ach covered with pebbles and large heaps of fish and
matak (edible skin). Perceiving this the old people for joy forgot the
warning and turned round, and instantly all disappeared: the prow of
the boat knocked right against the steep rock and was smashed in, so
that they all were thrown down by the shock. The son [the revived]
said, 'Now we must remain apart for ever.'" Mr. Tylor, in the 2nd
volume of his _Primitive Culture_, at p. 147 mentions a Zulu remedy
for preventing a dead man from tormenting his widow in her dreams; the
sorcerer goes with her to lay the ghost, and when this is done
"charges her not to look back till she gets home:" and he says the
Khonds of Orissa, when offering human sacrifices to the earth-goddess
bury their portions of the offering in holes in the ground behind
their backs without looking round (_ib._ p. 377).

4. In most of the stories of this kind the command is to open the
fruit or casket only near water, for if the beautiful maiden inside
cannot get water immediately she dies. Such is the case in the "Drei
Pomeranzen" (Stier's _Ungarische Maerchen und Sagen_, p. 83), in "Die
Schoene mit dem sieben Schleier" (_Sicilianische Maerchen_, vol. I. p.
73), and in "Die drei Citronen" (Schmidt's _Griechische Maerchen,
Sagen und Volkslieder_, p. 71). "Die Ungeborene Niegesehene" (Schott's
_Wallachische Maerchen_, p. 248) must be compared with these, though
the beautiful maiden does not come out of the golden fairy-apple. She
appears suddenly and the prince must give her water to drink and the
apple to eat, before he can take her and keep her. In all these
stories the hero has a long journey, and encounters many dangers, in
seeking his bride. In the Sicilian story he is helped by hermits; in
the Greek story, by a monk--monks in Greek and hermits in Sicilian and
Servian stories playing the part of the fakirs in these Indian tales.
In all these stories, too, the maiden is killed or transformed by a
wicked woman who takes her place. In the Wallachian and Sicilian fairy
tales the rightful bride becomes a dove only. But in the Hungarian
tale she is drowned in a well and becomes a gold fish; the wicked
gipsy has no rest till she has eaten the fish's liver: from one of its
scales springs a tree; she has the tree cut down and burnt. The
wood-cutter who hews down the tree makes a cover for his wife's
milk-pot from a piece of the wood, and they find their house kept in
beautiful order from this moment. So to