He lives in the awful Balete tree,
And to pass the place you must say “Tabi”;
If you do not, the Asuang comes at night,
And throws big stones till you die of fright.

Now once there lived in Santa Cruz town
A little girl known as Juanita Calaon;
She was gentle and sweet and as good as could be,
And she always bowed low to the Balete tree.

One day to the forest alone she did roam
To get some good wood for the fire at home;
She gathered some twigs that she found on the ground,
And all of them fast in a bundle she bound.

Then happy and free, with the pack on her head,
She followed the road that back to town led.
She sang as she walked, and so happy was she
That alas! she bowed not to the Balete tree.

All at once then she heard a most terrible roar,
And the Tic-balan fierce through the air seemed to soar.
He seized poor Juanita, and quick as could be
He shut her inside of the Balete tree.

Two days passed, and when the girl failed to come back,
Her parents went out, and no friends did they lack
To help in the search, for the whole pueblo came,
And loudly they shouted poor Juanita’s name.

At last when they thought that the search brought no good,
One man found Juanita’s neat bundle of wood;
He called the good news, and as more came to see,
Loud knocking was heard in the Balete tree.

Then many were frightened, but many were brave,
And wondered by what means the girl they could save;
For they knew that it must be Juanita who knocked,
And that inside the Balete tree she was locked.

Soon they ordered that candles and music be brought,
And a crucifix holy was what they next sought;
And when all was ready they closed round the tree,
While they prayed to the true God to set the girl free.

They lighted the candles and then the band played,
And Juanita’s mother, who was not afraid,
Advanced with the crucifix held in her hand,
And tapped with the cross on the evil tree grand.

Then a roar shook the forest and chilled all their hearts,
And the awful Balete split into two parts;
Then they saw in the center, as each big half fell,
Their darling Juanita all smiling and well.

She ran from the tree to her fond mother dear,
While the band played and every one gave a loud cheer;
Then back to the pueblo they danced in delight,
And kept up their singing through all the long night.

Still there to this day lies the Balete tree,
But no more do the people that pass say “Tabi.”
And the spirit no more can molest any man,
For God has more power than the fierce Tic-balan.

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• January 11, 2010 -- THE TOBACCO OF HARISABOQUED (0)
• November 10, 2009 -- 9. Panjilaras and Santo (0)
• August 31, 2009 -- 2. The Real Queen Helpless In The Ravine (2)
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Little Quicoy’s name was Francisco, but every one called him Quicoy, which, in Visayan, is the pet name for Francisco. He was a good little boy and helped his mother grind the corn and pound the rice in the big wooden bowl, but one night he was very careless. While playing in the corner with the cat he upset the jar of lubi lana, and all the oil ran down between the bamboo strips in the floor and was lost. There was none left to put in the glass and light, so the whole family had to go to bed in the dark.

Quicoy s mother was angry. She whipped him with her chinela and then opened the window and cried:
“Ongloc of the mountains! Fly in through the door. Catch Quicoy and eat him, he is mine no more.”
Quicoy was badly frightened when he heard this, for the Ongloc is a big black man with terrible long teeth, who all night goes searching for the bad boys and girls that he may change them into little coconuts and put them on a shelf in his rock house in the mountains to eat when he is hungry.

So when Quicoy went to his bed in the corner he pulled the matting over his head and was so afraid that he did not go to sleep for a long time.

The next morning he rose very early and went down to the spring where the boys get the water to put in the bamboo poles and carry home. Some boys were already there, and he told them what had taken place the night before. They were all sorry that his mother had called the Ongloc, but they told him not to be afraid for they would tell him how he could be forever safe from that terrible man.

It was very easy. All he had to do was to go at dusk to the coconut grove by the river and dig holes under two trees. Then he was to climb a tree, get the coconut that grew the highest, and, after taking off the husk and punching in one of the little eyes, whisper inside:
“Ongloc of the mountains! Ongloc! Ugly man! I’m a little coconut, catch me if you can!”

Then he was to cut the coconut in halves, quickly bury one piece in one of the holes, and, running to the other tree, bury the remaining half in the other hole. After that he might walk home safely, being sure not to run, for the Ongloc has always to obey the call of the coconut, and must hunt through the grove to find the one that called him. Should he cross the line between the holes, the buried pieces would fly out of the holes, snap together on him, and, flying up the tree from which they came, would keep him prisoner for a hundred years.

Quicoy was happy to think that he could capture the Ongloc, and resolved to go that very night. He wanted some of the boys to go with him, but they said he must go alone or the charm would be broken. They also told him to be careful himself and not cross the line between the holes or he would be caught as easily as the Ongloc.
So Quicoy went home and kept very quiet all day. His mother was sorry she had frightened him the night before, and was going to tell him not to be afraid; but when she thought of the lubi lana spilled on the ground, she resolved to punish him more by saying nothing to him.
Just at dark, when no one was looking, Quicoy took his father s bolo and quietly slipped away to the grove down by the river. He was not afraid of ladrones, but he needed the bolo because it is not easy to open a cocanut, and it takes some time, even with a bolo, to get the husk chopped from the fruit.

Quicoy felt a little frightened when he saw all the big trees around him. The wind made strange noises in the branches high above him, and all the trees seemed to be leaning over and trying to speak to him.
He felt somewhat sorry that he had come, but when he thought of the Ongloc he mustered up courage and went on until he found an open space between two high trees.
He stopped here and dug a hole under each of the trees. Then he put his feet in the notches and climbed one of the trees.
It was hard work, for the notches were far apart; but at last he reached the branches and climbed to the top. The wind rocked the tree and made him dizzy, but he reached the highest coconut, threw it to the ground, and then started down the tree. It was easy to come down, though he went too fast and slipped and slid some distance, skinning his arms and legs. He did not mind that, however, for he knew he had the coconut that would capture the Ongloc. He picked it up, chopped off the husk, punched in one of the little eyes, and whispered inside:
“Ongloc of the mountains! Ongloc! Ugly man! I‘m a little coconut, catch me if you can! ”

He then chopped it in halves and buried one piece, and, running to the other tree, buried the remaining piece. Just as he finished he thought he heard a noise in the grove, and, instead of walking, he started to run as fast as he could.
It was very dark now, and the noise grew louder and made him run faster and faster, until suddenly a dreadful scream sounded directly in front of him, and a terrible black thing with fiery eyes come flying at him. He turned in terror and ran back toward the trees. He knew it was the Ongloc answering the call of the cocoanut, and he ran like mad, but the monster had seen him and flew after him, screaming with rage.

Faster and faster he ran, but nearer and nearer sounded the frightful screams until, just as he felt two huge claws close on his neck, there was a bump, a loud snap, and he felt himself being carried high in the air. When the shock was over he found that he was squeezed tightly between two hard walls, and he could hear the Ongloc screaming and tearing at the outside with his claws. Then he knew what had happened.

He had crossed the line between the buried pieces and they had snapped on him and carried him up the tree from which they came. He was badly squeezed but he felt safe from the Ongloc, who finally went away in disappointment; for although he likes coconuts, he cannot take one from a tree, but must change a boy or girl into the fruit if he wishes to eat of it.

Quicoy waited a long, long time and then knocked on the shell in the hope that someone would hear him. All that night and the next day and the next he knocked and cried and knocked, but, though people passed under the tree and found the bolo, he was so high up they did not hear him.

Days and weeks went by and the people wondered w r hat had become of Quicoy. Many thought he had run away and were sorry for his poor mother, who grieved very much to think she had terrified him by calling the Ongloc. Of course the boys who had sent him to the grove could have told something of his whereabouts, but they were frightened and said nothing, so no one ever heard of poor little Quicoy again.

If you pass a coconut grove at night you can hear a noise like someone knocking. The older people say that the coconuts grow so closely together high up in the branches that the wind, when it shakes the tree, bumps them together. But the children know better. They say, “Quicoy is knocking to get out, but he must stay there a hundred years.”

Related Posts

• February 4, 2010 -- The Escape of Juanita (0)
• January 11, 2010 -- THE TOBACCO OF HARISABOQUED (0)
• October 7, 2009 -- 4. Panjilaras and An Egg (0)
• August 11, 2009 -- 3. A Person Who Lived Under A Spell (1)
• August 11, 2009 -- 2. New Friend, New Life (1)

At the time when the Pasig flowed peacefully along between flowery
banks; when its breast was not torn by puffing steamers; and when
only a few clustering huts marked the present site of Manila, there
grew on the banks of the river a beautiful field of lilies.

The lilies glistened like silver in the sunlight, and their sweet odor filled the air with delicious perfume. No hand plucked them from the earth, and no foot trampled out their fragrance; for an ancient prophecy had said that while the lilies stood the happiness of the people should endure.

But after a time there came dark days in the history of the Philippines. Yellow hordes swept across the water and carried all before them. The people could hardly expect to resist the invaders, for their warrior king, Loku, had profaned the word of the god, and, in the form of a lizard, was fulfilling his punishment. Their armies were weak and scattered, and the conquerors marched on in triumph.

As report after report of disaster reached Luzon, the people trembled
for the safety of their fair land. Warriors gathered hastily for the
defense of the nation, and all waited for the enemy to appear.

One day the water was dotted with the junks of the invaders. They
came slowly down the bay, and anchored near the mouth of the Pasig.

Then from the boats poured the yellow warriors. Spears rained upon them, stones and arrows laid them low, but their numbers were
countless. The people were swept back along the river banks.

Fiercely they fought, but numbers told against them. Foot by foot
they were pressed back, till they stood on the border of the field
of lilies, where they made their last stand. But it was to no purpose.

The invaders poured from the ships, and in one desperate charge
drove back the ranks of the people, who fought and died among their
sacred lilies.

All through the night the battle raged, and at daybreak, when the
victorious invaders rested on their spears, the beautiful field was
no more.

The lilies were crushed and torn. The bodies of dead and dying warriors
lay everywhere, and the crushed flowers were stained with the blood
of friend and foe. The peace of the land was lost.

Many years have passed since then. New races have come to the Islands, and new manners and customs have been introduced. The Pasig still flows on to the sea, but its banks are harnessed by bridges. Lofty dwellings and stores take the place of the little huts, and a great
city marks the site of the little village.

Where once was the beautiful field is now a busy part of the great
city. It is called Quiapo, after the lilies. Many of the older people
remember the prophecy and wonder if the lilies will ever return.

The land is now a peaceful and contented one. Comfort and happiness
may be found among its inhabitants. Perhaps the fair, strange women
from the great land over the sea are the lilies. Who can tell?

Related Posts

• January 17, 2010 -- The Passing of Loku (0)

I

In his small wooden box
That hangs on the wall
Sits a queer-looking bird
That in words sounds his call.
From daybreak to twilight
His cry he repeats,
Resting only whenever
He drinks or he eats.
He never grows weary,–
Hear! There he goes now!
“Comusta pari?
Pericos tao.”

II

And all the day long
You can hear this strange cry:
“How are you, father?
A parrot-man I.”
He sits on his perch,
In his little white cap,
And pecks at your hand
If the cage door you tap.
Now give him some seeds,
Hear him say with a bow,
“Comusta pari?
Pericos tao.”

III

Poor little birdie!
How hard it must be
To sit there in prison
And never be free!
I’ll give you a mango,
And teach you to say
“Thank you,” and “Yes, sir,”
And also “Good day.”
You’ll find English as easy
As what you say now,
“Comusta pari?
Pericos tao.”

IV

I’ll teach you “Good morning”
And “How do you do?”
Or “I am well, thank you,”
And “How are you too?”
“Polly is hungry” or
“It’s a fine day.”
These and much more
I am sure you could say.
But now I must go,
So say with your bow,
“Comusta pari?
Pericos tao.”

Other post

• March 19, 2009 -- Introductory Note (34)
• April 16, 2009 -- 5. The Black Cat (18)
• August 29, 2009 -- 1. Left Alone In The Little Hut (15)
• January 21, 2010 -- THE PERICOS (11)
• April 16, 2009 -- 4. Boat to Beirut (8)

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They gave me a special link to pass on to my readers that will give you 65% off the retail price of their premier Business Monitoring Package. You can take advantage of it by clicking the link below:

Start Monitoring Your Website Now

Even if you just want the free monitoring account use the link above so you can get your discount if you ever decide to upgrade.

Everybody?s website goes down at one point or another. Why not be prepared ahead of time so you?ll at least know there?s a problem.

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• May 17, 2009 -- 9. Antipka is Happy (1)

Hundreds of years ago a very wicked king named Loku ruled the
Philippines. He was cruel and unjust, and condemned to death all who
refused to do his bidding. He had vast armies and made war on all until his name was feared everywhere.

His power was very great. He conquered every nation that opposed him
and killed so many people that the god, viewing the slaughter from his throne above, sent an angel to order him to cease from warfare and to rule the land in peace.

Loku was in his palace, planning an assault on his neighbors, when a soft light filled the chamber, and a beautiful angel appeared and delivered the mandate of the master.

The cruel king paid no heed, but dismissed the holy messenger in scorn. “Tell your master,” said he, “to deliver his message in person. I do not deal with messengers. I am Loku. All fear my name. I am the great Loku.”

Hardly had he spoken when the palace shook to its foundations and a mighty voice thundered, “Is it thus thou Slightest my word? Thou art Loku. All shall indeed know thy name. From every crevice thou shalt forever cry it in a form that suits thy ill nature.”

The courtiers, alarmed by the shock, rushed to the king’s chamber, but Loku was nowhere to be found. The royal robes lay scattered on the floor and the only living thing to be seen was an ugly lizard that blinked at them from among the plans on the table.

They searched far and wide, and when no trace of the king could be found the courtiers divided the kingdom and ruled so wisely and well that there was peace for many years.

As for Loku, you may still hear him fulfilling his punishment. From
crack and crevice, tree and shrub, he calls his name from dark till
dawn: “Lok-u! Lok-u! Lok-u!”

And he must cry it forever.

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And before the strange men came over the water from Spain, there lived in Negros, on the mountain of Canlaon, an old man who had great power over all the things in the earth. He was called Harisaboqued, King of the Mountain.

When he wished anything done he had but to tap the ground three times and instantly a number of little men would spring from the earth to answer his call.
They would obey his slightest wish, but as he was a kind old man and never told his dwarfs to do anything wrong, the people who lived near were not afraid.
They planted tobacco on the mountain side and were happy and prosperous.

The fields stretched almost to the top of the mountain and the plants grew well, for every night Harisaboqued would order his dwarfs to attend to them, and though the tobacco was high up it grew faster and better than that planted in the valley below.

The people were very grateful to the old man and were willing to do anything for him; but he only asked them not to plant above a line he had ordered his little men to draw around the mountain near the top. He wished that place for himself and his dwarfs.

All obeyed his wish and no one planted over the line. It was a pretty sight to see the long rows of tobacco plants extending from the towns below far up to the line on the mountain side.

One day Harisaboqued called the people together and told them that he was going away for a long time. He asked them again not to plant over the line, and told them that if they disregarded this wish he would carry all the tobacco away and permit no more to grow on the mountain side until he had smoked what he had taken.
The people promised faithfully to obey him. Then he tapped on the ground, the earth opened, and he disappeared into the mountain.

Many years passed and Harisaboqued did not come back. All wondered why he did not return and at last decided that he would never do so. The whole mountain side was covered with tobacco and many of the people looked with greedy eyes at the bare ground above the line, but as yet they were afraid to break their promise.

At last one man planted in the forbidden ground, and, as nothing happened, others did the same, until soon the mountain was entirely covered with the waving plants. The people were very happy and soon forgot about Harisaboqued and their promise to him.

But one day, while they were laughing and singing, the earth suddenly opened and Harisaboqued sprang out before them.
They were very much frightened and fled in terror down the mountain side. When they reached the foot and looked back they saw a terrible sight. All the tobacco had disappeared and, instead of the thousands of plants that they had tended so carefully, nothing but the bare mountain could be seen.

Then suddenly there was a fearful noise and the whole mountain top flew high in the air, leaving an immense hole from which poured fire and smoke.

The people fled and did not stop until they were far away. Harisaboqued had kept his word.

Many years have come and gone, but the mountain is bare and the smoke still rolls out of the mountain top. Villages have sprung up along the sides, but no tobacco is grown on the mountain. The people remember the tales of the former great crops and turn longing eyes to the heights above them, but they will have to wait. Harisaboqued is still smoking his tobacco.

Related Posts

• February 4, 2010 -- The Escape of Juanita (0)
• January 31, 2010 -- QUICOY AND THE ONGLOC (0)

We arrived at Philadelphia about eight or nine o’clock the following morning and landed at the Market Street pier. All the money I had was one Dutch dollar and some small coins. I gave the coins to the owner of the boat, who at first refused to take it because of my rowing; but I insisted. A man is sometimes more generous when he has but a little money than when he has plenty, perhaps through fear of bearing thought to have but little.

I was in my working clothes; my best clothes were supposed to arrive at a later time by sea. I was dirty from my journey, my pocket filled with shirts and stockings, and I knew no one nor where to look for a room. I was exhausted from traveling, rowing, and lack of sleep and I was very hungry, I walked up the street, looking at many clean-dressed people till near the Markethouse I met a boy with bread. I had many a meal on bread, and asking where he got it. I went immediately to the shop on Second Street and bought three great puffy rolls. Having no room in my pockets I walked off with a roll under each arm, eating the third.

Thus I went up Market Street, passing by the door of Mr. Reed, my future wife’s father when she, standing at the door, saw me and thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, foolish appearance.

Benjamin Franklin was born in Boston in 1706. After an apprenticeship as a printer, he left Boston when he was seventeen years old and went to Philadelphia to seek his independence and fortune. The selection which follows, taken from his Autobiography, tells of his arrival in this city.

During his lifetime, Franklin was a printer, inventor,  author, statesman, and diplomat. He first became world famous because of his experiments in electricity.

As an author his famous book was his unfinished Autobiography. He played many important roles during the time of the American Revolution; he was an extremely able diplomat, and he was one of the five men chosen to write the Declaration of Independence. He was active in government until his death in 1790.

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I three days I found myself in New York, nearly 300 miles from home. I was but a boy of 17, without the least recommendation to or knowledge of any person in the place, and with very little money in my pocket.

Having a trade, and supposing myself a good worker, I offered my services to the printer in the place, old Mr. William Bradford, who had been the first printer in Pennsylvania before he moved to New York. He could give me no employment, but he said, “My son at Philadelphia need assistant and if you go there, I believe he may hire you.”

Philadelphia was 100 miles further. I started out, however, and leaving my trunk of clothes to follow me by a larger ship. I hired a small boat to carry me as far as Amboy. Just outside New York harbor, a storm drove the little boat upon the shore of Long Island. With night approaching, the boatman and I had no choice but to wait until the wind stopped. We tried to sleep but we were so crowded and uncomfortable with the water crashing over the boat and leaking through to us, we had very little rest that night. We managed to reach Amboy the next evening, having been thirty hours on the water without food or any drink.

next

Other post

• March 19, 2009 -- Introductory Note (34)
• April 16, 2009 -- 5. The Black Cat (18)
• August 29, 2009 -- 1. Left Alone In The Little Hut (15)
• January 21, 2010 -- THE PERICOS (11)
• April 16, 2009 -- 4. Boat to Beirut (8)

He had some clever men among his friends whose writing added to the success of the newspaper. These gentlemen often visited us. Hearing their conversation, and their accounts of the approval their articles had received, I became excited and decided to write a piece of my own. But still being a boy, and suspecting that my brother would object to printing anything of mine, I wrote an article and left it unsigned. At night, I put it under the door of printing house. It was found in the morning, and shown to his writing friends when they came to visit. They read it and gave their opinions.

I had the wonderful pleasure of finding it met with their approval, and that, in their different guesses as to the author, they named men of learning and imagination. I suppose now that I was lucky in my judges, and that perhaps my writings were not as good as I then thought.

Encouraged by this judgements, however, I wrote and delivered in the same way several more articles which were also approved; and I kept my secret till I just about ran out of ideas. When my brother finally found out, he was not exactly pleased. Perhaps this might be one cause for the arguments that we began to have about this time.

next

Other post

• March 19, 2009 -- Introductory Note (34)
• April 16, 2009 -- 5. The Black Cat (18)
• August 29, 2009 -- 1. Left Alone In The Little Hut (15)
• January 21, 2010 -- THE PERICOS (11)
• April 16, 2009 -- 4. Boat to Beirut (8)