood, story of, 442-443.
— comparative notes, 443.
flour-mill possessed of seven devils, 88.
flower-beds dried up, 96.
foal becomes a beautiful princess, 102.
— becomes a faithful servant, 102.
Fog-Man, comparative notes, 466.
food and drink produced by magic, 9, 28,
29. 33. 34. 36, 64, 72.
— apportioned to each animal, com-
parative notes, 481.
— given to animals, breaks the spell, 93.
— see Provisions.
food-supply inexhaustible, 498.
fools, three, 192.
foot of animal, left, when spurred by
rider, causes food and drink to appear,
64.
— of cat, right front, cut off with sword,
196.
forbidden chamber, 95.
forgetfulness caused by being embraced,
41.
• — of children sent with father's dinner,
92.
— of promise, 46.
formula for use with magic napkin,
148, 149, 156.
5i6
Index.
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
fox and rabbit in partnership, 214.
quarrel over apples and oranges,
176.
— asks help of red-bird to find rabbit,
178.
rabbit to spend the night with him,
175-
that rabbit prepare him for burial,
179-
— bargains with rabbit, and gets only
the vine of the potato, 175.
— breaks up fire-stone and distributes
fragment to each tribe, 443.
— carries off two little pigs, 186.
— cheated by rabbit and held up to
scorn, 173, 178, 179.
— cooks rabbit by pouring boiling water
over chest in which he is locked, 175,
176.
— digging grave for woman, 184.
— ends the race on lion's back, 209.
— fixes a tar bucket in which to catch
rabbit, 171.
— food assigned to, 481.
— from fear, runs all night long, 176.
— gets the best of the bear, 217.
— in the well asks help of billy-goat,
214.
fox, jumping down chimney, jumps into
pot of boiling water, 186.
— making trouble, gets into trouble,
216.
— on back of goat gets to top of well,
but refuses in his turn to help goat, 214.
— on promise of pay, takes rabbit across
river in his ear, 178.
— out-tricked by rabbit, 225.
— picks up rabbit, apparently dead,
and places him beside his fish, 173.
— rabbit, and bear live together, 192.
— threatens to kill rabbit, but waits to
hear rabbit pray, 171.
— trapped by little pig, 186.
— warns rabbit of danger, 175, 176.
— with rabbit on his back appears as a
menial, 173.
friends agree to sell their mothers, 228.
frog and rabbit quarrel over 'possum, 178.
— and rat go in search of ring, 106.
— at midnight takes an observation of
the stars, 111.
— blocks the path of terpin, 178.
— decides the number of months to a
year, 493.
— falls to the ground and bursts, 199.
— hide of, stuffed with wheat-bran, 183.
— let down in water, searches, finds
nothing, and is drowned, 112.
— swells with pride, 199.
gambling with dice, 36, 37.
game hidden by ravens, 441.
— in forest, killed by young hunter, 63.
game of cards broken up by hant, 217.
garden, enchanted, 28, 29, 35.
garters made of porcupine-quills, 458.
ghost promises to leave for all time if
his orders are obeyed, 195.
— tells of a pot of money, 195.
— see Hant.
giant bound by hair to pegs, 449.
— carries off woman, 472.
— chases beaver, and is caught in trap
beaver teaches him to make, 432.
— deceived by blood on spear-point, 449.
— drowned by beaver, 433.
— eats of his own privates, and dies, 432.
— falls and breaks his neck when bean-
stalk is cut down, 213.
— fishing, is killed by Big-Man and lad,
447-
— head of, cut off, and mosquitoes (his
brains) fly out, 445.
— invited into fishing-camp, 449.
— killed, 449.
— sees reflection of beaver in river,
comparative notes, 433.
— travels with lad under arm, and
reaches country where everything is
of enormous size, 446.
— who has only dust with which to
appease his hunger, 148.
— with spear pursues boy, 448.
giantess, boy cuts sinews of legs of,
comparative notes, 447.
— crawling into ice crevasse, finds only
blood-stains, 449.
— fed on fat of her husband, 450.
— has friendly reception at fishing-camp,
449.
— pulls off penis of boy, then kills him,
448.
giants, 4.
— the brothers, and Big-Man, 445, 446.
— condemn Little-John to death, 95.
— fountain of, 58, 60.
— guard princess of golden hair, 66.
— princess abducted from castle of, 60.
— sleeping, Little-John escapes, 95.
— three, guarding princesses, killed by
Little-John, 81.
gift of princess in marriage price for
king's life, 250.
gifts, magic, given to fisherman's son
by eagle, lion, and caterpillar, 55, 56.
of old woman, 45.
— three, 210, 211.
girl and her family changed to rocks,
which may be seen in Stikine River,
464.
— fascinated with man, runs off and
camps with him, 463.
— gives birth to seven pups, 463.
— wishes herself, body and soul, and for
life, with the Devil, if she marries the
rich lover, 136.
— with two lovers chooses, against her
parents' wishes, the poor one, 135.
girls, asleep, go up to the stars, and awake
in the sky, 457.
— become beavers, 459.
glacier, people crossing slippery, slide to
Index.
517
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
bottom and are transfixed on a spear,
429, 430.
glass. See Crystal.
glue, son-in-law sent for, to fasten sinew
and feathers to father-in-law's arrows,
438.
Gluskap and his grandmother travel up
St. John's River, 480.
— assigns each animal its food, 481.
— calms the wind by stabbing his stone
knife into the air, 480.
— forms Reversing Falls, 480.
— heals broken wing of bird, 480.
— hunts beaver, 480.
goat, seeking fresh water, falls into well,
214.
God, angered, sends death into the
world, 476.
— comes for Moses, 227.
— punishes those opposing his will, 258.
— punishes rabbit for deception, 477.
— questioned as to death, 476.
— seeing rabbit so clever, refuses to
give him more power, 476.
— sends rabbit back to his place, 476.
to bring him the canine teeth
of an alligator, 475.
to bring him a rattlesnake, 476.
to bring one of the tusks of the
elephant, 475.
to live in the brush and weeds,
and deprives him of speech, 477.
"God's above the Devil," 180.
godson, false, jealous of real godson of
king, 48.
gold and silver, bags of, 64, 91.
castle furnished in, 93.
used as charm by witch, 188.
offered in exchange for release
from bargain, 88.
shaken out of donkey's feet, 211.
— found under pillow, 99, 100.
gold-coins first known, 248.
golden chains, 36, 44, 45.
— hair of princess, 124.
— grapes from the garden of the good
fairy, 153, 155.
Good-Bishop and Beautiful-Prince, 36-
42.
goose, flying, dares the fox to harm her
for her treachery, 176.
— to save her own babies, promises to
find baby-pigs for fox, 176.
gopher in council, 497.
— out-tricks rabbit, 226.
grain of sand and of rice, 49.
grains of mustard-seed or rice to be
picked up by witch, 188, 242.
grass suggested by muskrat as a means of
cutting penis, 444.
graveyard for division of spoils, 177, 215.
— talkin' in, frightens man, 177, 215.
grease, hot, poured on privates, 470.
— restores transformed persons to life,
86.
grease taken from left ear of mare and put
on mare's breast, stops blood, 68.
greediness reproved by Anansi with
great gusto, 246.
grizzly bear and black bear used as pack-
animals, comparative notes, 446.
grizzly bears, daughters of cannibal
transformed into, 439.
guests, aiding thief, are caught in his
trap, 130.
guilty party to be discovered through
grief of relatives, 127.
guinea-hen, insulted by wolf, takes her
feather from him, 234.
gull, food assigned to, 481.
gun, magic, 100.
"Had no more use for de rheumatism,"
184.
hair, fish covered with, 447.
— golden, 65, 98.
— of giant, tied to pegs, holds him fast,
comparative notes, 449.
— of Water-Man like weeds, 460.
— of wife of giant tied to willow-bushes,
450.
— white as snow, 71, 74.
— white, from under left hind-paw of
lion, 55.
hairy cannibal monster, 438.
— tails, beavers with, 446.
Half-Gone, name given by rabbit to
baby, 193.
— the second niece of wolf, 216.
Half-Way, rabbit's name for baby, 193.
half-way house brings misfortune to
Jack, 211.
hammer, three-power, worn out in
making a pot, 191.
— thrown by Satan, 223.
hand, right, of miller's wife, cut off when
the preacher thrust at the cat, 196.
— turn of, accomplishes task, 40.
handkerchief as means of recognition,
18, 34-
— embroidered, of prince, 46.
— of princess, used to wrap the seven
tongues of Seven-Heads, 82, 83.
— three eggs tied up in magic, 57.
— with portrait and name of prince,
given to princess, 44.
hands burned in pot of lye, 181.
hanging of princes threatened, 59, 60, 64,
67.
hant races with ol' black man, 195.
— with eyes equal to moons, 179.
— with head large as barrel, 179.
— with tail six or seven feet long,
179.
harness, white, 40.
haste that means seven years, 224.
hatchet, old and new, 38.
— old, taken to build barn, 39.
Ha'wik'uh made fruitful by the gods,
498.
hawk flies to eagle's lodge, and, peeping
in, has his face scorched, 493.
5i8
Index.
Incidents and objects in myth, coyitimied:
hawk, insulted by wolf, takes his feather
away from him, 234.
hay substituted for treasure in strong
house of king, 127.
he laughs best who laughs last, 214.
head of bird, eating of, secures royalty,
99.
— of child placed by mother in bed, 196.
— of cock given to beggar asking food,
108.
given to John's mother as food
for her cat, 108.
— of lion cut off, 65.
— of skeleton speaks, 176.
heart and tongue of dog in place of
queen's, 119.
— haslet, and tongue of dog substituted
for those of prince, 60, 62.
— of bird, riches secured by eating, 99.
heat so great as to cause water to boil,
comparative notes, 440.
hen punishes children who forgot her, 92.
— that lays golden egg, 213.
hick'ry-nut, colored man and white man
hunting for, 177.
hog, each bristle of, brings a dollar, 484.
hogs, hides of royal, bring five dollars a
hundred pounds, 484.
— live inside pumpkin, 191.
hole in ground, in which Wolverene puts
his wives, 470.
— in ice-wall enlarged by animals suc-
cessively larger passing through, 455.
— in sky, comparative notes, 455.
— without bottom, 94.
holes made in ice to weaken it, 451.
homesick girl married to beast, 30.
— lad helped by a giant, 447.
horn summons many men, 150, 152, 153,
155. 156.
horns of sheep, chief food of Fog-Man,
466.
horse, old, taken by tail, and used to
kill enemy, 90.
— quarrel over carcass of, 54, 55.
— tears up tobacco-field, 186.
— testifies as to returning evil for good,
248.
— see Mare.
horse-fish ridiculed by wolf, 234.
— see Paix' Caball'.
horses, black, 62.
with white harness, 40.
— exchanged for gun, 100.
— four, tear traitor cowherd to pieces,
52.
hotel, 60.
— built from pumpkin-vine, 191.
— in crystal city, 59.
house, haunted, given to woman for
sleeping in it, 195.
human flesh, roasting of, 430, 431.
hundred leagues, journey of, to other
edge of sun, 37, 42.
hunger, 28, 64.
hunger of animals appeased and enchant-
ment broken, 93.
hunter ashamed, commits suicide, 455.
— caught poaching in king's woods,
249.
— helps snake out of hole, 248.
— marries princess, 250.
— young, unrivalled, 63, 64.
hunters with the scent of the dog, 464.
husband killed, and his body burned, by
wives, 460.
hut, little, in forest, 77, 78.
"I can stay any place the Devil can
stay," 217.
"I come in wid de dogs," 184.
"I go through fat and lean to-night,"
189.
"I never saw a dead man turn over
before," 179.
ice melted by wonderful unguent, 151.
ice-chisel of Wolverene, 469.
ice-wall bars passage by way of sky,
455-
identity, proofs of, 18.
immortality. See Death, origin of.
" In an' out I go," said the witch, 188.
indelible paint for marking culprit, 129.
Indian, a would-be ravisher of the Rain-
Maidens, pursued, 258.
insects in council, 497.
island sighted on which is found old man
with magic locket, 71.
— where king's sheep are guarded by old
woman, 59.
"It's bad to talk too much," 177.
Jack as newsboy, 213.
— asks for something to eat, 212.
— beats the oak-tree, 210, 211.
— climbs bear-pole to see what is at top
of hill, 212.
— gives tablecloth to his mother to repay
her for loss of barley, 211.
— hides in chest, 212.
in closet, 213.
in salt-cellar, 213.
— lazy, gets whipped, 210, 211.
— restores what the giant stole, 213.
— stops the club from beating, and is
given back his three gifts, 212.
— visits the giant's castle, 212, 213.
Jauw and Kwakoe share their treasure
with everybody, 248.
— relates his dream, 246, 247.
Jesus Christ and the Devil dividin' the
dead, 177.
jewels, magic, transport wife of prince
great distance, 8, 23.
jingle of the witch-skins, 187.
— of the woman to the fox, 184.
kettle, large, given to prince to empty
lake, 38, 39-
— magic, which cannot be emptied,
comparative notes, 436.
— of boiling tin and lead, 69.
— young man put into, to boil, 436.
key, 36.
Index.
519
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
keyhole to box large enough for man to
enter, 247.
king accepts the son of vinegar-merchant
as son-in-law, and promises him his
crown, 133.
— acknowledges his son-in-law, 98.
— and Little-John return from chase,
but find no castle, 109.
— and queen re-united, 123.
— as clerk in warehouse, 119.
— asks pardon of son-in-law, 107, 113.
— asks three sons to search for water of
youth at fountain of giants, 58.
— banishes Little-John and the princess,
neither of whom he wishes to see again,
155-
— baptizes boy and names him Little-
John, 47.
— buys fish for large sum, 53.
— by the name of John Cook, 114.
— confronted by countryman, receives
proof of wife's dishonor, 118.
— coughs and lets ring fall, 106.
— country and castle of, five hundred
fathoms under water, 55, 56.
— each son of, on leaving home, asks a
gift from his father, 82.
— fascinated by the riches of a distant
country, resolves to seek his fortune
there, 116.
— forced to marry sorceress, 77.
— hires Buttocks, and sets him to dig
trench and well, 87, 88.
— hoodwinked by friend, comparative
notes, 485.
— ignorant of a fine castle near his own,
determines to know who has permitted
it. 155-
— imitates Poltci'tc without success, 484.
— in possession of ring, bags the boy and
sends him to be devoured by rats, 105.
— missing riches, consults sorceress,
126-129.
— orders servants to kill his wife and
bring back her tongue and heart, 118.
— outwitted by thief, makes him his son-
in-law, and gives him his crown, 130.
— pays substitute to receive blow on
buttocks, 91.
— perishes in a kettle of boiling tin and
lead, 69, 70.
— place of, at head of army, taken by
his unconquerable servant, 90.
— promises daughter in marriage to
whomsoever delivers him, 56.
— sends Little-John to rescue princess,
48.
— sets various tasks to get rid of servant,
87-91-
— son of, demands the banishment of
his brothers-in-law, 99.
monster by day, beautiful
prince at night, 15.
suitor for woodchopper's daugh-
ter, 99.
king, son-in-law of, goes in search of lost
wife and castle, 73.
— sons of, choose trade, 36.
— taunts Little- John with having built a
house of glass, 109.
— thrown near edge of falls by his own
order, 485.
— to save his orchard from destruction,
gives the hand of his daughter in
marriage, 104.
— turns Prince- Braggart over to Little-
John for punishment, 156.
— well pleased with Little-John, offers
him his daughter in marriage, 109.
— of ants and of eagles, 49.
— of the rats assembles his forces, 105.
delivers ring to young man,
and demands as reward the removal of
tom-cat and restoration of life of his
troop, 107.
kingdom given to prince on his marriage,
42.
— of Blue-Beard, one room in, barred to
his wives on threat of death, 183.
Kingfisher lives by spearing fish, and
does not kill people, 434.
— instructs Nenabosho, 491.
" Kinny, Kinny, don' you know me?" 187.
knife and fork the tools of a ghost, 195.
— sharpened to kill prince, 40.
— see Penknife.
Kwakoe and Jauw, inseparable friends,
246-248.
lake 1000 leagues long and 1000 feet
deep, 38, 39.
— appears, 41.
— man or bird with big stomach drinks
"P. 439-
— of great size, drained, 42.
— rabbit goes to camp of many people
near, comparative notes, 468.
lamp, flat, with a rag in it, serves to
give light, 195.
— offered in exchange for cock, 107.
land cultivated knee-deep with manure,
191.
larder filled with food of all sorts, 103.
liberator of transformed prince gains
audience with him by means of magic
objects, 17.
Lick-de-Bottom, name chosen by rabbit
for baby, 193.
life at stake through breaking and
gathering branches, 43.
through picking bouquet, 29.
— of woman staked on riddle, 203.
— restored, 59.
life-token, 82, 85.
light, a trap for those who go towards,
85, 86.
— guide to an enchanted castle, 25.
to place of refuge, 217.
Lightning son of Thunder, 258.
lights are the lives of people, 78.
lion and fox race, 209.
— comes to aid of master, 86.
520
Index.
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
lion given by king to his departing sons,
82.
— is hunted by Thomas-bon-chasseur, 65.
— reveals to king abiding-place of his
daughter's deliverer, 83.
— transformation of fisherman's son into,
57-
Little- John abandoned on desert island,
147.
— accomplishes more in one night than
fifty gardeners in a week, 152.
— accuses his wife of betraying him, 109.
— and Little-Peter in search of fountain
of youth, 58, 59.
kill one of king's sheep and are
transformed into salt, 59.
put in dungeon never again to
see light of day, 63.
— and mother fed by deer, 47.
— and princess get away from magician
by a ruse, 49.
— and his ship travel far to find old
magician, 49.
— as gardener to the king, 96, 152.
— as poultry-keeper to the king, 96.
— calls ants and eagles to his aid, 49.
magic ring to his aid, 108, 109, 112.
— charges his mother neither to sell
nor exchange his cock, 107.
— cuts down trees to bridge river, 80.
off arm of wicked fairy, 150.
head of giant with one stroke,
80.
of wicked fairy, 150.
heads of giants and recovers his
napkin, 149, 150.
— eats heart of his bird, 99.
— entering castle, meets princesses
guarded by giants, 80.
— exchanges his napkin for a seven.-
leagued sabre, 149.
for a wonderful horn, 149.
— feeds his dogs with the food sent by
the king and queen, 154.
— given choice of princesses, 81.
— in charge of king's grounds, 152.
— kills giants, 81.
— loses his magic gift, 100.
— marries princess, 52, 84.
— metes out punishment to charcoal-
burner, 84.
— not deterred by obstacles, chooses
shorter of two roads, 80.
— offers his four horses to draw Prince-
Braggart limb from limb, 157.
— on eagle's back, 101.
— on promise of marriage, agrees to
save life of princess, 82.
— receives as heritage a sword that cuts
seven leagues round about, 79.
from his mother the head of cock,
from which he takes ring and places it
on his finger, 108.
— recovers his gift, 102.
— restored to life by princess, 51.
Little-John, returned from war, asks for
cock, and says if he only had the head,
108.
— saved by his cat, no.
— saved from wreck, reaches a desert
island, 152.
— son of woodcutter, 98-102.
— sword on shoulder, meets young
princess, 96.
— thanks the queen of the frogs and
wishes her happiness, 112.
— to be banished to island of rats to be
food for them, no.
— to be killed by butcher, 51.
— transformed into salt, 85.
— under threat, exchanges clothes and
place with cowherd, 47.
— uninvited to wedding-feast, sends for
choicest viands from king's table, 83.
— unrecognized, helps his second brother,
153-
— with the aid of his magic cane, has
a fine bouquet, 96.
of his magic horn, builds a
ship, 152.
Little-Peter eats the head of his bird, 99.
— shoots king's sheep, and is transformed
into salt, 59.
— son of woodcutter, 98-102.
— wins the princess, 100.
liver of horse assigned to eagle, 55.
— raw, fed to rabbits, 467.
loaf of bread, prize for the most re-
markable dream, 378, 387.
Lob accuses crow of digging up corn, 233.
hawk of being a chicken-thief,
234-
— and Pedr pull in opposite directions,
231-
steal and cook a pig, 237.
— carried out to sea, 238.
— chooses the instrument with which to
have bone taken from throat, 237.
— comes to a bad end, 235.
— derides vulture for the food he seeks,
233-
— determines to kill Pedr, 237.
— head of, cut open and plastered up,
237-
— holds up cave three days, 237.
— in a passion, 233.
— insults birds, 233, 234.
Lob makes fine promises to aunt Peix'
Caball', 235.
fun of bluejay's mouth, 233.
— multilates Peix' Caball', 234.
— tastes the molasses, and wishes his
head to produce the same, 237.
— without feathers, left on island, 234.
— see Wolf.
locket with magic portrait recovered by
old water-rat and restored to king's
son-in-law, 75.
locomotive cuts off man's arm, 224.
— price paid for injuring, 224.
Lord and his angels help fox, 216.
Index.
S2i
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
lord and lady, meeting Prince Joseph in
clothing of charcoal-burner, are at-
tracted to him, clothe him, and send
him to school, 61.
— confronted by advocate, confesses, 125.
— on return of prince, convinces him of
wife's unfaithfulness, 124.
— steals queen's garter and chemise, 123.
lynx, deceived by man and his wife, is
killed, 465.
Lynx-Man, comparative notes, 464.
lynx-meat cooking suspended from pole
with hook and line before fire, 440.
magic cane given to Little-John, 94.
— distaff, 45.
— flight, 8, 23, 30.
— food, 28. See Napkin.
— gun, 100.
— harp, 213.
— napkin provides food, 9, 33, 34, 36,
148, 149, 155, 156.
— pea and bean, 40, 42.
— power, evil being gifted with, 435.
— ring exchanged for three new rings,
109.
found, 107, 112.
in a dispute, falls to bottom of
river, 106.
in king's mouth, 106.
in possession of witches, 109.
obtained from head of cock, 103,
108.
returned to king of the rats, 107.
— scissors, 8, 31-34, 36, 45, 46.
— spinning-wheel, 45.
— sword, 79, 80, 82, 85.
— tablecloth, 210-212.
— tempest, 10.
— tree, 9.
— trousers, 451.
— walking-stick, 447.
— wind-storm, 28.
magicians, 5.
maidens, three, leave clothes on rock,
and change themselves into ducks in
order to swim in lake, 37.
man and boy tote mule, 192.
— and wife dispute about ownership of
eye, 268.
— colored, gets no help from master, 180.
— consults an old witch as to cause of
changed looks of his children after his
second marriage, 193.
— directed by eagle, finds his wife, 465.
— dressed in gol', 181.
— drunk, damages locomotive, 224.
— enters house by piecemeal, 195, 217.
— fears talking animals more than
ghosts, 195, 224.
— flies off on eagle's back, 465.
— in sack, 194.
— in seal-bladder afloat in sea, 452.
— lowered by rope to eagle's nest, 464.
— neglects his wives, and leaves them
to starve, 459.
man, ol', frightened out of rheumatism,
177. 184-
singing to himself, discloses his
name, 198.
under threat from his wife, brings
home dog as game, 188.
black, can't run away from the ol'
black cat, 195.
with his Bible and light, thinks
of staying in haunted house, 195.
— old, enters giants' castle and rescues
book of princess, 67, 68.
on mare asks young hunter to
change horses with him, 64.
with beard reaching to ground,
92. 93-
with snow-white hair, master of
all birds, 74.
— on swift horse plants pumpkin-seed,
190.
— ridiculed on account of his smooth
skin, and lack of tail, 253.
— scared to death by his own game,
172, 227.
— suspects witches of looting his store,
187.
— takes advice of another, and rides
with boy on mule, 192.
— thinking to kill Water-Man, is killed
by him, 461.
— transformed into house-ants, 268.
— tries to procure eagle-feathers, 464.
— walking, and little boy on mule,
journey together, 192.
— whose head touched the sky, com-
parative notes, 444.
— with big stomach, comparative notes,
439-
— with hard skin, 91.
— without cause, accuses his wife of
having a sweetheart, 455.
Manelob. See Vulture.
manure spread knee-deep over land, 191.
"Many go in, but none come out," 175,
222.
maple-grove of king demolished, 104.
maple-trees, youth carries on back enough
to burn for seven years, 87.
mare, little, in pursuit of lion, jumps the
river ahead of him and cuts off his
neck, 65.
— pursued by giant in seven-league
boots, 68.
— talking, 64-66, 69.
marriage between Kaska and Tlingit,
451-
— of Beautiful-Prince, 41, 42.
— of king's daughter to ship's cook, 72.
— of king's son to youngest of three
princesses, 78.
— of Little- John to princess, 52.
— of prince second time, 33, 35.
— of princess to liberator, 57.
and Thomas-bon-chasseur, 69.
— of youngest daughter to monster to
save father's life, 29.
522
Index.
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
marriage-settlement agreed upon by
vinegar-merchant, 134.
marrow-bones of moose, 469.
marten suckles babe with tongue, 472.
Marten-Man killed by Beaver, who
roasts his arm, 431.
— kills people by hooking them between
the legs, 431.
matches, 28.
meat fed to crow on journey, 33, 75.
— on bones of animals assigned to foxes,
481.
— Prince- Joseph warned against buying
fresh, 60.
— refused by boy, is eaten by father, who
chokes, comparative notes, 437.
— sticks in throat of eagles and chokes
them, 437.
memory of events lost through being
embraced, 41, 42.
milch-cow saddled, 199.
mile-post, sentinel at each, 226.
milk from breasts of father, 472.
mill bewitched, 196.
— carding, a snorting beast, 89.
miller identifies marriage-ring of his
wife, 196.
mink, coming out of vagina of Otter-
Woman, is killed, comparative notes,
435-
molasses simulates blood, 237.
— stolen from cellar, 188.
money, 52-53-
— box of, 247.
— given by prince to wife of poor char-
coal-burner, 61.
to redeem brothers, 60, 62.
to restore to life transformed
person, 59.
— pot of, revealed by ghost, 195.
— rolls out of barrel, 263.
— turns into horse-manure, 180.
monkey created by bad spirits, 253.
— held in tree by his tail, 253.
— plays the trick of the man, 172, 227.
— roasted and eaten, 253.
monster, hairy cannibal, heart of, ex-
posed by pulling out hair over it, 438.
monster-fish that eats people, 438.
monsters, 5.
— cannibal, under control of evil being
with great magical power, 435.
— huge snake-like, on each side of river,
435-
when asleep, eyes are open;
when awake, shut, 435.
— who prey on people, 430.
moose and rabbit quarrel, 492.
— last to pass through hole in ice-wall,
455-
— throws rabbit away from the fat,
492.
Moses not ready when God calls, 227.
mosquitoes, brains of a giant whose head
is cut off, 445.
mother, angry with her daughters, sends
them to marry Fog-Man, 466.
— cooks head of own child, and gives
to father to eat, 197.
— exchanged for horse and cart and
provisions, 228.
— getting consent of her boy, cuts off
his head and fingers, 196.
— sold for four sacks of corn, 231.
— tied with the biggest rope in the world,
231.
mother-in-law excites the suspicions of
her sons, 462.
— of Fog-Man killed by her greediness,
467.
— of Wolverene starving, 469.
motherless children ill treated, 200.
mountain, crystal, 22, 32, 33, 45.
castle of happiness suspended on,
by four golden chains, 44.
— from which none ever return, 100.
— of earth in front of magician's castle,
49.
— of stone behind magician's castle, 49.
mourning, crystal city in, 60.
mouse a good spirit, 248.
— aids in building bridge, 42.
— as helper and adviser, 39.
— comes out of man's nose, 246.
— exasperated, drops ring in water, 111.
— noted for wisdom among many tribes,
and people ask her advice, 435.
— see Shrew-Woman.
mule, scared, jumps off bridge and is
killed, 192.
muskrat and beaver exchange haunts,
482.
— brings mud to Nenabosho, 491.
— dives for earth, 442.
— former home of, 482.
— prefers the meadows to the poplar-
grove, 482.
tail of beaver to his own, 481.
— swims across river with penis, com-
parative literature, 444.
mustard-seed thrown to stop approach of
witch, 188.
names given by rabbit to his imaginary
children, 193.
by wolf to his god-children, 215,
216.
napkin, little white, on road to forest, 76.
— magic, 9, 33, 34, 36, 77, 148, 149, 155,
156. See Tablecloth.
needles made from bones of rabbits, 456.
Nenabosho, blowing on mud, increases
its size, 491.
— kills the frog and puts on its skin,
492.
the lion's widow, and puts on her
clothes, 492.
the white lion, 492.
— prepares a feast of fat, and calls the
animals, 492.
— raises a gale, and the body of Ogima
drifts ashore, 492.
Index.
523
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
Nenabosho shoots the white water-lion,
491.
— swallowed by Ogima, cuts his way
out, 492.
— travels with the wolves, 491.
night in haunted house, 217.
oak-tree receives a beating, 210, 211.
oath extorted from Little-John by king's
cowherd, on threat of death, 47.
oats offered to entice ducks, 41.
obstacle placed in way of wife of dis-
guised prince, 31.
obstacles to cause delay, 40, 42, 49, 67,
439-
Ogima, chief of the trouts, swallows
Nenabosho and his canoe, 492.
ogres, 4. See Monster.
Ogula leaves with his friend, for safe
keeping, a barrel of sitanye, 262.
oil, hot, poured on heads of companions,
409.
oldest princess chooses in marriage the
oldest brother of Little- John, 153.
"One for me, an' one for you," 215.
opossum baked, 196.
"'Possum couldn't fight fur laughin',"
183. t
— spits 'backer-juice into eyes of frog, 178.
• orphan boy made chief, 461.
otter brings mud to Nenabosho, 491.
Otter-Man eats people, 434.
Otter-Woman killed by heated stone
thrust into vagina, comparative notes,
435-
Our Lord asks lodgings of a poor wood-
cutter, 130.
in return for kindness, gives wood-
cutter choice of three wishes, 131.
Owl-Woman, comparative notes, 462.
oxen, devils yoked to cart in place of, 89.
— skinned and meat eaten by devils of
which mill was possessed, 89.
pants hanging on tree to be jumped into,
192.
parrot tells of Nellie's fate, 197.
passage between Swan country and
Indian country, 453.
— through sky barred by wall of ice, 455.
password for calling fish, 237.
— given to Little-John by ant, 49.
by eagle, 48.
— ineffective, 238.
Pat on deer's back, 223.
pay for playing for the Devil, 180.
pea and bean, magic, 40, 42.
pebbles thrown into water, 39.
Pedr and Lob exchange places, 238.
— as a bone-extracter, 237.
— caught stealing, 238.
— leaving Lob to hold up falling cave,
eats all the food, 237.
— lets go the burro's tail, and Lob is
thrown into river, 231.
— loses finger in extracting bone from
Lob's throat, 237.
Pedr sings while Lob yells from fear,
238.
— see Tubinh.
Peix' Caball insulted by wolf, 234.
mistakes Lob for Pedr, 238.
nursed by Pedr, 237.
turns on Lob, 234.
see Horse-fish.
penis as an ice-chisel, 469.
— boy succeeds in breaking, comparative
notes, 461.
— of Water-Man, 460, 461.
— sent across river, 444.
penknife, 54, 55.
people at Tobique called "midgets," 480.
perfumer with his stock in trade travels
on cock's back, 381.
pick-axe as a toothpick, 237.
picture-frame, handkerchief, ring, and
letter hidden behind, 34.
Pierrot, king's servant, gives orders of
princesses to gardener, 153.
— sent by queen with food to castle of
fourteen leagues, 154.
pig escapes fox by rolling downhill in
dinner-pot, 186.
pigeon flies out from cut-open serpent, 57.
— grateful, tells of submerged city and
cross out at sea, 56.
— saved from drowning by son of fisher-
man in guise of eagle, 56.
— three eggs taken from, 57.
pipes, 28.
pitch smeared about to discover culprit,
464.
Poltci'tc and the farmer exchange places,
484.
— bargains with the farmer, 484.
— in bag, to be thrown into rapids, 484.
— shows the king how to stop a scolding
woman, 484.
— tricks the king, 483-485.
pond filled with fat of trout, 492.
pony, gift of king to departing sons, 82.
— reveals to king abiding-place of his
daughter's deliverer, 83.
"Poor ol' 'possum don' see no rest," 184.
poplar-grove, former home of muskrat,
482.
porcupine killed by hungry boy, 445.
Porcupine, wife of Fog-Man, banished to
timber-line, 466.
portrait in locket, magic, stolen from old
man, 71.
— of princess in top of ship's mast,
sighted by king, 50.
— talking, 72.
pot so large as to take three weeks for
making, 191.
potato-crop, according to agreement,
goes to farmer, 175.
potatoes, prince asked to sleep on, 38.
potter and turnip-grower match stories,
191.
prayer answered in falling stone, 197.
— of boy to dogs, 190.
524
Index.
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
prayer of rabbit, 171.
preacher frightened by voices in grave-
yard, 215.
— with Bible and sword, stays in be-
witched mill, 196.
price for taking bone from house, 194.
— of the hand of the eldest daughter of
king, 153.
— offered by 'possum for piece of alli-
gator's tail, 180.
for wife, 457.
prince meets princess, but does not
recognize her, 124.
— bets his wealth on faithfulness of wife,
123.
— by night, a ferocious beast by day, 27-
36.
hare by day, 43, 44.
— chooses gambling for profession, 36.
— confronts and accuses his old neighbor,
122.
— crosses magic bridge in coach, and is
swallowed up in dust, 40.
river on back of duck, 38.
— disenchanted, marries woodcutter's
daughter, 93.
— enamoured of young girl, daughter of
poor widow, 115.
— enchantment of, broken by burning
skins, 46.
— having obtained permission from
parents, to return after three years
and claim his bride, 115.
— on business, leaves his new wife, 123.
— on sea, throws princess overboard,
124.
— plays dice with Good-Bishop, 36, 37.
— tells story of his wife to supposed
advocate, 124.
— transformed, 3, 8, 10, 18, 22, 27, 29-31,
33-35. 43-45-
— warned to let no one embrace him,
41.
Prince-Braggart and Little-John witness
choice of Beautiful-Princess, 154.
— doubting the word of Pierrot, sees
for himself, 154.
— fate of, 157.
— insulted, advises the king, 154.
— points out the siren, 151.
— sickens when hearing of the siren,
156.
— takes Beautiful-Princess with him
to his ship, 151.
— throws Little- John into sea, 151.
Prince-Joseph and brothers arrive at
crystal city, 59.
— and the king, 58.
— comes to rescue of brothers in hotel
in crystal city, 60.
— crosses bridge of razors astride an old
white bear, 60.
— exchanges clothes with charcoal-
burner, 61.
— restores brothers by rubbing the salt
into which they had been transformed
with tallow, 59.
Prince-Joseph ordered killed, heart, has-
let, and tongue taken back to king, 60.
— rubs father's eyes with brine, thinking
it to be "water of youth," 60.
— shows extraordinary talent at school,
61.
— warned not to kill sheep, 59.
princes condemned to hang for non-
payment of debt, 60.
princess, assumes garb of advocate, 124.
— beautiful, embraced by Thomas-bon-
chasseur, 68.
sleeping at giants' castle, 60.
carried on back of old white
bear across bridge of razors, 60.
— by second marriage, listening behind
door, hears conversation between
prince and his first wife, 35.
— caught in the mire, 109.
— delivered from giants, 62, 67.
. — does not love her husband, 105.
— exhausted, sleeps, and Little-John
causes castle to appear, 97.
— favors son of vinegar-merchant, 133.
— given in marriage after performance of
tasks 56, 67, 81, 100, 151.
— goes in search of husband, 44.
— guarded by giants, 66, 81.
— hand of, earned by fisherman's son, 57.
— in guise of little talking mare, 69.
— in search of husband, engages as
cook at castle of king, 46.
transported to crystal
mountain on back of large crow, 13.
— loses husband by burning his hare-
skins, 44.
— marries hare (transformed prince), 43.
— recognized by prince through hand-
kerchief and guard-ring, 18.
— rescued by Little-John from magician,
50.
— steals magic ring, 105.
— tells Little-John of obstacles that
magician will place in his way, 49.
princesses go to meet real Little-John on
his return to king at night, 48.
— king's cowherd, in clothes of Little-
John, sent to play with, 48.
— three, in second story of castle in Red
Sea, 78.
— youngest of three, marries king's
son, 78.
— three, to be married on three suc-
cessive days, 153.
prisoner conceals under his hood a tom-
cat, 105.
— of king, 64.
privates, Beaver cuts off his own, and
eats them, 432.
— of boy, cannibals feast on, 449.
— of wolverene burnt with hot grease,
470.
— of woman, animals in, that bite and
kill men, 435.
Index.
525
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
ptarmigan serve to disclose deceit of
woman, 462.
pumpkin-vine runs faster than swift
horse, 191.
punishment for those who passed sentence
of Little-John, 113.
pursuit of eloped couple, 40.
quarrel among animals over carcass of
horse, 54, 55.
queen, as soldier, 119.
— incognito, hears story of king, 120,
121.
secures service of the king, 120.
— promises first child in exchange for
help in impossible task, 198.
— saves child by speaking name of old
man, 198.
— of mice, no.
suggests asking help from queen
of frogs, no.
questions asked by Devil, 182, 183.
rabbit and bear exchange places, 229.
hunt moose, 467.
— and fox go fishing, 172.
— and frog quarrel over 'possum, 178.
— and tarpin run a five-mile race, 174.
— and wolf race together, 226.
— as watchman, 229.
— asks more power from God, 475.
— at home in brier-patch, 172, 181, 225.
— bargains with elephant to take home
the hay he is cutting, 475.
with fox, 175.
— blinds fox by throwing dirt into his
eyes, 179.
— breaks trail for bear, 467.
— calls on himself the dislike of people,
and they want to kill him, 476.
— carried across river by elephant, 177.
— carries rattlesnake to God, 476.
teeth of alligator to God, 475.
— caught in trap, 229.
— cheats fox out of his pay four times,
179.
— chops off alligator's tail, 180.
— clubs and kills bear, 467.
— crosses river in ear of fox, 178.
— deprived of speech, 477.
— eats lard belonging to fox, bear, and
himself, 193.
— equipped with cowhide and spurs, 173.
— fails in imitating trick of rooster, 226.
— feeds on bear's fat meat, and gives
some to his brothers, 467.
— feigning to measure rattlesnake, ties
him firmly, 476.
— feigns death, 172.
fear of a brier-patch, 172, 181, 225.
— follows advice of fox, and is locked
up in chest, 175.
— goes to dinner and takes a nap, 214,
225.
— has fat only on neck and under legs,
492.
— sticks to tar bucket, 171.
rabbit lays stick beside sleeping rattle-
snake, 476.
— loses race by sleeping and eating, 214,
226.
— makes alligator think he wants to be
thrown in river, 181.
— offers his company to terrapin, 179.
— on ice, escapes from his pursuers by
help of wind, 468.
— orders wife to cut off his head, but
stops her when he finds it will kill
him, 190.
— plans to discover thief of butter, 193.
— refuses fox's invitation to visit him, as
he observes that, though many go in,
none come out, 175.
— runs away with fox's fish while fox
goes to get what he thought was a
dead rabbit, 173.
— sent to God to ask about death, 476.
— sets fire to brush-heap in which ter-
rapin is, 179.
to straw field, 181.
frog to watch 'possum, 178.
trap for alligator, 181.
— and tar baby, 171, 222.
— stumbles and splits his nose, 476.
— taunts elephant with his slowness, 178.
— teaches fox to use his tail for fishing,
215.
— telling fox where he can find geese,,
leads him into danger, 176.
— ties elephant by tusk to tree, 476..
— tricks bear, 229.
— wants proof of death of fox, 179.
— war introduced by, 469.
Rabbit-Man next in power to beaver, 467.
rabbits snared by deserted woman, 456.
rabby destroys friend's horse and cart,
and steals his provisions, 228.
race between deer and tarpin, 174.
— between God and Moses, 227.
— between gopher and rabbit, 226.
— between hant and black man, 195.
— between lion and fox, 209.
— between rabbit and terpin, 174, 225,
226.
— between tortoise and rabbit, 214.
— between wolf and rabbit, 226.
rain, sign of tears, 448.
— tears of Big-Man, 445.
Rain-Maidens, daughters of Thunder,258.
Rat and Beaver fight, and Rat and wife
are killed, 434.
— and mouse dispute as to w-ho took
ring, in.
— rubs tail over king's mouth and over
mustard, 106.
rats in dress of soldiers on parade, 105.
rattlesnake consents to let rabbit tie him
to stick, 476.
raven as transformer and trickster, 444.
— asks excrement for intormation, com-
parative notes, 444.
ravens, two, deceived by Beaver, who
burns them alive, 441.
526
Index.
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
ravens, two, drive away game, compara-
tive notes, 441.
pick out eyes of dead, 441.
ravisher, would-be, of Rain-Maidens,
pursued by Thunder, 258.
razors, bridge of, 59, 60.
recognition of first wife by means of
handkerchief, 46.
reflection of Beaver in river struck at
by giant, comparative notes, 433.
renunciation of second wife of prince in
favor of first wife, 18.
resemblance of three brothers so great,
they cannot be distinguished, 4, 86.
return from heaven or hell impossible,
382, 388.
Reynard, deceiving the bear, devours all
his butter, 113. See Fox.
— makes a bargain with bear, 1 14.
rheumatism cured through fright, 177,
184.
rice, ants take one grain each, 49.
ring, guard, 34, 35.
— taken and carried to ship by little
mouse, in.
river crossed on back of duck, 38.
on back of hen, 41.
— lion jumps over, pursued by hunter
on little mare, 65.
load, beautiful, leads to king's castle,
94.
robbers, quarrelling, frightened away,
comparative notes, 484.
rock rides on back of horse, 189.
rocks close to imprison brother for his
want of trust, comparative notes, 446.
xooster and rabbit engage in farming,
190.
— lays his head aside to sun it, 226.
— puts his head upon his wing, and tells
rabbit his wife cut off his head, 190.
— talking, 41, 42, 190.
. rope on which girls descend from sky to
earth, 457.
— stretched across river, lifted by Beaver,
who passes underneath and arrives at
Otter-Woman's, 434, 435.
rose as life token, 82, 85.
ruse of thief to throw police off track, 128.
sailor hides during storm, 482.
— helps Little-John in search for stolen
princess, 48.
"Saint Peter, open the door to the wood-
cutter," 132.
salmon, Beaver changes into, and swims
to place where Kingfisher used to draw
water, 434.
salmon-eggs cooking in kettle increase in
size, 436.
salt, transformation of persons into, 59,
85, 86.
Samson and Satan make trial of their
strength, 223.
schooner, 52-54.
scissors, magic, 8, 31-34, 36, 45, 46.
Scrape- Bottom, name for rabbit's third
baby, 193.
scratch, ol\ 183.
seal-bladder as a canoe, 452.
search through city reveals no one as
beautiful as young daughter of poor
widow, 115.
serpent killed by fisherman's son to
rescue submerged city, 57.
serpents suddenly appear on island at
sea, 71.
servant, dressed as friaress, lodges at
castle, 123.
— of king recognized as first wife by
handkerchief, 46.
— of queen helps countryman in his
designs, 117.
servant's pay, permission to spank mas-
ter, 88.
seven devils possess a flour-mill, 88.
— leagues around, dust caused to fly
back for, by turn of the hand, 40.
music from violin heard for, 32,
35-
people dance in spite of them-
selves to music heard for, 8.
sword that cuts for, 82, 85.
— times devil, 31.
seven-headed monster, 6, 7, 82-84, 494-
seven-league boots, 6, 40, 42, 67, 68.
seventh wife of Blue- Beard enters closed
room, 183.
seven-year-old boy goes out of house
for first time, 86.
sharpened sticks for killing people, com-
parative notes, 468.
sheep of king guarded by old woman, 62.
Sheep-Man kills people by pushing them
over cliff, 430.
sheep people killed by Beaver, 430, 431.
shell thrown behind one is changed into
mountain, 67.
ship of Little-John, magician and princess
visit, 50.
— without sails, 152.
ships imprisoned in ice rise, 151.
Shrew-Woman advises Beaver, 435,
438.
— cooks salmon-eggs in tiny kettle, 435.
sight of daylight brings death to witch,
188.
sight restored by anointing eyes with
grease, 50.
when eyes are put back, 79.
silver spoon paid for bluebird, 436.
Simon fishes on Sunday, 185.
siren demands son of fisherman in pay-
ment for fish caught, 53, 54.
— swallows fisherman's son when he
drinks at river, 58.
sister prefers martyrdom to having her
brother in hell, 137.
sister-in-law killed by driving scratchers
into her ears, 459.
six brothers marry their six sisters, 420.
skeleton of animal given to spider, 481.
Index.
5*7
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
skin of beast burned by witch to break
enchantment, 30, 31.
— of monster burned to free transformed
prince, 16.
skins of hare, 166 in number (year and
a day), 43.
skull of animal and its contents given
to ants, 481.
— of horse assigned to caterpillar as
shelter in bad weather, 55.
sky, ascent of cannibal to, 441. See Sun.
— escape from, to earth, by means of
skin rope, 457.
— man whose head touches, 444.
— once very close to earth, 444, 445.
— red, sign of death or blood, com-
parative notes, 448.
— rises at intervals to let people through,
453-
Sleep-Bad and Eating-Bad exchange
visits, 266.
sleeping-potion given to prevent secret
from being revealed, 8, 34, 35.
smoke issuing from strong house dis-
closes weak spot, 127.
snail crawls day and night, 174.
snake and child eat together, 185.
— furnishes remedy for his bite, 249.
— in trouble, is helped by hunter,
repays kindness, 248, 249.
snake-monsters, 438.
— comparative notes, 435, 436.
snipe carries travellers over canyon on
his long legs, 458.
punches hole in Bird-Man's stomach,
releasing water, comparative notes,
439-
Snowshoe Islands in St. John's River,
the snowshoes left by Gluskap on his
way to Tobique, 480.
snowshoes greased, that they may freeze
and be useless, 454.
song of crow and turtle, 493.
— of old witch-man, 198.
— of Pedr, 238.
— of pig when he traps fox, 187.
— of three motherless children, 200.
— sung by fox while he cooks rabbit, 175.
songs of witches to two mean little boys,
189, 190.
sorceress, old, 31-33, 35.
advises Beautiful-Prince, 37.
causes persons to turn into mass
of salt, 85, 86.
scabby, comes out from under
napkin picked up by king, 77.
— third of three sistere, the most wicked
and malicious, 5.
— wicked, falls dead when youth ex-
tinguishes light, 79.
— see Witch.
sorceresses, three, give counsel, 13.
spear-head breaks off when fish are
speared, 434.
speech of fish caught on Sunday, 185.
spider, food assigned to, 481.
spinning-wheel, magic, 45, 46.
Squirrel in council, 497.
— tells boy to cry for summer, 492.
star-husbands, comparative notes, 457.
steamer, most rapid-going, 48.
steel clogs six inches thick, 31. See Clogs.
step-mother feeds children with dirt,
194.
stone falls in answer to prayer, 197.
— thrown at Beaver by Gluskap still
to be seen at Tobique, 480.
stone canoe, 479.
— house half way on mountain that can
hold ten thousand people, 420.
— mountain behind magician's castle,
49.
— sheep and other animals in front of
caves of Mount Ngan, 420.
stork takes pity on fox, 216.
subterfuges of a wife, 199.
summer in Indian country when winter
in Swan country, 453.
— origin of, comparative notes, 493.
sun, a cannibal and lives in sky, 441.
— hundred leagues on other edge of,
37. 42.
Sunday for fishing, 185.
sunshine hauled in a wheelbarrow, 192.
Sure-It's-Good, name chosen by rabbit
for baby, 193.
Swan Maidens, the, 5, 37.
Swan man steals wife of hunter, 453.
sweet flag {Acorus calamus), former food
of beaver, 482.
swimming-race, 483.
sword, magic, 79, 82, 85.
— oldest, chosen for hunting lion, 65.
tablecloth, magic, 210—212.
tail of fox frozen in, 215.
— of horse breaks when pulled, 228.
— of monkey makes him prisoner in
tree, 253.
tails exchanged, 482.
— of burros buried in mud, 231.
tale of the "Three Sillies," 191.
talkin' overheard in graveyard frightens
man, 177.
talking animals, 29, 33, 41, 42, 54-56.
tallow or grease, rubbing with, breaks en-
chantment, 50, 59.
tank of running gold, 95.
tar baby and rabbit, 171, 172, 222.
tar bucket and rabbit, 171.
tarpin. See Terrapin.
task by which boy can escape hanging,
104.
— of draining a lake, 39.
— of making lead and tin boil together,
69.
— set queen, of turning straws into gold,
198.
tasks set for liberator, 16, 17.
— set for rabbit by God, 475, 476.
for rescuing submerged city and
castle, 57.
528
Index.
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
tasks set for securing princess, 49, 50, 66-
69.
prince, 38. 39-
'taters, according to agreement, belong
to rabbit, 175.
tears of Big-Man are rain, 445.
tempest, magic, precedes coming of
transformed person, 10.
terms of peace between rats and man,
105.
terpence an hour for watchman, 229.
terrapin races, 174, 226.
— and rabbit taunt each other, 179.
— angered, taunts snail with gaining
race by rolling downhill, 174.
— at each mile-post, 225.
— in convention, 226.
— rabbit, squirrel, and fox chop in
company, 193.
— sets rabbit to watch frog, 178.
— tells slave he shall be free, 177.
— with one eye shut, and one eye open,
225.
test of age of wolf, fox, and camel, 380.
— of son-in-law, 38, 437, 438.
"Thah, now, that's what I git by tryin'
to please everybody," 192.
"That's the way it felt when you beat
me," 212.
"The fou't' more powerful than all,"
222.
thief builds king's treasure-house, 126.
— efforts to discover, 127-130, 193.
— son of king chooses profession of, 36.
thieves identified by suits of witches, 188.
thinking of or calling on some one brings
aid, 39.
Thomas-bon-chasseur finds golden hair,
the brilliance of which lights the whole
world, 65.
— meets old man on little mare, and is
asked to swop horses, 64.
thought-reading by Shrew-Woman, 436.
Thunder enraged, 258.
Ti-Jean. See Little-John.
time-limit, 17, 22, 27,29, 30, 31, 32, 36,
37. 41. 43. 44. 47. 59-
Ti-Pierre. See Little-Peter.
tobacco, 28.
tobacco-field torn up by horse, 186.
tom-cat let loose on island of rats, no.
— makes a counter-attack, 105.
tongues of monster proof of identity of
slayer, 82, 84.
Top-Off, wolf's niece, 215.
tortoise wins race while rabbit sleeps,
214. See Terrapin.
trail on which are many monsters who
prey on people, 429.
train frightens Irishman, 186.
transformation of people into animals,
481.
transformations, 3, 5, 6, 8, 10, 18, 22, 27,
29-38, 41-45. 55-59. 67, 85, 86, 101,
102, 180, 268, 419, 422, 432, 436, 439,
452, 455, 459, 462, 464, 468, 470, 480-
482, 489.
transformer, Raven as, 444.
trap for capturing thief, 129.
treachery of charcoal-burner proved, 84.
tree, trunk of, becomes St. John's River,
481.
— lad runs up, to escape giant, 445.
— magic, 9.
trees cut down with magic sword serve as
bridges, 80.
trickster, Raven as, 444.
trousers, magic, 451.
— of Beaver and Cannibal, hanging by
fire, interchanged, 440.
— of Cannibal, thrown into fire by
Beaver, 441.
Tubinh and Lob quarrel, 234.
— bargains with Peix' Caball, 234.
— see Pedr.
turnip, giant, 191.
turtle catches and drowns eagle, 493.
turtles scorched by fire on chin and throat,
492.
twin-children discuss question of death,
488.
unfaithfulness of husband indicated by
wet feathers, comparative notes, 440.
unguent with marvellous power of resto-
ration, 150.
vagina of Otter-Woman, Beaver thrusts
heated stone into, comparative notes,
435-
vegetation, beginning of, 442.
vine removed from house by pulling cow
up to eat it off, 192.
violin which makes one dance, 8, 25, 32,
35, 36, 131.
vulture, insulted by wolf, takes his
feather away from him, 233.
walking-stick, magic, 447.
war-party fall in with a woman and have
connection with her, 461.
— in blinding snowstorm attack Swan
camp and kill all, 455.
water at bottom of well reached by chain
of men, 222, 223.
— lowering of, caused by breaking of eggs,
57-
— of life, of youth, 59, 60.
water-lions on sandbar near end of world,
491.
Water-Man a menace to people, com-
parative notes, 460.
"We have agree to disagree," 222.
weasel first to make hole in ice-wall,
455-
— in vagina of Otter-Woman, com-
parative notes, 435.
— kills Ogima by biting his heart, 492.
weather milder when sky far from earth
than when sky is close to earth, 445.
wedding-ring, on possession of, hangs
fate of brother and sister, 136.
— price demanded by Devil for sight of
sister, 136.
Index.
529
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
wedge between sides of canoe pulled out,
and Beaver imprisoned, 437.
well, king plans to bury servant alive
while digging, 88.
whales largest and strongest animals of
the ocean, 452.
— made by Kaska man do his bidding,
comparative notes, 451, 452.
— making of artificial, comparative
notes, 452.
"What brave folks are we!" 199.
wheat grown in General Cling town,
182.
wheelbarrow for hauling sunshine, 192.
whistle, 54.
— used to restore to life, 51.
widow, 70, 102, 107.
— goes to king to ask hand of his
daughter for her son, 104.
wife killed by her husbands because she
deceived them, 462.
— of farmer as a white horse, 186.
— of miller, cutting ham-bone, hurts
her hand, 196.
— of Wolverene escapes, 470.
— stolen by Swan man, 453.
wind, north and west, 45.
— too calm for fish to live, 480.
— west, takes princess to castle of
happiness, 45.
window-frame, wonderful, 98.
winds, asked if they have seen lost
prince, 44.
wind-storm, magic, prevents return
home of traveller, 28.
wing of bird, writing on, 99.
witch answers questions of Devil, 182,
183.
— carries to her home two mean little
boys, 189.
— drops dead when daylight strikes her,
188.
— fiery, 77.
— frightened to death, 209.
— invisible, 30.
— made to give up magic bird-heart,
102.
— old, visits castle, 30.
— seen with ring on finger, ill.
— shakes off her skin, 209.
— to pick up, grain by grain, mustard-
seed or rice in her path, 188, 242.
— with cup of tea, causes Little- John to
vomit up the heart of bird, 100.
witches obtain cock and cook it, 108.
the magic ring, 109.
— rub off their skins, 210.
— try unsuccessfully to get possession
of John's cock, 107.
— see Sorceress.
witch-man saved from hanging, 210.
witch-skin filled with salt, 209.
witch-skins filled with pepper, 187.
witch-wife, 209.
witch- woman and frog, 184.
wives avenge wrong done them by
husband, 460.
— neglected, become suspicious, and
spy on their husband, 459.
wolf accuses crow of digging up corn,
233-
hawk of being a chicken-thief,
234-
— and wolverene brothers-in-law, 471.
— answering his wife's calls, eats up
bear's butter, 215, 216.
— born before the creation, 380.
— cheated by buzzard, 474.
— derides vulture for food he seeks, 233.
— drinks fresh blood of cow, 474.
— goes to a dance under impression
that it is a feast, 233.
— in a Mongolian version of the "Three
Dreams," 380.
— insults animals, 233, 234.
— mutilates Peix' Caball, 234.
— teaches Nenabosho to make fire, 491.
— without feathers, left on island, 234.
— works in bear's garden, 215.
wolverene, comparative notes, 469, 470.
— dropped by snipe into river, 458.
— fattens his wives and caches meat, 470.
— house of, at foot of glacier, where he
kills people who fall over, 429.
— jumping for cache, breaks arms and
legs, 471.
— killed by Beaver, who had feigned
death, 430.
by brothers-in-law, 470, 471.
marries each one of many sisters, 470.
— offers his mother-in-law beaver-meat
with excrement, 470.
— put on spit to bake, 468.
— steals baby, 472.
— travels toward setting sun, 473.
wolves warm Nenabosho by covering
him with their tails, 491.
woman captive procures meat for war-
party, 454.
— carried off by giant, 472.
by lynx, 464.
— cuts trail through willow-brush as
means of escape, 450.
— eats so much fat that she breaks in
two, comparative notes, 467.
— engages as table-servant to king in
order to find her husband, 33.
— feeds on flesh of her dog cooked by her
husband, 188.
— left to die of cold and starvation, 456.
— marries dog, 482.
— mouse as wise old, comparative notes,
435-
— old, 45.
asks of young man that he wish
her dead and in Paradise, 75.
calls ducks to come eat of her oats,
41.
guards king's sheep, 59, 62.
in forest, 44.
with disease of ear, 419.
53°
Index.
Incidents and objects in myth, continued:
woman, old, with snow-white hair, mis-
tress of all fishes, 75.
— simulating her daughter, tries to
delude her sons-in-law, 462.
— transformed into white ants, 268.
— visits graveyards at night, 187.
— watches fox waiting to dig her grave,
184.
— way to stop a scolding, 484.
— with animals in privates, that killed
men, comparative notes, 435.
— with babe on back, dragging meat to
camp, is frightened by sight of huge
animal, 450.
— with shoes like those of a horse on
her hands, 196.
— with three children asks lodging from
a man, 195.
— with two husbands, comparative notes,
461.
women and girl changed into mice, 455.
— dupe wolverene, and kick him into
river, 458.
— evade wolverene's advances by many
devices, 458.
— in top of large tree, 457.
wonder-box restored to its owner, 212.
woodchuck eats men, 433.
— fights with Beaver, and is killed, 433.
woodcutter and wife, three little girls
of, 92.
— at the gate of heaven, 132.
— demand by, for releasing Devil, 131.
— takes home to each of his two sons a
beautiful bird, 98.
Wood-Rat in council, 497.
wool taken to carding-mill sniffed up by
snorting beast, 89.
young girl, to fit herself for a princess,
placed at school, 116.
younger brother disliked by brother, who
would not give him to eat, com-
parative notes, 445.
youngest daughter and fatal bouquet, 3.
marriage of, 3, 10, 29.
hand of, demanded by prince in
guise of hare, 43.
promised in marriage to whomever
should capture head of General Wu, 419.
— princess chooses as spouse her father's
poultry-keeper, 97.
youth, water of, 58, 62, 69.
guarded by wild beasts, 68.
stolen by brothers of Prince-
Joseph, 60.
Indian names for stone axes, Surinam, 256.
— tribes. See Tribes.
Indo-Chinese, totemic traces among, 415-
426.
Irishman proverbially clever in England,
403-
Jamaica, practice in, of pouring corn before
house-door, or inside haunted room,
to distract spirit, 188.
"Jig" defined, 375.
John G. White Collection of Cleveland
Public Library, 397, 413.
"Jump for joy," a step in a Georgia ring-
game, 218.
Kaska Tales, 427-473.
Kate, H. F. C, ten, A Zuni Folk-Tale,
496-499.
Kalinias (Caribs), name given by, to the
stone axe, 256.
K'iakima, the village where, according
to the Zufii, Estevan lost his life, 165.
K'iang, forefathers of Tibetans, social
organization of, 423.
Kittredge, G. L. (editor), Ballads and
Songs, 283-369.
fragmentary text by, of "The Mermaid,"
333-
Konomeru-Aula ("Word of the Thunder"),
a Carib, 258, 259.
Kosi ("a courtesy"), a mark of respect in
Surinam, 245.
Ko'thluwala'wa ("lake of the dead"),
a sacred lake and village near the
junction of Little Colorado and Zuni
Rivers, 497.
Laguna, dead remembered daily at, 495.
story told in, relating to All-Souls Day,
496.
Lake of the Dead, prominent in Zuni
mythology and religion, 497.
Laufer, Berthold, Totemic Traces among
the Indo-Chinese, 415-426.
Leba ("the spirit of Misery") of Surinam,
described, 242.
Legend, Carib, 253, 258.
of the oldest animals, 379, 380.
of the Rain-Spirits, 258.
Leig, Charles, on value set by Indians of
Guiana on European steel axe, 252.
Leland, C. G., cites a Passamaquoddy
occurrence similar to the Malecite
water-famine, 480.
Lelydrop in Para district, scene of fall of
enormous locust-tree struck by light-
ning, 254.
Lewis & Clark, visit of, not remembered by
the Lemhi Shoshone, 165.
"Lightning-tubes," Surinam, 237.
Lob and Subrinh in Portuguese folk-lore,
230.
Loekoeman ("doctor"), a higher authority
in Surinam than the fortune-teller,
245-
Longfellow writes to Charles Sumner in
relation to his poem "Miles Standish,"
413-
Louisiana, inhabitants of, at time of French
settlement, 474.
Lowie, Robert H., Oral Tradition and
History, 161-167.
Machad, a large knife of the Cape Verde
Islanders, 234.
Index.
531
Madison, President, lullaby for, 291.
Magic formulas, 7. See Magic, under
Incidents.
Magyar folk-tale, 402.
Malecite Tales, 479-485.
Man, aboriginal tribes of southern China,
legend of origin of, 419-421.
Man, primitive, not endowed with his-
torical sense, 164, 167.
"Manuel, wolf of the wood," name for
"vulture" on Cape Verde Islands,
233-
Manuscript of old ballad rescued by Bishop
Percy from destruction, 412.
Marlissa rapids in Berbice River, petro-
glyph near, 258.
Marriage, consent to, gained by riddle,
203.
Maspero, H., taboos in relation to family
names among the Black Tai, 415-417.
Matsokin, N., work on matriarchate in
Asia, 419.
"May-Pole Song, The," a Georgia ring-
game, 218.
"Mexican" prayer, position of hand of
Zuiii when saying, 496.
Michelson, Truman, Notes on Peoria Folk-
Lore and Mythology, 493-495.
"Miles Standish," foundation of poem of,
413-
Migration from the Carolinas to the
Bahamas, 169.
Monkey, sacred animal of Tibetans, 424.
Morin, Michel, 141.
Morin, Victor, Faceties et Contes Canadi-
ens, 141-157.
Mourning custom among Black Tai, 416.
Mullen, Priscilla, and the Earl of Mar's
daughter, 413.
reply of, to John Alden, 413.
Music (notation):
An Inconstant Lover, 349.
Anyhow, 200.
Charming Beauty Bright, 334, 335.
Come and I will Sing You, 336.
Fanny Blair, 343.
Faut aller chercher le loup, 137.
Fichons le p[e]tit bouquin, 139.
Goins, 361.
Lord Randal, 290.
Mollie Bond, 359.
On Yonder High Mountain, 348.
Sweet William, 364.
The Drowsy Sleeper, 339.
The Gypsy Davy, 324.
The Hangman's Tree, 320.
The Inquisitive Lover, 352.
The May-Pole Song, 218.
The West Countree, 287.
This Lady wears a Dark-Green Shawl,
221.
Well met, well met, my own true love,
327-
Mythical beings in Surinam folk-tales, 242.
Mythological subjects in Canadian-French
tales, 3.
Mythology, proportion of historically
correct statements in Indian, 166.
Myths of the Chitimacha, comments on,
477-
evidence in, of European con-
nection, 474.
Nai'uchi, a Zufii theurgist, 496.
Names, family, usage of, among Black
Tai, 415-
among Lolo, 417.
Nassau, R. H., Bantu Tales, 262-268.
Necklace of thunder-stones, 260.
New Hampshire timber-yards, tales learned
from Canadian Frenchman in, 36, 47.
Newell, W. W., two texts of "The Carol of
the Twelve Numbers" given by, 335.
Notes and Queries, 274-277, 412-414,
486-499.
Notes on Peoria Folk-Lore and Mythology,
493-495-
Notes on Folk-Lore of Guilford County,
North Carolina, 201-208.
Notes on the "Shirburn Ballads," 370-377.
Notes regarding Chitimacha beliefs and
medical practices, 477, 478.
"O speak for thyself, John," a quotation
of uncertain date, 412.
Ojibwa Tales, 491-493.
Okojamu-Aida ("Word of the Snake-
Spirit"), quotation from, 259.
Old Christmas in Guilford County, North
Carolina, 208.
"Old Green Field," a Georgia ring-game,
220.
Oral Tradition and History, 161-167.
Origin of Death, The, 486-491.
Origin of the Dragon-Fly, 497-499.
Origin of wars among the Indians, 469.
P'an-hu, ancestor of the Man tribes, 419.
Paramaribo, Lutheran Church at, pro-
tected against lightning, 255.
Parsons, Elsie Clews, All-Souls Day at
Zufii, Acoma, and Laguna, 495, 496.
Folk-Tales collected at Miami, Fla.,
222-227.
Notes on Folk-Lore of Guilford County,
North Carolina, 201-218.
Riddles from Andros Island, Bahamas,
275-277.
Tales from Guilford County, North
Carolina, 168-200.
Tales from Maryland and Pennsylvania,
209-217.
Ten Folk- Tales from the Cape Verde
Islands, 230-238.
Partridge Island at mouth of St. John's
harbor, 480.
Passamaquoddy occurrence similar to
Malecite water-famine cited by Le-
land, 480.
Penard, A. P. and T. E., Popular Notions
pertaining to Primitive Stone Arti-
facts in Surinam, 251-261.
532
Index.
Penard, A. P. and T. E., Surinam Folk-
Tales, 239-250.
Peoria folk-lore, tales with European
elements, 493.
Percy, Bishop, first published the ballad
"Will Stewart and John," 412.
Petroglyph found near rapids in the Ber-
bice River, 258.
Plants, medicinal, with their uses, of the
Chitimacha, 478.
Poison of venomous serpents, antidote for,
identified by following a bitten king
snake, 478.
Poke-stalks up early on Old Christmas in
North Carolina, 208.
"Poltci'tc," meaning of the word, 483.
Popular Notions pertaining to Primitive
Stone Artifacts in Surinam, 251-261.
Post-holes as places of concealment for
spiders in Surinam, 241.
Potawatomi and Fox folk-lore, opinion of
Dixon regarding, 494, 495.
Pottery, use of stone axes by Surinam
Indians in manufacturing, 253.
Power of thunder-stone graded by the
depth of color, 254.
Prayer on occasion of death of tiger, 416, 41 7.
Proverbs from Bahamas, 274.
from Surinam, 248.
Rattlesnake poisoned by ash and cane, 478.
Repetition in story-telling, example of
endless chain of, 146.
Reviews of Books:
F., D. S., Cole's Philippine Folk Tales,
280, 281.
Roberts, Helen H., Krehbiel's Afro-
American Folk-Songs, 278, 279.
Rheumatism cured by bath in thunder-
stone water, 259.
Riddle, Surinam, 243.
Riddles as toasts, 277.
from Bahamas, 275-277.
from Guilford County, North Carolina,
201-207.
generally known in North Carolina,
201-203.
Ring-Games from Georgia, 218-221 :
Good Old Egg-Bread, 218, 219.
High O, 220.
Old Green Field, 220.
Take your Lover in the Ring, 220.
The May- Pole Song, 218.
This Lady wears a Dark-Green Shawl,
221.
Way Down Yonder, 219.
Rollins, Hyder E., Notes on the "Shir-
burn Ballads," 370-377.
Romance of Will Stewart the foundation of
an old Scotch ballad, 412.
Saint's crier, announcement by, in Zufii,
of celebration of All-Souls Day, 495.
Saka, Carib magician, names for, 257.
Salish tribes (chiefly Shuswap), incidents
not found among Tahltan, 429.
Sand-tubes formed in Surinam by lightning
striking loose sand, 257.
Shirburn Ballads collected by Clark, num-
ber and character of, 370.
Shoulder-blade of animal three feet in
width found near Hyland River, 450.
Shuma sashti ("skeleton day") in Laguna,
496.
Sicilian proverbially clever, 401.
Smithsonian Institution, courtesy by, in
relation to printing, 474, 493.
Social organization of the Western K'iang,
423-
in China, 425.
Soil, influence of nature of, on color of
thunder-stone, 254.
Songs :
An Inconstant Lover, 349-351.
Charming Beauty Bright, 334, 335.
Down in the Valley, 346, 347.
Fanny Blair, 343.
Forsaken, 352.
In Good Old Colony Times, 348, 349.
Mollie Bond, 359, 360.
Molly Baun, 360.
On Yonder High Mountain, 347.
Oxford City, 356, 357.
Polly Wann (Molly Whan), 358, 359.
Poor Goens, 361.
Randonnee berceuse, 137.
Randonnee du petit bouquin, 139.
Sweet William (The Sailor Boy), 363,
304-
The Dilly Song, 335-337-
The Drowsy Sleeper, 338-343.
The Green Mountain, 347.
The Inquisitive Lover, a variant of a
seventeenth-century black-letter "bal-
lad," 352, 353.
The Old Maid's Song, 355, 356.
The Onconstant Loveyer, 345, 346.
The Silver Dagger, 361-363.
The Soldier's Wooing, 363.
The Twelve Days of Christmas, 365-367.
See Ballads.
Soul, beliefs regarding, among Black Tai,
415-
South Carolina, idea as to original in-
habitants of, refuted, 166.
Soweens (Scotch), oatmeal soured and
then boiled thick, 329.
Speck, Frank G., Malecite Tales, 479-485.
Spider, crab (Heteropoda venatoria) of
Surinam, 241.
Splinters from cypress-tree struck by
lightning, use of, by Chitimacha
doctors, 477.
Standish, Miles, popular hero in Colonial
New England, 413.
Statement, closing, of Anansi stories,
origin of, 241.
true, made as dangerous as a false one,
167.
Stedman, John G., conducted an expedition
against the revolted Negroes of Suri-
nam, 252.
Index.
533
Steel axe of Europeans, value of, to Indians
of Guiana, 252.
Stewart, John, and John Alden, parallel
between, 413.
Stewart, William, becomes Earl of Marr,
413-
Stocking of naughty child, Christmas
filling for, in North Carolina, 208.
Stone that fell out of the sun in Surinam,
261.
Stone axes of European shapes made by
natives of Guiana, 252.
"axes" of Surinam, 251.
relics preserved as amulets and charms
in Surinam, 253.
Story-telling a feature of Tahltan and
Tlingit trading-rendezvous on upper
Stikine, 428.
Strength acquired by cold-water bathing,
461.
Sumac, two kinds of, known and used by
the Chitimacha, 478.
Superstitions (Chitimacha) :
belief that a doctor cannot eat bear-meat
without becoming sick, 477.
— that one who kills a lizard will get
lost in the woods, 477.
relating to a cypress-tree struck by
lightning, 477.
— to a decayed tooth, 477.
Superstitions (Natchez) :
relating to trees struck by lightning,
477-
Surinam, expediton against the revolted
Negroes in, 253.
primitive stone implements from, 251.
superstition in, as to origin of stone
relics, 253, 256.
use of stone axes and manner of using,
by Indians of, 253.
Surinam Folk- Tales, 239-250.
proverb, 248, 249.
Surnames unknown to Lolo and Tibetans,
417.
Swainson, C, Folk-Lore and Provincial
Names of British Birds, 407.
Swanton, John R., Some Chitimacha Myths
and Beliefs, 474-478.
Taboos, among the Black Tai, 415-417.
among Hei Miao, 418.
among Lolo, 418.
Tagara, a large wooden dish of the Cape
Verde Islanders, 234.
Tahltan and Kaska tales with similar
elements, 432, 433- 435. 436, 439, 440,
444-446, 451, 455, 457, 459, 461, 462,
464, 468, 469.
myths now and then speak of two hus-
bands, 461.
Tale in North Carolina becomes current
belief in the Bahamas, 169.
Tales from Guilford County, North
Carolina, 168-200.
Tales from Maryland and Pennsylvania,
209-217.
Tales, dissemination of, along trade-routes
in British Columbia, 428.
of European origin unknown to Kaska
and Tahltan, 429.
known to Malecite, 482-485.
Tales (Bantu):
Let Us go back to the Place that was
left, 262-265.
Over-Sleeping and Over-Eating — which
is worse? 265, 266.
Two People with only One Eye, 267, 268.
Tales (Canadian-French) :
Les aventures de Michel Morin, 141.
La Belle-jarretiere-verte, 36.
Le chateau de felicite, 42.
Le chateau rond de la mer rouge, 76.
Le conte de Fesse-ben, 86.
Le conte des rats, 102.
Le conte du vinaigrier, 132.
Le coq, la poule et la vache, 92.
Le coq et les rats, 107.
Le diable et la mariee, 135.
L'eveque, 134.
La fable de l'ours et du renard, 113.
Frederico va au ciel, 130.
Le grand voleur de Paris, 125.
Jean Baribeau, 146.
Jean-Cuit, 114.
Le medaillon, 70.
Le petit teigneux, 93.
"Prince en nuit et bete feroce en jour,"
27.
Prince-Joseph, 58.
Randonnee berceuse, 137.
Randonnee du petit bouquin, 139.
Le sabre magique, 79.
Salade et pommes d'or, 98.
La serviette magique, 147.
La sirene, 52.
Thomas-bon-chasseur, 63.
Ti-Jean et le petit vacher, 47.
Les trois freres et la Bete-a-sept-tetes, 82.
Les trois poils d'or, 123.
Ventre de son! 146.
Tales (Cape Verde Islands) :
Bartering Mothers; The Buried Tail,
230, 231.
Holding up the Cave; Fatal Imitation;
The Toothpick; The Password; Get-
ting the Other Fellow to take your
Place, 235-238.
The Birds take back their Feathers;
The Insult Midstream; Playing Dead,
231-234.
Tales (Chitimacha):
Buzzard and Wolf, 474.
Man, Bear, and Tiger-Cat, 474, 475.
The Labors of Rabbit, 475, 476.
The Origin of Death, 476.
The Punishment of Rabbit, 476.
Tales (Florida):
After Seven Years, 224.
Ahshmens at de Well, 222.
Big Fraid and Little Fraid, 227.
De Deer an' de Huntin' Man, 223.
De Terpin an' de Boy, 225.
534
Index.
Tales (Florida), continued:
Fatal Imitation, 226.
God and Moses, 227.
In the Briar-Patch, 225.
Me too, 224.
No Tracks Out, 222.
On the Deer's Back, 223.
Samson and Satan, 223.
Tar Baby, 222.
The Boy and the Colt, 225.
The Damaged Locomotive, 224.
The Race, 225, 226.
Tales (Fortune Island, Bahamas):
Dead or Asleep; Getting the Other
Fellow to take your Place, 229.
Bartering Mothers; The Buried Tail, 228.
Tales (Kaska):
Big-Man (Dene ted), 444, 445-
Bladder-Head Boy; or, The Monster
that ate People, 450, 451.
Origin of the Earth, 441, 442.
Origin of Fire, and Origin of Death, 443,
444.
Rabbit-Man (Ga'.tcoeze'). 467-469-
Raven, or Big-Crow, 444.
Story of the Baby stolen by Wolverene,
471-473-
Story of Beaver, 429-441.
Story of Lynx-Man, 464, 465.
Story of the Water-Man, 460, 461.
The Brothers, Big-Man, and the Giants,
445-448.
The Deserted Woman, 455-457-
The Deceitful Wife, 461, 462.
The Dog-Man and Dog-Children, 463,
464.
The Fog-Man, 466, 467.
The Giants and the Boys, 448-450.
The Great Flood, 442, 443.
The Kaska Man who made Whales,
45i. 452.
The Man who cohabited with his Sister,
459. 460.
The Owl-Woman, 462, 463.
The Sisters who married Stars, 457-459-
War with the Swan People, 453-455-
Wolverene, 469.
Wolverene and his Wives, 470, 471.
Wolverene and Wolf, 471.
Tales (Malecite):
Gluskap and his Grandmother, 479, 480.
Gluskap assigns the Animals' Food, 481.
Malecite Version of the Water-Famine
and Human Transformation Myth,
480, 481.
Poltci'tc hoodwinks the King (European),
483-485.
The Beaver and Muskrat change their
Haunts, 482.
The Beaver and the Muskrat change
Tails, 481.
The Expert Sailor (European), 482, 483.
The Woman who married a Dog, 482.
Tales (Maryland and Pennsylvania) :
Dividing the Souls, 215.
In the Well, 214.
Jack and the Bean-Pole, 212, 213.
Keeping Pace, 209.
Out of her Skin, 209, 210.
Playing Godfather, 215, 216.
Tablecloth, Donkey, and Club, 210-212.
The Dismembered Ghost, 217.
The Frozen Tail, 214.
The Race, 214.
Voice Above, 216.
Tales (North Carolina) :
Above the Ground and under the Ground,
175-
Alligator's Tail; In the Briar-Patch,
180, 181.
Anyhow, 200.
As Big a Fool, 191, 192.
Big Fraid and Little Fraid, 172.
Blue- Beard, 183.
Brave Folks, 199.
Brush-Heap a-fire, 179.
Buger, 189.
Dividing the Souls, 177.
Fatal Imitation, 190.
Feasting on Dog, 188.
Fiddling for the Devil, 180.
Fishing on Sunday, 185.
"Fixed," 180.
In the Briar- Patch, 171, 172.
In the Chest, 175, 176.
Jumping over the Fire, 193.
Keeping Pace, 189.
" Man Above," 186.
Mustard-Seed, 188.
No Tracks Out, 175-
Old Man on a Hunt, 184.
Out of her Skin, 187, 188.
Pay Me now, 176.
Playing Dead Twice in the Road, 172.
Playing Godfather, 192, 193.
Pleasing Everybody, 192.
Rabbit makes Fox his Riding-Horse, 173.
Racing the Train, 186.
Self-Confidence, 196.
Straw into Gold, 198.
Talks too much, 176, 177.
Tar Baby, 171.
The Adulteress, 199.
The Best Place, 194.
The Black Cat, 195-
The Cat who wanted Shoes, 197.
The Devil Marriage, 1 81-183.
The Frog, 183, 184.
The Frog who would fly, 198, 199.
The Haunted House, 195.
The Insult Midstream, 177.
The Insult Midstream, Watcher tricked;
Mock Funeral, 178, 179.
The Little Girl and her Snake, 185.
The Murderous Mother, 196, 197.
The Pumpkin, 190, 191.
The Race: Relay Trick, 174.
The Race: Slow but Steady, 174-
The Single Ball, 191.
The Spitting Hant, 179-
The Step-Mother, 193.
The Talking Bones, 194-
Index.
535
Tales (North Carolina), continued:
The Three Little Pigs, 186.
The Turnip, 191.
The Witch Spouse, 187.
The Witches and the Dogs, 189, 190.
The Woman-Cat, 196.
The Woman-Horse, 186.
Three-Eyes, 198.
Tickling 'Possum, 183.
Watcher tricked, 178.
Woman on House-Top, 194.
Woman up a Tree, 184.
Tales (Ojibwa):
Nenabosho, 491, 492.
The Fisher, 492, 493.
Tales (Surinam):
Anansi eats Mutton, 244, 245.
How Man made Woman respect Him,
244.
Jauw's Dream, 246-248.
Snake and Hunter, 248-250.
Tales (Zufii):
The Origin of the Dragon-Fly; or, Why
the Chief Priests receive the First
Harvest from the Fields, 496-499.
Talismans, 7.
Tarlton, Richard, identified with " Willy "
of the ballad "Willie and Peggie,"
377-
Taylor, General Zachary, lullaby for, 291.
Teit, James A., Kaska Tales, 427-473.
Ten Folk-Tales from the Cape Verde
Islands, 230-238.
Three Dreams, The, or "Dream- Bread"
Story, 378-410.
Thunder, stone relics fall from clouds with
each clap of, 253.
Thunder and thunder-axe, pencil drawing
of, by Carib Indian, 257.
Thunder-stone, beliefs regarding, in thun-
der-storm, 254-261.
test to determine genuineness of, 255.
Tiger worshipped by a clan of the Black
Tai, 416.
Tobique, 200 miles from the mouth of
St. John's River, 480.
Tools of Negroes, North Carolina, 175.
"Toothache medicine" of the Chitimacha,
477-
Totemic Traces among the Indo-Chinese,
415-426.
Trees struck by lightning, superstition as
to, of the Chitimacha, 477.
Tribes and peoples:
Achomawi, 487.
Arapaho, 489, 490.
Arawak, 256.
Athapascan, 427-429.
Assiniboin, 165, 486.
Bantu Negro, 262-268.
Blackfeet, 458, 489, 490.
Bush Negroes, 239-250.
Caddo, 490.
Caribs, 253, 256-259.
Carrier, 428.
Cherokee, 490.
Cheyenne, 489, 490.
Chilcotin, 428, 429.
Chitimacha, 474-478.
Cceur d'Alene, 488.
Comanche, 489, 490.
Coos, 486.
Cree, 490.
Crow, 163.
Diegueno, 488.
Dog-Rib Indians, 489.
Hare Indians, 489, 490.
Hidatsa, 163.
Hupa, 487, 491.
Indo-Chinese, 415-426.
Jicarilla Apache, 489, 490.
Kalinias, 256.
Kaska, 427-473, 489.
Kitksan, 428.
Klamath, 487.
Kutenai, 486.
Lemhi Shoshone, 165.
Lillooet, 428, 486.
Luiseno, 488.
Maidu, 487.
Malecite, 479-485.
Miwok, 488.
Natchez, 477.
Navaho, 489, 490.
Negro. See Bantu, Bush Negroes.
Nez Perces, 164.
Nishinam, 487.
Niska, 428.
Ojanas, 256.
Papago, 488.
Pawnee, 490.
Penobscot, 479.
Piegan, 489.
Plains Indians, 163, 489.
Pomo, 488.
Quinault, 486.
Sahaptin, 458.
Salish, 428, 429.
Sanpoil, 465, 486.
Shasta, 487.
Shoshoni, 486.
Shuswap, 428, 429.
Sikani, 428.
Tahltan, 427-429.
Takelma, 487.
Thompson Indians, 455, 465, 468, 486.
Tlingit, 428, 429.
Tsetsa'ut, 429, 455, 460, 464.
Tsimshian, 428, 467.
Ute, 486.
Wabanaki, 479.
Winnebago, 490.
Wintun, 487.
Wishosk, 488.
Wishram, 488.
Yana, 487.
Yokuts, Gashowu, 488.
Yokuts, Truhohi, 488.
Yokuts, Yauelmani, 488.
Yuki, 166, 488.
Yurok, 487.
Zufii, 165, 490.
536
Index.
Virginia Folk-Lore Society, 272, 273.
"Vulture," Cape Verde name for, 233.
West Indies, natives of, ascribe mysterious
properties to their stone relics, 253.
"Whale head," name sometimes given by
Indians to an ant-hill, 481.
What is it that cries with only one eye?
243-
Whetstones, stone axes as, 253.
White, John G., Collection of Folk-Lore,
the, 413. 414-
"Wide ditch," in Zufii, place where pos-
sessions of the dead are buried, 495.
Wisconsin, Canadian-French tale learned
in timber-yard in, 27.
Yuchi, early habitat of, 166.
Zufii, Catholic Church in, 495.
Zuiii, celebration by, toward end of
October, 495.
dead remembered daily at, 495.
tribal name of, 499.
Zuiii breath rite combined with Catholic
motion, 496.
Zuhi Folk-Tale, A, 496-499.
GR The Journal of American
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J6
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