Part 1 (1/2)
Laos Folk-Lore of Farther India.
by Katherine Neville Fleeson.
Introduction
These Folk-Tales from the Laos country, a part of the kingdom of Siam, in addition to their intrinsic merit have the charm of complete novelty.
Until the translator of this volume collected these stories, they were even unwritten, with a single exception which was found in a Laos ma.n.u.script. They are orally preserved in the provinces which const.i.tute the Laos country, just as they have been handed down from generations of ancestors, with slight variations in words or incidents. The elders among the people tell the stories at their merrymakings around the camp-fires and within their primitive houses, to amuse and instruct the youth and children.
Living among the Laos in the friendly and intimate relation of a missionary, the translator has had the advantage of long residence and unrivalled opportunity for understanding the history, customs, religious ideas and aspirations of this interesting people. Aptness in use of their colloquial speech gave her special facility for gathering the stories with exactness, as they fell from the lips of the narrators in her hearing; and for the delicate additional task of translating them into English. The scholar, who is a student of the world's Folk-Lore, may be a.s.sured that he has here, the Laos tales un.o.bscured, just as they are told to-day.
Reflecting, as they do, thoughts, desires and hopes common to our humanity, these stories at the same time exhibit, in a pathetic way, the need in Laos of the uplifting and transforming power of the Christian religion.
Willis G. Craig.
McCormick Theological Seminary, Chicago.
I
Tales of the Jungle
A Child of The Woods
Deep in the forest of the North there is a large village of jungle people, and, among them is one old woman, who is held in reverence by all. The stranger who asks why she is honored as a princess is thus answered by her:
ā€¯Verily, I have much _boon_,[1] for I am but a child of nature. When I was a young maiden, it fell upon a day that my heart grew hot with anger. For many days the anger grew until it filled my whole heart, also were my eyes so red that I could see but dimly, and no longer could I live in the village or among my own people, for I hated all men and I felt that the beasts of the forest were more to me than my kindred.
Therefore, I fled from the face of man into the jungle where no human foot had ever gone. All day I journeyed, running as though my feet would never weary and feeling no pangs of hunger. When the darkness closed about me, I was not afraid, but lay down under the shelter of a tree, and, for a time, slept peacefully, as peacefully as though in my own home. At length, I was awakened by the breath of an animal, and, in the clear light of the moon, I saw a large tiger before me. It smelled of my face, my hands and my feet, then seated itself by my head and watched me through the night, and I lay there unafraid. In the early morning, the tiger departed and I continued my journey. Quieter was my heart. Still, I disliked my own people but had no fear of the beasts or the reptiles of the forest.
During the day I ate of the fruit which grew wild in abundance, and at night I slept 'neath a tree, protected and guarded by fierce, wild beasts which molested not my sleep. For many days I wandered thus, and the nights were secure; for the wild beasts watched over and protected me. Thus my heart grew cool in my bosom, and I no longer hated my people; and, after one moon had gone, I found myself near a village. The people wondered to see me approach from the jungle, dreaded as being the jungle of the man-eating tiger. When I related my story, the people were filled with wonder and brought rich gifts to me. For a year and a day I abode there, and no more the wild beasts molested their cattle.
But my heart yearned to see the face of my kindred again, so, laden with silver, gold and rich garments and seated in the howdah[2] of an elephant, the people escorted me to my own village, and here have I abode in content these one hundred years.
1: Merit.
2: The car placed on the back of elephants.
The Enchanted Mountain
The hunters who are continually going about from place to place, climbing up high hills, descending into deep ravines and making ways through jungles in search of the wild bison and other game, tell strange tales of an enchanted place away on the top of a lofty mountain. There, is a beautiful lake, which is as bright and clear as a drop of morning dew hanging on the petal of the white water-lily, and, when you drink of it, you are no longer aweary; new life has come into you, and your body is more vigorous than ever before. The flowers on the margin of this enchanted lake are more beautiful than those that grow in any other spot, and, such is the love of the cheris.h.i.+ng spirits for it, that they care for it as for no other place in this world. Bananas of a larger growth than can be found in the gardens of man, and oranges, sweeter to the taste than those we ever eat, are there. The fruits of all trees, more beautiful to the eye and richer than man can produce, are there, free to those who can find them. All the fowls usually nurtured by man and flocking about his door are there, and they are not affrighted by the presence of the hunter but come at his call. Should the hunter wish to kill them, his arrow cannot pierce their charmed bodies to deprive them of life, but the arrow falls harmless to the ground, because the spirits protect them and their lives are sacred. Great fields of rice are about this place, and the hunter marvels at the size of the grains and at the strength of the stalks. No field cared for by man has seen grain like that which the spirits nourish.
Many men, on hearing of this wonderful mountain-top, have sought it, but all have returned unsuccessful to their homes, saying, no such place is on this earth. Only the hunter, who has chased the game through the jungle, o'er the streams and up the steep mountain-sides, when tired and discouraged because the coveted prize has gone far beyond his reach, is rewarded for all his labor, when he finds himself in the garden of fruit, or on the margin of the enchanted lake, whose waters give renewed vigor to his wearied body.
Often, when the hunter desires to eat of the flesh of the fowls, he endeavors to kill the fowls, but no effort of his can take their life, as the spirits hold them in their care. No mortal can harm them. Nor can the hunter take any of the fruit away, for, as he leaves the spot, no matter how he may hold it, it vanishes from his hand. Thus, no man, who has not seen the place, has eaten of the fruit nor drank of the water; so, many doubt their existence, for such is the heart of man that he must touch with his hands, see with his eyes, or taste with his tongue, ere he can believe. Nevertheless, on the top of the lofty mountain there is the lake with the cool waters, clear and beautiful, where the fowls swim on its surface, or drink from its margin, and the grain and the fruit ripen for those who are loved of the spirits, and are led by them to this cherished spot where they may rest and be refreshed, and then return to their wives and children and tell them of the care of the spirits. The little ones, who have hearts free from guile, believe.