When I suggested, in commenting on this quotation, that an African cattle-thief would laugh at Beech Bottom dyke, Mr Crawford did not agree; and the idea that seems to prevail with regard to the stopping-power of a ditch and bank is responsible for these notes.

Cattle-defences may be considered under two heads: 1, Fences: 2, Dykes: the latter being actually of secondary importance when the object in view is to keep cattle in or out; and stockades without a ditch do occur in Britain.

Our understanding of the interactions between the Roman Empire and indigenous societies (or ‘barbarians’) that lay within or surrounding its borders has undergone considerable advances over the last 30 years. Stemming initially from a colonial perspective, which saw the Roman Empire as ‘civilising’ those who were subsumed into it, the study of these interactions now includes a wealth of diverse post-processual or post-colonial approaches that stress the complexity of interactions within and between these social groups. Even with these advances, the self-imposed opposition between prehistoric and Roman studies, whether in theoretical stance, approach or research frameworks, remains constant in modern scholarly debate (Hingley 2012: 629). As a consequence, and despite extensive debate to the contrary, the divide between ‘Romans’ and ‘natives’ endures in our current interpretations of the contact between pre-Roman and Roman society.

In essence, Pargeter et al. argue that claims for the antiquity of modern San ‘cultures’ involve a misuse of analogical reasoning. In general, I agree. But, let me take issue with a few of the specifics they discuss, and argue instead that things may be more complicated than they seem.

Professor Hoyle's use of my Stonehenge findings is as intriguing as it is ingenious. As I said on the BBC-TV programme Chronicle last August, his support of my theory is most welcome, and his speculations deserve and will receive the most careful consideration.

This brief review assesses a dynamic virtual exhibition that has been curated by the University of Malta and Heritage Malta, with the support of the Malta Tourist Authority and the backing of the Ministry of Tourism and Consumer Protection, Malta. The exhibition, Underwater Malta (https://underwatermalta.org/map/), aims, through a virtual platform, to explore 17 wrecks ranging in date from a 2700-year-old Phoenician shipwreck found off Gozo to a submarine and numerous ships that sank in the Second World War, and a Victorian gun (cannon) site. The most numerous wreck type is aircraft, with nine that were active in the Second World War (Figure 1). While the wrecks are unified by their underwater resting place, the material, their chronologies and the depths at which they are located on the seabed vary considerably, the deepest being the Phoenician shipwreck that lies beneath 110m of water.

A modest experiment explores what is is seen and what is not seen in field survey, and what can be done about it.

The measures taken for the protection of the monuments and works of art of Europe during the recent war, besides saving an incalculable number from damage or destruction, have also made available for detailed study many that are normally difficult or impossible of access. One such has been the bronze lion of St. Mark, familiar indeed to every visitor to Venice but only at a respectable distance, from the loggia of the Doge's Palace or from the foot of its lofty column by the waterfront of the Piazzetta di San Marco. In 1941, together with its companion figure of St. Theodore, the four bronze horses from the facade of St. Mark's, the great equestrian bronze of Colleoni, and numerous lesser works, it was lowered to safety and stored throughout the war in the vaults of the Doge's Palace. Shortly after the liberation of Venice in 1945 it re-emerged to form part of a unique temporary exhibition in the courtyard of the Palace, after which it was replaced once more upon its column. The writer is indebted to Commendatore Forlati, Superintendent of Monuments for the Veneto, for permitting publication and for much courteous help in eliciting facts and photographs ; and to many colleagues in Rome for criticism and comment—helpful not least by its variety. While venturing some comment on what is evidently a provocative and controversial animal, it must be stressed that the primary purpose of this article is the presentation of a detailed description of the statue, accompanied by the known historical facts and by adequate illustration. These will at least enable others, better qualified, to pass long-overdue judgment on one of the select company of ancient works of art that have never been below ground since the day they were made.

Arthur's knights are myths. They can be traced to Celtic deities, and there is no history to be gathered from attempts to analyse legends about them. But Arthur himself is not a myth: he is a tradition. Nobody has succeeded in identifying him with any god of prehistoric Europe. He arrives unadorned, at first; it was only later that romances dressed him up in the trappings of a Viking Age hero. He is announced simply as the Roman-Briton who won twelve battles against the Saxons. ‘Nennius’, who says this, is as unknown as Arthur himself, but the statement is backed by the very definite mention of the crowning victory at Mount Badon in the bit of autobiography of Gildas, and by the acceptance of this by Bede as a fact.