ew so high, that his head touched the surface of the
sky. As the sky was hot, all the feathers on the top of his head were
burned off; and ever since, the culing has had a tonsure.

The Culeto and the Crow.

Narrated by Leopoldo Uichanco, a Tagalog from Calamba, La Laguna. He
says, "This tradition is a favorite one among Tagalog children. I
have often heard the story told by old men while I was waiting my
turn at barber-shops in my province."

The culeto is a fine singer, but it is bald-headed. The natives often
capture it and train it to talk. Formerly this little black bird was
not so bald as it is to-day: its head, in fact, was covered with a
thick growth of feathers. And the crow, too: it was not black once,
but its feathers were as white as starch.

Once upon a time, shortly after the Deluge, the crow was merrily
crowing on the branch of a tree when the culeto came by. The voice of
the crow was so harsh, that the culeto made fun of it. "Good-morning,
Mr. Crow!" said the culeto, "I am very glad to hear you sing. Your
voice is so fine, that I cannot help closing my ears."

"Pray, think first of yourself!" answered the crow. "What do I care
for a good voice, so long as I have a strong body? Why don't you
laugh at yourself? See how weak and tiny you are!"

"Weak!" said the culeto. "Do you call me weak? I would fly a race
even with an eagle."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the crow. "The idea of racing the eagle when
you do not even dare race me!"

"Race with you! Why, you would only disgrace yourself," retorted
the culeto.

"Wait!" answered the crow. "Eat some more rice, drink some more water,
fill your body with more air! And wait till you grow bigger before
you venture to race with me!"

"The strength of a person," said the culeto, nettled, "is not to be
judged by his size. Don't you know that it is the smallest pepper
that is the hottest?"

"Well, then," replied the crow, "if you wish to race me now at your
own risk, let us begin!"

"One, two, three!" counted the culeto, and up they flew. During their
flight the two birds became separated from each other by a dense
cloud. The culeto flew at full speed so high upward, that he knocked
his head very hard against the door of the sky,--so hard, in fact, that
a large piece of skin was scraped from his scalp. The crow, having lost
his way, flew so near the sun, that his feathers were burned black.

It is on account of this bet between the culeto and the crow tha