Hero Tales and Drolls. (continued 2)

In the “Kathā-sarit-sāgara” (translated by C. H. Tawney, 2 : 180–181) occurs this story:—

One day, when Brahman Devabhúti had gone to bathe, his wife went into the garden to get vegetables, and saw a donkey belonging to a washerman eating them. She took up a stick and ran after the donkey; the animal, trying to escape, fell into a pit and broke its hoof. When the master heard of that, he came in a passion, and beat and kicked the Brahman woman. Accordingly she, being pregnant, had a miscarriage; but the washerman returned home with his donkey. Her husband, hearing of it, went, in his distress, and complained to the chief magistrate of the town. The foolish man, after hearing both sides of the case, delivered this judgment: “Since the donkey’s hoof is broken, let the Brahman carry the donkey’s load for the washerman until the donkey is again fit for work; and let the washerman make the Bráhman’s wife pregnant again, since he made her miscarry.” When the Bráhman and his wife heard this decision, they, in their despair, took poison and died; and when the king heard of it, he put to death that inconsiderate judge.

The Tagalog story of “How Piro became Rich,” which I have not printed here, is identical with “How Suan became Rich,” with this exception, that a horse’s tail, instead of a carabao’s, is pulled off by the hero. And there is this addition: while travelling to the king’s court, Piro hears cries for help coming from the woods. He rushes to the spot, and sees a young lady fighting a swarm of bees. Piro helps kill the bees with his stick, but, in doing so, injures the woman somewhat severely. Her father, angered, joins the accusers, and requests the king that he order Piro to cure his daughter. The king rules that if Piro is to do this, and if the young woman is to get the best care, she must become Piro’s wife. For relinquishing his right to the girl, Piro receives a hundred alfonsos from the father.

All in all, the close agreement between our stories and the three Eastern versions cited above makes it reasonably certain that the “Wonderful Decisions” group in the Philippines derives directly from India.

The Four Blind Brothers.

Narrated by Eutiqiano Garcia, a Pampangan, who said he heard the story from a boy from Misamis, Mindanao.

There was once a man who had eight sons. Four of them were blind. He thought of sending the children away, simply because he could not afford to keep them in the house any longer. Accordingly one night he called his eight children together, and said, “He who does not provide for the future shall want in the present. You are big enough and are able to support yourselves. To-morrow I shall send you away to seek your fortunes.”

When morning came, the boys bade their father good-by. The blind sons went together in one party, and the rest in another. Now begins the pathetic story of the four blind brothers.

They groped along the road, each holding the hand of the other. After a day of continuous walking, the four brothers were very far away from their town. They had not tasted food during all that time. In the evening they came to a cocoanut-grove.

“Here are some cocoanut-trees,” said one of them. “Let us get a bunch of cocoanuts and have something to eat!”

“Bung!” Down came the poor fellow. “One!” cried the youngest brother. “Three more!” shouted the rest.

“Don’t come down until you have dropped four!” they all cried at once. Who would answer them? Their brother lay dead on the ground.

While they were waiting for the second “Bung!” the second brother climbed up the same tree. What had happened to the first happened also to him, and so to the third in turn. As soon as the youngest brother heard the third fall, he thought of looking for his share. He crept about to find the cocoanuts. Alas! he discovered that his three brothers lay dead on the ground. He went away from the place crying very loud.

The blind man walked on and on, until he was hailed by a lame man resting under a shady tree. “Friend, carry me on your shoulders, and let us travel together!” said the lame man to the blind.

“Willingly,” replied the blind man.

They travelled for many hours, and at last came to a big, lonely house. They knocked at the open door, but nobody answered. At last they entered, and found the place empty. While they were searching through the house, the owner came. He was a two-headed giant. The blind man and the lame man were upstairs.

The giant was afraid to enter the house, but he called in a voice of thunder, “Who’s there?”

“We are big men,” answered the two companions.

“How big are you?” asked the giant.

“We are so big that the foundation of the house shakes when we walk,” the two replied.

“Give me a proof that you are really big men!” cried the giant again.

“We will show you one of our hairs,” they answered, and they dropped from the window the tail of the pagui.

The giant looked at it in wonder. He was immediately convinced that they were more powerful than he was. So, picking up the “hair,” the giant went away, afraid to face such antagonists in single combat.

So the prediction of the patianac came true. The house and all the property of the giant fell into the hands of the blind man and the lame man. They lived there happily all the rest of their lives.

Juan the Blind Man.

Narrated by Pedro D. L. Sorreta, a Bicol from Virac, Catanduanes, where the story is common.

He had no sooner repeated his verse three times than he heard a fall.

“One,” he counted; and he began to sing the second verse:—

Crrapup! he heard another fall, which was followed by three in close succession. “Good!” he said, “five in all. Three more, friends,” and he raised his head as if he could see his companions. After a few minutes he heard two more falls.

“Six, seven—well, only seven,” he said, as he began searching for the cocoanuts on the ground. “One more for me, friends—one more, and every one is satisfied.” But it was his friends who had fallen; for, as the trees were only stumps, the climbers fell off when they reached the tops.

Juan, however, did not guess what had happened until he found one of the dead bodies. Then he ran away as fast as he could. At last he struck Justo, a lame man. After hearing Juan’s story, Justo advised Juan not to return to his village, lest he be accused of murder by the relatives of the other men.

After a long talk, the two agreed to travel together and seek a place of refuge, for the blind man’s proposal seemed a good one to the lame man:—

So when morning dawned, they started on their journey.

They had not travelled far when Justo saw a horn in the road, and told Juan about it. Juan said,—

The next thing that Justo saw was a rusted axe; and after being told about it, Juan repeated his little verse again, ending it with, “So, friend, an axe too we need.” A few hours later the lame man saw a piece of rope; and when the blind man knew of it, he said,—

And last of all they found an old drum, which they took along with them too.

Soon Justo saw a very big house. They were glad, for they thought that they could get something to eat there. When they came near it, they found that the door was open; but when they entered it, Justo saw nothing but bolos, spears, and shields hanging on the walls. After a warm discussion as to what they should do, they decided to hide in the ceiling of the house, and remain there until the owner returned.

They had no sooner made themselves comfortable than they heard some persons coming. When Justo saw the bloody bolos and spears of the men, and the big sack of money they carried, he was terrified, for he suspected that they were outlaws. He trembled; his hair stood on end; he could not control himself. At last he shouted, “Ay, here?”

The blind man, who could not see the danger they were in, stopped the lame man, but not before the owners of the house had heard them.

“Ho, you mosquitoes! what are you doing there?” asked the chief of the outlaws as he looked up at the ceiling.

“Aha, you rascals! we are going to eat you all,” answered the blind man in the loudest voice he could muster.

“What’s that you say?” returned the chief.

“Why, we have been looking for you, for we intend to eat you all up,” replied Juan; “and to show you what kind of animals we are, here is one of my teeth,” and Juan threw down the rusted axe. “Look at one of my hairs!” continued Juan, as he threw down the rope.

The outlaws were so frightened that they were almost ready to run away. The chief could not say a single word.

“Now listen, you ants, to my whistle!” said Juan, and he blew the horn. “And to show you how big our stomachs are, hear us beat them!” and he beat the drum. The outlaws were so frightened that they ran away. Some of them even jumped out of the windows.

When the robbers were all gone, Juan and Justo went down to divide the money; but the lame man tried to cheat the blind man, and they had a quarrel over the division. Justo struck Juan in the eyes with the palm of his hand, and the blind man’s eyes were opened so that he could see. Juan kicked Justo so hard, that the lame man rolled toward one corner of the house and struck a post. His lameness was cured, so that he could stand and walk.

When they saw that each had done the other a great service, they divided the money fairly, and lived ever after together as close friends.

Teofilo the Hunchback, and the Giant.

Narrated by Loreta Benavides, a Bicol student, who heard the story from her aunt.

Once there lived a hunchback whose name was Teofilo. He was an orphan, and used to get his food by wandering through the woods. He had no fixed home. Sometimes he even slept under large trees in the forest. His one blind eye, as well as his crooked body, would make almost any one pity his miserable condition.

One day, while he was wandering through the woods looking for something to eat, he found a piece of large rope. He was very glad; for he could sell the rope, and in that way get money to buy food. Walking a little farther, he found a gun leaning against a fence. This gun, he supposed, had been left there by a hunter. He was glad to have it, too, for protection. Finally, while crossing a swampy place, he saw a duck drinking in the brook. He ran after the duck, and at last succeeded in catching it. Now he was sure of a good meal.

But it had taken him a long time to capture the duck. Night soon came on, and he had to look for a resting-place. Fortunately he came to a field, and his eye caught a glimpse of light on the other side. He went towards the light, and found it to come from a house, all the windows of which were open. He knocked at the door, but nobody answered; so he just pushed it open and entered. He then began to feel very comfortable. He prepared his bed, and then went to sleep. He did not know that he was in a giant’s house.

At midnight Teofilo was awakened by a loud voice. He made a hole in the wall and looked out. There in the dark he saw a very tall man, taller even than the house itself. It was the giant. The giant said, “I smell some one here.” He tried to open the door, but Teofilo had locked it.

“If you are really a strong man and braver than I,” said the giant, “let me see your hair!”

Teofilo then threw out the piece of rope. The giant was surprised at its size. He then asked to see Teofilo’s louse, and Teofilo threw out the duck. The giant was terrified, for he had never seen such a large louse before. Finally the giant said, “Well, you seem to be larger than I. Let me hear your voice!”

Teofilo fired his gun. When the giant heard the gun and saw it spitting fire, he trembled, for he thought that the man’s saliva was burning coals. Afraid to challenge his strange guest any more, the giant ran away and disappeared forever.

And so Teofilo the hunchback lived happily all the rest of his days in the giant’s house without being troubled by any one.

Juan and the Buringcantada.

Narrated by Pacifico Buenconsejo, a Bicol, who heard the story from his grandmother.

A long time ago, when the Bicols had not yet been welded into one tribe, there lived a couple in the mountains of Albay who had one son, named Juan. Before the boy was five years old, his father died. As Juan grew up, he became very lazy: he did not like to work, nor would he help his mother earn their daily bread. Despite his laziness, Juan was dearly loved by his mother. She did not want him to work in the field under the hot sun. Because of his mother’s indulgence, he grew lazier and lazier.

Every afternoon Juan used to take a walk while his mother was working. She was a kind-hearted woman, and often told her son to help anybody he met that needed help. One afternoon, while he was walking in a field, he saw two carabaos fighting. One was gored by the other, and was about to die. Juan, mindful of what his mother told him, went between the two animals to help the wounded one. Suddenly the two animals gored him in the back, and he fell to the ground. A man, passing by, found him, and took him to his home. When Juan’s mother learned why her son had been gored, she was greatly distressed that her son was so foolish.

Juan soon recovered, and one day he invited his mother to go with him to look for money. He insisted so hard, that finally she agreed to accompany him. On their way they found an axe, which Juan picked up and took along with him. They had not gone much farther, when they saw a long rope stretching across the road. Juan’s mother did not want him to take it, but he said that it would be of some use to them later. By and by they came to a river, on the bank of which they found a large drum. Juan took this with him, too.

When they had been travelling about a week, they came upon a big house. Juan said that he wanted to go see what was in the house, but his mother told him that he should not go. However, he kept urging and urging, until at last his mother consented, and went with him. When they reached the hall, they found it well decorated with flowers and leaves. They visited all the apartments of the house; and when they came to the dining-room, they saw a large hole in the ceiling. Juan told his mother that they had better hide in the ceiling until they found out who the owner of the house was. The mother thought that the plan was a wise one; so they went to the ceiling, taking with them the axe, the rope, and the drum.

They had not been hiding many minutes, when the Buringcantada, a giant with one eye in the middle of his forehead and with two long tusks that projected from the sides of his mouth, came in with his friends and servants. When the dinner was ready, the servant called his master and his guests into the dining-room. While they were eating, Juan said in a loud voice,—

“Tawi cami

Sa quisami

Qui masiram

The Buringcantada was very angry to hear the voice of a man in the ceiling, and he said in a thundering voice, “If you are a big man like me, let me see one of your hairs!”

Juan showed the rope from the hole in the ceiling.

Astonished at the size of the hair, the Buringcantada said again, “Let me see one of your teeth!” Juan showed the axe.

By this time Juan’s mother was almost dead with fear, and she told her son not to move.

After a few minutes the Buringcantada said again, “Beat your stomach, and let me hear the sound of it!” When Juan beat the drum, the Buringcantada and all the guests and servants ran away in fright, for they had never heard such a sound before.

Then Juan and his mother came down from the ceiling. In this house they lived like a rich family, for they found much money in one of the rooms. As for the Buringcantada, he never came back to his house after he left it.

The Manglalabas.

Narrated by Arsenio Bonifacio, a Tagalog, who heard the story from his father.

Once upon a time, in the small town of Balubad, there was a big house. It was inhabited by a rich family. When the head of the family died, the house was gloomy and dark. The family wore black clothes, and was sad.

A band of brave men in that town assembled, and went to the house. At midnight the spirit came again, but the brave men said they were ready to fight it. Manglalabas made a great deal of noise in the house. He poured out all the water, kicked the doors, and asked the men who they were. They answered, “We are fellows who are going to kill you.” But when the spirit approached them, and they saw that it was a ghost, they fled away. From that time on, nobody was willing to pass a night in that house.

When they reached the town, they begged at many of the houses, and finally they came to the large abandoned house. They did not know that this place was haunted by a spirit. Cuba said, “Maybe no one is living in this house;” and Bulag replied, “I think we had better stay here for the night.”

As they were afraid that somebody might come, they went up into the ceiling. At midnight they were awakened by Manglalabas making a great noise and shouting, “I believe that there are some new persons in my house!” Cuba, frightened, fired the gun. The ghost thought that the noise of the gun was some one crying. So he said, “If you are truly a big man, give me some proofs.”

Then Cuba took the handle out of the hatchet and threw the head down at the ghost. Manglalabas thought that this was one of the teeth of his visitor, and, convinced that the intruder was a powerful person, he said, “I have a buried treasure near the barn. I wish you to dig it up. The reason I come here every night is on account of this treasure. If you will only dig it up, I will not come here any more.”

The next night Bulag and Cuba dug in the ground near the barn. There they found many gold and silver pieces. When they were dividing the riches, Cuba kept three-fourths of the treasure for himself. Bulag said, “Let me see if you have divided fairly,” and, placing his hands on the two piles, he found that Cuba’s was much larger.

Angry at the discovery, Cuba struck Bulag in the eyes, and they were opened. When Bulag could see, he kicked Cuba in the back, and straightway his deformity disappeared. Therefore they became friends again, divided the money equally, and owned the big house between them.

Notes.

A Pampango version, “The Cripple and the Blind Man” (I have it only in abstract), is almost identical with the second part of “The Four Blind Brothers.” A blind man and a cripple travel together, blind man carrying, cripple guiding. Rope, drum, hatchet, etc. But these two companions do not quarrel over the distribution of the wealth: they live peacefully together.

I have printed in full five of the versions, because, while they are members of a very widespread family of tales in which a poor but valiant hero deceives and outwits a giant, ogre, ghost, or band of robbers, they form a more restricted brotherhood of that large family, and the deception is of a very definite special sort. The hero and the outwitted do not meet face to face, nor is there a contest of prowess between them. Merely by displaying as tokens of his size and strength certain seemingly useless articles which he has picked up and carried along with him on his travels, the hero frightens forever from their rich home a band of robbers or a giant or a ghost, and remains in possession of the treasures of the deceived one.

Trolls, ogres, giants, robbers, dragons, are proverbially stupid, and a clever hero with more wits than brawn has no difficulty in thoroughly frightening them. Grimm’s story of “The Brave Little Tailor” (No. 20), with its incidents of “cheese-squeezing,” “bird-throwing,” “pretended carrying of the oak-tree,” “springing over the cherry-tree,” and “escape from the bed,” and opening with the “seven-at-a-blow” episode, is typical of one large group of tales about a giant outwitted. (For an enumeration of the analogues, see Bolte-Polívka, 1 : 148–165; for a fuller discussion of some of them, see Cosquin, 1 : 96–102.) In another group the hero takes service with the giant, dragon, etc., keeps up the deception of being superhumanly strong, but gets the monster to do all the work, and finally wins his way to wealth and release (see Grimm, No. 183; Von Hahn, No. 18 and notes; Crane, 345, note 34; Dasent, Nos. v and xxxii). Then there is the group of stories in which the cannibal witch is popped into her own oven, which she had been heating for her victim (cf. Grimm, No. 15; and Bolte-Polívka, 1 : 123).

Our particular group of stories, however, seems to owe little or nothing to the types just mentioned. It appears to belong peculiarly to the Orient. In fact, I do not know of its occurrence outside of India and the Philippines. That the tale is well known in the Islands at least as far north as central Luzon, our five variants attest; and that it is fairly widespread in India,—I refer particularly to the method of the deception, for on this the whole story turns,—three Hindoo versions may be cited as evidence.

(1) “The Blind Man, the Deaf Man, and the Donkey” (Frere, No. 18) presents many close correspondences to “Juan the Blind Man.” In the Indian tale a blind man and a deaf man enter into partnership. One day, while on a long walk with his friend, the deaf man sees a donkey with a large water-jar on its back. Thinking the animal will be useful to them, they take it and the jar with them. Farther along they collect some large black ants in a snuff-box. Overtaken by storm, they seek shelter in a large, apparently deserted house, and lock the door; but the owner, a terrible Rakshas, returns, and loudly demands entrance. The deaf man, looking through a chink in the wall, is greatly frightened by the appearance of the monster; but the blind man boldly says that he is Bakshas, Rakshas’s father. Incredulous, the Rakshas wishes to see his father’s face. Donkey’s head shown. On his desiring to see his father’s body, the huge jar is rolled with a thundering noise past the chink in the door. Rakshas asks to hear Bakshas scream. Deaf man puts ants into the donkey’s ear: the animal, bit by the insects, brays horribly, and the Rakshas flees in fright... (Rakshas returns the next morning, and seeing the blind man, deaf man, and donkey, laden with treasures, leaving his house, he determines to be avenged; but by a lucky series of accidents the travellers succeed in discomfiting and thoroughly terrifying the Rakshas and his six companions summoned to help him, and travel on). In the division of the spoils, the deaf man attempts to cheat the blind man, who in a rage gives him so tremendous a box on the ear, that his hearing is restored! In return, the deaf man gives his neighbor so hard a blow in the face, that the blind man’s eyes are opened. They are both so astonished, that they become good friends at once, and divide the wealth equally.

(2) “The Brahmin Girl that married a Tiger” (Kingscote, No. x). In this story, three brothers, on their way to rescue their sister who had been married to a tiger, take along with them an ass, an ant, a palmyra-tree, and a big iron washing-tub. The sister hides her brothers and their possessions in a loft. The tiger comes home, and frightens the brothers into making a noise and thus betraying their presence. He asks to hear their voice. Youngest brother puts his ant into the ear of the ass, which, when bit, begins to bawl out horribly. Asking to see their legs, tiger is shown the trunk of the palmyra-tree, and, on asking to see their bellies, is shown the iron tub. Frightened, he runs away, and the sister is rescued.

(3) “Learning and Motherwit” (McCulloch, No. xxvi). Here Motherwit, as in the other stories, deceives a Raghoshi by means of a thick rope (shown for hair), spades (shown for finger-nails), and wet lime (shown for spittle). At last with sharp-pointed hot iron rods, Ulysses fashion, he puts out the monster’s eyes.

In another Bengal story, “The Ghost who was afraid of being Bagged” (Lal Behari Day, No. xx), a barber frightens a ghost with a looking-glass and becomes rich.

An interesting parallel to the incident of the death of the blind brothers by climbing up too high on palm-trees the tops of which have been broken off, is to be found in the Arabian story of “The Blind Thief” (JRASB 3 : 645–660, No. iii). A thief who used to steal dates from off the trees became blind, but he still went on thieving. The people planned to get rid of him. In the presence of the blind man, some one praised the dates of So-and-so. (Now, this tree was withered, and no longer had any leaves.) The covetous thief, with his rope, started to climb the tree that night; but his rope slipped off over the naked top of the palm, and he fell to the ground and was killed.

The situation of a blind man and a lame man joining forces and travelling together, the blind man carrying the lame man, who directs the way, is found in the Gesta Romanorum, tale LXXI.

Sagacious Marcela.

Narrated by Lorenzo Licup, a Pampangan.

Long, long before the Spaniards came, there lived a man who had a beautiful, virtuous, and, above all, clever daughter. He was a servant of the king. Marcela, the daughter, loved her father devotedly, and always helped him with his work. From childhood she had manifested a keen wit and undaunted spirit. She would even refuse to obey unjust orders from the king. No question was too hard for her to answer, and the king was constantly being surprised at her sagacity.

One day the king conceived a plan by which he might test the ingenious Marcela. He bade his servants procure a tiny bird and carry it to her house. “Tell her,” said the king, “to make twelve dishes out of that one bird.”

The servants found Marcela sewing. They told her of the order of the king. After thinking for five minutes, she took one of her pins, and said to the servants, “If the king can make twelve spoons out of this pin, I can also make twelve dishes out of that bird.” On receiving the answer, the king realized that the wise Marcela had gotten the better of him; and he began to think of another plan to puzzle her.

Again he bade his servants carry a sheep to Marcela’s house. “Tell her,” he said, “to sell the sheep for six reales, and with the money this very same sheep must come back to me alive.”

At first Marcela could not make out what the king meant for her to do. Then she thought of selling the wool only, and not the whole sheep. So she cut off the wool and sold it for six reales, and sent the money with the live sheep back to the king. Thus she was again relieved from a difficulty.

The king by this time realized that he could not beat Marcela in points of subtlety. However, to amuse himself, he finally thought of one more scheme to test her sagacity. It took him two weeks to think it out. Summoning a messenger, he said to him, “Go to Marcela, and tell her that I am not well, and that my physician has advised me to drink a cup of bull’s milk. Therefore she must get me this medicine, or her father will lose his place in the palace.” The king also issued an order that no one was to bathe or to wash anything in the river, for he was going to take a bath the next morning.

As soon as Marcela had received the command of the king and had heard of his second order, she said, “How easy it will be for me to answer this silly order of the king!” That night she and her father killed a pig, and smeared its blood over the sleeping-mat, blanket, and pillows. When morning came, Marcela took the stained bed-clothing to the source of the river, where the king was bathing. As soon as the king caught sight of her, he said in a voice of thunder, “Why do you wash your stuff in the river when you know I ordered that nobody should use the river to-day but me?”

Marcela replied, “It is the custom, my lord, in our country, to wash the mat, pillows, and other things stained with blood, immediately after a person has given birth to a child. As my father gave birth to a child last night, custom forces me to disobey your order, although I do it much against my will.”

“Nonsense!” said the king. “The idea of a man giving birth to a child! Absurd! Ridiculous!”

“My lord,” said Marcela, “it would be just as absurd to think of getting milk from a bull.”

Then the king, recollecting his order, said, “Marcela, as you are so witty, clever, and virtuous, I will give you my son for your husband.”

King Tasio.

Narrated by Leopoldo Faustino, a Tagalog, who says that the story is popular and common among the people of La Laguna province.

Juan was a servant in the palace of King Tasio. One day King Tasio heard Juan discussing with the other servants in the kitchen the management of the kingdom. Juan said that he knew more than anybody else in the palace. The king called Juan, and told him to go down to the seashore and catch the rolling waves.

“You said that you are the wisest man in the palace,” said the king. “Go and catch the waves of the sea for me.”

“That’s very easy, O king!” said Juan, “if you will only provide me with a rope made of sand taken from the seashore.”

The king did not know what to answer. He left Juan without saying anything, went into his room, and began to think of some more difficult work.

The next day he called Juan. “Juan, take this small bird and make fifty kinds of food out of it,” said the king.

“Yes, sir!” said Juan, “if you will only provide me with a stove, a pan, and a knife made out of this needle,” handing a needle to the king, “with which to cook the bird.” Again the king did not know what to do. He was very angry at Juan.

“Juan, get out of my palace! Don’t you let me see you walking on my ground around this palace without my consent!” said the king.

“Very well, sir!” said Juan, and he left the palace immediately.

“Did I not tell you not to stand or walk on my ground around this palace? Why are you here now? Do you mean to mock me?” shouted the king.

“Well,” said Juan, “will your Majesty’s eyes please see whether I am standing on your ground or not? This is my ground.” And he pointed to the earth he had on his paragos. “I took this from my orchard.”

“That’s enough, Juan,” said King Tasio. “I can have no more foolishness.” The king felt very uncomfortable, because many of his courtiers and servants were standing there listening to his talk with Juan.

“Juan, put this squash into this jar. Be careful! See that you do not break either the squash or the jar,” said the king, as he handed a squash and a jar to Juan. Now, the neck of the jar was small, and the squash was as big as the jar. So Juan had indeed a difficult task.

Juan went home. He put a very small squash, which he had growing in his garden, inside the jar. He did not, however, cut it from the vine. After a few weeks the squash had grown big enough to fill the jar. Juan then picked off the squash enclosed in the jar, and went to the king. He presented the jar to the king when all the servants, courtiers, and visitors from other towns were present. As soon as the king saw the jar with the squash in it, he fainted. It was many hours before he recovered.

Notes.

A third version (c), a Bicol story entitled “Marcela outwits the King,” narrated by Gregorio Frondoso of Camarines, resembles closely the Pampango story of Marcela, with these minor differences:—

The heroine is the daughter of the king’s adviser Bernardo. To test the girl’s wit, the king sends her a mosquito he has killed, and tells her to cook it in such a way that it will serve twelve persons. She sends back a pin to him, with word that if he can make twelve forks from the pin, the mosquito will serve twelve persons. The second and third tasks are identical with those in the Pampango version. At last, satisfied with her sagacity, the king makes her his chief counsellor.

In addition to the three popular tales of the “Clever Lass” cycle, two chap-book versions of the story, containing incidents lacking in the folk-tales, may be mentioned here:—

A Buhay nang isang pastorang tubo sa villa na naguing asaua nang hari sa isang calabasa. (“Life of a Shepherdess who was born in a town, and who became the Wife of a King because of a Pumpkin.”) Manila, 1908. This story is in verse, and comprises sixty-six quatrains of 12-syllable assonanced lines. It is known only in Tagalog, I believe.

B Buhay na pinagdaanan ni Rodolfo na anac ni Felizardo at ni Prisca sa cahariang Valencia. (“Life of Rodolfo, Son of Felizardo and Prisca, in the Kingdom of Valencia.”) Maynila, 1910. Like the preceding, this corrido is known only in Tagalog, and is written in 12-syllable assonanced lines.

Of these two printed versions, I give below a literal translation of the first (A), not only because it is short (264 lines), but also because it will be seen to be closely connected with the folk-tales. For help in making this translation I am under obligation to Mr. Salvador Unson, which I gratefully acknowledge. The second story (B) I give only in partial summary. It is much too long to be printed in full, and, besides, contains many incidents that have nothing to do with our cycle. It will be noticed that “Rodolfo” (B) resembles rather the European forms of the story; while A and the three folk-tales are more Oriental, despite the conventional historical setting of A.