A magician escapes the Cree by turning into a buffalo

An elderly man remains in his lodge, singing medicine songs, unaware of an attack by the Cree. As the Cree approach, they find only a buffalo ready to charge, which frightens them away. The buffalo is revealed to be the old man, who had transformed to escape harm. He had intended to rejuvenate himself by making new teeth and becoming young again.

Source:
The Beaver Indians
by Pliny Earle Goddard
The American Museum of Natural History – Anthropological Papers
Volume X, Part 4
New York, 1912

► Themes of the story

Trickster: He uses cunning and his magical abilities to outsmart the Cree warriors.

Rebirth: The narrative touches upon the concept of rejuvenation, as the old man plans to make himself young again.

Conflict with Authority: The story depicts a confrontation between the individual (the old man) and an opposing force (the Cree).

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Sub-Arctic Region
  - Dane-zaa Lore

Learn more about the Dane-zaa people

There were many people living together. Among them was an old man who was going to make new teeth for himself. While the Beaver were camped there for him the Cree came and attacked them. The other people all ran away but that old man did not get up. He was singing his medicine songs and did not know the Cree had come there. They went off after the Beaver but did not kill them. When the Cree came back they heard a man singing. They went to him. The old man was in a lodge. He pushed the poles up high so that he could be seen. There was no man there only a buffalo which was about to attack them. They were afraid of him. The buffalo was the old man.

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He had one child. “I will make my teeth come again,” he said. That is why they had made a camp for him. He had said he would make himself a young man again. They say that is the way they used to do. When old age was going to kill them they used to rejuvenate themselves in a lodge.

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Cenakatla’x; or, the salmon girl

A young girl, dissatisfied with moldy salmon, vanishes and is taken to the Salmon people’s realm. Unable to consume their food, she gathers herring eggs, leading to ridicule. The following spring, she returns as a salmon, is caught by her parents, and transforms back into a girl, imparting lessons on respecting salmon to ensure their continued return.

Source:
Tahltan Tales
by James A. Teit
The American Folklore Society
Journal of American Folklore
Vol.32, No.124, pp.198-250
April-June, 1917
Vol.34, No.133, pp.223-253
July-September, 1921
Vol.34, No.134, pp.335-356
October-December, 1921

► Themes of the story

Underworld Journey: Her voyage to the Salmon country, a realm beyond the human world, mirrors a descent into an underworld.

Harmony with Nature: It underscores the need for humans to live in balance with the natural world, particularly with the salmon upon whom they depend.

Rebirth: The narrative touches upon the salmon’s life cycle, illustrating themes of death and renewal as the salmon return each year.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Sub-Arctic Region
  - Tahltan Lore

Learn more about the Tahltan people

Cenakatla’x mean “mouldy salmon.” The Salmon people are said to have named the girl thus.

A number of people were living on a salmon stream just before the first run of salmon commenced. They were short of food. A girl asked for something to eat, and they gave her a piece of old mouldy dried salmon. She would not eat it, and threw it away. About the end of the salmon-run she disappeared, and no one knew what had happened to her. They thought she had been drowned, but she had been taken to the Salmon country with the last salmon in the stream. The Salmon country is far away in the sea, and there are very many people there. She could not eat the kind of food they ate; so she went along the beach, and gathered herring-eggs. One day some Salmon people saw her eating, and called out, “Look at the girl eating excrements!” After this she always hid when eating. The next spring the Salmon said, “Very soon we shall go and see our friends inland,” meaning the Indians. They started in canoes. Some salmon branched off here, and others there, into different streams, where they were accustomed to go annually. The humpback salmon all went into shallow streams.

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Indians were fishing on many of the streams, and had weirs across the creeks. Sometimes the salmon broke part of the weirs and went through. Then they said, “We have played a trick on our friends.” The girl was swimming with the king salmon, and went to the stream where her people lived. Her mother was very busy cutting up salmon. The girl swam back and forth close to the bank so as to see her mother well. Presently the mother called her husband to come with his spear. The girl then ran back and told the king salmon. He told her not to be afraid, but to let the people spear her. He said, “You cannot die. When people club you on the head, your soul at once passes to your tail, and afterwards, when you are dead, goes to the Salmon country, returning again next spring as a salmon. Thus salmon never die, and each succeeding year as many come up the streams as ever. See the old salmon rotting where they have spawned! They are not dead. Their bodies have been left up here,’ and are rotting; but their souls have returned to Salmon Land, and will return next year.” The girl then went back to where her mother was, and her father speared her. It was a fine-looking small young fish; and her parents said, “Let us eat it fresh!” They brought the basket to boil it, and her mother began to cut the fish up. When she made the first cut, the knife struck something hard and glanced off. She looked to see what it was, and saw some dentalia. On further examination, she recognized it as the necklace of dentalia worn by their daughter when she was lost. They thought the fish must be their daughter, so they wrapped it up in feathers and a clean mat. Then they fasted for eight days. During this time it gradually changed from the form of a fish to that of a girl. On the ninth day they recognized their daughter, who in appearance was just the same as before. She said to her parents, “I have come back to tell you about the Salmon people. You must treat them respectfully; you must never talk evil of them, nor disparage them or their flesh. If you do not heed these things, then they will take revenge on you.”

The mucus child

A village is plagued by mysterious disappearances until only a mother and daughter remain. The daughter gives birth to a miraculous child, who grows rapidly and gains immense strength through trials with a powerful benefactor. This “Strength” child confronts wolf-people who abducted the villagers, defeats them, and retrieves a box of lives. Using it, he revives the entire village, restoring joy and prosperity.

Source:
Tlingit Myths and Texts
by John R. Swanton
[Smithsonian Institution]
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 39
Washington, 1909

► Themes of the story

Transformation: The miraculous birth of the child from mucus and his rapid growth highlight themes of physical and supernatural change.

Quest: The child’s journey into the woods to discover the fate of the missing villagers and confront the wolf-people represents a classic quest to achieve a significant goal.

Rebirth: By retrieving the box of lives and reviving the villagers, the story illustrates a cycle of death and renewal, restoring life and prosperity to the community.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Sub-Arctic Region
  - Tlingit Lore

Learn more about the Tlingit people

Myth recorded in English at Wrangell, Alaska, in January-April 1904

From a certain village the men began to disappear. They would go up into the woods behind after firewood and never come back. Finally all the rest of the men went up there together, intending to kill whatever had been destroying their friends, but they, too, never came back. Then the women and children began disappearing in the same manner until not one person remained except a woman and her daughter who refused to go out.

After that the younger woman walked back and forth in front of the houses, crying and calling to the former house owners. One day she cried very hard until the mucus ran down from her nose, and, wiping this off, she threw it down near one of the doors. After a while she noticed from the corner of her eye that it moved. She looked at it closely and saw that it was like a bubble.

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Then she stooped down to examine it and saw in it a little man. Before the bubble had disappeared she picked it up and swallowed it and soon discovered that she was pregnant. In a short time she gave birth to a boy.

This mucus child grew up very fast, and, when he was old enough to shoot, his mother made him a bow and arrows with which to practise. When he became somewhat larger he asked his mother, “Mother, why are these houses empty? Where have the people that occupied them gone?” And his mother answered, “We had many friends in this village. They would go after wood and never return. The women and children did the same thing. They followed their husbands and parents and never returned.” This boy grew up very fast, and meanwhile he kept thinking to himself, “I wonder what happened to those people who went up after wood and did not come back.” After he had become still larger he made himself a bow and arrow points, and his mother made him a quiver. With these he ventured a short distance up into the woods. He was afraid to go far.

Finally he thought, “I am going a long distance up into the woods, but I am not going to say a word about it to my mother.” And so, early in the morning, he went straight up from the house and, after traveling for some time, reached a creek of black water which ran out from under a glacier. There he met a large man who said to him, “Grandson, take off all of your clothes, get into this creek until the water is up to your neck, and sit there no matter how cold it is.” The boy did so, and, after a long time, the big man saw the water shake around him and thought, “The water is shaking because he has sat in it so long that he is beginning to get cold.” Then the big man told him to come out, and, after he had done so, he said, “Go and try to pull up that tree.” This tree was a short one, and he pulled it up easily by the roots. Then the big man told him to strike a large round white rock near by to see if he could smash it, and he did so. The rock was broken in pieces. But this rock was only a friable one put there on purpose for the boy to break. Then the big man said to him, “Put on your clothes now and go home. Tomorrow come up again.”

The next day the big man told him to get into the creek again, and, when he saw him shivering, told him to come out and pull up a still larger tree. He pulled it up easily. Then he took him to a still larger rock that looked shiny and hard and told him to strike it. When he did so the tree went into slivers, but the rock was intact. So he told the boy to dress, run down home, and come up again very early. This time he was told to pull up a big crab-apple tree. He succeeded, but, although it looked easy to him to break the rock, only the tree was shattered.

The fourth time the boy came up very early before daylight. After he had been in the stream long enough to shiver the big man said, “Run to that tree standing over there. Try to break that.” It was a wild maple, but he broke it more easily than the crab apple. The big man was surprised.

Now the boy knew that he had great strength, and when the big man told him to try to smash the rock again, the rock flew all about. Then the big man took off his leggings, his shirt, and his moccasins, which were beautifully worked with porcupine quills, and put them on the boy. The moccasins were made to tie to the leggings and the sole of one of them was a whetstone. Then the man told him that he was Strength and had come to help him. He showed him a valley and said, “Go right up that valley, making sure to walk in the middle of it. On one side is the glacier. As soon as you reach the top of the mountain you will hear some one calling. You will see a large town there. This village is where your people went when they disappeared and those are the wolf people that took them. As soon as they get within your reach hit them with your club, and if it touches one of them it will kill him. Run up the hill. If you run down the hill you will be caught. If you become tired, think of me and you will become stronger.”

Now the boy went up the hill as he had been directed until he reached the end of the valley, where he heard some one call. He looked down and saw a very large town. At once people came running toward him, and he clubbed them. He could see them fall but did not feel his club strike. He kept on running up the hill, clubbing his pursuers as he went until he had destroyed all of them. Then he returned to his benefactor.

When Strength heard what had happened, he said, “Go back, for there is another village on the other side. Go there and call to them. They will not see you as quickly as these first. Call to them, ‘Give me my uncle’s life, my village people’s life.’ If they refuse, tell them that you are going to strike their village with your club. If they allow you to have it they will hand you a box.” He gave the boy strict orders not to strike unless they refused to give him the box of lives.

When the boy came to the first house in this village, he asked for the lives of his town people, but they said, “We don’t know where they are. They might be in the next house.” He went to that, and they said the same thing there. They answered him in the same manner at all of the houses. By the time he reached the last he was discouraged, thinking that he had undertaken all of that labor for nothing. He went in there, however, and said, “Give me my village people’s lives. If you don’t give them tome, I will strike your village.” This was the town chief’s house, however, and he said, “Don’t strike our village. I will give you the lives of your village people.” These people were also wolf people. Then the wolf chief handed him the box of lives and said, “Take it back to your village and leave it in each house for four days. At the end of four days, go into the house and see what has happened.”

After this the boy returned to his native village and left the box of lives four days in the house of his uncle, the chief. Early on the, morning of the day following he heard noises there, jumped up and went over to it. There were all of his people walking about and looking very happy. He left the box in every house in town for the prescribed period until all the absent ones had come to life, and all of their houses were filled as before. All the time this boy was away among the wolves his mother and grandmother were worrying about him, but after the people had been restored they were very happy.

The self-burning fire

During a harsh winter on the Copper River, a village faced starvation, leaving only one man alive after many perished from hunger and cold. As he journeyed alone, grieving his losses, he discovered a mystical “Self-burning Fire” that revived the dead villagers. Together, they thrived, easily finding food at the river’s mouth, marking a miraculous renewal of life and sustenance.

Source:
Tlingit Myths and Texts
by John R. Swanton
[Smithsonian Institution]
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 39
Washington, 1909

► Themes of the story

Rebirth: The villagers are brought back to life by the self-burning fire, symbolizing a cycle of death and renewal.

Supernatural Beings: The mystical fire acts as a supernatural entity with the power to revive the dead.

Loss and Renewal: The community experiences profound loss due to starvation and cold, followed by a miraculous renewal of life and sustenance.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Sub-Arctic Region
  - Tlingit Lore

Learn more about the Tlingit people

Myth recorded in English at Wrangell, Alaska, in January-April 1904

One winter the people at a certain place on Copper river were left with nothing to eat and began dying off. About the middle of that winter all of the children and some of the adults were dead, and only about half of the former population remained. When only eight men were left they said to one another, “Let us leave. Let us walk down this side of the river.” So they started off down the bank, and, after a long time, one of them died of cold. They buried him and went on. [The words of the narrator, but corpses were usually burned.] By and by another froze to death and was also buried. This kept on until there were only four. One day three of the remainder succumbed in succession, the last at evening, leaving but one man from all that village. This man was very sickly looking, but he felt strong, and when his last companion fell, he left him lying there and went on rapidly. He thought he would drop with grief, however, at the loss of his last comrade.

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As he was going on quite late in the evening he suddenly heard some one shout right ahead of him. He followed the voice, which kept on calling continually. Finally he came to a great fire and stood near it to warm himself. It was that that had been calling him.

When the man had become thoroughly warmed he was about to start on again. Suddenly, however, he heard the bushes breaking behind him, and, looking back, he saw all the men who had frozen to death and all of the village people standing around the fire. This fire is called Self-burning Fire (Wayi’k ga’ni), and it was that that had brought all of those people to life. From that time on they were able to get their food very easily at the mouth of the river.

Anarteq

Anarteq, a young man who hunted reindeer with his sisters, drowned after his kayak overturned during a hunt. Transformed into a salmon, he lived in the sea for years. When his grieving father returned to their hunting grounds, Anarteq, still a salmon, reunited with him by gripping his paddle. Pulled from the water, he regained his human form and resumed providing for his family.

Source:
Eskimo Folk-Tales
collected by Knud Rasmussen
[Copenhagen, Christiania], 1921

► Themes of the story

Transformation: Anarteq’s metamorphosis into a salmon after drowning highlights themes of change and adaptation.

Underworld Journey: His experience beneath the water’s surface parallels a journey into an unknown realm, akin to an underworld adventure.

Rebirth: Anarteq’s return to human form signifies renewal and the cyclical nature of life.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Inuit/Eskimo Lore

Learn more about Inuit peoples

There was once an old man, and he had only one son, and that son was called Anarteq. But he had many daughters. They were very fond of going out reindeer hunting to the eastward of their own place, in a fjord. And when they came right into the base of the fjord, Anarteq would let his sisters go up the hillside to drive the reindeer, and when they drove them so, those beasts came out into a big lake, where Anarteq could row out in his kayak and kill them all. Thus in a few days they had their umiak filled with meat, and could go home again.

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One day when they were out reindeer hunting, as was their custom, and the reindeer had swum out, and Anarteq was striking them down, he saw a calf, and he caught hold of it by the tail and began to play with it. But suddenly the reindeer heaved up its body above the surface of the water, and kicked at the kayak so that it turned over. He tried to get up, but could not, because the kayak was full of water. And at last he crawled out of it.

The women looked at him from the shore, but they could not get out to help him, and at last they heard him say: “Now the salmon are beginning to eat my belly.”

And very slowly he went to the bottom.

Now when Anarteq woke again to his senses, he had become a salmon.

But his father was obliged to go back alone, and from that time, having no son, he must go out hunting as if he had been a young man. And he never again rowed up to those reindeer grounds where they had hunted before.

And now that Anarteq had thus become a salmon, he went with the others, in the spring, when the rivers break up, out into the sea to grow fat.

But his father, greatly wishing to go once more to their old hunting grounds, went there again as chief of a party, after many years had passed. His daughters rowed for him. And when they came in near to the base of the fjord, he thought of his son, and began to weep. But his son, coming up from the sea with the other salmon, saw the umiak, and his father in it, weeping. Then he swam to it, and caught hold of the paddle with which his father steered. His father was greatly frightened at this, and drew his paddle out of the water, and said: “Anarteq had nearly pulled the paddle from my hand that time.”

And for a long while he did not venture to put his paddle in the water again. When he did so at last, he saw that all his daughters were weeping. And a second time Anarteq swam quickly up to the umiak. Again the father tried to draw in his paddle when the son took hold of it, but this time he could not move it. But then at last he drew it quite slowly to the surface, in such a way that he drew his son up with it.

And then Anarteq became a man again, and hunted for many years to feed his kin.

Manik

Manik, a skilled seal-hunter, resisted marriage until he abruptly decided to leave home. He abducted the chief hunter’s daughter and other women from villages to form a rowing crew. After wintering in the far north and encountering supernatural events, he returned home the next year, restoring the women to their families—except for the first, whom he made his wife.

Source:
Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo
by Henry Rink
[William Blackwood and Sons]
Edinburgh and London, 1875

► Themes of the story

Conflict with Authority: Manik’s actions in taking the chief hunter’s daughter and other women against their will represent a clear defiance of social and familial authority. His choices disrupt the established order, leading to tension and a struggle to restore balance within the community.

Supernatural Beings: As Manik ventures further into the northern lands, he encounters ghosts and witnesses magical feats. These supernatural elements reflect the Inuit belief in spirits and the spiritual dimensions of their world, adding depth to the story and emphasizing the mystery of the unknown.

Rebirth: The tale concludes with Manik returning the women to their families and integrating the first woman into his own life. This act symbolizes a renewal of social order and relationships, embodying the theme of rebirth through the restoration of balance and harmony after a period of upheaval.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Inuit/Eskimo Lore

Learn more about the Inuit peoples

Abridged version of the story.

Manik was a great seal-hunter, but his mother in vain urged him to take a wife. He continued a bachelor, till one day he suddenly ordered his mother to make ready the boat for removing from the place. As soon as she had made all ready, he hastened up to the house of the chief hunter, who at the time was absent, and carried away his daughter, crying and struggling in vain to be released. Having placed her on the boat he at once pushed off, and made for the north with all speed. At the first inhabited place they came past he again carried away a woman; and this continued until he had got a complete boat’s crew of rowing girls. He continued his voyage the whole season, till at length, having reached the far north, the frost set in, and for the time obliged him to take up his quarters there.

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While wintering here, and making excursions into the country, he once came to a solitary house, where he had an adventurous meeting with the ghost of a deceased woman; and from there he came to another, where he found the people feasting upon various meats, which they kept hauling from the ground by help of magic lays. The next year he set out for his own country, returning to their relatives all the women, excepting only the first one, whom he kept for his wife.

Avigiatsiak

Avigiatsiak, a young woman, was taken by a whale while sharpening her knife on the beach. After living with whales, she escaped, transformed into a seal, and was caught by a man who harpooned her. Her remains, except her head, were discarded, but her spirit entered the man’s wife, leading to her rebirth as a child, again named Avigiatsiak.

Source:
Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo
by Henry Rink
[William Blackwood and Sons]
Edinburgh and London, 1875

► Themes of the story

Transformation: Avigiatsiak’s journey from human to whale captive, then to seal, and finally to reborn child illustrates significant physical and spiritual metamorphoses.

Rebirth: Her cycle of death and subsequent rebirth as a child named Avigiatsiak highlights themes of renewal and the cyclical nature of life.

Supernatural Beings: Interactions with whales and seals, which possess mystical qualities in Inuit culture, emphasize the connection between humans and the supernatural realm.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Inuit/Eskimo Lore

Learn more about the Inuit peoples

Abridged version of the story.

Avigiatsiak was the name of a young woman who, while grinding her knife on the beach, was taken by a whale. After living for a time with the whales, she fled and was transformed into a seal, living with the seals.

As such she was caught by a man, hauled upon the ice, and cut to pieces, all excepting the head, which was thrown beneath the bench.

From thence she slipped into the womb of the man’s wife who had harpooned her, and was afterwards born anew, and called Avigiatsiak.

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The Forest Lad and the Wicked Giant

A family living in a forest confronts their past when the son yearns to return to their city home. Upon their return, they find the city deserted and encounter a giant who tests the boy’s strength through perilous tasks. With his mother’s love and the aid of the Holy Mother, the boy overcomes challenges, defeats the giant, and reclaims their rightful place, proving love’s enduring power.

Source
Tales of Giants from Brazil
by Elsie Spicer Eells
Dodd, Mead and Co. – New York, 1918

► Themes of the story

Trials and Tribulations: He undergoes perilous tasks set by the giant, testing his strength and determination.

Transformation through Love: With his mother’s love and the aid of the Holy Mother, the boy overcomes obstacles, highlighting love’s transformative power.

Rebirth: The family’s return to the city and the boy’s victory over the giant symbolize a renewal of their rightful place and a new beginning.

► From the same Region or People

South America
- Brazil

Learn more about Brazilian peoples

Once upon a time there was a man who took his wife and tiny baby son into the deep forest to make their home. With his own hands he built the house out of mud, and he made for it a thatched roof from the grass of the forest. For food they depended upon the fruits of the forest and the beasts which they killed in the hunt. They lived like hermits, seeing no one.

As the baby son grew into a large strong boy he learned from his father all the secrets of the forest. He grew wise as well as strong.

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From his mother he heard stories of their former life in the great city which had been their home before they went to live in the forest. These were the tales he loved to hear best of all. Very often when his father went out into the forest to hunt the boy would beg to remain at home with his mother. While his father was away she would sit on the ground before their hut and unfold to the boy all her memories of their old life.

“Father,” said the lad one day after his father had returned from his hunting trip, “I am tired of living here in the forest all by ourselves. Let us return to the city to live.”

“Your mother has been telling tales to you,” replied his father. “I will see to it that she never mentions the city to you again. We left the city to save our lives. Let me never hear from you another word about returning to the city.”

After that the lad was made to accompany his father when he went out hunting. There was no more opportunity to hear the tales he loved from his mother’s lips. Nevertheless he hid away in his mind all that his mother had told him of their old life; and at night, when the fierce storms in the forest or the sound of the wild beasts would not let him sleep, he often lay awake upon his mat on the floor of the hut, pondering over the stories she had told.

At last the father grew sick of a fever and died. Now that the lad and his mother were left alone in the forest the lad said, “Come, let us return to our home in the city. Let us not stay here alone in the forest any longer. I must live in my own life the tales you have told me of the festas and the dancing, the great tournaments, and the songs at night under the balconies of the fair maidens.”

The lad’s request was so urgent that his mother could not have refused him, even if she, in her own heart, was not longing for a return to the life of the city. Accordingly, they took all their possessions, which consisted only of a horse and a sword, and set out for the city.

The lad and his mother reached the city at nightfall. They went from one street to another, but saw no living being. They knocked and clapped their hands before all the doors of the city, but no one responded. At last they reached the street where their old home had been. The lad was delighted to see what a big handsome house it was. “No wonder my mother longed to return to a home like this,” he thought. “How could she ever have endured the rude hut in the depths of the forest?”

The doors of the beautiful house stood wide open. The lad and his mother entered, and passed from one room to another. His mother saw one room after another with everything unchanged. She recognized one object after another just as she had left it. There was one room in the house which was securely barred on the inside, however.

The lad and his mother spent the night in their old home. In the morning they again walked about the deserted streets of the city. They saw no one and heard no living sound. It was like a city of the dead. They grew hungry at length; and the lad went outside the city to seek for food in the forest, according to the custom which he had known all his life.

The mother returned to her old home to await the coming of her son. As soon as she went upstairs she saw that the barred door was wide open. There in the hall stood the most enormous giant she had ever seen. The great halls of the house were high, but the giant could not stand up in them without stooping.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” roared the giant in such a terrible voice that the house trembled.

The woman who had lived so many years in the forest was not easily frightened. “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” she shouted at the giant in the loudest tones she could muster.

One might have expected that the giant would have killed her instantly, but on the contrary her bold answer pleased him exceedingly. He laughed so hard that he had to lean against the wall to keep from falling.

“So you think that this is your house, do you?” said the giant as soon as he could regain his voice. “Well, I’ll tell you what we can do. I like you, and we can share this house if you will consent to be my wife.”

“I am not alone,” said the lad’s mother as soon as she could recover from her surprise sufficiently to find words. “My son is with me and I am expecting him any moment to return from the forest whither he has gone to procure food for us.”

“I can dispose of your son very quickly, just as I have destroyed all the inhabitants of this city,” said the giant with a frown.

“You cannot dispose of my son so easily as you may think,” replied his mother. “He has grown in the deep forest and is very strong, far stronger than the city dwellers. Besides his great strength, he is surrounded by the magic circle of his mother’s love.”

“I do not know what the magic circle of a mother’s love is like,” said the giant. “I don’t remember having seen one anywhere. Nevertheless I like you, and because I like you I will endeavour to dispose of your son as painlessly as possible. I believe you say you are expecting him any moment. Just lie down here and pretend that you are sick. When the boy comes in tell him that you have a terrible pain in your eyes. As you have lived long in the forest you will know that the best remedy for a pain in your eyes is the oil of the deadly cobra of the jungle. Send the lad out into the jungle to obtain this oil for you, and I promise you he will never return alive. I’ll go back into my room and bar the door so the boy will never see me, but I shall listen through the wall to know whether you carry out my command.”

At that very moment they heard the lad’s footsteps and his gay voice at the door. The giant went inside his room and barred the door. The lad’s mother lay down with a cloth over her eyes, moaning in loud tones. “The giant little knows the strength and skill of the lad whose mother I am,” she said to herself as she smiled amidst her moans and groans.

“O dear little mother, what evil has befallen you during my absence?” asked the boy as he entered the room.

His mother complained of the pain in her eyes just as the giant had instructed. “The only thing which will cure me of this terrible affliction is the oil of the cobra,” she said.

The boy well knew the dangers which attended securing the oil from the deadly cobra of the jungle, but never in his life had he disregarded a request from his mother. He at once set out for the jungle; and, in spite of the perils of the deed, he succeeded in obtaining the oil which his mother had requested.

On the way back to the city, the boy met a little old woman carrying a pole over her shoulder from which there hung, head downward, several live fowls which she was taking to market. It was really the Holy Mother herself who had come to aid the lad in answer to his mother’s prayer.

“Where are you going, my lad?” asked the old woman. The boy told his story and showed the precious oil which he had obtained from the cobra. “The day is coming, the day is coming, my lad, when you will, in truth, need the cobra’s oil,” said the little old woman. “But that day is not today. Today hen’s oil will serve your purpose just as well. You may kill one of my hens and use the hen’s oil, but leave the cobra’s oil with me so that I may keep it safely for you until the day when you will require it.”

The boy heeded the advice of the little old woman and killed one of her hens. He left the cobra’s oil with her and took the hen’s oil in its place to his mother. Because his mother had nothing at all the matter with her eyes, the hen’s oil cured them just as well as the cobra’s oil. There was no one who knew the difference, except the boy and the little old woman.

When the boy had gone out the giant came in from his own room and said, “In truth your son is a brave lad. I did not dream that he would have the courage to go in search of the oil of the deadly cobra, much less succeed in his quest.”

“You do not know the great love we bear each other,” said the lad’s mother.

“I am going to demand a new proof of your son’s strength and skill,” said the giant. “Tomorrow you must complain of the pain in your back and send the boy in search of the oil of the porcupine to cure it. This is my command.”

The next day the woman had to complain of a pain in her back just as the giant had commanded. There was nothing else which she could do. The boy at once went in search of a porcupine, and succeeded in slaying one and getting the oil.

On his way back to the city the lad again met the little old woman who was really Nossa Senhora. “Leave the oil of the porcupine with me, my son,” said she when she had heard his story. “I will keep it for you until the morrow when you will have great need of it. Today hen’s oil will serve your purpose just as well.”

Because the boy’s mother had nothing at all the matter with her back she was cured with the hen’s oil which the boy brought, just as easily as if it had been the porcupine’s oil. The giant came out of his room and said, “In truth, lad, you are a boy of great skill and strength.”

The boy had not seen the giant before and he was very much surprised. Before he even had time to recover from his amazement the giant had seized him and bound him securely with a great rope. “If you are really a strong boy you will break this rope,” said the giant. “If you are not strong enough to break it I shall cut you into five pieces with my sword.”

The boy struggled with all his might to break the great rope. It was no use. He was not strong enough. The giant stood by laughing.

When the lad’s mother saw that he could not break the rope she fell upon her knees before the giant and cried, “Do what you will to me, but spare my son!”

The cruel giant laughed at her request. When she saw that she could not keep him from slaying the boy, she said, “If you will not grant my large request I beg that you will listen to just a tiny, tiny, little one. When you cut my son into five pieces do it with his father’s sword which he has brought with him from the little hut in the forest where we used to live. Then bind his body upon the back of his father’s horse which he brought with him out of the forest and turn the horse loose, so it may travel, perchance, back to the forest from which I brought my lad to meet this terrible death.”

The giant did as she requested, and the horse bore the slain boy’s body along the road to the forest. Outside the city they met the little old woman who was really Nossa Senhora. She took the parts of the lad’s body and anointed them with the porcupine’s oil. Then she held them tight together. They stayed securely joined. “Are you lacking anything,” she asked the boy.

The boy felt of his legs, his arms, his ears, his nose, his hair. “I am all here except my eyesight,” he said. The little old woman anointed his eyes with the cobra’s oil. His sight was immediately restored. Then he knew that the little old woman was indeed the Holy Mother. She vanished as he knelt to receive her blessing.

The boy in his new strength quickly hastened back to the city. It was night and the giant was asleep. He seized his father’s sword and plunged it into the giant’s body. The giant turned over without awakening. “The mosquitoes are biting me,” he muttered in his sleep.

The boy saw the giant’s own enormous sword lying on the floor. It was so heavy he could barely lift it, but mustering all his strength he drove it into the giant’s body. The giant died immediately. “The magic circle of a mother’s love, with the Holy Mother’s help, will guard a lad against all perils,” said the boy’s mother when she heard her son’s story and saw the giant lying dead.

The Sleep of One Hundred Years

Rabbi Onias, mourning the destruction of Jerusalem, falls into a miraculous century-long sleep near the ruined city. When he awakens, he discovers Jerusalem rebuilt, yet feels alienated by the changed world. Recognizing he no longer belongs, Onias returns to his resting place and peacefully departs this life. His tale underscores resilience, the passage of time, and the enduring spirit of renewal and legacy.

Source
Jewish Fairy Tales and Legends
by Gertrude Landa (“Aunt Naomi”)
Bloch Publishing Co., New York, 1919

► Themes of the story

Time and Timelessness: Onias’s century-long sleep serves as a narrative device to explore the passage of time and the changes it brings, contrasting his unchanged state with the transformed world around him.

Echoes of the Past: Upon awakening, Onias confronts a world that has moved on without him, emphasizing how history and past events continue to influence the present, even as society progresses.

Rebirth: Jerusalem’s rise from ruins symbolizes rebirth, illustrating the enduring spirit of renewal and the possibility of new beginnings after devastation.

► From the same Region or People

West Asia
- Jewish Lore

Learn more about Jewish mythology

It was at the time of the destruction of the First Temple. The cruel war had laid Jerusalem desolate, and terrible was the suffering of the people.

Rabbi Onias, mounted on a camel, was sorrowfully making his way toward the unhappy city. He had traveled many days and was weary from lack of sleep and faint with hunger, yet he would not touch the basket of dates he had with him, nor would he drink from the water in a leather bottle attached to the saddle.

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“Perchance,” he said, “I shall meet some one who needs them more than I.”

But everywhere the land was deserted. One day, nearing the end of the journey, he saw a man planting a carob tree at the foot of a hill.

“The Chaldeans,” said the man, “have destroyed my beautiful vineyards and all my crops, but I must sow and plant anew, so that the land may live again.”

Onias passed sorrowfully on and at the top of the hill he stopped. Before him lay Jerusalem, not the once beautiful city with its hundreds of domes and minarets that caught the first rays of the sun each morning, but a vast heap of ruins and charred buildings. Onias threw himself on the ground and wept bitterly. No human being could he see, and the sun was setting over what looked like a city of the dead.

“Woe, woe,” he cried. “Zion, my beautiful Zion, is no more. Can it ever rise again? Not in a hundred years can its glory be renewed.”

The sun sank lower as he continued to gaze upon the ruined city, and darkness gathered over the scene. Utterly exhausted, Onias, laying his head upon his camel on the ground, fell into a deep sleep.

The silver moon shone serenely through the night and paled with the dawn, and the sun cast its bright rays on the sleeping rabbi. Darkness spread its mantle of night once more, and again the sun rose, and still Onias slept. Days passed into weeks, the weeks merged into months, and the months rolled on until years went by; but Rabbi Onias did not waken.

Seeds, blown by the winds and brought by the birds, dropped around him, took root and grew into shrubs, and soon a thick hedge surrounded him and screened him from all who passed. A date that had fallen from his basket, took root also, and in time there rose a beautiful palm tree which cast a shade over the sleeping figure.

And thus a hundred years rolled by.

Suddenly, Onias moved, stretched himself and yawned. He was awake again. He looked around confused.

“Strange,” he muttered. “Did I not fall asleep on a hill overlooking Jerusalem last night? How comes it now that I am hemmed in by a thicket and am lying in the shade of this noble date palm?”

With great difficulty he rose to his feet.

“Oh, how my bones do ache!” he cried. “I must have overslept myself. And where is my camel?”

Puzzled, he put his hand to his beard. Then he gave a cry of anguish.

“What is this? My beard is snow-white and so long that it almost reaches to the ground.”

He sank down again, but the mound on which he sat was but a heap of rubbish and collapsed under his weight. Beneath it were bones. Hastily clearing away the rubbish, he saw the skeleton of a camel.

“This surely must be my camel,” he said. “Can I have slept so long? The saddle-bags have rotted, too. But what is this?” and he picked up the basket of dates and the water-bottle. The dates and the water were quite fresh.

“This must be some miracle,” he said. “This must be a sign for me to continue my journey. But, alas, that Jerusalem should be destroyed!”

He looked around and was more puzzled than ever. When he had fallen asleep the hill had been bare of vegetation. Now it was covered with carob trees.

“I think I remember a man planting a carob tree yesterday,” he said. “But was it yesterday?”

He turned in the other direction and gave a cry of astonishment. The sun was shining on a noble city of glittering pinnacles and minarets, and around it were smiling fields and vineyards.

“Jerusalem still lives,” he exclaimed. “Of a truth I have been dreaming–dreaming that it was destroyed. Praise be to God that it was but a dream.”

With all speed he made his way across the plain to the city. People looked at him strangely and pointed him out to one another, and the children ran after him and called him names he did not understand. But he took no notice. Near the outskirts of the city he paused.

“Canst thou tell me, father,” he said to an old man, “which is the house of Onias, the rabbi?”

“‘Tis thy wit, or thy lack of it, that makes thee call me father,” replied the man. “I must be but a child compared with thee.”

Others gathered around and stared hard at Onias.

“Didst thou speak of Rabbi Onias?” asked one. “I know of one who says that was the name of his grandfather. I will bring him.”

He hastened away and soon returned with an aged man of about eighty.

“Who art thou?” Onias asked.

“Onias is my name,” was the reply. “I am called so in honor of my sainted grandfather, Rabbi Onias, who disappeared mysteriously one hundred years ago, after the destruction of the First Temple.”

“A hundred years,” murmured Onias. “Can I have slept so long?”

“By thy appearance, it would seem so,” replied the other Onias. “The Temple has been rebuilt since then.”

“Then it was not a dream,” said the old man.

They led him gently indoors, but everything was strange to him. The customs, the manners, the habits of the people, their dress, their talk, was all different, and every time he spoke they laughed.

“Thou seemest like a creature from another world,” they said. “Thou speakest only of the things that have long passed away.”

One day he called his grandson.

“Lead me,” he said, “to the place of my long sleep. Perchance I will sleep again. I am not of this world, my child. I am alone, a stranger here, and would fain leave ye.”

Taking the dates and the bottle of water which still remained fresh, he made his way to where he had slept for a hundred years, and there his prayer for peace was answered. He slept again, but not in this world will he awaken.

The Outcast Prince

A spoiled and arrogant prince, uncorrected by his father, incurs the wrath of his kingdom through cruelty and selfishness. Banished by the king until he learns to “Count Five,” the prince faces hardship, humility, and kindness. Guided by a rabbi and inspired by a noble princess, he redeems himself, transforming into a just leader and marrying the princess, bringing harmony to the realm.

Source
Jewish Fairy Tales and Legends
by Gertrude Landa (“Aunt Naomi”)
Bloch Publishing Co., New York, 1919

► Themes of the story

Trials and Tribulations: The prince faces various challenges during his banishment, which test his character and lead to his eventual transformation.

Family Dynamics: The relationship between the king and his son highlights the challenges of parental indulgence and the necessity of discipline.

Rebirth: The prince’s journey symbolizes a rebirth, as he sheds his former self to become a just and compassionate leader.

► From the same Region or People

West Asia
- Jewish Lore

Learn more about Jewish mythology

There lived a king who had an only son, on whom he doted. No one, not even his oldest tutor, was permitted to utter a word of correction to the prince whenever he did anything wrong, and so he grew up completely spoiled. He had many faults, but the worst features of his character were that he was proud, arrogant and cruel. Naturally, too, he was selfish and disobedient. When he was called to his lessons, he refused, saying, “I am a prince. Before many years I shall be your king. I have no need to learn what common people must know. Enough for me that I shall occupy the throne and shall rule. My will alone shall prevail. Says not the law of the land, ‘The king can do no wrong’?”

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Handsome and haughty, even as a youth, he made the king’s subjects fear him by his imperious manner. His appearance in the streets was the signal for everyone to run into his house, bar the doors, and peer nervously through the casements. He was a reckless rider, and woe betide the unfortunate persons who happened to be in his way. Sparing neither man, woman, nor child, he callously rode over them, or lashed out vindictively with the long whip he always carried, laughing when anyone screamed with pain.

So outrageous did his public conduct become that the people determined to suffer in silence no longer. They denounced the prince in public, they petitioned the king himself to restrain his son, and his majesty could not disregard the complaints. At first he was merely annoyed, then he was indignant, but when he saw that the people were thoroughly aroused and threatened revolt, he deemed it wise to inquire into the charges against his son.

A commission of three judges was appointed to investigate. They made fullest inquiry and finally laid a document before the king summarizing what they did not hesitate to declare the “infamous actions of His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince.”

The king’s sense of justice and righteousness at once overcame his foolish pride.

“My people stand justified in their attitude which at first I thought only disrespectful to my royal person,” he said. “I owe them an apology and recompense. I shall atone. And my son shall atone, too. He shall not escape punishment.”

He summoned his son to appear before him, and the prince entered the royal justice chamber with the air of a braggart, smiling contemptuously at the learned judges who were seated to right and left of his majesty, and defiantly cracking his whip.

“Knowest thou why thou hast been bidden to stand before the judges of the land?” asked the king.

“I know not and I care not,” was the haughty answer. “The foolish chatter of the mob interests me not.”

The king frowned. He had not seen the prince behave in this fashion before. In the presence of his father, he had always been respectful.

“Thou hast disgraced thy honored name and thy mother’s sacred memory, foolish prince,” exclaimed the monarch angrily. “Thou hast humiliated thyself and me before the people.”

Still the prince tried to laugh off the matter as a joke, but he quickly discovered that the king was in no mood for trifling. Standing grave and erect, his majesty pronounced sentence in a loud and firm voice.

“Know all men,” he said, while all the judges, counselors, officers of state and representatives of the people stood awed to silence, “that it having been proved on indisputable evidence that the prince, my son, hath grievously transgressed against the righteous laws of this land and against the people, my subjects, on whom he hath heaped insult, I have taken counsel with my advisers, the ministers of state, and it is my royal will and pleasure to pronounce sentence. Wherefore, I declare that my son, the prince, shall be cast forth into the world, penniless, and shall not return until he shall have learned how to Count Five. And be it further known that none may minister unto his wants should he crave assistance by declaring he is my son, the prince.”

The prince stood astounded. What did the mysterious sentence mean? None could tell him. The only answer to his inquiries was a shrug of the shoulders, for nobody would speak to him.

In the dead of night, with only the stars gazing down on the strange scene, the prince, clad in the cast-off garments of a common laborer, with his golden curls cut off and not a solitary coin in his pocket, was conducted outside the palace grounds and left alone in the road.

He was too much dazed to weep. He told himself this was some horrible dream from which he would waken in the morning, to find himself in his own beautiful room, lying on his gilded bed under the richly embroidered silken coverlet.

When dawn broke, however, he found himself hungry, tired, and his body painfully stiff, under a hedge. He knew now it was no dream but a reality. He was alone and friendless, with no means of earning his food. He understood then what hardships the poor were compelled to undergo, and he began to realize how he had made them suffer, and how, in turn, he was now to pay a heavy price for his brutal treatment of the people.

All that day he wandered aimlessly, until, foot-sore and exhausted, he sank down at the door of a wayside cottage and begged for food and shelter. These were given to him, and next day he was set to work in the fields. But his hands were not used to labor, and he was sent adrift, his fellow workers jeering at him. With a heavy heart, and his pride humbled, he set forth again to learn the mystery of how to Count Five.

Long days and endless nights, through the heat of the summer, through the snows of winter, the autumnal rains and cold blasts of early spring, he wandered.

A whole year passed away, and he had learned nothing. In truth, he had almost forgotten why he was aimlessly drifting from place to place, farther and farther from his home.

Hunger and thirst were more often than not his daily portion, and the cold earth by night was frequently his couch. Time seemed to drag along without meaning, and oft-times for a week he heard not the sound of a human voice.

He was a beggar, generally accepting gratefully what was given to him, sometimes with harsh words, often with kindly expressions. When he could, he worked, doing anything for small coins, for a rabbi, who had taken compassion on him, had said, “Do any honest work, however repugnant it may at first seem, rather than say haughtily, ‘I am the son of a rich father.'”

For a moment he wondered whether the rabbi had guessed his secret, but the learned man said to him he was but repeating a maxim from the Talmud.

Exactly a year from the date of his sentence, as well as he could keep count, the prince found himself in a strange land on the outskirts of a great city. There he fell in with a beggar who hailed him as a brother.

“Come with me,” said the beggar. “I know the lore of our fraternity as few do. I know where to obtain the best food and shelter for naught. Here, in this city, a beautiful and noble princess has established a place where all wayfarers may rest and refresh. None are turned away. I will take you thither.”

The beggar was as good as his word, and the prince enjoyed the best meal and the most comfortable shelter since he had been an outcast. Overcome with emotion at the thoughts which were conjured up, he retired into a corner and wept. Suddenly he heard a voice of entrancing sweetness say, “Why do you weep?”

He looked up and beheld the most beautiful woman his eyes had ever seen. Instinctively, he rose and bowed low, but made no answer.

“The princess speaks. It is your duty to answer,” said another voice, that of an attendant.

A princess! Of course, none but a princess could be so fair. And what a sympathetic voice she possessed. As a prince, he remembered, he had spoken harshly as a rule, and had never visited any of the charitable institutions.

“You must have a history,” said the princess, kindly. “Tell it to me. If it is to be kept a secret, you may place confidence in me. I shall not betray you.”

The prince was on the point of telling her everything but he hesitated and said:

“Alas! I am an unhappy, wandering beggar, as you see, O most gracious princess. But pity me not. I am not worthy of your kind thoughts. A year ago I dwelt in a–a beautiful house. I was the only son of a–rich merchant, and my father lavished all his love and wealth on me. But I was wicked. I was unkind to people, and I was cast forth and ordered not to return until I had learned to Count Five. I have not yet learned. I am doomed to a wretched life. That is the whole of my history.”

“Strange,” murmured the princess. “I will help thee if I can.”

Next day she came again to the shelter, and with her was the rabbi who had given the prince good counsel. The rabbi made no sign that he had seen the stranger before.

“This sage of the Jews is a wise man and will teach thee,” said the princess, and, at her bidding, the prince repeated what he had said the previous night.

“It is a simple lesson,” said the rabbi, “so absurdly simple, unfortunately, that proud people overlook it. Tell me, my son,” he added. “Hast thou experienced hunger?”

“That I have,” returned the prince, sadly.

“Then canst thou count One. Dost thou know what it is to feel cold?”

“I do.”

“Two canst thou count. Tell me, further, dost thou know what kindness of heart is?”

“That have I received from the poorest and also from the gracious princess.”

“Thou hast proceeded far in thy lesson,” said the rabbi. “Thou canst now count Three. Hast thou ever felt gratitude?”

“Indeed I have, often during this past year, and now most particularly.”

“Four is now the toll of thy count,” said the rabbi. “Tell me, my son, hast thou learned the greatest lesson of all? Dost thou feel humble in spirit?”

With tears in his eyes, the prince answered, “I do, most sincerely.”

“Then hast thou truly learned to Count Five. Return to thy father. He must be a wise and just man to impose on thee this lesson. He will assuredly forgive thee. Go, with my blessing,” and the rabbi raised his hands above the young man’s head and uttered a benediction.

“Take also my good wishes,” said the princess, and she offered him her hand to kiss.

“Gracious princess,” he said, “it is not meet that a beggar in rags should speak what is in his heart. But I shall return, and if thou deemest me worthy, perchance thou wilt grant a request that I shall make.”

“Perchance,” replied the princess, with a laugh.

The prince made haste to return to his father’s palace and related all his adventures. The old man listened quietly, then he clasped his son in his arms, forgave him, and proudly proclaimed him prince before all the people again. He was a changed man, and nevermore guilty of a cruel action.

Before many months had passed, he returned to the city where he had seen the princess, with a long retinue of attendants, all bearing presents.

“Gracious princess,” he said, when he had been granted an audience. “I said I would return.”

“Indeed! I know thee not.”

The prince told her of their former meeting and she seemed highly pleased.

“Now,” he said, “put the crown on thy work which restored to me the manhood I had foolishly cast away by my conduct. I would make thee my bride, and with thee ever my guide and counselor, I shall be the most faithful of kings, and thou a queen of goodness and beauty and wisdom such as the world has not yet seen.”

The princess did not give her answer immediately, but in due course she did; and once again, the prince returned home, this time happier than ever. Sitting by his side in the chariot of state, was the princess, radiant in smiles, for the people welcomed her heartily, strewing flowers in her path. And ever afterward there was happiness throughout the land.