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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 

gu&Ugtyeti &p tf)e American jFoIfeflore M ocietp 

G. E. STECHERT & CO., Agents 

NEW YORK : 151-155 West 25TH Street PARIS : 16 rue de Conde 

LONDON: DAVID NUTT, 57, 59 Long Acre 

LEIPZIG: OTTO HARRASSOWITZ, Querstrasse, 14 

MDCCCCXVII 



Copyright, 1017. 

By THE AMERICAN FOLK-LORE SOCIETY 

All rights reserved 



I 

3G 
c°b.Z 



PRESS OF 

THE NEW ERA PRINTING COMPANY 

LANCASTER. hA. 



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 metamorphose 1 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.). * Vo ir 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. 

persecute 1 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 y oir 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 voyage 1 (66); . . .qui, depuis, s'est trouv£ a. 
toujours bien vivre (68); go, fait que Frederico est toujours reste 1 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. Quatre 1 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 coton 6 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 com J i\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 ressoud 1 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: "Dis 2 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 a 3 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- 
ciere 2 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 train 2 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 que 2 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!" 
Jousent 1 aux des. Voila Beau-prince qui gagne encore. "Qu'est-ce 
que vous me demandez, Beau-prince?" — "Je vous demande que les 
batiments 2 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; trouve 1 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-ce 3 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 de 2 Bon- 
eveque. "Mais, Beau-prince, tu me d^montes! Te voila ben malin; 
tu vas tous nous tuer! Je te donne encore une tache 3 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 harnois 1 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 , haut i 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 
apres 7 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 caline 10 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 passe 1 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, a 2 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'a 6 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, ou 7 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 greve 2 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, 
on 5 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 faisant 6 
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- 
contrer 10 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 changer 4 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 personnel 6 
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 pigeon 1 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. 

russeau 1 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 grave 1 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 quoi 4 vous divertir." A Ti-Jean et Ti- 
Pierre qui entrent le maitre 5 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 valeur 3 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 su 1 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'habillement 2 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 coup 3 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* garrocher 4 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 d 5 
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 pas 1 ], 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 russeau 3 
jusqu'a ce que le panier en ressorte rempli de poisson. Prends ton 
poisson et va demander aux geants, pendant qu'ils 'font boucherie 4 
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. 
B Froid. 6 Presdu... 



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 pas 2 ], 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." — 
u P , 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 Recite 1 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'avances 1 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 bdtir 3 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 [colporteur 3 ] 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 que 5 

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 sous 1 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 cheveux 3 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 musique 2 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 tapon 2 
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 tuais 6 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 
tricollent 2 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 branle 2 — 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 creyabe 4 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 ceuses 1 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 tite 2 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-ld 1 est mon mari." — "Ah, mon bougre, tu lui 
as fait un clin-d'ceil!" — "Oui, gredins 2 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'a 4 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 debouler 2 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 plaisir 2 
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 tapon 3 
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 vlon 2 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'6tait 2 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 vite r 
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-vertu 1 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 saprent 5 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 dalot 2 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 
maVise 3 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- 
blier 2 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 bat 4 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-vous 2 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 vieille 2 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 tuer 3 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 sur 1 la vieille jument, qui 
rue et qui rue. "Ah, ma vieille sorciere! Je vas varger 2 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 passeY 3 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' pauv y 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 qWi z 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: "Laisse 5 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'ga 1 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 noire 1 itou. II faudrait ben que je sois accompagn6e." 
Une petite rate, sa cousine, la plus ratoureuse 2 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 langage 5 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'on 7 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, qu 2 '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 d 4 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 voir 3 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 
fonde 4 comme le ferait en 6te* un chateau de glace. D'un crac 5 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 Thorn 1 ?" — "Apporte-le, ton Thorn 1 ; 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 Thorn 1 ', 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 grenouilles 2 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 morfondu 3 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 veld 4 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'en 1 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'une 2 creature 3 
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'agres 3 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 seldar z 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: l M'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- 
rive 1 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 le 2 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 picatoire 1 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£chant 2 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 venu 4 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 su 3 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 passe 1 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 cote 1 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 riyi 1 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'ils 5 
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 que 2 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 commercer z 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 marie 6 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 ou 2 papa 
voulait me marier au garcon 3 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 



C ji^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 ' MH l 



«= 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 heel 2 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' witch 4 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.' ) 

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 cats 6 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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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 



Pc j. J- J^Hf J* J"j , J*-b%J~^ I J- JJ 5 



S 3 



3 



W 



-jt^ - J- 



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 



m 



-9 ' ^ 



\j J ^^jlj.JJ-/ l j J J 



^5 



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 terpin 1 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, " 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 


. . 


" 


" 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 w r orn 
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 
x 47-5 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." 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 hik 5 '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- 



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As I was a-walk-ing up Strawber - ry Lane,.. Ev - er - y 




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rose grows mer - ry and fine, 



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I chanced for to meet 
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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 be 1 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. 




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There was an old man lived in the West (Bow down) , There was an old man lived 



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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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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 : — 



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Oh, where have you been, Lord Randal, my son? Oh, where have you been, my 



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handsome young man? Oh, I've been to the wildwood; Moth - er, make my bed 



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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 down 1 , 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 

From 1 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 ) ; 
2 7 : 595 2 8 : 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) an d 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; 2 8: 
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. 



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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 ISLINGTON 7 (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). 






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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.) 



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old salt sea, And it's all for the sake... of... thee.".. 

(From Mrs. Case.) 



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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 :I 37 -I 38); 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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I placed my own heart's de - light,. . I court -ed her for 



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love. 



and love I did ob - tain, 



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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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tain, I'm sure that she had no rea - sons to., me to complain. 



Ballads and Songs. 



335 



III. 



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Once I., court - ed a charming beau-ty bright, On her I placed my. 



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own heart's de- light, 



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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?" 



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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 . wak e, '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. 35 6 , 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. 



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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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walk and talk with her from morn -ing till night. 

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. 

d * 0- 



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, 
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 : 3 2_ 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. 



=t 



£3 



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3=^*52. 



t= 



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Come all of you young peo - pie who lives far and 



q* 



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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 



=£=! 



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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, 
I 598, 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 
I 597-" 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 xvij th 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 
W T hite 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> T 595 (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 the 1 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." — " W T hy 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. — Pant