either separate traditions of the same event, or distinct legends, are no doubt mixed up in the narration, but still four facts remain as a residuum available for the comparison. OEdipus was the son, as Lamech was the grandson, of one who supplanted his brother, both kill their respective progenitors, and in the _casual_ encounter in which in both instances the tragedy occurred, _two_ persons were slain. In this there is a fair outline of resemblance. In the legend of Perseus, certainly the legend is more indistinct, et, in one point, that he inadvertently killed his _grandfather_, the coincidence is perfect. And it must be borne in mind that it is not a question of absolute but of comparative resemblance--in fact, a choice between a mythical or an historical, an astral or a scriptural solution, and when you come to degrees of relationship, the astral or solar explanation becomes more attenuated at each remove,--"the father of the sun" may be metaphorically intelligible, but the grandfather of the sun! I see further trace of the tradition of Lamech in the Phrygian legend of Adrastus, somewhat confused in the tradition of Cain, and in some points reversed. Adrastus, the son of the Phrygian king, had _inadvertently killed_ his brother, and was in consequence expelled by his father and deprived of everything. Whilst an exile at the court of Croesus, he was sent out with Prince Atys as guardian to deliver the country from a wild boar. Adrastus had the misfortune to kill Prince Atys while aiming at the wild beast. Croesus pardoned the unfortunate man, as he saw in this accident the will of the gods, and _the fulfilment of a prophecy_, but Adrastus killed himself on the tomb of Atys (Herod. i. 35; Smith, "Myth. Dict.") Now let us take up the proof at another point. Will any one refuse to see in the following tale from the "Gesta Romanorum,"[143] at least a mediæval corruption of the legend of OEdipus:--"A certain soldier, called Julian, unwittingly killed his parents. For being of noble blood, and addicted as a youth frequently is to the sports of the field, a stag which he hotly pursued suddenly turned round and addressed him--'Thou who pursuest me thus fiercely shall be the destruction of thy parents.' These words greatly alarmed Julian.... Leaving, therefore, his amusement, he went privately into a distant country ... where he marries. It chances that his parents come into that country, and in his absence were received kindly by his wife, who, 'in consideration of the love she bore her husband, put them into her own bed, and commanded another to be prepared elsewhere for herself.' In the meantime, Julian returning abruptly home and discovering strangers in his bed, in a fit of passion slays them. When he discovers the parricidal crime he exclaims--'This accursed hand has murdered my parents and fulfilled the horrible prediction which I have struggled to avoid.'" [143] "Gesta Romanorum," tale xviii. Swan. Rivingtons 1824.