During the reorganization of the prehistoric section of the Bern Historical Museum a chance discovery was made by the writer of the present article. While a fragment of a La Téne sword (without inventory number) was being treated, it was suspected that a punch-mark might be concealed beneath the scabbard, which was rusted on to the sword. The rusty remains were removed, so that the blade could be examined in an oblique light. Most surprisingly there was revealed not only what subsequently proved to be a well preserved punch-mark but also, beside it, a Greek inscription! After taking a photograph of it in its original state the remains of the scabbard were removed, and a single letter of the inscription that was covered by rust was cleaned (PLATE VIII, B, C).

Flying across Africa to attend the Pan-African Congress on Prehistory in Livingstone in July of last year I was frequently reminded of how characteristic of man is his continual use of fire, not only in cities but in the primitive open spaces. There were few moments in the course of the whole journey when signs of fire or artificial light were not somewhere visible. As we passed over the sparsely inhabited bush and savannah country of south-central Africa one could sometimes count up to a dozen columns of smoke rising from the landscape spread out below. Some of these were deliberate bush-fires which the native farmers start early in the dry season as a safeguard against the disastrous spread of uncontrolled fire at the end of that season when the vegetation is like tinder.

At the Livingstone Congress there were several communications bearing directly or indirectly on the question of how long has man, particularly in Africa, had fire at his disposal.

The saints in Greece occasionally have curious epithets. In Attica all know St. John the Hunter. In Naxos there is St. George the Drunken and in Thessaly you will find St. Nicholas the Murderer. Now too in Argolis you will hear of St. George the Vampire.

The little church or rather shrine dedicated to that saint is in a kind of open cave which is really the entrance to a Mycenaean rock cut chamber tomb and it lies on the outskirts of the village of Thymari at the base of the tangle of hills at the western foot of Mount Arachnaeus. If you go to the village and visit the shrine you will probably be told fantastic tales of the Vampire and the English archaeologist who was afterwards killed fighting the Bulgarians. The exact circumstances of the case you will probably not be able to discover. Even those of the village most closely connected with the events which led to the dedication of the shrine have allowed more freedom to their imaginations than they should. The village priest Athanasios nowadays is in his dotage and his cups, and not competent to give a credible or even a coherent version of what really took place and the part he played. Evesham himself is dead, because as you know he was killed on the Salonika front in 1917.

When we study the end of the Roman occupation of Britain we tend to glue our eyes so closely to the nnumismatical and archaeological evidence that there seems to be some danger of giving the literary authorities rather less attention than they deserve. But the relevant passages of Zosimus are of capital importance, and it is proposed to examine them here.

It will not be denied, I think, that Zosimus is one of the most incompetent of the Greek historians. Nevertheless, as in the case of all ancient historians, we are bound to suppose that Zosimus’ statements are accurate unless we have some sufficient reason for doubting them. It is a mistake in method to ascribe errors to him when there is no evidence for doing so. Now in the passages under discussion he is supported by other writers in some particulars and he is our sole authority in others. It does not follow that where he is our only authority his statements are necessarily wrong. His source here is Olympiodons, who, though an Egyptian Greek, seems to have dealt mainly with Western events in his History. Born c. 365, he was an exact contemporary of the last days of the Roman administration of Britain. His History in 22 books covered the fateful years 407–25, and an examination of his fragments (mostly preserved by Photius) gives good reason for supposing that he was a writer of exceptional interest and reliability. It would be folly to ignore the narrative of such a writer, even though that narrative survives only at second hand.