The literature dealing with the so-called ‘Cyrenaic’ vases is comparatively so huge that some excuse is needed for a fresh approach to the subject. That excuse is to be found in the new light shed on these vases through the recent excavations at Sparta by the British School at Athens, of which one result has been the discovery that Laconia was the home of the school which produced them.

At Sparta this distinctive Laconian style is presented in good chronological sequence, and its course can be traced from its rise in the early seventh century, through its development and decline in the sixth and fifth centuries, to its end in the latter part of the fourth.

It is true that the finds of pottery at the shrine of Artemis Orthia at Sparta consist of fragments of dedicated vases, the refuse, in fact, thrown out from time to time from the temple, so that what is presented by the stratification of the site is the chronological sequence not of the manufacture of the vases but of their destruction. Yet the development of the style as a whole, even when judged by the stratification, is so regular that it may be assumed that in most cases the order of destruction corresponded with that of manufacture. In any case the destruction of the older temple at the close of the seventh century gives at least one point where such correspondence is certain. Vases thrown out from the new temple must have been dedicated after the destruction of the older building. To divide the style with much certainty into six chronological periods called, and approximately dated

The two vase fragments reproduced in the accompanying illustration were among those brought by Mr. Hogarth from Naukratis in 1903, and are now in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford. The subject is painted in black silhouette, no other colour occurring in the fragment of the scene which remains: incised lines are used, not only for the inner markings, but for a great part of the outlines. Immediately below the design are two bands of purple: below these again the vase, which was of considerable size, was covered with black paint. The execution is careless, the paint of the design being very unevenly applied.

Hartwig was the first writer to give a detailed account of the important painter who for the sake of convenience may be called Kleophrades. Nine vases are assigned by the author of Meisterschalen to an artist whom he terms ‘Amasis II.’; but the name under which he grouped them rests upon an untenable restoration of the fragmentary inscription

on the foot of a cup in the Cabinet des Médailles. The last and broken letter can only be a and we cannot therefore restore Ἄμασις ἔγραφαεν the choice lies between Ἀμάσιος ὑύς and Ἄμασις καλός, and of these the former, which is Six's reading, is probably preferable. In any case the manufacturer from whose workshop the cup came was called Kleophrades.

The vaulting system of a Persian palace may seem to be a subject remote from the province of the Hellenic Society. It is not perhaps so remote as it appears. The history of Hellenistic art is closely interwoven with the problems of the Orient, and all evidence is welcome which will help to elucidate a period so obscure, yet of so far-reaching an influence, as that which saw the fusion of Greece with the East after the conquests of Alexander. From the age of the Diadochi the arts emerged profoundly modified. To instance architecture alone, we find the builders in the Greek coast-lands preoccupied with Asiatic structural methods, bringing forth new solutions, modifying, with their quick sense of proportion and of beauty, ancient oriental themes, and giving back to inner Asia as much as they had derived from her. Not one of the great cities of the Diadochi in Mesopotamia or Syria has yet been excavated, and the importance of such fragmentary knowledge of the succeeding civilizations as can be gathered together lies in the fact that they indicate the changes that had taken place during a time of rapid development about which we have no direct information. In this development Greece and Asia bore an equal part, and the lines of interaction are everywhere to be traced. I am not, however, concerned here to disentangle these complex questions, but merely to furnish a few more details that bear upon their oriental aspect.

The arrangements hitherto suggested for these pictures on the throne of Zeus are in one point open to comment. As Pausanias describes them (V. xi. 5, 6), the most natural arrangement is as follows:—

So they are taken in the last article on the subject, that of Mr. Evelyn-White (J.H.S. xxviii. pp. 49 sqq.). Professor E. A. Gardner (J.H.S. xiv. pp. 233 sqq.) has suggested that the third set on each side stood as separate figures below.

In both these schemes the point for comment is the placing of the pictures of Heracles.

(1) These three, as types of physical feats of strength and daring, are in thought out of tone with the others. (2) The three, all dealing with the same personality, are clearly connected; yet in the above schemes they are separated. (3) On the crossbars of the throne, on the same sides as the pictures, there was sculptured another enterprise of Heracles, his battle against the Amazons. This induces the impression that the Heracles pictures were somehow connected artistically with that, and therefore had some sort of prominence in the series, which would make that connexion artistically clear.

The origin of the little code for the government of Byzantine agriculturists, which is known in the manuscripts as the Farmer's Law (νόμος γϵωργικός), has occasioned some difference of opinion among the learned men who have dealt with it. The greatest authority on Byzantine law, Zachariä von Lingenthal, changed his mind on the subject. He began by thinking it the work of a private hand—the compiler of the Appendix Eclogae—and assigning it to the eighth or ninth century (Historiae Juris Graeco-Romami Delineatio, p. 32). It was put together, in his opinion, partly from the legislation of Justinian and partly from local custom. According to his last view (Geschichte des Griechisch-römischen Rechts, 3rd ed. pp. 249 sqq.) it is a product of the legislative activity of the emperors Leo and Constantine and was enacted about the year 740 A.D.

This paper is the result of some six weeks' local study of the dialects of the Greek-speaking villages of Cappadocia and of the village of Silli near Konia in the summer of 1909. The account below of the more important books shows that a good deal has already been written on the subject, but the material is very scattered and incomplete, and does not do more than suggest a great many unanswered questions, nor does it touch more than a few of the villages. Besides giving an account of the dialects, I have therefore tried to smooth the way for future workers by collecting and setting in order this already published material.

The following paper represents the results of a dissertation recently submitted for the M.A. degree at London. The whole question of the Maussolleum is of an exceedingly complex nature, while the composition of the Chariot Group, though only incidental to the reconstruction of the building, has been the subject of much controversy.

The evidence put forward in this article cannot be regarded as entirely conclusive, but I hope to show that the margin of probability which lies on the side of those who do not think that the statues occupied the chariot is rather broader than has usually been supposed.

The attitude in which I have approached the question is quite unbiassed and this will account for the fact that I appear in some parts of the paper to be arguing against both sides in turn. In reality, however, I have endeavoured to examine the evidence impartially and then to form a conclusion from those arguments only which have stood the test of examination. The conclusion I have reached on the matter is the same as that of Prof. Percy Gardner, but I do not entirely agree with him as to the grounds on which that view is to be based.

Eleven years ago I contributed to the Journal an account of exploration in Galatia, and in summarizing the evidence which it supplied as to the civilization of Galatia, I pointed out that the Celtic conquerors assimilated the culture of the conquered Phrygians without seriously modifying its character. And more particularly in the religious sphere I observed that the evidence indicated that the religion prevailing in the Imperial period was ‘purely Phrygian: there is no trace of any Celtic cult…The new settlers perforce adopted the native cultus: for it was always necessary to “know the manner of the god of the land” (2 Kings, xvii. 26). Doubtless they identified their gods with the Phrygian, and did not keep up any separate cult: otherwise it would be incredible that no trace of it should have remained.’

A similar view was expressed in the following year by Sir W. M. Ramsay. ‘Few traces,’ he says, ‘of the old Gaulish religion can be detected in Galatia. It would be difficult to mention any except the sacrifice of captives, which was practised as late as B.C. 160, and presumably the rites at Drynemeton. It is hardly probable that the Gaulish religion was wholly disused or forgotten in the last century B.C. But certainly almost all the references—unfortunately very few—to Galatic religion point to the rapid adoption of the ancient and impressive cult of Cybele… The Galatians may perhaps have modified to some degree the character of the Phrygian ritual by their own nature and customs, as both the Phryges and the Greeks did. But we have no evidence on this point.’ His survey ends with the observation that in the inscriptions of the Roman period no allusion is made to any religion except that of the old Phrygian gods and that of the Emperors.