Preface
Some three-fourths of the distance between America and Europe there is a group of nine beautiful islands called the Azores which belong to Portugal. Their names are Flores, Corvo, Fayal, Pico, S. Jorge, Graciosa, Terceira, S. Miguel, and Santa Maria. Many people think them to be the mountain peaks of the submerged continent, Atlantis, which long ago was covered by the ocean.
There are ancient records which tell of Arabian caravels driven back by dangerous seas surrounding islands full of volcanoes. There are old pictures which portray seas of spouting geysers and flaming volcanic isles. In these regions islands had a habit of suddenly lifting themselves out of the ocean and then disappearing again from view. When the largest of the islands, S. Miguel or St. Michael as it is called in English, was mapped, two mountain peaks were marked where later only one could be discovered. Thus it was that the Azores gained their reputation. Islands full of volcanoes amid seas of spouting geysers could be nothing else but enchanted. And islands and mountain peaks which suddenly vanished away from one’s sight! Surely the Azores must be the true land of magic.
“The day of folktales is departing from the Azores,” said the wise woman. “Public schools came with the republic, and where books of printed stories enter folktales become confused and soon are lost.”
“There is no originality among our islanders,” complained the wise man of the islands. “They have told over and over again the stories of our mother country, Portugal, and they have made few variations.”
However, when I spent December 1920 and January 1921 in the Azores in connection with research work for the Hispanic Society, I found that there were not only pleasant folktales there but even real fairies. They inhabit the wooded slopes of Monte Brasil on the island of Terceira. The fisher folk who visit the barren Ilheos de Cabras on the Bay of Angra know that there are fairies living in those rocky isles even yet when the boys and girls of the Azores are sailing away from them to seek their fortunes in America. Have they not often seen the fairy garments spread out upon the rocks in the bright sunshine?
“You are like the Holy Virgin herself,” said the little maid of St. Michael.
“Did you ever see the Virgin?” asked my friend.
“Once the white clouds parted for a moment and I caught a glimpse of her beautiful blue mantle,” replied the child reverently.
Yes, there are still fairies and simple faith and magic in the islands. One who visits the boiling springs at Furnas does not doubt for a moment that he is upon enchanted ground.
Folk tales are composite. No one person or group of persons can claim credit for them. They are our inheritance from many storytellers. To all these storytellers both of yesterday and of to-day I offer my grateful appreciation and hearty thanks.
I have endeavored to tell the stories in a way which will be pleasing to American children. To do this I have taken the liberty of making occasional elaborations or omissions which I believe add to the value of the story. Everywhere first of all I have tried to keep the spirit of the Azores.
Thanks are due the publishers of the “Delineator” and the “Outlook” for permission to reprint stories which have appeared in these magazines.
E. S. E.
Princess Bluegreen of the Seven Cities
The Islands of Flowers
Why Dogs Sniff
Longstaff, Pinepuller and Rockheaver
The Table, the Sifter and the Pinchers
Linda Branca and her Mask
Fresh Figs
Peter-of-the-Pigs
The Princess Who Lost Her Rings
The Master of Magic
St. Anthony’s Godchild
Trouble When One’s Young
The Little Maid Who Was Wise
Manoel Littlebean
The Necklace of Pearls
The Daughter of the King of Naples
Maria-of-the-Forest
The Seven Enchanted Princes
The Listening King
José the Beast Slayer
The Princess of the Lost Island
Why The Alvéloa Bird Received a Blessing
Why the Codorniz Bird Received a Curse
Outside the Door Like the Mother of St. Peter
Why the Owl Flies at Night
The Laborer and His Master
’Tis Faith Which Saves
St. Brendan’s Island
The Silent Cavalier
The Enchanted Palace
The Friend of the Devil
The Miller’s Cloak
The Magic Mouthful
The Messengers
Nothing but the Sea, Sky and Rock....... Frontispiece
King Graywhite Struck His Royal Sword Against the Great Wall
“Will Somebody Please Pass the Pepper”
The Three Friends Journeyed on Together
“Table, Set Yourself,” Said the Man
She Quietly Stole Out of the House
The Two Rabbits Came Running Up to Him
He Buried It Halfway in the Sand
The Two Old Women, The Princess, The King and Queen, and All the Courtiers Followed
The Horse Had Changed Into a Kernel of Corn
He Climbed Up the High Wall of the Palace
“Oh, Stone From My Garden Wall,” She Was Saying
They Were Big and Heavy, but Her Great Fear Gave Her Strength
“Take Me Home as Fast as You Can!”
Then He Sorrowfully Returned to His Waiting Ship
“We Never Have Looked So Neat and Clean”
The Miller and His Wife Were the Most Surprised People in the Whole Country
Pedro Lifted the Two Great Jars and Slowly Climbed Up the Hill
It Appeared That the Fair Maid Would Die
The Peaceful Snow-Capped Summit of Mt. Pico
The Beautiful Enchanted Palace in the Lake of Ginjal
He Bowed His Head Upon His Hands
He Wrapped Himself In the Brown Cloak And Went Out Through the Fierce Blinding Storm