The dictum of Clark Wissler that ‘New World culture is [thus] a kind of pyramid whose base is as broad as the two Americas and whose apex rests over Middle America’ is one of those brilliant generalizations which at once sum up the conclusions already reached, and point the way to further progress.

From the vantage of today one may agree with A. V. Kidder (22, p. 145) that American archaeologists have been unduly neglectful of the broad base of their pyramid. Yet itwould be churlish to blame them when the apex was so enticing, so rich, so bizarre and above all so enigmatic. Indeed, when men first descried the peaks of Maya, Mexican and Peruvian achievement, it seemed hard to connect them with the lowly foot- hills of cultural attainment familiar in the temperate latitudes of the western hemisphere. Until the underlying unity of civilization in the New World was recognized, its pyramidal structure could hardly be appreciated; in default of this it is easy to understand how archaeologists tended to neglect cultures, which, however interesting they may appear to us from the historical angle, must have appeared to them as intrinsically poor and dull. Then again it was only on the edges of the pyramid that the foundation layer was visible; elsewhere it was buried under a superstructure, massive in proportion to its attractiveness.

There is considerable doubt in my mind whether this account of a journey to Petra should appear in a journal of ANTIQUITY’S standard of integrity. The only reason why I have agreed to allow it to be published is that I hope it will arouse interest in this neglected part of the late Roman Empire, with the result that some responsible archaeologist will follow in our footsteps and also see to it that some photographs are taken from the air. This is particularly important, because in the general dun yellow of the desert sand with its outcrops of umber brown rocks, it is extremely difficult when one is on the ground level to decide if one is looking at natural formations or the general lay-out of some vast irrigation system. I realized this the first time I flew from El Arish on the coast to Kosseima, and saw that this stretch of seemingly bare desert I knew so well was dotted thickly with the remains of small stone farm-houses and orchards, and that there was a general scheme of irrigation in every wadi (dry water-course).

For modern Europeans the wheel is the most characteristic implement used in the making of pottery. The history of the potter’ wheel, which has lately been described briefly and clearly by the German, Adolf Rieth,l evidently goes back several thousands of years. In southern Mesopotamia the potter’s wheel can be traced continuously from at least the fifth millennium before Christ, and the Egyptians ado ted the technique 3000 years before our era. It is characteristic t 1 at pottery-making with the help of the wheel is man’s work, and that it nearly always seems to belong to an advancing urban culture with its associated specialization of labour. It stands, as a rule, for greater efficiency, and indicates, on the whole, artistic degeneration—at any rate in early times, until man has learnt to bring his implement o perfection. At the same time the old technique survived and took on hybrid forms with the new. A similar relation can be observed throughout the history of Danish pottery.

Up to a century ago there still stood on the farm Li in Bstre Gausdal, near Lifossen, Gausa, a stone bearing this runic inscription from the days of Olaf the Holy : ‘Eiliv Elg carried fish in Rausjøen’.

In ancient times, as in our own, to carry fish meant to transfer fry in the lakes and waters—to stock as ova and allow to spawn, All fish in our mountain tarns has been carried up by folk in this manner; the Gausdal inscription has commemorized this remarkable and, technically, very difficult chapter in the conquest and cultivation of the country. Eilif is merely one of a thousand and he had this inscription incised not as any memorial, nor in self-glorification, but to proclaim juridically that now the fishing rights of Rausjøen were his.

He various publications here reviewed consist of works which are united by their subject-matter but they differ widely from each other in character and scope. The work of Mr Kilbride-Jones1 is a monograph strictly confined to certain objects found in a certain part of Europe; that of Mr Hallstrom, on the other hand, consists of what may be called a comprehensive monograph—that is to say, it brings together and relates several straightforward descriptions of a sin le subject (rock-art), but covers many different parts of a large archaeological region. Messrs Kühn and Adama van Scheltema have touched upon a vast subject—prehistoric and protohistoric art in Germany—so that their productions assume the form of text-books.