THE EARLY BIRD - George MacDonald

By George MacDonald

Origins of "the EARLY BIRD (gets the WORM)"

A little bird sat on the edge of her nest;
               Her yellow-beaks slept as sound as tops;
            That day she had done her very best,
               And had filled every one of their little crops.
            She had filled her own just over-full,
               And hence she was feeling a little dull.

            "Oh, dear!" she sighed, as she sat with her head
               Sunk in her chest, and no neck at all,
            While her crop stuck out like a feather bed
               Turned inside out, and rather small;
            "What shall I do if things don't reform?
            I don't know where there's a single worm.

            "I've had twenty today, and the children five each,
               Besides a few flies, and some very fat spiders:
            No one will say I don't do as I preach --
               I'm one of the best of bird-providers;
            But where's the use?  We want a storm --
            I don't know where there's a single worm."

            "There's five in my crop," said a wee, wee bird,
               Which woke at the voice of his mother's pain;
            "I know where there's five." And with the word
               He tucked in his head, and went off again.
            "The folly of childhood," sighed his mother,
            "Has always been my especial bother."

            The yellow-beaks they slept on and on --
               They never had heard of the bogey Tomorrow;
            But the mother sat outside, making her moan --
               She'll soon have to beg, or steal, or borrow.
            For she never can tell the night before,
            Where she shall find one red worm more.

            The fact, as I say, was, she'd had too many;
               She couldn't sleep, and she called it virtue,
            Motherly foresight, affection, any
               Name you may call it that will not hurt you,
            So it was late ere she tucked her head in,
            And she slept so late it was almost a sin.

            But the little fellow who knew of five
               Nor troubled his head about any more,
            Woke very early, felt quite alive,
               And wanted a sixth to add to his store:
            He pushed his mother, the greedy elf,
            Then thought he had better try for himself.

            When his mother awoke and had rubbed her eyes,
               Feeling less like a bird, and more like a mole,
            She saw him -- fancy with what surprise --
               Dragging a huge worm out of a hole!
            'Twas of this same hero the proverb took form:
            'Tis the early bird that catches the worm.

EN EL BAILE DE ANNA...

EN EL BAILE DE ANNA...

Dedicado a Ana Garcés Cara

de todo corazón 

Traducción de Sandra Dermark

directamente del húngaro 

el 2 de agosto de MMXXIII

con el sol en Leo y

superluna llena del Esturión en Acuario 

,.............................

En el baile de Anna, 

se oye la música de baile...

y suena la melodía más

dulce por los aires...

Las dos nos sentamos,

ella y yo, en tête-à-tête,

yo no dije ni pío, fue Anna quien

lo dijo todo, ¿eh?

Cuando una anciana zíngara

nos vino a ver,

preguntó a Anna: "¿cuál es 

tu aria, mademoiselle?"

Mas la joven en susurros sólo respondió:

"No hay aria que sea santo de mi devoción"

.....................................

Quien no tiene una canción no tiene corazón,

quien no cree en la canción mira en su corazón,

habrá una criatura cuyo nombre ocultó

y que guarda luto donde, adulte, aún no le vio...

......................

Una vez hubo un gran prodigio, una vez sucedió,

el señorito de la más dulce se prendó,

en calesa la fue a llevar hasta la Catedral...

Nunca hubo en nuestro poblado un enlace igual.

Al palacio de diez cuartos él se la llevó,

los sirvientes, como abejas, iban en derredor,

mas la joven no es feliz, no cesa de llorar,

del jardín no escucha la tonada del hogar...

...........................

Quien no tiene una canción no tiene corazón,

quien no cree en la canción mira en su corazón,

habrá una criatura cuyo nombre ocultó

y que guarda luto donde, adulte, aún no le vio...

,..................................

Me fui lejos para todo ese trauma olvidar,

me detuve a decir adiós frente al hostal,

miré adentro, mas ¿qué vi en aquel interior?

Una joven castaña que en el piano lo tocó...

...........................

Quien no tiene una canción no tiene corazón,

quien no cree en la canción mira en su corazón,

habrá una criatura cuyo nombre ocultó

y que guarda luto donde, adulte, aún no le vio...

,..................................

Quien no tiene una canción no tiene corazón,

quien no cree en la canción mira en su corazón,

habrá una criatura cuyo nombre ocultó

y que guarda luto donde, adulte, aún no le vio...

,..................................

THE PEASE PORRIDGE POEM

THE PEASE PORRIDGE POEM

By Sandra Dermark

Here's a little ditty I wrote at UJI University and I have decided to expande today:

Pease porridge hot,

pease porridge cold,

pease porridge in the pot,

nine days old.

Some like it hot,

some like it cold,

some like it new,

some like it old.

Some like it black,

some like it blue,

some like it fake,

some like it true.

Some with spoon of silver,

some with spoon of gold...

I like it any way,

if the truth be told!

LA VERDADERA HISTORIA DE LA COVA DEL LLOP MARÍ

Durante esta semana, estoy pasando unos agradables días en la isla de Tabarca, en la costa de Alicante. A menudo he hecho snorkel en una cala con una oscura y misteriosa cueva, cerca del acogedor hotel Boutique, donde me alojo con mi padre. Esa cueva marina parece tener algo mágico y el testimonio de un anciano capitán nacido y criado en esta isla ha confirmado mis sospechas. He aquí su relato, que puede tener algo de verídico:

Quisiera compartir con vosotros esta extraña historia de la Isla de Tabarca, que conocí durante mi infancia en la Isla:

LA VERDADERA HISTORIA DE LA COVA DEL LLOP MARÍ

Llaúd, embarcación típica de Tabarca

Recuerdo perfectamente aquella mañana del mes de agosto, en la que tendría alrededor de los 13 años, cuando Pepe Pianelo, bogando en su pequeño llaúd de apenas cuatro metros, nos conducía a mi padre y a mí, a conocer la misteriosa “Cova del Llop Marí”, de la Isla de Tabarca.

En el sollado del barco se encontraban nuestras gafas y aletas, y en la voz de este marinero se escuchaba la verdadera historia de los extraños acontecimientos sucedidos en la época de sus abuelos, transmitidos con respeto de manera generacional, y que dieron lugar a la “Leyenda de la Cova del Llop Marí”. Nada tiene que ver este extraordinario relato, con lo que algunos escritores alicantinos bienintencionados, nos han hecho creer que fue el hallazgo de una pareja de “Focas Monjes”.
Antes de nada os hablaré de la foca monje, de las cuevas de los lobos marinos, y por supuesto de la dimensión personal de Pepe Pianelo.

La foca monje recibió este nombre, porque por su timidez y costumbre de criar en pareja, buscaba los recovecos y cuevas del litoral donde guarnecerse, para sobrevivir del ataque de sus predadores naturales y poder parir a sus crías con seguridad y tranquilidad. Como el monje, buscaba tranquilidad y aislamiento, y sin ser una especie especialmente prolífica, habitaba en todo el litoral de la cuenca mediterránea. Tenían tendencia a refugiarse siempre en las mismas cuevas.

Los marineros las conocían perfectamente, sabían que eran capaces de romper sus más elaboradas artes de pesca y que la cantidad de pescado que necesitaban para su subsistencia, hacía imposible que se pudiera obtener alguna captura decente en los alrededores de donde se encontraban estos animales. Motivo cruel que llevó a su caza indiscriminada y a su extinción casi total. No juzguemos al pescador, su familia dependía de su habilidad pesquera, y azares malditos como el viento, temporales de mar, y criaturas como estas, constituían la diferencia entre ver crecer a sus hijos, o que el hambre más atroz los consumiera sin esperanza.

Foca monje (Monachus monachus)

El hombre de mar reconoce a las distintas especies marinas, con lo que diferencia perfectamente lo que es una foca monje de lo que no lo es.

¿Era la Cueva del Lobo Marino de Tabarca la única existente? Por supuesto que no. Existen en nuestro cercano litoral dos cuevas conocidas con este mismo nombre, una en El Campello, y otra en Xávia, y fueron llamadas así, porque también eran refugio de estos animales, que por desgracia sufrieron el mismo final. Probablemente existan otras cuevas con igual nombre, tanto en el litoral catalán, como en el andaluz, o más allá, en otros mares.

Y como dato final, La Cova del Llop Marí era nombrada así, mucho antes de los extraños acontecimientos que dieron nombre a la Leyenda. Se puede observar en planos y mapas antiguos de L´Illa, que a este lugar se le denominaba con este nombre.

¿Y qué fue lo que ocurrió tan sorprendente e increíble, que generó esta “leyenda”?.

Primero quisiera hablaros de Pepe Pianelo….

Remando con maestría, el pequeño llaud de Pepe, avanzaba cortando el mar como un cuchillo. Cuando doblábamos la “Punta del Bol”, le dijo a mi padre: ….”ché Juanito, en poder, me haré con una embarcación a motor, se acabarán estas penalidades del remo, y podré ir a calar un poco mas lejos”……La vida no se había presentado fácil para este gran hombre. Talla media y fornido, la bondad y amabilidad personalizada, pelo negro abundante y anillado, y unas varices precoces que le llevaban a mal traer. Su familia no era de las más pudientes de Tabarca, y un Dios Menor toco a su hijo varón, otorgándole para siempre la inocencia reservada a los buenos de corazón. Empleado como jardinero por el Ayuntamiento de Alicante y con pequeñas pesqueras al alcance de su embarcación, conseguía un más que meritorio sustento para su familia. Un gran hombre hecho de madera de mar, y así es como lo recuerdo.

Llegados a este punto comienza la increíble narración que estáis esperando, ávidos y curiosos lectores.

Corría el final del siglo, sentados los marineros en el Jardinet, primero como un susurro y después como conversación, se escuchó hablar de una extraña criatura que merodeaba alrededor de la Cova del Llop Marí. Nadaba con furia y desespero, describiendo semicírculos alrededor de la cueva, sin separarse de ella mas de 200 metros, como si quisiera evitar que alguien se acercara y protegerla de posibles peligros.

Lo mas curioso era su aspecto. Las descripciones de los marineros variaban entre sí. La criatura parecía ser tímida y cuando se sentía acechada inmediatamente se zambullía, quedando fijada en la retina del observador una imagen muy difusa de su fisionomía.

Todos coincidían en un punto; al sumergirse dejaba entrever una gran cola grisácea cubierta de escamas, rematada por una aleta transversal de media luna, semejante a los “búfanos” (en tabarquino) o delfines (en castellano). Pero donde no había acuerdo, era en la forma de la mitad superior de su cuerpo. Algunos decían que tenía brazos rematados en manos palmeadas con 3 dedos de largas uñas. Otros decían que su cabeza semejaba a la humana, con orejas puntiagudas y branquias detrás de ellas, con dos pequeños orificios donde se sitúa la nariz. Y los mas atrevidos comentaban que el torso superior de la criatura era un hombre.

Era Invierno en L´Illa.

“¡¡ Lobo Marino !!”, exclamó una tarde en el Jardinet, un marinero avezado y arrugado por mil Levantes. “Lobo Marino no.....Sirena”, susurró otro patrón del mar curtido por el agua y la sal, “Yo lo he visto...”

Inmediatamente estas opiniones de dos venerables y respetados hombres de mar, generaron una polémica de si es esto, no es esto, no puede ser, es posible, existen, cuentos de abuela, ya oí hablar de ellas, son las focas que han vuelto, etcétera, etcétera. ¿Y que era lo que tan celosamente guardaba o protegía en el interior de la cueva?. Esta cuestión despertó la suspicacia y curiosidad de los marineros. Alguno habló de un gran tesoro.....

La situación duraba ya alrededor de una semana. Cierto día por la tarde se juntaron tres en el bar de Pepet en el Carrer d´en Mig, y tras unos largos vasos de vino se decidieron a averiguar que escondía la cueva y que hacía allí ese ser. Uno, vigilaba arriba de la muralla el ir y venir de la criatura en sus círculos natatorios. Los otros dos, a través de una oquedad que se encuentra en la parte superior de la cueva al pie de la muralla, ayudados con cuerdas se deslizaron en su interior.

Cova del Llop Marí en el siglo XVIII

Avanzaron con el agua por las rodillas hasta el fondo, y con la luz mortecina del atardecer, vislumbraron lo que no olvidarían en sus vidas. Al final, en una pequeña playa de piedras, yacía un ser mitad mujer y mitad pez. Su aspecto era malo a su entender, tenía los ojos cerrados, la piel pálida, la cola deslustrada y dañada, y respiraba con mucha dificultad. Y lo mas sorprendente era que entre sus brazos y apoyado en sus senos, sujetaba con fuerza a una pequeña criatura semejante a ella, inerte y que aparentemente había muerto. Sintieron un escalofrío, y al momento oyeron el silbido de alerta del compañero vigilante en la muralla. La criatura volvía a la cueva. Corrieron y treparon por las cuerdas saliendo al exterior. Contaron su hallazgo a todo el que quería oír y escuchar, y todos supusieron que esta pareja con su cría, enfermos o atacados por algún depredador, se refugiaron en la Cova.

Esa misma noche, en el exterior de la cueva comenzaron a escucharse aullidos desgarradores de dolor y muerte, e inmediatamente lo supieron. Su hembra, su pareja había fallecido.

Dos días duraban ya los gritos y lamentos del sireno, ya no salía al exterior. Los Tabarquinos conmovidos por este dolor no sabían que hacer para ayudarlo. He hicieron lo que hacían siempre, calar una red alrededor de la cueva para poder atraparlo, e intentar socorrerlo aunque todavía no sabían cómo. De una manera trágica surtió efecto.

Durante la noche, el marinero que se encontraba de guardia en el bote amarrado a una de los extremos del arte, sintió unos fuertes tirones en la red. Alertó a gritos a sus compañeros y comenzaron con presteza a “salpar”. En la mitad de la red, enmallado, se encontraba un gran bulto. Fueron desenredando las capas de hilo y al acceder a la bolsa se encontraron con la criatura muerta. En su desesperación se había lanzado con tal fuerza contra la red, que rompió la malla y quedaron atrapadas sus branquias con el hilo. Murió asfixiada. Murió, o se suicidó, nada la retenía allí.

Las sorpresas no terminaron ahí. Al día siguiente, en cónclave marinero, se decidió llevar a las dos criaturas a Alicante, donde se encontraba la autoridad. De la pequeña cría no se encontró rastro y supusieron que había sido víctima de los depredadores. Zarparon en un llaúd, y a su llegada al puerto atracaron frente a la Comandancia. Comunicaron su hallazgo, y al poco tiempo se presento una pareja de guardias uniformados y con galones. Se hicieron cargo de los cuerpos, y dijeron que su destino era disecarlos y exponerlos en el museo.

Nunca se expusieron en ningún museo. Nunca más se supo de ellas. Nunca mas se habló de estas criaturas. Comenzó a narrarse que en Isla de Tabarca se habían atrapado dos ejemplares de foca monje, los últimos de su especie en el litoral alicantino. Esta noticia tapó la verdadera.

Pero los que vivieron aquellos extraordinarios momentos, sabían la verdadera historia que dio pié a la “Leyenda de la Cova del Llop Marí”.

Y yo lo sé, porque un mes de agosto me lo contaron.

Cova del Llop Marí en la actualidad 

ON GOG AND MAGOG

In the Old Testament:

In Ezekiel 38, Gog is a ruler and Magog is his land, both of whom receive a prophecy:

"Son of Man, direct your face against Gog, of the land of Magog, the prince, leader of Meshech and Tubal, and prophesy concerning him."

In the New Testament:

In the Book of Revelation 20:8, the Crimson Dragon (identified with Satan because of its reptilian appearance) and the Antichrist recruit a multinational army led by Gog and Magog for the final battle against the heavenly legions:

"When the thousand years are over, Satan will be released from his prison and will go out to deceive the nations in the four corners of the Earth—Gog and Magog—and to gather them for battle."

In modern doomsday prophecy (Futurism):

Present-day readings of the Book of Revelation informed by Futurism, ie those that identify the Revelation prophecies as having to come true in the future, see Gog as Western Europe or the European Union (EU) and Magog as Eastern Europe or Russia.

In Islam:

In the medieval Islamic parable The Case of Animals v. Humans Before the King of the Jinni, Gog and Magog are two faraway ethnic groups of anarchic, cannibalistic hunter-fisher-gatherers who personify the archetype of the savage:

"... the land of Gog and Magog, who live beyond the great barrier, two nations of human form but savage spirit, who know neither order nor government and have no commerce nor trade, industry nor craft, ploughing nor sowing, but only hunting and gathering and fishing, plundering, raiding, and eating one another."

In Hellenistic folklore:

According to one interpretation, "Goth and Magoth" (sic, maybe related to the Goth ethnic groups, Götar in their native Sweden) are the kings of the Unclean Nations (read: not lands, but ethnic groups), whom Alexander the Great drove through a mountain pass and prevented from crossing his new wall (something like the Great Wall of China - maybe the first Silk Road travellers thought the Great Wall of China was the work of Alexander the Great?). Gog and Magog are said to engage in human cannibalism in Hellenistic and related literature (see the King of the Jinni example above).

In Hungarian folklore and Romanticism:

Hungarian folklore calls Gog and Magog also by their alternate names Hunor and Magor. Their homeland was in the steppes of Central Asia, but following a marvellous white stag, both ended up in the Carpathian Basin in the heart of Europe and founded the Magyar, or Hungarian, people (this is their founding myth). Hungarian Romanticism would therefore mention this myth quite often.

In British folklore:

Gog and Magog were allegedly savage giants who lived on pre-human Great Britain. They were defeated and slain by the first human settlers on British soil, Trojan refugees from the Sack of Troy. To be more precise, they were defeated and slain by Corineus, founder of Cornwall and a brave Trojan warrior. There are also statues, chalk hills, and ancient oak trees (the Oaks of Avalon) in the UK named after Gog and Magog (there is also a statue of their vanquisher, the hero Corineus).

In Hinduism (Koka and Vikoka):

Gog and Magog also appear in Hinduism as two demonic generals by the names of Koka and Vikoka. They are twin generals who are described to aid the asura Kali in battle against Kalki, the 10th and final avatar of the god Vishnu, whose coming is believed to herald the end of the last age, or Kali Yuga.

LEYENDA DEL RONRONEO

 Había una princesa que se le planteó un desafío imposible.

Tenía que hilar 10.000 madejas de lino en solo 30 días para salvar de la muerte a su gran amor. Desconsolada ante tan difícil tarea, la princesa lloraba.

Sus tres gatos la vieron tan triste que decidieron ayudarla. Con sus tres lenguas veloces y sus hábiles garras, los gatos no solo concluyeron el trabajo a tiempo, sino que el lino que tejieron fue el más fino y maravilloso que jamás se había visto en aquel reino.

Cuenta la leyenda que como recompensa por su labor, fueron bendecidos con la habilidad de ronronear. El ronroneo de los gatos es el canto que hacía la rueca al hilar.
Así nació el ronroneo de los gatos.

Das Kätzchen und die Stricknadeln

Es war einmal eine arme Frau, die ging in den Wald, um Holz zu lesen. Als sie mit ihrer Bürde auf dem Rückwege war, sah sie ein krankes Kätzchen hinter dem Zaune liegen, das kläglich schrie. Die arme Frau nahm es mitleidig in ihre Schürze und trug es nach Hause. Auf dem Wege kamen ihre beiden Kinder ihr entgegen, und als sie sahen, dass die Mutter etwas trug, fragten sie: »Mutter, was trägst du?« und wollten gleich das Kätzchen haben. Aber die mitleidige Frau gab es ihnen nicht, aus Sorge, sie möchten es quälen, sondern sie legte das Kätzchen zu Hause auf alte, weiche Kleider und gab ihm Milch zu trinken. Als das Kätzchen sich gelabt hatte und wieder gesund war, war es mit einemmal fort und verschwunden.

Nach einiger Zeit ging die arme Frau wieder in den Wald, und als sie mit ihrer Bürde Holz wieder an die Stelle kam, wo das kranke Kätzchen gelegen hatte, da stand eine ganz vornehme Dame dort. Die winkte die arme Frau zu sich und warf ihr fünf Stricknadeln in die Schürze. Die Frau wusste nicht recht, was sie denken sollte; es dünkte diese absonderliche Gabe sie gar zu gering. Doch nahm sie die fünf Stricknadeln mit sich und legte sie des Abends auf den Tisch. Aber als die Frau am andern Morgen ihr Lager verließ, da lag ein paar neuer, fertig gestrickter Strümpfe auf dem Tische. Das wunderte die arme Frau über alle Maßen. Am nächsten Abend legte sie die Nadeln wieder auf den Tisch, und am andern Morgen darauf lagen neue Strümpfe da. Jetzt merkte sie, dass ihr die fleißigen Nadeln beschert waren, weil sie Mitleid mit dem kranken Kätzchen gehabt hatte. Sie ließ die Nadeln nun jede Nacht stricken, bis sie und die Kinder genug Strümpfe hatten. Dann verkaufte sie auch Strümpfe und hatte genug bis an ihr seliges Ende.

Das Kätzchen und die Stricknadeln

Da auf dem Zaun, da stand die Katze,
miaute kläglich in die Welt
Die Frau, die nahm sich ihrer an,
sie selber hatte wenig Geld

Doch nahm sie sie in ihre Schürze
und trug sie mitleidvoll nach Haus
Die Kinder wollten sie gleich haben
Da wurde aber nichts daraus

Sie gab ihr erst mal Milch zu trinken
Die Katze wurde schnell gesund
Sie labte sich in vollen Zügen,
verschwand dann aber ohne Grund

Die Frau ging wieder Holz zu sammeln
passierte auch die alte Stell'
Da stand nicht weit die hohe Dame
die winkte ihr, nur ihr speziell

Fünf Nadeln warf sie in die Schürze
von dieser armen, guten Frau
Die dankte für die kleine Gabe,
sie wusste nicht so ganz genau

wieso ihr solches widerfahren.
Sie legte sie nur auf den Tisch
und fand am Morgen ein paar Strümpfe,
so schön gestrickt und sauber frisch

Sie staunte über alle Maßen
und wiederholte das zur Nacht
Die Nadeln strickten fleißig weiter
und wieder ward ein Paar gemacht

Sie wusste nun, was da geschehen
und fand sich selbst so reich beschenkt
Sie hatte künftig wenig Sorgen,
denn Strümpfe gab‘s nun unbeschränkt

2017 - nach einem Märchen von L. Bechstein aus dem Sagenkreis der Frau mit der Spindel, der Frau Holle (altnordisch Frau Frigg)

PD. Une petite devinette en français:

"Devine ce que je jette par-dessus la maison
Tout en en ayant un bout dans la main.

- Une pelote de fil"

WHITE CAROLINE AND BLACK CAROLINE

When was the last time I posted some favourite Flemish folklore? Here is a story I wanted to tell since long ago that has all the hallmarks of what I like -mothers and daughters, naiad nymphs, vampires, faeries, sweets, lots of love, and just the right amount of violence, but not without a happy ever after. This story is also notable because it passes the Bechdel test and stars an all-female family!

Hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

WHITE CAROLINE AND BLACK CAROLINE:
A Flemish Fairy Tale

ILLUSTRATIONS

WHITE CAROLINE AND BLACK CAROLINE
A FLEMISH FAIRY TALE

And, when he saw White Caroline, he started to play on his organ the most beautiful airs that it was possible to hear, and the three little dogs commenced to dance together 

WHITE CAROLINE AND BLACK CAROLINE

A FLEMISH FAIRY TALE

Come, come, Caroline,White, white, child o' mine!I hate you, HATE you,And, at any rate, youAre no child o' mine!

Come, come, Caroline,Black, black, child o' mine!I bore you, adore you,Will give whatever more youWant, O child o' mine!

Once upon a time there was a mother who had two daughters, both named Caroline. People called one 'White Caroline,' because she was so beautiful. But her mother could not see it, because the child was not really her own. The other was called 'Black Caroline' by the people, because she was so ugly. Black Caroline was the favourite of her mother, and received everything she could desire.

Now one day it so happened that a shepherd was passing by, and with him he had three little lambs; and he smiled on seeing White Caroline, and he caressed her head, and the little lambs came close and rubbed themselves against her little white dress. White Caroline was exceedingly pleased with all this. Now Black Caroline, standing on the winding stairs, also wanted to see; and, coming to the door, she half opened it. But as soon as the shepherd saw her face, he turned and started on his way, and the three little lambs bleated and beat their heads together, because Black Caroline was so ugly;—but she was good all the same!

'White Caroline must die, cost what it will!'

And so she thought and thought during seven days how she could get rid of White Caroline. Then, one day, she went behind a hedge and said:

'Hedge, Thorn-Hedge, give me a dozen deadly thorns, each one an inch long!'

And the hedge gave her a dozen deadly thorns, each thorn an inch long. Then their mother returned home, and showed them to Black Caroline.

'Pay attention, Black Caroline,' she said; 'this evening when you go to bed you must sleep at the edge, and the inside place must be for White Caroline; because I am going to conceal all the little thorns in her pillow; and she will die when she puts her head upon her pillow, and then you, alone, shall be more than ever the pet child of your mother!'

And Black Caroline said, 'Very well!'

But that evening, when White Caroline was about to get into bed, Black Caroline took her by the arm and said:

'White Caroline, I love you very much; and you must not tell mother; but she is trying to kill you. There are a dozen deadly thorns in your pillow; go to sleep all the same, but we'll put our heads at the foot of the bed!'

And White Caroline, full of joy, took Black Caroline in her little arms and they slept together!'

The following morning they heard a rat-a-tat on the stairs.

'Here! Black Caroline! Are you there?'

It was their mother calling from the bottom of the stairs.

'Yes, my dear little mother, I am here!' said White Caroline.

Their mother was in a terrible rage because White Caroline was not dead. She at once mounted the stairs to see if Black Caroline was alive. But even then she could not understand how it was that White Caroline was not dead, and once again rage overcame her!

WHITE CAROLINE AND BLACK CAROLINE

And, when he saw White Caroline, he started to play on his organ the most beautiful airs that it was possible to hear, and the three little dogs commenced to dance together.

[Pg 17]

Now it happened that one day a musician, an organ grinder, was passing by their house: and he had with him three little lapdogs; and, when he saw White Caroline, he started to play on his organ the most beautiful airs that it was possible to hear, and the three little dogs commenced to dance together. White Caroline was exceedingly pleased! But Black Caroline, who was on the winding stairs, came down and half opened the door because she wanted to see also. But, as soon as the musician saw the face of Black Caroline, he ceased to play, and the three little dogs hid their heads under a sack because Black Caroline was so ugly—but she was also very good.

And their mother, in her heart, could not stand that, so she said:

'White Caroline must die, cost what it will!'

She thought and thought during seven days how she could rid herself of White Caroline. At last she went to a wicked witch, and bought the most violent poison that could be got.

On arriving home she called Black Caroline and said:

'Pay attention, Black Caroline; when at dinner to-day, do not eat of the little meat-balls. Say you have a pain in your head; because I am going to put this poison in the meat, and then White Caroline will eat it, and she will die; and then you will be more than ever the pet of your mother!'

And Black Caroline said, 'Very well!'

But, at dinner time, when White Caroline was about to eat from her plate, she took her by the arm and said:

'White Caroline, I love you very much, but you must not tell mother; she wishes your death, and she has put poison in your meat. Tell her that we will eat our dinner outside the house, so that the cat may not eat the birdies and so that the crows may not eat the grain. Then you can throw your portion away.'

Then White Caroline, full of joy, took Black Caroline in her little arms and they went out together.

A little while after they heard a rat-a-tat at the garden door.

'Here! Black Caroline! Are you there?'

It was their mother calling from the inside of the house.

'Yes, my dear little mother, I am here!' said White Caroline.

And their mother was in a great rage because White Caroline was not dead. Then she went out to see if Black Caroline was still alive. And she had still her plate full of meat, and she was shedding tears of blood, because she had such a bad headache. And their mother could not understand how it was that White Caroline was not dead, and she boiled with rage.

And one day it happened that a tradesman was passing the house with sweets and cakes in his van, and when he saw White Caroline, he showed her all the sweets and cakes and candied nuts. White Caroline was so happy, because the tradesman gave her nuts and sweets and cake for nothing, just because she was so pretty. But Black Caroline, who was coming down the winding stairs, came out to see.

As soon as the sweets man saw Black Caroline, he mounted his van and drove away at full gallop, because she was so ugly—but she was good all the same.

And her mother could not stand that, so she said:

'White Caroline must die, cost what it will!'

Then she went to a master miller and asked him if he could place the millstone against four little sticks, so that whoever touched the millstone it would fall on them and crush them. And the miller said: 'Yes, it can be done very well, and the millstone will be placed thus in fourteen days. I will see to it at once.'

Their mother was very pleased, and she showed Black Caroline how the mill would be placed, and said to her:

'Pay attention, Black Caroline: when you go with the sack of flour to the mill, you must let it drag and be overcome, before you arrive near the little sticks that support the millstone. White Caroline must take it all alone. As soon as she touches the little sticks she will be crushed by the millstone, and then you will be more than ever the pet of your mother!'

And Black Caroline said, 'Very well!'

But the next day, when White Caroline walked near the little sticks, Black Caroline stopped her and said:

'White Caroline, I love you very much, and you must not tell mother; but she intends that you shall die, and she has caused these little sticks to be placed like that, so that the millstone will fall on you and crush you. Throw the sack on the sticks—so!'

And White Caroline, full of joy, took Black Caroline in her little arms, and so they went back. And it was well they did, for there were five little rats in that sack of flour, and all those five were killed when the millstone fell down.

Then they heard a rat-a-tat, and the voice of their mother calling: 'Here! Black Caroline! Are you there?'

'Yes, little mother, I am here,' answered White Caroline.

And the mother was very cross to find that White Caroline was not dead. And she ran quickly to the mill to see if Black Caroline was alive. And, when she came back and found her, she was crying tears of blood because she ached in every limb and could not walk. And her mother could not understand how it was that White Caroline was not dead, and she boiled with rage.

She took Black Caroline home and put her in her little bed. Then she set out to find White Caroline with intent to kill her; but White Caroline had gone far away where her mother could not get at her.

On her journey she came to a great stretch of freshwater and she could not cross over. But suddenly she saw many arms, as black as ink, held out over the water so that they formed a bridge. White Caroline did not know whether to pass over this bridge or to go back. She began to cry bitterly; then, plucking up courage, she made the sign of the cross and ran upon them.

When she came to the middle, the arms gave way, and White Caroline would have been drowned had she not been held by the heels of her little wooden shoes. And the water-nymphs and vampires were all around her.

Then, suddenly, a beautiful woman all in white came running to her aid. And, though the claws of the Evil Things were now pulling her down by the heels of her little shoes, the White Woman was in time to save her just as she was on the point of being drowned.

Then the White Woman turned to the water-nymphs and vampires:

'Be still, all of you! Down to your dens, and say I sent ye!'

Then she led White Caroline to the other side of the water. And there she looked at her, and kissed her, and loved her as her own, because she was so beautiful.

This White Woman was the Queen of all the freshwaters and the woods, and was able, in her domain, to grant anything that any one desired. In her great love for White Caroline, she told her that she could have whatever she wished.

'Would you like to eat some beautiful grapes, White Caroline?' said she. Then with her wand she tapped a vine, and behold, immediately there hung beautiful grapes upon it!

'Would you like a beautiful dress of silk, White Caroline?' And she tapped again with her little wand, and, immediately, from a chrysalis hanging from the vine, a lovely dress of sky-blue silk was unfolded before her, all ready to put on.

And the nymphs and the vampires were more than ever afraid to come near White Caroline, and she was very glad of that indeed.

'Would you like a voyage?' said the White Woman. And, immediately, with a wave of her wand, she pointed it at a little nautilus sailing on the water, and there, in another moment, stood a beautiful barque with all sail set. And so White Caroline had everything she could desire, and was very happy.

But one day a King came by, and the sound of his trumpet rang over the length of the water and through the woods. Quick—so quick—the White Woman ran to White Caroline and said to her:

'White Caroline, the time has come, and we must part; and you will never see me again. But, before I go, you can wish for two things; and whatever you wish, it shall be granted you!'

With that the White Woman vanished.

Then White Caroline wished to have Black Caroline with her. And immediately there was a rustling among the trees, and Black Caroline stood beside her!

The two Carolines were now reunited. But White Caroline was sad because Black Caroline was not as pretty as she herself, and, remembering the White Woman's promise, she resolved to wish that they might both be exactly the same.

Then she wished that both of them should be changed into something exactly alike!

Immediately they began to change. Little white feathers appeared on their shoulders and spread until they were entirely covered; and there they stood together, two beautiful white swans! And ever after they swam up and down on the peaceful water and no one could tell one from the other. And never again did the nymphs and the vampires come near to harm them.

BOSOM SERPENTS

In Irish Celtic lore (The Wooing of Étaín), a sorcerous queen in her autumn years, seeing how her husband prefers a decades younger maiden, turns her rival Étaín (pronounced AY-deen) into a pool of water. The snag is that Étaín can also cast magic, and turns herself into a caterpillar or a dragonfly larva (different versions), that subsequently pupates...
Decades later, a flying bug (a dragonfly or butterfly, depending on the version) flutters into the Great Hall and starts garnering a lot of the king's attention. And of course the queen goes: FOLLOW THAT BUG! And all the warriors getting their butterfly nets ready... Sounds familiar? (Yes, just like in the Three Oranges/Lemons tale.)
Well, she catches that flying bug indeed, in some versions of the tale. But not in the expected way. So, Étaín flies away as fast as her little wings can take her. Either the rival queen or a chieftain's wife, a descendant of hers (in case this is a centuries-old dragonfly or butterfly) gets Bug!Étaín in her cup and drinks her. Must have been either too thirsty or too distracted, or most likely both, to notice that she had swallowed a living bug until it was too late.
Wincing and coughing and retching to get the little winged pest out of her system is to no avail. And what's most relevant is that the next day she gets morning sickness...
...and of course, nine months later, she births a healthy baby girl, whom she decides to name Étaín...
...she alit on the rooftree of a house in Ulster where folk were drinking, and she fell into the golden beaker that was before the wife of Étar, the champion from Inber Cíchmaine, in the province of Conchobar, so that she swallowed her with the liquid that was in the beaker, and in this wise she was conceived in her womb and became afterwards her daughter. She was called Étaín daughter of Étar. Now it was a thousand and twelve years from the first begetting of Étaín by Ailill until her last begetting.

In a similar manner, in the same mythology, Cú Chulainn is conceived when Ulster princess Deichtine (Dectera), sister to King Conchobar, quenches her thirst, a mayfly or a little humanoid of light having landed in her cup before it was drained; nine months later, due to the doubts about the child's parentage, Setanta -the future Cú Chulainn, before killing Culainn's watchdog- is raised in various foster homes. 

But the time came for her(Deichtire) to be married, so a match was made with Sualtim, who was of noble blood and her equal in every way. But while her fifty maids prepared the bride-to-be, she took a cup of wine, and so caught up as she was in the preparations that she didn't notice the mayfly she had swallowed with the same draught!

She swiftly fell into a deep sleep, and her maids along with her, and while she slept she dreamed of a tall young man with uncannily long arms, who introduced himself as Lugh, one of the Sidhe. He had been in the form of a mayfly, he said, when she had swallowed him, and he told them they had to come away with him.

At the feast, Dechtire was thirsty af (same tho), so they gave her some wine, but a mayfly flew into the cup and she swallowed it.

Afterwards she went to take a nap in her sunny parlor, accompanied by her 50 maidens. In her sleep, the god Lugh of the Long Hand appeared to her and said “Yo whaddup, it’s me, the mayfly. From the cup? Funny story- You and your maidens must come with me.”

But, as Sualdham passed the cup to her, a small white mayfly fell into the drink. Deichtire was so thirsty she drank it all down. She felt the mayfly in her throat, coughed and gasped, but by then it was too late to do anything but swallow it. They gave her more wine immediately.

After a while, whether from the wine or from the chase or from some property of the mayfly, she grew sleepy and left the festivities to take a nap. Conchovor ordered Deichtire's fifty female attendants to go with her to be sure she was all right.

Left alone inside the fortress, Deichtire fell asleep and began immediately to dream that a strange man approached her. He had radiant eyes and skin so bright she could not look long upon him. This man told her that he was Lugh Long-Arm. He had come to her disguised as the mayfly so no one would know him. Lugh wanted Deichtire to come away with him because she had such a gentleness about her that she brightened any place she went. He held out his hands to her and she reached out and touched him.

The parallels between Étain's conception and that of Cú Chulainn cannot be clearer, since they imply the same circumstances. In both cases, a thirsty royal maiden swallows a bug with her drink and subsequently finds herself expecting a supernatural demi-divine child.

----------------------

But this is not the only mythology in which such strange things happen. The oldest fairytale in the world, the tale of Anubis and Bata, written in hieratic (stylized hieroglyphic) script, found in the d'Orbiney papyrus from Pharaonic Egypt, ends on a similar note. But what led up to this was equally bizarre:
So, there are two brothers on a farm. Older brother Anubis, married and childless, the heir to the estate; and little brother Bata, a young bachelor and farm worker. One day during sowing season, Anubis's cougar (lioness?) wife makes advances on Bata (who had come to the barn where she was resting, to fetch more grain) and then pulls a Wounded Gazelle Gambit to make it appear like he (Bata) was the one making advances on her. Of course Anubis believes his wife's little yarn and, after some honest fighting, the brothers split up, a disowned Bata leaving home.
(So far, just like the biblical Joseph son of Jacob/Yosef ben Yakov, or Hippolytus in classical myths. Tale as old as time in its oldest version recorded.)
So Bata goes to live in a secluded valley in Phoenicia (Lebanon) and decides to take his heart out of his chest and hide it in a cedar treetop as a cedar cone (basically, making the very first Horcrux ever in written records). As long as that tree is not felled and the heart is kept alive by the sap, heartless --though not emotionless!-- Bata will be alive. Should he die, as he explains to Anubis during their leave-taking, the older brother's mug of beer will completely foam over, leaving no liquid within.
Right, so Bata lives a more or less lonely hunter-fisher-gatherer existence in the Valley of Cedars in Phoenicia until the gods decide to make him a wife, out of the blue. So this turns into an idyllic young couple living in peace with nature and with themselves, like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden... (more biblical parallels!) until a serpent enters this paradise. The Wadjet cobra serpent on a royal crown, that is...
You see, a sharp branch accidentally cut a lock of the maiden's soft and scented raven hair, and the winds carried said lock across the sea and up the Nile to the reigning pharaoh's royal gardens. The still single ruler was smitten and hell-bent on making the owner of that soft and finely-scented lock of hair his queen, so he dispatched messengers, even whole regiments of warriors of both foot and chariot, to seek out the maiden... and they found her in the Valley of Cedars. Of course the Pharaoh was even more smitten after hearing the full description of such a beauty... and thus a whole royal expedition sets off lock, stock, and barrel for Phoenicia... not only bringing armed men with spears, and bows, and chariots... but also jewellery to bribe the maiden. She was so dazzled by the brightness of the gold and gems that she agreed to lead a courtly life and even told the Egyptians that her husband could only die if the cedar with his heart for a cone was felled. And thus, faster than you can say "TIMBER!!" both the young man and the heart-tree staggered and fell lifeless to the ground.
(Again, more biblical parallels, this time to Samson and Delilah!)
Back in Egypt on the farm, a widowed Anubis (whose wife had just committed suicide, unable to bear the remorse of her wicked deeds --just like Lady Macbeth!) found that all the beer he was served just foamed out of his cup. Time to rescue his li'l brother... So off he set with provisions, and even weapons for self-defense...

He entered the tower of his younger brother, and he found him lying upon his mat; he was dead. And he wept when he saw his younger brother truly was lying dead. And he went out to seek the soul of his younger brother under the acacia tree, under which his younger brother lay in the evening.

He spent three years in seeking for it, but found it not. And when he began looking in the fourth year, he desired in his heart to return into Egypt; he said in his heart, "I will go tomorrow morning". Now when the land lightened, and the next day appeared, he was spending his time in seeking the flower. And he returned in the evening, and laboured at seeking it again. Then he at last found a seed. He returned with it. Look, this was the soul of his younger brother. He brought a cup of cold water, and he threw the seed into it: and he sat down, as he usually did. Now when the night came his soul of his brother sucked up the water; Bata then shuddered in all his limbs, and he looked on his elder brother; his soul was in the cup. Then Anubis took the cup of cold water, in which the soul of his younger brother was; Bata drank it, his soul stood again in its proper place, and he became as he had been. They embraced each other, and they spoke together.

It doesn't just stop here, with a heart being lodged back into its owner's chest by getting poured down his throat with a cool drink.
There is also a similar ingesting-pregnancy motif in the second half of the story:
The resurrected Bata comes to and realises that his wife betrayed him. So he tells Anubis: "We head back into Egypt and I'll turn into such a lovely and healthy young bull that the royals will keep me as a pet." Said and done. (Wait... in classical myth, the royals of Crete did the same before it went disastrously wrong!)
But the Queen is in for a shock when her bull suddenly stops mooing and begins to speak, at least to her (everyone else at court must have been hearing this as mooing!), accusing her of her betrayal. So of course the arms race between Bata and the Queen is on. So she gets depressed, like really listless, and tells her husband that the only thing that may raise her spirits would be eating the liver of her pet bull. Of course the Pharaoh waits upon her hand and foot, and commands that the young ruminant should be sacrificed to the bull-god Apis, but the liver be cooked and served to his queen at the next supper feast.
Said and done as well.
Now you may expect that eating the liver leaves the Queen knocked up with human Bata. It does NOT.
However, as Bull!Bata was sacrificed and his throat was slit, two streams of his blood ran down to the left and right entrance pillars of the Apis temple, flanking the gate. Where two saplings instantly shot up...
About a lustrum later, nay, a decade, two decades, the teak trees, all grown up, entwined over the gate to the temple of Apis. It was then the Queen, now middle-aged and still childless, heard rustling in their branches about her betraying her true love and having a heart tree cut down.
Once more, she looked as depressed as before eating her pet bull, but this time she told her spouse that the cure for her melancholy would be having some nice teakwood chairs at the palace... made from the teak trees at the gates of Apis. Her will be done, as usual.
However, when the Queen is inspecting the cutting down of the teak trees from up close to verify that it's done right and that annoying soul won't resurrect...

...the royal wife, was standing looking on, and they did all that was in her heart unto the trees. But a chip flew up, and it entered into the mouth of the Queen; she swallowed it, and after many days she bore a son. And one went to tell His Majesty, "There is born to you a son." And they brought him, and gave to him a nursemaid and servants; and there were rejoicings in the whole land. And the King (the Pharaoh) sat making a merry day, as they were about the naming of him, and his majesty loved him exceedingly at that moment, and the king raised him to be the royal son of Kush (Crown Prince of the Upper Nile).

Now after the days had multiplied after these things, His Majesty made him heir of all the land.

So he is reborn into royalty and acknowledged as crown prince.

-----------------

The villainess in this Pharaonic tale has ironically rebirthed her own rival. So does, quite relevantly, the sorceress Ceridwen in Welsh myths (we're back in Celtic lore!) to Taliesin, at first her little orphan assistant Gwion. Ceridwen had a potion meant for giving immense powers to her own son Afaggdu, but Gwion accidentally downed the first drops, as he sucked his hands to cool his burned fingertips upon which the potion had splashed... and the chase was on. The shape-shifting interspecies arms race of a chase. The boy turned himself into a bunny to hop away faster than his mistress could run... and... voilà, she was a female greyhound hot on his heels. Taking advantage of the surging river nearby, Rabbit!Gwion plunged in as he turned into a salmon... too bad Greyhound!Ceridwen had become an otter darting off like a torpedo in pursuit of the salmon whose fish-tail had already begun to feel weary. So off he hopped back on land, turning himself into a grain... as Otter!Ceridwen leapt on terra firma, turned into a black hen, and did the very first thing you think a hen does upon spotting grain on the ground:
Then she transformed herself into a high-crested black hen, and went to the wheat and scratched it with her feet, and found him out and swallowed him. And, as the story says, she bore him nine months, and when she was delivered of him, she could not find it in her heart to kill him, by reason of his beauty. 
But of course Ceridwen was far brighter than the Egyptian queen above. So, after resuming humanoid shape, having downed the grain, and then awakened the next day with morning sickness, and the customary nine months (in late October, around Samhain; or in mid-April, around Beltane --again, sources vary), she tucked her newborn into a leather sack and shoved it downstream --down the same stream where the otter-vs.-salmon leg of their race had been swum--, in true Moses style. Fortunately, the new-reborn Gwion was fished up and happily adopted; significantly, on Samhain/Beltane (depending on the version) itself! He would become a great bard and enchanter, even Merlin's own master.
------
In the Kalevala, "Marjatta, the fairest maiden..." a young girl afraid to death of commitment, does some berry divination about her fortunes when a lingonberry ("marja," notice the similarity to her name) suddenly seems to have developed a life of its own, popping into her mouth and down her throat:

Marjatta, korea kuopus, meni matkoa vähäisen, 
meni marjan katsantahan, punapuolan poimintahan
hyppysillähän hyvillä, kätösillä kaunihilla.

Keksi marjasen mäeltä, punapuolan kankahalta: 
on marja näkemiänsä, puola ilmoin luomiansa, 
ylähähkö maasta syöä, alahahko puuhun nousta!

Tempoi kartun kankahalta, jolla marjan maahan sorti. 
Niinpä marja maasta nousi kaunoisille kautoloille,
kaunoisilta kautoloilta puhtahille polviloille, 
duhtahilta polviloilta heleville helmasille.

Nousi siitä vyörivoille, vyörivoilta rinnoillensa, 
rinnoiltansa leuoillensa, leuoiltansa huulillensa; 
siitä suuhun suikahutti, keikahutti kielellensä, 
kieleltä keruksisihin, siitä vatsahan valahti.

Marjatta, korea kuopus, tuosta tyytyi, tuosta täytyi, 
tuosta paksuksi panihe, lihavaksi liittelihe.

Alkoi pauloitta asua, ilman vyöttä völlehtiä, 
käyä saunassa saloa, pime'issä pistelläitä.

Marjatta, korea kuopus, tuop' on tuohon vastoavi: 
"En ole miehen naimattoman enkä nainehen urohon. 
Menin marjahan mäelle, punapuolan poimentahan, 
otin marjan mielelläni, toisen kerran kielelläni. 
Se kävi kerustimille, siitä vatsahan valahti: 
tuosta tyy'yin, tuosta täy'yin, tuosta sain kohulliseksi."

Marjatta the petted damsel, 
Went a very little distance, 
Went to look upon the berry, 
And the cranberry to gather, 
With her skilful hands to pluck it, 
With her beauteous hands to pluck it.

On the hill she found the berry, 
On the heath she found the cranberry; 

'Twas a berry in appearance, 
And it seemed to be a cranberry, 
But from ground too high for eating, 
On a tree too weak for climbing. 

From the heath a stick she lifted, 
That she might pull down the berry; 
Then from ground the berry mounted 
Upward to her shoes so pretty, 

From her pretty shoes arose it, 
Upward to her knees of whiteness, 
Rising from her knees of whiteness 
Upward to her skirts that rustled. 

To her buckled belt arose it, 
To her breast from buckled girdle, 
From her breast to chin arose it, 
To her lips from chin arose it, 
Then into her mouth it glided, 
And along her tongue it hastened,

From her tongue to throat it glided, 
And it dropped into her stomach. 

Marjatta the petted damsel, 
After this had chanced grew pregnant, 
And it soon increased upon her, 
And her burden soon was heavy. 

Then she cast aside her girdle, 
Loosely dressed, without a girdle, 
Secretly she sought the bathroom, 
And she hid her in the darkness. 

Marjatta the petted damsel, 
Then replied to her in this wise: 
" Neither with a man unmarried, 
Nor with any married hero, 

But I sought the hill of berries, 
And I went to pluck the cranberries, 
And I took what seemed a berry, 
And upon my tongue I laid it, 
Quickly in my throat it glided, 
And it dropped into my stomach. 
Thus it is that I am pregnant, 
Thus it comes that I am pregnant." 

----------------

It's even more enticing to find this motif in the New World First Nations lore as well. In a Pacific Northwestern tale (found all the way from Northern California to Alaska), the Raven takes on the role of Prometheus, stealing the light by means of freeing the sun and the moon. To do so, he needs to get closer to those who hoard the luminaries for themselves. And he does so by turning into a conifer needle that drifts downstream as a thirsty maiden of that clan approaches the stream with her drinking cup in hand:

Se changeant alors en aiguille de pin, il se laissa tomber dans le flot et descendit le courant juste à point pour être pris dans le seau qu'elle remplissait. Même sous cette dimension réduite, Corbeau était encore capable d'exercer ses pouvoirs magiques, assez tout au moins pour donner si soif à la jeune personne qu'elle but une grande gorgée d'eau et avala l'aiguille.
Quand il eut dégringolé bien au fond de son petit ventre chaud, Corbeau se nicha dans un coin confortable, se transforma une fois de plus, cette fois en un minuscule être humain, et partit pour un long sommeil. Tout en dormant, il se mit à grandir.

(le Corbeau) prend la forme d’une aiguille de pin, se retrouve dans le seau d’eau et, rapidement, dans le ventre de la jeune fille. Quelque temps après, elle met au monde un enfant étrange qui parvient avec ruse à faire ouvrir le coffre...

Se changeant alors en aiguille de pin, il se laissa tomber dans le flot et descendit le courant juste à point pour être pris dans le seau qu'elle remplissait. Même sous cette dimension réduite, Corbeau était encore capable d'exercer ses pouvoirs magiques, assez tout au moins pour donner si soif à la jeune personne qu'elle but une grande gorgée d'eau et avala l'aiguille. 
Quand il eut dégringolé bien au fond de son petit ventre chaud, Corbeau se nicha dans un coin confortable, se transforma une fois de plus, cette fois en un minuscule être humain, et partit pour un long sommeil. Tout en dormant, il se mit à grandir. 

Un jour il reconnaît les pas plus légers de la jeune fille, la suit ! Comme Corbeau est un très grand magicien, il se transforme en aiguille de pin et se laisse glisser à la surface de l'eau juste au moment ou la jeune fille plonge le seau dans la rivière... Et Corbeau qui a toujours ses pouvoirs fait en sorte que la jeune fille eut très très soif, elle boit une gorgée du seau et avale l'aiguille de pin qui s'enfonce le plus loin possible et le plus au chaud dans son corps...
Au fil des mois la jeune femme se transforme, son ventre s'arrondit...

Even in his much diminished form, the Raven was able to make at least a very small magic -- enough to make the girl so thirsty she took a deep drink from the basket, and in so doing, swallowed the needle.

The Raven slithered down deep into her warm insides and found a soft, comfortable spot, where he transformed himself once more, this time into a very small human being, and went to sleep for a long while. And as he slept he grew.

The young girl didn't have any idea what was happening to her, and of course she didn't tell her father, who noticed nothing unusual because it was so dark -- until suddenly he became very aware indeed of a new presence in the house, as the Raven at last emerged triumphantly in the shape of a human boy-child.

The Raven, a supernatural being, decided to transform himself into a

pine needle. The chief’s daughter would come out to draw water at the

waterhole. Soon she did, as she was thirsty. She was just about to drink,

when she saw the pine needle in the water. Though she wanted to blow it

away, it kept drifting to her mouth. In her impatience she finally swallowed

it. Soon she became pregnant, and eventually gave birth to a boy.

needle... [which got] caught in the basket the girl was dipping in the river...she took a deep drink from the basket, and in doing so, swallowed the needle... [Raven] went to sleep for a long while... [emerging] triumphiantly in the shape of a human boy child...

As she drank from the basket, she swallowed the needle. It slipped and slithered down into her warm belly, where the Raven transformed himself again, this time into a tiny human. After sleeping and growing there for a very long time, at last the Raven emerged into the world once more, this time as a human infant.

When she took a deep drink from the basket and swallowed the needle, the Raven slithered down into her belly. There, he transformed himself once more, this time into a very small human being, and went to sleep for a long while. And as he slept he grew. Months later, the Raven emerged triumphantly inside the house in the shape of a human boy-child, albeit a strange-looking one. 

He transformed himself into a conifer needle and slipped into a bucket of water. When the daughter drank the water and swallowed the needle, Raven changed himself into a tiny person inside her. He grew and grew until she gave birth. Raven-child looked strange indeed...

At length he (Raven) hit on a plan. He noticed that the daughter

went to the well every day for a supply of water. While there she often had a drink. So he

turned himself into the needle-like leaf of the spruce tree and floated on her drinking water

and was swallowed by her. In due season she gave birth to a son who was none other than

Ne-kilst-lass or Cauch (Ravenchild), who by this means was born into the family.

The Raven flew around the girl’s compartment but did not

see her. He stood outside and waited. Soon he saw her coming out of the

house. He turned himself into a pine-needle, fell into the water she was drinking,

and was swallowed. The young woman became pregnant, and gave

birth to a boy.

So Raven feeds himself as a needle of fir or pine through the River 
and is consumed by the thirsty Daughter that he might gain access 
into the house he could not get into. Therewithin the daughter
births Raven, and their small family, being in darkness, does not 
see that it is Raven. 

Somehow the Daughter is impregnated ...this process allowed the
Daughter through her journeys to the River...this being BY Raven THROUGH
the River. This "impregnation" may be comprehended as the knowledge
OF THE LIGHT as understood through her thirst for it, as magnified by
the River: metaphorically... Raven becoming the seed and eventually
the son (the sun).

Raven transformed himself into a Spruce Needle and floated into her basket as she dipped it into the water. Being very thirsty she drank some of this water and carelessly swallowed the 'Needle'. It is through this, a magical conception, that she became pregnant and gave birth to Raven inside the Longhouse.

He transforms himself into a single (conifer) needle, floats down river into the daughter's dipping basket, gives her thirst so that she drinks him down, and enters the house inside of her. Having symbolically impregnated her, Raven emerges as a human child who begins to grow up, as all spoiled children do...

The baby-Raven, known as Ravenchild, cajoles his elders to let him play with the luminaries as toys, throwing hissy fits until he gets those bright balls in hand, and then throwing them away with a strength unlikely of any infant... thus placing the sun and the moon in the sky for everyone to see.

------------

Now let's move on to more recent times, in fact, to last decade. As a tween or pre-teen, I read in an online Swedish newspaper (Aftonbladet, 29th of June 2004) of an Iranian mother of two who had birthed a frog --a frog with nailed fingers and a human tongue-- for a third child. She said she must have ingested the tadpole when swimming in a murky pool:

Tvåbarnsmor påstår sig ha fött en - groda

En iransk kvinna påstår sig ha fött en groda. Hon säger att hon fått i sig grodlarver när hon simmat i en smutsig pool och de sedan måste ha utvecklats inne i hennes kropp.

Doktor Aminifard, som sett grodan, säger till tidningen Etemaad:

- Den har vissa mänskliga drag, fingrarnas form och tungans storlek och form.

Grodan ska undersökas av genetikexperter.

Kvinnan har tidigare fött två vanliga barn.

The woman’s gynaecologist confirmed that the lady in question, whose period had stopped for six months, had undergone sonography in May which showed she had a cyst in her abdomen and that following severe bleeding, she gave birth to a live grey frog accompanied with mud.

Numerous news outlets subsequently carried the story, but in the manner of reporting that an Iranian paper had run the item, not as a confirmation of the facts of the account.

But the yarn --in which the heroine accidentally drinks frog spawn, octopus eggs, or even human sperm which a previous male swimmer had ejaculated!-- was already known in post-30YW Saxony, with a peasant woman, Katharina Geisslein, who had a full frog-pond ecosystem: bugs, frogs, and even snakes inside her gut. Only that she vomited the insects and herptiles instead of birthing them. Moreover, she drank frequently from her village pond.
The rumour spread, and soon both a Leipzig University lecturer and the Court Physician of Denmark were researching on Katharina, to see if it was possible through the scientific method. But all they could yield, using themselves and Frau Geisslein as test subjects, were dead, partially digested herptiles after consuming an emetic; and it turned out to be a hoax, with Katharina having swallowed her animals very shortly in advance before she chucked them up.

---

In the medieval parable Patience, Jonah dwells for those three days in a hyrne (nook or corner) of what is called the "wombe" of the whale or sea monster (whose gender is never specified), but is actually most likely its duodenum (having entered through the mouth and down the throat, and then wound through the belly into a sharp bend). This is even more confirmed when this place is referred to as both "wombe" and "gutte" later on in Patience. The womb and the gut conflate, like in all of these mystical pregnancy tales, in other words...
...and so may do the chest through which the gullet runs as well, the thoracic esophagus being conveniently right behind the heart as it plummets from right to left. Why is it called heartburn, and why the stabbing pain right in the chest, at heart height, upon downing a cold drink in haste? Or that cozy warmth from within after drinking liquor in haste? It's as if it went right into the heart --instead of the gut--, or at least somewhere else inside the chest. Isn't there where we feel that life throbs, as heartbeats and breathing? My witness be (aside from Bata in that Pharaonic papyrus) Calderón de la Barca as he explains, in La vida es sueño, the way a drugged prince loses consciousness:

Viéndole ya enfurecido
           con esto, que ha sido el tema
           de su dolor, le brindé     
           con la pócima, y apenas
           pasó desde el vaso al pecho
           el licor, cuando las fuerzas
           rindió al sueño, discurriendo
           por los miembros y las venas 
           un sudor frío, de modo
           que, a no saber yo que era
           muerte fingida, dudara
           de su vida.  En esto llegan
           las gentes de quien tú fías   
           el valor de esta experiencia,

Después en las plantas superiores, una progresión se afirma: la región abdominal más cercana al suelo, cargada de transferencias de la materia viva, con las funciones de conservación y crecimiento por la nutrición y la sexualidad. A partir del diafragma, esta vida primaria, puesta al servicio del pensamiento individual, en el misterio de las funciones de los pulmones y del corazón.

---

Which brings us further "up north" in the human system, towards the nightmare-inducing description of the Eighth Plague in Théophile Gautier's Roman de la momie, with locusts getting stuck in people's tracheae, entering through their mouths and their nostrils as they breathe in:

[···] elles se succédaient par tourbillons, comme la paille que disperse l’orage ; l’air en était obscurci, épaissi ; elles comblaient les fossés, les ravines, les cours d’eau, éteignaient sous leurs masses les feux allumés pour les détruire ; elles se heurtaient aux obstacles et s’y amoncelaient, puis les débordaient. Ouvrait-on la bouche, on en respirait une; elles se logeaient dans les plis des vêtements, dans les cheveux, dans les narines; leurs épaisses colonnes faisaient rebrousser les chars, renversaient le passant isolé et le recouvraient bientôt...

They followed each other in swarms like the straw blown about by the storm; the air was darkened; they filled up the ditches, the ravines, the streams; they put out by their mere mass the fires lighted to destroy them; they struck against obstacles and then heaped up and overcame them. If a man opened his mouth, he breathed one in; they found their way into the folds of the clothing, into the hair, into the nostrils; their dense columns made chariots turn back; they overthrew the solitary passer-by and soon covered him.

---

Moving away from the realm of mystical pregnancies and the effect of drugs, there are also the stories of joint-eaters, parasitic magical creatures that are unwittingly ingested by unaware hosts... and have them consume far more than the host can handle, giving rather rapid metabolism but also constant fatigue. From the Japanese gaki to the Celtic alp-luachra, the joint-eaters can be seen as an irrational explanation of what real-life endoparasites, unseen in the olden days, do to their hosts. Sometimes the naughty little things even spawn inside their hosts!
The most effective method, time and again, for all kinds of joint-eaters is making the host thirsty, thus making the joint-eaters thirsty as well, but having the host refrain from drinking until the little newt-like or frog-like beasts are forced out through this war of attrition --through the mouth, just as the first one entered.

---

All of these tales might be considered variations of the “bosom serpent” legend, described by Harold Schecter as a tale in which “through some unfortunate circumstance or act of carelessness . . . a snake. . . is accidentally ingested by, or grows inside the body of, the unlucky individual, where it remains until it is expelled or in some way lured out of the victim’s body.” This motif remains popular in films such as Alien, which features a crew member “impregnated” by an alien creature; once the incubation period is complete, the alien lifeform is “born” by bursting out through his chest. As Schechter notes, “like the traditional, oral versions that have been popular for hundreds of years, [the] only purpose [of the birth scene in Alien] is to produce emotional response: shock, revulsion, morbid fascination.”

After all, our own inner workings were thought to be sacred for ages, leaving yet another frontier (aside from the skies and the oceans) on which the establishment could write HERE BE DRAGONS.
What's it like in there? Warm, soft, throbbing... and dark, and generally unknown. Prime territory for fantasies of both humans entering oversized monsters and undersized monsters entering humans.
It was normal for people to have fantasies about evil spirits within them, invasion of their innermost privacy, as normal as it is now... in spite of our whole system being charted down to the last synapses. There is a certain anxiety, especially if the bosom serpent is drunk or breathed in by its host --after all, we are conscious of how important it is not to thirst or suffocate to death--, that the invasion cannot be avoided: it's ineluctable. It may strike us when we least expect it, when our guard is down...