Profound books are always worthwhile. If we agree with them, their ideas become a direct contribution to our knowledge. If we disagree, they impel us to examine the basis of disagreement and to develop our own counter-ideas, and thus they make an indirect contribution to our knowledge. R. G. Collingwood's The Idea of History (Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1946) is the most penetrating work on the foundations of historical method known to me, but I find it unacceptable. My major difficulties result from his ontological idealism and his dichotomy between mind and nature.

A Minute study of metal work can make extraordinarily illuminating contributions to the history of science and to economic history, and can substantially enhance our appreciation of early art and culture in general. But it requires not only technical and historical knowledge but also quite costly apparatus and an unusual complaisancy in museum directors. Oldeberg possesses an expert’s familiarity with metallurgical processes and a truly remarkable mastery of the relevant geological and archaeological literature. The State Historical Museum in Stockholm is equipped with a good spectroscope wisely used for the increase of scientific knowledge. To the same end various Swedish museums have permitted the analysis of 640 specimens and a microscopic examination of 34 dating from the ‘Copper Age’ to Viking times. (The number of analyses actually at the author’s disposal and published is brought up to 747 by the inclusion of earlier reports on Danish, Norwegian and Finnish objects). The publication of such results alone, especially when as here illustrated by 800 splendid photographs, would constitute an outstanding event in prehistory.

This book should be reviewed by a committee. Like Mr Reed's earlier excursion into Dark Age History, The Battle for Britain in the Fifth Century, it will arouse passions which, ranging from indignation through amused tolerance to befuddled admiration, would require a series of minority reports for their adequate expression. The scholar is in no danger (unless he had a high blood-pressure), and it would be simple enough to advise the non-specialist reader to read not Mr Reed but Mr Reed's despised authorities. Such advice, however, would not constitute a review of a book which, in one sense or another, will fascinate most readers.

Mr Reed apparently seeks to tell the story of the rise of Wessex in new and full detail, and to show that modern authorities are wrong-headed guides. The new details and the full explanations are there, riotously jostling each other for space, but of course they will not be accepted by serious scholars. Probably Mr Reed would be surprised if they were. His second aim does not achieve even this dubious success ; Authority may laugh or fume, according to its mood, but it has undoubtedly survived unscathed what was perhaps designed as an ordeal.

Deraheib is the name of an ancient site in the Wadi Allagi in lat. 21°57’, long 35°81′, i.e. just within the Sudan political frontier. The name is undoubtedly Beja in form but may be derived from the Beidawi ‘d‧ir’ ‘to build’ or the Arabi ‘Deir’ which is used in Egypt for monasteries or other ancient buildings. Possibly, these two words are connected with each other. It should be noted that there is a place called ‘Dereheib Baanet’, 40 miles north of Deraheib, with ruins of a tomb, and the famous Assarema Deraheib ‘The Seven Buildings’, in Khor Gamarota 20 miles inland from Akik.