hunting scenes, the actors in which are borne along in vehicles of essentially the same construction with those brought before us in the Iliad. They show scarcely any variation from the simple model developed on the banks of the Tigris; yet there was no direct imitation. Homer was profoundly unconscious of Ninevite splendours. He had no inkling of the existence of a great Mesopotamian monarchy far away to the East, beyond the rising-places of the sun, where one branch of his dichotomised Ethiopians dwelt in peace. Nevertheless, the life that he knew, and that was glorified by him, was touched with many influences from this unknown land. If some of them filtered through Egypt on their way, acquaintance with the art of charioteering certainly took a less circuitous route. For the third horse of the original Assyrian team was never introduced into Egypt, and was early discarded in Assyria itself. He figures continually, however, in Homeric engagements, running, loosely attached, beside the regularly yoked pair, one of whom he was destined to replace in case of emergency. The presence, then, of this ‘silly,’ or roped horse,[89] παρήορος ἵππος, demonstrates both the high antiquity, and the Anatolian negotiation, of the loan which included him. Footnote 88: Hehn and Stallybrass, _Wanderings of Plants and Animals_, pp. 38-39. Footnote 89: The word ‘silly’ thus applied is evidently cognate with the German _Seile_ = Greek σειρὰ, a rope, from the root _swar_, to tie. So in the _Ancient Mariner_, the ‘_silly_ buckets on the deck’ are the buckets attached to a rope. Similarly, the third horse was sometimes called by the Greeks σειραφόρος, ‘drawing by a rope.’ The fertile plains of Babylonia probably furnished the equine supplies of Egypt and Asia Minor during some centuries before the Nisæan stock,[90] cultivated in Media, acquired its Hellenic reputation. So far as can be judged from ancient vase-paintings, the horses of Achilles and Hector were of pure Oriental type. They owned the same points of breeding—the small heads, slender yet muscular legs, and high-arching necks, the same eager eye and proud bearing, characterising the steeds that shared the triumphs of Asurbanipal and Shalmaneser. The same quasi-heroic position, too, belonged to the horse in the camp before Troy and at Nineveh. He shared, in both scenes of action, only the nobler pursuits of man, and was exempt from the drudgery of servile work. The beasts of burden, alike of the Iliad and of the sculptures of Khorsabad and Kouyunjik, were mules and oxen, not horses. Equine co-operation was reserved for war and the chace—for war alone, indeed, by the Homeric Greeks, who appear always to have hunted on foot. This was inevitable. Modes of conveyance, were they drawn by Sleipnir or Areion, would have been an encumbrance in pursuing game through the thickets of Parnassus, or over the broken skirts of Mount Ida. Footnote 90: Blakesley’s _Herodotus_, iii. 106.