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Full text of "The journal of American folk-lore"

THE JOURNAL OF 

AMERICAN FOLK-LORE 

VOLUME XXIX 



'^ 




LANCASTER, PA., and NEW YORK 

^uWMJ)eti Bp tl)e American f olft^Hore <f ocietp 

G. E. STECHERT & CO., Agents 

NEW YORK : 151-1SS West 25TH Street PARIS : 16 rue de Cokde 

LONDON: DAVID NUTT. 57. 59 Long Acre 

LEIPZIG: OTTO HARRASSOWITZ. Querstrasse. 14 

MDCCCCXVI 



Copyright, 1916, 
By the AMERICAN FOLK-LORE SOCIETY 

All rights reserved 



1 



PRESS OF 

THE NEW ERA PRINTINQ COMPANY 

LANCASTER. tA. 



CONTENTS OF VOLUME XXIX. 

ARTICLES. 

PACB 

Contes Populaires Canadiens C.-Marius Barheau i 

Un Conte de la Beauce Evelyn Bolduc i^j 

Fables, Contes et Formules Gustave Lanctot 141 

Some Songs Traditional in the United States Albert H. Tolman 155 

More Songs and Ballads from the Southern Appalachians. 

Isabel Nanton Rawn and Charles Peabody 198 

Metrical Romances in the Philippines Dean S. Pansier 203 

Story of the Eventful Life of Princess Florentina of the Kingdom of Germany. 

Translated from Tagalog by Dean S. Pansier and Salvador Unson 235 

Avoidance in Melanesia Elsie Clews Parsons 282 

The Cherry-Tree Carol Josephine McGill 293 

Twenty-Seventh Annual Meeting of the American Folk-Lore Society 295 

European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians James Teit 301 

European Tales from the Plains Ojibwa Alanson Skinner 330 

Plains Cree Tales Alanson Skinner 341 

Ojibwa Tales from the North Shore of Lake Superior William Jones 368 

The Zuni Mo'lawia Elsie Clews Parsons 392 

Porto-Rican Folk-Lore. Riddles, (Edited by Aurelio M. Espinosa). 

J. Alden Mason 423 
New-Mexican Spanish Folk-Lore. X. Children's Games. XL Nursery Rhymes 

and Children's Songs Aurelio M. Espinosa 505 

New-Mexican Spanish Folk-Lore Barbara Freire Marreco 536 

Stories and Songs from the Southern Atlantic Coastal Region of Mexico. 

William Hubbs Mechling 547 
Algunas observaciones sobre el folk-lore de Guatemala. .. .^t/riaw Recinos 5^9 

LOCAL MEETINGS. 

Kentucky Branch 299 

Virginia Folk-Lore Society 299 

West Virginia Folk-Lore Society John Harrington Cox 40a 

NOTES AND QUERIES. 

The Story of No-Tongue George P. Will 402 

Two Cheyenne Stories Stanley Campbell 406 

A Piegan Tale Truman Michelson 408 

Piegan Tales of European Origin Truman Michelson 409 

The Hawaiian Hula-Dance Martha W. Beckwith 409 

Present-Day Survivals of Ancient Jewish Customs Leah R. C. Yoffie 412 

The Cherry-Tree Carol Josephine McGill 417 

Announcement of publication of Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society. . 417 

iii 



iv Contents oj Volume XXIV. 

REVIEWS. 

PAGE 

Johann Jacob Meyer's Das Weib in altindischen Epos B. Laufer 419 

W. S. Fox's Greek and Roman (The Mythology of All Races series, Vol. I). 

John R. Crawford 420 
Hartley Burr Alexander's North American (The Mythology of All Races series, 

Vol. X) Franz Boas 421 

Officers and Members of the American Folk-Lore Society 5^7 

Index to Volume XXIX 577 



THE JOURNAL OF 

AMERICAN FOLK-LORE, 

Vol. XXIX. — JANUARY -march, 1916.— No. CXI. 



CONTES POPULAIRES CANADIENS.^ 

PAR C.-MARIUS BARBEAU. 
PREFACE. 

Il y a pres de deux ans, le Dr Franz Boas, de Columbia University, 
New- York, nous posait la question suivante: "Les Canadiens-frangais 
ont-ils conserve leurs anciennes traditions orales? Y a-t-il encore, 
en Canada, des anciennes chansons, des contes, des legendes et des 
croyances populaires?" II n'etait pas facile, a brWe-pourpoint, de 
repondre a cette question. Mais une conclusion affirmative resulta 
de recherches subsequentes, faites parmi des paysans des environs de 
Quebec. II devint meme evident que les ressources du folklore cana- 
dien sont apparemment inepuisables. Quarante contes populaires 
recueillis en 1914, dans les comtes de Beauce et de Quebec, P. Q., 
d^montrerent que les anciens recits oraux de France se sont conserves 
intacts. Peu apres, on nous signala I'existence de traditions semblables 
dans les comtes de LaPrairie, de Valley field, de Joliette, d'Arthabasca, 
de Dorchester, de I'lslet, de Kamouraska, de Rimouski, et h la rive 
nord du Saint-Laurent. En 1915, une nouvelle serie de soixante 
contes et legendes fut rocueillie a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska; et 
quelques recits additionnels nous furent communiques par Mile 
Evelyn Bolduc, de la Beauce, et par M. Gustave Lanctot, originaire- 
ment de LaPrairie. 

Ces r^sultats avaient d'ailleurs ete prevus par M. Boas et certains 
folkloristes. On avait depuis longtemps remarque I'existence d'un 
nombre considerable de contes et de faceties d'origine frangaise 
parmi les Indiens des regions parcourues par les pionniers et les cou- 
reurs-des-bois. II devenait naturel de deduire que la source meme 
de cette abondante litterature orale ne s'etait pas si tot tarie, la oii 
les circonstances premieres favorisaient sa preservation. 

1 Copyright, 1916, by C. Marius Barbeau, Ottawa, Can. 



2 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

Comprenant I'importance et la richesse du folklore canadien, 
M. Boas et la Soei^t^ de Folklore Am^ricain d^ciderent, a la seance 
annuelle de 1914, d'encourager effieacement Tinitiative individuelle 
de tout Canadien d^sireux d'<5tudier et de publier les anciennes tra- 
ditions locales frangaises. Afin de faciliter la publication p^riodique 
de ces mat^riaux in^dits, a mesure qu'on les obtient parmi le peuple, 
la Soci^t^ ofifrit de disposer annuellement d'un num^ro entier de sa 
revue, "The Journal of American Folk-Lore," moyennant I'appui d'une 
section canadienne. Cette section vient de s'organiser grace a I'aide 
d'un certain nombre d'abonn^s, de sir Lomer Gouin, au nom du 
gouvernement de Quebec, et du concours de M. Victor Morin. Et 
chaque ann^e, a partir de 1916, un numero frangais de la revue devra 
contenir soit des contes et des Idgendes populaires, des ballades et 
des chansons ou d'autres pieces du folklore des Frangais d'Amerique, 
particuliereraent des Canadiens. On espere, d'ailleurs, que des litte- 
rateurs desinteresses collaboreront bientot a notre ojuvre. Une ample 
serie de traditions populaires sera ainsi, d'annee en annee, transmise a 
la post^rite. Tandis que les ecrivains y trouveront sans doute une 
veine f^conde et reg^neratrice, les savants se contenteront d\' decou- 
vrir, libre de tout alliage et dans sa purete relative, le folklore de la 
France au temps de Richelieu. Car, depuis le jour oij la France 
abandonna le Canada a ses destinees, les traditions populaires ances- 
trales se sont fixees, ou ont suivi un cours independant de celles de 
I'Europe. 

Le present numero de la revue contient plus de quarante contes et 
l^gendes obtenus dans la province de Quebec. II s'y trouve aussi des 
formules et quelqucs pieces rimees ou a retours. Tandis que la plupart 
de ces recits ont ete recueillis et prepares par I'autcur, quelques-uns 
lui ont, ete communiques par Mile Evelyn Bolduc et M. Gustave 
Lanctot. Ces derniers recits sont publics separement, et precedes 
du nom des auteurs. Une note accompagnant chaque piece en indique 
la source, le nom du conteur, quelquefois meme une origine plus 
(51oignee, la date et la localite. 

Les conteurs cites ici sont les suivants: 1. Paul Patry, de Saint- 
Victor, Beauce, age de 82 ans (1914) ; vieux cultivateur illettre, residant 
au milieu de sa famille sur une ferme isolee; remarquablement doue, 
comme la plupart de ses parents, les Coulombe et les Couture, qui 
passent pour des conteurs emerites; 2. Achille Fournier, surnomme 
"Ti-Chillc," journalier illettr^ do 64 ans, ne et residant a Sainte-Anne, 
Kamouraska, qui a appris des contes un peu partout autour de lui; 
3. Prudent Sioui, sa femme (nee Picard), et David Sioui, des Cana- 
diens-hurons illettres, de la Jeune-Lorette, Quebec, tous ages de plus 
de cinquante ans; 4. Narcisse Thiboutot, artisan, age de 25 ans 
(1915), et residant a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, qui a bien conserve 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 3 

les contes souvcnt recites par son oncle Charles Francoeur, de la 
Riviere-Ouellc; 5. Gustave Lanctot, homme de lettres, ag6 de plus 
de 30 ans, qui a retenu quelques contes appris dans son enfance, 
k Saint-Constant, LaPrairie; 6. Antoinette Leduc, jeune servante k 
Valleyfield, P. Q., de qui M. Lanctot a recueilli quelques contes et 
chansons. 

Quant a la methode, il va de soi que I'exactitude historique doit etre 
ici le seul guide. Enregistrer mot a mot la dictee du conteur est un 
ideal que tous ne peuvent atteindre. II est indispensable, neanmoins, 
de rapporter le plus fidelement possible toutes les locutions du conteur, 
et de ne negliger ni recits, ni episodes, alors meme qu'ils paraissent 
anodins ou saugrenus. Rien n'est indigne de I'attention de I'historien- 
ethnographe; et un jugement premature sur le choix ou I'exclusion de 
certains materiaux de nature douteuse ne pent que nuire aux fins 
proposees. Le meme scrupule doit presider a la preparation des textes. 
On peut sans doute donner une forme grammatical aux tournures 
incorrectes et retrancher les repetitions inutiles; mais la simplicite 
n'en doit jamais etre alteree; et le langage curieux du conteur ne fait 
qu'ajouter a la valeur du texte, surtout au point de vue de la linguis- 
tique. 

L'auteur a recueilli les contes suivants a la stenographic, sous la 
dictee courante des conteurs. La transcription en a ete faite avec la 
plus grande fidelite possible. Des mots archaiques ou familiers et des 
neologismes populaires ont ete indiques en italiques,a titre d'exemples 
seulement. II ne faut d'ailleurs pas oublier que nos conteurs parlaient 
tous le langage des paysans illettres, et y melaient souvent des ex- 
pressions grossieres et bannies de toute autre societe, en Canada. 
Notre devoir d'historien etait, cependant, de tout enregistrer, sans 
omission ni contrefagon; et le lecteur eclaire ne nous en voudra pas 
d'avoir suivi la methode strictement scientifique. A un Parisien ou 
meme a un Canadien peu verse dans I'etude de la langue fran^aise, 
certains termes paraitront etranges, incorrects et nouveaux. Une 
^tude tant soit peu approfondie, toutefois, dissipera cette illusion et 
revelera qu'a peu pres tous les elements lexicologiqucs apparemment 
formes en Canada se retrouvent dans les provinces de France, et sont 
indiques dans les grands lexiques frangais. 

C'etait d'abord notre intention de parsemer cette etude de notes 
et de listes de themes mythologiques compares, avec indication de 
leur distribution geographique. Mais I'immensite meme de cette 
tache, deja partiellement entreprise par certains auteurs,nous en a fait 
remettre a plus tard les premiers essais, dont le but sera d'etudier 
des versions paralleles anterieurement recueillies en Europe ou parmi 
les Indiens d'Amerique qui les ont de bonne heure empruntees des 
coureurs-des-bois. 



4 Journal oj American Folk-Lore. 

Nous d^sirons, enfin, remercier la Section d'Anthropologie, Mus^e 
Victoria, Ottawa, pour la collection des mat^riaux et la preparation 
du manuscrit. 

INTRODUCTION. 

Les contes, les l^gendes et les faceties populaires des Canadiens 
sont des r^cits traditionnels transmis oralement d'une generation k 
I'autre, et d'une anciennete plus ou moins grande. S'apprenant et se 
r^petant, ils retiennent leur forme relativement fixe et sont consider^s 
comme purement fictifs. Ils different radicalement des anecdotes ou 
r^cits d'evenements presumes authentiques de certains conteurs. 
Bien qu'appartenant tous au folklore populaire, les contes traditionnels 
et les anecdotes viennent de sources independantes et sont d'ages 
differents. Aux epoques recuiees, les premiers passaient de bouche 
en bouche et se disseminaient partout; les seconds, en raison meme 
de leur recente origine, sont restes exclusivement canadiens. Ainsi 
on retrouve dans tous les recoins de TEurope, et meme au-dela, de 
nombreuses versions paralleles des anciens contes de fees, de magiciens, 
de heros et de metamorphoses.^ Plus un recit est ancien, plus il est 
repandu; et I'etendue de ses ramifications indique sa relative antiquite. 
Presque tous les contes proprement dits commencent par une formule, 
telle que: "Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'etait. . .," ou "Une fois, 
il y avait. . . " N'appartenant generalement a aucun temps ou aucun 
lieu en particulier, ils different des recits anecdotiques qui, eux, sont 
plutot des reminiscences personnelles et se revetent des atours de la 
verite. La litterature canadienne est assez riche en anecdotes et en 
chroniques; mais les contes anciens, peut-etre a cause de leur trompeuse 
apparence de futilite, n'y ont pas encore trouve la place qu'ils meritent 
a plus d'un titre. La valeur scientifique et litteraire de la mythologie 
populaire et des anciennes traditions orales n'est, toutefois, pas dis- 
cutable; et les savants en ont depuis longtemps reconnu I'importance 
primordiale. II suffira de dire qu'elles sont les reliques ou les survi- 
vances d'un age lointain et disparu. La oii il n'y avait pas encore de 
litterature ecrite, les traditions orales florissaient. Au lieu de remettre 
au parchemin le patrimoine des souvenirs collectifs, on le conservait 
precieusement dans une memoire d'autant plus tenace qu'elle etait plus 
necessaire et cultivee. C'est en vertu de cette coutume profondement 
enracinee dans toutes les races et dans toutes les classes incultes que 
les anciens recits se sont conserves intacts jusqu'a nos jours chez des 
paysans de differents pays, et en particulier chez ceux du Canada 
frangais. 

1 L'^tude la plus ambitieuse que nous connaissions sur la diffusion et les 
differentcs versions de certains contes anciens est celle qu'ont publi6e recemment 
J. Bolte et G. Polivka, Anmerkungen zu den Kinder- u. Hausmarchen der Briider 
Grimm (Leipzig, 1913, 1915). 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 5 

Le seul role de cette litt^rature, ici, ^tait d'amuser. Durant les 
longs soirs d'hiver surtout, les villageois et les habitants se rassem- 
blaient pour entendre leurs conteurs favoris redirc les aventures mer- 
veilleuses, heroiques ou romanesques des heros fabuleux d'autrefois. 
Le coureur-des-bois, le b<lcheron a I'emploi des compagnies, le men- 
diant, I'idiot errant et le commer^ant de bestiaux ^taient souvent 
pr^c^d^s en maints lieux de leur reputation de conteur, et on ne man- 
quait pas de se r^unir a I'occasion de leur passage p(5riodique. On ai- 
mait meme particulierement a entendre le repertoire un peu renou- 
veie de ces noraades, qui prenaient d'ailleurs leur role corarae une 
mission. 

Cette fiction populaire canadienne se r^partit en plusieurs groupes, 
entre lesquels les transitions sont imperceptibles. Quoiqu'on y trouve 
quelquefois des vers et des retours rythmiques, la prose simple, des- 
criptive et dialogu^e en est le mode usuel et approprie. Le sujet lui- 
m6me se prete a une classification tant soit peu arbitraire, soit: (I) les 
fables, (II) les contes merveilleux et les mythes, (III) les contes pseudo- 
merveilleux ou Ton feint ou parodie le merveilleux, (IV) les legendes et 
les contes chretiens,(V)les contes ou r^cits romanesques du moyen age, 
(VI) les faceties et les anecdotes modernes.^ Presque la moiti^ des 
contes jusqu'ici recueillis en Canada sont d'origine et de nature pure- 
ment paiennes. Le merveilleux y est le principal ressort, et les per- 
sonnages sont ceux des mythologies paiennes de I'Europe. Si ces 
personnages disparaissent dans les contes plus modernes, il n'en est 
pas ainsi des objets merveilleux, qui se sont perpetuus avec tenacity 
au-dela des revolutions religieuses. Ainsi dans les contes Chretiens, 
on trouve des charmes de toutes sortes, tels que: le sac magique 
(conte 22), la baguette merveilleuse, les cartes qui gagnent a souhait 
(conte 23), et les taches indelebiles de sang (conte 28). 

L'origine et la formation d'une grande partie de cette litt^rature 
orale remontent a des temps recul^s. Quand la composition d'un 
r^cit est relativement moderne, les sources, les themes et le modele 
en sont souvent anciens. II va de soi que ces recits, en passant de 
bouche en bouche, sont sujets a une decadence et a une renovation 
graduelles, au cours des transmissions seculaires. La memoire des 
conteurs a souvent fait defaut; ou encore certains traits appartenant 
d'abord a un recit se glissent dans d'autres. Les moyens de style, les 
noms des personnages, les themes mythologiques, les episodes, les 
incidents et maints traits caracteristiques s'echangent ou font place 
a d'autres. Ce procede opere souvent sans que les conteurs eux-memes 
s'en rendent compte. II ne faut pas toutefois s'exagerer I'etendue de 
ces variations qui ne troublent que legerement la remarquable fixite 

1 Dans la serie de contes suivants, toutes ces categories ne sont pas egale- 
ment bien representees. Ainsi on n'y trouvera que trois fables, 1, 40, et 41. 



6 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

des textes traditionnels. Les centaines de versions peu divergentes 
de nombreux contes populaires, que les folkloristes compilateurs ont 
retrouvees dans toutes les parties de I'Europe et au-dela, demontrent 
la fidelite etonnante de la memoire collective. 

Ce n'est pas notre but d'entreprendre ici I'etude comparee des 
contes et des legendes de ce recueil, et dont aucun n'est foncierement 
original ou canadien. La tache moins ambitieuse d'en reunir les 
principaux traits d'interet general en une liste graduee contribuera a 
en rendre I'acces plus facile pour une etude comparee. 

FORME ET STYLE. 

1. For mules initiales. — (a) "Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, 
c'etait. . . ;" "II est bon de vous dire qu'une fois c'etait. . ." (voir les 
contes 3, 18, 20, 27, 29, 30, 33, 36, 39). (6) "Une fois, vour vous 
dire..." (formule employee dans le comte de Rimouski, P. Q.). 
(c) "Une fois c'etait. . . ", "II etait, une fois. . . ," "Une fois, il y avait 
..." (voir 1, 2, 40, 42, 44). {d) "Un jour, c'est. . ." (30). 

2. Formules finales. — (a) ". . .Et moi, ils m'ont renvoye ici vous 
le raconter" (3, 16, 17). (6) ". . .Et moi* ils m'ont renvoye ici avec 
pas un sou." ". . .Et moi, ils m'ont renvoye ici. Je leur avals aide, 
mais ils ne m'ont pas donne un sou" (2). (c) " . . . Et moi, elle a voulu 
m'engager pour que je reste au chateau; mais je n'ai pas voulu. Qui 
salt? Ce Jean-Parle, etant sorcier, reviendrait peut-etre! J'ai 
aime mieux rester ici pour vous en raconter I'histoire" (28). (d) "... 
Et 9a finit la. Je ne sais pas ce qui leur est arrive depuis; car ga fait 
longtemps que je ne suis pas alle les voir;" ". . . Je pense qu'ils ont 
toujours bien vecu; mais je ne le sais pas, comme je ne suis pas all6 
les voir depuis;" ". . .J'etais aux noces; mais depuis ce temps, je n'ai 
pas revu ces gens-la;" ". . .Je suis passe par la I'automne dernier, et 
Petit-Jean-petit-bois, que j'ai vu, m'a paru bien portant" (4, 6, 16, 19). 
(e) "...Et ils vecurent tous comme des bienheureux;" "...II vit 
comme un bienheureux, et ccetera;" "...II resta toujours avec sa 
mere, vivant heureux et aime des voisins et de tout le village;" "... Ou 
il regna longtemps avec bonheur;" ". . .lis demeurerent avec leurs 
parents, contents et heureux, jusqu'a la fin de leurs jours;" ". . .11 faut 
qu'elle se trouve bien la ou elle est, puisqu'elle n'en revient pas. J'en 
juge par la;" "... Martineau-pain-sec est reste chez le roi, oil il a tou- 
jours bien vecu;" ". . . Je pense qu'il a passe des beaux jours et qu'il 
s'amuse encore;" ". . .Us ont vecu ensemble dans le bonheur" (1, 18, 
45, 42, 43, 33, 20, 5, 27). (/)".. .Et depuis ce temps, il n'a jamais 
eu I'idee d'y retourner;" ". . .Et le diable I'a emporte;" ". . .Et c'est 
tout" (29, 30, 39). 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 7 

3. Reiours et randonn^es. — (a) La petite, et Zacharie (46, 47). 
(6) Minette m'a vol^ mes roulettes (37). 

4. Maximes, proverbes.^ — "...II faut faire le bien pour le mal" 
(10); ''. . .On dit qu'un bienfait n'est jamais perdu" (25); le loup est 
puni pour ses mensonges (41); ". . .suffit que deux si belles personnes 
s'^taient promises par serment. .. C'est une punition du bon Dieu" 
(11). 

5. Marche, marche.^ — ". . .Marche, marche, marche. . . arrive au 
petit sentier" (6); "...Prend le sentier, marche, marche. . ."(20); 
"...Prend le chemin, puis le petit sentier,... marche, marche..." 
(4); "...Ti-Jean marche jusqu'au bout du chemin, prend le petit 
sentier. . ." (6); etc. 

6. Epithetes. — "Mon ver de terre!" ". . .ver de terre!" ". . .Petit 
ver de terre!" — Epithetes qu'emploient les grants et le Corps-sans- 
4me k regard de personnages de petite taille (13, 3, 42); etc. 

7. Parole ou foi de roi! — (a) "Foi de prince, de princesse et de 
roi!" (7); ". . .Parole de roi! il faut que tu paries. . ." (12); ". ..Parole 
de prince! il faut que vous me racontiez. . ." (27). (b) "Je ne peux 
pas mentir a ma parole; il me faut done payer" (39); "La parole du 
roi en est donn^e, il faut bien que la princesse Spouse le petit gargon" 
(7, 12). (c) "Le roi a trois paroles" (6). 

8. Pas plus que. . . — Le roi dit: "Un beau prince. . .est venu . . ." 
La princesse r^pond: "Pas plus beau que mon petit teigneux!" — 
"Tais-toi, ou je..." (4); le roi dit "un monsieur..." — "Pas plus 
monsieur que moi!" r^pond Ti-Jean. "Tais-toi!. . ." (3). 

9. Un de plus a manger. — Le geant ou la Bete-a-sept-tetes dit k 
plusieurs reprises: "Je pensais n'en avoir qu'un a manger, mais j'en 
aurai deux," ou "Je pensais n'en avoir que deux et j'en aurai trois." 
L'autre repond: "Tu vas toujours bien les gagner!" (3, 5). 

10. Mouchoir enveloppe. — ". . .11 enveloppe les langues de la Bete- 
a-sept-tetes dans son mouchoir" (5); "...il coupe les sept langues 
de la bete, et les met dans son mouchoir. . ." (42); "Ti-Jean met les 
sept galettes de sarrasin dans son mouchoir. . ." (42); le proteg^ du 
lion, de I'aigle et de la chenille enveloppe dans son mouchoir les 
talismans qu'ils lui donnent (2). 

11. Cheminee. — (o) La vieille monte dans la chemin6e; on tire 
r^chelle; elle tombe dans le chaudron d'huile bouillante, ou elle se 
tue (3); le loup monte dans la cheminee, tombe dans le chaudron 
d'eau bouillante, ou il meurt (40) ; la vieille descend par la cheminee, 

1 Les maximes, les proverbes, les conclusions et les morales ne se ren- 
contrent h peu pres jamais, dans les contes canadiens. 

2 Des mots caracteristiques serviront dans la suite k designer brievement 
les traits mythologiques d'int6ret g^n^ral ou compart. 



8 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

et meurt dans le chaudron d'eau bouillante (45); (6) trois hommes 
noirs sortent de la cheminee (22); Parle grimpe dans la cheminee et 
verse du sel dans le chaudron des geants (13); la vieille descend par la 
cheminee dans la maison du petit Bonhomme-de-graisse (45). 

12. Sous le lit. — (a) Les bottes et le violon du geant sont enchain^s 
sous le lit, et Parlafine et Parle y vont plusieurs fois pour s'en emparer 
(13, 14); Petit-Jean se cache sous le lit des grants, qu'il tue pendant 
leur sommeil (15). (6) Le cocassier met son panier sous le lit de son 
hotesse (29). 

13. Galerie} — "...Se promene sur la galerie..." (3, 10, 18); 
. . .laisse le sac sur la galerie (21). 

14. Langage imite ou deforme. — Le conteur imite la prononciation 
d'un Gascon, vers la fin (3); imitation du langage d'une idiote (11). 

15. Chansons citees. — Chansons de banquet (29); chanson de 
Cacholet (29). 

THEMES OU TRAITS MYTHOLOGIQUES. 

Nombres mystiques. 

16. Trois. — (a) le roi donne leur heritage a ses trois fils qui 
partent en voyage (10) ; le roi donne trois cents piastres a ses trois 
fils (10); le roi et ses trois fils, Cordon-bleu, Cordon-vert et Petit- 
Jean (6); Brise-bois, Brise-montagnes et Petit-Jean, les trois com- 
pagnons forts (16); les trois filles de la veuve, Charlotte, Javotte et 
Finette (28) ; les trois filles pauvres (27) ; les trois fils, Pierre, Jacques 
et Jean (42); les trois filles, Josephine, Therese et Margoulette (33); 
les trois freres et les trois chevaux protecteurs (5) ; les trois fils pauvres, 
Pierre, Jacques et Jean (43) ; les trois fils de la veuve, Georges, Charles 
et Jean (13); Jacquelin, Jacqueline et Couleuvrine. (6) Les trois 
grants (3, 16, 12, 20); les trois princesses "gardees" (16); les trois 
chiens du geant (11); les trois secrets du lion, de Tours et du loup (1); 
les trois animaux dans le Corps-sans-ame (2); les trois hommes noirs 
sortant de la cheminee (22) ; les trois fermiers du roi (39) ; les trois vo- 
leurs (43); les trois chasseurs (35); les trois Gascons (18, 36). (c) Les 
trois obstacles magiques (4); les trois coups de lime pour couper la 
chaine de trois pouces qui retient les bottes du geant (13); les trois 
ceufs d'or de la poule (43); ''Tu n'as que trois fois a eteindre mon feu," 
ou k faire cela "avant que je te donne la plus fine volee" (15, 16); les 
trois combats de la Bete-a-sept-tetes (4, 5); les trois gages de la 
princesse (12); les trois concours des fils du roi pour gagner la cou- 
ronne (6); Dom Jean se leve a trois heures pour travailler (39). (d) 
Dans les contes modernes, ce nombre mystique se retrouve encore 

1 Ce trait est peut-etre purement canadien. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 9 

souvent, soit: trois sacs de grain, trois gerbes de bl^ (31); ma hache 
"dont je coupais un orme en trois coups" (32); trois grands cabarouets 
bien pleins (33). 

17. Sept. — (a) Les sept filles du geant, les sept enfants pauvres 
(14). (6) La Bete-a-sept-tetes (5, 42); les Sept-montagnes-vertes (7); 
Ti-Jean compte les sept tetes de la bete, et la reveille en criant: "Sept!" 
(42). (c) Le violon du geant "qu'on entend a sept lieues a la ronde," 
ou "qui fait danser sept lieues a la ronde;" les bottes de sept lieues, ou 
"qui font sept lieues au pas" (13, 14). (d) Antoine et Josephine vivent 
sept ans seuls dans les bois (12); Petit- Jean-petit-bois essaie ses 
forces a Fage de sept ans. Ne se trouvant pas encore assez fort, il 
retourne chez sa mere, ou il reste encore sept ans (15); les trois freres 
demandent a leur mere sept petites galettes de sarrasin (42). 

18. Quatre. — Les quatre Vents grants, Norde, Suroit, Su et Nord 
(10); Petit-Jean fend la petite Capuche-bleue en quatre quartiers 
(16); quatre grants (10); les quatre chevaux de la princesse m^tamor- 
phosee (6); Parle va quatre fois chez le geant (13). 

19. Cent et un. — (a) line fee "cent fois plus m^chante que moi" 
(7); "le dragon de feu sera cent fois plus fort qu'hier" (3); (6) Ti-Jean 
ne se mariera a la princesse que dans un an et un jour (7); Petit- Jean 
se fait construire un palais cent fois plus beau que celui du roi (10); 
". . .pour un an et un careme" (30). (c) La princesse cause une heu- 
re avec Petit- Jean; la f^e dort une heure chaque jour (7). 

20. Autres nomhres. — Les trente aunes de toile dans une noix 
merveilleuse (6); la fee dit a Cendrillon de revenir avant minuit, car 
au coup de minuit I'enchantement doit finir (9). Le nombre deux 
se trouve aussi, mais rarement. 

Talismans, Charmes, Objets et Faits Merveilleux. 

21. Baguette magique. — (a) Petit- Jean ordonne a la baguette, 
qu'il a regue d'une fee, de nettoyer les ^curies du roi; ce qu'elle fait en 
un instant. II lui fait aussi couper la tete du geant (42) ; saint Jacques 
donne une baguette magique a Pipette, qui s'en sert pour se faire 
construire un chateau et pour coller la Mort dans un c^nellier (23). 
(6) Pois-verts feint de posseder un fouet magique qui fait bouillir la 
soupe sans feu (21). 

22. Baton tape! — La magicienne donne un gourdin a Petit-Jean. 
En disant de bonne foi "Joue mon gourdin!" le baton se met a f rapper 
qui veut son maitre, jusqu'a ce qu'il le rappelle (18); "Fesse, baton 
rond!"ou "Guerre, mon rond bdton!" (19); "Baton, tape!" (43). 

23. Repas miraculeux. — (a) Serviette donnant a boire et a manger 
quand on le lui ordonne (19); "Nappe, mets la table!" (43). (6) Un 



10 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

boeuf dit a son protege de prendre dans son oreille un petit morceau 
de toile et un de fer, et de les mettre a terre; la toile devient une tente, 
et le fer, un poele ; et un repas y est servi (3) ; Larrivee se fait servir 
un repas par son sac merveilleux (22). 

24. Durandal.^ — Le sabre invincible de Petit-Jean (4, 10, 16). 

25. Autres "souhaite-vertus."" — (a) Notre-Seigneur donne a Larri- 
vee un sac merveilleux, dans lequel entre tout ce qu'il y souhaite 
(22). (6) Petit-Jean trouve un sifflet merveilleux, au chateau des 
geants. Quand il y souffle, quelqu'un repond: "Que voulez-vous, 
maitre ?" et il accomplit tous les souhaits (3) ; Pois-verts, parodiant le 
merveilleux, pretend ressusciter les morts avec son sifflet (21). (c) Un 
poil blanc de la patte du lion, une plume blanche de Taile de I'aigle, 
une patte de la chenille donnent le pouvoir a un jeune homme de se 
transformer en lion, en aigle ou en chenille (2). (d) Notre-Seigneur 
donne a Pipette un jeu de cartes avec lequel il gagne quand il le 
souhaite (23). ^ 

26. Agents surnaturels. — Une lime coupant un pouce du coup (13) 
une petite noix contenant trente aunes de belle toile du pays (6) 
feuilles rendant la vue aux aveugles qui s'en frottent les paupi^res 
un crapaud causant la maladie du roi en se tenant sous son lit (1) 

27. Moisson d'or. — (a) La poule pondant For quand on le lui 
ordonne (43) ; I'ane crottant Tor et Targent quand on lui frappe sur la 
queue (18, 19). (b) Le pommier aux fruits d'or du roi (11); le jardin 
aux fruits defendus, garde par des taureaux aux longues cornes d'acier 
{le jardin des Esperides) (3). (c) La fontaine d'oii coule I'or et dont le 
contact dore pour toujours (4); des perles, de Tor et des fleurs tombent 
de la bouche de Cendrillon (9). 

28. Don d'invisibilite. — La ceinture que Petit-Jean obtient d'une 
fee le rend invisible quand il s'en ceint les reins (42) ; Petit-Jean-petit- 
bois obtient un 'habit couleur d'invisible', avec lequel il entre chez le 
geant sans etre vu (13). 

29. Bottes de sept lieues. — Les bottes "qui marchent sept lieues 
le pas" (13); les bottes de sept lieues (14). 

30. Sept lieues a la ronde. — (a) Le violon du g^ant qu'on entend 
jouer a sept lieues h la ronde (14); le violon des geants qui fait danser 
sept lieues h la ronde (13); le violon des geants (16); la jument qui 

1 L'^pee fabuleuse de Roland ^tait sans doute de la m6me trempe que celle 
de Petit-Jean. 

2 Souhaite-vertus est le terme que les conteurs du comte de Kamouraaka 
emploient pour designer ces objets merveilleux operant k souhait. 

3 II est probable que des talismans, dont la nature a ete oubli^e, op^raient 
dans les cas suivants : 1. Ti-Jean se fait bdtir un chdteau de cristal cent foia 
plus beau que celui du roi (10); 2. Son souhait h I'efifet d'dtre transporte au pays 
lointain d'un roi est immediatement accompli (10). 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 11 

boit la moitie de la mer et qui eteint le dragon de feu sept lieues a la 
ronde (3). 

31. Eau de Jouvence. — L'eau de la rajeunie, ou qui rajeunit, venant 
de la fontaine gardee par la vieille fee (8). 

32. Sommeil enchante. — (o) Des marins font prendre de l'eau 
d'endormie, ou eau de sommeil, a Petit-Jean, qui s'endort aussitot 
(10). (6) Le roi envoie sa servante endormir Petit- Jean; et aussitot 
qu'elle approche de lui, elle reussit a le faire. Malgr^ tous ses efforts, 
la princesse ne peut pas le reveiller (7). 

33. Talon d'Achille. — (a) On ne peut tuer la petite chienne gar- 
dant la princesse qu'en I'atteignant dans la petite lune blanche, au 
milieu de son front (12). (6) Pour d^truire le Corps-sans-dme, il faut 
tuer le lion, F^ventrer, y saisir !e pigeon, prendre les trois ceufs dans 
le corps du pigeon et les casser sur le front du Corps-sans-ame (2). 

34. Luminaires dechus. — (a) Le soleil des grants qui 6claire, la 
nuit, dans leur souterrain (16). (6) La lune du g^ant 'qui ^claire 
notre besoin', qu'on tient renferm^e dans une boite, et qu'on place 
sur le bas cote (petite maison) pour s'en servir (13). 

35. Obstacles magiques. — Etant poursuivi par la sorciere,Petit-Jean 
jette une etrille derriere lui; I'^trille devient une montagne d'^trilles 
dans laquelle la sorciere s'empetre; une bride et une bouteille devien- 
nent successivement une montagne de brides, une montagne de bou- 
teilles (4). 

36. Taches indelebiles. — (a) Charlotte et Javotte ne r^ussissent 
pas a enlever le sang ou la rouille qui s'attache a la clef, quand elles 
ouvrent la porte que Jean-Parle leur a d^fendu d'ouvrir; Finette, 
6tant sorciere, reussit a enlever les taches de sang sur la boule d'or et 
sur la clef (28). (6) Petit-Jean ne peut plus enlever Tor qui s'attache 
a son doigt quand il le trempe a la fontaine d'or que la sorciere lui a 
defendu de visiter (4). 

37. Nourriture dormant la force. — (a) Avant de se battre avec le 
lion, Petit-Jean se fait faire de la bouillie (qui semble douee de vertus 
magiques) (2). (6) La bouillie est la nourriture des grants (3, 13). 

38. La femme de Loth. — Une voix en arriere appelle Pierre; il finit 
par se retourner, et il regoit en plein front un coup de massue qui 1'^- 
tend par terre; et il en est ainsi de son frere (42). 

39. Jonas.— Apres lui avoir donn6 de l'eau de sommeil, les marins 
jettent Petit-Jean a la mer. II se reveille dans le ventre d'une baleine 
qui I'a avale. II la mene s'echouer sur une ile, ou il retrouve sa li- 
berty (10). 

40. Les pets du loup. — Le loup pete, detruisant ainsi les maisons 
de la poule et de la dinde. Ce moyen ne reussit point a d^truireja^ 
maison du renard (40). 



12 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

41. Tresors. — Petit-Jean, sur la mer, apergoit au loin une mon- 
tagne d'or et une montagne d 'argent; il en charge deux navires qu'il 
renvoie au roi (10); Dom Jean pardonne au roi etranger a condition 
qu'il lui remette un batiment charge d'or pur (39) ; le heros trouve le 
tr6sor des geants, des tonnes d'or (42). 

42. La toison d'or. — (a) Petit-Jean se trempe les cheveux dans la 
fontaine de la sorciere, et en revient avec des cheveux d'or (4). (6) Un 
beau cheval, le crin en argent et ferre en or (6). 

43. Chateau dans les airs. — La maison dans les airs que Petit- Jean 
fait porter par ses quatre aigles (39). 

44. Fontaines miraculeuses. — (a) Tout le village souffre de la 
soif; le heros n'a qu'a enlever une pierre sous I'eglise pour que I'eau 
jaillisse (1). (b) La fontaine d'eau qui rajeunit, gardee par la magi- 
cienne (8); la fontaine de Paris, dont I'eau guerit certains maux (29). 

Monstres et Personnages Mythologigues. 

45. Monstres. — Le Corps-sans-ame, un monstre apparaissant sou- 
vent sous la forme d'un lion (2) ; le dragon de feu (3) ; la Bete-^-sept- 
tetes (5, 42) ; la petite Capuche-bleue (16) ; la hcorne, qui tue tout le 
monde (20). 

46. Geants. — Les trois geants, le premier, de dix pieds de haut, le 
deuxieme, de vingt pieds, le troisieme, de trente pieds (3) ; quatre grants 
ayant des faux de vingt-cinq pieds de longueur (10); les trois geants 
qui jouent aux cartes et veulent delivrer la princesse (12); le geant, sa 
femme et sa fille, a qui Parle joue des tours (13); le geant, sa femme 
et ses sept filles; les geants qui ne traversent jamais I'eau (14); les 
geants Brise-bois, Brise-montagne et Petit- Jean (16); Petit- Jean-petit- 
bois, a quatorze ans, le plus fort des hommes (15) ; les trois geants 
portent des arbres et des tonnes d'eau (20); les geants de dix pieds 
de haut, et la Bete-^-sept-tetes (42). 

47. Ogres et leurs femmes. — Le geant ogre sent la viande fraiche, 
les sept petits enfants que sa femme cherche a lui soustraire (14); les 
geants sentent la viande fraiche, quand Petit-Jean est cache sous 
leur lit (16); les quatre Vents renoncent a devorer Petit-Jean, qui 
les apaise en leur donnant un baril de pore et un de biscuits (10). 

48. Noms des heros et des personnages. — Petit-Jean (3, 4, 5, 6, 
10, 16, 18, 42, 43); Petit-Jean-petit-bois (15); Dom Jean (39); Parle 
(13); Parlafine ou Petit-Poucet (14); Jean-Parle (28); Ti-Pierre et 
Jacqueline (33); Pierre (42, 43); Cendrillon (9); Cendrouillonne (8); 
Vent-de-nord'e, Vent-de-sur'oi, Vent-du-su et Vent-de-nord (10); 
le prince de I'Epee-verte (11); Antoine et Josephine (12); Josephine, 
Tharese et Margoulette (33); Martineau-pain-sec (20); Pois- verts (21); 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 13 

Larrivee (22) ; Pipette (23) ; Michel Morin (30, 32, 32) ; le nomm6 Ri- 
chard (34); Gilbert (44); le petit Bonhomme-de-graisse (45); un roi, 
un prince ou une princesse (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 15, 
16, 17, 20, 27, 29, 39, 42, 44); Notre-Seigneur, saint Pierre et saint 
Jacques (22, 23); le cure (11, 8, 21, 28); des Gascons (18, 36); le 
cocassier (29). 

49. Animaux parlants. — Le lion. Tours et le loup (1); le lion,raigle 
et la chenille (2) ; les chevaux parlants (5) ; le loup et le renard (40) ; 
le loup, la dinde, la poule et le renard (41). 

50. Fees, sorciers ou magiciens. — (a) Une fee est la maitresse de 
tous les animaux, une autre, de tous les oiseaux (8); f^es protectrices 
(7, 8, 9, 10, 18, 19, 28, 42, 43). (6) Magiciens et sorciers (4, 17). 
(c) Le genisse fee (42). 

51. Le diable. — (a) Le diable se deguise en homme et va k la re- 
cherche d'ames(24,25). (6)Le diable a un mouHn ou il moud le grain; 
il se querelle avec Petit- Jean-petit-bois (15). (c) Le diable vient 
chercher Pipette sur la terre (22, 23, 30). 

52. Les dmes. — Les ames de Larrivee et de Pipette s'en vont dans 
I'autre monde (22, 23) ; un revenant s'engage sur la terre pour gagner 
sa dette (25). 

53. Anthropomorphisme. — (a) La Mort est envoyee par Dieu sur 
la terre (23); la Mort guette Michel Morin (30, 31). (6) Les quatre 
Vents, qui sont des geants ogres (16). 

54. Les cadets favoris. — (a) Parlafine, le plus jeune de sept freres, 
est ruse (14); le plus jeune de trois freres est d'une habilete extraordi- 
naire, bien que ses freres le considerent comme un idiot (13, 5, 6, 42); 
Petit-Jean choisit la troisieme fille du roi, qui est la plus belle (4) ; la 
plus jeune de trois soeurs, la plus belle, devient reine (27). 

55. Les cadets habiles et ruses. — Antoine vise, et ses filches ne 
manquent jamais le but; les geants finissent par perir de sa main (12) ; 
Parlafine et Parle reussissent, a force de ruses, a enlever les talismans 
du geant, et a le faire perir (13, 14); Finette, la cadette, conduit 
Jean-Parle a sa perte (28). 

56. Les solitaires. — Un petit gargon et sa sceur grandissent seuls 
dans les bois (11); Antoine et Josephine passent sept ans seuls dans les 
bois (12). 

57. Les metamorphoses. — Le cheval blanc aidant Petit-Jean est un 
beau prince metamorphose (4); la chatte blanche est une princesse 
transformee (6) ; la princesse vient sous la forme d'une nuee (7). 



14 Journal of American Folh-Lore. 



Fails Domestiques. 

58. Enfants perdus. — Des parents pauvres abandonnent leurs 
enfants dans les bois (13, 14); les scEurs jalouses deposent un enfant 
dans une corbeille d'or, au bord des flots, pour qu'il disparaisse (27). 

59. Faibles opprimes. — (a) Des belles-meres maltraitent leurs 
enfants (3, 8, 9). (6) Un veuf maltraite son fils, Petit-Jean (4); 
un mari persecute sa femme, et une femme son mari (19, 24). 

60. S'en vont chercher fortune. — (a)A3'ant regu leur heritage. 
Pipette, Martineau-pain-sec et Ti-Pierre quittent la raaison paternelle 
(20, 23, 33). (6) Les enfants de parents pauvres s'en vont gagner 
leur vie ou chercher fortune (2, 18, 43). (c) Petit-Jean-petit-bois, k 
quatorze ans, quitte sa mere et s'en va gagner sa vie (15); Petit-Jean 
va commencer (18). 

61. Souhait de mariage realise. — Trois soeurs souhaitent de se marier, 
I'une a un boulanger, I'autre a un boucher, la plus jeune au roi; le roi 
I'apprend, par indiscretion, et realise leur d^sir (27). 

62. Au service d'un maitre.— (a) Petit-Jean et le fils de la veuve 
vont s'engager dans I'armee du roi (4, 13). (6) Petit-Jean va s'enga- 
ger comme jardinier chez le roi, mais devient un valeureux soldat 
(4); Petit-Jean-petit-bois, Petit-Jean et Martineau-pain-sec s'enga- 
gent chez le roi pour faire tous les ouvrages difficiles (15, 42, 20); 
Petit-Jean s'engage comme cuisinier chez la princesse des Sept-mon- 
tagnes-vertes (7). (c) Un jeune homme s'engage pour garder les 
chevaux de la magicienno, les moutons de la vieille ou les cochons du 
roi (4, 2, 3). {d) Pois-verts est le serviteur du cur^ (21). (e) Dom 
Jean est I'esclave du roi (39). 

63. Adoptions. — Le petit gargon perdu sur mer est adopts par 
le capitaine d'un navire; perdu encore, il est adopts par le roi qui le 
fait instruire (10); une vieille femme adopte I'enfant trouve dans la 
corbeille d'or, au bord de I'eau (27) ; le prince de I'Epee-verte adopte 
la vieille sorciere et sa fille (11); le prince adopte le vieux et la vieille 
qui ont protege son enfant (27). 

64. Fidelite conjugale. — Pendant qu'elle envoie son mari lui chercher 
de I'eau de la fontaiue de Paris, une femme reyoit la visite du prince 
(29). 

Protection Surnaturelle. 

65. Les fees conseilleres. — (a) La fee protege Cendrillon, lui donne 
dos habits et I'envoie au bal (19); une fee console et guide Petit-Jean 
dans ses tribulations (7); une vieille magicienne donne des conseils 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 15 

k Ti-Jean et lui dit comment il peut detruire les geants (10). (6) 
Parlafine va voir sa marraine et regoit d'elle de la laine et du pain (13). 

66. La fee Parole. — La fee gardant la fontaine d'eau de sommeil dit 
a Cendrillon de lui chercher des poux dans la tete; Cendrillon pretend 
y trouver des grains d'or et d'argent; et la fee la recompense disant: 
"Quand tu parleras, des fieurs et des grains d'or et d'argent tomberont 
detabouche." A une autre qu'elle hait elle dit : "Quand tu parleras, 
il tombera de ta bouche des crapauds et des couleuvres." C6s sou- 
haits se realisent (8). 

67. Dons de fees, de magiciens et d'autres puissances. — (a) Pierre, 
Ti-Jean et Jacques aident une vieille fee qui, en retour, donne a Tun 
la poule aux oeufs d'or, k I'autre le baton de guerre, la nappe au repas 
servi, la ceinture rendant invisible, la baguette magique (42, 43). 
(b) Une magicienne donne h Petit-Jean la serviette, I'ane et le baton 
merveilleux (18, 19); le g^ant donne ses chiens doues de raison au 
petit orphelin qui lui abandonne ses pelleteries (11). 

68. Chevaiix protedeurs. — (a) Le cheval blanc — un prince meta- 
morphose — parle k Petit-Jean: "Ne me bats pas, et soigne-moi bien; 
je te rendrai service plus tard." Et, protege par son cheval blanc, 
Petit-Jean surmonte tous les obstacles, d^livre une princesse, qu'il 
Spouse (4); Petit-Jean laisse trois chevaux, un blanc, un noir et un 
rouge, manger dans la grange de son p^re; et les chevaux deviennent 
ses protecteurs (5). (6) De son sifflet magique Petit- Jean obtient la 
jument qui peut boire la moitie de la mer, eteindre le dragon de feu, 
et sauter par-dessus la boule d'or mille pieds de rond d'air (3). 

69. Bceufs protecteurs. — (a) Un petit bceuf protege un petit vacher, 
lui donne des talismans, et k sa mort se fait Scorcher en lui disant de 
se revetir de sa peau, qui le rendra plus fort que tout autre au monde 
(3); une g^nisse fee dit k Petit-Jean: "Taille-moi une bahiche de la 
tete k la queue, et la babiche attachera tout ce que tu voudras" (42). 
(6) Bceufs aux cornes d'acier gardant le jardin prohibe (3). 

70. Autres animaux protecteurs. — (a) Le lion, I'aigle et la chenille 
r^compensent un service en donnant des talismans (2) ; de gros chiens 
obeissent k un orphelin qui leur envoie chercher des habits, de la nour- 
riture et de Tor (11). (6) Une princesse serait morte dans son cachot 
si un petit chien ne lui avait, tous les matins, apporte un morceau 
de pain par le soupirail (27). 

71. Le rock. — Un gros aigle, ob^issant k la magicienne, transporte 
Petit-Jean sur son dos aux Sept-montagnes-vertes ; Petit-Jean lui 
donne k manger un quartier de bceuf et un morceau de sa propre chair, 
k, defaut d'autre (7, 16). 

72. Dons du Christ et des apotres. — 'En reconnaissance de services 
que rend Larrivee, Notre-Seigneur lui donne un sac magique dans 



16 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

lequel il trouvera tout ce qu'il souhaite (22); a Pipette pauvre, mais 
genereux, saint Jacques donne la baguette merveilleuse, et Notre- 
Seigneur les cartes gagnant a souhait (23). 

73. Secrets gardes. — (a) Les chevaux qui protegent Petit-Jean 
lui disent: "N'en parle pas!" (5). (6) Les secrets du lion, de Tours et 
du loup (1). 

74. Formules ou fails magiques.— (a) Formules attach^es aux 
talismans: "Adieu, lion!" "Adieu, aigle!" (2); le sifflet magique est 
accompagn^ d'un homme qui dit: "Que voulez-vous, maitre?" — 
"Je veux. . . ;" a sa jument, Petit-Jean dit: "Ma jument, bois la moiti6 
de la mer!" "... Ma jument, eteins le dragon de feu. . . ," "Ma jument, 
saute par-dessus la boule d'or mille pieds de rond d'air;^^ a ses chiens 
il crie: "Fort, Raide, S'est-fait-tort, Prends-ma-garde, A-ton-maitre, 
Feu!" Et toutes les merveilles d^sir^es s'accomplissent (3); en met- 
tant un collier d'or autour du cou de la princesse, la magicienne dit: 
"Tu seras poisson au fond de la mer tant que la mer sera mer et tant 
que la terre sera terre;" et la princesse devient poisson (11); ''Croite, 
mon ane, dit Petit-Jean, lui frappant sur la queue; et I'^ne crotte Tor 
et I'argent (18, 19); "Joue, mon gourdin!" "Fesse, mon rond baton!" 
"Guerre, mon baton!" ou "Baton, tape!" et le baton frappe (18, 19, 
43); "Je souhaite une table bien greyee pour boire et manger, et que 
rien n'y manque;" ou "Nappe, mets la table!" et la table est servie 
(19, 43); a sa baguette, Petit-Jean dit: "Je veux que les ^curies soient 
nettes!" Et les ecuries sont aussitot nettoy^es (theme: "Ecuries 
d^Augias) ; se touchant de sa baguette, il dit: "Je veux devenir un grand 
officier!" Son souhait se realise (42); a sa peau de g6nisse, Petit- 
Jean dit: "Babiche, attache!" Et la babiche attache tout ce qu'il d^signe 
(42); Petit-Jean compte les sept tetes de la bete: "un, deux. . ." et 
en criant: "Sept!" il reveille la bete; "Poule, ponds-moi de I'or!" dit-il 
a sa poule; et elle pond trois ceufs d'or (42); (b) II suffit au heros 
de penser a la chenille ou aux chevaux pour que la protection desir^e 
se produise (2, 5). (c) Imitant le merveilleux, Pois-verts fouette son 
chaudron en disant: "Bouille, ma soupe!" Et la soupe est bouillante; 
plus tard, Pois-verts, feignant de ressusciter sa mere avec son sifHet, 
dit: "Tourlututu, reviendras-tu ?" Et la derniere fois il r^ussit en 
disant: "Tourlututu, reviendras-tu, ou ne reviendras-tu pas?" Quand 
on s'en va le jeter dans un sac a la mer, il r^pete: "Non, je ne veux pas 
y aller!" jusqu'a ce qu'un autre vienne prendre sa place (21). 

Metamorphoses. 

75. Transformations successives. — (a) A I'aide de trois talismans, 
un jeune homme peut se transformer en le plus beau de tous les lions 
ou de tous les aigles, ou en la plus belle de toutes les chenilles; le Corps- 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 17 

sans-^me se transforrae en lion (2). (h) Deux magiciens, a souhait, 
se transforment en ehevaux, en earpe, en diamant jaune, en pdpin de 
pomme, en coq ou en renard (17). (c) La princesse est transform^e 
en nu^e blanche et en nuee bleue (7). 

76. Metamorphoses fixes. — (a) Le prince de I'Epee-verte est rdduit 
en un etre immobile et sec; sa scEur est transformee en poisson au 
fond de la mer, au moyen d'une chaine d'or (11); un navire et des 
marins sont transformes en chicots de sapin sec (10). (6) Petit-Jean 
se transforme en grand officier (42) ; la fee rend Cendrillon belle prin- 
cesse. (c) Un prince est metamorphos6 en cheval blanc (4), une 
princesse, en chatte blanche, et ses chevaux, en crapauds (6). 

77. Charme rompu. — (a) Le poisson redevient princesse, et le 
prince reprend vie quand, a cinq brasses sous I'eau, on coupe la chaine 
d'or avec une tranche d'or pur et un marteau d'or pesant huit livres 
(11) ; le cheval redevient homme quand on lui enleve la selle et la bride 
magiques (17); Petit-Jean fend le cheval blanc en deux, et de son corps 
sort un beau prince (4); la chatte blanche ne redevient a jamais prin- 
cesse que lorsqu'un prince I'epouse; elle reprend temporairement sa 
forme humaine en se trempant dans une cuve d'eau (6). (h) Les 
chicots de sapins reprennent forme humaine quand Petit-Jean les 
frotte avec la graisse d'un certain petit pot que lui a donn^ la ma- 
gicienne (10). 

Enchantements, Possessions et Delivrance. 

78. Princesses "gardees^^ ou "e?nmuraillees." — (a) Princesse ^'gard^e" 
dans un chateau par une petite chienne fee (12); les quatre Vents 
gardent une princesse "emmuraillee," dans leur chateau (10); princesse 
"gard^e" par une vieille f^e (7); trois princesses "gardees" par trois 
grants, dans leur chateau souterrain (16); princesse ''gard(5e" par le 
Corps-sans-ame (2). (6) Princesse qu'une fde garde endormie dans 
son chateau (12); fille de roi prisonniere des geants (42). 

79. Princesses sacrifices. — La fille du roi doit etre d^vorde par le 
dragon de feu (3) ; tons les ans le roi est oblige de donncr une de ses 
filles k la Bete-a-sept-tetes (5). 

80. La prole du diable. — (a) Le diable fait I'ouvrage de la femme 
battue par son mari, a condition qu'elle devine son nom; si elle n'y 
r^ussit point, elle lui appartient (24) ; le diable remplit de poissons le 
filet d'un pecheur, a condition qu'il lui abandonne le premier etre 
venant a sa rencontre, et qui est le fils meme du pecheur; dans les 
deux cas le diable est d6jou6 (25). (6) Le diable renonce a "ses 
droits" sur Petit-Jean-petit-bois et sur Pipette (15, 23). (c) Le 
diable refuse de laisser entrer Larrivee en enfer, mais emporte Michel 
Morin (22, 30). 



18 Journal of American Polk-Lore. 

81. Le roi fait hattre un ban. — Le roi fait battre un ban que celui qui 
delivrerait la princesse Taurait en mariage (2, 3) ; le roi fait battre un 
ban que celle qui chausserait la petite pantoufle deviendra I'epouse du 
roi, et que celui qui a ete blesse et qui rapportera le bout de la 
lance cassee aura la princesse en mariage (9, 5). 

82. Epreuves des pretendants. — (a) Le roi dit: "C'est vous qui avez 
delivre ma princesse . . . mais vous allez nous donner des preuves de 
votre adresse;" et une ^preuve consiste a enfiler une lance dans un 
anneau suspendu par un brin de sole au-dessus d'un sentier (5). (6) 
Les traverses de Petit-Jean, pendant un an et un jour avant son ma- 
riage a la princesse delivree (7). 

83. Princesses delivrees. — (a) Quand le liberateur se presente, la 
princesse dit: "C'est impossible! beaucoup y ont deja perdu la vie;" 
mais, malgre les difficultes, elles sont delivrees (3, 7). (b) Petit- 
Jean et d'autres heros delivrent des princesses, qu'ils ram^nent k 
leur p^re dans presque tous les cas (2, 5, 6, 7, 10, 12, 16, 42). 

84. Le merite se cache. — (a) Quand le roi ordonne a ses armies de 
s'emparer du liberateur, il s'echappe en sautant par-dessus les arraees 
avec sa jument merveilleuse (3), en galopant sur son cheval blanc (4), 
ou en se cachant chez un charbonnier (5); dans chacun de ces cas le 
liberateur est Petit-Jean, qui se deguise pour delivrer la princesse sans 
etre reconnu. (6) Cendrillon ne se fait pas reconnaitre ^ ses sceurs 
vaniteuses (9). 

85. Pretendants rivaux. — (a) Le liberateur qui se cache a et^ blessd, 
et un fragment de lance est reste dans la plaie; des pretendants se 
pr^sentent au roi avec des bouts de fourche et de faucille, qu'ils se 
sont mis dans la hanche (3, 4). (6) Un charbonnier pretend avoir 
delivre la princesse, qu'il est sur le point d'epouser, quand le vrai 
liberateur est reconnu (5) ; Petit-Jean, le liberateur est reconnu au 
dernier moment, et le prince pr^tendant est congedie (7); Brise-bois 
et Brise-montagnes ne reussissent point h. supplanter Petit-Jean, le 
vrai liberateur (16). 

86. Gages d'identite. — (a) A Petit-Jean endormi par la sorci^re la 
princesse laisse en gage-souvenir un anneau, une tabatidre et un 
mouchoir brode, oil se trouve la marque de la princesse. (6) Antoine, 
quand il delivre la princesse, prend en gages sa bague, sa tabatiere et 
son mouchoir; et Petit- Jean emporte les joyaux de la princesse; ces 
objets les font plus tard reconnaitre (5, 12). 

87. Preuves d'identite. — (a) La pantoufle ne fait qxi'h Cendrillon 
et la bague qu'a Antoine (9, 12) ; au banquet de mariage, le charbonnier 
montre les sept tetes de la Bete-a-sept-t^tes qu'il dit avoir tuee; mais 
Petit-Jean se fait reconnaitre en montrant les sept langues de la bete 
qu'il a conserv6es dans son mouchoir (5, 42); Petit-Jean montre le 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 19 

soleil et le violon des geants, que le roi accepte comme preuve d'iden- 
tlt6 (16); la princesse,de ses yeux memes, reconnait son lib(5rateur (7). 

88. U eclat d'epee de Tristan. — (a) En essaj^ant de capturer le 
lib^rateur inconnu de la princesse, les soldats du roi lanccnt leurs 
6pees, et Tune d'elles se casse en laissant un fragment dans sa hanche; 
le roi envoie des medeeins par toute la ville;.trouvant Petit-Jean 
couch6 chez un charbonnier, ils le saisissent et apergoivent le bout 
d'^p^e dans sa hanche (5); un vieux Frangais dit: "Car, nom de Dieu! 
je vais toujours le blesser avec mon epee." II lance I'^pee dans sa 
hanche ou elle se casse; Petit-Jean lui-meme porte le fragment d'(5p6e 
au roi (3) ; "le roi jette sa lance, qui se casse dans la cuisse de Ti-Jean;" 
le petit jardinier, plus tard, lui rapporte le fragment et se fait re- 
connaitre (4). 

89. Banquet nuptial. — (a) Le roi, a I'occasion du mariage de la 
princesse d^livr^e, donne un banquet de noces, et fait raconter leurs 
aventures aux pretendants, pour d(5couvrir qui est le lib^rateur (12, 
16). (6) A son banquet de noces, la princesse s'asseoit entre son 
lib^rateur et le prince pretendant, dit une parabole et choisit le 
premier (7). (c) Au souper nuptial, pour empecher les traitres de 
s'^chapper, le roi fait condamner portes et fenetres, et dire a chacun 
son histoire (5, 16). (d) La femme legere donne un souper au prince, 
ou I'on s'amuse en chantant (29). 

90. Noces royales. — (a) Le liberateur epouse la princesse qu'il a de- 
livr^e (2, 3, 5, 12, 16, 42). (6) Petit-Jean epouse la princesse meta- 
morphosee en chatte, qui lui a fait des dons (6). (c) Le roi donne la 
main de la princesse, sa fille, a celui qui lui a rendu maints services 
(1, 13, 39). (d) Le heros refuse d'epouser la princesse a laquelle 
il a droit, ou qui lui est ofTerte (10, 15, 39). (c) Un jeune magicien 
Spouse la princesse qui lui a sauve la vie (17). (/) Le prince de 
I'Epee-verte epouse la soeur d'un roi etranger (11). (g) Gilbert veut 
epouser la fille du roi, mais n'y reussit point. 

91. Choix de la plus belle. — (a) Cendrillon, etant la plus belle, est 
choisie par le fils du roi, qui Tepouse (7, 8); Petit-Jean se marie a la 
plus jeune des princesses, qui est la plus belle (4). (6) Le roi donne sa 
couronne a Petit-Jean, le cadet de ses fils, parce qu'il a epouse la plus 
belle des princesses (6) ; Brise-bois et Brise-montagnes se battent pour 
la plus belle des trois princesses (16); le roi epouse la plus jeune de 
trois paysannes, qui est la plus belle (27). 

92. Testament de roi. — (a) Le liberateur se marie a la princesse, et 
le roi lui donne ses richesses et son royaume (2); "le roi leur a donn6 
tons ses biens, son chateau, ses parterres et son royaume" (3); "apres 
le mariage, le roi remet sa couronne a Ti-Jean (4). (6) Le roi dit: 
"C'est mon Ti-Jean qui a gagne ma couronne," et I'enlevant de sa tete, 



r 



20 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

bang! il la met sur celle de Ti-Jean (6) ; Parle, en epousant la princesse, 
h^rite de tout le royaume (13); " le manage eut lieu avec de grandes 
c^r^monies, et Ti-Jean monta sur le trone ou il regna longtemps avec 
bonheur" (42). 

93. Chdtiment des crimes. — (a) Sont ecartelees: les deux sceurs 
jalouses de leur eadette (27), et la sorciere et sa fille qui ont metamor- 
phose le prince de I'Epee-verte et sa sceur (11) ; le charbonnier trompeur 
est brtile sur un bucher (5); Charles et Georges sont mis en cage et 
briiles a petit feu, en punition de leur jalousie malfaisante (13); Brise- 
bois et Brise-montagnes perissent sous le sabre de Petit-Jean qu'ils 
ont trahi (16). (6) Le roi dit a Petit-Jean: "Qu'est-ce que tu ordonnes 
au capitaine qui t'a trahi pour epouser ma princesse a ta place?" 
— "Je ne lui ordonne rien; car il faut faire le bien pour le mal" (10); 
le sorcier Jean-Parle a la tete tranchee par les gens de justice, et 
Finette h^rite de ses biens et de son chateau (28). 

Combats, Jalousies et Rivalites. 

94. Destruction des geants. — (a) Petit-Jean tue les grants pen- 
dant qu'ils dorment (10, 16). (6) Petit-Jean, vetu de la peau de 
boeuf qui le rend invincible, enfonce les trois geants sous terre et 
leur rompt la tete (3); Antoine tranche la tete des trois geants k 
mesure qu'ils entrent dans le soupirail (12); Martineau-pain-sec 
acheve les grants epuises a force de se battre (20) ; Jean tue les geants 
avec sa baguette magique (42). (c) Parle et Parlafine emprisonnent 
les geants dans une boite trainee sur un chariot (13, 14). 

95. Querelles qu^amene la ruse. — Antoine tire une fleche et mouche 
un g^ant; tire une autre fleche et eteint la chandelle; les geants se 
battent chaque fois, s'accusant les uns les autres de ces tours (12); 
Martineau-pain-sec, cache dans un arbre, lance des pierres aux geants 
dormant au-dessous et leur casse des dents; les geants s'entretuent 
en s'accusant mutuellement de brutalite (20); Jean, rendu invisible 
par sa ceinture magique, mange la soupe des geants qui, pour cette 
raison, se querellent (42). 

96. Destruction des dragons. — (a) Petit-Jean dort sur les genoux 
de la princesse, en attendant I'arrivee du dragon de feu; quand elle 
le reveille, a I'approche du monstre, il dit h sa jument: "Bois la moiti^ 
de la mer ! Eteins le dragon de feu sept lieues a la ronde !" Le 
dragon demande quartier; et, le lendemain, les chiens Fort, Raide, 
S'est-fait-tort, Prends-ma-garde, A-ton-maitre et Feu le dechirent 
en mille miettes (3). (6) "A trois reprises Petit- Jean tranche plu- 
sieurs tetes de la Bete-a-sept-tetes; mais la troisieme fois seulement 
il reussit a la tuer (7) ; Jean tue la Bete-a-sept-tetes avec sa baguette 
magique (42). 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 21 

97. Quartier au lendemain. — Le Corps-sans-ame et le dragon de 
feu demandent quartier au lendemain; ce qui leur est accord^; mais 
le lendemain ils sont plus forts que la veille (2, 3); la B6te-^-scpt- 
tetes demande trois fois quartier avant d'etre detruite (5); I'ennemi 
demande trois fois quartier avant d'etre definitivement vaincu (4), 

98. Concours d'hahilete ou de force. — (a) Dans le concours de 
la lance et de I'anneau, Petit-Jean reussit la ou son rival, le char- 
bonnier, echoue (5); le roi promet sa couronne a celui de ses fils qui 
lui procurera la plus belle toile du pays, lui ramdnera le plus beau 
cheval et la plus belle princesse; et c'est Petit-Jean qui remporte la 
victoire (6); Brise-bois et Brise-montagnes sont battus par la petite 
Capuche-bleue, et leur compagnon Petit-Jean est le seul qui vienne 
k bout de la detruire (16). (6) Petit-Jean s'esseye avec le geant et 
reussit a le convaincre qu'il peut lancer plus loin que lui la canne 
de fer de trois mille livres et manger plus de bouillie que lui (3). 
(c) Trois personnes gagent que celui qui fera le plus beau reve aura 
ce qui leur reste a manger (35, 36). 

99. Champ aride et champ fertile. — A cote d'un champ brule du 
soleil et sans herbe se trouve un paturage ou I'herbe croit k hauteur 
d'homme, mais en la possession des geants ou du Corps-sans-ame; 
un vacher, un berger ou un porcher y font entrer leurs animaux, 
luttent avec les occupants qu'ils finissent par vaincre, grace h la 
ruse ou a certains charmes (3, 2, 43). 

100. Force herculeenne. — (a) Brise-bois frappait les arbres k 
coups de poing; Brise-montagnes frappait les montagnes; et Petit- 
Jean, etant le plus fort des trois, detruit la petite Capuche-bleue 
apr^s deux combats (41); Petit-Jean-petit-bois, en battant le grain 
du roi, fait ecrouler ses granges; au moulin du diable il ne trouve 
point son maitre; et les roches qu'on lui lance sur la tete dans un 
puits ne lui paraissent que des gravois (15); Dom Jean est tellement 
fort et laborieux qu'il excite la jalousie des fermiers du roi (39). (6) 
Feignant la puissance, Martineau-pain-sec gagne I'admiration du 
roi (20). (c) Vetu de sa peau magique de boeuf, Petit-Jean ne ren- 
contre point son egal sur la terre; il renverse les arbres et les murail- 
les, et detruit les geants en les enfon^ant sous terre (3). (d) Force 
phenomenale des geants (voir plus haut, No 46). 

101. Jalousie fraternelle. — (a) Les deux freres aines ne reussis- 
sent pas a decouvrir qui prend le foin dans la tasserie de leur pere. 
Petit- Jean dit: "Moi, je vais y aller." Les autres se mettent a rire 
de lui. "Oui, un beau Jin pour garder la tasserie !" II y va et de- 
couvre ce qu'il cherche (5); les trois freres arrivent ensemble aux 
trois chemins; les deux freres aines disent a Petit-Jean: "Ne nous suis 
pas; c'est un vrai deshonneur !" II repond: ''Qa ne fait rien; allez- 



22 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

vous-en !" Et, devant leiir pere, ils se moquent de leur cadet. C'est 
Petit-Jean, toutefois, qui gagne la couronne du roi (6); Cendrillon, 
que ses soeurs et sa belle-mere honnissent, devient I'epouse du prince 
(8, 9) ; Parle, que ses freres meprisent et renient, fait tant de merveilles 
qu'il devient roi (13). (6) Poussees par I'envie, les deux sceurs ain^es 
font croire au roi que leur cadette, son Spouse, a donne le jour a 
un singe (27). 

Tours, Fraudes et Deceptions. 

102. Trahison de Venvie. — (a) Craignant la force extraordinaire 
de Petit-Jean-petit-bois, le roi cherche a le faire d^truire en I'ex- 
posant a toutes sortes de dangers (15). (6) L'envie mene a vouloir 
la perte d'un parent ou d'un protecteur (3, 8, 11, 13, 16, 17, 27, 39, 
45). 

103. Vidime substituee. — (a) Pensant tuer les enfants ^gar^s, 
k qui sa femme a donn6 des bonnets bruns, le g^ant tue ses propres 
filles a qui Parlafine a mis les bonnets par ruse (14); Pois-verts, qu'on 
va Jeter a la mer dans un sac, echange sa place avec un autre, qui, 
en cherchant ainsi fortune, s'en va a sa perte (21); le petit Bonhomme- 
de-graisse met a sa place, dans le sac, le fils de la vieille qui vient I'y 
tuer a coups de couteau, sans le reconnaitre (45). (b) Quand les 
animaux se vengent de la perte de leur secret, c'est sur le frere infame 
de celui qu'ils veulent d^truire (1). 

104. Substitutions. — (a) La vieille couvre sa fille hideuse d'un 
voile, et la remet au prince en lui faisant croire que c'est Cendrillon 
(8); la vieille magicienne fait croire au roi que son fantome est la 
princesse de I'Ep^e-verte a qui il a promis par serment de se marier 
(11). (6) La magicienne coupe le pommier aux fruits d'or et en accuse 
le prince de I'Epee-verte; elle tue I'enfant du roi et fait punir le prince 
pour ce crime (11). (c) Le petit Bonhomme-de-graisse met un caillou 
a sa place dans le sac de la vieille femme (45). (d) On accuse la 
reine d'avoir donne naissance a un singe, quand son enfant ^tait le 
plus beau au monde (27). 

105. Credidite exploitee. — (a) Petit-Jean feint de lancer la canne 
de fer du geant a neuf lieues, ce dont le geant le croit capable; plus 
tard, Petit- Jean gage qu'il pent manger plus que le geant, verse la 
bouillie dans un sac qu'il perce ensuite; croyant que son rival s'est 
percd le ventre, le geant en fait autant, et meurt (3). (6) Les freres 
jaloux font croire au roi que Petit-Jean s'est vante d'aller chercher 
le violon, la lune, les bottes du g^ant et le gdant lui-meme. Au roi 
qui lui dit: "Puisque tu t'en es vante, tu vas y aller," Parle repond: 
"Je ne m'en suis pas vante, mais je vais y aller quand meme ..." (13) ; 
Parlafine se fait donner la bourse des geants, et, a la fin, capture m^me 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 23 

un geant en exploitant sa naivete (14). (c) Martineau-pain-sec 
devient le favori du roi en feignant la force et la bravoure, quand il 
n'est qu'un paresseux et un lache (20); Pois- verts se moque de la 
cupidit6 de son maitre en lui vendant comme charmes des objets 
inutiles, et en le faisant mettre dans un sac et jeter a la mer (21). 
(d) La naivete du diable lui fait perdre ses victimes (22, 23) ; en fei- 
gnant d'etre raalade, Finette conduit le dangereux Jean-Parle h sa 
ruine (28). (e) La credulite est aussi le theme qu'on utilise dans 
maints autres contes (1, 4, 11, 12, 16, 41, 44, etc.). 

106. La porte defendue. — En lui remettant toutes les clefs du 
chateau, la sorciere defend a Petit-Jean d'ouvrir une certaine porte; 
mais Petit-Jean desobeit et trouve la fontaine d'or qu'elle reccile; 
la magicienne lui pardonne la premiere fois, mais le poursuifc pour le 
tuer, la seconde (4); Jean-Parle defend a ses servantes d'ouvrir une 
certaine porte durant son absence, et leur laisse les clefs; les servantes 
Guvrent la porte et trouvent les cadavres de ses femmes; la clef qui 
se tache du sang indelebile revele leur indiscretion fatale (28). 

107. Le sac de Pois-verts. — On va jeter Pois- verts a la mer; il 
crie qu'il ne veut pas y aller; un pauvre passe et lui demande od; 
Pois-verts repond qu'il ne veut pas aller coucher avec la princesse; 
le pauvre prend sa place dans le sac, et perit. Voyant revenir Pois- 
verts, d'autres sont trompes de la meme manidre, et jetes a la mer 
(21). 

108. Deguisement. — (a) L'homme se deguise en petit gargon 
pour voir si le loup ment (41); Parlafine se deguise en chien pour 
entrer chez le geant (14); Parle se deguise en roi pour capturer le 
g^ant, dans son chariot (13) ; Petit-Jean se deguise pour aller combattre 
le dragon ou la Bete-^-sept-tetes (4, 5); Petit-Jean se deguise pour 
aller punir les Gascons voleurs (18). (6) Le diable se deguise pour 
tromper des personnes de bonne foi (24, 25). 

109. Secrets decouverts. — (a) Cach^ dans un arbre, I'aveugle 
d^couvre les secrets de trois animaux qui, plus tard, punissent un 
autre pour cette indiscretion (1). (6) La princesse se fait dire le 
secret de vie du Corps-sans-ame, qu'elle trahit ensuite et conduit 
a sa perte (2) ; le secret de la metamorphose de la princesse de I'Ep^e- 
verte est decouvert par un paysan, qui le declare au roi (11). (6) 
Parlafine, par indiscretion, decouvre que son pere va I'abandonner 
le lendemain, dans les bois (14); le secret du diable, qui se nomme 
Cacholet, est decouvert par un bticheron, dans les bois (24); un ser- 
viteur rapporte au roi le souhait des trois paysannes, qu'il a entendu 
par indiscretion (27). Le cocassier revile au mari trompe les four- 
beries de sa femme (29). 

110. Choses subtilisees. — (a) L'hdtelier subtilise la poule aux 



24 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

ceufs d'or, I'ane crottant Tor et I'argent, la serviette au repas servi, 
et les remplace par des objets semblables, mais de moindre valeur 
(19, 43). (6) Un Gascon vole impudemment le cochon que Petit- 
Jean veut lui vendre; Petit-Jean, a son tour, vole a main armee I'ane 
crottant Tor et I'argent; voleurs mis en fuite (2, 18). (e) Parlafine, 
h force de ruses, vole le violon, la lune, les bottes, la bourse et le 
troupeau des geants (13, 14). (d) Un individu meurt sans payer sa 
dette et expie sa faute en revenant souffrir sur la terre (26). 

111. Propriete reconquise. — Petit-Jean, au moyen de son baton 
magique, recouvre les objets qui lui ont ete vol^s (19, 42). 

112. Les figues d'Esope. — Les fermiers du roi mangent les mets 
que Dom Jean a prepares pour son maitre, et en rejettent la faute 
sur Dom Jean lui-meme. A la suggestion de Dom Jean chacun 
absorbe une dose de sel, et en vomissant ce qu'ils ont mang^,les fer- 
miers s'accusent de leur fourberie (39). 

113. L'ami contradideur. — Au roi qui lui demande s'il a des 
biens, Gilbert r^pond que non. Son ami declare qu'il est le plus riche 
de la terre. Le roi demande a Gilbert pourquoi il se gratte; il r^pond 
qu'il a un petit bouton. Son ami declare qu'il est cousu de boutons. 
C'est pourquoi le roi le cong^die (44). 

Voyages et Transports. 

114. Peregrinations lointaines. — Le voyage de Petit-Jean aux 
Sept-montagnes-vertes, au cours duquel il est aid6 par trois magi- 
ciennes et le rock, et qui dure un an et un jour (7); voyage au pays 
du Corps-sans-ame (2); les longs voyages sur mer du petit gargon 
et du prince de I'Epee-verte (10, 11); le mari d'une femme legere 
va chercher de I'eau de la fontaine de Paris (29). 

115. Transports dans un sac. — Pois- verts, le pauvre et le cur6 
sont portes a la mer dans un sac (21); Larriv^e porte a un forgeron 
les trois emissaires du diable dans son sac; et lui-meme entre au ciel 
dans son sac (22); sans le savoir, Jean-Parle transporte Charlotte, 
Javotte et Finette dans des coffres qu'il croit remplis de linge (28); 
le cocassier transporte et cache dans son panier I'homme qui allait 
chercher de I'eau de la fontaine de Paris (29); la vieille transporte le 
petit Bonhomme-de-graisse dans un sac (45). 

116. Voyages datis V autre monde. — (a) Apres sa mort, Larriv^e va 
f rapper a la porte du ciel; mais on le renvoie a I'enfer; de la il revient 
de nouveau au ciel ou il finit par entrer (22); Pipette, s'^tant fait 
enterrer vivant, s'en va au ciel, de la, a I'enfer; mais comme le diable 
a promis de ne I'y point recevoir, il revient au ciel, ou il entre (23). 
(6) Le revenant part pour le ciel sous la forme d'une petite lumiere, 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 25 

et le mauvais seigneur est enfonce dans Tenfer (26). (c) Les tvo'iA 
chasseurs, ou les trois Gascons, revent qu'ils vont au ciel et voient 
Dieu et la Sainte Vierge (35, 36). 

117. Orphee aux enfers. — Petit-Jean se rend dans un monde 
inf^rieur, dont I'entree est un puits profond ou Ton descend dans un 
panier suspendu. C'est la que vit la petite Capuche-bleue, un mons- 
tre, et que les geants gardent trois princesses. Le meme panier 
remonte les princesses au haut du puits, oii Petit-Jean se fait trans- 
porter par le rock (16). 

118. Retoiirs de V autre monde. — (a) Saint Pierre permet k Larriv^e 
de descendre un moment sur la terre ou 11 revient chercher son sac 
magique (22). (6) Maudit apres sa mort par un crediteur impitoya- 
ble, un homme revient sur la terre s'engager et gagner sa dette (26). 

119. Les portiers du ciel et de Venfer. — Saint Pierre est le portier 
du ciel, et le diable est celui de Tenfer (22, 23). 

CONTES MERVEILLEUX. 
1. LES SECRETS DU LION, DE l'OURS ET DU LOUP.^ 

Une fois, c'etait deux orphelins. L'un dit a I'autre: "Pour gagner 
votre vie, je vas te crever les yeux; et nous irons dans les campagnes 
demander la charite pour I'aveugle que tu seras. Et nous ferons pas 
mal d'argent." Le plus jeune repond : " C'est bien ! Je consens 
a ce que tu me creves les yeux, pourvu que jamais tu ne m'abandonnes." 
Lui ayant promis de ne jamais Tabandonner, son frere lui creve 
yeux. 

Apres avoir parcouru ensemble les paroisses - pendant cinq ou 
six annees, ils se sont ramasse un peu d'argent; mais le frere aine 
devient tanne de trainer ainsi partout son frere aveugle. II I'emmene 
au bord d'une riviere dans la foret, le jette a I'eau et ne s'en va que 
quand il le voit au milieu de la riviere. L'aveugle, a la fin, reussit t\ 
s'accrocher a une branche au bord de la riviere et a se retirer de I'eau. 
Dans la crainte de se faire devorer par les loups, il vient a bout de 
grimper dans un arbre, en se disant: "La, du moins, je ne me ferai 
pas manger." 

Vers le soir, un ours, un lion et un loup arrivcnt ensemble au pied 
de I'arbre. Pendant qu'ils conversent, I'ours dit: "J'ai un secret, 
moi." Le lion repond: "Moi aussi." Et le loup: "Moi aussi, j'en 
sais un." L'ours reprend: "Le prince est bien maladc; mais je suis 
capable de le guerir. II y a un gros crapaud sous son lit : c'est ce qui 

1 Racont6 par Mme Prudent. Sioui, en aoiit, 1914, a Lorette, Quebec. Ce 
conte lui venait de feue Marie Michaud (Picard). 

2 I.e., communes, en France. 



26 Journal of Ainerican Folk-Lore. 

le tient malade. Je n'aurais qu'a I'oter de la, et le prince reviendrait 
k la sant^." Le lion dit a Tours: "Voici mon secret: le roi est aveugle; 
je n'aurais qu'a prendre une feuille de cet arbre-ci et a lui en frotter 
les yeux pour qu'il recouvre la vue." Quant au loup: "Moi, j'ai 
un secret: dans le village, ils^ n'ont pas une goutte d'eau. lis n'au- 
raient seulement qu'a oter une pierre sous I'^glise pour que Teau 
revienne." 

Ayant entendu cette conversation, le jeune homme dans I'arbre 
prend une feuille, s'en frotte les yeux et recouvre la vue ; prend une 
autre feuille et la met dans sa poche. 

L'ours, le lion et le loup s'en vont chacun de leur hord. Le gargon 
descend de I'arbre, se rend au chateau et va voir le roi, a qui il dit: 
"Votre prince est bien malade. Moi, je puis le guerir, si vous me 
donnez cinq mille piastres." ^ Comme aucun m^decin ne connaissait 
sa maladie et ne pouvait le soulager, le roi est bien content et dit: 
"Je vas te donner les cinq mille piastres." Le jeune homme fait 
semblant de rien et avint ^ le crapaud, sous le lit du prince. II ne 
I'avait pas sitot avindu que ddja le prince allait mieux. Le roi dit: 
"C'est assez! il va bien. Mais tu demandes trop chcr." Le gargon 
qarroche * le crapaud sous le lit, et voila le prince encore bien malade. 
"C'est bien, c'est bien! dit le roi; gu^ris-le, je vais te donner I'argent." 
Mon bonhomme enleve done la bete sans que le roi s'en apergoive; 
et voila le prince gu^ri. Avec ses cinq mille piastres, il part et s'en 
va. 

Le lendemain, il arrive au chateau du roi aveugle et lui dit: "Vous 
ne voyez rien. Moi, je puis vous guerir si vous me donnez sept mille 
piastres." Le roi ne regarde pas a I'argent pour recouvrer la vue. 
Le jeune homme prend sa feuille et en frotte les yeux du roi qui, 
de suite, voit clair. Bien content d'avoir d'aussi bons yeux qu'll 
r^ge de quinze ans, le roi lui donne les sept mille piastres promises. 

De la, le gargon se rend chez le maire de la paroisse et lui dit: "Vous 
n'avez pas une goutte d'eau; mais je suis capable de la faire revenir 
si vous me donnez huit mille piastres." Le maire ne trouve pas 
cela trop cher, vu que sans eau dans le village, ce n'est pas ais6 d'y 
vivre. II accepte, et le gargon va dessous I'eglise, ote la pierre; et 
I'eau rcssoud dans tout le village. 

Une fois sorti de chez le maire, mon gargon rencontre heji son frere: 
"Tiens! bonjour, mon frere; tu vols clair!" Et se jetant a ses pieds, 
il lui demande pardon. "Dis-moi n'importe quelle penitence, et je la 
ferai." Son frere lui repond: "Mais va done h. I'endroit ou tu m'as 

1 I.e., les villageois. 

2 La "piastre" ou "dollar," au Canada, ^quivaut k cinq francs, au pair. 

3 I.e., atlrape. 

4 I.e., lance. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 27 

quitte aveugle. La, monte dans I'arbrc au bord do la rivi6re !" Ce 
que son frere fait. 

Le soir venu, Tours, le lion et le loup arrivent encore a la memo place, 
sous I'arbre. En colere de voir leurs secrets decouverts, ils se mettent 
k regarder dans I'arbre. Y apercevant un homme, ils s'ecrient: "C'est 
lui qui nous a declares;^ rnangeons-le!" Et ils le devorent ^belles 
dents. 

Quant k son frere, il se maria a la fille du roi, cliez qui il vit encore 
comme un bienheureux, et cmtera. 

2. LE CORl'S-SANS-AME. ^ 

Une fois, c'etait un homme et une femme, lis etaient si pauvres 
qu'ils n'avaient pas les moyens de faire instruire leur seul enfant, un 
petit gargon. 

A I'age de dix-sept ans, le jeune homme dit: "Mes parents, au- 
jourd'hui, je pars d'ici." Le pere repond: "Mon petit gargon, tu 
pars ? Je vais te donner quelque chose pour que tu te souviennes de 
moi." — "Je ne peux pas voir ^ ce que vous allez me donner?" — "Ce 
que je te donne, c'est mon canif d'argent." Prenant le canif d'argent, 
le gargon part, prend le chemin et marche. Au bout de sept jours, 
il arrive au bord d'un fleuve, dans les bois. N'ayant pas d'abri 
pour la nuit, il se couche pres d'une souche, et, lo lendemain matin, il 
commence a suivre le sentier, le long du fleuve. Marche toute la 
journee. Comme il n'y a pas de fin a la foret, vers le soir il pense: 
"Peut-etre serais-je mieux de revirer? Je crois bien que je suis pris 
pour mourir ici." Mais il pense toujours a son canif d'argent,^ de 
peur d'etre attaqu^ par quelque bete feroce. Le lendemain matin, il 
apergoit, le long du sentier, un vieux cheval mort et a moitie devor6. 
Passant tout droit, il marche vite et, au bout d'une heure, il entend 
un vacarme epouvantable. Un lion, un aigle ^ et une chenille se 
battent pour avoir le cheval. Le hon dit a I'aigle eta la chenille: "II 
vient de passer un jeune homme ici. Donnons apres lui ! ^ Toi, 
I'aigle, tu voles vite. Va lui dire qu'il vienne nous le separer pour nous 
faire plaisir, et que nous le rccompenserons." L'aigle prend sa volee 
vers le jeune homme, et, arrivant k lui, il dit: "Venez done ou 

1 I.e., denonce; ici le sens est "qui a decouvert nos secrets." 

2 Raconte par Narcisse Thiboutot, de Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juii- 
let, 1915. Ce conte lui venait de son oncle, feu Charles Francocur, ne b. la 
Rivi^re-Ouelle, mais residant a Sainte-Anne. Le titre du conte est celui que le 
conteur a donne de lui-meme. 

3 I.e., deviner. 

4 Ce canif etait doue de vertus magiques. 

5 Thiboutot disait: un zaigle. 
8 Courons apres lui. 



28 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

ce qu'est le cheval, pour le s^parer entre nous, un lion, un aigle et une 
chenille, qui nous nous battons pour I'avoir." — ''Ah! je suppose 
que vous, bStes, avez fini de manger cette pauvre carcasse?" — "Ne 
craignez rien, r^pete Faigle; le lion vous fait demander de venir. 
II y a longtemps que nous nous chicanons sans pouvoir manger, et 
nous avons faim." Bien en peine, le jeune homme revive, se disant: "Je 
suis toujours pour mourir; j'y vais." Le voyant arriver, le lion dit: 
"Bonjour, maitre des braves!" La chenille en dit autant. Et ils 
demandent: "S^pare qa entre nous; et ce que tu feras sera bien fait. 
Nous te r^compenserons." Le gargon prend done son canif, coupe le 
cou du cheval, et donne la tete a la chenille, disant: ''Toi, la chenille, 
tu n'es pas grosse; tu mangeras la moelle dans les os, et le crane te 
fera un abri pour le mauvais temps." Puis il ^ventre le cheval et 
donne les tripes a I'aigle, disant: "Toi, I'aigle, on te voit toujours sur 
la greve a manger du poisson. Ceci est pour toi." Et au lion, il dit: 
"Je te donne le restant; ayant de bonnes dents, tu peux manger les os." 
Le lion s'ecrie: "Merci, monsieur, merci, monsieur! c'est justement 
pour 9a que je me battais." La chenille repete la meme chose, et 
I'aigle en dit autant. "Pour ta recompense, dit le lion, je vais te 
donner la meilleure chose que tu pourras jamais avoir." — "Quoi, 
mon lion ? Que vas-tu me donner ?" — "Regarde sous ma patte gauche 
de devant, et prends-y un poil blanc. Enveloppe-le dans ton mou- 
choir, pour ne pas le perdre. Quand tu voudras devenir lion toi-meme, 
tu diras: 'Adieu, lion!' et tu seras le plus beau des lions et maitre de 
tons les lions." L'aiglc, a son tour, dit: "Moi, je vais aussi te donner 
ma recompense. Regarde dans mon aile gauche, ou il y a une plume 
blanche. Arrache-la et conserve-la. Et quand tu voudras devenir 
aigle, tu n'auras qu'a dire: 'Adieu, aigle!' et tu seras le mattre des 
aigles et le plus beau de tous les aigles." II reste encore la chenille. 
Elle dit: "Moi, je ne suis pas grosse, mais je te donne ma recompense 
pareil. ^ Prends ma patte gauche d'en arriere, et arrache-la. Quand 
tu voudras devenir chenille, tu n'auras qu'a penser a moi, et tu seras 
la plus belle et la maitresse de toutes les chenilles." Partant de d'ld, 
il les remercie comme'i'faut, et bien content comme eux, il continue 
son chemin. 

Un peu plus tard dans la journee, il entend, dans la foret, un train 
6pouvantable. "Qu'est-ce que ga peut bien etre?" se demande-t-il. 
C'etait comme si des betes feroces se battaient; et par secousses,- 
il y avait des voix. Tout a coup, que voit-il venir ? Une bande de 
voleurs, vingt en tout, qui se disent: "Je viens de voir un homme." 
En les apercevant, le gargon pense a sa chenille. Le voila chenille, 
et il se cache sous la racine d'un arbre. Des voleurs disent: "II y a 
un homme ici; il faut le prendre et le tuer." D'autres r^pondent: 

1 Pour parcillemenl. 2 Ou cscousses] i.e., par moments. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 29 

"Ce n'est pas vrai; il n'y a personne ici." Ne pouvant s'accorder, ils 
se battent. La chenille pense: "II faut que je me mette en lion, 
pour leur faire peur." En voyant le lion, imaginez-vous que les voleurs 
crient! Ne sachant ou se sauver, ils prennent la fuite de tons c6t6s. 
Et le jeune homme continue son chemin. 

Un peu plus loin, il se dit: 'Tlutot que de marcher, je vais devenir 
aigle, pour aller plus vite, en volant." Aigle, il vole par-dessus les 
arbres et arrive dans une belle prairie s^paree en deux. Du c6t6 
ou se trouve une petite maison, il y a un grand troupeau de moutons. 
L'aigle arrive a la maison, se change en homme, cogne a la porte et 
demande a loger. "Mais, mon cher monsieur, s'dcrie la maitresse 
de la maison, zetes-voxis de ce monde-ci ou bien de I'autre mon- 
de?" — "Madame, j'ai longtemps marche pour traverser cette foret." 
— "Je ne puis pas vous croire. II faut que vous ayez ^t^ transports, 
car c'est ici la prairie du Corps-sans-ame." Le jeune homme de- 
mande: "Voulez-vous m'engager?" Elle repond: "Oui, et ce sera 
pour garder les moutons." 

Le lendemain, de bon matin, il part avcc son troupeau de moutons. 
Mais comme il n'y a pas grand'herbe, les moutons braillent pour 
passer dans le clos voisin, celui du Corps-sans-ame, qui est tout en 
beau foin. "Ces pauvres moutons! dit le jeune homme, ils seraient 
bien mieux dans le champ de foin qu'ici, oii il n'y a rien a manger." 
DSbouche une pagee ^ de cloture et fait passer le troupeau. Ce 
quHl apergoit? Le Corps-sans-ame, sous la forme d'un lion, couche 
le long de la cloture. "Que viens-tu faire ici, ver de terre?" — "Je 
ne suis pas plus ver de terre que toi." — "C'est ce qu'on va voir. 
Esseyons-nousV — "Oui, il faut s'essmjer. Mais attendons a demain 
pour avoir une chance." — "Oui, mais pourquoi attendre a demain ?" 
— "Je voudrais manger de la bouillie au sucre pour etre aussi fort 
que toi, le lion." — "Tu peux bien manger de la bouillie au sucre et 
la saler aussi." 

Ayant eu connaissance de cette ostination'' entre le lion et le ser- 
viteur, la fille de la vieille femme dit a sa mere: "II faut lui faire de 
la bouillie, ce soir. Demain il doit se battrc avec le Corps-sans-ame." 
Et quand il arrive, le soir, la vieille est a faire de la bouillie. II de- 
mande: "La mere, pourquoi done faites-vous de la bouillie?" — 
"Jeune homme, repond-elle, vous avez dit que si vous mangiez de 
la bouillie, vous seriez aussi fort que le Corps-sans-ame, qui est sous 
la forme d'un lion." — "Oui, grand'mere, je serai aussi fort, certain. 
Demain, je me battrai avec lui. Mais, que j'aie le dessous ou le dessus, 
ne venez pas voir, ne regardcz pas." 

Le jeune homme mange la bouillie. 

1 Consistant des perches comprises entre deux paires de piquets. 

2 Obstination; pour dispute, querelle. 



30 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

Le lendemain matin, le Corps-sans-ame est presse d'arriver, pour 
commencer la lutte. Trouvant le jeune homme endormi le long de la 
cloture, il le reveille, et, tout enrage, il lui dit: "Tu ne m'as pas Fair 
d'un homme qui a mange de la bouillie." — "Tu t'apercevras tantot 
de ce que j'ai mange. La, il se tourne en ^ lion. La bataille prend, 
et ga se bat, ga se bat! A la fin, le Corps-sans-ame a le dessous, et 
demande quartier a trois jours, pour prendre sa revanche. Le jeune 
homme repond: "Dans trois jours tu ne seras pas meilleur qu'aujour- 
d'hui." — "Mets tes moutons dans mon champ a foin jusqu'a ce que 
j'aie pris ma revanche." Et le jeune homme lui donne quartier k 
trois jours. 

Le soir, de bonne heure, pendant qu'il soupe, il dit a la vieille et k 
sa fille: "II faut que, cette nuit, j'aille voir de I'autre bord de cette 
prairie." Et, se mettant en aigle, il traverse toute la prairie, apergoit 
le plus beau des chateaux, et se jouque^ sut une fenetre. Dans ce 
chdteau se trouvait une princesse que le Corps-sans-ame avait volee 
a son pere. Emprisonnee dans ce chateau, elle se croyait gardee 
pour toujours par le sorcier que personne ne pourrait jamais tuer. 
L'aigle se change en jeune homme, et, passant la nuit avec la princesse, 
il lui demande: "Que faudrait-il faire pour detruire le Corps-sans- 
ame?" Elle repond: "II est bien malade. Apres s'etre battu hier 
avec je ne sais qui, il est revenu bien massacre. II doit bientot prendre 
sa revanche." — "Demande-lui done ce qu'il faudrait faire pour 
trouver son ame." — "Je lui demanderai. Tu reviendras demain soir, 
que je te le dise." De la, le jeune homme s'en va rejoindre son trou- 
peau. 

Comme le Corps-sans-ame, le lendemain, se prepare a sortir de 
son chateau, la princesse dit: "Mon Corps-sans-ame, pourquoi sortez- 
vous et me laissez-vous toujours seule. Je crains que vous ne veniez 
k vous faire tuer." — "Ne crains pas! II n'y a point de danger! 
Personne ne pent me tuer." — "Mais comment done?" — "Pour me 
detruire il faudrait qu'on me tue quand je suis en lion, qu'on eventre 
le lion et dans son corps prenne le pigeon qui s'y trouve, qu'on ouvre 
le pigeon et y prenne les trois oeufs, et qu'on vienne me les casser 
sur le front." — "Ah! puisque c'est comme 9a, repond-elle, il n'y a pas 
de danger qu'il vous arrive malheur." 

Le soir, l'aigle ressoud encore, et se jouque a la fenetre. Ouvrant 
le chassis, elle le fait entrer. "Qu'est-ce que le Corps-sans-ame t'a 
dit ?" deraanda-t-il; et elle lui raconte tout. Quand elle acheve, il dit: 
"Moi, je puis faire tout ga, princesse." — "Si tu en es capable, jeune 
homme, mon pere a fait publier dans tout son pays * que celui qui me 

1 Se change en. 

2 I.e., sejuche. 

3 Thiboutot, ayant un peu d'mstruction et un langago plus recherche que la 
plupart des conteurs, a ici substitue cette expression k la plus ancienne ... "a fait 
battre un ban." 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 31 

d^livrerait m'aurait en mariage." — ''Ala princesse, Qa va arriver 
demain. Quand j'aurai tu^ le lion, il viendia ici en personne, bien 
malade; et il te demandera a boire; mais, prends bien garde de lui en 
donner. Si tii le faisais il pourrait t'arriver malheur: en te frappant, 
il pourrait te donner la mort." — "Ne eraignez pas!" repond-elle. 

Le lendemain, les deux lions se rencontrent, et voila la chicane qui 
prend. Qa buchc! ^ Toujours, ^ le Corps-sans-ame finit par revoler 
en eclats. Et quand le lion est mourant, le Corps-sans-ame arrive en 
personne a son chateau et tombe paralyse, incapable de grouiller. 
"De I'eau, vite, vite!" demande-t-il a la princesse. "Attends, tu vas 
beto^ avoir ce qu'il te faut." De son cot^, le jeune homme prend son 
canif d'argent et eventre le lion. Un pigeon en sort et s'envole dans 
les airs. Pensant a son aigle, le jeune homme devient aigle et chasse 
le pigeon. L'ayant attrap6, il I'ouvre, prend les trois oeufs et les 
enveloppe bien precieusement dans son mouchoir. 

II arrive au chateau du Corps-sans-ame, y entre, et le trouve para- 
lyse: "N'approche pas ici! dit le malade; tu es mort si je saute sur toi." 
— "Ah! tu n'es pas dangereux!" Prenant les trois oeufs de pigeon, il 
les lui casse sur le front, d'abord un et ensuite les deux autres. Voila 
le Corps-sans-ame mort. La princesse n'est pas Idche * a venir trouver 
le jeune homme. "Tu vas t'en venir avec moi au pays de mon pere. 
Quand j'ai ete volee, a I'age de quinze ans, mon pere m'a promise en 
mariage a celui qui me ramenerait." Le jeune homme repond: "Prin- 
cesse, il faut toujours que j'aille dire a la vieille femme dent je garde 
les moutons, que je m'en vais. Autrement, elle serait occupee ^ de 
moi." Arrive chez la vieille, il dit: "La mere! la belle prairie a foin du 
Corps-sans-ame vous appartient admeiire.^ Je viens de le tuer. Moi, 
je m'en vais avec la princesse chez son pere." Bien contente, la vieille 
lui a pay*^ le temps qu'il a de fait.^ 

Le jeune homme et la princesse arrivent chez le roi, qui les marie 
ensemble et leur donne toutes ses richesses et son royaume. 

Et moi, i!s m'ont renvoye ici. Je leur avais aide, mais ils ne m'ont 
pas dcnnd un sou. 

3. LE DRAGON DE FYV ^ 

line fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'etait un roi. II dit a sa femme, un 

1 Bucher ici est dans le sens do Jrapper, se haUre. 

2 Pour enfin. 

3 Pour bientot. 

4 I.e., lente. 

5 I.e., inquiete. 

6 Pour d demcure, definitivcraent. 

7 I.e., paye pour le temps qu'il avait et^ a son service. 

8 Racont(5 par Achille Fournicr, a Sainte-Anne de la Pocatiere, Kamquraska, 
P.Q., en juillet, 1915. Fournier dit qu'il a appris ce conte, quand il etait jeune 
homme, d'un mendiant, a. Sainte-Anne. 



32 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

jour: "Celui qui mourra devant ^ ne se remariera point; notre petit 
gargon aurait de la misere." De Tun et de I'autre ce marche passe 
entre les deux. La femme meurt et le roi, veuf, va a la ehasse tous 
les jours. 

Le petit gargon dit a son pere: "Poupa,'^ n'allez pas dans les bois, 
pour ne pas rencontrer une fille qui pourrait vous tenter." — "Mon 
petit gargon, repond le roi, je vais faire la ehasse dans les bois, ou on ne 
rencontre pas des filles." 

Rendu dans les bois, ce qu'i\ voit ? Une belle perdrix blanche. Tire 
sur la perdrix, qui tombe dans les feuilles. Gratte dans les feuilles, et 
ce qu'il trouve ? Un bel arganeau ^ d'or. Qa fait qu'il tire I'arganeau ; 
ce qui s'ouvre ? Une trappe. Ouvre la trappe et apergoit un chateau 
tout en or et en argent. II se trouve face h face avec une vieille 
magicienne, qui dit: "II faut que tu m'epouses ast'heure." — "Je ne 
peux pas t'epouser; ce serait contre la promesse que j'ai faite a ma de- 
funte femme." — "Ah, si tu ne m'epouses pas, tu meurs!" Lui, 
plutot que d'etre tue — elle a un poignard a la main — I'epouse. 
Aussitot, le beau chateau disparait, et la magicienne s'en revient avec 
le roi. 

Le roi gardait k I'annee un petit vacher pour avoir soin de son 
troupeau. "Mon mari, dit la belle-mere, pourquoi ce petit vacher? 
Ton petit gargon serait bien capable d'avoir soin des vaches." Le roi 
repond: "J'ai les moyens; je ne veux pas mettre mon enfant vacher." 
Mais c'est pas tout ci tout qa, ^ elle envoie le petit gargon garder les va- 
ches. Le voila devenu vacher, qui s'en va dans le haut du clos. ^ 
Toujours, une fois les frets ^ arrives, le bonhomme se met h I'abri de 
la cloture et il tremble. Le petit bceuf, parmi les vaches, dit: "Mon 
Petit-Jean, f'as /reL?" ^ — "Oui, j'ai /re«." — "Regarde a mon oreille 
gauche, oil il y a un petit morceau de fer. Mets-le a terre, et ga te 
fera un beau poele. Regarde a mon oreille drete; ^ il y a un petit 
morceau de toile; ga te fera une belle tente. Tout ce que tu aimes 
a manger se trouvera dans la tente." Mon Petit-Jean regarde dans 
I'oreille gauche du bceuf, trouve un petit morceau de fer, le met k 
terre, et voila un beau poele. Regarde dans I'oreille drete, met a terre 
le petit morceau de toile; et ga lui fait une belle tente. Et tout ce 
qu'il souhaite a manger, il I'a. 

Voyant que le petit boeuf le regarde, il dit: "Comment, mon petit 
bceuf, 9 tu paries, toi? On i° va done jaser, tous les deux." Le soir, 

I I.e., le premier. - I.e., papa. 

3 Diet. : " Anneau de fer scelle dans le mur d'lm quai pour attacher les ba- 
teaux." Ce mot n'est peut-etre pas connu en dehors des contes, en Canada. 

4 I.e., rien ne pent Ten dissuader. 

5 I.e., le haut ici est pas opposition ^ en has, dans ou vers la vallee. 

6 I.e., lefroid, Vhiver. 7 Tu as froid. 8 Pour droite. 
9 Fournicr pronon^ait hexi. i" Pour nous. 



Conks Populaires Canadiens. 33 

il embargue * a cheval sur son petit boeuf pour revenir au chateau de 
son pere. Quand la belle-mere le voit arriver, elle dit k son mari: 
"Je pensais bien qu'il ferait un bon vacher; il a d6ja dompt6 le petit 
boeuf." Le roi r^pond: "Tais-toi done, ma vieille! il n'a toujours 
pas la peine de marcher." Le lendemain, le petit vacher revient 
encore a cheval. Voila la vieille malade pour* manger du bceuf. 
Voyant qa, Petit- Jean s'en va trouver son bceuf , et lui dit: "Mon 
petit boeuf, la vieille veut te faire tuer demain matin par trois bou- 
chers." — *'Tu diras aux bouchers qu'il faut que ce soit toi qui me tue." 
Les bouchers lui demandent: "Es-tu capable de le tuer?" — "Oui, j'en 
suis capable." Mon Petit-Jean prend la hache, coupe le cable, monte 
a cheval sur le petit boeuf, tandis que la belle-mere sur sa galerie 
se promene en disant: "M'a^ en manger, du petit boeuf!" Mais le 
boeuf saute, donne un coup de patte dans le front de la vieille, la 
tue raide et se sauve avec le petit vacher sur son dos. Le roi s'arrache 
les cheveux de voir son enfant parti. 

Le lendemain, le boeuf dit: "Mon Petit-Jean, nous arrivons k un 
jardin oil il y a des fruits d^fendus, gardes par des boeufs trois fois 
plus gros que moi. Si je m'y fais tuer, pleu?ne-Tnoi, * mets-toi ma 
peau sur la tete, et il n'y aura rien de plus fort que toi sur la terre." 
La bataille prend, et le petit boeuf tue les trois autres. Une fois 
repartis, "Mon Petit-Jean, dit le boeuf, nous allons encore passer 
par un autre jardin aux fruits d^fendus, garde par des boeufs aux cornes 
d'acier. Si je me fais tuer, pleume-moi, mets-toi ma peau sur la tete, 
et il n'y aura rien de plus fort que toi sur la terre." La bataille com- 
mence, et le petit boeuf se fait tuer. Petit-Jean le pleume et se coiffe 
de la peau. Le voila comme Barhan, ^ une peau sur la tete. Se disant : 
"II faut que je m'asseye, ast'heure, avec ma peau de boeuf," il arrive 
devant un chene de six pieds sur la souche ; ^ pousse ses cornes sous 
le chene, verse le chene. 

De la, Petit-Jean s'en va chez le roi. "Monsieur le roi, vous n'avez 
pas besoin d'un engag^?"^ — "Oui, rdpond le roi, j'en ai un de parti 
hier; si tu veux prendre sa place, tu es a memo." — "J'accepte." 
— "Eh bien! tu garderas mes cochons. Mais ne vas pas les faire 
passer sur les terrains de mes voisins, les grants, qui vous tueraient 
certain, toi et les cochons." 

S'approchant du mur de pierre de soixante pieds de haut, Petit- 
Jean pousse ses cornes sous le mur, le renverse, fait passer ses cochons 
sur la terre des grants, et monte dans un gros chene. Ce qu'il voit 
venir? Un geant de dix pieds de haut, qui crie: "Je croyais n'en 

1 I.e., monle. 2 J.e,, feignant d'etre malade. 

3 Pour je vais; m'a est I'abr^viation de je m'en vas. 

* I.e., icorche. 5 Peut-etre Brabant. 

6 Foumier disait: "six pieds sur la chousse;" ce qui signifie "six pieds de diametre." 

7 I.e., serviteur, prononc6 engahi (h aspir6). 



34 Journal of American Folk-Lore, 

avoir que deux a manger, mais j'en ai trois." — "Si tu en as trois, 
r^pond Ti-Jean, tu vas les gagner." II vous attrape le geant par 
les deux epaules, le plante jusqu'aux oreilles dans la terre; et cran! 
sur son genou, lui casse le cou, et met la tete pres de lui, k terre. 
"Tiens! il dit, vous ne repeterez pas avec moi, mes geants!" Et il 
s'en retourne avec ses cochons, qui ont engraisse d'un demi-pouce dans 
la journee. Le roi dit: "C'est le meilleur cochonnier ^ que j'aie jamais 
eu; mes cochons ont engraisse d'un demi-pouce dans la journee." 

Le lendemain matin, Petit-Jean repart encore avec ses animaux, 
repasse sur les terrains des geants et monte dans le chene. Ce qui 
ressoudf Un geant de vingt pieds de haut. "Aie, ver de terre! 
ce que ^ tu fais ici ? Je croyais en avoir seulement deux a manger, 
mais j'en ai trois." — "Si tu en as trois, tu les auras gagn^s." Attrape 
le g^ant par les deux epaules et le plante jusqu'aux oreilles dans la 
terre, et cran! sur son genou, lui casse le cou. II repart avec ses co- 
chons, qui ont engraisse d'un pouce dans deux jours. Demonte, le 
roi dit: "C'est un bon cochonnier, depareille.^' ^ 

Petit-Jean, le lendemain matin, retourne encore avec ses cochons 
sur le terrain des geants, et monte dans le chene. Ce qui ressoudf 
Un geant de trente pieds de haut. "Aie, ver de terre! ce que tu fais ici? 
Je croyais n'en avoir que deux a manger, mais j'en ai trois." — "Si 
tu en as trois, tu les auras gagnes, comme tes freres." — "Ah! dit le 
geant, ne fais done pas qa, Petit-Jean. Mes freres etaient des vrais 
chicaniers. * Viens faire un tour avec moi, et soj^ons bons amis." 
En marchant, le geant dit: "II faut s^esseyer, ast'heure, pour voir 
qui est le plus fort. J'ai une canne de fer de trois mille livres. Celui 
qui la jettera le plus loin gagnera." Prenant la canne de fer, il la 
fait tourner en I'air et la jette a trois milles, disant: "Petit-Jean, tu 
n'es pas capable de la jeter plus loin, grosse vache^ que tu es!" Petit- 
Jean repond: "J'ai un de mes freres, un forgeron, qui reste k neuf milles 
d'ici; ga, lui sera bien utile, trois mille livres de fer." — "Aie! Petit- 
Jean, ne va pas lancer la ma canne, j'en ai encore besoin. Mais 
viens a mon chateau avec moi." Rendu chez lui avec le jeune homme, 
il dit a sa mere: "Petit-Jean vient nous voir. Vous lui enverrez 
chercher un jambon dans le haut de la cheminee,^ et, quand il sera 
monte, vous le ferez tomber dans une chaudronne ^ d'huile bouillante. 
C'est le seul moyen de s'en debarrasser." Petit-Jean, ayant tout 
entendu, dit a la vieille, quand le geant est sorti: "Allons, la vieille! 
marche, monte dans la cheminee, et va chercher le jambon." Et 

1 Pour porcher. 

2 Pour qu'est-ce que. 

3 DepareillS veut dire " saos pareil, saoa 6gal." Fournier prononfait cocho- 
gnye. 

4 Prononc6 chicagne. 6 I.e., gros paresseux. 
6 Fournier prononcait chunee. 7 I.e., ua chaudron. 



Conies Pdpulaires Canadiens. 35 

aussit6t qu'elle est au haut, il tire l'6chelle, et la bonne-femme tombe 
dans la chaudronne d'huile. En entrant le g^ant dit: "La voila morte! 
On est bien d^barrass^." 

**Ast'heure, mon petit jeune horame, il faut s'esseyer; celui qui 
mangera le plus de bouillie sera le plus capable." ^ Petit- Jean s'en 
va a la ville, oil il se fait faire un habit des pieds a la t^te, avec un sac 
dedans. Arrive chez le g^ant avec son habit, on s^pare la bouillie; 
£i chacun quatre siaux. "^ Petit-Jean dit: "Dmrons-nous dos k dos; moi, 
je n'aime pas a manger face a face." — "C'est bon!" r^pond le geant. 
Et pendant que le g^ant mange sa bouillie, Petit-Jean la jette h 
cuiller^e dans le sac de son habit. Le g^ant dit: "Je suis malade, 
moi." — "Et moi aussi," r^pond Petit-Jean, en ajoutant: "Mais j'ai 
un bon remede; je me fends la pause avec un couteau." Prenant 
son couteau, il se fend la pause, et la bouillie se repand. Le g^ant 
dit: "Af'a^ hen faire pareil, moi aussi." Prend le couteau, h^site un 
peu, et se fend la pause. II tombe a la renverse, mort, d^truit. 

Petit-Jean s'en va a I'ecurie du g^ant et y trouve vingt beaux 
grands chevaux noirs et reluisant comme des souris. Grattant dans 
un quart d'avoine, il trouve un sifflet, ^ siffle dedans. Ce qui arrive 
d lui? Un homme, qui dit: "Que voulez-vous, maltre?" — "Je veux 
que ces vingt beaux chevaux soient bien soignes et ^trilles. Tout ce 
qu'on veut avoir de ce sifflet, on I'a?" — "Oui, maitre!" 

Petit-Jean part avec ses cochons et arrive au chateau du roi. Tout 
est en deuil. "Qu'est-ce que 9a veut dire?" demande-t-il. Le roi 
r^pond: "Une de mes filles va etre^ d^vor^e par le dragon de feu, 
demain matin, a sept heures. J'ai d^ja envoye bien des armies pour 
le d^truire, mais je n'ai jamais pu." Petit-Jean part, retourne au 
chateau des geants, prend son sifflet, siffle et demande: "Donne-moi la 
jument qui est capable de boire la moiti^ de la mer et d'^teindre le 
dragon de feu sept lieues a la ronde." 

II se rend avec sa jument, le lendemain matin, sur le rivage oii 
est la belle princesse. "Qu'es-tu venu faire ici?" II r^pond: "Je suis 
venu combattre le dragon de feu et te d^livrer." — ^^Poupa a envoy^ 
des centaines d'arm^es pour d^truire le dragon, sans jamais y r^ussir." 
— "Belle princesse! je vais me coucher sur vos genoux, et quand vous 
verrez le dragon venir, vous me reveillerez." Le dragon de feu 
arrive, la princesse le reveille. II dit: "Ma jument! bois la moiti6 de 
la mer!" Et elle boit la moiti^ de la mer: "Eteins le dragon de feu 
sept lieues a la ronde!" La jument vomit I'eau de la mer et 6teint 
le dragon de feu sept lieues a la ronde. Le dragon demande quartier 
jusqu'au lendemain matin. Accepts. Petit-Jean arrive au chateau 
du roi. "Petit-Jean?" — "Sire le roi, qu'est-ce que ga veut dire? 

1 I.e., fort, puissant. 2 Pour seau. 3 I.e., je fas. 

4 Fournier disait soufflet. * Foumier dit est pour ilre devoree. 



36 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

Tout etait en deuil hier, et tout est aujourd'hui en rejouissance." 
Le roi r^pond: "Un monsieur est venu combattre le dragon de feu." 
— 'Tas plus monsieur que moi," dit Petit-Jean. "Tais-toi done! Tu 
n'es toujours bien rien qu'un petit cochonnier." Le roi dit: "Demain 
matin, je vais envoyer une armee pour guetter celui qui va combattre 
le dragon de feu." Qa fait que Petit-Jean s'en va au chateau des 
grants, prend son sifflet, siffle et demande: "Donne-moi la jument 
qui est capable de sauter par-dessus la boule d'or, mille pieds de rond 
d'air, et les chiens qui s'appellent Fort, Raide, S'est-fait-tort, Prends- 
ma-garde, A-ton-maitre, Feu." 

Le lendemain matin, Petit-Jean s'en va avec sa jument et ses 
chiens sur le rivage oii est la belle princesse. La princesse dit: "C'est 
comme rien,^ le dragon de feu va etre cent fois plus terrible aujourd'hui 
qu'hier." — "Ne craignez pas, belle princesse; je suis cent mille fois 
plus fort, moi." Le roi place une armee pour guetter le beau cavalier 
stranger. Comme le dragon arrive, Petit-Jean appelle ses chiens: 
"Fort, Raide, S'est-fait-tort, Prends-ma-garde, A-ton-maitre, Feu!" 
Et se jetant sur le dragon, les chiens le dechirent en mille miettes. 
A sa jument, Petit-Jean dit: "Saute par-dessus la boule d'or, mille 
pieds de rond d'air." Et la jument saute par-dessus I'armee du roi. 
II y avait 1^ un vieux Frangais qui dit: "Car, nom de Dieu! je vais 
toujours le blesser avec mon ^pee." Lance son ep^e a sa hanche, 
oil elle se casse. 

Le roi fait battre ^ un ban que celui qui serait trouve avec le bout 
de I'ep^e dans la hanche aurait la belle princesse en mariage. Beau- 
coup de jeunes gens se mettent des bouts de fer, de faucille, dans la 
hanche. Mais c'est inutile. Petit-Jean arrive, le soir, en boitant. 
Le roi dit: 'Tetit-Jean, tu t'es plante un bout de fourche dans la 
hanche pour avoir ma princesse?" — "Non, sire le roi! J'ai couru 
apres mes cochons, aujourd'hui, et je me suis plants un chicot dans 
le pied." Le roi I'examine, ajuste I'epee au bout qui sort de sa 
hanche; ga fait juste! "Petit-Jean, es-tu capable de me montrer 
la jument qui a saute par-dessus la boule d'or?" — "Oui, sire le roi. 
J'ai mon gros cochon noir dans la grange. II est capable de sauter 
par-dessus." Et il monte a cheval sur le cochon, qui fait des sauts de 
quatre pieds en I'air. Le roi est d terre de rire. Petit-Jean dit: 
"Ast'heure que vous avez ben ri, je vais aller chercher la jument qui 
a saute par-dessus la boule d'or. — Et vous, belle princesse, appareillez- 
vous ' pour venir k cheval avec moi." Comme il arrive avec la jument, 
la princesse emharque, et, tous les deux, ils sautent par-dessus la boule 
d'or mille pieds de rond d'air. Voila le roi sans connaissance de peur; 

1 I.e., inutile. 

2 Fournier disait toujours mettre un ban. 

3 I.e., preparez-vous; terme d'origine mariae. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 37 

sa princesse va peut-etre se tuer! Mais non; ils redescendent, et 
Petit-Jean la ramene. Le roi dit: "Tu vas epouser ma princesse, tu 
I'as gagnee." lis se sont done marids, et le roi leur a donnd tous sea 
biens, son chateau, ses parterres et tout son royaume. 
Et moi, ils m'ont renvoye ici vous le raconter. 

4. TI-JEAN ET LE CHEVAL BLANC. ^ 

Une fois, c'etait un veuf qui cherchait h se remarier. II mal- 
traitait tellement son petit gargon, Ti-Jean, que, decourage, celui-ci 
d^serte un bon matin, prend le chemin et raarche, marche. II arrive 
au bout du chemin et, ne sachant ou aller, il prend un petit sentier 
menant dans les bois. Suit le petit sentier, et ressoud'^ devant 
un beau batiment, un beau chateau. II cogne a la porte et on lui 
dit: "Entrez!" Une vieille magicienne est \k, toute seule. Elle 
demande: "Mon petit gargon, dis-moi done d'ou tu viens?" — "Bonne 
m^re! Je ne sais pas." — "Oil vas-tu?" — "Je ne sais pas." — "Veux- 
tu t'engager?" II r<5pond: "Oui!" — "Tu n'auras pas grand'chose ^ 
faire," lui dit-elle. Elle I'engage done. "C'est pour soigner un cheval 
noir et un vieux cheval blanc. Tiens! au cheval blanc tu ne donneras 
que de la paille; et voici un baton; tu le battras tant qu'il te plaira. 
Mais mon cheval noir, tu le soigneras au foin et k Tavoine et tu le 
brosseras tous les jours." Ti-Jean repond: "C'est bien!" 

Ast'heure elle I'emm^ne au chateau et lui montre tout, ouvrant dea 
portes siir un sens, sur I'autre, partout. Arrivant a une porte, elle 
dit: " Tant qu'd^ celle-ci, n'y entre pas, ou je te mettrai k mort." 
— "Ne craignez pas," repond-il. 

La vieille femme part pour huit jours. Une fois seul, Ti-Jean 
visite le chateau, examine tout et est satisfait. Mais il se met k 
penser: "Dis-moi done, dans ce petit cabinet, ce qu'il peut bien y 
avoir de drole?" Prenant la clef, il ouvre la porte. Un grand trou 
sans fond et une echelle qui y descend. "Dis-moi done! ce qu'il peut 
bien y avoir, la?" Prenant I'echelle, il descend, descend, descend. 
Rendu pas mal loin, il fourre son bras et son doigt oil ga reluit, 
au fond. Retirant son bras, il voit que son doigt est dore. C'etait 
une fontaine d'or. 

Ti-Jean remonte et ferme la porte. 

Sorti de 1^, Ti-Jean essaie d'arracher I'or de son doigt; mais c'est 
impossible. II se I'enveloppe done. La vieille magicienne arrive et 
demande: "Qu'est-ce que tu t'es fait au doigt?" — "J'ai dol6 et 
je me suis coupe le doigt." — "Montre done! montre done!" — "Non! 

1 Conte r6cit6 h. Saint-Victor, Beauce, en aodt, 1914, par Paul Patry, qui 
I'avait appris de sa mdre, Genevidve Coulombe (Patry). 

2 I.e., arrive. 

' Pour quani d. 



38 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

je ne me suis coup6 qu'un peu." Lui pognant ^ la main, elle arrache 
Tenveloppe et dit: "Ah, mon malheureux! tu es descendu a la fontaine 
d'or." II r^pond: "Je ne savais pas quoi faire et, m'ennuyant, je 
suis descendu voir. Au fond, e'^tait comme de I'eau; j'y ai fourr^ le 
doigt, et c'est rest6 coll6." — 'Trends garde d'y retourner, ou je 
te prendrai la vie." — "Ne craignez pas, vu que je connais ce que 
c'est." Elle ajoute: "Je repars encore pour huit jours; aie bien soin 
de mon cheval noir; nourris-le et brosse-le. Mais I'autre, rosse-le." 

La bonne-femme partie, Ti-Jean va soigner ses chevaux. Le 
cheval blanc lui dit: "Ne me bats done pas et soigne-moi bien. Je 
te rendrai service plus tard. Quant au noir, donne-lui de la paille 
et foute-lui^ la vol^e a son tour. Tu verras!" Ti-Jean r^pond: 
"Tu paries, toi?" — "Ah! dit-il, oui! et je te sauverai la vie, toi." 
Le petit gargon soigne son vieux cheval blanc au foin et a I'avoine, et 
donne une bonne volee a Tautre. Sapre!^ le noir trouve ga dur, lui 
qui n'y est pas habitu^. 

L'ennui le prenant encore, le petit gargon debarre le cabinet et 
descend encore a la fontaine d'or. — II ^tait comme moi, il avait 
les cheveux longs effrayant. Rendu au bas de I'^chelle, il se fourre 
la tete dans la fontaine d'or, et sort de la avec une belle chevelure 
dor^e. "De ce coup-la, pense-t-il, la bonne-femme va me tuer." 
Cherchant partout,il trouve une peau de petit jeune mouton,* et s'en 
fait une bonne perruque cachant bien ses cheveux d'or. 

Avant le retour de la magicienne, le cheval blanc dit a Ti-Jean: 
"Mon petit gargon, c'est le temps de deserter. Tu te ferais tuer pour 
t'etre mis la tete dans la fontaine d'or." Et ils se greyent pour partir. 
"Prends I'^trille et une bouteille, dit le cheval blanc; bride-moi, et 
partons! Quand elle arrivera, ga ne sera pas drole!" Comme de fait, 
Ti-Jean prend I'^trille, une bouteille, et les met dans sa poche; bride 
son cheval blanc; et ils partent. Le cheval dit: "Touche, et filons!" 

La magicienne ressoud. Pas de cheval blanc ni de petit gargon. 
Elle dit: "Le petit bougre,il a fait quelque mechant coup!" Et pendant 
que Ti-Jean et le cheval blanc se sauvent a I'^pouvante, ils voient 
venir, en arriere, une tempete terrible. Le cheval dit: "C'est la vieille 
magicienne qui court apres nous. Si elle nous rattrape, c'est la 
mort." Et la tempete approche. Quand elle est tout pres, le cheval 
dit: "Jette ton etrille!" Jette I'^trille ; et voila une montagne 
d'^trilles, dans laquelle la vieille et son cheval noir s'empetrent. 
Ti-Jean et son cheval continuent, et fa mene! Apres une escousse,^ 
ils s'apergoivent que le temps noircit, regardent en arriere, et je vous 
dis que ga vient! Le cheval blanc dit: "C'est encore la vieille. S'il 

1 I.e., saisissant. 3 Juron. 

* I.e., donne-lui, * Pour agneau. 

6 I.e., laps de temps. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 39 

faut qu'elle nous rejoigne, nous sommes morts tous les deux. Quand 
elle sera tout pres, jette la bride." Et Ti-Jean jette la bride. Voil^ 
une montagne de brides epouvantable. La bonne-femme voit I'heure 
qu'elle ne s'en demancherait pas, tandis que les autres filent. Apr^s 
un bout de temps, elle s^en demanche et part encore apres eux. Le temps 
devient encore noir, et la tempete casse et arrache les arbres. "S'il 
faut qu'elle nous pogne, de ce coup-la, c'est fini! Jette la bouteille." 
Ti-Jean jette la bouteille; et voila une montagne de bouteilles epou- 
vantable. Prise dans les bouteilles, essayant de monter, la vieille roule 
toujours en bas. C'est impossible, elle ne peut pas s'en demancher. 

Le cheval blanc dit a Ti-Jean: "Ast'heure, rends-toi la-bas, au 
chateau, en passant par la petite riviere, dans les arbres. Et va 
chez le roi t'engager comme jardinier." Ti-Jean arrive chez le roi, 
qui n'avait pas de jardinier, et offre ses services. Bien content, le 
roi accepte, et I'envoie loger dans une petite batisse, en arriere du 
chateau. 

Le roi dit a ses trois filles: "Une de vous ira porter h manger au 
jardinier." La plus jeune des trois, une beaute sans pareille, va done 
lui porter a manger, tous les jours. 

Qa s'adonne hien que ' la belle fille a sa chambre vis-a-vis du jardin, 
et qu'elle voit souvent le petit jardinier. Le matin, Ti-Jean fait 
toujours sa toilette et se debarbouille. La petite fille le regarde faire, 
de sa chambre. Ah! les beaux cheveux d'or! En finissant de se pei- 
gner, il met sa perruque en peau de mouton. Quand on lui demande: 
"Pourquoi mets-tu cette calotte?" il repond: "Je suis teigneux." 
La fille a bien vu ses beaux cheveux d'or, mais elle n'en parle k personne. 

Un jour, voila la guerre declaree. A tout son monde le roi ordonne 
de rejoindre le regiment et de partir pour la guerre. Le vieux cheval, 
que Ti-Jean va voir tous les jours, lui dit: "Le roi s'en va a la guerre. 
Allons lui aider; il va perdre, car il n'a pas assez de soldats. Viens 
ici, demain matin, et nous irons joindre I'armee." Le lendemain 
matin, le petit teigneux ote sa calotte de mouton et s'en va trouver 
son cheval, qui est plus blanc que la neige, blanc comme on n'en a 
jamais vu. Mettant un habit tout blanc, il laisse tomber ses cheveux 
d'or sur ses epaules. A cheval, et ses armes pendant de chaque cote, 
il part pour la guerre. II arrive dans I'arm^e, passe pres du roi, faisant 
un grand salut, pendant que tout le monde regarde ce beau prince 
qu'on n'a encore jamais vu. La bataille commence. Le cheval 
blanc saute d'un bord, saute de I'autre, pendant que Ti-Jean joue si 
bien du sabre que I'ennemi demande quartier pour jusqu'au lende- 
main. C'est Ti-Jean qui a gagne la victoire ! En repassant pr^s 
du roi, il lui fait un salut et part. Le roi retourne k son chateau, 
disant: "Je ne sais pas quel est ce beau prince, si vaillant, les cheveux 

I Pour le hasard veut Men que. 



40 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

en or et habill6 tout en blanc, qui m'a fait gagner la victoire." La 
plus jeune de ses filles dit: "Pas plus beau que mon petit teigneux!" 
— "Ton petit teigneux? r^pond le roi; tais-toi! ou je te fais p6terla 
gueule." Et la fille ne reparle pas. 

Le lendemain matin, la meme fille va porter a manger au petit 
teigneux pendant qu'il se peigne. Elle voit encore ses beaux cheveux 
d'or, mais ne dit rien. A Ti-Jean le cheval blanc dit: "La bataille 
recommence aujourd'hui; il faut aider au roi. Aujourd'hui, habillons- 
nous en rouge," lis s'habillent done tout en rouge. En arrivant 
dans I'arm^e, Ti-Jean passe encore pres du roi et fait un salut. Comme 
la bataille commence, son cheval est si vigoureux que, saute d'un 
cot^, saute de I'autre, Ti-Jean avec son sabre gagne encore la victoire. 
En revenant, il passe contre le roi et lui fait un salut. Le roi essaie de 
le pogner,^ mais il en est incapable. 

De retour au chateau, le roi dit a la reine: "Un beau cavalier, tout 
habill^ en rouge et des cheveux d'or sur le dos, m'a encore fait gagner 
la victoire. Mais je ne peux pas savoir qui il est." La petite fille 
dit: "II n'est pas plus beau que mon petit teigneux." — "Ferme ta 
gueule ! Tu vas baiser ma main." 

Le lendemain matin, le cheval blanc dit: "Mon Ti-Jean, nous allons 
encore a la guerre, aujourd'hui. Habillons-nous tout en noir." Et 
ils se greyent, leurs habits, le sabre, le cheval, tout en noir. Sur ses 
^paules, Ti-Jean laisse tomber ses cheveux d'or. En passant a c6t6 
du roi, il fait un grand salut et file encore en avant, saute d'un c6t6, 
saute de I'autre, et,avec son sabre, gagne la victoire. La guerre est 
finie. Le roi dit: "Que ga coute ce que ga voudra, il faut le pogner, 
pour voir qui il est!" Ti-Jean fait encore un salut au roi, en passant; 
et le roi jette sa lance, qui se casse dans la cuissc de Ti-Jean. Mon 
petit jeune homme s'^chappe quand meme, sans qu'on puisse arriver k 
I'arreter. 

Le roi, en arrivant, dit: "Un beau prince tout en noir a encore gagn6 
la victoire et fini la guerre." II fait battre un ban que celui qui lui 
apporterait le bout de la lance cass^e alirait sa fille en mariage et sa 
couronne. On vient done de tous bords et tous c6t6s avec des bouts de 
fourche, de broc^ et de faucille, pour essayer de les ajuster a la lance. 
Mais c'est inutile. Le vieux cheval blanc dit: "Mon Ti-Jean, habil- 
lons-nous tout en blanc, comme la premiere fois que nous sommes 
all^s a la guerre." Le petit jeune homme s'habille en blanc, et, 
nu-tete, il laisse battre ses beaux cheveux d'or sur son dos. Partant 
k cheval, il arrive comme une tempete. Comme il passe pres du 
chateau, on essaie de le saisir, mais sans y r^ussir. 

Une fois re venu, Ti-Jean mene le cheval blanc dans sa foret; et, 

1 I.e., le saisir. 

2 I.e., longues fourches k foin. Mot d'origine celtique. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 41 

arrivant au chateau, il remet sa petite calotte de mouton. La belle 
princesse en le regardant s'apergoit qu'il boite, mais elle n'en dit 
rien. 

Le lendemain matin, le cheval dit: "Retournons, comme au deuxi^- 
me jour, tout en rouge!" Ti-Jean s'habille done tout en rouge. En 
les voyant arriver comme une tempete, le roi dit: "Celui-la, c'est le 
prince qui est venu me gagner la bataille, le deuxieme jour." Comme 
il repasse, on essaie de le prendre, mais il leur glisse dans les mains 
et passe tout dret. 

De retour au chateau, il relache son cheval, change d'habit et se 
remet a jardiner. 

Le cheval blanc dit, le lendemain: "Allons-y vetus tout en noir, 
comme au dernier jour de la guerre, quand tu as ete bless6." Et ils 
partent pour le chateau, Ti-Jean habille en noir, et ses beaux cheveux 
d'or lui battant sur le dos. "C'est le dernier prince venu h ma guerre," 
dit le roi. On essaie encore de le prendre au passage, mais sans y 
reussir. Le roi remarque: "C'est bien curieux, on ne peut pas les 
prendre, ni trouver qui ils sont ! " En s'en revenant, il ajoute : 
"Cotlte que co{lte, il faut essayer de les pogner!" 

Au roi qui entre au chateau, le petit jardinier dit: "Venez voir, 
monsieur le roi, si ce bout de lance ajuste k la votre." L'ayant essay^, 
le roi reconnait que c'est le vrai, cette fois. "J'ai promis ma fille 
en mariage et ma couronne k celui qui m'apporterait le bout cass6 
de ma lance." Et le prenant par la main, il I'emmene voir ses trois 
filles, en disant: 'Trends celle que tu voudras." Ti-Jean tend la 
main k la plus jeune et la plus belle des trois, k celle qui lui portait k 
manger. Fachees, les deux autres se mettent k brailler: "Voir que 
le beau prince a choisi la plus jeune!" 

Apres le mariage, le roi remet sa couronne k Ti-Jean. Le vieux 
cheval blanc vient et dit: "Mon Ti-Jean, tu es marie. Je viens 
done te voir pour la derni^re fois. Ast'heure, tue-moi et fends-moi 
en deux." Ti-Jean prend une hache, tue son cheval blanc, le fend 
en deux; et un beau prince en sort, disant: "Merci bien!" Le vieux 
cheval etait un prince que la vieille sorciere avait amorphose. ^ 

Et ga finit 1^. Je ne sais pas ce qui leur est arrive depuis; car ga 
fait longtemps que je ne suis pas alle les voir. 

5. TI-JEAN, LES CHEVAUX ET LA stTE-X-SEPT-TiTES. ^ 

C'^tait un habitant^ k I'aise et ses trois gargons. II s'apercevait 
que le foin baissait vite dans la tasserie d'une de ses granges, sur 
ses terres, et n'en pouvait trouver la raison. 

1 Pour metamorphose. 

2 Recite en aotlt, 1914, k Lorette, Quebec, par David Sioui, 4g6 de pr^s de 
cinquante ans, et le frSre de Prudent Sioui. David Sioui dit avoir appris ce conte 
de son defunt pSre, Clement Sioui. 

3 I.e., cultivateur ou paysan. 



42 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

Toujours que le plus ag6 des gargons dit: "Poupa, je vas ^ garder 
la tasserie." Mais, durant la nuit, la peur le prend, le gargon, et il 
se sauve, les jambes a son cou. Le deuxieme gargon dit: "Je vas y 
aller, poupa." A la fin, la peur I'emporte, lui aussi, et il se sauve. 

Ti-Jean, le troisieme gargon, dit: "Moi, poupa, je vas y aller." 
Et ils se mettent tous a rire de lui. "Qui, un beau fin pour garder la 
tasserie!" — "J'y vas quand meme." II part, arrive a la grange, 
entre et s'asseoit sur la tasserie. Vers les onze heures de la nuit, 
un cheval blanc entre. Ti-Jean demande: "Que viens-tu faire ici?" 
— "Comment? C'est toi, Ti-Jean? Ne dis pas un mot! Laisse- 
moi manger du foin, et quand tu seras en peine, tu n'auras qu'a penser 
a moi, et je serai a toi." — "Mange!" dit Ti-Jean. Et le cheval blanc 
mange a peu pres une demi-heure. Apres quoi, jl sort. Un cheval 
noir entre. "Comment, que viens-tu faire ici, toi?" — "Ti-Jean, ne 
dis pas un mot! Laisse-moi manger du foin. Quand tu seras en peine, 
tu penseras a moi, et je serai a toi." Ti-Jean dit: "Mange!" Le 
cheval noir mange une demi-heure et s'en va. Apres lui, un cheval 
rouge entre. "En voila encore un autre? Mais combien etes-vous 
de votre bande?" — "Ti-Jean, je suis le dernier. Laisse-moi manger 
du foin, et quand tu seras en peine, tu penseras a moi, et je serai a toi. 
Mais, souviens-toi, n'en parle pas. Ne dis pas un mot." 

Le matin, Ti-Jean s'en retourne a la maison, ou on lui demande: 
"Qu'as-tu vu ?" — "Je n'ai rien vu," r^pond-il. On rit de lui en disant: 
"II a dormi toute la nuit; il pouvait bien ne rien voir!" Et tout en 
finit la. 

En se promenant sur les terres de son pere, Ti-Jean pense a son 
cheval blanc. Tout a coup le cheval blanc [vient] a lui. "Que veux- 
tu, Ti-Jean?" — "Ce que je veux? Ah! c'etait seulement pour voir 
si tu m'avais conte des menteries." — "Ti-Jean, embarque, ^ je vas 
te faire faire un tour." Mon Ti-Jean embarque. Les voila partis; et, 
je vous assure que ga marche, ga marche! Quand il en fut tann^, 
Ti-Jean dit: "C'est assez!" II descend, et son cheval disparait. 

Le lendemain, il en fait autant: pense a son cheval noir. Le cheval 
noir a lui.^ "Que veux-tu, Ti-Jean?" — "C'etait seulement pour 
voir si tu m'avais conte des menteries." — "Ah non! repond le cheval; 
embarque! Je vas te faire faire un tour." Et voila Ti-Jean parti 
en promenade sur le cheval noir, allant partout, de ville en ville. 

II entend quelque part dire que, tous les ans, le roi est forcd de 
donner une de ses filles a la Bete-a-sept-tetes. Apres s'etre inform^ 
du jour oil ga arrivait, il pense a son cheval rouge. Le cheval rouge 
a lui. "Que veux-tu, Ti-Jean?" — "J'ai besoin de vous, les che- 

1 Sioui dit m'a garder pour iri'en vas garder et je m'en vas garder. 

2 Pour vionte a cheval; terme d'origine marine. 

3 l.e.,lui apparait. Ici le verbe vient est omis apparemment pour d^noter la 
rapidit6 de Taction. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 43 

vaux!" — "Nous sommes h toi!" r^pond le cheval rouge. Et Ti-Jeaa 
continue: "Sais-tu qu'une princesse va se faire manger par la B^te- 
^-sept-tetes ? " — "Oui, je le sais." — "Je veux me battre avec elle." 
— "On ira, on ira!" r^pond le cheval. 

Le jour arriv^, Ti-Jean pense k son cheval blanc. Le cheval blanc 
d lui. Et ils galopent tout dret vers la ville, arrivent au miheu de 
I'arm^e du roi, qui conduit la belle princesse au pied de la montagne, 
passent au milieu des soldats qu'ils bousculent, et jettent tout d 
terre. Les voyant arriver sur la montagne h la suite de la princesse, 
la Bete-^-sept-tetes dit: "Je pensais n'en manger qu'un; mais j'en 
aurai deux." Ti-Jean r^pond: "Avant de les manger, tu vas les 
gagner!" Les voila pris a se battre. A Ti-Jean qui vient de lui 
couper deux tetes, la bete demande quartier pour jusqu'au lendemain. 
Ti-Jean consent. 

Le lendemain, Ti-Jean pense ^ son cheval noir. Le cheval noir 
d lui. L'entendant arriver sur la montagne, la Bete-^-sept-t^te3 
dit: "C'est un bon repas que je vas faire!" — "Tu vas toujours bien 
le gagner," r^pond Ti-Jean. Et les voila pris d se battre. Ti-Jean 
coupe encore deux tetes de la bete, k qui il n'en reste plus que troia. 
"Quartier jusqu'^ demain?" demande-t-elle. Ti-Jean consent et 
redescend la montagne. A son cheval noir il demande: "Penses-tu 
que je vas en venir k bout?" — "Elle va se recoller deux tetes; et, de- 
main, elle te redemandera quartier; mais c'est tout; plus * de quartier! 
Le cheval rouge, qui a deux fois plus de force que nous, te le dira." 

Le lendemain, Ti-Jean pense k son cheval rouge. Le cheval rouge 
d lui. lis arrivent sur la montagne oil la bete, grondant de fureur, 
se dit: "C'est ce matin que je fais un bon repas!" Et Ti-Jean conti- 
nue: "Comme de coutume." Les voil^ encore pris; bat et puis bat.^ 
II lui coupe deux tetes. "Quartier!" — '^ Plus de quartier! Au 
bout!" A la fin, toutes les sept tetes sont tranch^es, et la b^te est 
morte. De son couteau, Ti-Jean en coupe les sept langues et les 
enveloppe dans son mouchoir. Prenant les joyaux de la princesse, 
il les y met aussi. La princesse se jette k ses genoux, et lui saute au 
cou. Mais il la repousse, et, ne voulant pas la ramener, il s'en va sans 
elle. De 1^, Ti-Jean s'en va vivre avec un vieux pecheur et sa vieille, 
dans une petite grotte. 

Quant k la belle princesse, elle restait seule sur la montagne quand, 
un jour, un charbonnier s'adonne a passer 1^. Fiere de trouver 
quelqu'un qui puisse la ramener chez son p^re, elle consent et promet 
de dire au roi que c'est le charbonnier qui I'a delivree en tuant 
la Bete-S,-sept-tetes. La ramenant au chateau, oH le roi est content 
de la revoir, le charbonnier la demande de suite en mariage. Le roi 

1 Pour pas plus, point. 

2 Ici employ^ d'une maniSre impersonnelle. 



44 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

dit: "Ben s^t\ C'est vous qui avez d41ivr6 ma princesse; elle vous 
appartient. Mais reposez-vous d'abord. Et, corame c'est ici la 
fagon, il y aura festin avant le mariage. Vous allez nous y donner 
des preuves de votre adresse." — "Ah oui!" repond le charbonnier. 

Le moment venu, le roi prend un anneau, le suspend par un brin 
de sole au-dessus d'un sentier et fait monter le charbonnier sur le 
cheval le plus vigoureux de son ^curie. Montant d'un bord/ le char- 
bonnier retombe de I'autre. II se fait garrotter sur le cheval, 
qu'on Idche. En passant a cheval dessous I'anneau, il s'agissait d'y 
enfiler une 6p6e. Mon charbonnier la manque. Mais tout a coup 
on entend ding! et I'anneau part. Personne ne salt ce que ga veut 
dire. 

Le lendemain, on garrotte encore le charbonnier sur un cheval, et 
tout recommence comme la veille. II manque encore I'anneau, de 
son 6p6e. Mais, ding! I'anneau part encore. On n'avait encore rien 
vu. Le roi fait done avancer ses troupes et les place en deux rangs, 
r^p^e a la main, de chaque cote de I'anneau. "Quand vous verrez 
partir I'anneau, leur dit-il, vous vous lancerez en avant." Sur son 
cheval on garrotte le charbonnier, qui manque encore I'anneau, de 
eon ^p^e. Mais a peine est-il pass6 que ding! I'anneau part. Les 
soldats de suite dardent de leur 6p^e, jusqu'a ce que I'un d'eux casse 
sa lame, sans voir ou elle s'est bris^e, ni ce qu'en est devenu I'^clat. 
Personne ne pent dire comment 9a s'est fait. 

Le roi envoie deux m^decins de porte en porte, par la ville, pour 
visiter tout malade ou bless^. Les medecins arrivent a la grotte oil 
Ti-Jean, bless6, est couch6 sur un petit lit. "Y a-t-il quelqu'un de 
malade ici?" demandent les medecins. Jetant I'oeil dans la maison, 
ils apergoivent Ti-Jean couche dcrriere le poele. "Vous n'etes pas 
malade, vous?" — "Non, repond Ti-Jean; je ne suis pas malade; je 
suis couche." — "II faut vous examiner." Saisissant mon Ti-Jean, ils 
I'examinent et trouvent un bout d'^p^e dans sa cuisse.^ lis I'arra- 
chent et s'en vont le porter au roi. On ajuste ce morceau a I'ep^e 
cass^e du soldat, et on trouve qu'il fait juste. "Attelez deux chevaux, 
dit le roi, et allez chercher Ti-Jean." — "Cocher! repond Ti-Jean, 
va dire au roi que demain j'irai de moi-meme au chateau." 

Le lendemain, pendant que le roi attend, Ti-Jean part a cheval 
pour le chateau. Oh! tout de suite, un valet vient tenir son cheval 
par la bride. "Que me voulez-vous ?" demande Ti-Jean au roi. 
"Ce que je te veux? Je marie ma fille, et j'aimerais te voir au festin 
de noces." — "C'est bien trop de bont^, mon roi! Puisque vous le 
voulez, je reste. Mais je vais soigner mon cheval." — "Ne sois pas 

1 Le mot bord, ainsi que maints termes surtout marins, a pris I'acception de cole, 
direction, chez les paysans canadiens. 

2 II devient ici Evident que Ti-Jean, invisible, avait au lieu du charbonnier 
pass6 son 6p6e dans I'anneau. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 45 

inquiet, dit le roi, quelqu'un en prend soin." Ti-Jean sort quand 
m^me; et ayant reldch^ son cheval, il revient passer la journde k la 
cour. La, il reconnait la princesse; mais, quand au charbonnier, il 
ne I'avait jamais vu. 

Le roi donne un grand souper,le soir, avant le mariage de sa fille,la 
princesse. La table prete et le temps venu, le roi fait entrer tout le mon- 
de et barrer la porte.^ A sa droite, il fait asseoir le charbonnier, et, 
k sa gauche, Ti-Jean. En face s'asseoit la princesse. Une fois le 
Bouper fini, il n'est pas question de chansons; ce sont des histoires 
qu'on raconte. On commence par Ti-Jean: "Une histoire, Ti-Jean!" 
Pas trop fou, il r^pond: "M'avez-vous invito pour rire tout de suite 
de moi. Commencez done par un autre." Le roi fait conter son 
histoire au charbonnier, et lui demande: "Comment t'y es-tu pris 
pour tuer la Bete-a-sept-tetes ?" Le charbonnier emmanche^ son 
histoire aussi bien qu'il le peut, fait des menteries au roi, et dit en 
achevant: "Vous en voyez la preuve; j'ai les sept tetes dans ma 
voiture." Le roi r^pond: "Q'a bien du bon sens!" On trouve que 
rhistoire du charbonnier n'est pas la plus amoureuse. "Ti-Jean, 
ton histoire! Conte-nous ton histoire, Ti-Jean!" demande-t-on. 
II r^pond: "Mon histoire n'est pas longue. Tout en me promenant 
dans le pays, je m'adonnais a passer par ici a cheval. II y avait la 
Bete-ll-sept-tetes. Trois jours de suite, je me suis battu avec elle; 
et le troisieme jour, je Tai tu6e. Dans mon mouchoir, voici les sept 
langues de la bete. Allez voir aux sept tetes si les langues y sont. 
Dites-moi s'il ^tait facile d'aller chercher les langues dans la gueule 
de la bete vivante. Et voici les joyaux de la belle princesse, que j'ai 
gardes." Se retournant vers la princesse, le roi lui demande: "Tout 
9a est-il bien vrai ?" La princesse ne parle pas. "Si tu as fait quelque 
promesse, reprend le roi, parle quand meme; je prends ga sur moi." 
— "C'est Ti-Jean qui m'a d^livr^e," dit-elle aussitot. 

Le lendemain, on fit un grand feu d'artifice, ou le charbonnier fut 
brAl^. Quant a Ti-Jean, il hdrita de la princesse. Je pense qu'il a 
pass6 des beaux jours et qu'il s'amuse encore. 

6. TI-JEAN ET LA CHATTE BLANCHE. ^ 

C'est un roi qui a trois fils. Un s'appelle Jean, un autre, Cordon- 
bleu, et I'autre, Cordon- vert. Le roi, un jour, leur dit: "Tous trois 
vous etes maintenant en age. Celui de vous qui ira chercher le plus 
beau cheval aura ma couronne." Les gargons se greyent,* partent 

1 Pour que personne ne sorte. 

2 I.e., invente tant bien que mal. 

3 R6cit6 par Paul Patry, en aotit, 1914, ^ Saint- Victor, comt^ de Beauce. 
M. Patry dit avoir appris ce conte de sa mdre, Genevieve Coulombe. 

4 Pour greer. 



46 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

et marchent .... Rendus a la fourche de trois ^ chemins, Cordon-vert 
dit: "Je prends ce chemin." Cordon-bleu ajoute: "Et moi, ce chemin;" 
et Ti-Jean achdve: "Et moi, 1' autre chemin." Avant de se quitter 
ils se disent: ^' Tel jour, nous nous retrouverons tous trois k la fourche 
des chemins." 

Mon Ti-Jean marche, ^ marche jusqu'au bout du chemin. L^, il 
prend un petit sentier dans la foret et il marche. Arrive pr^s d'une 
petite cabane de paille, il apergoit une grande chatte blanche char- 
royant de I'eau avec quatre crapauds. II s'assied et regarde. La 
chatte, ayant rempli une cuve d'eau, y met ses quatre crapauds, 
et rrnyao, rrnyao, s'y fourre elle-meme. Et de la cuve sort une belle 
princesse, telle que Ti-Jean n'en a jamais vu. Elle lui demande: 
"Que cherches-tu ?" — "Un cheval, r6pond-il; nous sommes trois 
gargons, et notre pdre, le roi, a promis sa couronne h celui de nous 
qui ram^nerait le plus beau cheval." La princesse lui dit: "Demain 
matin, je serai encore la grande chatte blanche que tu as vue. Tu 
iras dans mon 6curie et prendras le plus galeux de mes crapauds. 
Une fois rendu chez ton pere le roi, tu le renfermeras, et le lendemain, 
il sera devenu le plus beau cheval de la terre." 

Comme de fait,^ le lendemain matin, Ti-Jean prend le crapaud 
et s'en va h cheval dessus, paiati, paiata. Aux trois chemins, il ren- 
contre ses frdres, dont les chevaux sont fort beaux. Regardant 
Ti-Jean et son crapaud, ils disent: "Ne te montre pas ainsi k notre 
p§re, ou tu vas te faire tuer." Mais celui-ci part par derriere eux, 
patati, patata, fouettant sa monture d'une petite hart. "Ne nous 
suis pas, dirent-ils; c'est un vrai deshonneur!" — "Qa ne fait rien; 
allez-vous en!" lis arrivent sur le tard chez leur pere et mettent 
leurs chevaux k T^curie. Ti-Jean passe I'^trille sur son crapaud, 
perarrar. . . Et ses fr^res disent: "Tu vas briser I'etrille de notre 
p§re." — "Poupa a les moyens d'en avoir une autre." 

Le lendemain matin, Cordon-bleu et Cordon-vert se Invent et 
vont montrer leurs beaux chevaux au roi. "Et Ti-Jean ?" il demande. 
Ils r^pondent: "Ah, lui? c'est un crapotte.'^ * — "Crapotte? II faut 
que je le voie." Ti-Jean se leve apres les autres. Son crapaud 
c'est le plus beau cheval qu'on ait jamais vu, le crin en argent, et 
ferr6 en or. "Ah ! s'^crie le roi, c'est Ti-Jean qui a gagn^ la victoire; 
c'est lui qui a le plus beau cheval. Mais, vous savez qu'un roi a 
trois paroles. Ast'heure, celui de vous qui me rapportera la plus belle 
toile d'hahitant ° aura ma couronne." Et ils partent tous les trois 

1 A un endroit de ce conte, M. Pa try dit gualre chemins. 

2 L'expression originale 6tait marche d plein. 

3 I.e., en effel. 

« Crapotte au lieu de crapavd est ici employ^ par moquerie. 
6 Habitant poxii fermier, cuUivateur. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 47 

sur leurs chevaux. Rendus a la fourche des trois chemins, Cordon- 
bleu dit: "Je prends le meme chemin." Cordon-vert prend aussi 
le sien. "Moi, je prends aussi le mien," finit Ti-Jean en partant. 
II marche, marche, arrive au petit sentier et de \k a la maison 
recouverte de paille. La grande ehatte blanche charroie encore de 
I'eau avec ses trois crapauds. Ti-Jean s'assied et les regarde faire. 
Une fois la cuve pleine, rrnyao, rrnyao, la ehatte blanche se fourre 
dans la cuve et en ressort une belle princesse. Elle dit: ''Ast'heure, 
mon Ti-Jean, que cherches-tu ?" II r^pond: "Je cherche la plus belle 
toile du pays ^ que mon pere ait jamais vue." — "Demain matin, 
reprend la princesse, je serai rede venue une grande ehatte blanche. 
Tu regarderas dans ma petite commode et tu y prendras la plus vilaine 
noix qui s'y trouve et la mettras dans ta poche. Arriv^ chez ton 
p6re,tu la fendras avec un couteau; et il en sortira trente aunes de la 
plus belle toile qui se puisse voir." 

Cordon-bleu et Cordon-vert se rencontrent aux trois chemins. 
Ah! qu'ils ont de la belle toile! Mais Ti-Jean, ayant mis la noix 
dans sa poche, n'en avait pas. Un de ses freres lui demande: "Ti-Jean, 
je crS hen^ que tu n'en as pas?" A quoi il r^pond: "Je ere hen qu'avec 
autant de toile que vous en avez, mon pere en aura assez." 

Chez leur pere le roi, le matin, ils se levent et s'en vont montrer 
leur toile. Leur toile est belle. Celle de Cordon-vert surtout est 
depareillee? " Quant a Ti-Jean, je ere hen qu'il n'en a pas." Mais 
Ti-Jean ressoud^ et donne la noix a son pere, en disant: "Fendez-la 
sur la table, avec un couteau." Le roi fend la noix et en tire trente 
aunes de la plus belle toile qu'il ait jamais vue." II dit: "C'est encore 
Ti-Jean qui a gagn6 la victoire. Mais vous savez qu'un roi a troia 
paroles. Ast'heure, il vous reste encore une chose a faire. "Qu'est- 
ce que c'est ?" demandent-ils. "Celui qui ira q'ri ^ la plus belle femme 
aura ma couronne, et cette fois, c'est le houte." lis repartent done 
tous trois. Cordon-vert et Cordon-bleu sur leurs chevaux, et Ti-Jean 
sur son crapaud. Cordon-bleu dit: "Je reprends encore le meme 
chemin." Cordon-vert: "Et moi aussi." Et Ti-Jean: "Je prends 
aussi le mien." Marche, marche,® et Ti-Jean arrive au petit chateau 
convert de paille, et revoit encore la grande ehatte blanche charroyant 
de I'eau avec ses crapauds. Rrnyao, rrnyao, la ehatte plonge dans 
la cuve pleine d'eau et en ressort belle princesse. Ti-Jean en tumhe 
sur le cul d'admiration, tellement il la trouve belle. "Dis-moi done, 
Ti-Jean, ce que tu cherches? Voila bien ton troisieme voyage ici." 

1 I.e., toile tissee par les paysans. 

2 Pour crois bien. 

3 I.e., sans pareille. 

4 De ressoudre, pour arriver. 

5 Pour querir, chercher. 

6 Employd ici d'une mani^re quasi impersonnelle. 



48 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

Et sa r^ponse est: **Mon p6re le roi, vous savez, a trois paroles. II 
a dit: 'Celui qui m'emm^nera la plus belle fiUe, c'est le boute, il aura 
ma couronne.' " Et il ajoute: "Ast'heure, je n'en vols pas sur la terre 
de plus belle que vous." — "Moi, dit-elle, je suis metamorphosee, ^ 
et je ne redeviendrai princesse que si le fils d'un roi m'epouse." Ti- 
Jean dit: "C'est bon!" — "Demain matin, ajoute-t-elle, je serai 
encore grande chatte blanche. Tu attelleras mes quatre crapauds k 
mon vieux carrosse, et nous nous en irons ensemble." 

Le lendemain matin, Ti-Jean se 16ve et revolt la princesse meta- 
morphosee. Au carrosse il attelle les crapauds et s'asseoit sur le petit 
sidge, la grande chatte blanche pres de lui. ^ Qa fait de manidre que,^ 
elle se frole contre lui, se prom^ne sur ses genoux et frotte ses joues 
contre les siennes, rrnyao, rrnyao! 

Ses frdres arrivent ^ la fourche des trois chemins. Acre! ^ils ont 
des belles fiUes! Puis ils regardent Ti-Jean avec sa chatte blanche 
et les quatre crapauds, et disent: "De ce coup-1^, c'est le restant!^ 
Ti-Jean va se faire tuer." Et ils ont un plaisir ! "Avec ce vieux 
carrosse et ces quatre crapauds, ne nous suis pas, au moins!" 
— "AUez-vous en done!" r^pond-il. Le voilh par derri^re eux, 
fouettant d'une hart ses crapauds, tandis que la chatte blanche se 
fr61e dans son visage en miaulant rrnyao, rrnyao. Les trois fr^res 
arrives chez leur p6re, Ti-Jean emm^ne la chatte blanche dans sa 
chambre et va etriller ses crapauds bring, brang, brang! "Ti-Jean, tu 
vas briser I'etrille de notre p^re, le roi." — "Notre pSre est capable 
d'en avoir une autre." 

Le matin, ah! le roi trouve que Cordon-vert et Cordon-bleu ont 
des belles crietures.^ II demanda: "Ti-Jean?" — "Ah! lui, il a une 
grande chatte blanche." — "Que 9a soit ce que^avoudra, il faut que 
je la voie." Et mon Ti-Jean ressoud avec sa princesse par la main. 
C'est pas qa! '' le roi n'en revient pas. II n'a jamais vu de si belle 
crieture de sa vie. Ayant atteie les crapauds, Ti-Jean arrive avec 
quatre chevaux sans pareils et un carrosse comme on n'en a jamais 
encore vu. Les trois fr^res partent et s'en vont ensemble se marier 
k chacune de leurs belles, Ti-Jean, ^ la princesse. "C'est mon Ti- 
Jean qui a gagne ma couronne," dit le roi; et, I'enlevant de sa tite, 
bang! il la met sur celle de Ti-Jean. 

1 Amorphosee est I'expression employee ici par Paul Patry. 

2 A contre de lui, dit M. Patry. 

' Locution conjonctive h peu pr^ d6nu6e de sens, mais aouveat employee 
par les paysans. 

4 Juron. 

5 Expression souvent employee par les paysans dans le sens de cette fois, 
c'est la limite extrSme. 

« Four femmes. Ce mot, au Canada, n'est pas pris dans son sens pejoratif. 
7 Expression emphatique familiSre. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 49 

Qa fait de maniere . . . ^ J'etais aux noces. Mais depuis ce temps, 
je n'ai pas revu ces gens-la et je ne sais pas comment ga se passe 
1^-bas. 

7. TI-JEAN ET LA PRINCESSE DES SEPT-MONT AGNES- VERTES. ^ 

Une fois, c'etait une princesse qui avait ete metamorphosee ' par 
une vieille fee. Un nomme Ti-Jean, un jour, passe pres du chateau 
dans lequel la princesse est prisonniere. L'apercevant a la fenetre, 
en haut, il lui demande: "Mais que fais-tu done 1^?" Elle r6pond: 
"Je suis la prisonniere d'une vieille fee." — "Que faut-il faire pour te 
d^livrer?" — "C'est impossible!" Sur quoi Ti-Jean la quitte et s'en 
va. Le long du chemin, il rencontre une vieille fee, et lui demande: 
*'Mais qui done garde la princesse dans le chateau ?" Celle-ci repond: 
"C'est une fee cent fois plus mechante que moi." — "Comment faire 
pour la d^livrer?" — "Cette fee dort pendant une heure,chaque jour; 
et la princesse en profite pour venir h la fenetre de sa chambre, oil il 
est impossible k quiconque d'entrer. Rends-toi au chateau, et quand 
la prisonniere viendra k sa fenetre, demande-lui de te tendre la corde 
qui est dans sa chambre, afin que tu y puisses monter. Sitot mont6, 
va renfermer la fee chez elle, pour qu'elle n'en puisse plus sortir, et 
pour qu'elle y meure." Ti-Jean se rend done au chateau, apergoit 
la princesse. "II y a une corde prSs de ta chambre, dit-il; va la chercher 
et tends-la moi, pour que j'aille te delivrer." — "C'est impossible! 
plusieurs y ont d^j^ perdu la vie." — "Va vite chercher la corde! le 
temps est court." La princesse va done chercher la corde et la tend 
k son lib^rateur, qui monte et se hate d'emprisonner la f^e chez elle. 
Sans perdre un instant, Ti-Jean aide la princesse k descendre et des- 
cend aprds elle, pendant que la fee lance des cris et des lamentations si 
dpouvantables que le chateau en tremble. 

Ayant conduit la princesse au chateau du roi, Ti-Jean dit: "C'est 
moi qui I'ai d^Uvr^e." Le roi repond: "Tu as delivre ma princesse; 
mais tu ne deviendras son ^poux que dans un an et un jour." 

Toujours pensif, loin de la princesse, Ti-Jean trouve maintenant 
les journees fort longues. Rencontrant la vieille fee, sa bienfaitrice, 
il regoit encore un conseil d'elle: "Tu n'as pas eu grand'peine k delivrer 
la princesse, mais tu vas essuyer bien des traverses avant de Tepouser." 
Et elle ajoute; "Tu iras au chateau, tel jour, et vous pourrez jaser 

I Expression souvent usitee comme locution conjonctive. 

* Recite par Prudent Sioui, de la Jeune Lorette, Quebec, qui avait appris ce 
conte de son pdre, et, jusqu'^ I'dge de 20 ans, le lui avait souvent entendu raconter. 
Recueilli en aotlt, 1914. 

3 Amorphosee est I'expression employee par Sioui ; il est Evident que le 
conteur emploie ici une expression inappropriee, la princesse n'^tant rdellement 
point m^tamorphos^e en un autre dtre, mais etant seulement prisonnidre. 



50 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

une heure ensemble." Le jour arriv^, Ti-Jean se rend au chateau; 
et la princesse arrive, fiere ^ de causer une heure avec lui. Parlant 
ensemble de leurs malheurs, ils se redisent; "La parole du roi en est 
donn^e, nous ne pourrons nous marier que dans un an et un jour, et 
apres bien des traverses." Tout 9a mettait Ti-Jean dans I'inquietude. 
La princesse, avant de partir,lui dit: "Va revoir la fee,et reste toujours 
pres d'elle. Moi, je repars; et, tel jour, j'arreterai la pour causer 
une heure avec toi." 

Ayant entendu leur conversation, une servante du roi s'en va la 
raconter a son maitre, qui repond: '*Tu endormiras Ti-Jean!" A 
Fheure oil la princesse doit arriver, la servante va trouver Ti-Jean 
et lui donne une dose. La princesse arrive et le trouve endormi. 
Elle le pogne, ^ le pince, lui tire les bras, le secoue et essaie de toutes 
manieres de le reveiller. Impossible. L'heure pass^e, il lui faut s'en 
aller. A peine est-elle partie que Ti-Jean se reveille, pensif . La vieille 
fee vient lui dire: "Elle est repartie. Dans quinze jours, tu pourras 
causer une heure avec elle." Au bout de quinze jours, ils sont fiers 
de se revoir. La princesse fait des reproches a Ti-Jean, qui repond: 
"La dose de la servante, je le ere hen, m'avait endormi; et je me suis 
reveille bien pensif et triste." — "Ti-Jean, dit la princesse, je vais 
encore revenir, et, cette fois, en nu^e bleue. Mais, garde-toi bien de 
rien accepter de la servante. Dans un an et un jour, mon pere en a 
donn^ sa parole, nous nous marierons." II retourne voir la fee. 

La journ^e venue, la servante prepare encore une dose, que Ti-Jean 
refuse de la prendre. En disant: "Tu as quelque chose de sale sous le 
nez," elle lui passe son mouchoir dans le visage; et il s'endort aussitot. 
La princesse arrive et le trouve endormi. Elle passe son heure a le 
secouer et a lui faire toutes sortes de cruautes pour le reveiller. Im- 
possible. Au bout de l'heure, il lui faut partir. Voyant la nu^e 
bleue disparaitre au loin, Ti-Jean se dit: "C'est fini, jamais je ne la 
reverrai!" 

II avait toujours a I'id^e son mariage a elle, dans un an et un jour, 
comme le roi I'avait dit. Mais il etait toujours dans le trouble, pen- 
dant que le temps passait. Sa f^e protectrice, un jour, lui dit: "La 
princesse va revenir ce soir, et tu vas avoir le plaisir de causer une 
heure avec elle." Ti-Jean se rend done au chateau et cause une 
heure avec la princesse. II se lamente plusieurs fois de ne pas la 
revoir plus souvent. "C'est par ordre de mon pere, dit-elle, que la 
servante agit ainsi. Courage, Ti-Jean! Tu m'as d^livree et tu 
m'auras dans un an et un jour; mon pere I'a promis. On m'envoie 
en voyage en attendant, pour que je ne pense plus a toi et que, ren- 
contrant des beaux princes, je t'oublie pour eux. Courage, Ti-Jean! 
Que I'ann^e s'^coule! et nous nous marierons. Maintenant, je pars, 

1 Fier signifie ici " content," " heureux." 2 Pour prendre, saisir. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 51 

et quand je passerai ici en nuee blanche, ce sera pour la dernidre fois. 
Apres ga, je ne reviendrai plus, car I'annee acheve." En partant, 
elle ajoute: "Rappelle-toi, Ti-Jean, des ordres de mon pere, et defie-toi 
de la servante. Va retrouver la fee qui te protege, et quand j'y 
passerai, tel jour, nous causerons encore une fois ensemble." 

La journee dict^e, la servante arrive pres de Ti-Jean et lui dit: 
*'Ti-Jean, le roi lui-meme m'envoie te laver et te mettre de la poudre 
et de I'odeur, avant que la princesse arrive." Ti-Jean consent, et 
la servante s'empresse de le laver et de le poudrer. Elle n'a pas 
fini que Ti-Jean dort. La princesse arrive aussitot et, le trouvant 
endormi, elle se jette sur lui, le secoue de bien des mani^res et lui 
fait toutes les cruautes imaginables. A la fin, elle I'arrose de larmes, 
disant: "C'est fini, nous ne nous reverrons plus!" Elle lui laisse en 
souvenir sa tabatidre et son mouchoir, oil son nom est brode en or. 
Et elle lui fait ses adieux pour toujours. 

Se reveillant, Ti-Jean aperQoit une nuee blanche au loin et se met k 
pleurer et se lamenter. "J'ai tout perdu!" Mais on avait dit qu'il 
aurait du trouble pendant un an et un jour; et ga lui donne un peu 
d'espoir. La fee arrive et, le trouvant si triste, le rassure, malgr6 
toutes les traverses qui I'attendent. "La princesse que tu as d^livree, 
dit-elle, est partie du chateau de son pere, et n'y reviendra jamais. 
Elle est sur les Sept-montagnes-vertes. Ti-Jean, je vas te proteger 
comme je I'ai toujours fait. Trois de mes sceurs sont fees comme 
moi. Ast'heure, ecoute hen, Ti-Jean, et ne te trompe pas! Au bout 
de ce chemin, tu vas trouver trois sentiers, un k droite, un k gauche, 
et I'autre au milieu. Prends celui de gauche, et a peu pr6s une lieue 
plus loin, tu trouveras la plus jeune de mes soeurs. Voici une lettre 
de recommandation pour elle." Heureux d'etre toujours prot^g^ 
par la f^e, mais triste k la pensee de la princesse, Ti-Jean part, empor- 
tant la lettre de recommandation. Rendu chez la fee, il lui remet la 
lettre, od elle lit: "Je te recommande de prendre soin de Ti-Jean, qui 
s'en va aux Sept-montagnes-vertes, a la recherche d'une princesse 
amorphosee. ^ Indique-lui le sentier menant chez notre troisidme sceur, 
k qui tu le recommanderas." Ti-Jean passe la nuit chez la fee qui, 
le lendemain matin, lui dit: "Tu vas t'en aller chez celle de mes sceurs, 
la maitresse de tous les animaux, qui reste k une lieue d'ici. Pour y 
arriver tu suivras le premier petit sentier k droite, au bout de ce 
chemin. Attends, Ti-Jean! Je vais te donner une lettre de recom- 
mandation. Peut-etre pourra-t-elle te donner des nouvelles de la 
princesse." Malgre sa peine, Ti-Jean se met k sourire, en s'en allant. 
Arrive chez la troisi^me fee, la maitresse de tous les animaux, il pre- 
sente sa lettre de recommandation. Fi^re de le voir, la fee s'informe 
de sa sceur. Mais Ti-Jean lui raconte son histoire, ses troubles et sa 

I Metamorphosee. 



52 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

peine. Elle lui dit: "Tu vas coucher ici. Demain matin, je prendrai 
mon sifflet et j'appellerai tous les animaux dont je siiis la mattresse. 
Peut-etre pourront-ils nous donner des nouvelles de la princesse, qui 
est sur les Sept-montagnes-vertes." Le lendemain matin, la f^e 
prend son sifflet et appelle les animaux des bois, qui accourent autour 
d'elle. Elle leur demande : ''N'avez-vous pas pris connaissance de la 
princesse qui est all^ sur les Sept-montagnes-vertes?" Aucun d'eux 
ne Tavait vue. Ti-Jean est triste comme toujours; mais la f^e le 
rassure et lui dit: "Tu vas aller voir une de mes soeurs, la reine de tous 
les oiseaux des bois, qui reste bien plus loin que les autres. Je vas 
I'enseigner la route, qui est bien difficile a suivre. Prends ce chemin, 
et, rendu a cinq arpents d'ici, tu verras un petit sentier ^ que tu suivras 
un houte. Arriv^ a un autre sentier, tu t'y engageras. Fais bien 
attention, et ne te trorape pas!" Toujours triste, Ti-Jean se greye 
pour partir. La f^e lui donne une lettre de recommandation. II se 
met a sourire, et part en disant: "Bonsoir!" — "Bonsoir, Ti-Jean!" 
r^pond la f^e. Pensif tout le long du chemin, Ti-Jean arrive chez la 
quatri^me f^e et lui pr^sente sa lettre. Contente d'avoir des nouvelles 
de sa soeur, celle-ci lui demande son histoire. II s'empresse de 
raconter ses troubles et ses traverses. Aussitot qu'il a fini, elle dit : 
"Moi, je suis la reine des oiseaux. Je vas prendre mon sifflet et 
appeler tous les oiseaux pour savoir s'ils ont vu la princesse." Dans 
un instant tous les oiseaux arrivent, et elle leur demande: "Savez- 
vous oil est la princesse?" Aucun d'eux ne I'avait vue. "Courage, 
Ti-Jean! J'ai un vieil aigle qui n'est pas encore arriv^. Courage!" 
A I'aigle qui arrive bien fatigu6, elle demande: "N'as-tu pas pris 
connaissance de la princesse?" L'aigle r^pond: "Oui, je viens de 
manger a la porte de son chateau. Elle est sur les Sept-montagnes- 
vertes." — *'Es-tu capable d'y conduire Ti-Jean?" — "Je suis bien 
fatigue, repond l'aigle; mais avec un quartier de boeuf, je pense m'y 
rendre." La f^e consent: "Tu vas avoir le bceuf voulu pour y mener 
Ti-Jean." 

Une fois Ti-Jean sur son dos, l'aigle se hfi,te de voler vers les Sept- 
montagnes-vertes, car il savait que la princesse allait bientot epouser 
un prince. Rendu sur la sixieme montagne, l'aigle faiblit; et Ti- 
Jean de plus en plus souvent lui donne de la viande. Au haut de la 
sixieme montagne, I'oiseau dit: "II ne reste plus guere de temps. 
Dans vingt-quatre heures, la princesse sera marine." A Ti-Jean qui 
se met k pleurer, il redit: "Courage! Avec du courage, nous arrive- 
rons." Sur la septi^me montagne, l'aigle crie: "Je n'en peux plus; 
il me faut de la viande!" Plein de courage et voulant voir la prin- 
cesse, Ti-Jean prend son couteau, se taille un morceau de chair sur la 
fesse gauche, et le donne a I'oiseau. Bien fatigues tous les deux, ils 

1 Sioui disait chantier. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 53 

arrivent au chateau a huit heures du soir. La princessc se mariait 
le lendemain matin. Mai vetu comme il est, Ti-Jcan frappe au cha- 
teau et s'offre comme premier cuisinier, en disant: "Je peux faire la 
cuisine pour toutes les classes." La princesse, a qui on rapporte 
qa, le fait de suite engager comme premier cuisinier. Fier de son 
succes, Ti-Jean entre a la cuisine. Aussitot les chaleurs ^ le prennent, ^ 
et il sort son mouchoir pour s'essuyer, Mais la servante aper^oit sur 
le mouchoir qui brille un nom ecrit en lettres d'or. Elle court le 
dire a sa maitresse. La princesse se met a penser. Puis elle dit: 
"Demande au cuisinier de venir ici dans ma chambre. Jeveux levoir." 
— "Mais ce n'est pas ais6. Le cuisinier est tout en gu^nilles." — 
"Va dire a Ti-Jean de venir ici! Je veux le voir." La servante ob^it 
et r^pete I'ordre au cuisinier. "C'est bien difficile de me presenter 
ainsi devant la princesse, r^pond Ti-Jean; mes habits ne sont pas 
convenables." — "Quand meme vos habits ne sont pas convenables, 
elle veut vous voir de suite." Ti-Jean monte a la chambre de la 
princesse, qui le reconnait. "D'ou viens-tu, Ti-Jean ?" — "De la 
cuisine," r^pond-il. "Ce n'est pas toi, Ti-Jean, qui as d^livr^ une 
princesse?" — "Oui, c'est moi qui ai d61ivr6 une princesse." — "Ti- 
Jean, tu vas me montrer le mouchoir avec lequel tu t'es essuy6 dans 
la cuisine." En regardant le mouchoir, elle demande: "Est-ce le 
mouchoir de la princesse que tu as d^livr^e?" — "Oui," dit-il. "Ti- 
Jean, tu dois avoir une tabatiere?" II prend sa tabatiere et offre une 
prise a la princesse. Fiere de prendre une prise a la suite de Ti-Jean, 
elle le salue, et lui de meme. 

Sans se faire reconnaitre I'un a I'autre, ils se quittent, et Ti-Jean, 
toujours triste, mais heureux d'etre dans le chateau de sa princesse, 
s'en retourne a la cuisine. Sa maitresse lui fait faire un habit de 
prince, et dit a une servante: "Prends soin de Ti-Jean, a la cuisine; et 
sois sure que son habit soit pret demain matin." 

De bonne heure le matin, la princesse fait demander Ti-Jean et 
lui dit: "Va mettre I'habit de prince que je t'ai fait faire; et tiens toi 
pret! Aussitot que je te ferai demander, tu viendras a ma droite." 
Et il s'empresse d'aller se mettre en toilette. Pendant ce temps-la, 
le prince qui doit ^pouser la princesse arrive et le mariage commence. 
Une fois a table, la princesse fait demander son cuisinier. Le cuisi- 
nier arrive, et de lui-meme vient s'asseoir a la droite de la princesse. 
Le prince assis a sa gauche se trouve insulte. 

Avant que le mariage soit celebre, les principaux invites font un 
discours a table. La princesse demande la parole et dit: "Voila un an 
et un jour. . ." Les gens apergoivent Ti-Jean sourire; "... J'avais une 
vieille clef. Cette clef m'avait rendu un grand service, et je n'avais 

1 I.e., def alliance, pdmoison. 

2 C'est probablement une feinte de Ti-Jean. 



54 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

pas besoin d'autre clef pour toutes mes serrures. Mais je I'ai 
perdue; et je suis indecise d'en acheter une nouvelle que je redouts. 
Foi de prince, de princesse et de rouet\^ qui etes ici a ma table! Que 
dois-je faire? Je viens de retrouver ma vieille clef." Tous lea 
princes et princesses: "Foi de prince, princesses et de rouef! gardez la 
vieille clef, parce qu'elle vous a rendu un si grand service." — "Eh 
bien! dit-elle, voici ma vieille clef. C'est Ti-Jean mon heros; c'est 
lui qui m'a d^livree, il y a un an et un jour, quand j'etais amorphosee. 
Toi, beau prince, retire-toi!" ^ 

8. LES PAROLES DE FLEURS, d'OR ET d' ARGENT. ' 

Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'etait un roi qui avait une belle 
petite fille. S'etant marie en secondes noces k une veuve qui avait 
aussi une fille du meme age, il passait son temps 5, la chasse. La 
belle-m^re, elle, tenait I'enfant du roi en esclavage, la plupart du 
temps sous une grande cuve, devant la cheminee, et I'appelait "sa 
petite Cendrouillonne.^^ * 

Voulant la faire detruire, elle lui dit, un jour: "Ma petite CendrouiU 
lonne, va k la cabane des fees chercher de I'eau de la rajeunie."^ La 
petite fille s'en va done a la fontaine, oil elle rencontre la vieille ma- 
gicienne: "Que cherches-tu, ma petite fille?" Elle repond: "Je suis 
venue chercher de I'eau de votre fontaine." — "Bien! cherche-moi 
des poux, dans la tete." Et pendant que la petite fille cherche, elle 
demande: "Que trouves-tu, dans ma tete?" — "Je vous trouve des 
grains d'or et d'argent." — "Quand tu parleras, ma petite fille, 
il sortira de ta bouche de Tor, de I'argent et des belles fleurs." Ayant 
pris de I'eau de la rajeunie k la fontaine, elle s'en va trouver sa belle- 
m^re. "Tiens! en voila, de I'eau de la fontaine de la vieille magicienne." 
Comme elle parle, des fleurs, de I'or et de I'argent tombent de sa bou- 
che. Voyant ga, la belle-m^re se dit: "II faut que j'y envoie aussi 
ma fille." L'enfant arrive chez la fee magicienne de la fontaine, qui 
lui demande: "Que viens-tu faire ici, ma petite fille?" — "Je viens 
chercher de I'eau de la rajeunie k la fontaine." — "Bien! elle dit, 
cherche done dans ma tete." Et quand la fille cherche, elle demande: 
"Que trouves-tu dans ma tete, ma petite fille?" — "Je vous trouve 
des poux et des landes."^ F&ch^e, la vieille refuse de lui laisser 

1 Pour roi. 

2 Comme le raconteur, Prudent Sioui, ne se souvenait pas trfis clairement de 
quelques parties de ce conte.il est probable que la finale est quelque peu brusquee ici. 

3 R6cit6 k Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915, par Achille Fournier, 

3ui dit avoir appris ce conte d'un vieux Edouard Lebel, aussi de Sainte-Anne, et 
6cede il y a une douzaines d'annees. 
* Pour Cendrillon. 

5 I.e., de I'eau qui rajeunit. 

6 Pour glandes. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 55 

prendre de I'eau de la fontaine, et lui dit: "Quand tu parleras, il te 
sortira de la boiiche des crapauds et des couleuvres." Comme elle 
arrive chez elle, sa mere lui demande: "As-tu apport^ de I'eau de la 
rajeunie?" Elle parle, et des crapauds et des couleuvres tombent 
de sa bouche. 

Ce qui arrive la ? Le fils d'un roi. S'approehant de la cheminee, 
il leve la cuve et aperQoit Cendrouillonne — qui est la fille du roi. II 
la trouve si belle, avec toutes ces fleurs qui lui tombent de sa bouche 
quand elle parle, qu'il lui fait promettre de I'^pouser, un jour. En 
la quittant il dit: "Je reviendrai te chercher." 

Le voyant revenir, la belle-mere greye sa propre fille, lui met un voile 
sur le visage, et dit: "La voila, celle que vous voulez epouser." Elle 
enibarque dans la voiture du prince, et ils s'en vont. Mais, aussitot 
qu'elle parle, des couleuvres et des gros crapauds sortent de sa bouche. 
"Ah! dit-il, elle m'a jou6 un tour. Ce n'est pas celle que j'ai promis 
d'^pouser." La jetant haul en has de la voiture, il retourne au chateau 
du roi, et fach^, il dit a la vieille: "Vous m'avez jou^ un tour et donn6 
votre fille a; la place de celle que j'ai promis d'^pouser." S'en 
allant pres de la cheminee, il apergoit sa belle fiancee: "Ast^heure, 
veux-tu te marier a moi?" — "Oui!" C'est sa r^ponse. Et aussitot 
qu'elle parle, des fleurs, de Tor et de I'argent tombent de sa bouche, 
il n'y a rien de plus beau. Bien contents, les amoureux s'en vont 
chez le cur6, qui les marie. C'est tout ce que je sais de leur histoire. 

9. CENDRILLON. ^ 

Une fois, c'^tait un veuf et sa fille. Le veuf se marie en secondes 
noces a une femme ayant trois filles pas tres joliyes. Cendrillon, la 
fille unique, 6tait belle. Les filles de la veuve devinrent bientot 
jalouses et fach^es de voir les jeunes gens s'approcher d'elle plutot 
que de toutes autres. 

Un jour, elles disent a leur mere: "II y a toujours un houte! Ne la 
laisse pas passer avec nous au salon. Avec ses belles fagons, elle 
attire tons les gargons; et il nous est impossible d'en avoir un a veiller^ 
avec nous." Fachee de cela, la belle-m^re donne un habit de flanelle 
d^ habitant^ a Cendrillon, et la met a tous les ouvrages durs, pour gaspiller 
sa belle peau. Pendant que Cendrillon est assise seule pres de la 
cheminee, les jeunes filles sont toujours en toilette, faisant leurs 
demoiselles. 

Un beau soir, une magniere * de roi fait une grosse soiree, invite tout 
le monde, surtout les jeunes filles. Les trois soeurs de Cendrillon 
s'habillent de leurs plus beaux habits pour aller a la soiree. Mais 

1 Racont6 par Mme P. Sioui, en aoAt, 1914, a Lorette, Quebec. Mme Sioui 
avait appris ce conte de sa mere, Mme Marie Michaud (Picard). 

2 I.e., pour passer la soiree. 3 i.e., flanelle du pays. 4 Pour manibre de. 



56 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

on dit h. Cendrillon: "Toi, tu ne viendras pas. Ta place est ici." 
Elle reste done seule devant la cheminee, a pleurer de se voir si jeune 
et de ne pouvoir s'amuser comme ses soeurs. A peine les filles parties, 
une vieille fee ressoud^ pr^s d'elle. "Bonsoir, ma fille! Qu'as-tu 
k pleurer?" Elle repond: "Meniere!^ Vous voyez ce que je suis. 
Voici ma chaise. Si quelqu'un vient veiller, on me laisse ici avec ces 
habits de flanelle d'hahitant. Mes trois soeurs vont partout, mais pas 
moi. Comme vous voyez, ce soir, le roi donne une grosse soiree; mes 
soeurs y sont. Moi, je ne puis pas m'y montrer; ma m^re me tuerait." 
La fee lui dit: "Greye^-to\\ tu vas y aller." — "Je ne puis pas y aller; 
je n'ai pas de robe." — "Moi, je vas t'en donner une." La fee 
I'habille de beau satin pale, et lui donne aussi des pantoufles de satin 
p41e. Belle comme elle est, avec ses beaux cheveux d'or, il n'y a 
qu'un ^clat autour d'elle. La fee lui recommande: "Ne passe pas* 
minuit. Si tu le fais, tu redeviendras comme avant." Un beau 
carrosse passe h la porte, Cendrillon y emharque ^ et arrive k la porta 
du chateau. Elle descend et entre. A la vue d'une beaute si rare, 
tous les danseurs s'arretent et regardent, surpris. C'est k qui danse- 
rait avec elle. Le prince la trouve si belle et si bien vetue qu'il lui 
demande une danse. Ne voulant pas passer minuit, elle demande 
rheure. Le prince lui dit: "II est onze heures." Elle repond: "Ca 
me fait bien de la peine, mais il faut que je m'en aille." Le prince ne 
veut pas la laisser partir et dit: "II n'est pas tard!" — "Je ne peux 
pas; il faut que je parte." Le carrosse est a la porte, elle y monte et 
s'en retourne. Rendue k la maison, elle redevient habillee en Cen- 
drillon, comme avant. Ses soeurs arrivent et la trouvent assise devant 
le feu, comme toujours. EUes lui disent: "II y avait done une belle 
fille, belle comme un ange! On^ n'a jamais vu de beaute pareille." 
Cendrillon ecoute et fait semblant de rien. Elle demande k ses 
soeurs: "Etait-elle bien habillee, cette fille dont vous parlez tant?" 
— "Elle avait la plus belle robe de satin pale et des pantoufles sans 
pareilles. Oh a-t-elle bien pu les prendre ? On n'en a jamais vu d'aus- 
si belles." 

Le lendemain au soir, il y avait encore un bal chez le roi. Les 
trois filles se disent: "Nous allons toujours nous mettre des belles 
toilettes, tout ce que nous avons de plus beau." Elles ne savent 
quoi faire pour se rendre plus jolies et trouver k se marier. Cendrillon 
leur demande: "Emmenez-moi done?" La belle-mdre repond: "Je 
ne veux pas d'une Cendrouillonne'' comme toi, pour faire honte k mes 
filles." Cendrillon s'asseoit comme toujours dans sa petite chaise 
hergante, pr^s de la cheminee. Les trois filles se greyent pour la danse,* 

1 I.e., apparait, arrive. * Pour grand'mhre. 3 I.e., prepare-toi. 

* I.e., reviens avant minuit. 5 I.e., monte. 6 Pour nous. 

7 Probablement deriv6 de Cendrillon. ^ I.e., aoiree oCl Ton danae. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 57 

raettent tout ce qu'elles ont de plus beau en or et en satin, partent 
avec leur mere et laissent Cendrillon seule a pleurer. Aussitot qu'elles 
sont parties, la vieille f^e ressoud^ encore: '^Bonsoir, ma fille! tu as 
I'air bien triste." — "Oui, memere! elles sont parties pour la danse; et 
moi, elles n'ont pas voulu m'emmener. Tous les ouvrages les plus 
durs, c'est a moi qu'on les donne." La f^e demande: "Veux-tu y 
aller?" — "Qa me ferait bien plaisir d'y aller; mais je n'ai pas de 
robe." — "Vite, greye-toiV dit-elle en lui donnant une belle robe de 
satin rose et des pantoufles appareill^es. La f^e la rend deux fois 
plus belle qu'elle est, et Tenvoie en disant: "Ne passe pas minuit, 
parce que, a cette heure-la, tu redeviendras Cendrouillonne." Les 
plus beaux chevaux, attel^s a un carrosse sans pareil, arrivent a la 
porte; Cendrillon emharque et arrive au bal. Voyant entrer une si 
belle fille, tout le monde arrete de danser pour la regarder. Vitement 
le prince s'approche d'elle et lui demande de danser avec elle. Elle 
accepte, et s'amuse telleraent qu'elle oublie I'heure. Tout a coup, 
elle lui demande: "Quelle heure est-il?" Et, pendant que minuit 
Sonne, elle d^gringole I'escalier et redevient Cendrillon comme avant. 
Dans I'escalier elle perd une pantoufle,que le prince, courant apres elle, 
ramasse. Vetue de flanelle d'habitant, dans son carrosse, elle file 
chez elle. A peine assise devant la chemin^e, ses soeurs arrivent. 
Elles ne font que parler de la belle fille vetue de satin rose. "Mais 
c'est drole comme elle est partie vite!" disent-elles. 

Le lendemain, le prince fait battre un ban. "Celle a qui la pantoufle 
ira sera I'^pouse du prince." En attendant que le prince passe, les 
trois filles mettent leurs plus belles toilettes. Comme la pantoufle 
est bien petite, elles se coupent le bout du pied pour la mettre, mais 
sans y r^ussir. A la fin, le prince fait le tour de toutes les maisons des 
invites a la danse, sans trouver a qui la pantoufle appartient. Alors 
le roi dit: "R^unissez toutes les jeunes filles du village." Cendrillon 
se trouve parmi elles, habillee en paysane. A elle seule la pantoufle 
fait. Et le roi declare qu'elle est bien celle que le prince va ^pouser. 
Les gens de la cour la font habiller en princesse, et s'apergoivent comme 
elle est belle. Pour le mariage, on fait une grosse noce. Mais moi, 
on ne m'a pas invitee. 

10. LES QUATRE VENTS. ^ 

Une fois, il est bon de vous dire que c'etait un roi. Le temps ^tant 
venu de donner a ses trois gargons leur heritage, les deux plus vieux 

1 I.e., arrive. 

2 Conte r6cit(5 k Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915, par Achilla 
Fournier, qui dit I'avoir appris dans les chantiers des Montagnes-BIanches, d'un 
Canadien-frangais, il y a line trentaine d'ann^es. II est Evident que ce conte est, 
surtout vers la fin, bien incomplet. 



58 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

lui demandent chacun trois cents piastres, et Ti-Jean, un gars de 
quinze ans seulement, dit: "Moi, je ne vous demande que votre 
chaloupe, sur la greve." 

Dans sa chaloupe, voila Ti-Jean parti pour la peche. Apres avoir 
peche toute la journee, il revient, le soir, avec plein sa chaloupe de 
poissons. "Qui aurait cru ga! dit le pere; je n'aurais jamais pense que 
tu pouvais prendre tant de poissons dans ta journee." Le lendemain, 
le petit gargon retourne encore a la peche, se couche dans sa chaloupe 
et s'endort. Voila bien que le courant Temporte au large. Se re- 
veillant, il pense: "Dis-moi done oil je suis rendu!" 

Le capitaine d'un gros batiment passant par la apergoit un petit 
tapon noir. C'etait son gilet que Ti-Jean secouait au bout d'une 
rame, comme signal. Regardant dans sa longue-vue, le capitaine dit 
k ses matelots: "Allons-3^ voir; qa doit etre quelque naufrage." Quand 
les matelots arrivent a lui: "Mon petit gars! ils disent, par quelle 
aventure es-tu ici ?" — "Pendant que je dormais dans ma chaloupe, le 
courant m'a emmene ici; et je ne puis plus prendre terre." Charme 
de ce petit gars, le capitaine lui dit: "Viens-t'en a bord du batiment, 
ou tu n'auras pas de mis^re; on y prendra bien soin de toi." 

Toujours que, il fallait arreter a quelque part pour prendre de I'eau 
douce. "Mes matelots, dit le capitaine, allez chercher de I'eau 
douce." — "M'a^ aller avec vous autres," dit I'enfant qui, une fois 
rendu a terre, prend sa ligne et ses ains,^ et s'en va pecher dans la 
riviere. Voyant une tempete s'elever sur la mer, les matelots crient: 
"II faut partir!" Et ils partent, oubhant leur protege k terre. Le 
capitaine dit: "Mais! vous ne m'avez pas -remmene mon petit gars. 
C'est done de valeur!^ moi qui en etais si charme; je ne lereverrai plus!" 

Dans sa journee, Ti-Jean peche une belle hrochetee* de truites. II 
prend un sentier, et arrive a un chateau. La princesse, qui se pro- 
menait sur la galerie,^ apergoit la hrochetee de poissons, et demande: 
"Est-il a vendre, ton poisson ?" — "Oui, belle princesse!" — "Comment 
ce que tu demandes?" — "Je demande une piastre." Et la princesse 
lui ayant donne la piastre, il part. "Attends done un peu!" dit la 
princesse, qui s'en va parler a son pere: "Si vous le voulez, je vas faire 
venir ce petit gargon au chateau, et nous I'enverrons a I'ecole pour le 
faire instruire." — "C'est bon! repond le roi; jette-lui un cri, pour le 
faire entrer." — "Aye, mon petit gars! viens done ici un peu." — 
"Tu voudrais bien m'oter ma piastre? Ah non, non!" Mais il finit 
par entrer au chateau, oh le roi lui dit: "Si tu veux rester avec nous 

1 Pourje m'en vas. 

2 Terme populaire pour hameqon. 

3 I.e., regrettable. Locution tr^s usitee au Canada. 

4 Une brochette sur laquelle on enfile le poisson sitot qu'il est pris. 

5 Un promenoir exterieur en saillie devant ou autour d'une maison ; le sens de 
ce mot, au Canada, est derive d'un terme marin. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 59 

autres, on va te faire instruire pour que tu gagnes ta vie honorable- 
ment." 

A r^cole, Ti-Jean apprenait tout ce qu'il voulait; il avait une tete 
epouvantahle. ^ Apres cinq ou six ans d'^eole, il avait tout appris 
les affaires de la marine et des bdtiments sur la mer. C'etait un vrai 
marin, II dit au roi: "Ast'heure, je suis capable de gagner ma vie ho- 
norablement; je m'en vais a la d^couverte de mines d'or et d'argent." 
Et il part, emmenant avec lui les deux gargons du roi. 

Sur la mer, il prend sa longue-vue, regarde et voit un petit tapon 
clair. "Tiens! il dit, mes petits amis, il y a ici une mine d'argent." 
II charge un batiment d'argent et renvoie un des enfants du roi chez 
son pere, avec ce batiment. 

Lui, sur la mer, il marche encore, marche, marche; regarde encore 
dans la longue-vue. Ce qu^il voit? Un tapoii jaune. "Ah! il dit, 
ici, c'est une montagne d'or." II charge un batiment d'or, et renvoie 
le deuxieme enfant du roi a son pere, sur ce batiment. Et il dit: '^Moi, 
il faut que j'aille encore plus loin, a la decouverte." 

Bien loin, Ti-Jean arrive a un chateau, au bord de la mer. Comme 
ce chateau a deux Stages, et une galerie au deuxieme, il monte dans un 
gros arbre, saute sur la galerie, et entre dans le chateau. La, il apergoit 
une princesse emmuraill^e '^ dans des grilles de fer. La princesse dit: 
"Je suis gardee par quatre grants, le Vent-de-Suroi, le Vent-de-Norde, 
le Vent-de-Nord et le Vent-du-Su." 

Voila bien le Vent-de-Suroi qui arrive et s'en va pour manger Ti-Jean, 
qui dit: "Devore-moi point! Que veux-tu d manger?" — "Donne-moi 
un quart ^ de lard et un quart de biscuit." Ti-Jean les lui donne. 
Le Vent-du-Su arrive a son tour et dit: "Tiens, Ti-Jean! Je vas te 
d^vorer." — "Le geant! tu n'en aurais pas pour ta grosse dent. Que 
te faut-il d manger?" — "II me faut un quart de lard et un quart de 
biscuit." Et aussitot le g^ant a ce qu'il demande. Voila le Vent- 
de-Norde qui vient: "Aye, Ti-Jean, je vas te d^vorer!" — "Devore- 
mot point! Tu vois bien que tu n'en aurais pas pour ta grosse dent. Que 
veux-tu manger?" — "II me faut un quart de lard et un quart de 
biscuit." Sitot dit, sitot fait. Voila le Vent-de-Nord qui arrive: 
"Je viens te d^vorer, Ti-Jean." — "Devore-moi point! Tu vois bien 
que tu n'en aurais pas pour ta grosse dent de moi." Et il lui donne 
un quart de lard et un quart de biscuit. 

Toujours, voila mon Ti-Jean qui prend son sabre, part, s'en va au 
chateau, et entre dans les grilles de fer. Une vieille magicienne le voit, 
et lui dit: "Ti-Jean, ne fais pas ga! Dans la foret, il y a quatre grants 
qui sont bien plus forts et malins que toi. Pour faucher, ils ont des 
faux de vingt-cinq pieds de long. Si tu veux les detruire, va dans la 
foret pendant qu'ils dorment." Ti-Jean s'en va done dans la foret, 

1 I.e., extraordinaire. 2 Emprisonnee. 3 Un baril. 



60 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

trouve les geants endormis, et, avec son sabre/ leur coupe le cou k 
tous les quatre. Voila les geants morts. 

S'en retournant au chateau, Ti-Jean s'en va trouver la vieille ma- 
gicienne,et dit: ''Bonne vieille! ce que qa veut done dire, tous ces chicots 
de sapin sec qu'on voit la?" EUe repond: "Ce sont tous des bati- 
ments que les geants ont amorphose en masses de sel." — "Qu'est-ce 
qu'il faut faire pour les demarphoserf" ^ — 'Trends ce petit pot de 
graisse et va frotter les chicots de sapin." ^ II prend le petit pot de 
graisse, s'en va frotter les chicots de sapin sec, qui se demarphosent 
et deviennent autant de batiments, avec matelots et capitaine h bord. 
De la il s'en va tout dret au chateau, brise les grilles de fer avec son 
sabre, delivre la princesse et I'emmene avec lui dans son batiment. 
Pendant le grand souper qu'il donne a tous les capitaines delivres, on 
lui fait prendre une dose d'eau d'endormi.* Un coup Ti-Jean endormi, 
on le met dans une paillasse et le sapre^ a la mer. Une baleine passe 
et envale^ la paillasse. Se reveillant dans le ventre de la baleine, mon 
Ti-Jean s'apergoit que ga marche pas mal vite. "OiJ-ce que'^ je suis?" 
Prend son couteau et pique dans le corps de la baleine. Plus il pique, 
et plus ga marche! En s'echouant sur une ile, la baleine se casse en 
deux. Voila Ti-Jean qui en sort et se met a se promener sur I'ile. 

Ti-Jean se souhaite transporte chez le pere de la princesse qu'il a 
d^livree. L^, pendant la nuit, il se fait batir un beau chateau de 
cristal.^ En se reveillant, le lendemain matin, le roi apergoit le beau 
chateau de crista! devant son palais, et envoie un de ses valets voir 
ce que ga veut dire. Le valet demande: "Qu'est-ce que ga veut done 
dire, ce chateau de cristal bati pendant la nuit?" Ti-Jean repond: 
"Va dire au roi que s'il a affaire h moi, il vienne ici me trouver." Le 
roi s'y rend et demande: "Mais, comment ga se fait que tu es rendu h 
ma porte, ce matin, avec un chateau en cristal cent fois plus beau que 
le mien?" — "C'est pour vous montrer, sire le roi, que j'ai ete trahi. 
J'avais delivre votre princesse que les geants avaient emmuraillee. 
Un capitaine de batiment demarphose, que j'avais invite a souper chez 
moi, m'a donne de I'eau d'endormi, m'a mis dans une paillasse et m'a 
sapre a la mer. Une baleine en passant m'a envale. En me reveillant 
dans le ventre de la baleine, je I'ai piquee avec mon couteau, et elle 
est allee se casser en deux sur une ile. L^, je me suis souhaite 

1 II est Evident que son sabre etait doue de vertus magiques. 

2 Desarnorphoser, de demetamorphoser. 

3 I.e., frotter les chicots avec la graisse. 

4 Eau qui produit le sommeil, eau de sommeil. 

5 I.e., jetle. 

6 Avale. 

7 Oil est-ce que. 

8 II est evident qu'ici le conte eat trSs incompl^tement recite. II est ^ 
supposer que, sur Tile, Ti-Jean rencontra quelque magicien ou obtint un charme qui 
lui donna des pouvoirs merveilleux. 



Contes Populaires Canadiena. 61 

transporte ici avec un beau chateau de cristal." — "Ah! mon Ti-Jcan, 
puisque c'est toi qui as gagne ma princesse, tu vas I'epouser." — "Non, 
sire le roi! je ne I'epouserai point." — ''Qu'est-ce que tu ordonnes^ 
au capitaine qui t'a trahi et a epouse ma princesse a ta place?" — "Je 
ne lui ordonne rien. Laissez-le oii il est; car il faut faire le bien pour 
le mal. Moi je m'en vais." 

De la, Ti-Jean se souhaite transporte k la porte du chateau oii il 
avait vendu sa brochetee de poissons h la princesse. "Tu as et^ bien 
longtemps a ton voyage!" dit le roi. "Eh bien! sire le roi, les deux 
batiments. Fun charge d'argent et Fautre d'or, sont-ils arrives?" — 
"Oui, ga fait longtemps. Ast'heure, mon Ti-Jean, tu vas ^pouser ma 
princesse, que tu as ben gagnee." lis se sont done maries. 

Et moi, ils m'ont renvoye ici vous le raconter. 

11. LE PRINCE DE l'eP^E-VERTE. " 

II est bon de vous dire qu'une fois c'etait un prince, dont le r^- 
fugiarum ^ etait la foret, oil il vivait de chasse. Un jour, sa femme 
meurt,et il reste avec deux enfants,un petit gargon et une petite fille 
d'une quinzaine d'annees. Plus tard, lui aussi tombe malade, meurt. 
Le petit gargon se met a chasser, chasse. II tue le pekan, le 
vison, la martre; et, ayant ramasse des fourrures riches a plein,* il 
dit a sa petite soeur: "Nous sommes tout nus. II faut que je prenne 
le petit sentier ^ et tache de trouver du monde, pour qu'on me vende 
des habillements." Leur pere leur avait dit qu'il y a des marchands 
d'habits. II part done avec ses pelleteries, et il marche, marche le 
long du petit sentier d son pere.® Ce qu'il rencontre dans le sentier ? 
Un gros et grand homme, epouvantable.^ " Mon petit gargon, oCi 
vas-tu?" — "Monsieur! je m'en vas vendre mes pelleteries pour 
m'acheter des habits. Je suis seul avec ma petite soeur, et nous voil^ 
sans habits, nus." — "Mon petit gargon, donne-moi tes pelleteries!" 
— "Non, batege!^ je m'en vas les vendre." Le petit gargon a peur; 
et le geant, qui a deux gros chiens abominables, repete: "Tu vas me 
donner tes pelleteries, et mes chiens sont a toi. Ce que tu leur de- 
manderas, ils te I'apporteront." Le petit gars pense: "C'est bien des 
menteries, mais c'est ^gal !" ^ II revire ^^ et arrive a sa soeur en braillant. 
II lui dit: "J'ai rencontre un gros et grand homme, avec une longue 
barbe. II m'a pris mes pelleteries et donne ses chiens en disant: 'Ce 
que tu leur demanderas, ils te I'apporteront.' " 

1 Dans le sens de "Quel chatiment veux-tu qu'on inflige k . . ." 

2 Le conteur, Paul Patry, de Saint-Victor, Beauce, avait appris ce conte de 
son neveu, Magloire Couture, maintenant un vieillard, de Saint-Benoit, Beauce. 
Recueilli en aoUt, 1914. 

3 Le " refuge," demeure habituelle, ou endroit familier. * I.e., trSs riches. 
5 Patry disait chantier. 6 De son pere. 7 XJn geant. 

8 Juron. 9 Le., pareil. lo Le., retourne. 



62 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

Le lendemain matin, il tue des chevreux et donne k manger k ses 
chiens. Sa petite soeur dit: "Ah! demande-leur done s'ils sont capables 
de nous apporter quelque chose." II regarde ses chiens assis sur le cul 
et leur demande: "Etes-vous capables d'aller chercher de quoi nous 
habiller?" Les chiens r^pondent: "Ww/ wuV^ II ouvre la porte, et 
VQ\\k les chiens partis, "lis ne reviendront plus," dit la petite fille. 

Mais, le soir, les chiens arrivent; Tun avec un paquet ipouvantable ^ 
de beaux habits et de chemises pour le petit gargon. L'autre est 
charg^ de tant de robes de sole pour la petite soeur qu'elle aurait pu 
se rhahiller d'un bout a l'autre ^ plusieurs fois. lis donnent bien a 
manger a leurs chiens, et se couchent. 

La petite soeur dit encore le lendemain matin: "Cou^don!^ si nous 
leur demandions de quoi manger? Tu sais, d^funt p^re apportait 
souvent du pain et de la viande. C'^tait bien bon: la belle viande 
blanche qui faisait du bouillon en cuisant — des grillades!" * Comme 
de fait,^ le gargon donne bien k manger a ses chiens: "Allons, mes 
chiens!" Et les chiens s'asseoient sur le cul en le regardant. "Cou'don, 
mes chiens! etes-vous capables d'aller nous chercher du pain blanc 
et de la viande?" Les chiens r^pondent: '^Wu! wuV^ lis partent et, 
le soir, reviennent, un avec deux sacs pleins de beau pain blanc, l'autre 
avec un gros lard^ sur le dos. Ah! voila les enfants contents. lis 
mangent du bon pain blanc, et le saucent dans le bouillon de la viande; 
c'est hen bon! 

Ast'heure, la petite dit: "Comme ils nous donnent bien des bonnes 
choses, demande-leur done s'ils peuvent nous apporter de I'argent." 
II y avait encore de I'argent blanc dans le porte-monnaie de leur p^re. 
Le gargon soigne bien ses chiens, et quand ils s'asseoient sur le cul, il 
leur demande: "Eh heji, mes chiens! etes-vous capables d'aller me 
chercher de I'argent comme ga?"^ Ils r^pondent: "Wii! wu! wuP' 
Et les voila partis. Le soir, ils reviennent, Fun avec un sac bien 
rempli d'argent de papier, l'autre avec un sac plein d'or et d'argent, 
sur le dos.^ 

Ast'heure, les enfants se disent: "II faut sortir d'ici, c'est impossible 
de rester dans les bois toute notre vie." Le petit gargon dit: "Je 
m'habille, et je vas essayer encore un coup de trouver du monde." 
II s'habille, se greye com'i'faut, met de I'argent dans le porte-manteau, 
et part le long du petit sentier, marche, marche. Arriv^ au bout de 
la foret, il apergoit la premiere maison; et trouve ga bien beau, pas 
rien! ^ II avance un peu dans la ville, ou il ne connait personne. 

1 I.e., d'une grosseur extraordinaire. 2 i.e., des pieds k la t^te. 

3 Ellipse de Ecoute done ! 

* Ici grillade est pris dans le sens restreint de grillade de pore. 

6 I.e., en r6alit6, en fait. 6 Cochon, pore. 7 I.e., comme celui-ci. 

8 I e., sur son dos. 9 Pour c'est pas rien ! i.e., extr^mement. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 63 

Quelqu'un lui demande: "Mon jeune homme, que cherchez-vous ?" 
II repond: "Je suis seul dans la foret avec ma soeur; mais je voudrais 
vivre parmi le monde." Comme il est bien poll et a Fair d'etre en 
moyens, on I'accueille bien et lui dit: "Oui, vous pouvez vivre ici." 
II continue done son chemin dans la ville, vers le fort; continue, marche. 
Tout ce qu'il voit autour de lui, il le trouve hen hen beau, et il se de- 
mande: "Je ne sais pas si je pourrais avoir une cabane ici." N'ayant 
jamais vu de maisons, il les appelait "des cabanes"! On lui repond: 
"Oui, vous pouvez bien en avoir une, si vous le voulez." II s'ach^te 
^ une belle maison, au milieu de la ville. Comme il a de I'argent en 
masse,^ il fait greyer sa maison de beaux meubles et de tout le bran- 
lant} Puis, il se dit: "AsCheure, je vais aller qWi^ ma soeur, dans les 
bois." Emmenant quatre hommes avec lui, ils se rendent en voiture 
jusqu'au bord du bois. La, ils deharquent et marchent dans les bois 
jusqu'a ce qu'ils arrivent chez la petite fille. "Tu as ^te bien long- 
temps parti!" dit-elle a son frere. II repond: "Tu vas voir comme 
c'est beau, la-bas. II faut nous suivre; nous sommes venus te q'ri." 
Montrant a ses hommes un grand coffre bien plein d'or, d'argent et de 
papier, il leur dit: "Apportez ce coffre." lis I'apportent k la voi- 
ture, au bord de la foret, pendant que le petit gargon et sa soeur les 
suivent. Arrivee a la ville, la petite fille aussi trouve ga hen beau, et 
est contente. Comme de raison, ces enfants-la ne connaissaient 
rien. S'apercevant qu'ils sont riches, le cure vient les voir, et il les 
avertit: "Mes petits jeunes gens, prenez garde a vous autres. Si 
vous voulez preter de I'argent, venez me le dire. Je vous introduirai, 
moi." De fait, ils vivent a I'aise, pretant de I'argent aux gens k 
qui le cure les introduit. 

Un jour, une pauvre femme vient leur demander la charite; elle est 
veuve, et traine avec elle un fantome,* un enfant inregardable. Le 
gargon lui donne la charite en lui demandant: "Pourquoi done de- 
mandez-vous la charite?" Elle repond: "Je suis veuve, seule, avec 
un fantome inmontrahle; et, ne pouvant pas gagner ma vie, il faut 
bien que je la demande." — "La mere! si vous voulez, vous pouvez 
Tester avec nous. Nous vous ferons vivre. Comme je n'aime pas 
que ma sceur travaille a I'ordinaire, vous seriez quasiment la maitresse 
ici." Mais elle demande: "Mon fantome?" II repond: "II y a une 
chambre oi vous pouvez le tenir renferme." Bien contente, la vieille 
consent a rester. Elle apporte son fantome, tout entortille dans une 
couverte, sans que personne ne le voie. Dans la chambre oil elle le 
garde, chaque jour, elle lui donne a manger. Sa besogne, a la maison, 
c'est de faire I'ordinaire. 

I I.e., en quantite. 2 I.e., mobilier, objets accessoires. 

3 I.e., de querir, chercher. 

* Patry pronongait fdtome; fantdme dans le sens de personne maigre semble Stre 
rarement usit6, au Canada. 

\ 

V 



64 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

Un bon jour, les jeunesses ^ sont devenues grandes et commencent 
h aimer le monde. Le gar^on dit k sa soeur: "Cou'don, il faut que je 
fasse un voyage, pour me chercher une femme de mon goiit." Elle 
dit: "C'est bon! Et tache, a moi tou,"^ de trouver un bel homme." 
Le gargon se greye un beau b^iment, et y met I'^quipage. Allant 
chez un tireur de portraits, ^ il demande son portrait et celui de sa 
soeur, disant: "S'il arrive quelque chose, tu auras mon portrait, et 
j'aurai le tien." Avant de partir,il dit k la memere* d'avoir bien soin 
de sa soeur, pendant son voyage. lis se souhaitent: "Bonsoir! bon 
voyage!" Et, sur son batiment, il part. 

II arrive dans une ville riche et lointaine. Comme il est en moyens, 
un bel homme et un monsieur s'il y en a un, il devient I'ami du roi, 
qui est jeune et gar^on. Le roi aussi a une soeur, tres belle fille. 
Monsieur le prince de I'Ep^e-verte * commence k se promener souvent 
avec le roi, et fait amiti^ avec la soeur. Le roi, voyant qu'il a les 
moyens, le trouve tres bon parti et consent au mariage de sa soeur 
avec lui. "Monsieur le prince de I'Ep^e-verte, lui demande-t-il, 
vous dites que vous avez une soeur?" — "Oui!" — "Si elle est un peu 
convenable,^ peut-6tre ne ferons-nous qu'une seule noce. Irez-vous 
la qWi?" II r^pond: "Oui!" Et il lui montre le portrait de sa soeur. 
Le roi la trouve belle depareilUe? Faisant aussi tirer son portrait, il 
le remet au prince de I'Ep^e-verte pour sa soeur. "Une fois parti, 
il ne reviendra plus!" dit la soeur du roi, en se plaignant. Mais non! 
Us se promettent par serment de se marier ensemble, tous les quatre. 
VoiR le prince de I'Ep^e-verte parti sur son bMiment, pour aller 
qWi sa soeur. 

Le voyant arriver, sa soeur lui saute au cou et I'embrasse. Pendant 
le voyage de son frere, elle avait encore profits. Elle se frottait, et 
elle 6tait belle. "T'es-tu trouv^ une femme?" est sa premiere de- 
mande. "M'en as-tu trouv^ un, mo^ lou;^ pas un torchon, mais un 
beau ?" Pour toute r^ponse, il montre a sa soeur le portrait du prince. 
"Ah, sapr^ bateau! ^ c'est un bel homme." Elle est contente. La 
vieille, leur servante, se met k pleurer, en disant: "Voila que j'^tais 
si heureuse ^° avec vous, et que vous vous en allez. Moi, je vais rester 
dans la misere." — "Non, memere, ne craignez pas! Vous allez venir 
avec nous; vous serez ma servante, et votre vie est assur^e." Bien 
contente, la vieille enveloppe son fantome dans une couverte, I'em- 
porte sur le batiment, dans une petite chambre faite expres, pensant 
en elle-meme: "On part! mais cherche ^^ comment on sera, la-bas!" 

1 I.e., le frere et la soeur. 2 Pour d moi axissi; de el tout. 3 Pour photographe. 

* Petit nom pour grand' mere, ou toute vieille personne. 

6 Notre jeune voyageur, k partir d'ici, est d6sign^ sous le nom de prince de 
I'Epde-verte. 

6 Jolie. "> I.e., sans ^^-'o .sons pareille. 8 I.e., moi aussi. 

9 J^jron. 10 Pa try pr;. u Dans le sens de qui sail. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 65 

Pendant que le b^timent file et que la soeur du prince de I'Ep^e-verte 
repose dans sa chambre, la vieille s'approche d'elle et lui met un collier 
d'or au cou, en disant: "Tu seras poisson au fond de la mer tant que 
la mer sera mer et tant que la terre sera terre." D'un crac, la fille est 
amorphosee ^ en poisson au fond de la mer; et le prince de I'Ep^e-verte 
devient sec et immobile, n'ayant que la vie. Ne voyant plus le prince 
ni sa soeur, le capitaine s'en va voir ce qui se passe. II trouve le 
prince immobile et sans parole, et sa soeur — partie. II demande a la 
servante: "Oii est la princesse de I'Ep^e-verte?" Elle r^pond: "Dans 
la chambre, la." II entre et apergoit le fantome de la vieille. II en 
tombe sur le cul. Ce fantome inmontrable a des bras et des jambes 
croches, une bosse au dos, des oreilles en cloche, des yeux rouges et 
une grande gueule de travers. II dit: "Je ne crois pas que ce soit la 
princesse de I'Ep^e-verte." La vieille r^pond: "Oui, c'est bien elle!" 

Voyant arriver le batiment, les gens du pays 61oign6 font des grands 
pr^paratifs et recouvrent tout le quai de beau velours. Musique en 
tete, le roi et sa suite viennent au-devant du prince de I'Ep^e-verte. 
Montant a bord, le roi apergoit le pavilion noir qu'on a hiss6 en signe 
de tristesse: "Qu'ya-t-il? Est-ce le prince de I'Epee-verte qui est 
mort?" On le mene voir le prince, qui est comme mort, grouille^ 
pas, parle pas. A la vue du fantome, tout le monde se met a rire en 
se claquant les mains. 

Le roi fait transporter le prince de I'Ep^e-verte avec beaucoup de 
c^r^monies, sur un boyart, au chateau qu'il s'^tait fait construire pen- 
dant sa premiere visite. On y emmene aussi le fantome et la vieille 
servante. 

Le cur^, a qui le roi parle de I'affaire, dit: "Qsl doit etre une punition. 
Suffit que deux si belles personnes se soient promises par serment. 
Oui! ga doit etre une punition du bon Dieu." Le roi declare: "C'est 
le bon Dieu qui nous punit; il faut bien que je me marie au fantome, 
puisque j'en ai fait serment. 

Apres le mariage du roi au fantome, tous les m^decins du royaume 
essaient de ramener monsieur le prince de I'Ep^e-verte a la sant4, 
mais sans y r^ussir. La veuve, sa servante, prend soin de lui. 

Au bout d'une bonne escousse, le roi et son fantome achetent un 
fils. Pendant que le roi est a la chasse, comme toujours, la vieille 
femme dit a son fantome: "Sais-tu que si not re secret venait a se 
declarer, ga pourrait tourner bien mal? II faudrait faire d^truire 
le prince de i'Ep^e-verte." Le roi avait un beau jardin, oil se trouvait 
un pommier rapportant des pommes d'or. Son pommier, il ne I'aurait 
pas donn^ pour des mille et des mille piastres. La bonne-femme 
prend done une hache et coupe le pommier. Le roi ressoud^ de la 
chasse, n'ayant tu^ qu'un petit pic-bois. II trouve son enfant 

1 Pour m6tamorphos6e. * I.e., ne grouille pas, ne parle pas. 3 I.e., arrive. 



66 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

dans le ber k jargonner comme le notre; ^ jette la vue vers son jardin: 
"Le pommier aux pommes d'or est coupe! Ah! qui a coupe mon pom- 
mier aux pommes d'or?" Le fantome repond: "Sais pas! "- La 
veuve passe; demande'' a la veuve: "Qui a coupe mon pommier?" 
Elle repond: "Monsieur le roi, vous ne me croirez pas, si je vous le 
dis. Celui qui a coupe votre pommier, c'est le prince de I'Epee-verte. 
Quand vous etes ici, il ne grouille pas; mais vous n'etes pas sitot parti 
qu'il fait des mauvais coups." Rien de plus presse, le roi part et va 
voir le prince de FEp^e-verte, qui est la, sans grouiller un doigt. 
Le roi se dit: "Je ne puis toujours pas le punir sans bien savoir si c'est 
lui." 

Apr^s quelques jours, le roi part encore pour la chasse. La veuve 
dit au fantome: "Sais-tu que si on ne pent pas le faire detruire, il 
nous arrivera quelque chose!" Elle prend I'enfant du roi, et, avec 
un sabre, le coupe en quatre (morceaux), qu'elle porte dans la chambre 
du prince de I'Ep^e-verte. La, elle trempe les mains du prince 
dans le sang. Le roi arrive, va voir son enfant dans le ber, n'y voit 
que du sang. "On va toujours voir qui a fait ya!" Sans connais- 
sance de fureur, il va voir son fantome, qui braille: "Enhanhan, en- 
hanhanV — "Dis-moi qui a tue mon enfant!" — "/ se pas."* La 
bonne-femme passe. "La mere! dit le roi, qui est venu detruire 
mon enfant?" Elle repond: "Ah! c'est votre beau^ prince de I'Epee- 
verte. Allez done le voir, dans I'etat qu'il est, la. Vous le considerez 
tant!" Le roi s'en va voir, et lui trouve les mains ensanglantees. 
"Ah, c'est lui! Je ne suis pas pour lui oter la vie admeure;^ mais je 
le ferai mourir en longueur." ^ A I'ordre du roi, on fait une plate-forme 
au bord de la mer, et on y place le prince de I'Epee-verte, aux quatre 
vents. Pour toute nourriture on ne lui donne que du pain et de 
I'eau. 

Un bon jour, voila une tempete abominable. La mer est agitee. 
II fait si noir qu'on ne peut rien voir, dans la ville. Un habitant, 
qui reste vis-a-vis de la plate-forme du prince de i'Epee-verte, se 
couche le long de la greve, pendant la tempete. Ce qu"i\ apergoit? 
La sceur du prince, qui sort de la mer, amorphosee^ en poisson, et qui 
traine a son cou une longue chaine d'or allant jusqu'au fond de la mer. 
S'approchant de son frere, elle le prend par le cou: "Mon pauvre 
fr^re! nous sommes comme morts tous les deux, incapables de tout. 

1 Le narrateur indique ici un petit enfant au berceau, dans sa maison. 

2 Pour Je ne sais pas; ici, le narrateur, avec une grimace comique, imitait la 
mani^re ridicule de parler du fantome. 

3 I.e., il demande. 

i I.e., il 7ie sail pas, pouTJene sais pas. L'auteura souvent entendu des idiota, 
pr^ de Quebec, parler d'eux-memes k la troisidme personne du singulier. 

5 Par moquerie. 6 I.e., d demeure, pour definitivement. 

7 I.e., en langueur, lenteraent, i petit feu. 8 I.e., mHamorphos^e. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 67 

Moi, je serai amorphosie en poisson, au fond de la mer, tant que la 
mer sera mer et tant que la terre sera terre." En pleurant, elle 
ajoute: "C'est la vieille qui nous a amorphoses. Mais si quelqu'un 
nous entendait sans que nous le voyions, il pourrait nous d^livrer en 
coupant ma chaine a cinq brasses sous I'eau, au moyen d'un marteau 
de huit livres pesant d'or et d'une tranche d'or massif." Ayant tout 
entendu de sa cachette, Vhabitant court au chateau avec ses grosses 
bottes pleines de vase, et tout effarouch^, arrive chez le roi. "Qu'avez- 
vous?" demande le roi. "Monsieur le roi, vous voyez la tempete. 
Eh bien! la cause en est la princesse de I'Epc^e-verte, qui a H6 amor- 
phosie en poisson, au fond de la mer, pour tant que la mer sera mer 
et tant que la terre sera terre. Attachee au fond de la mer par une 
grande chaine d'or, elle vient de parler a son frere qu'elle a pris par 
le cou, en lui disant: 'Je n'ai plus que deux jours a venir te voir, avant 
ta mort. Si on m'entendait et venait sous I'eau couper ma chaine, 
nous serious delivres tous les deux'." — "Coii'don! r^pond le roi, 
retournes-y demain, et si elle se remontre, viens me le dire." 

Comme de fait, le lendemain, voila une tempete pire qu'on n'en a 
jamais vu. Pendant que Vhabitant est encore cache au pied d'un 
arbre, la princesse de I'Epee-verte ressoud, prend son frere par le 
cou, I'embrasse et dit: "Mon frere! je n'ai plus qu'une fois a venir te 
voir. Si quelqu'un m'entendait et coupait ma chaine avec une 
tranche d'or massif et un marteau de huit livres pesant d'or, nous 
serious delivres tous les deux." Apprenant ga, le roi dit: "Ah ben! 
tu vas voir; m''a ' te greyer." Dans un siffle, ''■ il fait forger un marteau 
de huit livres pesant d'or et une tranche d'or massif; et il fait faire 
un habit a Vhabitant pour qu'il plo7igU ^ et coupe la chaine avec la 
tranche. 

h' habitant redescend au bord de la mer, le lendemain, et avec son 
nouvel habit, se couche a terre. Voila une tempete epouvantable. 
C'est pas <;a! * le temps est tout blanc et la mer agit^e. Tout d'un 
coup, la princesse amorphosee ressoud du fond de la mer, poigne son 
frere par le cou; et c'est la meme histoire que la veille: "Si quelqu'un 
coupait la chaine d'or, ga serait la d^livrance." ^habitant se foute^ 
k la mer avec son marteau et sa tranche, et se met a travailler. Pen- 
dant que le frere et la soeur se lamentent, il coupe la chaine. Voila 
la princesse de I'Ep^e-verte et son frere revenus comme avant. Quant 
au prince, lui, il est bien maigre, car 9a fait longtemps qu'il patit. 
Inhabitant sort de la mer, va chercher un carrosse, et les emmene au 
chateau, qui est encore en grand deuil. 

Les voyant venir de loin, le roi court au-devant d'eux. La, c'est 
une joie et une alerte! De maniere que la princesse de I'Ep^e-verte 

1 I.e., je m'en vais. 2 I.e., daas un instant. 3 Plonge. 

4 Terme emphatique, dont le sens e.st C'est extraordinaire ! 6 I.e., jette. 



68 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

dit: "La vieille m'a mis un collier d'or dans le cou, et je me suis trouv6e 
amorphosee en poisson, au fond de la mer, 'tant que la mer sera mer 
et tant que la terre sera terre.' Et mon frere, lui, a ete amorphose 
sans mouvement." Le roi dit: "Ast'heure, que faut-il faire?" 

Le fantome de la vieille, il le fait ecartiller ^ en quatre dans la rue, 
devant le chateau. Et la vieille ? On I'a fait rotir sur une grille, et 
on a mis sa graisse aux roues des voitures. ^ 

Le roi s'est marie h la princesse de I'Epee-verte, et sa soeur, au 
prince, son frere. Et moi, ils ne m'ont pas invite aux noces. C'est 
pourquoi je n'ai jamais voulu y retourner. 

12, ANTOINE ET JOSEPHINE. ^ 

Une fois, c'est un vieux et sa vieille, et leurs enfants, Antoinette 
et Josephine. Etant tres pauvres, le vieux, un jour, dit a sa femme: 
"Nous ne pouvons plus nourrir nos enfants; il faut les ^carter'* au 
mileu d'un grand bois." La vieille repond: "Tu n'y penses pas; 
^carter nos enfants! II n'y a pas moyen de me resoudre a ga." — "Tant 
qu'd^ les voir crever de faim ici, dit le vieux, j'aime mieux les ecarter 
dans les bois. Qui salt? peut-etre pourront-ils se r^chapper d'eux- 
memes." Et il s'en va ecarter ses enfants dans les bois. 

Apres avoir pass6 sept ans dans la foret, Antoine dit a sa petite 
sceur: "II ne faut pas rester ici plus longtemps; les loups hurlent k 
cceur de® jour. A la fin, nous nous ferions devorer. Fais bien atten- 
tion! Je vais monter dans le plus grand arbre; et du cote oij je verrai 
une lumiere, je jetterai ma calotte. Mais, fais bien attention." 

Une fois monte dans I'arbre, il apergoit une petite lumiere, bien 
loin. De ce c6t6 il jette sa calotte. Et puis, tous deux partent dans 
cette direction, s'en allant a pen pres/ dans la foret. Tout h coup 
ils apergoivent une clarte, et ils arrivent pres d'une petite maison 
ou trois geants sont a jouer aux cartes. Une grande morve pendait 
au nez d'un des geants, qui ne prenait pas le temps de se moucher. 
Antoine dit a sa sceur: "Ah! qu'il me donne mal au cceur! Je vais le 
moucher." — "II ne faut pas faire 5a. Tu sais que ce sont des geants, 
et qu'ils vont nous devorer." Prenant son arc et une fleche, le petit 
gargon vise a travers un petit trou dans le mur de la cabane; et le 
geant est mouche. Voila les grants pris,^ se battant ensemble. 
L'un dit: "Qui m'a mouche? Oui, c'est toi!" — "Non, ce n'est pas 

1 Pour ecarleler. 2 Patry dit: "aux roues des ivagines," pour wagons. 

3 Raconte par Mme Prudent Sioui (Marie Picard), a Lorette, Quebec, en 
aollt, 1914. Mme Sioui dit avoir appris ce conte de son beau-p^re, Clement Sioui, 

4 Ici, employe comme verbe actif, dans le sens de se perdre. 

5 Pour quant a. 8 I.e., toiit le long dujour. 

7 I.e., aussi bien qu'ils le peuvent, presque au hasard. 

8 I.e., en querelle. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 69 

moi." — "Oui, c'est toi!" Et tout ga pour savoir qui I'a mouch6. 
lis se raccordent ensuite, et recommencent a jouer aux cartes. 

La chandelle qui les ^claire est toute pleine de chapeaux, comme 
lis ne prennent pas la peine de la moucher; et ils ne voient presque plus. 
Antoine dit: "Je mouche la chandelle." — "Fa done pas!" ^ Tu as vu 
comme ils se sont battus ensemble tout k I'heure. Ils vont nous 
d^vorer, c'est certain.' — ''J'aime autant me faire devorer que de 
crever de faim." II prend son arc, et d'une fleche mouche la chandelle. 
Voila la chandelle tu^e. Les grants se disent: "II faut toujou hen voir 
qui nous joue des tours comme ga, qui nous mouche et mouche la 
chandelle." Les enfants, dehors, ne sont pas gros,- surtout quand ils 
voient les trois grants approcher. 

Apres avoir fait entrer Antoine et Josephine, un geant demande 
au petit gargon: "Est-ce toi qui m'a mouche?" — "Oui, repond I'en- 
fant; vous me donniez mal au cceur. Vous etiez trop occupe k jouer 
aux cartes, et je vous ai mouche." — "Est-ce aussi toi quia mouch6 la 
chandelle?" — "Oui! je vous voyais si occupe a jouer aux cartes que 
j'ai mouche la chandelle. Vous ne voyiez plus clair." Les geants 
se mettent a lui dire: "Tu es bien habile! Ecoute-nous bien: la-bas, 
dans le chateau, il 3' a une princesse gard^e'' par une petite chienne 
noire qui a une lune blanche dans le front. Pour tuer la petite chienne, 
il faudrait I'atteindre dans la petite lune blanche. Autrement, c'est 
impossible." Le petit gargon repond: "II y a sept ans que je vis dans 
les bois, a tuer les oiseaux k la volee, de mon arc et de mes fleches. Je 
ne manque jamais mon coup." 

Les grants ont grand soin des deux enfants et les traitent de leur 
mieux, pensant les manger apres qu'Antoine aurait tue la petite 
chienne. Leur desir est d'epouser la princesse, vu que le roi a dit: 
"Celui qui la delivrera I'epousera." 

Ils se rendent done avec le petit gargon au chateau ou la princesse 
est "gard^e." II n'y avait pas d'escalier pour y entrer. Les geants 
disent a Antoine: "Nous allons monter I'un sur I'autre pour te faire 
une echelle, et tu vas grimper sur nous." Antoine prend sa fleche, 
grimpe, entre au chateau, attrape la petite chienne dans sa lune 
blanche et la tue net. II avance plus loin et apergoit la princesse 
endormie. La princesse a un mouchoir, une tabatiere et une bague. 
Prenant le mouchoir, Antoine embrasse la princesse, et met le mouchoir 
dans sa poche; prend la tabatiere, embrasse la princesse, et met la ta- 
batiere dans sa poche; prend la bague, embrasse la princesse, et met la 
bague dans sa poche. Ensuite, il redescend sur les geants et leur dit: 
"Creusons un trou, la 011 est le soupirail, pour entrer dans le chateau." 

1 Pour garde fen bien! 

2 Sont petits, de frayeur. 

3 I.e., la prisonni^re d'une fee qui la garde endormie. 



70 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

Avec le sabre qu'un g^ant lui donne, il creuse un trou. "Moi, je 
suis le plus petit, ajoute-t-il, je vas y entrer le premier, pour Tagrandir. 
Toi, le moins grand des trois, tu entreras apres moi; ensuite,toi; et toi, 
le plus grand, le dernier." De fait, Antoine passe le premier, agrandit 
un peu le trou. Le moins grand des grants s'y fourre, et sitot sa tete 
pass^e en dedans, Antoine la coupe d'un coup de sabre, tire le corps a 
lui et le jette dans la cave. Ayant encore agrandi le trou pour le 
deuxieme g^ant, il lui coupe aussi la t^te et tire le reste a lui. Et de 
meme de I'autre g^ant. 

Or, le roi avait fait battre un ban que celui qui d^livrerait la prin- 
cesse et prendrait sa bague Taurait en mariage. II prepare une grande 
fete, a laquelle tous les princes et princesses de son royaume sont invi- 
tes. Mais la princesse dit au roi: "Mon pere, vous en oubliez un. 
Vous n'avez pas fait inviter Antoine." On envoie done chercher le 
petit gar^on, que la princesse fait asseoir pres d'elle. Le roi est de 
mauvaise humeur. II y a tant de beaux princes, et sa fille n'en fait 
pas de cas, regardant seulement Antoine. Chacun a table fait son 
discours. Quand le tour vient au petit gargon, le roi dit : " Parole 
de roi! il faut que tu paries, toi aussi!" Antoine ne sait pas quoi 
dire. "Qu'as-tu fait, demande le roi, quand tu as d61ivr6 la prin- 
cesse?" — "Quand je suis arrive, la princesse dormait. Son mouchoir 
6tait sur la table. J'ai pris le mouchoir, I'ai mis dans ma poche. Et 
j'ai fait autre chose; mais je ne le dirai pas." II avait honte de dire 
qu'il Tavait embrass^e! "Elle avait une tabatiere; je I'ai mise dans 
ma poche; et j'ai fait autre chose, que je ne dirai pas. Elle avait 
une bague, que j'ai mise dans ma poche; et j'ai fait autre chose, que 
je ne dirai pas." Les princes ont hate d'essayer la bague; la princesse 
est si belle que c'est a qui I'aurait.^ Tous essaient la bague, mais elle 
ne fait qu'au petit garQon. (^a /ai^ ^Me,^ parole de roi ! il faut bien que 
la princesse I'^pouse. 

Mais moi, ils ne m'ont pas invit<5 aux noces. 

13. LE CONTE DE PARLE. ^ 

Une fois, c'dtait une veuve et ses trois gar^ons, Georges, Charles, 
et Jean. Le soubriqueie* de Jean etait " Parle." 

Un bon jour, la guerre delate contre le roi de leur pays. Charles et 
Georges disent a leur mere: "Mouman, nous allons a la guerre. Parle 
va rester ici pour vous aider et avoir soin des animaux." Ti-Jean — 

1 I.e., que tous souhaitent I'c^pouser. 

2 Locution coDJonctive souvent employee par plusieurs conteurs. 

3 Recueilli a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915, de Narcisse Thi" 
boutot, qui dit avoir appris ce conte, il y a une dizaine d'ann6es, de feu Charles 
Francoeur, son oncle. 

< Pour sohriqxiet. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 71 

ou Parle — dit: "Moi tou,^ j'y vas." Mais ses fr^res disent a leur mere: 
"Mouman, il n'est pas ben fin, ~ lui, gardez-le ici." lis partcnt; mais 
Parle, qui va vite, les rattrapo le lendemain. Le voyant venir, ses 
freres disent: "Va-t'en, Parle! Tu viens pour nous faire honte. Va- 
t'en! on n'a pas besoin de toi." — "Ne craignez pas, mes freres, je ne 
vous ferai pas honte." Georges et Charles arrivent chez le roi et 
s'engagent. Parle s'engage ensuite. Le roi leur deraandc: "Etes- 
vous tons trois parents?" — "Non, sire mon roi, repondent les deux 
premiers; nous ne connaissons pas ce jeune homme qui nous arattrapes 
en chemin; nous ne I'avions jamais vu." A Parle il demande: "Vous, 
monsieur, connaissez-vous ces jeunes hommes-la?" — "Non, non! je 
ne les eonnais point." — "Qu'es-tu capable de faire?" — "Je suis 
pret ^ faire n'importe quoi." — "Bien! tu vas t'occuper de faire rotir 
la viande a la broche, pour mon armee." C'<5tait 1^ un ouvrage dur, 
que ses freres avaient sugg^ri? au roi de lui donner, pour se debarrasser 
de lui. II mourrait bientot; alors ils n'auraient plus k craindre qu'il 
les declare. ^ Mais Parle ^tait un homme fin extraordinaire. * Si on 
lui demandait d^ faire une chose, il etait toujours pret et vif. 

En visitant ses troupes, un jour, le roi dit k Georges et Charles: 
"Mais, ce jeune homme-la qui est venu avec vous est intelligent 
effrayant."^ Jaloux de leur frere, ils repondent: "Sire le roi, votre 
Parle, que vous dites si fin, savez-vous ce qu'il a dit?" — "Non, non, 
mes soldats, je ne le sais pas." — "Bien! il s'est vante d'etre capable 
d'aller chercher les bottes du geant, qui marchent sept lieues le pas, 
et qui sont enchainees sous son lit avec une chaine de fer aux mailles 
de trois pouces de gros^ Le roi reprend: "Ah, par exemple! s'il a dit 
Qa, il va le faire. Des bottes de sept lieues seraient bien commodes k 
la guerre." S'en allant trouver Parle, il dit: "Con' don! mon Parle, 
tu t'es vante d'etre capable d'aller chercher les bottes du geant, qui 
font sept lieues au pas?" — "Non, sire mon roi, je ne m'en suis pas 
vante. Mais s'il le faut, je vais y aller, d'abord que ^ vous me donnerez 
ce que je vais vous demander." — "Que demandes-tu, mon Parle?" 
— "Je demande un habillement couleur d'invisible, avec une lime qui 
coupe un pouce du coup." — "Oui, mon Parle, tu vas les avoir. S'il 
ne te faut que ga, tu vas aller chercher les bottes." Qa fait que le 
roi envoie quelqu'un au marche chercher un habillement couleur d'in- 
visible et une lime qui coupe un pouce du coup. Quand on les lui 
donne, Parle se met I'habit, prend le chemin et arrive chez le geant, 
pendant qu'il soupe avec sa femme et sa fille. Rentrant sans etre 
vu, il passe dans la chambre, et se fourre sous le lit, o\i les bottes sont 
enchainees. Apres la veillee, le g4ant et sa bonne-femme se couchent 

I Pour et tout, aussi. 2 I.e., pas intelligent, plutot idiot. 

3 I.e., qu'il se dedardt leur frere. * Dans un sens adverbial. 

6 De. 6 Dans un sens adverbial. 7 I.e., pourini que vous me donniez. 



72 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

et dorment. Quand ils commencent a ronfler, Parle se dit: "Voila 
le temps pour couper la chaine." II prend sa lime et groung! en donne 
un coup. Faisant un saut, le g^ant dit: "Aye! ma bonne-femme, il y 
a quelqu'un sour le lite." ^ — "Dors'^ done, mon pauvrefou! Tu vois 
bien que tu reves; personne ne viendrait ici, sour le lite." II repete: 
"Certain,^ il y a quelqu'un sour le lite; j'y vas voir." Sans perdre de 
temps, la vieille lui pousse une claque sur la gueule: " Tu vas dormir, 
toi, mon mor'ne!" * Voila le g^ant qui s'endort de nouveau. Voyant 
5a, Parle donne un deuxieme coup de lime, groung! Le geant fait un 
saut que^ la couchette^ en craque, "Ma bonne-femme, il y a certain 
quelqu'un sour le lite." — "Tu ne ddrs pas? Arrete done, m'a^ te 
montrer 9a!" — "Veux ci, veux ga! il y a certain certain quelqu'un 
sour le lite." A la fin, la vieille reussit a I'endormir de nouveau. 

Pendant ce temps-la, Parle, sous le lit, se met une botte a chaque 
pied, donne le troisieme coup de lime,et la chaine casse. II prend la 
porte^ vitement, et court chez le roi. Le voyant venir avec les 
bottes de sept lieues, ses freres se disent: ''Mais, mais!^ il ne s'est pas 
fait tuer par le g^ant! Comment s'y est-il pris?" Parle arrive et 
remet les bottes au roi, qui lui demande: "Voyons, mon Parle, com- 
ment f'a 6te a ton voyage?" — "C'^ ^^^ et^, sire mon roi! Et j'ai 
pris bien moins de temps a revenir qu'a m'y rendre. Mais je n'airaerais 
pas a retourner chez le geant." 

Le lendemain, pendant que le roi visite encore ses troupes, Georges 
et Charles lui disent: "Monsieur le roi, Parle s'est vante d'etre capable 
d'aller chercher la lune du g^ant, qui eclaire notre hesoin." ^^ — "Ah! 
s'il s'en est vant6, repond le roi, je vas lui envoyer chercher, comme 
les bottes du geant." S'en allant trouver Parle, il lui dit: "Tu t'es 
vant6 de pouvoir aller chercher la lune du geant, qui eclaire notre 
besoinV — "Monsieur le roi, je ne m'en suis pas vant^. Mais s'il le 
faut, je vas y aller, d'ahord que vous me donnerez ce que je vas vous 
demander." — "Que te faut-il?" — "Je ne demande pas grand'chose: 
un petit sac de sel de cinq livres." Le roi lui donne un sac de sel. 

Parle met son habillement invisible, part et arrive chez le geant, 

1 Pour sous le lit. 

2 Prononc^ tres ferm^, comme daure; ici, cette prononciation est exceptionnelle. 

3 Adverbial. 

4 Pour mort-ne; prononce ici rapidement. Les paysans ne le comprennent que 
comme mot simple. 

5 Tel que. 

« Chez les paysans du Canada, couchette signifie " lit," et n'est pas seule- 
ment un diminutif de lit. 

7 I.e., je m'en vais. 

8 I.e., sort a la hdte. 

9 Exclamation exprimant la surprise. 
1 Sens obscur. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 73 

qui est apres ^ faire de la bouillie dans un grand chaudron pendu dans 
une cheminee du temps passe. Sans etre vu, il grimpe dans la che- 
minee, et verse son sac de sel dans la bouillie. Quand la bouillie est 
cuite, le bonhomme geant hdle^ la bouillie, la met sur la table, et 
commence k manger avec sa fille: ''Mais, la mere! tu as bien sal^ la 
bouillie, d soir!" '' — "Pauvre vieux fou! je ne I'ai pas salee plus que 
de coutume. Je n'y ai pas mis de sel." — "Cette bouillie est sal4e 
effrayant; elle n'est pas mangeable." II dit i sa fille: "Va chercher 
de I'eau." Elle repond: "Oui, mais il fait hen que* trop noir pour 
aller chercher de I'eau k la fontaine." Son pere dit: 'Trends la lune, 
qui est dans sa boite, et mets-la sur son has cote." ^ Prenant la lune, 
la fille la place sur son has cote, et s'en va chercher de I'eau k la fontaine. 
Parle aussitot saisit la lune, la met dans son gilet, prend le chemin 
et s'en va chez le roi, la lui remettre. Le voyant arriver avec la lune, 
ses fr^res se disent: "Mais! comment qa, se fait? II ne s'est pas fait 
prendre!" 

Pendant que le roi visite ses troupes, le lendemain, Georges et 
Charles lui demandent: "Sire le roi, Parle est-il revenu?" — "Oui," 
repond le roi. "Mais! sire le roi, il s'est vante d'autres choses encore." 
— "De quoi s'est-il vante?" — "II s'est vante de pouvoir aller cher- 
cher le violon du geant, qui fait danser sept lieues a la ronde, rien qu'^ 
y penser." — "Ah bien! repond le roi, s'il s'en est vante, il va aller le 
chercher certain." Les freres pensent : "Parle va bien se faire 
prendre, de ce coup-Id; car le geant va finir par s'en raefier." AUant 
trouver Parle, le roi dit: "Mon Parle, tu t'es vante de pouvoir aller 
chercher le violon du geant, qui fait danser sept lieues h la ronde, rien 
qu'a y penser?" — "Monsieur le roi, j'en ai pas parle.^ Mais, s'il 
faut y aller, j'irai, d'ahord que vous me donnerez ce que je vas vous 
demander." — "Que te faut-il?" — "Un habillement couleur d'in- 
visible et une lime qui coupe un pouce du coup." — "Tu vas les avoir, 
mon Parle!" Lui donnant I'habillement et la lime, il I'envoie chercher 
le violon du geant. 

Parle arrive chez le geant pendant le souper. Rentrant vitement, 
il se cache sous le lit ou est enchaine le violon. Apr^s la veillde, le 
geant se couche avec sa vieille, et s'endort. Parle prend sa lime, et 
groung! en donne un coup sur la chaine du violon. Le geant fait un 
saut que la maison en branle: "Ma bonne-femme, il y en a un, dessour 
le lite, certain!" — "Vas-tu dormir, mon vieux fou? C'est encore ta folie 

1 Pour qui est a faire ou ajrres d, faire. 

2 Pour tire; hdler est un terme marin qui a envahi d'autres doraaines. 

3 Pour ce soir. 4 Pour bien trop. 

8 M. G. Lanctot nous fait remarquer que, dans LaPrairie, bos cote est le 
nom donn6 k un appentis k la maison principale et servant de cuisine. Thiboutot, 
s'il avait connu le sens de ce mot, aurait dit: " Mets-la sur le bas cote." 

6 I.e., je n'en ai pas nar' e 



74 Journal of American Folk-Lore, 

qui te reprend." — "Ecoute! avec 'ma folie/ mes bottes sont parties, 
I'autre jour; et quand j'ai trouv^ la bouillie salee, la lune a 6t6 vol^e. 
Je suis toujours fou, moi! Mais, tout mon butin^ disparait, par exem- 
ple!" La vieille vient a bout de le rendormir. Parle pousse un 
deuxieme coup de lime, groung! D'un 61an, le vieux dit: ''Ma bonne- 
femme, il y a quelqu'un sour le lite, certain!" La vieille lui sapre"^ son 
poing sur un ceil. Le g^ant mene un raveau^ et veut se lever: "C'est 
pour prendre mon violon qu'on zigonne* comme Qa." — "Endors-toi, 
vieux fou!" r^pond sa femme. Quand le g^ant s'est rendormi, Parle 
pousse un troisieme coup de lime, prend le violon et s'en va sortir. 
Le g^ant le pogne: "Ah! il dit, arrete, mon ver de terre! ^a fait 
assez longtemps que tu fais ton fantasse, ^ en charriant mes bottes et 
en salant la bouillie pour voler la lune, le meme soir, Tu es venu 
chercher le violon? Je ere ben que tu ne I'apporteras pas!" — "Ah! 
le g^ant, que veux-tu faire de moi ?" — "Ce que je veux faire de toi ? 
Je vas te manger." — "Me manger, moi?" — "Ah! il dit, arrete, 
arrete! Te manger tout seul ? Non; je n'aurais pas autant de plaisir. 
II faut que j'invite de mes amis pour le fricot." — "Inviter de tes 
amis? II va bien falloir que tu m'engraisses pour ga; je ne suis pas 
assez gros." — "Je suis bien pret a t'engraisser." — "Pour m'en- 
graisser, mets-moi huit jours dans la cave, et donne-moi une chopine 
d'eau et une chopine de pois par jour." — "Qa ne me coutera toujours 
pas cher pour t'engraisser." Le mettant k la cave, il I'attache 
co7n^i'faut, et le fait soigner par sa fiille, une chopine de pois et une 
chopine d'eau par jour. 

Le g^ant dit, la sixieme journee: "II faut que j'aille inviter de mes 
amis. On ^ est pas pour le manger tous sew,^ malgr^ qu'il ait encore 
diminue et maigri." En partant, il dit a sa fille: "Chauffe le four, et, 
la huitieme journee, fais-le rotir." 

Le temps venu, la fille du g^ant fend du bois et chauffe le four. 
Ayant connaissance de 9a, Parle, dans la cave, dit a la fille: "Viens 
done me detacher, que^ je t'aide a fendre du bois et a chauffer le four; 
tu as bien de la misere." Aussitot detache, il fend du bois et chauffe 
le four. Quand le four est bien chaud, il dit a la femme et la fille: 
"Venez done voir au four." Comme elles arrivent a la course et 
regardent ensemble dans le four, il les pousse dedans, la mere d'abord 
et la fille ensuite. En fermant la porte sur elles, il dit: "Regardez 
bien s'il est assez chaud." Rentrant dans la maison vitement, il 
prend le violon qui fait danser sept lieues a la ronde, met le feu a la 
maison, et s'en retourne chez le roi, huit jours apres en etre parti. 

1 I.e., mes biens. 2 I.e., assene. 

3 I.e., faire du bruit, un vacarme. 

* I.e., faire grincer quelque chose, particulierement un violon. 

6 Tour fantasque, impudent. 

6 Pour nous. 7 Pour seuls. 8 Pour que,. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 75 

Le voyant arriver quand ils le pensent mort, ses freres se disent: 
"II a dii se faire prendre, cette fois-ci. Mais, que pourrons-nous faire 
pour nous en d^barrasser? Disons qu'il s'est vant6 de pouvoir aller 
chercher le g^ant. Cette fois-ci, il a dii jouer un mauvais tour au g^ant, 
qui ne manquera pas de le manger, s'il le revoit." 

Le roi rencontre Georges et Charles, et leur dit: ^^Quand on pense! ^ 
Parle est revenu hier soir avec le violon." — "C'est impossible que 
Parle soit revenu!" — "^a n'empeche pas qu'il est revenu." — "Mon- 
sieur le roi, ce n'est pas tout. II a dit qu'il 6tait capable d'aller 
chercher le geant, d'apres ce qu'on entend dire." — "S'il s'en est vante, 
il va aller le chercher." Le roi part, s'en va trouver Parle et dit: 
"Cou'don, mon Parle! tu t'es vant^ de pouvoir aller chercher le geant ?" 
— " Non, monsieur le roi, je ne m'en suis pas vante; mais s'il faut y 
aller, j'y suis pret, d'abord que vous me donnerez ce que je vas vous 
demander." — "Qu'est-ce qu'il te faut?" — "Je demande un charriot 
en fer k toute epreuve, qui se barre, et quinze hommes de troupe. 
Je veux aussi qu'on m'habille comme le plus beau des rois, et que mon 
charriot de fer soit train^ par quatre chevaux. Avec qa,, je pourrai 
ramener le geant." 

Peu de temps apres, greye de tout ce qu'il a demande au roi, Parle, 
vetu en roi, se met en chemin avec quinze hommes de troupe et son 
charriot. Vers le soir du meme jour, il rencontre le geant, qui crie: 
"Bonsoir, monsieur le roi?" — "Bonsoir, bonsoir!" — "Mais, mon- 
sieur le roi, yous^ que vous allez avec ce charriot en fer?" — "Mon 
pauvre geant, je m'en vas chercher Parle, qui m'a joue toutes sortes 
de tours." Le geant dit: "Je ne crois pas qu'il vous en ait joue de 
pires qu'a moi." — "Que vous a-t-il done fait, le geant?" — "Ce qu'il 
m'a fait? II a vole mes bottes, il a vole la lune, il a vole mon violon; 
et il a fait brtiler ma femme et ma fille dans ma maison. Pour achever 
le restant, il s'est fait engraisser au pois et a I'eau pendant huit jours. 
Mais attendez! Moi aussi je le cherche; et si je le rencontre, je ne 
I'engraisserai pu,^ certain!" — " Mais, le geant, vous m'avez Fair 
bien fort pour courir seul apres ce Parle, qui passe pour etre sans 
pareil." — "Ne craignez pas, monsieur le roi, il n'est pas aussi fort 
que vous dites. Je I'ai pris dans ma porte, I'autre jour, et il etait 
comme un ecopeau * dans ma main. Je n'aurais pas besoin de charriot, 
moi, pour le ramener." Le roi repond: "Je ne suis pas certain de 
pouvoir le tenir dans ce charriot de fer." — "Ecoutez! dit le geant, si 
vous ne I'etes pas, moi, je vas vous rendre certain. Rouvrez votre 
charriot, et je vas me coucher dedans, pendant que vous le ceinturerez 
avec une chaine; et je verrai hen h. quoi il est bon." Qa prenait bien 
quatre hommes pour ouvrir le convert ^ du charriot. Quand c'est fait, 

1 Dans le sens de n'est-ce pas etonnant ! 2 I.e., ou ce que, oil est-ce que. 

« I.e., -plus. 4 I.e., copeau. ' Couvercle. 



76 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

le g^ant emharque dedans, se couche, et laisse le temps aux soldats de 
le fermer et de le ceinturer. Quand on lui demande: "Foreez done, le 
g^ant! pour voir si 9a peut tenir Parle," il force, force, et dit: "J'y ai 
mis toute ma force. II n'y a pas de danger que Parle brise cette cage; 
il n'est pas si fort que moi." — "Oui, mais si je te disais que c'est 
encore Parle qui t'a attrap^, pourrais-tu forcer encore plus ?" — "C'est- 
i vrai que Parle m'a encore attrape?" — "Oui, c'est vrai." La, il 
force tant qu'on lui entend craquer tous les os. 

Parle et ses soldats ramenent le geant au roi. En arrivant:"Tiens! 
monsieur le roi, dit Parle, le fameux geant est dans mon charriot; 
faites-en ce qu'il vous plaira. Tant qu'd moi, c'est la derniere fois 
que je vas chercher quelque chose pour vous. Je sais bien que ce sont 
mes freres qui vous ont mis dans la tete de m'envoyer chercher le 
geant, pour tacher de me faire perir, parce qu'ils ont honte de moi." 
— "Comment, Parle, ceux qui sont arrives ici en meme temps que 
toi sont tes freres? lis me disaient tou jours que tu te vantais de 
pouvoir faire ci et faire 9a." — "Oui, monsieur le roi, ce sont mes 
freres." 

Voyant qa, le roi fait venir les freres Charles et Georges. "Connais- 
sez-vous bien Parle?" leur demande-t-il. "Non, monsieur le roi, 
071 ne le connait pas." — "Toi, Parle, connais-tu ces deux-la?" — 
"Oui, monsieur le roi, je les connais; ce sont mes freres, qui, depuis 
longtemps, cherchent a me faire p^rir ici." Le roi les fait renfermer 
dans deux cages de bois, et ordonne qu'on les brule a petit feu. 

Quant a Parle, il s'est mari6 avec la plus jeune des princesses du 
roi et a herit^ de tout le royaume. 

II est bien mieux que moi, aujourd'hui; il vit a rien faire et,moi, je 
suis oblige de travailler dur. 

14. PARLAFINE OU PETIT-POUCET. ^ 

Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'etait un vieux bucheron, sa femme 
et leurs enfants, sept petits gargons. Le vieux dit a sa vieille: "II 
n'y a pas d'ouvrage,et je ne suis plus capable d'aller couper du balai. 
Si tu voulais dire comme moi, j'6carterais les enfants en les menant 
tous les sept couper du balai." ^ 

Parlafine, ^ le plus petit des sept freres, etait m^fiant, et quand ses 
parents parlaient, il ecoutait toujours. Un bon soir, le bticheron et 

1 Racont6, en aoiit, 1914, a Lorette, Quebec, par Mme Prudent Sioui, qui 
I'avait appris de sa mere et de son grand-pere. Mme Sioui admet qu'on lui a r^- 
cemment lu des versions imprimees de ce conte, lesquelles sont un peu differentes 
de la sienne. Mais elle soutient qu'elle le recite tout comme elle I'a appris de ses 
parents. M. I'abb^ Arthur Lapointe a entendu raconter ce conte a Kamouras- 
ka, quand il etait enfant. La version qu'il a entendue dtait semblable, sauf pour 
ce qui est de I'^pisode de la bolte. 

2 Fait de branches de ccdre. 

3 Le conteur employait le nom de " Petit-Poucet " aussi souvent que celui 
de " Parlafine." 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 77 

sa femme montent coucher leurs enfants, pour pouvoir jaser a leur 
aise. Mais Parlafine — ou Petit-Poucet — est si petit qu'il se cache 
sous la chaise de sa mere et ecoute tout ce qu'ils se disent: "Demain 
matin, il faut se lever de bonne heure pour les ^carter." — "Mais tu 
n'y penses pas! r^pond la vieille; ^carter mes enfants! Je ne puis 
pas me resoudre a ga." — "lis sont toujours finis; * nous ne pouvons 
plus les nourrir; et je ne suis pas capable de les voir mourir ici. Mieux 
vaut les ^carter dans la foret." La vieille femme finit done par 
consentir. 

Une fois la conversation finie, Parlafine s'en va se coucher. De 
bonne heure, le lendemain matin, il reveille ses petits freres: "Vite, 
levez-vous! Nous allons dans les bois. Aujourd'hui, poupa va nous 
^carter." lis commencent tous a pleurer, en disant: "Qu'allons- 
nous faire dans les bois?" — "Dites rien!- r^pond Parlafine; nous 
retrouverons bien le chemin. Je sais un tour, moi." II s'en va en 
courant chez sa marraine et lui demande: "Avez-vous un ^cheveau 
de laine a me donner? Papa veut nous ^carter dans les bois, au- 
jourd'hui." Sa marraine prend deux gros ^cheveaux de laine et les 
lui donne. 

Les sept enfants suivent leur pere au bois. Le vieux leur dit: 
"Passez en avant, les enfants!" — "Non! repond Parlafine; nous ne 
savons pas oil vous voulez nous mener. Passez, vous!" Parlafine 
marche le dernier de tous, deroulant sa laine aux arbres, sans que son 
pere s'en apergoive. Arrives dans un bocage de cedres, le pere 
leur dit: "Restez ici et coupez du balai! Moi, je vais la-bas." II 
s'en va plus loin, arrange une planche en battoue,^et pan, pan! la planche 
bat tout le temps contre un arbre, comme un bucheron. A la brii- 
nante, Parlafine dit: "Papa ne buche pas si longtemps que ga sans 
boire ni manger." S'en allant dans la direction d'oii vient le bruit, 
il finit par trouver le hattoui que son pere a fait. Ses freres se mettent 
a pleurer et a dire: "Que faire dans ce grand bois? Les loups vont 
nous d^vorer?" — " N'ayez pas peur ! repond Parlafine, on va ben 
s'en aller a la maison. ^ J'ai un moyen." Reviranl de bord, il re- 
connait le sentier du matin par la laine qu'il y avait deroulee, et il 
ramene ses freres chez eux. 

Apres souper, la vieille dit a son mari: "Si mes enfants etaient ici, 
ils mangeraient ben le reste de la bouillie." Parlafine, qui dcoute a la 
porte, repond: "Mais, j'en mangerais ben, mouman!" — "Comment? 
demande-t-elle a son vieux; tu ne les a pas ecart^s? Les revoild !" — 
"Eh bien! demain, j'irai si loin qu'ils ne reviendront pas." La mere 
fait rentrer les enfants, leur donne a manger et les envoie se coucher. 
Parlafine, lui, reste en bas, et se cache encore sous la chaise de sa 

1 I.e., pour mourir. 2 Pour ne dites rien. 

3 Pour battoir. * Pour chez nous. 



78 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

m^re, pour ecouter ce qu'on dirait: "Je vais les mener si loin, dit le 
bticheron, qu'ils ne reviendront surement pas. II faut s'en ^ d^bar- 
rasser." Parlafine part et s'en va se coucher. 

De bon matin, il reveille ses petits freres: "Vite, depechez-vous! 
aujourd'hui, on va nous ecarter bien plus loin qu'hier." Se rendant 
encore chez sa marraine, il lui dit: "Marraine, avez-vous du pain k 
nous donner? Papa, aujourd'hui, va nous ^carter dans un bois, 
et nous n'avons rien a manger." Sa marraine prend un pain et le 
lui donne. II le cache dans son habit. ^'Ura, ^ mes enfants, partons! 
dit le p^re. Passez en avant!" Parlafine repond: "Non! nous ne 
Savons pas ou vous voulez nous mener. Vous faites mieux de passer 
en avant." Toujours le dernier, Parlafine, sans que son p^re s'en 
apergoive, emiette le pain pour marquer le chemin. Cette fois, 
le p^re les conduit deux fois plus loin que la veille, leur trouve une 
talle de cedres,et dit: "Restez ici a couper du balai; moi,je vais bticher 
plus loin." Et, ayant fait un battoue, il s'en retourne de suite chez 
lui. Cette planche-la battait tout le temps comme le ferait un btiche- 
ron. 

Vers la brtlnante, Parlafine dit a ses petits freres: "Papa ne btiche 
pas si longtemps sans boire ni manger." II va voir du cote d'oil vient 
le bruit, et apergoit encore une planche battant sur un arbre. Son 
p^re n'y est pas. II est parti. ^ Voil^ les enfants encore aux cris,* et 
disant: "Cette fois-ci, nous allons hen certain y rester!" Parlafine re- 
prend: "Non! j'ai encore un chemin." Mais quand il vient chercher 
son chemin, il ne trouve rien. Les oiseaux ont mange tout le 
pain. II n'y avait done pas moyen de retrouver la maison. Decou- 
rages, ils se remettent tous a pleurer, h crier. "Ne vous decouragez 
pas! dit Parlafine; je trouverai bien un moyen; laissez-moi faire." 
II passe en avant et suit un petit sentier, marche toute la nuit, marche 
tout le lendemain. Vers le soir, les freres apergoivent une clart^, et 
arrivent a une petite maison. C'est la que restait une de leurs tantes. 
Parlafine entre le premier: "Tiens! bonjour, ma tante; bonjour!" — 
"Mais, qui vous a done emmen^s si loin, dans les bois?" — "Papa nous 
a ^cartes, et nous avons marche par ici, pensant se rendre chez nous. 
Nous nous trouvons a venir vous voir ici." La tante dit: "Pau^ptits^ 
enfants! je suis bien contente de vous voir. Qa fait si longtemps que 
je n'etais pas allee chez vous! Mais, je suis mariee h un geant qui 
mange tous les enfants." — "Mais, ma tante, ou voulez-vous que 
nous allions? Nous avons marche une nuit et un jour sans boire ni 
manger. Nous sommes ^cartes, et nous sommes venus ici." Leur 
tante les chauffe, deshabille, et dit: "Vite! mangez avant que le 

1 I.e., des enfants. 2 i.e., allons ! 

' Ce pleonasme semble exprimer leld^sappointement. 

< I.e., h pleurer. 5 Abreviation pour pauvres petits. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 79 

g^ant arrive." Pour d^tourner son mari de d^vorer les enfants, elle 
va chercher un gros mouton et la moiti^ d'un boeuf, qu'elle fait d^geler 
pres du feu. 

A I'heure oil le g^ant arrive, elle dit aux enfants: "Vite, venez avec 
moi! Je vas vous cacher, et je tacherai d'obtenir la grace qu'il ne 
vous mange pas." Elle les cache dans la cave, sous une cuve. Le 
g^ant arrive, se met a renifler et a sentir d'un c6t6 et de I'autre, disant: 
"Qa sent la viandre fraiche." La femme r^pond: "Es-tu fou? C'est 
le boeuf et le mouton que je fais d^geler." — "Ah! ce n'est pas ga!" 
II sent de tous bords et tons cotes: "Ce n'est pas 9a!" Et il cherche 
partout, dans la maison. La peur prend la vieille femme, et elle se 
dit: "II va les trouver." Elle lui demande: "Veux-tu m'accorder 
une grace? Je vas te dire ce que j'ai dans la maison, si tu veux me 
promettre de ne pas le manger." — "Dis-raoi ce que c'est; je ne le 
mangerai pas." Elle fait done sortir les sept freres de dessous la 
cuve, et va les mener a son mari. "Bonsoir, mon oncle! disent les 
enfants; bonsoir, mon oncle!" Mais Parlafine est toujours le dernier. 
Son oncle lui dit: "Toi, tu es bien petit!" — "Je ne suis pas ben gros; 
c'est vrai, mon oncle." — "Comment t'appelles-tu ? Tu es si petit 
que j'aimerais bien a savoir ton nom." — "Mon nom? ga me cotite 
de vous le dire, mon oncle. C'est Parlafine." — "Parlafine, tu as Pair 
bien fin." ^ — "Ah bien! mon oncle, je ne suis pas plus fin que les 
autres." Le g^ant donne a souper aux enfants comH'faut, et jase une 
escousse^ avec eux. "Les enfants doivent etre bien fatigues, dit-il 
a sa femme; fais leur un bon lit et couche-les." En se couchant, les 
enfants s'endorment. Mais Parlafine, lui, reste 6veill6. 

Le g^ant avait sept filles. II dit a sa femme: "Mets aux petits 
gargons des bonnets bruns pour la nuit, et aux petites filles, des bonnets 
blancs." 

Pendant la nuit, Parlafine entend le g^ant se lever et affiler son 
grand couteau, pendant que sa femme se lamente: "Tu m'as promis 
que tu ne les mangerais pas; et tu vas le faire! Qu'est-ce que ma 
soeur va dire?" — "Laisse-moi faire! Je te dis que je vas faire un 
snack. ^" Entendant le g^ant affiler son couteau, Parlafine se leve et 
echange les bonnets bruns de ses freres pour les bonnets blancs des 
sept filles. Le geant monte avec son grand couteau, sans lumiere, 
pour ne pas reveiller les enfants; et il leur tate la tete. Touchant 
aux bonnets bruns, il se dit: " Ce sont les gargons." A I'autre lit, 
touchant aux bonnets blancs: "Ce sont mes filles." Revenu au pre- 
mier lit, il coupe la tete de ses filles, qu'il prend pour les gargons, et 
redescend se coucher. Parlafine se leve, reveille ses freres et dit: 

1 I.e., ruse. 2 I.e., quelques moments. 

3 D6riv6 de I'anglais snack; ce mot, chez les Canadiens-franQaia, signifie bon 
repas plutot que legere collation. 



80 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

"Vite, sauvons-nous!" Sortant par la fenetre, ils d^gringolent dans 
I'^chelle et se sauvent, courant toute la nuit. Apres avoir bien couru, 
ils arrivent k un gros rocher. Fatigues, ils se couchent parmi les 
caillouxet s'endorment. Mais Parlafine, lui, ne dort pas; il reste au 
guet. 

Vers dix heures du matin, voyant que ses fiUes ne se Invent pas, la 
femme du g^ant dit k son homme: "J'ai bien peur qu'au lieu des gar- 
50ns, tu aies tu^ les filles. Parlafine a d<i te jouer un tour." — "Ah 
non! r^pond le geant. Elles ont veille tard; elless ont bien fatigu^es." 
A midi, les filles ne sont pas encore levees. Leur pere va voir. De 
fait, ses sept filles sont mortes et les gargons, partis. Voyant qu'il a 
tue ses propres filles, le geant entre en fureur, et dit a sa femme: "Vite, 
donne-moi mes bottes de sept lieues!" II part apr^s les enfants. II 
arrive pres du rocher oil ils dorment; et, se sentant bien fatigue, il se 
couche et s'endort. Aussitot qu'il est endormi et ronfle comme un 
bon,^ Parlafine sort de sa cachette, lui enleve ses bottes, et dit k ses 
fr^res: "Sauvez-vous plus loin!" 

Quant k lui, Parlafine, il met les bottes de sept lieues, s'en retourne 
chez sa tante, et lui dit: "Vite, ma tante, donnez-moi la bourse! Mon 
oncle, le geant, est pris dans un mauvais lieu et il lui faut de Targent." 
Sa tante ne veut pas. "Tu as fait tuer mes sept filles; c'est encore un 
tour que tu veux me jouer." — "Vous voyez bien, ma tante, que ce 
n'est pas un tour: il m'a donne ses bottes pour aller plus vite." A la 
fin, pensant que c'est bien le cas, elle lui donne la bourse. De 1^, 
Parlafine s'en va rejoindre ses frdres. 

A son re veil, le geant est d^sappointe de voir ses bottes parties: 
"C'est encore Parlafine qui m'a joue un tour." Et il retourne chez 
lui. Sa femme lui demande: "Pourquoi as-tu envoy^ chercher ta 
bourse?" — "Comment, il s'est fait donner ma bourse? C'etait 
pourtant bien assez de me faire tuer mes filles sans venir chercher ma 
fortune!" 

C'etait une chose connue que le geant avait un violon qu'on en- 
tendait jouer d sept lieues k la ronde. Parlafine se dit: "Ah! il a 
voulu me manger; eh bien! ce n'est pas fini. Je vas lui jouer des 
tours. Son violon, je le vole." Se souvenant que le gros chien 
noir du geant se tient tou jours k la porte de son maitre, il s'ach^te une 
peau de chien noir complete, s'en recouvre, et, k la porte du geant, il 
commence k siler, sile, site ^ encore. Causant avec sa femme, le geant 
s'impatiente a force d'entendre siler le chien, et dit: "Va done le faire 
entrer, qu'il se couche!" Faisant rentrer le chien, la femme lui /ou^ 
un coup de pied et I'envoie se coucher sous le lit od se trouve le violon. 

1 I.e., comme un juste, bruyamment. 

2 Cri 6touff6 ou aigu des chieaa. 3 i.e., donne. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 81 

Parlafine met la main sur I'instrument, et zing, zing! on Tentend d 
sept lieues a la rondc. II s'est fait prendre du coup. Le geant se leve 
et crie: "Par exemple! 1^ je t'ai, Parlafine! Tu m'as fait tuer mes sept 
filles, vole mes bottes de sept lieues et ma bourse; mais je vas te 
croquer." — "Mais qu'allez-vous done manger, mon oncle? Re- 
gardez-moi! Vous auriez ben plus d'acquet^ de m'engraisser; car, 
ast'heure, tatez-moi; vous ne mangeriez que des os. Attachez-moi les 
pieds et les mains, et gardez-moi dans la cave. La, il n'y aura tou- 
jours pas de danger que je m'echappe." Le geant trouve que g'a 
bien du bon sens. II attache done les pieds et les mains de Parlafine, 
et I'enferme dans la cave. 

Pendant que, tout le jour, le geant est a b<icher dans les bois, sa 
femme descend porter a manger a Parlafine, pour Fengraisser. N'ayant 
pas de bois de fendu pour le diner, elle essaye de se fendre une btiche, 
mais n'y peut r^ussir. "Detachez-moi done un pied et une main, dit 
Parlafine; j'aiderai, et je ne pourrai toujours pas m'^chapper." Mais 
elle repond:"Tu nous as joue assez de tours; je ne suis pas pour te 
detacher." — "Rien qu'une main, demande-t-il; je ne pourrai toujours 
pas me sauver; et je vas vous fendre votre bois." Elle lui detache 
une main. Mais, au lieu de fendre la btlche, Parlafine lui coupe le 
cou. Sa tante est morte. II se detache, chausse les bottes de sept 
lieues, prend le violon, et il est beto ^ rendu k I'autre bord de la riviere. 
On dit qu'un g^ant ne traverse jamais I'eau. Rendu 1^, Parlafine 
joue du violon, et le violon en fait du feu. ^ Entendant jouer son 
violon de la foret oil il btiche, le g^ant se dit: "Parlafine m'a encore 
joue un tour." A la maison, il trouve sa femme morte et le violon 
parti. II court k la riviere et dit: "Parlafine! passe-moi done la 
rivicire." — "Oui, beau fin! tu voudrais bien me croquer, mais tu n'es 
pas assez fute." — "Parlafine, tu n'es pas raisonnable. Tu m'as fait 
tuer mes sept filles, tu as coupe le cou de ma femme et tu m'as pris ma 
fortune, mes bottes et mon violon!" Parlafine repond: "Ah, tu as 
voulu nous croquer! Mais je n'ai pas encore fini." 

Le geant avait, sur une de ses terres, un troupeau affreux * de betes 
k cornes. Quand, le lendemain, le geant part comme d'ordinaire 
pour bticher, Parlafine s'en va en voiture lui voler tout son troupeau. 
Le geant arrive: "La, je t'ai, mon petit gueux! L'autre jour, je t'ai 
manque; mais aujourd'hui, je te croque." 

I^Dans la voiture il y avait une grande boite. Parlafine dit au geant: 
"Prenez-le done, votre violon! II est dans la boite." Le geant se 
penche pour le prendre le violon; mais Parlafine lui fou^ une poussee, 
et il tombe la tete la premiere dans la boite, qui se referme sur lui. hk, 

1 I.e., beaucoup plus de profit. 2 i.e., bientdt. 

' I.e., joue terriblemeut fort. * I.e., extrSmement nombreux. 

5 I.e., donne. 



82 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

le g^ant est pris et y reste. II a beau crier, hurler, se d^battre. Mais 
je fenfou,^ 9a ne sert a rien! A la fin, le g^ant est mort. 

Parlafine s'en va cherchcr son vieux pere, sa vieille mere et ses 
freres, et les emmene sur le bien du geant, ou ils ont pass6 le reste de 
leurs jours. 

Mais moi, ils n'ont pas voulu me garder. lis m'ont envoye ici vous 
le raconter. 

15. PETIT-JEAN-PETIT-BOIS. ^ 

Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'etait une veuve, dont le seul 
enfant — un petit gargon — s'appelait Petit-Jean-petit-bois. "Tiens, 
mouman! dit-il, un jour, j'ai sept ans; je vas aller dans les bois pour 
essayer de tordre un merisier. Si j'en suis capable, ce sera signe que 
je peux gagner ma vie." II s'en va done dans les bois, esseye de tordre 
un merisier, mais n'y r^ussit pas. Arrivant chez lui, il dit: "Mouman, 
vous allez encore me garder sept ans. T'et-hen^ qu'au bout de ce 
temps, je serai capable de gagner ma vie." 

Apres sept ans, il repart encore pour les bois, et pour essayer ses 
forces, il tord un merisier comme une hart. A sa mere il dit: "Ast- 
heure, ma mere, je dois etre capable de gagner ma vie. Je pars et je 
vas m'engager chez le roi." 

Rendu chez le roi, il dit: "Sire le roi, vous n'auriez pas besoin 
d'un engage?" — "Oui, si tu veux aller battre au fleau^ dans ma 
grange, je suis pret a t'engager." Une fois engage, Petit-Jean-petit- 
bois s'en va a la grange, et cherche le fleau, mais ne le trouve point. 
II revient et demande: "Ou'c-que^ vous avez mis le fl6au,sire le roi?" 
Le roi repond: "Sur les entraits." — "Mais, sire le roi, ce n'est pas 
un fl^au, c'est une hart! Je vas aller m'en chercher, un fl^au." Et 
dans la foret, il s'en fait un gros comme une tonne, et le maintien ^ en 
proportion. Qa fait qu'il dit au roi: "Donnez-moi done du cuir pour 
faire mon fleau." — "Comment-ce qu^il t'en faut? II y a un quatre- 
cotes'' au grenier, prends-le." Et il emploie tout le quatre-cotes de 
cuir. 

Une fois le fleau complet, Petit-Jean-petit-bois s'en va a la grange, 
et se met a battre. Au premier coup de fleau, voila la grange qui 
tumhe a terre.^ Quand le roi voit sa grange a terre: "Dis-moi done! 
ce n'est pas qu'un petit homme, ce Petit-Jean-petit-bois-la!" Et il 
dit a sa femme: "Tiens! ma femme, il faut s'en d^faire. Je vais I'en- 
voyer au moulin du diable, pour qu'il s'y fasse d^truire." 

1 I.e., je voiLS en assure ! 

2 Recite a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915, par Achille Fournier, 
qui dit I'avoir appris, il y a pres de quarante ans, d'Edouard Lizotte, anciennement 
de Saint-Roch-des-Aulnaies, et aujourd'hui residant au Madawaska, N.-B. 

3 Pour peut-etre bien. * Prononc6 flo. 

6 I.e., oil est-ce que. 6 I.e., manche. 

7 Une grande peau tout entiere. 8 Pour s'ecroule. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 83 

Le roi, le lendemain, fait charger une charrette de poches de grain; 
et quand elle est pleine jusqu'aux echelles et aux haridelles, ^ il dit k 
Petit-Jean: "Va chercher deux chevaux, attelle-les a la charrette, et 
va porter ce grain an mouHn." — "Sire le roi, je n'ai pas besoin 
d'atteler vos mouches." Et malgre qu'un cheval en eut eu plus que 
sa charge, il s'attelle lui-meme dans les menoires,- part et arrive au 
moulin pendant que le diable est apres^ moudre. Prenant une 
poche de grain chaque main, Petit-Jean-petit-bois les envoie revoler 
dans le moulin, et demande: ''As-tu le temps de moudre mon grain?" 
En repondant "Oui!" le diable se met k engrener^ son grain pendant 
que les moulanges^ font tiketiketiketak, tiketiketiketak. . . Puis, 
prenant une poignee de grain, le diable la jette dans les yeux de 
Petit-Jean-petit-bois, qui dit: Tu ne comptes toujours pas m'en- 
voyer de la farine dans les yeux? Tu n'as plus que deux fois a le 
faire avant que je te foute la plus fine volee que tu aies jamais eue." 
Et le diable continue a engrener son grain, tiketiketiketak, tiketike- 
tiketak. . . Prenant une poignee de farine, il la jette dans les yeux 
de Petit-Jean, qui crie: "Mon animal! tu n'as plus qu'une fois k le 
faire. Je vas te montrer a me boucher les yeux avec de la farine." 
Le moulin marche, marche encore, tiketiketiketak, tiketiketiketak .... 
Tout a coup le diable prend une poignee de farine et la jette encore 
dans les yeux de Petit-Jean-petit-bois, qui, prenant des grosses te- 
nailles, accroche le diable par les narines, derriere sa charrette. "Petit- 
Jean! crie le diable en se lamentant, lache-moi! Je n'aurai jamais 
droit sur toi." Le lui ay ant bien fait promettre. Petit- Jean le re- 
14che, prend sa moulee de grain, ^ et s'en retourne au chateau. Le 
voyant arriver, le roi dit a sa femme: "II n'y a pas moyen de s'en 
d^barrasser; il va tous nous d^truire, ce gars-la. Je vas I'envoyer k la 
guerre, pour qu'il se fasse tuer." A son engage, il dit: "Ast'heure, va 
me chercher le coff re-fort garde par les soldats." Petit-Jean-petit- 
bois part et arrive dans I'armee Les gens de guerre tirent des balles 
€t des boulets sur lui. En se frottant les jambes comme pour chasser 
des mouches, il dit: "Ce que'' c'est que ga? Des maringouins qui me 
piquent?" Prenant le coffre-fort, il le met sur son dos et retourne 
au chateau. Le roi dit: "Je n'en ai jamais ^ vu d'aussi fort que ga sur 
la terre. II va bien tous nous detruire." 

1 Les cotes elev6s d'une charrette. 

2 I.e., timons. 

3 Pour d moudre. 

4 "Verse son grain dans la tremie du moulin" (Diet. Bescherelle) . 

5 I.e., les meules. 

6 Farine grossiere. 

^ Abreviation pour qu'est-ce que c'est. 
8 Foumier dit: "J'en ai jamais vu . . ." 



84 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

"Petit-Jean-petit-bois, dit le roi, si tu veux aller chercher le tr^sor 
qui est enterre au fond de ce puits, je te le donne." Petit-Jean 
creuse quarante pieds dans sa journ^e. Le lendemain matin, avec 
vingt paires de chevaux, les serviteurs du roi charrient des roches 
et les jettent sur la tete de Petit-Jean, qui se met a crier: "Sire le roi! 
si vous ne comptez pas d'arreter vos poules de me jeter du sable dans 
les yeux, je vas monter et leur tordre le cou." Mais les cailloux 
continuent a tomber. Sortant du puits, il tue toutes les poules du 
roi — quatre cents, en tout. Le roi dit k sa femme: "Au moulin du 
diable, il y a une moulange de quatre mille livres; on va la lui jeter sur 
la tete. C'est le seul moyen de le d^truire. 

Pendant que Petit-Jean-petit-bois travaille dans le puits, on arrive 
avec la grosse moulange et la jette en bas. La moulange lui passe 
autour du cou, comme un collier. "Sire le roi, dit-il en sortant du 
puits, ne comptez-vous pas arreter? Vous m'avez fait jeter un cha- 
peau sans calotte, qui m'est entr^ jusqu'au cou." Prenant la mou- 
lange, il la jette a terre: "De chapeaux comme ga, je n'en ai pas be- 
soin!" Le roi lui dit: "Petit-Jean-petit-bois, si tu veux ne point 
nous faire de mal, je vas te donner la moiti^ de mon chateau et de 
mon royaume. Je vois bien qu'il n'y en a pas de plus fort que toi sur 
la terre." — "Sire le roi, je n'en veux point!" 

S'en allant de chez le roi, Petit-Jean-petit-bois prend le coffre-fort 
sur son dos et s'en va trouver sa mere. "Tiens! mouman, je vous 
remercie de m'avoir gard6 quatorze ans. Je suis capable de gagner 
ma vie comH'faut et de vous faire vivre." 

^a fait gw'il est rest^ avec sa mere, qu'il a tou jours bien fait vivre. 

Je suis passe la I'automne dernier, et Petit-Jean-petit-bois, que 
j'ai vu, m'a paru bien portant. 

16. LA PETITE CAPUCHE-BLEUE. ^ 

Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'est un nomme Petit-Jean. Pen- 
dant qu'il se promene dans les bois, ce qu'il trouve ? Une homme qui 
fesse a coups de poings apres les arbres. "Dites-moi done ce que 
vous faites? Vous allez ben tout vous briser \es joints!"^ L'autre 
repond: "Bonjour, Petit-Jean! moi, je suis Brise-bois." Petit-Jean 
dit: "Faisons done route ensemble, tous les deux." lis partent done 
ensemble, marchent, marchent, et arrivent a une montagne. Ce 
gw'ils voient? Un homme fessant a coups de poings apres la mon- 
tagne. "Comment t'appelles-tu ?" II repond: "Je m'appelle Brise- 
montagnes, moi." — "Faisons done tous les trois route ensemble!" 

1 Recueilli a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915. Achille Fournier, 
le conteur, dit avoir appris ce conte de feu Jeremie Ouellet, du meme endroit, il 
y a a peu pres quinze ans. Fournier paratt I'avoir entendu plusieurs fois au cours 
des veill^es, oil il apprenait les contes de Ouellet, et Ouellet, les siens. 

2 Jointures. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 85 

Dans la foret, ils trouvent une cabane ou ce qu'il y a personne. ^ 
Brise-bois dit: "Moi, je reste ici pour faire la soupe." Pendant que 
les deux autres vont a la chasse, il met la soupe au feu. Comme il 
va pour allumcr le feu, la^ petite Capuche-bleue arrive et soufHe 
le feu. "Cou'don! toi, tu n'as plus que deux fois a venir souffler mon 
feu. Tu vas voir! rn'a te sacrer une vol^e. ^ Allume * son feu, mais la 
petite Capuche-bleue le souffle encore. Brise-bois repete: "A midi, 
ils viennent diner, et la soupe ne sera pas prete. Si tu reviens encore 
une fois souffler mon feu, fa va jouer, ^ parce que tu ne me parais pas 
bien grosse!" Allume le feu; souffle le feu.^ Voila qu'ils se pognent. 
La petite Capuche-bleue jette Brise-bois dans une tonne de m^lasse,^ 
k la cave, le roule ensuite dans la plume, et s'en va. 

A midi, Petit-Jean et Brise-montagnes arrivent. lis ne trouvent 
point de soupe. "Mais comment, la soupe n'est pas prete ?" — "Non!" 
— "II s'est pass6 quelque chose; tu t'es battu avec quelqu'un?" 
Brise-montagnes dit: "Je vas rester demain pour la soupe. Je la 
ferai bien, moi." 

Brise-montagnes reste, le lendemain, pendant que les autres s'en 
vont a la chasse. Allume le feu. La petite Capuche-bleue arrive, 
souffle le feu. "Ne viens pas souffler mon feu! Si tu recommences, 
c'est a moi que tu auras affaire!" Allume le feu; souffle encore. 
"Tiens! il dit, tu n'as plus qu'une fois a le faire." II allume le feu, 
et elle le tue encore. lis se pognent ensemble, et la petite Capuche- 
bleue sapre^ Brise-montagnes a la cave, dans une tonne de m^lasse, 
le roule dans la plume, et s'en va. 

Quand Petit-Jean et Brise-bois reviennent, a midi, pas de soupe de 
faite. "Mais! dit Petit-Jean, vous n'etes pas seulement capables de 
faire de la soupe, bande de h^rissons que vous etes! Demain, c'est 
moi qui reste. Je la ferai bien." 

Petit-Jean, le lendemain matin, allume le feu. La petite Capuche- 
bleue ressoud et I'eteint. "Ah! il dit, ah! ah! tu n'as plus que deux 
fois, toi, a eteindre mon feu. Tu vas voir que, cette fois, tu n'as pas 
affaire a Brise-bois ou a Brise-montagnes." La deuxieme fois qu'il 
allume le feu, elle le tue encore. "Je le rallume pour la derniere fois. 
Si tu reviens, tu ne trouveras pas ga drole!" Le feu ^teint pour la 
troisieme fois, ils se pognent. Petit-Jean, avec son sabre, fend la 
petite Capuche-bleue en quatre, et en jette les morceaux sous le lit. 
Et il chauffe son feu si fort que les pois sautent par-dessus le chaudron. 
"Ah! je ferai bien cuire la soupe, moi!" A midi, les deux autres 

1 Ou il n'y a personne. 

2 Ici le conteur dit "une petite capuclie bleue; " mais, dans la suite, il dit "la 
petite capuche bleue." 

3 Je vais te donner une volee. ^ n allume. 

5 I.e., tu vas avoir mauvais parti. 6 Abr^viations : il allume le feu, elle I'eteint. 
7 Ici prononce menace. 8 Jette. 



86 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

arrivent: la soupe boucane sur la table, et les pois sont tous 6cal^s. 
"C'est comme ga qu'on fait la soupe, 11 dit; ah! je sais ce qui vous est 
arriv^. La petite Capuche-bleue vous a sapre la volee. Mais, allez 
voir sous le lit; je Fai f endue en quatre quartiers." lis vont voir sous 
le lit, mais, pas de Capuche; elle est partie ! 

Suivant les traces de sang, ils arrivent h, un souterrain oil elle est 
descendue. Dans le souterrain, c'est un autre pays. Pour y des- 
cendre, il y a un panier. Petit-Jean dit a Brise-bois: "Descends-y, 
toi!" Brise-bois r^pond: "Oui! mais si la peur me prend, je hdlerai 
sur la corde,et vous me remontrez." A peine rendu a la moitie du 
chemin, la peur le prend et il hale sur la corde, et se fait remonter. 
Brise-montagnes dit: "M'a y descendre, moi; mais si je donne un 
coup sur la corde, c'est que la peur me prend." II descend, mais il n'est 
pas rendu loin qu'il hale sur la corde et se fait remonter. Toujours 
que voilk Petit-Jean embarque dans le panier avec son sabre. Dans le 
souterrain, c'est le pays od des grants gardent trois princesses prison- 
nitres, dans leur chateau. A Petit-Jean les princesses disent: "La 
petite Capuche-bleue est revenue hier toute ensanglant^e." — "Ah! 
c'est elle que je cherche, pour me battre avec. Hier je I'ai fendue en 
quatre, et elle est partie." — "C'est dans cette chambre-ci qu'est la 
petite Capuche-bleue." Ouvrant la porte, Petit-Jean tumbe face k face 
avec elle. La bataille reprend et il la met toute en charpie. 

Petit- Jean dit aux princesses: "Je suis venu pour vous chercher." 
— "Mais, nous sommes 'gardees' par trois geants." — "Je vas me 
coucher sous leur lit, et quand ils dormiront, je sortirai et les tuerai." 
Les grants arrivent, et//, //, disent: "Belles princesses! ga sent ben la 
viande fraiche." — "Taisez-vous done, bande de fous! vous savez bien 
qu'il n'y a pas de viande fraiche ici." A peine les geants couches et 
endormis, Petit-Jean prend son sabre et les tue tous les trois. Ast'- 
heure, il y a le violon des geants et leur soleil qui eclaire la nuit. * Petit- 
Jean prend le violon, prend le soleil, et emm^ne les princesses k I'entr^e 
du souterrain. L^, il fait embarquer une des princesses dans le panier, 
hdle sur la corde, et voila Brise-montagnes et Brise-bois qui tirent le 
panier. Un coup la princesse rendue au haut, Brise-bois et Brise- 
montagnes se battent d qui Vauraient. Elle dit: "Ne vous battez 
done pas pour moi; mes deux soeurs sont cent fois plus belles que 
moi." Voyant 9a, ils rejettent le panier dans le souterrain. Petit- 
Jean y met la moins belle des deux princesses, hdle sur la corde; et la 
voil^ qui monte. Brise-bois et Brise-montagnes se battent encore; 
c'est k qui I'aurait, celle-1^. "Ne battez-vous done pas pour moi! 
Ma soeur, en bas, est bien plus belle que moi." lis se depechent done 
et rejettent le panier en bas. Petit-Jean y met la princesse, hdle sur 

1 Dans les contes de Parlafine et de Petit-Jean-petit-bois, il est dit qu'on entend 
le violon des grants sept lieues ^ la ronde. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 87 

la corde; et le panier remonte. Brise-bois et Brise-montagnes se 
battent plus que jamais. Mais c'est Brise-montagnes qui a le dessus 
et gagne la plus belle princesse. Quant a Petit-Jean, ils le laissent 
en bas. "Lui, ils se disent, il est bien plus fort que nous autres; il 
nous les oterait." 

Petit-Jean retourne au chateau des grants et demande au gros 
aigle ^ qui s'y trouve: "Veux-tu me porter en haut du souterrain?" 
L'aigle r^pond: "II te faut neuf quartiers^ de boeuf. Chaque fois 
que j'ouvrirai la gueule, tu y mettras un quartier." Toujours que 
Petit-Jean emharque sur l'aigle. Pendant que I'oiseau vole, k chaque 
fois qu'il ouvre la gueule, il regolt un quartier de bceuf. Arriv6 au 
bord du souterrain, Petit-Jean n'a que le temps d'y mettre les mains, 
et I'oiseau redescend. 

C'est au chateau du roi que s'^taient rendus Brise-montagnes et 
Brise-bois. Et, le soir, le roi y faisait des noces de ses filles, qui se 
mariaient a Brise-montagnes et Brise-bois, qui les avaient d^livrees 
des grants. Petit-Jean dit: "Sire le roi, faites condamner toutes 
les portes et les chassis, ' pour que personne ne sorte d'ici, d soir." * 
Voila la peur qui prend Brise-bois et Brise-montagnes. "Sire le roi! 
voulez-vous savoir qui a delivre vos belles princesses ? Celui-la qui a 
le violon et le soleil des grants serait-il plus croyable que ceux qui 
n'ont rien?" — "Oui, foi de roi! il serait plus croyable." Petit-Jean 
dit: "Moi, j'ai le soleil des geants et j'ai le violon des grants." — "Eh, 
mon dou!^ que j'ai mal au ventre, sire le roi! disent Brise-bois et Brise- 
montagnes; laissez-nous done sortir dehors!" — "Non, non! personne 
n'ira dehors, d soir." Et en disant: "ilf'a regler leur affaire," ^ Petit- 
Jean tumbe sur eux avec son sabre, et les met en charpie. Le roi de- 
clare: "Mon Petit-Jean, asfheure tu as gagn4 une de mes princesses. 
Choisis celle que tu veux en mariage." — "C'est la plus belle!" Et il 
ajoute: "Sire le roi, j'ai le violon des geants pour vous faire danser." 
Prenant le violon, il se met a jouer, et je vous garantis que ga sonne! 

Le mariage s'est fait; et, depuis, Petit- Jean a toujours vecu heureux 
avec sa princesse. Et moi, ils m'ont renvoye ici vous le raconter. 

17. LES DEUX MAGICIENS.^ 

Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'etait un roi, qui avait un seul 
enfant. II lui dit, un jour: "Mon petit gar^on, je vas te faire ins- 
truire." — ''Ben, poupa, repond I'enfant, je voudrais etre instruit sur 

1 Le conteur disait le grot aigle. 2 Ici prononc6 quarquie. 

3 Poxir fenetres. * Ce soir. 

5 Mon Dieu! 

6 I.e., je vais leur donner ce qu'ils mdritent, 

7 Conte T6cit6 a Sainte-Anne, Kamouraska, en juillet, 1915, par Achille 
Fournier, qui I'a appris, U y a pres de 25 ans, d'une vieiUe dame Louis Dionne, Agie 
de 80 ans, egalement de Sainte-Anne. 



88 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

le bien et sur le mal. Dans la ville, il y a un vieux magicien; il pour- 
rait bien m'instruire." L'enfant s'en va chez le magicien: "Bonjour, 
vieux magicien!" — "Bonjour! mon petit gargon!" — "Je viens vous 
trouver pour me faire instruire sur le bien et sur le mal." Le magicien 
I'instruit done sur tout ce qu'il sait. 

Longtemps apres, le jeune homme s'en retourne chez son pere, et 
dit: "Ast'heure, je suis instruit sur le bien et sur le mal." — "Oui! que 
sais-tu, mon gargon?" — "Demain, je vas me changer en beau cheval 
blond, et vous irez me vendre a la ville pour cent et une pistoles, ^ 
et vous vous r^serverez la bride et la selle." Le pere s'en va k la ville, 
et le vend comme il est entendu. Aussitot vendu, debride et dessell^, 
voila le cheval brun qui s'echappe, prend la course et disparait. L'ache- 
teur court aprds; mais bientot il apergoit un beau prince — Son 
cheval brun s'etait change en prince. "Mais, monsieur le prince, 
n'avez-vous pas vu passer un beau cheval brun par ici ?" — "Oui, et le 
tonnerre remportait." ^ 

Le lendemain matin, le prince dit k son p^re: "Aujourd'hui, je serai 
un beau cheval noir. Vous irez encore me vendre k la ville pour cent 
et une pistoles. Et vous vous reserverez la bride et la selle." Ay ant 
appris tout ga, le vieux magicien se dit: "M'a'^ I'acheter, moi." Pre- 
nant sa bride et sa selle, il s'en va k la ville, et, les rencontrant, de- 
mande: "Est-il k vendre, votre cheval?" — "Oui, pour cent et une 
pistoles." — "Tiens! prenez I'argent; il est k moi." — "Mais, dit le 
vieux, je me reserve la bride et la selle." Comme il prend sa bride 
et sa selle, le vieux magicien les remplace avec les siennes. "Ast'heure, 
mon ami, dit-il, je vas te mettre k I'etable et te faire patir." A ses 
servantes il dit: "Je pars aujourd'hui. Je ne veux pas que vous 
donniez a manger ni a boire k mon cheval." 

Quand le magicien est parti, les servantes s'en vont k I'^curie, et 
voient le cheval se frotter sur la barrure pour montrer qu'il a 
faim et soif. Elles disent: " Ce pauvre cheval a faim et soif. Sortons- 
le de I'etable et allons le faire boire." Elles I'emmenent k la riviere. 
Mais, ayant encore la bride et la selle, il ne veut pas boire, et se frotte 
pour tdcher de les oter. Les servantes disent: "Pauvre cheval! 
otons sa bride et sa selle, pour qu'il puisse boire." Aussitot dessell6 
et debrid6, il leur ^chappe, et se file en quatre dans la riviere. 

Le vieux magicien arrive le meme soir. "Avez-vous fait boire 
le cheval?" Elles repondent: "Quand on pense! ^ Nous sommes allees 
le faire boire a la rividre, mais avec sa bride et sa selle il ne voulait 
pas boire. Aussitot que nous les lui avons otees, il nous a 6chappe, et 

1 La pistole est I'^quivalent de dix francs. II y a longtemps que ce terme est 
tomb6 en d6su6tude, au Canada. 

2 I.e., il allait d to7ite vitesse. 

3 I.e., je m'en vas. 

* I.e., €st-ce assez extraordinaire! est-il possible! 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 89 

s'est fiU en quatre dans la riviere." Le magicien engage cinq cents 
p^cheurs et cinq cents seines pour pecher les carpes dans la riviere. 
Pour ne pas etre attrap6, le prince, devenu carpe, se change en beau 
diamant jaune sur le bord de la riviere. Passant par la, une princesse 
trouve le beau diamant, le prend, le met dans son estomac,' et s'en va. 
Plus loin, le diamant se change en prince et sort de son estomac, en 
disant: "Oui, je me suis change en diamant jaune pour pas quHl me 
seinU dans la riviere. Je vas me mettre dans une pomme, et quand le 
vieux magicien passera chez vous, vous prendrez la pomme et la 
lancerez contre le mur. Tous les p^pins vont revoler^ dans la place. 
Vous mettrez le pied sur celui qui tombera d ras ^ vous. 

Le lendemain, le magicien arrive chez la princesse et dit: "Princesse 
avez-vous trouv^ un beau diamant jaune sur la greve, hier? Je 
voudrais I'avoir." En r^pondant: "Oui, je vas vous le donner," elle 
prend la pomme, et la jette apres le mur. Comme les p^pins revolent 
dans la place, le magicien se change en coq et se met a les manger. 
La princesse leve aussitot le pied, et voila le p^pin qui se change en 
renard. Et crac! le renard d^vore le coq. Le magicien est d^truit. 

Redevenu prince, le renard dit: "Ast'heure, princesse, nous allons 
nous marier ensemble." U71 coup* mari^, il s'en retourne au chateau 
de son pere, qui dit: "Mon gargon, tu t'es mari^ a ton voyage?" 
II r^pond: "Oui, a celle qui m'a prot^g^ contre le vieux magicien et 
m'a sauv6 la vie." 

Et moi, ils m'ont renvoy6 ici pour vous le raconter. 

18. TI-JEAN COMMERQANT.^ 

Une fois, c'^tait des pauvres gens vivant dans les bois, et dont le 
seul enfant s'appelait Ti-Jean. Ti-Jean, un jour, dit a ses vieux 
parents: "Je m'en vas dans les paroisses'^ chercher de I'ouvrage. 
Peut-etre pourrai-je enfin gagner ma vie." 

Dans son chemin, il rencontre une vieille magicienne, qui lui dit: 
"Ti-Jean, mon petit jeune homme, ou vas-tu done?" — "Je m'en vas 
k la d^couverte, r^pond Ti-Jean; chez nous, nous sommes tellement 
pauvres qu'il ne nous reste a manger que des racines et tout ce qui 
nous tombe sous la dent. Je m'en vas done chercher de I'ouvrage. 
En m'engageant peut-etre pourrai-je am^liorer mon sort." La vieille 
magicienne reprend: "Tiens! Ti-Jean, je vas te donner un gourdin ^ 
tr^s utile. [Pour t'en servir,] tu n'auras qu'a dire: 'Joue, mon gourdin!' 

1 I.e., dans son corsage. 2 I.e., s'^parpiller. 

3 I.e., tout pres de. ^ I.e., une fois. 

£ Conte r^cit6 par Prudent Sioui, et recueilli k Lorette, le 20 aoQt, 1914. Sioui 
dit avoir appris ce conte de son pere. 

6 Paroisse est I'^quivalent de commune, en France. 

7 Sioui, par erreur, disait hourdin. 



90 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

Mais ne le fais jouer que de bonne foi." ^ Sitot "Merci, grand'm^re!" 
dit, la vieille ajoute: "La-bas, dans le bois que tu vas traverser, tu 
verras une maniere de chateau. Mefie-toi! car il y a 1^ trois Gascons 
voleurs." Ti-Jean, en s'en allant, se met h penser: "Trois Gascons, 
trois voleurs. . . ^^ iie sera pas facile pour moi de passer 1^ tout seul." 
Apr^s avoir pense quelques instants, ^ il se dit: "Je revire et prends 
un autre chemin." Ti-Jean revire done, prend un autre chemin et 
rencontre encore la .^agicienne, qui lui demande: "Mais d'oCi viens- 
tu?" A quoi il repond: "J'ai revire sitot que vous m'avez quitte; 
je ne suis pas alle plus loin," La vieille lui dit: "Retourne-t-en chez 
tes parents, Ti-Jean ! Vous avez un petit cochon; eh bien! prends-le, 
et, avec ton gourdin, va commercer!" La-dessus le jeune homme 
s'en retourne. Le lendemain, il prend le petit cochon et dit [a ses 
parents]: "Je m'en vas commercer." Son pere s'^crie: "Es-tu fou! 
Nous n'avons que ga pour I'automne." — "Je ne suis pas fou; il n'y a 
pas un commergant de pauvre," r^pond-il. Sur quoi il part empor- 
tant le petit cochon dans un sac, sous son bras. Le petit cochon 
crie et crie. Devant le chateau des trois voleurs, dans le bois, Ti-Jean 
passe avec le petit cochon grognant sous son bras. Se promenant 
sur la galerie, un des Gascons le voit et I'appelle: "Ti-Jean, monte 
done au chateau!" La, il lui demande: "Qu'as-tu done dans ton 
sac?" — "C'est seulement qu'un petit cochon." — "Qu'en veux-tu 
faire?" — "Je suis parti de chez nous pour commercer et I'echanger." 

— "L'6changer? demande le voleur; veux-tu le vendre?" Ti-Jean 
repond: "C'est la meme chose, le vendre ou I'echanger, puisque je 
suis parti pour commercer." — "Quel en est le prix?" — "Vingt-cinq 
piastres."'' Le voleur reprend: "Vingt-cinq piastres! Mais on en 
pent avoir quatre pour ce prix." A quoi Ti-Jean repond: "II est h 
prendre ou h laisser! Permettez-moi de passer mon chemin droit." 

— "C'est bien! dit le Gascon, tu auras tes vingt-cinq piastres. Mais 
va d'abord porter le petit cochon la-bas." Ayant ainsi fait, Ti-Jean 
revient chercher I'argent. Mais le Gascon est parti, et deux autres se 
trouvent maintenant la. Ti-Jean reclame ses vingt-cinq piastres; 
mais ils eclatent de rire, en disant: "Nous ne te devons rien, n'ayant 
rien achete de toi." Ti-Jean, en colore, s'ecrie: "Vous allez me payer!" 
Un des deux repond: "Te payer! mais descends done I'escalier au plus 
vite et t'en retourne!" — "Je le ferai quand vous m'aurez paye; pas 
avant." L^-dessus Ics Gascons s'avancent pour le repousser. "Joue, 
mon gourdin!" s'ecrie-t-il. A I'instant, le gourdin s'abat sur la tete 
et les bras des Gascons. Plus Ti-Jean repete: "Joue, mon gourdin!" 



1 Le conteur ici ajouta: "C'est-a-dire, il ne faudra le faire jouer qu'^ propoa." 

2 Le conteur usa ici de I'expressio 
dants. 

3 Piastre est I'^quivalent de dollar. 



2 Le conteur usa ici de Texpression populaire une escousse, au lieu de quelques 
instants. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 91 

plus le gourdin s'agite et frappe. Tous nieurtiis, les voleurs k la fin 
demandent grace et promettent de solder leur dette. "C'est \k mon 
d^sir," r^pond Tautre. "Mais arrete done ton gourdin, r6clament- 
ils; nous allons te payer." Et ils lui remettent vingt-cinq piastres. 
Sur ce, fier de son exploit, Ti-Jean s'en va, laissant les Gascons malades 
de tant de coups. 

Le rencontrant de nouveau, la vieille magicienne lui dit: "Quand 
tu passeras la demain, vets-toi en m^decin et porte un sac. Les 
deux Gascons que tu as battus sont bien malades, et I'autre est sur 
]a galerie du chateau, guettant I'arriv^e d'un m^decin." 

Le lendemain, d^guisd en m^decin, Ti-Jean part. Le Gascon le 
voyant venir monte dire a ses freres malades: "Voila un medecin; 
vais-je le faire entrer?" Et ils repondent: "Qui, et de suite." Leur 
frere court done vite: "Docteur, docteur, entrez vite! mes deux freres 
sont bien malades!" Ti-Jean monte au chateau, arrive chez les vo- 
leurs, oil il entre sans etre reconnu. "0\X sont vos malades?" de- 
mande-t-il. Et on Taccompagne a leur chambre. Tous deux le 
questionnent: "Sommes-nous en danger de mourir?" II r^pond: 
"Si demain vous n'etes pas mieux, il vous faut voir Ic cur(5." Alors il 
quitte ses patients, et, suivi de leur frere, il sort. Rendus a la porte, 
le medecin dit au Gascon: "C'est vous qui hier avez achet^ un petit 
cochon de moi. Eh bien! il me faut mon argent; sinon, c'est la mort. 
Joue, mon gourdin!" Et le gourdin joue et joue. Le voleur se la- 
mente et dit: "C'^tait bien assez d'avoir presque tue mes deux freres." 
Ti-Jean r^pete: "Donne-moi mon argent, ou c'est la mort. Joue 
mon gourdin!" — "Arrete ton gourdin; crie le Gascon; c'est entendu! 
voila tes vingt-cinq piastres." Ti-Jean part content. 

En s'en allant, le petit jeune homme rencontre la vieille magicienne, 
qui lui dit: "Demain, d^guise-toi en pretre, et retourne chez les Gas- 
cons pour les confesser, car ils sont en danger de mort. La, redemande 
le paiement de ton petit cochon." Rendu chez ses parents, il leur 
remet I'argent en disant: "Le commerce va tres bien." 

Le lendemain, il passe devant le chateau, deguisd en pretre. Aper- 
cevant le cur^, un des Gascons de sa fcnetre lui fait du doigt signe 
d'entrer. Le cur6 entre, et le Gascon se lamente: "Je suis bien malade 
et en danger de mort, ainsi que mes deux freres. Nous voulons nous 
confesser." — "Tres bien, tres bien! repond le cure; je vas vous con- 
fesser." II entre, prend I'un des malades a part, et entend sa con- 
fession. L'aveu des peches fini, le cure demande: "Mon cher frere, 
n'avez-vous pas par hasard vol<5 un petit cochon ?" — "Comment, 
c'est encore vous?" Ti-Jean dit: "Qui, c'est encore moi. II me 
faut mon argent, ou mon petit cochon. Sinon, c'est la mort." Et il 
ajoute: "Joue, mon gourdin!" Le Gascon le supplie: "Rappelle ton 
gourdin! Je vas te les donner, tes vingt-cinq piastres; car j'en mour- 



92 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

rais cette fois-ci." Alors le cure va confesser I'autre voleur. La con- 
fession finie, il demande: "Njavez-vous pas vole un petit cochon k 
un jeune homme qui passait?" — "Comment, repond I'autre, est-il 
encore question du petit cochon?" Ti-Jean repond: "Oui! mon ar- 
gent ou la mort; et au plus vite!" Le Gascon repond: "Les voil^ tes 
vingt-cinq piastres; et va-t-en!" Le troisieme voleur crie de la cham- 
bre suivante: "Je n'ai besoin ni du cure, ni du medecin, ni de Ti-Jean; 
qu'il s'en aille!" Ti-Jean en sortant leur souhaite un bon souper 
et un bon soir, ajoutant qu'il est tr^s satisfait de son commerce avec 
eux. Et il revient chez ses vieux parents od il continue h vivre en 
paix. ^ 

Dans une autre aventure, Ti-Jean trafique un ane. Voici comment. 
II part de chez ses parents emmenant une vache pour I'echanger ou 
en faire commerce. Rendu chez un marchand, il arrete et attache 
la vache. On lui demande: "Ou vas-tu avec la vache?" — "Je viens 
pour la vendre ou la changer." Le marchand lui dit: "L'ane que 
j'ai dans mon ecurie te serait bien plus utile; tu pourrais I'atteler ou 
I'echanger." Ti-Jean repond: "C'est entendu: c'est de I'^change 
que je veux faire." Et il echange sa vache pour I'ane. 

Le long du chemin il rencontre la vieille magicienne, qui lui dit: 
"Va la-bas chez le voleur; et demande-lui en echange I'ane crottant 
I'or et I'argent qu'il possede." Ti-Jean s'en va tout droit chez le 
voleur qui, le voyant venir, lui crie: "Aye, I'ami! c'est mon ane que tu 
as la?" — "Deviens-tu fou? dit Ti-Jean; j'arrive de la-bas." — "Dis 
ce qu'il te plaira, c'est mon ane;" reprend le voleur, en saisissant 
I'animal par la bride et I'entrainant dans son ecurie. Ti-Jean proteste: 
"II me faut mon ane ou cinquante piastres." A quoi I'autre repond: 
"File, petit voleur! ou je te fais arreter." — "Un voleur vous ressem- 
ble, riposte Ti-Jean; vite! cinquante piastres, ou mon ane." N'obte- 
nant rien, Ti-Jean crie: "Joue, mon gourdin!" Voila le baton parti k 
jouer par la tete et les bras du voleur. Un coup n'attend pas I'autre. 
Et plus Ti-Jean crie: "Joue, mon gourdin!" plus le gourdin frappe. 
Bien souffrant, le voleur enfin se rend: "Arrete ton baton, et va cher- 
cher ton ane au plus vite!" Ti-Jean rappelle done son gourdin et 
s'en va a I'ecurie; mais, au lieu de son ane, il s'empare de celui du 
voleur, apres I'avoir bien essaye. Sitot qu'il le fesse, I'ane crotte 
I'or et I'argent. Satisfait, Ti-Jean prend I'ane et s'en va. Le long 
du chemin, il arrete chez un commergant, qui reconnait I'animal. 
Pendant qu'il s'y amuse, un domestique I'echange pour un autre. 
Ti-Jean bientot detache I'ane et continue sa route. 

Arrive chez ses vieux parents, il leur declare: "Mon commerce est 
fini; je suis maintenant riche." II dit a sa mere: "L'or et I'argent, 

1 Ici finit cet dpisode. P. Sioui n'etait pas certain de I'ordre dans lequel se 
pr6sentaient cet fipisode et le suivant. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 93 

c'est comme de I'eau. Mettez un grand tablier blanc, et venez avec 
moi a Tecurie." S'empressant de mettre un grand tablier blanc, elle 
suit son fils a I'ecurie. Ti-Jean lui dit de se tenir en arriere de I'ane, 
son tablier grand 6tendu, et il foute^ une tape a ranimal, en disant: 
*'Crotte, mon ane!" Rien ! II redouble. Rien encore. Plus il fcsse 
et plus Fane se tasse. La colere enfin I'emporte, et il frappe d'un 
baton. L'ane a la fin envoie une foire epouvantable dans le tablier 
blanc de la vieille. Ti-Jean n'en revient pas. II dit: "C'est un tour 
qu'on m'a jou6. On ni'a change mon ane. Le mien crottait Tor 
et I'argent." 

Le lendemain matin, il retourne avec son ane chez le commergant, 
et lui demande: "N'avez-vous rien a echangcr?" Le proprietaire 
lui repond: "Non; je n'ai rien a, ^changer, aujourd'hui." Ti-Jean 
reprend: "Si vous n'avez rien a echanger, aujourd'hui, vous allez 
dechanger ce que vous avez change hier, et sans retard." Le proprie- 
taire lui repond: "Va-t'en, petit grossier, ou je te fais prendre." 
"Avant de m'en aller, dit Ti-Jean, fa va toujours jouer!^ Vite, 
joue, mon gourdin! II me faut mon ane." Et le baton claque sur 
la tete du voleur. Plus Ti-Jean dit: "Joue, mon gourdin!" plus le 
gourdin claque. Se sentant bien maganne,^ I'autre crie: "Va chercher 
ton ane, et sauve-toi au plus vite." 

Ayant recouvre son bien, Ti-Jean s'en retourne vivre avec ses vieux 
parents. L'ane crottait a souhait Tor et I'argent; et ils vecurent tons 
comme des bienheureux. 

19. l'ane, la serviette et le baton. * 

II est bon de vous dire que c'^tait une vieille et un vieux pauvres, 
pauvres, pauvres. La vieille etait maligne et envoy ait toujours son 
bonhomme queter partout; mais lui, n'aimant pas ga, ne voulait pas 
y aller. 

Un jour, le vieux part en pleurant et marche le long du chemin, 
marche. II fait la rencontre d'une fee, qui lui demande: "Mais 
qu'avez-vous a pleurer?" II repond: "Parlez m'en pas! ^ Ma vieille 
est maligne, et elle me bat pour m'envoyer queter. Je suis bien 
d^courag^." — "Tiens! venez dans mon ecurie," dit-elle. L^, elle 
lui donne un petit ane, en disant: "Vous prendrez un petit baton, et 

1 Pour donner. 

2 Jouer, i.e., hitter, faire des siennes. 

3 Maganne est une locution populaire, signifiant "raaltrait^, souffrant." 

* Raconte par Paul Patry, de Saint-Victor, Beauce, en aoUt, 1914. Patry 
apprit ce conte de Magloire Couture, de Saint-Benoit (Beauce), maintenant age de 
79 ans. M. I'abbe Arthur Lapointe a, quand il etait enfant, entendu le meme conte, 
avec des Episodes disposes dans le mSme ordre, de sa grand'm^re Christine Ouellet, 
vivant dans le comte de Karaouraska. 

6 I.e., ne m'en parlez pas! 



94 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

lui claquerez sur la queue en disant 'Crotte, mon &ne!' et il vous crottera 
de Tor et de Fargent." Le bonhomme prend le petit ane et part. 
Mais comme il y a loin, il arrete en chemin k une maison, pour la 
nuit. Avant de se eoucher, il dit: "Mettez mon petit Ane dedans;' 
mais n'allez pas lui fesser sur la queue en disant 'Crotte, mon dne!' 
car il crotte Tor et I'argent." Et on r^pond: "Ah non! ne craignez 
pas!" Mais il est a peine couch^ qu'on s'en va a ratable, claque sur 
la queue de I'ane en disant: "Crotte, mon ^ne!" Brrrr, voilk qu'il 
crotte Tor et I'argent. Dans ratable, il y a bien un autre ane; on en 
fait r^change sans que le vieux s'en apergoive. 

Le lendemain, le vieux arrive chez lui: "Ma pauvre bonne-femme! 
nous ne p&tirons plus." — "Pourquoi?" demande-t-elle. "Mon 
petit ^.ne crotte Tor et I'argent." De bonne heure le lendemain, il 
dit k sa vieille: "Viens a la grange avec moi." Rendus la: "Etends 
ton tablier!" Et prenant un baton, il fesse sur I'ane en disant: "Crotte, 
mon ^ne!" Mon ane envoie(0 une foire qui emplit le tablier. La 
bonne femme est sans connaissance. ^ Prend le baton, fout une 
vol^e a son mari, et dit: "Tiens! mon vieux, pour ra'avoir jou6 un 
tour." Et lui, il s'en va en hraillant. ' 

Le long du chemin, il rencontre encore sa vieille f^e: "Mais qu'avez- 
vous done, pere, vous braillez?" — "Parlez ni'en pas ! Ma femme m'a 
encore battu parce que I'^ne n'a pas crotte I'or et I'argent." La f^e 
dit: "Tiens, pauvre bonhomme! voila une petite serviet^^e. Vous 
n'aurez qu'a I'etendre et dire *Je souhaite une table bien greyee pour 
boire et manger, et que rien n'y manque.' " Mettant la petite ser- 
viette dans sa poche, le bonhomme part, couche encore a la meme 
maison, apres avoir dit: "J'ai une belle petite serviette dans ma 
poche; touchez-y pas!^ II suffit de dire 'Je souhaite une table bien 
greyee pour boire et manger, et que rien n'y manque; et tout y est." 
Les gens repondent: "Craignez pas! Nous n'y toucherons pas." Le 
bonhomme couchd, ils vont prendre la serviette, la mettent sur la 
table, et disent: "Je souhaite une table bien greyee de tout ce qu'il 
faut pour boire et manger, rien de mieux!'^ Et je vous dis qu'ils 
prennent un souper! Cachent la serviette, et en mettent une autre 
a la place. 

Rendu chez lui, le lendemain, le vieux met la table et dit: "Je 
souhaite de quoi boire et manger!" Rien ne vient. Fachee, la vieille 
dit: "Tu es encore a m'amuser avec 9a." Elle prend le tisonnier, lui 
fout une vol6e, et I'envoie queter. II part encore en hraillant, et 
rencontre la vieille f^e, qui lui demande: "Qu'avez-vous encore a 

1 I.e., dans Vicurie ; " mettre les animaux dedans " a toujours ici le sens de 
"mettre dans I'^curie. . . " 

2 I.e., est sans connaissance de fureur. 

3 I.e., pleurant tout haut. * I.e., n'y touchez pas. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 95 

brailler, pauvre bonhomme?" — "Parlez m'en pas! Je n'ai ricn 
pu avoir a manger de la serviette, et ma femme m'a encore battu epou- 
vantable." ^ La fee dit: "Vous devez coucher quelque part, sur ie 
ehemin, oil on vous joue des tours?" — "Oui, je couche a une maison, 
sur le ehemin." — "Tiens! AsCheure, voila- un gros baton. Quand 
tu diras 'Guerre, mon rond baton!' il fessera partout, jusqu'a ce que 
tu dises 'Arrete, mon baton!' " 

Le vieux couche encore au meme endroit, met son baton derriere 
la porte, et dit: "Ne touchez pas a mon baton, car en disant 'Guerre, 
mon baton rond!' il fesse partout." Durant la nuit, quelqu'un se 
leve et dit: "II faut voir si c'est vrai; ga serait hen bon pour la guerre." 
lis prennent done le baton, disant: "Fesse, baton rond!" Et le 
baton rond se met k jouer a leur tete et partout, les jetant a terre k 
force de fesser. Rien ne pent I'arreter. Allant reveiller le bon- 
homme, ils disent: "Arrete le baton, il acheve de nous tuer." "Asf- 
heure, j'arreterai mon baton quand vous rae donnerez mon ane et ma 
serviette." Le petit ane crottant I'or.et la serviette a boire eta manger, 
je vous dis qu'ils les lui redonnent! 

En arrivant chez sa bonne-femme, il dit: "Tu vas voir, de ce coiip- 
Id,^ je les ais!" II souhaite une belle table, et tout ce qu'il faut pour 
boire et manger. Et d'un crac, voil^ le repas greye sur la serviette. 
Ah! la bonne-femme est ben contente. Elle dit : ^'Ast'heure, allons 
k notre petit ane!" — "Tu vas voir!" dit le vieux. "Ah! tu vas 
encore me jouer un tour?" Elle met un vieux tablier, pensant: "C'est 
assez bon, pour le fairs encore salir." Le vieux fesse en disant: 
"Crotte, mon ane!" Et brrr, le tablier de la vieille en defonce. Elle 
dit: "Si tu m'avais dit qa, j'aurais mis un tablier neuf." — "Je te 
I'avais dit!" repond le bonhomme. 

Avec Fane et la serviette, je pense qu'ils ont toujours bien v^cu 
Mais, je ne le sais pas, comme je n'y suis pas alle les voir, depuis. 

CONTES PSEUDO-MERVEILLEUX. 
20. MARTINEAU-PAIN-SEC. * 

Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'etait le nomme Martineau-pain- 
sec, un paresseux. Son pdre lui dit: "Martineau, ga fait assez long- 
temps que je te fais vivre a rien faire; pars et va-t'en travailler!" 
— "Vous allez toujours me donner quelque chose avant de partir." * 
Son pere lui donne un pain de sucre,^ un pain blanc et une bouteille 
de lait. Et Martineau part. 

1 Ici dans un sens adverbial. 

2 Voild est souvent usite dans le sens de void. 

3 I.e., cette fois-ci, pour le coup. 

* Raconte par Paul Patry, en septembre, 1914, h, Saint-Victor, Beauce. 

' I.e., avant que je parte. 6 I.e., un morceau carre de sucre d'erable 



96 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

C'est I'^t^, au temps des foins, et il fait chaud sans hon se7is. ' Mar- 
tineau sue, et ga lui cotlte de marcher. Rentrant dans une prairie, il 
va s'asseoir pres de la cloture, oil il mange son pain, son sucre, et boit 
son lait. Les mouches se mettent apres lui, c'est effrayant! — Le 
sucre attire les mouches. Martineau dit: "Laissez-moi tranquille, 
les mouches! Je vas vous donner a manger beto." ^ 

Quand Martineau a fini de manger, il s'en va a une cabane pr^s de 
la, prend des planches et en fait une maniere de table. Emiettant 
du pain et du sucre, il y met du lait, et invite les mouches a venir 
manger. Pensez s'il y en a des mouches, c'est ^pouvantable! II en 
tue mille d'un coup et cinq cents du revers. 

Rendu dans la ville, il se fait faire un ^criteau: "Martineau-pain-sec 
en a tu^ mille d'un coup et cinq cents du revers." De 1^ il s'en va 
se coucher sur le ventre dans une veilloche ^ de foin. 

Le roi, s'adonnant a passer, lit "A tue mille d'un coup et cinq cents 
du revers." II dit h son cocher: '*Va done le reveiller." — "Oui, 
je vas ^ me faire tuer!" — "Va le reveiller poliment." II va done le 
reveiller: "Monsieur Martineau!" — "Que me voulez-vous ?" — 
"Monsieur le roi a affaire a vous." S'approchant du roi, il dit: 
"Monsieur le roi, que me voulez-vous?" — "Est-ce vrai, monsieur 
Martineau, que vous en tuez mille d'un coup et cinq cents du revers?" 
II r^pond: "Oui!" — "Voulez-vous vous engager?" — "Oui." — "II 
y a des betes feroces dans ma foret; je voudrais les faire d^truire." 
Aussitot qu'arriv^s au chateau, le roi dit: "Dans ma foret, il y a trois 
grants; mes hommes ne peuvent y aller sans se faire tuer. Martineau, 
es-tu capable de me les d^truire?" — "Ces petites jeunesses-la! 
r^pond Martineau, c'est assez de leur donner une tape sur la gueule 
pour les Jeter a terre." 

Le roi lui fait donner de quoi manger pour une journ^e, et lui dit: 
"Prends ce sentier, dans la foret." Mon Martineau marche, marche, 
marche. Arrive au pied d'une grosse ^pinette blanche ou les grants 
ont leur marmite, il arrete et se dit: "Je ne sais pas comment sont 
ces animaux-la." Mettant trois ou quatre gros cailloux dans sa 
chemise, il pense: "II faut toujours bien voir ce que c'est." Et il 
monte dans I'epinette, ou il se cache. Au bout d'une escousse, un 
des grants arrive, emportant sur son dos un gros merisier de vingt 
pouces,^ avec les branches et les racines. II le jette a bas, et zing! 
I'epinette en branle. Martineau se dit: "Ce sont des durs animaux!" 
Aussitot, un autre vient avec une demi-tonne d'eau sur chaque bras. 
Et le troisieme arrive avec une grande chaudiere a potasse et une grosse 

1 I.e., extrSmement. 2 I.e., bientot. 3 I.e., veillotte. 

4 Je vais est exprim^ par P. Pa try, et la plupart des paysans canadiens par ni'a 
me faire tuer, pour "je m'en vas". . . 

5 De vingt pouces de diamStre. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 97 

marmite, qu'il jette k terre avec un train, ping, pang! "Ce sont des 
durs animaux! " pense Martineau. Un g^ant jette une demi-tonne 
d'eau dans la marmite, et y brasse la bouillie avec une grande mi- 
kwene. ' La bouillie faite, les grants s'asseoient autour de la marmite 
et, ayant tout mang<!% ils se font un lit de sapin et de feuilles, s'y cou- 
chent sur le dos et dorment. Le plus jeune et moins grand des trois, 
couch6 au bord, se met a ronfler. Martineau se glisse au bout d'une 
branche, lui lance un caillou sur la gueule, et pan ! lui casse une 
dent. Se r^veillant, le g^ant dit a son voisin: "Cou'don!^ je ne t'ai 
rien fait, moi, et tu m'as frapp^ et casse une dent." — "Non!" r^- 
pond I'autre. lis se raccordent et s'endorment. Avec une roche 
encore plus grosse dans sa main, Martineau se place au-dessus d'un 
autre g^ant, hang! sur sa gueule jette la roche, et lui casse deux dents. 
Le g^ant se reveille fach^, et dit: "Vous allez voir, vous autres!" Apres 
s'etre battu, il se raccorde et dit a son ami: "Ne me touche pas ou 
je te tuerai." Aussitot les geants endormis, Martineau arrive dans I'ar- 
bre au-dessus du plus grand des grants, lui jette un gros caillou 
sur la gueule, hang ! lui casse quatre dents. Le g6ant se leve et 
voila la chicane prise. Arrachant les arbres, ils se battent ensem- 
ble, tellement qu'a la fin, ^puis^s, ils ne peuvent presque plus se 
grouiller. Martineau-pain-sec descend de Tarbre, prend son couteau 
et leur coupe la gorge a tous les trois. 

Le voyant revenir a son chdteau, le roi lui dit: "Qu'est-ce que tu 
as fait, Martineau?" II r^pond: "Des petites jeunesses de meme, ga 
ne me prend pas grand temps! Je les ai tu^s tous les trois." — "Je 
ne peux pas le croire," dit le roi. "Oui, oui, venez les voir." Suivant 
Martineau dans le bois, le roi apergoit les trois grants morts, et dit: 
"Mon Martineau, tu es bon!" 

Dans un coin de la foret, il y avait une licorne ^ si f^roce que per- 
sonne n'en pouvait approcher sans se faire d^truire. "Martineau! 
dit le roi, j'ai dans ma foret une licorne qui tue tout le monde. Pour- 
rais-tu m'en d^barrasser, toi?" — "J'irai bien! mais il me faut des 
provisions, car je pourrais bien m'^carter." — "Tu vas en avoir." 
Et lui donnant un sac de provisions, le roi le mene au petit sentier, 
disant: "Suis ce sentier, et tu vas ressoudre'^ pres de la vieille masure 
d'(5glise, oil la licorne se tient." 

Martineau-pain-sec part, marche, marche, marche, se disant: "Si 
je la vois, cette maudite bete, je vais toujours hen me sauver." Et 
il marche. Tout a coup voila la licorne qui se leve, pres d'un rocher, 
Mon Martineau, surpris, continue, incapable d'arreter. La licorne 
part derriere lui. Ce qu'il marche! Arrive a la vieille masure d'^glise, 
il en fait le tour en courant, y entre, et se cache derriese la porte. La 

1 I.e., cuiller; mot algonkin: ennkwdn, en cree (Lemoine). 

2 I.e., ^coute done! 3 P. Patry disait Income. * I.e., arriver. 



98 Journal of American Folk-Lore, 

licorne a sa suite s'y lance tout droit avec tant d'elan qu'il a le temps 
d'en sortir vitement et de fermer la porte. Voila la licorne renfermee 
dans la vieille eglise. Les yeux gros confime mes poings, elle frappe 
les murs de sa tete, pendant que Martineau monte sur le mur et la 
regarde. C^est ga qu'elle joue! En se disant: "Elle ne sortira toujours 
pas!" Martineau s'en va chez le roi, qui dit: "Toi?" — "Oui, moi! 
Je I'ai prise par la queue et jet^e dans la vieille masure d'eglise, d'ou 
elle ne sortira plus." — "Je ne te crois pas." — "Vous allez voir, 
monsieur le roi." Ne le croyant pas, le roi s'en va voir. Pour 
commencer, Martineau dit: "Je vas ouvrir la porte." — "A^e va pas!" 
reprend le roi. "Je vas la prendre par la queue." — "Pas du tout, 
si tu allais la manquer!" Bien content de ne pas avoir a le faire, 
Martineau ajoute: "II faut toujou hen la regarder." Tous deux, ils 
montent sur le mur et regardent la licorne qui, les yeux gros comme 
mes poings, se frappe la tete au mur. Le roi dit: "Martineau, viens- 
t'en!" lis s'en vont, laissant renfermee la licorne, qui finit par 
mourir. Le roi est content de son Martineau et I'aime. 

Un bon jour, voila la guerre qui se declare contre le roi, dont on 
veut enlever la puissance. "Monsieur Martineau, declare le roi, 
voila la guerre qui vient. Je suis bien decourage." Et il lui dit 
plate: "Tu vas venir te battre." — "Monsieur le roi, me donnez-vous 
le cheval le plus vigoureux que vous avez?" — "Oui." Le roi lui 
donne son meilleur cheval. Martineau etait comme moi; il n'allait 
pas souvent a cheval. Comme sa bete saute dix pieds sur un sens, 
dix pieds sur I'autre, Martineau a peur de tomber a bas. II descend, 
et, demandant une grosse courroie, il se fait amarrer ' les pieds autour 
de son cheval. Le voil^ parti, et fa mene! Martineau veut arreter, 
se demarrer et descendre dans I'armee. Mais, pas moyen! Son cheval 
saute et galope sans ralentir. Passant pres - d'une vieille croix plan- 
tee au bord du chemin, il la pogne, essay ant de s'y accrocher, mais 
la croix vient avec lui. II la tient par le bout et, la oil on se bat, il 
frappe et huche avec la croix a tour de bras. A la fin, son cheval 
revire. Martineau avait tout tue, et gagne la victoire. Au roi, il 
dit: "Je n'ai pas besoin de fusil, moi, pour tous les detruire!" Le 
capitaine battu fait dire que, lui, il ne faisait jamais la guerre avec 
des vieilles croix de bois, que c'etait le houte de la guerre, et qu'il ne 
reviendrait plus. 

Apres 9a, Martineau-pain-sec est rest^ chez le roi, ou il a toujours 
bien v^cu. 

1 I.e., attacher; expression d'origine marine. 

2 Le conteur disait: "d ras une vieille croix." 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 99 

21. LE CONTE DE POIS-VERTS. ^ 

Une fois, c'est un nomm^ Pois-verts, Thomme de confiance du cur^. 
Pendant un certain temps, Pois-verts est bon serviteur. Mais, un 
jour, il commence a jouer des tours a son maltre. Apres I'avoir 
endur^ une couple d'ann^es, le cur6 se fache et lui dit: "Pois-verts! 
ramasse tes gu^nilles et va-t'en! Je n'ai plus besoin de toi." Re- 
raerciant le cur^, Pois-verts repond: "Je ne demande pas mieux: je 
suis tann6 de vous servir." Pois-verts part et s'achete une petite 
propri4t6 pr^s de celle de son ancien maitre. 

Ce drole-la etait tres intelligent. Un bon matin, il tire un plan. ^ 
Prend deux gros morceaux de fer, les fait bien rougir au feu, met son 
chaudron a soupe tout pret, se greye ^ un fouet, et envoie chercher le 
cur^. Quand le cur^ est tout pres d'arriver, Pois-verts prend les 
morceaux de fer rouge et les jette dans sa soupe. Aussitot, il met 
son chaudron entre ses jambes, et, avec son petit fouet, il claque sur 
le chaudron, disant: "Bouille,ma soupe!" Le cure entre, aperyoit son 
ancien serviteur fouettant le chaudron, et la soupe bouillant de plus 
belle. "Pois-verts, quel secret as-tu pour ainsi faire ton ordinaire?" 
Pois-verts repond: "Ce secret est dans mon fouet." Tout en parlant, 
il fouette tranquillement son chaudron, et la soupe continue a bouillir. 
Enchants d'apprendre le secret du fouet, et de voir bouillir la soupe, 
le cur6 dit: "A moi qui ai des servantes pas trop vives, ce fouet irait * 
bien. Toi qui es tout seul, Pois-verts, tu n'en as pas besoin ?" — 
"Un bon article, monsieur le cur6, on en a toujours besoin. Mais 
pour vous rendre service, je suis pret a vous le vendre. Mon fouet 
vaut cent piastres." — "II n'est pas cher, reprend le cure, voila cent 
piastres. Donne-moi le fouet." Pois-verts prend 1 'argent et reraet 
le fouet. Le papier^ une fois signe, le cur6 ne tient pas un bien long 
discours, mais s'en retourne, arrive au presbytere et dit a ses servantes: 
"Je n'ai besoin que d'une servante. Les deux autres, je les mets a 
la porte." Les servantes deviennent pensives. A celle qu'il garde, le 
cur6 dit: "Va chercher la th^iere, mets-y le th6 dans de I'eau froide." 
— "Qu'est-ce que le cur^ a envie de faire ?" se demande-t-elle, en 
ob^issant k son maitre. Le cure arrive: "La th^iere est prete?" — 
"Oui, monsieur le cure, tout est hen pret." Monsieur le cure va qWi^ 
le fouet, prend la theiere, la met sur la table, et commence a la fouetter, 
disant: "Bouille, theiere! " Rien ne bouille. Claque encore. Rien! 
Decourag^, il dit: "Je vois que je ne m'y prends pas bien. Pois-verts 
^tait assis k terre, le chaudron entre ses jambes. Je vas faire comme 

1 R^cit^ par Prudent Sioui, de Lorette, en aoOt, 1914. Sioui avait appris ce 
conte de son pere, C16ment Sioui. 

2 I.e., il consent un plan, une id6e lui vient. 

3 I.e., se pripare. * I.e., serail utile. 
6 I.e., contrat. * I.e., querir. 



100 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

lui." S'asseyant a terre, il met la theiere entre ses jambes, et la 
fouette de son mieux. Apres avoir d'abord fouette tranquillement, 
il se met a fesser k grands coups. II n'est pas plus avance. La 
servante dit: "Monsieur le cure, oil avez-vous eu ce fouet-1^?" — 
"Je viens de I'acheter de Pois-verts." — "Monsieur le cure, c'est 
encore un tour qu'il vous a joue, comme au temps oil il restait ici." 
Fache, le cure jette le fouet au feu: "Demain, Pois-verts aura de mes 
nouvelles!" 

Pois-verts, le lendemain, fait venir sa vieille mere, lui demandant 
de passer la journee chez lui. Ayant rempli une vessie de sang, il 
I'accroche au cou de sa mere, et commence k se promener dans sa 
maison, regardant d'une fenetre a I'autre. II s'attendait k voir bientot 
le cure arriver en fureur. Tout a coup, il Tapergoit approcher de la 
maison. Faisant un grand vacarme, Pois-verts se met k renverser la 
table et les chaises, et a tout casser. Comme le cure entre, il saisit 
sa vieille m^re et leve son canif en criant: "Vieille garse! il y a assez 
longtemps que le monde vous connait. C'est fini!" Pour le calmer, 
le cure dit: "Pois-verts, que fais-tu, que fais-tu?" Mais Pois-verts 
r^pond: "C'est mon affaire; je ne veux pas d'ecornifieux^ dans ma 
maison," Et de son couteau il perce la vessie pleine de sang, pendant 
au cou de sa mere. Le sang coule, et la vieille tombe, mourante. 
Cela change les sangs - du cure, qui commence a chanter des betises ' 
a Pois-verts, et a le menacer: "Ton temps est fini! je vas te remettre 
aux mains de la justice, et tu monteras sur I'echafaud." — "Je viens 
de vous dire que je ne veux pas voir d'ecornijleux ici," repond Pois- 
verts en prenant son sifflet. "Monsieur le cure, ma mere est morte, 
mais elle va re venir. "^ Retroussant la robe de la vieille femme, il 
siffie: "Tourlututu! reviendras-tu ?" Et la vieille commence a grouiller. 
^'Tourlututu! reviendras-tu?" Pois-verts dit au cure: "La troisi^me 
fois, je ne manque jamais mon coup. Tourlututu! reviendras-tu, ou 
ne reviendras-tu pas?" II n'a pas sitot prononce Hourlututu' que 
la vieille est debout. Etonne de voir un sifflet si merveilleux, le 
cure demande: "Pois-verts, ou as-tu pris ce sifflet?" — "Une vieille 
magicienne me I'a donne. Avec ce sifflet, je puis faire tout ce que je 
veux." — "Ah! vela^ I'affaire qu'il me faut pour mes paroissiens, 
Pois-verts." — "Un bon article fait I'affaire de tout le monde." — 
"Veux-tu me le vendre, Pois-verts?" — "Pour vous rendre service, 
je vas vous le vendre, monsieur le cure." — "Comment veux-tu pour 
ton sifflet, Pois-verts?" — "Deux cents piastres, monsieur le cure." 
— "II n'est pas cher, Pois-verts; je le prends, et je vas commencer 
par ma servante." — "Sachez bien I'appliquer, monsieur le cure. 

1 Pour ecornifleur. 2 I.e., change Vhumeur. 

3 I.e., h. quereller, dire des injures. * I.e., revenir d la vie. 

5 Pour voilA. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 101 

Vous avez vu comment je m'y suis pris pour ma vieillc m^rc." — 
"Grains pas,^ Pois-verts!" Le cure part, arrive au presbyt^re pas 
trop de bonne humeur, et commence a brasser le pupitre, la table et 
la vaisselle. "Monsieur le cure! dit la servante, vous n'etes pas a 
votre place, dans mon armoire." — "Comment, je ne suis pas k ma 
place? Ah! je vas t'en faire une place! " Monsieur le cure prend 
le couteau a pain, et tranche le cou de sa servante. La servante est 
morte, et le cure est fier d'essayer son sifflet. II I'applique de la meme 
maniere que Pois-verts: "Tourlututu! reviendras-tu ?" La servante 
ne grouille pas. "Tourlututu, reviendras-tu?" Rien! "C'est cu- 
rieux! pense le cure; la premiere fois que Pois-verts I'a applique, la 
vieille avait grouille ; et la deuxieme fois, elle s'etait presque levee. 
Ici, c'est la troisieme fois, et elle ne grouille pas. Pourtant je I'ai 
bien applique comme Pois-verts. Tourlututu! reviendras-tu ou ne 
reviendras-tu pas?" Mais la servante est morte et elle y reste. Le 
cure devient pensif. "Depuis longtemps Pois-verts me joue des 
tours. Cette fois-ci, c'est le dernier! Je vas prendre un jugement^ 
contre lui, et le faire disparaitre. 

Le cure prend done un jugement, et Pois-verts est condamne h etre 
mis dans un sac et jete a la mer. Pois-verts est satisfait. Le soir, 
les deux serviteurs du cure viennent le chercher, le mettent dans un 
sac a sel, et partent pour la mer. "Non, je ne veux pas y aller; non, 
je ne veux pas y aller!" crie Pois-verts tout le long du chemin. Passant 
devant une auberge, les serviteurs entrent prendre un coup,^ et laissent 
le sac dehors, sur la galerie. "Je ne veux pas y aller, je ne veux pas 
y aller!" crie toujours Pois-verts, pour se desennuyer. Pendant 
que les serviteurs boivent, un pauvre passe et, curieux, ecoute Pois- 
verts crier dans le sac: "Je ne veux pas y aller!" Approchant, le 
pauvre touche au sac, et demande: "Oil ne veux-tu pas aller?" — "On 
m'emmene coucher avec la princesse; mais jamais ils ne m'y feront 
consentir." — "Veux-tu me donner ta place?" Pois-verts accepte 
avec plaisir: "Detache le sac, et prends ma place!" Pois-verts sort 
et le pauvre s'y fourre. A peine Pois-verts en fuite, les serviteurs 
arrivent, prennent la poehe, * et pendant qu'ils marchent, le pauvre 
crie comme Pois-verts: "Je ne veux pas y aller, je ne veux pas y aller!" 
— "Veux, veux pas! ^ repondent les serviteurs, c'est au large que tu 
vas aller." Tenant le sac k chaque bout, ils comptent un, deux, trois, 
et vlan! lachent le sac, qui tombe au large. 

Le lendemain matin, le cure demande a ses serviteurs: "L'avez-vous 
jete au large?" Ils repondent: "Soyez tranquille, monsieur le cur6; 
Pois-verts vous a joue assez de tours; il ne reviendra jamais!" — "En- 

i Pour ne crains pas, sois tranquille! 

2 I.e., faire prononcer un jugement contre lui, en cour de justice. 

3 I.e., boire. * I.e., sac. 5 Pour ne veux pas. 



102 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

fin, j'en serai bien d^barrass^!" pense le cur6, en se promenant comme 
d'habitude sur la galerie. 

Apres diner, il voit venir uu troupeau de betes a cornes. Plus le 
troupeau approche, plus celui qui les mene ressemble a Pois-verts. 
Appelant un de ses serviteurs, le cur6 lui dit: "Voila un beau troupeau 
de betes a cornes. Mais, regarde done en arriere; 5a m'a Fair de Pois- 
verts." — "Qa ne se pent pas, r^pond I'autre; hier au soir, nous I'avons 
foute^ a I'eau." — "Regarde conCVfaut^"^ serviteur; 9a m'a I'air de 
Pois-verts!" 

De fait, Pois-verts, le baton a la main, menait le troupeau, et de 
temps en temps criait: '^Ourche, mourche!" Sur le bout des pieds 
pour mieux voir, le cure dit: "C'est Pois-verts!" — "Bonsoir, monsieur 
le cur^; monsieur le cure, bonsoir!" fait Pois-verts en passant devant 
le presbytere. "Comment, Pois-verts, mais c'est ben toi?" — "Oui, 
monsieur le curd, c'est ben moi." — "Mais d'oil viens-tu avec toutes 
ces betes a cornes?" — "Ah! monsieur le cur6, ne m'en parlez pas! 
Si vos serviteurs m'avaient seulement jete dix pieds plus loin, je vous 
ramenais les deux plus beaux chevaux noirs qu'on aie jamais vus dans 
la province. Mais ils m'ont jete au milieu de ce troupeau de betes a 
cornes, que j'ai ramend avec moi." Le cure tombe encore dans le 
panneau, et croit Pois-verts. "Si j'y allais moi-meme, Pois-verts? 
Toi qui connais la distance. . . ?" — "Je vous garantis, monsieur le 
curd, que je ne manquerais pas mon coup! Si un de vos serviteurs 
m'aide, ce soir, je vous jetterai en plein milieu des beaux chevaux." 
Accepts! Pois-verts continue et mene le troupeau sur sa ferme. 
Quand il revient, le soir, il aide le curd a entrer dans le sac, et s'en va 
avec un serviteur le porter au bord de la mer. "Foutons^ monsieur 
le cure au large," dit Pois-verts; et vlan! monsieur le curd s'en va 
rejoindre le pauvre au fond de la mer, oil il est reste. 

Avec tous ses tours, Pois-verts devint un gros commergant. 

LfiGENDES ET CONTES CHRETIENS. 
22. LARRIV^E ET SON SAC. * 

Un jour, Notre-Seigneur arrive au bord d'une riviere, ou se trouvent 
deux pecheurs. "Bon jour, Larrivee!" dit-il a I'un d'eux. Larrivde 
demande: "Qui t'a dit mon nom ?" — "Je te connais depuis long- 
temps," repond Notre-Seigneur, en ajoutant: "Larrivde, tu vas me 
traverser de I'autre cotd de la riviere." Mais celui-ci refuse net, 
disant: "Je n'ai pas de barque." — "Tu vas me traverser sur ton dos!" 

I I.e., jeie. 2 Pour comme ilfaut, ou attentivement. ^ I.e., jetons. 

* Conte r(5cit6 a Lorette, en ao<it, 1914, par Prudent Sioui, qui le d^signait 
comme "une hi$toire vraie." Sioui I'avait appris de son pere, C16ment Sioui, lequel 
I'avait peut-etre, k son tour, appris d'une de ses soeurs, une bonne conteuse. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 103 

Se pensant bon nageur, Larrivee se dit : "S'il veut se noyer, je le jetterai 
en bas." II part k la nage, avec Notre-Seigneur sur son dos. Au 
milieu de la riviere, Larrivee enfonceetade I'eau jusqu'a la bouche. 
"Si tu fais ton plaisant, * dit-il, je te jette a I'eau." Mais Notre- 
Seigneur lui repond; ''Continue, Larrivee!" Et aussitot il commence 
k revenir sur I'eau. Une fois a terre de I'autre cote, Notre-Seigneur 
dit: "Tu vas retourner chercher mon associ^, ^ de I'autre cote." — 
"Associe ? mais qui va me payer?" — "Au retour de ton voyage, je te 
paierai." Larrivee retourne done chercher saint Pierre, I'associe 
de Notre-Seigneur. Une fois reunis ensemble sur I'autre rive, il 
s'agit du paiement. Notre-Seigneur dit: "Que pref^res-tu? le ciel 
apr^s la mort, ou bien, le sac ^ que voici. Dans ce sac, tout ce que tu 
souhaiteras y rentrera." Larrivee se met a penser: "Le ciel apr^s la 
mort, ou bien ce sac. Notre-Seigneur! je prefere le sac." — "Tu fais 
mal Larrivee, tu refuses le ciel? tu ne verras jamais Dieu." — "Je 
pr^fdre le sac, Notre-Seigneur, parce que je veux jouir un peu sur la 
terre." Et il ajoute: "Je veUx essayer le sac." — "Essaie-le." Larri- 
vee souhaite un dejeuner de premiere classe^ dans son sac, pour tons 
les trois. Aussitot souhaite, rien ne manque au dejeuner. 

Apr^s le repas, Notre-Seigneur et saint Pierre partent de leur c6t6. 
Reste quelques minutes pensif, Larrivee s'en va rejoindre sa femme. 
En arrivant a son logis, il s'ecrie. "II n'y a plus de pauvrete pour 
nous." — "Tu es encore le meme," repond sa femme. "Non,non! j'ai 
un secret. Ast'heure, nous sommes independants; et je vas t'en donner 
la preuve. Mets la table!" Sa dame met la table. Larrivee 
prend son sac et souhaite un souper de premiere classe pour lui-meme 
et pour sa femme. Le souper arrive et rien ne manque. 

Apres souper, Larrivee dit pour la troisieme fois: "Je vas essayer 
mon sac. Je souhaite qu'il y ait un derai-minot d'argent." Et le 
demi-minot s'y trouve complet. Sur quoi il dit a sa femme: "Notre- 
Seigneur ne m'a pas trompe." 

Larrivee avait entendu dire qu'un chateau du voisinage 6tait 
"garde," ^ et que personne n'y pouvait rester. II prend son sac, s'en 
va chez le roi, et lui demande la permission de passer la nuit dans le 
chateau "garde," oil personne ne pouvait rester. Content, le roi la 
lui donne, et le fait accompagner d'un domestique. Larrivee et le 
domestique du roi arrivent au chateau, et Larrivee dit: "Quand tu 
verras quelque chose, dis-le moi." 

Au courant de la veillee, un bruit vient de la cheminee; aussitot 
un autre bruit plus effra^'ant. Au troisieme bruit, trois hommes 
noirs sortent de la cheminee. En entrant dans la chambre ou se trou- 

i Pour drole. 2 Pour compagnon. 

3 Sioui disait poche. * De premiere qualiU. 

6 Hants. 



104 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

vent Larriv^e et le domestique, ils se disent: "On va toujours bien 
jouer de la pelotte!" Et saisissant le domestique, ils se le lancent 
d'un mur a I'autre. A la fin, le domestique est mort. Ils viennent 
done pour saisir Larriv^e et lui en faire autant. "Tenez-vous tran- 
quille! leur dit-il; moi, je ne suis pas habitu^ a ce jeu-la." Les trois 
hommes noirs se mettent a sourire, et rdpondent : "Si tu n'y es pas 
habitue, tu vas t'y habituer." — "C'est mieux pour vous autres de 
vous tenir tranquilles." Mais ils viennent pour saisir Larriv^e, qui 
les souhaite tous les trois dans son sac. Aussitot souhaite, aussitot 
fait. Ils sont tous les trois dans le sac. Larriv^e attache le sac, et 
le jette dans un coin en disant: "Je vas au moins passer le reste de la 
nuit tranquille." 

Le lendemain, de bonne heure le matin, le roi se hdte d'envoyer 
quelqu'un s'informer de ce qu'est devenu Larriv^e. Mais Larriv^e 
n'est plus 1^. Parti au petit jour avec son sac contenant les trois 
hommes noirs sur son dos, il arrive chez un forgeron et lui demande: 
"Combien veux-tu pour fesser' une heure de temps sur ce sac?" Le 
forgeron refuse Touvrage. Mais Larrivee lui dit: "Tu vas faire ce 
que je te dis; tu y es oblige." Le forgeron consent, vu que Larrivee 
lui promet un demi-minot d'argent. Quand le forgeron e^t claqu^ 
une heure, Larrivee ouvre le sac, et les trois individus disparaissent. 
Souhaitant aussitot un demi-minot d'argent pour le forgeron, Larrivee 
paye sa dette, disant: "Mesure-le, si tu crois que le demi-minot d'ar- 
gent n'y est pas." — "Je suis satisfait," repond I'autre. De la, Lar- 
rivee s'en va trouver sa femme. 

Un jour, Larrivee arrive a son logis, et, fort avanc^ sur I'age, il 
se pense sur le point de mourir. II tombe malade durant la nuit, et 
dit a sa femme: "Si je viens a mourir, n'oublie pas de mettre mon sac 
sous ma tete." II ajoute: "C'est un sac beni de Dieu; tout ce que j'y 
souhaite y entre. Pour I'avoir, j'ai refuse le ciel." C'etait la le testa- 
ment de Larrivee. Sa femme lui promet de le faire; et aussitot, 
Larrivee lache le dernier soupir. Mais sa femme garde le sac. Arriv^ 
de I'autre cot^, ^ il frappe a la porte du ciel, pan, pan, pan! Saint 
Pierre demande: "Qui est la?" — "C'est Larrivee." — "Tu peux t'en 
aller, repond saint Pierre; ta place n'est pas ici; tu as refus^ le ciel 
pour un sac, Ta place n'est pas ici." Larrivee, pensif, demande: 
"De quel cot^ voulez-vous que j'aille?" — "En enfer!" Larrivee 
s'en va done a I'enfer, frappe a la porte, pan, pan, pan! "Qui es-tu?" 
demande le diable, "Je suis Larrivee." — "Larrivee? As-tu encore 
ton sac?"'' — "Oui!" repond Larrivee. "Va-t'en! crie le diable; 
je ne veux pas te voir ici." 

1 I.e., frapper du marteau. 2 I.e., dans I'autre monde. 

3 Ici il devient evident que dans I'esprit du narrateur, les trois hommes noirs 
n'6taient autres que le diable ou ses (5missaires. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 105 

Fier de reviver de hord, Larrivee retourne au ciel et frappe h. la 
porte, pan, pan, pan! Saint Pierre demande: "Qui est 1^?" Larri- 
vee!" — "Je t'ai dit tout a I'heure que ta place etait en enfer, vu que 
tu as refuse le ciel. Tu fais aussi bien de t'en retourner; tu n'entreras 
pas ici. Ta place est en enfer." 

Larrivee dit: "J'ai regu un paiement de Notre-Seigneur, mais de 
vous, aucun paiement. Une grace pour vous avoir fait traverser la 
riviere: celle de me permettre de re voir ma femme." Saint Pierre 
le lui permet. 

Larrivee arrive a sa maison, entre, et dit a sa femme: "Malheureuse! 
tu m'as trompe. Tu as garde mon sac, malgre ta promesse de me le 
mettre sous la tete. J'ai hen rase ' d'aller en enfer tout dret. ^ Vite ! 
donne-moi mon sac pour quelques minutes." Aussitot qu'il tient 
le sac, Larrivee disparait. Arrive au ciel, il frappe a la porte. "Qui 
est la?" demande saint Pierre. "C'est Larrivee." — "Je t'ai dit que 
ta place n'est pas ici, mais en enfer." — "Je suis alle a I'enfer, et on 
ne veut pas de moi. Je viens ici ; vous ne voulez pas de moi. Oil 
voulez-vous done que j'aille?" Pas de reponse. "Encore une 
grace, saint Pierre! demande Larrivee; entrebaillez done la porte, que 
je puisse voir la beaute du ciel." En souriant, saint Pierre entrebaille 
la porte. Larrivee aussitot jette son sac dans le ciel et se souhaite 
dedans. Sitot souhaite, sitot fait. Se mettant a rire, saint Pierre 
prend le sac, I'attache et le jette en arriere de la porte du ciel. 

Si vous allez au ciel, jetez un coup d'oeil derriere la porte, et vous y 
verrez Larrivee dans son sac. 

23. PIPETTE. ' 

Une fois, c'etait Pipette. Un gars paresseux s'il y en avait un, 
il vivait sans travailler, chez son pdre. Son pere lui dit, un jour: 
"Pipette, tu es capable de travailler, va-t'en!" — "Vous allez toujours 
ben me donner quelque chose avant que je parte." Le bonhomrae, 
qui est en moyens, lui donne ses droits — assez d'argent. 

Voila mon Pipette parti. Rendu k une auberge, il entre et se met k 
f^ter. Notre-Seigneur, dans ce temps-U, s'adonnait a rouler sur la 
terre avec le bon saint Jacques, tous les deux. Rencontrant Pipette 
dans I'auberge, ils se traitent et fetent. D'une auberge k I'autre, k 
force de feter avec ses amis, Pipette arrive au bout de son argent. 
De maniere que, il part et marche, marche. Avec les quelques sous 
qui lui restent, il entre dans une maison s'acheter un pain. Prenant 
la route, il entre dans un bois et marche le long du sentier. Comme 
il coupe son pain en deux pour le manger, il rencontre le bon saint 

1 I.e., venu bien pres. 2 i.e., tout droit. 

3 R^citd h Saint-Victor, Beauce, en aodt, 1914, par Paul Patry, qui diaait 
avoir appris ce conte de son oncle, Franjois Coulombe. 



106 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

Jacques. "Bonjour, Pipette! tu manges, la?" — "Oui! As-tu faim, 
saint Jacques?" — "Oui, j'ai faim." Avec son couteau de poche,^ 
Pipette coupe un morceau de pain et lui donne, disant : " Mange ! " 

Un peu plus loin, ils rencontrent Notre-Seigneur. "Bonjour, 
Pipette!" — "Saa^e!^ il dit, bonjour!" — "Tu es apres manger?" — 
"Oui! as-tu faim?" Notre-Seigneur r^pond: "Oui." Pipette coupe 
un morceau de son pain et le donne a Notre-Seigneur. Et ils se 
separent. 

Pipette marche, marche. Dans le bois, plus loin, il rencontre 
Notre-Seigneur et le bon saint Jacques, cette fois tous les deux en- 
semble. "Ah, disent-ils, bonjour, mon pauvre Pipette, bonjour! Je 
suis certain qu'il ne te reste rien?" — "Non, il ne me reste rien. Je 
suis pauvre comme un rat d'^glise." Le bon saint Jacques dit: "Pi- 
pette, tu es d'un bon coeur; ^ tu as toujours 6t6 g^n^reux. Je voudrais 
te faire un petit don." — "Qu'est-ce que c'est?" — "Voici une petite 
baguette; tout ce que tu souhaiteras, elle te le donnera." En disant: 
"Merci bien!" Pipette met la baguette dans sa poche. Le voyant 
faire, Notre-Seigneur lui dit: "Que veux-tu que je te donne?" — "Je 
le sais-ii, ^ moi!" Le bon saint, en arriere, le pousse: "Pipette, de- 
demande-lui done le paradis a la fin de tes jours, c'est Notre-Seigneur!" 
— "Laisse-moi done tranquille! Je le gagnerai comme les autres, 
quand je le pourrai." Le bon saint Jacques r^pete: "Demande done 
le paradis a Notre-Seigneur." Notre-Seigneur prend encore la 
parole: "Que vais-je te donner?" — "Cou'don!^ donnez-moi un jeu 
de cartes qui me fera gagner quand je voudrai." Notre-Seigneur le 
lui donne. 

Avec sa baguette. Pipette se batit une belle maison, et y vit bien 
des ann^es, bien des ann(5es. 

Un bon jour, le bon Dieu dit: "Nous avons oubli^ Pipette." A la 
Mort il ordonne: "Va q^ri^ Pipette!" La Mort, en arrivant, dit: "Bon- 
jour, Pipette!" — "Bonjour! qui es-tu?" — "Je suis la Mort." — 
"Pourquoi viens-tu ici?" — "Je viens te q^ri, Pipette. II y a tres 
longtemps que tu es sur la terre." — "Pourquoi ne m'as-tu pas averti ? 
Je n'ai pas la barbe faite." II ajoute: "Pendant que je vas me greyer, 
va dans Tarbre devant la porte m'emplir ce panier de cenelles, pour 
qu'on les mange en chemin." La Mort monte dans I'arbre de cenelles, 
et Pipette, prenant sa baguette, souhaite: "Que la Mort reste collie 
dans le cenellier tant qu'elle ne renoncera pas a m'emporter." Voyant 

1 I.e., un canif. 

2 Juron exprimant ici la surprise ou le plaisir. 

3 I.e., tu as bon caur. 

4 Pour sais-t-il; i.e., le sais-je. Ti comprenant la consonne t suivie du pro- 
nom impersonnel il est devenu une particule interrogative tres usit^e ici. 

5 Ecoutez done ! 

6 I.e., chercher; deriv6 de qu^rir. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 107 

qu'elle ne pent plus se demancher, la Mort dit: ^'Largue^-moi done, 
Pipette, et je to laisserai aller." — "C'est bien!" dit Pipette, en laissant 
descendre la Mort, qui file au plus vite. La Mort dit au bon Dieu: 
"S'il faut aller le q'ri, vous irez, vous! II m'a coU^ dans son cenellier; 
je n'irai plus." 

Apr^s 9a, Pipette vecut encore bien longtemps. Le bon Dieu dit, 
un jour: "Sais-tu bien qu'on a oublie Pipette?" — "Je ne veux plus y 
aller," repond la Mort. 'Tuisque la Mort ne veut plus y aller, dit 
le bon Dieu, il faut envoyer le diable le q'ri." Le diable part et 
arrive chez Pipette. "Bonjour, Pipette!" — "Bonjour, <oz7" — "Je 
suis le diable, et je viens te q'ri." — "Tu viens me ^'n? Mais il 
fallait done me le dire, je ne suis pas change, nifoute ni rien. Assis-toi 
dans cette chaise," dit Pipette en poussant sa belle grande berg^re. 
Le diable s^assit durant que Pipette va chercher du beau bois sec qu'il 
corde dans la chemin^e, sur le feu. Assis devant ce gros feu, qui le 
brtile, le diable se reboute.^ "Lache-moi, Pipette, tu me brdles!" 
Mais I'autre pousse la chaise plus pr^s du feu, pousse encore. II fait 
si chaud que les orteils du diable en rougissent. "Pipette, largue-moi, 
largue-moiV^ — "Je te larguerai quand tu m'auras promis que jamais 
je n'irai dans ton enfer." Le diable le lui promet et se sauve. 

Toujour s que voila mon Pipette vieux extraordinaire. ' Un jour, 
il fait demander tous ses gens autour de lui, et leur ayant donn6 
tous ses biens, il se fait enterrer en vie. Une fois enterr^, il est mort. 
Mort, il s'en va k la porte du paradis: "Saint Pierre, ouvrez-moi la 
porte?" — "Qui est 1^?" — "Pipette." Le bon Dieu dit: "La Mort 
n'a pas pu t'emmener. Je ne veux pas te laisser entrer au paradis. 
Va-t'en en enfer. Je te donne au diable, et vas-y." Pipette part et 
s'en va k I'enfer, "Ouvre-moi la porte," demande-t-il au diable. 
"Va-t'en, Pipette, je ne veux pas te voir dans mon enfer; tu m'as trop 
fait brtiler." S'en retournant au paradis, Pipette dit: "Cou'don! il 
faut tou jours que je couche quelque part, et le diable ne veut pas de 
moi. Saint Pierre, ouvrez-moi la porte." — "Tu sais bien que le 
bon Dieu ne veut pas." — "Laissez-moi done me cacher derri^re la 
porte; il faut bien que j'aille quelque part." Saint Pierre laisse entrer 
Pipette, qui s'accroupit derriere la porte, et ne grouille pas. A la fin, 
Pipette sort ses cartes, et a un autre d ras * lui, qui est assis sur un petit 
billotte,^ il dit: "Veux-tu jouer aux cartes avec moi?" — "Comment, 
jouer aux cartes?" — "Oui, jouons place pour place." lis jouent 
trois parties, et Pipette gagne. L§ voil^ assis sur le petit billotte. 
Un autre, tout pres, est assis sur une chaise: "Veux-tu jouer aux 
cartes?" demande Pipette. "Comment, jouer aux cartes?" — "Oui, 

1 Terme d'origine marine, signifiant Idche-^moi. 

2 I.e., s'arc-boute. 3 Sens adverbial. 

♦ I.e., prbs de. 5 Pour billot, bikhe. 



108 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

jouons place pour place." Jouent trois parties. Pipette gagne 
encore et se trouve assis sur une chaise. Apres ga, Pipette passe son 
temps a jouer aux cartes. A celui qui est assis pres du bon Dieu, 
Pipette demande: "Veux-tu jouer aux cartes avec moi ?" — "Comment, 
jouer aux cartes?" — "Oui, jouons place pour place." Jouent done 
place pour place; et Pipette gagne encore. Le voila assis pres du bon 
Dieu. "Bon Dieu! bon Dieu! veux-tu jouer aux cartes avec moi?" 
"Cou^don, Pipette! tu es hen la, restes-y!" 
Et ils me Font envoye raconter. 

24. CACHOLET. ^ 

II est bon de vous dire qu'une fois, c'etait un bticheron et sa femme. 
L'homme etait dur pour sa femme, et ne trouvait jamais qu'elle 
faisait assez. Quand il allait bucher, le matin, il lui donnait une 
tache, lui ordonnant de filer tant- d'echeveaux. Si elle ne pouvait 
le faire, il I'envoyait se coucher sans souper, ou bien, lui foutait ^ la 
volee. 

Un bon matin, le bijcheron se leve pas trop de bonne humeur, et 
dit a sa femme: "Si tu ne files pas toute cette laine dans trois jours, 
ta vie sera au boute." * Et il lui donne plus de laine que trois crieiures ^ 
n'en auraient pu filer dans un mois. "Tu vois toujours bien que je ne 
suis pas capable de filer ga dans trois jours." Mais il r^pete: "Je te 
donne trois jours et pas plus." L'homme n'^tait pas sorti que sa 
femme se met a pleurer: "Je suis bien certaine de mourir, car je ne 
suis pas capable de filer 9a dans trois jours." Tout k coup, on frappe 
a la porte. "Entrez!" — "Bonjour! madame." — "Bonjour! mon- 
sieur! Asseyez-vous!" — "Vous avez Fair bien triste, madame?" 
— "Oui, je le suis, mon cher monsieur. On pourrait I'etre a moins. 
Regardez la laine dont cette chambre est remplie; eh hen! si je ne I'ai 
pas toute filee dans trois jours, mon mari va m'oter la vie." — "Vous 
etes ben en peine pour rien, dit le visiteur; voulez-vous m'en donner 
a filer, a moi? Je vas vous aider. Je ne vous demanderai pas un 
sou, pourvu que vous deviniez mon nom." Pensant qu'il ^tait un 
homme de la place," sans plus penser, elle consent, et lui donne la 
laine, se disant: "Je n'aurai qu'a m'en informer pour le savoir." Mais 
elle reste pensive. A peine est-il parti, elle s'apergoit que I'etranger 
n'est pas un homme ordinaire, son pied gauche 6tant fait comme celui 
d'un cheval. "Mon dou!'' je ere hen^ que c'etait le diable. Comment 

1 Raconte par Mme Prudent Sioui, de Lorette, en aout, 1914. 

2 I.e., un tel nomhre. 

3 I.e., donnait. 
* I.e., finie. 

5 I.e., femmes; creatures n'est pas pris ici dans un sens p^joratif. 

6 I.e., de Verulroit. 

7 I.e., mon Dieu! Don est " Dieu," en breton. 8 I.e., crois bien. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 109 

deviner son nom ?" Elle ne se trompait pas. C'^tait le diable d^- 
guis6 en homme qui ^tait ainsi venu chez elle. 

Quand son mari revient, le soir, il remarque qu'elle a un air hen 
piteux; mais il n'en fait pas grand cas, si fait * qu'il lui avait men6 
le diable^ avant de partir. Le lendemain matin, il trouve strange 
de la voir si triste, elle qui avait toujours la meme fagon en vers lui. 
"Qu'as-tu? lui demande-t-il. "Rien!" repond-elle. 

C'etait le lendemain que le diable revenait. Le b^cheron dit k 
sa femme: "Tu vas toujou ben ^ me dire pourquoi tu es si triste." Elle 
r^pond: "Tu sais, la t^che que tu m'as impos^e? Tu m'as donn^ 
autant de laine a filer dans trois jours que trois crietures seraient 
capables de le faire dans un mois. Eh ben! quand tu es parti, Tautre 
matin, un homme a frapp6 a la porte. Je lui ai dit d'entrer. II m'a 
demand^ ee que j 'avals a etre si triste, a pleurer. Lui montrant la 
laine qui j 'avals a filer, je lui ai dit mon d^couragement. II m'a 
r^pondu: 'Voulez-vous m'en donner; je vas vous aider; et vous allez 
voir comme je prendrai peu de temps a le faire. Je ne vous deman- 
derai pas un sou si vous devinez mon nom. Je I'avais pris pour un 
homme de la place; ^ mais je suis a present siire que c'^tait le diable; 
il avait un pied de cheval. Comment deviner son nom? Je suis 
bien certaine qu'il va m'emporter." 

Malgr^ qu'il f6t bien dur pour elle, son mari est un peu touchy de la 
voir si en peine, et de I'entendre pleurer effrayant. ^ "Ne sois pas si 
en peine! Son nom, on le devinera bien! C'est lui que j'entends filer 
dans les bois; j'^couterai aujourd'hui, et te dirai son nom ce soir." 

L'homme s'en va bucher au bois, comme d'habitude, et s^assit sur 
une btjche pour se reposer. Tout a coup, il entend virer ^ un rouette; ^ 
et le rouette file a en faire du feu; et quelqu'un chante: 

"Si tu savais que je m'appelle Cacholet, 
Tu ne serais pas si en peine que tu es." 

Le bticheron avait tout entendu, et, le soir, il dit a sa femme: "Ne 
sois pas en peine. Son nom, je I'ai! Demain matin, me qu'il^ vienne, 
tu lui demanderas: 'Ne t'appelles-tu pas Cacholet, par hasard?'" 

Comme de fait,^ le bticheron est a peine parti que le diable arrive : 
"Tiens! la voila, la laine. Ton mari ne te tuera pas. Mais il faut que 
tu devines mon nom." La femme fait semblant de ne le pas savoir. 
"Mon cher monsieur! votre nom, c'est malise^^ h deviner, vu que 
personne dans le canton ne vous connait." — "Oui! mais vous savez 
votre promesse. Si vous ne pouvez deviner mon nom, vous m'appar- 

1 I.e., vu. 2 I.e., lui avait fait guerelle. 

3 I.e., toujours bien. ■* I.e., du village. 

6 I.e., affreusement. 6 I.e., tourner. 

7 I.e., rou^t. 8 Pour quand il. 

9 I.e., en effet, de fait. lo I.e., mai aise, pas facile. 



110 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

tenez, et je vous emm^ne avec moi." La femme pense, et puis dit: 
"Est-ce que vous ne vous appelez pas Cacholet, par hasard?" Se 
trouvant dejou6, le diable part en une telle fureur qu'en sortant, il 
arrache la porte et I'emporte avec lui. 

25. LE DIABLE ET LA BOUGIE. ^ 

Une fois, c'etait un homme, sa femme et leur petit gargon. L'hom- 
me tous les jours allait k la peche, mais il n'attrapait jamais un poisson. 

"C'est comme rien^ d'aller h la peche," lui dit, un jour, sa femme; 
"tu ne prends jamais rien. Tu ferais mieux d'essayer a travailler, 
ailleurs de^ nous laisser crever de faim." Mais sa reponse est: "Pe- 
cher, c'est mon metier! Je ne suis pas capable de travailler, et ne le 
ferai point." Le lendemain matin, il part comme d'ordinaire pour la 
peche, malgr^ les reproches de sa femme. Comme il peche, un homme 
tout k coup se pr^sente a lui sur la rive. "Que fais-tu done la, mon 
ami?" — "Je suis k pecher. Je ne prends jamais rien; c'est hen 
curieux!" — "Veux-tu prendre du poisson?" lui demande I'individu. 
"Mais c'est mon gagne-pain; comme de raison que je veux en prendre!" 
— "Eh bien! si tu veux me donner ce qui viendra au-devant de toi, 
ta barque va se remplir de poisson." Le pecheur se dit: "C'est 
toujours pas grand'chose; ce qui va venir au-devant de moi, c'est mon 
petit chien noir." A I'autre il crie: "C'est bien! Vous aurez ce qui 
viendra au-devant de moi." De fait, dans le temps de rien, ^ il attrape 
tant de poisson que sa barque en est remplie. 

Mais au lieu de son petit chien noir, c'est son petit gargon qui 
vient au-devant de lui. La peur prend I'enfant k la vue de I'^tranger, 
le diable en personne. Comme il lui fallait traverser un bois, I'enfant 
trace un grand rond dans le sable, y fait des petites croix tout autour, 
et se met au milieu. 

Voyant qu'il a promis son enfant au diable, le pecheur est fort 
d^courag6 et ne salt que faire. Mais sa femme lui dit: "Laisse-moi 
donc!^ II faut lui jouer un tour. Quand doit-il venir?" — "De- 
main." 

Le lendemain, le diable arrive: "Tu vois la chandelle que j'ai allu- 
m^e? lui demande la femme; veux-tu me laisser mon enfant jusqu'^ 
ce qu'elle s'eteigne toute seule?"^ Le diable r^pond: "Mais beau 
dommage!"'' et il pense en lui-meme: "Ca ne fait pas grand'difference. 
Dans le temps de rien cette chandelle sera finie." A peine la chandelle 
k moitie brftlee, la femme la souffle. A present que la chandelle est 

1 Racont6 k Lorette, en aoGt, 1914, par Mme Prudent Sioui, qui dit i'avoir 
apprifl de son beau-pSre, Clement Sioui. 

» I.e., intdUe, ' Pour au lieu de. 

* I.e., un moment. * Pour AUons done I 

« I.e., d'eUe-mime. ' I.e., eertainem.ent. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. Ill 

tu4e/ votre petit gargon est a moi!" — "Mais non! r^pond-elle; la 
chandelle n'est pas morte toute seule. Je I'ai soufflde." 

D^jou^, le diable fut contraint de s'en aller, a sa courte honte. 
L'enfant avait ^t^ d41ivre. 

26. LE REVENANT. ^ 

Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'^tait iin seigneur qui avait un 
engag^. L'homme engag6 lui dit: "Je commence a me tanner d'etre 
engage, moi. J'ai bien cent louis de gagn^s depuis que je travaille 
ici. Si vous voulez me preter un autre cent louis, je m'acheterai une 
terre et finirai mes jours chez moi." Le seigneur r^pond: "Oui!" et 
lui prete cent louis, sans billet ni ^crit. 

Un bon jour, cet homme meurt, laissant ses biens a sa veuve. Le 
seigneur va la trouver et dit: "Madame, je viens chercher les cent 
louis que j'ai pret^s a votre mari." — "Avez-vous un billet?" de- 
mande la femme. II repond: "Non!" — "Sans billet, vous n'aurez 
pas un sou de moi." Le seigneur dit: "C'est bien de valeur, ^ madame, 
de perdre la somme de cent louis parce qu'il ne m'a pas donn6 de 
billet." Mais la femme ne veut rien entendre. C'est pourquoi ce 
seigneur, tous les jours de sa vie, maudit^ son engage dans le feu 
^ternel. 

II fallait done que le mort revienne sur la terre gagner la somme 
de cent louis. Se rendant chez un seigneur stranger, il lui demande: 
"N'avez-vous pas besoin d'un homme engag^?" — "Oui, j'en ai 
besoin d'un." 

C'^tait bien curieux, mais I'engag^ faisait chaque jour I'ouvrage de 
sept hommes, et ne mangeait pas comme un. 

Les servantes, un soir, vont regarder par la serrure, dans sa chambre. 
Elles le voient se d^shabiller et se coucher sur des grilles de fer oil le 
feu I'entoure. A leur maitre elles s'en vont dire: "Seigneur, il vous 
coiite cher cet homme-la. II a des lumieres a cceur de nuit dans sa 
chambre, et il se couche sur des grilles de fer, ou le feu I'entoure." 
— "Ce soir, repond le seigneur, je vas voir ce que §a veut dire." II 
regarde done aussi par la serrure, apergoit l'homme qui se deshabille, 
met son hutin ^ sur le lit et se couche sur le feu de la chemin^e, ou les 
flammes I'entourent. 

Le lendemain, il lui demande: "Monsieur, qu'est-ce que ga veut 
dire ? Je vous ai vu, hier soir, oter votre hutin, et vous coucher sur la 

1 I.e., eteinte. 

2 Racont^ par Achille Foumier, k Saint-Anne, Kamouraska, en jiiillet, 1915. 
Fournier dit avoir entendu son oncle, Pierre Fournier, souvent raconter ce conte, il y 
a pr6s de cinquante ans. 

3 I.e., regrettable. 

4 I.e., souhaite son engagi dans lefeu etemel en le maudissant. 

5 Ses habits. 



112 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

grille, dans la cheminee,ou les flammes vous entouraient ?" L'homme 
repond: "Monsieur, je suis maudit tous les jours par un tel seigneur 
(qui me souhaite) dans le feu eternel. Je suis mort sans lui remettre 
la somme de cent louis qu'il m'avait pr6tee;et tant que ma dette ne 
sera pas payee, je brulerai dans le feu eternel." — "Eh bien! monsieur, 
vous avez deja cinquante louis de gagnes depuis que vous travaillez 
ici. Je vas aller trouver ce seigneur et lui demander de vous donner 
les autres cinquante louis." 

Le seigneur s'en va done chez Tautre: "Bonjour, seigneur!" — "Bon- 
jour, seigneur!" — Les seigneurs se connaissaient tous dans ce temps- 
la ; ils avaient des insignes. ^ "Seigneur, n'y a-t-il pas un homme 
qui vous doit la somme de cent louis?" — "Oui, le maudit! Tous 
les jours je le maudis dans le feu eternel." — "Ne parlez done pas 
comme ga. Je vas vous remettre cinquante louis pour lui. Lui 
donnez-vous les autres?" — "Non! le maudit, je souhaite qu'il 
brlile dans le feu eternel." — "Eh bien, moi je vous paye les cent louis." 
II lui compte cet argent et le lui remet. "Lui souhaitez-vous une 
bonne place dans le ciel, asVheure qu'il vous a paye?" — "Non, je 
lui souhaite une place dans le feu eternel le restant de ses jours." 
L'autre dit: "Mechant que vous etes! Je m'en vas." A I'autre qui 
vient le reconduire, il repdte: "Voyons! avant que je parte, je voudrais 
que vous lui souhaitiez une bonne place dans le ciel, asVheure qu'il 
vous a paye sa dette." — "Non! je souhaite qu'il brtlle dans les 
flammes du feu eternel." Comme il dit ga, la terre s'ouvre et le voil^ 
qui tombe dans le feu eternel, oil on I'entend gemir. 

Revenu chez lui, l'autre seigneur dit au revenant: "J'ai pay6 votre 
dette, mais il n'a pas voulu vous souhaiter une place dans le ciel; il 
vous maudissait dans le feu Eternel. Bien ! c'est lui qui y briile 
aujourd'hui. Le bon Dieu I'a enfonc6 dans les abimes. Jamais il 
n'en sortira." Le revenant dit: "Vous, seigneur, je vous souhaite 
une bonne place dans le ciel, a ras moi, me que^ vous mourriez." II 
part tout h coup en petite lumi^re qui s'en va au ciel. 

Plus tard, quand le tour vint au seigneur de mourir, il eut une bonne 
place au ciel, h cote de celui dont il avait pay6 la dette. 

On dit toujours qu'un bienfait n'est jamais perdu. lis m'ont 
renvoy^ ici pour vous le dire. 

CONTES ROMANESQUES. 

27. LES SCEURS JALOUSES. ' 

II est bon de vous dire qu'une fois c'etait un homme, sa femme 
et leurs trois filles. Leur vieille masure se trouvait tout pr^s du 

1 Probablement des blasons. 

2 Quand vous mourrez. 

3 R6cit6 par Mme Prudent Sioui, de Lorette, ea aollt, 1914. Mme Sioui 
avait appria ce conte de son beau-pSre, Clement Sioui. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 113 

chateau, et un serviteur du roi venait sou vent, en cachette, ^ 6couter 
ce que les filles se disaient. Un soir, elles se mettent k parler ainsi: 
*'Nos parents sont vieux et incapables de travailler. Mais, que 
pouvons-nous faire pour eux, nous, trois filles? Ce n'est pas aise de 
leur donner tout le necessaire. Si nous pouvions trouver a nous 
marier!" Ayant entendu qa, le serviteur s'en va dire au prince que 
les filles voulaient se marier. "Demain soir, repond le prince, j'irai 
avec toi ecouter ce qu'elles disent." Le soir venu, pendant que le 
prince cache pres de la porte ecoute tout, la plus agee des filles dit: 
"Tant qu'k me marier, moi, j'aimerais bien devenir la femme d'un 
boulanger; je ne manquerais touj ours pas de pain!" La seconde sceur 
dit, k son tour: "Moi, tant qu^k me marier, il faudrait que ce fAt k un 
boucher; ga fait que^ je ne manquerais jamais de viande." La plus 
jeune des soeurs, une beaute rare qui s'en fait accroire un peu, dit: 
"Pas moi! j'aimerais mieux me marier au prince; ga fait que je ne 
manquerais jamais de rien." Se tenant pres de la fenetre, le prince 
entend tout et, le lendemain, envoie un serviteur ordonner aux trois 
filles de venir au chateau, qu'on voulait les voir sans faute. Le servi- 
teur arrive chez les parents des filles et dit: "Le prince fait dem.ander k 
vos trois filles de venir immediatement." Surpris de I'invitation du 
prince, les vieux parents pensent: "Qu'est-ce que le prince peut bien 
nous vouloir, nous, pauvres gens que nous sommes?" Appelant 
leurs filles, ils leur demandent: "Qu'est-ce que ga veut done dire, ga, 
ce matin? Le prince vous fait demander. Avez-vous fait quelque 
coup,' ou quelque chose?" Leur r^ponse est: "Mais vous savez, 
papa, que nous n'avons rien fait, n'ayant pas grouille de* la maison. 
II faut bien aller voir ce qu'il veut." 

Les filles se greyent done immediatement et partent pour le chateau 
avec le domestique. Une fois arrivees au chateau, le prince entre 
seul avec elles dans une chambre, et dit: "Je vous ai fait demander 
toutes les trois pour que vous me racontiez ce que vous disiez hier 
soir."- — ''Nous n'avons rien dit!" — "Parole de prince! il faut que 
vous me racontiez ce que vous avez dit, hier soir, ou vous allez ^tre 
punies s^v^rement." L'ain^e des filles avoue: "Moi, je n'ai pas 
dit grand'chose; seulement que tant qu'k me marier, j'aimerais mieux 
avoir pour mari un boulanger; ga fait que je ne manquerais jamais 
de pain." — "Eh bien! c'est r^gl^, dit le prince; vous allez vous ma- 
rier au boulanger de mon chateau." Parlant a la seconde, il demande: 
^'Vous, qu'avez-vous dit, hier soir?" — "Moi? pas grand'chose; seule- 
ment que tant qu'k me marier, j'aimerais mieux que ce fut a un boucher; 
^a fait que je ne manquerais jamais de bceuf." Le prince declare: 
■"Vous allez vous marier k mon boucher, dans mon chateau." Mais le 

1 La raconteuse disait: d la cachette. 2 Pour ainsi. 

3 I.e., fredaine. * I.e., sorti de. 



114 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

pire, c'est pour la troisieme; il faut le dire au prince lui-meme! II lui 
demande: "Vous, racontez-moi ce que vous avez dit hier soir!" — 
"Moi, je n'ai rien dit." — "Parole de prince! si vous refusez de me le 
dire, vous serez punie s^verement." Comme de raison, c'est hen 
couteux ^ pour elle de le dire au prince lui-meme. Mais il faut plutot 
le dire qu'etre punie. "Moi, je n'ai pas dit grand'chose; seulement 
que j'aimerais mieux me marier au prince ; qu'ainsi je ne manquerais 
jamais de rien." — "Comme cela, vous allez vous marier a moi." 
Les trois soeurs se marient done. Tune, au boulanger, I'autre, au boucher, 
et I'autre, au prince. Elles vivent ensemble, au chateau. 

Au bout d'un an et un jour, le prince regoit un commandement, ^ et 
il lui faut faire un long voyage. A ses belles-sceurs et servantes il dit 
d'avoir soin de sa princesse. Et il part. 

Pendant son absence, la princesse achete^ un petit gargon, le plus 
bel enfant qui se soit jamais vu dans le monde. A la vue d'une telle 
merveille, les belles-sceurs, pas tres jolies elles-memes, deviennent 
jalouses. Elles s'entendent avec la vieille garde-malade pour faire 
disparaltre I'enfant, avant le retour du prince. S'en emparant done, 
elles I'enveloppent dans des langes, une serviette blanche, le mettent 
dans une corbeille d'or, et vont le deposer sur la greve. 

Le prince avait hate d'arriver et de voir son enfant, on n'en parle 
pas!* Mais sa belle-soeur, la boulangere, lui dit: "J'ai une chose k 
vous apprendre, mais ga me coute de vous la dire: vous allez vous 
facher?" — "Oui! mais oil est mon enfant? Je veux le voir." — 
"Votre enfant, il faut I'avouer, je I'ai fait mourir: c'^tait un singe!" 
En fureur de voir que sa princesse avait achete un singe, il la fait 
enfermer dans un cachot, ou la lumiere du jour n'entre point. Elle 
a beau vouloir parler, prier, se plaindre; il ne veut rien entendre. 

Au milieu d'un bois eloigne, un vieux et sa vieille vivaient seuls 
dans une petite maison, sans enfant. Tons les matins, le vieux, 
dans sa barge, parcourait le bord de la mer a la recherche de debris. 
Un bon jour, il apergoit au loin reluire un objet. Etonn^, il s'appro- 
che et examine. C'est une corbeille d'or. Prenant la corbeille, il y voit 
le plus bel enfant qui soit au monde. II arrive a sa maison, et d'une 
fierte* sans pareille, dit a sa vieille: "Tiens! en voila un enfant. Tu 
I'as desire si longtemps que le bon Dieu nous I'a envoy^ pour qu'il 
ait soin de toi et de moi sur nos vieux jours." Apercevant un si bel 
enfant, si bien vetu, et dans une corbeille d'or, la vieille pense que le 
bon Dieu lui-meme I'a envoye du ciel. 

A I'age de dix ans, I'enfant, un jour, etait sur la greve avec le vieux 
qu'il prenait pour son pere. Le prince, se promenant en bateau avec 

1 I.e., pdnible, difficile. 2 Ordre d'un superieur. 

3 I.e., met au monde. * I.e., va sans dire! 

6 I.e., joie. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 115 

ses domestiques, remarque ce bel enfant et approche de la rive pour 
le mieux voir. "Mais oil done avez-vous pris ce bel enfant?" de- 
mande-t-il au vieux. "C'est le bon Dieu qui nous I'a donn^. II 
vient du ciel. Ma vieille et moi n'avions jamais eu d'enfant, malgr^ 
nos prieres, et nous n'avions personne pour prendre soin de nous sur 
nos vieux jours. Un jour, j'ai trouve cet enfant sur la grevc, dans une 
corbeille d'or. Venez done a ma maison voir la corbeille." Le prince 
se rend a la maison et examine la corbeille d'or et la serviette. Au re- 
bord de la serviette est la marque du prince. Demandant au vieux 
la permission d'examiner I'enfant, il apergoit un medallion k son cou, 
dans lequel les noms de son p6re et sa mere sont ecrits. Ce medallion 
venait de sa mere qui, en le perdant, le lui avait mis au cou pour que 
Dieu le preserve. A ga, le prince ayant reconnu son enfant, s'en va 
tout droit a son chateau, fait venir la vieille garde-malade seule, et 
lui dit: "D^clarez oii vous avez mis mon enfant, ou je vous fait ^carteler 
par quatre chevaux!" Elle dit et r^pMe que c'etait un singe; mais ga 
ne sert de rien. Le prince insiste: "Que Qa soit un singe ou un monstre, 
je veux savoir oil vous avez mis mon enfant." A la fin, elle avoue qu'il 
6tait le plus bel enfant qui se soit jamais vu. "Mais vos belles-sceurs 
jalouses Font fait jeter sur la greve, en disant que c'etait un singe, pour 
que vous 6tiez la vie a la princesse." Faisant venir ses belles-sceurs, 
le prince leur demande: "Oii avez-vous mis mon enfant?" A cette 
question elles entrent dans une telle fureur qu'elles veulent tout 
briser. On aurait dit le diable en personne. Le prince declare: 
"Dites-moi ce que vous avez fait de mon enfant, ou vous allez etre 
punies s^verement." Elles r^petent que c'etait un deshonneur pour 
un prince d'avoir un singe pour enfant, et qu'elles I'avaient jet6 sur 
la gr^ve. 

Quand le prince alia chercher sa femme dans le cachot noir, il la 
trouva presque morte. Car, pendant tout ce temps, ses sceurs lui 
faisaient subir des grandes souffrances pour la faire mourir, pensant 
apr^s sa mort devenir princesses a sa place. Elle serait morte sans 
un petit chien qui lui sauvait la vie en lui apportant, tous les matins, 
par le soupirail, un morceau de pain, 

Comme les belles-sceurs du prince persistaient a dire que son enfant 
^tait un singe, il les fit emprisonner avec la garde-malade. Qui salt ? 
elles feraient peut-etre mourir la princesse pendant qu'il irait chercher 
son enfant. II part dans un grand bateau, avec ses serviteurs, 

Voyant approcher un bateau reluisant d'or et d'argent, le vieux 
reste tout pam6 de surprise. Le prince I'apergoit avec I'enfant, ra- 
massant du bois sur la gr^ve. II dit: "Venez chez vous avec I'enfant. 
Je veux vous voir." Rendu a la maison, il dit au vieux et sa vieille: 
"C'est mon enfant que je suis venu chercher." — "Non! c'est I'enfant 
que Dieu m'a envoye du ciel, s'ecrie la vieille; il m'appartient. Je 



116 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

I'avais si longtemps desire! vous n'etes pas pour nous enlever I'enfant 
qui aura soin de nous sur nos vieux jours." Touchy de leurs larmes 
et de leur affection pour son enfant, le prince leur dit: "Vous n'aurez 
jamais de misere; je vous emmene avec moi." — "C'est impossible 
de quitter la maison paternelle. Avec notre enfant, ici, c'est le 
bonheur." — "Parole de prince! il vous faut me remettre mon enfant 
et me suivre tous les deux." II ajoute: "N'oubliez pas d'apporter les 
langes et la corbeille d'or. Quant au reste, laissez-le; c'est inutile! 
Au chateau, je vous donnerai tout, a souhait." 

Apportant la corbeille, les langes et la serviette, sur lesquels le nom 
de la princesse ^tait marque, le vieux, sa femme et son enfant montent 
sur le bateau, et bientot arrivent au chateau, ou on les conduit a leur 
chambre. Quant au prince, il fait venir sa princesse qui, voyant 
I'enfant, s'^crie: "Ah! mon enfant, je I'ai reconnu!" Et elle perd 
connaissance. II n'y avait plus de doute pour le prince. La vieille 
garde-malade reconnait I'enfant en I'apercevant. "C'est-i bien mon 
enfant, celui que vous avez jet6 sur la greve?" demande le prince. 
Elle reste immobile, incapable de parler. "C'est-z bien mon enfant?" 
repete le prince. "Ce n'est pas lui. Votre enfant n'etait pas une 
beaute: un singe!" 

Le prince ordonne qu'on emmene les prisonnieres, ses belles-soeurs. 
A son ordre, un domestique va chercher la corbeille d'or et les langes. 
Mais le vieux refuse de les lui remettre. "Qui sait? pense-t-il; il va 
peut-etre les voler!" Et il les porte lui-meme. A la vue de la cor- 
beille, les belles-sceurs restent immobiles, pas meme capables de 
remuer un doigt. Le prince s'apergoit bien qu'elles sont des men- 
teuses et des m^chantes. Quand elles sont un peu remises, on leur 
montre la corbeille d'or, la serviette et les langes ou se trouvent les 
marques du prince et de la princesse. L'enfant vient de lui-meme. 
Au cou de I'enfant pend le medallion qu'y a mis sa mere pour que le 
bon Dieu le preserve, et I'empeche de se noyer. La, le prince demande 
au vieux: "A quel quantieme I'avez-vous trouve ?" — "Le vingt d'aout, 
en me ramassant du bois sur la greve, j'ai apergu quelque chose luisant 
au soleil, comme un diamant. Je me suis approch6, dans ma barque, 
et j'ai trouv^ ce bel enfant dans la corbeille d'or. Moi et ma vieille, 
nous avions tant demande au bon Dieu de nous envoyer un enfant 
pour avoir soin de nous sur nos vieux jours, que, pour ma vieille, il 
est un cadeau du bon Dieu lui-meme. Nous en avons eu soin, c'est 
notre enfant. Tout ce qui est possible, nous I'avons fait pour lui." 

Le prince tumbe en fureur. Un si bel enfant, et ses belles-soeurs 
I'avaient dit un monstre! "Allez les ecarteler au plus vite, devant 
mon chateau!" ordonne-t-il a ses domestiques. Elles sont bien vite 
ecartelees, deux chevaux aux bras ct deux aux jambes. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 117 

Le prince, la princesse et leur enfant, Ic vieux et sa vieille entrerent 
au chateau ou ils demeurerent ensemble, dans le bonheur. Et moi, 
ils m'ont renvoyee ici avec pas iin sou. 

28. JEAN-PARLE. ^ 

Une fois, c'etait une veuve qui avait trois filles, Charlotte, Javotte, 
et la plus jeune, Finette. Elles gagnaient leur vie en filant de la 
laine pour les habitants. 

Un homme bien mis, un jour, arrive chez elles et s'introduit sous 
le nom de Jean-Parle. "Madame, je cherche une servantc," La 
veuve r^pond: "Cher monsieur, on ne vous connait pas; mes filles 
n'ont jamais soi-ti; je ne puis pas. . ." — "Vous n'avez rien a craindre, 
Madame; je suis le seigneur du pays voisin." — "Quand meme vous 
etes seigneur, on ne connait pas les gens du pays voisin." — "Si vous 
craignez, vous pouvez vous informer du cur6 ou de I'eveque de la 
place, 2 qui me connaissent bien." Prenant la parole, Charlotte dit: 
"Maman, il ne peut toujours pas me manger. Je vas y aller pour 
un mois." La fille embarque done en voiture et s'en va avec Jean- 
Parle. Arrivant chez lui, Jean-Parle dit a Charlotte: "Tu vas etre 
la maltresse de ce palais." 

Quelques jours apres, il lui remet toutes les clefs de sa maison: 
"Voici les clefs; tu peux tout visiter. Mais je te fais bien defense 
d'entrer dans la chambre dont voici la clef. Si tu y vas, il t'arrivera 
malheur." — "Ne craignez pas, monsieur." En partant, Jean-Parle 
dit: "Je pars pour huit jours. Je t'ai donn^ une servante pour t'aider 
a faire le manage. Souviens-toi, je te fais defense d'aller dans cette 
chambre." 

Charlotte, ayant visite toutes les chambres, se demande bientot: 
"Que peut-il bien y avoir dans cette chambre, et pourquoi m'a-t-il 
d^fendu d'y aller?" A la servante elle dit: "Aujourd'hui, nous y 
allons voir." Prenant la clef, elle debarre la porte, I'ouvre et aper^oit 
une trappe, une buche et une hache, toutes graissees ^ de sang. Ouvre 
la trappe, et ce qu'eWe voit ? Des corps de femmes, la tete tranchee, 
dans la cave. "Mon Dieu! pour le coup, je vais y aller moi aussi. 
Voila bien pourquoi il m'a tant defendu d'entrer ici!" Fermant la 
porte, elle tire la clef de la serrure, et la trouve toute rouge de sang. 
Frotte la clef pour I'eclaircir et la remettre a sa nature, mais qa ne 
veut pas revenir. Elle en reste toute triste. 

Apres quelques jours, Jean-Parle arrive: "Bonjour, ma servante." 
— "Bonjour, monsieur." — "Vous etes-vous ennuyee?" — "Certai- 

1 R(5cit6 par Narcisse Thiboutot, en juillet, 1915, a Sainte-Arme de la Poca- 
tiere, Kamouraska. II apprit ce conte de feu Charles Francoeur, il y a a peu pres 
six ans. 

2 I.e., de I'endroit. 3 I.e., souillees. 



118 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

nement, monsieur Jean-Parle." — "Mais, vous n'avez done pas visite 
le chateau et fait le tour des chambres, qui sont toutes remplies de 
meubles nouveaux?"^ Elle repond: "Oui, j'ai visite tout le chateau, 
tous les appartements." — "Tu as visite tous les appartements ?" 
— "Oui." — "Va me chercher les clefs pour que je voie." S'en allant 
chercher le trousseau de clefs, elle en detache celle qui est tachee de 
sang, et remet les autres a son maitre. "La clef de la porte defendue, 
oij est-elle?" ^ — "Je I'ai oubliee; elle est en haut." Elle va la cher- 
cher et la lui donne. "Ah! il dit, ma malheureuse, tu y es allee! Eh 
bien, tu vas y retourner pour rester." Elle se jette a ses genoux et 
dit: "Je ne veux pas, Jean-Parle." — "Veux,yetfx pas! Tu as ouvert 
cette porte; et, asVheure que tu sais ce qu'il y a la, tu vas y aller." 
La poussant dans la chambre defendue, il lui met la tete sur le billot 
et la lui tranche d'un coup de hache. 

Quelque temps apres, Jean-Parle retourne chez la veuve, habille en 
pretre, dit a la veuve: "Je ne pourrais pas avoir une servante, iciteV^ — 
"Monsieur, de servante, icite, vous n'en aurez point." Et elle ajoute: 
"La plus ^gee de mes filles, Charlotte, est partie comme 9a, et on 
n'en a pas encore eu de nouvelles." — "Mais, Madame, vous me 
parlez bien severement, a moi qui suis' pretre. II n'y a pourtant pas 
de danger que je la mange, votre fille." La veuve repond: "Vous, vous 
etes pretre; I'autre etait seigneur d'un pays." Prenant la parole, 
Finette dit: "Maman, laisse done Javotte s'engager, ■* C'est un 
cure, il ne la mangera toujours pas!" La mere repond: "Mais, Finette, 
nous resterons seules a faire tout I'ouvrage. Tu sais bien, tout le filage 
qu'il y a a faire." — "Ca ne fait rien, maman; nous ferons ce que nous 
pourrons et le reste attendra." Le pretre dit k Javotte: ''Emharquez 
avec moi, et au bout d'un mois, je vous ramenerai voir votre m^re." 
Et ils s'en vont ensemble. 

En arrivant chez lui, Jean dit a Javotte: "Tu vas etre la maitresse 
du chateau. Si tu veux, tu seras heureuse avec moi. Mais, si tu 
ne veux pas, tu seras aussi mal." — "Je vas tacher de vouloir, mon- 
sieur." — "Voici toutes les clefs du chateau, et celle-ci est la clef de la 
porte que voila. Avec cette clef je te donne la boule d'or. Mais je 
te defends d'ouvrir cette porte." — "S'il n'y a rien que ga k faire pour 
vous plaire, ne craignez pas; c'est bien ais6!" 

Un bon matin, Jean-Parle dit: "Je pars pour un mois. Je vas te 
donner une servante pour t'aider. Visite tout le chateau si tu veux; 
mais je te defends bien d'ouvrir cette porte." — "Ne craignez pas, 
monsieur Jean-Parle." 

1 Ici le conteur dit nouveaux plut6t qu'anciens, parce que, dans son esprit, Top- 
position se faisait ^videmment entre nouveaux et vieux (sans valeur). 

2 Thiboutot disait: ou ce qii'elle est ? 

3 Thiboutot disait: d moi qui est pretre. 

4 Ici dans le sens particulier de devenir servante, ou devenir une engagee, 
comme les servantes sont ici designees. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 119 

Quand ga fait une quinzaine de jours qu'il est parti, Javotte dit a 
sa servante: "Pour quelle raison n'irions-nous pas voir cette chambre- 
la? Allons-y!" Prend la clef, debarre la porte, I'ouvre et apergoit la 
robe de sa soeur pendue a I'accrac/iai. ^ "Mon Dieu! Elle a 6t6 tu^e 
icite. C'est bien pour le coup que je vas aller a la meme place. Rou- 
vrant la trappe, elle voit sa soeur, la tete coupde, sur un amas de cada- 
vres. Ferme la trappe, sort de la chambre et harre la porte. Quand 
elle tire la clef de la serrure, elle la voit toute rouill^e. "Pour le 
coup, ma servante, nous sommes declar^es. Regarde la clef: elle est 
rouill^e." La servante repond: "Allons la frotter; §a va peut-etre 
partir." Frotte, frotte la clef toute la journee. Plus elles frottent 
et plus la clef rouille. Javotte s'en va voir sa pomme d'or; la pomme 
d'or est toute tach^e de sang. "Ma servante, je pense bien que la fin 
de nos jours est proche. Me qu'il ^ arrive et demande la clef et la 
pomme d'or, tout va se declarer!" 

Au bout du mois, Jean-Parle arrive, demande a sa servante si elle a 
visits le chateau. "Oui, monsieur Jean-Parle; j'ai tout visits." — 
"Tu n'es pas all^e dans la chambre defendue?" — "Non, c'est la seule 
place ou je ne suis pas allee." — "Va me chercher les clefs et la pomme 
d'or que je t'ai donnees." Elle apporte le trousseau de clefs. "La 
clef de la porte de cette chambre et la pomme d'or ?" — " Vous n'en 
avez toujours pas besoin d^ soir." — "Va la chercher tout de suite." 
Elle va chercher la clef et la pomme d'or, et les lui donne. "Tu voulais 
savoir ou etait ta soeur? Tu vas aller la rejoindre. Je te donne un 
quart d'heure pour demander a Dieu pardon de tes fautes." Le 
quart d'heure fini, Jean-Parle I'emmene a la chambre defendue, lui 
place la tete sur le billot, et la lui tranche d'un coup de hache. 

Quelque temps passe, et Jean-Parle, ayant vole les habillements de 
I'eveque de la place, se deguise en eveque et s'en va encore chez la 
veuve. "Madame, pouvez-vous m'enseigner le chemin pour aller 
a Rome?" Elle repond: "Monseigneur, vous qui etes dveque devez 
connaitre le chemin de Rome bien mieux que moi. Je ne suis qu'une 
pauvre veuve sans instruction." — "Oui, mais sans etre instruite, vous 
pouvez toujours bien m'enseigner le chemin le plus court pour aller a 
Rome. C'est un voyage presse que j'ai a faire." — "Eh bien! prenez 
la premiere route a droite; suivez-la jusqu'au premier chemin de 
travers, oil vous passerez tout dret. Rendu a la deuxieme route, vous 
trouverez le grand chemin qui conduit a Paris. Et la, vous prendrez 
information." — "Oui, madame, c'est bien dit. Mais envoyez'^^votre 
fiUe quelques minutes me montrer la deuxieme route." — "Ma fille 
n'est pas pour embarquer avec vous. L'autre fois, un cure est venu 
engager Javotte, ma fille, et depuis nous n'en avons nil vent ni 

1 I.e., crochet, 2 i.e., sitdt que ou quand il arrivera. 

8 Pour ce soir. 



120 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

nouvelles." — "Oui, mais si vous n'en recevez pas de nouvelles, pen- 
sez-vous que je suis pour vous voler votre fille ?" En disant: " Maman, 
je vas lui montrer le chemin, un boute," Finette emharque et va le re- 
conduire. Voil^ monseigneur qui roule fort, ^ sans vouloir arreter 
et laisser debar quer Finette. "Je ne suis pas un eveque, dit-il; mon 
nom est Jean-Parle, et c'est moi qui suis venu chereher tes deux scEurs, 
Charlotte et Javotte. Tu t'appelles Finette ? On va voir si tu es 
aussi fine que ton nom." En arrivant au chateau: "Tiens, ma petite 
Finette, si tu es fine, tu seras ben icite.'^ II lui remet les clefs du cha- 
teau et lui donne des servantes au besoin. 

Quelque temps apres, il dit: "Cou'don! ma petite Finette, tu es bien 
fine," mais j'aurais un voyage a faire, qui durera quinze jours." — 
"Oui, monsieur Jean-Parle, vous pouvez faire votre voyage. Avec 
mes servantes tout ici se fera comme de coutume." En partant il 
lui dit: "Pendant ces quinze jours, tu visiteras toutes les chambres du 
chateau, une par une, mais je ne veux pas que tu mettes les pieds 
dans cette chambre-ci, ni toi, ni les servantes. Et garde bien les 
clefs." — "Ah, monsieur Jean-Parle, s'il n'y a que 9a a faire, vous pou- 
vez partir sans crainte." — "Prends garde a toi, Finette! Si tu veux 
^tre bien ici, tu fais mieux de ne pas y aller voir." 

Une dizaine de jours passent, et Finette a visits toutes les chambres 
du chateau. La seule qui reste, c'est la chambre que Jean-Parle a 
defendu d'ouvrir. Un bon matin, Finette prend la clef, la plus brillan- 
te de toutes, la regarde bien, debarre la porte defendue et apergoit les 
robes de ses soeurs, accrochees au mur. "Comment! c'est ici que mes 
soeurs ont ete tuees?" Ouvrant la trappe, elle voit ses deux sceurs 
mortes. "II faut bien qu'il soit sorcier, ce Jean-Parle!" se dit-elle. 
Elle ferme la trappe, sort et arrache la clef de la serrure. La clef est 
toute rouillee! Finette pense: "Arrete un peu, toi! Si tu es sorcier, 
tu vas voir qui est le plus fin." Prenant la clef, elle s'en va la saucer 
dans le sang oil baignent ses soeurs, et la met a la serrure. Puis ayant 
recoUe la tete de Charlotte k son corps, et celle de Javotte au sien, 
elle sort de la. Arrache la clef de la serrure et la retrouve aussi 
brillante que quand elle I'a regue. A ses servantes elle dit: "Jean- 
Parle revient dans deux jours. Je me dirai bien malade. Defendez- 
lui de venir me voir. Qu'il prenne le premier coffre, ici, dans le passage, 
et aille le porter chez ma mere. C'est du butin^ que j'envoie au la- 
vage."'' Mais ce qu'il y a dans le coffre, c'est le corps de Charlotte 
et une lettre adressee au cure de la paroisse, lui demandant de ramasser 
les gens de justice pour punir le sorcier. 

En entrant, Jean-Parle demande: "Foms ^ qu'est ma petite Finette ?" 
— "Ah, monsieur Jean-Parle! votre petite Finette est bien malade. 

1 I.e., va vile. 

* Dans le sens de: bien que j'appr^cie tes charmes, j'ai k m'abaenter. 

' I. e., du linge. * Au blanchissage. 5 Pour oil est-ce qu'est. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 121 

Elle ne peut pas vous voir avant que vous ayez portd k sa mere ce coffre 
de butin pour le lavage." II n'est pas sitot parti que Finette dit k 
ses servantes: "Quand il arrivera, envoyez-lui porter ce deuxieme 
cofTre aussi vite qu'il le pourra," Dans ce coffre elle met le corps de 
Javotte, afin qu'on I'enterre. 

Voila Jean-Parle qui revient: "Oil est ma petite Finette? Elle 
n'est pas encore debouteV'^ — "Non, monsieur; Finette est bien 
malade et ne peut vous voir. Elle vous demande de porter ce deuxie- 
me coifre a sa mere, et de ne pas tarder a revenir chercher le troisieme, 
de peur qu'elle ne meure avant votre retour." Jean-Parle prend le 
coffre et le porte aussi vite qu'il le peut. Pendant ce temps, Finette 
bourre sa jupe et sa jaquette, et les couche dans son lit, a sa place 
ordinaire. "Mes servantes, vous lui direz qu'il vienne me voir a la 
porte de ma chambre, mais sans me parler, car autrement,j'en mour- 
rais. Et qu'il aille vitement porter le troisieme coffre a ma mere, 
sans arretcr en chemin. S'il arretait, il lui arriverait malheur." 
Apres quoi, Finette se place elle-meme dans le coffre, avec tout I'argent 
et Tor qu'elle a trouv^s au chateau. 

Jean-Parle encore une fois prend le coffre, le pose sur son dos et se 
met en route. Quand il a un mille de fait, il pense: "Mais il est bien 
pesant, ce coffre-ci!" Le posant a terre, il va I'ouvrir pour voir ce 
qu'il contient. Mais une voix lui dit: "D^peche-toi, Finette se meurt." 
Reprenant le coffre, il se le remet sur I'epaule. Quand on pense! ^ 
cette pau'ptite ^ Finette! Je I'entends crier d'ici. Je vas me depecher 
h aller a son secours." Un mille plus loin, il met encore le coffre a 
terre, en disant: "Mais, ce coffre-la pese effrayant .'" Finette lui lache 
un cri: "Depeche-toi, Finette se meurt." Pognant le coffre, il se rend 
en courant chez la veuve, et lui dit: "II faut que je m'en retourne 
vitement; Finette est mourante." — "Oui? mais reposez-vous quel- 
ques minutes. Le souper est pret, et il commence a etre tard." — 
"Grand'mere, je n'ai pas le temps. En m'en revenant, elle m'a cri6 
deux fois: 'D^peche-toi, Finette se meurt!' " Mais, pendant ce temps, 
les hommes de justice, I'huissier et la police arrivent, saisissent Jean- 
Parle, et lui font justice sur un billot, avec une hache. 

Quant a Finette ? Elle a h^rite du chateau et de la fortune de Jean- 
Parle. Et moi, elle a voulu m'engager pour que je reste au chateau. 
Mais je n'ai pas voulu. Qui sait? Ce Jean-Parle, etant sorcier, 
reviendrait peut-etre! J'ai aim^ mieux rester ici pour vous en raconter 
I'histoire. 

1 Pour debout, i.e., rctablie. 2 Dans le sens de n'est-ce pas curieux ! 

8 Pour pauvre petite. 



122 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

29. l'eAU DE la FONTAINE DE PARIS. ^ 

II est bon de vous dire qu'une fois c'etait un homme et sa femme. 
Pendant que Thomme, tous les jours, allait bticher, le prince venait 
causer avec sa femme. Un bon jour, le bucheron dit: ''J'aime bien 
sa visite, mais pas si souvent que ga. Tu peux lui dire qu'il ferait 
mieux de rester chez lui." 

Le mari parti pour la foret, le prince arrive comme d'habitude. Son 
amie lui dit: "Mon mari declare qu'il aime bien votre visite, mais pas 
si souvent; et que vous etes aussi bien de ne plus revenir." EUe 
ajoute: "Comment faire pour s'en debarrasser pendant quelques 
jours?" Le prince suggere: "Quand vous le verrez venir, criez du 
mal de dents. II vous demandera: 'Faut-il le docteur?'- Repondez: 
'Non! il me faut de I'eau de la fontaine de Paris; sans cela mon mal de 
dents ne se passera pas.' " Comme de fait, ^ voyant venir son mari, 
elle se met au lit et crie du mal de dents. "Qu'as-tu, pauvre femme ?" 
demande son mari, en entrant. "Ne m'en parle pas! J'ai-f un 
mal de dents. Depuis ton depart, je n'ai cesse de crier de douleur." 
— "Veux-tu que j'aille chercher le medecin?" — "Non! les raedecins 
ne peuvent rien y faire. II me faut de I'eau de la fontaine de Paris. 
Sans ga, mon mal ne se passera pas." — "Pauvre femme! Pendant 
que j'irai jusqu'a Paris, tu auras bien le temps de mourir vingt-cinq 
fois." — "Non! sans I'eau de la fontaine de Paris, mon mal ne se 
passera jamais!" 

Le bucheron est si bon pour sa femme qu'il ne pent rien lui refuser. 
II se greije done et part pour Paris. Sitot le mari parti, le prince 
arrive, et on prepare un gros souper. 

Le long du chemin, le mari rencontre un vieux cocassier, ■* qui lui 
dit: "Bonjour, mon ami!" — "Bonjour, monsieur!" — ^^Yous que^ 
vous allez? Vous avez I'air bien en peine et fatigue." — "Ne m'en 
parlez pas! Ma femme a(-0 un mal de dents qui ne peut guerir sans 
I'eau de la fontaine de Paris." Le vieux cocassier dit: ''Tet, let, tet!^ 
votre femme n'a pas plus mal aux dents que moi." — "Je ne crois pas 
que ma femme soit assez m^chante pour m'envoyer a Paris pour rien." 
Le vieux reprend: "Eh bien! embarquez dans mon panier. S'il lui 
faut de I'eau de la fontaine de Paris, moi, j'en ai." Le mari, dans le 
panier, est rapporte k sa maison par le vieux cocassier, qui frappe k la 
porte, pan, pan, pan! et demande k loger. La femme repond en 

1 Raconte par Mme Prudent Sioui, de Lorette, en aollt, 1914. Mme Sioui 
apprit ce conte de sa mdre, Marie Michaud (Picard). 

2 I.e., midecin. 

3 I.e., en realite, de fait. 

* Mot dont la signification est inconnue, au Canada. En France, il signifie 
"commergant de poules." Mme Sioui pronongait cocassier. 

6 Pour &u esl-ce que. 6 Negation emphatique. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 123 

tempetant: "On nc peut jamais avoir la paix, ici. II faut toujours 
quelqu'un pour nous ennuyer!" Le prince est si charitable qu'il lui 
dit: "Laissez-le done entrer! C'est un vieux qui vient peut-etre de 
loin, bien fatigue. II ne nous d^rangera toujours pas beaucoup, si 
nous le laissons a la cuisine." La femme dit a sa servante: "Fais-le 
entrer et s'asseoir dans la cuisine." Le cocassier entre avec son 
panier et s'asseoit pres du poele, dans la cuisine. 

En se mettant a table, le prince dit a la femme: "Pauvre vieux! 
il a Fair de venir de loin, et il y a peut-etre longtemps qu'il n'a pas 
mang^. Faites-le done entrer et souper avec nous." La servante 
va dire au cocassier: "Entrez et venez souper avec nous." — "Je ne 
refuse pas, madame; ga fait longtemps que je n'ai pas mange. Mais 
j'aimerais bien a avoir mon panier pres de moi." A sa maitresse la 
servante va dire: "Le vieux voudrait apporter avec lui son panier, 
oti il se trouve quelque chose de precieux." — "Son panier, son pa- 
nier! dit la femme; il pourrait toujours bien entrer sans son panier!" 
Mais le prince, toujours compdssieux,^ respond: "Laissez-lui done 
apporter son panier. II le mettra sous le lit. ^a ne vous embarrassera 
toujours pas." La servante retourne a la cuisine: "Eh bien! apportez- 
le done, votre panier!" Avec son panier, le cocassier entre, se met a 
table et soupe. 

Dans I'ancien temps, c'^tait I'habitude de chanter apres souper. Le 
prince dit a la dame: "Chantez-nous done une petite chanson." — 
"Non, mon prince! c'est bien a vous a commencer," Le prince 
commence: 



" C'est une jeune dame a I'abandon, 

Un beau pdte a trois pigeons (bis), 

Kyrie chrisii, 

Un beau pat(^ a trois pigeons, 

Qui riait, 

Kyrie eleison ! " 



"C'est bien chantd!" dit la dame. Le prince reclame: "C'est votre 
tour." Mais elle r^pond: "Demandez au cocassier; ga convient, vu 
qu'il est plus vieux que moi." — "Non! dit le cocassier, c'est le tour de 
la dame de la maison." Elle commence done: 

" Men mari est all6(-z) a Paris; 

11 n'est pas par6- d'en revenir {bis), 

Kyrie christi, 

II n'est pas parC d'en revenir 

A sa maison, 

Kyrie eleison." 

1 I.e., rempli de compassion. 2 I.e., pres. 



124 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

"C'est bien chante! c'est bien chante!" disent les autres. A present, 
on demande a la servante sa chanson. La servante repond: "Non! 
ga eonviendrait mieux au vieux qu'a moi." — "Voulez-vous chanter 
une petite chanson?" demande le prince au cocassier. "Pour ne pas 
vous desobUger, repond-il, je vas vous en chanter une: 

" Dans mon chemin, je I'ai rencontre; 

Je I'ai fait mettre dans mon panier (bis), 

Kyrie christi. 

Mon panier est dessous le lit, 

Dans la maison, 

Kyrie eleison! " 

"Qa, c'est bien chante!" disent les autres. Le prince dit aussi la 
meme chose: "Bien chante!" mais il n'aime pas la chanson. "Le mari 
est peut-etre dans le panier?" pense-t-il. 

"Ast'heure, vous allez chanter, la servante!" EUe repond: "Je ne 
sais guere comment chanter; mais pour ne pas vous desobliger, prince, 
m'as^ chanter: 

" J'entends le cocassier qui dit 

Que mon maitre est dans son panier (bis), 

Kyrie christi; 

Qui dit que mon maitre est dans son panier, 

Dessous le lit, 

Kyrie eleison." 

Le cocassier demande: "Mon prince! voulez-vous que je fasse 
chanter mon panier?" La dame dit: "Vous voyez ben que c'est un 
sapre fou; faire chanter son panier? Voir si un panier chante!" 
Assez curieux et aimant tout entendre, le prince dit: "Laissez-le 
done chanter. Peut-etre a-t-il quelque chose qui chante, dans son 
panier." — "Mon vieux, faites-le done chanter, le panier." Le 
cocassier va dessous le lit chercher son panier, le met dans le milieu 
de la place, ^ et lui fou un coup de pied en disant: "Chante, panier!" 
Voila hen le panier qui commence a chanter: 

" J'etais A Paris et j'en suis revenu; 

T"as ete malade, mais tu I'es pu. * 

Tu sortiras de ma maison. 

Kyrie christi; 

Tu sortiras de ma maison 

A coups d'bdton, 

Kyrie eleison." 

Je vous dis que le prince sortit de la maison! II paratt que, depuis, 
il n'a jamais eu I'idee d'y retourner. 

1 I.e., je m'en vais. 

' I.e., au milieu de la salle ou chambre. 

3 Pour "tu as ete malade, mais tu ne I'es plus." 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 125 

FACfiTIES. 
30. LE CONTE DE MONSIEUR MICHEL MORIN. ^ 

Un jour, c'est un monsieur Michel Morin. II dit h son voisin: 
"Je m'en vas a la chasse, dans la foret." Rendu en un certain bois, 
monsieur Michel Morin apergoit un lievre. II prend son bouchon, 
joupon, 2 le tue. Voyez comme il avait de I'amour pour son pro- 
chain I^ II prend son gibier, le pleume, et le mange. De la peau, il 
se fait un capot, des bottes et une tuque. ^ Vous voyez que monsieur 
Michel Morin avait de I'amour pour son prochain. De la il s'en re- 
tourne. 

Le long du chemin,il apergoit un de ses amis examinant une vieille 
croix de pierre. Son ami lui dit: "Monsieur Michel Morin, regarde! 
Dans le haut de la croix de pierre, il y a un nic^ de pies." Monsieur 
Michel Morin gage qu'il est capable de denicher les pies. Rendu 
dans le haut de la croix de pierre, Monsieur Michel Morin tombe 
aut'en^has^ et se casse les reins. "Et vite, et vite! dit-il; portez-moi k 
ma propriete, que je fasse mon testament!" On le transporte done 
au milieu de sa femme et de ses enfants. Monsieur Michel Morin dit 
a sa femme: "Et vite, et vite! au notaire, ^ que je fasse mes dons!" 
"Monsieur Michel Morin! [dit sa femme,] pourquoi veux-tu le notaire: 
nous n'avons rien." II replique: "Et vite, et vite, au notaire!" L'on 
va chercher le notaire, car monsieur Michel Morin est sur son lit de 
mort.* 

Sitot le notaire arrive: "Qu'avez-vous done, monsieur Michel 
Morin?" — "Appfochez ici! [repond-il.] Toi, ma femme, je te 
donne trois arpents de terre. Ecrivez, notaire!" — "Ou vais-je les 
prendre, les trois arpents de terre?" [demande sa femme.] Monsieur 
Michel Morin reprend: " . . .Trois arpents de terre. Ecrivez, notaire!" 
Son petit-fils Colin [demande]: "Moi, monsieur Michel Morin?" — 
"Toi, mon petit-fils Colin, je te donne la plus belle fiUe du village, k 
prendre quand tu voudras, ou quand tu pourras. Ecrivez, notaire!" 
A sa servante qui approche en disant: "Moi, monsieur Michel Morin, 
est-ce que je n'aurai done rien?" II repond: "Approche, mes grosses 

1 R4cit<^ en aoGt, 1914, k la Jeune Lorette, par Prudent Sioui, qui I'avait appris 
par cceur, de son pere. 

2 Mots rythmiques, sans signification precise. 

3 Ironie. 

4 Tuque (de teugue, terme marin), nom populaire d'une coiffure ronde, ordi- 
nairement faite de laine, et surmontee d'un pompom ou d'un gland, que portaient 
lea anciens Canadiens. 

5 Pour nid. 

6 Pour de haut en bas. 

7 Pour allez au notaire ou allez chercher U notaire. 

8 Sioui dit: "sur le lit de la mort." 



126 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

glddines,^ mes gros sabots !* A toi qui a 6t6 bonne servante, je donne 
ma petite chaudi^re k I'eau bouillante, avec un bon bouillon qui ne 
te figera pas sur le coeur, pour un an et un careme." A son petit 
Pierrot (il dit): "Approche!" — "Moi, monsieur Michel Morin, est-ce 
que je n'aurai done rien?" — "Oh! oui,dit monsieur Michel Morin; 
approche, mon petit Pierrot! tu as ^t^ bon serviteur; je te donne ma 
serpe a fagots. Ecrivez, notaire! Garde-toi de faire des fagots de 
feuilles, de feuillages et de feuillets;^ mais fais toujours des fagots 
de conscience, * et tu passeras pour le meilleur fagotier de France." 

"Et la! Monsieur Michel Morin, avez-vous fait tous vos dons?" 
Monsieur Michel Morin, sur son lit de mort, fait des reveries et des 
reveras ^ et toutes sortes de grimaces, pensant de vaincre la Mort. 
Mais la Mort [s'est moqu^] ^ de lui et lui a coup6 le fil de la vie, avec 
tous ses reveries et reveras. Monsieur Michel Morin avait la bouche 
carr^e et le bout du nez rond, et le diable I'a emport^. 

31. MICHEL MORIN.^ 

{TiireY 6loge funebre de michel morin, bedeau 

DE l'^GLISE de BEAUSEJOUR.^ 

(Epitaphe) Mortuus est '° beatus Gaspard Jean, docteur de la com- 
mune, qui contemplait un jour^' sur la mort des legumes et des beatus, 
arm^ de fourches et d'artibus.^"^ 

1 Pour ina grosse Claxidine. 2 Des noms d'amiti6. 

3 Le dernier de ces mots est denue de sens; il est employ6 pour produire une 
8ort« de cadence comique. 

* C'est^^-dire, oil I'acheteur trouve son compte. 

6 Mots ajoutes pour la cadence et I'effet. 

fi Sioui dit: "La mort s'est rassemblee de lui," probablement par erreur, peut-etre 
pour "s'est rassemblee autour de lui." 

7 Trois versions de ce conte h6roi-comique, toutes issues de la meme source, 
ont et6 recueillies. La premiere provient de I'abb^ Frangois T^tu, du college de 
Saint e-Anne de la Pocatiere; la seconde, de I'abb^ J.-P. Grondin,de Saint-Germain, 
Kamouraska; et la troisieme, de I'abb^ J.-E.-B. LeVasseur, cur6 de I'^glise de Saint- 
Jean-Baptiste, de Ashkum, Illinois. Tandis que la version de M. Tetu — la plus 
br^ve de toutes— a 6t6 recueillie h la st6nographie, celles de MM. Grondin et Le- 
Vasseur ont ^t6 obtenues sous forme de manuscrits. Nous avons g^n^ralement re- 
produit ici la plus complete de ces versions, celle de M. LeVasseur, en y ajoutant les 
differences en notes. 

Ce conte a d'abord 6t6 appris, il y a probablement plus de quarante ans, 
dans les chantiers de Saint-Pacome, Kamouraska, P. Q., par une personne qui I'a 
transmis k M. LeVasseur, alors adolescent. M. LeVasseur, a son tour, le rep^tait 
eouvent, il y a trente-cinq ans environ, a ses confreres, au college. 

On remarquera que ce conte est, surtout vers la fin, rim6. Les quantit6s 
rythmiques ou t^ien n'ont jamais 6t6 plus regulieres, ou se sont modifi6es au cours 
de nombreux oublis et transmissions. 

8 Les mots entre parentheses n'ont pas &t6 donnas par les conteurs. 

9 Les noms de localitds, ici et dans la suite, ne sont pas canadiens. II y a un 
Beaus^jour, en Champagne (France). 

10 M. T6tu dit: "Ci-gtt Gaspard Beatus Jean." 

u Les versions de MM. LeVasseur et Grondin ont ceci:. . "qui contemplaient 
tous deux. . ." Le sens de cette phrase n'a pas de rapport avec le contexte. 

1 2 Ici, ces mots d^nu^s de sens ont 6videmment pour but de produire une cadence 
comique. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 127 

(Eloge) ' 

Un jour, Michel Morin, occupait la place officiale de la paroisse, 
c'est-a-dire le banc de rceuvre. II s'apergut que les moineaux faisaient 
leurs nids dans la voiite de I'eglise. II se leva bien doucement, prit 
une perche a abattre les fils d'araignees, et patati, patata, vadadi, 
vadada, les mit tons hors de I'eglise. Ah ! voyez toutes ces betes, 
excepte le pretre, avec toutes ces gueules enfarinees,- sans compter le 
cure qui prechait! ^ Sans moi, nous n'entendions ni messe, ni sermon. 

Un jour, 6tant assis k sa fenetre, Michel Morin vit le petit-fils de 
Jacquelin et son voisin qui se battaient tous deux pour des prunes. ■* 
II se leva, s'approcha, leur mit la main sur le collet, donna une tape k 
Tun, un soufflet a Tautre, et les separa bien promptement. Voyez 
comme Michel Morin avait bon cceur pour son prochain, de voir^ 
ces deux fripons qui s'arrachaient la crigne ® de toutes leurs forces. 

Un jour, Michel Morin se promenant le long du clos de Jean Mi- 
chaud, apergsut un lievre. II le prit, le tua, le pleuma et le mangea. 
Excellent homme, Michel Morin! C'est Vomnis homo. . ., I'homme k 
tout faire, puisqu'il a pris son lievre, I'a tu6, I'a pleume et I'a mang^. 

Un jour, Michel Morin, invita a diner quatre de ses bons amis et moi, 
qui '' faisait cinq. Je ne me souviens pas si c'^tait un vendredi ou un 
samedi, la veille d'une fete ou d'un dimanche; toujours que^ c'etait un 
jour maigre. Michel Morin n'avait rien pour recevoir son monde. 
II courut alors a la riviere, se depouilla de ses vetements et se jeta a la 
nage. Nous le crilmes noye; mais point du tout! U re vint avec deux 
brochets aussi longs que d'ici a demain, eventra I'un de ses deux 
brochets, passant son coutelas sur le pare, britchte, bretchte, vritchte, 
vretchte,en fit une matelote^ qu^on^'^ se delichait^^ les quatre doigts et le 
pouce. Apres que nous etlmes bien mange, il fallut chacun raconter 
son histoire. Michel Morin s'y prit en ces termes, dit-il : Je me meurs, 

1 Une strophe ici n'a pu etre reconstitute qu'imparfaitement (manuscrits 
LeVasseur et Grondin) : "A chaque endroit oil je puisse passer, d'un coup de pistolet 
je lui ferais sauter la cervelle. 'Ah! Ah! dit la grand'm^re, s'il avait etudie en classes, 
ce serait le plus savant des hommes, s'il en etit etc capable.' " 

2 Gueule enfarinee, expression peu usitee, au Canada. 

3 M. Tetu disait: "...les mit tous hors de I'eglise, toutes lea betes, sans 
compter le pretre." 

* M. Tetu dit: "Michel Morin voit les enfants du voisin qui se battent pour 
un panier de prunes." Dans la suite, il admit la version de M. LeVasseur authenti- 
que. 

5 Probablement dans le sens de il fallait voir. 

6 La crinibre. 

7 Ce qui. 

8 I.e., ce qui est certain, c'est que. 

9 Le conteur entendu par M. LeVasseur disait: "une rnalela. . ." 

1 Messieurs T6tu et Grondin disent : " Un ragodt ^ a'en delicher les quatre 
doigts et le pouce." 

11 LSchait. 



128 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

moi qui avais un si bel Ane, d'une si bonne race, dont la michoire du 
cousin germain avait servi a tuer Cain. 

La blanchisseuse, un jour, voulant porter le linge a la grenouillere/ me dit: "Com- 
pere!" 

— "Mais qu'est-ce qu'il y a done, commere?" 

— "II 3' a bien loin de chez la blanchisseuse a la grenouillere. 

Si nous attelions le bel Sne a la charrette, 

Ce serait bien plus tot faite." 

Je lui dis: "En effet, prenez-le." 

EUe le prit done, le bel &ne, et I'attela a la charrette. 

Mais en passant par \e fossetle"^ Albcc, 

Le bel &ne s'est enfonc^ depuis la queue jusqu'au bee. 

EUe me dit: "Compere!"^ 

— "Mais qu'est-ce qu'il y a done, commere ?" 

— "Votre bel &ne, il est mort!" 

— "Ah! pleurez mes yeux, pleurez sans cesse! Versez autant de larmes qu'il y 
a d'eau dans la riviere!" 

On a tant verse de larmes que le bel dne * 

Se rendit au royaume des Taux ^ 

Pour le tirer de la, pour lui 6ter ses sabots, 

Pour le porter en terre, pour le porter sur I'lle Macrele, 

II nous faut 

Jacquelin, Jacqueline, Couleuvrine et ses pctits. 

On a eu pour tout h6ritage.. 

La viande! Les chiens en ont fait leur partage. 

Un jour, Michel Morin vit des corneilles qui avaient leur nid dans le haut d'un 
sapin.^ 

II gagea une pinte de whiskey avec son voisin. 

"Gageons, dit-il a son ami, 

Gageons une bouteille de whiskey 

Que je puis d^nicher les pies." 

II y alia, mais, par malheur, monta sans 6chelle. 

Arrive au haut du sapin, il s'6cria: "Victoire! 

Mon voisin! nous allons la boire!" 

II se mit a descendre. Une branehe cassa, et il d^gringola de branche en branche. 

II tomba et se cassit les reins. ^ 

1 M. Groudin ecrit ici "Cartwuillere," nom propre. 2 Fosse. 

3 M. LeVasseur remarque en note que les expressions compere, commere, ne sont 
pas couramment usit^es ici dans ce sens, mais bien en Normandie. 

4 M. Grondin 6crit: "Versez autant d'eau qu'il y en a dans la riviere; et ils en 
verserent tellement que Fame de notre bel dne .se rendit. .." 

5 M. LeVasseur remarque que ceci veut peut-etre dire "le royaume d'Yvetot." 

6 Ici, les trois versions different un peu, celle de M. Tetu est donn6e en texte. 
Celle de M. LeVasseur: "Michel Morin gagea avec son voisin qu'il irait denicher les 
pies dans le haut de I'orme situ6 a la cote Pierre." La version de M. Grondin: 
"Michel Morin gagea une pinte de whiskey avec son voisin qu'il irait denicher les 
corbeaux qui faisaient leur nid dans I'orme situ6 pres du mur, au haut de la cote 
Pierre." 5l.T^tu plus tard voulut ici retrancher sa version, pr^f^rant celle de M. 
LeVasseur. 

7 M. LeVasseur ^crit: "II se mit a descendre de branche en branche. Une 
branche cassa, il tomba et se cassit les reins. M. T6tu, lorsqu'il lut la version Le- 
Vasseur, la d^clara authentique. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 129 

Le voil^ pas trop bien. 

"Avant de me porter en terre, * 

Qu'on m'emmene monsieur le notaire, 

Avant de me porter au monument, 

Que je fasse mon testament .... 

Monsieur le notaire, employez pour moi du bon et du propre. ^ 

Ecrivez k ma mode, 

Et vous serez pay6 en mdthode. 

Ecrivez pour moi, aujourd'hui. 

Ecrivez sans credit. ^ 

Je legue a ma femme deux pieces de terre 

Situ^es k la c6te Pierre." 

— "Mais, mon mari, excusez done! 

On n'a jamais eu ni terre, ni maison." 

— *'Chut, chut, ma femme! Je vais vous expliquer tout q&. 

11 y a, dans le haut de notre muraille, un pot 

Destine k servir de nid aux moineaux. 

Et, dans le fond de la cuisine, 

II y a une vicille terrine. '' 

Ca fait deux pieces de terre." 

— "Merci, mon mari!" 

— "Ecrivez, notaire! 

Je donne k mon fils Frangois^ 

Ma hache qui 6tait I'empereur des bois, cette hache que je tenais entre mes quatre 

doigts et le pouce, et dont^ je coupais un orme en trois coups." 
— "Merci, mon pere!" 
— "Ecrivez, notaire! 
Je donne a mon petit-fils Jarene,^ 
Avec sa grand'mine bleme, 
Mon b&ton,^ mon creux^ et mon tabac, 
Et, pour m^moire, mon estomac." 
— "Merci, mon pere!" 
— "Ecrivez, notaire! 
Je donne a ma fille unique 
Ma plus grande colique. 
Je consens bien a son mariage, 
Dans notre village. 
Par son contrat, 
Elle restera fille tant qu'elle voudra." 

1 M. Grondin: "Avant qu'on me porte au cimetiere. .." 

2 La version au texte, quant a cette ligne, est celle de M. Grondin. Celle de 
M. LeVasseur est celle-ci: "Monsieur le notaire, il faut prendre le meilleur et plus 
superbe moyen pour cela " 

3 M. Grondin dit: "Ecrivez sans credit et surtout sans r^plique." 

* M. Tetu: "Mais oui ! il y a la vieille terrine dans I'armoire, et le pot dans le 
buffet. . ." M. Grondin: "II y a dessus notre armoire un pot fait en terre; et dans le 
bas de notre buffet, une vieille terrine en terre. .." 

5 MM. Tetu et Grondin donnent le nom de Frangois &, celui que M . LeVasseur 
d^signe simplement comme 'fils aine;' M. Grondin dit: "petit-fils Frangois." 

fi Avec laquelle. 

7 L'ordre de ces legs est different dans les trois versions recueillies. Le nom de 
Jarene n'est pas en usage, au Canada, a notre connaissance. 

8 M. Grondin, ici, 6crit sac. 9 Sens incertain. 



130 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

— "Merci, mon p5re!" 

— "Ecrivez, notaire!" 

— "Et moi, mon oncle et mon parrain, 

Est-ce que vous ne me donnerez rien?" 

— "Avance ici, mon neveu! J'ai encore du bon pour toi. Je te donne autant 

d'eau que tu pourras en boire a la riviere, et, aussi, trois sacs de grain." ^ 
— "Mais, excusez done, mon parrain! 
Oil done le prendre, ce grain ?" 

Au temps de la moisson, Fannee prochaine, lorsque le grain aura 
pousse, tu iras dans le champ de I'un, dans le champ de I'autre, dans 
le champ du commun;^ tu prendras une poign^e ici et une poignee la. 
Tu ramasseras bien tes trois sacs de grain, et tu en auras pour vivre 
jusqu'a Paques." 

— "Merci, mon parrain." 

— "Ecrivez, notaire!" 

— "Et moi, mon maitre, depuis sept ans 

Que je suis dans votre maison, 

Est-ce que vous ne me ferez pas quelque don ?" 

— "Avance ici, ma grand' Claudine, 

Avec tes grands babines; 

J'ai encore du bon pour toi. 

Va dans le bas de mon armoire, ^ 

Et tu trouveras deux cEufs de ma poule noire. 

Tu les feras cuire dans la chaudiSre k merveille. ■* 

Avec la graisse, tu feras de la chandelle. 

Avec le bouillon, tu feras de la soupe, pour ton careme, 

Qui ne te figera pas sur le cceur." 

— "Merci, mon mattre!" — "Ecrivez, notaire! 

Je donne k mon fils Pierrot 

Ma serpe k faire des fagots. ^ 

Je t'en prie, mon fils Pierrot, 

Ne fais pas de fagots de rondins, 

Pour te degourdir les reins. 

Ne fais pas de fagots d'asperges, 

Garnis de feuilles et de feuillages, 

Mais de ces bons fagots de cabaret, 

Qui durent une heure k peu pr6s. 

Fagots, fagotins, fagotier, 

Fagots lies de tous cotes. 

Fagots qui portent la mesure de toute la science; 

Et tu deviendras le vaeiUeur fagotier^ de France." 

1 M. Tetu dit ici: "trois gerbes de ble," ce qu'il retrancha ensuite. 

2 M. LeVasseur remarque en note: "Le champ de la commune est, en France ou 
en Belgique, un immeuble laisse aux pauvres de I'endroit; ce qui est inconnu, au 
Canada. 

3 M.Tetu dit; "Va dans le nid de la poule noire..." Plus tard, il pref^ra la ver- 
sion de M. LeVasseur. 

4 II y a peut-etre inversion pour la rime, le sens etant : " Tu les feraa cuire k 
merveille, dans la chaudi^re;" ou encore: "dans la chaudi^re aux merveille3"(?) 

5 Ces details, fait remarquer M. LeVasseur, n'ont rien de canadien, la serpe k 
fagots 6tant tine chose inconnue, au Canada. 

6 Fagoteur. 



Contes Populaires Canadiens. 131 

— "Merci, mon p^re!" 

— "Ecrivez, notaire!" 

Ici le notaire s'impatiente. 

"Sapristi! Michel Morin, 

Si on ecrivait tous vos desseiiis 

On en ferait bien un gros livre!" 

Michel Morin se proposait d'en dire bien davantage; ^ mais la Mort 
qui Tenvironnait ^ de tous cotes lui coupa le souffle de la vie. 

32. LE TR^PAS DE MICHEL MORIN.' 

Non loin de notro 6glise est un orme geant. 

C'est la que, pour plaider, le peuple, s'ameutant, 

Vient souvent r^clamer les formes judiciairea, 

Pour un peu d^meler le fil de ses affaires. 

C'est la que, dans I'ete, un cercle de gargons 

Derobent au soleil leurs imberbes mentons: 

C'est 1^ qu'assis en rond, sur I'herbe verdoyante, 

lis s'amusent aux jeux. Et la troupe bruyante, 

[Dds la partie gagnee], se relive aussitot, 

Pour le petillant jus boire h, tire-l'arigot. 

Et, avec mille bonds, la troupe clapotante 

Fait trembler le sol [de sa course remuante]. 

Une bavarde pie, un jour trois fois maudit, 

Au fin sommet de I'orme avait perche son nid. 

Son diable de caquet interrompait sans cesse 

Le sermon du cure. La troupe vengeresse, ^ 

Un dimanche, enfin, s'assemble vaillarament 

Pour, avec des batons, ruer la pie aux vents, 

Et detruire son nid. Hcroique entreprise! 

A toi seul, 6 Morin, les destins I'ont commise! 

O destins trop cruels! O trop fatal honneur! 

A peine son oreille a saisi la clameur, 

Plus vif que le renard, il court k pcrdre haleine; 

Et sa voix retentit: "Arretez destructeurs ! 

A quels honteux exc^s vous portent vos f ureurs ? 

Pourquoi saccagez-vous notre orme h. coups de gaules ? 

Quoi! vous ne pourriez trouver de meilleur role 

Qu'abattre li, a vos pieds, le logis des oiseaux ? . . . 

Mais qui veut parier que, grimpant en deux sauts, 

1 Un certain nombre des aventures de Michel Morin ont dti etre omises ici 
par oubU. Ainsi le fragment suivant est-il revenu h la memoire de MM. LeVasseur 
et Grondin: "Michel Morin racontait toujours I'histoire de la chienne et de sa 
cousine . . . Michel Morin, mauvais payeur, d^chargeait le plancher quand on 
lui parlait de payer. II prenait toujours le large, crainte de rester pour gage. Du- 
rant ce temps-lS,, il faisait toujours des bons repas." 

2 MM. Tetu et Grondin: "la Mort qui le guettait. .." 

3 Cette version manuscrite rimee et amplifi^e d'un episode du conte de Michel 
Morin nous a 6t6 communiqu^e par M. I'abbe Wilfrid Lebon, du college de Sainte- 
Anne de la Pocati^re, Kamouraska. L'auteur de ces rimes — I'abbe T.-B. Pelletier — 
6tait, de 1838 h. 1848, prefet des etudes au college de Sainte-Anne. II a dtl emprun- 
ter son sujet au folklore populaire des environs. 

* Des gamins. 



132 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

Je saccage le nid de la bavardc pie, 

Et qu'en un tour de main je la mette en charpie?" 

II dit, et aussitdt il a tromp6 les yeux. 

II grimpe, il saute, il vole; et de son bras nerveiu 

Empoignant les rameaux, il arrive a la cime. 

Mais, hllas! quel revers! II y trouve un abtme, 

II allait se saisir de I'objet convoit^; 

D^ja la pie, en fuite, avait d^m6nage, 

Laissant 1^, sans souci, sa criarde famille. 

Elle a vu de Morin I'oeil en feu qui p4tille! 

Mais, ivre de victoire, a de faibles rameaux 

Michel avait confi6 son destin et ses os. 

Sous ce fardeau trop lourd on voit ployer la branche. 

On s'6tonne, on s'6meut. II s'est rompu la hanche. 

De culbute en culbute, et par sauts et par bonds, 

Le brave sur le sol arrive moribond. 

O douleur! il est la sans souffle et sans vie. 

Oh! pleurez, tous les yeux, s'il vous en prend envie! 

Je ne puis dire plus sur son bien triste sort. 

C'etit €t6 un h^ros . . . s'il n'en 6tait pas raort. 

33. TI-PIERRE ET JACQUELINE. * 

II est bon de vous dire qu'une fois c'^tait un vieillard, sa femme et 
leur seul enfant, Ti-Pierre. Le vieillard, un jour, dit a sa femme: 
"Nous voila vieux et ineapables ^ de travailler. Si tu veux dire comme 
moi, nous allons donner a Ti-Pierre son heritage, pour qu'il aille se 
choisir une compagne." Comme ils sont d'aecord, la vieille femme don- 
ne a Ti-Pierre son heritage: cinq sous en tout et pour tout, lui disant: 
"Voici ton heritage. Choisis-toi(Oune compagne." — "Mais poupa! 
r^pond-il, tu crois que c'est facile avec cinq sous de se choisir une 
compagne? Surtout moi qui n'ai jamais rien fait que garder les 
troupeaux. On n'apprend pas grand Eloquence la-dedans. Mais 
enfin, puisqu'il le faut, allons!" 

Voila done que je-^ me mets mon habit, mes culottes de bouracan, * 
mes bottes de cuir cru, et ma tuque'' barree noire et rouge. Et puis, 
je pars au grand galop. Arrive a une maison, je frappe a la porte. 
"Qui est-la? Entrez!" J'entre. "Est-ce ici qu'il y a des filles k 
marier?" je demande. "Oui, monsieur! Assoyez-vous. II y en 
a trois qui sont joliment grandettes.^ — Jo.s^phine, ThaHse,^ et Mar- 

1 R6cit6 k Lorette, en ao<it, 1914, par Mme Prudent Sioui, avec I'aide de son 
mari. 

2 Le conteur dit: "et pu capables de travailler." Pu (i.e., plus) ici est equivalent 
a pas, et est abr6g6 de non plus. 

3 Le reste de ce conte est un monologue dans la bouche de Ti-Pierre. 
* Ici prononc6 bouragan. 

6 Tuque, coiffure de laine, et ordinairement surmont^e d'un gland. 
6 Diminutif de grande. 
1 Th^rese. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 



133 



goulette, descendez ici! Un monsieur voudrait vous voir." J'en- 
tends pif, pof! dans I'escalier; ce sont les filles qui descendent. J'en 
ai la chair de poule, et me sens tout bete. Je m'approche de la cesse 
qui ^ me parait la plus gentille, et lui dis: "Mamselle! m'aimerez-vous 
toujours?" La voila qui part au grand galop, ses deux soeurs par 
derriere elle. Je vous dis que je reste bete! Souhaitant le bonsoir k 
la mere, je prends la porte, - et continue mon chemin. 

A la fin, je suis venu a bout de trouver ce qu'il me fallait: une com- 
pagne, une nommee Jacqueline. Je ere ben que ce n'etait pas ce 
qu'il y avait de mieux; mais, pour moi, j'en etais content. 

Jacqueline et moi, nous voila partis pour nous marier. C'etait 
une grosse noce, et quelle suite! II y avait: moi, Jacqueline, Tharese, 
Margoulette, Suzon, Suzanne; ce qui faisait trois grands cabarouets 
bien pleins. C'etait beau de nous voir! Une fois marie, je m'en fus 
avec Jacqueline m'etablir sur la montagne. En chemin, nous ren- 
controns Gros-Jean, fumant sa pipe. "Ah! Ti-Pierre, approche! 
viens fumer une pipe avec moi." — **Ah! oui,avec plaisir. Tu sais, 
Gros-Jean, que je suis marie? Nous nous en allons nous etablir sur 
la montagne." — " Ti vre f" ^ — "Ah oui! Tiens! je te presente ma fem- 
me, Jacqueline." — "Jacqueline... son nom de famille, Ti-Pierre?" 
— "Je ne le sais pas, Gros-Jean. . . . AsVheure, tu vas nous escuser;* 
nous allons nous etablir sur la montagne." 

Rendus sur la montagne, je me batis une maisonnette en branches 
d'^pinette. ''Dis rien,^ Jacqueline! Nous vivrons ben. Je fais 
tout ce que je veux de mes mains: d'abord, des manches de lavette, * 
des couverts de pots de chambre, des battoues'' pour laver le linge. Tu 
vas voir comme nous allons etre heureux tous les deux. Tu le sais, 
dans trois jours j'ai b&ti notre maisonnette, et greye^ la cuisine. 
J'ai fait un manche de lavette, une terrine en bois, un bassin pour se 
laver les mains. Tu vois qu'on n'est pas trop mal, pour des com- 
mengants." Nous faisions la soupe dans une vieille terrine; nous 
mangions notre fricassee dans une cuvette defoncee, et une cuiller 
en bois nous suffisait k nous deux. Notre lit etait fait de branches 
d'epinette. Je vous dis que nous n'etions pas trop mal griyes, et 
quels amoureux nous ^tions! Maries pour toujours, toujours, c'etait 
le bonheur; et, des fois,' bras dessus, bras dessous, nous nous prome- 
nions. C'etait beau nous voir! 

Mais une chose ben triste je dois vous dire: au bout de trois mois 
ma pauvre Jacqueline a disparu. Et depuis, je n'en ai eu ni vent 
ni nouvelles. 



1 I.e., celle qui. 

3 Pour c'est-il vrai, est-ce vraif 

8 I.e., ne dis Hen. 
f I.e., baitoirs. 

9 I.e., quelquejois. 



2 I.e., je SOTS precipHamment. 

* I.e., excuser. 

* Sioui disait navette. 
8 I.e., meubU. 



134 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

II faut qu'elle se trouve bien la ou elle est, puisqu'elle ne revient pas. 
J'en juge par ]a^ . . 

34. LES CARTES DU N0MM6 RICHARD. ^ 

Un jour, c'est un nomm^ Richard, qui passe devant une ^glise, et 
entre pour y entendre la sainte messe. 

Monsieur Richard s'en va au banc de I'oeuvre, comme on y entend 
et voit le mieux. La, au lieu de prendre un livre de devotion de sa 
poche, il en tire un jeu de cartes. Du doigt le constable lui fait signe 
de sortir de I'^glise. Mais monsieur Richard ne remue pas. Le cons- 
table vient a lui et dit: "Au lieu de vous amuser avec un jeu de cartes, 
prenez done un livre de devotion." Monsieur Richard lui r^pond: 
"Apres la messe, je vous donnerai le detail^ de mon jeu de cartes." 

La messe finie, le cur6 et le constable viennent faire des reproches 
a monsieur Richard, qui leur r^pond: "Si vous voulez me permettre, 
je vais vous expliquer mon jeu de cartes." — "Parle, Richard! repond 
le cure, je te le permets." Monsieur Richard tire le deux en disant: 
"Le deux me repr^sente les deux Testaments." Tirant les trois: "Le 
trois me rappelle les trois personnes de la sainte Trinity : le quatre me 
repr^sente les quatre ^vang^listes; le cinq, les cinq livres de Moise; 
le six me represente les six jours que Dieu prit a cr^er le ciel et la 
terre; et le sept, le jour ou il se reposa, apres la creation." Tirant le 
huit, il dit: "Le huit me rappelle les huit personnes sauvees du deluge." 
Tire'* le neuf . . . . ^ Tire le dix: " Le dix me represente les dix com- 
mandements de Dieu." Tire la dame: "Elle me rappelle la reine du 
ciel." Tire le roi: "Le roi me represente le seul maitre a qui je dois 
obeissance." Tire I'as: "Un seul et meme Dieu que j'adore." 

Le cure dit: "Monsieur Richard, je m'apergois que tu as passe le 
valet." — "Monsieur le cure, si vous me donnez la permission de 
parler, je vous donnerai satisfaction." — "Parle, Richard! je te le 
permets." — "Monsieur le cure, le valet me represente un veritable 
coquin, comme ici votre constable devant vous." 

35. LE R^VE DBS CHASSEURS.^ 

II est bon de vous dire qu'une fois c'etait trois messieurs et leur 
cuisinier, qui etaient all^s a la chasse, dans les bois. Apres avoir 

1 La m^moire des conteurs faisait defaut dans ce conte, qu'ils admettaient ne 
pouvoir reciter au complet. 

2 Recit6 par P. Sioui, de Lorette, en aoilt, 1914. Sioui avait appris ce r(5cit, 
dont il ne se souvenait pas tres bien, de son pere, Clement Sioui. 

3 I.e., I'explication detailUe. 

4 I.e., II tire. 

5 La memoire du conteur fit ici defaut. 

6 Racont^ par Mme Prudent Sioui, Lorette, en aotit, 1914. Elle avait entendu la 
vieille Marie Bastien, de Lorette, le raconter, il y a longtemps. 



Conies Populaires Canadiens. 135 

chass^ toute la journ^e sans manger, ils n'avaient tu^ qu'une perdrix. 
lis se dirent: "Gardens la perdrix pour le dejeuner. EUe sera k celui 
qui fera le plus beau reve." 

Le lendemain matin: "Quel reve as-tu fait?" se demandent-ils. 
Un d'eux repond: "Moi, j'ai reve que je me mariais a la plus belle 
princesse du monde." Les autres dirent: "Ah! tu as fait un beau r6- 
ve." — "Moi, dit un autre, j'ai reve a la sainte Vierge, que j'ai vue 
dans toute sa beauts." Le troisieme: "Moi, j'ai reve que j'dtais au 
ciel, ou j'ai vu le bon Dieu lui-meme." 

Le cuisinier ajoute: "Moi aussi, j'en ai fait un beau. J'ai reve que 
j'ai mang^ la perdrix; et je vois bien que mon reve est vrai, puisque 
je ne viens pas a bout de la trouver, ce matin." 

36. LES GASCONS ET l'cEUF. ^ 

Une fois, il est bon de vous dire, c'etait trois Gascons. Aprds 
avoir march^ toute la journ^e, il ne leur restait pour le souper qu'un 
oeuf. Un des trois propose: "Celui qui trouvera le meilleur mot latin 
le mangera." — "C'est bien!" r^pondent les autres. Prenant I'cBuf 
un d'eux dit: ^'Et cassatus." Et il casse I'oeuf. Les autres sont 
d'opinion que c'est un bon mot latin. En disant : " Et salaius,'' 
le second y met du sel. "C'est un bon mot latin," remarquent les 
autres." Le troisieme declare: "Je crois que c'est a moi le meilleur 
mot latin: Et consommatus est;" et il avale I'ceuf. 

37. MINETTE m'a VOl6 MES ROULETTES. ^ 

Un jour, j'ai jou6 avec Minette; 

Minette m'a vol^ mes roulettes. 

J'ai dit k Minette: 

— "Tu vas me redonner mes roulettes." 

Minette dit: "T" auras ^ pas de roulettes sans croAtes. 

J'ai ete trouver mon pere pour avoir des croutes. 

Mon pere dit: 'T'auras pas de croutes sans heurles." 

J'ai ete trouver les loups pour me faire heurler. 

Les loups m'ont dit: "T auras pas d'heurles sans veau." 

J'ai 6t6 trouver le veau pour avoir du veau. 

Le veau m'a dit: "7" auras pas de veau sans lait." 

J'ai ete trouver la vache pour avoir du lait. 

La vache dit: "T"aiu-as pas de lait sans foin." 

J'ai 6te trouver la faux pour avoir du foin. 

La faux dit: "T" auras pas de foin sans lard." 

J'ai ^16 trouver la truie pour avoir du lard. 

La truie dit: "7" auras pas de lard sans glands." 

1 Racont^ par P. Sioui, a Lorette, en aoM, 1914. 

2 R^cit6 par Prudent Sioui, qui I'avait appris de son pere. L'auteur a d6ik 
ent€ndu quelque chose de semblable d'une vieille femme, a Sainte-Marie, Beauce. 

s Pour tu n'auras pas. 



136 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

J'ai ete trouver les chSnes pour avoir dea glands. 

Les chenes dirent: "T'auras pas de glands sans vent." 

J'ai 6te trouver la m^re des vents pour avoir des vents. 

La mere des vents m'a vente; j'ai vente les chines; 

Les chenes m'ont glante; j'ai glante la truie; 

La truie m'a lare; j'ai tare la faux; 

La faux m^afointe; i'siifointe la vache; 

La vache m'a laite; j'ai laite le veau; 

Le veau m'a cusse; j'ai cusse les loups; 

Les loups m'ont heurle; j'ai heurle mon pere; 

Mon pere m'a croUte; j'ai croUte Minette; 

Minette m'a tout redonne mes roulettes. 

38. FORMULE (finale DES CONTES). ^ 

Je marche aujourd'hui et je marcherai deraain; j'ai la force de 
marcher. Je monte boteau, ^ cave, bois franc, navette, terre labouree, 
terre au peigne, aii ravinzion, la reine entend vomer, trois et trois quart 
et une minute et demie, pistolet pogne, heureux, nez, courte queue! 

Section d'Anthropoloqie, 
Ottawa, Can. 

1 R4cit6 par P, Sioui, de Lorette. Son pdre avait I'habitude de r6p6ter i aes 
enfants cette tirade d6nuee de sens, quand il 6tait fatigu6 de leur dire dea contea. 

2 Aboteau; mot 6tranger, au Canada. 



Un conte de la Beauce 137 

UN CONTE DE LA BEAUCE. 
PAR Evelyn bolduc. 

39. DOM JEAN. ^ 

II est bon de vous dire qu'une fois, il y avait un pays. C'^tait la 
coutume, dans ce pays, de vendre au piquet, tout comme des boeufs, 
les hommes qui etaient capables de lever plus que leur propre poids. 
Or, Dom Jean, un homme de ce pays, ayant leve un poids plus lourd 
que lui, fut mene k la ville voisine pour y etre vendu. L'encanteur 
cria: "Que m'offre-t-on pour Dom Jean?" Pas de reponse. "Que 
m'offre-t-on pour Dom Jean, un gros travaillant, un beau gars?" 
Le roi se trouvant k passer par la, un faineant qui s'6tait accroche h 
sa voiture, repondit: "Dix piastres, au nom de monsieur le roi." — 
"Ah bien, dit le roi, je ne peux pas mentir a ma parole. II me faut done 
payer." Et il emmene Dom Jean avec lui a son chateau. "Tiens,la 
reine! dit-il en entrant, j'ai achete un homme au piquet, Dom Jean. 
SArement, tu es contente?" La reine, une creature espi^gle et 
maligne, repondit: "Oui, toi, tu voudrais etre entoure de tous les fai- 
neants et les voyous du canton. Je ne veux pas de Dom Jean dans la 
maison." Pour plaire k la reine, le roi envoya son nouveau serviteur 
travailler au jardin, oil il y avait deja quatre jardiniers. Voyant 
arriver Dom Jean, ces hommes se mirent a bougonner: "Nous n'avions 
pas besoin de celui-1^; le roi devient ennuyant avec toutes ses id^es." 
— "Mais, mettez-le au plus dur de la besogne," dit le roi, qui, les 
ayant entendus, voulait les apaiser. "C'est bon, c'est bon, monsieur 
le roi!" lis envoy^rent Dom Jean k un coin du jardin, dans un mar^- 
cage oil il ne venait que des halliers, des framboisiers et des saules. 
Cri, era, Dom Jean arrachait, sarclait, aplanissait. Vers dix heures 
du matin, il fit un beau carre, oil il sema des graines qu'il avait appor- 
t6es avec lui. Le soir, il y cueilHt trois beaux bouquets, qu'il alia 
porter Tun au roi, I'autre, k la reine, le troisi^me, k la princesse leur 
fille. "Vous voyez, dit la princesse, c'est le premier de vos serviteurs 
qui pense k me faire un present." — "Oui! reprit la reine, tu prends 
toujours pour ton pere; aussi, tu n'as de gotit que pour les faineants." 
Quant le roi vit sa reine encore si fdchee, il dit k Dom Jean: "Main- 
tenant, je vais t'emmener k ma terre^ pour que tu y travailles." Et 
le lendemain, ils partirent de bon matin. En arrivant k la terre, les 
trois fermiers du roi se mirent k bougonner: "Nous sommes bien assez 
de monde ici sans ce nouveau-la." — "Mais mettez-le au plus dur de 

I Racont6 par Paul Patry,de Saint- Victor, Beauce, et recueilli,en 1914, par Made- 
moiselle fivelyn Bolduc, du meme endroit. 
' I.e., ma ferme. 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

la besogne," r^pondit le roi, pour les satisfaire. "C'est bon! c'est 
bon! monsieur le roi." lis envoyerent Dom Jean dans une grande 
prairie ou il ne poussait que chardons, ronces et mauvaises herbes. 
Dom Jean se mit a labourer, herser, fumer, semer et rouler. Le soir, 
il r^colta un beau champ d'avoine. Ses camarades, voyant cela, 
murmurerent entre eux: "II faut Fen empecher, ou il fera seul tout 
I'ouvrage, et le roi nous mettra a la porte." lis lui dirent: "Dom Jean, 
vous ferez mieux de ne plus travailler au champ. A partir de demain, 
vous serez cuisinier." — "C'est pareil pour moi," r^pondit Dom Jean. 
Le lendemain matin, il se leva a trois heures pour boulanger, greyer 
la table et le reste. Jaloux de le voir si actif, les fermiers deciderent 
de lui jouer un mauvais tour, a I'occasion de la visite prochaine du roi. 
Quant k lui, pour mieux recevoir le roi, il pr^para un beau repas, 
fit du pain sucr^, cueillit toutes les roses du jardin, hordi, borda. 

Quand il fut couch^, le soir, ses camarades mangerent tout ce qui 
se trouvail sur la table: viandes, pain sucr6 et fleurs, tout y passa. 
Le roi arriv^, les fermiers lui dirent: "Monsieur le roi, c'est un beau 
finaud que vous avez emmen^ I'autre jour. Venez voir la table qu'il 
vous a pr^par^e." A la vue de cette table d^garnie et malpropre, le 
roi se mit en colere: "Nas-tu pas honte?" dit-il a Dom Jean, qui arri- 
vait. "Monsieur le roi, ce n'est pas ma faute. La table que je vous 
avais greyee etait bien belle; mais on a voulu me jouer un tour." Pre- 
nant une grande saliere, il pr^para une m^decine tres forte qu'il but 
tout d'un trait. "Que les fermiers en fassent autant, maintenant." 
Les fermiers, comme de raison,ne voulaient pas. "Ce n'est pas diffi- 
cile, dit le roi, vous pouvez en faire autant que Dom Jean." Forces 
de le faire, chacun d'eux prit a son tour une dose de sel. lis se mirent 
aussitot a vomir fleurs, lait, pain sucr6 et viande. "Ah! je vois bien 
qui voulait me tromper, dit le roi. Viens-t'en avec moi, Dom Jean!" 
Et il I'emmena dans son carrosse. Les voyant arriver, la reine se 
facha tout rouge. Mais corame cela arrivait souvent, le roi ne s'en 
occupa pas trop. 

Le meme soir, le roi s'en alia diner chez un de ses amis, emmenant 
avec lui Dom Jean. C'^tait alors la coutume d'envoyer un panier 
rempli des meilleurs bonbons et desserts k la reine, qui n'assistait pas 
aux festins. Le roi confia done ce panier a Dom Jean, disant: "Va 
porter cela a ma petite choisie." En arrivant au chateau, Dom 
Jean s'assit sur le plancher et appela: "Ma petite choisie, ma petite 
choisie!" La chienne de la reine, dont c'^tait le nom, vint en sautant, 
et d^vora toutes les friandises. 

A son retour, le roi demanda a sa reine si elle avait aime son envoi. 
"Je n'ai rien regu, repondit-elle; Dom Jean n'a apporte un panier 
que pour la chienne." — "Dom Jean, pourquoi n'as-tu pas donne k 
ma reine le panier que je t'avais confie?" — "Vous m'avez dit d'aller 



Un conte de la Beauce 139 

porter ce panier k voire petite choisie, et c'est ce que j'ai fait." — 
— "Tu aimes niieux Dom Jean et ta chienne que moi, s'^cria la reine; 
aussi je te quitte." Et elle partit k la vive course sur le trottoir, son 
chale sur le cou. 

Eh bien, en voil^ une affaire! Le roi avait de la peine. "II faut 
que tu la fasses revenir, mon Dom Jean." — "Ne soyez pas decourag^, 
monsieur le roi; demain, elle sera de retour a votre chateau." Dom 
Jean fit imprimer de grands ^criteaux ' contenant que la reine ayant 
quitte son mari, le roi avait decide de se remarier avec la fille d'un 
roi, son voisin, et qu'a ses noces tout son peuple ^tait invito. Dom 
Jean se rendit chez un marchand de fleurs, qui avait lou^ une chambre 
k la reine. "Bonjour, monsieur! qu'y a-t-il pour voire service?" — 
"Je voudrais acheter toutes vos fleurs." — "Touies mes fleurs! Pour- 
quoi faire?" — "Le roi, vous le savez, se marie demain, et j'ai besoin 
de fleurs pour d^corer la chambre." Cach^e derriere le comptoir, la 
reine entendait tout cela. Une fois Dom Jean sorti, elle partit k 
la course sans prendre le temps de mettre son chale, se rendit au cha- 
teau du roi et frappa a la porte. "Qui est la ?" demanda le roi. "C'est 
moi, ta reine. Je ne veux pas que tu te remaries; et je suis prete k 
tout pardonner, si tu veux me reprendre." Le roi etait bien content. 
"Je savais bien qu'elle reviendrait," dit Dom Jean. 

Mais le roi voisin, ayant eu connaissance des ^criieaux, fut fort 
indign^ de I'insulte faite a sa fille. II fit done savoir au maiire de 
Dom Jean que si on ne lui faisait pas reparation d'honneur, il enverrait 
ses soldais lui faire la guerre. La reponse fut: "Ne soyez done point 
offens^; je vous envoie cette lettre par mon serviteur Dom Jean, 
I'homme le plus fin que la terre ait jamais porte." — "Si tu es si fin, 
dit le roi stranger, tu vas me faire, d'ici a un an, une maison appuy^e 
sur rien, dans les airs." — "Je veux bien, r^pondit Dom Jean, pourvu 
que vous fournissiez les materiaux." - — "Quelle sorte de mat^riaux 
faut-il ?" — "C'est a vous de le savoir, vous qui me demandez une mai- 
son appuy^e sur rien, dans les airs." 

Quand Dom Jean rapporta la volonte du roi voisin a son maitre, 
celui-ci devint fort en peine. "Ne vous inquieiez pas pour si peu, dit 
Dom Jean; il s'est oblig^ a me fournir les materiaux." 

Dom Jean alia a la montagne, sur le haut de laquelle il denicha 
quatre petits aigles, qu'il emporta. A mesure que les aigles gran- 
dissaient, il les habituait a se laisser atteler, un a chaque coin d'une 
petite maison de papier, les faisant voler en les reienant par une corde. 

Au bout de I'annde, il se rendit au royaume du roi voisin, apportant 
avec lui ses aigles et sa maison de papier. II arriva a la porte du cha- 
teau: pan, pan, pan! "Qui est la?" crie le roi. "C'est moi, Dom 

1 Cette formule a remplace ici la plus ancienne faire battre un ban. 

2 Patry, comme tous les gens des environs, disait maieraux, au lieu de maUriaux. 



140 Journal of American Folk-Lare. 

Jean! Vos mat^riaux sont-ils prets?" — "Mais, monsieur Dom 
Jean, quelle sorte de materiaux vous faut-il?" — "C'est a vous de le 
savoir. Si mes materiaux ne sont pas prets demain, au petit jour, ^ 
je vous coupe la tete et Temporte sous mon bras au roi mon maitre." 

— "Ah! mon bon monsieur Dom Jean, si vous me pardonnez, je vous 
donnerai ma fille en mariage et un batiment charge d'or pur." — 
"Je ne veux pas de votre fille en mariage; mais si vous me promettez 
de toujours respecter le roi mon maitre, je serai satisfait du batiment 
charg^ d'or pur." — "Oui, mon bon monsieur Dom Jean, je le promets." 

— "Ast'heure, venez voir une maison appuy^e sur rien, dans les airs." 
Et Dom Jean montre au roi sa maison de papier, portee dans les airs 
par quatre aigles bien domptds. Le roi etait tout transports d'ad- 
miration. "Mon voisin a bien raison; voici I'homme le plus fin qui 
soit jamais passS sur la terre." 

Quand Dom Jean revint, capitaine de ce beau navire tout charge 
d'or pur, le roi, son maitre, lui donna la main et lui dit: "Dom Jean, 
tu m'as 6t6 si utile que je veux te recompenser: je te donne la moitiS 
de mon royaume, et ma fille en mariage." La reine bougonna comma 
toujours, mais personne ne s'en occupa. Et c'est tout. 

1 I.e., d I'aurore. 



Fables, Contes et Formules. 141 

FABLES, CONTES ET FORMULES. 

PAR GUSTAVE LANCt6t. 
40. LE LOUP ET LE RENARD. ^ 

Une fois, il y avait une poule, une dinde et un renard, qui vivaient 
ensemble au bord du bois. Comme I'hiver approchait, ils se b&tirent 
chacun une maison. La poule se batit une maison de paille; la dinde, 
une maison de tene; et le renard, une maison de briques. 

Pouss6 par la faim, durant I'hiver, un loup arrive un jour devant 
les trois maisons. En le voyant, la poule, la dinde et le renard se 
eauvent dans leur maison, dont ils barrent la porte. Le loup s'appro- 
che de la maison de la poule et frappe a la porte: "Ouvre-moi! ou je 
vais p6ter et jeter ta maison a terre." Mais la poule r^pond: "Non, 
je n'ouvrirai pas la porte." Alors le loup pete et jette la maison k 
terre. II se jette sur la poule et la mange en trois coups de dents. 
Puis il frappe a la porte de la dinde: "Ouvre-moi la porte! ou je vais 
p4ter et jeter ta maison a terre." La dinde r^pond: "Je ne t'ouvrirai 
pas la porte." Alors le loup pete et jette la maison a terre. II se 
jette sur la dinde et la mange en trois coups de dents. Enfin il frappe 
k la porte du renard en disant: "Ouvre-moi la porte, ou je pete et jette 
ta maison h terre." Mais le renard r^pond: "Fais ce que tu voudras, 
je ne t'ouvrirai pas la porte." Alors, le loup pete, mais la maison ne 
tombe pas a terre. Furieux, alors le loup dit: "Ouvre-moi la porte, 
ou je vais passer par la cheminee." Le renard lui r^pond: "Fais ce 
que tu voudras, mais je ne t'ouvrirai pas la porte. Aussitot il met un 
grand chaudron dans la cheminee, le remplit d'eau, et sur un grand 
feu fait bouillir I'eau. Le loup monte sur la maison et descend dans la 
cheminee. Mais la fum^e I'aveugle et il tombe dans le chaudron 
d'eau bouillante, oil il meurt en hurlant de douleur. 

41. LE CONTE DU LOUP. ^ 

Une fois, c'dtait un loup appartenant a un homme qui I'avait pris 
dans le bois. Le maitre du loup envoie son petit gar^on lui donner 
k manger. L'enfant lui donne a manger et a boire. Quand le loup 
eut bien mangd, le petit gar^on lui demande: "As-tu bien mange et 
as-tu bien bu?" — "Oui, r^pond le loup, j'ai bien mang^ et j'ai bien 
bu. Je n'ai plus faim du tout." Le petit gargon s'en retourne alors 
k la maison. Son pere lui demande: "As-tu fait ce que je t'ai dit, et 
donn^ sa nourriture au loup?" — "Oui, rdpond l'enfant, je lui ai 

1 Appris par I'auteur durant sa jeunesse, a Saint-Constant, LaPrairie, P.Q. 
3 Racont6 par Mile Antoinette Leduc, de Valleyfield, P.Q., en 1915. 



142 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

donn^ k manger et k boire." Le p^re s'en va ensuite voir le loup, k qui 
il demande: "As-tu et^ bien nourri, aujourd'hui ?" — "Non, repond 
le loup; on ne m'a rien donne du tout k manger." Furieux en enten- 
dant cela, le maitre rentre k la maison et tue son petit gargon. II 
envoie ensuite sa femme donner k manger au loup. Apr^s avoir 
donn6 au loup sa nourriture, elle lui demande: "As-tu bien mange 
et bien bu?" — "Oui, repond le loup, j'ai bien mange et je n'ai plus 
faim." Quand la femme rentre k la maison, son mari lui demande 
aussi: "As-tu donn^ sa nourriture au loup?" — "Certainement, re- 
pond-elle; je lui en ai tant donne qu'il n'avait plus faim." L'homme 
va ensuite voir le loup, k qui il demande s'il a bien mange. "Non, on 
ne m'a rien donne depuis ce matin." Alors, le maitre decide de voir 
si le loup n'est pas un menteur. II s'habille en petit gargon et va lui 
donner k manger et k boire. II lui en donne autant qu'il veut en 
manger. Puis il lui demande: "As-tu eu assez de nourriture?" — 
"Oui, repond le loup; j'en ai plus que fen veux." Alors le maitre 
s'en va enlever ses habits de petit gargon et reprendre ses habits 
d'homme. Une troisieme fois il revient demander au loup: "As-tu 
bien mang^ maintenant?" — "Je n'ai rien mang^ depuis ce matin, 
repond le loup; on me laisse mourir de faim." Alors l'homme se fache 
et lui dit: "Tu n'es qu'un menteur! C'est moi qui viens de te donner 
k manger et k boire. Pour tes mensonges, tu merites la mort." Et 
avec sa hache, Thomme tue le loup. 

42. LA B^lTE-A-SEPT-TflTES. ^ 

II 6tait, une fois, un homme et une femme, qui avaient trois fils, 
Pierre, Jacques et Jean. lis ^taient tr^s pauvres et manquaient sou- 
vent de quoi manger. Voyant cela, I'ain^, Pierre, dit un jour k sa 
m^re: "Faites-moi sept petites galettes et je vais aller travailler et 
m'enrichir." La mere lui fit sept petites galettes, et il partit. II 
marcha longtemps et arriva a I'entree d'une foret. En entrant sous 
bois, il entendit une voix qui criait: "Pierre, Pierre!" La peur le 
prit et il n'osait regarder en arri^re, d'oii venait la voix. Mais elle 
criait encore: "Pierre, Pierre!" Alors il se retourna et regut en plein 
front un coup de massue qui I'etendit par terre. 

Au bout de quelque temps, Jacques dit k son tour a sa mere: "Faites- 
moi aussi sept petites galettes de sarrasin, et je vais aller travailler 
et m'enrichir." Sa mere lui fit sept petites galettes de sarrasin, et 
il partit dans la meme direction que Pierre. En arrivant dans la 
foret, il entendit une voix qui criait: "Jacques, Jacques!" La peur 
le prit et il continua son chemin sans regarder en arri^re. Mais la 
voix se remit k crier: "Jacques, Jacques!" Alors il se retourna et 
regut en plein front un coup de massue, qui I'etendit par terre. 

I Appris par I'auteur, il y a une vingtaine d'aon^es, k St-Constant de LaPrairie. 



Fables, Conies et Formules. 143 

Au bout de quelque temps, Ti-Jean dit, un jour, k sa m^re: "Faites- 
moi sept galettes de sarrasin, et je vais aller travailler, et moi, je 
reviendrai bien." Le coDur plein de chagrin, car elle I'aimait beau- 
coup, sa mere lui fit sept galettes de sarrasin, et Ti-Jean les mit dans 
son mouchoir et partit. Apr^s avoir longtemps raarche, il arriva sur 
le bord d'une riviere. II y trouva une vieille mendiante, qui lui 
demanda: "Voudriez-vous m'aider k traverser la riviere?" Ti-Jean 
I'aida aussitot k traverser la rividre, et une fois de Tautre c6t6, il lui 
donna une de ses galettes de sarrasin. Alors la vieille lui dit: "Je suis 
une f^e, et pour te r^compenser de ta charite, je vais te donner une 
baguette et une ceinture. Avec la baguette, tu feras tout ce que tu 
voudras, et quand tu mettras ta ceinture, tu deviendras invisible." 
Ti-Jean prit la baguette et la ceinture, remercia grandement la fee et 
continua son chemin. Quand il arriva dans la foret, il entendit une 
voix qui criait: "Ti-Jean, Ti-Jean!" Aussitot il mit sa ceinture, et 
traversa le bois sans accident. 

Puis il arriva devant le chateau du roi. Un grand diable de sen- 
tinelle se tenait k la porte, qui lui dit: "Qu'est-ce que tu veux?" — 
"Je veux voir le roi." — "On ne passe pas sans etre demand^." Alors 
Ti-Jean mit sa ceinture, et devenu invisible, franchit la porte pendant 
que le soldat cherchait en vain oh il avait disparu. Ti-Jean monta 
les escaliers, arriva devant le roi, qui lui demanda: "Qu'est-ce que tu 
veux?" — "Sire, je veux ra'engager; je suis pret k faire tout ce que 
vous voudrez et tout ce que les autres ne pourront faire." — "C'est 
ce que nous allons voir, r^pondit le roi. Va nettoyer mes ecuries!" 
Or ces ^curies n'avaient pas 6t6 nettoyees depuis dix ans, et elles ^talent 
encombr^es de fumier. Ti-Jean descendit aux ecuries. II entra et, 
les touchant de sa baguette, il dit simplement: "Je veux que les 
^curies soient nettes." Aussitot elles furent nettoyees. Tout le 
fumier 6tait enleve, et les animaux avaient tous une litiere de paille 
fraiche. Le roi vint visiter les ecuries, et s'emerveilla de les voir si 
propres en si peu de temps. "Maintenant, il dit a Ti-Jean, tu vas 
aller faire paitre mes vaches; mais garde-toi bien de les mener dans le 
champ des geants!" — "On verra!" repondit Ti-Jean d'un air mys- 
t^rieux. II fit sortir le troupeau des etables. Alors une des g^nisses 
approcha et lui dit : "Prends ton couteau et coupe-moi une babiche 
depuis la tete jusqu'a la queue." Ti-Jean ne voulait pas, craignant 
de faire mal k la genisse. Mais elle lui dit: "Ne crains pas, je suis une 
f^e; taille-moi une babiche de la tete jusqu'a la queue." Ti-Jean 
prit son couteau et tailla une babiche depuis la tete jusqu'^ la queue. 
Alors la fee lui dit: "Tu n'auras qu'a dire 'Babiche, attache!' et la 
babiche attachera tout ce que tu voudras." Ti-Jean, fort content, 
remercia la fee, mit la babiche dans la poche et alia mener les vaches 
paftre dans le champ du roi. L'herbe etait courte et brtilee par le 



144 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

soleil, tandis que, dans le champ voisin des grants, le foin montait 
plus haut que les vaches. Ti-Jean ouvrit la barriere et fit passer son 
troupeau dans le champ des grants. Les vaches se mirent dans le 
grand foin et, le soir, quand Ti-Jean les ramena a ratable, elles don- 
nerent deux fois plus de lait que d'habitude. Ti-Jean continua de les 
mener paitre dans le champ des grants, si bien qu'elles engraisserent 
k vue d'oeil. Et le roi 6tait fort content de voir ses vaches si grasses 
et lui donner tant de lait. 

Un jour, pendant qu'il faisait paitre ses vaches, I'id^e vint k Ti- 
Jean d'aller au chateau des grants, dont on voyait le toit au loin. 
II avait avec lui sa ceinture, sa baguette et sa babiche. II marcha k 
travers les champs, dont le foin lui montait plus haut que la tete. 
Arrivant k une barriere, qui 6tait ouverte, il allait la franchir, quand 
un g^ant 6norme, haut de dix pieds, parut devant lui et lui dit: "Que 
viens-tu faire ici, petit ver de terre ? Si tu ne t'en vas pas, je vais te 
couper en quatre et te mettre dans mon sac." — "Babiche, attache!" 
r^pondit Ti-Jean sans reculer d'une semelle, Aussitot le g^ant se trouva 
attach^ et ficelle au poteau de la barriere. D'un coup de baguette, 
Ti-Jean lui coupa la tete et continua sa marche vers le chateau. En 
approchant, il apergut deux grants qui travaillaient sur les toits, a 
r^parer la couverture. Ti-Jean boucla sa ceinture autour de ses 
reins et se glissa, invisible, dans la salle a diner du chateau. L^, il 
aper§ut la fille du roi, avec ses grands cheveux blonds, qui preparait 
la table pour les grants. Ti-Jean se cacha sous une chaise. Quand 
le diner fut pret, la fille du roi appela les geants, qui vinrent s'asseoir 
k la table. Alors Ti-Jean, que personne ne pouvait voir parce qu'il 
portait sa ceinture enchant^e, mangea rapidement la soupe d'un des 
grants, et quand celui-ci voulut manger, il n'en trouva plus. Furieux, 
le g^ant se tourna aussitdt vers son frere, en lui criant: "C'est toi qui 
me joue des tours. Si tu recommences, je vais te casser la tete." 
Pendant ce temps, Ti-Jean avait pass6 de I'autre c6t6 de la table et 
il mangeait la soupe de I'autre g^ant. En voyant son assiette vide, 
ce dernier se f^cha a son tour, apostropha son frere, et dans leur colere, 
les deux grants se mirent El se lancer des choses par la tete, pendant 
que la princesse, effray^e s'^tait sauvee dans sa chambre. Ti-Jean 
prit alors sa baguette et coupa la tete des deux grants. Puis, otant sa 
ceinture, il alia trouver la princesse et lui dit: "Je suis venu vous 
d^livrer. J'ai tu6 les geants, et nous allons retourner au palais du 
roi-" — "C'est impossible, r^pondit la princesse, car la Bete-a-sept- 
t^tes va nous d^vorer, si nous sortons du chateau." — "Ou est-elle?" 
demanda Ti-Jean. "Dans la cour." 

Avant que la princesse piit I'arretcr, Ti-Jean courut aussitot dans 
la cour, oil la Bete-a-sept-tetes dormait au soleil. Ti-Jean mit sa 
ceinture et, s'approchant d'elle, se mit a compter les t^tes, en mettant 



Fabks, Conies et Formules. 145 

la main sur chaque tete, et en elcvant davantage la voix a chaquc tete: 
"Une,deux, trois, quatre,cinq, six, sept!" Et il langa le mot "sept" 
de toute sa force. La bete se r^veilla et bondit en hurlant et jetant 
du feu par les naseaux, pendant que sa queue battait furieusement 
le pav6. C'^tait un enorme monstre avec sept tetes de dragon, avec 
sept langues rouges, et avec une queue de serpent. Mais Ti-Jean 
^tait invisible, et apres avoir hurl6 en regardant de tous cotes, la bete 
se tranquillisa et se rendormit. Alors Ti-Jean recommenga a compter 
les tetes: "Une, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept!" cria-t-il. La b^te 
se reveilla plus f^roce encore qu'auparavant; ses yeux etaient verts 
de colore, ses sept langues se tordaient dans ses gueules ouvertes, et 
ses naseaux langaient du feu. Elle hurlait, battant le sol de sa queue 
et cherchait a d^couvrir qui I'avait reveill^e. Mais elle ne voyait pas 
Ti-Jean. Elle se rendormit bientot. Alors Ti-Jean prit sa baguette 
et trancha les sept tetes de la bete. Puis il coupa les sept langues, 
qu'il mit dans son mouchoir. II alia retrouver la princesse, et ils 
visit^rent ensemble le chateau des geants, qui 6tait rempli de grandes 
richesses. Dans la cave, ils trouverent des tonnes d'or et d'argent. 
Alors Ti-Jean remmena la princesse au roi son pere, qui fut grandement 
r^joui de voir sa fille. Ti-Jean lui dit: "Sire! j'ai delivre votre fille, et 
vous avez promis de la donner en mariage a celui qui la 
d^livrerait des grants." — "C'est vrai! r^pondit le roi, mais avant 
d'^pouser la princesse, il faut aussi qu'il tue la Bete-a-sept-tetes." 
Alors Ti-Jean lui presenta les langues: "Voici les sept langues de la 
bete, et son corps est dans la cour du chateau." Le roi envoya ses 
gardes au ch&teau des grants. Ils trouverent les grants morts et la 
b^te d^capitee dans la cour. Ils rapporterent chez le roi toutes les 
tonnes d'or et d'argent; et Ti-Jean fit envoyer une tonne d'or a ses 
parents. Le roi lui dit: "Tu peux epouser ma fille, mais tu es bien 
petit." On commenga de grands preparatifs pour le mariage. Le 
matin des noces, Ti-Jean se toucha avec sa baguette, en disant: "Je 
veux devenir un grand officier." Et soudain, il devint un grand 
officier blond, avec un uniforme chamarre d'or. II avait un grand 
chapeau de velours, galonne d'argent, avec une belle plume blanche, 
et il portait au c6t6 une epee d'or. Ti-Jean descendit dans la cour du 
chateau, et la princesse, en le voyant, se prit a I'aimer davantage. Le 
mariage eut lieu avec de grandes ceremonies, et Ti-Jean monta sur le 
trone, ou il regna longtemps avec bonheur. 

43. BATON-TAPE. ^ 

II etait, une fois, une pauvre famille qui souvent n'avait pas de 
quoi manger. Un jour, I'aine des enfants, qui etaient Pierre, Jacques 

* Appris par I'auteur, k Saint-Constant, LaPrairie, pendant son enfance. 



146 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

et Jean, dit a sa mere: "Je vais aller chercher de I'ouvrage, et je re- 
viendrai quand je serai riche." II partit done un beau matin. Pen- 
dant quelque temps, on n'entendit plus parler de lui. 

Un jour qu'il voyageait a pied sur la route, n'ayant plus qu'un 
morceau de pain, il rencontre une pauvre vieille qui lui demande le 
chemin et la charite. Pierre lui indique la route a suivre et lui donne 
son morceau de pain. Alors la vieille lui dit: "Je suis une f^e, et pour 
te r^compenser de ta charity, je te donne cette nappe blanche. Tu 
n'auras qu'a dire 'Nappe, mets la table!' et aussitot elle s'^tendra, 
couverte de toutes sortes de mets et de fruits. II en sera ainsi chaque 
fois que tu le souhaiteras." Pierre remercie la vieille, et, prenant la 
nappe, se hate de reprendre la route de la maison de ses parents. En 
chemin, il s'arrete a une auberge pour passer la nuit. Comme il 
avait en vie de souper, il prend sa nappe et dit: "Nappe, mets la 
table!" Aussitot la nappe s'^tend et se trouve couverte de mets 
succulents et de beaux fruits. L'aubergiste, qui I'avait vu, se leve 
pendant la nuit, et lui volant sa nappe, en met une autre a la place. 
Le lendemain, Pierre quitte Tauberge et arrive chez lui. A ses parents, 
tousheureuxdelerevoir, il dit: "Voici ce que je rapporte: une nappe 
merveilleuse qui met la table et se couvre elle-meme de mets et de 
desserts. Vous allez voir!" II prend sa nappe et prononce les mots: 
"Nappe, mets la table!" Mais la nappe reste pliee, et rien n'appa- 
ralt. Alors il examine la nappe et s'apergoit qu'on I'avait chang^e. 
"Ah! c'est l'aubergiste qui m'a vole ma nappe." 

Alors son frere Jacques dit: "Moi aussi je vais aller chercher for- 
tune, et je trouverai bien la nappe de Pierre." II part et marche 
longtemps, sans rien trouver. Un jour, il arrive sur le bord d'une 
riviere, ou etait assise une vieille femme toute courbee par I'age et la 
misere. Elle lui demande: "Voulez-vous m'aider a traverser la ri- 
viere?" Jacques I'aide a traverser la riviere. Quand elle est de 
I'autre cote, elle lui dit: "Je suis une fee, et pour vous recompenser, 
je vous donne cette poule." Elle lui donne une poule qu'elle avait 
sous son manteau. "Vous n'aurez qu'a dire: 'Poule, ponds-moi de 
I'or!' et elle pondra de I'or." Enchants du cadeau, Jacques remercie 
la fee et s'empresse de retourner chez ses parents. Mais, en chemin, 
il s'arrete pour la nuit a la meme auberge que Pierre. Le soir, apres 
souper, il monte a sa chambre et dit a sa poule: "Ponds-moi de I'or!" 
Et la poule lui pond trois ceufs d'or. II en donne un a l'aubergiste 
pour payer sa depense. Mais, ay ant vu la poule pondre de Tor, 
celui-ci se leve durant la nuit, vole la poule de Jacques et en met une 
autre a la place. Le lendemain, Jacques arrive chez ses parents. 
"Voyez ma poule, s'ecrie-t-il, elle pond de I'or. Regardez bien!" 
Posant sa poule sur la table, il lui dit: "Poule, ponds-moi de I'or!" 
Mais la poule se contente de branler la tete et chanter: "Caque-caque, 



Fables, Contes et Formules. 147 

canette!" sans pondre meme un sou. Et Jacques s'ecrie: "C'est 
I'aubergiste qui m'a vol6 ma poule." 

Alors Jean leur dit: "C'est mon tour, et je vais aller chercher fortu- 
ne." II part done et marche longtemps, sans rien trouver. Un 
jour, a la tombee du soir, il arrive a I'entree d'un bois, oil se tenait 
une vieille femme. Elle lui dit: "Mon cher petit, voulez-vous m'aider 
k traverser le bois? Car il fait noir, je ne vois pas bien clair et j'ai 
peur des voleurs." Alors Jean la prend par la main et la conduit 
jusqu'a I'autre cote du bois. Arrivee la, la vieille femme, se redres- 
sant, lui dit: "Je suis une f^e, et pour te r^compenser, je te fais un 
cadeau de ce baton. Tu n'auras qu'a dire: 'Baton, tape!' et aussitot 
il se mettra a taper sur qui tu voudras." Jean remercie la fee, et 
part avec son bdton pour la maison de ses parents. 

Le soir I'ayant surpris, il s'arrete a I'auberge dont lui avaient parl6 
ses freres. Le lendemain, avant de partir, il dit a I'aubergiste: "C'est 
vous qui avez vole la nappe de mon fr^re, la nappe qui met la table ?" 
— "Non, repond I'autre; je ne I'ai jamais vue." Mais Jean lui dit: 
"Vous allez me rendre la nappe ou je vais vous faire cogner par mon 
bdton." — "Je ne I'ai pas," reprend I'autre. "Soit, alors 'Baton, 
tape!' " Aussitot le baton s'abat sur les 6paules de I'aubergiste: 
"Bing, bang, pan, pan!" L'aubergiste se sauve, courant partout. 
Mais le baton le suit, frappant toujours: "Bing, bang, pan, pan!" Le 
pauvre homme devient tout meurtri de coups. II geint et se lamente 
en criant: "Arretez, arretez votre baton!" Jean lui repond: "Pas tant 
que vous n'aurez pas rendu la nappe de mon frere." Ereinte de coups, 
le corps meurtri, I'aubergiste enfin sort la nappe et la donne a Jean, 
qui arrete son baton. Puis Jean part et revient le soir suivant, pour 
passer la nuit. 

Le lendemain, au moment de partir, il dit a I'aubergiste: "Mainte- 
nant, vous allez me rendre la poule aux CEufs d'or, que vous avez vol^e 
k mon frere." — "Moi, je ne I'ai jamais vue." — "Oui, vous I'avez, 
et si vous ne me la donnez pas tout de suite, je vais vous faire cogner 
par mon baton." — "Non, non! je ne I'ai pas," crie I'aubergiste en se 
sauvant, tant il a peur du baton. Mais Jean crie: "Baton, tape!" 
et le baton court apres I'aubergiste, lui saute dans le dos et se met a lui 
taper sur les epaules "Bing, bang, pan, pan!" Le pauvre homme crie, 
hurle, se roule a terre, demandant grace et piti^. Mais le baton con- 
tinue de frapper: "Bing, bang, pan, pan!" A la fin, n'en pouvant plus, 
I'aubergiste va chercher la poule et la remet a Jean, qui arrete son 
baton et part joj^eux, avec la nappe et la poule, pour retourner chez ses 
parents. 

En chemin, il rencontre trois voleurs, qui lui disent: "Donne vite ta 
poule et tout ce que tu as, ou nous te pendons a la plus haute branche 
d'un arbre!" Mais Jean leur dit: "Laissez-moi passer! ou je vous fais 



148 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

massacrer de coups par mon baton." Les voleurs se mettent k rire: 
*'D6peche-toi! ou nous allons te pendre." Alors Jean crie: "Bdton, 
tape!" Et le baton part comme un ouragan. II s'abat comme la 
grele sur les epaules des voleurs, "Bing, bang, pan, pan!" Et il tape 
si fort et si dur qu'on aurait dit vingt batons: "Bing, bang, pan, pan!" 
Les voleurs 6pouvant^s s'enfuient, poursuivis par le b&ton,"Bing, bang, 
pan, pan!" Alors Jean rappelle son baton et continue sa route. En 
arrivant a la maison de ses parents, il leur dit: "J'ai tout rapports, la 
nappe, la poule et mon baton qui se met k cogner chaque fois que je 
le souhaite. Preparez la table, voici la nappe. 'Nappe, mets la ta- 
ble!' " Aussitotjla nappe s'^tend et se couvre de mets succulents et 
de beaux fruits. Puis il dit: "Poule, ponds-moi de I'or! " Et la poule 
pond trois oeufs d'or. 

Alors, c'est une grande rejouissance de se voir si riches. Les 
trois freres demeurent avec leurs parents, contents et heureux, jusqu'^ 
la fin de leurs jours. 

44. GILBERT ET LE ROL ^ 

Une fois se trouvaient un homme et une femme, qui vivaient bien 
pauvrement. Le mari en mourant laissa un fils qui s'appelait Gilbert. 
II n'^tait pas bien fin. II voulait aller k la messe, un jour. Sa m^re 
lui dit: "Tu es trop fou pour aller a la messe." Toujours il alia k la 
messe pareil. II sortit avant que la messe ftit finie, pensant que c'^tait 
tout. Et tout a coup, il rencontra la fiUe du roi. Cela lui fit une 
grande joie, vous comprenez bien. II I'aima du premier coup qu'il 
la vit: elle 6tait si belle! II arriva chez lui, et dit a sa mere: "Je veux 
epouser la fille du roi." Sa mere lui r^pondit: "II est vrai que tu 
devrais te marier; je commence a me faire vieille. Mais tu es bien trop 
fou, et tu n'arriveras pas aupres de la fille du roi pour I'^pouser." Sa 
mere lui conseilla tout de meme d'aller chercher un de ses amis, qui 
etait tres habile et bienveillant. "Tu lui diras qu'il te contredise sur 
tout ce que tu diras, et qu'il dise toujours plus que toi." 

Gilbert va chercher son ami. lis arrivent aupres du roi. Gilbert 
lui dit: "Je suis venu pour epouser votre fille." Le roi lui demande: 
"Es-tu bien riche en propriety?" Gilbert lui repond: "Nous avons 
une petite terre, pas tres riche." Son ami prend aussit6t la parole: 
"Ah! pas tres riche? Presque toute la ville lui appartient, tant il 
est riche." Le roi fait signe a sa fille que c'etait un bon, celui-1^, de 
I'^pouser. II demande encore a Gilbert: "As-tu une grosse agres^ 
d'agriculture." II repond: "C/ne petite agresJ' L'autre prend la 
parole: "Une petite agresf II a la plus belle agres d'agriculture au 

1 Racontd par Mile Antoinette Leduc, de Valley field, P Q., et recueilli le 23 
mai, 1915. 

2 Un gros agres, pour beaucoup de machines agricoles. 



Fables, Conies et FormuUs. 149 

monde. C'est Thomme le plus pourvu de la terre." Le roi dit encore 
k sa fille: "C'est le meilleur parti a prendre." Tout k coup, voyant 
qu'il avait pas mal gagne sa cause, Gilbert commence a se gratter. 
Le roi lui demande: "Qu'as-tu a te gratter?" Gilbert repond: "C'est 
un petit bouton que j'ai." Son ami prend la parole: "Ah! un petit 
bouton, ne m'en parlez pas! II est tout cousu de boutons." Le roi 
eut trop peur; il ne lui donna pas sa fille en mariage. 

45. LE PETIT BONHOMME-DE-GRAISSE. * 

II ^tait, une fois, une femme qui vivait seule dans un village, avec son 
petit gargon. Ce dernier ^tait toujours habill6 de blane. Comme 
il ^tait toujours tres propre, gras et joufflu, on I'appelait le petit 
Bonhomme-de-graisse. II se montrait aussi toujours trds poli et 
obligeant pour tout le monde. 

Dans le meme village residait une femme mechante et cruelle, 
qui ^tait toujours de mauvaise humeur. Elle avait' un petit gargon 
toujours mal habill^ et malpropre, et qui passait son temps a jouer 
des tours aux voisins. Tout le monde le d^testait. La mauvaise 
femme haissait le petit Bonhomme-de-graisse, parce qu'il 4tait si 
propre et si poli. 

Un jour, la mere du petit Bonhomme-de-graisse eut a se rendre au 
march^. Elle prit son grand panier et, en partant, dit k son petit 
gargon: "Sois bien sage durant mon absence, et surtout n'ouvre la 
porte a personne." L'enfant le promit,et elle partit pour le march^. 

La voyant passer dans la rue, la mauvaise femme se dit: "Bon! 
c'est le temps. Je vais me venger du petit Bonhomme-de-graisse." 
Aussitot elle prit un grand sac et se dirigea vers I'autre maison. Elle 
frappa a la porte: "Qui est la?" demanda le petit Bonhomme-de- 
graisse. La mechante femme, contrefaisant sa voix: "C'est une 
pauvre femme demandant la charite." Le petit Bonhomme-de- 
graisse, qui faisait toujours la charite, prit un morceau de pain et 
ouvrit la porte pour le donner a la qu^teuse. Mais la vieille se jeta 
sur lui et le mit dans son sac, en criant: "Ah! ah! c'est moi qui vaia 
te faire rotir." Elle reprit le chemin de sa maison. Deposant son 
sac, en route, elle s'arreta pour ramasser du bois, pour faire son feu. 
Aussitot le Bonhomme-de-graisse sortit du sac, y mit une grosse pierre 
k sa place, et se sauva chez sa m^re. La vieille remit le sac sur ses 
epaules, et trompee par le poids de la pierre, elle arriva chez elle et 
dit k son petit gargon: "Prepare la marmite, pour que j'y jette le 
petit Bonhomme-de-graisse." II decouvrit la marmite, et la vieille 
vida son sac dedans. Bang! la pierre tomba dans la marmite qu'elle 
brisa en morceaux. 

1 Appris par I'auteur durant sa jeunesse, h Saint-Constant, LaPrairie, P.Q. 



150 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

La vieille 6tait furieuse. Elle reprit aussitot son sac et se mit k 
courir vers la maison du petit Bonhomme-de-graisse, en marmottant: 
"Tu vas me payer Qa!" Qiiand elle arriva a la maison, elle frappa, en 
disant: "C'est une vieille qui demande la charite." Mais le petit 
Bonhomme-de-graisse n'ouvrit pas la porte. "Si tu ne m'ouvres pas 
la porte, je vais passer par la chemin^e." Le petit Bonhomme-de- 
graisse n'ouvrit pas la porte, et la m^chante femme grimpa sur le toit 
et descendit par la chemin^e dans la maison. Elle saisit le petit bon- 
homme et le mit dans son sac en disant: "Cette fois, tu ne m'^chapperas 
pas!" Elle rentra tout droit a sa maison, sans s'arreter a ramasser 
du bois. En arrivant, elle dit a son petit gargon: "Viens tenir le sac, 
pendant que je vais preparer mon couteau." Pendant qu'il tenait le 
sac, le petit Bonhomme-de-graisse lui dit: "Ouvre-rnoi un peu le sac 
et je vais te montrer un beau petit oiseau, que j'ai dans ma poche." 
Alors il ouvrit le sac et le petit Bonhomme-de-graisse sortit, poussa 
le petit gargon dans le sac, qu'il attacha avec un nceud, et il se sauva 
chez lui. Quand la mechante femme eut prepare son couteau, elle 
s'approcha du sac et donna dedans un grand coup de couteau. Quand 
elle ouvrit le sac, elle trouva son petit gargon mort. 

Alors elle devint furieuse, et, prenant son couteau, elle courut vers 
la maison du petit Bonhomme-de-graisse. Pendant ce temps, sa m^re 
etait revenue du marche, et il lui avait racont^ tout ce qui etait 
arrive. Sa mere plaga alors un grand chaudron dans la chemin^e, 
et le remplit d'eau bouillante. Quand la mechante femme arriva, 
elle frappa a la porte, en disant: "Ouvre-moi la porte, ou je passe 
par la chemin^e!" Mais le petit Bonhomme-de-graisse ne repondit 
pas. La vieille grimpa sur le toit et descendit dans la cheminee. 
Etouff^e par la vapeur de I'eau bouillante, elle tomba dans le chau- 
dron, od elle mourut. 

Et le petit Bonhomme-de-graisse, sage et propre, resta toujours avec 
sa m^re, vivant heureux, aime des voisins et de tout le village. 

46. ZACHARIE. * 

C'etait un soir. Dans une des belles soirees de I'Amerique du Nord, 
une troupe de brigands, repus de sang et de carnage, se r^unissait 
autour d'un feu. Tout a coup, le lieutenant se leva et s'^cria en ces 
termes: "Zacharie, mon bapteme!^ raconte-nous un de ces brillants 
faits d'armes qui font trembler les passants." 

Alors Zacharie se leva et commenga en ces termes: "C'etait un soir. 
Dans une des belles soirees de I'Amerique ... {et Von recommence la 
tirade indejiniment) . 

1 Raconte par le Dr A. Archambault, k Saint-Mathias, P.Q , le 23 mai, 1915. 

2 Juron canadien. 



Fables, Conies el For mules. 151 

47. FORMULE. ' 

Une fois, c'etait une petite. Elle s'en allait porter a diner a son 
pere. Elle avait une petite chaudi^re, marche, marchc, rencontre une 
petite barriere, met sa chaudiere a terre, saute la petite barriere, 
marche, marchc, arrive encore une petite barriere, met sa chaudiere a 
terre, saute la petite barriere, marche, marche, arrive une autre petite 
barriere, met sa chaudiere a terre, saute la petite barriere, etc . . . 
(indefiniment la meme chose.) 

1 Racontd par Mile Antoinette Leduc, de Valleyfield, le 23 mai, 1915. 



TABLE DES MATIERES. 



CONTES POPULAIRES CANADIENS. 
Par C.-Marius Barbeac. 

PAGE 

Preface 1 

Introduction 4 

Forme et style 6 

Themes ou traits mythologiques 8 

CoNTES MERVEILLEUX 25 

1. Les secrets du lion, de Tours et du loup 25 

2. Le Corps-sans-ame 27 

3. Le dragon de feu 31 

4. Ti-Jean et le cheval blanc 37 

5. Ti-Jean, les chevaux et la Bete-a-sept-tetes 41 

6. Ti-Jean et la chatte blanche 45 

7. Ti-Jean et la princesse rfes Sept-montagnes-vertes 49 

8. Les paroles de fleurs, d'or et d'argent 54 

9. Cendrillon 55 

10. Les qiiatre vents 57 

11. Le prince de I'Epee-verte 61 

12. Antoine et Josephine . 68 

13. Le conte de Parle 70 

14. Parlafine ou Petit-Poucet 76 

15. Petit-Jean-petit-bois 82 

16. La petite Capuche-bleue 84 

17. Les deux magiciens 87 

18. Ti-Jean commergant 89 

19. L'dne, la serviette et le biton 93 

CONTES PSEUDO-MERVEILLEUX 95 

20. Martineau-pain-sec 95 

21. Le conte de Pois-verts 99 

L^GENDES ET CONTES CHRETIENS 102 

22. Larrivee et son sac 102 

23. Pipette 105 

24. Cacholet 108 

25. Le diable et la bougie 110 

26. Le revenant Ill 



154 Table des matUrea. 

PA.aE 

C0NTE8 ROMANESQUES 112 

27. Les soeurs jalouses 112 

28. Jean-Parle 117 

29. L'eau de la fontaine de Paris 122 

Faceties 125 

30. Le conte de monsieur Michel Morin 125 

31. Michel Morm 126 

32. Le trepas de Michel Morin 131 

33. Ti-Pierre et Jacquehne 132 

34. Les cartes du nomme Richard . . 134 

35. Le reve des chasseurs 134 

36. Les Gascons et I'cDuf 135 

37. Minette m'a vol6 mes roulettes 135 

38. Formule (finale des contes) 136 

UN CONTE DE LA BEAUCE. 
Par Evelyn Bolduc. 

39. Dom Jean 137 

FABLES, CONTES et FORMULES. 
Par GusTAVE Lanct6t. 

40. Le loup et le renard 141 

41. Le conte du loup 141 

42. La Bete-^-sept-tetes 142 

43. Baton-tape 145 

44. Gilbert et le roi 148 

45. Le petit Bonhomme-de-graisse 149 

46. Zacharie 150 

47. Formule 151 



THE JOURNAL OF 

AMERICAN FOLK-LORE, 

Vol. XXIX.— APRIL-JUNE, 1916. — No. CXII. 



SOME SONGS TRADITIONAL IN THE UNITED STATES.' 

BY ALBERT H. TOLMAN. 

For some years the writer has been trying to get copies of the 
various songs to be found in this country in oral tradition. Some 
pupils have given friendly assistance, and most of the texts in his 
collection have been obtained by them. The material collected 
falls into four divisions, as follows: I. Older ballads (those in Child); 

II. Modern songs (excluding homiletic ballads and play-party songs) ; 

III. Homiletic ballads; IV. Play-party songs. The present paper 
will be concerned only with the first three of these divisions. 

Under each ballad are indicated all the American copies that have 
appeared in print, so far as these are known to the writer. Some 
recent English texts that are not in Child are also pointed out, but no 
attempt is made to enumerate them all. 

Four American scholars have published check-lists of the songs 
in their collections. These lists give valuable information, both 
positive and negative. A song not in Mr. Barry's list is sure not to 
be common in New England; one omitted from Professor Shearin's 
list cannot be common in the Kentucky mountains; one not mentioned 
in the list of Professor Belden can hardly be well known in Missouri, 
one not recorded by Professor Louise Pound is either unknown or 
rare in Nebraska and the Central West. If any ballad treated here 
is in one of these lists, the fact is indicated, unless reference is made 
instead to a published version of that collector.^ 

1 [At the suggestion of Professor Tolman I have added a number of notes and reference 
(distinguished by brackets). Since it is obvious that many of the songs and ballads now 
orally current in America have passed through print and owe their circulation in large 
part to broadsides and song-books, numerous citations of such ephemeral publications have 
here been made, — merely, however, as specimens, and with no attempt at exhaustiveness. 
I take this opportunity to express my gratitude to Mr. H. L. Koopman, Librarian of Brown 
University, for his kindness in facilitating my use of the recent American broadsides and 
the unrivalled assemblage of American "songsters" in the great Harris Collection be- 
longing to that institution. — G.L.K.] 

, 2 Professor Shearin's Syllabus is published by Transylvania University, Lexington, 
Ky.; Professor Pound's, by the Nebraska Academy of Sciences. 
VOL. XXIX. — NO. 112. — II. 155 



156 Journal of A merican Folk-Lore . 

The following modern British collections are cited in this paper by 
title: 

English County Songs, Lucy E. Broadwood and J. A. Fuller Maitland, 

London, 1893. 
English Folk-Songs, Wm. Alexander Barrett, London, n. d., Novello. 
English Minstrelsie, S. Baring-Gould, 8 vols., Edinburgh [1895 -j-]. (There 

are not many folk-songs in this collection.) 
Folk-Songs from Dorset, H. E. D. Hammond, London, 1908, Novello. 
Folk Songs from Somerset, Cecil J. Sharp and Charles L. Marson, five 

series, London, 1890-99. 
A Garland of Country Song, S. Baring-Gould and H. Fleetwood Sheppard, 

London, 1895, Methuen. 
Journal of the Folk-Song Society, 4 vols., London, 1 899-1 911. In progress. 
The Minstrelsy of England, Alfred Moffat and Frank Kidson, London, 

1901. (Not many folk-songs are included.) 
Songs of the West, S. Baring-Gould and others, London, 2d ed. 1905, 

Methuen. 
Traditional Tunes, Frank Kidson, Oxford, 1891. 

It is a matter of regret that the airs cannot be printed with the 
texts here given. The present revival of interest in the folk-songs 
in England has come about mainly through a warm appreciation 
of the value of the folk-melodies. But the present collector has 
obtained only a few airs, and he is ignorant of the value of those. 

The texts under Division I are arranged according to the numbers 
in Child's collection. In the case of any ballad of which a large 
number of American variants have already been published, it seems 
best not to print any text here, unless a copy has some very special 
interest. The texts given under II are placed in the alphabetical 
order of the titles. 

The spelling and punctuation have usually been normalized; but 
the intention has been to retain all words and forms that are expressive 
or characteristic. 

I am deeply grateful to Professor Kittredge for generous help in 
the preparation of this paper, and for his valuable annotations. 

1. OLDER SONGS 

(those in child's collection). 

4. LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT. 

American texts: Child iii, 496; this Journal, xviii, 132; xix, 232; xxii, 
65, 374; xxiii, 374; xxiv, 333, 344; xxvii, 90; xxviii, 148. Barry and Belden 
variants are included above. Shearin lists four variants, p. 7.^ 

> [Three copies from Virginia have been printed in The Focus (Farmville, Va.), iv, 
161-162, 212-214. The ballad may also be found in the Red, White and Blue Songster 
(New York, [1861]), pp. 212-213, and the American Songster (New York, Cozans), 
pp. 212-214 (both in the Brown University Library).] 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 157 

Recent English texts: Journal of Folk-Song Society, iv, 116; Folk Songs 
from Somerset, No. 84.^ 

I have two variants, one from Virginia, one from New York. They 
resemble Child's E version. 



12. LORD RANDAL. 

American texts: Child i, 163; this Journal, xiii, 115 + (4 variants); 
xvi, 258 + (Barry, 6 v.); xviii, 195 + (Barry, 17 v.), 303; xxii, 376; xxiv, 
345; Modern Language Notes, January, 1902, p. 6; Decennial Publications, 
University of Chicago, 1903, vol. vii, p. 140. See C. Alphonso Smith, 
Musical Quarterly, January, 1916, pp. 5, 19-20; Shearin, p. 7; Pound, 

p. 9-' 

Recent English texts: Folk Songs from Somerset, Nos. 23, 24; Journal 
of Folk-Song Society, ii, 14 +; iii, 43- A Garland of Country Song, 
No. 38.3 

1 have three variants, — from Indiana, Ohio, and Texas. The Indiana 
copy, obtained by Mr. O. B. Sperlin, now of Tacoma, Wash., has such a 
vigorous close, that all the versions in Child seemed to him to end weakly: — 

"Oh, what did you will to your sweetheart, 

Johnnie Ramble my son? 
Oh, what did you will to your sweetheart, 

My own dear little one?" 
"All hell and damnation, for to parch her soul brown; 

For she is the one that has caused me lie down." 

46. CAPTAIN WEDDERBURN's COURTSHIP. 
American texts of No. 46: this Journal, xxiii, 377; xxiv, 335 (Barry). 
Perry Merry Dictum Dominee (Allied to 46). 

This version was obtained from Miss Emma Schrader, Chicago, "as 
heard in Chebanse, 111., about 1880." Two other texts received agree 
closely. Belden, No. 142. 

Child prints an English version "from a manuscript assigned to the 
fifteenth century," also one that is more modern (i, 415 and note).* 

' [Cf. Kidson, Traditional Tunes, pp. 27-29,172; Gillington, Eight Hampshire Folk 
Songs, p. 4. The ballad is common in recent broadsides: see the following in the Harvard 
College Library, — 25242.2, fol. 218 (J. Catnach); 25242.10.5 (5); 25242.11.5, fol. 62 
(Disley, St. Giles); 25242.17, vol. viii, no. 126; 25242.26, fol. G, h (H. Such, no. 279).] 

2 [For other American copies see Focus, iii, 397 (December, 1913); iv, 51-52 (February, 
1914); iv, 100 (March, 1914); C. E. Means, Outlook, Ixiii, 121 (Sept. 9, 1899).] 

^ [See also Joyce, Old Irish Folk Music and Songs, 1909, pp. 394-395; Eriu, iii, 77; 
Gutch and Peacock, County Folk-Lore, v, 372 (from 8 N. & Q., vi, 427).] 

^ [See Mrs. Valentine, Nursery Rhymes, Tales, and Jingles, No. 304, pp. 1 71-172; 
[W. A. Wheeler], Mother Goose's Melodies, New York, 1877, pp. 53, 82-83; Folk-Lore 
Journal, 1885, iii, pp. 272-273; Miss M. H. Mason, Nursery Rhymes & Country Songs 
[1878], pp. 23-25 (2 copies); Baring-Gould, A Book of Nursery Songs and Rhymes, No. 
64, pp. 78-79 (cf. pp. 157-158); Crane, Baby's Bouquet.] 



158 Journal of American Folk- Lore. 

1. I had four brothers over the sea; 

Perry merry dictum dominee; 
And they each sent a present unto me. 
Partum quartum pere dicentum, 
Perry merry dictum dominee. 

2. The first sent me cherries without any stones; 

Perry, etc. 
The second sent a chicken without any bones. 
Partum, etc. 

3. The third sent a blanket that had no thread; 

The fourth sent a book that could not be read. 

4. When the cherries are in blossom, they have no stones; 

When the chicken's in the egg, it has no bones. 

5. When the blanket's in the fleece, it has no thread; 

Perry merry dictum dominee; 
When the book's in the press, it cannot be read. 
Partum quartum pere dicentum. 
Perry merry dictum dominee. 

49. THE TWA BROTHERS. 

American texts: Child, i, 443; this Journal, xxvi, 361. Shearin lists 
a variant called "Little Willie." Pound, p. 10. 

The following version is from O. B. Sperlin, Tacoma, Wash. It was 
learned in 1884 from William Costlow, near Kokomo, Ind., who "said that 
it was a true story, for he knew of some one who knew the family in which 
it occurred." 

1. Two little boys a-going to school. 

Two little boys they be, 
Two little boys a-going to school. 
To learn their A B C. 

2. One says, "Johnnie, will you toss a bail? 

Or will you throw a stone? 
Or will you wrastle along with me, 
As we are going home?" 

3. " Oh no," says Johnnie, " I'll not toss a ball, 

Nor either throw a stone. 
But I will wrastle along with you, 
As we are going home." 

4. So they wrastled up and they wrastled down. 

And they wrastled all around; 
A little pen-knife ran in Johnnie's heart. 
Which gave a deadly wound. 

5. " Oh, pick me up, my dearest little brother. 

And carry me to yonder tree; 
There I may lie, there I may die; 
Contented I shall be." 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 159 

73. LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET. 

American texts: Child iii, 509; this Journal, xviii, 128 (Barry, 2 variants); 
xix, 235 (Belden, 4 v.); xx, 254; xxviii, 152; Decennial Publications Uni- 
versity of Chicago, 1903, vol. vii, 140. Shearin lists 3 variants, p. 8. 
Pound, p. 11.^ 

An English variant with various tunes is in the Journal of Follc-Song 
Society, ii, 105.^ 

I have two copies from Virginia, two from Indiana, and one incomplete 
copy derived from Pennsylvania. It seems best to print here only the 
last of these. 

Lord Thomas and Fair Elendar. 

The only American version of this ballad in Child (reprinted from 
the Folk-Lore Journal, vii, 33, 1889) was taken "from the singing of a 
Virginian nurse-maid." Child speaks of "its amusing perversions." 
The most important perversion is the giving to "fair Ellinter" both 
the wealth and the beauty, so that "Lord Thomas" has no reason 
for choosing the brown girl, and his mother no reason for advising it. 
The following fragment shows that this form of the story had some 
currency. The fragment was obtained from Mrs. Deborah Stone, 
Winfield, Kan., in 1897. She learned it about 1840 from a school- 
teacher from Pennsylvania. 

1. Lord Thomas he was a bold biler, sir, 

A biler, sir, was he; 
Fair Elendar being an accomplished young^Jady, 
Lord Thomas he loved her dear/y, dear/y. 
Lord Thomas he loved her dear/y. 

2. "Go read me a riddle, dear mother," said he, 

"Go riddle it all in wool; 
It's whether I'll make fair Elendar my bride. 
Or bring me the brown girl home, home, home, 
Or bring me the brown girl home." 

3. "Fair Elendar she has houses and lands. 

The brown girl she has none; 
Before I'll be bothered with such a great peasant. 
Go bring me the brown girl home, home, home. 
Go bring me the brown girl home." 



' [Other American texts are printed in Forget Me Not Songster (New York, Nafis & 
Cornish), p. 236; Outlook, Ixiii, 120 (Sept. 9, 1899); Berea Quarterly, vol. ix, no. 3, 
pp. lo-ii (April, 1905); Focus, iii, 204-206 (May, 1913); iv, 162 (April, 1914).] 

- [See also Leather, Folk-Lore of Herefordshire, 1912, pp. 200-202. The Harvard 
College Library has several broadside copies: 25242.5.5 (169); 25242.11.5, fol. s; 25242.17, 
vol. viii, no. 127 (Catnach), vol. ix, no. 237 (Bebbington, Manchester), and probably 
others.] 



i6o Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

74. FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM. 

American texts: Child, v, 293; this Journal, xix, 281 (Belden); xxiii, 381; 
xxviii, 154. Shearin lists four variants, p. 8. C. Alphonso Smith prints 
two melodies, Musical Quarterly, January, 1916, p. 18. 

English texts: Journal of Folk-Song Society, ii, 289; iii, 64; Hammond, 
Folk-Songs from Dorset, p. 31. 

I mention this ballad only to call attention to an excellent version 
from Kentucky which Mr. Julian Ralph brings into a short story, 
" The Transformation of Em Durham," in " Harper's Monthly Maga- 
zine," July, 1903, p. 272. 

75. LORD LOVEL. 

American texts: this Journal, xviii, 291 (Barry, 2 variants); xix, 283 
(Belden, 2 v.). See C. Alphonso Smith, Musical Quarterly, January, 1916, 
p. 5. Shearin lists one text, p. 8, "Lord Lovely." One is reported by 
Child, V, 294. Pound, p. 9. 

I have two variants, — one from Virginia; one, " Lord Lover," from Ohio.^ 

84. BONNY BARBARA ALLEN. 

American texts: this Journal, vi, 132; xix, 285 (Belden, 6 variants); 
XX, 150; xxii, 63; xxviii, 144 (2 v.; in the second, " Barbry Allen" is a man). 
C. Alphonso Smith, Musical Quarterly, January, 1916, pp.4, 12-14, 20-21. 
Shearin lists six variants, p. 8. Barry, some years ago, had "six melodies," 
certainly representing a number of texts. Pound, p. g} 

1 [A Virginian copy is given in The Focus, iv, 215-216 (May, 1914). The ballad has 
often been printed in America: for example, in The New Song Book (Hartford, Conn., 
1836), pp. 20-21; The Singer's Own Book (Woodstock, Vt., 1838), p. 9; The New Pocket 
Song Book (New York, Leavitt & Allen [ca. i860]), p. 20; Beadle's Dime Songs of the 
Olden Time (New York, copyright, 1863), pp. 13-14; Guiding Star Songster (New York, 
copyright, 1865), pp. 84-85; New York, broadside ca. 1855, J. Andrews, list 4, no. 84; 
New York, broadside ca. i860, H. de Marsan. There are five MS. American copies among 
the Child MSB. in the Harvard College Library. For specimens of recent English broad- 
side texts see (in the same library) Child Broadsides, Such, no. 253; 25242.17, vol. ix, no. 12 
(Manchester, Bebbington). Cf. Davidson's Universal Melodist, i, 148; 11 N. & Q., 
V, 115, 171, 217, 296; Sarah Hewett, Nummits and Crummits, 1900, pp. 188-190. For 
the comic version "as sung bj' Sam Cowel" see broadside in Harvard College Library 
25242.28.] 

2 [For other American texts from singing or recitation see Harper's Magazine, June, 
1888; University of Virginia Magazine, April, 1913, pp. 329-335; Focus, iii. 445-447 
(January, 1914), iv, joi-102 (March, 1914), 160-161 (April, 1914). Most of the texts of 
this ballad current in the United States have undoubtedly passed through print. Ex- 
amples of printed American copies are: The Southern Warbler, Charleston, S.C., 1845, 
PP- 275-276; The Virginia Warbler, Richmond, 1845, pp. 275-276; The Pearl Songster, 
N.Y., C. P. Huestis, 1846, pp. 104-106; Forget Me Not Songster, N.Y., Nafis & Cornish. 
p. 142; Forget-Me-Not Songster, Philadelphia, Turner & Fisher, pp. 129-130; Beadle's 
Dime Songs of the Olden Time, N. Y., copyright 1S63, pp. 38-40; broadside, N.Y., H. J. 
Wehman, no. 395, as late as 1880 (Harvard College Library, 25241.29). Examples of 
recent English broadsides (same library) are: (i) 25242.17, vol. v, no. 112, probably Cad- 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. i6i 

English texts: Folk Songs from Somerset, No. 22; Journal of the Folk- 
Song Society, i, in, 265-267; ii, 15 +; Minstrelsy of England, p. 132. 

The rose-and-brier conclusion is common in the texts of this song, though 
somewhat inappropriate. 

I have four texts, — one each from Virginia and Illinois, and two from 
Indiana. The first of these is printed below.^ 

Barbara Ellen. 

The following text comes through Miss Emma F. Pope, Petersburg, 
Va., from Mrs. Eubank, Ashland, Va. Taken down by her grand- 
daughter. 

The triple parallelism with climax In stanzas 3-5 Is noteworthy. 

I. ",In Scotland was I bred and born; 
In Yorkshire was my dwelling; 
And there I fell in love with a pretty fair maid, 
And her name was Barbara Ellen. 

2. "I sent a boy down to her house. 

To the house that she did dwell in; 
I sent him to her father's house. 
Her name was Barbara Ellen." ^ 

3. "Look up, look up at my bed-head, 

You'll see a napkin hanging; 
In that you'll find a gold watch and chain. 
And that's for Barbara Ellen. 

4. "Look down, look down at my bed-foot. 

You'll see a trunk a-standing; 
It's full of gold and jewelry. 
And that's for Barbara Ellen. 

5. "Look down, look down at my bed-side, 

You'll see a bowl o'erflowing; 
And in that bowl there's my heart's blood. 
That's shed for Barbara Ellen." 

6. So slowly she put on her clothes; 

So slowly she went walking; 

So slowly, as she crossed the field, 

She met the corpse a-coming. 

man (equivalent to Child's A); (2) same, vol. v, no. 163, Catnach (a later form of 
Child's B); (3) same, vol. ix, no. 201, Bebbington, Manchester (same text as i); (4) 
same, vol. xii, no. 53 = Child Broadsides, Such, no. 208 (same text as 2). The broadside 
formerly belonging to Percy (Child's Be) is 25245.36, vol. i, fol. 12.] 

1 [This resembles in some respects the version in Buchan's MSS. and Motherwell's 
MS. reported by Child, ii, 276, but is very different.] 

2 There seems to be an omission between stanzas 2 and 3, though none is indicated in 
the type-written copy before me. 



i62 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

7. "Oh, lay him down, oh, lay him down, 

That I may gaze upon him." 
The more she gazed, and still she gazed, 
She could not keep from smiling. 

8. The young men cried out, "Oh fie! for shame 

Hard-hearted Barbara Ellen! 
There's many a wealthy squire died 
For cruel Barbara Ellen." 

9. She went down into yonder vale; 

She could hear the dead-bell's knelling 
And every toll it seemed to say, 
"Hard-hearted Barbara Ellen!" 

10. "Oh, father, father! dig my grave, 

And dig it deep and narrow; 
For a young man died for me to-day, 
I'll die for him to-morrow." 

11. On the one was buried a red rose bud, 

[On] the other, a sweet brier; 
And they grew and they grew to the church-steeple top. 

Till they could grow no higher. 
There they twined in a true-lover's knot. 

For all true lovers to admire. 

93. LAMKIN. 

American texts: Child, v, 295; we learn about another American variant 
at iii, 515; this Journal, xiii, 117. 

English texts: Journal of Folk-Song Society, i, 212; ii, 11 1.^ 

False Lambkin. 

This version was obtained through Miss Mary O. Eddy from Miss 
Jane Goon, both of Perrysville, O. It is the only full American 
version that I know of .^ 

1. False Lambkin was a mason. 

As good as ever laid stone; 
He built Lord Arnold's castle. 
And the Lord paid him none. 

2. False Lambkin he swore 

That revenged he would be 
On Lord Arnold's castle. 
Or on his family. 

1 [Also Leather, Folk-Lore of Herefordshire, 1912, pp. 199-200. "Lamkin" occurs 
among broadsides issued by Pitts (Harvard College, 25242.2, fol. 162; cf. 25242.7, p. 55, 
and 25242.25, p. 52).] 

2 [A version from Michigan in the MS. collection of Mr. Bertrand L. Jones closely re- 
sembles this text. Mr. Jones prints the first stanza of his copy in the Kalamazoo Normal 
Record, May, 1914 (Western State Normal School, Kalamazoo).] 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 163 

3. Said the Lord to his Lady, 

"I'm going from home; 
And what would you do, 

If False Lambkin should come?" 

4. "Oh, I fear not False Lambkin, 

Nor more of his kind; 
For I'll keep my doors fastened, 
And my windows pinned in." 

5. So she kept her doors fastened. 

And her windows pinned in. 
All except one kitchen window, 
Where Lambkin came in. 

6. "Oh, where is Lord Arnold? 

Is he not at home?" 
"No; he['s] gone to old Ireland 
To^see his dear son." 

7. "Oh, where is his Lady? 

Has she gone along?" 
"No; she's in her chamber. 
Where no man can get in." 

8. "Oh, what shall I do, 

That I may get in?" 
"You must pierce this little babe's heart 
With your silver bodkin." 

9. So he pierced the little babe's heart, 

Till the blood did spin 
Out into the cradle. 
So falsely she did sing: 

10. "Oh, hushy-by baby. 

Oh, what aileth thee? 
Come down, loving mistress; 
Oh, come down and see." 

11. "Oh, how can I come down 

So late in the night, 
When there is no moon a-shining, 
Nor stars to give light?" 

12. "Oh, your [you've?] seven bright lanterns, 

As bright as the sun. 

Come down, loving mistress; 

Oh, come down by one." 

13. She had not advanced 

But steps two or three. 
Till she spied False Lambkin 
A-standing close by. 



164 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

14. "Oh, spare me, False Lambkin; 

And I will go back, 
And get you all the money 
You can carry in your sack." 

15. "I want none of your money, 

Nor nothing that I know. 
That will spare this bright sword 
From your neck white as snow." 

16. "Oh, spare me. False Lambkin; 

Oh, spare me one hour; 
And ril call down daughter Betsey, 
The queen of the bower." 

17. "Go, call down daughter Betsey, 

So neat and so clean. 
To hold the silver basin 
To catch your blood in." 

18. "Daughter Betsey, stay up 

In your chamber so high. 
Till you see your dear father 
In a ship sailing nigh." 

19. Daughter Betsey staid up 

In her chamber so high, 
Till she saw her dear father 
In a ship sailing nigh. 

20. When Lord Arnold came to the castle 

And opened the door, 
He saw his companion 
Lying dead on the floor. 

21. False Lambkin was hung 

On a gallows so high; 
And the false nurse was burnt 
To a stake standing by. 

155. SIR HUGH, OR, THE JEW's DAUGHTER. 

American texts: G, H, and N in Child were obtained in the United States; 
H. E. K[rebhiel] printed three variants with the music in the N. Y. Tribune, 
Sunday, Aug. 17, 1902 (one reprinted in this Journal, xv, 195); this Journal, 
xix, 293 (Belden, 2 variants); The University of Virginia Magazine, Decem- 
ber, 1912, p. 115; C. Alphonso Smith, Musical Quarterly, January, 1916, 
15-16 (3 melodies and the text last indicated). Shearin lists 2 variants, p. 8.^ 

English texts: Folk Songs from Somerset, No. 68; Journal of Folk-Song 
Society, i, 264.^ 

' [A text in The Focus, iii, 396-397, 399 (December, I9i3),is closely related to that 
printed below.] 

2 [Baring-Gould, A Book of Nursery Songs and Rhymes, 1895, no. 76, pp. 92-95; 
Gutch and Peacock, County Folk-Lore, v, 382, 384-386.] 



Some So?igs Traditional in the United States. 165 

[The Jewish Lady.] 

This version came through Mrs. Pearl H. Bartholomew from Mrs. Flo 
Keller, both of Warren, Ind. 

1. It rained a mist, it rained a mist, 

It rained all over the land; 
Till all the boys throughout the town 
Went out to toss their ball, ball, ball, 
Went out to toss their ball. 

2. At first they tossed their ball too high, 

And then again too low, 
Till over in the Jewish garden it fell, 
Where no one was darst to go, go, go. 
Where no one was darst to go. 

3. Out came a Jewish lady, 

All dressed so gay and fine. 
"Come in, my pretty little boy," she said, 
"And you shall have your ball, ball, ball, 
And you shall have your ball." 

4. At first she showed him a yellow apple dish,i 

And a gay gold ring. 
And then a cherry as red as blood, 
To entice this little boy in, in, in, 
To entice this little boy in. 

5. She took him by his little white hand, 

And led him through the hall, 
And then unto a cellar so deep. 

Where no one could hear him lament, lament, 
Where no one could hear him lament. 

6. "If any my playmates should call for me, 

You may tell them that I'm asleep; 
But if my mother should call for me. 

You may tell her that I am dead. 
And buried with a prayer-book at my feet, 

And a bible at my head, head, head. 

And a bible at my head." 

[Mr. S. M. Clement gave me the following copy in March, 1914, 
with this note: "The following ballad was taken down by me, exactly 
as sung by Mr. Ludlow S. Bull (Yale, 1907). He told me, when he 
gave me the words, that he had never seen them in print, but that 
his mother had often sung them to him when he was a child. She 
in turn had heard them sung to her by her mother. I think the 
family lived in Connecticut originally." — G. L. K.] 

1 Or dish apple. 



i66 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

[The Jew's Maiden.] 

1. There was a little boy, 

Who tossed his ball so high; 
There was a little boy, 

Who tossed his ball so low ; 

2. He tossed his ball so low. 

He tossed his ball so high. 
He tossed it into a merry Jew's garden, 
Where all the Jews do lie. 

3. Then out came a merry Jew's maiden, 

All dressed up in green; 
"Come here, come here, my little boy. 
And fetch your ball again." 

4. She enticed him with an apple. 

She enticed him with a pear. 
She enticed him with a cherry red, 
And so she enticed him there. 

5. She led him through the garden, 

She led him through the hall, 
She led him through the kitchen, 
Amid the servants all. 

6. She sat him on a chair of gold 

And gave him sugar sweet; 
She laid him on the dresser 
And killed him like a sheep. 

7. She took him to the bedroom 

And laid him on the bed; 
She put a bible at his feet 

And a prayer-book at his head. 

8. She put a prayer-book at his head 

And a bible at his feet; 
And all the people that passed by 
Thought the little boy was asleep. 

274. OUR GOODMAN.^ 

An American text was printed by Mr. Barry in this Journal, xviii, 294. 
C. Alphonso Smith, Musical Quarterly, January, 1916, pp.4, 16-18 (3 melo- 
dies and a fragment). 

^ [The currency of one or another form of the ballad in print must have been consider- 
able. In modern broadsides it is called "The Unhappy Couple" (Harvard College 
Library, 25242.4, vol. i, p. 98, C. Croshaw, York; same in 25242.24, p. 93) or "The Merry 
Cuckold and Kind Wife" (see Harvard 25243.3, fol. 117). Cf. Robert Ford, Vagabond 
Songs and Ballads of Scotland, ii, 31-36 (with mention of "Cousin Mackintosh"). Cf. 
John Gait, The Entail, ch. 72 (Works ed. Meldrum, Edinb., 1895, iii, 119): "As blin' as 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 167 

A noteworthy English version is No. 30, "Old VVitchet," in Songs of the 
West (Devon and Cornwall), collected by S. Baring-Gould and others, 
2d ed., 1905, Methuen. 

I have a text taken down in Kansas from a Mrs. Ferguson, who was 
born in Scotland. 

II. MODERN SONGS 

(excluding homiletic ballads and play-party songs). 

Most of the ballads in this division of the paper are believed to be 
of British origin. Usually the existence of one or more British texts 
makes the fact certain, regardless of internal evidence. But the 
following songs, printed in full or commented upon in this section, 
are supposed to have originated in America, presumably in the United 
States : — 

Jesse James. An Old Man Came to See Me (?) 

The Lazy Man. Springfield Mountain. 

The Little Family (?) Young Charlotte. 
McAfee's Confession. 

BALLAD OF THE THREE. 

In Miss Pound's list, p. 77. 

This ballad is given as sung by Benjamin Crisler, deceased, to his 
children from fifty-five to seventy years ago. Mr. Crisler was born 
in Boone County, Kentucky. "The last verse, entirely forgotten, 
explained how the three could have been saved if they had been able 
to sing." ^ 

This text was contributed by Miss Marietta Crisler, 2976 So. Park 
Avenue, Chicago. 

the silly blind bodie that his wife gart believe her gallant's horse was a milch cow sent frae 
her minny." As to the currency of the ballad in New England, see Whittier's essay 
"Yankee Gypsies," in which "a wandering Scotchman" sings part of it. The piece 
printed by Child (v, 95), " 'Twas on Christmas Day," was further developed as a combined 
song and recitation by E. J. B. Box, and his version ("Christmas Nuptials; or. Matri- 
monial Discipline") is given (with an illustration by Cruikshank) in Davidson's Uni- 
versal Melodist, Lond., 1834, iii, 65.] 

> [There never was any such last stanza as that which Professor Tolman's informant says 
was forgotten. The text is merely an imperfect copy of a song once very familiar to 
college men and others. Its familiarity is oddly attested by the fact that the student song 
"Gin Sling" is to be sung to the tune of "Good Old Colony Times "according to Henry 
Randall White, Carmina Collegensia, Boston, cop. 1868, p. 24. For the correct text of 
"Good O. C. Times" see Edward W. White, The Boston Melodeon, vol. ii, cop. 1852, 
pp. 207-208. An English version is given by Sarah Hewett ("The Devil and the Tailor"), 
in Nummits and Crummits, Devonshire Customs, Characters, and Folk-Lore, 1900, 
p. 2i8 (it begins, "'Twas in King Henry's time").] 



1 68 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

1. In the good old colony times, 

When we were under the king, 
Three roguish chaps fell into_mishaps, 

Because they could not sing, 

Because they could not sing. 
Three roguish chaps fell into mishaps, 

Because they could not sing. 

2. And one he was a miller, 

And one he was a weaver, 
And one he was a little tailor; 

Three roguish chaps together, 

Three roguish chaps together. 
And one he was a little tailor; 

Three roguish chaps together. 

3. The miller he stole flour, 

The weaver he stole yarn, 
And the little tailor he stole broadcloth, 

To keep the three rogues warm, 

To keep the three rogues warm. 
And the little tailor he stole broadcloth. 

To keep the three rogues warm. 

4. The miller was drowned in his flour; 

The weaver was hung in his yarn; 
And the sheriff" got his paw on the little tailor. 

With his broadcloth under his arm, 

With his broadcloth under his arm. 
And the sheriff got his paw on the little tailor, 

W'ith his broadcloth under his arm. 

THE BRAMBLE BRIAR. ^ 

American texts: this Journal, xx, 258; Belden, The Sewanee Review, 
April, 191 1 ; Shearin, The Sewanee Review, July, 191 1. Barry, No. 49.' 

English texts: a broadside in Belden's article (above); Journal of theFolk- 
Song Society, ii, 42; Folk Songs from Somerset, No. 12. 

I have a not very lucid copy from Ohio, of which I print only the opening 
stanza. 

' [An H. J. Wehman broadside, no. 768, New York, is in the Harvard College Library.] 
' [The general resemblance to Decameron, iv, s (Keats's" Isabella") is obvious, but it is 
doubtful if there is any historical connection, for the song lacks the real point of the story 
(see this Journal, xx, 258). "The Constant Farmer's Son" is also in Journal of the 
Folk-Song Society, i, 160-161, and in Miss Broadwood, English Traditional Songs and 
Carols, 1908, pp. 28-29 (cf. p. 116); see Songs of the West, iv, p. xxxiii. Harvard College 
has several broadsides of "The Constant Farmer's Son:" — 25242.11.5, fol. no (duplicate 
in 25242.17, vol. vii, no. 86); 25242.17, vol. ii, no. 167 (Forth, Printer, Pocklington; 
duplicate in vol. iv, no. 211); vol. iv, no. 58 (J. Gilbert, Newcastle); vol. v, no. 32 (J. 
Cadman, Manchester, no. 415); vol. vii, no. 46; vol. xii, no. 140 (H. Such, no. 295), and 
probably others.) 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 169 

In portly town there lived a merchant, 

Who had two sons and a daughter fair, 
And a prentice fond from a far intender. 

Who plowed the victories all over the main. 

THE butcher's BOY. 

The following was obtained by Miss Mary O. Eddy from Miss Jane 
Goon, both of Perrysville, O. Shearin's text (p. 24) lays the scene in New 
York; Barry's (No. 41), "in London city;" Belden's (No. 21), as here. 
Pound, p. 18.^ 

There is an English version in the Journal of the Folk-Song Society, 
ii, 159. It seems strange that this should begin, "In Jessie's city, oh, 
there did dwell." 

I. New Jersey cit[y] where I did dwell, 
A butcher's boy I loved so well; 
He courted me my heart away, 
And then with me he would not stay. 

2. There is a man in this same town. 
Where my love goes and sits him down. 
And there he takes strange girls on his knee. 
And tells to them what he did to me. 

3. It's grief and pain to tell you why: 
Because they had more gold than I. 

But in time of need she will be as poor as I. 

4. I went upstairs to make my bed, 
And nothing to my mother said. 
My mother she came up to me; 

"Oh, what['s] the matter, my daughter dear?" 

5. O mother dear, it's, don't you know, 
It's grief and pain and sorrow, woe. 
Go get me a chair to sit me on, 

A pen and ink to write it down; 
And every line she dropped a tear, 
Calling home her Willie dear, 

6. And when her father he came home, 
He says: "Where's my daughter gone?" 
He went up stairs, the door he broke; 
And there she hung upon a rope. 

7. He took his knife and cut her down. 
And in her breast these words he found: 
"Oh! what a silly maid was I, 

To hang myself for a butcher's boy! 

1 [Barry prints the tune in this Journal, xxii, 78. See also Belden, this Journal, xxv, 13. 
A Virginian version of the words was published by Mr. W. H. Babcock in Folk-Lore, 
vii, 32.] 



170 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

8. " Go dig my grave both wide and deep, 
Place marble stone at my head and feet, 
And on my breast a turtle dove. 
To show this world that I died for love." ^ 

["The Butcher Boy," almost word for word identical with the text 
here printed, is found in an American broadside of about i860 (H. de 
Marsan, New York, Harvard College, 25242.5.5 [138]). It was 
No. 8 in de Marsan 's list No. 7,^ and also in a New York broadside 
of 1880-90 ("Henry J. Wehman, Song Publisher," No. 302, Harvard 
College, 25241.29). The same piece is in "Journal of Folk-Song 
Society," 11, 159-160. For the last four stanzas see "Early, Early all 
in the Spring" (" Journal of Folk-Song Society," 11, 293-294). 

The piece appears to be an amalgamation of "The Squire's 
Daughter "^ (also known as "The Cruel Father, or. Deceived Maid" *) 
with "There is an Alehouse in Yonder Town" (well known as a 
student song in this country under the title "There is a Tavern in 
the Town").^ 

An absurdly confused (but quite singable) piece, "The Rambling 
Boy," ^ concludes as follows: — 

My father coming home at night, 
And asked for his heart's delight, 
He ran up stairs the door he broke 
And found her hanging in a rope. 

He took a knife and cut her down, 
And in her bosom a note was found. 
Dig me a grave both wide and deep, 
And a marble stone to cover it.^] 

1 These last four lines also conclude other English songs. See Journal of Folk-Song 
Society, ii, 158-159; iii, 188. 

2 The Brown University collection of Andrews and de Marsan broadsides has the list, 
from which the number can be ascertained. 

^ [Early nineteenth-century English broadside in Harvard College Library, 25242.5.5 
(147), no. 7 ("W. Shelmerdine & Co. Printers, Manchester").] 

^ [Early nineteenth-century slip in Harvard College Library, 25242.2, fol. 65.] 

^ [Journal of the Folk-Song Society, i, 252-253; ii, 168-169; Leather, Folk-Lore of Here- 
fordshire, pp. 205-206 ("A Brisk Young Sailor"); cf. Kidson, Traditional Tunes, pp. 44- 
46; Broadwood, Traditional Songs, pp. 92-95.] 

^ [Pitt's broadside (Harvard College Library, 25242.2, fol. 120); cf. "I am a Rover" 
(Kidson, pp. 147-148). For the last stanza of "The Butcher Boy" see also Journal of 
the Folk-Song Society, ii, 158; iii, 188.] 

^ [Cf. a somewhat similar stanza (6) in " The Sailor's Tragedy" (this Journal, x.xvi, 177). 
To the references there given add: The Universal Songster, London, 1834, ii, 273; The 
Lover's Harmony, London, {ca. 1840), p. 278; Gavin Greig, Folk-Song of the North-East, 
Peterhead, 1914, no. cxxx.] 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 171 

COMMON BILL.l 

A fuller version is given in " English County Songs," p. 52. A text 
in this Journal, xxviii, 173. Perhaps named by Shearin, p. 29. Pound, 
p. 61. Obtained by Mrs. Pearl H. Bartholomew from Mrs. E. A. Thurs- 
ton, both of Warren, Ind. 

1. I will tell you of a fellow. 

Of a fellow I have seen. 
Who is not only a little verdant. 
But is altogether green.. 

2. And his name it isn't charming, 

For it's only Common Bill; 
And he wishes me to wed him, 
But I hardly think I will. 

3. He was here last night to see me. 

And he made so long a stay, 
I began to think the blockhead 
Never meant to go away. 

4. While the tears the creature wasted 

Were enough to turn a mill, 
As he begged me to accept him; 
But I hardly think I will. 

5. I am sure I wouldn't choose him; 

But the very deuce is in it; 
He says, if I refuse him, 

That he couldn't live a minute. 

6. And you know the blessed Bible 

Plainly says we must not kill; 
So I have thought the matter over. 
And I rather think I will. 

DOG AND GUN .2 

Cited under this title in Barry, No. 38, and in Belden, No. 45 

' [There is a sort of counterpart (imitated from this piece) entitled "I hardly think I 
can," in which a man speaks (N. Y. broadside, H. de Marsan, ca. 1863, list 16, no. 48 
(Brown University).] 

2 [Also known as "The Golden Glov-e" and "The Squire of Tamworth." Often 
printed: see Vocal Library, p. 571; Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the 
Peasantry of England, Percy Society, 1846, pp. 106-108; same, as issued by Robert Bell, 
1857, pp. 70-72, and later (under the title of Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of 
England), pp. 70-72; Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, ii, 114-115; Burne, Shrop- 
shire Folk-Lore, pp. 552-553; Addy, Household Tales, etc., pp. 146-147 (re- 
printed thence in County Folk-Lore, vi, 182-183); garland in a collection formerly 
belonging to Heber, Harvard College, 25252.6, no. 14 ("The Golden Glove's Garland . . . 
Licen[s]ed and Entered according to Order"); Garland, Harvard College, 25276.19, vol. iv, 
nos. I and 10 ("Five Favourite Songs. Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers"); broadsides, 
VOL. XXIX. — NO. 112. — 12. 



172 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

(cf. this Journal, xxv, 12).^ The title in Shearin, p. 11, is "The 
Golden Glove." 

An English text is in "Traditional Tunes," p. 49. The song "has 
been much sung in all parts of the country." 

The present text was obtained for me from Mrs. Deborah Stone, 
Winfield, Kan., in 1897. It was learned by her in Pennsylvania 
in 1842. 

1. The wealthy young squire of Yarmouth of late, 
He courted a fair lady of very great estate; 
And for to be married it was their intent; 
Their friends and relations had gave their consent. 
And for to be married it was their intent; 
Their friends and relations had gave their consent. 

2. The day was appointed the wedding to be; 
They called a young farmer to give her away. 
But instead of being married she took to her bed, 
The thoughts of the farmer still run in her head. 
But instead, etc. 

3. The thoughts of the farmer run so in her mind, 
And the way for to get him she quickly did find; 
Both waistcoat and breeches this lady put on. 
And away she went a-hunting with her dog and gun. 

4. She hunted all around where the farmer did dwell, 
For 'twas all in her heart that she loved him so well. 
She often did fire, but nothing could kill; 

Till at length the young farmer came into the field. 

5. "Why ain't you at the wedding?" this lady she cried, 
"To wait upon the squire and hand him his bride?" 
"Well, now," says the farmer, " if the truth I must tell, 
I can't give her away, for I love her too well." 

6. "Supposing this lady would grant you her love, 
And supposing the squire your ruin would prove?" 
"Well," said the farmer, "I'd take sword in hand, 
And by honor I would gain her, my life at his command." 

7. It pleased this lady to see him so bold; 

She gave him a glove that was garnished with gold. 
She said that she had found it as she came along. 
As she was a-hunting with her dog and gun. 

Harvard College — 25242.17, vol. iii, no. 128 (Forth, Pocklington) ; vol. iv, no. 115 (John 
Gilbert, Newcastle-on-Tyne); vol. v, no. 52 (J. Cadman, Manchester); vol. vii, no. 15 
(J. Catnach); vol. ix, no. 71 (John O. Bebbington, Manchester); vol. xii, no. 11 (H. Such).] 
1 [An American broadside of the early nineteenth century is in the Harvard College 
Library, 25242.5.10 (211). I have a New England copy (in MS.) the oral tradition of which 
reaches to a date before 1823.] 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 173 

8. This lady went home with her heart full of love, 
And gave out a proclamation that she'd lost her glove; 
"And the man that will find it and bring it to me, 
Oh, the man that will find it, his bride I will be." 

9. It pleased this farmer to hear all the news; 
Straightway to this lady the farmer he goes. 
Saying, "Dear honored lady, I've picked up your glove; 
And will you be pleased to grant me your love?" 

10. "It's already granted," this lady she cried; 

"I love the sweet breath of the farmer," she replied; 
"I'll be mistress of his dairy and milker of his cows, 
While my jolly young farmer goes whistling to his plows. 
I'll be mistress," etc. 

Barry prints only the following couplet: 

Then after she was married, she told of the fun. 
How she hunted the farmer with her dog and gun. 

FATHER GRUMBLE. 

This title is given by Miss Pound to her text in this Journal, xxvi, 
365-366. See full information there given by Professor Kittredge.^ 
No. 50 in Belden, "Darby and Joan," is this story. 

{a) [The- Old Man.] 

This version was written down recently by Mr. Jos. B. Tree, Rich- 
mond, Va., when eighty-seven years of age. It was obtained by 
Miss Emma F. Pope, Petersburg, Va. 

1. There was an old man who lived in the woods. 

And that you will plainly see, 
Who said he could do more work in a day 
Than his wife could do in three. 

2. "Very well," the old woman said, 

" and will allow; 

And you must stay at home to-day 
While I will follow the plow. 

3. "You must milk the brindle cow, 

For fear she will go dry; 
And you must feed the little pigs 
That run within the sty. 

1 [Add: Robert Ford, Song Histories, 1900, pp. 39 ff. (discussion). For a Devonshire 
version see Sarah Hewett, Nummits and Crummits, 1900, pp. 200-201. A Scottish version 
(substantially A. Cunningham's) is printed in Delaney's Scotch Song Book No. i, p. 22 
(N. Y.).] 



174 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

4. "And you must watch the speckled hen, 

For fear she will lay astray; 
And you must wind the spool of yarn 
That I spun yesterday." 

5. The old woman took the stick in her hand, 

And went to follow the plow; 
The old man took the pail in his hand, 
And went to milk the cow. 

6. "So, Jinny; ho, Jinny; 

Prithee, good cow stand still. 
I declare, if I milk thee again, 
'Twill be sorely against my will." 

7. But Jinny winced, and Jinny flinched, 

And Jinny shook her nose. 
And gave the old man a kick in the face. 
And the blood ran down to his toes. 

8. He went to feed the little pigs 

That run within the sty. 
And the old sow run between his legs, 
And threw him down in the mire. 

9. He tangled up the spool of yarn 

His wife spun yesterday; 
And he forgot the speckled hen. 
And let her lay astray. " 

10. And the old man declared by the sun and the moon, 
And all the stars in heaven. 
His wife could do more work in one day 
Than he could do in seven. 

{h) Old Father Grumble . 

The following was obtained through Mrs. Pearl H. Bartholomew 
from Mrs. Ella Stanley, both of Warren, Ind. 

1. Old Father Grumble he did say. 

And said it to be true. 
That he could do more work in a day 
Than his wife could do in two. 

2. Old Mother Grumble she did say. 

And said it to be true. 
That he could do the work in the house. 
And she'd go follow the plow. 

3. "Now you must feed the little wee pig 

That stands beneath the sty; 
And you must milk the brindle cow, 
Or she will go dry. 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 175 

4. "Now you must churn the cream in the crock 

That stands beneath the frame; 
And you must watch the fat in the pot, 
Or it will all go in a flame. 

5. "Now you must wind the spools of yarn 

That I spun yesterday; 
And you must feed the speckled hen, 
Or she will stray away. 

6. "Now you must get the dinner too, 

And have it right on time; 
And don't forget to wring those clothes, 
And hang them on the line." 

7. Then Mother Grumble took the whip, 

And went to follow the plow; 
And Father Grumble took the pail. 
And went to milk the cow. 

8. The cow she kicked and lashed her tail, 

And rumpled up her nose; 
She kicked poor Grumble on the shins, 
Till the blood run through to his toes. 

9. He went to feed the little pig 

That stands beneath the sty; 
He knocked his head against a pole. 
And, my! how the wool did fly! 

10. He went to churn the cream 

That stood beneath the frame; 
And he forgot the fat in the pot. 
And it all run in a flame. 

11. He went to wind the spools of yarn 

His wife spun yesterday; 
And he forgot to feed the speckled hen, 
And she strayed away. 

12. He went to get the dinner too. 

And have it right on time; 
And he forgot to wring the clothes. 
And hang them on the line. 

13. Then Mother Grumble she came in; 

She looked sad and turned up her nose; 
She rolled up her sleeves, 

And says she, "I am very glad." 

(c) Old Crumbly. 

The version given below came through Mrs. Bartholomew, being 
the joint text of Mrs. Ella Taylor, Mrs. Jennie Huff, and Mrs. Belle 
Debra, all of Warren, Ind. 



176 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

1. Old Grumbly he came in, 

As mad as he could be, 
Saying he, "I can do more work in a day 

Than my wife can do in three, three." 
Saying he, "I can do more work in a day 

Than my wife can do in three, three." 

2. Mrs. Grumbly she came in. 

Saying, "Tell your troubles now; 
If you will do the work in the house, 

It's I'll go follow the plow, plow. 
If you will, etc. 

3. "And you must milk old muley cow, 

For fear that she'll go dry; 
And you must feed the little pig 

That stands within the sty, sty. 
And you must feed, etc. 

4. "And you must feed old speckled hen, 

For fear that she'll go way; 
And you must reel the spools of yarn 

That I spun yesterday, day. 
And you must reel, etc. 

5. "And you must churn the cream 

That stands within the frame; 
And you must watch the fat in the pot, 

Or it will all run in a fiame, flame. 
And you must watch," etc. 

6. Mrs. Grumbly she took up the whip, 

And went to follow the plow. 
Old Grumbly he took up the pail, 

And went to milk the cow, cow. 
Old Grumbly, etc. 

7. Old Muley she kicked up her heels, 

And hit him on the nose; 
And he begun to yell and scream, 

i\nd the blood run to his toes, toes. 
And he begun, etc. 

8. He went to feed old speckled hen, 

For fear that she'd go way; 
And he forgot to reel the yarn 

His wife spun yesterday, day. 
And he forgot, etc. 

9. He went to feed the little pig 

That stands within the sty; 
He knocked his head against a post, 

And the hair begin to fly, fly. 
He knocked, etc. 



Some So7igs Traditional in the United States. 177 

10. He went to churn the cream 

That stood within the frame; 
And he forgot the fat in the pot, 

And it all run in a flame, flame. 
And he forgot, etc. 

11. Old Grumbly he began to sigh"- 

For the setting of the sun;^ 
He thought it was the longest day. 

His wife would never come, come. 
He thought, etc. 

12. Mrs. Grumbly she came in. 

And was feeling very sad.^ 
She turned herself about the room, 

And said that she was glad, glad. 
She turned herself about the room, 

And said that she was glad, glad. 

THE GARDEN GATE. 2 

This ballad is printed in "English County Songs," p. 72. I have 
a text from Indiana. It begins and ends, — 

The day was past and the moon shone bright, 

The village clock struck eight. 
When Mary hastened with delight 

Unto the garden gate. 



And she blesses the hour that she did wait 
For her true love at the garden gate. 

1 This line we think hardly correct, but as near as we can get it. 

2 [The words are by W. Upton, the well-known song- writer (see S. J. Adair Fitz-Gerald, 
Stories of Famous Songs, 1898, p. 169). Often printed, as: The Universal Songster, 
London, 1834, i, 121; Davidson's Universal Melodist, London, 1848, ii, 401 (with W. T, 
Parke's music) ; Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry, Percy Society, 
1846, no. 32, pp. 226-227; Bell, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry, pp. 221-223; 
Gavin Greig, Folk-Song of the North-East, Peterhead, no. cxxiv (cf. no. Ixvii); P. W. Joyce, 
Old Irish Folk Music and Songs, 1909, pp. 280-281 (tune only); The Pearl Songster, N. Y., 
C. P. Huestis, 1846, p. 39; The New Popular Forget-Me-Not Songster, Cincinnati, 
Lorenso Stratton, pp. 116-117. Harvard College has many broadside or slip copies: — 
J. Pitts (25242.2, fol. 129); J. Catnach (25242.2, fol. 183); J. Catnach, a different edition 
(25242. II. 5, fol. 49; also 25242.17, vol. V, no. 134); J. Livsey, Manchester (25242.17, 
vol. iii, no. 76); John Gilbert, Newcastle (same, vol. iv, no. 118); Forth, Pocklington 
(vol. iv, no. 181); Cadman, Manchester (vol. v, no. 66); Bebbington, Manchester (vol. x, 
no. 47); H. Such (vol. xi, no. 143; another edition 25242.26, p. 28); T. Birt (25242.24, 
p. 19). Brown University has this song in a N. Y. broadside of about i860 (H. de Marsan, 
list II, no. 27).] 



178 Journal oj American Folk-Lore. 



THE IRISH LADY. 

1 have an Indiana text, "learned more than sixty years ago." 
Professor Kittredge points out that my copy agrees very closely 
with "Sally," printed by Mr. Barry in this Journal, xxvii (1914), 
73-74-' 

JESSE JAMES. 2 

Belden, No. 75; Shearin, p. 16; Pound, p. 34. 

In a review of Professor Lomax's "Cowboy Songs" in "The Dial," 
April I, 191 1, I wrote as follows: "One ballad glorifies Jesse James. 
It is somewhat widely known. Miss Louise R. Bascom tells us, in 
the Journal of American Folk-Lore for 1909, that the heroic ballads 
of Western North Carolina 'cluster for the most part around Jesse 
James.' The song which she prints has much in common with that 
in Lomax. I have heard before of the existence of a group of ballads 
about Jesse James. [This refers to an account given me by a friend, 
of a lecture by Professor E. C. Perrow.] I am inclined to conjecture 
that some of the other songs of outlaw life have been transferred to 
Jesse James. We know that some English ballads became attached 
to Robin Hood that did not originally concern him." 

Since the above was written, Professor Perrow has published in 
this Journal a large body of songs from the region of the southern 
Appalachian Mountains. Those about Jesse James are in Volume 
XXV (1912), pp. 145-150. These various songs and fragments es- 
tablish the truth of the claim which Professor Perrow makes in a 
personal letter, that "there is a group of independent songs current 
in the South concerning Jesse James." The ballad of "Jack Middle- 
ton," one of those printed, has been given an external connection with 
Jesse James, somewhat as the B version of No. 103 in Child, "Rose 
the Red and White Lily," has been brought into external connection 
with Robin Hood. But it is not known to me that any song about 
an exploit of some other outlaw has been transferred to Jesse James. 
In the C version of "Rose the Red and White Lily," Robin Hood 
and Little John become the lovers and then the husbands of the two 
girls. My conjecture in "The Dial" was probably too bold. 

JOHNNY SANDS. 

Belden, No. 47, summarizes the story as follows: "Johnny, after 
a quarrel with his wife, wishes he were dead. She agrees. They 

* [This is "Sally and her Truelove Billy," known in broadsides (Harvard, 25242.17, 
vol. vii, no. 55; 25242.25, p. 87, Pitts; 25242.27, p. 281). It is also printed by Christie, 
Traditional Ballad;Airs, ii, 240-241 (" The Bold Sailor"); by Ashton, Real Sailor Songs, no. 
70 ("Sallyand Billy"); and by Gavin Greig, Folk-Song of the North-East, Peterhead, no. 
Ixxix ("The Sailor from Dover").] 

2 [As to Robert Ford and James, see N. C. Goodwin, Nat Goodwin's Book (1914), 
pp. 284-285.] 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 1 79 

go to the river, where he asks her to tie his hands and push him in. 
When she rushes at him to push him in, he steps aside and in she goes. 
She begs him to help her out, but he answers, 'I can't, you've tied 
my hands.'" 

Perrow has printed a text in this Journal, xxviii, 174. Pound, p. 57. 
I have a text from Indiana. 

Nearly a half-century ago I heard a version of the above story 
recited by a poet of western Massachusetts as his own composition. 
Following the prayer of the drowning wife for help, this poem ended 
with these words from the husband: 

"I would, but you my hands have tied. 
Heaven help you!" ^ 

[The Old Woman of Slapsadam.] ^ 

Shearin's "The Old Woman of London," p. 10, corresponds very 
closely to the following song. 

While the agreement of this ballad with that of " Johnny Sands," 
summarized above, is striking, yet it is clear that the two stories 
should be carefully distinguished. 

This text was obtained from Mrs. Martin Trumpower by Miss 
Mary O. Eddy, both of Perrysville, O. 

I. There was an old woman in Slapsadam, 
In Slapsadam did dwell. 
She loved her old man dearly, 
But another one twice as well. 

1 [Though founded on a folk-tale, the song of "Johnny Sands" is literary and hardly 
older than the 40's of the nineteenth century. It achieved enormous vogue in this country 
by forming part of the repertory of the Hutchinson Family, the Continental Vocalists, and 
other singing "troupes." It may be found in many books, e.g., — The Granite Songster, 
containing the Poetry as Sung by the Hutchinson Family at their Concerts, Boston, 1847, 
PP- 55-56; John A Sterry, The Continental Vocalists' Glee Book, Boston, cop. 1855, pp. 
66-68 (with music); I. B. Woodbury, The Home Melodist, Boston, cop. 1859, p. 49 (with 
music); Charles Jarvis, The Young Folks' Glee Book, Boston, cop. 1856, pp. 20-22 (with 
music); The Shilling Song Book, N. Y., Dexter & Co., cop. i860, p. 74; Uncle Sam's Army 
Songster, Indianapolis, cop. 1862, p. 17; Dan Kelly's Songster, N. Y., Frederick A. Brady, 
cop. 1869, pp. 55-56. It was printed as a broadside by J. A. Johnson, a noted song- 
publisher of Philadelphia, and by J. Andrews (ca. 1855), N. Y., list S, no. 26 (Brown Uni- 
versity Library). A very recent occurrence of the text is in Delaney's Irish Song Book 
No. 2, p. 22 (N. Y.). Harvard College has a broadside text from Ireland (25242. 5. sM^-), 
and at least two from England, — 25242.17, vol. v, no. 195 (Ryle and Co., Seven Dials); 
vol. X, no. 216 (J. Bebbington, Manchester). I have copies in MS. (one from Massa- 
chusetts), and have seen a copy from Michigan (in the MS. collection of Mr. Bertrand 
L. Jones).— G. L. K.] 

' [There is a copy (in MS.), contributed to Child by William Walker of Aberdeen in the 
Child MSS. (Harvard College Library), vol. ii, p. 216 ("The Wife of Kelso"). Another 
Scottish copy is given by Gavin Greig, xii ("The Wily Auld Carle").] 



i8o Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

2. She went unto the doctor's, 

To see if she could find, 
By some good means or other, 
To make her old man blind. 

3. She went and got some marrowbone, 

And fed it to him all. 
Says he: "Oh, my beloved wife! 
I can't see you at all." 

4. Says he: "I'd go and drown myself, 

If I could find the way." 
Says she: "I'll go along with you, 
For fear you'll go astray." 

5. So hand in hand they walked along. 

Until they came to the shore. 

Says he: "Oh, my beloved wife! 

You'll have to push me o'er." 

6. The old woman stepped back a step or two, 

To run and push him in; 
The old man he stepped to one side. 
And headlong she went in. 

7. The old man being tender-hearted, 

For fear she'd swim to the shore, 
He went and got a great long pole. 
And pushed her further o'er, 

8. And now my song is ended; 

I can't sing any more. 
But wasn't she a darned old fool, 
She didn't swim to shore? 

THE LADY LE ROY. 

The following was taken down by Miss Pearl P. Payne, Vermilion, 
S.D., from Mrs. Harriet E. Gray of Chicago. 

The young woman's disguise in the second stanza seems to be 
solely for the purpose of purchasing a vessel from her own father. 
The captain with whom she sails away in the third stanza must be 
her lover, "the young captain" who is triumphant at the close. 

1. I spied a fair couple on old Ireland['s] shore, 
A-viewing the ocean where the billows do roar. 
He says: "Dearest Sally, it's you I adore. 

And to go and leave you grieves my heart sore." 

2. She dressed herself up in a suit of men's clothes. 
And straight to her father she then did go. 

She purchased a vessel, paid down the demands; 
But little he knew 'twas from his own daughter's hands. 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. i8i 

3. Straight to her captain she then did go. 
"Get ready, get ready; no time to lose!" 
They hoisted their top-sails, their colors let fly, 
And over the ocean sailed Lady Le Roy. 

4. But when her old father came to understand, 
He vowed revenge on this unworthy young man; 

And as for his daughter, she should ne'er be his wife. 
And for her disobedience he would end her sweet life. 

5. And straight to his captain he then did go. 
"Get ready, get ready; no time to lose!" 
They hoisted their top-sails, their colors let fly. 
He swore by his Maker he'd conquer or die. 

6. They had not been sailing o'er a week or ten days, 

When the wind from the northwest blew a sweet pleasant gale. 
They spied a ship sailing, which filled them with joy. 
And they did hail her; she was Lady Le Roy. 

7. It's broadside to broadside they then did go; 
And louder, then louder, the cannon did roar. 
Till at length the young captain he gained victory. 
Hurrah for the thing they call sweet liberty! 

8. "Go back to old Ireland, and there let them know 
That we'll not be taken by friend nor by foe. 

We wish you much pleasure, long life to enjoy; 

But you've lost all the prospects of the Lady Le Roy." 

THE LAZY MAN. 

No. 106 in Belden's list. Barry, No. 72. Pound, p. 58. 

This was obtained about 1906, by Mr O. B. Sperlin, Tacoma, 
Wash., then of Kokomo, Ind., from the singing of his mother. " None 
of the people who used to sing it ever saw it in print." I have a 
second text, also from Indiana. 

1. Come, all my good people, and listen to my song; 
I'll sing you of a lazy man that wouldn't tend his corn. 
The reason why I cannot tell. 

For this young man was always well. 

2. He went to the fence and peeped therein; 
The chinkey-pin bush as high as his chin. 
The weeds and grass they grew so high 
They often made this young man to cry. 

3. In July his corn was knee-high; 
And in September he laid it by; 

And in October there came a large frost, 
And all this young man's corn was lost. 



1 82 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

4. He went to his nearest neighbor's house, 
A-courting as you may suppose; 

And in conversation this question came around: 
Says she: "Young man, have you hoed your corn?" 

5. This young man made a quick reply. 
"Oh, no," says he, "for I've laid it by. 

It ain't no use to strive and strive in vain, 
For I can't raise a single grain." 

6. "Oh, then, kind sir, why do you wish for to wed. 
When you can't raise your own cornbread? 
Single I am and single I remain; 

The lazy man I never will maintain." 

THE LITTLE FAMILY. 

No. 38 in Belden's list. Cf. this Journal, xxv, 17. 

The stanzas given below, obtained by Miss Mary O. Eddy from 
Miss Jane Goon, both of Perrysville, O., were "learned at school 
from the singing of other children;" they may well be derived 
from a published poem. 

1. There was a little family 

Who lived in Bethany; 
Two sisters and a brother 
Composed this family. 

2. With prayer and with singing, 

Like angels in the sky. 
At morning and at evening, 
They raised their voices high. 

3. Though poor and without money, 

Their kindness made amend; 
Their house was always open 
To Jesus and his friend. 

4. And thus they lived so happy, 

So poor, so kind, so good. 
Their brother grew afflicted 
And drew a thrown a bed. (?) 

5. Poor Martha and her sister. 

They wept aloud and cried ; 
But still he grew no better, 
But lingered on and died. 

6. The Jews came to the sisters, 

But Lazreth in the tomb, 
And tried for them to comfort, 
And drive away their gloom. 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 183 

7. When Jesus heard these tidings, 

Though in a distant land, 
How quickly did he travel 
To join this lonely band! 

8. When Martha saw him coming. 

She met him in the way; 
She told him that her brother 
Had died and passed away. 

9. He cherished and he blessed her, 

He told her not to weep, 
For in him was the power 
To wake him from his sleep. 

10. When Mary saw him coming, 

She ran and met him too. 
And at his feet fell weeping, 
Rehearsed the tale of woe. 

11. When Jesus saw her weeping. 

He fell a- weeping too; 
He wep until they showed him 
Where Lazreth was in tomb. 

12. They rolled away the cover. 

He looked upon the grave, 
He prayed unto his Father, 
His loving friend to save. 

13. Then Lazreth in full power 

Came from the gloomy mound. 
And in full strength and vigor 
He walked upon the ground. 

14. Now if we but love Jesus, 

And do his holy will. 
Like Martha and like Mary, 
Do always use him well, 

15. From death he will redeem us. 

And take us to the skies. 
Where we will reign forever, 
W^here pleasures never die. 

THE LITTLE SPARROW. 

I obtained the following through Mrs. Pearl H. Bartholomew from 
Mrs. Ella Taylor, both of Warren, Ind. Shearin, p. 26; Belden 
No. 88. 

Why a faithless lover should be called a " true love," and why tl e 
devoted maiden should wish to fly away to him, are not made clear. 



184 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

1. I wish I was a little sparrow; 

I'd fly away from grief and sorrow; 
I'd fly away like a turtle dove; 
I'd fly away to my own true love. 

2. 'Twas but last night he said to me: 
"I'll take you o'er the dark blue sea." 
But now he's gone, and left me alone, 
A single maid without a home. 

3 . Oh grief, oh grief! I'll tell you why: 
Because she has more gold than I ; 
He takes that other girl on his knee, 
And tells her what he don't tell me. 

4. I wish, I wish, but all in vain, 

That my true love would come back again. 

But then I know that will never be. 

Till the green, green grass grows over me. 

THE lover's lament. 

The following was obtained through Mrs. Pearl H. Bartholomew, 
from Mrs. Ella Taylor, both of Warren, Ind. Sung to Mrs. T. by 
her uncle over fifty years ago.^ 

1. Once I did court a lady beauty bright, 

And on her I placed my whole heart's delight. 
I courted her for love, and her love I did obtain; 
And I thought she had no reason at all to complain. 
And I thought she had no reason at all to complain. 

2. But it's when her cruel parents came to know 
Their daughter and I together did go. 

They locked her in her chamber, and kept her so severe 
That I never never after got sight of my dear. 
That I never, etc. 

3. Then I resolved to the war for to go. 

To see whether I could forget my love or no. 
But when I got there, with my armor shining bright, 
I took a steady thought on my own heart's delight. 
I took, etc. 

4. For seven long years I served the good king; 
In seven long years I returned home again. 

With my heart so full of love and my eyes so full of tears. 
Saying, "How happy would I be to meet with my dear! " 
Saying, etc. 

^ [See another copy in this Journal, xxvi, 176.] 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 185 

5. Then I resolved to her father's house to go, 
To see whether I could see my love or no. 

But it's when the old man saw me, he wrung his hands and cried. 
Saying, " My daughter loved you dearly and for your sake she];died." 
Saying, etc. 

6. Then I was struck like a man that was slain; 
Tears from my eyes flowed like showers of rain; 
Crying, "Oh, oh, oh! such grief I cannot bear. 

For my true love is in her grave, and I long to be there. 
For my true love," etc. 

7. Then I resolved to my bed for to go, 

To see whether I could forget my love or no. 

But it's when I got there, all the music I could hear 

Was the sounding of the trumpet and the thoughts of my dear. 

Was the sounding, etc, 

8. It's when I came to my senses again, 

I took a pen and ink, and I penned down the same. 
Saying: Come, all of you true lovers, come, pity, pity me; 
Come, pity my misfortune and sad misery. 
Come, pity my misfortune and sad misery. 

MARY O' THE WILD MOOR. 

No. 47 in Barry, No. 29 in Belden, p. 12 in Shearin, p. 19 in Pound. See 
in this Journal, xxvi, 355 n. 

English texts: Traditional Tunes, 77; English Folk-Songs, 76. 
I have two texts, both from Ohio, 

One night Mary comes with her child at her bosom "wandering 
home to her own father's door." He does not hear her call, and she 
dies there, "From the winds that blew cross the wild moor." ^ 

MCAFEE'S CONFESSION. 

The following song is printed in Lomax's "Cowboy Songs" (New 
York, 1910), pp. 164-166. The text printed below agrees better 
than that of Lomax with the summaries of Belden, No. 24, and Shearin, 
p. 16. See Belden's comments in "Modern Philology," ii, 574; and 
in this Journal, xxv, 12. Pound, p. 34. 

1 [See Helen K. Johnson, Our Familiar Songs, 1881, p. 305. This song circulated widely 
in sheet copies. Harvard College has the following English broadsides and slips: Pitts 
(25242.4, vol. ii, p. 59); W. S. Fortey, Catnach Press (25242.5.6 [161]); J. Catnach (25242, 
II. 5, fol. loi; also 25242.17, vol. vii, nos. 153, 169); Jackson and Son, Birmingham 
(25242.17, vol. ii, no. 130); W. R. Walker, Newcastle-on-Tyne (same, vol. iv, no. 17); 
Cadman, Manchester (same, vol. v, no. 54); John O. Bebbington, Manchester (same, vol, 
ix, no. 42), and probably others. It is no. 140 of the broadsides published in New York 
by H. J. Wehman (Harvard, 25241.29), all of which were still in print and on sale as late 
as 1891, H. de Marsan published it in New York as a broadside about i860, list 3, no. 72 
(Harvard and Brown Libraries). See also Shilling Song Book, Boston, Ditson, cop. i86ot 
p. 4I-] 



1 86 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

This text was obtained through Mrs. Pearl H. Bartholomew from 
Mrs. M. M. Soners, both of Warren, Ind. The mother of Mrs. S. sang 
it to her almost fifty years ago in Ohio. Mrs. S. states that the poem 
records an actual occurrence, and that her mother knew Hettie Stout 
well. 

1. Draw near young men and learn from me 
My sad and mournful history; 

And may you ne'er forgetful be 
Of all this day I tell to thee. 

2. Before I arrived in my fifth year, 
My father and my mother dear 
Where [Were] both laid in their grave 
By Him who them their beings gave. 

3. No more a mother's love I shared, 
No more a father's voice I heard, 
No more was I a mother's joy, 

I was a helpless orphan boy. 

4. But Providence, the orphan's friend, 
A kind relief did quickly send. 

And snatched from want and penury 
Poor little orphan McAfee. 

5. Beneath my uncle's friendly roof, 
From want and penury aloof. 

Nine years I was most kindly served, 
And oft his kind advice I heard. 

6. But I was thoughtless, young, and gay, 
And ofttimes broke the Sabbath day. 
In wickedness I took delight. 

And ofttimes done what was not right. 

7. Ah, well I mind the very day 
When from my home I ran away. 
And feigned [?] again in wickedness, 
And Satan served with eagerness. 

8. At length unto me a wife I took, 
And she was gentle, kind, and good; 
And now alive would be no doubt. 
Had I not seen Miss Hettie Stout. 

9. 'Twas on a pleasant summer's night, 
When all was still, the stars shone bright. 
My wife was lying on the bed, 

When I approached and to her said: 

10. " Dear wife, here's medicine I brought, 
Of which for you this day I bought. 
My dear, I know it will cure you 
Of these vile fits. Pray, take it, do." 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 187 

11. She gave to me one tender look, 
Then in her mouth the poison took, 
Then, by her babe upon the bed, 
Down to her last long sleep she laid. 

12. But, fearing that she was not dead. 
My hands upon her throat I laid. 
And there such deep impressions made 
Her soul soon from her body fled. 

13. Then was my heart filled full of woe: 
Oh, whither, whither shall I go? 
How shall I quit this mournful place? 
This world again how can I face! 

14. I'd freely give up all my store. 

Had I ten thousand pounds and more, 

If I could bring again to life 

My dear, my darling, murdered wife. 

The follozving was said on the scaffold: 

15. Young men, young men, be warned of me, 
And shun all evil company; 

Walk in the ways of righteousness. 
And God your souls will surely bless. 

16. Dear friends, I bid you all adieu; 
No more on earth shall I see you. 

In Heaven's bright and flowery plain 
I hope we all shall meet again. 

NOBODY COMING TO WOO. 

"There's nobody coming to marry me, 
There's nobody coming to woo." 

In English Minstrelsie, ii, 120-122, entitled "Last Night the Dogs Did 
Bark," "a song sung by Mrs. Jordan before 1794."^ 

I have a text from Kansas, 1897, learned in Ohio in 1835.2 

1 [See garland, "LochaberNo More," Falkirk, T. Johnston, 1813, pp. 7-8 (Harvard, 
25252.19, no. 61); garland "The Ewe-Boughts Marion," Stirling, M. Randall, ca. 1825, 
p. 3 (25276.19. vol.i, no. 4); garland "Five Favourite Songs," Newton-Stewart, J. M'Nairn, 
pp. 7-8 (25276.4, no. 18); garland "An Excellent Collection of Popular Songs," Edin- 
burgh (25276.43.5); broadside, J. Kendrew, York (25242.5.7, p. 74); The British 
Neptune; or, Convivial Songster, London, Howard and Evans, p. 5, early nineteenth cen- 
tury (Boston Public Library); Davidson's Universal Melodist, 1848, ii, 406; Robert Ford, 
Vagabond Songs and Ballads of Scotland, i, 229-230; 8 N. and Q., i, 486, ii, 477; Gavin 
Greig, Folk-Song of the North-East, no. xviii.) 

2 [Printed in America early in the nineteenth century, — for example, in The Columbian 
Harmonist, N. Y., 1814, pp. 7-8; Songs for the Parlour, New Haven, 1818, pp. 33-34. 
The popularity of the song on the American stage is attested by the imitation beginning: 

VOL. XXIX. — NO. 112. — 13. 



1 88 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

AN OLD MAN CAME TO SEE ME. 

The following was obtained through Mrs. Pearl H. Bartholomew 
from Mrs. Jane Taylor, both of Warren, Ind. 

1. An old man came to see me, and his name I will not tell; 
An old man came to see me, and I liked him very well. 

Chorus. 
An old man, an old man, an old man soon turns gray; 
But a young man comes so full of love. Stand back old man, get away. 

2. An old man came to see me, a-sitting on a stool. 

An old man came to see me, the blamed old sleepy fool. 

Chorus: An old man, etc. 

3. I do not like an old man, I'll tell you the reason why: 
He always lis] so slobbery; his chin is never dry. 

Chorus: An old man, etc. 

4. I'd rather have a young man with an apple in his hand, 
Than to have an old man, his house and his land. 

Chorus: An old man, etc. 

5. I'd rather have a young man with his jacket made of silk, 
Then to have an old man with forty cows to milk. 

Chorus: An old man, etc. 
THE soldier's WOOING. 

I take the title from Belden, No. 84. I have a text "learned in 
Canada" which agrees closely with that printed by Barry, this Journal, 
XXIII, 447 et seq. Pound, p. 14. 

The story resembles that of "Erlinton" (No. 8 in Child). 

SPRINGFIELD MOUNTAIN. 

This Journal has given full information about the origin of this 
song, and has printed 19 versions (xiii, 105-112; xviii, 295-302; xxii, 
366-367; xxviii, 169). Pound, p. 19. "Springfield Mountain" is usu- 
ally sung with an unintelligible refrain, but this takes many different 

The dogs began to bark, 

And I peep'd out to seel 
A handsome young man was hunting; 
But he was not hunting for me! 
This is known as "Nobody Coming to Marry Me." It is published "As sang by Mrs. 
Poe, with unbounded applause, at the New York Theatre " in The Songster's Repository, 
N. Y. (Nathaniel Dearborn), 1811, p. 74; it also appears in The Nightingale, N. Y. (Smith 
& Forman), 1814, pp. 7-8, and doubtless elsewhere.] 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 189 

forms. This Journal has never printed the refrain which I heard in 
Berkshire County, Massachusetts, about fifty years ago. 

On Springfield Mountain there did dwell 
A lovely youth I knew full well. 

Timmy-rye, timmy-ray, timmy-riddy-iddy-ay. 

It seems strange to a Massachusetts man to have a stammering 
version of this song turn up in Professor Lomax's "Cowboy Songs" 
as " Rattlesnake — A Ranch Haying Song." It begins: 

A nice young ma-wa-wan 
Lived on a hi-wi-will; 
A nice young ma-wa-wan, 
For I knew him we-we-well. 

To my rattle, to my roo-rah-ree! 

SWEET SIXTEEN. 

Compare No. 25 in Newell, "Games and Songs of American Chil- 
dren" (New York, 1903), entitled "When I Was a Shoemaker." 

This amusing action-song follows the plan of "When I Was a Young 
Girl" (Dorset), sung in the United States by the Fuller sisters, from 
Dorsetshire.^ 

This text was obtained through Mrs. Pearl H. Bartholomew from 
Mrs. Ella Taylor, both of Warren, Ind.^ My wife remembers taking 
part with other children, about forty-five years ago, in Chicopee Falls, 
Mass., in singing and acting a song somewhat like this, as a game. 

1. When I was sweet sixteen, sweet sixteen, sweet sixteen, 
When I was sweet sixteen, 'twas this way I went; 

And that way, and this way, and that way, and this way. 
When I was sweet sixteen, 'twas this way I went. 

{Singer pretends to he curling her hair, by twirling her fingers first 
one side of her head and then the other.) 

2. When I had a beau, had a beau, had a beau, 
When I had a beau, 'twas this way I went; 

And that way, and this way, and that way, and this way. 
When I had a beau, 'twas this way I went. 
{Places the index finger first one side of the mouth and then the other.) 

1 [There are many versions in Mrs. Alice B. Gomme's Traditional Games, ii, 362-374, 
457. See also Mrs. Gomme, Children's Singing Games, 1894, PP- iSff., 63-64; Balfour, 
County Folk-Lore, vi, 117; Folk-Lore Journal, vii, 218-219; Folk-Lore, xvi, 343; Miss 
Burne, Shropshire Folk-Lore, pp. 514-515; Miss M. H. Mason, Nursery Rhymes and 
Country Songs, 1878, p. 42.] 

2 [I heard a version, practically identical with Mrs. Bartholomew's, sung by a New 
Hampshire girl some forty-five years ago. A version adapted for singing (without the 
movements) was published soon after i860 by H. de Marsan, New York, as a broadside, 
list 17, no. 91 ("When I was Young"). — G. L. K.] 



190 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

3. When I had a lover, a lover, a lover. 
When I had a lover, 'twas this way I went; 

And that way, and this way, and that way, and this way. 
When I had a lover, 'twas this way I went. 
(Rubs right hand over left, then left over right.) 

4. When I was a widow, a widow, a widow, 
When I was a widow, 'twas this way I went; 

And that way, and this way, and that way, and this way. 
When I was a widow, 'twas this way I went. 
(Places one hand over the eyes and then the other.) 

5. When mourn year was over, was over, was over, 
When mourn year was over, 'twas this way I went; 

And that way, and this way, and that way, and this way. 
When mourn year was over, 'twas this way I went. 
{Pretends to he curling the hair again.) 

THE UNLUCKY YOUNG MAN.^ 

Shearin, p. 35: "He exchanges oxen for a cow, the cow for a calf, 
the calf for a dog, the dog for a cat, the cat for a rat, the rat for a 
mouse, which 'took fire to her tail and burned down the house.'" 

I have a text from central Kentucky, where it is well known. ^ 

VILLIKENS AND HIS DINAH.' 

The rich Villikens demands that his daughter Dinah dress herself 
to be married. She begs in vain for delay. He soon finds her in 
the garden dead from "a cup of cold pison." 

I have a text from Louisiana. Miss Pound has a fragment, p. 18. 

This ballad resembles Professor Shearin's "The Rich Margent" 
[Merchant], described in "The Sewanee Review" for July, 1911; 
but the ending there is different. "Felix her lover [not in my text 

1 [See Halliwell, Nursery Rhymes, ist ed., 1842, nos. 4-6, pp. 6-8; 2d ed., 1843. nos. 6-8. 
pp. 10-12; sth and 6th eds., no. 142, pp. 92-93; Mrs. Valentine, Nursery Rhymes, Tales 
and Jingles, no. 177, p. 105; (Rimbault) A Collection of Old Nursery Rhymes, no. 19, p. 24, 
with tune; Baring-Gould, A Book of Nursery Songs and Rhymes, no. 8, pp. 17-18; (\V. A. 
Wheeler,) Mother Goose's Melodies, N. Y., 1877, p. 80.] 

2 [Cf. also Perrow, in this Journal, xxvi, 143-144.] 

3 [" Villikens and his Dinah ' ' is from the stage. 1 1 has a long and perplexed history which 
I have for some time tried in vain to unravel. The published accounts are imperfect and 
contradictory. Professor Tolman's copy is certainly of literary origin, and was first 
made known (so far as I can discover) in Henry Mayhew's once famous farce, "The 
Wandering Minstrel." The most celebrated singer of the song was Robson, the English 
comic actor. The comic song in question has often been printed in the United States. 
See, for example. Christy's Plantation Melodies, No. 5, cop. 1856, p. 11; I. B. Woodbury, 
The Home Melodist, Boston, cop. 1859, pp. 18-19; Uncle Sam's Army Songster, cop. 1862, 
p. 24. H. de Marsan (N. Y.) issued it as a broadside ca. i860 (list 3, No. i), and it was 
also published about 1890 as a broadside by H. J. Wehman (No. 627). Words and music 
may still be had of music-dealers. — G. L. K.j 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 191 

at all] finds Dinah with a half-empty cup of poison in her stiffening 
fingers:" — 

He called his dear Dinah ten thousand times o'er; 
He kissed her cold corpse ten thousand times more. 
He drank up the poison like a lover so brave — 
Now Felix and Dinah both lie in one grave. 

YOUNG CHARLOTTE.^ 

Printed in Lomax, "Cowboy Songs" (N. Y., 1910), pp. 239-242. 
Belden, No. 19. Barry, No. 58. In January, 191 1, Mr. Barry had 
"13 versions from the North Atlantic States." Shearin does not 
record it. Pound, p. 19. 

I have two versions, agreeing almost exactly to the close of the 
shorter one of seventy-two lines. The longer has twenty added 
lines. It came to me from Ohio recently. The shorter one, taken 
down in Kansas in 1897, probably came earlier from Ohio. It ends 
with the words: 

Young Charlotte's eyes had closed for aye; 
Her voice was heard no more. 

III. HOMILETIC BALLADS. 

The preaching instinct is very characteristic of the American mind. 
Even among the free and easy "Cowboy Songs" collected by Pro- 
fessor Lomax, there are some striking poems of a homiletic nature. 
" McAfee's Confession," printed above, might with some fitness be 
placed in this group. Nine pieces in my collection plainly belong 
here. They have come to me with the following titles. 

1. The Death of a Young Woman. A version of ninety-two lines 

was taken down from Miss Jane Goon, Perrysville, O.; one of 
fifty-six lines was copied by Mrs. Jonah Simmons Brown, Warren, 
Ind., from her mother's copy-book, where it is dated Dec. 10, 
1842. The longer form begins: 

Young ladies all, attention give, 
You that in wicked pleasures live; 
One of your sex, the other day, 
Was called by death from friends away. 

2. Ingratitude: The Story of Asa Trott. See below. 

3. Lines That Was Written on the Death of Anna Ross. Learned 

by Mrs. Elizabeth Anderson, Warren, Ind., some seventy-five 
years ago. She is now eighty-five. I cite the opening lines: 

' See Mr. Barry's ful! account of the poem and its author in this Journal, xxv, 156- 
168. 



192 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

A while before this damsel died 
Her tongue was speechless, bound and tied; 
At length she opened wide her eyes, 
And said her tongue was liberalized. 

She called her father to her bed, 
And thus in dying anguish said: 
"From meeting you have kept your child 
To pleasures vain and wanton wild." 

4. To the Young and Proud. 

5. A Warning to the Sinners. 

6. A Warning to the Young. 

7. Wicked Polly. See below. 

8. A Voice from the Dead. 

9. A Voice from the Tomb. 

It seems well to print two of these pieces. 

WICKED POLLY. 

Professor H.M.Belden printed atex^of theballadin this Journal (xxv, 
1912, 18). In his article "An American Homiletic Ballad" ("Mod- 
ern Language Notes," January, 1913, pp. 1-5) Mr. Phillips Barry 
printed four forms of the poem (one of them that of Belden) and 
some related ballads, and discussed fully their nature and relationships. 
The version given below seems to be in some ways the most complete 
and satisfactory form yet obtained. It follows somewhat closely 
Barry's A text throughout, then adds the last five stanzas of his B 
text, and closes with a general stanza that is not in any one of his 
four forms. 

It was obtained by Miss Mary O. Eddy from Miss Jane Goon, 
both of Perrysville, O. I have a second version, which is incomplete. 

1. Young people who delight in sin, 
I'll tell what has lately been. 
There was a lady young and fair. 
Who died in sin and despair. 

2. She'd go to parties, dance and play. 
In spite of all her friends could say. 
"I'll turn to God when I grow old, 
And he will then receive my soul." 

3. On Friday morning she took sick; 
Her stubborn heart begins to break. 
"Alas, alas! my days are spent; 

It is too late for to repent." 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 193 

4. She called her mother to her bed; 
Her eyes were rolling in her head. 
"When I am dead, remember well 
Your wretched Polly screams in hell. 

5. "The tear is lost you shed for me; 
My soul is lost, I plainly see. 

Oh, mother, mother, fare you well! 
My soul will soon be dragged to hell. 

6. "My earthly father, fare you well! 
My soul is lost and doomed to hell. 
The flaming wrath begins to roll; 

I am a lost and ruined soul." 

7. She gnawed her tongue before she died. 

She rolled, and groaned, and screamed, and cried: 
"When thousand, thousand years roll round. 
With flames I shall be still surround." 

8. At length the monster death prevailed; 
Her nails turned blue, her language failed. 
She closed her eyes, and left this world. 
Poor Polly down to hell was hurled. 

9. It almost broke her mother's heart 
To see her child to hell depart. 
"My Polly! Oh, my Polly is dead! 
Her soul is gone, her spirit fled." 

10. Good God, how did her parents [moani]. 
To think their child was dead and gone! 
"Oh, is my Polly gone to hell? 

My grief so great no tongue can tell." 

11. Young people, lest this be your case. 
Return to God and seek his face. 
Upon your knees for mercy cry. 
Lest you in sin like Polly die. 

12. Oh sinners! take this warning far. 
And for your dying bed prepare. 
Remember well you[r] dying day; 
And seek salvation while you may. 

ingratitude: the story of asa trott.^ 
The following poem was obtained through Mrs. Pearl H. Bartholo- 
mew from Mrs. E. A. Thurston, both of Warren, Ind. It was learned 

1 Supplied from Mr. Barry's B text. 

2 [This is a curious rifacimento of the celebrated fabliau of La Houce Partie, for which see 
Barbazan-Meon. iv, 472 ff. ; Montaiglon and Raynaud, i, 82 ff. (translated, as " The Divided 



194 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

by Mrs. T. fifty years ago from the recitation of her father. Stanza 
6 of "The Old Bedquilt" shows that the piece was a formal compo- 
sition intended for print. 

Preface. 

This little story tells you of one Asa Trott, 

Who paid a great price for the little he got. 

"Buy truth," saith the Scripture; so truth can be bought; 

And wisdom is purchased when earnestly sought. 

But for things of less value poor Asa took thought; 

He coveted land, and he gave for a lot 

His conscience, his comfort, his peace every jot; 

But found at the last he had labored for naught. 

Poor Asa, he found "there was death in the pot." 

With conscience insulted, hard battles are fought. 

Of his land, Asa wanted at last but a spot 

Where his sins and his sorrows might all be forgot. 

Take warning, my friend, by poor Asa Trott; 

Nor barter your love for what satisfies not. 

The Old Bedquilt. 

1. The autumn winds were blowing cold, 

The summer bloom was o'er; 
And Mr. Trott, infirm and old. 
Entered the cottage door. 

2. With feeble step and wistful look, 

Trembling with cold and age, 

He tottered to the chimney nook, 

But heard a voice of rage, — 

3. "I hate this mean old elbow-chair, 

Forever in my way. 
Say, do you think that I will bear 
To have it here all day?" 

4. The aged man with tears replies: 

"My work on earth is done. 
But, since my presence you despise, 
Where shall I go, my son?" 

5. "You need not ask;" said Asa Trott, 

"The almshouse is in view. 
Before this time you should have thought 
It was the place for you." 

Blanket," by Isabel Butler, Tales from the Old French. 1910, pp. iii ff.). ii. i ff- (two forms). 
For the general story see Jacques de Vitry, ed. Crane, p. 121 (many references at p. 260), 
and cf. the 78th tale in Grimm. An eighteenth-century broadside ballad, "The Slighted 
Father, or The Unnatural Son justly Reclaimed," belongs with this group of stories. It 
begins, "A wealthy man of late, we hear." Of this the Harvard College Library has 
several copies (25242.19, vol. i, p. 59; 25242.4, vol. i, p. 190; 25242.2, fol. 6, and one or two 
more.) 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 195 

6. My little reader, think of that. 

Poor grandpa said no more; 
But, taking up his tattered hat, 
He staggered to the door. 

7. Beneath a naked apple-tree, 

Whose autumn leaves were shed. 
He sat him down, and on his knees 
Reclined his aching head. 

8. At last he heard a gentle sound; 

And little Thomas said: 
"Why sits my grandpa on the ground? 
And what does ail his head?" 

9. "Alas, my son, I have no more 

A place to call my own; 
And I must join the pauper poor, 
Supported by the tov/n. 

10. "But I am very cold, my dear, 

My strength is nearly gone. 

I must not stay and perish here; 

That would be doing wrong. 

11. "Go to my chamber, little son; 

(I take it without guilt, 
For by my wife those seams were run) 
Go, bring my patch-work quilt." 

12. With swelling heart poor Thomas ran. 

Determined now to know 

If his own father was the man 

Who treated grandpa so, 

13. Now Asa, in a sullen mood. 

Was posting books that day; 
And Tommie said: "'Tis very rude 
To send grandpa away. 

14. "Pray tell me now, what has he done, 

That you should treat him so?" 
Said Madame Jenny, "Hold your tongue." 
Said Asa, "Let him go." 

Remorse. 

I. To grandpa's chamber Tommie went, 
And now his sorrows found a vent 

In bitter tears at last. 
"But grandpa waits," he sobbing said; 
Then snatched the quilt from ofT the bed. 
And down the stairway passed. 



196 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

2. Then close to father's ear he drew, 
And whispered: "Cut this quilt in two; 

Grandfather needs but half. 
You'll want the other half, when poor 
And old I drive you from the door, 

And at your sorrows laugh." 

3. The father started with surprise. 
"Oh, Tommie, if you e'er despise 

And treat your father thus. 
May Heaven" — he paused with sudden dread. 
And felt upon his guilty head 

That stern, half-uttered curse. 

4. The boy had raised a mirror there; 
He saw himself with hoary hair, 

Scorned by his darling son. 
Doomed at the last to wander forth, 
A vagabond upon the earth. 

Till life's last sands were run. 

5. And conscience, too, held high its glass; 
O'er it he saw a spectre pass. 

Fiendlike ingratitude. 
It changed into the deathless worm, 
Whose fostering [festering] wo[u]nds forever burn. 

He saw, and understood. 

6. "Dear Tommie, take my hand," he said; 
And Tommie to the garden led 

Poor Asa bowed with shame. 
And then he fell upon his knees, 
Beneath the withered apple-trees. 

And called his father's name. 

7. That father raised his head and heard 
"Forgive!" It was a single word; 

But on his withered face, 
A smile proclaimed the pardon won; 
He held his loved but long-lost son 

In close and warm embrace. 

8. 'Twas rapture to the little boy. 

And angels heard the sound with joy, 

When, in a humble tone, 
Repentant Asa, sad but calm. 
Said: "Father, lean upon my arm, 

And let us now go home." 

9. Now in the chimney's warmest nook 
Sat grandpa with the holy book. 

His countenance serene. 



Some Songs Traditional in the United States. 197 

But dimmer grew his sunken eye; 
A cough proclaimed that he would die 
Before the grass was green. 

10. And Asa watched him day by day, 
And wept alone, and tried to pray 

That God his life would save. 
But still the old man weaker grew, 
And nearer still each day he drew 

Unto the silent grave. 

11. He saw that unto Asa's heart 
Remorse had sent its keenest dart; 

And so he sought to hide 
The death-hue of his withered cheek; 
And, when [he was] extremely weak. 

To walk he vainly tried. 

12. But grief on that old heart still fed. 
Although its last, last tear was shed; 

Life's sea had been so rough. 
But now the voyage was almost o'er, 
Sweet voices from the spirit shore 

Cried, "Come; it is enough." 

13. But through the long and dreary night, 
And through the day, however bright, 

Asa was by his bed. 
He put aside his snowy hair. 
He bathed his brow with tend'rest care, 

And propt his sinking head. 

14. 'Twas just before the dawn of day. 
That Asa heard him feebly say: 

"Forget what is forgiven. 
Remember; it is my dying prayer; 
Forget the past and meet me there. 

In heaven, my son, in heaven." 
University of Chicago. 



198 Journal oj American Folk-Lore. 



MORE SONGS AND BALLADS FROM THE SOUTHERN 

APPALACHIANS. 

BY ISABEL NANTON RAWN AND CHARLES PEABODY. 

[From a collection of songs and ballads sent me by Miss Isabel 
Nanton Rawn of Mount Berry, Georgia, I have selected the following 
for publication now. They seem in large measure not to have been 
published before. I have added a very few notes. 

The songs I-V were secured by Miss Rawn from Ethel Edward; 
Nos. VI and VII, from Roxie Gay. The references to Child are to 
the Riverside Press edition of 1000 copies. 

In the remainder of the collection are interesting versions of "The 
Old Rich Merchant," "Lord Randall," and "Barbara Allen," with 
striking variant readings; e.g., the account of the slight of Barbara 
Allen is thus given: 

"Oh! don't you remember the other day, 

When we were at the station, 
You passed your hands to the ladies all around, 

And slighted Barbara Allen."— C. P.] 

SONG BALLET. 

With this song compare "The Quaker's Wooing," etc. (Barry, this 
Journal, 1905, pp. 49, ff.), and "Brown Adam" (Child, iv, 374), also 
the crescendo of bribes in the song " Oh! Madam I will give to you," 
etc., sung by the Fuller sisters. 

I. 

"Madam, I will buy you a paper of pins. 

This is the way my love begins 

If you will marry me." , 

"Sir, I do not accept your paper of pins. 
This is the way our love begins. 
For I will not marry you." 

"Madam, I will buy you a little lap-dog 
You can take with you when you go abroad 
If you will marry me." 

"Sir, I'll not accept your little lap-dog. 

And I can't take it with me when I go abroad, 

For I won't marry you." 



Songs and Ballads from the Southern Appalachians. 199 

"Madam, I will buy you a black silk dress; 
It's bound around with golden thread 



For I won't marry you." 

"Madam, I will buy you old black cow — 
You can milk her if you know how — 
If you will marry me." 

"No, sir, I don't accept your old black cow, 
I can milk her if I know how, — 
For I won't marry you." 

" Madam, I give a forekin six 
Every horse as black as pitch 



For I won't marry you." 

"Madam, I give you forekin six- 
Every horse as white as snow — 



II. 

Soldier life is a dreary life; 

It robs poor girls of their heart's delight, 

It causes them to weep, it causes them to mourn. 

For the loss of a true-love never to return. 

"Captain, Captain, tell me true. 
Does my sweetheart dwell with you?" — 
"No, kind miss, he is not here. 
He got killed in a battle, my dear." 

"Hand me a chair and I sit down, 

A pen and write it down. 

At every line I drop a tear. 

At every verse cry, 'Willy, my dear.' " 

"O father! O father! go build me a boat,^ 

That I may on the ocean float. 

I hail every boat as I pass by, 

And I inquire of my sweet sailor boy. 

It on rocks went as I passed by, — 

There I let your true-love lie." 

Compare for the double address "Lord Randall," etc., passim. 



200 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

III. 

This night is almost over, 

It is near the break of day, 
I am waiting for my answer, 

My love, what did you say? 

"If an answer I must give you, 

I would choose a single life, 
For I never thought you was fit 

For me to be your wife." 

"I hope the ground that you stand on 

The grass will refuse to grow, 
For you have been the reason 

Of my heart overflow." 

IV. 

Come all you fair and tender ladies,^ 
Take warning how you like young men, 
They will tell you some lovely story. 
Declare they love you true. 

Straightway they will go and love another, — 

That's the love they have for you. 

I wish I were a little sparrow 

And had wings to fly and fly 

Over, and when he talked I would be nigh. 

But as I am no little sparrow 
And got no wings to fly, 
I wish I were instead a rabbit 
To pass my troubles by. 

"Wake up, wake up, you saucy sleeper! 
Wake up, wake up, for it is almost day! 
Come, peep your head out at the window 
And see what your true-love has to say! 

"Go, then! go, then! and tell your mother 

If you my loving bride will be!" — 

"Oh, no! I cannot tell my mother 

And let her know you are near. 

So turn away, love, and cast' another. 

And it will be the last I will trouble." 

1 For such "Come all ye's" compare Perrow (this Journal, 191S. P- 160) and Child 
(Fair Flower of Northumberland, I, p. 114. 35". and Tam Lin, II, p. 349. G. i); also a 
fragment remembered by me, sung by an Adirondack guide about 1880: — 

"Come all ye fair maidens, a warning take by me, 
And never build your nests within a hollow tree." 

2 For this song compare Kittredge (this Journal, 1907, p. 260). The last six lines are 
interlopers. The ballad is mentioned by Louise Pound (this Journal, 1913, p. 354). 

' For "court." 



Songs and Ballads from the Southern Appalachians. 201 

"Then go, then, my love, and ask your father 
If you my loving bride will be." — 
"Oh, no! I cannot ask my father, 
For on his velvet cloak he read(?) ^ 

"All in his hand he holds a-weepin' 
To slay the man that I love best. 
Oh, don't you see the clouds a-risin' 
To hide us from the setting sun?" 

"Oh, yes! I see the clouds a-risin' 

To hide us from the setting sun. 

Oh, won't you be glad when we are blest 

With the pleasure, and we both become as one?" 

VI. 

"Come, little pink, I tell you what I think, 

I'll give you a piece of my mind. 

You remember sitting by my side 

Upon the mountain-top. 

You promise, promise, to marry me. 

And be my darling bride." 

"It's no such of a thing, 

It never was in my mind. 

It's no such a thing. 

It wasn't in the bargain ary time. 

If God will spare me until the sun goes down, 

I will buy me a bottle of vinichar wine 

For to wash your deceitful face." 

VII. 

[Miss Rawn compares the following ballad with "The Bailiff's 
Daughter of Islington " (Child, iv, 426). See also Barry, " The Love 
Token" (this Journal, 191 1, p. 339). — C. P.] 

A pretty fair miss all in the garden, 
A journeyole (?) soldier passing by. 
He did stop and kindly address her 
By saying, "Kind miss, will you marry me?" 

"No, kind sir, a man of honor, 
A man of honor you may be. 
Would you impose upon a lady 
Whose bride to you is not to be?" 

" I have a sweetheart cross the ocean. 
He has been gone for seven long year, 
And if he's dead, I hope he is happy. 
Or in some battle being slain. 
' For "rest." 



202 Journal oj American Folk-Lore . 

"And if he is to some fair girl married, 

I love the girl that married him." 

He run his hands all in his pockets 

And pulled out rings that she had gave him. 

Straight down before him she did fall: 

He picked her up all in his arms, 

Giving kisses by one, two, three. 

Saying, "If I had staid there seven years longer, 

No girl but you could have married me." 
Mount Berry, Georgia. 
Cambridge, Mass. 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 203 



METRICAL ROMANCES IX THE PHILIPPINES. 

BY DEAN S. FANSLER. Ph.D. 

Forty years after the Spaniards had founded a permanent settle- 
ment in the Philippine Islands, Cervantes published in Spain the 
first part of the "Adventures of the Ingenious Gentleman, Don 
Quixote de la Mancha," a book that effectually destroyed, among the 
cultured classes at least, the taste for romances of chivalry. Nearly 
three hundred years later, when Spain withdrew from the isles of 
the Pacific, nine-tenths of the books printed in the Filipino dialects 
were either religious (prayers, saints' lives, and moral tales) or ro- 
mantic and fantastic stories of the type ridiculed to death in the 
peninsula by Cervantes. Until the American occupation brought 
the freedom of the press to the Philippines, the reading-matter of the 
natives was largely the reading-matter of the Spaniards of the six- 
teenth century and earlier. Nor have the last fifteen years accom- 
plished among the masses any decided revolution in literary taste. The 
literature of modern Spain has had very little effect upon Philippine 
literature. The most popular single book in the Islands to-day — the 
"Pasion," a fourteen-thousand-line metrical account, in quintillas, 
of the life and sufferings of Jesus Christ — goes back to a Spanish origi- 
nal of the early seventeenth century. While it is true that the com- 
mercial presses in Manila, Iloilo, and Cebu, during the last decade, 
have been printing many new realistic novels and plays from the 
pens of young writers, the metrical romance continues to hold its 
place. The stories of Rodrigo de Villas (the "Cid"), Charlemagne 
and his Twelve Peers, Bernardo del Carpio, the Seven Lords of Lara, 
and a number of others based upon early Spanish history and legend, 
keep appearing in larger and larger yearly editions. The enchanter 
Preston, who Don Quixote was convinced had carried off his beloved 
library, must have deposited it in the Philippines. 

A classification of sixteen of the metrical romances current in one 
or more of the Philippine dialects will show the wide range of material 
treated, and will give Occidental readers some idea of the mental 
pabulum of the ordinary native. Brief synopses of those stories most 
interesting from the point of view of literary history may be serviceable 
for comparison with the well-known English and European versions 
popular centuries ago, but unread to-day except by a small group of 
specialists. Before the classification and analyses are taken up, 
however, some attention might well be given to the form in which 
these stories are presented to the Filipino reader. 
VOL. xxix. — NO. 112. — 14. 



204 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

These romantic narratives are all in stanzaic verse, which is of 
two types, — quatrains of twelve-syllable lines in assonance, and quat- 
rains of eight-syllable lines in assonance.^ The twelve-syllable line 
is much the more common of the two : it is the vehicle not only of the 
greater number of the metrical romances, but of most of the saint- 
legends, novenas, and other religious works. The common generic 
name for the type of stories we are accustomed to term in English 
"metrical romances" is corrido? Among all the Filipinos the word 
corrido means an extended narrative of the life and adventures of 
some person. In Tagalog the term, if strictly used, is applied only 
to poems written in octosyllabic lines; those in alexandrines ^ having on 
the title-page Buhay nang, etc. ("Life of," etc.) or Salita at Buhay, 
etc. ("Story and Life," etc.). The general Tagalog word for "poem" 
or "song" is awit. The other dialects make no such formal distinction 
between the corrido and the Buhay. 

The Philippine corridos vary in length from a few hundred to 
several thousand lines. They are printed in pamphlet form, one 
tale to a volume, on a very cheap quality of paper, and sell for 
the small sum of five or ten cents. As a result of the perishable 
nature of the booklets, no very old copies have survived the ravages 
of mildew and bookworm: the oldest copy I have seen was dated 
1815. This fact need not indicate, however, that the corridos have 
not been popular more than a hundred years. Indeed, I am inclined 
to believe with Barrantes^ that probably many of the romantic tales 
of Spain were told to the natives by the soldiers of Legaspi before the 
beginning of the seventeenth century, just as the missionary priests 
lost no time in introducing to the Islands the "Pasion," the saint- 
legends, and the religious plays {autos sacramentales) . And many 
of the metrical romances must have been circulated orally or in manu- 
script long before they were put into print; not a few are known to-day 
only in small restricted areas and only in manuscript form. On the 
whole, we are probably safe in concluding that the corridos have been 
popular for three or more centuries among the Filipinos. These 
stories not only make up the body of most of the entertaining reading 
of the lower and middle classes, but they also furnish passages for 
quotation and recitation on every conceivable occasion. The lives 
of such heroes as Jaime del Prado and Bernardo del Carpio are sung 
by the small boy driving the cattle to pasture, by the peasant working 
in his paddy-field, or by the itinerant beggar travelling from one town 

1 Rhyme is not found in Philippine poetry. 

2 Defined in Velasquez' Spanish-English Dictionary as "a metrical story, usually 
sung to the accompaniment of a guitar, in fandango style." 

3 The Philippine alexandrine (twelve-syllable line) had the cesura regular after the 
sixth syllable. As in the French, there is no marked iambic rhythm. 

< Vicente Barrantes, El Teatro Tagalo (Madrid, 1889), pp. 29-30. 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 205 

fiesta to the next. Even in social gatherings the apt introduction 
into the conversation of moraHzing or didactic lines from some well- 
known corrido is received with approbation. In the duplo, or wit- 
combat often indulged in at funeral feasts, the winner is always the 
person who has at his tongue's end quotations from the "Pasion" 
and the corridos, that are most appropriate for carrying on the argu- 
ment proposed. Besides, these stories are often done into dramatic 
form; and no town's celebration of its patron saint is thought complete 
without a comedia, or moro-moro play.^ 

Of the metrical romances based directly upon European material, 
the following may be taken as representing all that is typical of the 
genre. They fall into seven classes, and are distributed thus: — 

I. Charlemagne Romances: 

1. Prince Baldovinos. 

2. The Twelve Peers of France. 

3. Count d'Irlos. 

II. An Arthurian Romance: 

I. Tablante de Ricamonte. 

III. The Constance-Saga and its Variants: 

1. Florentina. 

2. Adela. 

3. Maria. 

4. Proceso. 

IV. Classical Romance: 

I. Paris and Oenone. 

V. Oriental Didactic Tales with Western Modifications: 

1. Alejandre and Luis (a variant of Amis and Amiloun). 

2. Blancaflor and Floristo (a garbled version of Floris and Blanche- 

fleur). 

3. Prince Erastro (a popular form of the Seven Sages of Rome). 

VI. Romances based on Spanish History and Legend: 

1. Rodrigo de Villas. 

2. Bernardo del Carpio. 

VII. Romances based on Italian Novelle: 

1. Romeo and Juliet. 

2. Gricelda. 

In the following pages the first three of these have been treated, 

1 In the Philippines, comedia and moro-moro are synonymous terms. They signify 
a long play, sometimes continuing for three nights, in which is represented a war between 
Christians and Saracens (or Moros). Kings, princes, and dukes fight and parade in great 
magnificence. Needless to say, the Christian is always victorious in the end, and the 
Christian prince invariably brings about the conversion of the Pagan princess with whom 
he is in love. Most of these plays are adapted from the corridos. 



2o6 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

"Bernardo del Carpio" and the "Twelve Peers of France" are 
easily the most popular of the stories just enumerated. To test a 
surmise of this fact, I questioned one hundred and seventy-five repre- 
sentative college students. One hundred and four replied that they 
had either read in their dialects, or had been told in their dialects, 
or had seen acted in their town fiestas, the life of Bernardo del Carpio ; 
and eighty-five made a similar report on the "Twelve Peers." 

As to the authorship of the corridas, the only thing certain that 
can be said is that most of the versions are anonymous. In some 
instances it would appear that Spanish priests acquainted with the 
dialects had written the tales. The large number of Spanish words, 
the occasional Iberian turn of the native construction, and the fre- 
quent references to biblical and classical history, point to this conclu- 
sion. But just who these priests were, — if priests they were, indeed, — 
no one can say. Like their mediaeval counterparts in England and 
France, the stories are peculiarly non-subjective; and at no time 
while reading them do we feel at all concerned to know who wrote 
them. As in a marionette show the story is the thing, not the im- 
personal reciter behind the scenes, so in the metrical romances. 

I. CHARLEMAGNE ROMANCES. 
I. " BALDO VINOS." 

'''The Story of the Life and Adventures of Prince Baldovinos in 
the Kingdom of Dacia and of Princess Sevilla in the Kingdom of 
Sansuena" has been printed in the Tagalog, Pampango, and Ilocano 
dialects.^ The three versions agree in the main, but are by no means 
of the same length. The Talalog contains 1182 quatrains of octosyl- 
labic lines (4728 verses), the Pampango 990 (3960 verses), and the 
Ilocano only 895 (3580 verses), the lines in this last version being 
decasyllabic (an unusual form) instead of octosyllabic, however. 
The Tagalog redaction, as the most detailed and comprehensive of 
the three, will serve as the basis of our analysis of the story, which 
carries us from the birth of Baldwin to his treacherous death at the 
hands of Carlomagno's son Carloto, and the subsequent punishment 
of the murderer. According to Cervantes, this sad tale was highly 
popular in Spain, and was one of Don Quixote's favorites.^ 

1 A student from Zambales also reports that he has seen this narrative acted on the 
stage in his province as a comedia in the Zambales dialect. 

2 "And presently his frenzy brought to his remembrance the story of Baldwin and the 
Meirquis of Mantua, when Chariot left the former wounded on the mountain; a story 
learned and known by little children, not unknown to young men and women, celebrated, 
and even believed, by the old, and yet not a jot more authentic than the miracles of 
Mahomet." — Motteux's trans, of Don Quixote, Part I, chap. 5. 

And a few chapters farther on Don Quixote himself says, "I swear by the Creator of 
all things, and by all that is contained in the four holy evangelists, to lead the life that 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 207 

A condensed paraphrase of the Tagalog corrido, which may be 
divided into four more or less distinct sections (although no formal 
indication of divisions appears in the text) is the following: — 

[part I. EPISODE OF ESMELESINDA.] 

Baldovinos was the son of the King of Dacia by Arminda, a sister of 
Carlomagno. When he was a mere boy, his father the king died: and his 
mother, thinking to educate her son fittingly, sent him to live with his uncle 
the Marquis of Mantua, who soon grew to love him as a son. At the court 
of the Marquis, Baldovinos developed every admirable trait, and by his 
modesty, bravery, and beauty, won the praise of all. The Marquis (who 
is usually referred to as Donais Urgel — i.e., Ogier the Dane — in this 
version) planned to marry his nephew to the Princess of Sansuena when he 
should become of age. The narrator here makes an abrupt transition and 
proceeds to tell the story of Esmelesinda, the wife of Guifero and the aunt 
of Baldovinos. 

One day Guifero and his wife were hunting in the forest, and after a long 
vain pursuit they stopped under a tree to rest. Overcome with fatigue, 
Esmelesinda dropped off to sleep; but the duke, catching sight of an animal, 
gave chase, and was soon lost among the hills and trees. By a curious 
chance, an army of Turks happened to come to the place where Esmelesinda 
was lying; they took her captive and carried her off to Sansuena, where the 
Turkish emperor Balan locked her up in a tower, expecting to convert her 
and to marry her to his brother Clarion. While a captive in Sansuena, 
Esmelesinda became very friendly with the princess Sevilla (daughter of 
the King of Sansuena, not Balan), to whom upon request she explained 
all the details of Carlomagno's court. Her account of the noble peers 
was so glowing that Sevilla soon fell in love with Baldovinos, although she 
had never seen or heard of him before. 

Guifero meanwhile had returned to his Emperor's court, and upon 
hearing of Esmelesinda's capture had given her up as hopelessly lost, and 
had sought forgetfulness at the gaming-table. One day, however, Car- 
lomagno so shamed the faint-hearted duke, that he resolved to attempt 
the rescue of his imprisoned wife. On Roldan's famous horse he succeeded 
in reaching Sansuena in a short time, in rescuing Esmelesinda from the 
hands of the Pagans, and in finally returning safely with her to the French 
Court. 

[part II. EPISODE OF CLAINOS AND SEVILLA, WITH THE MARRIAGE OF 

BALDOVINOS.] 

Clainos,^ King of Arabia, disappointed in the escape of Esmelesinda, 
wooed Sevilla, who promised to become his wife if he would bring to San- 
suena the heads of Roldan, Oliveros, and Reinaldo of Montalban. She 
proposed this test merely in order to get rid of her suitor; for she felt sure 

the great Marquis of Mantua led, when he vowed to revenge the death of his nephew 
Valdovinos, which was, not to eat bread on a table-cloth, with other things, which, though 
I do not now remember, I consider as here expressed, until I am fully revenged on him 
who hath done me this outrage." — Ibid., Part I, chap. lo. 

1 There is evidently a confounding here of Clainos and Clarion. 



2o8 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

that he would never succeed. When Clainos arrived at the French borders, 
he issued his challenge to fight, and the Emperor ordered Roldan to go 
meet the proud paynim. But Roldan refused because Carlomagno had 
made some derogatory remarks about the younger Peers in a former cam- 
paign. Exasperated by the refusal, Carlomagno quarrelled with the young 
warrior, and finally became so undignified as to hurl an inkstand at his 
head. To save the situation, Baldovinos, a mere youth, volunteered and 
was sent against Clainos. For nine hours the fight raged and was undecisive, 
but at last Baldovinos was overcome and made captive. Stirred by the 
sight of the defeat of his kinsman, Roldan rushed to the field and cut off 
Clainos's head. He released Baldovinos and ordered him to carry the 
Saracen's head to Sansuena. Baldovinos reached the court of Balan 
safely, and there he proclaimed his name and the death of Clainos. When 
he saw Sevilla, he fell in love with her; and as his affection was already 
reciprocated, all that the young couple had to do was to gain the consent 
of their guardians. On behalf of his nephew the Marquis of Mantua 
willingly asked Almanzor for the hand of his daughter Sevilla, and his 
request was as readily granted. The marriage was announced; invitations 
were sent to all lands, and the wedding was attended by kings and nobles. 
It was pompously celebrated, the feast lasting many days. Baldovinos 
and his bride then set out for France, where they were graciously received 
by Carlomagno. 

[part III. CARLOTO'S TREACHERY AND THE DEATH OF BALDOVINOS.] 

Carloto, the son of Carlomagno and cousin of Baldovinos, was stirred 
by the unsurpassed beauty of Sevilla. Lacking courage to declare his 
passion, he attempted one night to satisfy it by force: but Sevilla ordered 
him out of the house, and he went, plotting the death of her husband. 
Sevilla unfortunately decided to keep her own counsel with regard to Car- 
loto's dastardly attack. 

A few days later Carloto invited his cousin to go hunting, and Baldovinos, 
unsuspecting, promised to go. When Sevilla heard of the engagement, 
she urged her husband to break it; he insisted, however, that one's word 
once given must be kept. Accordingly, after preparations had been made, 
the two cousins set out, Carloto accompanied by many companions, and 
Baldovinos attended by only his squire Celinos. When they were well 
on their way, Carloto, on the pretext of having left his dagger behind, sent 
Celinos to fetch it: the rest proceeded to the forest. There in a suitable 
place Carloto and his eighteen followers fell upon the lone Baldovinos, 
thinking to make a quick end of him. He defended himself so bravely, 
however, that though mortally wounded, he killed all eighteen of the ac- 
complices. Carloto escaped; and Baldovinos was barely able to drag 
himself to the bank of a river, where he burst into loud lamentations. 

By chance, the Marquis of Mantua was hunting in the mountains that 
day, but had become separated from his men and had lost his way in the 
thick woods. While he was stumbling down a rocky ravine, sounds of 
complaint and distress struck his ear. After listening a few minutes, he 
realized whence they proceeded, and he hastened to the side of the wounded 
man. Baldovinos recognized his uncle finally, and poured forth into his 
ears such a tale of woe and treachery, that the two fainted. There is no 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 209 

telling how long they would have remained helpless by the river-bank had 
not the faithful Celinos opportunely returned from his wild-goose chase 
and revived the uncle and nephew from their swoon. Somewhat restored, 
though feeling that his end was near, Baldovinos requested his companions 
to take him to the cave of St. Benito, hard by, where he could be shriven 
before it was too late. Between them Celinos and the Marquis managed 
to carry the sinking man to the holy place; and after the monks had con- 
fessed the brave young peer, he commended Sevilla to the care of his uncle, 
and died. 

The body was taken to Mantua (it seems that Baldovinos was fifteen 
days' journey from the French Court when he was murdered), where the 
Marquis solemnly vowed on his sword not to comb his hair, eat at table, 
or manage his affairs, until he had avenged the death of his favorite nephew. 

[part IV. CARLOTO'S TRIAL AND EXECUTION.] 

The Princess Sevilla had been summoned to Mantua by a letter from 
the Marquis, explaining what had happened to her husband. Bent on 
vengeance and supported by the Peers at Mantua, she organized an army 
and set out for France. Don Sancho and Don Irlos were sent ahead as 
ambassadors to explain Sevilla's demands. The Emperor received the 
two courteously, and, determined to give the Marquis of Mantua justice, 
called a council, at which Delfrindar de Ardinia acted as chairman. Eight 
councillor? urged the IVIarquis's claims, and eight defended Carloto. Their 
long arguments and subsequent quarrels so angered Carlomagno that 
finally he took justice into his own hands and ordered that Carloto should 
be executed. 

A plan of Roldan's to rescue Carloto on the way to the block was frustrated 
by the Emperor, and the headstrong intriguer was banished from France 
for a time. Carloto was duly beheaded, and his body left exposed and 
unburied for a day. The Marquis returned to his home, but Sevilla spent 
the rest of her life in a convent. 

As it is well-nigh impossible to determine when the corrido of 
"Baldovinos" was first printed in the Philippines, — whether the 
story is fifty years old or two hundred, — the question of the dates 
of possible sources is not our starting-point. Obviously the most 
convenient storehouses for the redactor of the narrative of the Marquis 
of Mantua and his nephew were the various printed collections of 
Spanish ballads.^ The Spanish poems covering most of the inci- 
dents presented in the corrido are five in all. Arranged in the order 
in which their narratives appear in the Philippine version, they are, — 

1 The three most important old collections of Spanish romances and ballads before 
Duran's comprehensive Romancero General are the Cancionero de Romances, the Silva 
de Varies Romances (both dating from the second half of the sixteenth century), and 
the Floresta de varios Romances, the first edition of which, according to Pellicer, was 
printed at Alcala in i6oS. Among Duran's immediate predecessors, Jacob Grimm, with 
his Silva de Romances viejos, is probably entitled to first place. The stories of Baldovinos 
and the Marquis of Mantua, of Gayferos, and of the Arabian king Calainos, all appear in 
the sixteenth-century anthologies. 



2IO Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

1. Romance de don Gayferos que trata de c6mo saco a su esposa que estaba 

en tierra de moros (No. 173 in Wolf and Hofmann's Primavera y 
Flor de Romances, or No. 377 in the Romancero General). 

2. Romance del moro Calainos de como requeria de amores a la infanta 

Sebilla, y ella le demando en arras tres cabezas de los doce pares de 
Francia (No. 193 in the Primavera, No. 373 in the Romancero General). 

3. Romance del Marques de Mantua (No. 165 in the Primavera, No. 355 

in the Romancero General). 

4. Romance de la embajada que envio Danes Urgel, marques de Mantua al 

Emperador (No. 166 in the Primavera, No. 356 in the Romancero 
General). 

5. Sentencia dada a don Carloto (No. 167 in the Primavera, No. 357 in 

the Romancero General). 

It will be noticed from their numbers in the two collections that the 
last three ballads are printed consecutively by both Duran and 
Wolf, and form a trilogy dealing with the Marquis of Mantua, Bal- 
dovinos, and Carloto. All the five ballads just mentioned, along 
with forty-four others, are classified by Duran as "Romances cabal- 
lerescos de las cronicas carlovingias." The first has really nothing 
to do with the life of Baldovinos, for he is neither mentioned nor re- 
ferred to in the poem. The second, which tells the story of Calainos's 
rash attempt to gather in for Sevilla the heads of Roland, Oliveros, 
and Reinaldo of Montalban, shows also how Baldovinos was defeated 
by the Moor, but gives no hint of any sentimental relationship ex- 
isting between the young peer and Sevilla. In none of the collections 
I have seen is the Calainos ballad printed as a Baldovinos ballad. 
These five Spanish poems probably furnished the Philippine author 
with most of the events of his corrido beginning with the second half 
of episode i, at the point where Guiferos is shown as having given 
himself up to gambling. The introductory stanzas, which tell of the 
genealogy of Baldovinos and give a brief account of his early life, 
might have been taken, in part, from the ballad that forms the 
basis of episode iii (lines 172-182) ; but the statement that the Marquis 
of Mantua planned to marry his nephew to the beautiful though 
Pagan Sevilla, appears to be a crude invention to prepare the way for 
the fact that Baldovinos did marry her.^ 

' English readers may find all the ballads enumerated above translated into English 
verse and printed with the original Spanish in Thomas Rodd's Ancient Spanish Ballads, 
relating to the Twelve Peers of France (2 vols., London, 182 1). They may also enjoy 
Cervantes' inimitable caricature of the story of Melisenda's rescue, as it is told by Maese 
Pedro, the puppet-showman, in Don Quixote, Part II, chapter xxvi. Rodd (vol. ii, p. 44 f •) 
prints in English only, unfortunately, an Ancient Ballad of Prince Baldwin, which tells 
how Baldovinos, pensive and sad over his defeat at the hands of Calainos, sets out to seek 
glory for himself to retrieve his lost fame, comes to Sansuena, falls in love with Sevilla, 
and by his feats of arms wins the favor of King Almanzor, who bestows his fair daughter 
on the young Prince of Dacia. Rodd does not say whence he derived his English version: 
he merely remarks, "We cannot present our readers with the Spanish copy, not being in 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 211 

2. "the twelve peers of FRANCE." 

"The Narrative and Life of the Twelve Peers of France, Subjects 
of Emperor Carlomagno until Betrayed by Galalon and Killed at 
Ronsesvalles" is extant in six Philippine dialects, — Tagalog, Pam- 
pango, Bicol, Visayan, Ilocano, and Pangasinan. These versions 
are practically identical in content and length; the Tagalog was 
probably the original of the other five. The Tagalog romance, the 
title of which runs as follows, — "Salitaat Buhay nang Doce Pares sa 
Francia na Campon nang Emperador Carlo magno, hanga nang 
ipagcanulo ni Galalon na nangapatay sa Ronsesvalles," — contains 
4628 verses of twelve syllables each, and in spite of its great length 
is one of the best-known romances in the Islands. 

The source of the Philippine metrical accounts of the lives of the 
Twelve Peers was the Spanish prose "Historia del Emperador Carlo- 
magno," the earliest known edition of which is that of 1528.^ This 
Spanish account, in turn, was a re-doing of the French "Ferumbras." 
Each subsequent version seems to have followed the preceding with 
remarkable fidelity, as an analysis of the latest popular form of the 
story (the Philippine) will show. 

[synopsis of "doce pares."] 

The first thirty-five strophes of this romance narrate an episode, com- 
plete in itself, of how Carlomagno sent assistance to Aaron, ruler of Jeru- 
salem, who had been attacked and taken prisoner by the non-Christian 
people of Zaragoza. After a three-months' march, during which the army 
lost its way and was only set right by a flock of birds that appeared miracu- 
lously in response to prayer, the French forces engaged the Zaragozans, 
defeated them decisively, and restored Aaron to his seat at Jerusalem. 

The bulk of the rest of the book covers about the same ground as the 
Middle English romance of "Sir Ferumbras." After his expedition to 
relieve Jerusalem, Carlomagno planned to invade Alexandria. While the 
Peers were encamped at Mormionda, Fierabras, son of the Pagan ruler 
Balan, sacked Rome and Jerusalem. Gui de Borgona was sent as ambassa- 
dor to Rome to see if Fierabras was there at the head of his troops. On 
his return to France, Gui happened to meet Balan and his daughter Florifes 
riding in a carriage. Although the meeting was but for an instant, the 
Peer fell violently in love with the princess, who in turn was not indifferent 
to him. On hearing his messenger's report to the effect that Fierabras 
was not in Rome, Carlomagno ordered Gui to prepare a large army and to 
advance on that city. When the French troops reached Rome, Florifes 

our collection." Nor have I been able to find it in the Romancero General. It is not 
improbable, however, that the Philippine author knew such a ballad as this, and used 
it for his transition between episodes ii and iii. 

1 No less than fourteen editions of the Historia up to the year 1744 have been enum- 
erated by Pascual de Gayangos in his Libros de Caballerias (Madrid, 1874), p. Ixiv. The 
Spanish text I used in comparing the Tagalog Doce Pares with its prose original was that 
issued in Madrid, 1772. 



212 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

herself took the field against Gui, who, recognizing her, refused to continue 
the battle. Carlomagno, angered at the report of how slowly the campaign 
was proceeding, ordered Roldan with eight other Peers to capture Rome. 
Corsubel, brother of Balan, supported by a host of Pagan soldiers, went 
against this second detachment of French, who were partially successful: 
Corsubel was killed, but Oliveros was severely wounded. The young 
Peers returned to France, leaving Rome still in the hands of the infidels. 
These half victories only angered the Emperor still more, and he resolved 
to wipe off the face of the earth all non-Christians. 

Learning of Corsubel's death, Fierabras went to Mormionda to take 
vengeance on Carlomagno and his Peers. Roldan was ordered to go fight 
with Fierabras, but he refused and quarrelled with Carlomagno. Oliveros, 
though still weak from his wounds, begged permission and was finally 
allowed to engage the Saracen. After a long struggle of many hundred 
lines, Oliveros conquered his opponent, who promised to turn Christian. 
But the Peer was then set upon by fifty thousand men (who sprang from 
nowhere), and, in spite of his desperate resistance, was taken prisoner. 
Carlomagno heard Oliveros's call for help and sent troops to his aid, but 
succeeded only in losing four more Peers in the struggle. The Turks then 
retired with the five Peers as captives, and conducted them to Balan, who 
was in Turkey. 

The prisoners were confined in a foul dungeon under Florifes's tower; 
but the princess, already in love with Gui, took a special interest in these 
French knights, and fed and clothed them secretly. She even went so far 
as to supply them with arms. She told them of her love for Gui de Borgoiia, 
of her desire to become Christian, and of her willingness to restore to Car- 
lomagno the treasures that had been stolen from Rome. 

Meanwhile Carlomagno had not been absolutely idle. He sent an em- 
bassy of seven Peers (all he had left) to demand of Balan the return of the 
five prisoners. Balan at the same time despatched an embassy of fifteen 
kings to propose to the French Emperor an exchange of the five Peers for 
Fierabras. The two embassies met near the Bi'idge of Mentible, where, a 
quarrel arising, the Peers killed fourteen of the kings. One escaped. After 
cutting off the fourteen heads, the seven proceeded to Turkey, where 
Balan, knowing nothing of the fate of his ambassadors, received the Peers 
graciously. But the one king who escaped returned home on the night of 
their arrival and told Balan how fourteen of his messengers had been slain. 
Wild with anger, the Turkish Emperor ordered the seven Peers bound 
in their sleep by three thousand soldiers, and on the following day determined 
to put all twelve of his captives to a shameful death. But Florifes wheedled 
her father into allowing her to take the seven to her tower for the night, 
and there she armed them as she had armed the other five. 

The twelve Peers repulsed every attack upon the tower, and it seemed 
as if they could hold out indefinitely. But through the help of Marpin, 
a famous magician, Balan finally succeeded in separating Florifes from 
her magic girdle, which was supplying the besieged with food. After two 
days of hunger, the Peers resolved to make a sortie for provisions. In 
the melee that ensued. Basin was killed and Gui de Borgona captured. 
Balan resolved that Gui should pay for all the damage done by the Peers; 
but when the next day the captive was being led to the gallows, his com- 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 213 

panions, in two lines headed by Roldan and Oliveros, rushed out of the 
tower and rescued him. Thousands of Turks were killed. The eleven 
Peers also captured twelve horses laden with food, and returned elated 
to their stronghold. 

This kind of existence could not go on forever, however, and the besieged 
finally resolved to send word of their plight to Carlomagno. Ricarte was 
agreed upon as messenger. After much fighting he managed to make his 
way through hosts of Saracens to the Bridge of Mentible, where the porter, 
acting on orders from Balan, refused to let him cross. But guided by a 
miraculous white deer, Ricarte found a way to ford the river, and in a few 
days he reached the French Court. 

Carlomagno resolved to conduct in person the rescuing-expedition; and, 
accompanied by a large force with Ricarte as guide, he set out for the east. 
By means of a trick proposed by Ricarte, the French forces managed to 
get past the Bridge of Mentible; they killed the guarding giants and thou- 
sands of Turks, and sent a defiance to Balan. But Balan was no coward: 
he determined to fight to the last. He was finally overcome, however, 
and, though Fierabras and Florifes urged him to become a Christian, he 
remained loyal to Mahomet; hence there was nothing for Carlomagno to 
do but to cut off the head of this obstinate person. Florifes and Gui de 
Borgona were married. They decided to live in Turkey with Fierabras, 
as Balan was dead. After a two-months' visit with the young couple, 
Carlomagno and the rest of his Peers returned to France. 

The remainder of the romance (187 strophes) tells of Carlomagno's 
campaigns in the south. He destroyed the infidels in Pamplona and Galicia, 
and then defeated successively King x\igolante. Prince Furre, the giant 
Ferragus (Roldan performing this feat after Oger Donais, Reinaldo, and 
Constantino had been overcome by the giant), and the Kings of Cordova 
and Sevilla. But through the treachery of Galalon, whom Carlomagno 
had sent to demand tribute of the Pagan king Marsirios, the Peers were 
overwhelmed and killed at Ronsesvalles. Hearing of the disaster too late 
to send any aid to his army, Carlomagno pursued and captured Galalon, 
who was subsequently executed. After giving all his wealth to the Church, 
the great Emperor died Feb. 16, 1012 (sic!). 

3. " COUNT IRLOS." 

The Philippine romance of the "Life of Count Irlos and his Wife, 
of the Kingdom of France" circulates only in the Pampango dialect. 
The title-page of the 1902 edition bears the legend, "Exclusive prop- 
erty of Doiia Modesta Lanuza: nobody is allowed to publish this 
without her permission." It would thus appear that Seiiora Lanuza 
herself or some member of her family was the author of this version, 
as she was not the publisher. 

Notwithstanding the fact that "Conde Irlos" is a Charlemagne 
story, it is not nearly so well known as " Baldovinos" or " Doce Pares." 
Possibly its unusual length (5008 octosyllabic lines) together with a 
paucity of adventures accounts for its unpopularity. The Spanish 
original of part of this story, "El Romance del Conde Irlos y de las 



214 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

grandes Venturas que hubo" (Primavera, No. 164; Romancero General 
No. 354), is one of the longest of the Castilian romances (1366 lines), 
and forms, observes Duran, "una novela caballeresca completa." 
Duran goes on to say, "Its construction points it out to be one of 
those primitive compositions which came into print only after being 
altered not merely by oral tradition itself but also by poets who tried 
to improve on it." In its earliest form the Spanish story was a romance 
viejo popular; but the printed version, remarks Duran, was composed 
by a juglar working over ancient oral tradition. The fortune of the 
story in the Philippines has been not unlike its fortune in the penin- 
sula; only the Pampango author began with the printed romance in- 
stead of oral tradition, and in his (or her) attempt to improve on the 
original increased its bulk nearly fourfold.^ 

[synopsis of conde irlos.) 

Bencebais, the count of Irlos and nephew of Carlomagno, inherited vast 
estates from his parents. He possessed also, in addition to good looks and 
polite manners, an indefatigable zeal for the cause of Christianity. Through 
his sword he won for his uncle seventeen Pagan kingdoms; but Carlomagno 
magnanimously gave them to Bencebais, and said that the seventeen 
kings should be his vassals and his only. The young count then returned 
to his own country, where he enjoyed himself with musical entertainments 
and hunting. 

The next one-fifth of this long story tells how Count Irlos went to a tourna- 
ment held by the King of Italy, and won as his bride the beautiful Princess 
Elea. Allarde, King of London and one of the disappointed suitors, on 
his return to his country passed through Carlomagno's dominions, and 
issued a challenge to the Emperor and his Twelve Peers. But as the 
French seemingly paid no attention to his boasts (Roldan again proved 
refractory, refusing to obey his Emperor's orders to fight the audacious 
Saracen, and thereby calling down on his own head the same ink-stand 
treatment he had received once before at the hands of the enraged Car- 
lomagno), the King of London proceeded on his way, vowing vengeance. 

On the return of Count Irlos with his prize, his marriage was celebrated 
after Elea had been christened Reducinda Rosalina. Not long after, 
while he was enjoying himself at his own estates, a message from the Em- 
peror came to end his happiness. He was ordered to prepare an expedition 
to proceed against Allarde in order to recover the lost fame and honor of 
France. The Count declared the order to be cruel and unwise, and, full 
of wrath and dissatisfaction, he went with his troops to report at Paris. 
Leaving his wife in the care of his uncle Don Beltran, and telling her that 
if he did not return within nine years she should be free to marry again and 
all his property should be hers, he departed with ten thousand followers 
for the coast, and the large expedition embarked for Allarde's kingdom. 
While on board ship, the Count, for some unexplained reason, solemnly 
swore never to return to France; and he made his men so swear, forbidding 

1 An English verse translation of the Spanish Romance del Conde Dirlos may be found 
in Rodd's Ancient Spanish Ballads, vol. i, pp. 167-275. 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 215 

them even to send any messages home. The Count and his men achieved 
a brilliant victory over AUarde, and seventeen years passed without any 
word being sent back to France. 

One night Count Irlos dreamt that his wife was being forced to marry 
some one she did not love. Jumping to his feet, he ordered the trumpets 
sounded, and telling his men that they were to return to France, but in- 
cognito, the army embarked as soon as preparations could be made. The 
Count's beard had grown so long, and his voice had so changed, that he 
did not fear discovery. 

When he reached France, he proceeded immediately for his own estates, 
where he was astonished to see on his palace gates the coat-of-arms of 
Celinos, Roldan's nephew. Upon making inquiries of the sentry, he learned 
that, since no word had been received from the long-absent Count, Roldan 
had circulated the report that the Count was dead, for he wanted his nephew 
Celinos to marry Elea and come into possession of Bencebais' wealth. 
Celinos even forged letters tending to prove that Count Irlos was no longer 
living. Carlomagno and the Peers had then chosen a husband for Elea, — 
the crafty Celinos, — but through the influence of Don Beltran, the Coun- 
tess had obtained a respite of a year before re-marrying. It was during 
this year that Count Irlos returned. 

Assuming the role of a Persian ambassador bringing news of the missing 
count, Irlos called on Don Beltran that night; but the uncle recognized 
his beloved nephew under the long beard. Elea, hearing that a messenger 
had arrived with news of her husband, entered the room; and, although 
she did not recognize the Count, his heart melted with pity for her sadness, 
and, proclaiming his name, he threw himself into her arms. 

There still remained the punishment of Celinos and Roldan. The next 
day the Count with his faithful followers went to Paris, and after making 
known his identity asked Carlomagno to remove the coat-of-arms of Celinos. 
The treachery of the young peer was exposed, and he was finally sentenced 
to death. Not satisfied with this, however. Count Irlos went to Roldan 
and offered to fight him and all the knights who had taken part in the trick 
against him. Carlomagno was unable to persuade either party to lay 
down their arms. After a continuous fight of four months, all the principals 
were exhausted and worn out. It was only through the intervention of 
their wives that peace was finally restored. 

In summary of the Filipino-Spanish treatment of portions of the 
Carlovingian cycle, five striking characteristics might be emphasized. 

I. Repetition of Situation. — The violent quarrelling of Roldan 
with his Emperor is depicted in "Baldovinos," "Doce Pares," and 
"Conde Irlos." Evidently this situation appealed strongly to the 
Philippine redactors, for no opportunity is let slip of making these 
two kinsmen appear in an undignified light. In each case Carlomagno 
loses his temper and hurls an inkstand at his nephew. Again, the 
treachery of the Emperor's nephews — Carloto and Celinos — forms 
the crisis of two of the stories. In both cases the nephew is put to 
death by order of the Emperor, who, according to Spanish tradition, 
appears to have been blessed with not a few renegades among his 
numerous relatives. 



2i6 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

2. Depreciation of Roldan. — In " Baldovinos" and " Conde 
Irlos," Roldan is consistently represented as headstrong, quarrelsome, 
egotistic, not wanting in bravery but intensely desirous of praise, 
jealous of the older knights in arms, given to intriguing against the 
Emperor when his edicts do not suit the younger man. To be sure, 
he is not a national traitor like Ganelon, but he is portrayed in both 
romances as plotting to save a rascal. In both stories, too, the Em- 
peror finds it necessary to banish this hot-headed young knight for a 
period of years. It is only natural that we should find among the 
early Spanish popular poets (and in this respect the Filipino redactors 
follow the Spanish) a tendency to abase the national hero of a neigh- 
boring conquering country. Nor is it unnatural that we should find 
stories springing up about a Spanish hero in rivalry of Roldan. Ber- 
nardo del Carpio, an entirely fictitious personage, but reported to 
have been one of the generals who administered defeat to Carlomagno 
at Roncesvalles, grew in proportions and fame from the twelfth century 
on until he nearly totally eclipsed Roldan in the Peninsula, and con- 
sequently in the Philippines. But his story will appear later. 

Roldan, however, is always given credit for extraordinary courage 
and skill as a fighter. His bravery is proverbial. Often in allusion 
his name is found coupled with that of Bernardo del Carpio. Indeed, 
these two heroes are brought together in the story of "Bernardo del 
Carpio;" but the Spaniard displays Beowulfian strength in his arms, 
and quickly succeeds in getting that for which he had gone to France. 

3. Extravagance and Lack of Restraint, especially when the 
author is dealing with the charms or prowess of a Christian knight. 
This tendency is to be found in nearly all the corridas; and in the case 
of the Carlovingian romances the exaltation of French heroes means 
only the exaltation of Christianity over Paganism. Filipino-Spanish 
admiration for Roldan and Oliveros is merely admiration for knights 
of the Cross; but Bernardo Carpio, Rodrigo de Villas, and Gonzalo 
are sung not only as destroyers of the Crescent, but as thoroughly 
national heroes. Patriotism is no more evident in the "Chanson de 
Roland" than in "El Cid." It is to be expected, consequently, that 
where Guiferos puts to flight three thousand Saracens, Bernardo will 
have no trouble in disposing of fifty thousand. 

4. Minor Persons as Heroes. — There is a limit even to exag- 
geration. Obviously, in order to enhance the virtues of the national 
heroes of Spain, patriotism would approve the recording of the deeds 
of Guiferos, Baldovinos, and Count Irlos where it might object to 
the exaltation of Roldan. It must be remembered that Roldan is in 
no sense the hero of "Doce Pares." There is no Filipino romance in 
which he is the leading character. 

5. Tendency to Elaboration and Recombination. — We have 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 217 

mentioned the fact that the Spanish story of "Conde Irlos" was, in 
the hands of the Philippine redactor, expanded to nearly four times 
its original size. Not satisfied with the story's plunging in medias 
res (that is, at a time after the Count's marriage), the Pampango 
author must tell it all from the beginning, even if he has to manufacture 
the details, — Bencebais's youth, first encounters at arms, his mighty 
conquests, his winning of his bride, and the wedding ceremony. Nor 
does he hesitate to interpolate long passages later when he has begun 
to follow directly the Spanish original. "Baldovinos," too, is much 
longer than the five Spanish ballads on which it is based, only the pro- 
portion here is about 5 to 3 as against 4 to i for "Conde Irlos." Fig- 
ures are hard to give in the case of "Doce Pares," for the original is 
in prose; but it is safe to say that nothing important has been omitted 
in the Philippine version. Moreover, the whole scene of the unex- 
pected meeting of Qui and Florifes and her later taking the field against 
him at Rome (a passage of over 100 lines near the beginning of the 
romance) is not to be found in the "Historia del Emperador Carlo 
Magno." 

Space does not allow of a detailed examination of the Philippine 
variations from Spanish originals and additions to them; but we may 
unhesitatingly conclude that such variations and amplifications tended 
toward chronicle completeness and away from the dramatic episodic 
structure of the ballads. Furthermore, the attitude of the Philippine 
narrators (and of the Spanish juglars, too) toward the matiere de 
France is not the attitude of usurping Moorish heathenism, but of 
Spanish national militant Christianity. 

II. AN ARTHURIAN ROMANCE. 

"tablante de ricamonte." 

The only Philippine representative of the Arthurian material is 
"The Story of Tablante de Ricamonte and of the Couple Jofre and 
Bruniesen, in the Kingdom of Camalor under the jurisdiction of King 
Artos and Queen Ginebra." This romance is in the Tagalog dialect, ^ 
and contains 468 quatrains of assonanced alexandrines. It is un- 
doubtedly based indirectly, if not directly, on the Spanish prose "Cro- 
nica de fos muy notables caualleros Tablante de Ricamonte, y de 
Jofre, hijo del conde Donason," the oldest known edition of which 
was that issued in Toledo in 1513. The most accessible reprint of 
this story is that of the 1564 edition, and may be found in Volume VI 

1 The title reads, "Dinaanang Buhay ni Tablante de Ricamonte sampo nang mag- 
asauang si Jofre at ni Bruniesen sa caharian nang Camalor na nasasacupan nang Haring 
si Artos at Reina Ginebra: Manila, 1902." A Pampango student saj-s that he has read 
the story in his own dialect, but I have not been able to find any one else who has seen or 
heard of such an edition. 



21 8 Journal oj American Folk-Lore. 

of the "Nueva Biblioteca de Autores espanoles" (Madrid, 1907). 
The text is divided into twenty-six chapters, and tells the story of 
Jofre's adventures while seeking Tablante de Ricamonte, who had 
challenged, defeated, and taken prisoner Arthur's knight Don Milian. 
Jofre's quest brought him many victories over strange knights, and 
secured for him a wife, the fair Bruniesen, niece to D. Milian. 

Ticknor dismisses the "Cronica" with merely a reference to the 
title.^ Menendez y Pelayo,^ however, discusses in some detail the 
source of this early sixteenth-century prose Arthurian tale. He says, 
in part, "The remote original of this story is a Provencal poem of 
the thirteenth century, ' Jaufre e Brunesent' (pubHshed by Raynouard 
in Vol. I, pp. 48-173, of the 'Lexique Roman,' Paris, 1844). Brune- 
sentz is the name of D. Milian's niece, whom Jofrc marries after his 
victory. In the Provencal version Tablante is called Taulat de 
Rugimon. The Spanish prose form was not modelled directly on 
this poetic account, but on a redaction in French prose, attributed 
to the ' honrado varon Felipe Camus.'" 

As the story of Tablante and of Jofre has never been printed in 
English, I may be pardoned for giving it here in some detail. (I 
follow the Tagalog version. The numbers at the ends of the para- 
graphs refer to the strophes in the text.) 

One day when King Arthur (Artos) and his queen were at the window, 
they saw approaching them a strange, armed knight, who, after he had 
drawn nearer, issued a challenge to fight the bravest member of the Round 
Table. It so happened that just at that time all the knights were away 
except the sick Don Milan. Arthur proposed meeting the stranger him- 
self, but, as the queen would not hear to this arrangement, Don Milan 
accepted the contest. Naturally, he was defeated; and the stranger knight 
carried him off as a prisoner to Ricamonte, where he was given fifty lashes 
a day in the public plaza, as an insult to Arthur. Thirty other knights 
were also at that time confined in Ricamonte as prisoners of the doughty 
Tablante. (7-29) 

When the other knights of the Round Table returned to Camelot (Cama- 
lor) and heard of the disgrace of Milan, they were unwilling to go to his aid. 
A young squire, however, Jofre by name, the only son of Count Donason, 
presented himself before the king and begged that he might be knighted in 
order to avenge the insult of Tablante. (Tablante had divulged his name 
after D. Milan accepted his challenge.) The queen seconded Jofre's re- 
quest, and he was dubbed "the noblemost knight of Queen Guiniver (Gine- 
bra)." (30-43) 

Jofre immediately set out for Ricamonte. He passed the night in a wild 
forest. On the third day, while refreshing himself beside a silvery stream, 
he saw a horseman approaching. Although attacked suddenly and without 
a word, Jofre was victorious, and after accepting the stranger's explanation 
that he took Jofre for Diedis, his brother's murderer, spared his opponent's 

1 History of Spanish Literature, 4th Amer. ed., vol. i, p. 255. 
* Origines de la novela, Tomo I, p. clxxxiv (Madrid, 1905). 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 219 

life on the condition (which was accepted) that the vanquished go to Camelot 
and tell the king and the queen of the event. At the king's order, Jofre's 
victory was recorded among the marvellous exploits of the Knights of the 
Round Table. (44-65) 

That night Jofre passed at an abbey. The next morning he entered upon 
a vast plain. After a two-days' journey across this treeless and desert waste, 
he saw in the distance a lone pine, and, hastening toward it, found a lance 
leaning against the trunk. As soon as he touched the spear, an ugly dwarf 
came suddenly from behind the tree, and shouted at the top of his voice. 
Not many minutes later the Knight of the Lance rode up and required 
Jofre to joust with him. He further said that if Jofre should be vanquished, 
he should either be hanged to the pine-tree or, if he asked mercy, should 
be imprisoned in a tower hard by. In this second encounter Jofre was 
victorious, and the Knight of the Lance was soon hanging at the end of his 
own rope. The dwarf begged for his own life so piteously, that Jofre spared 
it and sent him back to Camelot along with twenty captives rescued from 
the castle of the Knight of the Lance. On the arrival of this strange dele- 
gation at Camelot, the people were frightened, thinking they were to be 
attacked; but the dwarf soon explained Jofre's great victory. (66-123) 

Meanwhile Jofre continued on his way towards Ricamonte. About 
midnight he reached a monastery; but, receiving no answer to his repeated 
summons at the gate, he was obliged to seek his rest on the open field. He 
unlaced his helmet, turned his horse loose to graze, and was about to make 
himself comfortable when he noticed a dark figure silhouetted against the 
sky. It approached, and proved to be a gallant knight, who greeted Jofre 
courteously. The stranger said that they were not far from the enchanted 
house of the giant Malato, in Albania, and that the Castle of Ricamonte 
was near. Then the knight told Jofre of a tournament that the King of 
Scotland was giving, and explained how they must go to reach Scotland. 
They had to proceed to Normandy, where they were to cross a toll-bridge 
over a deep river. Poor persons were charged eighty maravedies for the 
passage, but knights desiring to cross were to make their number five and 
fight the ten knight-guards of the bridge. Only if the five succeeded in 
defeating the ten guards and ten more on the other side of the river might 
they be free to cross the bay between Normandy and Scotland. (124-143) 

At daybreak the Courteous Knight shared the contents of his wallet 
with Jofre, and after these two had been joined by a warrior called Dio- 
medes, they set out for the bank of the river spanned by the bridge Perilous. 
Here they waited until they were met by two more knights. Jofre and his 
companions successfully made the crossing and hastened on to Scotland, 
arriving on the day before the tournament. They at once disguised 
themselves as peasants and for three days they kept out of the lists. But 
on the fourth day of the tournament Jofre and his four companions, rein- 
forced by five other fresh knights, entered the lists together. Their opponents 
were the King of the Hundred Warriors and Galian, escorted by thirty of 
the hundred knights. After a two-hours' struggle, Jofre and his party 
triumphed, to the great joy of the King and Queen of Scotland. Next 
Jofre and his followers triumphed over the King of Ireland and his forty 
warriors, and were declared the winners of the tournament. On being 
asked his name, Jofre told it to the King of Scotland on the conditions that 
VOL. XXIX. — NO. 112. — 15. 



220 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

it should not be divulged for three days and that a messenger should be 
sent to Camelot to inform the king and queen of their knight's prowess. 
(144-222) 

Jofre now set out on his return. He reached the continent safely, and 
then came upon a narrow road leading to the beautiful spot Floresta, where 
Bruniesen lived. Ignorant of where he was, he went into a charming 
garden to rest, and, falling asleep, he was found by the gardener, who 
informed Bruniesen of the stranger's presence. She sent her man to sum- 
mon Jofre, but the man soon came running back with the marks on him of a 
severe drubbing. Then Bruniesen herself went to see the bold intruder; 
and instead of carrying out her usual order of death upon any stranger 
found in her grounds, she fell in love with Jofre, who, in turn, surrendered 
his heart unconditionally to the fair damsel. He begged leave of absence, 
however, to finish first the king's business in Ricamonte, and promised to 
return to Floresta as soon as he had defeated Tablante and avenged Count 
Milan. (223-266) 

On his way Jofre met a woman lamenting the loss of her daughter, who 
had been stolen that a bath in the blood of children might cure the giant 
Malato, lying grievously sick in his castle. On being directed to the giant's 
fortress, Jofre succeeded in killing the monster, but narrowly escaped the 
consequences of a powerful enchantment that the dying Malato cast over 
his slayer. Besides the woman's daughter, thirty other kidnapped children 
were rescued and restored to their mothers. Sayon, the giant's servant, 
was sent to Camelot to make known to Arthur this exploit. (267-308) 

In the mean time the damsel whom Jofre had rescued from the castle 
of Malato conducted him to her home hard by the Iron Castle. The 
maiden's parents welcomed the two most joyfully, and after supper the 
host introduced himself as Count Rojano. When Jofre said that he was 
the son of Donason, the old count was doubly glad, for he had been a knight 
in arms with Jofre's father at the court of Arthur. (309-320) 

The following day the young warrior set out for Ricamonte on the road 
shown him by Count Rojano. At noon he met an unarmed knight and a 
young girl crying bitterly. They were brother and sister. The proud 
Knight of the Bridge had insulted the two and threatened to carry off the 
maiden, for her brother was ill and could not defend her. After hearing 
their story, Jofre resolved to avenge them. He slew the proud knight, 
and requested the brother and sister to go to Camelot and proclaim to 
their majesties Arthur and Guinever his recent victory. (321-350) 

That same afternoon, Christmas eve, Jofre reached Ricamonte. The 
prisoner knights were greatly amazed at the sight of this young hero seeking 
a meeting with the mighty Tablante. Tablante received Jofre courteously, 
and, admiring the youth and beauty of his guest, proposed that he live 
with him at Ricamonte as his brother. But Jofre replied that unless the 
thirty prisoner-knights and Don Milan were set free, he would listen to 
no talk of peace. As Tablante would not consent to these conditions, the 
two determined to decide the matter by arms. Accordingly, on Monday, 
the following day but one, the contest took place. After a nine-hours' 
fight Jofre and Tablante, worn out and exhausted, mutually agreed to rest 
a few minutes. During the armistice they laughed, ate together, and told 
funny stories, like good comrades. Then the struggle was renewed. Just 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 



221 



at sunset Jofre succeeded in giving his adversary the finishing blow, and 
Tablante declared himself vanquished. Jofre then proclaimed his name. 
All the prisoner-knights were released, and they with Tablante were sent 
to Camelot. Jofre went to Count Rojano's house to have his wounds 
dressed. When his strength was restored, he set out for Camelot, but 
stopped at Floresta on the way to express again his love to Bruniesen. 
(351-444) 

After making known to King Arthur and Queen Guiniver his affection 
for the fair Bruniesen, Jofre requested that their majesties visit Floresta. 
They did so, were charmed with the lovely owner of the place, and brought 
her back to Camelot, where she was married to Jofre. After the ceremonies, 
the thirty prisoner-knights and Tablante, at Jofre's request, were declared 
free. Jofre and Bruniesen spent the rest of their lives in the famous 
gardens of Floresta. (445-468) 

Cervantes' brief criticism of "Tablante de Ricamonte," ironical 
though it may be, is surely accurate. All that the author of "Don 
Quixote" says is, "A thousand blessings on the author of 'Tablante 
de Ricamonte' and that of the other book in which the deeds of the 
Conde Tomillas are recounted; with what minuteness they describe 
everything." One needs only to read Chapter IX of the "Cronica" 
(= Tag. strophes 124-222) to appreciate the exactness of Cervantes' 
term "minuteness." As the great Spanish writer implies, "Tablante 
de Ricamonte" could serve excellently as a guide-book to the novice 
in knight-errantry. The Tagalog version, condensed as it is, retains 
much of the detailed description and narration of the original. 

Not all the adventures recounted in the "Cronica," however, are 
to be found in the Philippine form of the story; though, with the 
exception of a few omissions and one inversion of events, the two ac- 
counts are alike in the main. The following table shows approxi- 
mately the corresponding passages in the Spanish prose "Cronica" 
and the Tagalog "Tablante:" — 



Spanish. Tagalog. 

Cap. I strophes 1-29 

n 30-45 

III 46-58, 66 

IV 54-65 

V 67-104 

VI 105-123 

VII 
VIII 

IX to p. 475 b 124-222 

X Omitted 



Omitted 



225-267 



XI 
XII 

XIII Omitted 



Spanish. Tagalog. 

Cap. XIV strophes 268-297 

XV 298-300 

XVI 308-320 

XVII Omitted 

xviii 351-352 

XIX 321-340 

XX Omitted 



XXI 

XXII 

XXIII 

XXIV 

XXV 

XXVI 441 to end 



353-416 

417-424 

correspond roughly to 425-440 



But the omissions and the inversion (events of cap. xix preceding 
those of cap. xviii) noted above do not constitute the most vital 



222 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

variation of the Tagalog version from the "Cronica." It is in his 
handling of the adventures of Jofre and Bruniesen that the PhiUppine 
redactor overlooks an important unifying relationship: in the "Cro- 
nica" Don Milian is Bruniesen 's uncle. In the Tagalog narrative 
the fair owner of Floresta is happened upon by chance, as it were, 
and only becomes connected with Arthur's court by her marriage 
with Jofre. It is highly probable that the Tagalog romance of "Tab- 
lante de Ricamonte" derives directly from some eighteenth or nine- 
teenth century Spanish chap-book.^ 

III. THE CONSTANCE-SAGA. 

In all its forms, the Constance-Saga in the Philippines rivals in 
popularity the Charlemagne series. Besides two complete printed 
versions of the story, — "Florentina" and "Adela," — there is current 
among the Visayans of Panay a long, very popular folk-tale, "Es- 
trella;" and in various dialects occur three printed romances showing 
unmistakable influences of the saga, — "Blancaflor," "Maria," and 
"Proceso." Furthermore, there exists in Bicol a printed account 
of the remotely related "Life of St. Eustace." In many another tale 
is to be found the theme of the long-suflfering calumniated wife sus- 
tained by divine aid: but the six secular stories just mentioned have 
more than general similarities. They are closely allied to the num- 
erous pathetic narratives of the Emare or Manekine type.- 

The typical course of events in the Constance-Saga, as determined 
by Suchier (pp. xxiii-xxiv) is this:— 

An emperor (king), after the death of his consort, conceives a passion 
for his only daughter. He wishes to marry her (or seduce her). The 
princess refuses him. She is cast away (she makes her escape) in the forest 
(on the sea). She finds refuge in the palace of a king, who marries her 
against the wishes of his mother. During the absence of her husband, 
the new queen gives birth to a son (two sons). The mother-in-law sub- 
stitutes for the letter to the king announcing the happy event, another 
informing him of the birth of a monstrosity (beast). The king replies that 
the mother and her offspring are to be well cared for until his return. A 
second time the mother-in-law exchanges the letter for a forged one, ordering 
the death of the queen and her infant. Again the heroine is exposed in 

1 Since the foregoing was written, I have come across an interesting corroborative 
bibliographical item in the Catalogue of the Ticknor Spanish Library (Boston, 1879), 
p. 298. In vol. ii of a bound collection of Relaciones populares en prosa, the seventh tale 
is a 24- page " Historia de los valientes caballeros Tablante de Ricamonte y Jofre Donason. 
Nuevamente reformada," issued in Valladolid, 1845. I have not seen the text of this 
nineteenth-century Spanish prose version. 

^ H. Suchier, in QEuvres poetiques de Philippe de Remi, Sire de Beaumanoir, Tome I 
(See. des anc. textes frangais, vol. xvii), gives very useful summaries of nineteen literary 
European versions of the story (pp. xxv-liv), besides enumerating forty-two folk-tales 
treating the theme (pp. Iviii-lxv). For some analyses in English, see Marian R. Cox's 
Cinderella (London, 1893), pp. xliv-lxvi. 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 223 

the forest (on the sea). The king on his return, having discovered all that 
has taken place during his absence, punishes his guilty mother, and is 
finally re-united with his family. In one group of stories the heroine cuts 
off her hand in order to rid herself of the importunities of her father (or as a 
punishment she is deprived of her hands). The hand or hands are restored 
to her subsequently by a miracle. 

Analyses of the several members of the Philippine group will reveal 
how nearly some of them approximate the outline of Suchier. 

FL. "The Life of Princess Florentina in the Kingdom of Germany," 
a romance in octosyllabics printed and current in Tagalog (1804 lines), 
Visayan (2476 lines), Bicol (2468 lines), Pampango, and Ilocano. 

Alfonzo, King of Germany, had a pious daughter Florentina. Her 
beauty attracted many lords of high rank. Every morning she prayed 
in the church for the repose of her mother's soul. Her father, falling 
in love with her, asked her hand in marriage, but she rejected his 
proposal with abhorrence. Some days later he sent his servant with 
a present and again asked for her hand. Florentina accordingly cut 
off her hand, which the servant carried on a covered tray to Alfonzo. 
Enraged, the king had his soldiers put Florentina into a chest and cast 
her into the sea. The trunk had floated many days when an angel, 
in answer to the princess's prayers, opened the box and healed her 
wounded hand. Drifting to the shores of Navarre, Florentina was 
rescued and cared for by a fisherman. One Sunday the minister of the 
King of Navarre was hunting in the forest and happened to meet 
Florentina. Falling in love with her and realizing that she was no 
common person, he succeeded in abducting her, first making the 
fisherman drunk. In his home he attempted to win her favor, but 
for five months she put him off, begging for time. The minister's 
continual absence from the court finally caused an investigation by 
King Enrico, who, when he saw Florentina, was immediately smitten. 
She accepted him, and preparations for the wedding went forward at 
once. Don Pavio, the minister, could do nothing; but he planned with 
the king's mother, who opposed the match, to overthrow Florentina. 
For some months Enrico and his wife lived happily, until the king 
was called out to fight the Moors who were threatening his kingdom. 
Leaving his pregnant wife in the care of his trusty servant, D. Pascasio, 
he went to meet the enemy. During his absence a son, whom the 
mother named Federico, was born to him. The scheming mother-in- 
law intercepted the letter of good tidings to the king and substituted 
one saying that the queen had given birth to a monster. And the 
king's reply that his wife and his offspring should be given every at- 
tention until he returned was changed by the queen-mother into an 
order to Pascasio to put the queen and the infant prince to death. 
Pascasio disobeyed the command, however; he spared the lives of his 
charges, but set them adrift again in a chest. Florentina and her son 
were miraculously preserved from starvation, and after three months 
the chest was driven by the waves to the shores of Antioch. A guard 
at the port rescued the two unfortunates and cared for them as if they 
were his own daughter and grandson. King Enrico, on his return to 



224 Journal oj American Folk-Lore . 

Navarre, was shown the letter received by Pascasio, and on investigating 
found that his own mother had forged the cruel death-warrant. He 
immediately imprisoned her, and, realizing the faithfulness of his friend, 
left his kingdom in Pascasio's charge and went to seek his wife and 
child. His search was in vain. Seven years after Florentina reached 
Antioch, a proclamation was issued that Princess Isabella, daughter of 
King Fernando of Antioch, was to wed King Enrico of Navarre, and 
that King Alfonzo of Germany was to be a witness of the marriage. 
Florentina immediately formed her plans. She taught her son to say, 
"Father, I kneel before you, bless me!" and "Grandfather, your 
grandson kneels before you." On the day of the wedding Florentina's 
benefactor took Federico to the church, and pointed out first Enrico, 
then Alfonzo. Both rulers were astonished at the child's salutation, 
and ordered that his mother be summoned. Naturally, after ex- 
planations were made, a general reconciliation took place. On reach- 
ing home, Enrico gave the crown of Navarre to his faithful Pascasio, 
then went with his wife and son to Germany, where, in time, Federico 
became king. 

AD. "The Sorrowful Life of Princess Adela, the Daughter of 
King Clotardo of Hungary," — a metrical romance in alexandrines, 
printed in Tagalog and Ilocano. 

Clotardo, the prince of Hungary, led a vicious life as a youth. Even 
after he became king he continued in his old courses. One day he 
saw the beautiful Aldemira and was immediately captivated. He 
soon expressed his love, and after some resistance on the lady's part 
Avas accepted. But the new queen's married life was far from happ3\ 
The king, more passionate than ever, sank deeper into vice. The 
tears and reproachful countenance of his wife, instead of working a 
reformation, only angered him the more, and at last he ordered her 
imprisoned in solitary confinement. Her food was passed to her 
through a barred window. While in this lonely state she gave birth 
to a child, whom she named Adela. When Adela was but three, 
Aldemira took sick and died. The child was cared for by the women of 
the neighborhood, and in time grew to be a beautiful young woman. 
One day while hunting, Clotardo saw the maiden and expressed his 
love to her; but she knew that he was her father, and refused him. 
When he seized her, she struck him,, and her dog also attacked him. 
The king, however, was not deterred. A few days later she refused 
him again; but Clotardo sent word that he had made up his mind that 
she was to be his queen, and he gave orders to prepare for the wedding. 
In her despair, Adela thought that by maiming herself she should 
find salvation. Accordingly she cut off her hands; and when the king 
at the ceremony saw the bleeding stumps, he left her in wrath. He 
ordered her to be bound in a small open boat and cast upon the sea. 
After she had been drifting about for three days, she saw near her a 
floating object, which soon proved to be her faithful dog. The poor 
animal, nearly dead with hunger and fatigue, was able to free her 
from her bonds; and not long afterwards, to her great joy, the boat 
was blown to the shores of Provence. When she had been revived 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 225 

and fed by the townspeople, Adela answered freely the questions of 
her rescuers and told them her life-history. They then took her to 
the ruling count, Conrado, who was noted for his kindness and charity. 
To him, too, she narrated the whole of her sad life. In his palace she 
found a welcome asylum. The count's interest in her soon grew into 
love; and to satisfy his mother, who objected to his marriage with 
Adela, he sent an embassy to Hungary for corroboration of the out- 
cast's story. Clotardo, through the messengers, gave his consent 
to the union of Adela with Conrado, but this news never reached 
Provence: a storm destroyed the ambassador's ship on the return 
voyage and all the members perished. However, Conrado married 
Adela without his mother's approval. Not many months after the 
wedding, the count was invited by the King of France to join in the 
Second Crusade, and, feeling it his duty to go, he left one day after 
bidding his wife an affectionate farewell. During his absence Adela 
gave birth to a son; but this circumstance only increased the wrath 
of the count's mother, who had always looked with disfavor on her 
son's wife. Finally the old woman grew so cruel as to order Adela 
bound in a boat once more. Accordingly the young wife and baby 
were again set adrift. At last the frail bark reached the shore of 
Marsella (Marseilles), where the people took care of her and afterwards 
conducted her to a convent. Because of her piety she soon became 
very dear to the prioress. One night an angel appeared to Adela in a 
vision and restored her her hands. Meanwhile the Second Crusade 
had proved to be entirely successful. Osmalic and Saladino had been 
defeated, and Jerusalem had been entered in triumph by the Christians. 
On his return to Provence, Conrado was dismayed not to find his wife. 
On hearing that she had been turned adrift on the sea, he at once set 
out in search of her, accompanied by her faithful dog. He took ship 
for Marsella, where he disembarked, and, upon asking a young child 
where he might find refreshment, he was directed to the convent. 
But the sagacious dog had gone on ahead. When Conrado and his party 
reached the nunnery, they found the animal playing with its mistress. 
Thus Conrado recognized his wife despite her restored hands. The 
count was even more joyous on beholding his robust son Enrico. 
After being blessed by the prioress, the united family returned to 
Provence. As Conrado had learned on the Crusade that Clotardo 
was dead (although early in the expedition to Jerusalem the Count 
had fallen in with the King of Hungary, who mentioned having re- 
ceived the embassy from Provence and having sent back his permission 
for Adela to marry Conrado), the Count and his wife soon set sail for 
Hungary, where they were accepted as the king and queen. Enrico, 
who was only fifteen years old, was left to rule Provence. He made 
an invasion of Tunis without delay, completely defeated the Moors, 
and won as his bride the Pagan princess Zoraima. Before marrying 
her, however, he took her to Hungary, where she was baptized under 
the name Vicenta. The young couple then returned to Tunis, and 
there reigned happily many years. 



226 Journal of America7i Folk-Lore. 

BL. "The Lives of the Shepherdess Blancaflor and of Prince 
Floristo," which will be discussed later as a variant of the popular 
mediaeval tale "Floris and Blanchefleur," has a number of resemblances 
to AD. Without giving a comprehensive summary of the story at 
this place, I will merely tabulate details similar to those already re- 
corded. 

Don Carlos Diaz, King of Gran-Cayro, fell in love with and wooed 
the shepherdess Blancaflor, to whom his son Floristo was secretly 
betrothed. Blancaflor rejected the king's advances, and when he 
tried to force her she struck him. Humiliated, he ordered her man- 
acled and imprisoned, and later his council commanded that her hands 
be cut off. Floristo, however, defended her bravely, and displayed 
so much animosity towards his father that the young prince was de- 
clared a traitor and was obliged to flee the country. Blancaflor's 
punishment was commuted, and she was sentenced to be locked in a 
chest and thrown into the Durano River. For days and nights she 
felt no hunger, and finally, as if in answer to her prayers, an angel 
disguised as a hermit rescued her and carried her to a place of refuge. 
She was subsequently captured and carried off to Alexandria by the 
infidel Balan; but she resisted all his overtures and was consequently 
imprisoned in a tower. After many freaks of fortune, Floristo learned 
where she was, gained access to her, and lived with her many months. 
Before their child was born, the prince left Blancaflor, promising to 
solicit the aid of his father (with whom he had become reconciled) 
in securing her release from the hands of the Pagans. After Blancaflor 
had given birth to a child, Balan, while making a tour of the castle, 
discovered her with her infant. He immediately ordered the mother 
to be beheaded and the child burnt to death; but his daughter, Floripes, 
plead for the lives of the two, and the sentence was commuted to 
drowning for the child and exposure on the Durano River for the mother. 
Floristo, warned in a dream of Blancaflor's danger, arrived in force 
in time to save her and his son. Blancaflor and Floristo were subse- 
quently married by Pope Gimeno, brother of King Carlos Diaz, and 
the new wife was reconciled to her formerly harsh father-in-law. 

MA. "The Story of the Life of Maria ... in the Kingdom of 
Hungary," 1905, printed only in the Tagalog dialect (1312 alexandrine 
lines), is an interesting mixture of the Cinderella story with the Con- 
stance-Saga. Two oral versions of the life of Maria taken down from 
the mouths of Tagalogs in 1903 have already appeared in English.^ 
The collector, Mr. Gardner, said that he had been unable to trace 
any printed form of the story, although he searched Manila book- 
stores carefully for one. The earliest Tagalog text of MA that I have 
seen is the one issued in 1905.^ As Gardner's versions are easily 

1 Fletcher Gardner, Filipino (Tagalog) Versions of Cinderella (this Journal, vol. xix, 
1906, pp. 265-272). Mr. Gardner's analyses are followed with a comparative note by 
the editor of the Journal, who points out the relation of this composite story — Cinder- 
ella -fCatskin — to European versions (pp. 272-280). 

2 According to W. E. Retana, however (see Aparato Bibliografico, Madrid, 1906, 
item No. 4364), the first edition of MA was issued in Manila, 1902, by the press of A. 
Nam & Company. 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 227 

accessible, they need not be summarized or repeated here: we shall 
simply refer to them as GaA and GaB for purposes of comparison with 
MA and PR (see below). The story of MA runs as follows: — 

In Hungary there lived a couple, Juan de la Costa and Dalida Catala. 
They had a beautiful and pious daughter Maria. When Maria was eight 
years old, Juan began to court Quicay, a handsome wicked woman 
with two daughters, Serapia and Felisa. Quicay promised to accept 
Juan as her husband if he would get rid of Dalida: so one day he took 
his wife out in a boat and drowned her. Quicay then married him, 
but Maria's life became very hard because of her step-mother. The 
little girl had to do all the drudgery, — washing, sewing, cooking. 
One day when Maria was drawing water from the well, a large Crab 
appeared before her, and said, "I am your mother whom your wicked 
father drowned. Bear your lot with patience." For many nights 
after that Maria was late reaching home, until the suspicious step- 
mother by spying found the girl talking to a crab. The crafty Quicay, 
feigning illness, told Juan that the only thing that could cure her was 
the crab in the well. Maria was sent to catch the crab and cook it. 
The transformed mother told the daughter to obey her father, but 
warned her to save all the refuse and scraps and to bury them near 
the well. From them, said the Crab, would spring a tree with magic 
fruits that would give Maria whatever she wanted. Maria obeyed 
implicitly. One day when the maiden was washing by the river, 
her batia (shallow wooden wash-tub) floated down the stream, and she 
was in despair. Suddenly an old woman appeared and told the girl 
not to cry, for her hatia was at home waiting for her. Then the old 
woman touched Maria's forehead, and a star shone thereon. Maria 
tried in vain to conceal it, but its brightness could not be hid, and made 
Quica/ all the more jealous of her step-daughter's beauty. A long 
time afterwards the promised tree grew up near the well; and Maria, 
remembering the injunctions of her mother, carefully preserved the 
fruits. When Maria was in her seventeenth year, King Enrico of 
Hungary won a decisive victory over the Turks under Bajazet. A 
great mass was held the day after the battle. Quicay and her daughters 
attended, arrayed in their best, but poor Maria had nothing to wear. 
Then a thought occurred to her; she remembered her magic fruits. 
Left all alone in the house, she spoke to them, and obtained from them 
rich clothes, jewels, two maids as attendants, and a beautiful coach. 
Then followed the amazement of every one at her appearance, the 
awakened love of King Enrico, Maria's sudden flight, the loss of 
the slipper, Enrico's proclamation that he would marry whomever the 
slipper fitted, the vain attempts of Quicay and her daughters, the dis- 
covery of Maria, and her wedding. The new queen graciously took 
her step-mother and step-sisters to live with her in the palace; but 
their hatred and jealousy only increased. Some months later, Enrico 
was again called to defend his kingdom against the Saracens. While 
he was away at the wars, three handsome sons were born to him. 
1 he wicked Quicay stole the infants, put three newly-born whelps in 
their place, and hired a man to carry the babies to the mountains, 
where they might starve; but, moved with pity, the agent gave them to 



228 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

a shepherd, Urbino, who reared them as his own sons, naming them 
Fernando, Pedro, and Francisco. In time they became skilful hunters. 
Meanwhile Quicay was trying to marry her daughters to two nobles, 
Count Ernesto and Marquis Rodolfo; but these lords only deflowered 
the girls and abandoned them. Enrico, on his return from the front, 
was terribly angry at the news that his wife had brought forth puppies. 
He ordered her cast into a dungeon, where she languished many years. 
When the three princes were in their eighth year, King Miramon of 
Africa invaded Hungary with a Pagan horde that defeated and took 
prisoner Enrico and his nobles. News of the defeat reached the 
mountains, and Urbino decided to go to the war. The three princes 
persuaded him to take them along, and so extraordinary was their 
fighting ability that they soon rid Hungary of the infidels. Enrico 
was released; all the prisoners were set free. When Maria saw the 
youths, milk spurted from her breasts into their mouths. By this 
token Maria recognized her sons, and the king was convinced that 
treachery had been practised against his wife. An investigation of 
the affair was undertaken, but for a time further wars distracted the 
attention of all. The fleeing Miramon formed an alliance with Bajazet 
of Turkey, and again threatened Hungary. Enrico, supported by 
his three sons, easily met this attack, almost annihilating his enemies. 
After a nine-days' feast of celebration, Quicay and her daughters, 
who had been found guilty, were dragged to death by fiery horses. 

This form of the story is very popular among the Tagalogs. Curi- 
ously enough, the next romance, which closely resembles Mx'l in many 
respects, and was published only four years after it, is practically un- 
known. 

PR. "Life of a Merchant, Proceso by name, and of his Daughter 
Maria, in the Kingdom of Hungary; taken from a historical 

SOURCE and carefully RENDERED INTO VERSE BY ONE WHO IS NEW 

AT WRITING ROMANCES. MANILA, 1909." This poem is short (1052 
alexandrines), and has appeared only in Tagalog. Notwithstanding 
the author's declaration as to his source, the romance has little of the 
appearance of being founded on history; unless, indeed, the "history" 
was a Spanish chap-book. The following is an abstract of the story: — 
In olden times there lived in Hungary a merchant, Proceso, and 
his daughter Maria. When his wife died, the question of giving up 
his trading or of re-marrying in order to provide a home for his little 
girl troubled him. Finally deciding that poverty was worse than a 
step-mother, he married a poor widow, V'^alentina, who had two daugh- 
ters of her own. They had earned their living by sewing. Soon after 
his marriage, Proceso went to England, first asking Valentina and her 
daughters what they wanted him to bring them on his return. They 
requested beautiful clothes and jewels. Maria was not asked what 
she wanted. During her husband's absence, Valentina abused Maria, 
making her do all the hard work, for the two daughters envied their 
step-sister her beauty. Again Proceso prepared to go abroad, and this 
time he asked Maria along with the others what she should like. Maria 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 229 

said that he might bring her some cigar as (a cheap vegetable). Her 
choice of gift raised a mocking laugh from the sisters. One day King 
Enrico saw Maria carrying water from the well. He was struck with 
her beauty, and afterwards he watched for her again. Soon his in- 
terest grew into love. He found out her home through a soldier set to 
watch her, visited the house, and was received by Valentina and her 
daughters, inquired for the "girl of the well," saw her by chance in 
the kitchen, and asked her to be his wife. Maria consented; the 
marriage was celebrated magnificently. The people began to love 
their new queen. Proceso on his return rejoiced to hear of his daugh- 
ter's good fortune, but Valentina became more jealous than ever and 
planned Maria's ruin. Seven months after his marriage. King Enrico 
was invited by the King of Portugal to join an expedition against the 
Turks. Before leaving, Enrico secured the services of a nurse for 
Maria in her approaching confinement. In due time the queen gave 
birth to seven princes, but Valentina had already bribed the nurse 
to exchange the offspring for puppies. Ignorant of the deception, 
Maria thought it the will of Heaven that she should bring forth whelps. 
The seven infants were carried to the mountains to perish. Enrico, 
enraged on his return, ordered his wife shut up alive in an iron box to 
die of starvation. The seven princes meanwhile were found by a 
hermit (angel in disguise), who reared them on nothing but vegetables, 
so poor was he. The children waxed strong and grew to be handsome 
youths. One day the hermit found a large sum of gold, and, thinking 
it sent by Heaven for educating the boys, appropriated it. When 
Enrico declared a national festival of seven days, beginning Feb. 12, 
the hermit bought seven rich suits and seven handsome ponies. As 
the holiday drew near, he instructed the boys how they were to act in 
the coming ceremonies. He told them that they were the sons of Enrico 
and the queen, and that through the enmity of their step-grandmother 
Maria had been punished but was still alive. They were told to 
attend mass each of the seven days, but not to accept the king's in- 
vitation to the palace until the last day: then they should refuse to 
eat with the king until he took Maria from the box and seated her at 
the table. All went as the hermit had outlined. The queen was 
found alive and taken to the palace to dine. At the table milk flowed 
from her breasts to the mouths of the seven boys. The king recog- 
nized his wife's purity, and ordered Valentina and her accomplices 
to be dragged to death by fiery horses. The sentence was executed. 
(The last eleven strophes contain a moralizing application of the 
story, — a sermon against envy.) 

Two folk-tales remain to be taken account of, — one Tagalog and 
one Visayan. The Tagalog narrative of "Amelia" is current in the 
province of Laguna; the other, " Estrella, or the Unfortunate Princess," 
is a favorite among the Visayans on the Island of Panay. Briefly 
told, the stories run as follows: — 

Am ("Amelia"). While King Baricanosa was away on a hunt, his wife 
Amelia gave birth to a child. The king's sister, a bitter enemy of the 
queen, stole the infant from the still unconscious mother, bribed a 



230 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

waiting-maid to substitute a suckling pig, and to cast the baby into a 
distant forest to die. The king on his return, enraged, ordered Amelia 
buried alive up to her neck just outside the window of the dining-hall. 
She was fed only on scraps of food left by dogs. The abandoned 
infant was found by a shepherd, who reared the child as his son, and 
named him Ereberto. One night the young prince was disturbed by a 
vision: an angel descended from heaven and told him to go to the 
kingdom of Baricanosa and liberate the king and his followers from 
the hands of the Pagans. Then the angel touched the youth on the 
shoulder, and his rustic clothes were immediately changed to shining 
armor. Besides, he was given a sword and a dagger. Thus equipped, 
he immediately set out on his journey, defeated the Pagans, took 
possession of the palace, released his father and the other Christian 
captives. A great feast was held in his honor. At the dinner, Ere- 
berto's hat was blown from his head and out of the window. He 
ran to get it, and saw the pitiful figure of the queen. At his request 
that the poor woman be delivered from her punishment, the grateful 
king ordered Amelia's release. All her clothes had rotted from her 
body, and her husband ordered new garments brought. While i\melia 
was being conducted up the stairs of the palace, milk streamed from 
her breast into Ereberto's mouth. At the same time an unknown 
voice sang, relating the wicked deeds of the king's sister. The king 
and his wife were reconciled. 
Es ("Estrella"). Long ago lived King Carlos with his little motherless 
daughter Estrella. He was very fond of his child, for she was the 
picture of her mother; and when she grew up, he declared that he 
could not live without her. One day an old beggar-woman asked 
for alms at the palace. The kind-hearted princess ordered food pre- 
pared, and when it was ready invited Tecla (for so the beggar was 
called) to eat with her. The king was much surprised to see his daugh- 
ter at the table with the poor woman, and asked for an explanation. 
Estrella gave it and left the room. When they were alone, the beggar 
warned the king that unless he separated himself from his child she 
would die — and the old woman related her history to the king (her 
story is not given in my abstract of the tale), and persuaded him to 
follow her warning. Consequently the king ordered a splendid palace 
to be built, and told Estrella that she must live in it. She was always 
sad during her isolation, for she missed her father. The king, on the 
other hand, was gay, thinking that his daughter was happy. One day 
King Carlos, to test whether Estrella still loved him, wrote to her, 
saying, "If you love me, send me what you consider a most precious 
gift." Thinking a part of her own body most acceptable, the princess 
cut off her right hand and sent it to her father in a box of gold. King 
Carlos, misinterpreting the sacrifice and believing it to be a sign of his 
daughter's hate, determined that she should die. He ordered her 
locked in a trunk and taken to the river. There the chest was put 
into a little boat and rowed far out into the ocean, where it was thrown 
overboard. Seven days passed by, and the floating trunk was seen 
by the goddess of the sea, also named Estrella, who ordered it secured 
and opened. The rescued princess lived ever afterwards with her 
namesake the goddess. 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 23 1 

There are current in the Philippines other oral versions of the 
Cinderella type (without the Catskin story attached), as there are 
likewise a number of printed tales in which the long-suffering and 
much-traduced wife is the heroine;^ but these may be dismissed as 
having no vital connection with the Constance-Saga. 

The stories analyzed above fall into two fairly distinct groups: (I) 
FL, AD, Es, BL; (II) MA, PR, Am, and GaA and GaB. The essential 
incidents to be found in these groups may be tabulated as follows: — 

A king desires to marry his daughter, FL, AD (the betrothed of his son BL). 
The daughter, very religious, refuses with abhorrence the offer, FL (even 

strikes the king, AD, BL). 
The king, on reaching the palace, despatches a servant with a rich gift 

to the princess, and asks her hand in return, FL. 
The princess cuts off her hand (or hands), and sends it (them) to her father, 

FL, Es (Adela does not send her hands to her father). 
The king orders his daughter placed in a chest and cast into the sea, FL, 

BL, Es (in a boat, AD). 
The princess floats a long time and prays incessantly, FL, BL, AD, Es. 
An angel opens the chest and miraculously restores the heroine's hand, 

FL (in AD the two hands are restored after the second exposure). 
The princess is rescued by a fisherman, FL (townspeople, AD; goddess of 

the sea, Es; hermit, BL). 
She finds herself at Navarre, FL (Provence, AD). 
The fisherman cares for the foundling as for his own daughter, FL. 
A minister of the king, while out hunting, happens to see the heroine, FL 

(Saracen amiral sees Blancaflor). 
He falls in love with her, believing her to be of higher rank than she seems, 

FL, BL. 
He succeeds in kidnapping her, but by requesting delay she is able to resist 

his offers, FL, BL. 
The king by chance sees the princess, wooes her, and marries her, FL 

(Adela is conducted by townspeople to the palace of the count soon 

after her rescue). 
The king's mother objects to her son's marriage on the ground that the 

girl is of ignoble birth, FL, AD. 
The king later goes oft" to the wars, FL, AD, MA, PR, GaA, GaB (hunting, 

Am), leaving his wife pregnant and in the care of a faithful friend 

and adviser, FL (paid nurse, PR). 
The queen-mother (step-mother) plots the young queen's overthrow, 

FL, MA, PR, GaA, GaB. 
During the absence of her lord, the heroine gives birth to a son, AD, Am 

(three sons, Ma; seven sons, PR) and names her offspring, FL. 
The faithful friend despatches a letter to the king, telling him of his good 

fortune, FL. 
Substitution of a forgery by the queen-mother, saying that the queen has 

given birth to a monster, FL. 
The king replies that the queen and her offspring are to be taken excellent 

care of, FL. 

^ For example, "Gricelda," "Gunlas," " Beatriz and Ladislao." 



232 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

The intercepting of this letter by the queen-mother, who substitutes an 
order for the faithful friend to kill both the queen and prince, FL. 

The faithful friend disobeys the command, and, placing the queen and her 
son in a large chest, casts them into the sea, FL (Adela is cast away in 
a boat by the queen-mother). 

The chest (or boat) floats three months, FL (a long time, AD); but the 
occupants are by a miracle kept from starvation. 

Finally the chest (or boat) is washed ashore, and the queen and prince 
are rescued, but they conceal their identity, AD, FL. 

The king returns from the wars and is stunned by the news of what has 
taken place during his absence, FL, AD. 

He imprisons his mother, leaves his kingdom in charge of his faithful friend, 
and sets out to seek his wife; but he does not find her, FL (in "Adela," 
the heroine appears to be found without much difficulty). 

The king and queen are restored to each other quite by accident, or Provi- 
dence, some seven years after their separation, FL. 

In Group II the following important variations from Group I are 
to be noticed. Whether the differences are studied or not, it is im- 
possible to say. 

("Cinderella" opening, ALA, PR, GaA, GaB.) 

The heroine, of ignoble birth, is married to a king, GaA, GaB (of Hungary, 

MA, PR). 
The new queen's step-mother (sister-in-law) causes the royal offspring, 

born during the absence of the father, to be spirited away, and animals 

(a pig, dogs) substituted before the mother regains consciousness. 
The queen is made to believe that the animal is her legitimate offspring. 
The prince (princes) is taken to the mountains (forest, seashore) to die. 
Found and reared by an enchanter (shepherd, hermit). 
The king, on his return, condemns queen to terrible death (locked up alive 

in an iron chest, buried in the ground up to her neck, or cast into a 

dungeon). 
The queen's life is miraculously preserved in spite of her tortures. 

{Many years later the king meets with reverses in war and is taken prisoner 
by the Saracens, MA, Am. 
The prince (princes), divinely guided, destroys his father's enemies and 
sets him free, MA, Am; or 
r The king declares a feast in celebration of victory. The princes visit the 
I imperial city and are invited to dine in the palace, PR, GaA, GaB. 

Their request that the tortured queen be released is granted. 
Milk streams from the mother's breasts into the mouths of her offspring.^ 
The wicked step-mother and her accomplices are torn to pieces by horses 
as a punishment for their crimes (nothing is said as to the fate of the 
king's evil sister in Am). 

Group I represents the saga in its usual form; Group II appears to 
be a later modification. The Catskin opening is lost, and the Cin- 

1 This identification device seems to be native to the Philippines; it is found in the 
stories of a non-Christian tribe of northern Luzon. See Faj^-Cooper Cole, Traditions of 
the Tinguian (Publication 180 of the Field Museum of Natural History, Chicago, 1915), 
pp. 118, 153. 



Metrical Romances in the Philippines. 233 

derella motif is supplied, furnishing what may be called the first trial 
of the heroine. After the beautiful girl of ignoble birth marries the 
king, the second testing comes. But it is her child that is exposed 
in the world to death: she herself is kept at the palace to experience 
punishment from the hands of her misled husband on his return from 
the wars. The exchange of letters is omitted altogether from these 
narratives. In Group I the absent king, on being informed by mes- 
senger that his wife has given birth to beasts or monsters, immediately 
sends back word that she and her offspring are to be given every 
attention till his return. In Group II he is shown the animals them- 
selves, and straightway orders a terrible, lingering death for his wife. 
The denouement of the stories of Group I is the recovery of the 
long-lost wife and son, and the establishing in the queen's mind of the 
innocence of the king. The denouement of the stories in Group II 
is the recovery of the princes, and the establishment in the king's 
mind of the innocence of the queen. 

As for the sources of the Philippine analogues and variants of the 
Constance-Saga, we shall have to be satisfied for the present with this 
general observation: The stories of Group I are probably derived 
immediately from European material brought into the Islands, most 
Hkely through Spain; the stories in Group II seem to represent a devel- 
opment that took place in the Islands themselves, and resulted either 
from an unconscious misunderstanding and subsequent confounding 
of the Constance and Cinderella stories, or from a studied departure 
from the fixed traditions for the purpose of emphasizing some particular 
phase of these essentially didactic motifs. 

Only in one case — the story of Adela — can we point with any reason- 
able certainty to a particular European version as source, — the "His- 
toria del Rey de Hungria;"^ and even here may be seen the usual 
modifications and variations of the Philippine redactor. The heroine 
of the "Historia" is the daughter of the King of Hungary. Her 
father loves her especially for the beauty of her hands; consequently 
she has them cut off and sent to him on a silver platter covered with 
a cloth (cf. PL). Set adrift at sea in a small boat, she finally lands at 
Marseilles, where she becomes the wife of Peter (Conrado, AD), 
Count of Provence. Learning his wife's story, the count visits (sends 
messengers to, AD) her father, the King of Hungary, who receives 
his son-in-law warmly, and detains him so long at the court that the 
wicked mother-in-law — through the usual means of forged letters 
(not in AD) — has time to carry out her plot against the young coun- 

1 A Catalan prose tale dating from the end of the fourteenth century, and published 
by P. de Bofarull y Mascaro, in Documentos literarios en antigua lengua catalana (Barce- 
lona, 1S57), pp. 53-79 (vol. xiii of Coleccion de documentos ineditos del archivo general 
de la corona de Aragon). 



234 Journal of American Folk- Lore. 

tess, who is set adrift on the sea again. She lands near a convent and 
is admitted by the abbess. Five years afterwards, by the grace of 
God and the Holy Virgin, she recovers her hands. Meanwhile the 
count had returned to Marseilles, but, feeling angered against his 
mother for her treatment of his wife, had determined to quit his 
estates altogether, and not to return until he had found the countess. 
After thirteen years' quest he finds her at the convent and takes her 
back to Marseilles. 

This very brief abstract does not do justice to all the differences 
between AD and the "Historia:" it emphasizes rather the points of 
contact between the two. But these points of contact appear more 
significant than the points of departure. The localities and personages 
are practically identical, — Hungary, Marseilles, the Count of Provence, 
the convent, the abbess. In both stories the mutilation is voluntary, 
both hands are cut off, both exposures are at sea in a boat, the vessel 
drifts without oars, the heroine after her first landing tells where she 
came from, the count marries her against his mother's will, he com- 
municates with the King of Hungary, and abandons his estates to 
look for his lost wife. Her two hands are miraculously restored in 
the convent after her second expulsion. The thirteen years' separation 
in the "Historia" corresponds approximately to the age of Adela's 
son when he is restored to his father. On the whole, it seems more 
likely than not that the main outline of the story of Adela was derived 
directly from the "Historia del Rey del Hungria." 
Columbia University, New York. 







MANILA: 1913. 



Imprenta de J. Martinez 

Estraude 7.— Bioondo. 



VOL. XXIX. — NO. 112. — 16 



235 



236 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



yj^&A&g|jg?&&^^^fe&^«g?<g;g;A^^^^j&&g.<&^^jgl^&^^^X 



COBRIDO 

AT BUHAY NA PINAGDAANAN 

PRINCESA ioRENTINA 



SA CAHARIANG ALEMANIA. 



wH Dios na Poong mahal 
Hari nitong sangtinacpaa, 
ac6 po,i, iyong tulungan 
magsabi,t, macapagsaysay. 

At ieao Virgeag mariquit 
Emperadora sa langit, 
tulungan mo yaring isip 
matutong macapagsulit. 

lyo pong paliuanagum 
bait, isip cong madilim, 
matutuhan cong sabihin 
buhay na ipagtuturing. 

Ng panahong una una 
sa Imperiong Aleaiania, 
si D. Alfonsong monarca 
may anac siyang daiaga. 

Si Piorentma aag ngalau 
pitong princesang maraagal, 
malaqui ang pagmamahai 
ng amd niya,t, magulang. 



Ang emperador na ito 
ualang asaua at bao, 
pinagtatac-hang to too 
ng tanang mga vasallo. 

Ipagparito co muna 
sa princesa Florentina, 
pagca-bata.i, uaulila 
sa mahal na in^ niya. 

Itong princesang marangal 
arao, gabi.i, nagdaras^l, 
naquiquinyig arao-arao 
ng misa,t, di naliliban. 

At ang caniyang devota 
ang Virgen Santa Maria 
ualang ibang gaua siya 
cundi magdasal tuina. 

Sa cariquitan ay saedal 
halos matulad sa Arao, 
cun tigna.i, nacasisilao 
yaong muc-ha niyang mahal. 



Princess Florentina. 



237 



STORY 



OF THE EVENTFUL LIFE 



OF 



PRINCESS FLORENTINA 
OF THE KINGDOM OF GERMANY. 

[TRANSLATED FROM TAGALOG INTO ENGLISH BY DEAN S. FANSLER 
AND SALVADOR UNSON.] 



O God! great Lord of all, 
King of the whole world, 
Help me. Lord, 
To speak out and to narrate! 

And thou, beautiful Virgin, 

Empress in heaven, 

Help my understanding 

That I may relate the matter easily! 

Do thou. Lord, make clear 
My blind judgment, my hazy intellect, 
So that I may know how to set forth 
The story that is here proposed. 

Once on a time 
In the kingdom of Germany, 
Don Alfonso, the ruler, 
Had a young daughter. 

Florentina was the name 
Of this illustrious princess; 
Greatly beloved was she 
By her father, her only parent. 



For this emperor 

Was a widower, without a wife. 

Highly respected was he 

By all his vassals. 

I begin (my story) first 
With the princess Florentina: 
In her childhood she had lost 
Her noble mother. 

This excellent princess 

Used to pray morning and evening, 

Used to hear daily 

The mass without fail. 

And her particular devotion 
Was to the Holy Virgin Mary. 
No other interest had she 
But to pray constantly. 

Great was her beauty: 
She almost resembled the sun; 
That wondrous face of hers 
Was dazzling to see. 



238 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



— 2 — 



Anjj; cariquitan ni Diana 
ni Floripes mang princesa, 
at sampuo ni Bersabe pa 
hull mandin sa caniya. 

Marami ang nagsasadyi 
hari at prlncipeng madia, 
duque,t, caballerong paua 
sa pangangasaua ang tangca. 

Uald cahiman at is5, 
na tinanguan ang am^, 
at cun caya gayon pala 
ay may lihim siyang dal4 

Ini-isip gabi.t, arao 
nang emperador ha raabal, 
ang sinta niyang sinimp^n 
sa princesa,i, ibig turan. 

At ang ninan^sa bagd 
ng emperador na am^ 
aag anac niyang princesa 
can iy ang maguing asaua. 

Ay sa di rin mapiguilan 
ang sintd niyang sinimp^n, 
naparoo,t, linigauan 
sa torreng tinatahanan. 

Ng maquita ng princesa 
ang emperador na amd, 
sinalubong agad niya 
at lumubod capagdaca. 

Ay ng sa amdng matinguan 
na luluh6d sa harapdn, 
agad quinauit sa camay 
sa silla.i, nangag-upuan. 

Nag-uusap ang mag-am^ 
sa quina-uupang silla, 
anv tud ay sabibin pa 
pag-uulayao nila. 

Dito na ipinahayag 
sinta ng amang iningat, 
Florentina,i, maquimatyag 
sa aquing ipahahayag. 



Tantong mahabang arao na 
ang hirap cong dinadald, 
ang nasa co,t, aquing pita 
icao ang maguing asaua. 

Di naman maguing mahalay 
sa consejo,t, cangino man, 
at ito.i, caugalian 
at utos ng catuiran. 

Si Florentina.i, naguicla 
halos manao ang hiningd, 
amd CO po,i, baquin baga 
ganiyan ang iyong badya. 

Ama di aco.i, an^c mo 
galing tunay sa piiso mo, 
baquin baga cun paano 
ang mga uiniuica mo. 

Di bagay sa camahalan 
CO p6 ang uica mong iyan, 
ang dapat at carampatan 
aco.i, iyong papurihan. 

Sa Dios ay matacot ca 
magbago ng ala-ala, 
Bayang niyang caloloua 
cundi magsising maganda. 

Ang ama nama,i, sumagot 
Florentina.i, huag matacot, 
ipinag-uutos ng Dios 
ang sacramentong tibobos. 

Caya maglualhdti ca 
mag-isip, mag-alaala, 
nasa co,i, di mag-iiba 
na ieao.i, maguing asaua. 

Hindi masabi ang hapis 
nitoug princesang mariquit, 
nagtindig nasoc sa silid 
emperador nama.i, nalis. 

Agad lumuhod sa alta 
banal na si Florentina, 
luha.i, nanalong sa mata 
ng laquing tacot pangamba. 



Princess Florentina. 



239 



The beauty of Diana 
And of Floripes/ the princess, 
Together with that of Bersabe,^ 
Had yet to yield to hers. 

Many waited upon her — 
Kings and princes in large number, 
Dukes and knights, all of them — 
To ask for her hand in marriage. 

But not even one 

Was accepted by her father; 

And it was subsequently discovered 

That he had a secret in his heart. 

This great emperor 

Meditated night and day 

On the love he had carefully guarded, 

Which he wished to declare to the princess; 

For it was indeed desired 
By the emperor her father 
That the princess his child 
Should become his wife. 

And because he could resist no longer 

The love he felt for her, 

He went to woo her 

In the tower where she lived. 

When the princess saw 

The emperor her father, 

She immediately went to meet him 

And knelt before him. 

And when the emperor saw 
Her kneeling there before him, 
He raised her by the hand 
And they sat down in chairs. 

Seated in chairs. 

Father and daughter conversed together; 

Great was the pleasure 

They felt in each other's company. 

Here he began to declare 
His secret love for her: 
"Florentina, pay attention 
To what I have to reveal. 



1 The Saracen princess who marries Gui de Borgofia 
* I.e., Bathsheba. 



"For many long days 

I have endured anguish; 

My wish and my desire 

Is for you to become my wife. 

"It would not be wicked 

In the eyes of the council, or any one. 

For it is customary 

And is sanctioned by justice." 

Florentina nearly fainted, 
She could hardly breathe; 
"O my father!" she said, "why 
Do you speak like that? 

"Father, am I not your child. 
Sprung straight from your heart? 
Why, then, in this manner 
Do you speak these words to me? 

"Your words, my lord, are not 
Appropriate to my purity; 
It is right and fitting 
That I should be respected. 

"Have fear of God; 
Change your intention. 
I tremble for your soul 
If you do not fully repent." 

The father answered : 
"Florentina, do not fear: 
The true sacrament 
Is ordained by God. 

"Be comforted; 

Think and remember 

That my intention is none other 

Than that you should become my wife." 

The princess was suffering 

Because she could not express her feeling; 

She arose and went to her room; 

The emperor also left. 

At once the devout Florentina 

Knelt before her altar; 

Her tears poured forth, 

She was in great fear and distress. 

See Baldovino. 



240 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



Tumauag sa Virgeng mahal 
ito ang siyang tiauraa, 
Virgea aco.i, itangcacal 
sa tucs6,t, capanganibaQ 

At huag ding mapatuloy 
banta ni amang di ucol, 
at nang hindi maparool 
ang piiri co,i, ipagtangol. 

Mahanga,i, ang mamatay na 
siyang lalong ibig co pa, 
huag lamang magcasala 
purl co.i, maalimura. 

Sabihin pa aug pagtangis 
babaying cahapis-hapis, 
sa gutom ay nagtitiis 
at di nainom nang tubig. 

Ipagparito co muna 
sa haring caniyang amd, 
di isa man nagbabaua 
ang sinta sa anae niya. 

Nag-gayac na nang regalo 
ipinadaia sa criado, 
it6 aniya,i, dalhin mo 
uicain mong padald co. 

• At ang sabitiin mo,t, turan 
ganti niyang ibibigay, 
ang mariquit niyang camay 
ang siyang ndsa co,t, hintay. 

Ang criado,!, lumacad na 
at ang regalo,i, dinal^, 
naug dumatiug doon siya 
tumauag sa princesa. 

Ang uinica niya.i, ito 
tangAp po itong regalo, 
ipinadaia sa iyo 
emperador na am^ mo. 

At ang cagantihang hintay 
dito sa regalong alay, 
iyang mariquit mong camdy 
ang nasa niyang hauacan. 



3 - 

Nang marinig nang princesa 
bilin nang caniyang ami, 
naghimatay capagdaca 
sa malaquing hapis nlya. 

Ano,i, nang mahimasmasan 
itong princesang marangal, 
lay aniya capalaran 
acLong iyong cararatnani 

O Indng Virgeng marunong 
Inang dating mapag-ampon, 
flco po.i, iyo ring lingon 
amponin mo,t, ipagtangol. 

Cun cahit icaalis man 
niyaring maraual na buhay; 
huag lamang na macasal 
sa aquing ama,t, magulang. 

Sabihin ang hapis bag4 
nang abang si Florentina, 
aniya ay aquing ama 
laqui nang iyong parusa. 

Ang guinau^ nang princesa 
pinutol ang camay niya, 
inilagay sa bandeja 
pinagbuting tinaepan pa. 

Bandeja.i, pinacariquit 
at tinaepan nang manteles, 
sari-sari ang colores 
doo.i, pinagsalit-salit. 

Tantong caliga-ligaya 
pagca-gaydc nang bandeja, 
ipiua-ibabao niya 
telang mahal na bordada. 

Tinauag na ang criado 
ito aniya,i, dalhin mo, 
na ganti co sa regalo 
sa am^ng panginoong co. 

Ang criado,i, nalis agad 
ang tacot ay dill hamac, 
dug6 ay nangalalagUg 
sa lupa ay nangagcalat. 



Princess Florentina. 



241 



She called upon the Virgin 
And opened her heart thus: 
"Virgin Mary, save me 
From temptation and danger! 

"And may it not be realized, 
My father's evil design; 
That my virtue may not be lost, 
Protect me! 

"Rather death 

Would I much prefer 

To committing sin and 

To having my honor debased." 

Her anguish need not be described, 
The agony of this woman — 
Suffering from hunger and thirst 
Yet unable to eat or drink. 

I will speak now 
Of the king her father; 
Not a whit diminished 
Was his lust for his child. 

He made ready a present 
And sent it by a servant: 
" Deliver this to her and say 
That it comes from me. 

"And further say and tell her 
That the return that she shall make 
Is her beautiful hand. 
I desire and expect it." 

The servant departed 

To deliver the gift; 

When he arrived (at the tower), 

He announced himself to the princess. 

And he spoke thus: 
"Accept this gift, my lady. 
Sent to you 
By the emperor your father. 

"And the expected return 
To be made for this gift 
Is your beautiful hand, 
Which he desires to have." 



When the princess heard 
The charge of her father. 
She fainted at once 
Because of her grief. 

When she recovered, 
This beautiful princess, 
"O my doom!" she sighed, 
"What will become of me?" — 

"O wise Holy Mother, 
Mother always sheltering. 
Turn thy face towards me, 
Shelter and protect me! 

"If notwithstanding I lose 

My unworthy life, 

(It would be better) than to marry 

My father and parent." 

One could not describe the grief 
Of the miserable Florentina; 
She spoke thus: "My father, 
Great is your punishment." 

What the princess did 
Was to cut off her hand; 
She put it on a tray 
And covered it up. 

Then the tray she carefully 
Covered with a napkin 
That had many colors 
Embroidered upon it. 

Very beautiful indeed 

Was the appearance of the tray; 

Over it all she placed 

A rich embroidered cloth. 

She summoned the servant 
And said, "Take this with you 
To my lord, my father. 
As my return for his gift." 

The servant left at once 
With great fear in his heart, 
Because the blood was dropping 
And spreading out on the ground. 



242 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



- 4 - 



Capagdating sa harapan 
nang emperador na mahal, 
ang bandeja.i, inilagay 
at tambiug niyang binncsan. 

Hari pong panginoong co 
ang ganti po ay narito 
Camay ua hinihintay mo 
ngayon po ay pagmasdan mo 

Ay nang sa amang maquita 
Camay na na sa bandeja 
■nagtindig capagcaraca 
an^ galit ay sabihiu pa. 

Tumauag na nang soldado 
hayo.t, sundin ang utos co, 
ang tampalasang anac co 
sa dagat itapon niny6' 

Isilid sa isang caban 
ihulog sa caragatao, 
yaou ang dapat at bagay 
sa an^c cong tampalasan. 

Ag^d nangang nagsipanao 
soldados na inutusan, 
humanap sila nang caban 
ang princesa.i, pinarun^n. 

Qumuha na ang princesa 
sa caba.i, isinilid na, 
icao po,i, huag maouicla 
utos nang hari mong ama. 

Tumangis na at umiyac 
prince^ang caniyang anac, 
at sa cabang nagagayac 
pinap6s6c siyang agad. 

Pinacabuting tinacpan 
tuloy namaug sinusian 
at sa barca.i, inilulan 
dinald sa calautan. 

Capagdaca.i, inahulog 
cab6,i, lumitao lumub6g, 
princesang na sa sa loob 
sabibin ang pagcalunos. 



Gaua lamang ay dumaing 
sa Inang mahal aa Virgen, 
at siyang nananaimtim, 
sa puso niya.t, panimdim. 

Aniya ay devota co 
Virgen Inang del Rosario, 
paquingan ang alipin mo 
na tumatauag sa iyo. 

Sa pagtauag at pagdaing 
taos sa puso,t, panimdim, 
nanaog ang isang angel 
siigo nang mahal na Virgen 

Princesa, i, huag matacot 
aco ang ^ngel nang Dios, 
dito ay pinapanaog 
sa iyo.i, pinatatanod. 

Sa pagtauag mong mataman 
ay tambing nang pinaquihgan, 
narito at aquing taglay 
itoug pinutol mong camdy. 

Ngayo,i, isasauli co 
it6ng putol na camay mo, 
at utos sa aquin it6 
In^ng Virgeng masaclolo. 

Loob mo,i. huag magbaua 
sa Virgeng Santa Maria, 
at ngayo,i, malapit ca na 
tabing pasig nang Navarra. 

Sumaya ang loob naman 
ni Florentinang marangal, 
at ang putol niyang camay 
ay na-saoll sa lugar. 

Sa aua ng Virgeng In^ 
Poong si Santa Maria, 
sinaguip siya.t, quinuha 
nang isang mamalacaya. 

Dinala siya sa bahay 
princesa.i, nalulupaypay, 
tuloy namang binihisan 
basang damit sa catau^n. 



Princess Florentina. 



243 



When he came into the presence 

Of the great emperor, 

He presented the tray, 

At the same time lifting the cover. 

"O king, my lord! 

The return is here, 

The hand that you are expecting. 

Look now upon it." 

When the father saw 
The hand on the salver, 
He at once arose 
In indescribable rage. 

He summoned soldiers: 
"Hear me and obey my orders. 
Take my insolent daughter 
And cast her into the sea. 

"Put her into a chest 
And drop her into the deep ocean; 
'Tis what she justly deserves. 
The impudent girl!" 

The soldiers who had received the order 

At once left; 

They sought out a chest 

And went to the princess. 

The princess was seized 

And put into the chest; 

"Do not be astounded (they said). 

This is the order of your father." 

The princess his daughter 
Lamented and wept; 
Into the chest all ready for her 
They placed her without delay. 

They carefully closed it 
And then locked it fast; 
On a boat they loaded it 
And took it far out to sea. 

There they threw the chest overboard. 
It sank and rose in the water; 
The princess inside 
Felt very great terror. 



She did nothing but invoke 
The Holy Virgin Mother; 
Her heart and thought 
Were ever directed toward her. 

"O Virgin of the Rosary! 
I am thy votary; 
Hear thy poor slave 
Who is calling upon thee!" 

In answer to her entreaty and supplication, 
Which truly came from the heart. 
An angel descended, 
Sent by the glorious Virgin. 

"Princess, do not fear; 
I am an angel of God, 
Sent here 
To guard you. 

"Because of your sincere prayer. 
Which was heard at once, 
I am here, and have with me 
Your hand which you cut off. 

"The hand that you sacrificed 
Now I will restore 
At the command given to me 
By the Virgin, your saviour. 

"Do not lose faith 
In the Holy Virgin Mary; 
For now you are nearing 
The coast of Navarre." 

This illustrious maid, Florentina, 
Was overjoyed in her heart; 
The hand that had been severed 
Was restored to its place. 

By the favor of the Mother Virgin, 
The gracious Saint Mary, 
The princess was saved, and rescued 
By a fisherman. 

The princess, unsteady from weakness, 

Was taken to his house; 

There he changed 

The wet dress she had on. 



244 



Journal of American Folk- Lore. 



-5- 



Siya.i, inalagaaa na 
matanding mamalacaya. 
at pinarang anac niya 
na di malingat sa mata. 

Tumauag si Florentiaa 
sa matandang paranc; amn, 
alin pong lupa baga 
itdng quinalalag-yaa iL 

Isinagot sa cauiya 
Jupa ito ng Navarra, 
ang haring quiniquilala 
si D. Earicoag masigl4 

Ng maguing tatlo ng buan 
ang caniyang pagca-tahan, 
sa mamalacayang bahay 
di pagauin ng ano man. 

Maraming nacaquiquita 
sa ganda ni Florentina, 
pauaug nangaliligaya 
sa diqait ng asal niya. 

Maraming nangagsasadya 
manga matand4 at bata, 
para-parang natutua 
sa diquit niyang sagana 

Isang arao ng Domiago 
yaong sa baring privado 
gumayae siyang nangaso 
casama ay isang criado. 

Dito nga naquita niya 
ang diquit ni Florentina, 
ang privado.i, naligaya 
sa eabutiban at ganda. 

Umibis na sa cabayo 
itong daquilang privado, 
inutusan na ang criado 
bilang niyang pa-aviso. 

Ng sa matandang maquita 
inanyayahan pagdaca, 
mangagsituloy po sila 
at sa babay manbic mtina. 



Tamanong na ang matandd 
ano p6 bag4 ang sady6, 
cami po,i, cahiya-biya 
at icm6 man cami,i, uala 

Ang sagot nitong- privado 
uala man po,i, aanbin co, 
nuno.i, macatan6ng ac6 
sabibin mo ang toto6. 

lyang mariquit na diosa 
sino ang may anac bagd. 
sagot ng mamalacaya 
ay amin pong anac siya. 

Maniuala po,t, to too 
na nagmuld sa ptiso co, 
ang magsabi po sa iyo 
ang manga cababayan mo. 

Privado ay tumanong pa 
sino p6 ang ngalan baga, 
sag6t ng mamalacaya 
aba pong si Florentina. 

Tantong bindi maniuala 
ang privado sa matanda, 
itong mariquit na tala 
lagdy mabal na mistula. 

Ang sa privadong nilalang 
ang criado, i, inutusan, 
mili ng alac, tinapay 
masasarap na pulutan. 

Ano nga.i, sa dumating na 
ang matanda, i, natua na, 
palibbasa,i, ibig niya 
siyang dating pinipita. 

Pina-lnom nangang tambing 
nitong privadong butibin, 
at ang labat na cacanin 
sa matanda,i, inihain. 

Ang pag-inom ay sabihin 
na bmdi na napapiguil, 
ang nasapit ay nalasing 
sinungaban ng alipin. 



Princess Florentina. 



245 



She was taken care of 

By the old fisherman; 

She was treated as a daughter, 

And they became inseparable. 

Florentina asked the old man, 
Who was like a father to her, 
"What land is this 
In which we are?" 

He answered her, 

"This country is Navarre; 

The king who rules it 

Is the brave Don Enrico." 

During the three months 

Of her life there 

In the house of the fisherman 

She was not allowed to do any work. 

Many had noticed 

The beauty of Florentina; 

All were delighted 

With the graciousness of her manner. 

Many went to see her, 
Both old people and young; 
They were all charmed 
With her great beauty. 

One Sunday it happened 
That a minister of the king 
Went out hunting 
Accompanied by a servant. 

While hunting, he saw 

The beautiful Florentina; 

The minister was delighted 

With her good manners and beauty. 

He dismounted from his horse. 
This exalted minister, 
And ordered the servant 
To announce his coming. 

When the old man was aware (of the visit), 

He at once invited (the minister) 

To enter and to come up 

Into his house for a little while. 

1 Icmo, buyo-nut and betel-leaf prepared with 
as a mark of hospitality. 



The old man asked, 

"What is the object of your coming? 

We are ashamed to say 

That we haven't even any icmo.'" ^ 

The minister answered, 
"It really makes no difference. 
Grandfather, I will ask you a question; 
Tell me the truth. 

"That beautiful goddess. 
Whose child is she?" 
The old fisherman answered, 
"She is our own daughter. 

"Believe me, it is the truth, 
Which comes straight from my heart. 
You may have it verified 
By your fellow-townsmen." 

The minister asked further, 
"What is her name?" 
The fisherman replied, 
"She is the lowly Florentina." 

Verily, the minister would 

Not believe the old man, 

Because this beautiful star 

Seemed to be of royal blood. 

This was the wicked plan of the minister : 

He ordered his servant 

To get from their larder wine and bread 

And tasty cold viands. 

When the things ordered came, 

The old man was delighted 

Because they were the things 

That he had been longing for. 

The old man was ofi'ered drinks 

By the gallant minister, 

And all the food 

Was placed before the old man. 

He drank heavily — 
He was unable to restrain himself; 
The result was that he became drunk 
And was seized by the servant. 

lime for chewing. It is always offered to visitors 



246 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



6 — 



Ng malasing ang matanda 
ang Sa privadong guinau^, 
sinuDgaban alipala 
itong mariquit na t^la. 

Sa cabayo.i, isinacay 
Dg privadong tampalasan, 
dinala at itinanan 
tuloy sa caniyang bahay. 

Ipagsauli co muna 
sa matandang parang ama, 
mana nga,i, sa maguising na 
ang anac ay quiniquita. 

Sa di niya masilayan 
an^c niyang minamahal, 
sabihin baga ang lumbay 
hapis na di ano lamang. 

Aquing ipagbalic muna 
sa buhay ni Florentina, 
pinipilit naman siyd 
sa gauang hindi maganda. 

Sa pagpilit na totoo 
ng privadong si D. Pabio 
ang princesa.i, na pa 60 
at sumagot ng ganito. 

Bunying D. Pabio aniya 
hintay maghunos dili ca, 
cacamtan mong ualang sala 
caya maquinyig ca muna. 

Hangang aco,i, naglulucsa 
sa aquing in^ng nauaU, 
iyo munang ipabaya 
saca mo sundin ang nasa. 

Cuu dumating na ang arao 
termino cong hinihintay, 
na hindi na mababalam 
mga limang buan lamang. 

At CUD ito,i, maganap na 
ay saca pacasal quita, 
caya maglualb^ti ca 
sa sabi co,i, tumalima. 



Si D. Pabio.i, na pa 60 
ang tua ay mago.t, mago, 
lo6b niyang nagugul6,i, 
tumiuasay na totoo. 

Ala-ala,i, sabihin pa 
sa mariquit na princesa 
tuina.i, causap niya 
salang malingat sa mata. 

Hanga ng matahan dito 
sa bahay nitong privado, 
nalimutan ng totoo 
catungculan sa palacio. 

Nasiyasat nang consejo 
ang privadong si D. Pabio, 
na tatl6 ng buang hust6 
na hindi naparirito. 

Anang hari ay paronan 
na cun ano ang dahildn, 
isang criado,i, inutusan 
marali ca,t, iyong tingndn. 

Ng dumating na sa babay 
ang criadong inutusan^ 
it6ng dalaua.i, dinatnan 
sa silla.i, nag-aagapay. 

Sinabi na ng criado 
bilin ng baring Enrico, 
ang isinagot ay 60 
at paririyan na aed* 

Criado,), ng dumating na 
tinanong capagcaraca, 
ano at di mo casama 
si D. Pabio.t, nasaan pa. 

Ang sag6t nitong criado 
pina-una na po aco, 
siya rao po,i, paririlo 
susun6d sa licordn co. 

Si D. Pabio.i, lumacad na 
casama si Florentina, 
balang tauong macaquita 
pauang nangaliligaya. 



Princess Florentina. 



247 



When the old man became senseless, 
What the minister did 
Was to seize at once 
That beautiful star. 

She was lifted on to the horse 
By that profligate minister; 
He took her and fled with her 
Straight to his house. 

Let me now consider first 
The old man, her adopted father: 
When he recovered his wits, 
He looked for the maiden. 

When he could get no sight of 
His much-beloved child, 
Indescribable was his grief, 
His sorrow knew no bounds. 

Now let us turn 
To the lot of Florentina; 
She was being urged to do 
A dishonorable act. 

In reply to the urgings and threats 
Of the minister Don Pavio, 
The princess consented, 
And answered thus: 

"Illustrious Don Pavio," she said, 
"Wait, and consider the matter; 
You will have your desire without fail. 
But hear me first. 

"So long as I am in mourning 

For my dead mother. 

Postpone your desire; 

Then you shall have what you wish. 

"When the day comes, 

The day I mean. 

It will not be very long — 

It is only five months from now. 

"At the end of that time 
We shall be married ; 
Be considerate of me (therefore) 
And grant my request." 



Don Pavio assented. 

His joy was beyond all bounds; 

His fluttering heart 

Calmed down truly. 

His attention to the beautiful princess 
Cannot justly be described: 
They were always talking together; 
Uncomfortable was he when she was out 
of his sight. 

During the time that she lived 
In the house of this minister. 
He forgot altogether 
His duties at the palace. 

The council noticed 

That Don Pavio, the minister. 

For full three months 

Had not put in an appearance. 

Accordingly the king ordered 

One of his servants to go there 

To look into the matter. 

To find out at once what was the trouble. 

When the servant who had been ordered 
Arrived at the house, 
He found the two 
Sitting side by side. 

The servant delivered 
The message of King Enrico; 
Don Pavio said, "Yes, 
I am coming at once." 

When the servant returned. 

He was at once asked, 

"Why did not Don Pavio come with you, 

And where is he?" 

The servant replied, 
"I was told to go ahead; 
He said that he was coming, 
That he would follow behind me." 
Don Pavio set out 
Accompanied by Florentina; 
Every one who saw them 
Was greatly pleased. 



248 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



— 7 — 



Lahat ay nagtatanungan 
cun saan galing na bayan 
carictd.i, di ano lamang 
niyong princesang marangal. 

Ay ano,i, ng dumating na 
si Pabio.t, ni Floreatina 
ang hari tantong nagtacd 
sa cariquitang naquita. 

Pagdaca.i, inanyayahan 
sa silla.i, naqui-agapay, 
at agad ng hinandugan 
ng sinta ng baring mahal. 

Ang sag6t ni Florentina 
6 daraquilang monarca, 
anong pangyayari bag4 
mabai ca,t, aco ay mTura. 

Di munti po bagang balay 
sa iyong consejong tanan, 
ang tans6ng libdg-libagan 
sa diamante ay ipisan. 

Ualang daang mababago 
ang sintang bayin sa iyo, 
ang sumansala ma.i, sino, 
iisa itong uica co. 

Ang baring Enrico bag& 
ang ind.i, nabububay pa, 
siyang malaquing pagcontra 
sa baring pag-aasaua. 

Ang ind,i, tantong aayao 
cay Fiorentina.i, macasal, 
sapagca.t, ang sabi.t, saysay 
anac ng pescador lamang. 

Palibbasa.i, bari siya 
uica.i, di magcaca-iba, 
arzobispo,i, tinauag na 
napacasal capagdaca. 

Ay ang b41a nitong in^ 
ang babala ay siya na, 
iquiquita co ng sala 
it<5ng caniyang asaua. 



At bindi co tutugutan 
hangang bindi ipapatay, 
at pangaco cong matibay 
cabit anong casapitan. 

Sabibin ang catuaan 
ng boong sangcabarian, 
para-parang nagdiriuang 
ng sa baring pagcacasal. 

It6 namang si D. Pabio 
ualang capalarang tauo, 
di nacaquibong totoo 
tacot sa baring Enrico. 

Bdla ni D. Pabio naman 
babanap siya ng daan, 
bangang di maparusaban 
ang reinang lilo,t, sucaban. 

Ipagparito co muna 
sa bari,t, mabal na reina, 
pagsasama,i, sabibin pa 
labat ay naliligaya. 

Palibbasa ngani guint6 
galing sa linao na dug6, 
baquit uald namang quib6 
toto6ng dunong na manuyo. 

At bindi magsabi lamang 
dug6 niyang pinagmul^n, 
ang caniyang binibintay 
cun dumating na ang arao. 

Pagsasama,i, mabinabon 
mag-asaua,i, nagca-ucol, 
dua ng Dios na Poon 
namulaclac at nag-usbong. 

Ay ng buntis na cagampan 
halos manganic na lamang 
reino,i, agad na dinatnan 
moros na mga caauay. 

Ang embajador ng moro 
nagtuluyan sa palacio, 
sinabi cay D, Enrico 
na sila,i, may dalang bocb6. 



Princess Florentina. 



249 



Each one was asking his neighbor 
As to what town she came from; 
The beauty of this exalted princess 
Could not be concealed. 

Well, when Don Pavio 
And Florentina arrived, 
The king marvelled much 
At the beauty he saw. 

He at once invited 

Her to be seated. 

And at once this great king 

Proffered his love. 

Florentina answered, 

"O mighty monarch! 

What will be the result? 

You are noble; I am of humble origin. 

"Not inconsiderable would be theindignity 
In the eyes of your whole council 
If you should place a diamond 
In a crude copper setting." 

"Nothing will alter" (he said) 
"The love I offer you. 
W^hoever tries to prevent it 
Will meet with failure." 

Now King Enrico's mother 
Was still very much alive; 
She was strongly opposed 
To the king's marrying. 

The mother greatly objected to 
His marriage with Florentina, 
For it was said that she was 
Only the daughter of a fisherman. 

Because he was king, however, 
His word could not be contradicted. 
The archbishop was summoned, 
And they were married at once. 

The scheme of the mother now 
Was carefully to look for 
And discover in his wife 
A cause for accusation. 



"And I will not stop 

Until she is killed," 

She promised to herself. 

Whatever might be the consequences. 

Great was the rejoicing 

Of the whole kingdom; 

Every one celebrated 

The marriage of the king. 

Now Don Pavio 

Was entirely out of luck; 

He could not protest 

Because of his fear of the king. 

Don Pavio's design 

Was to find out a way [faithless, 

By which the queen, treacherous and 
Might be punished. 

Let me refer now to the king 
And to the illustrious queen; 
Their life together, you must know, 
Was full of bliss. 

Because she was pure gold 

And came of blue blood; 

Furthermore, she was sensible 

And knew how always to please him. 

Nor would she say 

That she was of royal blood; 

She was waiting, in fact. 

For the proper time to come. 

Happily they lived, [genial; 

Husband and wife: they were truly con- 
And because of God's favor 
Their union was to bear fruit. 

During her pregnancy, [finement, 

When she was close to her time of con- 
The Moors, their enemies. 
Marched upon their kingdom. 

The ambassador of the Moors 
Went straight to the palace. 
And told Don Enrico 
That they had brought an army: 



250 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



At cuQdi rao ibibigay 
ang cetro.t, coronatig mahal, 
tantong ipag-uauasacan 
ang Navarrang caharian. 

Aog sagot ni D Enrico 
magtahau ca lilorjg moro 
CUD uala na ang buhay co 
inyo ang corona.t, eetro 

Hayo na cayo.t, maghintay 
sa labas nang caharian, 
bucas ay ualaug pagliban 
aco ay lalabas diyan. 

Nagsi-alis at pumanao 
embagadang iuutusan, 
ang baring Enrico naman 
soldados niya.i, pinisan 

Ipinagayac ang hocbo 
ng baring si D. Enrico, 
ang mga piling soldado 
casama sa ejercito 

Aco ang siyang general 
ejercitong palulual, 
sabibin ang catuadu 
ng mga soldadong tanan 

Dumulog na sa asaiia 
at niyacap capagdaca 
poong co,t, aquing sinta 
aco ay paalam muna. 

Lalabasin co sa parang 
ang mga morong sucaban, 
poong coj, buag malumbay 
at di aco mababalam. 

Nang ito.i, mapaquingan 
nang reinang sinta at biibay, 
sabibin baga ang lumbay 
hapis cadalambatian. 

Panginoon at esposo 
baring mabal D. Enrico, 
paano aniya aco 
cun aco.i, papanauan mo. 



Aco.i, ipagsama mo na 
sa moro.i, maquipagbaca, 
buag lamang ma-ulila 
ang iyong sintang asaua. 

At cung iyong papanauan 
aco rito at iiuan, 
ualang sala.t, mamamatay 
cun sa iyo.i, mahiualay. 

Ang sagot ni D. Enrico 
paano ang pagsama mo, 
guerra ang paroronan co 
malaquing lubbang peligro. 

Cava guiiio co at sinta 
ay buag ca ng sumama, 
ang cabuntisan mong dald 
tila di malalaon na. 

Na cun icao ay manganic, 
cabit aco.i, na sa birap, 
magpadala ca ng sulat 
at ng aquing matalastas. 

Bayaning si D. Pascasio 
siyang paglalagacan co, 
dito sa real palacio 
mag-aalaga sa iyo. 

Siya,i, para cong catauau 
susundin ng sino pa man, 
caya sinta co at biibay 
sa lyo aco.i, paalam. 

Manga soldadong casama 
n^roo.t, naghibintay na, 
sa Dios catatauag ca.t, 
sa Virgeng Santa Maria. 

Rein a naman ay nan^usap 
ang luba sabay nalagl^g 
diyata sinta co,t, liyag 
iiuan mo aco,t, sucat. 

Aco at icao aquing sinta 
uica ng bari sa reina 
cung ualang palad aniya 
.di na quita magquiquita. 



Princess Florentina. 



251 



"If the sceptre and mighty crown 
Are not surrendered, 
The kingdom of Navarre 
Will be entirely destroyed." 

Don Enrico answered, 

"Cease, base Moor, 

As long as I live, 

Sceptre and crown shall not be yours. 

"Let your people wait 

On the borders of the kingdom. 

To-morrow without fail 

We will meet you there." 

The envoys who had been sent 
Left and disappeared; 
And Don Enrico, the king, 
Called together his army. 

The army was organized 

By the king, Don Enrico; 

The very best soldiers 

Were included among the troops. 

"I shall be the commander 

Of the army that is going out." 

Great was the satisfaction 

Of the men (when they heard that). 

He went to his wife 

And fondly embraced her: 

"My darling, my love, 

I am going to leave you for a while. 

"I am going to the country 
To meet the infidel Moors. 
My adored one, do not grieve, 
I shall not be absent long." 

When this was heard 

By the queen, his love and his life, 

Her grief and her sorrow 

Were beyond all bounds. 

" My lord and husband. 
Exalted King Enrico, 
What will become of me 
If you go away? 



' I should prefer to go with you 
And fight against the Moors, 
Rather than be left alone 
Your beloved wife. 

"And if you go away 
And leave me here behind. 
There is no doubt but that I shall die, 
If I am separated from you." 

Don Enrico answered, 
"How could you accompany me 
When I am going to war? 
There is very great danger there. 

"My dear, my beloved. 

Do not think of coming with me; 

It seems that very soon 

Your period of pregnancy will be over. 

"When you have given birth to a child. 

Even if I am fighting. 

Send me a letter. 

That I may know about the event. 

"To the brave Pascasio 
I will entrust 
The care of the palace 
'And of you. 

' He shall have the same power as I, 
He is to be obeyed by all. 
And so, my life, my love, 
I must leave you. 

"The soldiers going with me 

Are ready, are waiting. 

Pray to God 

And to the Holy Virgin Mary." 

The queen spoke 

Through her falling tears: 

"Is it possible, my love, my darling, 

That you are going to leave me thus?" 

The king answered the queen, 
"You and I, my beloved, 
Unless we have good fortune. 
Shall never see each other again. 



VOL. XXIX. — NO. 112. — 17. 



252 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



Caya quita ay mag-yacap 
para ta n* pahimacas 
cuu aco.i, culangius palad 
di na quita magca-usap 

At sa pagyayacap hag^ 
sing ibig na mag-isiua, 
ay naghimatly ang reina 
malaoag hiadi huminga. 

Nao'g siya.i, mahimasmasaa 
asaua.i, uiyacap naman, 
M-A halos hindi bitiuaQ 
huat? manao sa harapan. 

Sibihin pa aug pagtaagis 
Dg reinang cahapls hapis, 
hmdi ibig niyaag malis 
ang asanang siata,t, ibig. 

Ang uica ng hari,i, it6 
hiadi mangyayari pooag co, 
na di ngayou labasia co 
yaong mga lilong moro. 

Caya ac6 ay paalam 
asaua cong sinta.t, buliay, 
Po6q co,i, pahintulutaa 
ac6,i, hindi mababalam. 

Ang hari ay gumayac na 
nagcoleto,t, nagmanopla, 
tambor, pifano, trompeta 
ipinatugtog pagdaca. 

Nanaog na nagtuluyan 
casama ang madlang caual, 
malayo na,i, tinatanao 
ni Florentinang may lumbay. 

Nang di na matanao niya 
ang sinta niyang asaua, 
sa silid ay pumasoc na 
nanicluh6d capagdaca 

O Virgen Tnaug marangal 
Ink ni Jesus na mahal, 
ang asaua cong pumanao, 
ipag-adyfi. sa caauay. 

PRINCB8A PLORENTINA. 



lyo rin pong ipag-adya 
sa mga morohg cabaca, 
yaong campon ni Mahoma 
mangatacot at maugamba. 

Ipagparito co naman 
sa baring Earicong mahal, 
ang parating gunam-gunam 
asaua niyang miuau. 

Ang manga soldadong sama 
para-parang nagsasaya 
catuaa.i, sabihin pa 
calusod-Iugod maquita. 

Biicod na ang hari lamang 
ang may dalaag calumbayan, 
ala-ala niyang tunay 
ang sa reinang cabuntis^n. 

Dito itiguil CO mUna 
pinagdaanan sa guerra, 
ang aquing ipagbabadyd 
ang napagsapit ng reina. 

l^ang dumating na ang oras 
ng e^niyang pangangando, 
aua ng Virgeag marilag 
di man nagdaan ng hirap. 

Nang malabas na ang bata 
lalaquing catua-tu4, 
ang tanan ay nahahanga 
ng cariquitang sagana. 

Sa cay Pascasiong maquita 
ang reina ay nanganac na, 
agad gumaua ng carta 
sa , hari,i, ipinadala 

Tinauag na ang- criado 
nit6 ngang si D. Pascasio, 
magmarali cang dalhin mo 
sa hari itong sulat co. 

Ang nalalaman sa sulat 
hari cong lubhang mataas, 
matoua ca.t, pasalamat 
sa reinang pagca-pangande. 



Princess Florentina. 



253 



"Let us embrace 
As a sign of good-by; 
For if I am unlucky, 
We shall not meet again." 

And while they were in each other's arms, 

Their mutual love was perfect; 

The queen fainted. 

For a long time she ceased to breathe. 

When she recovered, 
She embraced her husband; 
She was loath to release him, 
Lest he should leave her. 

Great was the grief 
Of the sorrowing queen. 
Because she did not want to lose 
Her beloved husband, her soul. 

Then the king said to her, 
" My adored one, it will not do; 
It is impossible that I should fail 
To go against those faithless Moors. 

"So I must leave you, 
My wife, my love, my life; 
My Goddess, I will return 
Without needless delay." 

The king made ready: 

He donned his doublet and gauntlets; 

He ordered sounded 

The drums, fifes, and trumpets. 

Directly he set out 
With all of his many soldiers; 
Even when he was far away, 
Florentina was gazing after him. 

After her beloved husband 
Had disappeared from view. 
She went to her room 
And fell on her knees. 

"O Virgin, sublime Mother, 

Mother of Jesus our Lord, 

Save from his enemies 

My husband, who has just left me! 



"Save him, I pray thee. 

From his foes, the Moors, 

Subjects of Mahomet! 

Fill their hearts with fear and terror ! " 

Let me turn now 

To Enrico, the noble king; 

He was ever thinking 

Of the wife he had left behind. 

The soldiers who were with him 
Were all feeling joyous: 
So great was their happiness. 
That it was a pleasure to see them. 

Unlike all the others, the king 
Was the only one who felt sorrow; 
He was truly concerned 
Over the condition of the queen. 

Here I will break off 
Telling about the war. 
And will turn to relate 
What happened to the queen. 

When the time came 
For her to give birth to a child, 
Because of the mercy of the gracious Virgin 
She did not suffer greatly. 

The child that was born 
Was a handsome boy; 
All were amazed 
At his great beauty. 

When Pascasio saw 
That the child had been born, 
He at once prepared a letter 
To send to the king. 

Don Pascasio himself 
Summoned a servant: 
"Hasten!" he said, "and take 
This letter of mine to his Majesty." 

The letter read, 

"O exalted king! 

Be happy and thankful, 

The queen is already delivered 



254 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



— 10 — 



Isang lalaquing mjiriquit 
calulad mo po,t, cauangis, 
uala taanding caholilip 
parang bituin sa larjgit. 

Aua ng Virgeng inarilag 
mahal na reina.i, malacas, 
di man nagdaan ng hirap 
sa caniyang pangangandc. 

Ipagparito co naman 
sa criadong inutusan, 
dumadn at nagpaalam 
sa ink ng baring mabal. 

Mana ngani ng maquita 
dald ng criadong carta, 
quinuba na capagdaca 
binucsan niya.t, binasa. 

At ag4d ng pinalitan 
itong sulat na binucsdn, 
saca ang ipinalaman 
catacot-tacot maturan. 

Ang nalalamdn sa carta 
niyong tampalasang ina, 
baring daquilang monarca 
matud ca at magsayd, 

Asaua mong reinang mabal 
nangandc na mabinusay, 
maluag ang pagdaramdam 
at malac^s aug catau^n 

Isang lalaqui cun ano 
na dili mapag-isip co, 
ay siyang naguing an^c mo 
di maquilala cun tauo. 

Anaqui.i, macbing na bayop 
hicbura,i, catacot-tacot, 
balabibo,i, parang manoc 
at usa mandin sa bimdoc. 

Di maquilala ang muc-ba 
cun bayop 6 tauo caya, 
alamid mandin 6 pusa 
hindi sucat maunaua. 



Ng suraapit na ang sulat 
sa bari ay iguinauad, 
ng mabasa,t, matalastas 
ay guinanti niyang agad. 

Ang bari sumulat naman 
ng sagot na catungculan, 
sa sulat na nalalaman 
ganito ang pagcasaysay. 

D. Pascasio cong catoto 
ang bilin co ay ganito 
cabit bayop ang andc co 
tautong pacamabalin mo. 

At di malalaong arao 
darating na aco riyan, 
mabalin mo,t, alagaan 
para ng aquing catauan. 

Sinarban na itong sulat 
sa criado.i, iguinauad, 
sabibin ang lumbAy sindac 
bariug Enricong mataas. 

Capagdaca, i, nalis naman 
ang criadong inutusan 
ito ay nuling nagdaan 
sa ina ng baring mabal. 

Quinuba na namang agad 
ang sa baring gauang. sulat, 
palama.i, ng matalastas 
ay pinalitan ding agad. 

Ganito ang pagcalagdy 
sa cartang ipinalaman, 
ang utos co,i, sunding tunay 
Pascasio, i, buag iliban. 

Itong utos co,i, totoo 
capag bindi binunod mo, 
diya.i, capag dinatndn co 
capalit ang iyong ulo. 

lyong patayin ang reina 
sampo ng anac nga niya 
pagdamayin ang mag-in^ 
itong utos co,i, talima. 



Princess Florentina. 



255 



Of a handsome boy, 

Who looks like and resembles you; 

He has no equal 

Except the stars in the skies, 

" By the mercy of the gracious Virgin 
The exalted queen is strong; 
She did not suffer much 
In child-birth." 

I turn now 

To the servant, the messenger; 
He went over and took leave 
Of the mother of the king. 

When she saw the letter 

That had been entrusted to the servant, 

She took it from him, 

Opened it, and read. 

She at once substituted another 
For the letter she had opened; 
The contents of it 
Were fearful to relate. 

Thus ran the letter 
Of that inhuman mother: 
"King, exalted monarch, 
Be happy, and rejoice! 

"Your wife, your beloved queen, 
Has happily given birth to a child; 
Easy were the birth-pains 
And she is doing well. 

"A male child — but what it is 
I am unable to make out; 
I cannot determine 
Whether it is human or not. 

"It resembles a monkey, 

Its countenance is fearful; 

It has the feathers of a chicken [tains. 

And the hide of a wild deer of the moun- 

"It cannot be distinguished 
Whether its face is of a monster or man; 
Whether it is wild-cat or tabby, 
One cannot say for certain." 



When the letter arrived 
And was delivered to the king, [it, 

And when he had read and comprehended 
He answered it at once. 

The king straightway wrote 

An answer that was likewise an order; 

This is what the letter said. 

This the charge he had to convey: 

"Don Pascasio, my friend, 
I charge you with this: 
Even if my child is a beast. 
Give it the best of care. 

"It will not be many days 
Until I arrive there; 
Love him and cherish him 
As you would me." 

He finished his letter 
And delivered it to the servant; 
Great was the sorrow and dread 
Of his highness. King Enrico. 

The servant, entrusted with the letter, 

Left at once; 

Again he stopped 

At the home of the king's mother. 

Again she easily took from him 
The letter of the king. 
When the traitress understood it, 
She at once changed its contents. 

This is what she 
Substituted in the letter: 
"Follow my order faithfully, 
Pascasio, without delay. 

" This is truly my charge; 
And if I arrive there 
And the order is not carried out. 
Your head will answer for it. 

" Have the queen put to death. 
Together with her child; 
Let them be destroyed, mother and child 
Remember well this order of mine. 



2s6 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



— 11 



Ang pagcatotoo baga 
nitong utos cong lahat na, 
dito ac6 ay nagfirma 
baring tunay sa Navarra. 

Ibinigay na sa criado 
hayo aniya,t, dalbin mo, 
ibigay cay D. Pascasio 
itoQg sulat nang bari mo, 

Ang criado, i, lumacad na 
sulat ibinigay niya, 
cay D. Pascasiong mabasa 
natacot siya.t, naguicla. 

An6 cayd ang dahilan 
ng sa baring cagalitan, 
baquin at ipapapatay 
reinang ualang casalanan. 

Ipinaquita sa reina 
itong sulat na padald, 
pooQ co,i, Cuba at basa 
biningd co,i, mapapaca. 

Di CO masabi,t masaysay 
sa sulat napapalamdn, 
na cun ano ang dabildn 
ng sa baring cagalitan. 

Ano.i, sa reinang matingnan 
aog sa sulat na palaman, 
nalunusan at nabapay 
at mistula mauding patAy 

Aua ng Virgeng Maria 
pinagsaulan ng bininga, 
sabibin ang lumbay baga 
ng caaua-auaug reina. 

Anaug reina ay ganito 
marangal na D. Pascasio, 
marali ugayong sundin mo 
utos ng bari sa iyo. 

Narito ang aquing bubay 
at di CO isinusuay, 
dapua.t, ang bingi co lamang 
aco ay iyong paquingan. 



Diyata earning mag-ina 
pinanaugang sentencia, 
laba ng anac cong is4 
na di nagcamit guinbaua! 

Ang sagot ni D. Pascasio 
utos ng bari umano, 
ito po,i, cundi sundin co 
capalit ang aquing ulo. 

Cay6 nga po reinang mabal 
pagsisi nang casalanan, 
ngayo.i, hindi maliliban 
itong iyong camatayan. 

Ang reina, i, agad bumibic 
bininga.i, balos mapatid, 
sa anac siya.i, lumapit 
quinalong niya.t, quinipquip. 

Federico nang mk 
bimbing nang tulog mo baga, 
uala cang bali-balisa 
bago tayo,i, may sentencia. 

Malabis na camatayan 
Canitang pagdaraanan, 
bangon sa pagcagulaylay 
tupdin ta ang cabatulan. 

O Earicong aquing sinta 
panginoon nang asaua, 
ano bagaog aquing sala 
ganito na ang sentencia. 

At sampo ng iyong supling 
na sa puso mo,j, nangaling, 
binatulan mong patayin 
iraramay pa sa aquin. 

Aba bunsong Federico 
guising na.t, icao.i, sumuso 
magaling ding lasapin mo 
gatas nang abang ina mo. 

Pagca ualang palad baga 
ng bunso co,t, aquing sintd, 
icao,i, bucod at caiba 
na sa principeng lahat na. 



Princess Florentina. 



^S7 



" And in witness 
That this is all my order, 
I hereby set my name, 
Enrico, true king of Navarre." 

She handed the letter to the servant: 

"Hasten and deliver it; 

Give to Don Pascasio 

This letter from your king." 

The servant set out. 

And delivered the letter 

To Don Pascasio, who on reading it 

Was astounded, was fearful. 

What can be the reason 
Of the rage of the king? 
Why has he ordered the death 
Of the guiltless queen? 

He handed over to the queen 
The letter he had received: 
"My exalted lady, take and read; 
My breath is about to fail me. 

"I cannot say or tell 
From the contents of the letter 
What is the cause of the 
Rage of the king." 

When the queen understood 
The purport of the letter, 
She fainted, she fell. 
And she appeared as if dead. 

By the mercy of the Virgin Mary 
She recovered her breath; 
Indescribable was the grief 
Of the unfortunate lady. 

This is what the queen said: 

"Worthy Don Pascasio, 

Obey at once 

The order the king has given you. 

"Here is my life; 

I do not resist: 

But I only request of you 

To hear me. 



" Can it be that we, mother and child, 

Have been sentenced? 

Alas, my only child, 

Is he not to enjoy felicity?" 

Don Pascasio answered, [to it, 

"This is the king's order, and according 
If I do not obey. 
My head will answer. 

"Therefore, illustrious queen. 
Repent of your sins 
Now, and we will not put off 
This your death." 

The queen screamed; 

She almost lost her breath: 

She went to her child. 

Lifted it up and held it in her arms. 

"O Federico!" the mother said, 
"Sound is your sleep. 
You feel no uneasiness, [sentence. 

Although you and I are under heavy 

"The extreme of death 
We must suffer; 
Wake from your slumber! 
We must suffer the sentence. 

"0 Enrico! my beloved, 

My lord and husband, 

What is my guilt. 

That I should thus be condemned? 

"And also the offshoot 
That sprang from your heart. 
Why should your death sentence 
Affect him also? 

"Ah! Federico, my son. 
Wake up and nurse [mother! 

From the breast of your unfortunate 
It is well that you should do so. 

"In dire misfortune. 
My son and my beloved, 
You are distinguished 
Above all other princes. 



258 



Journal of American Folk-Lore . 



— 12- 



Di mo na buDs6 natingnan 
ang baring am4,t, magulaog, 
Federicong aquing buhay 
ualang haogang cahirapan 

Esposo cong D. Enrico 
buhay nang caloloua co, 
ano baga,t, ang anac mo 
sa aqui,i, iraramay mo 

Di ca na nagdaldng habag 
dini sa bugtong mong anAc, 
di mo na pinagsiyasat 
hatol mo,i, gay6ng carahds 

Di ca na nagdalang aua 
baring Enricong daquila, 
earning mag-ind,i, capua 
binatulan mo nang bigla. 

Yayacapin at bahagcdn 
anac na cabambal-bambal, 
ang cataua.i, parang gulay 
nang reinang nalulupaypay. 

D. Enricong bunying bari 
di mo na baga mabaui, 
ang sentencia mong nayari 
at nanagboy namang null. 

Cun iyo lamang maquita 
ang anac mo at asaua, 
banta co,i, mababab^g ca 
dangan ang ualang aua ca. 

Ang bagsic nang iyong hatol 
bindi na yata maurong, 
at uala na sa panabon 
D. Enrico.i, ipatuloy. 

Di aco nabibinayang 
na maalis yaring buhay, 
dapua.t, buag na lamang 
ang anac mo,i, idinamay. 

Panginoon co,t, asaua 
D. Enricong aquing sinta, 
ano bagang aquing sala 
ang galit mo,i, ganito na. 



Ito ang ganti mo baga 
nang sa iyo ay pagsinta, 
ang big-y4n mo nang parusa 
yaring aba mong asaua. 

Sayang ng aquing pag-irog 
6 baring Enricong bantog, 
at ang iyo palang loob 
ualang pag-ibig na lubos 

Sayang ng aquing pag-ibig 
sa iyo baring mariquit, 
gayon nang icaoj, umalis 
laqui nang aquing pagtangis 

Di mo na hinalagaban 
canitang pag-iibigan, 
nang aalis ca.t, papanao 
di CO ibig mahiualay. 

Yaring malaquing pag-ibig 
sa iyo bari cong fenix, 
ay bindi mo nababatid 
sampo nang birap at s^quit. 

Caya sint^ co at buhay 
patauad mo ay pacamtan, 
asaua mo.i, mamamatdy 
cami sa iy'o.i, paalam. 

Patauad, patauad aco 
patauad ang asaua mo, 
at patauad ang anac mo 
na ualang sala sa iyo. 

Cami nanga ay paalam 
sa iyo sinta co,t, buhay, 
bendicion mo,i siyang bintay 
niyaring mag-inang papanao. 

Paalam baring Enrico 
paalam ang esposa mo, 
paalam sinta.t, buhay co 
at papanao na sa mundo. 

Paalam baring marangal 
sa Navarrang cabarian, 
icao naua.i, magtagumpdy 
sa mga morong caauay. 



Princess Florentina. 



259 



"You never saw 

Your father and parent; 

Federico, my life, 

There is no end to our misery. 

"My husband Enrico, 

My life and my soul, 

Why is it that you are condemning 

Your child with me? 

"You did not feel any compassion 
For your only child; 
You did not even investigate 
Before dictating your rash sentence. 

"You did not feel any pity, 

Exalted King Enrico; 

Mother and child together 

Were sentenced without consideration." 

Embracing and kissing 

Her poor little child, 

Whose body was tender as grass. 

The queen was on the verge of fainting. 

" Enrico, noble king, 

Could you not revoke 

The sentence you have given?" 

Again she began to wail. 

"If you could only see 

Your wife and child, 

I think you would feel pity for them, 

However merciless you might be. 

"It looks as if your severe sentence 
Were not going to be changed; 
There is no more time for delay, 
Let Don Enrico be obeyed. 

" I do not regret 

Losing my life. 

But mercy! do not seek to destroy 

Your son's life also. 

"My lord and husband, 
Don Enrico my beloved, 
What is my guilt, 
That you are so enraged? 



"Is this your return 
For my affection — 
That you should punish 
Your wretched wife? 

"Wasted is my affection, 

Far-famed Enrico, 

For it is now revealed 

That you have no true love for me. 

"Wasted is my affection 

For you, exalted king, 

In spite of the fact that when you left 

Great was my grief. 

"You did not value 

Our affcQtion for each other; 

When you were departing, 

I was loath to be separated from you. 

"This great love of mine 
For you, my phoenix, 
You could not appreciate. 
Nor my suffering and anguish. 

"So, my love, my life, 
Grant us your forgiveness! 
Your wife will die; 
We take our leave of you. 

"Forgive, forgive me. 

Forgive your wife. 

Forgive your child, 

Who are without guilt towards you! 

"Grant us, then, your leave. 

You, my love, my life! 

Waiting for your blessing. 

We, mother and child, shall leave you. 

"Farewell, King Enrico! 
Farewell from your wife! 
Farewell, my beloved, my life! 
We are going to leave this world. 

"Farewell, great monarch. 
Of the kingdom of Navarre! 
May you prove victorious 
Against your enemies the Moors!" 



26o 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



— 13 - 



Matiagh6y tiama.t, yacapin 
ang anac na sinta.t, guilio, 
buns6 icao ay gumising 
uala cang pani-panimdiin 

Gumising ca na buns6 co 
at imulat ang mata mo, 
pagsauaang titigan mo 
muc-ha ng abing ind mo 

Oh muc-hang caaya-aya 
garing mandia ang capara, 
ang quilay mo.t, piiic-matd 
balangao mandin ng sinta. 

lyang dalaua mong camdy 
sa liig CO ay itangan, 
ng may pagcaguinhauahan 
ang hininga cong papanao. 

Lumuhod cay D. Pascasio 
ang reina,t, ang uica,i, ito, 
marangal na caballero 
aco po ay paquingau mo. 

Cun mangyayari aniya 
sa iyo ang aquing ola, 
yaring andc cong iisa 
timauain mo sa dusa 

Cahit saang caparangan 
ang andc co.i, ipalagay, 
buag pong mamatay lamang 
na sa aquin ay maramay 

Ito lamang D. Pascasio 
ang aming ola sa iyo, 
cun baga calooban mo 
timauain ang anac co. 

Yaring luha co sa mata 
at madlang buntong bininga, 
D. Pascasio, i, mahabag ca 
sa Dios na ala-ala. 

Nahapay at napalugmoc 
ang reinang luluhog-luhog, 
aog luha ay umaagos 
Dg tantong calunos-lunos 



Ng cay Pascasiong maquita 
lagay at asal nang reina, 
nahabdg siya pagdaca 
sabay ang liiha sa matd. 

Reina pong panginoong co 
ano pang magagaua co, 
utos nang hari aimano 
buhay co,i, capalit dito. 

Aco po ay mararamay 
sa iyo.t, ipapapatay, 
caya po reinang marangal 
pagsisi nang casalanan. 

Ay ng maringig ng reina 
sa cay D Pascasiong badyd, 
nahapay na naman siya 
hinimatdy capagdaca. 

Nang siya,i, mahimasmasan 
nang bininga sa catauan, 
aniya.i, 6 Virgeng mahal 
cami po ay caauaan. 

Cami,i, iyong calarahin 
cay Jesus AnAc mong guilio, 
at nang aco,i, patauarin 
sa mga gaud cong linsil 

Patauad Amd cong Jesus 
yaring salaring tibobos, 
ang alipin mo po,i, cupcop 
ipag-adya sa demonios 

Panginoong JesucristO 
patauad ang alipin mo, 
caloloua.t, catauan co 
inihahain sa iyo. 

Hindi masabi ang hirap 
ng reinang cahabag-habag, 
cataua,i, di na mabuhat 
ang paa.i, di mailacad. 

Ang uica ni D. Pascasio 
6 reinang panginoon co, 
ang puso co.i, nanglolomo 
ng pagcahabag sa iyo. 



Princess Florentina. 



261 



Bewailing and embracing 
Her beloved and darling child, 
"Wake up, my child!" she said, 
"You have no sense of your danger. 

"Wake up, my child! 
And open your eyes; 
Look your fill at the face 
Of your miserable mother! 

"0 face lovely to contemplate! 
Like unto pure ivory. 
Your eyebrows and eyelashes 
Are bows of Love. 

"With your two hands 

Clasp my neck, 

In order to give relief 

To my breath, that is about to fail me." 

The queen knelt before Don Pascasio 
And spoke thus: 
"Exalted knight, 
Hear me, I beg of thee! 

"If it is possible for you 
To grant my request. 
Deliver my only son 
From this suffering. 

"In any jungle whatsoever 
Cast the young boy away. 
Only that he may not perish 
And suffer death with me. 

"This, Don Pascasio, 
Is my one request of you; 
Perchance you may be willing 
To spare my child. 

''These tears in my eyes. 
And all my sighing, together 
Take pity on, Don Pascasio, 
Think on God!" 

She tottered and sank to the earth, 

This entreating queen; 

Her tears flowed so freely 

That any one would have had compassion. 



When Don Pascasio saw [queen, 

The state of mind and the behavior of the 
His heart was touched at once, 
And his eyes filled with tears. 

"O queen! my lady, 

What can I do. 

When according to the king's order 

My life is at stake? 

"I should share with you 
The penalty of death; 
Therefore, exalted queen, 
Repent of your sins." 

When the queen heard 
The words of Don Pascasio, 
She tottered 
And fell in a faint. 

When she recovered 
And her breath came back to her, 
She prayed thus: "Great Virgin, 
Take pity on us. 

"Intercede for us 

With Jesus Christ, your beloved Son, 

So that I shall be pardoned 

For all my faults! 

"Jesus, my father, forgive 
This sinful but faithful one! 
Succor thy slave 
And protect her from demons! 

"Jesus Christ, my Lord, 
Forgive thy servant! 
My soul and my body 
I commit to thee." 

The suffering of the wretched queen 
Cannot be described; 
She could not move her feet to walk, 
Or raise her body a whit. 

Don Pascasio said to her, 
"0 queen! my lady. 
My heart is touched 
With pity for you. 



262 



Journal of American Folk- Lore. 



14 — 



Aco po,i, nag-aalangan 
sa isang reina,i, pumatay, 
ililihim co po icao 
Dg dito.i, hindi ca datnan. 

Sag6t naman nitoDg reina 
ay D. Pascasio aniya, 
mga loob mong paquita 
aco,i, siyang bahala na. 

Sa cay Pascasiong linalang 
humaDap ng isang caban, 
ang mag-ind i, inilulaD 
tinacpang pinacatibay. 

Ano,i, sa maisilid na 
itong dalauacg mag-ina, 
pagtaDgis ay sabihin pa 
cahabag-habag maquita. 

Ang cabang quinasisidlan 
dinala sa caragatan, 
pagdating sa calautan 
capagdaca.i, binitiuan. 

Sa ana nang Virgeng liyag 
di nacaramdam ng hirap, 
di nagutom di napuyat 
itong mag-inang mapalad. 

Parating nananalangin 
sa mahal na Inang Virgen, 
ng sila.i, caauaan din 
calarahin at amponin. 

Sa pagtauag gabi.t, arao 
sa Virgeng Inang marangal, 
ng mahustong tatlong buan 
ay napadpad itong caban. 

Sa dalampasigaug sadya 
ng reino ng Antioquia, 
ay doon napadpad baga 
itong dalauang mag-ina. 

Itiguil CO muna rito 
at doon co ipatungo, 
sa baring cay D. Enrico 
ng magtagumpay sa moro. 



Ang bari ay nagbalic na 
oui ang boong victoria, 
tanang ejercito nila 
ang tu4 ay sabihin pa. 

Sabihin ang catuaan 
nang mga soldadong abay, 
para-parang nagdiriuang 
pananalo sa caauay. 

Ng dumating sa palacio 
ang bunying baring Enrico, 
tinanong si D. Pascasio 
cun ang reina ay maano 

D. Pascasio.i, natiguilan 
sa tanong ng baring mahal, 
anang hari,i, anong bagay 
at icao ay napamaang. 

Si D Pascasio.i, lumuhod 
sa monarcang maalindog, 
sa tanong mo baring bantog 
aco,i, hindi macasagot. 

Ang sulat po ay narito 
na dala nang iyong criado, 
basahin mo na poong co 
siyang magsabi sa iyo. 

Ay ng sa baring mabasa. 
ang nalalaman sa carta, 
hinimatay capagdaca 
hari.i, naualang hininga. 

Agad nangang dinaluhan 
nang consejeros na tanan, 
ang bari ay pinag-agao 
hangang sa mahimasmasan. 

At nang macaalam tauo 
ang baring si D. Enrico, 
tinanong si D. Pascasio 
sampo nang caniyang criado. 

Sabihin ninyong dali na 
sino sa inyong dalaua, 
ang gumaua nitong carta 
sa reina,i, nagpalamara. 



Princess Florentina. 



263 



"I am somewhat afraid 

To put a queen to death; 

I will therefore conceal you, 

So that he will not see you on his return." 

The queen replied: 
"Don Pascasio," she said, 
"I shall always be mindful of 
The kindness you have shown me." 

In order to carry out his plan, 
Don Pascasio looked for a chest; 
In it he put mother and child. 
And fastened it firmly. 

After the mother and child 

Had been placed in it. 

Their lamentation was indescribable, 

And was most piteous to hear. 

The chest in which they were put 
Was carried to the sea; 
And when they were far from shore, 
It was thrown into the water. 

By the mercy of the beloved Virgin 
They suffered not at all: 
They felt no hunger and lost no sleep, 
This fortunate mother and child. 

Often she called upon 
The exalted Mother Virgin 
To be gracious to them. 
To protect and shelter them. 

Night and day she prayed 
To the exalted Virgin Mother. 
After full three months 
The chest was blown ashore. 

Not without design, upon the coast 
Of the kingdom of Antioch 
Were these two, mother and child, 
Carried by the wind. 

I will stop with them now 

And turn my attention 

To King Don Enrico 

Who was victorious over the Moors. 



The king returned 

And carried victory with him: 

Great was the rejoicing 

Of the whole army. 

Great was the joy 

Of the soldiers who accompanied him ; 

Each one was celebrating 

Their victory over their enemies. 

When the noble Don Enrico 
Arrived at the palace. 
He asked Don Pascasio 
How the queen fared. 

Don Pascasio was dumfounded 
By the question of the king; 
And the king said, "Why 
Are you thus astonished?" 

Don Pascasio knelt 

Before the happy monarch, [king, 

And replied, "Your question, illustrious 
I cannot answer. 

"Here is the letter 

Delivered to me by your servant; 

Read it, my lord, 

And that will clear up the matter for you." 

After the king had read 
The contents of the letter, 
He fainted at once 
And ceased to breathe. 

All the councillors immediately 
Rushed to his assistance 
And tried to revive him. 
Until he recovered. 

When the King Don Enrico 
Was restored to his senses. 
He thus questioned Don Pascasio 
And also the servant. 

"Confess at once 

Which of you two 

Invented this letter, 

This treachery against the queen." 



264 



Journal of American Folk-Lore . 



15 



Ang sagot ni D. Pascasio 
ac6 man po,i, patayin mo, 
ualang masabi sa iyo 
ang gumaua ay cun sino. 

Tinanong ng hari naman 
ang criadong inutusan, 
ngayo,i, pag di mo tinuran 
capalit ang iyong buhay. 

Ng magmula ca sa guerra 
saan ea nagdaan muna, 
sinong sa iyo,i, cumuha 
ng sulat na iyong dala. 

Sinabi na ang totoo 
niyong inutusang criado, 
doon po nagdaan ac6 
sa iyong inang poong co. 

Sa aqui.i, inagao niya 
ang sulat na aqiiing dala, 
at pinapag-antay muna 
sa silid doon binasa. 

Ng sa baring mapaquingan 
ang sa criadong sinaysay, 
aniya,i, ito,i, paraan 
ng aquing ind,t, magulang. 

Ipinatauag ang ina 
cagalita.i, sabibin pa, 
ano ay ng dumating na 
ito ang uinica niya. 

Baquin ina baquin baga 
ang galit mo,i, ganiyan na, 
sa reinang aquing asaua 
anac co,i, idinamay pa. 

Yayang dating cabatulan 
ng Dios na Poong mabal, 
na cun ang utang ay bubay 
bubay rin ang cabayaran. 

Caya ngay6n ang batql co 
bilang parusa sa iyo, 
matira sa calabozo 
bayad sa ca sal an an mo. 



Hangang bindi co maquita 
ang anac co at asaua, 
ina CO ma.i, magdurusa 
batol ng real justicia. 

Asaua co,i, pinatay na 
anac co,i, idinamay pa, 
munti bagang laquing sala 
nitong guinaua mo ina. 

Ac6 man ay iyong an4c 
na sa puso mo,i, nagbubat, 
justicia nama,i, marapat 
sa may utang magpabayad. 

Ipinadala ang ini 
sa calabozo,i, magdusa, 
siyang nayaring sentencia 
consejeros na labat na. 

Sabibin ang calumbayan 
ng baring lubbang marangal, 
dabil sa bindi dinatnan 
ang asaua.t, andc naman, 

0161 ang siyang capara 
bubunto-buntong hining^, 
balos mapatid mapaca 
sa pigbating dinadal^. 

Nasaan ca Florentina 
6 Federico ng ama, 
di na tayo nagquiquita 
jay abang aba co bag^l 

Saan co caya babanapin 
at saan co dudulangin, 
ay Florentina cong guilio 
cabiyac niyaring panimdim. 

Nasaan ca Federico 
siila ng mga matd co, 
saan babanapin cay6 
culang palad na ama mo. 

Capagdaca.i, napalugm6c 
ang hiuing&,i, nangangapos, 
pinag-agao ng consejos 
sa silid ay ipinasoc. 



Princess Florentina. 



265 



Don Pascasio answered, 
"Even though you kill me, 
I cannot tell you 
Who wrote this." 

Then the king questioned 
The servant who had received the order, 
And said, "If you do not tell the truth, 
Your life will answer for it. 

"When you came from the battlefield, 

Where did you stop first? 

And who took from you 

The letter you were carrying?" 

The servant, who had been commissioned. 

Told the truth: 

"I stopped over there 

At the house of your mother. 

"She snatched from me 
The letter I was carrying. 
And she commanded me to wait 
While she read it in her room." 

When the king heard 

What the servant had to say, 

He said, "This was the wicked scheme 

Of my mother, my parent." 

In his great rage 

He had his mother summoned; 

And when she came, 

He questioned her thus: 

"Why, mother, why 

Was your hatred so great 

For the queen my wife, 

That my child should suffer too? 

"Since it is the ancient punishment 
Of the divine Lord God, 
That if you owe a life, 
You will pay a life for it, 

"So now my sentence 

And my punishment for you 

Is that you shall be put in a dungeon 

In payment for your crime. 



"Until I find 

My child and my wife, [suffer 

Although (you are) my mother, you shall 
The sentence imposed by me. 

"My wife was put to death; 
My child suffered a like fate: 
This is no small crime 
That you have committed, mother. 

"Although I am your child 

And sprang forth from your body, 

It is but right that justice 

Should make you pay what you owe." 

The mother was sent 

To the dungeon to undergo 

The sentence, (which was) ratified 

By the whole council. 

Great was the sorrow 

Of this most worthy king 

Because upon his return 

He had not found his wife and child. 

He was like one demented. 
He was continually sighing; 
He nearly choked 
Because of his extreme anguish. 

"Where are you, Florentina? 

Federico, my son ! 

We have not seen each other. 

1 am the most miserable of men. 

"Where shall I seek 
And where shall I find you, 
O Florentina! my beloved. 
The half of my life? 

"Where are you, Federico, 
Light of my eyes? 
Where can you be found 
By your unlucky father?" 

At once he fell to the floor 

And lost his breath; 

The councillors straightway raised him 

And carried him to his room. 



266 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



— 16 



Ng s ya,i, mahimasmas^n 
ng hininga sa catauan, 
nanangis at nanambitan 
olol ang siyang cabagay. 

Ac6,i, ualang casalaoaa 
Florentinang aquing buhay, 
ang lub6s may cagagaudn 
ang ina cocg tampalasan. 

Ang cahapisa.i, sabibin 
hari.i, halos di cumain, 
ang bantd sa panimdim 
ang asaua.i, paghanapin. 

Aco ngayon ay papanao 
iiuan ang cabarian, 
anhin co ang camahalan 
tantong uaUng cabulub^n. 

Tinauag si D Pascasio 
pili niyang consejero, 
ipinagbilin ang reino 
presidenteng interino. 

O D. Pascasio aniya 
ngayo.i, ibahal^l quita, 
presidenteng icalaud 
dito sa reinong Navarra. 

Susundin ca,t, igagalang 
lahat eong nasasacupan, 
at ang sa iyo,i, sumuay 
ay agad. mong parusaban 

Caya ang tanong sa iyo 
ang reina.t, sampong andc co, 
cun totoong pinatay mo 
sabibin mo ang toto6. 

Sa cay D. Pascasiong badyd 
bari po ay maquinig ca, 
tuturan co pong labat na 
ang napagsapit ng reina. 

Ang sulat ng maquita co 
dala ng iyong criado, 
ang catauan co,i, nanglomo 
at nangatdl yaring buto. 



Ang bibig co.i, di mabucsan 
ayon po sa reinang mabal, 
sapagca ang nalalamdn 
ay mabiglang camatayan. 

Ibinigay co sa reina 
at siya cong pinabasa, 
manang sa matanto niya 
nagbimatay capagdaca. 

Ang reina.i, ng pagsaulan 
ng bininga sa catauan, 
agdd niyang linapitan 
anac mong camucba.i, Arao 

Lalaquing sadyd sa quias 
icao rin po ang catulad, 
pinasuso at niyacap 
luba.i, bahd sa pag-iyac. 

Di maubos ang pagtangis 
ng reinang cahapis bapis, 
bininga.i, balos mapatid 
sa andc na sinta.t, ibig. 

Aco po,i, nagdalang aua 
sa reinang luluba-liiba, 
sa tacot cong di cauasa 
sa utos mo pong gabasa. 

Nuba na aco ng caban 
ang mag-ina,i, inilulau, 
saca po aquing tinacpa.t, 
dinala sa caragatan. 

Ng anyo ng na sa laot 
ay bigla cong inibulog, 
dinala agad ng agos 
at ng along matatayog. 

Hari pagcarinig nito 
sucat na, sucat Pascasio, 
mamamatay lamang aco 
ngayon din aalis dito. 

Aco,i, magliligalig na 
babanapin co ang reina, 
jaba ng anac cong sintd 
na di nagquitang guinhaua! 



Princess Florentina. 



267 



When he recovered, 
And was able to breathe again, 
He lamented and raved 
Just like a madman. 

"I am guiltless, 
Florentina my life! 
The one really to blame 
Is my wicked mother." 

His grief was so great 

That he could hardly eat; 

He was always planning in his heart 

To seek for his wife. 

"I shall now depart" (he said) 
And leave the kingdom. 
What should I do with royalty 
When it is meaningless?" 

He summoned Don Pascasio, 
His favorite councillor, 
And left him in charge of the realm 
As president pro tempore. 

"O Don Pascasio!" he said, 
"I will now appoint you 
The second in rank 
In the kingdom of Navarre. 

"You are to be obeyed and honored 

By the whole country; 

Punish at once 

Any who shall disobey you. 

"And I ask you one question — 
Tell me the truth: 
The queen and my child, 
Did you really kill them?" 

Don Pascasio said, 

"O King! hear me! 

I will tell you all 

That happened to the queen. 

"After I read the letter 

That your servant brought me, 

My body shook 

And my bones trembled. 



" Because of the fate of the queen 
I could not open my mouth, 
For the letter contained 
A warrant for her immediate death. 

"I handed to the queen 
The letter, and let her read it; 
When she understood it, 
She immediately fainted. 

"When the queen recovered 
And regained her breath. 
She at once went to her child, 
Whose face was like the sun — 

"A boy by nature handsomely formed. 
Resembling you greatly, my lord; 
She suckled him and embraced him, 
While her tears fell in floods. 

"The pitiful queen 

Could not help but lament continuously: 

Her breath nearly failed her 

On account of her dearly beloved child. 

" I took pity 
On the weeping queen. 
Because of my great fear 
At your rash order, 

"I obtained a chest. 

Put mother and child in it; 

Then I closed the lid 

And took the box out to sea. 

"When we were far out at sea, 

I straightway had it cast overboard; 

At once the current 

And the high waves swept it away." 

After the king had heard this, 
He cried, "Stop, stop, Pascasio! 
I shall die if I hear more. 
I will leave this place at once. 

"I will wander about 

And seek the queen. 

Alas, my beloved child ! 

Who hast not enjoyed even comfort. 



VOL. XXIX. — NO. 112. 



268 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



— 17 — 



Abata na D. Pascasio 
Dgayon din aalis aco, 
icao ay iiuan dito 
presidente nitong reino. 

Ang hari ay lumacad na 
0I6I ang siyang capara, 
uala isa mang casama 
cundi ang criado niya. 

Ipagparito co naman 
sa cay Florentinang buhay, 
sa dagat luliitang-lutang 
ng Antioquiang caharian. 

Ng siya ay malapit na 
sa tabi niyong aplaya, 
tambing ang caba.i, naquita 
ng castellano sa fuerza 

Pagdaca.i, ipinag-utos 
doon sa mga soldados, 
saguipin ninyo sa laot ^ 
cab4n manding naaanod. 

Sinaguip na capagdaca 
sa castellano,!, dinald, 
ng mabucs^n ay naquita 
iyong dalauang mag-in^. 

Malaqui ang pagtataca 
pagcaquita sa mag-ina, 
loob piisOji, naligaya 
agad quinamayan niya. 

Ang uica ng castellano 
mahal butihing guinoo, 
baquin po nagcaganito 
at saan nagmulang reino. 

Ang sagot ni Florentina 
aco po,i, tauong mura, 
doon sa bayang Navarra 
itinapon ng asaua. 

Anang castellano naman 
dito ca na po sa bahay, 
huag cang maalang-alang 
para ng andc na tunay. 

PEINCBSA FLORENTINA. 



Ang sag6t ni Florentina 
salamat na po aniya, 
sa mabuti mong anyaya 
cun sa an^c ipapara. 

Ano pa ngani.i, minulan 
ng castellanong marangal, 
ang. Iub6s na pagmamahal 
di pagauin nang ano man. 

Ang uica ng castellano 
sa loob niya ay ganito, 
itong mag-ind,i, banta co 
galing sa dug6ng guinoo. 

Sa lagay at asal niya 
doon CO naquiquilala, 
tant6 ngang hindi sasala 
galing sa dug6ng magandd. 

Tumanong si Florentina 
sa castellanong maganda, 
dito.i, sino po aniya 
ang baring quiniquilala. 

Agad na sinagot naman 
ng castellanong marangal, 
ang baring iguinagalang 
si D. Fernando ang ngalan. 

May an^c siyang princesa 
sacdal ng diquit at ganda, 
ang ngala.i, si Isabela 
lahat ay naliligaya. 

Doo,i, nangagcacapisan 
iba.t, ibang caharian, 
pangangasaua ang pacay 
cay Isabelang carict^n. 

Sa caramihang guinoo 
principe at caballero, 
pinili ni D. Fernando 
ang baring si D. Eurico. 

Siya niyang tinangoan 
na maguing esposong tunay, 
ni Isabelang timtiman 
an4c niyang minamahal. 

3 



Princess Florentina. 



269 



"Remain here, Don Pascasio. 
I am going to depart at once; 
You are to stay here 
As president of the kingdom." 

The king set out 
Like a demented person; 
No companion had he 
But one servant of his. 

I shall speak now 

Of Florentina's life: 

She was floating in the ocean 

By the coast of Antioch. 

When she came 

In the neighborhood of the coast, 
The chest was quickly seen 
By the castellan of the fort. 

At once he ordered 

His soldiers 

To rescue the chest 

That was being washed about ofT shore. 

It was at once taken hold of 
And brought to him; 
And when it was opened, 
They found the mother and child. 

The castellan was astonished 

To see the mother and child; 

He was glad at heart, 

And at once shook hands with them. 

The castellan spoke: 

" Exalted lady, 

How has this happened to you. 

And from what kingdom do you come?" 

Florentina answered, 

"I am a lowly person 

From the kingdom of Navarre; 

I was cast away by my husband." 

The castellan then said, 

"Remain here at my house; 

Do not fear, 

You shall be treated as my own daughter." 

1 Between this stanza and the following a lapse 



Florentina answered, 

"I thank you, sir. 

For your kind invitation, 

If you will include my son." 

From the very beginning 
This excellent castellan 
Cherished her. 
And would let her do nothing. 

The castellan thought 

In his heart thus: 

"This mother and child, I believe, 

Have royal blood in their veins. 

"I can judge 

From their appearance and conduct, 

Which prove unmistakably 

That they are of illustrious birth." 

Florentina asked 

The kind-hearted castellan, 

" Who here is the king 

To whom you all owe allegiance?" 

The worthy castellan 

At once made answer, 

"The king to whom we do homage 

Is Don Fernando by name. 

" His daughter the princess 

Is full of beauty and grace; 

Her name is Isabella, 

She is the delight of every one." ^ 

There are many in the capital. 
Come from many other kingdoms; 
Their intention is to woo 
The beautiful Isabella. 

Out of this multitude 
Of princes and knights 
Don Fernando selected 
Don Enrico, the king. 

He was the favored one, 
Chosen to be the husband 
Of the chaste Isabella, 
The king's beloved child. 

of some years must be understood. 



270 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



— 18 — 



Ng ito ay maalaman 
duque.t, eaballeroDg tanan, 
napasintabi ng galang 
at sila ay napaalam. 

Si Isabela,!, tinauag 
ng baring lubhang mataas, 
bnDs6 CO ay maquimat-yag 
sa aquiog ipahabayag. 

Sumag6t si Isabela 
magsabi na po si am&, 
ang ando mong sinisinta 
susun6d po,t, tatalima 

Ang uica ng hari,i, ito 
6 Isabelang buns6 co, 
aco ngayon ay sundin mo 
sa sasabihin sa iyo. 

Si D. Enricong maraogal 
sa Navarrang cahai-ian, 
dito,i, ang ipinaglacbay 
pangangasana ang pacay. 

Sa naritong caramiban 
duque.t, caballerong tanan, 
ang napili co,t, nabirang 
si D. Enricong marangal. 

Aco,i, agad napa-60 
sa baring cay D, Enrico, 
caya anaqnin bunso co 
aco ay paayunan mo. 

Sumagot si Isabela 
sa baring caniyang ama, 
sun6d po aco,t, talima 
sa balang loob po niya. 

Ang bariji, agad nag-gayac 
cacasangcapaning labat, 
sa arzobispo,i, sumulat 
na siyang magdesposadas. 

Aquin munang ipagbalic 
cay Florentinang mariquit, 
arao, gabi.i, tumatangis 
sa birap niyang nasapit. 



Parati niyang ala-ala 
ang sinta niyang asaua, 
ang bagap ng loob niya 
uala camunti mang sala 

At ang na«oc sa acala 
sa sinapit na d^lita, 
ang nagpacana,t, may gaua 
ang bienan niyang matanda. 

Hanga ng mataban dito 
sa babay ng castellano, 
andc niyang Federico 
minamabal na totoo. 

Lalaquing sacdal ng diquit 
calug6d-lug6d ang tindig, 
ang catulad at caparis 
si Marte 6 si Adonis. 

Nagsabi ang castellano 
na sa arao ng Domingo 
6 Florentinang andc co 
huag acong bintln ninyo. 

Ang sag6t ni Plorentina 
ay baquin po caya amd 
ano ang ligalig niya 
sabibin mo,t, ipagbadya. 

Anang castellano naman 
may malaquing caguluban, 
ang bari naming marangal 
ang anac ay icacasal. 

Ang tugon ni Florentina 
sinong maguiguing asaua, 
anang castellano baga 
yaong bari sa Navarra. 

At ang mag-aanac namau 
emperador na aleman, 
si D. Alfonsong marangal 
pilit na dadalong tunay. 

Ang uica ni Florentina 
diyata sa lingo ama, 
mabanga.i, iyong isama 
ang anac cong sinisinta. 



Princess Florentina. 



271 



iVhen this became known 
Fo all the dukes and knights, 
Fhey courteously begged leave to go, 
\nd took their departure. 

Isabella was summoned 
By his highness the king: 
'My child, pay close attention 
Fo what I shall say." 

[sabella answered, 

'Speak, my honored father; 

Fhe child you love [mands.' 

N'lW obey, and remember your com- 

Fhe king then said, 

'O Isabella! my child, 

3e obedient now 

Fo what I am going to say. 

'The illustrious Don Enrico 
"rom the kingdom of Navarre 
ias come here 
^s a suitor for your hand. 

' Out of the crowd here 
)f dukes and knights 
selected and singled out 
rhe exalted Don Enrico. 

'At once I accepted 
rhe king, Don Enrico; 
)0 I say, my child, 
^gree with my choice." 

sabella answered 
rhe king, her father; 
' I obey, and agree to 
iVhatever are your wishes." 

\t once the king prepared 

\\\ the furnishings they would need. 

ie wrote to the archbishop 

Fo come and unite the couple.^ 

'. shall now return 

Fo the beautiful Florentina: 

Day and night she wept 

Dn account of the suffering she endured. 



She was always thinking 
Of her beloved husband; 
In the bottom of her heart 
He was not a whit guilty. 

And she suspected. 
During the suffering she underwent. 
That the scheme was conceived and car- 
ried out 
By her old mother-in-law. 

From the time that she first began to live 
In the house of the castellan. 
She dearly loved (and trained) 
Her child Federico, 

A child of great beauty. 
His form was a delight to see; 
He looked like and resembled 
Mars or Adonis. 

The castellan (one day) said, 
"Florentina, my child, 
Next Sunday 
Do not wait for me." 

Florentina answered, 

"Why, father. 

What is the cause of this change of routine? 

Say, and relate it to me." 

The castellan answered, 
"Great revelry will take place 
Because the child of our honored king 
Is about to be married." 

Florentina asked, 
"Whom is she going to marry?" 
The castellan answered, 
"The king of Navarre." 

"The groom's- man 

Is to be the Emperor of Germany, 

The great Don Alfonso, 

Who will take part without fail." 

Florentina then said, 

"Perhaps, father, it would be well 

For you next Sunday 

To take along with you my dear son, 



1 The Tagalog is somewhat obscure here, but the general sense is clear. 



272 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



-^19- 



Ng macapanood naman 
fiesta eg caharian, 
at ang haring icacasal 
sa bata,i, ituro lamang. 

Aog hari sa Alemania 
ituro mo rin po amd, 
ang bahala ay icao na 
na inagdala sa caniya. 

Ang sa castellanong uica 
ito,i> nialaquing hiuaga, 
cay Florentinang acala 
di CO sucat mapaghaca. 

Ang uica ni Florentina 
ano cay a nariyan na, 
ang hari sa Alemania 
sampong hari sa Navarra. 

Anang castellano naman 
nariya,t, nagcacapisan, 
iba.t, ibang caharian 
mga caballerong tan an. 

Paalam muna buDs6 co 
jnaraming gagauin aco, 
si Federicong anac co 
sa lingOji, isasama co. 

Ipatabas mo ng chupa,t, 
casangcaparig mahalaga, 
at ibill ng. espada 
saca susunduin siya, 

Caya paalam na aco 
FlorentiDa,i, igayac mo, 
at sa arao ng DOmingo 
ualang pagsalang totoo. 

Nanao na ang castellano 
naparopn sa palacio, 
mag-in^ ni Fcderico 
iniuan na niya rito. 

Anang ina,i, parini ca 
1}uns6,i, tuturuan quita, 
tandaan mong para-para 
sasabihin cong lahat na 



Sumag6t ca Federico 
cun icao ay matututo, 
uiuicain co,i, ganito 
saca naman uicain mo. 

Aco po poon co,t, amd 
nahalic sa jyong paa, 
ipagcaloob po niya 
ang bendiclong mahalaga. 

Ang sagot ni Federico 
hayo.t, matatandaan co, 
anang ink ay ganito 
uicain mo,t, paquingan co. 

Aco,i, nahalic sa p^d 
ng poong co,t, aquing am6. 
aco.i, bendicionan niya 
ng bendici6ng mahalaga. 

Ang uica ng ind.i, ito 
ganiyan nga Federico, 
buns6 oo.i, tandaan mo 
mga aral co sa iyo. 

At ang isa,i, ito naman 
ganito,!, iyong paquingan, 
bunso co,i, pacatandaan 
huag mong calilimutan. 

Lumuluhpd po sa iyo 
nuno itong iyong apo^ 
patauarin ang ina co 
at sampo ni Federico. 

Siya mo namaug uicain 
-anang ina,t, aquing dinguin, 
huag mo sanang limutin 
ang lahat cong mga bilin. 

Cun yaon po lamang mk 
aquing matatandaan na, 
ang uica ni Florentina 
hayo,t, uicain mo muna. 

Lumuluhod po sa iyo 
nuno itong iyong ap6, 
patauad po ang in^ co 
at samp<5 ni Federico. 



Princess Florentina. 



273 



"That he might have a chance 

To see the festivities of the kingdom. 

Point out to the child 

The king who is to be married. 

"Point out also, father, 
The King of Germany; 
Do you look after the boy 
And take him there with you." 

The castellan said, 
"This plan of Florentina's 
Comes as a great surprise; 
I cannot make it out." 

Florentina spoke again: 

" Do you think that they are here now- 

The King of Germany 

And the King of Navarre?" 

The castellan made answer, 
"They are together there now 
With many knights 
From other kingdoms. 

"Good-by, my child! 
I have many things to do. 
My daughter, I will take 
Federico along with me. 

"Order a dress-coat 

And all the other paraphernalia. 

And buy a sword for him; 

Then I will come back for the lad. 

"So farewell, Florentina! 
Have everything ready, 
And next Sunday 
I shall surely come." 

The castellan then went out. 
And proceeded to the palace; 
Federico and his mother 
Were left behind. 

The mother said, "Come here, 
Child! I am going to teach you; 
And you must remember 
Everything that I say. 



"Answer, Federico, 

So that you may learn: 

I will say something. 

And you must repeat it after me. 

" ' My lord and father, 
I kiss your feet; 
Grant me 
Your priceless blessing!' " 

Federico said, 

"Go on, I can remember it." 

The mother replied, 

" Repeat the words: I want to hear them." 

(He said) "I kiss the feet 
Of my lord and father; 
Bless me 
With your priceless blessing." 

The mother continued, 
"Do it just like that, Federico; 
My child, do not forget 
What I have taught you. 

"Another speech is like this: 
Listen closely, my child, 
Remember it well. 
And do not forget it. 

"'Grandfather, this your grandson 
Kneels before you; 
Forgive my mother 
And also Federico.'" 

[The mother said] "I want to hear 
You repeat the words. 
It would be well for you not to forget 
What I have taught you." 

"If it is only that, mother, 

I shall remember it." 

The mother answered, 

"Go on and repeat it." [grandson 

(Federico said) "Grandfather, this your 

Kneels before you; 

Forgive my mother 

And also Federico." 



274 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



-20- 



Anang reiDa ay ganit6 
tatandaan mo buns6 co, 
ang sagot ni Federico 
opo aniya ink co. 

Ink CO cun yaon lamang 
di CO po calilimutan, 
cahit maguing ilang arao 
aquin pong matatandaan. 

Ng dumating ang Domingo 
tinauag si Federico, 
guinayacan nanga rito 
damit isang caballero. 

Ng masootan ng damit 
«ng bata.i, lalong dumiquit, 
ang catulad at caparis 
ang balitang si Adonis. 

Niyon ngang masootan na 
nang sombrero at espada, 
lalong dumiquit gumanda 
calingas-lingas maquita. 

Ang uica ni Florentina 
ama.i, bahala icao na, 
na magturo sa caniya 
sa hari po sa Navarra. 

At ang emperador naman 
na si D. Alfonsong mahal, 
ituro mo rin po naman 
ang babala na po,i, icao. 

Na magsabi at magbadya 
ng lalapitaqg lahat na, 
caya nga po icao am4 
ang bahala sa caniya. 

Yao na ang castellano 
easama si Federico, 
lacad aniya buns6 co 
cnmatiit ca sa camay co. 

Ano,i, ng macaalis na 
€astellano,t, an4c niya, 
sa silid nama,i, nasoc na 
tumauag sa Virgeng Ina. 



Aniya.i, 6 Indng Virgen 
Inang dating maauain, 
aco po ay iyong dinguin 
niyaring aquing panalangin. 

Huag mong itulot naman 
ang asaua co,i, macasal, 
samantalang aco,i, buhay 
sa aquin din maquipisan. 

Sapagca,t, ang asaua co 
ay ualang salang totoo, 
huag nauang tulutan mo 
macasal sa ibang tauo. 

O Virgeng aquing devota 
maauaing ualang hanga, 
ang cagalitan ni am^ 
mapaui sa loob niya. 

Di CO maubos sabihin 
ang sa reinang panalangin, 
ang aquin munang sahtin 
an^c na napasa piguing. 

Ng pumasoc sa simbahan 
ang emperador na mahal 
at sampo ng icacasal 
at boong caguinoohan. 

Dinala si Federico 
nitong bunying castellano, 
yaong baring daco rito 
siyang unang luhuran mo. 

At ang na sa icalaua 
na hari ring may corona, 
luhuran din capagdaca 
at sa Camay humalie ca. 

Si Federico,!, sumunod 
ng sa castellanong utos, 
capagcaraca,i, lumuhod 
sa haring Enricong bantog. 

Aco,i, naluhod sa pad 
ng poong co,t, aquing amd, 
aco,i, bendicionan niya 
ng bendici6ng mahalaga. 



Princess Florentina. 



^7S 



Then the queen said, 

"Do not forget it, my child." 

Federico replied, 

"Very well, mother, I shall not. 

"Mother, if that is all, 
I shall not forget it; 
Even after some days 
I shall still remember it." 

When Sunday came, 
Federico was summoned, 
And he was clothed 
In the garments of a knight. 

After he was apparelled, 
The child was even more handsome; 
He resembled and seemed to be 
The Adonis of well-known fame. 

After they had put on 

His hat and his sword, 

He was still more handsome and lovely: 

He shone to the eye. 

Florentina said, 
"Father, take care 
To point out to him 
The King of Navarre! 

"And also the emperor, 
The exalted Don Alfonso, 
Be sure, likewise, 
To point him out! 

"Tell the boy 

Which ones he is to approach; 

And do you, father. 

Take good care of him." 

The castellan left 

With Federico, 

(And said) "Come along, my boy, 

And take my arm!" 

When they had departed, 
The guard and her son, 
She likewise went to her chamber 
And invoked the Virgin Mother. 



"O Holy Virgin!" she said, 

" Ever great compassionate Mother, 

I pray thee hear 

This my prayer! 

"Do not permit 

My husband to marry 

While I am alive! 

May we be united again! 

"Because my husband 
Is truly altogether blameless: 
Do not allow him, I pray thee, 
To marry any other! 

"O Virgin! my devotion. 
Merciful without end. 
Efface from his heart 
The rage of my father." 

Without staying to relate in detail 

The petition of the queen, 

I will hasten to speak 

Of her son who was at the feast. 

When the mighty emperor 
Had entered the church, 
Together with the betrothed couple 
And all the nobility, 

Federico was conducted there 
By the worthy castellan: 
"That king who is nearest to us 
Is the first to whom you are to kneel. 

"And the next one. 
The king with the crown. 
Kneel before him likewise 
And kiss his hand." 

Federico complied 
With the order of the castellan, 
And at once knelt before 
The illustrious King Enrico. 

"I kneel before the feet" (he said) 
Of my lord and my father; 
Bless me 
With your priceless blessing." 



276 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



— 21 — 



Ng maquita,t, mapagmalas 
haring EnricoDg marillg, 
ang luha.i, agad nalaglag 
si Federico.i, tinauag. 

QuinaloDg agad ang bata 
na tumutulo ang luha, 
si Federico,i, bumaba 
dumul6g sa ntinong bigl4. 

Ano.i, nang siya.i, maquita 
nang hari sa Alemania. 
naguiclabanan pagdaca 
sabay ang luha sa mat&. 

TiimatangLs lumuluhog 
ang bdtang calug6d-lug6d, 
sa paa agad lumub6d 
nang emperador na bant6g. 

Lumuluhod po sa iy6 
ntino it6ng iy6n ap6, 
patauad po ang in^ co t, 
ap6 mong si Federico. 

Emperador ay nababag 
luha sa matai, nalagldg, 
ang tua, hapis at sinddc 
sa loob bumabagabdg. 

Quinalong na at sinapo 
ang batang si Federico, 
at tinatanong cun sino 
ang may anac baga rito. 

Ito.i, malaquing hiuaga 
ibig cong mapag-usisa, 
castellano.i, pagsalita 
nang ama,t, ina nang bata. 

Sumagot ang castellano 
sa emperador Alfonso, 
ang ink po.i, uala rito 
at natira sa bahay co. 

Hayo at biglang tauaguin 
ngayon din dito,i, dumating, 
aquing pag-uusisain 
ito,i, hiuagang magaling. 



Mga mahal aba tayo 
at magbalic sa palacio, 
Dgayo.i, tatalastasin co 
ang am^.t, ink cun sino. 

Sabihin ang capal baga 
ng madlang tauong sumama, 
manonood na talaga 
sa hiuagang napagquita. 

Di naman lubhang nabalana 
malayo pa,i, natatanao, 
ang castellanong marangal 
si Florentina^i, caacbay. 

Reina namang lumalacad 
tala manding sumisicat, 
lialang capara nang dildg 
sa cagandahang di hamac. 

Ay ano nga.i, nang maquita 
ang sinta niyang ^saua, 
hinimatay capagdaca. 
ang reinang si Fiorentina 

Dinampot capagcaraca 
nit6ng hari sa Navarra, 
niyacap quinalong niya 
ang sinta niyang asaua. 

Aco,i, ualang casalanan 
sa iyo sinta co,t, buhay, 
ang may gaua,t, may laldng 
ay ang ink cong sueaban. 

Dito sa pagcalong niya 
sa sinta niyang asaua, 
hinimatay capagdaca 
itong hari sa Navarra. 

Ipagparito co naman 
sa emperador na mahal, 
nagtindig at pinarunan 
ang andc ay nilapitan. 

Ito ang uinica niya- 
sa harapan ng lahat na, 
ito,i, anac co aniya 
princesang si Fiorentina. 



Princess Florentina. 



277 



When he was observed and seen 
By the illustrious King Enrico, 
Tears rolled down the monarch's cheeks, 
And Federico was summoned to him. 

He took the child in his arms 
While the tears were flooding his face; 
Then Federico escaped from the embrace 
And went to his grandfather. 

And when he was seen 

By the King of Germany, 

That monarch was greatly surprised, 

And tears diffused his face. 

Weeping and entreating, 
This beautiful boy 
Knelt at once at the feet 
Of the renowned emperor. 

(Hesaid) "Grandfather, this your grandson 
Kneels before you; 
Forgive my mother 
And also Federico." 

The emperor pitied the child; 
Tears fell from his eyes; 
Happiness, sorrow, and surprise 
Disturbed him in his heart. 

He raised and embraced 

The child Federico, 

And asked 

Who were the parents of the boy. 

" Here is a great mystery 

And I should like to investigate it. 

Guard," he said, "tell 

Who are this child's father and mother." 

The castellan answered 
The emperor, Don Alfonso: 
"His mother is not here. 
She is living at my house." 

"Go and summon her 
To come at once; 
I want to find out the truth 
Of this great mystery. 



" Nobles, come! 

Let us return to the palace! 

I am going to find out 

Who his father and mother are." 

Very great was the crowd 

Of people who went with him 

With the purpose of seeing the end [them. 

Of this mystery that had appeared among 

It was not long 

Before there could be seen from afar 

The faithful castellan, 

And Florentina by his side. 

As the queen walked along, 

She was like a shining star: 

Nothing could compare with the brilliancy 

Of her extraordinary beauty. 

When she saw 

Her beloved husband. 

She immediately fainted, — 

The queen Florentina. 

She was at once lifted up 

By the King of Navarre; 

He took in his arms and embraced 

His beloved wife. 

"Against you, my life, 
I have committed no fault; [crime 

The one who conceived and executed the 
Was my treacherous mother." 

While he had his dear wife 
In his arms, 
This King of Navarre 
Fainted straightway. 

I will speak now 
Of the great emperor. 
He arose and went 
To his daughter. 

He declared before 
All the people there, 
"This is my child. 
The princess Florentina." 



278 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



— 22 — 



Aug panaghoy niya.i, ito 
6 Florentinang anae co, 
patauad yaring amd mo 
sa naguing sala sa iyo. 

Ipagparito co muna 
sa dalauang mag-asaua, 
aua nang Virgen Maria 
pinagsaulan nang hiniDga. 

Ang tua.i, sabihin pa 
nang capisanang lahat na, 
samp6 nang nacaquiquita 
nanguilalas sa canila. 

It6 muna,i, aquing lisan 
na manga pananambitan, 
samp>6 nang tuang quinamtan 
at canilang pagca-bubay. 

Napahint6 ang abala 
pagcacasal sa canila, 
si D. Enrico,i, nagbady^ 
sa hari sa Antioquia. 

Sinabi,t, ipinagsaysay 
sa baring Fernandong mabal, 
daan nang pagca-biualay 
sa asauang sinta.t, bubay 

Ang tua,i, sabihin pa 
nang hari,t, consejos niya, 
at ang daang pagquiquita 
mapalad na mag-asaua. 

Catuaa.i, ualang hangan 
nang guinoong napipisan, 
sa pagquiquitang hinusay 
sa Dios na calooban. 

Ualang hangang catuaan 
nang booug sang caharian, 
para-parang nangag-alay 
nang pagcaing bagay-bagay. 

Nang it6 ay matapos na 
nangagpaalaman sila, 
ang magbienan ay nagsama 
no-ai sa cani-canila. 



Ng dumating sa Navarra 
ang dalauang mag-asaua, 
tua ay ualang capara 
boong reinong sacop niya. 

Nagfiestang nuli nama.t, 
novenas na bagay-bagay, 
nag-uli pang isang siyam 
sa pagquiquitang hinusay 

Saca ang sinunod dito 
ng baring si D. Enrico, 
ang corona niya t, cetro 
isinalin cay Pascasio. 

Ito ang ganti at bigay 
sa iyong mabuting asal, 
at ang isa pang dahilan 
asaua co,i, di namatay. 

Cay a nuli pang nag fiesta 
caharian nang Navarra, 
dahil sa pagcocorona 
ni D. Pascasicmg masigla. 

Sjyam na arao ang gulo 
tanang grandes at guinoo, 
tuing gabi.i, luminario 
doon sa loob ng reino. 

Ang baring si D. Enrico 
ang reina.t, si Federico, 
naisipan nilang tatl6 
pa sa Alemaniang reino. 

Ang imperiong Alemania 
nangatua.t, nangagsaya, 
ang manga tauong lahat na 
nang doo.i, dumating sila. 

Ang emperador Alfonso 
catuaa,i, mago.t, mago, 
sa pagquiquitang ganit6 
sa reina t, cay Federico. 

Ang uica niya,i, ganit6 
sa boo niyang consejo, 
yayang ngayo,i, naparito 
ang manga anac co,t, ap6. 



Princess Florentina. 



279 



This was his lament: 

"0 Florentina! my child, 

Forgive your father 

For the wrongs he has done you." 

As for the husband and wife 
(Florentina and Don Enrico), 
By the favor of the Virgin Mary 
They recovered their breath. 

Indescribable was the happiness 
Of all who were there; 
All who had witnessed the scene 
Were astonished by the couple. 

Now I will turn aside 
From the relation of my story, [enjoyed. 
And also (will pass over) the pleasure they 
And their life thereafter. 

The marriage ceremony 
Was at once stopped. 
Don Enrico went to see 
The King of Antioch. 

He related to the 
Noble King Don Fernando 
How he had been separated 
From his beloved wife. 

Great was the joy 

Of the king and his councillors 

At the way in which [again. 

This fortunate couple had been united 

There were no bounds 
To the happiness of these gentlemen; 
The reunion of husband and wife 
Was by the favor of God. 

Very, very glad 
Was the entire kingdom: 
All the people made presents 
Of food in great variety. 

After the feast was over. 
They took leave of each other: 
Son-in-law and father-in-law both 
Returned to their own kingdoms. 



When the husband and wife 
Arrived in Navarre, 
Their faithful subjects 
Were greatly delighted. 

They had another celebration, 
And novenas of various kinds; 
And then another nine-day prayer 
In honor of the happy reunion. 

After this was completed, 
King Don Enrico 
Bestowed the crown and sceptre 
On Don Pascasio. 

"This is the reward 
For your good judgment, 
Which was the chief means 
Of saving the life of my wife." 

Accordingly another feast 
Was held in the kingdom of Navarre 
On the occasion of the coronation 
Of the diligent Don Pascasio. 

For nine days there was revelry 
Among the grandees of the kingdom; 
Every night there was illumination 
Throughout the realm. 

The King Don Enrico, 
The queen, and Federico 
Determined, all three of them, 
To go to Germany. 

When they arrived there. 
All the people 
In the German Empire 
Made merry and celebrated. 

The Emperor Alfonso's 
Delight was boundless 
At seeing together 
The queen and Federico. 

He spoke thus 
Before all his councillors: 
"Since my children and grandson 
Have come here, 



280 



Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



23 — 



Ang aquing talaga ngayon 
yamang tayo.i, natitipon, 
sa ap6 co,i, ipuputong 
cetrong pagca-emperador. 

Pagca,t, acOji, matanda oa 
ibig CO naDg magpahingd, 
caya cayo.i, manalima 
at umayong para-para. 

Sag<5t ng lahat ay it6 
ualang susuay sa iy6, 
sapagca,t, si Federico 
tunay mo rin poUg apo 

Siya ang dapat magmana 
imperio ng Alemania, 
sapagca.t, malapit siya 
sa iyong cetro.t. corona 

Ipinutong na sa ulo 
ang corona sampong cetro, 
sa principe Federico 
anac ng baring Enrico 



Ang pinagparunan co 
ang nica ni San Cirilo, 
ang culang ay magpabusto 
yao.i, siyang lalong docto. 



Ito.i, siyang naguing banga 
ng btibay ni Florentina, 
anac ng bupying monarca 
sa imperiong Alemania. 

Caya sino mang dalaga 
cay Florentina.i, pumara, 
sa pagtatangol ng honra 
mabuti ang naguing banga. 

At buag niny6ng tularan 
ang reinang naguing bienan, 
pag lililo sa manugang 
namatay sa cabirapan. 

Pag masamd ang pananim 
masam& ang aanibin, 
cun mabuti ay gayon din 
aanibin ay magaling. 

Ito,i, siyang catapusan 
corridong aquing tinuran, 
cun sacali at may culang 
punan ng naca-aaldm. 



J. 1^. 



=^s=^^s 







Princess Florentina. 



281 



"I have decided, 
Now that we are all together, 
To bestow on my grandson 
The imperial sceptre. 

"Since I am old, 
I desire to rest: 
Therefore give your consent 
And agree to it, all of you." 

They all answered thus: 
"No one will disobey you, 
Because Federico 
Is your true grandson. 

"He should inherit 
The empire of Germany, 
Because he is next in line 
For your crown and sceptre." 

On the head of Federico, 
Son of King Enrico, 
The crown was placed, 
And he was given the sceptre. 



This is the end 

Of the life of Florentina, 

The daughter of the famous king 

Of the German Empire. 

Any maiden whatsoever 

Who will follow Florentina's example 

In preserving her honor 

Will come to a good end. 

Do not imitate 

The queen, the grandmother-in-law, 
Who, because of her treachery, 
Died in suffering. 

If the plant is bad, 
The fruit will be bad; 
But if the plant is good. 
The fruit will be good. 

This, then, is the conclusion 
Of the corrida I have related; 
If there has been any omission. 
Let it be supplied by those who see it. 



I take as my authority 
The words of San Cirilo: 
That if there is any gap. 
It should be filled by the wise. 



J. M. 



End. 



282 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



AVOIDANCE IN MELANESIA. 

BY ELSIE CLEWS PARSONS. 

Concerning those enigmatical practices commonly described under 
the rubric of avoidance, Dr. Rivers is our most recent contributor. 
In his "History of Melanesian Society" he gives us new facts and 
new interpretations. 

Brother-sister avoidance Rivers notes in Guadalcanar and in 
Lepers' Island. In Guadalcanar, brother and sister ^ may not say each 
other's name; and if one is in a house, the other may not enter. If 
a man wishes to give anything to his sister, he must put it down and 
go away, and the sister will come to take it.^ Of the practice on Lepers' 
Island, Rivers differs in his account from Codrington. According to 
Codrington, it is the boy who leaves home to go to live in the club- 
house.^ According to Rivers, it is the girl who leaves home. She 
goes to live with her mother's brother. After this separation, if sister 
and brother meet on a path, the girl will get out of the way, and both 
will look down to avoid seeing each other. Never do they mention 
each other's name or speak of each other. After the girl is a mother, 
if her brother calls to see her son, she will leave her house before her 
brother enters. The avoidance continues after death, the survivor not 
entering the house where the corpse lies, but mourning outside. In 
Lepers' Island there is also a trace of avoidance between brother and 
brother. " If a man is one of a crowd, all of whom are laughing, and 
the brother of the man comes on the scene, the man at once leaves off 
laughing and becomes quiet." ^ To the avoidance between mother 
and son on this island as described by Codrington, Rivers does not 
refer. In the Banks Islands there is no definite rule of avoidance 
between brother and sister, but they do not chaff each other.^ In 
Guadalcanar a father's sister may not be touched or named by her 
nephews and nieces. There is name avoidance of this relative in the 

1 Terms of relationship I use throughout in the individualist or so-called "descriptive" 
sense, not in the classificatory. Although the classificatory system prevails in Melanesia, 
both the authorities I cite — both Rivers and Codrington — appear, in their discussions of 
avoidance, to be using the individualist terms (compare, however, The History of Melane- 
sian Society, vol. i, p. 41, Cambridge, 1914)- It is regrettable that in this connection 
they are not more explicit. 

2 The History of Melanesian Society, vol. i, p. 255. 

3 The Melanesians, p. 232 (Oxford, 1891). 

* The History of Melanesian Society, vol. i, p. 213. 

» Ibid., vol. i, p. 36. Hence Rivers suggests, unw^arrantably I think, that a greater 
degree of avoidance may have once existed between them. 



Avoidance in Melanesia. 283 

Banks Islands and in Pentecost, and of the mother's brother in Guadal- 
canar. 

Between relatives by marriage there is avoidance in Reef Islands 
(between a man and his wife's brother), in Santa Cruz (between a man 
and his mother's brother's wife, between a woman and the elder 
brother of her husband and the husband of her younger sister), in 
Tikopia (between a man and his wife's brother or sister and his parents- 
in-law, between parents-in-law and son or daughter-in-law'), in Torres 
Islands (between a man and his parents-in-law, name avoidance with 
all his wife's relatives), in Banks Islands (between a man and his 
parents-in-law,2 his brother's wife and his sister's husband,' and name 
avoidance between a woman and her father-in-law), in Pentecost 
(between a man and his wife's sister). There is name and touch avoid- 
ance of wife's mother and husband's father in Ysabel, and name avoid- 
ance of brother's wife in Guadalcanar. 

In his theoretical discussion of these facts. Rivers holds in part to 
the incest hypothesis, and in part to an hypothesis of group hostility, 

— a twofold interpretation that I for one find hard to follow. Between 
avoidance practices and the potentiality of sexual relations there is, 
he says, the clearest evidence of association ; but, bearing in mind that 
avoidance occurs between members of the same sex, "customs of 
avoidance between various relatives in general probably had an origin 
depending on some fundamental feature of social structure in which 
both sexes were involved." ^ This "fundamental feature," he suggests, 

— in the case of the Banks Islands, at any rate, — is the condition of 
hostility between the exogamous moieties. But he probes still deeper. 
"If this suggestion holds good, it would not follow that the avoidance 
has been the consequence of this hostility; it is possible that both are 
consequences of some more deeply-seated condition." This condition, 
he holds, is the incoming of another race, and marriage between the 
immigrant men and the indigenous women. ^ 

By this method of stratification, refractory facts are conveniently 
handled. Facts that withstand explanation by the incest theory are 
explained by the group-hostility theory, and vice versa. Take, for 
example, the avoidance of the wife's parents in Torres Islands or 
Banks Islands. The avoidance of the mother-in-law points to the 

1 If people are joking, and the son or daughter-in-law of one present comes, some one 
will say, "Do not laugh; the tantau pariki is here" (The History of Melanesian Society, 
vol. i, p. 344). 

2 As to his father-in-law, he will not pass him sitting down, according to Rivers; he will 
not step over his legs, according to Codrington. Stepping over a person's legs, at any 
rate, is in island etiquette a liberty, adds Codrington (The Melanesians, p. 43). 

' With this brother-in-law he will not sleep, observes Codrington {Ibid., p. 43). 
< Mel. Soc, vol. ii, pp. 333, 334- 
' Ibid., vol. ii, p. 135. 

VOL. XXIX. — NO. 112. — 19. 



284 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

fact, according to Rivers, that sexual intimacy with her was once 
allowed,^ whereas the avoidance of the father-in-law points to the 
ancient hostility between the island moieties. 

Incidentally, let me ask, since these exogamous moieties are in the 
Banks Islands matrilineal, how is it that a man and his father-in-law 
belong, as Rivers implies, to different moieties? If they belong to the 
same moiety, does not the group-hostility theory of their avoidance 
practices fall to the ground?^ Unless Rivers has made a slip here 
that it were a bit presumptuous to suspect him of, he must have in 
mind, not the mere dual organization of the Banks Islanders, but the 
more or less hostile groups whose formation he hypothecates upon the 
arrival of those immigrants who play so large a part in his interpre- 
tation of Melanesian society at large. But here another difficulty 
besets his avoidance theory. It is obvious that a custom like avoid- 
ance cannot be set up by conditions in one generation only, to quote 
Rivers himself;' and yet this immigrant theory of avoidance would 
necessitate that one-generation origin — unless exogamy was based on 
patrilineal descent; and it is not, it is matrilineal. It is matrilineal 
now, and, I infer. Rivers thinks it always has been matrilineal.^ 
Matrilineal exogamy and avoidance developing through several gen- 
erations of hostile sons-in-law seem to me two utterly incompatible 
facts — unless the stream of immigrant men was unbroken from 
generation to generation,^ and the descendants of immigrants kept to 
the immigrant attitude of hostility, whatever the descent of the 
parent-in-law, — suppositions hardly tenable. 

Another difficulty in the way of the group-hostility theory, of the 
theory in its immigration version. Rivers himself recognizes; i.e., the 
fact that the woman avoids her husband's relatives, as well as he hers. 
To overcome this difficulty. Rivers suggests that, since avoidance by 
the daughter-in-law is less strict than that by the son-in-law, it may 
be due to a mere process of generalization.^ The theory of avoidance 
by the daughter-in-law stands or falls, then, with the theory of avoid- 
ance by the son-in-law. 

^ In Torres Islands, Rivers finds corroborative evidence; in Banks Islands he does not. 
Nevertheless he holds to the incest hypothesis for Banks Islands. Why, may I ask, does 
Rivers not apply his group-hostility theory to the Banks mother-in-law? She is avoided 
more drastically than the father-in-law, and she belongs to the moiety other than her 
son-in-law's. 

2 The History of Melanesian Society, vol. ii, p. 169. Likewise the conclusion drawn 
from it? — the conclusion that hostility between the moieties was once more widespread 
(a conclusion which is at best a bit of the circular fallacy Rivers himself warns against). 

' Ibid., vol. ii, p. 335. 

^ Ibid., vol. ii, p. 354. 

^ Rivers thinks the immigration extended over long periods, but he does not argue for 
unbroken continuity. 

8 Mel. Soc, vol. ii, p. 334. 



Avoidance in Melanesia. 285 

As for the contradiction between avoidance as the outcome of hos- 
tility and that function of mutual helpfulness which is characteristic 
of the Melanesian relationship through marriage, Rivers states it, but 
fails to support his analysis of it, remarking merely that the coexistence 
of hostility and helpfulness is just what you might expect in connection 
with immigrants. Perhaps it is, and yet not quite for the psychological 
reasons Rivers implies. We are apt to like those we help or those who 
help us. Is the Melanesian so very different? But like or dislike 
would play little part, I think, in any relation through marriage between 
indigene and immigrant. The feeling would be rather anxiety in each 
about the recognition by the other of his status. Avoidance, then, in 
the case of immigrant sons-in-law or of non-immigrant, is a way of 
asserting status. More later of this view. 

How fares the incest theory among these Melanesian facts? The 
use of the personal instead of the kinship name between the sexes 
indicates, Rivers believes (and on good evidence), sexual intimacy; 
and so where there is name avoidance between kindred he infers a 
potentiality of sex relations. In the Torres Islands inference is un- 
necessary. There, if a man has had sexual intercourse with his wife's 
sister or mother, he must to the day of his death address her and speak 
to her by her personal name.^ Ordinarily in these islands, however, it is 
not only the women relatives of his wife whose names a man may not 
use; but the male relatives too, the names of all her relatives, are taboo. 
Evidently, although name avoidance has some connection with sexual 
intercourse, it has some other significance as well. 

May it not have the same significance as it has among us? The use 
of a personal name is an assault, so to speak, upon the status relation- 
ship. Among us, if a man calls a woman by her own name, it does not 
mean that he has been sexually intimate with her; but it is somewhat 
of a recognition of her personality apart from her status, and it is a 
step towards a personal relationship. And so, wishing to be formal, 
as we say, John Smith refers to his wife as "my wife" or "Mrs. Smith." 
Jane Smith, in her turn, may even address John as "Mr. Smith." 
Her daughter she will introduce as Miss Smith ; and when the young 
man who has been introduced begins to call the girl by her "first 
name," making no reference to her status either as the daughter of 
Smith or as one of the unmarried, he thinks he knows her quite well. 
And he does; he knows her better in one way, in fact, than she will ever 
know her own parents or her grandparents, — senior relatives whom 
she never calls by their personal names. Personal names are disre- 
spectful of or indifferent to status relationship: hence personal names 
are avoided whenever the status relationship is intact or for the time 
being paramount. 

1 The History of Melanesian Society, vol. ii, p. 132. 



286 J otirnal of American Folk-Lore. 

If this view of the meaning of name avoidance between kindred ^ is 
acceptable, it is obvious that the custom does not justify in itself the 
inference of the potentiality of a sexual intimacy; although it may 
justify the minor inference that, when the personal name is used con- 
trary to custom, sexual intimacy has occurred. The use of the per- 
sonal name between relatives of opposite sex may indicate that the 
kinship status has been encroached upon by sexual intimacy. A 
sexual approach, like the use of a personal name, breaks down or 
precludes a status relationship.^ It is therefore natural enough for 
the ignorer or violater of kinship status to make use of the personal 
name.3 Let us not forget, however, that the use of the personal name 
may also mean that no status relationship has ever been established.^ 

Name avoidance is, then, a recognition of kinship status, of the status 
of kinsmen as well as of kinswomen, and among both particularly of 
the seniors. Details of avoidance practice bearing upon seniority, 
Rivers disregards; and yet in several instances they raise a question. 
In Santa Cruz a woman does not speak to her husband's elder brother. 
His younger brother, if she is widowed, she may marry. Similarly a 
man may speak freely to the younger sister of his wife; the elder sister 
he may neither see nor address.^ In the Banks Islands the rules of 
avoiding a wife's parents apply also to a junior generation, to a 
brother's wife and a sister's husband, but they apply less strictly.^ 
Whereas a man may not speak to his wife's mother, and, if he has to 
pass, must not go near her, to his wife's sisters he may speak, if he 
speak respectfully and avoid certain expressions he would use to his 
wife.^ From these instances and from instances outside of Melanesia 
— for I confess I cannot free my mind from comparative facts as 
completely as Rivers — I infer that avoidance is a prerogative of 
seniority, — one of those many observances of respect exacted in 

1 It seems hardly necessary to point out that the orthodox view of the relation between 
name and personality supports this theory, or that name avoidance occurs between those 
of different ranks or spheres. When a new status is created, too, name avoidance may be 
in order. For example, in the Masai covenant of brotherhood, after each has given the 
other the ceremonial red bead, the covenanters call each other patureshi ("the giver and 
receiver of a bead") instead of by their proper names (A. C. Hollis, The Masai, p. 323, 
Oxford, 1905). Herein lies the explanation, too, of taboos on naming the dead, — a type 
of name aovidance, we may note, very common in Melanesia. 

* Unless the sexual approach is destined to become itself a status relationship. 

^ Or of sexual intimacy. The Navaho and the Wahehe marry or lie with a mother-in- 
law in order apparently to preclude the mother-in-law taboo (J. G. Frazer, Totemism and 
Exogamy, vol. iii, p. 247, London, 1910). 

* Calling the wife's sister by name suggests to Rivers sexual communism, whereas to 
Codrington it suggests merely a lack of familial status — "she is nothing to him" (The 
Melanesians, p. 44). 

' The History of Melanesian Society, vol. i, pp. 222-223. 
' Ibid., vol. ii, p. 169. 
' Ibid., vol. ii, p. 133. 



Avoidance in Melanesia. 287 

primitive society by seniors from their juniors. Why the seniors ac- 
count it a prerogative or due, I shall try to explain later. 

Just as Rivers appears to me to shirk this question of seniority, so, 
I take it, he shirks the general question of sex relations when he dis- 
cusses avoidance on his incest hypothesis. "Customs of avoidance 
cannot be wholly explained on these lines," he writes, meaning as 
indicating potential sex relations; "but whenever they are practised 
between those of opposite sex, the possibility of sex relations between 
those who avoid one another is implied, though in many cases this is 
only one of a number of implications." ^ One of a number of implica- 
tions: that is just the point. Where among them does it stand? That 
it is an implication, one readily admits, for such always exists in early 
society whenever any relation between a man and a woman is to the 
fore. Still it is not in any such general sense that Rivers is speaking or 
— unfortunately, it seems to me — thinking. -' 

Sexual intimacy breaks down the kinship status; but unformalized 
it also tends to break down the sex status, the status of each sex, 
ignoring that separation of men and women so characteristic of early 
society. Respect for this general sex segregation influences the prac- 
tices of family avoidance. It is a pity that the ethnographers who tell 
us about brother-sister avoidance do not also tell us to what degree 
a youth associates with girls other than his sister. The avoidance of 
his sister may be part of the avoidance of girls at large; and the eth- 
nographer may accentuate the sister avoidance, because in his own 
culture he has seen the kinship association overcome the sex shyness. 
Partly overcome it, I should say, not wholly; there have been boys 
among us who would not play with their sisters because they did not 
want to have anything to do with girls. 

But I would not suggest, however, that in primitive culture the 
accentuation of sister avoidance is wholly in the mind of the observer. 
As there are parents among us who are troubled if Harry or Jack plays 
too much with girls, is entirely too much with his mother or sisters, 
and send him away to boarding-school to get over the habit, so among 
savages the seniors no doubt insist upon rules of conduct that will 
check the familiarities of family life and break up childish habits of 
association. By separating the boy fromx his sister they make a man 
of him. There is no apprehension of incest here: it is merely that the 
women relatives are to form no exception in applying the general rule 
of manly conduct, avoiding women. 

There is here, if you like, a certain measure of purposefulness in the 
brother-sister taboos, the pressure of seniors upon their juniors; but it 
is, after all, a far more instinctive than deliberative kind of pressure, 
and its implications are far less legalistic than those of anti-incest 
theorizers. 

1 The History of Melanesian Society, vol. ii, p. 154. 



288 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

In discussing the brother-sister avoidance of old-time Fiji, Rivers, 
let me note incidentally, surpasses most legalists. Fijian avoidance was 
a remedy, he argues, against the laxity induced by the arrival in the 
island of outsiders, and the consequent general lowering of moral 
standards. It was a reform measure against a late tendency to incest. 
From this point Rivers generalizes as follows: "So far as sexual 
relations are concerned, customs of avoidance seem to be due to a 
social effort to limit, and later to abolish, practices which were at one 
time habitual." ^ A highly legalistic theory indeed! 

In so far, therefore, as Rivers is psychological, he is rationalistic; 
but he seldom strays into psychology. For explanation in general, 
he looks to social structure; in the case of avoidance, to sexual com- 
munism, exogamous moieties, and conditions due to immigration. A 
given relationship he would explain by a prior relationship; an existent 
status, by a pre-existent status. That this is an effective ethnological 
method, there is no gainsaying; but at times it has limitations, and 
some of its most striking limitations Rivers demonstrates in his 
analysis of avoidance. 

Avoidance can be explained, I think, only through the psychology 
of sex, of age-class, and of attitude towards new-comers. To sex and 
seniority I have referred ; a word about attitude towards new-comers. 
The new-comers I have in mind are the new-comers into the family 
rather than into the group at large, — not the immigrants Rivers 
refers to, but the new members of the family to whom Tylor refers 
in his well-known discussion of avoidance. The son-in-law or the 
daughter-in-law is "cut," according to Tylor .^ we recall, because merely 
as strangers in the family they arouse suspicion and irritation. They 
are, I should say, embarrassing or disconcerting; and so the family, in 
self-protection, — notably its senior members, — makes rules for their 
conduct, particularly rules against seeing too much of them or seeing 
them at awkward moments. This familial attitude in favor of an 
impersonal relationship is, however, much less deliberative or even 
purposeful than the term "cutting" implies, or than Tylor, perhaps, 
wished it to imply. It is indeed only necessary to glance at the 
particulars of avoidance to appreciate the instinctive character of 
the "rules," — to turn your back on a man, to go around him, not to 
go into a house where he is, not to look him in the eye, can behavior 
be more instinctive? 

A sense of embarrassment is not a sense of hostility; and Tylor 
erred, I think, in not distinguishing the two feelings. When he forsook 
the psychological explanation for the social-structure explanation, he 
erred again. In making avoidance dependent upon residence, he 

1 The History of Melanesian Society, vol. ii, p. 154- 

2 Journal of the Anthropological Institute, vol. xviii (1888-89), PP- 247-248. 



Avoidance in Melanesia. 289 

developed his theory along a line not substantiated ^ by the facts. The 
family may be embarrassed by the new-comer, whether he or she lives 
with them or not. The situadon becomes more strained, of course, 
given a common residence,^ and the avoidance necessarily more 
marked — just as Tylor found it in his numerical survey. The psy- 
chological part of Tylor's theory still holds, even when the social- 
structure part of it falls to the ground. 

But there is more to the avoidance of relatives by marriage than a 
means of holding a new-comer at arm's length, of shirking a personal 
adjustment: it is a means of showing him his place, and making him 
recognize the family status. It is the old story that familiarity breeds 
contempt. There we have the real key to the relation between avoid- 
ance and explicit familial rights and duties. The former is a guaranty 
of the latter. Formality insures the fulfilling of obligations. In 
Melanesia, at any rate, a marked avoidance and a well-defined status 
appear to go together.^ From this point of view is to be considered 
not only avoidance between relatives by marriage, but avoidance or 
quasi-avoidance between brother and brother or between father and 
son.* Eating together or joking were too familiar, too "personal," too 
disregardful of the status relationship.^ Avoidance, as natives them- 
selves say, is a matter of respect, an upkeeping of family dignity. 

Certain variations or modifications of avoidance, as well as avoidance 
in its crasser forms, may readily be understood from this point of view, 
— prescriptions, for example, upon conversation, when conversation 
is allowed at all. In Tikopia, brethren-in-law may be conversed with 
at a distance. The conversational distance between a Torres Islander 

1 As Frazer in part points out (Totemism and Exogamy, vol. i, p. 503). 

2 Or given immigrants for sons-in-law. 

' Compare the coincidence of the obligation upon the Blackfellow to supply his parents- 
in-law with food, and his avoidance of them. Frazer's inference from these practices, that 
the Blackfellow may have once lived with his wife's parents, appears dubious, and, in 
support of the essential part of Tylor's avoidance theory, uncalled for (Totemism and 
Exogamy, vol. i, pp. 504-505)- 

•• In Banks Islands, father and son do not eat together, because, Rivers suggests, they 
belong to different moieties, — hostile moieties. A Reef Islander does not chaff (bakada) 
his own brother (Mel. Soc, vol. i, p. 230), nor, as we have noted, does a Lepers' Islander 
laugh in the presence of his brother, because, according to Rivers (Ibid., vol. ii, pp. 154-155) 
brothers once had their wives in common, and, he adds (unnecessarilj', I think), the tran- 
sition from that community caused constraint. Neither inference is incompatible with my 
theory; but, according to my theory, neither inference is called for. Nor let us forget 
that formal constraint between father and son and between brothers is not an uncommon 
attitude where there are no hostile moieties and not a trace of sexual communism. 

6 Between the sexes as well as in the family. In the Reef Islands, for example, a woman 
is never chaffed. Were a man and woman heard to joke each other, they would be sus- 
pected of sexual intimacy (Ibid., vol. i, p. 230). In the Banks Islands, in Mota, if a 
woman carried the poroporo custom too far, it was said, she would have to be taken as wife 
by her sister's husband (Ibid., vol. i, p. 45). 



290 Journal of A merican Folk-Lore. 

and his mother-in-law is five or six yards; a Banks Islander may talk 
to his father-in-law, but he will not poroporo (chaff) him or address 
him or his wife's sisters familiarly ; the Torres Islander who addresses 
any of his wife's women reXdidves familiarly raises a suspicion of sexual 
intimacy; restrictions upon chaffing between Banks brother and 
sister we have already noted. Nor does a Banks Islander chaff his 
father's sister. In this connection we may cite the manners of Lepers' 
Island mother and mother-in-law as described by Codrington. If a 
woman talks to her son, she sits at a little distance and turns away. 
She speaks to him in the plural, in a distant manner. "Come yeV^ 
she calls. To her son-in-law she refers to herself in the plural. "They 
want Tanga to go to them," she says, meaning, " I want Tanga to come 
to me." ^ Let us compare this observ^ance with the use of the plural 
by a Fijian brother. As "those women " he addresses his sister. In 
Fiji too, we may note, a man and his mother's brother always speak to 
each other in a slow and gentle manner,^ — a mode of address helpful 
no doubt in maintaining their important relationship, the notorious 
relationship of vasii. These variations in conversational manners 
Rivers not only does not undertake to account for, he offers no 
explanation of the taboo from which they vary, — the taboo in general 
on conversation.^ 

Nor does Rivers account for the taboo on personal names. Name 
avoidance in general I have already discussed on my own hypothesis. 
A word about teknonymy. So widespread is this custom, that, to 
undertake to account for it as the outcome of immigration, seems to 
me a little absurd;* and even Rivers undertakes it half-heartedly. It 
may well be, he thinks, a custom known to the immigrants prior to 
their arrival.^ Accepting the immigration hypothesis, to call a man 
the father of his child might well be a recognition of his paternity, — 
a recognition of the status he as a new-comer is particularly anxious 
about. But why, then, is a woman also called the mother of her child? 
Because teknonymy is not only a part of the system of avoiding per- 
sonal names; it is not only a ready device of that system; of itself it em- 
phasizes the status relationship. Emphasis on the parental relationship 
is a kind of buffer against any personal reference, against any discon- 
certing * reference. 

1 The Melanesians, pp. 45, 232. In Mota, in general, respect is shown by using a dual 
pronoun in addressing or speaking of a single person. 

2 The History of Melanesian Society, vol. i, pp. 291, 293. 

3 Ibid., vol. ii, p. 335. 

* A stricture applicable also, of course, to avoidance practices in general. 

^ Ihid., vol. ii, p. 336. 

« The explanation of both name avoidance and person avoidance given by the natives 
themselves should not be overlooked. Avoidance is due, they say, " to a feeling of shyness 
and respect," to an "inward trembling" which prevents their mentioning their own names 



Avoidance in Melanesia. 291 

Nowadays when a Banks woman wants to be disconcerting or 
personal (i.e., disrespectful to her husband), what does she do but up 
and flout him by calKng him by name. "I was told," writes Rivers, 
"that there are no less than three women in the district of Veverau 
. . . alone who address their husbands by name, thus showing that 
they do not respect them;" ^ — showing too, one might add, that the 
status relationship has begun to break down. Whenever that happens, 
avoidance taboos, I surmise, are neglected. Let me cite another 
striking illustration of the process in the Banks Islands. " It is a sign 
of the times that children now sometimes call their father's sister by 
name in order to annoy her, and I was told of a case where a woman was 
made to cry by her nephews and nieces treating her in this uncere- 
monious fashion," 2 

Is it rash to suggest that, as in the breaking-down of status, so in 
its building-up, avoidance may have played a special part and been a 
peculiarly effective instrument? The avoidance or pseudo-avoidance 
of the father or father's sister in the Banks Islands may point to a 
comparatively late assertion of paternity — quite in accordance with 
Rivers's hypothesis.^ 

Our theory of avoidance as a means of establishing status — an 
unconscious means, mind you, rather than a conscious means — our 
theory should not overlook the icUts of the avoidance, so to speak, 
where the burden of responsibility falls. In general we may say that 
he who is the more anxious about the recognition of his status is the 
one who exacts the avoidance. Its negative forms he may practise 
himself; but its more positive forms he exacts of the other. In general, 
then, we expect seniors to exact a positive kind of avoidance from 
juniors, and men from women. When women are the seniors, the 
practices may be mixed. As for new-comers, the more positive forms 
would be expected of them too; but here, again, sex might be a com- 
plicating factor, likewise age, likewise special intergroup conditions. 

Do the Melanesian facts warrant these assumptions? For the most 
part, as far as they go,^ they do appear to — with a few cases somewhat 
questionable. In the Torres Islands, a man only crouches when he 

also (Codrington, pp. 44-45). A Torres Islander would be "too shy," Rivers was told, 
to take a load directly from the shoulders of his father-in-law (The History of Melanesian 
Society, vol. i, p. 182). 

1 Ibid., vol. i, p. 41. 

2 Ibid., vol. i, p. 39. 

' Ibid., vol. ii, pp. 163-165. 

^ The degree of reciprocity in avoidance is hard to estimate from the usual form of 
statement. The ethnographer observes or states in a most one-sided way, describing only 
what is incumbent upon one of the two parties to the practice. His phrasing about the 
practice as a right or as a duty is also misleading. Even Rivers is not altogether free from 
these failures in observation or statement, probably because he so little appreciates the 
value of the psychological interpretation of avoidance. 



292 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

passes his mother-in-law; whereas the mother-in-law, even at a greater 
distance, goes down on her hands and knees. Again, and this fact is 
less explicable, in Pentecost, where avoidance between brothers-in-law 
is not reciprocal, it is the sister's husband who is taboo; there are 
prescriptions against going behind him or taking anything from over 
his head.^ 

For the psychological theory of avoidance — in Melanesia and 
elsewhere — do I claim too much in submitting that it explains why 
seniority figures so often in the practice, why it is practised between 
those of the same sex, why it is accompanied by definite familial rights 
and duties, why it may be modified in set ways, why it lapses with the 
neglect of family feeling or ties, why it is not fully reciprocal, — all 
queries which the incest theory and the group-hostility theory alike 
fail to meet or to meet fully? 
New York. 

1 The History of Melanesian Society, vol. ii. p. 335- The taboo about the head is 
Polynesian, Rivers argues, inferring from this case that it was the immigrant Polynesian 
brother-in-law who objected to too close intercourse with his wife's brother. From my 
point of view, it was the immigrant brother-in-law who was more concerned about his 
status than the brother of the indigenous wife was concerned about his, — a highly 
speculative hypothesis, indeed, but is it any more speculative than that of Rivers? As 
it taking anything from above the head of another, let us note that this is a disrespectful 
act on the part of any junior, according to Codrington (The Melanesians, p. 43). In 
Lepers' Island the act were especially disrespectful to a brother {Ibid., p. 45). In the 
Banks Islands the act is taboo to a woman in connection with her parents-in-law (The 
History of Melanesian Society, vol. i, p. 42). Is it not difficult to think of the act with 
Rivers as due to apprehensiveness of attack? 



The Cherry-Tree Carol. 293 

THE CHERRY-TREE CAROL. 

BY JOSEPHINE McGILL. 

Among recent additions to the list of American versions of British 
ballads is "The Cherry-Tree" (Child, No. 54). This quaint and 
beautiful carol was found by the present writer in the mountain 
region of Kentucky near Hindman, Knott County. 

The text is based on an apochryphal story in the Pseudo-Matthew 
Gospel, XX. The earliest English version is to be found in the 
fifteenth-century mysteries, where, as in all English versions, the 
cherry-tree figures. In some Continental versions the date-tree, which 
has the authority of the Apochrypha, is preserved (see Child). 

1. When Joseph was an old man. 

An old man was he, 
He married Virgin Mary, 
The Queen of Galilee. 

2. As Joseph and Mary 

Were walking one day: 
"Here are apples, here are cherries 
Enough to behold." 

3. Then Mary spoke to Joseph 

So meek and so mild: 
"Joseph, gather me some cherries, 
For I am with child." 

4. Then Joseph flew in anger. 

In anger flew he: 
"Let the father of the baby 
Gather cherries for thee." 

5. Then Jesus spoke a few words, 

A few words spoke he: 
"Let my mother have some cherries; 
Bow low down, cherry-tree." 

6. The cherry-tree bowed low down. 

Bowed low down to the ground, 
And Mary gathered cherries 
While Joseph stood around. 

7. Then Joseph took Mary 

All on his right knee: 
"O, what have I done? 
Lord have mercy on me!" 



294 Journal of American Folk- Lore. 



8. Then Joseph took Mary all, 

All on his left knee: 
"O, tell me, little baby, 

When thy birthday will be." 

9. "On the sixth day of January 

My birthday will be, 
When the stars in the elements 
Shall tremble with glee." 

So far as the present collector knows, this lovely antique carol has 
not hitherto been tabulated among the versions of British ballads 
found in America.^ 

Significant in connection with the last stanza is the fact that in 
certain sections of the Kentucky mountains Christmas is still cele- 
brated on January the sixth (Old Christmas). 
Louisville, Ky. 

1 Professor C. Alphonso Smith reports a version from Miss Ellen Dana Conway, Spott- 
sylvania County, Virginia, sung by an old negro who originally belonged to a family in 
Orange County, Virginia (Virginia Folk-Lore Society, Bulletin, vol. ii. No. 4, March, 
1916). The first stanza only is printed: 

"Joseph was an old man, 
And an old man was he. 
And he married Mary, 

The Queen of Galilee." — Eds. 



Annual Meeting of the Folk-Lore Society. 295 



TWENTY-SEVENTH ANNUAL MEETING OF THE AMER- 
ICAN FOLK-LORE SOCIETY. 

The twenty-seventh annual meeting of the American Fo'.k-Lore 
Society was held on Dec. 30, 1915, in the New National Museum in 
Washington, D.C. The Society met in affiliation with Section I of 
the Second Pan-American Scientific Congress, the American Anthro- 
pological Association, the International Congress of Americanists, 
the American Historical Association, and the Archaeological Institute 
of America. 

A meeting of the Council of the Society took place at noon of the 
preceding day, Dec. 29, 1915, in the New National Museum in Wash- 
ington, President Goddard in the Chair. Present: Messrs. Boas, 
Goddard, Fewkes, Lowie, Peabody, Tozzer, also Messrs. Michelson 
and Kidder. At this meeting the Secretary reported as follows: 

secretary's report. 

The membership of the Society, and the libraries subscribing to the 
Journal, present the following statistics: — 

1914- ipis- 

Honorary members 12 12 

Life members 10 10 

Annual members 333 389 

355 411 

Subscribing libraries 149 162 

The Secretary announces with great regret the death of Professor 
Frederic Ward Putnam, a past President and the President of the 
Boston Branch from its inception in 1890 till his death 

Charles Peabody, Secretary. 

The Secretary's Report was accepted as read. Reports of the 
Editor and the Treasurer were then read and are here given in full. 

editor's report. 

During the year 191 5 four numbers of the Journal were issued. 
The last number of 1915 will be devoted to Hispanic folk-lore, and will 
be issued in co-operation with the Hispanic Society of America. 

The efforts made during the year to organize work on French folk- 
lore in America have been successful, and, thanks to the co-operation 



296 Journal of A merican Folk-Lore. 

of Mr. C. M. Barbeau, beginning with the year 1916, the Journal will 
contain material on this subject. Through the efforts of Mr. Barbeau 
it has also been possible to increase the membership of the Society in 
Canada, based on the assumption that particular attention will be 
paid to the subject in question. 

The preparation of the index volume, which is in the hands of 
Miss M. L. Taylor, has proceeded during the past year. Owing to 
the European war, the printing of the volume will have to be somewhat 
delayed, and for this reason it seemed desirable to extend the index 
over the first twenty-five years. The material for the additional 
five volumes has been extracted and co-ordinated with the preceding 
material. 

Since the Journal has been so developed that North American 
Indian, English, French, and Spanish folk-lore in America are all 
well represented, it seems desirable to take steps to develop the field 
of Negro folk-lore, which heretofore has received only slight attention, 
and it will be the endeavor of the Editor to devise means of accomplish- 
ing this object. 

Franz Boas, Editor. 



TREASURER S REPORT, I915. 

RECEIPTS. 

Balance from 1914 IS25.58 

Membership: Boston Branch 276.00 

Cambridge Branch 150.00 

Canada Branch 133.00 

North Carolina Branch 66.00 

Texas Branch 51.00 

Missouri Branch 18.00 

At large 312.45 (1006.45) 

Publication Fund 132.00 

Sale of Memoirs and Journals 649.75 

Hougliton, Mifflin & Co., melting plates 18.48 

Charles Peabody, contribution to Index , 150.00 

Hispanic Society 350.00 

Interest 18.60 

Total receipts $2,850.86 



EXPENSES. 

The New Era Company, for manufacturing Journals (4) $1,091.54 

Rebates to Branches 95.00 

Postage 1 5. 1 1 

Typewriting and clerical work for Mr. Remick 7.59 

Collections 2.38 

Miss Taylor, for work on Index 150.00 

Amount carried forward $1,361.62 



Annual Meeting of the Folk-Lore Society. 297 

Amount brought foi-ward $1,361.62 

Printing 3-00 

Total expenses $1,364.62 

Balance on hand Jan. i, 1916 $1,486.24 

$2.850.86 

Audited Feb. 5, 1916. 
A. V. Kidder. 

Alfred M. Tozzer, Treasurer. 

Professor Dixon and Dr. Kidder were appointed Auditors. 

The Editor was given authority to issue during the ensuing year 
six numbers of the Journal and a Memoir, subject to the consent of 
the President and the Secretary consulting. 

The President was authorized to appoint Mrs. Elsie Clews Parsons 
upon the Editorial Board to assist in the publication of material on 
Negro folk-lore. 

The Treasurer was given authority, with the Secretary's consent, 
to enter into an arrangement with Messrs. G. E. Stechert & Co., for 
the taking-over of the collection of subscriptions of members on a 
ten per centum basis. 

The Council became a Nominating Committee, and prepared 
nominations for presentation to the Society, after which the Council 
adjourned. 

The nominations prepared by the Council were unanimously elected, 
and were as follows: — 

President, Robert H. Lowie. 

First Vice-President, G. L. Kittredge. 

Second Vice-President, J. Walter Fewkes. 

Editor, Franz Boas. 

Assistant Editors, G. L. Kittredge, C. M. Barbeau, A. M. 
Espinosa. 

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, Phillips Barry, C. M. Barbeau, 
A. M. Espinosa. 

The Editor moved a rising vote of thanks to the Secretary for his 
assistance to himself in securing clerical work. This was given to the 
great appreciation of the Secretary. 

In accordance with the Resolution adopted Dec. 30, 1914, at 
Philadelphia, no special section devoted to the reading of folk-lore 
papers was announced on the programme (see "Journal of American 
Folk-Lore," Jan.-March, 1915, p. loi). 



298 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

The following papers were announced on the official programme of 
the Nineteenth International Congress of Americanists. 

C. Alphonso Smith, "Ballads surviving in the United States." 

G. G. King, "Two Notes on Spanish Folk-Lore." 

James Mooney, "The Sacred Literature of the Cherokee." 

Phillips Barry, "The Oracles of the Saints." 

Sr. Federico Alfonso Pezet, "Notes on the Folk-Lore of the 
Peruvian Indians." 

Frank G. Speck, "Herb Medicine Practices of the Northeastern 
Algonkins." 

Charles Peabody, Secretary. 



Local Meetings. 299 



LOCAL MEETINGS. 

Kentucky Branch. — The Kentucky Branch of the American Folk-Lore 
Society held an open meeting in Louisville at three o'clock on the afternoon 
of April 21. About seventy-five people were present. The following pro- 
gramme was given: Presidential address, Professor L. L. Dantzler, Univer- 
sity of Kentucky, Lexington; "Survival of the Traditional Ballad in Ken- 
tucky," Mrs. Ewing Marshall, Louisville; "The Modern Mountain Song," 
Professor John F. Smith, Berea College; "Bad-Luck Superstitions in 
Kentucky," Professor D. L Thomas, Centre College, Danville; "A Note 
on Folk-Wit," Professor E. C. Perrow, University of Louisville. At the 
close of the literary programme a business meeting was held. After 
routine business had been taken care of and thirteen new members had been 
received, the following ofificers were elected: President, Professor E. C. 
Perrow, University of Louisville; Vice-Presidents, Mrs. Ewing Marshall of 
Louisville, and Miss Alice A. Cassity of Mount Sterling; Secretary, Professor 
D. L Thomas, Centre College, Danville; Treasurer, Professor John F. 
Smith, Berea College. 

Virginia Folk-Lore Society. — The following are the ofificers of the 
Virginia Folk-Lore Society for the year just begun: President, James M. 
Grainger, Farmville; Vice-President and Archivist, Dr. C. Alphonso Smith, 
University; Vice-Presidents, E. H. Russell (Fredericksburg), Miss Martha 
M. Davis (Harrisonburg), Miss Jane Rutherford (Richmond), Evan R. 
Chesterman (Richmond), Professor W. E. Gilbert (East Radford), Miss 
Juliet Fauntleroy (Lynch Station); Secretary- Treasurer, Professor Walter 
A. Montgomery, Richmond College, Richmond. 



THE JOURNAL OF 

AMERICAN FOLK-LORE. 

Vol. XXIX.— JULY-SEPTEMBER, 1916.— No. CXIII. 



EUROPEAN TALES FROM THE UPPER THOMPSON 

INDIANS. 

BY JAMES TEIT. 
I. STORY OF SPIOLA.^ 

There was a white man who had a wife and daughter. The wife 
died, and he married another woman, who also bore him a daughter. 
The step-mother was always angry with her step-daughter, and ac- 
cused her of being lazy. One day in the winter-time, when there was 
much snow on the ground, she told her to go and pick berries. The 
girl knew that no berries could be found at that season ; but she was so 
hurt by the nagging of her step-mother, that she said she would go. 
She put some food in her basket and wandered off, saying to herself, 
" I will continue wandering around until I die." After a time she saw 
the smoke of a lodge, which she approached and entered. Four young 
men lived there, who were her relatives, but she did not know it. 
They gave her food to eat, and asked her why she travelled in the snow. 
She answered that she had a bad step-mother, who always scolded her, 
and had sent her out to pick berries in the snow. They gave her a 
snow-shovel, or scraper of some kind, and told her to go up on the roof 
of the house and dig away the snow. When she had removed the 
snow from the roof of the house, she saw that it was covered with 
earth, in which grew many strawberries of large size. The men passed 
up her basket, and she soon filled it with the finest strawberries. When 
she had come down and was about to leave, the men said, "What shall 
we do for our sister?" She answered, " If by any means you can help 
me, I shall be glad. I am very poor, and have only rags to wear." 
Now, the youngest brother told her to spit; and when she spat, the 
spittle became a nugget of gold. The next brother made shoes for her 

1 The meaning of the word is unknown. The story is also called "Who spits Gold," 
"The woman who spat Gold," "The Woman who picked Strawberries in the Winter- 
Time," "The Woman who was said to hav-e had a Cat for a Child." However, the com- 
mon name for the story is " Spiola " or "Pibla." — J. T. 

See Johannes Bolte and Georg Polivka, Anmerkungen zu den Kinder- u. Haus- 
marchen der Bruder Grimm, vol. i, p. 99. — F. B. 
VOL. XXIX. — NO. 113. — 20. 301 



302 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

of very fine material, which fitted her perfectly, and would never wear 
out. The third brother made a dress for her in the same way. The 
eldest brother said, " I will make a robe for her which will always look 
well and new, and will never wear out." ^ As the brothers in succession 
made their awards, each article in turn appeared on her person, while 
her old clothes disappeared. She returned home with the basketful of 
strawberries, and delivered them to her step-mother, who was much 
surprised. She noticed that the clothes of the girl were all changed 
and of very fine material, and that she had the power of spitting gold, 
which she would gather up and put in a sack. This made her angry. 

She said to her own daughter, "You see what your elder sister has 
brought us. She managed to find some berries. Go and get some 
too." She told her secretly to follow the tracks of her sister. She 
would then be sure of reaching the same place, and learn how she had 
obtained the strawberries, the fine clothes, and the power of spitting 
gold. The girl took her basket and departed. When she arrived at 
the house of the four brothers, they gave her food to eat, and asked 
her why she was travelling at that time of year. She answered, 
"My mother ordered me to go and gather strawberries, although it is 
winter-time and no berries are to be found. However, my sister found 
some, and my mother said I could get some at the same place." The 
men directed her as they had her sister; and after removing the snow 
from the roof, she found strawberries growing profusely underneath. 
When she had filled her basket and was about to return, the brothers 
said, "What shall we do for our sister?" The youngest man asked her 
to spit, but she felt insulted at the request. She was vain and haughty. 
She thought they were fooling her. They intended to help her, but 
became disgusted on account of her vanity, and decided to give her 
nothing good. At last she spat, and the spittle turned into a toe-nail 
and smelled like toe-nails. The other brothers refused to help her in 
any way. She returned with the strawberries, and gave them to her 
mother. The latter noticed that she had no new clothes, and felt 
disappointed. She asked her to spit, but instead of gold she spat a 
bad-smelling toe-nail. She told her not to spit again. 

One day the chief's son was passing, and saw the elder girl busy wash- 
ing clothes. He liked her looks and her dress. His father, whom 
he told of his admiration for the girl, encouraged him to visit her and 
make her acquaintance. He said, "You may change your mind when 
you see her again." The young man visited the girl and held some 
conversation with her, during which she coughed and spat on the 
ground several times. He returned and told his father that the girl 
he fancied could spit gold nuggets. His father would not believe it, 

1 Some say the third brother "made leggings" and "dress" for her; and the eldest 
brother, a "robe" and a "handkerchief for the head or neck." 



European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians. 303 

and went to see for himself. During his conversation with her, she 
spat repeatedly, and picked up the gold nuggets and put them in a 
sack she carried. He asked her to spit again. He picked up the 
spittle and satisfied himself that it was really gold. Then he advised 
his son to marry her, saying, "She is a valuable woman, she is worth 
many." 

Now, it was reported that the chief's son was to marry the girl who 
could spit gold. All the white people came to the great wedding. At 
the end of the wedding feast the bride spat out much gold, so the 
wedding guests carried away some to their homes. Thus the bride 
provided them all with presents, and became renowned, and well 
liked by all. 

In due time She-who-spat-Gold became pregnant. When she was 
about to be delivered, her husband was called away to an important 
meeting in a distant place, from which he could not return for a month. 
The chieftainess asked her husband to request his mother to attend 
her when her time came, as she had no faith in her step-mother, who 
might use the opportunity to do her harm. Her husband, how- 
ever, assuaged her misgivings, and insisted that her step-mother, 
who was an expert midwife, and her half-sister, should assist her. 

When ^ she was about to give birth, her step-mother made a hole in 
the floor, placed the young woman over it, and, when the child was 
born, she cut the navel-string and let the infant fall through the hole. 
Then she put a cat in its place; and when the mother sat up and asked 
for her child, the step-mother put the cat in her arms. The woman 
said, "It is strange that I should give birth to a cat!" The step- 
mother said, "Odd people have odd children." The young woman 
reared the cat as if it were her own child. 

Her husband was disappointed when he returned, but said nothing. 
Again the woman became pregnant, and again her husband was called 
away about the time of her delivery. She was again attended by her 
step-mother, who dropped the child through a hole in the floor. This 
time she gave the woman a snake, telling her that she had given birth 
to it. She added, "How strange are the children to which you give 
birth!" On the return of the husband, the step-mother told him that 
he ought to kill his wife, because she was giving birth to cats and 
snakes. She told him that he ought to marry her own daughter, who 
was a good woman, and would give birth to proper children. The chief 
and all the people held a meeting, and decided that his wife should 
be killed. They bound her with iron, took her in a canoe to the 
middle of the lake, and cast her overboard. 

Now, the four brothers knew what was happening, and were there 

1 The following incidents belong to the group of stories " De drei Viigelkens" (Bolte 

and Polivka, /. c, vol. ii, p. 380). Here belongs also the incident of the speaking bird. 

F. B. 



304 Journal of American Folk-Lore, 

under the water to intercept her, and prevent her from drowning. 
They untied her, and after telHng her that her real children were aHve, 
and that things would come well in the end, they transformed her into 
a goose, and she swam about on the lake. The chief's son did not like 
his new wife, because she was disgusting and smelled nasty. 

Now, She-who-spat-Gold had a favorite dog called "Spi5la," which 
she had not seen since the time of the birth of her first child. He lived 
or slept underneath the house ; and when the step-mother dropped the 
baby through the hole, he had taken charge of it. He licked off the 
blood, got some white cloth to made a bed for it and to cover it. He 
had gone to town and got milk to feed it. Later he gathered other 
kinds of food and fed it, thus rearing the boy successfully. He had 
done the same with the younger boy. When the boys were large 
enough to run about, they came out of their house, and often played 
near the lake, watching the goose, which frequently approached them, 
crying. Spiola had to go on trips to gather food, and always warned 
them not to go too far away during his absence, or let any one see 
them. 

One day, however, the old step-mother noticed them, and tried to 
capture them; but they disappeared in a small hole under the house, 
;and blocked it with a stone from the inside. She made up her mind 
to poison them. She scattered some fine food, which the children ate 
lind then died. When Spiola came home, he missed the boys. After 
a while he took their scent, found them, and carried their bodies into 
his house. 

As^ he could not resuscitate them, he started off to the Sun toseekhelp. 
He ran continually day and night, for Sun lived a long way off. On 
the way he passed an old horse, who asked him where he was going. 
He answered, "To the Sun," but did not stop or look around. The 
horse shouted, "Ask the Sun why I am growing old!" 

At another place he passed an apple-tree, which in like manner ad- 
dressed him, and called on him to ask Sun what made it dry up and its 
wood turn dead. 

Again he passed a spring of water, which also called on him to ask 
the Sun why it was drying up. After running many days and nights, 
he came to the edge of the earth. There he saw a stretch of water, 
and on the other side the house of the Sun. He jumped into the water 
and swam across. He was almost exhausted before he reached the 
opposite shore, and his body was reduced to almost nothing but bones, 
owing to his arduous journey. 

When he arrived at the Sun's house, an old woman, the mother of 
the Sun, met him, and asked him why he had come there. She said, 
"No one comes to see us unless he is in great trouble and requires 

1 See Bolte and Polivka, vol. i, pp. 2S2 et seq. The following part of the story be- 
longs to the cj'cle of the youth who goes to get three golden hairs of the demon. — F. B. 



European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians. 305 

help and wisdom." Spiola told her that his two foster-children were 
dead, and he had come to ask help, so that they might be restored. 
He told her all that had happened. She fed him, and he immediately 
began to gain strength on the good food used by the Sun people. 

The old woman advised him what to do. He must watch the Sun 
when he spat. He would spit twice, — the first time for the elder boy, 
and the second time for the younger one. Spiola must carefully 
gather up the spittle, and keep the one apart from the other. The 
questions he wished to ask in behalf of the people he had passed on the 
road, she would ask the Sun herself, and Spiola would hear the answers. 

The Sun spoke of the dead children, and spat twice on the ground. 
Spiola gathered up the spittle carefully, and wrapped each separately 
in thin bark. Sun said the children would become quite well if treated 
within four days; but after that it would be too late, for their bodies 
would begin to decompose. 

Now, the old woman asked Sun the questions. She said, "A horse 
wants to know why he is growing old." Sun answered, " Because he is 
lazy. He feeds too much in one place. He is too lazy to search for 
good nutritious grass, and he is too lazy to go to water regularly. He 
will stand for days in one place rather than go any distance to get 
water." She said, "The apple-tree wants to know why it is drying up." 
Sun answered, "Because it is too lazy, and because it has a nail in its 
trunk. If it removes the nail, and loosens the ground around its roots 
and spreads them out to gather moisture, and prunes off the dead and 
useless wood, then it will retain its youth ; but it is too lazy to do this." 
She said, "The little spring wants to know why it is drying up." Sun 
answered, "Because it is too lazy. If it removes all the dead twigs 
and leaves which choke it up, if it makes a clean channel for itself to 
run in, and drains the neighboring moist places into itself, it will always 
run and be healthy." 

Spiola was in despair when he learned that he had to be back in four 
days to save the lives of the two children. It had taken him more 
than double that time to reach the abode of the Sun. The old woman 
consoled him, and told him he could reach home in time by taking 
another route. She said, "You will start early to-morrow morning, 
and follow the Sun on his journey. You must travel as fast as you can. 
The way he takes is a very' straight and short course, and you may 
reach home in one day." 

Spi6la started the following morning, and, following the Sun's 
tracks, he arrived at home about nightfall. As he passed the small 
spring, the apple-tree, and the old horse, he informed them without 
stopping what the Sun had said.^ 

Now, Spiola rubbed the spittle on the mouths of the children, and 

1 Some say they acted on the advice, and became healthy and lived a long time. 



3o6 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

at once they returned to life. It was the same as if their breath had 
come back. When they became alive, each boy showed a luminous 
spot on the forehead: on the forehead of one shone a sun, and on that 
of the other a bright moon. Both were beautiful to behold. 

Spiola told their mother the Goose that he was now going on another 
journey to see the wise Bird,^ and she must warn her children of ap- 
proaching danger. He told the boys, "When you hear the Goose on 
the lake calling loudly, you must go home at once and hide, for the 
people may see you and kill you again." Spiola ran with all swiftness 
to the house of the Bird who talked all languages, knew the future, 
and never told a lie. He dwelt on the top of a pinnacle of clear ice in a 
snowy region. Spiola rushed at the cliff, and just managed to cHmb 
to the top of the ice before his claws had worn off. He told the Bird 
what he had come for, and asked his help, for every one believed what 
he said. The Bird answered, "I know your need is great, and I pity 
you." Spiola put the Bird under his robe, and slid down the ice. 
He brought him to the children, and the Bird seemed to be very glad to 
see them. 

The day after the Bird had arrived, the father of the boys heard 
talking underneath the house, and resolved to investigate its cause. 
Some of the voices were like those of children. He found the entrance 
to their abode, but was unable to throw down the stone which blocked 
. it. Spiola removed the stone, and asked him to come in. He said, 
"The passage is too small. I cannot pass through." Spiola replied, 
" If you try, you will manage it." He squeezed through, and was sur- 
prised to find himself in a large room, well kept and clean, and full of 
many kinds of food. When he saw the Bird there, he knew something 
important was going to happen, for he never came excepting when 
required to settle a serious difficulty which the chief himself and people 
could not decide properly. When Spiola told all that had happened, 
the chief's son became exceedingly sorry that he had killed his first wife, 
and had believed her step-mother. He told his father what he had 
learned, and a meeting was called for a certain day to inquire into the 
truth of the matter. Meanwhile the chief gave orders that the toe- 
nail woman, or She-who-spits-Toe-Nails, should be kept a prisoner in 
her house with her mother. The doors and windows of the house were 
all battened and nailed up. Now, Spiola went to the lake, and called 
the Goose, whom he shook until her goose-skin fell ofT. She-who- 
spits-Gold was restored to her natural form. She and her sons, the 
wise Bird, and Spiola, all attended the meeting when the people were 
gathered. The Bird told the true story in all its details, and every one 
believed him. He praised Spiola for his courage in running to the 

1 It seems this bird was old and lived all alone. From his house he could hear and see 
everything. The narrator said perhaps the bird was a parrot, but he did not know. 



European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians. 307 

house of the Sun for the breath of the children. The chief ordered the 
two women to be taken out and hanged publicly. This the people did. 
The chief's son took back his wife, and they lived thenceforth in a 
great house, which was richly ornamented with gold by his wife. He 
became chief after his father, and his son became chief after him. 



2. STORY OF EIGHT-HEADS.^ 

This story is a combination of many of the incidents in the tale of 
Snlnaz and Seven-Heads ^ and that of the Grizzly Bear boy (SkElauna). 
It contains no incidents not found in these. All the adventures occur 
in the underground world, into which the lad is lowered by his com- 
panions. Here he kills several monsters, who prey on the people on 
earth. At last he kills Eight-Heads and rescues the chief's daughters, 
who are hoisted up by his companions. Thinking they might kill 
him, he puts a stone in the basket. They cut the rope, and there is 
no way for him to get up. He finds Bald-Headed Eagle, who eventu- 
ally takes him up on his back. He proves himself to be the savior of 
the chief's daughters by going through a number of tests, and exhibit- 
ing tokens, and obtains a large reward for the killing of Eight-Heads, 
which he proves by showing his eight tongues. The girls recognize 
the lad, and further prove that he is their deliverer. He marries them, 
and becomes a celebrated chief. The incidents narrated in the first 
part of the Shuswap story of Snanaz and Seven-Heads are not related. 

3. STORY OF THE THREE BROTHERS AND THEIR DOG.^ 

There were three brothers who went travelling.* The youngest was 
still a small boy, and the eldest carried him most of the time. They 
had a small dog that followed them. They met a horde of ants mi- 
grating from their hill. The elder brothers thought they would kill 
the ants; but the youngest brother advised them to desist, saying, 
"The ants are our friends, and will some day assist us." They trav- 
elled on, and came to a gray snake, which the brothers wanted to kill; 
but the youngest told them not to do so, as the gray snake was their 
friend. They met the striped snake, the garter snake, the bull snake, 

1 Compare also the following story of the three brothers and their dog, which contains 
another version of Eight-Heads. The story belongs to the group of tales of "John the 
Bear."— J. T. 

See Bolte and Polivka, vol. ii, p. 297; F. Panzer, Untersuchungen zur deutschen 
Heldensage, vol. i. — F. B. 

2 See James A. Teit, "The Shuswap" (Publications of thejesup North Pacific Ex- 
pedition, vol. ii, pp. 705. 754-755)- Leyden, E. J. Brill. 

' Compare the preceding story of Eight-Heads. — J. T. 
See Bolte and Polivka, vol. i, p. 134; vol. ii, p. 21. — F. B. 

* The narrator had forgotten the previous history of the boys, the reason why they 
went travelling, and also their names. 



3o8 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

and all other kinds of snakes, which the brothers wanted to kill. They 
desisted, however, at the request of the youngest one. Last of all, 
they met the rattlesnake. The elder brothers wanted to kill it; but 
the youngest told them to desist, as it was their friend, and some day 
would assist them. 

Finally they came to a village of people who were in dread of a canni- 
bal called Eight-Heads,^ who lived near the top of a butte in the 
neighborhood. They told many tales of this ferocious monster. Near 
the butte was a tree which many people had tried to chop down. For 
a long distance around no other trees grew. As soon as any one began 
to chop the tree, Eight-Heads appeared and killed him. It was be- 
lieved that, if the tree were killed, Eight-Heads also might die, or at 
least would leave the place. For this reason the chief offered a large 
reward to any one who would chop down the tree, and a still larger 
reward to any one who would kill Eight-Heads. The brothers said 
they would go and try. When near the tree, the youngest boy called 
on their friends the ants ^ and snakes to come to their assistance. The 
snakes encircled and entwined the tree, thus killing it. Eight-Heads 
appeared, and attacked the brothers; but the youngest drew a short 
sword, and cut off his heads one by one. As each head dropped, 
the little dog licked up the blood until the ground was dry. Thus he 
killed the heads and prevented them from joining the trunk. Eight- 
Heads had been decapitated before, but always came to life again, 
because the heads grew on to the body. The lads returned to town, 
and were paid the reward, after the chief had satisfied himself that 
both the tree and Eight-Heads were dead. He went to the hill and 
viewed the remains. 

4. STORY OF bear-boy; or, jack the bear.' 

A man's wife strayed away ^ in the mountains or woods, and was met 
by a Grizzly Bear, who took her captive and made her his wife. He 
locked her up in his den, which was a cave in a cliff, and would not let 

1 Also called Four-Heads by some. 

* The narrator had forgotten the role played by the ants. He said this was a long and 
very interesting story, but he had forgotten most of it. He was not even sure if he had 
related correctly any of the incidents given. 

« This tale (from two informants, an old man and a young man) is comparatively full, 
it seems, as it contains all the incidents in the Utamqt story of "Jack," also known as 
"The Wonderful Boy" and "Grizzly-Bear Boy" (see Mythology of the Thompson In- 
dians, Publications of the Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. viii, pp. 292-294), and 
most of the incidents of the stories of Bear-Boy and Earth-Transformer. Compare also 
Mythology of the Thompson Indians, pp. 358-360, 380, and 390. Also known simply as 
"Jack," and "Jack the Traveller," and "Grizzly-Bear's Son." — J. T. 

See note i, p. 307. — F. B. 

< Some say she was digging roots. 



European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians. 309 

her out. Her husband searched for her, but could not find her. 
There she was kept by the Bear for many years, and at no time was 
she allowed to go out. The cave had four doors, each of which con- 
sisted of a heavy bowlder. These opened and shut automatically at 
the approach of the Bear. 

After a year the woman bore a son,^ who soon grew up to be a young 
man of extraordinary strength. He also was never allowed outside. 
His mother told him her story, and the boy promised that he would 
set her free. One day when the Bear came home, the boy attacked 
and killed him.^ Then he donned his skin and approached one of the 
doors, which mistook him for the Grizzly Bear and let him out. It 
was about to close again on the approach of his mother, but he held it 
open by main strength until she had passed through. He carried the 
grizzly-bear skin with him; and whenever he put it on, he became a 
bear. 

They travelled to his mother's home. It took her former husband 
some time to recognize her,^ and he was very glad to see her. He 
thought she had long been dead. He had turned very old, for time 
went faster in the outside world than in the Bear's den. 

They discussed what they should do with their son, and agreed that 
they would make a priest of him. They sent him to school; but his 
schoolmates always abused him, making remarks about his size, fingers, 
and personal appearance. They also called him a bastard and Bear's 
son. At last he became angry at this treatment; and one day he 
donned his bear's slcin, went to the school, and killed all the boys ex- 
cepting three of the best ones, who begged for mercy and were spared. 
They said they would be his servants and do whatever he told them. 

Bear-Boy, or Jack, went home and told his parents that he intended 
to travel all over the country, but before leaving he would procure 
sufficient food for the years of his absence. For four days he went 
looking for work. He had taken his father along. Whenever they came 
to a house, Jack hid himself, and only the old man applied for work. 
The white people laughed at the idea that the old man should be able 
to clear the large trees that were on their land. At last they showed 
the old man the fields that had to be cleared, and named the amount 
they would pay, and said he might try it if he wished. Jack had a 
huge axe made by a blacksmith, and with this he chopped down all 
the trees in one day. The old man went for his pay, but the owners 
would not believe that he had cut all the timber until they went and 
looked. They were surprised, and asked him to put up a log-fence 

1 Some say she ■w'as pregnant when taken away. 

2 The narrator said he had forgotten exactly how he killed him. He had heard more 
than one version. 

^ The narrator said there was some mark by which he recognized her, but he had for- 
gotten. He thought it was a mark of some kind on her face. 



310 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

around the entire clearing. This Jack also finished in a single day. 
Then they asked him to pile and fire all the trees and brush, and to 
pull out the stumps. These two tasks Jack accomplished on the third 
and fourth days. The proceeds of these four days' work were ample to 
maintain his parents in food and other necessities for several years. 

Jack joined his three companions, who were very strong men, and 
half bears.^ When they put on their skins, all were exceedingly strong 
and fierce.^ They came to a place where white people lived, who 
wanted a large tract of land smoothed and levelled. It was all humps 
and hollows. The four strong men accompHshed this in one day, 
earning a large sum of money. Then they went to another place, 
where some whites wanted a large tract of land cleared of stones. This 
they also accomplished in one day, earning much money. They went 
to another place where a large tract of land required ploughing, and to 
a fourth place where sowing and harrowing were required. There 
they earned large sums of money in like manner. 

They went on and came to a log-cabin, which appeared to be in- 
habited, for everything was neat and clean inside, and cooking had 
been done there lately.^ Pots and pans and food in abundance were 
there, also a bed and chair and a gun. They thought they would stay 
there for a time, as everything looked comfortable. They saw no one 
around, but thought the owner of the cabin would appear later. Jack 
said they would hunt next day and leave one man behind to cook. 
The youngest one staid at home. While he was cooking, a small and 
very ugly man ^ suddenly appeared in the cabin and ordered him out, 
saying that the place belonged to him, and that he would kill him if he 
did not leave. A quarrel ensued, in which, after a long encounter, the 
stranger thrashed his antagonist severely and then left. When the 
others returned from hunting, they found their friend in bed, and noth- 
ing cooked. He would not answer their queries as to why he acted 
thus. Jack cooked, and they all ate. 

On the following day the next youngest staid behind to cook, and 
the same thing happened. Then the eldest one remained at home, 
and on the fourth day Jack himself. Jack fought with the mysterious 
stranger, and hurt him so badly that he ran away, leaving a trail of 

* The narrator had forgotten their exact names, but one was named because he had 
power over earth and could remove it with the greatest ease. In the same way another 
could remove stones, and the third had power over trees and wood. 

2 From here the story is very similar to that of Earth- Transformer. 

' Some say an inviting meal was cooked and ready to be eaten. The man who owned 
the house was a cannibal, who used it as a trap for people who were hungry or tired. If 
they ate of the meal or rested in the bed, and fell asleep, the cannibal killed them and car- 
ried them off to his home underground. The house was near the trail. Jack threw out the 
contents of the dishes. 

* Some say he had a long beard and long nails, others say he was of a dark or black color. 



European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians. 311 

blood. Jack cooked, and had everything ready for his companions 
when they came home. 

On the next day they followed the tracks of the wounded man, and 
found that they led to a covered hole in the ground. They discovered 
a rope leading down. They shook the rope. At once a small bell 
rang, and the rope moved rapidly, bringing up a basket,^ which stopped 
just below the entrance to the hole. Jack proposed that they should 
all go down; but his companions were afraid, and said they would stay 
above and watch until he returned. If anything went wrong, they 
would haul him up. Jack entered the basket, which immediately 
descended. On reaching the bottom, it stopped, and Jack stepped out. 
Here he saw blood, and knew it must be from the wounded man. He 
followed the tracks, and came to a house, which he entered. Here he 
was accosted by a man, who was lying near a small fire, and appeared 
to be sick. When Jack's eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he 
noticed that the man was very ugly and black, and had a big wound in 
his side. He was covered with soot. The man arose and ordered 
Jack out. The two quarrelled and fought; but Jack ran him through 
with an iron spear ^ which he carried, and killed him. 

When Jack looked around, he discovered an iron door which led 
into another room. He forced it open with his iron spear. Inside he 
found four boxes full of valuables. One contained gold coin, another 
silver coin, another bank-notes, and another copper coin. In another 
place he found a barrel,^ which contained ornaments of jewelry and 
gold, silver, and precious stones. The jewelry and money had be- 
longed to the victims whom the cannibal had killed. The bones of 
these people were scattered about in the outer chamber. Jack found 
another door leading into a third chamber. He burst it open and 
discovered three beautiful girls, who were overpowered with joy to 
see him. They said they were daughters of a chief, and had been held 
captive for several years. They called him their husband, and thanked 
him for liberating them. They took off their rings, which had their 
names inside, and gave them to him as tokens that they were his wives. 
They also said he might need the rings if misfortune should befall him. 
They carried the money and jewelry to the entrance. Jack put one of 
the women in the basket, shook the rope, and she was hauled up. His 
friends were surprised to see a woman appear instead of Jack. They 
learned that two more women were to come up. When the last one 
had been pulled up, the three men thought, "There is one for each of us. 
If Jack comes up, there will not be enough women for all." When 
the basket had gone down again, Jack filled it with money and jewelry. 
The bell rang, and the basket began to ascend. When half way up, 

1 Some say a golden bucket. 

2 Some say a spear tipped with iron, others say a staff. 

3 Some say a box or trunk. 



312 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

they cut the rope, and basket and all fell down to the bottom. They 
thought they had killed Jack, and were sorry; but the desire to have 
the women was too great a temptation. 

They went to the nearest town, where the chief recognized his 
daughters. The three Bear men claimed the girls as their wives, 
saying they had liberated them from a cannibal who lived in the under- 
ground world; but, as the women declared that they were not their 
true liberators, the chief refused to give up his daughters. He said if 
the real liberator did not come and claim the women within a year, 
then he would marry them to the three. 

Jack could find no way of escape, and travelled about in the under- 
ground world until he came to a lake, where he saw a Crane,* who was 
very poor, because he could not eat properly, owing to a bone which 
stuck in his throat, and which he could not remove. Jack removed 
it for him. Then he told Crane of his plight, and the latter promised 
to help him in reward for what he had done. Crane told him where to 
find animals and fish, and Jack went hunting and fishing every day. 
He fed Crane abundantly, and the latter began to get fat. After he 
had regained his strength, he told him he would try to fly up and out of 
the hole. He said, "I will test myself by flying with a load."^ Jack 
gave him a load of paper money, with which he managed to reach the 
top. When he was stronger, he gave him a heavier load, and thus in 
time he sent all the money and jewelry to the top. Now Crane was 
very strong, and thought he would try to take up Jack. He told Jack 
to fill four hoofs with meat, so that, if he became exhausted in the 
flight, he could be strengthened by food. Jack did as directed, and 
fed Crane when he became exhausted. When Crane approached the 
top, the meat was finished, and he began to sink down. Then Jack 
cut off some of his own flesh and fed it to Crane, who was thus enabled 
to reach the top. Jack jumped off and thanked Crane, who now 
returned. 

He went to town and bought materials and hired men to build a 
house. He built it on a lot which he bought within sight of the chief's 
house. The women recognized him frorn their window, and told their 
father, who sent for him. Jack showed the rings and proved that he 
was the deliverer of the women, who became his wives. He met his 
companions, and gave them most of the money. To one he gave the 
copper, to one the silver, and to one the bills. He gave the jewelry 
to his wives. The gold he kept for himself. Now he bought a horse 
and buggy, and drove home to his parents' house with his wives. 
There he built a fine new house, and lived thenceforth with his wives 
and parents. He had many children and was wealthy. 

1 Some say Bald-Headed Eagle. 

* Some say he tried a stone first, and flew across the lake. At Crane's request, Jack 
placed a flat stone on his back. It was nearly too much for Crane, who was still weak. 



European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians. 313 

5-1 1. STORIES OF JACK. 

The narrator stated that although stories of Jack were rather common, he 
did not know them well. Certain persons knew them and related them. 
Some people knew certain stories better than others, and the ones they 
knew best they generally told and were asked to tell. Two men might 
have a number or even most of their stories in common, and would relate 
them nearly alike; but each would have certain stories he knew more fully 
than the other, and a few stories the other did not know. Some men and 
women had knowledge of a great many stories, many of which they could 
relate very fully, while other individuals could hardly tell a single story 
quite fully. Some new stories were introduced by men from time to time; 
and some old stories once common would go out of vogue, and lingered only 
in the memory of a very few. No doubt, a number of stories have been 
lost, and others have been changed by people relating them, who did not 
know them well, and who did not have a large knowledge of stories, so that 
they could differentiate between details of stories that were somewhat 
alike. Thus incidents belonging to one story were attached to another, 
and different versions arose. The stories of Jack (or John) have been told 
in the tribe at least for sixty or seventy years; how much longer is difficult 
to say. Some people considered them to be white man's stories, although 
they could not state how they came to be told by the Indians. Others 
considered that Jack (the hero of these stories) was an Indian who travelled 
to the country of the whites; and therefore the scenes of most incidents 
occurred in the white people's country, or on the borders thereof. Some 
people claimed there were several Jacks: such as Jack the trickster, as in 
the story of Jack that fooled the priests; and Jack the hero, who went 
abroad; and probably others. One of these Jacks was also a grizzly bear. 
Some of the Jack stories were told at great length. He narrated some 
incidents of the trickster stories, the only one he knew, but he said there 
were many others that he had heard but forgotten. 

5. Jack and the Priest.'^ 

Jack was travelling along a hillside, and saw a priest coming up a 
trail. The priest was dressed in black, and was riding a horse.^ He 
was holding a book, probably the Bible, which he was reading. Jack 
thought, "I will fool him and get his horse." He ran ahead to where 
the priest would pass. There was a large bowlder there on a very 
steep part of the hillside, immediately below the trail.^ Jack put his 
back against it, and pretended to be holding it back. He pretended to 
be greatly fatigued by the effort. The priest noticed him, and asked 
him what he was doing. He said, "Come here quickly and help me! 
I am almost overcome. I noticed this bowlder was about to roll, so 

1 Nos. S and 6 were related by one informant. — J. T. 

This tale is of particular interest, since it belongs to the characteristic Spanish- 
American and American negro rabbit cycle. See Franz Boas, " Notes on Mexican Folk- 
Lore " (this Journal, vol. xxv, p. 250, note 5). — F. B. 

2 Some say a black mare, others say a mule. 
5 Some say near a bridge. 



314 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

I ran here to hold it. If it rolls down the side-hill, it will kill the people 
below." ^ There were many people working in a hay-field directly 
below. The priest jumped off his horse, and ran to his assistance. 
Jack told him to push hard against it with his back. He said, "You 
can hold it for a while. I am very tired. I will take your horse and 
run up the hill quickly to a place I know, where there is a block of 
wood. I will bring it back, and then we can block up the bowlder so 
that it will not roll." The priest assented, and Jack rode up the hill 
at a fast pace. When he was out of sight, he headed the horse to a 
town near by. There he saw a race going on, and at once entered 
for it. He won the race and a considerable amount of money. The 
people said, "That horse looks just like the priest's horse; but it cannot 
be the same, for the priest's horse is no racer." They offered to buy 
the horse, and Jack sold it at a high price. Then he went on to the 
next town, and gambled with the money. He had a good time. 
Meanwhile the priest began to sweat and tremble, holding the bowlder. 
He thought he felt it move when he slackened his exertions. At last 
he became thoroughly exhausted, ran to the side, and lay down. He 
found the bowlder was quite stable. He had no horse, and walked 
back to town, which he reached very tired after midnight.^ 

6. Jack and the Hat} 

Jack was passing along a road near a village. He saw a man ^ com- 
ing who was wearing a very fine hat. Jack's hat was very old and 
shabby. He thought, "I will get that hat." He defecated on the 
road, and covered his excrement with his own hat. He pretended to 
hold the hat down. The man asked him what he was doing. He 
said, " I caught a pretty bird on the road, and am holding my hat over 
it so that it may not escape. The bird is worth money. If you will 
hold it down for a short time, and loan me your hat, I will run to the 
nearest store and get a cage to put the bird in. We will share the value 
of the bird. Do not lift the hat to look at the bird, for it might get 
away." The stranger agreed, and Jack ran off wearing the stranger's 
hat. W^hen he came to the store, he sold the hat, getting a new hat 
and some money for it. The stranger at last got tired holding down 
the supposed bird, and, lifting the hat, saw nothing but excrement 
underneath. 

1 Some say "it would spoil or block the road." 

* Some say the priest called for help. Coyote (or some one else) came along, and asked 
him what he was doing. The priest told him, and asked him to hasten and help him. 
Coyote said, "You fool! that stone does not move." 

' I have heard versions of this story in Europe. 

* Some say he was a policeman, others that he was a chief. 



European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians. 315 

7. Jack and the Church} 

Jack was travelling along, and came to a fine church which the 
priests had just finished. He defecated near it, and then went away. 
The priests and the frequenters of the church were very much annoyed 
at the evil smell. They discovered the source of the smell, but knew 
not how to get rid of it. They all held a meeting, and discussed what 
they should do about it. They proposed to move the church to beyond 
the reach of the smell; but, as this entailed much money and labor, 
they offered a reward to any one who would enlighten them as to the 
best thing to do. Jack attended and claimed the reward, telling them 
that the proper and easiest way was to move the excrement, and not the 
church. Having done this, and there being no more smell, he was paid 
the reward. 

8. Jack and the Pot? 

Jack travelled along, and came to a house belonging to a woman who 
did washing. He was very hungry, and said he would fetch water and 
split wood for her if she would feed him. She fed him, and he staid 
with her for a considerable time. One day the washerwoman sent him 
to the village store to procure an iron pot. On the way back he set 
down the pot, saying, "Let us have a race! You have four legs, and 
ought to be able to run fast." He started to run fast, and ran some 
distance before he noticed that the pot was not near him. When he 
looked back, he saw the pot where he had left it. He thought, "Per- 
haps it is because it has four legs that it cannot run." He returned, and 
broke off one leg. "Now we will race," he said. On looking around, 
he saw the pot still there. He thought, "Because it has three legs it 
cannot run." Thus he broke off one leg after another, but the pot 
still did not run. Then he broke it up, saying, "Of what use can a 
thing with legs be if it cannot walk or run?" On reaching home, the 
woman asked him where the pot was, and he told her how he had 
broken it. He said, "It was of no use. It had legs and could not run." 

9. Jack and the Fat, or Lard. 

Some time afterwards the washerwoman sent him to the village 
store for a tin of lard. On the way back he saw a clay puddle, which 
had dried up, and was full of cracks. He said, "O my friend! you 

1 This tale is known to some of the Indians, but was not related by the man who told 
the preceding two. I do not remember from whom I heard it first. I have heard it lately 
among whites in British Columbia, I think French, but do not remember exactly. 

2 Compare for this and the following tale the Shuswap story of Snanaz (The Shuswap, 
Publications of the Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. ii, pp. 753 and 754). Stories 
8 and 9 were related by one informant. — J. T. 

See' ' Der gescheite Hans" (Bolte and Polivka, vol. i, p. 315). — F. B. 



3i6 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

must be sore having all those cracks!" He emptied out the lard, and 
smeared the cracks until all the lard was gone. On returning home, 
the woman asked him where the lard was. He told her he had come on 
a man who had cracked feet, and had used the lard for smearing them.^ 

ID. Story oj Jack the Thief} 

Jack and his two brothers set out to travel.^ They came to a white 
man's town where many people dwelt. The chief asked them what 
they wanted, and they said they were looking for work. He asked 
them what they desired to work at. One said he was a carpenter, and 
would do that kind of work; the other brother said he was a black- 
smith, and would work at that trade. Jack said he would not work at 
all. The chief asked him what he would do, then, and he answered 
that he would steal. The chief said he could not stay there if he was a 
thief, and drove him out of town. Jack went on to another town, 
where he was summoned before the chief, who asked him what he 
wanted there. Jack said, " I want only one thing, and that is to steal. 
I do not work, I only steal." The chief said, "I am glad you are a 
thief. I can employ you." He was an enemy of the chief whom 
Jack had first met. He told Jack, " I want you to go to him and steal 
his purse,^ which he keeps in his house guarded by soldiers." Jack 
took four bottles of whiskey, and visited the soldiers, who were glad to 
see him, for they had not seen anybody for some time and felt lonely. 
They all got drunk and fell asleep; so that Jack went into the house 
and stole the purse without difficulty. Jack returned to his master, 
who was delighted with his success. He said, "You are a good thief." 
Now he sent Jack to steal the ring belonging to the chief's wife. Jack 
went to the window of the room where the chief and his wife slept. He 
hid below the window, and pushed up a figure of a man that he had 
made, so that the chief should see it. The chief thought it was a robber 
looking in through the window. He took his gun and shot the figure 
which Jack let fall. The chief ran outside to finish off the robber; 

1 The narrator said he had heard two more incidents in the story of Jack the Trickster 
besides the above, but he had forgotten them. One was of Jack fooling a policeman; and 
the other, of Jack becoming a priest or acting as a priest. 

* Compare later part of ButcEtcS and White Chief story (The Shuswap, Publications of 
the Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. ii, p. 735). The name ButcEtca is undoubtedly 
Petit Jean of French-Canadian folk-lore. — J. T. 

Compare "Der Meisterdieb" (Briider Grimm, Kinder- und Hausmarchen [Gottingen, 
1843], No. 192, p. 478); "Le Franc Voleur " (E. Cosquin, Contes populairesde Lorraine, 
vol. ii, pp. 271, 364). — F. B. 

^ The narrator said he did not remember the beginning of the story, but thought 
that Jack could not get along with his father, because of his propensity for stealing, and 
playing tricks. 

* The narrator was not quite sure if it was a purse. 



European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians. 317 

and his wife, who was afraid, ran into another room. Jack quickly- 
entered a window (or door) at the opposite side of the house (or room), 
and stole the lady's gold ring, which was on the bedroom table. When 
Jack returned with the ring, his master was surprised at his success.^ 
The chief learned of Jack's thefts, and sent soldiers to watch and 
catch him. He was captured while stealing in a house, and was ordered 
to be drowned. He was sewed up in a stout sack loaded with rocks, 
and four men were ordered to carry him to the middle of a bridge, and 
throw him into the river. They carried him suspended from a pole. 
When they reached the middle of the bridge, they put him down, and 
said to one another, "We will go to the saloon first, and have a drink, 
before we drown him." When they had gone, a man crossed 'the bridge 
driving a drove of hogs. Jack began to laugh inside the sack. The 
man asked him what he was laughing about. Jack said, "I feel so 
happy because I am going to the land of gold beneath the water." 
The man asked if he might go too, and Jack said he might. The man, 
at Jack's request, opened the sack and let Jack out. Jack told the man 
to get inside, and he would go for another sack for himself. After 
sewing the man in, Jack drove away the hogs. The four men came 
back, and, thinking Jack was still in the sack, they threw it into the 
river. Jack sold the pigs in town, and the chief heard about it. He 
wondered how Jack had come back to life, and ordered him brought 
before him. Jack told the chief he was very glad that he had been 
thrown into the water, for he had found a fine country below, and had 
driven the hogs up from there. He added, "They did not throw me 
exactly in the middle of the river, but a little to one side. Had I been 
thrown exactly in the middle, I should have driven up a herd of oxen 
with golden horns.^ If you care to throw me exactly in the middle 
next time, I will go again." The chief said he would go himself, and 
drive up the golden-horned oxen. He ordered his men to sew him in a 
sack and throw him in mid-river. This they did, and the chief was 
drowned.^ 

1 Here, the narrator stated. Jack was sent to steal something else from the chief, in 
which he was also successful, but he had forgotten what it was. 

2 Some say with golden horns and golden hoofs, others say with gold-tipped horns. 

' The narrator did not remember any more of this story. He thought there was some 
more. He thought that Jack was chosen chief in place of the late chief. Another infor- 
mant stated that this storj', when told fully, was very long. The story ends with the 
election of Jack as chief in place of the chief who was drowned. The people said, "It is 
well our chief is dead, he was too foolish. Jack is very smart, and we will elect him as 
our chief." Jack was given the chief's wealth and his wife, and acted wisely afterwards. 
He gave up thieving. 



VOL. XXIX. — NO. 113. — 21. 



31 8 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

II. Story of Jack and his Brother.^ 

Jack and his elder brother ^ lived with their parents, who had a cook. 
They were enormous eaters; and when food was put on the table, they 
rapidly ate it all up, so that their parents had not enough. As they 
grew, they ate more ; and at meal-time, even when the table was loaded 
with food, their parents had only eaten a few mouthfuls before all the 
food was finished. Their parents made up their minds to get rid of 
them. They told the cook to provide them with a large lunch each, 
take them to a rough part of the mountains, and leave them. Jack 
read his parents' minds, and told his elder brother what was proposed. 
That day he went to a wise and friendly old woman ^ who lived nearby, 
and asked her for advice. She gave him a large reel of thread and told 
him what to do. Next morning the cook provided them with packs 
of food, and told them he would take them to hunt grouse. They 
followed him; and as they went. Jack unrolled the thread unobserved 
by the cook. When the thread was almost all unrolled, the cook 
halted in a wild spot, saying, "We will camp here for to-night. I am 
going over yonder to shoot some grouse, and will be back before dusk." 
As soon as he was out of sight, the lads followed the thread back to 
their home, and arrived there shortly after the cook, and just as their 
parents were going to eat. Raving left their lunch in the mountains, 
they were very hungry, and ate up the supper almost before their 
parents had commenced. Their parents told the cook to take them 
farther away next time. Jack knew what they had arranged, and 
went to see the old woman again. She gave him a sack full of fine 
powder,^ which shone both by day and by night, but was brightest at 
night, and she told him what to do. On the following morning the 
cook said he would take them hunting. As they followed the cook. 
Jack sprinkled the phosphorescent dust along the way. When the 
sack was about empty, the cook said, "We will camp here. I will 
go to yonder brush and shoot rabbits. Stay here until I return." 

1 The narrators of this and the following story of Jack agreed that there were several 
Jacks; such as Jack the Bear, Jack the Thief, etc. One of them maintained that Jack of 
this story and Jack the Trickster were the same individual. The other claimed that this 
was not correct; but he believed there were three distinct persons of the name of Jack, each 
having a different role. Compare Utamqt story, Mythology of the Thompson Indians, 
pp. 291, 292; Traditions of the Thompson River Indians, pp. 93-94; The Shuswap, 
PP- 735. 736, 757. The narrator said some say that the brothers could change into bears 
or dogs; but he was uncertain as to this, and was not sure of the kind of animal they were 
said to change into. — J. T. 

See Bolte and Polivka, vol. i, p. 124. — F. B. 

2 The narrator had forgotten the elder brother's name. 
' Some say she was their grandmother. 

* Indian name, qotsqotsie'sEm. Some say it was phosphorescent wood, or like the 
heads of matches. Others say it was like what star-dust might be, and sparkled like 
diamonds, or like moonlight on frozen snow. 



European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians. 319 

As soon as he was out of sight, the boys ran back along the sprinkled 
trail. When they were about half way back in a rough piece of coun- 
try, they ran into a very large flock of small birds,^ and chased them 
hither and thither, trying to catch them. In this way they lost their 
trail. They searched for a long time, but could not find it. They 
wandered on, not knowing where they were going. They descended 
from the mountains, and came to a plain where they saw a butte with 
a very tall pine-tree growing on top. They went there. The elder 
brother tried to climb the tree, but he became dizzy and descended 
again. Then Jack went up, reached the top, and looked around. 
Far away he saw a column of smoke, and called to his brother to turn 
his face the way he pointed. Jack descended, and they travelled the 
way his brother was facing. At night they camped, and sat facing 
the same way, so that they might not go astray. The next day they 
reached a large underground lodge. They were almost famished. 
Their shoes and clothes were in tatters. They found an old woman 
within, who fed them and then hid them in the cellar within the house. 
She told them that her husband was a cannibal. The cannibal and 
his wife had two children of the same size as Jack and his brother. 
Being young cannibals, they sniffed around Jack and his brother, and, 
when they were in the cellar, continued to sniff about, so that their 
mother had to drive them away. Towards evening the cannibal ap- 
proached the house, saying, "Nom, nom, nom, where can I get some 
meat?" On entering, he told his wife that he smelled game within 
the house; and she, on being threatened with a thrashing, disclosed the 
fact that the boys were hidden in the cellar. Jack told his brother 
that he would influence the cannibal's mind, so that they might be 
spared. The cannibal pulled them out of the cellar, and was about to 
eat them. Then he hesitated, and began to look them over. He said, 
"They are too thin." He put them back into the cellar, and told 
his wife to feed them well and give them a good place to sleep, that 
they might get fat and tender quickly. The next day the woman made 
a bed for them. After they had been in the house for some time, the 
cannibal told his wife the boys were now fit to eat, and he would kill 
them in the morning. Jack knew his intention. He made the can- 
nibal and his family sleep very soundly that night. The lads arose, 
and placed the cannibal's children in the bed in which they themselves 
had been, and put logs of rotten wood in the bed of the cannibal's 
children. They took the cannibal's magic staff of gold, four stones 
which, as he learned afterwards, were gold nuggets,- and the key of his 
door. When any one attempted to open the house-door except with 
the proper key, a bell would ring. In the morning, when the cannibal 

1 Some say grouse of some kind. 

2 The cannibal's children used to play with these. Jack afterwards sold them for 
much money. 



320 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

awoke, he immediately went to the bed in which the boys used to sleep, 
and killed his own children, whom he mistook for the captive boys. 
When about to eat them, he noticed their fingers, and thus realized 
that he had killed his own children. He uncovered what seemed to be 
children in the other bed, and found the logs of rotten wood. The 
cannibal gave chase to Jack and his brother, who by this time were 
far away. When the lads saw that they would be overtaken, they hid 
themselves in the roots of a patch of tall grass. The cannibal, who 
had lost track of the boys, returned in another direction.^ As soon as 
he was out of sight, the lads ran on. Then the cannibal found their 
tracks again. The boys had just reached a broad lake, when he hove 
in sight. Jack threw his staff down on the water, and they crossed it 
as on a bridge. When they reached the opposite shore, he lifted it up, 
and the cannibal could not cross. He shouted, "I will forgive you, I 
will not harm you, if you will only give me back my staff!" but Jack 
stuck the staff in the ground at the edge of the lake, and left the can- 
nibal crying. 

Not ^ far from here they came to a large town of whites, where there 
was a chief and many soldiers, also many houses, stores, and farms. 
The cannibal used to prey on these people, who were much afraid of 
him. Here Jack and his brother separated, each getting work on a 
different farm. 

Jack's brother became jealous of him, and sought to accomplish his 
death by putting him in danger. He told his master ^ that Jack in- 
tended to steal the large bell belonging to the cannibal. Jack's master 
heard of this, and asked him if it were true, adding that his elder 
brother had said so. Jack said, "Very well. I will go and get the 
bell. You will all see it." The cannibal kept the bell on a wheeled 
vehicle alongside his house.^ It was very large. ^ Jack went at night, 
and, crossing the lake by means of the staff, he soon reached the can- 
nibal's house. He caused a deep sleep to fall on the cannibal, his wife, 
and the bell. This bell could hear a long ways off, and warned the 
cannibal of danger by ringing. Jack ran off with the bell, hauling it in 
a wagon. Just as he had reached the opposite side of the lake, the 
cannibal arrived at the shore. Jack drew in the staff, and stuck it in 
the ground. The cannibal begged for the staff, saying, "You may 
keep the bell, but give me back my staff, with which I cross water." 
Jack left him crying, and proceeded to town, where he displayed the 
bell to all the people. 

1 Some say he went back to the house, where he learned through some kind of telepathy 
where the lads actually were, and then gave chase again. 

2 See C.-Marius Barbeau, "Le Conte de Parle" (in " Contes populaires Canadiens," 
this Journal, vol. xxix, p. 70). — F. B. 

' Some say Jack's master. 

* Some say inside the house, and Jack entered the house with the key he had stolen. 

' Some say it was made of copper, or of gold, and shone like a star. 



European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians. 32 1 

After this, Jack's brother circulated the story that Jack intended to 
steal the cannibal's light. His master asked him about it, and he 
said he would do it. He took with him three small sacks of salt. 
When he came to the cannibal's house, he looked down the smoke- 
hole. He saw the cannibal busy boiling a large kettle full of human 
flesh, which was now almost ready to be eaten. Jack emptied one 
sack full of salt into the kettle. The cannibal had a large spoon with 
which he was tasting the broth. When he took the next spoonful, he 
found the taste so agreeable that he forgot to eat any of the meat, and 
drank only of the soup. He said, "This must be delicious game I am 
boiling, to make the broth so nice." Jack wanted to make him go 
to drink, so that he could steal the light. He threw in the other sack 
of salt. The cannibal went to the creek to drink, but, instead of leav- 
ing the light, took it with him attached to his forehead. Jack ran 
down to the trail and hid. W^hen the cannibal was returning, he sud- 
denly jumped up, and threw the salt in the cannibal's face and on the 
light, so that neither of them could see. The cannibal was so much 
startled that he ran away, and in his hurry and blindness struck his 
toe on a tuft of grass and fell down heavily. The light rolled off his 
head. Jack seized it and ran off. This light could see a long ways 
off, and told the cannibal what it saw. It saw farthest at night. The 
cannibal could not follow Jack, because it was very dark and he had 
no proper light. Jack carried the light to town, and displayed it to> 
the people. 

Next Jack's brother told that Jack was going to bring in the cannibal' 
himself. His master asked him regarding it, and he said he w^ould do 
it. He went to the blacksmith and had a large trunk made of iron, 
with a lid which shut with a spring. When it was finished. Jack went 
into it and tried it with all his strength. He found the box was too 
weak. Therefore he ordered the blacksmith to re-enforce it with heavy 
iron bands. He placed the trunk on a wagon, to which he harnessed 
a fine team, and drove to the cannibal's house, crossing the lake on the 
magic staff. The cannibal came out and admired the team, wagon, 
and trunk. He did not recognize Jack, and thought he would kill 
the visitor and take his wagon, trunk, and team. The cannibal ad- 
mired the trunk, which was polished and looked like steel. Jack 
opened the lid to show him the inside, which was decorated with, carv- 
ings, pictures in colors, and looking-glasses. Jack proposed to sell 
the trunk to the cannibal, and asked him to go in and try it. The. 
cannibal told Jack to go in first. Jack went in, lay down at full lengthy 
and claimed that it was very comfortable. The cannibal then went in» 
and Jack shut the lid on him. The cannibal struggled to free himself, 
and at times nearly capsized the trunk; but Jack drove him into town, 
where he stopped in the square. The chief and soldiers and all the 



322 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

people flocked to see the cannibal who had been killing them. They 
lifted him off the wagon, and asked Jack to liberate him. Jack said 
if he liberated him, he would kill all the people, and proposed to them 
to light a fire, and to roast him to death in the trunk. Jack's brother 
asked him to open the trunk, but he would not consent. Jack's 
brother said, "There is no danger. See these hundreds of armed 
soldiers." Jack said, "It matters not, for neither arrows, nor bullets, 
nor knives, can penetrate him. He will kill everybody." His brother 
laughed. Jack said, "I will give you the key of the trunk, and you 
may open it in four hours from now." The whites wanted to have 
some fun with their enemy. When Jack had been gone four hours, 
and while he was sitting on the top of a distant hill overlooking the 
town, his brother opened the trunk. The cannibal, who was in a 
violent rage, killed ever}^ one of the people, including Jack's brother. 
There were none left. After this Jack travelled. Some say he turned 
foolish, and became Jack the Trickster. 

12. STORY OF THE HORSE-RACER.^ 

Once there was a lad who was the son of wealthy parents, and who 
kept race-horses. He spent all his time training his horses and racing 
them. He lost nearly all the races he ran, but nevertheless persisted 
in racing. Thus he gambled away all his parents' ranch, their house, 
their cattle, sheep, and pigs, etc., and at last all his horses and his 
clothes, and even his parents themselves, and his brothers and sisters. 
He then left the country and travelled east. Naked and famished, 
he reached the house of an old woman,- who treated him kindly, fed 
and clothed him, and gave him advice as to his future and how to act. 
After resting there for some time, he continued, on her advice, to 
travel east, and came to the house of a wealthy man, who had a ranch 
and Uved all alone, and who employed him. When he had been there 
some little tim.e, his master told him he would give him a horse and 
send him on an errand to a far country, and that it would take him 
years to go there and to return. He had sent many of his employees 
on this journey, but none had come back. They had all disappeared 
or perished. He wanted him to go to a chief in a distant land and get 
his daughter. He could gather up all the hundreds of horses on the 
range, and choose the one he thought best for the journey. The lad 
wenc out on the range, and whistled or called to the horses. They all 
came to him, forming a circle around him. After looking them over, 
he selected a small gray ^ horse with long hair. He put a halter on him, 

1 This lad is sometimes called "Jack," sometimes "Horse-Racer," and sometimes 
"Loser" or "Gambler." 

2 The narrator had forgotten the particulars about this woman. 

3 The color of the horse is not certain. 



European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians. 323 

and led him to his master's stable. The master went to look at the 
horse; and when he saw that the lad had brought in an undersized and 
miserable-looking colt, he told him he would never be able to accom- 
plish the journey. The lad said it was his choice ; and his master 
answered, " Do as you like." On the following morning the youth led 
the horse out with only a piece of blanket on its back and a piece of 
rope for a bridle. The horse had told him to do so. When he was 
out of sight, the horse changed into a large and noble-looking steed, 
with fine saddle and bridle ornamented with beautiful trappings. 
The horse said, "Use only a willow switch on me, and whip me lightly 
but twice, once on each side." Now they bounded off, going faster 
than the wind, the horse lighting on the ground only here and there. 
They rode at a height of a little above the tops of the tallest trees. 
Small lakes they covered at one bound. Early on the second day they 
were within sight of the chief's house. The horse told the lad how he 
would dance and show off, and advised him what to do. As they ap- 
proached the house, the horse pranced around, and the chief's daughter 
came out and stood at the door among the soldiers watching. The 
chief also came out. When the lad came up, he was asked where he 
had come from. He said he had travelled a long ways from a distant 
country, and was going to another country beyond, where he now was 
to engage in horse-racing. The chief said he had never seen such a 
good horse, and that his daughter wished to ride it. The youth dis- 
mounted and let the girl ride. When she had returned, he mounted 
again, and said to her that the horse danced very prettily with two 
riders, and still better with three. The chief mounted behind the lad, 
and the horse danced very prettily. The girl, who wished to try how 
it felt, asked to be taken next. The horse danced very nicely, and 
when a little ways off it began to describe circles. They returned, and 
the chief also mounted behind. The lad said the girl must be tied to 
him, so that she would not fall off, as the horse would now perform his 
best steps. W^hen they were some distance from the house, the horse 
reared and threw the chief. Then it rushed forward, and was soon out 
of sight. The chief's men mounted and went out in search of the 
couple, but they could not find which way the lad had gone. On the 
second day at noon the boy returned to his master's house. When 
they came near the stable, the horse changed to its former appearance 
of a small shaggy colt. The boy led it into the stable and took the 
woman to the house. The master was delighted with the woman, 
and surprised at the speedy, successful journey. The woman, how- 
ever, refused to marry unless she had two wishes fulfilled. She wanted 
to have her work-bag,^ and her favorite black horse which had strayed 
away three- years before and was lost. In her work-bag were her 

1 Some say work-bag and toilet-bag. ^ Time uncertain. 



324 Journal of American Folk-Lore . 

needles and thread, her scissors, her comb, and her looking-glass. The 
master asked the boy to help him, and on the following morning the 
youth started. 

When he reached the vicinity of the chief's house, he disguised him- 
self and his horse. Before the soldiers at the gate, horse and rider 
appeared tired and poor. The chief came out and asked him if he 
had met any one on the trail. He said, "Yes, a longways off I met a 
girl alone near thetrail, who was crying for her work-bag." The chief 
offered him a reward if he would recover her and bring her back. The 
lad said that she would not believe him, and would not accompany 
him because he did not bring her bag. The chief gave him the bag, 
which he strapped to the saddle, and soon disappeared out of sight. On 
his arrival home, he delivered the bag to the woman. 

On the following morning he started out to look for the black horse. 
He reached a lake at the foot of a rough mountain. Here the horse 
told the lad to hide and wait. The black horse had joined a band of 
wild horses, that ran in a very rough and distant part of the country. 
The boy's horse promised to separate him from the herd and to make 
him swim the lake. When he came out, the lad must rope him.^ 
The horse did as he had said, and the lad roped the wild horse. On 
the following day he arrived home, leading the black horse, which he 
gave to the woman. Now she married his master, and the latter was 
happy. 

The boy's master gave him the horse and a large sum of money. 
Now the lad returned to his own country. When he was near home, 
the horse changed to the form of a shaggy colt. The people who had 
won everything from the lad welcomed him, and asked him if he wished 
to race. He said he would. His parents watched from a hill. He 
raced with the people,^ and won back his parents, brothers and sisters^ 
stock, ranch, and in addition almost all the property of the people, 
who lost many horses and much goods. 

{Another Version.)^ 

This story is told in the same way as the preceding one, with the fol- 
lowing differences and additions. The tale opens thus: — 

A lad who was very fond of horse-racing and gambling lost all his 
horses, clothes, and all he had. As a last chance of winning back 

* Some say Jack's horse fought with the black horse and conquered him. 

2 Some tell this part of the story at considerable length, but the narrator had forgotten 
the detaUs. 

' Called by the narrator "The Boy who raced Horses," "The Boy who lost All," and 
"The Poor Boy and his Colt [or Pony]." Compare several incidents in this story with 
Shoshone (Robert H. Lowie, "The Northern Shoshone," Anthropological Papers of the 
American Museum of Natural History, vol. ii, pp. 295-297). 



European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians. 325 

what he had lost, he staked his parents and brothers and sisters, and 
lost them also. He was so ashamed that he walked away naked, not 
knowing where he was going. 

Almost famished, he reached the dwelHng of an old woman, who 
adopted him and called him her grandson. He lived with her. He 
still felt disconsolate, and in his travels one day wandered farther than 
usual. After crossing a mountain, he saw a shaggy colt in the valley 
beyond, and went up to it.^ The colt spoke to him kindly, and said he 
might put a halter on him and ride him. He said, "Try me in a race, 
but you must never whip me more than twice, once on each side." 
Four days the lad raced the colt, and each day he ran faster. At last 
he ran like the swiftest wind, and the noise of his running was like an 
approaching storm. He grew larger and stronger as he ran. At the 
end of each race he became small again. Then the colt invited him to 
go travelling. They came to the house of a chief, who wanted to hire 
a man and horse to perform a difficult errand, for which he would pay 
much money; but he did not think the horse the lad rode could endure 
the journey. It was too small and weak-looking. The lad promised 
to undertake the task. 

From here the story continues in the same way as the preceding one, 
up to the time when the lad goes to bring in the wild black horse. 

The colt told him he would go after the black horse himself; for the 
latter ran in a very rough and distant part of the mountains, and was 
very strong and fierce. The colt drove the black horse to where the 
boy was. It was a running fight, the colt constantly catching up and 
biting the other. When they reached the place where the lad was, 
the black horse was nearly exhausted. The colt threw him to the 
ground and held him down, while the boy put his halter on the con- 
quered horse. The colt had told him to do so. . . . 

After the lad had been paid by the chief, he rode off to another place, 
where a chief lived who had a ^ daughter. He carried with him the gold 
he had received. This chief had several race-horses, which were the 
best in the whole country. The lad rode up, and challenged the chief 
to race with him. The chief laughed at the poor-looking colt the boy 
rode. He bet one horse against the boy's gold, and rode one of his 
poorest horses. The boy won. The chief bet another horse against 
the horse he had lost and the boy's gold, but lost again. Thus the 
chief lost all his horses except one. This was his best horse. He bet 
his daughter against all the horses the lad had won and against the 
gold, and lost as before. Thus the boy left there with a wife, many 
good race-horses, and plenty of money. When he reached his own 

» Some say the colt was staked there. * Some say two or more daughters. 



326 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

country, he was met by the people who had formerly beaten him in 
horse-racing. They saw that he had much wealth, which they thought 
they would easily win. They asked him to race with them, and he 
readily assented. All the people assembled to witness the race. The 
people saw that he had chosen the colt to race with, instead of his 
good-looking horses. They thought they would easily beat him, and 
ran one of their poorer race-horses. They bet heavily. The race 
was to be around a mountain. They started ; and as long as the racers 
were in sight, the colt was far behind. The people laughed, thinking 
they had already won. When the racers were about to disappear 
behind the mountain, the colt told the boy to lay on the switch on his 
left side. He did so, and the colt caught up with the other horse. He 
had changed into a large and magnificent horse. He told the boy to 
lay on the switch on the right side. Then the colt bounded to far 
beyond the opposing horse, and reached the other corner of the moun- 
tain. Here he changed back to a small colt. The people were sur- 
prised when they saw the colt come into view first. He reached the 
goal first and won the race. Then the people ran their best horses, 
and bet very heavily, but the boy always won. Thus he recovered 
all the goods and horses he had formerly lost, and set free his parents, 
brothers, and sisters. Besides, he won nearly everything the people had, 
and they were reduced to poverty. Thus he became a wealthy chief. 
Then the colt told him to take him to the place where he had first 
found him, and turn him loose there. The boy obeyed, but felt very 
sorry at parting with his good friend. 

13. STORY OF THE RACE WITH THE TURTLES; OR, THE TURTLES AND 

ANTELOPE.^ 

This story was told by two men exactly as related of the Turtles and the 
Runner.^ One informant said the Runner was Antelope, and the other 
said he had heard more often that the Runner was Coyote. Some people 
add a few boastful remarks made by Coyote to Turtle. 

14. STORY OF HAND-HAMMER, WOOD-CHISEL, BOIL, AND SPITTLE.^ 

Stone Hand-Hammer, Antler Wood-Chisel, Boil (tsumtsum), and 
Spittle were friends, and all lived together. One day they all went 
together to gather wood. Hand-Hammer and Chisel chopped the 
tree. Chisel was pinched in the wood and killed. The other three 
took packs of wood on their backs and started for home. Hand- 
Hammer lost his balance, passing along the steep side-hill, rolled down 

^ See Oskar Dahnhardt, Natursagen, vol. iv, pp. 47-97. — F. B. 

2 Mythology of the Thompson Indians (Publications of the Jesup North Pacific Ex- 
pedition, vol. viii), p. 395. 

5 Some say mucus of the nose instead of spittle. — J. T. 
See Bolte and Polivka, vol. i, p. 135. — F. B. 



European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians. 327 

into the river, and was drowned. A dry needle of the yellow pine blew 
down, and the point struck Boil in the eye, bursting him. Spittle 
went on, and, in passing over a piece of dry ground, dried up. Thus 
all four perished. 

{Another Version.) 

This story is the same as the preceding one, with the following variations : — 

The four people reached a large dry tree lying on the ground. Wood- 
Chisel made a small hole in it and inserted himself. Then Hand- 
Hammer jumped on top of him, hit him on the head, and drove him in. 
They had been accustomed to this act when gathering wood ; but the 
wood always split, and Wood-Chisel got free. This time, however, 
the trunk of the tree would not split, and only splinters came off. 
After driving Chisel in as far as he could, Hand-Hammer found that 
the tree would not split, and that Chisel was held fast. He tried hard 
to relieve him, but did not succeed. He was hot with his exertions, 
and went to the river to drink. W^hen he stooped down to the water, 
he rolled over and disappeared in the river. Boil and Spittle said, 
"We have to do the best we can. Our friends Chisel and Hammer are 
dead, — one squeezed to death, and the other drowned." They 
gathered up what splinters and chips they could find and started for 
home. Now a very strong Chinook wind started to blow, and dried 
up Spittle on the road. Presently a dry yellow pine-needle came along 
borne by the high wind, which struck Boil and pierced him, so that the 
pus ran out, and he also disappeared. Thus all the people of the house 
died on one day, and their house stood empty. 

15. COYOTE AND FOX.^ 

Coyote and Fox were companions. Coyote thought himself smarter 
than Fox. Fox was eating cheese when Coyote came along. Coyote 
asked him where he got it. Fox said, "Ask me that after you have 
eaten it." Coyote and Fox ate the cheese; and when they had fin- 
ished. Coyote asked Fox again. Fox told him that he had stolen it 
from a white man's store, which he had entered through a hole. Coyote 
proposed that they go to get some more. They went to the hole, 
through which Fox passed easily, but Coyote could hardly pass through. 
Inside they found a large cheese, which Fox invited Coyote to eat. 
He said, " I eat all I can here, and then pass out through the hole carry- 
ing some more." When Coyote had about eaten his fill. Fox knocked 

1 Or stor>' of Fox tricking Coyote. The narrator stated that there are a number of 
incidents of the Coyote and Fox myth in which Fox gets the best of Coyote, but most of 
them he had forgotten. — J. T. 

L. Sudre, Les sources du Roman de Renart, pp. 240 el seq. — F. B. 



328 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

over a tin can, and then ran out through the hole. Coyote ran after 
him, but his stomach was so full that he stuck in the hole. The 
store-keeper ran in and beat Coyote, who finally escaped after tearing 
the skin off his sides. 

Fox ^ was travelling, and saw a wagon full of fish driven by two men. 
He threw himself on the ground, stiffened out, and pretended to be 
dead. The drivers saw him lying near the road. They said, "There 
is a dead fox with a fine skin worth much money." One of them jumped 
off, picked up the carcass, and threw it into the wagon among the fish, 
saying, "We will skin him when we get home." Fox threw out fish 
here and there along the road while the backs of the drivers were 
turned toward him, and then jumped off noiselessly. He gathered 
the fish up, and was eating them when Coyote came along. Coyote 
asked Fox how he had obtained so many fish; and Fox said, "Ask me 
that after we have finished our meal." When they had finished, 
Coyote asked again, and Fox said, " It is a very simple matter to catch 
fish like these. You must choose a cold clear night for fishing, make a 
hole in the ice, and put your tail down in the water. After keeping 
still for a considerable time, the fish will take hold of your tail, and 
then you can haul them out, many at a time." The first cold night 
Coyote followed these directions. After waiting a considerable time, 
he thought there ought to be many fish on his tail. Then he 
thought, "I will wait a little longer, so I am sure to catch plenty." 
Coyote tried to pull his tail out ; but it was frozen tight in the ice, and 
he could not get away. Fox came along, and laughed at his plight. 
He said, "How smart you must be to get caught in that way! You 
cannot even catch fish the way I do. Don't you know there are so 
many fish on your tail that they hold you down?" Coyote strained 
again to pull his tail out, but without avail. At last Fox liberated him. 

l6. Ltjl^ AND THE FLOOD. 

There was a chief called Lui who lived in the country somewhere. 
He alone knew how to make canoes; and therefore some people think 
he was Kwonekwa, and lived at Lytton. The inhabitants of the 
country were bad, and therefore God sent a flood to drown them. 
Lui made a large canoe, and all the good people embarked with him in 
it. There were very many. They drifted about for many days, and 
could see no land. They were tired and hungry, and anxious to see 
land. Lui sent out Swallow and his brother Martin to see if they could 

1 Dahnhardt, Natursagen, vol. iv, p. 225. — F. B. 

* Compare Mythology of the Thompson Indians (Publications of the Jesup North 
Pacific Expedition, vol. viii), pp. 333 and 400; also preceding story; Lillooet (this Jour- 
nal, vol. XXV, p. 342). This story is of biblical origin. Lui is probably a corruption of 
Noah, changed a little to conform to the French Louis, a name familiar to the Indians. 



European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians. 329 

find and bring back any land. They returned without finding any. 
Then he sent out Raven and Crow, and they did not come back. 
They staid away, feeding on the putrid corpses of the drowned people. 
For this reason Lui transformed them into birds of a black color; 
before that, they were white-skinned people, like Lui himself. One 
night the canoe grounded on the top of a mountain. The people went 
ashore; and gradually, as the flood receded and the earth dried up, 
they left the mountains and spread throughout the valleys of the 
country, settling here and there. Lui himself, and his family, are 
supposed to have settled at Lytton. From these survivors of the 
flood all the people sprang. 

Spences Bridge, B.C. / 



330 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



EUROPEAN TALES FROM THE PLAINS OJIBWA.i 

BY ALANSON SKINNER. 
I. THE TWO BROTHERS. 

There was once an old man living alone with his wife. They had 
a horse and one dog, a spaniel. They hunted and fished only in the 
big lake. Once upon a time they could not get any fish in the nets, 
and they were very hungry. The man went to look after his net in 
the morning, and found a jackfish with a large head. As he was 
going to kill the fish, it said, "Hold on, old man! Don't kill me right 
away!" The old man stopped, and the fish told the old man to take 
all its scales off and not to lose any, and to go and put these in the 
garden. It also told him to cut off its fins and place them in the 
garden, to cut its head off and give it to his wife to eat, half of its 
body to be fed to the dog, and the other end to the horse. He told 
the old man to shut the stable, but not to look at it for four days and 
four nights, and not to look at the scales for four days and four nights, 
but each morning after that he could look. The old man then killed 
it and took it home. He told his wife about it; and she asked, "Is 
that true?" — "Yes," answered the old man, and repeated all. "We 
will obey. We are poor and hungry, maybe we shall have good luck." 
He scaled and cut the fish and put it in the garden. He also fed his 
wife, dog, and horse as he had been told, and shut the stable. For 
four days and nights he could not sleep. His wife became pregnant; 
and on the fourth morning she had two sons, and the old man was glad. 
He ran to the stable, and found that the mare had two foals, the dog 
two pups. He went to the garden, and there was silver money where 
the scales had been placed. There were two fine swords where the 
fins had been. The old man ran in to tell his wife what had happened, 
and they were delighted. After that the old man caught many fish. 
Soon his boys grew up. 

One time, when they were home in the evening, the elder boy said, 
"Are there any other people in the world?" — "Certainly, there are 
many people." — "Where can I find them?" — "You can find them 
anywhere." The youth said, "I will start to-morrow to try to visit 
some people." He left his sword, and told his brother, "I shall take 

» Collected, 1913, from the Plains Ojibwa (Bungi), on the Long Plains Reserve, Mani- 
toba. — A. S. 

See Bolte and Polivka, Anmerkungen zu den Kinder- u. Hausmarchen der Briider 
Grimm, vol. i, p. 528. — F. B. 



European Tales from the Plains Ojihwa. 331 

yours, and leave mine hanging here. Do not touch it! If I have 
trouble or if I am killed, it will become rusty." Then he went off. 
About dinner-time he dismounted and drank from a spring. He found 
silver water; and when he dipped his little finger into it, it became 
solid silver. He put some of the water on the horse's ears, and they 
became silver. He did the same to the dog's, and also on his own hair. 
Then he started off. 

When he came to a large town, he took off his clothes, found some 
old ones, and put rags around his finger and a handkerchief over his 
hair. He had a little box in which he put the horse and dog after 
making them small, and hid them in a blacksmith's shop. The black- 
smith looked at him. "Where are you from?" — "Is there a town 
here? I am very poor." — "Oh, come in!" The blacksmith fed him. 
The man said, "I can keep you here," and engaged him to do the 
chores in the house. He staid there a w^hile, when one night the 
blacksmith came home and said, "The king of this town has a fine 
daughter, and she is going to be fed to the Windigo that has eight 
heads. He eats only people." — "When is she going to be taken 
there?" — "To-morrow morning." 

The next day, after his work, the young man went out. He mounted 
his horse, took his dog, put on his own clothes, and rode out of the 
city. After a w^hile he heard some one weeping in the woods. He 
turned in that direction, and found a young girl who was crying. 
She stopped when she saw him. The young man asked her, "Why 
are you crying?" — "There is no use telling you." — "Oh, no! tell 
me!" — "Where are you going? There is no use telling you." — 
"Oh, yes! you must tell me." Then the girl, seeing that he was a 
stranger, said, "I will tell you. I am going to yonder bluff. There is 
an eight-headed manitou there, and I am going to be eaten by him." — 
"Why?" — "He wants me." — "What if you do not go?" — "Then 
he would devour every one in the city. Therefore I must go." 

Then the youth said, "I will go first. You can go when I come 
back." — "No, no! you must not go. I am not going there for life, 
I am going there to die." — "If that is so, I must see him first." — 
"Oh, no!" The young man said, "I will go and come back. You 
stay here." — "Well, go on! but he will kill you," and she gave the 
boy a ring. He then went to the bluff, and saw that the trees were 
shaken by the breath of the manitou. He stopped, and said to his 
horse and dog, "Try as hard as you can to help me," and then he rode 
on. The horse and dog sank deep into the soil. The boy took his 
sword and cut off one head, which sprang back again. Then he told 
his dog to catch it; and he hit the monster again, cutting off another of 
his heads. The dog seized it and shook it. The youth cut off another 
one. and the horse kicked it. When he had cut off four heads, the 



332 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

manitou was not breathing very strongly. Finally he killed him. 
He cut out all the tongues and put them in a handkerchief. When he 
came back, he found the girl waiting, and told her that he had killed 
the manitou. He told the girl to go home and take the tongues with 
her, but not to tell who killed the manitou. "Give the tongues to 
your father, and say that a young fellow did it, but that you do not 
know who." 

The blacksmith was working at home. "Where are you going, — 
home? No, you have to be eaten by the manitou." — "The manitou 
has been killed." — " Nobody can kill him." The girl showed him the 
tongues. Then the blacksmith believed her, and asked her who had 
killed him. "I do not know, he is a youth." — "Go home and tell 
your father that I killed him. If you don't, I will kill you." The 
girl agreed, and he went with her. Her father and mother asked her 
why she had come back, and she told them that the blacksmith had 
killed the manitou. She called him in, and they asked him, "How 
did you do it?" — "I hit his tongues." 

The king was very glad, and gave the girl to the blacksmith. The 
youth went home, put his horse back into the box, dressed in his old 
clothes. 

There was to be a four-days' dance before the wedding. After 
three nights' dance, the blacksmith was very glad, and told the boy 
that this was the last night. Then the lad put on his clothes. He 
came into the lodge and sat down by the door. The girl knew him 
at once, and told her father secretly that he had slain the monster. 
The king invited him to a better place. The blacksmith wanted to 
go out, pretending that his stomach pained him, but he was not 
allowed to leave. He was locked up, taken to the sea, and thrown in. 
The youth married the girl; and the king gave him half of the town, 
half of his money, and half of everything he owned, he was so glad 
that his daughter had been saved. They went upstairs into their 
rooms. There was a window at the top on the east side of the house, 
and from there could be seen a blue fire at a distance. 

"What kind of fire is that?" asked the youth. 

"Do not ask about it," said the princess, "and never go near it." 

On the next day he took his little horse and dog and went to the fire. 
There he saw an old, long house. He entered the first room, but there 
was no one there. After a while he heard some one. The door opened, 
and a white-headed old woman came in, and said, "Grandchild, hold 
your little dog, he will bite me. I am cold." — "Warm yourself, 
the dog will not touch you." — "You must tie him." — "I have 
nothing to tie him with." So the old lady gave him one hair, and 
said, " Nosis, tie him with that." The youth did so, and also tied the 
horse. The old woman had a cane. She touched him with it on 
the feet, and he died. 



European Tales from the Plains Ojibwa. 333 

One morning the other youth, who had been left at home, saw rust 
on the sword. He said to his father, "I fear brother is dead some- 
where, for his sword is rusty. I must go and try to find him." His 
father consented, and told him to be careful. 

The next morning the elder brother left. About noon he found the 
same spring, and did as his brother had done. In the evening he 
came to the city and went to the chief's house. The girl came out and 
kissed him, and asked him where he had been, but he did not answer. 
They had supper, and he thought to himself, "That must be my 
brother's wife." At night he refused to go to bed. Through the 
window he saw the blue fires. He asked, "What kind of fires are 
those?" — "Why did you not go over to see?" 

In the morning he went there. When he arrived there, he saw his 
brother's horse and dog tied with brass wire, lying down and frozen 
to death. He went into the lodge, and saw that his brother also lay 
dead by the fire. Soon he heard some one coming. An old woman 
appeared, and said, "I am cold." — "Warm yourself by the fire." — 
"First tie your little dog." 

He refused to do so, and finally said, " Now, granny, make that man 
and horse and dog alive! If you do not do so at once, I shall send the 
dog after you." — "Nosis, I cannot bring a dead man to life." — 
"You have to." — "No." 

Then he set his dog on her. The dog bit her, and the horse kicked 
her. 

"Stop! I'll bring them to life." He stopped the animals, and the 
old woman walked forward. The youth kept away from her cane. 
She told him to take up a little bottle and put it on his frozen brother. 
As soon as he dropped some of the liquid from the bottle into his mouth, 
he came to. She did the same to the dog and to the horse. Then 
the brothers killed the old woman. They took the bottle away from 
her and went home. As they rode along together, the elder brother 
said, "You must be married. Yes. Your wife mistook me for you, 
but I only let her sleep with my arm. That's how I found out." 

The younger brother, on hearing this, became jealous. He drew 
back and shot his brother with his revolver. He also shot his dog and 
horse. Then he went home, and his wife was glad to see him. She 
asked him why he refused to sleep with her last night. "You only 
let me have your hand." Then the brother began to sorrow for his 
brother. He took his horse and went back to the corpse. There he 
wept over his brother. His little dog ran around the dead body, 
and began to look inside the coat. There he found the old woman's 
little bottle. He put some of the liquid on the wound, and thus 
brought the brother back to life. Then he dropped some on the dog 
and the horse, and they all came to. They went home, put their 
VOL. XXIX. — NO. 113.— 22. 



334 Journal of A merican Folk-Lore. 

horses and dogs away, entered the lodge, and sat down. The younger 
one's wife saw them, and was unable to tell them apart. On the 
following day they started to return to their parents. When they 
came to a forked road, they decided to go in different directions. 
The elder one took one road, and said, "I will go this way, and my 
name will be God." The other said, "I will follow the other, and I 
will be the Devil." That's the end of it. 

2. CINDERELLA.^ 

A man whose wife died left him with a daughter. He married a 
widow with two ugly daughters. When the man went away, his 
daughter sat in the corner amid ashes, and never said anything. One 
night all the girls of the town were invited to a dance. The old woman 
said the youngest could not go, and the man went with the step- 
daughters. Their shoes would not fit, so they cut their feet to make 
them fit. The old woman tried to straighten their noses. One young 
man thought the youngest daughter should go. He jumped in his rig 
and asked her to come along; but she said she had no clothes, and 
that her step-mother would strike her. The young man drove home, 
got some good clothes, and took them to the girl, for he was a manitou. 
He dressed her and took her along. When the people saw how pretty 
she was, every one looked at her and admired her. She danced twice 
and went home. She had a little box given her; and she was to name 
whatever clothes she wanted, and they would be there. When she 
undressed, the clothes all disappeared in the box. When they came 
home, the homely girls scolded her. On the following day the young 
manitou came in and talked to Cinderella. The homely ones were 
jealous, and tried to induce him to pay attention to them. They 
were very angry when he left. They wanted to do away with 
Cinderella. 

When she was out, they found her box. Then they sent her after 
the water that sings.- She left the lodge and went along the trail on 
which her grandmother lived, who said, " Nosis, where are you going?" 
The girl told her. "You can get it, you are a pretty girl, but you will 
be twice as pretty again. After you have dipped it, you will hear 
music. Do not look back, but go ahead!" She obtained the water 
and carried it home. Her sisters were not able to look at her on ac- 
count of her shining beauty. They asked, "O my dear sister! how far 
is that water?" — "Not far." — "O mother! we will go for some 
to-morrow." One of them started, and came to the grandmother, 
who asked where she was going. "I am going to get the water that 
sings." — "Oh, you will be pretty if you do as I tell you. You will 
hear music, but do not look back!" The girl came back. She said 

1 See Bolte and Polivka, I. c, vol. i, p. 165. — F. B. 

2 Ibid., vol. ii, p. 380. — F. B. 



European Tales from the Plains Ojibwa. 335 

to the grandmother, " Do not speak to me ! I am going to be a pretty 
girl." — "Oh, then you will be five times as homely." Her mother 
fainted when she saw her daughter coming, trailing her nose, which 
had grown enormously long. She asked her pretty step-daughter 
what she had done, and beat her. The girl told her what had hap- 
pened. She sent Cinderella off into the bush, where there were wolves 
and bears. The girl knew that they wanted her to die. Soon she 
lost her way. She crawled under a tree. 

Soon a young hunter came by. He heard something under the tree, 
and found her, covered by her hair. He asked her if she was lost. 
She said, "Do not come near me! I have no clothes." The hunter 
went off, got some clothes, and dressed her. He took her home. 

When her step-mother learned about this, she went to see her, and 
pretended to be very friendly. She kissed her, but took the oppor- 
tunity to take away all but her old clothes. 

Again all the girls were invited out, and they left the pretty one at 
home. When all were gone, the girl's grandmother walked into the 
house, and said, "Grandchild, why are you here? You are pretty, 
you ought to be among the people." She found the box of clothes 
for her, opened it, dressed the girl, and took her to the dance. The 
chief's son happened to be there. He took a fancy to her, took her 
home, and married her. The young woman had a baby, and her step- 
mother was nursing her while her husband was away. The old womars 
stuck a pin into the wife's neck and made an elk of her, chat ran 
away. Then she put her homely daughter in her place. When the 
husband came home, his mother-in-law told him that he would be 
surprised to see that his wife, owing to her sickness, had turned to be 
the ugliest creature on earth. The young man said, "I do not care 
how ugly she is, as long as she is alive." The mother-in-law cooked, 
and the husband came in and kissed and hugged his pretended wife. 
All at once at dinner-time an elk walked into the house and nursed 
the baby, then walked out again. Thus it came nearly every day. 
The husband asked his false wife what she would like to eat, and she 
said, "I should like to eat an elk." The young man went out, shot 
the elk, and broke a hind-leg of the animal, which, however, succeeded 
in getting away. In the morning the elk hobbled in and nursed the 
baby. The husband liked the elk, petted her, and tried to bandage 
the broken leg. By chance he pulled out the pin from the neck, and 
at once his wife stood before him with broken leg. He said nothing, 
but went out and ordered his soldiers to take the old woman and her 
daughter out and to hang them. Then his wife recovered. They 
started out to find Cinderella's father and her other sister. They 
killed the latter and took the father-in-law with them, and they have 
been living there ever since. 

At the last dance the girl lost her shoe, and the chief's son found it. 



33^ Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

3. TICON (petit- jean). ^ 

Ticon was living with his mother, for his father was dead. There 
were two kings ruling over the land. Ticon was poor : he had only one 
cow and one steer. One day, in a rage, he killed them. He skinned 
the cow and stuffed it. Then he put wheels under its hoofs, and 
dragged it to town. On the way he met the two kings, who gave him 
nine beans for it. 

His mother was vexed. " What will you do with those? " she asked. 

"Oh, I will make some money yet," he replied. So he got a lot of 
pails and filled them with dung, loaded them into an ox-cart, and 
started for town singing. 

In the mean time the kings took the cow home, but it neither ate 
nor voided. They found that it was stuffed, and started after Ticon. 
Soon they met him with his load. They inquired of him what he had, 
and he replied, "Oh, I am selling good syrup." 

They bought it of him and went home, one driving, the other walk- 
ing. The one on the cart could not wait till he got home, so he tasted 
the syrup; and, as soon as he found out what it was, he spat it out. 
Then he said to his comrade, "Let us change off for a while! You 
may ride, and I shall walk." Then the same happened to the other 
Icing. "Hai!" said he, "do you know what we bought? Why, it is 
dung! Let us kill Ticon to-morrow!" 

Ticon suspected that they would be after him, so he took a bird's 
pluck, filled it with blood, and tied it about his mother's neck. " Now, 
mother, I shall pretend to kill you when they come," he said. 

When the kings approached, he stabbed the pluck, and his mother 
fell down, all bloody. The kings were horrified. "Oh, that is all 
right!" cried Ticon. "I can make her alive." So he blew up her 
back with a bone whistle. "That will bring any one to life," he 
said, "and it will even make a bad woman good!" Then his mother 
sprang up. 

The kings willingly paid him a large sum for his whistle. That 
night one of them quarrelled with his wife and killed her. His children 
wept, so he tried to bring her to, but he did not succeed. 

However, he told the other king that it was all right. He tried 
it too; but it did not work for him either, no matter how hard he tried. 
He ran to his friend, and cried, "Hai, I have killed my wife!" — "So 
have I! Let us make a bag and put Ticon in it, and drown him in 
the sea!" 

They caught Ticon and put him in a bag, and took him away in 
a wheel-barrow. All the way Ticon was singing, "I am going to 
heaven to-day!" After a while they stopped for a drink; so they 
hung the bag containing Ticon from the branch of a tree. While 

^ See Bolte and Polivka, I. c, vol. ii, p. i. 



European Tales from the Plains Ojibwa. 337 

they were gone, an old shepherd came along and heard him singing. 
He asked Ticon why he was so happy. Ticon replied that he was going 
to heaven. Then the old man offered to change places with him. 
The kings took the bag out to sea in their ship, and cast it overboard. 
On their return, they overtook Ticon driving home the shepherd's 
flock. "Why, where did you come from?" they asked. "If you had 
dumped me in the centre of the sea, I should have had better cattle!" 
he cried. "O Ticon! what will you take to put us there?" 

Ticon had them make two bags, told them to get in, and sing certain 
songs. He told them that when they were thrown overboard, they 
would meet the king under water, who would give them cattle. 

Then he took them out and threw them into the sea, saying, "You 
will never get any cattle!" 

4. TICON WINS THE PRINCESS. 

A youth was once raising his younger brother. He treated him well 
and bought him clothes to wear; but the little fellow destroyed them, 
and slept on the floor naked. When the boy was nearly grown, his 
elder brother received a letter that said that the king's daughter would 
soon be married. She would accept whoever could propose a puzzle 
that she could not solve. Three chances were allowed; and if the 
princess guessed each correctly, the propounder would go to jail. 
The contest was to take place four days later, at noon. 

In order to get there on time, the elder brother had to start that 
night. He wondered what he should do, as there was no one to 
watch his younger brother Ticon. Just then four more young men 
came up, and asked, "Where are you going?" — "Have you not heard 
about the king's daughter?" They decided to go together, but to 
leave Ticon behind, because he was so foolish. All that night the 
young men sat up inventing puzzles, while Ticon slept. The next 
morning they told him to stay behind, while they all set out together. 

The young men walked till noon, when they stopped for lunch. 
At evening they discovered that Ticon was following them. He 
had no shirt, only an old torn coat that he had to hold together, and 
a piece of tallow that he carried for lunch. 

"What shall we do?" asked the young men, one of another. "Oh, 
well! take him along. W^e shall get rid of him somehow." 

When camping-time came, they saw at a distance a long lodge. 
They dug a hole, put Ticon into it, and told him to stay there, and 
not to come to the house, because he was too dirty. They promised 
to feed him. 

In the house they found an old man, his wife, and two girls. These 
people were glad to see the young men, and offered them food. While 
they were eating, in came Ticon. While he was eating, he had greased 



338 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

himself all over with tallow. The girls saw him at once, and exclaimed, 
"Oh, look! Who is this?" 

Ticon tried to scare the girls, and began to play with them. They 
fed him, and he staid all night with them, while the others worked on 
their puzzles, and finally he went to sleep on the floor. Early in the 
morning the young men arose and left; and when Ticon woke up, 
there was no one there. As he opened the door to leave, the old man 
stopped him, and offered him food, saying, "You will overtake them." 

After Ticon had eaten, the old man gave him a rag which was 
rolled up. "Now, Ticon, I shall give you this rag," he said. "You 
will never be short of food. Count the number of people whom you 
want to feed, and then unwrap the rag. Always tie it at your 
shoulder." 

At dinner-time Ticon caught up with his companions. "Let us 
eat dinner here!" said he. He counted them, unwrapped and spread 
his rag, and it was covered with boiling and steaming food. 

"You stole this magic rag," the brothers said. "No," replied 
Ticon, "the old man gave it to me." After dinner Ticon wrapped up 
his rag and tied it on his shoulder. 

Just before night they came to another long house, similar to the 
one they had found before. This time the youths put Ticon in the 
haystack. The young men entered the house, and found an old man, 
his wife, and two daughters. Meanwhile Ticon, in eating, had covered 
himself all over with grease. Then he came in. The girls liked him 
and fed him, and he played with them, while the young men wrote all 
night. Ticon finally went to sleep on the floor of the lodge, and the 
others left before he awoke. When Ticon found that he had been 
left, he started to follow, but, just as he was going out, the old man 
stopped him. "Hold on! I'll give you something," he cried. He 
took a little bottle and shook it. Immediately it became large, and 
full of whiskey. "No one will ever drain it," said the old man. 

At dinner-time Ticon caught up with the others. He gave them all 
food on his rag. Then he took out his bottle, shook it, and all had a 
drink. When Ticon put it back into his pocket, there was none 
missing. 

At night they came to another long house. They hid Ticon in the 
haystack and went in. They found an old man, his wife, and two 
daughters. Meantime Ticon greased himself as before, and came in. 
As usual, the girls liked him and played with him, and he slept on 
the floor while the others studied. When Ticon awoke, the others 
had already gone, and he started to follow; but the old man stopped 
him and gave him a small fiddle, saying, " I give you a fiddle that is 
heard everywhere; and all who hear it will dance, and cannot stop 
while you play." Ticon took the fiddle and went off. At noon he 



European Tales from the Plains Ojibwa. 339 

came to town and found the others; but they were ahead and refused 
to stop for him, so Ticon fiddled, and they all danced. Ticon walked 
along playing, and, though the others tried to stop him, they could 
not do so. They cried, "O Ticon! you stole it;" but Ticon replied, 
"No." 

After dinner they locked Ticon up, because they said he was too 
stupid to go to the palace. They left him in an old stable while they 
themselves went to the king's house. Ticon, however, got out and 
followed them. He peeped through a crack in the palace door and 
saw all the others sitting there. They tried and lost, and were put in 
jail. This made Ticon angry. While waiting there, he saw an egg, 
which he put in his bosom. He saw a door-latch and took that. 
Then he eased himself in his hat and took that. Then he smeared 
himself all over with grease, and went in laughing. 

"What is this?" cried every one. The king's daughter was much 
surprised. Ticon walked right up to her and handed her the egg. 
"Cook this for me," he said. "Give me something to cook it with," 
she demanded. "Cook it with this," said Ticon, giving her the stick. 
"Give me your faeces," said the princess. Ticon handed her the hat. 
"Here they are, tied up in this!" 

"You are beaten," said the king to his daughter. "No, I will not 
marry him," said the princess. "He must go to jail." 

So Ticon was put in jail. "Here comes Ticon!" said his brothers 
and the others as they saw him enter. Ticon began to play*on his 
fiddle. 

After a while a porter came with dry bread and water. "Take it 
out," said Ticon. "No, it is your food," he replied. 

Ticon threw it out of the window, and told the porter to watch 
while he fed the people in jail. He counted them, opened his rag, and 
there was a fine, hot, steaming dinner. After they had eaten, he 
opened his bottle, and they all had a drink. The porter was aston- 
ished. Ticon wrapped up his rag and put away his bottle. Then he 
fiddled, and they all danced. The officer had to dance until he was 
worn out. When Ticon stopped, he went and told the king and the 
king's daughter that Ticon had thrown away all the dry bread, fed 
the prisoners, and made them dance. 

The princess wondered if Ticon would sell the rag, so she sent the 
officer to ask him. Ticon replied, "Oh, no! I will not. If I should 
sell it, these poor fellows would all starve." 

When the officer reported this to the princess, she told him to go 
and tell Ticon that she would buy it at any price. 

"All right," said Ticon, "provided she will do what I tell her. I 
am going to say to her, ' Come here in your night-dress and sit on this 
chair for five minutes!' That is all I shall ask." 



340 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

The king's daughter agreed to do this: so she came and sat down, 
and Ticon looked at her for five minutes. Then he gave her the rag. 

Presently the officer came for the bottle, but Ticon would not sell it. 
The princess then offered to give him anything. "If she will do my 
will, I will sell it to her. I am to sleep all night outside her room on 
the roof." 

The king's daughter agreed to this, and soon had the bottle. She 
next sent her officer over to try to get the fiddle. Ticon refused at 
first, but on her second attempt he agreed, provided he could sleep 
on the floor in her room, while she was to sleep in her bed. " I shall 
ask her three questions too, and she is to answer 'No' each time." 

So it was arranged that way ; but the king ordered police and soldiers 
to be there with torches. After a while Ticon asked, "My king's 
daughter, are you going to have light all night?" 

"No," replied the princess, so Ticon ordered the lights out. 

"My king's daughter, are these policemen to be here all night?" 

"No!" So Ticon ordered them sent out, and they were alone. 
The king heard all this, and said, "She is beaten again." 

Then Ticon said to the king's daughter, "Am I to sleep pn the floor 
all night?" 

"No," said she. So he won. 

The next day they cleaned Ticon and dressed him up, and he 
married the king's daughter. The others were let out of jail. 

American Museum of Natural History, 
New York. 



Plains Cree Tales. 341 



PLAINS CREE TALES. 

BY ALANSON SKINNER. 

The following stories were obtained in the summer of 1913 on the 
Crooked Lake, Cowesess, Sakimay, and adjoining reserves in Sas- 
katchewan. They were mainly narrated by Kene, Andrew and Jacob 
Bear. The writer owes much to the kind assistance of the Rev. Hugh 
Mackay of the Round Lake Mission. 

It will be observed that the spelling of the name of the culture-hero 
is not always consistent. This is due to the variation of pronunciation 
in different localities. 

The stories are published by courtesy of the American Museum of 
Natural History. 

I. TALES OF THE CULTURE-HERO. 

(i) The Big-Skunk, and the Origin oj Wisakejdk. 

Once in winter there was a big camp of Indians. There was one 
Indian who knew about the weather, and he said that Big-Skunk 
would come to them. He warned every one. "No one will live," 
he said. "If he comes, he will destroy the children." So they sent 
one man out to see which way Big-Skunk was coming. They asked 
the birds that fly and the little beasts that run on foot, wolves, foxes, 
and even insects. There was a Mouse who volunteered to scout. 

"What will you do to find him?" they asked. 

Mouse answered, "I shall go under the snow from our camp, and I 
shall rise by his left foot. I shall be gone four nights." 

The prophet then said, "Mouse will have to have a partner;" and 
another animal said, "I'll go." This was a weasel of the smallest kind. 

"What will you do?" they asked Weasel. 

" I shall do the same as Mouse. I shall follow him." 

"Ahau! we shall be gone four nights, and in the morning at dawn I 
shall be here." So the prophet told the people to take care of them- 
selves and not to get hurt. 

They went, fleeing under the snow. "Sew all the children in 
bundles, and we will flee," said the people. So they gathered food 
and fled. Away they went under the snow. On the third night the 
prophet said, "To-morrow at dinner-time we shall find tracks." The 
Mouse said that Skunk knew that he was near, and told Weasel, "He 
will know you too." When they had dinner, they met Skunk. He 
was a person. While eating, the Big-Skunk made a huge fire to dry 



342 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

his moccasins; and as the snow melted, Mouse and Weasel reached 
him. The fourth night, while warming his feet, Big-Skunk said to 
himself, "I believe he is quite near by. My foot trembles." He was 
afraid. Mouse just then reached a long foot, and told Weasel to look 
at it. Weasel looked, and saw that it was a really long foot. They 
were frightened, and fled back the same way they had come. Then 
Big-Skunk dressed, and came to one place where his foot had lain, 
and saw the hole left by the scouts under the snow. "Oh, you 
dirty things! you can't beat me," he cried. He ran along, searching 
for them. He broke the snow, and at intervals found traces of the 
tunnel by which they had come. The fourth night the fugitives 
reached home. Mouse and Weasel went to the chief and told him: 
so he cried, "Waweihl takwucetum, — dress up, every one, and we 
will flee! Mouse has tracked Big-Skunk. He will destroy the chil- 
dren." 

They went to the roughest hills and mountains. "At dinner to- 
morrow he will get to our old camp," said Mouse. They travelled till 
they came to a crooked creek, crossed a mountain, and there they 
camped. The prophet called a council. Mouse and Weasel had not 
been able to overcome Big-Skunk: so he took his pipe, and asked who 
would try next. The others were afraid; but Wolverene came for- 
ward, and said he would make the attempt. 

"What can you do?" asked the prophet. "I will catch him by the 
buttocks, and hold him until some one comes and kills him." Lynx 
also volunteered. 

"What can you do?" he was asked. " I will catch him by the neck 
and break it," said Lynx. 

Wolverene said, "There is a beaver-house near here. I will break 
it, and stay in it and watch for him. I will fool him. I have a charm 
with which I can fool every one." 

When dinner-time came. Wolverene broke the beaver-house, and 
the people left. Two old women were abandoned in the flight. One 
had an infant, her grandchild, which she was raising. The old woman 
said, "My grandchild, Big-Skunk is near by. I shall turn your back 
to my back, and we shall have two faces. Tell me when you see him 
coming. He will look like a man. If he catches us, he will search all 
over our bodies. Do not move. He will want to know what we are. 
If you move, he will kill you. After he has gone away, we can flee. 
We shall cut across the creek towards the camp. He will have to go 
farther." 

The two fled, and left the other old woman behind. After a while 
Big-Skunk caught up to her. "Grandmother, are you tired out and 
left behind?" — "Yes, my grandchild, I am tired out. I cannot go 
any quicker. My legs are tired." The old woman was frightened. 



Plains Cree Tales. 343 

"Why do you flee?" Big-Skunk asked. "I am afraid of Big-Skunk. 
He is terrible when he breaks wind." 

Big-Skunk passed by, and destroyed her with his discharge. The 
other old woman saw him coming, and cried, "There is one thing that 
used to pity me," and she threw away her whetstone. " Let the moun- 
tains become as slippery as that!" she prayed, and, behold! a slippery 
mountain sprang up. Big-Skunk came to it. 

"I suppose that is what my grandmother is trying. I cannot get 
up. I can beat it, though," he cried ; and he turned around, discharged 
his fluid, and broke it. The old woman heard the report. 

"The tanning-tool used to love me!" she screamed, and threw it 
behind her. Once more solid mountains grew up. Big-Skunk reached 
them. 

"Oh, my grandmother is trying hard! She thinks I am weak!" he 
remarked, so he turned around and broke this also. 

The little girl onher grandmother's back then cried, "He is coming!" 
and both fell down and lay as though dead. Big-Skunk came up, and 
said, "One of my grandmothers is dead here again. My grandmother 
is very poor when she is thrown away like this. I do not know what 
disease she has." 

He turned her over and felt of her over and over again, to look for 
the wound of which she died, and in so doing found her privates. 
"That is where some one has stabbed my grandmother!" he exclaimed. 
"That was a large flat knife with which she was stabbed! They are 
very poor, alas! If it had been done long ago, she would smell bad," 
he mused. He thrust two fingers into her and smelled of them. "Oh, 
she must have died long ago! She is rotten already," he cried. He 
tried the little girl next, and said the same about her. Then Skunk 
went on. As soon as he had left, the others got up and fled. 

At last he found Wolverene, who was working around the beaver- 
house. Wolverene called to him, "Let us dig out this beaver, brother- 
in-law!" They talked and argued as to when they should do it. 
Big-Skunk was watched by Wolverene all the time ; and as soon as 
Big-Skunk turned. Wolverene bit his buttocks. Big-Skunk cried, 
"My brother-in-law, let me go! You are delaying me! I am travel- 
ling!" 

Wolverene had the best of him, and began to cry through his teeth, ^ 
"Come on, I've got him by the part with which he kills us!" 

"Listen," said all the people, "to what he says!" 

They heard it distinctly, and ran to the spot. The)^ stabbed Big- 
Skunk with their knives and spears, but it did not injure him. All 
this time Lynx did not appear. Big-Skunk only laughed as they 
chopped, but he could not be killed. 

1 Imitation of Wolverene's voice speaking through his teeth. 



344 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

Then Weasel cried, "Where is Lynx?" — "Oh, he is in the camp!" 
answered the people. " Call him! I cannot hold Skunk any longer!" 

They ran to Lynx. "Hurry up!" they cried; and Lynx answered, 
"I'll try first to see what I can do." He jumped up on the beaver- 
house. When half way up the house, he had a fit and could not go 
any farther. He tried four times before he reached the top; and he 
had fit after fit while they carried him to the place where Big-Skunk 
was. Then Big-Skunk was afraid. "O my brother-in-law! let me 
go! You are only holding me for nought. Your nephews are tired!" 
he exclaimed. 

Lynx climbed a tree, but he had three fits before he reached the top. 
" Now," said Lynx, " I am going to spring." 

The people cleared away; and Lynx pounced and bit Big-Skunk at 
the back of his neck, till he got hold of the sinew, and Big-Skunk fell 
and was stabbed. Then he was killed, and the people cut him up. 
Wolverene let go, and demanded two beavers as a rew^ard. He said 
he would be crazy unless he got them, and rolled over in the snow. 
The men singed two beavers and gave them to Wolverene, who swal- 
lowed them. After that he recovered. Wolverene said, "There 
would be no people alive if I had not killed him." Big-Skunk was cut 
into pieces and thrown away. "The pieces will become skunks," 
said Wolverene. After that one could see little skunks running in all 
directions. Wolverene said, "I shall leave you now. I shall travel 
all over the country." As he left the place, he sang, " Mici Cigak oso 
niki potea potcwa wo Jiu hti!" ("I closed Big-Skunk's buttocks, 
wo hii hu!'^) 

While travelling along, he met ten Wolves. They heard him as they 
were playing in the night. The oldest one said, "Listen to him, my 
children! I believe that is my eldest brother. He has a good song. 
If Big-Skunk had lived, there would have been no people. Well, 
watch for him, and run and say to him, 'My uncle, what are you say- 
ing?' and do not hurt him." 

The Wolves raced to him, cornered him, and Wolverene fell down 
and arose as a man. Then, behold! he was Wisakejak! The Wolves 
told him their father wanted to see hirn. Wisakejak went to them, 
and asked, "W^hat do you want?" 

" My elder brother, what were you saying?" asked the old Wolf. 

"Oh, I've cured Big-Skunk's buttocks, and now I am travelling 
through the country. I shall stop and camp with you for a while. 
I am lonely, for I am all alone." 

Some time later Wisakejak wanted to part with Wolf, and asked 
that one of his nephews be permitted to accompany him. Old Wolf 
told his youngest son to go with Wisakejak. 

Once upon a time, as they were travelling along, Wisakejak was sad. 



Plains Cree Tales. 345 

He said that he had bad dreams, and said, " My nephew, never go along 
the lake-shore. Do not run on the beach." 

One time Wolf was thirsty. He forgot Wisakejak's instructions 
and went to the lake. When he got there, he became crazy. All at 
once Wisakejiik found that Wolf was missing. He tracked him to the 
lake. Wisakejiik went about weeping, wailing, "O my younger 
brother! he, he, he! — Grass, will you tell me where my nephew went 
last?" 

"Well, he passed here," said Grass. He asked every living thing 
till he reached bare ground. Then he asked the Sun. The Sun said, 
"There is a little harbor near by with a sandy beach. There are four 
of them there; that is where they are. One of them is white. That 
is Lynx, who killed your nephew. Just about dinner-time the four 
come out on the point and sleep." 

Wisakejak went to the place at once. "I'll be a stick of driftwood," 
he said. So he lay on the beach. Soon the White-Lynx monster came 
out, and said, "Oh, that stick was never there before! Wisakejak was 
said to have been real angry when we killed his nephew!" 

Lynx was afraid to come ashore, and went back. Next day Wisake- 
jak came again. This time he turned into a tree on the beach. Three 
Great-Lynxes (mitci pisiwuk) came out, and the white one refused to 
come ashore. "That tree was never there before. I fear it is Wisake- 
jak." The others said it had always been there, for they had played 
with it. So at last the white one came out. They put their tails 
around the tree and pulled four times, so that they nearly overthrew 
Wisakejak. In the evening the Lynxes slept. The Sun told Wisakejak 
to shoot the shadow of White-Lynx. Wisakejak thought he would 
miss: so he decided he would have to shoot at Lynx, which he did, and 
missed. The White-Lynx came again next day; and Wisakejak, who 
was still there, spanned his bow again. The Sun had told Wisakejak 
again to shoot at the shadow; and Wisakejak hesitated, but obeyed, 
and hit Lynx under the foreleg. Lynx sprang up, and fled into the 
water. 

Then Wisakejak went on weeping, but the monster White-Lynx did 
not come back. All at once Wisakejak heard a noise. He went to it, 
wondering what it might be; and, lo! it was a big toad. W'hen he 
came nearer, he saw that it was an old woman. He asked her, "Where 
are you going?" 

"Oh, I am going to treat the White-Lynx, whom Wisakejak shot 
between the ribs." 

"Oh!" said Wisakejak, and he killed her with a blow. He skinned 
her, put on her skin, took her rattle, and hopped along. He hopped 
into the lake. There was a trail under the water, and a little farther 
on he saw tents. The people were weeping. When they saw him, 
they said, " Oh, our old grandma is coming again ! " 



346 Journal of American Folk- Lore. 

He went in. On entering, he saw his nephew's skin hanging on a 
pole. Tears came into his eyes. Then he entered another door, and 
there he saw White-Lynx. He saw an arrow in his side, and saw that 
White-Lynx was suffering. He walked around Lynx and went near 
him. Then an old woman said, "Oh, you have not done that way 
before!" — "Oh, I have to act differently to-day!" he replied. "I am 
going to take the arrow out this time." He had a pipe filled. " Now, 
shut the door. I shall smoke and take out the arrow now, but don't 
let any one look in." When this was done, others wondered why he 
wanted the door closed. Wisakejak went up to Lynx, took the arrow- 
shaft in his hands, and pushed it into Lynx's heart as hard as he could. 
Then he seized the skin of his nephew and fled, tearing off his toad-skin 
disguise. The others were pursuing him. When they had nearly 
overtaken him, he reached the shore. Then he blew on Wolf and 
brought him back to life. They went about together once more. 

About spring Wisakejak knew that something was bound to happen. 
He informed all the animals that there would be a deluge. He ordered 
them to make a raft of logs. They lashed them together, and all went 
aboard. Then rain began to fall, and it rained continuously for twenty 
days. On the fortieth day the raft was floating high on the waters. 
All kinds of animals were aboard, — moose, deer, bear, and others. 
As they were floating about, Wisakejak found that he had forgotten to 
take any earth with him, and asked all the animals to get some. He 
told Fish, but he failed. Then he asked Beaver, but he failed; then 
several other animals, but they all failed. 

At last he asked Muskrat to dive down, and he brought up a little 
mud, but came up dead. Wisakejak then resuscitated Muskrat. 
When the earth was brought up, Wisakejak blew on it until it became 
land. It grew larger as he blew. After a while he sent Deer to run 
around it. Deer ran around it. Then different kinds of animals ran 
around it three times ; the fourth time he sent the Wolf, who could run 
very fast. When the Wolf had reached the north, he had grown so 
old that he could not return. 

Wisakejak said to him, "The north country shall be yours to live in; 
and if any one asks you for anything, you shall give it to him right in 
his house. You will pity all the people here in this world." 

He sent his nephew to the Sun. That one will never get older than 
his age was then. Wisakejak had saved all the animals, and the 
earth was now large enough for all of them. He let them go, and went 
on travelling. 

This was his origin. He gave himself his name when he fell down 
before the Wolves. 

"The clubs are coming down, and this country is called North 
America." ^ 

1 A typical conventional humerous ending for a story; just as the Menomini say, "And 
I came away, and didn't get anything to eati" 



Plains Cree Tales. 347 

(2) Wisilkejak deceived by Bear, and Tree-Holders. 

Wisflkejak was travelling, when he met a Bear, and called him 
Nicim. He admired the Bear's little eyes, and said, "I wish my eyes 
were like yours! Can't you give me the same kind?" — "Oh, yes, 
elder brother! This is the way they are made. Have you any glue?" 
— "Yes," answered WisQkejak. "Boil it thick. Now, come here 
and lie on your back!" ordered Bear. 

Wisdkejak obeyed, and Bear dipped his paw in the glue and rubbed 
it over Wisiikejak's eyes. Then he did the same again, and said, 
"Lie still, I want to go a little ways to defecate. Lie still till I come 
back." 

WisHkejak kept quiet for a long time, but finally called, "O my 
younger brother, come back!" There was no answer: so he shouted 
louder, then tried to open his eyes, but, alas! they were glued tight. 
He fell in a rage, got up, walked, and soon ran into a tree. 

"What sort of a tree are you?" he inquired. "Oh, I am an oak!" 
Wisilkejak went on until he bumped into another tree. "What sort 
are you?" — "Oh, I am a pine," it answered. So he went on, running 
against several others, until at last he came to a tree that stood on the 
brink of the water. 

"Oh, what are you?" he asked. "Why, I am a mountain ash." 

When the poor Wisukejak heard this, he thought he was on the moun- 
tains. So he went on; but he fell into the river, because the tree lied. 
He played in the river until the water softened the glue and opened his 
eyes; but he was angry in his heart against the Bear, and said to him- 
self, "I must kill him." 

So all summer he kept asking the Ground, "Where did Bear pass?" 
but Ground said not a word until late in the fall, when there was a 
little snow on the earth; then it said, "Bear passed here." 

So Wisilkejak made a sweat-bath there. He cut down willows, and 
bent and covered them. The Bear liked sweat-baths. W'isilkejak 
found him, and told him he had one, and Bear thought he would like 
to try it. So Wisilkejak coaxed him in, and killed him in the bath. 
He cut him up and cooked him. He spread out the meat, and said, 
" Now, what a fine feast I am going to have ! " 

Just then he heard a noise, and listened. "What is that? I thought 
I heard something." He tried to eat again, but the noise disturbed 
him; so he looked up, and saw one tree rubbing against another and 
making a noise. So he said, " I must stop this noise before I can eat." 
He cut off some fat, climbed the tree, and tried to put the fat between 
the trees; but they caught his hand, and he was stuck there. He sat 
there some time wondering what he could do. He had to stay all 
night. In the morning he was very hungry, and longed to get loose 



348 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

and to eat the meat, for it smelled very good. He saw a wolf coming 
from far away, and called, "My nephew, come help me to get loose!" 
The wolf came, sniffed, and smelled something; and in a very short 
time it ate every scrap of the bear-meat and fled. Just then the wind 
began to blow, and Wisiikejak was released. 

(3) The Culture-Hero becomes a Sivan. 

Wisiikejak went off walking again, and he came to a lake covered 
with swans. It was moulting-time, and the Swans were talking to 
each other. Wisiikejak called to them, "Let me be a swan!" and the 
Swans consented. "What age do you prefer? Do you want to be 
young or old?" they asked. "I wish to be an old swan." — "Would 
you Hke a broad bill?" asked the Swans. "No," replied Wisflkejak. 

The Swans said, "You should have said so long ago. We have 
started to make you that way already." Then Wisiikejak became a 
swan with a broad bill. They soon gave warning that men were near. 
Wisiikejak flew off with the flock. He looked down, contrary to in- 
structions, was shot, and fell. A man carried him toward home; but 
when he was nearly on shore, Wisiikejak jumped up. When Wisiike- 
jak fell, he struck the ground beside an Indian village, and with such 
force that he was stunned. He had resumed his human form: so the 
Indians came out and staked him down, spread-eagle wise. The chief 
ordered that the people should defecate on him. At last came an old 
woman. When she had finished, Wisiikejak said to her, "Grandma, 
whenever they finish, they untie one of my hands, so I can cleanse 
them." The old woman loosed one of Nenapuc's ^ hands, whereupon 
he snatched up a stick and plunged it into her, loosened himself, and 
ran away, leaving her on the spit. 

(4) The Culture-Hero is deceived by Fisher. 

Wisiikejak was travelling along the seashore. The ice was smooth, 
and he heard a sound way off. He looked, and saw Fisher coming, 
jumping from side to side of a crack. So he watched for the little 
beast. "What are you doing, my little brother? Let me do the 
same." — "All right, get a flat stone," said Fisher; so Wisiikejak 
brought one. Fisher cut his backside, took out his intestines and 
tied a stone to them. Fisher said, "Jump, and every crack will close." 
Wisiikejak tried to do so, but made a mistake, and said, "Crack will 
open," and in he fell. He crawled for the shore with his guts hanging 
out, attached to the stone. At last he reached the shore and went 
along on his travels. 

1 Wisukejak, frequently called Nenapuc by Cree at Broadview, possibly in imitation 
of Saulteaux. 



Plains Cree Tales. 349 

(5) The Shut-Eye-Dance. 

It was fall, and fowls were flying. " I am bringing you a 'shut-eye- 
dance, ' " Wisukejak called to them. So he built a dance-tent, and in- 
vited birds to dance, warning them to keep their eyes shut. He said that 
if they opened their eyes, they would turn red. The ducks and geese 
obeyed. All the fat ones came nearer, and began to quack. He 
ordered them to give the same response ; and all obeyed except Water- 
Hen, who opened one eye, and saw WisOkejak killing the others. She 
cried, "Flee, flee, flee! " Wisflkejak kicked her, making her buttocks 
assume their present shape, and gave her a red eye for peeping. Then 
he travelled on. 

(6) Wolf-Tail Blankets. 

It was winter. Wisilkejak saw many wolves. "Nicim!" he called 
to one, "I want to be a wolf. Make me one, and I shall like you." 

"What age do you wish to be, — a young or an old wolf, with hair on 
your back and feet?" He desired to be an old wolf, and so he was 
made one and ran on. The wolves looked for a camping-place, and 
made it where the north wind blew. Each wolf turned two or three 
times before lying down, and he followed their example. All the 
others went to sleep, but Wisilkejak felt very cold. His teeth chat- 
tered. He cried, "Cover me, brothers, cover me!" So they all 
turned and put their tails over him; and he was soon too warm, and 
pushed their tails aside because they discharged flatus on him. He 
threw off their tails and ran away, because of the foul smell. 

On the following day they all went hunting, and found moose- 
tracks, and soon saw something. One of the Wolves picked it up, and 
it w^as a fine robe. Wisukejak begged for it, but was refused. Pres- 
ently he saw a tooth in a spruce-tree. A Wolf said to him, "Take it!" 

"No, what should I do with it?" answered WisQkejak. Therefore 
Wolf took it, and it proved to be a long spear. Then he begged for it, 
but was refused. They came to the place where the moose was, but 
there were only bones there: so Wisfikejak, disgusted, gave his share to 
Wolves. "One of your nephews is going to make grease by pounding 
the bones," said the old Wolf, "but do not look at him." 

W'isOkejak listened, heard, and thought he would look. A splinter 
hit him in the eye. "Oh," Wolf said, "you're peeping!" — "No, I was 
not," he replied. Soon it was his turn to pound the bones. All the 
Wolves lay down while he pounded, for they were not to look. They 
went to sleep. Then Wistlkejak hit the one who hit him in the eye, 
and kept on pounding him until only his tail could move. Wisilkejak 
then resumed his journey. 
VOL. XXIX. — NO. 113. — 23. 



350 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



/ 



(7) The Culture-Hero and the Cannibal. 



Wisflkejak travelled on. He met a Cannibal; and they went on 
together, looking for a place to camp. They soon found one, and the 
Cannibal sent Wisukejak to cut eight sticks to roast him. WisOkejak 
brought seven, and wept. The Cannibal sent him for another stick; 
and on his way he met Weasel, whom he begged to kill the Cannibal, 
promising to make Weasel pretty. Weasel went, and ran into the 
Cannibal's backside. Wisukejak got the stick; and when he returned, 
he found the Cannibal dead, for Weasel had killed him. Wislikejak 
was pleased. Therefore he painted Weasel white, with a dark tip on 
his tail. Then he weiit on travelling. 



(8) The Culture-Hero outwits Bear. 

As he went along, he saw a Bear, and shouted, "Who is that with 
the humped back?" Bear heard him, and asked, "What do you say?" 
• — "Oh, I was speaking to the little birds!" replied Wisilkejak; and 
he called again. Again Bear asked, and received the same answer. 
At last Bear understood what he said, and chased Wisflkejak, who ran 
away, because he had no weapon. He ran around a bush, and then 
he found a horn: so he turned and faced Bear, holding it on his head. 
Bear fled, and WisHkejak went on his way. 

(9) The Deluge. 

While he was travelling along, he heard a noise, and turned to find 
the waters rising. He fled, and climbed into a tall tree. The water rose 
to his neck, and he could see nothing but water. Then he discovered 
a beaver and a muskrat. "Nishimfik, come here!" he called. So 
they came. He begged them to dive and bring him a little mud. 
First the beaver tried, then the rat. After many trials, the rat got a 
little sand, and Wislikejak formed the earth. 

(10) The Hero and his Daughters.^ 

Wislikejak travelled on. He came to a tent filled with v/omen, and 
cried, " I have news, people are dying!" One of the women begged to 
know what she could do to escape death. Wisukejak told her to 
accept him as her lover. He had children by all of them, and went on, 
leaving a son and a daughter. He told the women, "I shall become 
sick and die. Marry our daughter to the first person who comes 
along. Bury me anywhere, break camp, and when you come back 
you will only find my bones." But he deceived them and only went 
into hiding. The people came back, and found bones, but he was alive. 

1 I have heard this story from a Sisseton Sioux. 



Plains Cree Tales. 351 

After a while a stranger came to camp; and the mother, remembering 
her husband's command, gave him her daughter. It was WisCkejak 
who married his own daughter. He went off to hunt with his own 
son, calHng him brother-in-law. His wife, when hunting lice on his 
head, saw a mark by which she recognized her own father. Then he 
was driven away. He went south, where he heard children laughing, 
and asked, "What is the news that amuses you?" — "Oh, haven't 
you heard? Wisflkejak married his own daughter." 
So he went on south, where he is still living. 

(11) The Hero eats his own Flesh} 

Wisakejak was travelling. His anus annoyed him by constantly 
breaking wind just when he was approaching game, and thus alarming 
the quarry. Enraged at this, Wisakejak heated a stone and sat on it, 
burning himself severely. Later on, when the wound began to heal, 
one of the scabs fell off in the snow. Wisakejak was going back over 
the same ground, and he found it. "Oh, my grandfather has been 
killing game, so my grandmother has plenty of smoked meat," he 
said, and, picking it up, he began to eat it. A little bird near by 
was convulsed with mirth. "Oh, Wisakejak is eating the scab from 
his anus!" he cried. 

Wisakejak did not believe it. "No, this is som-e of my grandmoth- 
er's dried meat," he retorted. But the bird told him the same several 
times, till at last Wisakejak hit a place where the foul taste and odor 
proclaimed the fact. In disgust he threw the scab away and set off 
on his travels once more. 

(12) Wisagatcak tries to seduce a Girl. 

Wisagatcak believes he sees a girl on the other side of a river, 
and asks the Muskrat to carry his lariat (i.e., his membrum) across. 
He hurts it by striking the stones and pebbles, on account of which 
the gland of the membrum virile is thick. The girl proves to be a 
fresh-water clam. 

(13) Wisukejdk: The Magic Arroiv. 

Wisllkejak was travelling, when he heard a peculiar noise somewhere 
ahead of him. Anxious to learn what it could be, he went towards it.. 
The first day he did not reach it, nor was he successful on the second,, 
but on the third he found a man making an arrow. "That must be: 
an important weapon, you are taking so long to make it!" cried 
Wisflkejak. "Oh, yes! you are right," returned the stranger. "This 

' Andrew Bear, who told this story, could not recall the beginning. It probably is 
the conclusion of the Shut-Ej'e-Dance, judged by the cycle as found elsewhere. 



352 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

is a medicine-arrow. When I am finished, all that I shall have to do 
is to shut my eyes, wish for whatever game I desire, pull the bow- 
string, and there it will lie before me when I re-open my eyes!" — 
"Oh, wa/" exclaimed Wisfikejak, "how truly marvellous! Do give 
it to me, my little brother!" — "Oh, no! I want it for myself," re- 
turned the stranger, who was a manitou. "Oh, do please give it to 
me, Nicim!" pleaded Wisukejak. "Well, I will do so, since you beg 
so hard," said the stranger at last, " but only on condition that you will 
first let me shoot you with it three times." — "Yes, let it be so!" 
answered Wisilkejak. So he stood up and permitted the stranger 
to fire. 

"Oh, wa!^' cried Wisiik^jak, for it knocked him down. A second 
and third time the stranger shot at him. Poor Wisiikejak was almost 
killed ; but the arrow was his at last, so he took it and went away.^ 

Presently Wisflkejak closed his eyes and thought, "I wish for a 
deer." He pulled the string and fired, and, lo and behold ! there it was. 
" Oh, this is a fine thing that I have ! " he thought. He went on a little 
farther. " I wish for a bear," he thought, and fired. Then he opened 
his eyes, but the arrow never came back. 

(14) Wisukejak deceives the Buffalo} 

Wisiikejak was travelling when he saw two bufi"alo, — an old bull 
and a young bull. The buffalo well knew WisQkejak, and they were 
too much afraid of him to let him come near. As Wisflkejak was only 
armed with a butcher-knife, he resolved to capture them by strategy. 
He went off through the bushes, carved two figures of men out of 
poplar-wood, and set them up as though in mortal combat. Then 
Wisfikejak ran to the buffalo. 

"Hail actum, my little brothers!" he cried, "here are two men 
fighting on your account! One of them says the old bull has the most 
evil-smelling membrum, the other declares that it is the young bull. 
Only let me smell of both of you and tell them. It may save their 
lives!" 

Of course, the buffalo were willing: so Wisiikejak crawled under the 
old bull and smelled of him. "Why, you scarcely smell at all!" he 
said, and went over to the young one. He crouched under him as 
though to investigate, but instead he stabbed him and thus got food. 

2. WEMICUS. 

Once an old man was out hunting with his son-in-law. The young 
man was afraid of his father-in-law. Therefore that night, after 

1 Presumably the narrator has omitted to add that Wisukejak was enjoined not to 
shoot more than three times in one day, or not to shoot upwards. 

2 Told by Andrew Bear. 



Plains Cree Tales. 353 

they had gone to bed, he changed the positions of their clothes, putting 
his own in the place of his father-in-law's. 

After a while the old man got up to attend to the fire, and while 
doing so he threw what he thought were his son-in-law's garments into 
the fire. In reaUty he burned his own. "Get up, son-in-law!" cried 
the old man, "it smells as if something was burning!" — "Oh, yes!" 
answered the youth, arising, "it is your clothes!" 

In the morning the old man told a story: "Once a youth and his 
father-in-law were travelling together. Through accident the elder 
burnt his clothes; but the young man, who had two pairs of moccasins, 
gave one pair to his father-in-law." — "Oh, no! I won't give you any," 
retorted the youth, and he started home. 

The old man heated a stone and endeavored to roll it before him, 
that he might melt a path for himself; but he gave it up, and froze to 
death. 

3. MUDjiKIWIS. 

Once upon a time the Indians were camping. They had ten lodges. 
There were ten of them; and the eldest brother, Mfldjikiwis, was 
sitting in the doorway. It was winter, and all the Indians had their 
side-bags on ; and every day they went off and hunted in the direction 
which they faced as they sat. MCidjikiwis always took the lead, and 
the others foUow^ed. Once when he came home to his camp, he saw 
smoke just as he crossed the last hill. When he approached the lodge, 
he saw a pile of wood neatly stacked by the door. He himself had 
always cooked the dinner; and when he saw it ready, he was very glad. 
"There is surely a girl here!" he thought. "There must be some one 
who has done this!" 

He had many brothers younger than himself. " Maybe some one is 
trying to marry them, or some girl wants me!" 

When he arrived at the lodge, he saw a girl's pigeon-toed tracks, and 
he was delighted. "Itis a girl!" he cried, and he rushed in to see her, 
but there was no one there. The fire was just started, the meat 
cooked and ready, and water had been drawn. Some one had just 
finished work when he came. There were even ten pairs of moccasins 
hanging up. "Now, at last, there is some one to sew for us! Surely 
one of us will get married!" he thought, and he also thought that he 
would be the fortunate one. He did not touch anything, but left 
everything as he had found it for his brothers to see. 

After a while the brother next to him in age came in. He looked up 
and saw all the moccasins, and he too was very glad. Then Miidjiki- 
wis said, "I do not know which of us is going to be married. A girl 
has just left here, but I cannot tell who she is, and there are ten of us. 
One of us is loved by someone!" They soon were joined by the third, 



354 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

and then by the fourth brother, and the fire was out by that time. 
The youngest brother was the most handsome one of the family. " If 
one of us should marry, MCidjikiwis, we shall have to hunt hard and 
not let our sister-in-law hunger or be in need," he said. "I shall be 
very glad if we have a sister-in-law. Don't let her chop wood, she 
cannot attend to all of us. We just want her to cook and mend our 
clothes." 

At night they were all crying, "He, he, he!'' until dark came, be- 
cause they were so glad. "I cannot attend to all my brothers, and 
I do not need to do so any more !" cried Miidjikiwis. 

The next day nine went off, and left the youngest brother on guard 
to see the girl. Mddjikiwis came back first, and found that the tenth 
boy had not been taken. "Oh, well! leave our ninth brother next 
time," he said. "Then we will try it once more with our eighth 
brother." 

Three of them then kept house in succession, but the woman did not 
come. They then left the fifth one, and said, " If no one comes, make 
dinner for us yourself." Soon after they had left, some one came along 
making a noise like a rattle (cicikwan), for she had bells on her leggings. 

"Oh, she shall not know me!" said the youth. "I shall be a bit of 
eagle-down," and he flew up between the canvas and the poles of the 
lodge. Presently the girl entered. She had very long hair, and was 
very pretty. She took the axe and went out to cut wood, and soon 
brought in four armfuls. Then she made the fire, took down the 
kettles, and prepared dinner. When she had done so, she melted some 
snow, took another armful of wood, and started another fire. After 
she had finished, she called to the youth to come down from his hiding- 
place. "Maybe you think I don't know you are up there," she said. 
So he came down and took a seat with her by the fire. 

When Mildjildwis came home, he saw another big pile of wood. 
When he came near, he cried, "He, he, he!" to show that he was well 
pleased. " I could not attend to the needs of my brothers," he shouted, 
" I could not cook for them, and I could not provide my relatives with 
moccasins ! ' ' He entered the door and bent down , for Mudj ikiwis had 
on a fisher-skin head-band with an eagle-quill thrust in behind. As he 
came in, he saw a pretty girl sitting there. When he sat down, he said, 
"Hai, hat, hai! The girl is sitting like her mother." He pulled off his 
shoes and threw them to his youngest brother, and received a fine pair of 
moccasins from his sister-in-law. He was delighted, and cried, "Hai, 
hai, hai!" Soon all the other brothers came back, all nine of them, 
and each received new moccasins. 

Mfldjikiwis said, "I have already advised you. Do not let our 
sister-in-law chop wood or do any hard work. Hunt well, and do not 
let her be hungry." Morning came, and Mfldjlkiwis was already half 



Plains Cree Tales. 355 

in love with his sister-in-law. He started out, pretending that he was 
going to hunt, but he only went over a hill and stopped there. Then 
he wrapped his blanket around himself. It was winter, and he took 
some mud from under the snow and rubbed it over his forehead and 
on his hat-band. He had his ball-headed club with him, which had 
two eyes that winked constantly. Soon he saw his sister-in-law, who 
came out to chop wood. He went to speak to her, but the girl had 
disappeared. Soon she came back. There was one pile of wood here, 
and one there. MCidjikiwis stopped at the one to the west. He had 
his bow, his arrows, and his club with him. He held his club on the 
left arm, and his bow and arrow on the right arm, folded his arms across 
his breast, and was smiling at her when she came up. " O my brother- 
in-law! I don't want to do that," she cried. 

Then Mudjikiwis was angry because she scorned him. He took an 
arrow and shot her in the leg, and fled ofT to hunt. That night he 
returned late, last of all. As he came close to the lodge, he called out, 
" Yohd, yohcil what is wrong with you? You have done some kind of 
mischief. Why is there no wood for our sister-in-law?" He went in. 
"What is wrong wuth our sister-in-law, that she is not home?" he 
demanded. His brother then said, "Why are you so late? You used 
to be the first one here." 

Miidjikiwis would not speak in reply. The married brother came 
in last. The young brother was tired of waiting, and asked each, 
"You did not see your sister-in-law, did you?" The others replied, 
" Mfldjikiwis came very late. He never did so before." 

" I shall track my wife," said the husband. So he set off in pursuit 
of her. He tracked her, and found that she had brought one load of 
wood. Her second trail ended at a little lodge of willows that she 
had made, and where she was. She cried to him, "Do not come here! 
Your brother Mudjikiwis has shot me. I told him I did not want to 
receive him, and then he shot me down. Do not come here! You 
will see me on the fourth night. If you want to give me food, put it 
outside the door and go away, and I shall get it." 

Her husband went home, as she commanded. After that the youth 
would bring her food, after hunting, every night. "It is well. Even 
though our brother shot my wife, I shall forgive him, if I can only see 
her after four nights," he said. The third night he could hardly stay 
away, he wanted to see her so badly. The fourth day at dawn he 
went to the lodge ; and as he drew near, she cried, " Do not come ! " but 
he went in, anyway, and saw her there. " I told you not to come, but 
you could not restrain yourself. When your brothers could not attend 
to themselves, I wished to help them," she cried. So he went home 
satisfied, since he had seen her. They breakfasted, and he started out 
again with food for her. She had gone out, for he found her tracks, 



356 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

little steps, dabbled with blood. Then he went back home, and said 
to his brothers, " My brothers, I am going to go after my wife." 

He dressed, and followed her footprints. Sometimes he ran, and at 
sunset he wanted to camp. So he killed a rabbit; and as he came out 
of the brush, he saw a lodge. "He, my grandchild!" called a voice, 
"you are thinking of following your wife. She passed here at dawn. 
Come in and sit down! Here is where she sat before you." He en- 
tered, and found an old woman, who told him to sit in the same place 
where his wife had sat. He gave her the rabbit he had shot, as he was 
really hungry. " Oh, my grandchild must be very hungry! " she cried, 
"so I shall cook for him," said the old crone. Her kettle was no larger 
than a thimble. She put in one morsel of meat and one little berry. 
The youth thought that was a very small allowance, when he was 
really hungry. 

"O my grandchild!" the old woman said aloud in answer to his 
thoughts, "no one has ever eaten all my kettle holds. You are wrong 
if you think you won't get enough of this." 

But he still thought so, and did not believe her. After the food was 
cooked, she said, "Eat, nosisl" and gave him a spoon. He took out 
the piece of meat and the berry; but when he had eaten it, the kettle 
was still full. He did this many times over. When he had finished, 
he had not eaten it all, yet he had enough. Then the grandmother 
told him that he had married one of ten sisters. 

"They are not real people," she said, "they are from way up in the 
skies. They have ten brothers. There are three more of your grand- 
mothers on the road where you are going. Each will tell you to go 
back, as I advised you; but if you insist, I will give you two bones to 
help you climb over the mountains." 

Now, this old woman was really a moose, and not a human grand- 
mother at all. "If you get into difficulties, you must cry, 'Where is 
my grandmother? ' and use these two front shin-bones of the moose that 
I gave you." He slept there, and in the morning she gave him break- 
fast from the same kettle. W^hen he was through, she said, "Do not 
walk fast. Even if you rest on the way, you will reach your next 
grandmother in the evening. If you walk as fast as you can, you will 
get there at night." 

He followed the trail as fast as he could, for he did not believe his 
grandmother. In the evening he killed a rabbit; and when he came 
out of the brush, there stood another lonely lodge, as before. 

"O my grandchild! there is room in here for you to come in," cried 
a voice. "Your wife passed here early yesterday morning." Yet he 
had travelled two days. '' She came in here!" 

The old woman cooked for him in the same way as his other grand- 
mother had done. Again he did not believe in her kettle, for he had 



Plains Cree Tales. 2>S7 

already forgotten about his first grandmother. This grandmother 
was older than the first one whom he had left, and who was the young- 
est of the four grandmothers he was to meet. They were all sisters. 
"Why did you not believe my sister when she told you to go slowly? 
When you go fast, you make the trail longer. Hau, nosis! it is a 
difficult country where you are going," she cried. She gave him a 
squirrel-skin, saying, "Use this, wo5w, whenever you are in difficulties. 
'Where is my grandmother?' you shall say. This is what makes 
everything easy. You will cry, and you will throw it away. You 
will not leave me till the morning." 

So very early next day he started off. He went very slowly; and in 
a few minutes it was night, and he killed another rabbit. When he 
came out of the brush, he saw another lodge, a little nearer than the 
others, and less ragged. The old woman said to him, "Your wife 
passed here the same morning that she left up there;" and this grand- 
mother made supper for him, as the others had done. This time the 
food was corn. "Nosis, your last grandmother, who is my sister, will 
give you good advice. Your wife has had a child already. Go very 
slowly, and you will reach there at night; it is not far from here. It 
is a very difficult country where you are going. Maybe you will not 
be able to get there." She gave him a stuffed frog and some glue. 
"Wherever the mountains are too steep for you to climb, cry, 'Where 
is my grandmother?' put glue on your hands, and climb, and you will 
stick to the rocks. When you reach your next grandmother, she will 
advise you well. Your child is a little boy." 

In the morning he had breakfast, and continued on the trail. He 
went on slowly, and it was soon night, and he killed another rabbit. 
When he reached the next lodge, nearer than all the rest, his grand- 
mother said, "They have been saying you would be here after your 
wife, she passed here four days ago at dawn." 

The youth entered the tent, and found that this grandmother was a 
fine young girl in appearance. She said, "To-morrow at noon your 
wife is going to be married, and the young men will all sit in a circle 
and pass your child around. The man upon whom he urinates will 
be known as his father, and she will marry him." The old woman took 
off her belt, rolled it up nicely, and gave it to him. "This is the last 
one that you will use," she said. "When you are in trouble, cry out, 
'Where is my grandmother?' and throw the belt out, and it will stick 
up there, so you can climb up to the top. Before noon you will reach 
a perpendicular precipice like a wall. Your wife is not of our people. 
She is one of the Thunderers." 

That night the youth camped there. In the morning he had food. 
"If you manage to climb the mountain somehow," his grandmother 
said to him before he started, "you will cross the hill and see a steep 



358 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

slope, and there you will find a nest. There is one egg in it. That is 
a Thunderer's nest. As you come down, you will strike the last 
difficult place. There is a large log across a river. The river is very 
deep, and the log revolves constantly. There you will find a big camp, 
headed by your father-in-law, who owns everything there. There is 
one old woman just on this side. She is one of us sisters, she is the 
second oldest of us. You will see bones strewn about when you get 
there. Many young men go there when they are looking for their 
wives, and their bones you will see l^ang about. The Thunderer 
destroys everything. Some have been cut in halves when they tried 
to get over the cut-knife mountain." 

When the youth came to the mountain, he took first the two bones, 
and cried, "O grandmother! where are you?" and as he cried, she 
called from far off, ''He, nosis, do not get into trouble!" He drove 
the bones into the mountain and climbed up hand over hand, driving 
them in as he climbed. The bones pierced the rock. When he looked 
back, he saw that he was far up. He continued until the bones began 
to grow short, and at last he had to stop. Then he took out the 
squirrel-hide, called upon his grandmother for help, and threw the skin 
ahead. He went up in the air, following it. All at once he stopped, 
and his nails wore out on the rock as he slipped back. Then he took 
the glue out of its bundle. He cried for his grandmother, and heard 
her answer. She had told him that he would find a hollow at one place, 
and there he rested on a ledge when his glue gave out. Then he called 
for his next grandmother, heard her answer, and cast out his belt, 
unrolling it. Then he climbed up the sharp summit. He felt of the 
edge, which was v^ery sharp indeed. Then he became a piece of eagle- 
down. "The eagle-down loved me once. I shall be it, and blow over 
the ledge," he cried. 

When he got across, he saw the Thunderer's nest and the two 
Thunderers and their egg. He found a trail from there on, until he 
came to the rolling log that lay across the deep river. Then he became 
down again, and blew across; and though many others had been 
drowned there, he crossed alive. He went on, and at last saw a small, 
low lodge with a little stone beside it. His last grandm.other had told 
him to enter, as this was the abode of one of her sisters. So he went in. 

"Ha, ha, ha, nosis! " she cried, "they said a long time ago that you 
were following your wife. She is to be married right now." — "Yes," 
he said. The marriage was to be in a lodge. He went there, peeped in, 
and a man saw him, who said, "Are you coming in? Our chief says 
he will pass the child about, and he on whose breast it urinates shall 
marry its mother." So he went in. The girl saw him, and told her 
mother. "Oh, that is the one I married." 

When he arrived there, Miidjikiwis (not the youth's brother, but 



Plains Cree Tales. 359 

another one, a Thunderer) was there too. They took the child, and 
one man passed it. Mddjikiwis, the Thunderer, held some water in 
his mouth. He seized the child, crying, "Come here, nosisi" and spat 
the water over himself; but, when he tried to claim the child, all the 
others laughed, as they had seen his trick. When the child's real 
father took it up, it urinated on him. Then all went out. The chief 
said, " Do not let my son-in-law walk about, because he is really tired. 
He shall not walk for ten days." 

His father-in-law would go off all day. Hanging in the lodge the 
youth saw his brother's arrow, with which his wife had been shot. 
The father-in-law would burn sweet-grass for the arrow at the rare in- 
tervals when he came back, for he v/ould be off for days at a time. 
On the fifth night the youth felt rested, and could walk a little. 
Then he asked his wife, "Why does your father smoke that arrow?" 
and she answered, "Oh, we never see those things up here. It is 
from below, and he thinks highly of it; therefore he does so." 

On the sixth night he was able to walk around in the brush ; and he 
came to a spring, where he found, on the surface of the water, a rusty 
stain with which he painted his face. He returned, and, as he was 
entering, his father-in-law cried, "Oh, that is why I want a son-in-law 
that is a human being! Where did he kill that bear? He is covered 
with blood. Go and dress it," he ordered. The youth was frightened, 
as he had not seen any bear at all. "You people that live below," 
his wife said, "call them Mici Pisi [Giant ranthers]. Show your ^"" ' 
brothers-in-law where it is." The youth took his brother-in-law to 
the spring. "Here is where I found the Panther," he said. 

The ten Thunderers came up and struck the spring, and killed some- 
thing there. After that the youth looked for springs all the time, and 
it came to pass that he found a number. One day he asked his wife, 
"Why does your father go away for whole days at a time?" and his 
wife said, "There is a large lake up here, and he hunts for fish there. 
He kills one every day, seldom two. He is the only one that can kill 
them." 

The next morning the youth went to the lake, and found his father- 
in-law sitting by the shore fishing. The old man had a peculiar spear, 
which was forked at the end. The youth took it, and put barbs on it, 
so that the old man was able to catch a number of fish quickly. Then 
they went home. When they arrived, his father-in-law said, "My 
son-in-law has taken many of them. I myself can only kill one, and 
sometimes two." 

So he told all the people to go and get fish and eat them freely. 
On the following day, the young man, according to his mother-in-law's 
wish, took his wife to fish. They took many fish, and carried them 
home. The father-in-law knew, before they returned, that they had 
caught many. 



360 Journal oj American Folk-Lore. 

The old man had had a dream. When he saw how the youth pre- 
pared the spear which his daughter had given him, he said, referring 
to his dream, "My dream was wrong. I thought the youngest of the 
ten liked me the best. I made the spear in the way I saw it, not as this 
one has shown me. It is due to my dream that it is wrong. Your 
nine brothers are having a hard time. Now, my sons, your sisters 
are going away soon to be married." 

For nine nights the youth saw a dim light at a distance. The 
father-in-law said to him, "Do not go there, for a powerful being lives 
there." The tenth night, however, the youth disobeyed this injunction. 
When he reached there, he saw a tall tree, and a huge porcupine that 
was burrowing at the foot of the tree. The porcupine struck the tree, 
and tried to kill it by shooting its quills into it. After the porcupine 
had shot off all its quills, the youth knocked it on the head, took two 
long quills from the tree, and carried them home. Even before he 
got there, his father-in-law knew what had happened. They were 
delighted, for they said that the porcupine would kill the Thunderers 
when they tried to attack it. The father-in-law went out, and called 
to his sons to go and dress the porcupine that the youth had killed. 
The latter gave the two quills to his wife, though his father-in-law 
wanted them. The father-in-law said, "My children, this porcupine 
killed all our friends when they went to war against it. My 
sons-in-law below are miserable and lonely." 

The eldest of the daughters, who was called Mfldjikiskwe'wic, was 
delighted at the news. "You will marry the oldest one, Mudjikiwis," 
she was told. They were all to be married in order, the eldest girl to 
the eldest brother, the youngest to the youngest one. The old man 
said, "MQdjikiskwe'wic shall take her brother-in-law with her when 
she goes down to the earth." The young women went down. Sh- 
swsh! went Mudjikiskwe'wic (the girl) with her dress. They reached 
the steep place, and the married women said to her husband that they 
would fly around. " If you do not catch me when I fly past, you will 
be killed here." The women went off a little ways, and a heavy thun- 
derstorm arose, big black clouds and lightning, yet he saw Mudjikisk- 
we'wic in it. She was green, and so was the sun; and as they passed, 
she shouted once, then again a little nearer, and again close by. Then 
he jumped off and caught her by the back. He closed his eyes as he 
did so, and did not open them until the Thunderer w^ife said, "Now 
let go!" Then he found himself at home. He left the girls behind, 
and went to the lodge and opened the door a little. 

As soon as he was inside, he said, "My brothers, I am here!" They 
were lying in the ashes around the fire. "The Canada Jays always 
make me angry when they say that," they retorted, and they threw a 
handful of ashes towards the door. "My brothers, I am coming!" 



Plains Cree Tales. 361 

he said again. "Ah! that is what the Crows say to make us angry," 
retorted the rest, and they threw ashes towards the door. "My 
brothers, I am coming!" he declared. "Ah! that is what the Chicka- 
dees say to make us angry," cried they, and threw ashes once more. 
Then for the fourth time he cried, "My brothers, get up!" Then 
Mfldjikiwis cried, "Look up! See who it is! They never say that 
four times!" 

They looked up, and their eyes were swollen from weeping on account 
of their brother. They were covered with ashes. When they opened 
their eyes, they saw their fifth brother restored. "Arise, wash your 
faces, and fix camp ! " said he. " I have brought sisters-in-law with me." 

Mildjikiwis was glad to hear this, and he and the others began to 
decorate themselves. They took white earth from crawfish-holes, 
and painted their faces with it. Mfldjikiwis seized his winking war- 
club, and they made the lodge larger by spreading the poles. Then 
the fifth brother called the sisters-in-law, and they all came in. The 
fifth son told Mtldjikiskwe'wic that the youngest of the sisters should 
come in first, she herself last, although it would have been proper for 
the eldest brother to receive his wife first. " Do not come in till I call 
you, saying, 'Now, come! my brothers are tired waiting.'" Miid- 
jikiskwe'wic promised to obey. 

Mildj {kiwis sat with his head in his hands, and peeped at each girl. 
He saw them sit by his brothers, until every one but he was furnished 
with a wife. Then there was a pause. Mfidjikiwis began to weep, 
and he sniffed audibly. At last the fifth brother had pity on him, and 
called the girl in. She came in with a swishing sound of rustling 
clothing. Then Mudjikiwis was very glad. 

"What shall w^e feed them on?" said one. "Let me seel" said 
Mfidjikiwis, and he took his winking club and went out, and clubbed 
a bear right there. "O wife! we shall have a meal of bear-meat!" 
he cried. Mddjikiskwe'wic replied, "Oh, you are hunting my younger 
brother!" — "Oh, I did not mean to kill my brother-in-law," retorted 
the other. 

And they are married to-day, and live where the sun does not shine. 

4. A MITEWIWIN TALE. 

Only the old people belonged to the Mitewiwin, and they could not 
obtain it right by dreams. Long ago people did not have it. It came 
from the east. The Cree once lived across a river from the Saulteaux. 
The Saulteaux were going to have a Mitewiwin ceremony, and the 
Cree who did not know the ceremony crossed to witness it. There 
was a doorkeeper of the lodge. He saw them peeping in, and told the 
old man who was leader. The old man was glad, and said, "We 
will eat them, let us ask them in!" They did so, and the Cree boys 



362 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

innocently went in. One boy, who wore a white shell about his neck, 
was their leader. When one Mitewiwin dance began, a Saulteaux 
shot one of the boys, and he fell down dead, full of blood. Their leader 
was frightened. Then the dancers shot him, and brought him back 
to life with a shell, singing, "Ho-ho-ho-ho!" 

The Cree boys never had seen this before, and wondered what would 
happen next. Soon they were asked to perform; so they made big 
snakes come, and all the performers fled except the servant (Skaupe- 
wis), who could not flee. Then the old people came back, sang a 
Miteo song, and the Cree bo^^s did the same. They shot the old man, 
and he fell. At first they refused to take out their shell arrows; but 
the Saulteaux made them presents, and the youths did so. They had 
various kinds of bags, but the Cree boys had otter-skins. The Cree 
feared that their boys would be killed ; but they came home, and on the 
way they found two sticks and a drum by the river. First they went 
to their fathers' lodges, beckoned, and said, "Cook something!" 
Each father made a feast, and the boys taught their fathers what they 
had seen. The boys asked one another what the old man on the other 
side meant when he spoke of eating them. "I suppose he meant to 
kill us! Let us kill him before sunrise!" they said. So the boys 
tried to kill four leaders of the Saulteaux, and succeeded. 

Sick persons, women and children, join the Mitewiwin to be cured. 

5. DWARFS. 

A Cree once had an experience with the Memegweciwflg, or dwarfs. 
His nets were constantly robbed of fish, and he thought that it must 
be done by the dwarfs. One day he and his companions caught them 
in a fog. They had a little canoe and paddles, and were stealing fish. 
They talked through their noses; but the Cree could understand them, 
and asked them not to take any more fish. The Indians gave them 
some meat and let them go. The Memegweciwflg pointed their canoe 
right at a cut bank on the river, and paddled into it. Presently they 
threw back the meat, and were heard to laugh ; but they never stole 
any more fish. 

6. loud-voice's medicine. 

The old chief of Loud-Voice's band used to go naked into the hills 
and bring medicines to the people. He obtained his medicine from a 
spring. Loud-Voice once took his son to the spring, which is located 
between the hills. He told his son to go with him, but the young man 
was afraid. Then Loud-Voice sang. The Horned -Snake sent up 
bubbles, and Loud-Voice went in and got its scales for medicine. 

Once, when the Indians were camped about ten or twelve miles from 
Round Lake, in January, Loud-Voice said, "Let us go back to-morrow 
to Round Lake! I want to see my grandfather for the last time." 



Plains Cree Tales. 363 

The band went back. Ice covered the lake, but on the following 
morning they heard a thunder-like noise. The ice broke and moved 
in the bay. Then great brass horns appeared above the surface, and 
Loud-Voice waded in up to his neck. The Horned-Snake told him 
then that he was near enough. He seized its horns and scraped off 
some scales in presence of all the people. That was the last time 
that Loud-Voice ever called on his guardian. 

7. loud-voice's visit to the other world. 

Once an old man named Loud -Voice died, but came back to life. 
He found a wide trail which led to a fine place where everything was 
pleasant. Loud-Voice had a wife and several children; and he told 
them that he always met his brother-in-law whenever he went there, 
and that his brother-in-law coaxed him to stay. Once, after a quarrel 
with his wife, the old man took out his fire-bag and steel and went 
out. He said, "Perhaps you will miss something before long." 

His wife told her sons what had happened ; and they looked for their 
father, but could not find him, though they heard his drum. His sons 
called for him by means of the sound of the water-drum and by songs, 
while they prepared a feast for him. Their fourth song reached the 
old man, who was with his brother-in-law. The ghosts tried to keep 
him with them; but he covered his head with a robe, became a snake, 
and went back to his camp. The dead brother-in-law saw how old 
Loud-Voice had escaped through a hole in the earth. He too became a 
snake; but Loud-Voice saw him, and when he came to a log, he turned 
into a fly. The brother-in-law passed him, came back to the tree, 
and again passed the place, weeping, where Loud-Voice was in hiding. 

The boys were singing their songs, and Loud-Voice's wife was dan- 
cing, when he returned in the shape of an owl. Nearer and nearer he 
came, and alighted on a lodge-pole. He could not come down, and he 
cried, "Put grease into the fire, and I will come." They did so, and 
he cried, "O my brother-in-law that kept me!" and became a man 
once more. He smoked, and then asked for water. 

"The ghosts made me eat too much," he declared; and he vomited 
berries, though it was winter. 

The Plains Cree do not believe that there is a river to cross in order 
to get to the land of the souls. The old people say that there are two 
kinds of souls. One leaves the body and goes to heaven, the other 
stays near the body after death. This is also the belief of the Me- 
nomini. 

8. A WAR STORY. 

A few real akitcitau went out to fight till death, and one of them 
was killed whose wife was very handsome; for, as a brave man, he had 



364 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

the right to choose among the girls. A good-looking young man went 
to the widow, although she was older than he. The woman said her 
husband had been handsome and strong, and that she did not care to 
marry again. Therefore the chief's son was ashamed, and went off 
secretly to the Rocky Mountains without telling any one. When he 
reached there, he found a well-beaten trail just made. He saw a 
Blackfoot girl coming on horseback, and sat down to wait for her. 
When she came near and saw him, she liked him at once. Therefore 
she did not flee. The man took the horse by the bridle, pulled her 
from the saddle, and sat down beside her. Just as he sat down, a 
youth came riding up to them unawares. The Cree shot the young 
man as he rode up, took his horse, jumped on, took the girl along, and 
rode home. 

About sundown he saw a big band coming. They were Blackfeet 
with stolen horses on the warpath. The two hid in a bush. The 
war-party pitched their tents and went to sleep. That night he made 
signs to the girl to wait for him, took his knife, and walked toward the 
camp. There were six in the war-party. He cut the throats of all 
six before they awoke, took their horses, put on the saddles, tied on the 
rifles, cut off the six heads, and went off. On his way home, towards 
night, he met twelve more Blackfeet with forty stolen horses. He 
attacked them also while they were asleep. Those who awoke he 
killed with their own clubs. He took their horses, and fled with their 
guns and heads. 

On his way home he camped several times, came to a high hill, and 
saw two men on horses looking about. Then he hid all the horses in a 
hollow, and went towards the two strangers. When near by, he recog- 
nized them, for they were two Crees from home. "Your father is so 
lonely, you would not know him. He thinks you are dead." He 
asked them to tell his father that he was coming home with a wife. 
They started, and he went back for his horses and his wife, and all his 
father's men and women rode out to meet him. His father gave him 
half of his land and half of his possessions, and the youth became a 
chief, — the greatest of all the chiefs on the plains. 

9. KICON.l 

Once an old couple lived way off in the bush near a lake. They had 
one horse. The old man killed many fish; but once for four days he 
did not catch any. Then he caught a sucker in his net. The fish 
spoke to him as he was about to kill it. "Hold on! do not kill me! 
Cut my head and tail off; split the head and give it to your wife to eat, 
the other half give to your mare; the tail split in two, and feed it to 
your dog, plant the other half in the garden." The next day the old 

1 Petit- Jean, a European tale (see p. 330, note i). 



Plains Cree Tales. 365 

man went to his nets. They were overloaded with fish. Hurrying 
home, he saw that his wife had given birth to two boys, each bearing 
a golden star on the forehead. They were alike in every way. He ran 
to the stable, and found that his mare had two spotted colts of the 
same color; then he ran to his dogs and found two little spotted pups. 
He hurried over to the garden and found two swords growing on a bush. 
He was delighted, and gave a horse, a dog, and a sword to each boy. 

The boys staid at home till they were grown up. Ail at once one of 
the boys asked where all the people were, and said to his brother, as 
he hung his sword over the door, "I am going to search for people. 
If a spot appears on my knife while I am gone, there will be something 
wrong with me." 

He travelled until he saw some old stumps, passed them, and soon 
saw some fresh ones. He travelled till he found a city. At one end of 
the town he saw a shanty. He rode up to it and found an old woman. 
He asked her why the town was draped in black. The old woman 
replied that the king's last daughter was to be fed that day to the snake 
with seven heads. So the youth waited with Nokum, his grandmother. 
About four o'clock in the afternoon he saw a band, led by a woman, 
going west from the town ; then he rode through the bushes, and watched 
till they went back, leaving the girl. He rode to the place where the 
girl was, and spoke to her. The girl said, "Pretty young man, go 
back, this is the last of my days!" 

The youth told her to mount behind him ; then he took his sword and 
spoke to his horse and dog, saying, "Every time I strike, you bite." 

He waited there until night, when he saw Seven-Heads come. 
"Ah!" said the monster, "I shall have two meals instead of one!" — 
"You will have to work for them!" replied the youth; and he rode up 
and struck at the beast, while his mare and dog each bit off a head. 
He struck again, and again, until he struck off the seventh head. 
Then the girl jumped off and kissed him. "I will marry you!" she 
cried, "but shall have to tell the story of this adventure to the king." 

The youth said to the girl, "I will take the seven tongues," and he 
wrapped them in her handkerchief. He ordered her to go home, and 
told her where he staid. 

When she came home, the king's porter, black from head to foot 
from working in the coals, saw the girl, and asked her why she re- 
turned. She told him that some one had destroyed the brute that was 
to eat her. The porter said he would kill her if she did not tell the 
king that he had killed it. The girl was frightened, and consented. 
Then the porter caught her up and threw her in the coal-barrow, and 
made her nose bleed. He put blood on the shovel and the picks, on 
his hands and feet, and then took the girl home. The king came out, 
and saw the porter with the girl in his wheel-barrow. She jumped out, 
VOL. XXIX. — NO. 113. — 24. 



366 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

and the king took his daughter. When he heard the porter's story, 
he got three or four men and had a bath made, in which they washed 
him clean, and dressed him Hke a king, ready to be married. 

Meanwhile the girl called a meeting of all the young men in town, 
who were to tell the stories of their lives. All came that night, and 
they even sent for the youth who lived in the shanty outside of the 
town. He was the last to talk. The others each began in turn. The 
porter told how he killed the seven-headed monster with his shovels. 
The young man came next. He went before the king, and told how he 
had come to town, and what he had seen. Now, the porter was fright- 
ened, and wanted to go out and urinate; but the king made him stay. 
The porter begged, and said he was suffering; but he was compelled to 
stay. The hero told how he killed Seven-Heads, and showed the seven 
tongues in the princess's handkerchief. Then the porter was taken 
out and burned alive; but the youth married the girl, and they had 
a big ball. 

All at once the groom saw a little light, and asked the bride what it 
was. She said to him, "You must never go there. A bad old woman 
lives there, and whoever goes never returns." But her husband was 
anxious, and waited till his wife slept. He then clothed himself and 
went to the stable, saddled his horse, took his dog with him, and went 
off toward the light. He journeyed to the door of the house whence 
it came, and an old woman came out. She told him she was afraid of 
his dog, but he said that it would not hurt her. She, however, con- 
tinued to say that she was afraid, and at last she persuaded the young 
man to tie his dog with a hair from her head. He reached for her hair, 
and then and there he became a tombstone along with his dogand horse. 

At that time his brother saw rust on the knife, and told his father 
that his brother was in some trouble. He mounted his horse and went 
to look for his brother; and soon he found the old grandmother's 
house, and entered. The old woman gave him food, but he asked for 
his brother. The old Nokum told him all about him. She said she 
had told him not to go, but that he had gone nevertheless. She added 
that his brother had married the king's daughter. The other brother 
rode on till he arrived at the castle, when his sister-in-law came out, 
ran up to him, kissed him, and asked him where he had been. They 
were walking on the veranda, when the boy asked her about the light. 
His sister-in-law said, "I told you before, you must not go there." 

Then he knew his brother must be there. He w^ent to bed with his 
sister-in-law, but ran away when she went to sleep. He arose quickly, 
went to the stable, mounted his horse, and rode up to the light. The 
same happened to him as to his brother. The old woman told him to 
tie his dog, as she was afraid of it. He guessed that his brother must 
be there; so he demanded his brother of the old woman, threatening to 



Plains Cree Tales. 367 

kill her. The old woman brought a little bottle out of the cellar, and 
told the youth to put some on the stones and they would turn back to 
life. He killed the old woman, threw her into the cellar, dropped some 
liquid on the stones, and revived many people with the contents of the 
bottle. He also revived his brother, and they went back to the king's 
castle. 

It was morning, and they walked to the door. The brother-in-law 
asked his sister-in-law which was which, but she could not tell. She 
took both in, and had a great dinner, to which she invited the whole 
town. Then the king asked for the father and mother of the lads. 
He gave them garments and horses to go back for a visit. They 
started for home; and when they got there, their parents were in tears, 
thinking them dead. They even found their parents in bed. They 
took them back to the city, and left their old home and staid in the 
king's castle. 

American Museum of Natural History, 
New York, N. Y. 



368 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



OJIBWA TALES FROM THE NORTH SHORE OF LAKE 

SUPERIOR. 

BY WILLIAM JONES.i 

1. Skunk and Lynx.- — Skunk was wife to a Lynx who wished to 
eat her. She knew of his desire, and, after wrapping wood in a blanket, 
to represent herself asleep, she hid. He discovered her trick. He then 
tried to make her betray her place of hiding by doing things to make 
her laugh. Failing in this, he began to slice his hams and belly; then 
he fell into the fire. After he had been rescued by his wife, he was 
deserted by her. 

2. Painted-Turtle and Bear. — A Painted-Turtle, on falling 
from a log while asleep, went ashore, where she came upon a dropping 
of some blueberries. This she later fed as food to a Bear who had come 
to visit her. Pleased with the berries, he asked where she got them, 
and was told "upon the slopes of yonder hill." On his arrival there, he 
learned what he had eaten, whereupon he chased after her, and, over- 
taking her, slew her. She came back to life, however, and later 
killed the Bear while in the water. She broke his back, thus creating 
the hump on the backs of bears. 

3. Snapping-Turtle's War-Party. — Wishing to go to war, Snap- 
ping-Turtle called for followers. He refused the Moose and Bear, but 
accepted the Painted-Turtles. On the way to the foe, a chief of the 
Painted-Turtles dreamed of an evil fate. He made known the dream, 
giving it forth in song; and for that he was killed. The dream came 
true, however, and the war-party was destroyed. Snapping-Turtle 
was made captive, but had his captors fling him into the water, 
where he escaped. Otter was sent to retake him, but was caught and 
held by Snapping-Turtle till the roar of the Thunderers; then he was 
released to return whence he came. 

1 The following tales were found among a large mass of text material collected by the 
late William Jones when working under the auspices of the Carnegie Institution. The 
texts are being published by the American Ethnological Society in Volume IX of the 
Publications of the Society. The provenience and authorship of these tales are not 
altogether certain. So far as can be made out, Nos. 1-28 inclusive and No. 40 are from 
Bois Fort, the narrator or narrators being Wasagunackank or another man, or both; 
No. 24a is by Mrs. Syrette of Fort William, Ontario; Nos. 150, 19a, 29, 40a, 31-35. 37- 
39, 41-57, are by Penassie of Fort William, Ontario; No. 33c is by G. Kabaoosa, No. 
58 by William Kabaoosa, No. 59 by Jacob Thompson, — all of Garden River, Ontario; 
Nos. 60, I-III, are by Alex. Pettier, Manitoulin Island; Nos. 60, IV-VI, by G. Kabaoosa 
of Garden River. Neither the provenience nor the authorship of Nos. 30 and 36 is 
known. Comparative notes on the tales are reserved until the publication of Dr. Jones's 
Ojibwa Texts. — Truman Michelson, October, 1916. 

2 See No. 41, p. 385. 



Ojihwa Tales from the North Shore of Lake Superior. 369 

4. Snapping-Turtle's War-Party. — Snapping-Turtle, in com- 
mand of all the other Turtles, warred against the Caddice-Fly, but 
suffered defeat. He was made captive, but was later given freedom to 
go about with the son of the chief. By and by the two set off on a 
journey. They travelled afar, across the sea. There they beheld the 
great conjuring-lodge of the manitous, and the home of the Thunder- 
Birds. On their way back Snapping-Turtle broke faith and deserted 
his comrade; but the son reached home, bringing one of the Thunder- 
Birds. 

5. Snapping-Turtle kills Moose. — Snapping-Turtle was one 
of ten sons-in-law. By them he was held in contempt because 
of his inability to provide his share of the food. Driven by taunts, 
he determined to kill a moose. He pursued one for a whole year, 
finally overtaking it in the water. There he slew it. After preparing 
the meat, he floated it home. Being still despised, he fought with his 
tormentors and slew them. 

6. The Raccoon and the Crawfishes. — A chief of the Craw- 
fishes got up a war-party to go across the sea to fight Raccoon, their 
hated enemy. They found him lying on the beach. Believing him 
to be dead, they thronged about and all over him, and pinched him, 
to make sure he was not alive. As he was only feigning death, how- 
ever, up he sprang. After slaying and eating many, he hastened 
after his companions, who also joined in the slaughter and fe:.st,. 
When the chief got back home with a few, he w^as put to death, 

7. Mink. — A certain Mink was a useless son-in-law in the matter 
of obtaining food. He was compelled to go out to hunt, but he could 
not kill a single thing. At last he succeeded in killing a ruffed grouse, 
but the sight of it only angered his wife all the more. Then he w^ent 
away for good. As he went along, he met with another Mink, who 
joined him. In time they came to a to\^n, where they were received, 
and told of the passing on the morrow of Nanabushu in company 
with some Geese. 

8. The Fox. — A fox once killed a hare, one half of which he ate, 
and the other half he cached. This other half was found by a Crow, 
who, when about to eat of it, spied Fox coming along. Fox caused 
Crow to laugh ; and when Crow laughed, down fell the piece of hare.^ 

9. The Council of the Dogs. — The Dogs once met in assembly 
to smoke and elect a chief. Failing to agree upon a certain one, they 
fell to fighting, whereupon the meeting was broken up. This lack 
of restraint is yet the nature of dogs, and it accounts for their un- 
fortunate state. 

10. The Ruffed Grouse. — A Ruffed Grouse angered the people 
because he refused to marry a woman selected for him. In order to 

* Probably based on the well-known ^sopian fable. — F. B. 



370 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

know what he should then do, he was made to fast. In the mean 
while the mystic power of some bear-claws and of a snake-skin was 
used against him; but he finally prevailed. His fast lasted eleven 
days, and these are marked on the feathers of his tail. 

11. Little-Image overcomes the Bears. — Little-Image was a 
manitou from the sky-country at the east. He came to earth that 
he might deliver the people from the monster bears that were devouring 
them. They were racing with each other, and lives were wagered on 
a race, with the Bears always winning. Little-Image came to the 
people at a place where they were fasting for the power of speed to 
outrun the Bears. This power he granted them, whereupon the 
number of Bears began to diminish. Thereupon they tried to flee; 
but the Little-Image slew the monsters, and the rest (the smaller 
ones) were made to fear the people. These are the bears of to-day. 

12. The Moose and Man. — A young Moose was disobedient and 
careless. He began to wander off alone, much against the wishes of 
his parents. Full of overwhelming pride in his own speed and power, 
5ie began to ridicule that of human beings. Finally he did violence 
to the visiting soul of a pipe belonging to a human being. That was 
his undoing, for on the morrow he came to learn how foolish it was to 
vdespise a human being. He was humbled by a human being. 

13. Soaring-Eagle and Otter. — Soaring-Eagle was reduced to 
hunger by Nanabushu. In his hunger he was invited to a feast by 
some one, but did not know where. One evening he caught a fleeting 
glimpse of the inviter speeding past the wigwams. Going in pursuit, 
he presently found himself in an assembly of the animal-folk, feasting 
on trout given by the Otter. From the Otter he learned how to obtain 
food. He was to tie a child by the foot with a cord, and then let it 
down through the ice into the water. He did as he was told, but took 
out one too many fishes. On this account he lost his child. Then he 
went back to the waterfall to ask the Otter how he might recover the 
child. Entering the place, he continued on to a town upon the floor 
of the sea. There he recovered his child that had been captured by 
the chief of the Fishes; but he was pursued by the chief, who followed 
him out upon the ice. There he slew the chief, the Great Sturgeon. 
Then he gave thanks to the Otter. He was then able to bring hunger 
upon Nanabushu. 

14. Mother-Earth. — Mother-Earth, known by the name of 
Ottawa-Woman, gave birth to all birds, animals, and fishes. Of 
these, the Ruffed Grouse, Hare, and Whitefish were the most filial. 

15. The Girls who married the Stars. — The Foolish Maidens 
met with various episodes: their dog was slain by the wolves; the 
elder sister was nearly killed by the gray porcupine; they went up 
into a fish-hawk's nest and were taken down by the wolverene, by 



Ojibwa Tales from the North Shore of Lake Superior. 371 

whom the cider sister was again almost slain; they were visited by 
Nanabushu, who tried to marry the younger girl. A Mouse told her 
of Nanabushu's purpose, whereupon she made ready to flee from him. 
In her flight, the Mouse was killed by Nanabushu, who then started in 
pursuit of her. The girls ascended into the sky-country, where they 
became wives, each to a star, . . . 

The Foolish Maidens came out upon a lake, where they met a 
Diver. They were permitted to get into his canoe. Then away 
went the three, travelling by water. On the journey the Diver's 
pretentions drew upon himself the ridicule of the maidens. The 
arrival home of the Diver was received with much ado. A dance was 
given at the Loon's. To it went the Diver, while the maidens were 
left in the care of his grandmother. On the following night the 
maidens first played a trick on him, and then forsook him to become 
wives to the Loon, whereupon the Diver slew the Loon. . . . 

The second part of the story is taken up with the struggle between 
the Diver and the Winter-Maker. The Diver wandered off" alone to 
a swamp, in order to pass the winter there. By his shelter came the 
Cranes and Mallards on their way south. With him they left a young 
Crane and a young Mallard to be cared for till their return. Then 
came the Winter-Maker to destroy him, to freeze him, to close the 
ice over him when he went down into the water to get fish. Finally 
the Diver turned on the Winter-Maker, and in the end overcame him. 

15 a. The Girls who married the Stars. — The two Foolish Maid- 
ens lay awake under a starry sky, and wished for husbands from 
among the stars. When they woke in the morning, they found 
themselves with husbands and in the sky-country. They escaped 
from the place by the help of an old woman, who let them down in a 
basket through a hole. On account of their disregarding a command 
of the old woman's, however, they got only as far as a fish-hawk's nest. 
From there they went the rest of the way by the help of a Wolverene, 
whom they later deceived. Then they met with a Diver, who let 
them into his canoe. Being vain and pretentious, he tried to pass him- 
self off as He-of-the-Wampum-Beads, the Loon; but, much to the 
amusement of the maidens, he was always laying bare his many short- 
comings. They found him an object of contempt and ridicule at the 
place he called home, whereupon they forsook him and became the 
wives of the Loon. Becoming angered, he killed the Loon by putting a 
red-hot pebble down his mouth while he was asleep. The Diver fled 
out to sea. An attempt was made to capture him. The sea was 
sucked dry by some leeches; and while he was being sought, he cut 
the leeches with the flint knives which he had tied upon his feet; and 
when the water flowed back, the people were all drowned. 

16. The Origin of the Seasons. — The animal-folk met in assem- 



372 Journal of American Folk-Lore . 

bly for a smoke, because the winter was continuing overlong. It 
was found that a certain being was detaining the birds of summer, 
thus holding back the spring. The Fisher was made leader of the 
party to go visit the one delaying the spring. In the party was the 
Otter, who went, despite the wishes of all. On his account they once 
had to make two visits to an old woman before they could obtain food. 
Farther on an old man supplied them with food. When about to 
arrive at their destination, they resorted to a stratagem. The Muskrat 
was to gnaw holes in the canoes, and the Beaver to gnaw the paddles 
almost in two; then the Caribou was to cross at the narrows of the 
lake. The Fox was to bark at him ; and while the people were drawn 
off in pursuit of the Caribou, the Fisher was to make a rush to where 
the birds of summer were. The object of the strategy was attained. 
The Fisher set free the birds, but had to flee for his life, first up a tree, 
then off into the northern sky, where he may now be seen in the stars of 
the Great Dipper. On the return of the animal-folk, it was decreed 
that six should be the number of the winter moons, because six was the 
number of stripes on the chipmunk's back. 

17. The Robin. — The malignant power of a song sung by a proud 
virgin brought about a thaw which destroyed the fishes of the Robin 
and his grandmother, Squaw-Duck. With power given him by his 
grandmother, the Robin miraculously caused the virgin to be with 
child. The birth of the child angered the parents and distressed the 
maiden. In a trial the Robin was found to be the father. When 
he explained how it came about, he found favor with the parents. 
Attempts to kill him were made by the suitors, but he prevailed over 
them all. 

18. The Birds and the North Wind. — The first-born sons of the 
bird-folk played ball with the North Wind and were beaten. The 
North Wind made goal at the west, and for that reason the wind 
from the east brings bad weather; the next goal was at the south, and 
on that account everything flees southward when the wind blows from 
the north. Only they that played on the side of the North Wind 
do not go away in winter. 

19. The Ten Brothers and their Heavenly Wives. — Ten 
brothers lived at one place together, but hunted in different direc- 
tions. In their absence would come a maiden and put their dwelling in 
order. She finally became wife to the youngest; and this aroused the 
jealousy of the first-born, who tried to slay her. When wounded, 
she was discovered by her husband, whom she commanded to refrain 
from seeing her for ten days. Seeing that he could not control his 
desire to see her, she took on the form of a bird and flew westward. 
He followed after her. He was guided by the trees. He was fed by 
miraculous food by grandparents who warned him of dangers on the 



Ojibwa Tales from the North Shore of Lake Superior. 373 

way. He overcame the difficulties, and regained his wife. On the 
return home with her, he was accompanied by her nine sisters, each 
of whom became wife to each of the nine elder brothers. 

19 a. There were eleven brothers. They left home once and went to 
hunt. They made camp at a certain place, and hunted from there. 
They would return of an evening, and each time find the lodge clean 
inside and everything put in order there. Food was cooked and the 
pallets spread. Some one must have come in their absence, they 
thought. They watched, each one tr>ang to see who it could be that 
came and did these things. 

It was the youngest brother who found out. He came to the lodge 
one time when all were away, and found a girl at work inside. She 
was young and pretty. She became his wife, and did the work in 
the lodge. 

The oldest brother was MStcigiwes. He was not at all pleased 
that the youngest brother should find the girl and marry her. He had 
designs, and bided his time to carry them out. He made as if he went 
away. At a certain place he stopped and watched for the girl. He 
saw her go to the wood and stop at a tree. She stopped there because 
she wanted a dry twig at the top. She waved her arms upward toward 
the twig, and down to the ground fell a good supply of nice dry wood. 
She started homeward with the wood on her back; but, on coming near, 
she was shot by Matclgiwes. He had overtaken her and shot her in 
the side, under the arm. She fell as if dead. 

The younger brother came home, but did not find his wife. He 
asked about her, but no one knew. He went forth to seek her, and 
at last found her. Then he was sad, and wept. Strange to say, 
however, she came to life. Then he was happy once more. "I 
cannot be with you now for a while," she said. "We must be absent 
from each other for ten days. I go in yonder direction, and you must 
not come there in all that time." Thus she spoke, and went away. 

The youth longed for his wife, and could not stand the wait. On 
the eighth day he found himself going in the direction she took when 
she went away. By and by he saw a huge bird rise and fly. He fol- 
lowed the course of its flight. On the way he came first to a place 
where an old woman lived. She tried to persuade him to turn back. 
He kept on, and came to a second old woman, and then after a time 
to a third. The old women urged him to stop and go back. Keeping 
on, he came to the dwelling of an old man. He too begged the youth 
not to continue on his way, but the youth would not listen. Seeing 
that his words were of no avail, the old man gave the young man four 
pieces of copper. Each piece was half the length of an arm, and had a 
hook at one end. The youth took the gift and went his way. 

By and by he came to a mountain. It was steep, with a sheer 



374 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

bluff, and it went high up out of sight. At the base lay a heap of 
human bones. Skulls, arm-bones, leg-bones, bones of all kinds, lay- 
scattered about. The place was white with them. He wondered how 
he should get up the mountain. He thought of the copper hooks. 
He took one from his belt and struck the wall with it. Lo! it pierced 
the rock and stuck. He tried another, and it stuck too. So up 
the mountain-side he went, with the help of first one hook, then an- 
other. By and by one became dull and would not stick. This he 
flung aside and took another. By and by he had but one hook 
left, and at last it became useless. "What shall I do!" he thought. 
He looked below, but he was ^so far up that he could see nothing. 
He looked up, and the wall rose upw^ard, yet out of sight. "Perhaps 
my bones will whiten the place down there too," he thought. But 
at this point his power came to him, the power he had gotten in a 
fast. "I will be a butterfly," he thought, and a butterfly he became. 
Up he fluttered, keeping always close to the wall. He got to a place, 
however, where he could go no farther as a butterfly. "I will be a 
duck," he thought; and a duck he was, — a duck that shoots straight 
up at the rise, and then flies away. He found himself far over on the 
mountain. He continued on in his own form till he came to a narrow 
pass across an abyss. " I will be a squirrel," he thought, and a squirrel 
he was. He skipped over the narrow pass and came to the other side, 
where he became himself again. 

Walking on, he came to a dwelling where a man lived. " I am look- 
ing for my wife," he said. The man told him to stop with him, for 
on the morrow would be a contest, and the prize would be a pretty 
girl, who would go to the winner. The youth stopped with the man. 

On the next day came ijiany to try and get the girl. They gathered 
together in the lodge, arranging themselves in a circle. The youth 
came first, and his place was at the right of the entrance. The next 
that came sat beside him at the right. Thus they arranged themselves. 
By and by the girl came in, and all admired her beauty. As for the 
youth, he saw who she was and knew, yet he contained himself. 

The father had a bowl, and in the bowl was a bead. "You are to 
pick up this bead," he told them, "with the under side of the tip of 
the forefinger. The one who succeeds will have my daughter for 
wife." Then he handed the bowl to the one sitting at the left of the 
entry- way. Around it passed, and strange things some did to pick 
up the bead. For instance. Rabbit tied a string around his claw, but 
he failed to pick up the bead ; and Raven rubbed matter from his eye 
on his claw, but the bead would not stick. Thus around the bowl 
passed till it came to the youth. He rubbed namd'kwdni (glue made 
from the horn of moose or elk or deer) on his finger, and the bead 
stuck fast. That made him winner, and he gained his wife back again. 



Ojibwa Tales from the North Shore of Lake Superior. 375 

He was for taking her home at once, but she persuaded him to 
stay yet a little while longer. She wanted time to find her sisters. 
They all came; and they were ten, and older than she. She wanted 
them to go too, so they all went along. When they came to the 
narrow pass, the wife said to her husband, "We will become birds and 
fly across. You climb on my back, and I will carry you." Saying this, 
she and her sisters became birds. As she spread her wings to rise, 
her husband climbed on her back and hugged her close. She rose, and 
so did the sisters; and they flew over the pass, and on over the moun- 
tain, and down into the lowland beyond. There they alighted and 
became themselves again. "Now, you all remain here till I come 
back," said the youth. So he went to the lodge and found his brothers. 
They were glad to see him again. "Make things ready," he told 
them, "and have the lodge look nice and clean. You will see why 
when I come again. I shall not be gone long." They did as he bade 
them, and the next time he came it was with his wife and her ten 
sisters. To each of his brothers he gave a w^ife, Matclgiwes taking the 
oldest girl, and the next eldest brother the next eldest sister; and so 
on down with the rest, according to age. As for the youngest brother, 
he already had the youngest sister. 

20. Sun and Moon. — The Sun was husband to the Moon. He was 
absent from home by day, and she by night. She once became 
angered at some women, and slew them. This displeased her husband, 
who fetched a maiden for wife. In his absence the Moon tried to 
kill her, but was slain by the Wolves. Then the maiden became the 
moon. 
I 21. Red-Stocking. — The cousin of Red-Stocking became enam- 
ored of a beautiful maiden, who would ascend into the sky when he 
came near. He finally got her with the help of Red-Stocking, who 
weakened the cord by which she ascended. When the two men were 
once away, they were kidnapped by Man-with-a-Skull-for-a-Head of 
the underworld. By him was her hair removed. . . . 

In her grief she wandered off alone. She was discovered by the 
Sun, who restored her hair and took her to his home. There she 
beheld a woman, the Moon, wife to the Sun. She was tormented by 
the Moon while the Sun was away. She was made to seek for lice 
on the Moon's head. Effort was made to let her slide oft" the edge 
of the world. She was made to swing out into space, but each time 
she was saved by her dream-power. Finally she called on the Thun- 
derers to slay the Moon. For this the Sun was pleased. She then 
became the moon, and was beneficent. Man-with-Skull-for-a-Head 
tried to retake her, but was driven off by the dogs of the Sun. . . , 

The cousin of Red-Stocking sought to recover his wife, but in the 
underworld he was made a hunch-back. He was followed by Red- 



376 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

Stocking, who overcame Man-with-Skull-for-a-Head. Then all the 
hunch-backs were restored to their former selves, and re-united with 
the wives that had been taken from them. 

22. The Snaring of the Sun. — The gnome killed a chickadee, 
and from its skin a coat was made for him by his elder sister. Later 
he killed a beaver, and from its skin another coat was made for him. 
This coat he once wore in a fast. It was scorched by the Sun. In 
anger the gnome set a snare for the Sun, and caught him. Fearing lest 
it should always be night, his elder sister had him free the Sun. To 
accomplish this he had to get the help of the Mole. When bigger, he 
slew a raven, and a coat was made from its skin. On a visit to some 
people that were spearing for fish, he was humiliated ; but he compelled 
them to welcome him on the next visit. He fought with and defeated 
the Bears-with-Heads-at-Both-Ends. These were the ones that had 
slain his parents. He hunted for beavers with the Windigos; and, 
when taking home one that he had slain, he was forced to fight with 
the Windigos. In this struggle he was again victorious. 

23. Tales of Windigos. — A Windigo once came to a family. 
He was feared all the while he was there; yet he was gentle with the 
children, letting them dance on the palms of his hands, and singing to 
them. He hunted beavers with the man, driving the great beavers 
out of the mountains. Then he went away, warning them that he 
would return if ever they ate the musk-glands. The sound of him 
could be heard a great way off, on the farther shore of the sea, where 
he fought with a manitou woman. 

A hunch-back who had been despised by the people was called upon 
for help against a Windigo woman that was coming to destroy the 
village. He spurned the gifts that were offered him, but nevertheless 
went to meet the Windigo woman, and slew her. 

Two men driven by the wind came to a shore, where they became 
alarmed at the sight of the huge footsteps of a giant. They turned 
the canoe bottom up and hid underneath, but were discovered by the 
giant. While in his keeping, there came a Windigo who desired them. 
A quarrel arose, whereupon the giant had his dog come from beneath 
a wooden bowl and slay the Windigo. This dog he gave to the men 
to take home, and it became the first dog among men. ^'^ 

24. Mashos. — Mashos, the giant, lived with his two daughters 
and their husband. He tried in vain to dispose of his son-in-law. 
He once left him to the mercy of gulls on a lonely island ; another time 
he left him to be devoured by eagles; again he caused him to fall into 
the water to be seized by the Great Sturgeon ; on a hunt in winter he 
tried to prevent the youth's return home by burning his moccasins; 
trying it a second time, he burned his own, and, in his effort to get 
back home, was frozen to death. 



Ojibwa Tales from the North Shore of Lake Superior. 277 

24 a. End of a Mashos Story. — The children came out upon the 
sea, where they met the giant Mashos. The giant kidnapped the 
elder brother, and took him home to become the husband of his 
younger daughter. Once, while hunting ducks with the giant, he 
caught the sound of his brother's voice telling him that he was becom- 
ing a wolf; and another time, while canoeing with his wife, he heard 
his brother say that he had become a wolf entirely. At last the giant 
became troubled at seeing the youth entering into manhood, and so 
set to scheming how he might put him out of the way. First he took 
him away to hunt for sturgeons, and then abandoned him to be swal- 
lowed by the Great Sturgeon; but he failed, because the Sturgeon was 
reminded of the blessing he had bestowed on the youth while in a 
fast, and so the Sturgeon conveyed him home and threw him up on 
the shore before the arrival of the giant. Again the giant took him 
away to hunt for gull-eggs, and again left him to be devoured, this 
time by the gulls. He failed a second time, because the youth re- 
minded the Great Gull of the blessing he had received from the bird 
when in a fast. As a result, the Great Gull carried him home through 
the air, landing him there before the arrival of the giant. Then the 
giant took him on two hunts for caribou. In the night he burned the 
youth's moccasins, and then left him behind to get home the best he 
could. In this he also failed, because the youth reminded the rock 
of the blessing it had granted him during a fast ; and so, after heating it,* 
it melted a path in the snow on the way home. His brother, the Wolf, 
likewise helped him home. The youth got back on the giant in the 
second hunt by causing the giant to burn his own moccasins, thus 
making it difficult for him to get back home; but the giant's daughter 
miraculously sent a pair of moccasins to him, and that enabled him to 
reach home. At last the giant tried to destroy him by having him 
coast down the end of the world; but he failed again, for the youth 
reminded the cedar of the blessing it once had granted him during a 
fast, and that kept the toboggan from going. The giant thought the 
sled would behave in the same way for him; but it went coasting off 
forever into space, and he with it. And when he called with a loud 
voice for his canoe, it broke away from its cords, and came to its 
master. 

25. The Woman whose Heart was in her Little Toe. — Bird- 
Hawk disliked a woman with whom he lived, and so left her. Angered 
at this, she turned into a bear and slew many people. Following 
after Bird-Hawk, she overtook him, but was beaten in combat. 
When returning, he came to a town where he found all the people 
dead, slain by the Bear. These he brought back to life by shooting 
arrows into the air. Coming to his own town, he found only his 
little sister alive. She was badly wounded, and was aiiflictea with 



378 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

sores. From her he learned that the woman's heart was hidden in 
her little toe. So, placing awls before her door, he caused her death 
by an awl, that pierced where her heart was. 

26. Filcher-of-Meat. — Filcher-of-Meat was late in arriving at a 
place to gather gull-eggs, on account of his son: therefore he left his 
son there on the island. A great serpent carried the son across the 
water. On reaching the shore, the Thunderers took the serpent into 
the air; but, catching a drop of blood, he was able to restore the 
serpent. On the way home he was given food that replenished itself. 
His Mink slew a grandmother that tried to feed him on pus (?). He 
caused two grandmothers with awls in their elbows to kill themselves. 
He avoided a pendant Hne of shoulder-blades, hung for alarm, by 
passing into a tunnel made by a pet woodchuck. Ignoring the 
pompous entry into town that his father had prepared for him, he 
went at once to where his mother was. He restored his wife's sight. 
Shooting arrows into the air and water, he brought on a fire which 
destroyed all his enemies. He spared his father on the promise of 
good behavior. 

27. The Journeys of Bobtail, — Bobtail and a friend journeyed 
westward, where they beheld strange places and things. Fishes 
carried them over a sea to another country. There they met Nana- 
bushu, who accompanied them about for a while. Loons conveyed 
them across another sea. Here they obtained medicine for snake-bite. 
They came in time to some people among whom they obtained wives. 
These they took home. 

28. The Boy stolen by the Toad- Woman, — A man used medi- 
cine on a woman to win her for his wife. She bore a son, whom she 
lost when seeking for fire-wood. She found him in the keeping of an 
old Toad-Woman. The boy had grown rapidly. She put up her 
lodge near by, and attracted his attention. He began to pay court to 
her, when he learned that the woman was his mother. Thereupon he 
forsook the old Toad-Woman, and went home with his mother. 

29. Journey across the Sea. — An Ottawa once received the 
visit of a stranger with a magic war-club. He was asked by the 
stranger to go with him across the sea in quest of a medicine that 
would cure every ill. The two set out, and crossed the sea on a raft. 
It was found that a great Bear was keeper of the medicine, which it 
had in a bag hanging from a necklace studded with wampum beads. 
A spell was worked which put the Bear to sleep, and then the bag was 
taken. The men made their escape after the Bear had made a vain 
attempt to suck in the water. The men parted, one as an Iroquois, 
the other as an Ottawa. 

30. Why the Lynx squints. — A Lynx was once advised by an- 
other to go to the top of a mountain and see the fine distant view it 



Ojibwa Tales from the North Shore of Lake Superior. 379 

offered. He followed the advice, and in looking he began to squint. 
He has worn this expression ever since. 

31. Fisher and Otter. — A Fisher once was curious to know the 
cause of the strange noise made when a Raccoon was seen pacing across 
the thin ice of a lake. The Raccoon informed him that it was a piece 
of ice on an entrail dragging behind; and he advised the Fisher to cut 
his entrail and make the same kind of noise. The Fisher followed the 
advice, but lost nearly all his entrails. On slaying the Raccoon, he 
took out the Raccoon's entrails, and used them for the ones he had lost. 

32. Clothed-in-Fur. — Clothed-in-Fur took leave of his elder 
sister and went away. He came to a place where some games were 
going on, and was made to join in the play; but, being annoyed by 
the Foolish Maidens, he left the place. They followed in pursuit, and 
a magic flight ensued. Four times he made his escape. Three of the 
times were by the help of leaves wafting with the wind, — once by a 
birch, again by a spruce, and then by a poplar. The fourth escape was 
by hiding in the knot of a tree which the maidens failed to open. Being 
free to continue his way, he went on till evening, when he put down 
his pack and then went out to see what he might kill. On his return, a 
w^oman was there and his camp was made. He took the woman to wife, 
but on the morrow she failed to keep up with her pack. In an attempt 
to strike her, she turned into a wolf. He had a similar experience 
with other women, who one after another became a raven, a porcupine, 
a Canada jay, and a beaver. The Beaver remained with him for a 
while, and he had two children by her. He lost her by not placing a 
foot-log over the dry bed of a brook; for the omission caused a river 
to flow by when she came, and she was carried down stream. He found 
where she was, but failed to get her to come with him. By another 
Beaver woman was he followed. On account of her he had to contend 
with a brown and a white bear who wanted her for a wife. He dis- 
played greater conjuring-power, and so finally overcame them. Then 
he went back to his former wife, and dwelt with the beaver-kind, 
living the mystic life peculiar to the animal-folk. 

33. The Magic Flight. — There was a man with a wife and two 
children. On his return every evening from the hunt, he would find 
his wife just then setting out to gather the fire-wood with which to 
cook the meal, and he observed how much she had been neglecting the 
children. With suspicion aroused, he questioned the elder boy, and 
found that the mother was in the habit of leaving home as soon as 
he had departed for the hunt, and that she went arrayed in gay attire. 
On the morrow, pretending to be going on a hunt, he went and lay in 
wait for her. To his surprise, he caught her in an unnatural relation 
with a swarm of snakes. At once back to his home he went, and told 
his children what he had seen and that he meant to slay their mother. 



380 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

Then putting the younger, who v/as bound to the cradle-board, upon 
the back of the elder son, he started them fleeing westward, telling 
them the way to go and what to do. When the mother returned, 
he slew her with an arrow in the heart, then flung her into the fire, 
and had a hard task to burn her. When she ceased to speak, he then 
fled, going in an opposite direction. The children, in their flight, 
came to a grandmother who sheltered them over night; and when 
she put them on their w^ay the next morning, she gave them an awl 
and a comb, and told them what to do. The mother was twice 
about to overtake them, when she was each time delayed, — by the 
awl, which the boy threw and produced a mountain of aw4s; and 
by the comb, which gave rise to a mountain of combs. This enabled 
the children to reach another grandmother who gave them shelter 
over night. When she sent them on their way the next morning, she 
presented them with a flint and some punk, and told them where to go 
and what to do. Twice again the mother drew nigh, and each time 
she met an obstacle, — first on account of the flint, which made a 
slippery range of flint mountains; and then because of the punk, which 
set up a huge fire from one end of the world to the other. However, 
she was able in time to pass these barriers. She kept on in pursuit 
till she came to a river, where she saw a Horned Grebe that not long 
since had conveyed her children safely to the other shore. She was 
a long while begging to be taken across too; and, after pretending 
reluctance, the Grebe consented, for he knew that she would not com- 
ply with the request that she should not step over him on landing; and 
so, on account of her failure to give heed to the request, she fell to the 
bottom of the river. 

33 a. The Half- Red-Headed. — There were once a man, his wife, 
and two children (a boy and girl). It was a time of hunger, and food 
was hard to get. The man was in a fast. He fasted to get a revela- 
tion, that he might get food. Day after day during his fast he went 
out to see what he might kill. All this while the mother was living 
false. She would wait till her husband was gone, and then she would 
take some of his garments and go out alone to a secret place in the 
wood. When she returned, she would fetch some bear-fat, which she 
gave to her children, but not to her husband. 

Now, the little girl beheld the worry of her father as he wxnt out 
day after day to get his family food and returned at night with nothing 
in his hand. "I will save some of this fat," she thought to herself, 
"and give it to my father when he comes home to-night." She knew 
this was against the wishes of her mother, who had bidden her not 
to tell; but somehow before she knew it she would eat the fat, till 
none was left. Each day she made her resolve, and each time she 
would break it before she knew it. Finally she made one great effort. 



Ojibwa Tales from the North Shore of Lake Superior. 381 

She put the fat in some bark, and there she kept it. At night she took 
it to bed with her, and waited for her father. 

He came home. He noticed his child lay awake, noticed her 
restlessness. By and by she went over to his couch, this when all 
were asleep, and gave him the fat she had enclosed in the bark. Then 
she told about her mother, — when she would depart and return, and 
about the fetching of the fat, and about the effort to keep all a 
secret. 

"I knew something like this was happening," the father said. "I 
will go in the morning as if to hunt, and catch your mother." In the 
morning he went off as if to hunt. He lay in hiding and watched for 
his wife. By and by he saw her coming. Angry he was when he 
beheld her in his garments. He saw her come to a tree and tap upon 
it. "Come out!" he heard her say. "Did I not tell you I would 
come at this time?" Then he beheld a serpent-like creature come 
out of a hole and crawl down the tree. At the ground it became a 
man. He beheld the man lie down with the woman. He was angered 
ever so much more at all this, and so he slew the woman and burned 
her up. Then he went home and told his children what he had done. 

One day his little boy killed a chickadee. "I want you to roast it 
in the fire," the father said to his son; and so the boy roasted the bird. 
His father told him how to cover the ashes. 

Then the father told the daughter, "Now I want you to sit here and 
watch the ashes. A man will come and ask for your mother ; and when 
he does, you must point down at the ashes. He will come more than 
once, and you must do as I tell you. But there will come a time when 
you must flee, you and your little brother. I give you this flint. . . . 
These things you must use when you see your mother come up through 
the ashes. Then you must take your brother upon your back and 
flee. When your mother is about to overtake you, fling one of these 
things behind you. Mind, now! do not fling them in front of you. 
This will be the sign when you have come to the end of your journey. 
You will cross a lake and come to a net. In the net will be some 
fishes the scales of which will be ever so beautiful, and the finest of 
wampum will come from them. As for me, I shall not be able to help 
you much. I shall be slain; and this you will know by the sight of the 
sky, which will be red from one end to the other." Then the father 
left his children and went away. 

By and by a man came and asked for the mother. The girl pointed 
at the fire, and the man went to the place and scratched about the 
ashes till he turned up the chickadee roasted almost to a crisp. The 
man went off, and after a while returned. Again he asked for the 
mother, and again the girl pointed to the fire. The man went to the 
fire, and found only the roasted chickadee. He came again and 
VOL. XXIX. — NO. 113. — 25. 



382 Journal oj American Folk-Lore. 

again; and each time he asked for the mother, the girl always pointed 
to the fire. 

By and by the girl saw something rise from the ashes. She looked, 
and, lo! it was the burned form of her mother, ghastly and weird to 
look upon. Then it was she took her little brother upon her back 
and fled, as she had been commanded by her father. Her flight was 
always easy, except when she forgot the command of her father and 
flung his gifts in front of her. . . . 

Once in their flight the girl beheld the sky all red from one end to 
the other. Then she was minded of her father, who had told thus 
would be the color of the sky when the manitous should kill him. 

On and on the children fled, till at last they came to the other shore 
of a lake, and found, on their arrival, the net full of fish, — the fish 
with beautiful scales, from which beautiful wampum could be made. 
They went upon the shore and entered the dwelling there. They found 
it good to live in, with all kinds of things to eat. And thus the brother 
and sister lived till they were grown. 

One day when the brother came home from a hunt, he beheld a 
youthful stranger there. He saw how the youth looked upon his sister. 
The stranger went away, and again he returned. Once when the 
stranger was gone, the brother said, '-'You may go with him, sister, 
and I will stay here." At first the sister would not listen to what her 
brother had to tell her; but after a time she heeded his words, and 
went off' with the youth. 

The young man brought his young wife home. When his father 
beheld him and the young woman he had fetched for wife, he was in 
great anger. " I forbade you to go to that place and seek for a wife," 
the father said. " Now you have brought doom upon us." . . . 

The father said to the brother of his son's wife, "There is my war- 
club. Take it and slay us all. We might contend with you, but it 
would avail us little." So the young man took the war-club of the 
father of his sister's husband, and with the help of his father slew 
all the race. The father really had not been slain, although he was 
nearly so. He had revived and come to the help of his son. They 
then returned to the land of mortals. They whom they had warred 
against were the Thunder people. 

34. The Spirit- World. — According to the people of old, it was 
common for the dead to come back to life. From such the people 
learned the nature of the spirit- world. It lay westward. Dangers 
were encountered on the way. They were blueberries and raspberries, 
a log over a swift river, dogs, an old woman. The ghosts dwelt in a 
town, and they danced at night. Food offered them came to where 
they were. One was fitted out at burial as if for a journey; and when 
one came back to life, it was because one's time was not yet up. 



Ojihwa Tales from the North Shore of Lake Superior. 383 

34 a. Journey to the Spirit- World. — A youth once fell sick and 
died. He took the road of the dead to the spirit-world. On the way 
he beheld many people, old and young. One child in particular, with 
a cradle-board upon its back, he tried in vain to overtake. Farther 
on he came to a river of roaring rapids, over which he crossed upon a 
quivering log. Ahead was a vine of wild cucumbers which hung 
across his path, but which he passed without causing them to rattle, 
and thus did not awaken the dogs on guard farther on the way. And 
then he came to the town of the ghosts, which was silent by day, but 
alive by night. On coming to the wigwam of his grandmother, he was 
able to meet many former relatives. These escorted him to the great 
dance of the ghosts whom he beheld in various strange forms. The 
dance ended at the first sign of dawn, whereupon in every direction 
departed the ghosts, whistling and hissing through the air. At the 
command of his grandmother, he started back home. On the way 
he came to a fire, into which, after much hesitation, he leaped, where- 
upon he came back to life. His return to life again caused his relatives 
to wonder, for they were on the point of burying him. Then they 
unwrapped him, whereupon he related the story of what he had seen 
and experienced. The youth lived to an old age, and then really died. 

35. Floating-Net-Stick. — Floating-Net-Stick was the name o^' 
a man who was chief of a town. During a famine he made an under- 
ground passage connecting the sea with a small inland lake, and by 
that passage the fish entered the lake. The passage was closed, and 
the people were provided with abundant fish. Later the town was 
destroyed in a thunderstorm, and Floating-Net-Stick was the only 
one to survive. By the help of a black metal taking on the form of a 
serpent, and having the Thunderers waste their energy upon it, he was 
able to get his revenge; then, by conjuring with shooting arrows in the 
air, he brought his people back to life again. 

36. The Dwarfs of the Cliffs. — A man of Nepigon Lake who was 
skilled in magic song and healing-medicine became displeased when 
another man undertook the same sort of thing. While in this frame 
of mind, he once angered the dwarfs dwelling in the water by the cliff's, 
because he chose to ignore the gift they made to the people in response 
to an offering they gave. Thereupon they stoned him to death. 
Therefore manitous of the water and the cliffs shall not be held in 
light esteem. 

37. The Thunder-Birds and the Water-Imps. — At Thunder 
Bay (off the north shore of Lake Superior) two youths fasted, that 
they might learn the cause of the rumble among the clouds upon 
Thunder Cape. After fasting eight days, they set out upon their 
mission. The rumbling became louder the higher they went; and 
when the enveloping cloud opened, they beheld two big birds with 



384 Journal of American Folk- Lore. 

their young brood of two. Flashes of Hght, as of fire, were seen when 
the birds opened and closed their eyes. One youth was content with 
what he had seen; but the other was curious to see more, and in an 
attempt to satisfy his desire he was killed by lightning. Thereupon 
the Thunder-Birds went away from the place. One was seen for the 
last time upon Thunder Mountain (McKay Mountain). After the 
departure of the birds, the people ceased to be afraid when paddling 
about in Thunder Cape. On one of these occasions they caught sight 
of the water-imps that dwell in the rocks of the cliff. In form they 
were like human beings. They went out on the lake in a stone canoe, 
and could raise a thunder-storm by singing a magic song. When 
observed, they fled at once into the caverns under the water. 

37 a. Off toward the lake is a mountain. It is called "Thunder 
Cape." Clouds always hang about its top. It was common report 
that Thunder dwelt there, for the sound of it was always heard. Two 
men once thought that they would go and find the Thunder and see 
what it looked like. So they blackened their faces and went into a 
fast. In due time they set out for the mountain. Coming near, they 
-decided that one go first, and the other afterward. So off one went. 
A heavy cloud hung over the top; but, strange to behold! the cloud 
parted, and the man saw two big birds with a brood of young. Fire 
ilashed from the eyes of the big birds. The man had a good look, and 
everything about the birds was clear and distinct. Of a sudden the 
cloud closed together, and the view of the birds was shut off. He 
retraced his steps to his companion, and told what he had seen. 

The companion, of course, wanted to see too. He went up alone 
to look. Presently the thunder cracked. The man went, and saw 
his companion dead, killed by the Thunder-Birds. Then he came 
home alone. Indians fear to ascend the mountain. They fear the 
Thunder-Birds. 

38. Clothed-in-the-Garb-of-a-Turkey. — Clothed-in-the-Garb- 
of-a-Turkey was reared by his elder sister. On becoming a young 
man, he took leave of her and went westward. On his way he came to 
an old man who fed him corn that replenished itself. By the old man 
he was warned not to look back when he heard some one calling to 
him. He failed to obey, and found his tempter to be a hunch-back. 
At the request of the hunch-back he changed garments with him, 
whereupon each took the form of the other. He was put to death 
and thrown into a river. His body was taken out of the water by a 
maiden, and by her help and a sweat-bath he came back to life. He 
was found to be handsome, and so became the husband of the maiden 
and her elder sister. The garments were returned to the other man, 
who was changed back into a hunch-back on putting them on. The 
youth was a famous hunter, especially of turkeys. He returned to 
his elder sister with a brother-in-law, who married her. 



Ojibwa Tales from the North Shore of Lake Superior. 385 

39. Mink and Marten. — A Mink once caused a Pike and a 
Pickerel to kill each other in a fight. And there he lived. In the 
winter he met with a Marten who was to live with him and share the 
food; but the Marten was selfish of the food he got, and he made 
sport of the Mink. So when summer came round, they parted com- 
pany. 

40. Forever-Bird.^ — Forever-Bird began fasting by small degrees 
and at an early age. In time he was able to go four days at a stretch. 
Then he began to gain insight into the mysteries. After he could fast 
eight days, he began to learn of things still more profound. By fasting 
he gained the knowledge that was of help to him in after life. 

41. Skunk, Cranberry, Awl, and Moccasin.^ — A party of old 
women — Skunk, Cranberry, Awl, and Old-Moccasin — lived to- 
gether. Skunk provided the food. Cranberry burst open and died. 
Skunk married a Lynx, who then hunted. He found his hams delec- 
table, and refused his wife when she asked for something to eat. On 
that account she cast him off, whereupon he froze to death. His place 
was taken by a Hare, who in turn was slain by the Lynxes. When the 
lodge was attacked by them again, the old women saved themselves 
thus: Awl flung herself into a lodge-pole and stuck, Old-Moccasin took 
humble station by the doorway, and Skunk hid in a hole in the snow. 

41 a. Aw'L AND Cranberry. — Awl and Cranberry once lived to- 
gether in the same lodge. In their attempt to escape from an attack, 
Awl stuck into a pole, and Cranberry burst itself. 

42. The Vagabond and the Lynx. — The Vagabond once came to a 
lodge where he saw some mats he coveted. He stole them and fled. 
When pursued, he entered a hollow tree. By magic he kept them from 
cutting down the tree. He came to a lake, and by his magic he made 
the Great Lynx come up and go to sleep. Then he caused the lake 
to freeze. On waking, the Lynx saw no way for him to return. 
Then he called upon his dream-power. The great teal came, and with 
it thawing weather. The ice broke up. Then the Lynx called upon 
a wind, which blew the Vagabond away. 

43. The Deserted Boy. — A small boy murdered his playmates, 
and the people of the village moved away to leave him to his fate. 
While alone, he amassed great wealth; and a youth named Taimisi 
went with others to where he was, and won from him all he had. The 
boy who had been deserted tried to put the others to sleep by reciting 
tales, and then set the dwelling on fire. Then Taimisi roused his com- 
panions from sleep, and they started away with the goods. With a 
magic badger pouch he had a tunnel made, by way of which they 
made their escape. What they took with them was a symbol of 
what possessions men in after time would have. 

» Variant of No. 58, V. 

2 See No. i, p. 368; also p. 326, No. 14, and note. 



386 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

44. Blue Garter.^ — A small boy and his elder sister dwelt to- 
gether till the boy reached manhood, whereupon he took leave of her. 
He went away with the assurance of the help of his sister's miraculous 
power in times of adversity. After a time he began to regret that he 
ever left his sister, when suddenly he met with a maiden whom at 
once he loved and quickly won for his wife. Before he could lay full 
claim to her, however, he was obliged to accomplish in a short period 
of time three superhuman tasks, — to clear up a forest with wooden 
tools; to dip dry the water from a pond by means of a broken vessel 
and a flower-cup; to trim the branches of a pine-forest with wooden 
tools, and to peel the bark with a wooden-bladed knife. On each 
occasion he gave up in despair before setting to his task, and each time 
the maiden miraculously appeared; and at each visit she drew his 
head down upon her lap and looked for lice there, while he slept. 
Presently she woke him up; and each time he beheld his work finished, 
done by miracle. This success won the partial consent of the parents. 
Fearing the death of her husband, the girl counselled flight while her 
parents were asleep. Before departing, she put some beans on the 
eating-place, and caused them to behave merrily, as if a joyful celebra- 
tion were going on. In the course of the night the mother discovered 
that the couple had fled, whereupon she sent her husband on two 
fruitless pursuits, and finally went herself. He went in the wind, and 
she in a thunder-storm. But the pair escaped by reason of the 
superior magic power of the daughter, — first by turning themselves 
into pines, again by becoming ruffed grouse, and finally by taking on 
the form of mallard ducks and flying far out on the water. 

45. A European Tale.^ I, — Something was robbing the fields. 
Two elder brothers, while watching, fell asleep at the critical moment 
and failed to find the robber. Tasha,^ the youngest brother, discovered 
it to be a bird. He shot at it, and then pursued it through a hole in 
the world. Coming out to another world, he was taken captive, but 
was released with gifts on telling the cause of his pursuit. With these 
gifts he returned home and gave them to his father. He was accused 
by his brothers of having stolen the goods, and so by them was thrown 
into a pit. After a long time he was discovered by his mother, and 
was taken out of the pit. Arriving at home, he then turned the silver 
over to his brothers. The three made a visit to where Tasha had 
obtained the goods, and they came back with more. 

H. — They set out to visit a chief with three daughters. The 
youngest, being a glutton, was warned not to eat too much. Thinking 

1 A European tale (see " De beiden Kiiniges-Kinner," Bolte and Polivka, vol. ii, 
p. S16). 

* See"Der goldene Vogel " (Bolte and Polivka, vol. i, p. 503). 
' Petit-Jean. 



Ojibwa Tales from the North Shore of Lake Superior. 387 

the touch of a passing dog was a warning to stop eating, he ceased. 
In the night he was hungry.^ 

46. The Woman who married the Dog. — A proud virgin refused 
to have to do with the men who tried to woo her, and they made her 
a victim of a joke. Overcome with shame, she went away with a dog, 
which she later married. To it she bore a puppy and a boy. By a 
man she was once visited, and to him she became wife; for so doing 
she and her boy were slain by the two dogs. 

47. The Serpent Lover. — During a period of hunger a man's 
wife neglected her children and home, and had unnatural relation with 
serpents, and for that reason was slain. He slew all but the head, 
which later killed him. When pursuing the children, it came to 
Kotagat (?), who crushed it with a spear. 

48. Magic Power. — A man, during his wanderings inland, once 
came upon an old hut. The person living there gave him medicine 
to kill any kind of game he desired. It was potent in winning women. 

49. Magic Power. — First a formula how to win a maiden by use 
of magic paint on an image. Second, a method of stalking game by 
the use of magic paint. 

50. The Boy taken away by the Sturgeon. — A man's son 
while swimming was carried away by a sturgeon. The boy was 
carried about in seas, in rivers, and then was fetched back to the place 
whence he was taken. There he was found by his father, whom he 
told of his wanderings. 

51. The Women and the Great Lynx. — While three women 
were in a canoe, the Great Lynx tried to capsize them, but by means 
of her dream-power one of the women was able to break his tail and 
beat him off with a paddle. It was this same monster that was later 
killed near Sault St. Mary for having taken away a babe on a cradle- 
board and killed it. 

52. The Boy and the Bear. — A boy too frequently chastised 
once fled into the forest, where he was pitied and cared for by a bear. 
He lived with the bear for a year and learned the manner of life of a 
bear. He was taken home by it and given power to obtain bear. 

53. The Man who took Revenge in Forai of a Bear. — A 
certain man of the north shore of Lake Superior took offence at some 
insult done him while on Mackinaw Island, and returned later in the 
form of a witch-bear, being transported through the air. He killed 
the offenders, took out their tongues, and resumed his former shape. 

54. The Sturgeon and the Eagle. — Some people mistook some- 
thing they saw in the water for a horned sturgeon. Much to their 
merriment, they found it later to be a sturgeon that had been seized 
by an eagle that could not get its talons off". 

1 Here the following lines have been crossed out: the last few words of the abstract 
are illegible. 



388 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

55. A Hunting-Story. — The hero of the story was badly mangled 
by a bear which he had wounded; he had a hard time going down 
Nepigon River and getting to his people. 

56. Stories about Fasting Youths. I. — A man urged his son 
to fast too much, and the boy was transformed into a robin. By his 
song he now forebodes future events. 

II. — A man urged his son to fast too long, and the boy was changed 
into a bird. 

III. — A woman was once fasting when there appeared to her a 
human being. When taken to his home, he turned out to be a beaver. 
She became wife to him, and lived the life of the beaver with him. 
By and by she returned home and told of the attitude of the beavers 
toward human kind. 

IV. — A man once urged his son to fast too long, and on that 
account he became a buffalo. In a contest with the manitou buffaloes 
the youth had to call on his grandfather for help. He had to fast 
again to regain his former human shape. His fast had been in vain. 

V. — Forever-Bird fasted till he was able to go eight days without 
eating. Fasting up to that point, he was given knowledge of all things 
on earth, in the sea, and up in the sky. He was taught to soothsay. 
He had a vision of long life, and a vision of his chieftainship. 

57. Souls. — Souls are given to people by the manitou on the other 
side of the world; they are given before birth; by these manitou are 
infants taught. There is a future life. To gain this, one must live 
correctly. 

58. Origin of the Ojibwas. — The story is told of a Crane that 
flew about over the earth before coming to Lake Superior. Flying 
everywhere over the lake, he came to the Sault. He saw some herring 
there, caught them, and ate them as food. He fell asleep and dreamed 
of a woman. In the dream he gave her fish to eat. He woke, and 
found a woman lying with him. He and she lived together. They 
made a canoe, and used that to travel by water. They hunted deer with 
the bow and arrow. They used the flesh for food, and the skin for 
garments. From this pair came the Ojibwa people. , A home was 
made on the south shore of the rapids, and it was called Bowa'ting 
("rapids"). This was the first town that was founded by the Crane, 
and it became the centre of the Ojibwa nation and power. The head 
chief of all the Ojibwas lived at this place. His clan was the Crane 
(adcidcak). Wabangi was the chief when white men came to the 
Ojibwas. Bwanens was the first chief to plant potatoes at Garden 
River. Ma'konadowe was a great seer, prophet, warrior. He was 
conqueror of the Mohawks. Asin was another great chief of this line. 
Songa'kamig held sway over a wide territory. 

Shingwa'kons (Little Pine-Tree) is William Kabaoosa. Tag- 



Ojibwa Tales from the North Shore of Lake Superior. 389 

wagane is George Kabaoosa. Pabamasinokwe is Sofia Kabaoosa. 
These are brothers and sisters, and stand in the eighteenth generation. 
Tagwagane, the chief after whom George is named, was chief 
when America and England were at war. He went to Niagara at the 
time, and made an agreement with England. England promised to 
grant presents to his people every year till the end of time. A round 
medal was given him, the circular object denoting that the friendship 
would never end. 

59. War-Story, Manitou. — Jacob Thompson of Garden River 
said that once the Ottawas and Otagamies went to war with the 
Ojibwas. The Ojibwas whom they went to fight were about what is 
now Sault Ste. Marie. The Ottawas and Otagamies were coming up 
in their bark canoes. They came in great numbers. They passed 
the first falls in the journey all right. They had yet another to pass 
over. One man was noticing the canoes on ahead, how they went 
swiftly on and suddenly dropped out of sight. He felt danger, and 
gave the alarm. With great effort he and those in his canoe paddled 
out of the current and pulled inshore. The canoes behind followed 
example. After a little while they learned that all who had gone over 
the falls were lost. Then they returned the way they had come, 
perceiving how useless it was to war against the Ojibwas. It was one 
more example to show people that obstacles lay in the way of those who 
went to war with the Ojibwas. The Ojibwas were ever peaceful, and 
never fought except at bay, and then it was woe to the enemy ! 

60. Adventures of Nanabozhu. I. — Once some men went to see 
Nanabozhu. He lived far away. They had come for various things. 
One man asked for long life; another asked for the power of winning 
women; a third asked to be a great warrior; and a fourth asked to 
be a great hunter. Nanabozhu asked the man who wanted to live 
forever to come and sit by him. The man did so, and straightway he 
turned into stone and yet kept the form of man. He granted to each 
of the other three men his request, and they became what they desired. 

n. — Nanabozhu was once on a journey. He had his family with 
him. His children were ever so many, and it was great trouble to 
carry them and his big kettle too. So he left his kettle behind. In 
time it turned to stone, and can be seen this day at the eastern end 
of Manitoulin Island. It looks exactly like a kettle. It is always 
filling with water, and a little hole lets out the water, so that it never 
overflows. 

III. — Once Nanabozhu was journeying along with'^his family. His 
children were ever so numerous, and they were more or less of a 
nuisance. One he bade to sit down, and straight^vay it turned to 
stone. There it has remained to this day, and can be seen on the 
north shore, near Sarnia. It is exactly like a child sitting down. 



390 Journal of American Folk-Lore . 

IV. — Nanibozho once went to visit his brother Moose. He was 
welcomed by Moose, who at once got ready to give him food. Moose 
had his wife heat some water; and when the water was boihng, he cat 
off a piece of his wife's garment at the back, just over the hips. This 
he put into the kettle to boil. Nanibozho saw the act, and thought to 
himself, "What an easy way to get food! Why did I not know of it 
before? I will do likewise, and not be in want of food hereafter." 

Moose placed the food before Nanibozho when it was done cooking, 
and Nanibozho found it excellent. "I am going home now," he said. 
"You must come to see me, too, some time." So off home he went. 

One day Moose said to his wife, "Let us go visit our brother Nani- 
bozho." The wife was glad to make the visit. She wanted a change 
of food, and thought her brother would of course have something 
delicious. So to Nanibozho's they both went. On their coming to 
the place, Nanibozho invited them in and bade them welcome. He 
had his wife heat some water, and, when the water was boiling, cut 
off a piece of her garment at the back, over the hip. This he put 
into the kettle to boil. He cut off another piece over the other hip, 
and put that in to boil, too. Moose and his wife watched the act, 
and thought it strange that Nanibozho should expose the nakedness 
of his wife before company. 

At last Nanibozho thoughtthe food was done cooking, and so dished 
it out to his guests, but they could not eat it. The buckskin garment 
was so tough that it wearied one to chew it. Nanibozho was dis- 
appointed at his failure to treat his guests royally. Moose laughed 
at him, and took it upon himself to get some food. So he showed 
Nanibozho how he did it. He slowly cut away the skin off his wife's 
hip, and, after taking out a nice piece of flesh, put the skin back on 
its place. Nanibozho saw it was done so well that the wife acted as 
if nothing at all had happened to her. Moose had the wife of Nani- 
bozho throw out the water in the kettle and put in some more. In this 
fresh water the flesh was cooked. All four ate and were happy. 
" It is not your nature to get food this way," Moose said to Nanibozho, 
and Nanibozho saw it was so. 

V. — One time Nanibozho went to visit his brother Squirrel. Squirrel, 
of course, wanted to give him something to eat, and so got his wife 
to heat some water. He then mounted the pole over the cooking- 
place, and seated himself there directly over the pot. He took out a 
knife and began to slice off pieces of his testicles. The pieces fell into 
the pot as nice little pieces of fat. Squirrel's wife stirred the pot in 
the cooking. Nanibozho saw the proceeding, and thought to him- 
self, "Why did I not know of it before? I have larger testicles, and 
so can supply myself with ever so much more fat." 

In due time the food was done cooking, and was placed before 



Ojibwa Tales from the North Shore of Lake Superior. 391 

Nanibozho to eat. He found it excellent. When it came time for 
him to go home, he asked for a visit from his brother. 

"Let us go visit our brother Nanibozho," Squirrel once said to 
his wife. Of course, she was glad to go. When they arrived, Nani- 
bozho had them enter and be seated. Then he had his wife heat some 
water. When it was hot, he climbed up over the kettle and sat down. 
He took out a knife and began to cut off pieces from his testicles; 
but he did not cut himself very much, before he fell from his seat and 
lay on the ground unconscious. His brother Squirrel revived him, 
and told him, "It is not your nature to get food in that way. It 
belongs, only to the race of squirrels." Thereupon Squirrel had 
Nanibozho's wife throw out the water and put in other that was fresh. 
When it was at a boil. Squirrel mounted the pole over the fire, and 
sliced off pieces from his testicles. The pieces fell into the kettle as 
dainty pieces of fat, and presently nice food was cooked in the pot. 
Then they all ate and were pleased. 

VI. — Nanibozho once went to visit his brother Meme (Red-Headed 
Woodpecker). Meme had his wife heat some water while he went 
out to get the food. Nanibozho saw his brother light on the side of 
a tree and pound upon it with his beak. Up the tree Meme went, 
pounding away all the while. At last he gathered a big supply of 
worms, which he fetched for his wife to cook. When it was done 
cooking, it was served out to be eaten. Nanibozho found it was 
delicious. W^hen he started away, he asked that his brother come and 
visit him some day. 

Meme once said to his wife, "Let us go visit Nanibozho." She 
was glad to go, and so off they went. When they were come, Nani- 
bozho had them enter and be seated. Then he bade his wife heat 
some water while he went out to get some food. He fixed a pointed 
stick in each nostril and made them fast. He came to a tree, and up 
he climbed. As he climbed, he pecked, pecking after the manner of 
Meme. The more and harder he pecked, the deeper into his nostrils 
the sticks were driven, till presently he was knocked out of his head, 
and down he fell unconscious to the ground. 

Meme came and revived him. "It is not your nature thus to get 
food," Meme said. So off he flew, and gathered some food from a 
tree. He fetched it to Nanibozho's, and it was cooked there. The 
food was good, and all were pleased. 



392 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 



THE ZUNI MO'LAWIA. 

BY ELSIE CLEWS PARSONS. 

This ceremonial occurs on the final day of the great sha'lako cere- 
monial. It appears^ to have none but an arbitrarily chronological 
connection with sha'lako. The origin myth it dramatizes was nar- 
rated to me in answer to my queries about one of the fraternities, — 
the ne'wekwe, or galaxy. It was narrated by an aged medicine-man 
in that fraternity. A variant is given by Mrs. Stevenson .^ She also 
gives an account of the ceremonial. Because of the variations in the 
two accounts — due in part to different sources of information, and 
in part too, perhaps, to the decadence of Zuiii sacerdotalism (during 
the last few decades that decadence has been notable in numerous 
particulars) — it seems worth while publishing the latter account, 
its data gathered twenty years or more after the former. 

THE MYTH. 

The atowa awishtokyi ("corn-maidens") belonged to the kya'kwemosi 
tlashi {tlashi, "old"), the head rain-priest. The two^ children of the 
Sun (the twin war-gods ^) wanted intercourse with the maidens, and 
so the maidens ran away. The east-end shiwanni ("rain-priest") 
wanted them to find the maidens. They called the Eagle. He went 
everywhere and looked everywhere. He could not find the maidens. 
They called pipe, the Owl. He could not find the maidens. They 
called shokiapise, the Chicken-Hawk. He could not find the maidens. 
They called anela, the Night-Hawk. He could not find the maidens. 
The west-end people then came to the kya'kwemosi tla'shi. He said 
none could find the maidens but the ne'wekwe. They sent for the 
ne'wekwe. They asked him to find the maidens. He put the seed 
of the tlanitloko ("cotton-wood tree") in the ground. It grew up to 
the sky. He climbed the tree. When he got up, he saw the corn- 
maidens hiding in the ocean under the wings of a duck. He came 

1 But until we know more about the meaning of sha'lako, nothing positive can be said 
on this point. All I could get from my principal informant was, "That was the way it 
was meant in order that the mo'lawi should be a part of the ko'ko;" i.e., the gods. 

* The Zuiii Indians (23d Annual Report, Bureau of American Ethnology, 1901-02, 
pp. 48-49. 51-54)- 

* Subsequently I was told that there were other children of the Sun who also had 
designs on the maidens. 

* According to Mrs. Stevenson, the would-be ravisher was Payatamu; but Payatamu 
is another name, says Mrs. Stevenson, for Bitsitsi, or the first ne'wekwe, he who goes to 
look for the maidens {Ibid., pp. 48, 430). 



The Zuni Mo'lawia. 393 

down and went in to the a'shitvanni {a, plural prefix). They asked 
him if he had found the maidens, and he said, "Yes." They asked 
him where the maidens were. He said, "I will get them for you if 
you do exactly as I say. If you want them badly enough to do as 
I say, I will get them." They agreed. He said, "We have to make 
six plumes, — tliiptsin ['yellow'], tlian ['blue'], shilowa ['red'], k'ohan 
['white'], pintopa ['spotted'], kw'in ['black']. To-morrow morning 
have them prepare your meat. In the evening eat until you are full, 
and drink. Then for six days you may not eat, or sleep, or speak 
to one another. The morning after your first night of fast, I will 
fast. I will give the six plumes into the hands of the pekwtn} Each 
day he is to give me one. The first day he will call in the Sand-Crane. 
This one is to prepare me for my journey. Then we have to have a 
rabbit, because rabbits are the most enduring of the animals. We 
have to kill it and take out its tongue. When I put that in my mouth, 
we shall not speak any more. That will be the end of our speech." 
The next morning the Sand-Crane makes the stripes around the ankles 
of the ne'wekwe, below his knees, around his hips, around his wrists, 
around his shoulders, on his face, on his forehead. His hair he puts 
in one knot sticking forward over his forehead. In the knot he puts 
one grain of corn of each of six kinds. He puts six grains, one of each 
kind, over his stomach, in his belt. The rabbit's tongue he puts in his 
mouth. The ne'wekwe goes to the pekwtn. The pekwin hands him 
his basket of plumes. The ne'wekwe takes the yellow plume. Before 
sunrise he plants it facing the west. He returns, and they are in 
the house of the a'shiwanni all night. The next morning before sun- 
rise he takes the blue plume and goes beyond where he planted the 
yellow plume, and plants it facing the west. He returns. The next 
morning before sunrise he takes the red plume and goes beyond where 
he planted the blue plume, and plants it facing the west. He returns. 
The next morning before sunrise he takes the white plume and plants 
it beyond the red plume, and facing the west. He returns. The 
next morning before sunrise he takes the spotted plume and plants 
it beyond the white plume, and facing the west. He returns. That 
night the a'shiwanni almost give out. The next morning before 
sunrise he takes from the pekwin the black plume and plants it at the 
door of the house where the maidens live, on the edge of the ocean. 
There are four rooms in this house, one on top of another. Two 
White Swans live in this house. They see the ne'wekwe coming, and 
tell the maidens, saying they had better prepare for their return- 
journey. The corn-maidens say, "We are not going ourselves, because 

1 Or rather, as it was explained to me subsequently, of him who at a later day was to 
be the pekwin. My informant appeared to reason as a kind of after-thought that at 
the period of which he was speaking there was no pekwin proper. 



J9* 



Jomrmel ef Afmericam F^ik-Lore. 




scad An." Eadi 
from Imt body* aad 
cf 030, eack ear Golared Eke Its 
bcfiore tfae £BC{ilac3e aac 
dK voMS caa griad; awi tke 



win 



xoeke represeztta-th^es 

faatkcs henctf , and 

tbeiB mtozAzpe fike 

aker. They pot tbese 

ap. TheK, say tbe 

tiiey can n^ on tfaea- 

boes, and dot v3 aake tben pretty aad vteite.* 

Aft£r die ue'wdtme kad pfe-' ' ce tbe door, die oid-inao Svaa 

ad toe oU wu«aa said to .- - - Have yoa cosie?'* He anddfd 
"Have j'm mmt for die oona-anideiis?" tbey adced, aad be nodded 
ifMB ^ak to tke aaadens!" tkey said. He went 

^> tke f "" -"-— -"' -'-^-ace descended into tke 

^i— iwJ tbe cxvc-fiaaadens. and 

le node- r tkenL, and ke noddfd 

T^- but ae ail not sla>-. 

^ at»*f '«»^ «i8 Itscvt *^**— , so 

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He 
wes t Tbe 



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a prayer 



a» are oc^ very happy, 
be hripfd, bccai. 
-rre. taksag ao * 

• go OD ; he aiB be 
he has:' 



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a iim -»i^L- - - - - 

'tea rJL'il r - 



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iay of liie 511c ;: aai Dec 1&. IThsx 



crcst rr rerExerr ir td fiiszac A-i/axaawii. , 

pot. :^^5«f.. " i'-- . Jinknvsr : 

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rsires piiace_ Tbr c :;h:%:!CT.Ts mrt lijsre. BixsTsi "wxriiKS xfaei none 
"'-^ ~ ?J:^ are 

■onder ias ^v«s, bnr .screes ias fy^Sds^ Tbs vsht Ijk XerabC' blimfcgt 



' - - - - - - sdx 

cff .04 ^le . Use tntciswntfissf vfcbf> ^KrpcErs T;r kETc 

sorscr.'u."^ ro say, ICr*^ Sciv^ajsoc ' - Tr^acm, 

^ ScsJss: i5 at -Jttininasi^ossk' 3srtt ire lis rii.ui -~ ••■; ». ..^wt; 

t^rtr«*ariu?«»t^ « ii»* jJock ^~ 

* I^asirwa is. *s<e^i^ «^ l&s- 5»Si««<a9S:ai4> ^tf * .arscjjcv§5»5ia: ' « iter it'kt «r jtn^ 



396 Journal of American Folk-Lore. 

twenty-three on another.^ The maidens wear the regulation dance- 
kilts, fox-skins, sashes, and moccasins. Their skirts are worn over 
their ordinary trousers. Their ordinary shirts are decorated with 
favors of multi-colored, store-bought ribbons. Their hair is flowing, 
and also adorned with ribbons. In it is a bunch of four yellow parrot- 
feathers. Each maiden carries a wi/i^ and /e/iHwawg.^ Each has been 
dressed by her ceremonial father (he who initiated her into the 
ko'tikili) and the man's wife; the man dressing her, and the woman 
doing her hair. All have gone out to a small ravine on the southeast * 
outskirt of the town.^ Here a little way from the ravine as many 
girls as there are male personators of the corn-maidens are stood in 
line, each girl representing a personator. The girl has been chosen 
by the ceremonial father. She is his daughter or a kinswoman of 
his wife. The girls are sprinkled and prayed over,^ and started off 
to run a race to the ravine. The order in which they arrive is the 
order taken in the line b