Chapter I: The Primitive-Religious Group (2)

They looked up, and what was their astonishment to see a heavenly glory shining about the woman and her child in the gloom of the cave. And in his left hand the child carried a little golden image of the world, and round his head was a starry radiance, and his right hand was raised in blessing.

For such a while as it takes the shadow of a cloud to run across a rippling field of corn, for so long the vision remained; and then it melted into the darkness, even as a rainbow melts away into the rain.

On his face fell the Abbot, weeping for joy beyond words; but Diarmait was seized with fear and trembling till he remembered the way in which the child had pressed warm palms against his face and forgiven him.

The story of these things was whispered abroad, and ever since, in that part of Erinn in the sea, the mother blackbird is called Kenach's Little Woman.

And as for the stone on which the fire was lighted in front of the cave, rain rises quickly from it in mist, and leaves it dry, and snow may not lie upon it, and even in the dead of winter it is warm to touch. And to this day it is called the Stone of Holy Companionship.

--William Canton.

"W. V.'s Golden Legend" (Dodd, Mead & Co.).

=A Legend of Gapan=

In the early part of December, in the year 1889, a poor man named Carlos left the town where he lived to go to Gapan, about twenty miles distant.

Day was beginning to break as Carlos reached the foot of a hill, which he was just about to climb, when he heard the sound of music. Looking upward to find whence the sound came, he saw a bright white cloud. From the center of this cloud shone a ray of light, forming a circle in which were all the colors of the rainbow.

Carlos could scarcely believe his eyes, till he heard a sweet voice call his name. He hastened to climb the hill, and at the top found a very beautiful woman, around whom shone a light that made the stones and bushes sparkle like gems.

When the man had drawn near, our Blessed Lady--for it was she--told him that she wished a church to be built on that spot, and bade him go to Gapan and tell this fact to the priest. On reaching the town, Carlos went straight to the priest, and related what the Blessed Virgin had confided to him.

"I believe you," said the priest, "but to be still more certain, ask her who sends you for some sign by which we may know that she is really the Mother of God."

Afterwards Carlos went to the spot where the Blessed Mother was waiting for him. As soon as he saw her, he immediately threw himself at her feet, and told her what the priest had said. With great tenderness our Lady bade him come to her the next day, saying she would give him the sign for which the priest had asked.

Carlos came the next day. "Go now," said the Blessed Virgin, "to the top of the hill, and gather the roses that are blooming there. Put them in your handkerchief, and bring them to me; I will tell you what to do with them."

Though Carlos believed that there were no roses there, he obeyed without a word. How great, then, was his surprise to find a garden rich with flowers! Filling his handkerchief with roses, he hurried back to the Blessed Virgin.

Our Lady took the roses in her pure hands, and letting them drop back into the handkerchief, said to Carlos, "Present these roses to the priest, and say that they are the proof of the command I give you. Do not show any one what you carry, and open your handkerchief only in the presence of the priest."

Thanking the Blessed Virgin, Carlos started once more for the town. When he reached the convent and was brought before the priest, he opened his handkerchief to show the sign that was to prove his words, and fresh, sweet-smelling roses, wet with dew, fell to the floor, while on the handkerchief itself appeared a beautiful picture of the Mother of God.

"The Blessed Virgin is here," said the father, and then he knelt before the picture and gave praise to God. The miraculous handkerchief was placed in the church of Gapan, where it remained until a suitable chapel was built on the very top of the hill, as our Lady desired.

--Teofilo P. Corpus.

=A Legend of the Incas=

"We will rest here for a time, Uira." The hollow-eyed, tired-looking youth dismounted from his burro. His companion Uira, a short, swarthy-skinned Peruvian, turned and gazed down the mountainside whence they had come, upon the flat roofs of Quito, which seemed like a dream city, so lovely did the distance make it. "It is beautiful, is it not, Juan? My home, the home of the Incas, the most ancient city in all the land?"

"Yes, indeed, it is beautiful, and, Uira, while we rest, you shall tell me a tale of your people; some pretty legend of the Incas. I think nothing else would so thoroughly refresh me." Now Juan could by no exercise of ingenuity have touched a more responsive chord in the nature of his friend.

"Well, what shall it be, Juan? You have never heard the story of Manca, have you? It may not be what you would call a pretty legend; yet I think you would like it," said Uira, readily complying.

"Very well, I know I cannot help but enjoy it," said Juan, as he settled himself comfortably, with dried leaves for a couch and a tree stump for a pillow.

"Well," began Uira, his gaze still on the town below them.

"Uira, you're not beginning right; you should say many, many, years ago." The fine-featured Spanish boy looked mischievously at the stolid descendant of the Incas.

"You perhaps have heard," went on Uira, discouraging flippancy by disregarding it, "of the story of Attahualpa; at least you have known something of it from the histories you have studied; how, before he died, the mighty Huayan Capar divided his kingdom between his two sons, Attahualpa and Huascar, half-brothers, giving to Attahualpa the northern region, Quito, which your geography calls Ecuador; how Huascar, arrogant in his newly-acquired greatness, demanded tribute from Quito. You know how Attahualpa angrily refused; how he came at the head of a great army to the seat of his brother's power, defeated Huascar, and taking from the conquered man kingdom and freedom, left him only his life. Then the Spaniards, curses on them all----"

"You forget that I am proud of my Spanish blood, Uira," the lad interrupted, his cheeks flushing with resentment.

"Ah, yes, Juan, I forgot. Forgive my hasty speech and unintended insult. But to go on, the Spaniards, mad with lust for gold, marched with armies legion in number. If you do not know, boy, how many legion is, look at the tree tops above you; the leaves are countless; they are legion. The invaders, with the Pizarro at their head, burned our homes, desecrated our temples, and captured Attahualpa, who, elated with his conquest, was returning to Quito. The Attahualpa, the records say, collected in one room and gave the Pizarro the wealth of the Incas; and your traditions tell you that in fear of his own life, Pizarro put his captive to death. This is the story of Attahualpa as you have been taught it.

But I will now tell you what it is given only the few in whose veins still flows the blood of the Incas to know. Huayan had a daughter Manca, whose name is not written in the annals. She was sister to Attahualpa, and in her heart was all the mighty pride of the Incas. Oh, how she loved the name of her race! How she rejoiced in their conquests, their prowess! How she delighted to look upon the gold in the temples, and think that it was all part of the prosperity of her people! There was a woman, Juan, perhaps not beautiful, I cannot say, well worthy to bear the name of an Incan.

How she wept when Pizarro, with his Spanish followers, seized Attahualpa! But do not think that it was for fear that she wept, Juan. It was for injured pride; for sorrow that she was to lose her dearest friend, her brother.

But when the loyal girl found that Attahualpa, a ruler, a conqueror of men, and most of all, an Incan, was bargaining for his life with a roomful of gold as the price, she prayed to the gods she worshiped, to take her brother to the spirit world, before he should place this blot upon the nation. She--heroine that she was--would rather a thousand times have lost her companion than have had him coward enough to buy his life thus. Day and night she pondered and prayed, and planned ways by which she might ward off so awful an outrage against Incan pride. After a week of despair and vain thought, while Attahualpa was robbing the shrines of their ornaments to fill the great chamber chosen by the Spanish general, Manca determined that since she could not by pleading with Attahualpa or by playing upon his love for his sister or his country or even for his gods, move him from his purpose, she would at least save him from himself.

This was Manca's purpose. Perhaps, Juan, I failed to tell you that Manca bore a very strong resemblance to her brother," and for the first time Uira looked away from Quito, and glanced questioningly at Juan. The boy nodded. "Go on," he said, his gaze, too, traveling to the city of antiquity, where, centuries ago, Manca made her hitherto unrecorded sacrifice.

"The spirited girl," went on Uira, "realized that when Pizarro had his booty, his cowardly fear for himself would outweigh his honor, and cause him to kill his prisoner; and so, when the day came on which Attahualpa was to open the doors of the treasure-filled chamber, Attahualpa lay at his home, guarded by servants, who were not to liberate him till sundown; and Manca, garbed in her brother's clothes, gave to Pizarro the store of wealth. As she walked home, along a lonely forest path, she received the poisoned arrow intended for Attahualpa. He, when he discovered his sister's bravery, slunk off to the mountains, with never a thought of the rumors which would forever darken his name. Thus Manca's life, by the sacrifice of which she had hoped that she might keep bright the fame of her brother, was given up for the sake of a coward's reputation. By crediting herself with the surrender of the wealth, she had intended that Attahualpa, though he had been defeated in battle, should still remain the hero of the Incas."

There was a pause. The man and the boy both were now staring down at Ecuador's capital city, whose pillars seemed to be floating in the mist just rising from Pinchincha's side.

"As you said, it is not a pretty legend. But don't you think, Uira, that Manca must have been very beautiful?"

--Dorothea Knoblock.

=The Place of the Red Grass: or, The Invasion of Pangasinan by the Ilocanos=

Long before the Spaniards discovered the Philippines, there was war in Luzon among the Pangasinan and Ilocano tribes. Each tribe had powerful chiefs of remarkable courage and bravery. It was believed that they were sons of gods, and possessed magical power. Among them was Palaris, the distinguished chief of the Pangasinanes, and Lumtuad, the skillful chief of the Ilocanos. These rulers were neighbors and the army of the one plundered the towns of the other. On account of this reason and also of the ambition of each to enlarge his dominion, a war broke out. Lumtuad collected three hundred ships in Laoag, Ilocos Norte. These ships were loaded with his chosen men armed with bolos, spears, and bows and arrows. These ships sailed toward the south, and entered the Gulf of Lingayen, Pangasinan. Palaris and his army went to meet them.

At first, the battle took place on the water. Lumtuad showed his skill to his enemy. He fought jumping from one ship to another. Unfortunately he was shot by an arrow and fell into the water. After his death, his soldiers fought furiously, and drove back the enemy into the town.

When the invading army had landed all its forces, it pursued Palaris's army as far as Mangaldan, a town fifteen miles from Lingayen. When Palaris foresaw the future defeat of his army, he escaped into a sugar field. There by Lumtuad's scouts he was found sleeping. They thrust a lance through the middle of his body. But Palaris whirled himself free from the lance, killed some of these soldiers, and pursued the rest until his last breath was gone. He was then succeeded by his lieutenant Afilado, and the battle was renewed. Afilado's forces were entirely defeated and those who survived were killed outright. A river of blood flowed from the spot where the battle took place, and the grass that grows there today is red. The place where Palaris was struck was named after him.

After the war the victorious Ilocanos settled in the province of Pangasinan; so that now they constitute a greater number in population than the Pangasinanes themselves.

--Sixto Guico.

III. The Fairy Tale

[The attitude toward fairy stories]

"From Ghoulies and Ghoosties, long-leggetty Beasties, and Things that go Bump in the Night, Good Lord, deliver us!" the quaint old litany pleads, and is probably better representative of the attitude of primitive peoples toward the extraordinary personages of the sub-world than is our more modern and debonair view. We have come to look upon a fairy story as a mental holiday, to enjoy which the narrator and the listener are off on a picnic. But not so do the unsophisticated folk think of the events. The grown-up primitive man believes more seriously in the tricks of goblins and sprites than do our most credulous modern children. To him, the good or malicious influence of the nunu or ticbalan is not a fiction, but a reality that must be reckoned with. Luckily he can reckon with it; for even in the earlier folk tales the fairies are not generally immortal, and they do not have unlimited power.

[Fundamental characteristics of fairies]

One chief characteristic that distinguishes these extra-natural beings from the gods is that the extra-natural are for the most part small and belong to the under-world. They are not so much superhuman as other than human. They may be checked or outwitted or even finally overcome. They have power to tease a man, though not the power utterly to destroy him. A pixy may cast a spell, but not forever. Jack-o-lantern, or Will-o-the-wisp, may lead astray into a bog and may hope that his victim be not a good wader, but the trick and the malicious wish are the extent of the evil. The victim usually in the end escapes. If he perishes, he has forgotten his charms or neglects to say his prayers.

There is a somewhat well-fixed literary atmosphere for English fairy stories and allusions. As we have said, they must have about them the air of holiday. The English elfin people are a merry folk from the dainty queen to the clumsiest boggart, and enjoy a bit of fun even at their own expense,--though, to tell the truth, the joke is usually the other way.

If you wish to write an original narrative about these charming creatures, the best way to prepare is to get acquainted with them. No doubt you know where some of them live. Perhaps only this morning you chanced upon a forgotten hammock left swinging between two stout little sprigs of grass where a fairy had slept, or maybe last night you clearly heard the tinkle of pranckling feet and were too lazy or indifferent to go to the window to catch a glimpse of a wondrous sight. I pray you, if you have the chance again, join the masquerade, remembering only that if Oberon asks you why you are there, you must speak out frankly. His promise is

"We fairies never injure men
Who dare to tell us true."

Oh, yes, one more thing to remember! Leave before cock-crow if you expect to bring your wits with you.

If you are afraid to try the experiment of original sightseeing and fear Sir Topas's fate, do the next best thing. Seek out somebody who has witnessed a fairy revel, or been at a brownies' banquet, has outtricked a bogie, or propitiated an angry gnome, or, best of all, likely, has made a little green cloak and hood for the lubber-fiend of the kitchen hearth, and has seen him fling himself out-of-doors in high glee to return no more except with good luck. Watchers who have seen these things, I dare say, will have much to tell you. Get their narratives.

The Filipino fairies are not so winsome as the English, but they are far more actual. The English fairies are "but mortals beautifully masquerading," says Mr. W. B. Yeats. He could find no fault with the Filipino fairies; for they are potent forces. Like the Irish deenee shee, the Filipino supernatural beings are thoroughly believed in by the peasants, and, like the Irish creatures, the Malayan are not always small, but may be small or large at will. Some of their manifestations are indeed gruesome; a few are harmless or even helpful; all are very interesting.

The educated young people of the Philippines have a mission to perform for the native fairies. It has become the fashion in some places to frown upon the unseen folk and to attempt to drive them out. The endeavor is commendable so far as it discriminates. The bad fairies should go. The wholesome ones should stay. They should stay for the sake of future native poetry and for the sake of all the little brown children who love stories.

[Northern fairies and their attributes]

A bare list of the names of fairies and subhuman beings is inspiring. In the Norse countries there are dwarfs, known also as trolls, kobalds, goblins, brownies, pucks, or elle-folk. It is said that 'they are less powerful than gods, but far more intelligent than men; that their knowledge is boundless and extends even to the future. They can transport themselves with celerity from one place to another, and love to hide behind rocks and repeat the last words of every conversation they overhear. Echoes are known as dwarfs' talk. A Tarnkappe each one owns, a tiny red cap which makes the wearer invisible. Dwarfs are ruled by a king spoken of in various northern countries as Andvari, Alberich, Elbegast, Gondemar, Laurin, or Oberon. He dwells in a magnificent subterranean palace and owns a magic ring, an invisible sword, and a belt of strength. His subjects often fashion marvelous weapons and girdles. In general, dwarfs are kindly and helpful: sometimes they knead bread, grind flour, brew beer, and perform countless other household tasks; sometimes they harvest and thresh grain for the farmers. If ill-treated or turned to ridicule, these little creatures forsake the house never to come back to it again. Sometimes they take vengeance by means of changelings. Changelings are the weazened and puny offspring of the dwarfs which they substitute for unbaptized children that they steal from people who have offended them. The dwarfs, envious of the taller stature of the human race, desire to improve their own, and so consider it good morals thus to make their enemies their benefactors.'

Fairies, elves, and ariels include all the small creatures who are fair, good, and useful. They have their dwelling-place, it is said, 'in the airy realm of Alf-heim (home of the light-elves), situated between heaven and earth, whence they can flit downwards whenever they please, to attend to the plants and flowers, sport with the birds and butterflies, or dance in the silvery moonlight on the green.' They have golden hair, sweet musical voices, and magic harps. These gentle aerial beings, scholars say, were introduced into Europe by the Crusaders and the Moors of Spain. Before that time the creatures of the North had been cold and ungenial, like their heath-clad mountains, chilly lakes, and piny solitudes; but after the advent of the Peri of the East, who live in the sun or the rainbow and subsist on the odor of flowers, the Northern elves took on more winning attributes and finally became beneficent and beautiful.

Many of the stories in the so-called fairy books are technically not fairy stories but nursery sagas, as we use the term today; for instance, most of those in Miss Mulock's "Fairy Book" and the larger part in the "Blue and the Green Fairy Books." They are English, French, German, and other _Märchen_ retold. Jean Ingelow's "Mopsa the Fairy" has a good-sounding title for a typical fairy book, though the material seems to be literary rather than traditional. Brentano's creatures in translation surely bear literary names, whatever they have in the original. Dream-my-Soul and Sir Skip-and-a-Jump are suggestive of the pen. But Puck of Pook's Hill comes near to being of the solid traditional Northern type--at least in declaration. He says he is the oldest Old Thing in England--very much at your service if you care to have anything to do with him; but, by Oak and Ash and Thorn, he hates the painty-winged, wand-waving, sugar-and-shake-your-head set of imposters! He is for Wayland-Smith and magic and the old days before the Conquest. Charles Kingsley's Madam How and Lady Why are noble fairies without dispute--really goddesses; yet, strange to say, they have revealed themselves to a pedagogue and have permitted their work to be the subject of lectures. Still, they are companionable and wholesome and none the less marvelous than their more common sisters. This is an interesting contamination of genres--the pedagogical narrative combined with the fairy tale. Usually the combination is not so happily made.

[How to proceed to write a fairy-tale]

If a writer cares to attempt a new "old" fairy tale of the real sort, he might observe the following more specific suggestions, which were written out before "Puck of Pook's Hill" came into the hands of the author of this book, but which happen to express fairly well what might be deduced as Kipling's procedure. (1) Decide on the country in which the events are to take place. (2) If you are not already familiar with that country through the medium of traveling or residence, make yourself familiar with it by reading. The more you know about the common people and their superstitions, the better your story will be. (3) Make lists of names of the good and bad spirits of that country together with their occupations and powers. (4) From these lists pick out the being you are going to treat as your chief personage and clearly define to yourself its relation to the other spirits. (5) Then weave about this personality a series of events for which it is directly or indirectly responsible. (6) Be sure to make the fairies or spirits of the other world the chief actors. If living man comes in, he must be simply the object to whom they offer their favors or on whom they play their pranks or wreak their vengeance. It is the doings of the fairies or of the beings of the extra-natural world that you must make your reader interested in. (7) If you care to write a weird fairy tale, select the unpleasant spirits and proceed; but be sure not to make your story revolting instead of weird. A good weird tale is the work of a master and pleases because of its art. A horrible story any bungler can tell. (8) Finally, remember the working definition: [Summary definition] A fairy tale is a narrative of imaginary events wherein the chief actors are beings other than man and the gods--beings who have power to help man or to tease and molest him, but not the power utterly to destroy him.

PARTIAL LIST OF FAIRIES, GOOD AND BAD, OF DIFFERENT COUNTRIES:

=Northern Fairies=

Duergar, or Dwerger--Gotho-German dwarfs, dwelling in rocks and
hills; noted for their strength, subtlety, magical powers, and
skill in metallurgy. They are personifications of the subterranean
powers of nature.

Kobold--a house-spirit in German superstition; same as English Robin
Goodfellow, or Puck.

Nick--a water-wraith or Kelpie. There are nicks in sea, lake, river,
or waterfall. Sometimes represented as half-child, half-horse, the
hoofs being reversed.

Nis, or Nisse--a Scandinavian fairy friendly to farm-houses.

Trolls--similar to Duergar; dwarfs of Northern mythology living
in hills and mounds. They are represented as stumpy, misshapen,
humpbacked, inclined to thieving and fond of carrying off children
or substituting one of their own offspring for that of a human
mother. They are said to dislike noise very much.

Stromkarl--a Norwegian musical spirit, like Neck.

=Irish and Scotch Fairies=

Banshee--domestic Spirit of certain Irish or Highland Scotch
families; supposed to take an interest in their welfare.

Boggart (Scotch)--a local hobgoblin or spirit.

Bogie (Scotch, Welsh, and Irish)--a scarecrow, a goblin.

Brownie--the house spirit in Scottish superstition. Called in England
Robin Goodfellow. Farms are his favorite abode.

Jack-a-lantern--a bog or marsh spirit who delights to mislead.

Lepracaun, or Leprechaun (Irish)--a fairy shoemaker.

=Filipino Fairies and Other Minor Supernatural Creatures=

The list that follows is necessarily very brief, for every tribe of the Philippine Islands has its host of mischievous creatures, whose chief delight is to annoy or frighten men. Others are of a more malignant nature, however; some cause sickness; some insanity; and occasionally some cause death, for the Filipinos as well as the Hungarians have their vampires.

The name of the tribe in which the belief in the spirit is most common is given in parentheses after the description:

Salut--the spirits of pestilence in general and cholera in
particular. They are described as tall, thin persons dressed in
flowing black robes, who walk the streets at night and knock at the
doors of the houses to which they wish to carry death. (Tagalog,
Pampango, Bicol.)

Matanda sa punso--a little old man who lives in a mound of earth. He
loves children, and is willing to help those who respect him and
his house. (Tagalog.)

Lampong--a tall harmless creature with a horse's head and feet but
a man's body. He lives in the woods, can travel very rapidly, and
is deathly afraid of a rosary. He possesses some magic power.
(Pangasinan.)

Camana--an evil spirit that lives in gloomy places. It can assume the
form of any small animal, or can make itself invisible. If a person
who comes across the camana does not propitiate it with food or
something entertaining, he will become sick; and he can be cured
only by an old woman who is a manganito. (Parts of Zambales.)

Patianak--Accounts about patianak are very contradictory. It is most
commonly believed, however, to be a mischievous fairy that assumes
the form of a small child and misleads travelers at night. It has a
mirthful laugh that is very attractive. The only way for the victim
to drive the fairy away and to find the right road is for him to
take off his coat and wear it inside out. (Tagalog and Bicol.)

Mamamarang--a sorceress who fights with travelers in lonely places
and tries to kill them that she may eat them. (Visayan.)

Managbatu--a spirit in the form of a man, which lives in trees and at
midnight throws stones and clods at the houses near his dwelling.
He can cause sickness to those that try to injure him. (Cagayan.)

Cafre--an enormous black man that smokes long cigars. He does very
little harm, but delights in frightening people. Some say he can
transform himself into almost anything from a pig to a ball of
fire. He appears only at night, of course. (Pampango, Tagalog,
Bicol.)

Tigbalang--a demon who lives in trees, especially the baliti tree.
His body is covered with long hair and one of his feet is a horse's
hoof. His chief delight is to lead people astray and make them
crazy, or to ravage banana plantations, to empty water jars, shake
houses, and disturb people generally. (Tagalog.)

Tigabulak--a demon who in the form of an old man entices children
with candy and cakes. After he has led them far from home, he puts
them in a sack and carries them to his dwelling. Then he kills them
and makes money out of their blood. (Tagalog.)

Caibaan--little mischievous field spirits who play tiny guitars.
They steal dishes and hide them, and indulge in other pranks.
(Pangasinan and Ilocano.)

=Russian Fairies and Witches=

Domovoy--the Russian brownie that lives behind the stove. If he is
neglected, he waxes wroth and knocks the tables and benches around
at night.

Baba-yaga--an ogress who lives on the edge of the forest, in a hut
built so as to turn with the wind like a weathercock.

Rusalki--water sprites.

Vodianoi--river genii.

Lieshii and the Liesnik--forest demons.

Vampires--ghosts who steal by night from their tombs, and suck the
blood of the living during their sleep.

=Arabian Fairies and Witches=

Jinn--a sort of fairies of Arabian mythology--the offspring of fire.
(The singular of jinn is jinnee.)

Afreet--a sort of Arabian ghoul or demon--the epitome of what is
terrible and monstrous in Arabian superstition.

Peri (plural of Peris)--Peri are delicate, gentle, fairy-like beings
of Eastern mythology, begotten by fallen spirits. With a wand they
direct the pure in mind the way to heaven.

=Miscellaneous Fairies and Other Supernatural Creatures=

Esprit Follet--the house-spirit of France.

Familiar spirit--a spirit or demon supposed to be summoned by a
necromancer or a soothsayer from the unseen world to attend upon
him as a servant.

Fay--the French word for fairy, anglicised.

Gnome--one of a fabulous race of dwarfed and misshapen earth-spirits
or goblins, reputed to be special guardians of mines and miners.
(<French _gnome_, from the Greek.)

Hag--a forbidding or malicious old woman; a witch. (<A. S. _haegtes_,
a fury.)

Hamadryad--a wood-nymph fabled to live and die with the tree she
inhabited, the oak being considered as the tree preferred. (Greek
mythology.)

Hornie, or Horny--the devil; so called because commonly represented
with horns.

Imp--an evil spirit of low rank; a small, puny, or contemptible
devil. (Russian folk tales often make use of this spirit.)

Undine--a female water-spirit without a soul, with which she might
be endowed only by marrying a mortal and bearing a child. (<Latin
_unda_, wave.)

Werwolf--a person who, according to mediæval superstition, became
voluntarily or involuntarily a wolf and in that form practiced
cannibalism. (<A. S. _wer_, man + _wulf_, wolf.)

Wraith--a fantom of a living person, supposed to be ominous of that
person's death.

Lamia--a female demon or vampire that enticed youths and fed upon
their flesh and blood. (Classical mythology.)

Merrow--a mermaid. (Irish mythology.)

Monaciello--the house-spirit of Naples.

Nightmare--an evil spirit once supposed to oppress people during
sleep. Called also Incubus. (<A. S. _niht_, night + _maere_, a
nightmare.)

Ogre--a demon or monster that was supposed to devour human beings.
(<French _ogre_. The derivation is uncertain.)

Ouphe--an elf or fairy. (<the Scandinavian. A variation of _oaf_ =
elf.)

Pigwidgeon--a very small fairy.

Sprite--a spirit of the earth or air.

Sylph--originally, a being, male or female, living in and on the air
and intermediate between material and immaterial beings. (Used by
Paracelsus. The word is undoubtedly of Greek origin.)

=The Boggart=

In the house of an honest farmer in Yorkshire, named George Gilbertson, a Boggart had taken up his abode. He here caused a good deal of annoyance, especially by tormenting the children in various ways. Sometimes their bread and butter would be snatched away, or their porringers of milk be capsized by an invisible hand; for the Boggart never let himself be seen; at other times the curtains of their beds would be shaken backwards and forwards, or a heavy weight would press on them and nearly suffocate them. The parents had often, on hearing their cries, to fly to their aid. There was a kind of closet, formed by a wooden partition on the kitchen stairs, and a large knot having been driven out of one of the deal boards of which it was made, there remained a hole. Into this one day the farmer's youngest boy stuck the shoe horn with which he was amusing himself, when immediately it was thrown out again, and hit the boy on the head. The agent was, of course, the Boggart, and it soon became the children's sport (called _laking with Boggart_) to put the shoe horn into the hole and have it shot back at them.

The Boggart at length proved such a torment that the farmer and his wife resolved to quit the house and let him have it all to himself. This decision was put into execution, and the farmer and his family were following the last loads of furniture, when a neighbor named John Marshall came up: "Well, Georgey," said he, "and soa you're leaving t'ould hoose at last?" "Heigh, Johnny, my lad, I'm forced tull it; for that villain Boggart torments us soa, we can neither rest neet nor day for't. It seems loike to have such a malice again t'poor bairns, it ommost kills my poor dame here at thoughts on't, and soa, ye see, we're forced to flitt loike." He scarce had uttered the words when a voice from a deep upright churn cried out: "Aye, aye, Johnny, we 're flitting, ye see." "Od hang thee," cried the poor farmer, "if I'd known thou'd been there, I wadn't ha' stirred a peg. Nay, nay, it's no use, Mally," said he to his wife, "we may as weel turn back to t'ould hoose as be tormented in another that's not so convenient."

From "English Fairy and Other Folk Tales." Selected and edited by
Edwin Sidney Hartland (Walter Scott Pub. Co.).

=Cafre and the Fisherman's Wife=

Once in the little village of Babancal there lived a happy couple. They were poor and it was necessary for them both to work for their living. The husband's occupation was farming during the wet season and fishing during the dry season. The wife kept the house, helped the husband in some of his work, and in addition, made mats of _buli_, _pandan_, or _ticay_, and sacks of _buli_.

One night, at about six o'clock after a slight supper, when it was _dolom_ (moonless), the husband went to fish. The wife remained alone at home and sat waiting for the husband, and, at the same time, making a mat. The house was lighted with a home-made lamp of bamboo and earth. The lampwick of ragged doth dipped in oil made from the fruit of the bitaog tree gave a very poor light.

At about midnight some one threw a _dalag_ (a kind of fish) through the window. The wife was frightened and surprised. In a minute she recovered herself.

"Come in, Gregorio," she said, for she thought her husband was outside.

No one answered.

"Stop this nonsense. You know it is late now," she said angrily. "You had better come in and let us cook the fish and eat our supper." She did not rise from her seat and went on with her work.

In a few minutes a rod with another _dalag_ hanging on it was thrust into the room. The fish fell on the floor before her.

"Oh, how foolish! Come in, I say," she said.

Hardly had she uttered the last word when the fish on the hook came down upon her head. She muttered some oaths and tried to catch the fish and take hold of the rod. But before she could do so, it was raised. Then she got up, took the lamp, and went to the window.

When she peeped out, she saw Cafre, the Spirit, grinning at her. His smile showed his large white teeth, forming a strong contrast with his dark complexion and the darkness of the night. The woman was frightened. She trembled and could not move an inch. She bent down her head to avoid his gaze. At last when she raised her eyes, he was gone.

--Benito C. Ebuen.

=The Friendship of an Aswang and a Duende=

About a half mile from Noveleta there is a small pond. The tall bamboo trees that grow at the edge of the water bow their heads toward each other so that they form a complete vaulted arch over the pond. There are but small spaces left between the thick leaves above and so the sunshine can hardly go through them. The lilies, the sea weed, and the falling leaves of the bamboo trees, decaying under the water have deposited a deep layer of sediment.

A long time ago a shooting meteor from heaven fell on the water of this pond. This meteor bore within it a beautiful nymph named Bituin. Her slender white body, whose skin was very delicate, was covered with beautiful leaves of the lilies whenever she came out of the water. Every night numberless fireflies lighted her dwelling with their fresh rays. Bituin had a large diamond, which she always put on a floating leaf at the center of the pond to serve as a light when it was dark.

Bituin had no neighbors for a number of years, and so she was not familiar with the form of man. However, as time glided on she was known by many, who began to love her. She did not dare to speak with men, because she was not familiar with the ugly complexion of the skin of mortals. One night an aswang was passing by this pond, and he heard the musical vibration of the bamboo leaves in harmony with the whistling sound of the wings of fireflies. He stopped and admired the beautiful nymph, who was sitting on the water, watching the wonderful rays of light from her large diamond. He was led to wonder at her beauty, and he fell in love with her. He asked Bituin to approach him, but his words had hardly died from his ugly lips when Bituin upon hearing his unfamiliar voice disappeared. There began the sadness of this aswang. Every night he passed by the pond only to see and to speak with Bituin, the beautiful and elusive nymph. Yet all his hopes and efforts were in vain.

This aswang laid himself to die near a heap of hay. Here lived an army of small men called duendes. The duendes are usually good to those who are very strongly in love with women. At midnight one of these little creatures came out of the hay with a flute longer than himself. Little duende blew the flute, and the aswang thinking that the sweet vibration of the air came from the lips of Bituin, at once raised up his head and looked around. Aswang being a wild man said, "How is it that you little duendes are so troublesome?" "Master," said the little duende, "I came here to restore the broken heart of a lover and it is you." "How now can you comfort me?" said the aswang. "Come with me," said the little duende, "and show me where Bituin lives."

So they started toward the pond. On their way the duende, being as small as a little doll, often lost himself from the sight of his friend aswang. The duende was full of fun and jokes, and he was happy all the way. When they came near the pond little duende jumped over the thorny bushes that fringed the dwelling of Bituin. Now he rode on a lily leaf floating on the water, and he was singing a song at the same time that he was playing on his flute. He gathered some lily flowers and put one of them on his head. Duende skipped over the sea weeds as light as could be. Strange to say, the attractive music caught the ears of Bituin, and so she appeared before the duende. The music was so sweet, so charming, and so pleasant to her ears that fear of such a being never entered her thoughts. She approached the little duende, but he would not allow her to touch his enchanting flute. Aswang could not come inside. He tried to jump over the bushes, but he knew that he could not. All at once he roared with a sharp tone that put Bituin to flight, and she never returned again.

Duende blamed the aswang for roaring, but the broken-hearted aswang in anger said, "Why did you not catch hold of her?" Duende did not answer and tried to flee, but aswang held him by the neck and tore him to pieces. So from that time on the duendes have not often been heard of; and, if they ever come, they do evil things and cause misfortune to little children. None of the aswangs since has ever been afraid of small creatures.

--Emanuel E. Baja.

=A Tianac Frightens Juan=

One harvest day, one of our neighbors, whose name is Juan, built a nipa hut on a farm amid his rice plantation. There he slept alone during the harvest time to look after his grain.

One night about twelve o'clock he began to feel the cold north wind, and the leaves began to rustle. By and by the wind stopped. He tried to sleep, but he could not, for the mosquitoes were too thick. He then went out of his hut and gathered some dry twigs and grasses and made a small fire to drive the mosquitoes away. When the fire began to kindle, he sat before his hut, facing a small hill. Not long afterward he heard the laughing of a child from the top of the hill. The child seemed to be very happy, for it laughed as hard as it could. Juan then began to wonder who the child was, for he knew that no one was living near him. Soon the laughing grew louder and louder and Juan began to be frightened. He supposed that the child was approaching him, but at once the laughing stopped and again everything was silent about the field. He looked around him several times because he did not know what kind of creature that child was, and he feared that she might take hold of him from behind.

While Juan was thinking of what to do, a girl with white complexion and golden hair appeared before him laughing as hard as she could. Juan then was about to run away and call for help, but he knew that there was no one to help him, so he gathered all his strength and courage and approached the girl with his _bolo_ in hand and said, "Tell me who you are or else this night is your last." The girl did not answer him, but continued laughing. He struck at her, but she at once vanished away and reappeared behind him laughing as hard as she could. He struck at her several times. He did not touch her at all and she laughed louder. Juan then threw his _bolo_ at her and ran home shouting as he went along calling for help, "St. John, St. Peter, St. Nicholas, come and help me!" When he came to the forest a cricket alighted on his coat and began to sing. He mistook it for the girl, so he ran very fast. When he came to the town, the policemen tried to stop him, but they could not. He tried to tell them that a girl was singing behind him, but he was so terribly frightened that his calling to the gods confused him, and while he was running he shouted, "St. John sings, St. John sings, etc.," until he came to his house. His family asked him what the matter was, but he could not speak because of fatigue. By this time the cricket had flown away. Later the family found out that Juan had seen a _tianac_.

--Santiago Ochoa.

=The Black Cloth of the Calumpang Tree=

Once there lived on a lonely farm about two miles from the town of San Juan two brothers whose names were Mariano and Pedro. They were the sons of a farmer named Rafael.

Along the road leading from this farm to the town there was not a single house. There was a big calumpang tree by this road about a mile from the farm. Some of its large branches almost touched the ground. Many stories had been told about this calumpang; some said that they saw a ghost in the form of a white dog under it; others said they saw it in the form of a tall, thin black man sitting sideways on a big branch with eyes as large as saucers and with a big cigar a meter long in his mouth.

One day Mariano with his little brother Pedro went to the town to attend a procession. It was night when they started for home. On their way when they were out of the town, they heard a noise on one side of the road not far from them. It seemed to them that the noise was caused by the walking of a carabao, which was going along the road in the same direction they were going. They could not tell whether it was a carabao or not, for the grass was very tall. At last at an open side of the road, where the noise was, Pedro saw a little white dog. "Mariano, Mariano, see that little dog," whispered Pedro, touching the back of his brother with his finger. Pedro looked at it with great surprise. He could hardly believe that the little creature could make such a loud noise. The oftener they looked at the dog, the larger it appeared. Pedro now began to think that this dog was the one that somebody had seen under the calumpang. He was afraid; he would not go behind nor before his brother; his hair stood on end, and he felt as if he were wearing a hat having a large brim; his heart beat faster than before, but he said not a word. The appearance of the dog reminded Mariano of the black man of the calumpang. For this reason he was more afraid than his little brother.

After a while a noise was again heard on the other side of the road. There appeared a white hog about the size of a carabao. It was also going in the same direction as the two brothers were. The hog was grunting, while there was seen coming from his mouth a continuous discharge of living charcoals. The minute the boys stopped, the dog and the hog stopped also. The two brothers intended to go back, but suddenly they heard another noise--_pac, pac, pac_. They looked behind them and saw a tall black horse mounted by a man dressed like the prince usually seen in comedies. The man's feet were so long that they almost touched the ground. The two brothers could do nothing but walk faster, in order that the horseman might not overtake them.

When they came near the calumpang, a black cloth was extended across the road. This cloth prevented their further advance, for it would bind them in case they should touch it. Mariano was then so much frightened that he could not keep from trembling. He felt as if the very hand of the black man of the calumpang was holding his head.

"Father, father!" cried Pedro with a prolonged voice, but nobody answered. The dog growled; the horse pounded the ground with his feet; the hog snorted, while a greater amount of charcoal than before poured out of its mouth; the black cloth waved, producing a sound like the groaning of a sick man. Pedro grabbed his brother by the waist so tightly that Mariano could hardly breathe. Then Mariano remembered that he had in his pocket the remainder of a candle which a sexton had given him at the procession. He quickly lighted it. Instantly the ghosts disappeared. Mariano and Pedro reached home, but alas! they could neither eat nor sleep, for it seemed to them as if the ghosts were still around them.

--Eusebio Ramos.

IV. The Nursery Saga or Märchen

[Origin]

The ethnologists are not agreed concerning the history of nursery sagas, or _märchen_, as they call them. Whether such stories as "Jack-the-Giant-Killer" are reduced and modified forms of once greater sagas or whether they are immature stories arrested in their growth toward sagas, the scientists are still discussing. But happily for the narrator, as we noticed before, the question of origin is not of prime importance. He need consider it only so far as it helps to reveal the distinctions of the type.

As the generic title indicates, nursery sagas are tales told to children after lessons are done. Nobody wants instruction; nobody wants facts. "Once upon a time in a certain village" is definite enough. What the listener desires is action, things a-doing, Jack to kill the giant, Cinderella to marry the prince, Tom Thumb to get safely home. The end is always happy, no matter how many troubles the hero or heroine encounters during the course of the narrative. The brothers Grimm expressed their realization that such an end is essential to a _märchen_. Their devoted scientific collecting and their charmingly sympathetic retelling have given back not only to Germany but also to the whole world much of its otherwise lost pleasure.

[English nursery sagas]

Good native nursery sagas are scarce in English. Many of our best known, like Cinderella, are importations. "Jack-the-Giant-Killer" and "Jack and the Bean-Stalk" and "Rumpelstiltskin"--or "Tom Tit Tot," as the older version has it--are recorded, however, as of English origin. They have been handed down verbally and in chapbooks and various other written forms for hundreds of years.

[Distinguishing elements--the kind of hero]

The most important distinguishing element of a nursery saga is the kind of hero. He is always human, very often sagacious of himself as well as finally fortunate because of the aid of some supernatural being or charm; but before the beginning of his adventure he is pretty generally considered foolish or a lazy ne'er-do-well. He is always of obscure origin, and is persistently ignored by history. The place where he lives or where he performs his deeds is selected at random, is of no practical importance, and might just as well have been any other. If the locality is definite and the details of the story are really pertinent, we have crossed the borderland into legend, which is very near to nursery saga. Indeed, say the students of folk-lore, the same story is often told in one country as a nursery saga and in another as a dignified national epic.

[Rhymes]

The uncouth rhymes occurring here and there within the story are to the nursery saga what the refrain is to the ballad--a sure sign of its type. All the original tales I dare say had rhymes at first, even if many are without them to-day.

The artificial nursery saga is not always marked off closely from the fairy story. Some writers do not appear to have felt the traditional distinctions; but, when a differentiation is made, it is on the basis of the chief actor. The irresistible Alice is a true nursery saga heroine. Whether in "Wonderland" or "Through the Looking Glass" her adventures are her adventures, and not a fairy's. And although the dialogue of the characters is imposed by the brilliant naïveté of the author, it is yet clearly within our classification--as the delectable rhymes attest.

[Repetition of situation]

Another characteristic you will observe is the repetition of situation: Cinderella goes to the ball more than once; Jack-of-the-Bean-Stalk visits the castle in the sky three times; the king's wife is allowed two false guesses; and there are Cormelian's and Thunderdell's heads to be cut off as well and Gallingantus's.

Two of our worthy literary men, G. K. Chesterton and Bernard Shaw, have recently bandied words over the value and significance of such heroes as Jack. When you come to write an original nursery saga, you can decide for yourself whether you want your hero to conquer a foe greater and stronger than he or whether you want your hero to conquer a foe lesser than he because he himself is greater and stronger than all his foes and conquers by the magic force of his personality. In making the decision, however, you should remember that "greater" and "lesser" are terms subject to a number of varying interpretations.

[Supernatural element]