A Siberian story, cited by Köhler in the note already referred to,[1] condemns the hero's father to even greater degradation than the closely related variants of the last previous type. The birds which utter the prophecy are not specified. The irritated sire having, as he believes, successfully accomplished his son's death, flings his body into the sea; but the youth, still living, is thrown by the waves upon the beach. The emperor of that land has just died, and his successor is to be he on whom two tapers placed on golden sticks shall fall. They fall on the nape of the hero's neck, and continue to burn. Succeeding thus to the throne, he gives a great feast, which his father attends, and suffers what had been foretold concerning him.
The last variant I shall mention was obtained by Dr. Pitré at Partanna, in Sicily.[2] It is to the following effect: A father sends his son to study at Catania, and he finishes his course at the age of twenty, and takes his doctor's degree. On his return his father takes the opportunity of asking him at table what is the most useful thing in this world? The youth answers, "A close stool"; whereupon his father, unable to control himself, drives him out of the house, and curses him. Our hero enters the Church, and becomes, successively, incumbent, bishop, cardinal, pope. The father, smitten with remorse, goes to Rome to throw himself at the new pope's feet (not knowing who he is), and pray forgiveness for his conduct to his son. The pope recognizes him, and causes him to be lodged in the palace. There, before making himself known, he gives him cause, amid the luxury, the silk and gold of his surroundings, bitterly to feel, and to admit in words, the justice of his son's opinion. At length the son reveals his identity, and we are quaintly told that "everything ended with a solemn embrace."
The rise of the popedom within comparatively recent times is a guarantee that the type now before us is one of the latest developments of The Outcast Child myth. The story of The Ravens can be traced back into the Middle Ages, but I have not found The Language of Beasts save in modern collections of folk-tales. It is an obvious
