Author Archive

  • Pablo and the Princess

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    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. » Read the rest of the entry..

  • A Pretty Woman

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    That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,
    And the blue eye
    Dear and dewy,
    And that infantine fresh air of hers!

    To think men cannot take you, Sweet,
    And infold you,
    Ay, and hold you,
    And so keep you what they make you, Sweet!

    You like us for a glance, you know—
    For a word’s sake
    Or a sword’s sake:
    All’s the same, whate’er the chance, you know.

    And in turn we make you ours, we say—
    You and youth too,
    Eyes and mouth too,
    All the face composed of flowers, we say.

    All’s our own, to make the most of, Sweet—
    Sing and say for,
    Watch and pray for,
    Keep a secret or go boast of, Sweet!

    But for loving, why, you would not, Sweet,
    Tho’ we prayed you,
    Paid you, brayed you
    In a mortar—for you could not, Sweet!

    So, we leave the sweet face fondly there,
    Be its beauty
    Its sole duty!
    Let all hope of grace beyond, lie there!

    And while the face lies quiet there,
    Who shall wonder
    That I ponder
    A conclusion? I will try it there.

    As,—why must one, for the love foregone
    Scout mere liking?
    Thunder-striking
    Earth,—the heaven, we looked above for, gone!

    Why, with beauty, needs there money be,
    Love with liking?
    Crush the fly-king
    In his gauze, because no honey-bee?

    May not liking be so simple-sweet,
    If love grew there
    ‘Twould undo there
    All that breaks the cheek to dimples sweet?

    Is the creature too imperfect, say?
    Would you mend it
    And so end it?
    Since not all addition perfects aye!

    Or is it of its kind, perhaps,
    Just perfection—
    Whence, rejection
    Of a grace not to its mind, perhaps?

    Shall we burn up, tread that face at once
    Into tinder,
    And so hinder
    Sparks from kindling all the place at once?

    Or else kiss away one’s soul on her?
    Your love-fancies!
    —A sick man sees
    Truer, when his hot eyes roll on her!

    Thus the craftsman thinks to grace the rose,—
    Plucks a mould-flower
    For his gold flower,
    Uses fine things that efface the rose.

    Rosy rubies make its cup more rose.
    Precious metals
    Ape the petals,—
    Last, some old king locks it up, morose!

    Then how grace a rose? I know a way!
    Leave it, rather.
    Must you gather?
    Smell, kiss, wear it—at last, throw away.

  • The Anting-Anting of Manuelito

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    The Anting-Anting is a stone or other small object covered with cabalistic inscriptions. It is worn around the neck, and is supposed to render its owner impervious to knife or bullet. Many are wearing these charms, especially the Tulisanes or outlaws. The Anting-Anting must not be confused, however, with the scapular, a purely religious symbol worn by a great number of the Christian Filipinos.

    Many of the older Filipinos remember Manuelito, the great Tulisane, who, more than fifty years ago, kept all the Laguna de Bai district in a state of fear. His robber band was well organized and obeyed his slightest wish. He had many boats on the lake and many hiding places in the mountains, and throughout the country there was no villager who did not fear to oppose him, or who would refuse to help him in any way when required to do so.

    In vain the Guardia Civil hunted him. Many times they surrounded the band, but Manuelito always escaped. Many shots were fired at him, but he was never hit; and once, when he was cut off from his men and surrounded, he broke through the line, and though fifty bullets whistled around him he did not receive a scratch.

    The officers of the Guardia Civil blamed their men for the bad marksmanship that allowed Manuelito to escape. They told all the people that it should never occur again, and promised that the next fight should end in the death of the outlaw. The people, however, did not believe that Manuelito could be killed, for he wore on his breast a famous Anting-Anting that he had received from Mangagauay, the giver of life and death. » Read the rest of the entry..

  • The Thrush and the Fowler

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    A thrush was feeding on a myrtle-tree and did not move from it because its berries were so delicious. A Fowler observed her staying so long in one spot, and having well bird-limed his reeds, caught her. The Thrush, being at the point of death, exclaimed, “O foolish creature that I am! For the sake of a little pleasant food I have deprived myself of my life.”

  • The Rose and the Amaranth

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    An Amaranth planted in a garden near a Rose-Tree, thus addressed it: “What a lovely flower is the Rose, a favorite alike with Gods and with men. I envy you your beauty and your perfume.” The Rose replied, “I indeed, dear Amaranth, flourish but for a brief season! If no cruel hand pluck me from my stem, yet I must perish by an early doom. But thou art immortal and dost never fade, but bloomest for ever in renewed youth.”

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