Les thèmes de folklore ont la vie dure. Chacun connaît les miracles d'Epidaure (v.gr. R. Herzog, Die Wunderbarheilungen von Epidauros, Leipzig, 1931). Or quelques uns de ces types de miracles se retrouvent dans la Vie, écrite quelque dix siècles plus tard, de Syméon Stylite le Jeune (521–592), éditée par Paul Van den Ven (Subsidia Hagiographica des Bollandistes, n° 32, 2 vol. Bruxelles, 1962 et 1970).

Ch. 41 (A). En tête de la première suite de miracles, accomplis par Syméon alors qu'il est encore sur sa colonne de 40 pieds dans le ‘monastère du bas’ (entre 533 et 541, Syméon ayant de 12 à 20 ans), vient une première liste du Trois anges, qui s'étaient mis à inscrire les noms des malades guéris par Syméon (40.16 ss.), lui annoncent qu' ils vont cesser de le faire: 41.7 ss. (parce que désormais toutes choses s'accompliront, grâce à toi, par la vertu de ta parole et de ta puissance)

In a note to volume cxi of this journal, I observed that the word , although a diminutive, did not at all periods describe a piglet. In the classical period, it seems to have meant a small but not necessarily immature pig; in Hellenistic Delos and in Egypt, a pig fullgrown or nearly so, apparently synonymous with the non-diminutive ; then by the first post-Christian century the term came indeed to mean ‘piglet’, a meaning previously expressed by .

The tripod represented in Pl. XII. and in Fig. 1 is 26½ inches (m. 0·66) in height; the diameter is at the bottom 21½ inches (m. 0·54) and at the top 14 inches (m. 0·36). The material is limestone of a kind common in most parts of Greece, especially the Peloponnesus.

The tripod was presented to All Souls' College in 1771 by Anthony Lefroy. The stand bears an inscription recording the gift, which contains a curious phrase in which the tripod is spoken of as ‘aram tripodem olim matri deum in templo S. Corinthi consecratum.’ I know not what the S before Corinthi may stand for. But the important thing is that the monument comes from Corinth. This is again asserted in the lettering of a print of it published by Gori in the Numismata Lefroyana, and repeated in a Magazine called The Topographer (November, 1789, p. 514), where Gori writes ‘Trovato a Corinto.’ It may be doubted whether Lefroy had any solid reason for supposing that the tripod came from a temple of the Mother of the Gods. Such a temple did exist at Corinth on the slope of the Acropolis Hill, as we learn from Pausanias. But, so far as I know, no remains of that temple have been observed in modern times. It can scarcely be regarded as likely that Lefroy had any reason to suppose that the tripod came from the actual site of that temple: it is far more probable that the figures of women standing on lions were to him a sufficient proof that the monument came from the temple of the Mother of the Gods which is mentioned by Pausanias.

This paper does not pretend to be the result of original research, but to be rather a compilation of the various identifications of bronze or marble portrait heads as kings of the great dynasties of the Hellenistic period, that different archaeologists have proposed from time to time. In the course of my study of the evolution of later Greek art, I proceeded from studying the series of coins of the Hellenistic dynasties to examine the portraits identified by means of the coins. I hoped by that method to obtain surer ground for the succession of styles in the period. But there is so much uncertainty and often complete contradiction as regards the identification of the portraits, that so far a study of the portraits has yielded little. Many of the heads identified as kings are not kings at all. In fact there exists too great a tendency to believe that every fine individual portrait must be that of a king or some other great man. Private portraits must have been even more plentiful than royal portraits, and as works of art would stand an equal chance of preservation.

The head reproduced upon Pl. XI. has recently been acquired by Philip Nelson, Esq., M.B., and we are indebted to him both for his courteous permission to publish the head and for the photographs, taken by himself, from which our illustration is derived. The head is of Parian marble, and is clearly of Greek workmanship; it is also evidently derived from an original of the very highest artistic merit. It is in excellent preservation, except that the end of the nose and a part of the lips on the right side have been restored.

Dr. Nelson has kindly supplied me with the following information as to the history of the head and as to its dimensions and present condition. It was acquired by him in Bath at the sale of the collection of the late Captain Maignac, who inherited it from his father-in-law, an artist named Walton, a contemporary of the painter Barker of Bath, 1769–1847. This Walton in all probability brought the head from Italy, where he is known to have travelled and collected pictures, &c.; but there seems to be no more exact record as to its origin. The head seems to have remained practically unknown to archaeologists until its acquisition by Dr. Nelson, who, appreciating its importance, sent photographs to the British Museum in July, 1897.

Among all the tantalising questions relating to Lycian pillar tombs, the one that has never been touched is that concerning the top openings which are usually called doors. Yet an enquiry into their meaning may, I think, prove a crucial test. These apertures measure in width 0.20 m. (Isinda Tomb), 0.30 m. (Lion Tomb), 0.41 m. (Harpy Tomb), and 0.45 m. (Trysa Tomb). They give access to a sort of cavity the floor-level of which, however, is a good deal below the bottom of the opening, and from within they must have looked rather like windows. All these openings are high (4-6 m.) above the ground and were filled with stone slabs. No coffin could have passed through them, for their size is exceedingly small. Yet they are called doors. What was their real purpose? Were they for offerings, or for cremation urns, or for sacrifices? Is this tower-like tomb to be compared with Persian cremation towers, or with primitive granaries, or is it a survival of some legendary burial in trees?

Olbia, I. ed. S. A. ZHEBELËV, 4to, 304 pp., L. Plans and Plates, 108 figs., French résumés throughout, Acad. of Sc. of Ukrainian SSR., Kiev, 1940.

Several attempts have been made to reconstruct the camp of Attila on the basis of the evidence supplied to us by the narrative of Priscus Panites, who describes in great detail what he saw during his visit to the camp in A.D. 448. Stephani has argued that the camp was of Germanic construction and that it was built by a Gothic war-prisoner from Sirmium. It may be said at once that this latter point is unlikely, for Priscus turns aside to mention that the stone baths of Onegesius were built by this war-prisoner; he would scarcely have specified this one building if in fact the whole camp had been constructed by him. Also, there is no indication in his text that the prisoner was a Goth. J. Strzygowski suggested that the camp was the work of Slavs, a conjecture which has, I think, won no acceptance. Most recently, Ferenc Vamos, in a very full discussion of the camp and its buildings, rejected both these views and suggested that the influence of two cultures can be detected in the camp: the culture of the nomads of central Asia and that of the sedentary Iranians—the Huns were introduced to the work of the latter by the intermediacy of the Alans. But before a decision can be reached on the origins of Hun architecture, we must be clear as to what it is precisely that Priscus tells us about the camp and the buildings in it.