king as he took them in his arms.
"Who put them in that basket?" asked the king's counsellors.
"If I knew you may be sure that fitting punishment would be visited
upon them!" cried the king.
The beautiful green-and-gold parrot had escaped from the children's
arms and had flown back to a tree near the gates of the royal gardens.
Suddenly he was heard to speak.
"Go find the king's sisters-in-law," were the words he said.
The king's sisters-in-law were quickly brought into the garden. A look
at their guilty faces convinced every one that they were the ones who
had placed the royal babes in the basket and had thrown them into the
river.
"You shall now receive the punishment which you have so richly
deserved!" cried the king as he frowned upon them sternly.
"Where is the good queen?" some one asked.
The queen had been sleeping in her own apartments and had not heard the
noise in the garden. When the courtiers brought her there and she saw
the two handsome boys with the bright stars shining on their foreheads,
she fainted with the joy of it.
JOSE THE BEAST SLAYER
_The Story of a Boy Who Grew Up in the Forest_
There was once a king who had a little daughter. He went to the Wise
Man of the Forest to learn how best to bring her up, and this is what
he was told:
"For twelve years you must keep your daughter in a tower in the forest.
It should have no door, only a little window through which you may pass
food to her. You must give her meat which has no bones in it."
The king ordered a tower constructed in the deep forest. It had no
door, and only a little window. Here the princess was placed. Every
day food was passed to her through the little window. The king himself
took charge of this, so that he might be sure that there was no meat
given her which had bones in it.
The years flew by, and at last the twelve year period was nearly up.
Then the king went away one day and left the servants to carry food to
the princess. They were careless, and gave her meat which had a bone
in it.
The little princess had grown very tired of being shut up in the tower
of the forest.
"Ah," said she when she discovered the bone in her meat. "At last I
have something with which to make this little window larger. I've
tried in vain to make it bigger with my fingers."
She used the bone to dig away the wall each side of the window and soon
the little opening had grown so large that the princess could lean her
head out of it and look up at lofty trees. That very day a duke passed
that way on a hunting expedition and saw the beautiful princess in the
tower. He fell in love with her immediately.
Now that the princess had some one to help her make the hole larger it
was an easy matter to make it big enough to escape. That very night
she ran away with the duke.
When the king returned from his journey he found the tower in the
forest entirely empty. There was nothing but the yawning hole to tell
him of his daughter's escape. He tried in vain to find out what had
become of her, but there was no person who could tell him anything
about her.
The princess had gone with the duke across a great river which no one
else knew how to cross. She lived in a big cave in the rocks, and
after all the years in the tower it seemed a wonderful home indeed.
She was never tired of admiring the trees and flowers of the forest and
listening to the songs of the birds. When at last her baby son was
born she thought that she was the very happiest person in the whole
world.
Now when the baby was two years old, the duke decided that they must
take him to a hermitage to be baptized. They went down to the great
river and he carried his little son across it in safety. Then he
returned for the princess, but on the way his foot slipped and he fell
into the river. The strong current bore him swiftly away, leaving the
princess on one side of the river and her little son on the other.
"How shall I get across?" cried the princess when she saw what had
happened.
"Don't worry, mother," replied the child. "I'll come and get you."
To her amazement he crossed the great river in safety and bravely
escorted his mother to the other bank in spite of her tears and cries
of fear.
"Well done, my son!" she said when on the other bank. "You are indeed
a son to be proud of!"
They went to a church and the boy was baptized. Jose the Beast Slayer
was the name he chose. Then they wandered on until at last they came
to a house with a door in which a little window had been cut. The boy
thrust in his arm and opened the door as if it had been his own.
"Walk in, mother dear," were his words.
Together they entered the house and together they explored the various
rooms. There was nobody there and there was nothing to eat.
Accordingly, Jose went out begging. He asked alms at the royal palace
and there he was given money to buy food. There was even enough left
over to pay for a gun.
Now that he owned a gun there was no need of begging any more. He shot
plenty of game for his mother and what was left he carried to the royal
palace to give to the king.
One day in the deep forest he entered a cave where the giant of the
forest lived.
"What are you doing here, little penny chicken?" asked the huge giant
as he frowned down at Jose.
[Illustration: He frowned down at Jose]
"I may be a little penny chicken, but I'm not in the least afraid of
giants," replied the boy boldly.
"What, a little penny chicken like you not afraid of me!" cried the
giant as he picked him up roughly and set him on his neck.
Jose seized the giant's long beard and drew it around his neck so
tightly that the giant fell to the floor dead. Then Jose seized one of
the money-bags and ran home with it to his mother.
"You must carry some of this to the king," said his mother when she saw
it and had heard his story.
Accordingly, Jose carried the money as a gift to the king.
"Who is bringing me all this?" asked the king when he saw it.
"A little lad," replied the king's servants.
"Lead him in to me," said the king. "I'd like to see him."
Accordingly, the boy was led before the throne.
"What is your name, my lad?" asked the king kindly.
"I am called Jose the Beast Slayer, your majesty," replied the boy as
he bowed low before the throne.
"Who are your parents?" asked the king.
"My father is dead," replied Jose, "and my mother is a princess who ran
away from a tower in the forest."
Jose had often heard the story of his mother's life in the tower. It
was the tale he liked best of all.
At the boy's words the king started and looked at him sharply.
"Tell me about this tower," he said eagerly.
"It was a tower in the deep forest," replied Jose. "It had no door,
only a little window through which food was passed to her. She could
never have any meat with a bone. This was because the Wise Man of the
Forest had told her father that it was the best way to bring her up.
One day her father went away and the servants gave her meat with a bone
in it and--"
"I always suspected something like that," interrupted the king.
Jose looked at him in surprise.
"Were you there?" he asked.
The king nodded. "Go on with your story, my boy," he said.
Jose told all the circumstances of his mother's escape from the tower,
just as she had so often described them to him. Tears were running
down the king's cheeks when at last the story was ended.
"My lad, you are my own grandson!" cried the king as he took him in his
arms. "Proud am I, too, that I have a grandson like you! Where is
your mother now?"
"My mother is in the house in the forest," replied Jose. "It is she
who told me to carry the money to the king."
"Why did she never come to me?" asked the father.
"I think she was afraid she'd be punished for running away from the
tower without any door," was Jose's reply.
When the princess was brought home to the royal palace there was a
great feast held which lasted for three days and three nights. Then
the king sent his men with Jose into the forest to the cave where the
giant had lived. They brought home so many bags of gold that it
required the entire royal army to transport it.
Years passed, and when the old king died it was Jose the Beast Slayer
who was king of the land.
[Illustration: Headpiece]
THE PRINCESS OF THE LOST ISLAND
_The Story of Euphemia and Her Good Deeds_
Euphemia was the daughter of King Atlas and the granddaughter of the
great god Jupiter. She was more beautiful than her fifteen sisters,
though they were all lovely.
All the ten sons of Neptune admired her charms and sought to marry her,
but she would wed none of them. There was, in truth, no one in all the
world who was worthy of her. Euphemia herself knew this and preferred
to remain a star in the constellation of the Hyades, her sisters,
rather than wed an unworthy husband.
Euphemia became a Christian, they say, through the efforts of the
cherubim. She decided to come down to earth and go about doing good
deeds. Accordingly, she came to the island called Seven Cities.
Now in the island of Seven Cities there lived a rich and venerable
Christian prince. He adopted Euphemia as his own daughter. She was
called Princess Euphemia of the island of Seven Cities.
As soon as she came to the island all pain and misery vanished from it.
Joy reigned. Banquets were held, songs were sung, gay dances were
danced. It was as if every day were a feast day.
Time passed. Many changes came to the island, but Euphemia herself
remained always young, always beautiful.
One day two priests from the outside world visited the island. They
saw the magnificent palaces, the beautiful gardens. Two tame lions
followed them about. They were as gentle as if they had been dogs.
"We are in the celestial regions," said one priest to the other.
"Let us stay here forever," said the other priest. "It is indeed the
Paradise of which we have dreamed."
The two priests had come in a tiny launch from a large boat.
"We should return and tell our friends about this celestial region,"
they agreed. "To-morrow we will all explore this wonderful country."
It was almost dark when the two priests reached their ship by the
little launch. They reported all the things they had heard and seen in
the new land.
The next morning, however, the island had entirely disappeared. The
water stretched before their gaze with an unbroken rippling blue
surface.
"What has become of our beautiful island," the good priests asked in
amazement.
"We were anchored off the shore of one of the enchanted islands," was
the opinion of everybody.
Euphemia, they say, has not yet disappeared entirely. She has changed
her form. She is still found in the Azores in the plant called
SOLANEA, the flower of St. Cosmo. She is still doing good deeds. Pain
disappears when she comes, just as it did in the lost island. St.
Cosmo, the patron saint of all good physicians, could never have gained
his reputation without her good deeds.
[Illustration: Headpiece]
WHY THE ALVELOA BIRD RECEIVED A BLESSING
_The Story of the Bird of Good Luck_
In the Azores there is a little bird which is loved and protected by
every one. Its name is the Alveloa. It has a gray back, white breast,
head and throat, and black and white wings. The tail of this little
bird is always in motion. This is the reason:
Long ago when the wicked king Herod ordered all the babies to be
killed, the Holy Virgin fled into Egypt with the Christ child safe in
her arms. They rode upon an ass.
The Virgin glanced fearfully behind her as they went along the way. At
any moment Herod's messengers might come in pursuit. The tracks of the
ass showed plainly in the dusty road.
"Oh!" cried the Holy Mother, "Our enemies will see our tracks! They
will know in what direction we have fled!"
The Alveloa was nearby and heard. She spread out her tail like a fan
and shook it about in the dusty road. The tracks of the ass were
completely brushed away.
The Holy Mother smiled upon her.
"For this kind deed, little bird, your tail shall be always in motion.
By this sign you shall be known and your life shall be spared."
To this very day the tail of the Alveloa is in motion. St. Michael,
himself, the patron of the island of S. Miguel, has asked a special
protection for the little bird in his island.
The Alveloa flew all the way before the Virgin, showing her the road
into Egypt.
"My blessing upon you, little bird," said the Virgin. "May you always
have the strength to slay your enemy."
To this very day the Alveloa is able to slay birds much larger than
herself.
"The Alveloa kills the hawk," is a saying in the Azores.
If one wakes in the morning and sees this little gray and white bird
before his window he will have a lucky day.
On the way into Egypt the Virgin pointed to the lupine which grew by
the wayside.
"Eat, little bird," she said. "Eat until your hunger is satisfied.
Blessings be upon you for your kind deeds to me and to the Holy Child.
May good fortune and plenty always attend you."
To this very day this bird blessed by the Virgin is an emblem of good
luck.
[Illustration: Headpiece]
WHY THE CODORNIZ BIRD RECEIVED A CURSE
_A Story of the Bird Who Walks Humbly_
When the Holy Virgin was fleeing into Egypt to escape the persecutions
of Herod, the Codorniz bird flew about making a great racket, calling
out, "Come this way."
"Keep quiet!" cried the Virgin. "Our enemies will hear you! They will
come in pursuit!"
In spite of her words the Codorniz kept up its noise.
"My curse be upon you," said the Virgin. "You shall always walk
humbly. You shall never fly high and smile at the sun."
To this very day the Codorniz bird walks humbly. It has many enemies
who love to slay it to devour.
OUTSIDE THE DOOR LIKE THE MOTHER OF ST. PETER
_A Story of Why She Stays Outside_
If there is no response when you ring the bell or knock at a door in
the Azores, you have to stay "outside the door like the mother of St.
Peter," they say. This is the story which tells why the mother of St.
Peter had to stay outside:
The very stingiest woman in the whole city was St. Peter's mother. She
was so stingy that she never gave away a single thing to a beggar. No
matter if the beggar were old or sick or blind or crippled or even a
mother with a babe in her arms, she always made the same reply, "I have
nothing to give away."
Not even when there was famine in the land, but plenty in her own home,
would the mother of St. Peter share with the unfortunate.
When St. Peter was made the guardian of the keys of Heaven, of course
he tried to bring his mother inside the celestial gate.
"When your mother lived upon the earth did she ever share her plenty
with any of my poor unfortunate children?" was the question.
St. Peter thought hard. His mother had been a worthy, virtuous woman
in many respects, but he could recall nothing which she had ever given
to the poor and the unfortunate.
At last he remembered a day when she had gone into the garden to get
vegetables for the soup.
A poor beggar woman had stood outside the garden gate, crying: "Alms!
Alms, for the love of God!"
[Illustration: "Alms! Alms!"]
"Get away from my garden," said St. Peter's mother. "I have no alms to
give you. If I give away the vegetables from my garden, I'd soon have
nothing left to feed my own family. I'd be begging myself."
The poor beggar woman started to turn away with tears in her eyes. An
onion stalk fell from the hand of St. Peter's mother. It was bruised
by its fall and covered with mud, but the beggar seized it eagerly.
"Keep it. I wouldn't use it anyway," snapped St. Peter's mother.
St. Peter could remember nothing else to tell, so he related this story.
"Go and find the onion," was the comment.
When St. Peter at last found that onion stalk, it was still dirty with
the mud of the garden and crumpled by its fall, just as it had been
when his mother had given it to the beggar.
"Hold out the onion and pull your mother in," was the order.
St. Peter held out the onion stalk. It did not reach very far down
into Purgatory, but his mother jumped up as high as she could and
seized it eagerly.
Slowly and very carefully he pulled her up by it to the Heavenly Gate.
Just as she was about to enter the door the onion stalk broke.
"I'm sorry. You'll have to stay outside," said St. Peter. "I've done
the best I could for you. The onion stalk was not strong enough to
pull you through."
Thus it happens that the mother of St. Peter has to stay outside the
door of Heaven.
WHY THE OWL FLIES AT NIGHT
_A Story of Good St. Anthony_
Long ago there was an image of the good St. Anthony washed ashore by
the rough waves of the Bay of Angra. A little chapel was built to
receive it on the steep slopes of Monte Brasil overlooking the bay and
here it still remains.
Once upon a time a little boy named Pedro lived in a tiny cottage near
St. Anthony's shrine. His mother had died and his father had married a
new wife who was often cruel to him. She dressed him in ragged, shabby
clothes and the other children of the parish often pointed their
fingers at him in scorn because of his poor garments.
One day as Pedro knelt before the image of the good saint a strange
thing happened. His clothing became new and whole. He was dressed as
well as any boy in the parish.
"Where did you get clothes like this?" asked the stepmother when he
came home that night. "I always knew you were a good-for-nothing. I
believe you have stolen them."
Little Pedro told what had happened, but the woman would not believe
him.
"Don't stand there talking any longer!" she cried. "Take the water
jars and go to the spring and fill them for me. Hurry, I don't want to
be kept waiting for the water!"
Pedro lifted the two great water jars which stood on the floor and
slowly climbed up the hill to the little spring which supplied water
for the family needs during the greater part of the year. Just now the
spring had failed, as the stepmother had found out that very day.
[Illustration: Pedro lifted the two great jars and slowly climbed up
the hill]
"There is no water in the spring now," said an old man whom little
Pedro met on the way. The boy had almost reached the spring and the
big jars were growing heavy even though they were empty.
"I'm so nearly there I'll go on and see for myself," decided the lad.
"The other spring is so far away and the jars will be so heavy that I
can never carry them all the long distance. Perhaps there is still a
little water here."
When he reached the spring he was surprised to see the water flowing
faster than in many a day. He remembered, too, the new suit of clothes
he was wearing.
"Luck is with me to-day!" he cried as he filled the water jars. "The
good saint Anthony is my friend. He it is who has given me my handsome
clothing and he it is who has blessed the spring for me."
When he returned home with the jars full of water his stepmother stared
at him in amazement. He had not been gone long enough to obtain it
from the farther spring.
"Where did you get this water?" she asked, as soon as she could find
words with which to speak.
Pedro told her that it came from the spring just as it always did.
"That spring is dry to-day!" she cried. "Now I know that you are a
liar as well as a thief. Just wait until your father comes home! I'll
see that you get the beating you deserve."
Pedro wondered why she had sent him to the spring if she had believed
it to be dry, and while he was thinking of this the angry woman gave
him a big basket.
"Here," she said. "Go out in the garden and pick up some wood for me.
Hurry. Don't keep me waiting. Your slow ways drive me mad."
Pedro knew that all the wood in the garden had been picked up long ago.
Now there was nothing in the garden except roses. There were red roses
and pink roses and yellow roses and white roses, but not a single stick
of wood. High up on the steep slopes of Monte Brasil there might be
wood to gather, but the night was dark and the path was steep and long.
Little Pedro was very tired, so tired that two great tears rolled down
his cheeks.
Suddenly the good saint Anthony from the little chapel stood before
him. He smiled kindly at the child. "Why are you crying, my boy?"
asked the saint. "I have watched you carefully for a long time and I
know you seldom give way to tears, though often your burdens are so
heavy that a boy less brave would do little else than weep."
"I have to fill my basket with wood and there is nothing except roses
in our garden," replied Pedro. "I'm tired and it is very dark on Monte
Brasil to search there for wood."
"Here, dear boy," said the saint, smiling. "Just pick the roses and
fill your basket with them. Then take them to your stepmother and see
what she will say to you. I'll be with you."
Pedro filled his big basket with the lovely red and yellow and pink and
white roses which grew in the garden in such rich abundance. Then he
ran into the house with them. As the light from the candles fell upon
them, to his amazement he saw that they were no longer roses. The
basket was full of wood.
"Where did you get this wood?" cried the woman angrily. "There are
only roses in the garden. Where have you been?"
She seized Pedro roughly by the collar of his new coat and shook him
until his teeth chattered. He looked up into the saint's eyes. St.
Anthony's face was stern.
"Stop, woman!" cried the voice which a moment before had been so kind
and gentle. Now it thundered forth in stern accents. "This little lad
has done no harm. You have been guilty of a desire to bring harm to
him, For this cruelty take the punishment which you so richly merit.
It is you who have sent this child out into the night. Now it is I who
sends you out into the night."
From that moment Pedro's stepmother was no longer a woman. She was
changed into an owl with her eyes the big round circles they had looked
when she had gazed up into the fierce face of angry St. Anthony. To
this very day the owl has to fly by night.
[Illustration: Headpiece]
THE LABORER AND HIS MASTER
_The Story of a Man Who Outfitted Another_
Once upon a time there was a laborer who said to his master:
"It is time to plant the fields."
"Very well," said his master. "The part which grows above the ground
shall be mine and you shall have in payment for your labor the part
which grows below the ground."
"Agreed," said the laborer.
He planted the fields with potatoes. His master had nothing but the
tops outside the earth. The laborer harvested many baskets of potatoes
that year and sold them for a goodly sum. The master was angry because
of this.
"Next harvest time," said he, "we'll see about things! You shall give
me what grows below the ground and keep for yourself what grows above."
"Agreed," said the laborer. "That is perfectly fair to me."
The laborer planted the fields with wheat. His master had nothing but
the roots, while he harvested a rich crop of wheat which he sold for
much money.
"I'll settle with you," said his master.
The laborer was frightened.
"Don't be afraid," said his wife. "When your master comes let me talk
to him."
The woman gashed her face and hands with the pruning knife.
The master came to the door and she opened it.
"Where is your husband?" he asked.
"He is sharpening his nails," said she. "See what ugly scratches I
already have upon my hands and face."
The master went away without punishing the laborer.
'TIS FAITH WHICH SAVES
_The Story of a Maid Who Was Betrothed to One She Trusted_
There was once upon a time a fair maid who lived in the island of
Fayal. She was betrothed to a young man of the same island. One day
she fell ill with a disease which baffled the skill of all the
physicians. Their arts, the mourning of her betrothed, the prayers and
tears of her mother, all seemed of no avail. It appeared that the fair
maid would die.
[Illustration: It appeared that the fair maid would die]
Now it happened that in one of the nearby islands, St. Michael, there
was a miracle-working image called the Santo Christo. The fair maid
begged of her betrothed that he would go to St. Michael and procure
some of the mysterious miracle-working sweat of the Santo Christo or
some of the miraculous parings of the nails of the image, which had the
power to heal any disease.
The young man gladly set out on the quest. On the boat which conveyed
him to St. Michael, however, he met a maid with beauty and charm, a
maid whose bright eyes made him forget the sad eyes of his betrothed.
When he arrived at his destination he thought only of singing gay songs
beneath the balcony of his new love. The days flew by, and soon it was
time for the boat to return to Fayal. He had forgotten the mission on
which he had come, and he returned to the boat with no relics of the
miracle-working Santo Christo.