In the evening the magnificent ship, with sails of silk and damask, masts of gold heavily studded with rare gems, and covered with thick plates of gold and silver, arrived at the palace gate.

Early in the morning King Jaime received Juan, but this time more coldly and arrogantly than ever. The princess bathed before break of day. With cheeks suffused with the rosy tint of the morning, golden tresses hanging in beautiful curls over her white shoulders, hands as delicate as those of a new-born babe, eyes merrier than the humming-bird, and dressed in a rich outer garment displaying her lovely figure at its best, she stood beside the throne. Such was the appearance of this lovely mortal, who kindled an inextinguishable flame in the heart of Juan.

After doffing his bonnet and bowing to the king, Juan said, "Will you give me the hand of your daughter?" Everybody present was amazed. The princess's face was successively pale and rosy. Juan immediately understood her heart as he stood gazing at her.

"Never!" said the king after a few minutes. "You shall never have my daughter."

"Farewell, then, until we meet again!" said Juan as he departed.

When the ship was beyond the frontier of Jaime's kingdom, Juan said, "Carguin Cargon, overturn the king's realm." Carguin Cargon obeyed. Many houses were destroyed, and hundreds of people were crushed to death. When the ship was within seven miles of the city, Oirin Oiron heard the king say, "I'll give my daughter in marriage to Juan if he will restore my kingdom." Oirin Oiron told Juan what he had heard.

Then Juan ordered Carguin Cargon to rebuild the kingdom; but when the work was done, Jaime again refused to fulfil his promise. Juan went away very angry. Again the kingdom was overturned, and more property and lives were destroyed. Again Oirin Oiron heard the king make a promise, again the kingdom was rebuilt, and again the king was obstinate.

Juan went away again red with anger. After they had been travelling for an hour, Oirin Oiron heard the tramp of horses and the clash of spears and shields. "I can see King Jaime's vast host in hot pursuit of us," said Mirin Miron. "Where is the army?" said Juan. "It is nine miles away," responded Mirin Miron.

"Let the army approach," said Soplin Soplon. When the immense host was within eight hundred yards of the ship, Soplin Soplon blew forcible blasts, which scattered the soldiers and horses in all directions like chaff before a wind. Of this formidable army only a handful of men survived, and these were crippled for life.

Again the king sued for peace, and promised the hand of his daughter to Juan. This time he kept his word, and Juan and Maria were married amidst the most imposing ceremonies. That very day King Jaime abdicated in favor of his more powerful son-in-law. On the site of the destroyed houses were built larger and more handsome ones. The lumber that was needed was obtained by Soplin Soplon and Carguin Cargon from the mountains: Soplin Soplon felled the trees with his mighty blasts, and Carguin Cargon carried the huge logs to the city. Juan made Corrin Corron his royal messenger, and Soplin Soplon commander-in-chief of the raw troops, which later became a powerful army. The other four friends were assigned to high positions in the government.

The royal couple and the six gifted men led a glorious life. They conquered new lands, and ruled their kingdom well.



The Story of King Palmarin.

Paraphrased from the vernacular by Anastacia Villegas of Arayat, Pampanga.

[NOTE.—While the following story is not, strictly speaking, a folk-tale, since it is a native student's close paraphrase of a Pampango corrido, or metrical romance, it is typically Filipino in many respects, and is closely connected with the two foregoing folk-tales. Moreover, it presents significant features lacking in the other stories. As it is too long to be relegated to the notes, I take the liberty of printing it here in full. My justification is the fact that, after all, sagas, or printed folk-tales, are only the crystallized sources—or products, as the case may be—of folk-tales.]



Long, long ago, the kingdom of Marsella was ruled over by the worthy King Palmarin and his wife Isberta. They were attentive to their duty, and kind to their subjects, whose love they won. All Marsella admired the goodness and generosity of the king. To whatever he wanted, his counsellors agreed; and because of his good judgment, his reign was peaceful.

Time came when the queen gave birth to a child. The whole kingdom rejoiced, and a great feast was prepared. "Let the feast last six months," said Zetnaen, chief adviser. The new baby was a girl of peerless beauty. The holy bishop was summoned to baptize the child. As the Virgin Mary was the patron saint of the king and queen, they asked the worthy prelate to name the little princess Maria; and so she was named.

One day the king went to hunt in the mountains. There was no forest or cave that the party did not visit. All the animals in the mountains were thrown into confusion when they heard the great noise. Bears, tigers, and lions came out of their dens. As soon as these wild beasts reached the plain, they began to pursue the king and his men. The noise and confusion cannot be imagined. By the help of God, the king and his men put to flight their savage foes; and when the chase was ended, nobody had been hurt. After the hunters had been gathered together by the sound of the trumpet, they all returned home, thankful that no one had been injured. The king, however, had unwittingly lost his favorite reliquary.

When King Palmarin reached Marsella and discovered that his locket was missing, he at once sent many of his soldiers back to look for it. They searched all parts of the mountain and even the valley. At last they returned to the capital, and said to the king, "We, whom your Majesty commanded to look for the reliquary, have come to tell you that, after a thorough search through the entire forest and valley, we have not been able to find it." The king was very sad to hear this report; but he kept his sorrow to himself, and did not reveal his heart to his counsellors. He grieved, not because of the value of the reliquary, but because it had been handed down to him by his father, whose will and recommendations it contained.

As time went on, the king forgot his lost reliquary. He ceased looking for it. His daughter the princess was now grown up. She was beautiful, happy, good-natured, and modest. Those who saw her said that she was not inferior even to Elsa, Judith, or Anne Boleyn. Now, the king wished his daughter to marry, so that there might be some one to inherit his throne when he died. He made his desire known to his counsellors. He told them that, if they agreed, he would issue proclamations throughout the whole kingdom and the neighboring cities, towns, and villages. While this meeting with his council was going on, the king stood up to powder his face. He took his powder-case out of his pocket; but when he opened it, there inside he found, to his surprise, a tuma. [43] He could not imagine how this tiny insect had got into his box to eat the powder. Feeling very much ashamed, he did not powder his face: he merely closed the box. The meeting was adjourned without being finished; for when the king stood up, the counsellors rose from their seats and silently left the room.

The king retired to his room, and opened his powder-case to look at the tuma again. He was thoroughly astonished to find that what had been but a tiny insect a moment before now filled the whole box. He was indeed perplexed; so he consulted God. Then it came to his mind to take the tuma from the box and place it in the cellar of the palace.

After three days the king found that a miracle had happened. The cellar was filled with the tuma. He was not a little surprised. He said to himself, "What a wonderful animal it is! In three days it has grown to such an enormous size! If I let it live, I fear that it will destroy the whole kingdom."

Then he heard a voice saying, "You need not fear, for the tuma you nourish shall not produce bad fruit. But if you let it live, it will have a long life, and will fill all of Marsella with its huge body. Listen to me, and obey what I tell you! Let the tuma be killed. Burn all its flesh, but save its skin. Use the skin for the covers of a drum. When you have done all these things, write to all your neighboring kingdoms and bet with them. Let them guess the kind of skin out of which the heads of the drum are made. If you will but obey me, and take care not to let any one know what I have told you, you will become very rich." Then the voice ceased.

The king comprehended well all that the voice had told him: so he called his Negro servant, and led him secretly into his room. The king then said softly, "Let no one know of the secret that I am to disclose to you, and you shall profit by it. I have a tuma which accidentally got into my powder-case. One day I put the insect into the cellar, where it has grown to an enormous size. Now, my command to you is to kill the tuma, burn all its flesh, and clean its skin. Then have the skin made into a drum. When everything is done perfectly, I will repay you."

Accordingly the Negro servant killed the tuma. He followed minutely the king's directions. When the drum was finished, he presented it to the king. Instead of receiving the promised reward, however, the poor Negro was instantly put to death, for the king feared that he might betray the secret.

King Palmarin then summoned all his counsellors. He said to them, "I want you to spread the news of my desire." Taking out the drum and putting it on the table, he continued: "Let all the villages, cities, and kingdoms know of the wager. Any one who can guess of what skin the covers of this drum are made, be he rich or poor, if he is unmarried, he shall be my son-in-law. But if he fails to guess aright, his property shall be forfeited to the crown if he is rich; he shall lose his head if he is poor."

The counsellors proclaimed the edict. Many rich nobles, lords, princes, and knights heard of it. All those who ventured lost their fortune, for they could not guess what the drum was made of. So the king gained much wealth. Among them there was one particularly rich, who declared to the king his great desire to win the princess's hand. King Palmarin said to this knight, "Examine the drum carefully." After looking at it closely, he said, "This drum is made of sheep's hide."—"Your observation has deceived you," said the king. "Now all the wealth you have brought with you shall be mine."

"What can I do if fortune turns against me?" said the knight.

"Let your Majesty send his servants to get all my property from the ship."

The names of the hides of all known animals were given, but no one guessed correctly. At last some of those who had been defeated said to the king, "Of what is the drum made?"

"I cannot tell you yet," replied the king.

In one of the villages where the edict was proclaimed there lived a young man named Juan. He was an orphan. After the death of his parents, the property he had inherited from them he gave to the poor. One day me met the king's messengers, who explained the edict minutely to him, so that he might tell about it to others. Don Juan then went away. He was sad, for he had no wealth to take with him to Marsella. Though he had inherited much property, he had given away most of it, so that now very little was left to him.

One day, while he was looking about his farm, he saw all of a sudden some dead persons lying prostrate in the thicket. They had been murdered by bandits. He hired men to bury these corpses decently in the sacred ground, and paid the priest to celebrate masses for their souls. He then returned home sad, meditating on his bad luck.

At midnight, while he was sleeping soundly, he heard a voice saying to him, "Go to Marsella and take part in the wager of King Palmarin. Do not be troubled because you have no riches. Your horses are enough. Equip them in the best way you can." Then the voice ceased.

Don Juan felt very glad. The next morning he prepared materials for equipping his horses, and hired laborers, whom he paid double so as to hasten the work. The harnesses were of pure gold, decorated with pearls and rubies. The saddle-cloths were embroidered. Two of the horses (they were all very fat, and had long manes) were hazel-colored, two were spotted, two were orange-colored, and one was white. When everything was ready, Don Juan mounted the white one, and loaded on the other six his baggage.

God rewarded Don Juan for what he had done to the dead bodies. He called St. Michael, and said to him, "Go to purgatory and get six of the souls who were benefited by Don Juan, for now is the time for them to repay him. They shall go back to the world to meet Don Juan on his way, follow him to Marsella, and provide him with everything he needs. They must not leave him until you call them back, for there are many serious dangers on his way." The angel went on his errand. He selected six souls, and told them to return to the world to help Don Juan. The spirits were glad to go, for they longed to repay their benefactor.

Don Juan was now on his journey. As he rode along, the birds in the forest sang to cheer him, so that the long journey might not tire him. By and by he saw a man in the middle of the forest, lying on his face. "Grandpa, what are you doing there?" said Juan.

"I am observing the world. Are you not a nobleman? Whither are you bound?"

"To Marsella," replied Don Juan.

"To bet? If that is your purpose, you are sure to lose, for it is certain that you cannot guess of what the drum is made," interrupted the man.

"I entreat you to tell me the right answer, if you know it," said Don Juan.

"I will not only tell it to you, but I will also accompany you. That is why I am here. I was waiting for you to pass," said the man.

"Grandpa, I'm astonished. You must be a prophet."

"You are right. I am the sage prophet Noet Noen, [44] who will go with you to King Palmarin."

"I appreciate your help and am grateful to you, grandpa," said Don Juan. "You had better ride on one of the horses."

Noet Noen and Don Juan rode on together. The prophet then related to Juan the whole story of the tuma that had got into the powder-case of the king. While the two travellers were talking, they saw a man sitting under a tree. As it was very hot, they dismounted so that their horses might rest. Don Juan was surprised at the stranger. He was whistling; and every time he whistled, the wind blew strong, so that the trees in the forest were broken off. This man was Supla Supling, a companion and friend of Noet Noen.

"Supla Supling, why are you here?" said Noet Noen.

"To follow you," was the reply.

"If that is your desire," said Don Juan, "you will please mount one of the horses." So the three men went on their journey. They had not gone far when they met a man walking alone. Noet Noen said to him, "What are you here for? Come along with us!" This man was Miran Miron, who had a wonderfully loud voice. When he shouted, his sound was more sonorous than thunder. He also had very keen sight. He could see clearly an object, though it were covered with a cover a hundred yards thick.

When the four travellers had gone a little farther, they saw a man walking swiftly on one leg. They spurred up their horses to overtake him, but in vain. At last Noet Noen said, "I think that is my friend Curan Curing, so there is little hope of our catching him."

"Let me call him!" said Miran Miron, and he shouted.

When Curan Curing heard the voice, he stopped, so they reached him. Miran Miron said to him, "You are in a great hurry. Where are you going?"

"You know that I cannot stop my feet when I walk," said Curan Curing.

"Why do you hold up one of your legs as if it were in pain?" said Don Juan.

"Do not be surprised at my walking on one foot; for, if I should let loose the other one, I should walk straight out of the world."

"Will you join us, Curan Curing?" said Noet Noen.

"Oh, yes! Let me have a horse! If I should walk, you might lose me on account of my speed," replied Curan Curing.

So the five adventurers went on together. As it soon grew very warm, they stopped to rest under a tree.

Then they saw a wounded deer coming toward them. As they were hungry, they killed it and cooked it. While they were eating, the hunter Punta Punting came. He said, "Have you seen a wounded deer?"

"Oh, yes! here it is. We are eating it already," said Supla Supling, "for we are very hungry."

"I'm glad that the deer I wounded relieves your hunger," said Punta Punting. "What are you all doing here? Where are you going? Why don't you take me with you?"

"If that is your wish, we are very glad to have you," said Don Juan.

The little party rode on, but suddenly stopped; for a mountain was walking toward them. As it approached, they saw that a man was carrying the mountain. Don Juan was not a little surprised at this astonishing feat of strength. "Where have you been, Carguen Cargon? Where did you get that mountain?" said Noet Noen.

"I took it from behind the church of Candaba, for I want to transfer it here, where the land is level. This mountain is not fitted for Candaba; for the natives, rich or poor, build their houses out of wood,—even the poorest, who cannot afford such luxury. They desolate its forests, for they cut down even the young trees." Then with a great thunder Carguen Cargon dropped his burden on the land of Arayat, just behind the church. On account of its immense size, this mountain reached clear to de la Paz. The slopes reached Calumpit, and its base was in view of Apalit. Thus we see that Mount Alaya (Arayat) has come from Candaba. The original site of this mountain became a river, swamps, and brooks. Now Candaba has many ponds.

"Friend, I entreat you to come with us!" said Noet Noen.

"I shall be glad to go with you, if I shall only have the opportunity of serving you with my strength," replied Carguen Cargon.

Now the little band of seven travelled on. When they came near the gates of Marsella, Noet Noen said, "Let us rest here first!" There they hired a house, where they staid at the expense of Don Juan.

The next morning Don Juan made himself ready to go on alone. Leading his horses, he was about to start for the palace, when Noet Noen called to him, and said, "Be sure not to forget the name of the skin I told you. Put it in the depths of your heart."

"Have no fear that I shall forget," said Don Juan. "Furthermore, Don Juan, I want you to undertake to do whatever the king may ask of you. Do not refuse. No matter how hard the task the king may impose on you, do not hesitate to undertake it; for God Almighty is ever merciful, and will help you. If the king requires you to do anything, just come back here and let me know of it. Now you may go. Take courage, for God loves a person who suffers," said Noet Noen.

"Good-by to every one of you!" said Don Juan to his companions. Then he went on his journey. When he reached the palace, he asked the soldier who was on guard to announce him to the king. When the king heard of the message, he said to the soldier, "Let him come in, if his purpose is to bet; but assure him that, if he loses, he shall also lose his life."

Then the soldier went back to the gate, and said to the stranger, "The king admits you into his presence."

Don Juan entered the palace. He saluted the king. "What is it that you want? Tell it to me, so that I may know," said the king.

"O king! pardon me for disturbing your Majesty. It is the edict your Highness issued that gives me the right to come here, and that has made me forget my inferiority; for I do rely entirely on the fact that your word in the proclamation will never be broken. So now I hope, that, if fortune goes with me, your Majesty will carry out his promise."

These words made the king laugh, for he was sure that there was no one who could beat him in the wager: so he said, "What property have you with you that you wish to risk?"

Don Juan replied, "Six horses, of which your Highness can make use."

The king looked out the window, and there he saw Don Juan's horses. King Palmarin was much pleased at their beauty, sleekness, and elegance of equipment. Turning to Don Juan, he said, "Do you really wish to bet? I feel as if you were already beaten. Princes and wise kings have taken part in the wager, and all have lost. I tell you about them because I do not want you to repent in the end. Moreover, I have pity for your life and your property."

"What can I do if fortune turns against me? I will never lay the fault on anybody."

"Well," said the king, leading Don Juan to the table where the drum was, "try your skill."

Holding and sounding the drum, and pretending to examine it carefully, Juan said softly to the king, "I think that it is made of the skin of a tuma," and he went on relating to the king the whole story of the tuma from the time it got into his powder-case, until the king finally interrupted,

"Enough! You have beaten me."

"I am glad if I have. I hope that the terms of the proclamation will be fulfilled," said Don Juan.

The king remarked, "You are not fitted to join my royal family. Such a low person as you would disgrace me, and humble my dynasty. So take your horses with you and go back to your country."

"O king! I am not at fault in the least. It is your Majesty who issued the edict that any one, rich or poor, who could beat you in the wager, should be wedded to your daughter. Now I only cling to the right your Majesty has given me," returned Don Juan. "I had been thinking that the proclamation your Highness signed would be kept; for it is known far and wide that you are a king."

By this answer King Palmarin was perplexed. He stopped for a moment to consider the matter. Then the thought of getting rid of Don Juan—that is, of killing him—came into his mind: so he said, "Though you are far below my family, if you can do what I shall ask you to do now, I will admit you into the royal line."

"I am always ready to obey your Majesty's command," said Don Juan.

"I had a reliquary, which I inherited from my royal father. I lost it while I was hunting once in the forest twenty years ago. Now I want you to look for it. I will give you three days. If you do not find it in that time, you shall be severely punished," said the king.

Don Juan left the court and returned to his companions. He told them what had passed between him and the king in the palace. Noet Noen encouraged him, and said, "Do not be sad! for by the aid of God the reliquary shall be found. Remember, there is nothing difficult if you call on God.—What do you say, comrades? It is now time for you to help Don Juan, so as to distract him from his sorrow.—Miran Miron, as you have keen eyes, it will not take you long to find it. Try your best, and look everywhere."

"Trust me; I'll be responsible for finding it," said Miran Miron. "To-morrow I will set out in quest of it."

As to the king, he was at ease, for he was sure that Don Juan could not find the reliquary.

The next day Miran Miron set out in search of the reliquary, which he found covered with thirty yards of earth. He dug out the earth until he reached the locket; then he returned to his companions, and delivered it to Don Juan. His comrades, seeing him rejoice at the sight of the reliquary, said, "Again we have beaten the king."

Noet Noen said, "Don Juan, to-morrow take King Palmarin his reliquary."

The next day Don Juan set out for the court. When he reached the palace, he saluted the king, who was astonished. "How! Don Juan, have you given up so soon? How goes the quest?"

"Here, I have found the reliquary," said Don Juan, taking it out and putting it on the table. Then he continued, "Let your Majesty examine to see if it is the right one."

The king looked at it carefully. Indeed, it was his own reliquary. He said to himself, "What a wonder Don Juan is! In two days without any difficulty he has found the reliquary. I did not even tell him the exact place where I lost it, and many people failed to come across it as soon as it was missed. Here in Marsella he has no equal." Then he said to Don Juan, "I am astonished at the ability you have shown. There is no tongue that can express my gratitude to you for bringing me back my reliquary, the delight of my heart."

Don Juan replied, "If there is yet something to be done, let your Highness command his loyal vassal, who is always ready to obey."

"If that is so, in order that you may obtain what you wish," said the king, "go to Rome and take my letter to the Pope. Wait for his answer. I will also send another person to carry the same message. The one who comes after the other shall receive death as a punishment," said the king.

"Your loyal subject will try to obey you," said Don Juan.

So the king wrote two letters to the holy Pope, and gave one to Don Juan, who immediately left the palace and went to his friends. He was sad, meditating on his fate.

The king's messenger, Bruja, [45] set out for Rome that very moment. He was told to use his charm and to hurry up. So he went flying swiftly, like an arrow shot from a bow.

When Don Juan reached his comrades, he said, "I gave the reliquary to the king. Now he wants me to go to Rome to deliver this letter to the Pope and wait for his answer. At the same time the king has sent another messenger. If I come after his arrival in Marsella, I shall lose my life. You see what a hard task the king has given me. I do not know very well the way to Rome, and, besides, the wise Bruja is winged."

"Do not worry," said Noet Noen. "If God will, we shall defeat the king. Even if he has Bruja to send, you have some one also: so pluck up your courage!"

"What do you say, Curan Curing? Show your skill, and go to Rome flying like the wind," said Noet Noen.

"Do not be troubled, Don Juan," said Curan Curing. "I will carry the letter even to the gates of heaven. For me a journey to Rome is not far—in just one leap I shall be there. Give me the letter. To-morrow I will set out. To-day I will rest, so that I can walk fast." Don Juan gave Curan Curing the letter, and they all went to sleep. Perhaps by this time Bruja had already arrived at Rome.

The next morning Curan Curing started on his journey to deliver the letter to the Pope. When he was half way to Rome, he met Bruja walking very swiftly, and already returning to Marsella. "Are you Don Juan?" said Bruja, "and are you just going to Rome now? You are beaten. Do not waste your energy any more. If you walk like that, you cannot reach Rome in two months."

Bruja spoke so, because Curan Curing was walking on only one leg. But when he heard these words, he let loose his other leg and went faster than a bullet. He arrived almost instantly at Rome, and delivered the letter to the holy Pope, who, after reading it, wrote an answer and gave it to the messenger.

Curan Curing then made his way back towards his companions. He went as fast as the wind, and overtook Bruja on the road. "What! Are you still here? What is the matter? How is it that you have not reached Marsella yet? Where is that boast of yours, that I am already beaten? Now I am sure that you will disappoint your king, who relies too much upon your skill," said Curan Curing.

Bruja, fearing that he should be defeated, for Don Juan's messenger was very spry, planned to trick Curan Curing. So Bruja said, "Friend, let us rest here a while! I have a little wine with me. We will drink it, if it pleases you, and take a little rest while the sun is so hot."

"Oh, yes! if you have some wine. It will be a fine thing for us to drink to quench our thirst," replied Curan Curing.

The wine was no sooner handed to him than he fell asleep. Then Bruja put on one of Curan Curing's fingers a ring, so as to insure victory for the king. Whoever had Bruja's ring would sleep soundly and never wake as long as the charmed ring was on his finger. So Bruja, with a light heart, flew away and left the sleeping messenger. Bruja flew so swiftly, that in a moment he was seen by Curan Curing's companions. When they saw the king's messenger coming swiftly near them, they felt very sad. But as soon as Supla Supling was sure that it was Bruja flying through the air toward them, he said, "Let me manage him! I will make his journey longer. I will blow him back, so that he will not win." Supla Supling then breathed deeply and blew. Bruja was carried back beyond Rome. How Don Juan's companions rejoiced! Bruja did not sleep during the whole night: he was trying his best to reach Marsella.

The next morning Noet Noen said, "I never thought that our friend Curan Curing would be so slow. He has not come yet. Bruja has made him drink wine and has put him to sleep. The trickish fellow has placed on one of Curan Curing's fingers a magic ring, which keeps him in a profound sleep."

When Punta Punting heard Noet Noen's words, he shot his arrow, though he could not see the object he was aiming at. But the ring was hit, and the arrow returned to its master with the magic ring on it. Such was the virtue of Punta Punting's arrow. As for Curan Curing, he was awakened. He felt the ring being moved from his finger; but the charm was still working in him, and he fell asleep again.

Noet Noen, knowing that Curan Curing was again asleep, called Miran Miron, and said, "Pray, wake the sleeper under the tree !"

Miran Miron then shouted. Curan Curing awoke suddenly, frightened at the noise. Now, being wide awake, he realized the trick Bruja had played on him. He looked to see if he still had the Pope's letter. Luckily Bruja had not stolen it. Curan Curing then began his journey. Though he went faster than the lightning, he could not overtake Bruja, who was very far ahead of him. In the mean time Bruja was seen by Miran Miron. He was enraged, and cried out loud. When Supla Supling heard his friend shout, he blew strongly. Bruja got stuck in the sky: he was scorched by the glowing sun. Not long afterwards Curan Curing arrived, and gave the letter to Don Juan.

Don Juan at once set out for Marsella. When he reached the palace, he delivered the Pope's letter to the king. The king, realizing that he was beaten, said to Don Juan, "Though you have won, I will not grant your request, for you are too inferior. You may go."

Don Juan replied, "Great King, nobody ordered your Highness to issue the decree to which your hand did sign your name. I trusted your word, and I ventured to take part in the wager. Now, honorable king, my complaint is that your Majesty breaks his word."

The king was meditating as to what to do next to check Don Juan. At last he said, "I want you to show me some more of your wisdom. If you can sail on dry land, and I can see your ship to-morrow morning moored here in front of the palace, I will believe in your power and wisdom. So you may go. My subjects, the queen, and I will be here to see you sail on dry land to-morrow morning."

Don Juan did not complain at all. He rose from his seat, sad and melancholy, and bade the king good-by. When he reached his companions, Noet Noen said, "You need not speak. I know what is the matter. I will manage the business, and all our comrades will help, so that our sailing on dry land to-morrow will not be delayed.—Carguen Cargon, my friend, go to the inn and fetch a large strong ship."

Carguen Cargon went on his errand. It was not long before he found the right ship. So, shouldering it, he brought it back to his companions.

The next day everything was ready for the journey. Noet Noen said, "You will be in charge of the rudder, Carguen Cargon, so that the ship may go smoothly.—Supla Supling, sit at the stern and blow the sails, so that we may go fast.—The rest of us will serve as mariners. Cry 'Happy voyage!' as soon as we enter the city."

Accordingly Supla Supling blew the sails. The wind roared, and many trees fell down. The little band sailed through the kingdom. All the people who saw them were wondering. They said, "Were this deed not by enchantment, they could not sail on dry land. Where do you think this ship came from, if not from the land of enchanters?"

When the sailors reached the city, they found King Palmarin looking out of the window of his palace. Don Juan then disembarked from his ship and went before the king to greet him. Don Juan said, "Your Majesty's servant is here. He is ready to obey your will: so, if there is anything more to be done, let your Highness order him."

The king felt ashamed for being a liar, and did not ask Don Juan to perform any more miracles. "Don Juan, I have now seen your wonderful wisdom. You may return to your country, for I will not give you the hand of my daughter," said King Palmarin.

"Farewell, O king! Your own order has caused all that has happened. Though I have not succeeded in accomplishing my purpose, I have no reason to be ashamed to face anybody. What troubles me is, that, in spite of your widespread reputation for honor, you do not keep even one of your thousand million words. After some one has done you some service, you turn him away. Farewell, king! To my own country I will return," said Don Juan as he left the palace.

The king did not say anything, for he realized the truth of the knight's statement. Don Juan went to the boat. He and his companions sailed back to their station. As they passed out of the city, the people hailed them. His companions cheered him up and encouraged him. When they arrived at their lodging-place, Noet Noen said, "Let us stay a little longer and wait for God's aid, which He always gives to the humble! All that has happened is God's will, so do not worry, Don Juan."

"I will do whatever you wish," said Don Juan.

So they staid in the ship. Several months passed by, but nothing was heard. At last the Moors invaded Marsella. They put to death many of the inhabitants, and shut up the king and the rest of his men in jail. He, the queen, and the princess grieved very much, for they suffered many hardships in their narrow prison. When news of this conquest reached the seven, Noet Noen said to his companions, "Now is our turn to help Marsella. Use all your skill; for in driving away the Moors we serve a double purpose: first, we help the Christians; second, Don Juan."

"Let me be general!" said Curan Curing. "If I rush at the Moors, they will not know what to do."

Supla Supling said, "As for me, no Moor can stay near me, for I will blow him away, and he will be lost in the air."

"Though I have no weapons, no one can face me in battle without tumbling down in fear," said Miran Miron.

Carguen Cargon joined in. "I will pull up a tree and carry it with me; so that, even if all the Moors unite against me, they shall lie prostrate before me."

"My arrow is enough for me to face Moors with," said Punta Punting.

At the command of Noet Noen they set out. Curan Curing walked with one leg; still he was far ahead of his companions. He then would stop, return to his friends, and say impatiently, "Hurry up!"

At last they told him that he would be overtired. "The general ought to get weary if he commands," said Curan Curing. "But I shall never get tired from walking at this rate!"

When they arrived at Marsella, Noet Noen encouraged his companions. Carguen Cargon pulled up a tree fifteen yards tall and six yards in circumference. He rushed at the Moors, and, by swinging the tree constantly, he swept away the enemy. Curan Curing walked with both his legs. He crushed the enemy, who fell dead as he stepped on them. Miran Miron shouted. His loud voice frightened the Moors. Punta Punting shot with his arrow. Whenever it had killed a Moor, it returned to its master. After many Moors had fallen, the rest could not maintain the fight, and they fled. Noet Noen then gathered together his men, and said, "Let us look for the king!"

They opened all the jails and freed the prisoners. The six victors cried, "Hurrah for Don Juan!" and said to the released persons, "All of you who have been held prisoners must thank Don Juan; for, were it not for him, we should not have come to your aid."

"Who is this benefactor? We wish to know to whom we owe our lives," said the king.

Noet Noen said, "By God's will we gained the victory. It is Don Juan who brought us here to save you from the hands of the infidels. So he is indeed the benefactor."

"Don Juan!" the crowd then shouted. "Our lives we owe to you.—Hurrah for our savior! Hurrah for the whole kingdom!"

The king, queen, princess, counsellors, and the victors went to the palace. They were all happy. When they had taken their seats, the king spoke thus: "What shall we give the victor? As for me, even the whole kingdom is too small a reward for saving us. Lend me your advice."

Noet Noen answered, "Let me make a suggestion, O king! You already know what Don Juan desires. Do him justice, for he not only beat you in the wager, but also succeeded in accomplishing all your commands. Now he saves you and your kingdom, and restores you to power. Let your issued decree be carried out." The king then consulted the queen, and said that the stranger was right.

The counsellors said, "King, Don Juan deserves the reward named in the edict; for, were it not for him, your people and even you would now be slaves."

So at last the king agreed, and, as a bishop was present, the marriage was performed immediately. After the marriage ceremony, the king said, "Hear me, counsellors! As I am now too old to rule, and can no longer perform the duty of king, I am going to abdicate in favor of my son-in-law.—Don Juan, on your head I lay the crown with its sceptre. Do whatever you will, for you are now full king."

The queen rose from her seat, and, taking off the diadem from her head, she placed it on her daughter, saying, "My darling, receive the diadem of the kingdom, so that all may recognize you as their new queen." All the counsellors then rose, and shouted, "Hurrah for the new couple! May God give them long lives! May they be successful!" The entire kingdom rejoiced, and held banquets.

When Don Juan had become king, he made a trip with his six companions throughout the entire kingdom, giving alms to the needy and sick. When the royal visit was over, he returned with his friends to the palace. Then Noet Noen said to the king, "Our king, Don Juan, do not be astonished at what I am going to tell you. Since you have now got what you wanted, we now bid you farewell."

"Why are you going away? What is there in me that you do not like? Pray do not leave me until I have repaid you!" He then called each of the six, and expressed his great gratitude to him, and begged him not to go away. "I will even abdicate the throne if you want me to," Don Juan said, "for your departure will kill me." The queen also begged the six men not to leave.

At last Noet Noen said, "Don Juan, long have we lived together; yet you know not whence we come, for we have never told you. We cannot be absent from there much longer." The prophet then related minutely to the king who they were, and why they had come to his aid. Then the six men disappeared.

Notes.

The course of events common to these three stories is this: A king proclaims that he will give the hand of his daughter to the one who can furnish him with a very costly or marvellous conveyance. The poor young hero, because of his kindness to a wretched old man or woman (or corpse), is given the wonderful conveyance. On his way to the palace to present his gift, he meets certain extraordinary men, whom he takes along with him as companions. The king, realizing the low birth of the hero, refuses the hand of his daughter until additional tasks have been performed. With the help of his companions, the hero performs these, and finally weds the princess. This group of stories was almost certainly imported into the Philippines from Europe, where analogues of it abound. I know of no significant Eastern variants. Parallels to certain incidents can be found in Malayan and Filipino lore, but the cycle as a whole is clearly not native to the Islands.

In a broad sense, our stories belong to the "Bride Wager" formula (see Von Hahn, 1 : 54, Nos. 23 and 24). The requirement that a suitor shall guess correctly the kind of skin from which a certain drum-head is made (usually a louse-skin) is to be found in Italian (Basile, 1 : 5; cf. Gonzenbach, No. 22; Schneller, No. 31), Spanish (Caballero, trans, by J. H. Ingram, "The Hunchback"), German (Grimm, 2 : 467, "The Louse," where the princess makes a dress, not a drum, from the skin of the miraculous insect). Only Basile's story combines the louse-skin motif with the wonderful companions,—a combination found in our "King Palmarin." There seems to be no close connection, however, between these two tales. Although Oriental Maerchen turning on this motif of the louse-skin drum are lacking, the Filipino corrido need not have got the conception from Europe: it is Malayan. In a list of the Jelebu regalia occurs this item: "The royal drums (gendang naubat); said to be 'headed' with the skins of lice (kulit tuma)" (see Skeat 2, 27).

We have already met with the extraordinary companions (No. 3; see especially variant d, "Sandangcal," which relates a contest between the hero's runner and the king's messenger). For the formula, see Bolte-Polivka's notes to Grimm, No. 71. Benfey (Ausland, 1858, pp. 1038 et seq., 1067 et seq.) believes the "Skilful Companions" cycle as represented by Grimm, Nos. 71 and 134; Basile, Nos. 28 and 36; Straparola, 4 : 1, etc.—to be a kind of humorous derivative of the cycle we shall call the "Rival Brothers" (q.v., No. 12 of this collection), and which he shows to have spread into Europe from India. There are significant differences, however, between these two groups; and Benfey's treatment of them together causes confusion. In the "Skilful Companions" cycle, the extraordinary men are in reality servants of the hero, who sets out and wins the hand of a princess. They are picked up by chance. In the "Rival Brothers" cycle, on the other hand, the three (or four) brothers set out to learn trades and to win their fortunes, often wonderful objects of magic; the brothers meet later by appointment, combine their skill to succor a princess, and then quarrel as to which deserves her most. In stories of the "Strong Hans" type (e.g., Grimm, No. 166) or "John the Bear" (Cosquin, No. 1), where the extraordinary companions also appear, they turn out to be rascals, who faithlessly desert the hero. In our stories, however, the specially-endowed men are supplied by a grateful supernatural being, to help the kind-hearted hero win in his contests with the stubborn king. (Compare Gonzenbach's Sicilian story, No. 74, which includes a thankful saint, with characteristics of the "Grateful Dead," a "Land-and-water Ship," and "Skilful Companions.")

The names of the companions in "King Palmarin" and "Juan and his Six Friends" are clearly derived from the Spanish. In Caballero's story of "Lucifer's Ear" we find these names: Carguin ("carrier"), Oidin ("hearer"), Soplin ("sigher or blower"). All three occur in "Juan and his Six Friends." In the three Filipino tales the total number of different strong men is only seven,—Know-All, Blower, Farsight, Runner, Hunter, Carrier, Sharp-Ear. This close conformity, when we consider the wide variety to be found in the European stories (see Bolte-Polivka, 2 : 87-94; Panzer, Beowulf, 66-74), suggests an ultimate common source for our variants. The phrase "Soplin Soplon, son of the great blower" (in "Juan and his Six Friends") is almost an exact translation of "Soplin Soplon, hijo del buen soplador" (Caballero, "Lucifer's Ear"). This same locution in the vernacular is found in the Tagalog folk-tale of "Lucas the Strong."

The ship that will sail on land is often met with in European stories. See R. Koehler, "Orient und Occident," 2 : 296-299; also his notes to Gonzenbach, No. 74. Compare also the Argonaut saga; and Bolte-Polivka, 2 : 87-95 passim.

In two of our stories the hero's runner is almost defeated by the king's messenger, who treacherously makes use of a magic sleep-producing ring. One of the other companions, however, discovers the trick, and the skilful hunter awakens the sleeper with a well-aimed shot. For this feat of Sharpshooter's, see Gonzenbach, No. 74; Grimm, No. 71; Meier, No. 8; Ey, Harzmaerchenbuch, 116.

Of native beliefs found in our stories, two are deserving of comment. The method by which Lucas becomes possessed of great strength reflects a notion held by certain old Tagalogs. Some of the men around Calamba, Laguna province, make an incision in the wrist and put in it a small white bone taken from the end of the tail of the sawang bitin (a species of boa). The cut is then sewed up. Those who have a talisman of this sort believe that at night it travels all over the body and produces extraordinary strength. (For similar Malayan superstitions, see Skeat 2, 303-304.) The legend (in "King Palmarin") about the origin of Mount Arayat and the swamp of Candaba is but one of many still told by old Pampangans. Its insertion into a romance with European setting is an instance of the Filipino romance writers' utter disregard or ignorance of geographical propriety.

In conclusion, attention may be called to the fact that while these three stories have the same basic framework, each has its own peculiar variations. The testimony of the narrator of "Juan and his Six Companions," that his informant, an old Balayan woman, said that the story was very popular in her section of the country, is a bit of evidence that the tale has been known in the Philippines for decades, probably. Whether or not her form of the story was derived from a printed account, I am unable to say; but I suspect that it was; the diction sounds "bookish." Nevertheless I have found no external evidence of a Tagalog corrido treating the story we have printed.



TALE 12

THE THREE BROTHERS.

Narrated by Clodualdo Garcia, an llocano, who was told the story by his mother when he was a small boy.

There was once an old woman who had three sons. The father died when Tito, the youngest brother, was only five years old; and the mother was left alone to bring up her three boys. The family was very poor; but the good woman worked hard, and her sons grew into sturdy young men.

One day the mother called her sons before her, and said, "Now, my sons, as you see my strength is failing me, I want each of you to go into the world to seek his fortune. After nine years, come back home and show me what you have learned to do." The three brothers consented, and resolved to leave home the very next morning.

Early the following day the three brothers—An-no the oldest, Berto the second, and Tito the youngest—bade their mother good-by, and set out on their travels. They followed a wide road until they came to a place where it branched in three directions. Here they stopped and consulted. It was at last agreed that An-no should take the north branch, Berto the south branch, and Tito the east branch. Before they separated, An-no proposed that at the end of the nine years they should all meet at the cross-roads before presenting themselves to their mother. Then each, wishing the others good luck, proceeded on his way.

Well, to make a long story short, at the end of the nine years the three brothers met again at the place designated. Each of them told what he had learned during that time. An-no had been in the company of glass-makers, and he had learned the art of glass-making. Berto had been employed in a shipyard, and during the nine years had become an expert boat-builder. The youngest brother, unfortunately, had fallen into the company of bad men, some notorious robbers. While he was with this band, he became the best and most skilful robber in the gang. After each had heard of the others' fortunes, they started for their home. Their mother felt very glad to have all her sons with her once more.

Shortly after this family had been re-united, the king issued a proclamation stating that his daughter, the beautiful princess Amelia, had been kidnapped by a brave stranger, and that whoever could give any information about her and restore her to the palace should be allowed to marry her. When the three brothers heard this news, they resolved to use their knowledge and skill to find the missing princess.

An-no had brought home with him a spy-glass in which everything hidden from the eyes of men could be seen. With this instrument, he told his brothers, he could locate the princess. He looked through his glass, and saw her confined in a tower on an island. When An-no had given this information to the king, the next question was how to rescue her. "We'll do the rest," said the two younger brothers.

Accordingly Berto built a ship. When it was finished, the three brothers boarded her and sailed to the island where the princess was confined; but there they found the tower very closely guarded by armed soldiers, so that it seemed impossible to get into it. "Well, that is easy," said Tito. "You stay here and wait for my return. I will bring the princess with me."

The famous young robber then went to work to steal the princess. Through his skill he succeeded in rescuing her and bringing her to the ship. Then the four sailed directly for the king's palace. The beautiful princess was restored to her father. With great joy the king received them, and a great feast was held in the palace in honor of the rescue of his daughter. After the feast the king asked the three brothers to which of them he should give his daughter's hand. Each claimed the reward, and a quarrel arose among them. The king, seeing that all had played important parts in the rescue of the princess, decided not to bestow his daughter on any of them. Instead, he gave half his wealth to be divided equally among An-no, Berto, and Tito.

Three Brothers of Fortune.

Narrated by Eugenio Estayo, a Pangasinan, who heard the story from Toribio Serafica, a native of Rosales, Pangasinan.

In former times there lived in a certain village a wealthy man who had three sons,—Suan, Iloy, and Ambo. As this man was a lover of education, he sent all his boys to another town to school. But these three brothers did not study: they spent their time in idleness and extravagance. When vacation came, they were ashamed to go back to their home town, because they did not know anything; so, instead, they wandered from town to town seeking their fortunes.

In the course of their travels they met an old woman broken with age. "Should you like to buy this book, my grandsons?" asked the old woman as she stopped them.

"What is the virtue of that book, grandmother?" asked Ambo.

"My grandsons," replied she, "if you want to restore a dead person to life, just open this book before him, and in an instant he will be revived." Without questioning her further, Ambo at once bought the book. Then the three continued their journey.

Again they met an old woman selling a mat. Now, Iloy was desirous of possessing a charm, so he asked the old woman what virtue the mat had.

"Why, if you want to travel through the air," she said, "just step on it, and in an instant you will be where you desire to go." Iloy did not hesitate, but bought the mat at once.

Now, Suan was the only one who had no charm. They had not gone far, however, before he saw two stones, which once in a while would meet and unite to form one round black stone, and then separate again. Believing that these stones possessed some magical power, Suan picked them up; for it occurred to him that with them he would be able to unite things of the same or similar kind. This belief of his came true, as we shall see.

These three brothers, each possessing a charm, were very happy. They went on their way light-hearted. Not long afterward they came upon a crowd of persons weeping over the dead body of a beautiful young lady. Ambo told the parents of the young woman that he would restore her to life if they would pay him a reasonable sum of money. As they gladly agreed, Ambo opened his book, and the dead lady was brought back to life. Ambo was paid all the money he asked; but as soon as he had received his reward, Iloy placed his mat on the ground, and told his two brothers to hold the young woman and step on the mat. They did so, and in an instant all four were transported to the seashore.

From that place they took ship to another country; but when they were in the middle of the sea, a severe storm came, and their boat was wrecked. All on board would have been drowned had not Suan repaired the broken planks with his two magical stones. When they landed, a quarrel arose among the three brothers as to which one was entitled to the young woman.

Ambo said, "I am the one who should have her, for it was I who restored her to life."

"But if it had not been for me, we should not have the lady with us," said Iloy.

"And if it had not been for me," said Suan, "we should all be dead now, and nobody could have her."

As they could not come to any agreement, they took the question before the king. He decided to divide the young woman into three parts to be distributed among the three brothers. His judgment was carried out. When each had received his share, Iloy and Ambo were discontented because their portions were useless, so they threw them away; but Suan picked up the shares of his two brothers and united them with his own. The young woman was brought to life again, and lived happily with Suan. So, after all, Suan was the most fortunate.

Pablo and the Princess.

Narrated by Dolores Zafra, a Tagalog from La Laguna. She heard the story from her father.

Once upon a time there lived three friends,—Pedro, Juan, and Pablo. One morning they met at the junction of three roads. While they were talking, Pedro said, "Let each of us take one of these roads and set out to find his fortune! there is nothing for us to do in our town." The other two agreed. After they had embraced and wished each other good luck, they went their several ways. Before separating, however, they promised one another to meet again in the same plate, with the arrangement that the first who came should wait for the others.

Pedro took the road to the right. After three months' travelling, sometimes over mountains, sometimes through towns, he met an old man. The old man asked him for food, for he was very hungry. Pedro gave him some bread, for that was all he had. The old man thanked the youth very much, and said, "In return for your kindness I will give you this carpet. It looks like an ordinary carpet, but it has great virtue. Whoever sits on it may be transported instantly to any place he desires to be." Pedro received the carpet gladly and thanked the old man. Then the old man went on his way, and Pedro wandered about the town. At last, thinking of his two friends, he seated himself on his carpet and was transported to the crossroads, where he sat down to wait for Juan and Pablo.

Juan had taken the road to the left. After he had travelled for three months and a half, he, too, met an old man. This old man asked the youth for something to eat, as he was very hungry, he said. So Juan, kind-heartedly, shared with him the bread he was going to eat for his dinner. As a return for his generosity, the old man gave him a book, and said, "This book may seem to you of no value; but when you know of its peculiar properties, you will be astonished. By reading in it you will be able to know everything that is happening in the world at all times." Juan was overjoyed with his present. After thanking the old man and bidding him good-by, the youth returned to the meeting-place at the cross-roads, where he met Pedro. The two waited for Pablo.

Pablo took the road in the middle, and, after travelling four months, he also met an old man, to whom he gave the bread he was going to eat for his dinner. "As you have been very kind to me," said the old man, "I will give you this ivory tube as a present. Perhaps you will say that it is worthless, if you look only at the outside; but when you know its value, you will say that the one who possesses it is master of a great treasure. It cures all sick persons of every disease, and, even if the patient is dying, it will restore him instantly to perfect health if you will but blow through one end of the tube into the sick person's nose." Pablo thanked the old man heartily for his gift, and then set out for the meeting-place. He joined his friends without mishap.

The three friends congratulated one another at having met again in safety and good health. Then they told one another about their fortunes. While Pedro was looking in Juan's book, he read that a certain princess in a distant kingdom was very sick, and that the king her father had given orders that any person in the world who could cure his daughter should be her husband and his heir. When Pedro told his companions the news, they at once decided to go to that kingdom. They seated themselves on the carpet, and were transported in a flash to the king's palace. After they had been led into the room of the sick princess, Pablo took his tube and blew through one end of it into her nose. She immediately opened her eyes, sat up, and began to talk. Then, as she wanted to dress, the three friends retired.

While the princess was dressing, Pablo, Juan, and Pedro went before the king, and told him how they had learned that the princess was sick, how they had been transported there, and who had cured her. The king, having heard all each had to say in his own favor, at last spoke thus wisely to them:—

"It is true, Pablo, that you are the one who cured my daughter; but let me ask you whether you could have contrived to cure her if you had not known from Juan's book that she was sick, and if Pedro's carpet had not brought you here without delay.—Your book, Juan, revealed to you that my daughter was sick; but the knowledge of her illness would have been of no service had it not been for Pedro's carpet and Pablo's tube. And it is just the same way with your carpet, Pedro.—So I cannot grant the princess to any one of you, since each has had an equal share in her cure. As this is the case, I will choose another means of deciding. Go and procure, each one of you, a bow and an arrow. I will hang up the inflorescence of a banana-plant. This will represent the heart of my daughter. The one who shoots it in the middle shall be the husband of my daughter, and the heir of my kingdom."

The first to shoot was Pedro, whose arrow passed directly through the middle of the banana-flower. He was very glad. Juan shot second. His arrow passed through the same hole Pedro's arrow had made. Now came Pablo's turn; but when Pablo's turn came, he refused to shoot, saying that if the banana-flower represented the heart of the princess, he could not shoot it, for he loved her too dearly.

When the king heard this answer, he said, "Since Pablo really loves my daughter, while Pedro and Juan do not, for they shot at the flower that represents her heart, Pablo shall marry the princess."

And so Pablo married the king's daughter, and in time became king of that country.

Legend of Prince Oswaldo.

Narrated by Leopoldo Uichanco, a Tagalog from Calamba, La Laguna.

Once upon a time, on a moonlight night, three young men were walking monotonously along a solitary country road. Just where they were going nobody could tell: but when they came to a place where the road branched into three, they stopped there like nails attracted by a powerful magnet. At this crossroads a helpless old man lay groaning as if in mortal pain. At the sight of the travellers he tried to raise his head, but in vain. The three companions then ran to him, helped him up, and fed him a part of the rice they had with them.

The sick old man gradually regained strength, and at last could speak to them. He thanked them, gave each of the companions a hundred pesos, and said, "Each one of you shall take one of these branch-roads. At the end of it is a house where they are selling something. With these hundred pesos that I am giving each of you, you shall buy the first thing that you see there." The three youths accepted the money, and promised to obey the old man's directions.

Pedro, who took the left branch, soon came to the house described by the old man. The owner of the house was selling a rain-coat. "How much does the coat cost?" Pedro asked the landlord.

"One hundred pesos, no more, no less."

"Of what value is it?" said Pedro.

"It will take you wherever you wish to go." So Pedro paid the price, took the rain-coat, and returned.

Diego, who took the middle road, arrived at another house. The owner of this house was selling a book. "How much does your book cost?" Diego inquired of the owner.

"One hundred pesos, no more, no less."

"Of what value is it?"

"It will tell you what is going on in all parts of the world." So Diego paid the price, took the book, and returned.

Juan, who took the third road, reached still another house. The owner of the house was selling a bottle that contained some violet-colored liquid. "How much does the bottle cost?" said Juan.

"One hundred pesos, no more, no less."

"Of what value is it?"

"It brings the dead back to life," was the answer. Juan paid the price, took the bottle, and returned.

The three travellers met again in the same place where they had separated; but the old man was now nowhere to be found. The first to tell of his adventure was Diego. "Oh, see what I have!" he shouted as he came in sight of his companions. "It tells everything that is going on in the world. Let me show you!" He opened the book and read what appeared on the page: "'The beautiful princess of Berengena is dead. Her parents, relatives, and friends grieve at her loss.'"

"Good!" answered Juan. "Then there is an occasion for us to test this bottle. It restores the dead back to life. Oh, but the kingdom of Berengena is far away! The princess will be long buried before we get there."

"Then we shall have occasion to use my rain-coat," said Pedro. "It will take us wherever we wish to go. Let us try it! We shall receive a big reward from the king. We shall return home with a casco full of money. To Berengena at once!" He wrapped the rain-coat about all three of them, and wished them in Berengena. Within a few minutes they reached that country. The princess was already in the church, where her parents were weeping over her. Everybody in the church wore deep mourning.

When the three strangers boldly entered the church, the guard at the door arrested them, for they had on red clothes. When Juan protested, and said that the princess was not dead, the guard immediately took him to the king; but the king, when he heard what Juan had said, called him a fool.

"She is only sleeping," said Juan. "Let me wake her up!"

"She is dead," answered the king angrily. "On your life, don't you dare touch her!"

"I will hold my head responsible for the truth of my statement," said Juan. "Let me wake her up, or rather, not to offend your Majesty, restore her to life!"

"Well, I will let you do as you please," said the king; "but if your attempt fails, you will lose your head. On the other hand, should you be successful, I will give you the princess for a wife, and you shall be my heir."

Blinded by his love for the beautiful princess, Juan said that he would restore her to life. "May you be successful!" said the king; and then, raising his voice, he continued, "Everybody here present is to bear witness that I, the King of Berengena, do hereby confirm an agreement with this unknown stranger. I will allow this man to try the knowledge he pretends to possess of restoring the princess to life. But there is this condition to be understood: if he is successful, I will marry him to the princess, and he is to be my heir; but should he fail, his head is forfeit."

The announcement having been made, Juan was conducted to the coffin. He now first realized what he was undertaking. What if the bottle was false! What if he should fail! Would not his head be dangling from the ropes of the scaffold, to be hailed by the multitude as the remains of a blockhead, a dunce, and a fool? The coffin was opened. With these meditations in his mind, Juan tremblingly uncorked his bottle of violet liquid, and held it under the nose of the princess. He held the bottle there for some time, but she gave no signs of life. An hour longer, still no trace of life. After hours of waiting, the people began to grow impatient. The king scratched his head, the guards were ready to seize him; the scaffold was waiting for him. "Nameless stranger!" thundered the king, with indignant eyes, "upon your honor, tell us the truth! Can you do it, or not? Speak. I command it!"

Juan trembled all the more. He did not know what to say, but he continued to hold the bottle under the nose of the princess. Had he not been afraid of the consequences, he would have given up and entreated the king for mercy. He fixed his eyes on the corpse, but did not speak. "Are you trying to joke us?" said the king, his eyes flashing with rage. "Speak! I command!"

Just as Juan was about to reply, he saw the right hand of the princess move. He bade the king wait. Soon the princess moved her other hand and opened her eyes. Her cheeks were fresh and rosy as ever. She stared about, and exclaimed in surprise, "Oh, where am I? Where am I? Am I dreaming? No, there is my father, there is my mother, there is my brother." The king was fully satisfied. He embraced his daughter, and then turned to Juan, saying, "Stranger, can't you favor us now with your name?"

With all the rustic courtesy he knew, Juan replied to the king, told his name, and said that he was a poor laborer in a barrio far away. The king only smiled, and ordered Juan's clothes to be exchanged for prince's garments, so that the celebration of his marriage with the princess might take place at once. "Long live Juan! Long live the princess!" the people shouted.

When Diego and Juan heard the shout, they could not help feeling cheated. They made their way through the crowd, and said to the king, "Great Majesty, pray hear us! In the name of justice, pray hear us!"

"Who calls?" asked the king of a guard near by. "Bring him here!" The guard obeyed, and led the two men before the king.

"What is the matter?" asked the king of the two.

"Your Majesty shall know," responded Diego. "If it had not been for my book, we could not have known that the princess was dead. Our home is far away, and it was only because of my magic book that we knew of the events that were going on here."

"And his Majesty shall be informed," seconded Pedro, "that Juan's good luck is due to my rain-coat. Neither Diego's book nor Juan's bottle could have done anything had not my raincoat carried us here so quickly. I am the one who should marry the princess."

The king was overwhelmed: he did not know what to do. Each of the three had a good reason, but all three could not marry the princess. Even the counsellors of the king could not decide upon the matter.

While they were puzzling over it, an old man sprang forth from the crowd of spectators, and declared that he would settle the difficulty. "Young men," he said, addressing Juan, Pedro, and Diego, "none of you shall marry the princess.—You, Juan, shall not marry her, because you intended to obtain your fortunes regardless of your companions who have been helping you to get them.—And you, Pedro and Diego, shall not have the princess, because you did not accept your misfortune quietly and thank God for it.—None of you shall have her. I will marry her myself."

The princess wept. How could the fairest maiden of Berengena marry an old man! "What right have you to claim her?" said the king in scorn.

"I am the one who showed these three companions where to get their bottle, rain-coat, and book," said the old man. "I am the one who gave each of them a hundred pesos. I am the capitalist: the interest is mine." The old man was right; the crowd clapped their hands; and the princess could do nothing but yield. Bitterly weeping, she gave her hand to the old man, who seemed to be her grandfather, and they were married by the priest. The king almost fainted.

But just now the sun began to rise, its soft beams filtering through the eastern windows of the church. The newly-married couple were led from the altar to be taken home to the palace; but, just as they were descending the steps that lead down from the altar, the whole church was flooded with light. All present were stupefied. The glorious illumination did not last long. When the people recovered, they found that their princess was walking with her husband, not an old man, however, but a gallant young prince. The king recognized him. He kissed him, for they were old-time acquaintances. The king's new son-in-law was none other than Prince Oswaldo, who had just been set free from the bonds of enchantment by his marriage. He had been a former suitor of the princess, but had been enchanted by a magician.

With magnificent ceremony the king's son-in-law was conducted to the royal residence. He was seated on the throne, the crown and sceptre were transferred to him, and he was hailed as King Oswaldo of Berengena.

Notes.

I have still a fifth Filipino story (e) of three brothers setting out to seek their fortunes, their rich father promising his estate to the son who should show most skill in the profession he had chosen. This Bicol version, which was narrated by Simeon Paz of Nueva Caceres, Camarines, contains a long introduction telling how the youngest brother was cruelly treated by the two older. After the three have left home in search of professions, the older brothers try to kill the youngest, but he escapes. In his wanderings he meets with an old hermit, who, on hearing the boy's story, presents him with a magic booklet and dagger. These articles can furnish their possessor with whatever he wishes. At the appointed time the three brothers meet again at home, and each demonstrates his skill. The oldest, who has become an expert blacksmith, shoes a horse running at full speed. The second brother, a barber, trims the hair of a running man. The youngest causes a beautiful palace to appear instantly. The father, somewhat unfairly, perhaps, bestows his estate on the youngest, who has really displayed no skill at all.

These five Filipino stories belong to a large group of tales to which we may give the name of the "Rival Brothers." This cycle assumes various forms; but the two things that identify the relationship of the members are the rivalry of the brothers and the conundrum or "problem" ending of the stories. Within this cycle we can distinguish at least three simple, distinct types, and a compound fourth made up of parts of two of the others. These four types may be very generally outlined as follows: (I) A number of artisans (usually not brothers), by working cumulatively, as it were, make and bring to life a beautiful woman; they then quarrel as to which one has really produced her and is therefore entitled to have her. (II) Through the combined skill of three suitors (sometimes brothers, oftener not), a maiden is saved from death, and the three quarrel over the possession of her. The difficulty is solved satisfactorily by her father or by some one else appointed to judge. (III) A father promises his wealth to the son that shall become most skilful in his profession; the three sons seek their fortunes, and at an appointed time return, and are tested by their father. He judges which is most worthy of the estate. (IV) A combination of the first part of the third type with the second.

Benfey (in Ausland, 1858 : 969, 995, 1017, 1038, 1067) has made a somewhat exhaustive study of the Maerchen, which he calls "Das Maerchen von den Menschen mit den wunderbaren Eigenschaften." As a matter of fact, he examines particularly the stories of our type II (see above), to which he connects the folk-tales of our types III and IV as a later popular development. As has been said in the notes to No. 11 Benfey thinks that the "Skilful Companions" cycle is a droll or comic offshoot of this much older group. Our type I he does not discuss at all, possibly thinking that it is not a part of the "Rival Brothers" cycle. It strikes me, however, as being a part fully as much as is the "Skilful Companions" cycle, which is perhaps more nearly related to the "Bride Wager" group than to the "Rival Brothers." Professor G. L. Kittredge, in his "Arthur and Gorlagon" (Harvard Studies and Notes in Philology and Literature, No. 8), 226, has likewise failed to differentiate clearly the two cycles, and his outline of the "Skilful Companions" is that of our type II of the "Rival Brothers." I am far from wishing to quarrel over nomenclature,—possibly "Rival Brothers" is no better name for the group of tales under discussion than is "Skilful Companions,"—but, as G. H. Gerould has remarked ("The Grateful Dead," Folk-Lore Society, 1907 : 126, note 3), Kittredge's analysis would not hold for all variants, even when uncompounded. However, Mr. Gerould does not attempt to explain the cause of the confusion, nor was he called upon to do so in his study of an entirely distinct cycle. Consequently, as no one else has yet done so, for the sake of clearness, I propose a division of the large family of sagas and folk-tales dealing with men endowed with extraordinary powers [46] into at least two cycles, —the "Rival Brothers" and the "Skilful Companions" (see No. 11). The former of these, which is the group discussed here, I subdivide, as has already been indicated, into four types. Of intermixtures of these types with other cycles we shall not concern ourselves here, though they have been many. [47] We now turn to an examination of the four types. [48]

(I) Type I had its origin in India, doubtless. The oldest form seems to be that found in the Sanscrit "Vetalapancavincati," No. 22, whence it was incorporated into Somadeva's story collection (twelfth century) called the "Kathasaritsagara." An outline of this last version (Tawney's translation, 2 : 348-350) is as follows.



Story of the Four Brahman Brothers who Resuscitated the Lion.

Four Brahman brothers, sons of a very poor man, leave home to beg. After their state has become even more miserable, they decide to separate and to search through the earth for some magic power. So, fixing upon a trysting-place, they leave one another, one going east, one west, one north, one south. In the course of time they meet again, and each tells of his accomplishments: the first can immediately produce on a bit of bone the flesh of that animal; the second can produce on that flesh skin and hair appropriate to that animal; the third can create the limbs of the animal after the flesh, skin, and hair have been formed; the fourth can endow the completed carcass with life. The four now go into the forest to find a piece of bone with which to test their skill; they find one, but are ignorant that it is the bone of a lion. The first Brahman covers the bone with flesh; the second gives it skin and hair; the third completes the animal by supplying appropriate limbs; the fourth endows it with life. The terrible beast, springing up, charges the four brothers and slays them on the spot.

The question which the vetala now asks the king is, "Which of these four was guilty in respect of the lion who slew them all?" King Vikramasena answers, "The one that gave life to the lion is guilty. The others produced flesh, skin, hair, and limbs without knowing what kind of animal they were making. Therefore, being ignorant, they were not guilty. But the fourth, seeing the complete lion's shape before him, was guilty of their death, because he gave the creature life."

The "Pancatantra" version (v, 4) varies slightly. Here, as in the preceding, there are four brothers, but only three of them possess all knowledge; the fourth possesses common sense. The first brother joins together the bones of a lion; the second covers them with skin, flesh, and blood; the third is about to give the animal life, when the fourth brother—he who possessed common sense—says, "If you raise him to life, he will kill us all." Finding that the third brother will not desist from his intention, the fourth climbs a tree and saves himself, while his three brothers are torn to pieces. For a modern Indian popular form, see Thornhill, 289.

In the Persian "Tuti-namah" (No. 5) the story assumes a decidedly different form, as may be seen from the following abstract. (I think that there can be no doubt, however, that this tale was inspired by some redaction of "Vetalapancavincati," No. 22, not unlikely in combination with "Vetalapancavincati," No. 2.)

The Goldsmith, the Carpenter, the Tailor, and the Hermit who Quarrelled about a Wooden Woman.

A goldsmith, a carpenter, a tailor, and a hermit, travelling together, come to a desert place where they must spend the night. They decide that each shall take a watch during the night as guard. The carpenter's turn is first: to prevent sleep he carves out a wooden figure. When his turn comes, the goldsmith shows his skill by preparing jewels and adorning the puppet. The tailor's turn is next: he sees the beautiful wooden woman decked with exquisite jewels, but naked; consequently he makes neat clothes becoming a bride, and dresses her. When the hermit's turn to watch comes, he prays to God that the figure may have life; and it begins to speak like a human being.

In the morning all four fall desperately in love with the woman, and each claims her as his. Finally they come to a fifth person, and refer the matter to him. He claims her to be his wife, who has been seduced from his house, and hails the four travellers before the cutwal. But the cutwal falls in love with the woman, says that she is his brother's wife, accuses the five of his brother's murder, and carries them before the cazi. The cazi, no less enamoured, says that the woman is his bondmaid, who had absconded with much money. After the seven have disputed and wrangled a long time, an old man in the crowd that has meantime gathered suggests that the case be laid before the Tree of Decision, which can be found in a certain town. When they have all come before the tree with the woman, the tree divides, the woman runs into the cleft, the tree unites, and she has disappeared forever. A voice from the tree then says, "Everything returns to its first principles." The seven suitors are overwhelmed with shame.

A Mongolian form, to be found in the Ardschi-Bordschi saga (see Busk, 298-304), seems to furnish the link of connection between the "Tuti-namah" version and "Vetalapancavincati," Nos. 22 and 2:—

Who Invented Woman?

Four shepherd youths pasture their flocks near one another, and when they have time amuse themselves together. One day one of them there alone, to pass away the time, takes wood and sculptures it until he has fashioned a beautiful female form. When he sees what he has done, he cares no more for his companions, but goes his way. The next day the second youth comes alone to the place, and, finding the image, he paints it fair with the five colors, and goes his way. On the third day the third youth finds the statue, and infuses into it wit and understanding. He, too, cares no more to sport with his companions, and goes his way. On the fourth day the fourth youth finds the figure, and, breathing softly into its lips, behold! he gives it a soul that can be loved,—a beautiful woman.

When the other three see what has happened, they come back and demand possession of her by right of invention. Each urges his claim; but they can come to no decision, and so they lay the matter before the king. The question is, Who has invented the woman, and to whom does she belong by right? The answer of the king is as follows: "The first youth stands in the place of a father to her; the second youth, who has tinted her fairly, stands in the place of a mother; the third, is he not Lama (Buddhist priest, hence instructor)? The fourth has given her a soul that can be loved, and it is he alone who has really made her. She belongs to him, and therefore he is her husband."

I cannot refrain from giving a resume of "Vetalapancavincati," No. 2, because it has been overlooked by Benfey, and seems to be of no little significance in connection with our cycle: it establishes the connection between types I and II. This abstract is taken from Tawney's translation of Somadeva's redaction, 2 : 242-244:—

Story of the Three Young Brahmans who Restored a Dead Lady to Life.

Brahman Agnisvamin has a beautiful daughter, Mandaravati. Three young Brahmans, equally matched in accomplishments, come to Agnisvamin, and demand the daughter, each for himself. Her father refuses, fearing to cause the death of any one of them. Mandaravati remains unmarried. The three suitors stay at her house day and night, living on the sight of her. Then Mandaravati suddenly dies of a fever. The three Brahmans take her body to the cemetery and burn it. One builds a hut there, and makes her ashes his bed; the second takes her bones, and goes with them to the sacred river Ganges; the third becomes an ascetic, and sets out travelling.

While roaming about, the third suitor reaches a village, where he is entertained by a Brahman. From him the ascetic steals a magic book that will restore life to dead ashes. (He has seen its power proved after his hostess, in a fit of anger, throws her crying child into the fire.) With his magic book he returns to the cemetery before the second suitor has thrown the maiden's bones into the river. After having the first Brahman remove the hut he had erected, the ascetic, reading the charm and throwing some dust on the ashes of Mandaravati, causes the maiden to rise up alive, more beautiful than ever. Then the three quarrel about her, each claiming her as his own. The first says, "She is mine, for I preserved her ashes and resuscitated her by asceticism." The second says, "She belongs to me, for she was produced by the efficacy of sacred bathing-places." The third says, "She is my wife, for she was won by the power of my charm."

The vetala, who has been telling the story, now puts the question to King Vikramasena. The king rules as follows: "The third Brahman must be considered as her father; the second, as her son; and the first, as her husband, for he lay in the cemetery embracing her ashes, which was an act of deep affection."

A modern link is the Georgian folk-tale of "The King and the Apple" (Wardrop, No. XVI), in which the king's magic apple tells three riddle-stories to the wonderful boy:—

(1) A woman is travelling with her husband and brother. The party meets brigands, and the two men are decapitated. Their heads are restored to them by the woman through the help of a magic herb revealed to her by a mouse. However, she gets her husband's head on her brother's body. Q.—Which man is the right husband? A.—The one with the husband's head.

(2) A joiner, a tailor, and a priest are travelling. When night comes, they appoint three watches. The joiner, for amusement, cuts down a tree and carves out a man. The tailor, in his turn, takes off his clothes and dresses the figure. The priest, when his turn comes, prays for a soul for the image, and the figure becomes alive. Q.-Who made the man? A.—He who gave him the soul.

(3) A diviner, a physician, and a swift runner are met together. The diviner says, "There is a certain prince ill with such and such a disease." The physician says, "I know a cure." The swift runner says, "I will run with it." The physician prepares the medicine, the runner runs with it, and the prince is cured. Q.—Who cured the king's son? A.—He who made the medicine.

These three stories, with their framework, appear to be descended in part from the Ardschi-Bordschi saga. A connection between the third and our type II is obvious.

A Bohemian form of this type is No. 4 of Wratislaw's collection.

(II) Type II, according to Benfey, also originated in India. The oldest known form of the story is the "Vetalapancavincati," No. 5. A brief summary of Somadeva's version, "The Story of Somaprabha and her Three Suitors" (Tawney, 2 : 258-260), may be given here:—

In Ujjayini there lived a Brahman who had an excellent son and a beautiful proud daughter. When the time for her to be married came, she told her mother to give the following message to her father and her brother: "I am to be given in marriage only to a person possessed of heroism, knowledge, or magic power."

A noble Brahman (No. 1) in time came to the father and asked for his daughter's hand. When told of the conditions, he said, "I am possessed of magic power," and to demonstrate, he made a chariot and took the father for a ride in the clouds. Then Harisvamin, the father, promised his daughter to the Brahman possessed of magic power, and set the marriage day seven days hence.

Another Brahman (No. 2) came and asked the son for his sister's hand. When told the conditions, he said that he was a hero, and he displayed his skill in the use of weapons. The brother, ignorant of what his father had done, promised his sister's hand to this man, and by the advice of an astrologer he selected the same day for the wedding as his father had selected.

A third Brahman (No. 3) on that same day asked the mother for her daughter's hand, saying that he was possessed of wisdom. Ignorant of what her husband and her son had done, she questioned this Brahman about the past and the future, and at length promised him her daughter's hand on the same seventh day.

On the same day, then, three bridegrooms appeared, and, strange to say, on that very day the bride disappeared. No. 3, with his knowledge, discovered that she had been carried off by a Rakshasa. No. 1 made a chariot equipped with weapons, and the three suitors and Harisvamin were carried to the Rakshasa's abode. There No. 2 fought and killed the demon, and all returned with the maiden. A dispute then arose among the Brahmans as to which was entitled to the maiden's hand. Each set forth his claim.

The vetala, who has been telling the story, now makes King Vikramasena decide which deserves the girl. The king says that the girl ought to be given to No. 2, who risked his life in battle to save her. Nos. 1 and 3 were only instruments; calculators and artificers are always subordinate to others.

The story next passed over into Mongolia, growing by the way. The version in the "Siddhi-Kuer," No. 13, is interesting, because it shows our story already linked up with another cycle, the "True Brothers." Only the last part, which begins approximately where the companions miss the rich youth, corresponds to the Sanscrit above. (This Mongolian version may be found in English in Busk, 105-114.) The story then moved westward, and we next meet it in the Persian and the Turkish "Tuti-namah," "The Story of the Beautiful Zehra." (For an English rendering from the Persian, see "The Tootinameh; or, Tales of a Parrot," Persian text with English translation [Calcutta, 1792], pp. 111-114.)

W. A. Clouston (Clouston 3, 2 : 277-288) has discussed this group of stories, and gives abstracts of a number of variants that Benfey does not mention: Dozon, "Albanian Tales," No. 4; a Persian manuscript text of the "Sindibad Nama;" a Japanese legend known as early as the tenth century; the "1001 Nights" story of "Prince Ahmed and the Peri Banu;" Powell and Magnussen's "Icelandic Legends," pp. 348-354, "The Story of the Three Princes;" Von Hahn, "Contes Populaires Grecs" (Athens and Copenhagen, 1879), No. II, p. 98. Of these he says (p. 285), "We have probably the original of all these different versions in the fifth of the 'Vetalapanchavinsati,'"—but hardly from No. 5 alone, probably in combination with Nos. 2 and 22 (cf. above). At least, the Arabian, Icelandic, and Greek forms cited by Clouston include the search for trades or magic objects by rival brothers, a detail not found in No. 5, but occurring in Nos. 22 and 2. Clouston calls attention to the fact that in No. 5 and in the "Tuti-namah" version the damsel is not represented as being ill, while in the "Sindibad-Nama" and in the Arabian version she is so represented.

(III) The third type seems to be of European origin. It is perhaps best represented by Grimm, No. 124, "The Three Brothers." In his notes, Grimm calls this story an old lying and jesting tale, and says that it is apparently very widespread. He cites few analogues of it, however. He does mention an old one (sixteenth century) which seems to be the parent of the German story. It is Philippe d'Alcripe's "Trois freres, excellens ouvriers de leurs mestiers" (No. 1 in the 1853 Paris edition, Biblioth. Elzevirien). As in Grimm, the three skilled brothers in the French tale are a barber, a horse-shoer, and a swordsman; and the performances of skill are identical in the two stories. The French version, however, ends with the display of skill: no decision is made as to which is entitled to receive the "petite maison," the property that the father wishes to leave to the son who proves himself to be the best craftsman. Our fifth story, the Bicol variant, clearly belongs to this type, although it has undergone some modifications, and has been influenced by contact with other cycles.

(IV) The fourth type represents the form to which our four printed stories most closely approximate. As remarked above, it is a combination of the third and the second types. This combination appears to have been developed in Europe, although, as may be seen from the analysis of "Vetalapancavincati," No. 2, it might easily have been suggested by the Sanscrit. Compare also the "Siddhi-Kuer" form of type II, where, although not brothers, and six in number instead of three, the six comrades set out to seek their fortunes. But here there is no suggestion of the six acquiring skill: they have that before they separate.

The earliest known European version of this type is Morlini's, Nov. 30 (about 1520). His Latin was translated by Straparola (about 1553) in the "Tredici piacevoli Notti," VII, 5. In outline his version runs about as follows:—

Three brothers, sons of a poor man, voluntarily leave home to seek their fortunes, promising to return in ten years. After determining on a meeting-place, they separate. The first takes service with soldiers, and becomes expert in the art of war: he can scale walls, dagger in hand. The second becomes a master shipwright. The third spends his time in the woods, and becomes skilled in the tongues of birds. After ten years they meet again, as appointed. While they are sitting in an inn, the youngest hears a bird say that there is a great treasure hidden by the corner-stone of the inn. This they dig up, and return as wealthy men to their father's house.

Another bird announces the imprisonment of the beautiful Aglea in a tower on an island in the AEgean Sea. She is guarded by a serpent. The second brother builds a swift ship, in which all three sail to the island. There the first brother climbs the tower, rescues Aglea, and plunders all the serpent's treasure. With the wealth and the lady the three return. A dispute now arises as to which brother has the best claim over her. The matter is left undecided by the story-teller.

At the beginning of the seventeenth century, Basile, working very likely on oral tradition, and independent of Straparola (with whose work he does not appear to have been acquainted), gives another version, "Pentamerone," v, 7:—

Pacione, a poor father, sends his five good-for-nothing sons out into the world for one year to learn a craft. They return at the appointed time. During the year the eldest son has learned thieving; the second has learned boat-building; the third, how to shoot with the cross-bow; the fourth has learned of an herb that will cause the dead to rise; the fifth has learned the language of birds. While the five sons are eating with their father, the youngest son hears sparrows saying that a ghoul has stolen the princess, daughter of the King of Autogolfo. The father suggests that his five sons go to her rescue. So a boat is built, the princess is stolen from the ghoul, the ghoul pursues and is blinded by a shot from the bow, the princess falls in a dead faint and is restored by the life-giving herb. After the five brothers have returned the princess to her father, they dispute as to who did the greatest deed of prowess, so as to be worthy of being her husband. Her father the king decides the dispute by giving his daughter to Pacione, because he is the parent-stem of all these branches.

Benfey thinks that the brother who knows of the life-restoring herb is an original addition of Basile's or of his immediate source; but this character is to be found in the cycle from earliest times (see "Vetalapancavincati," No. 2; and "Siddhi-Kuer," No. 13).

The story is next found as a Maerchen pretty well scattered throughout Europe. German, Russian, Bohemian, Italian, Greek, and Serbian forms are known (see Benfey's article, and Grimm's notes to No. 129). We may examine briefly six interesting versions not mentioned by Benfey or Grimm:—

Greek (Von Hahn, No. 47).—A king with three sons wishes to marry off the eldest. He seeks a suitable wife for the prince; but when she is found and brought to the court, she is so beautiful, that all three brothers want her. To decide their dispute, the king, on advice, sends them abroad, promising the hand of the princess to the one who shall bring back the most valuable article. The three brothers set out; they separate at Adrianople, agreeing to meet there again at an appointed time. On his travels, the eldest buys a telescope through which he can see anything he wishes to see. The second buys an orange that will restore to life the dying if the sick person but smells of the fruit. The third buys a magic transportation-carpet. They all meet as agreed. By means of the telescope one of the brothers learns that the princess is dying. The magic carpet carries them all home instantaneously, and the orange cures the maiden. A quarrel arises as to which brother deserves her hand. The king, unable to decide, marries her himself.

Bohemian (Waldau [Prag, 1860], "Das Weise Urteil").—In this there are three rival brothers. One has a magic mirror; another, a magic chariot; and the third, three magic apples. The first finds out that the lady is desperately ill; the second takes himself and his rivals to her; and the third restores her to health. A dispute arising, an old man decides that the third brother should have her, as his apples were consumed as medicine, while the other two still have their chariot and mirror respectively. (Compare the decision in the Georgian folk-tale under type II.)

Serbian (Mme. Mijatovies, 230 ff., "The Three Suitors").—Three noblemen seek the hand of a princess. As the king cannot make a choice, he says to the three, "Go travel about the world. The one who brings home the most remarkable thing shall be my son-in-law." As in the Greek story, one gets a transportation-carpet; another, a magic telescope; and the third, a wonder-working ointment that will cure all diseases and even bring the dead to life. The three noblemen meet, learn through the telescope of the princess's mortal illness, and, hastening to her side with the help of the magic carpet, cure her with the ointment. A dispute arises as to which suitor shall have her. The king decides that each has as good a claim as the others, and persuades all to give up the idea of marrying the princess. They do so, go to a far-off desert, and become hermits, while the king marries his daughter to another noble. The story does not end here, but thus much is all we are interested in.

Italian Tyrolese (Schneller, No. 14, "Die Drei Liebhaber").—This story is like Von Hahn, No. 47. The magic objects are an apple, a chair, and a mirror. In the magic mirror the three suitors see the bride on the point of death. They are carried to her in the magic chair, and she is saved by means of the apple. The story ends as a riddle: Who married the maiden?

Icelandic (Rittershaus, No. XLIII, "Die drei Freier um eine Braut").—This story, which closely follows the "1001 Nights" version and is probably derived from it, agrees in the first part with Von Hahn, No. 47. When a folk-tribunal is called to decide which brother most deserves the princess and is unable to agree, the king proposes another test,—a shooting-match. The princess is to be given to the one who can shoot his arrow the farthest. The youngest really wins; but, as his arrow goes out of sight and cannot be found, the princess is given to the second brother. From this point on, the adventures of the hero are derived from another cycle that does not belong with our group.

Icelandic (Rittershaus, No. XLII, "Die Kunstreichen Brueder").—Although this story is very different from any of ours, I call attention to it here because Dr. Rittershaus says (p. 181) that in it we have, "in allerdings verwischter Form, das Maerchen von 'der Menschen mit den wunderbaren Eigenschaften,'" and she refers to Benfey's "Ausland" article. The collector states, however, that the story is so different from the other Maerchen belonging to this family, that no further parallels can be adduced. As a matter of fact, this Icelandic story is a combination of the "Skilful Companions" cycle with the "Child and the Hand" cycle. For this combined Maerchen, see Kittredge, "Arthur and Gorlagon," 222-227.