THE GUINEA-FOWL.
The guinea-fowl, it is said, went to visit his relations beyond the forest; but when he came to the thick of the woods he turned giddy and fell, and broke his wing. Then he lamented thus: "I would go on, go on, but cannot; yet if I go back, I long for my relations."
So that, they say, is the origin of the proverbial saying, "Guinea-fowl in the midst of the forest: go forward, he can't; go back, wing broken; stay there, longs for his relatives."
THE SÌTRY AND THE ÀNTSIÀNTSY.
(These are two small species of Lizard.)
These creatures are both small animals, yet many people pay them honour. They say that when a certain person called Rasòavòlovolòina had a child born, the sìtry went off to visit her, but was stoned and killed.
Then came the àntsiàntsy, and was also stoned by Rasòa and killed.
And when Rasòa went out to feel the sun's warmth, then came also the tàkatrà[1] (the tufted umber) and the sìtry and the àntsiàntsy went to the door of Rasòa's house.
And when evening came on, then the whole of the animals came and mourned at the door and devoured the child of Rasòa, and every one of them, it is said, lamented. And on account of that, Rasòavòlovolòina took an oath (or invoked a curse), saying: "If any of my descendants should kill a sìtry or an àntsiàntsy they must wrap up its corpse in silk."[2]
There are still many people who believe this story, and dare not kill either of these lizards; and should they accidentally kill them they wrap the corpse in a silk cloth. "Those who kill them," say some folks, "will die young."
THE HAWK AND THE HEN.
A hawk, they say, had a son born to her, and a hen came to nurse her. And after the hawk had been nursed a week she went to take exercise, and gave her son to the hen to nurse. But when it was broad day and the hawk did not come, the hen grew angry and killed the young one.
So when the hawk came home and saw its young one dead it was
