which is still strong in the 7th century, is toned down or ingeniously given a motive, as with the kneeling warrior who fights backwards, and does not disguise his connection with the old runner with bent knee. The individualizing of men and animals carried forward by Timonidas now once more makes big advances in human figures, horses and dogs. We will select two of the kraters to give us an idea of the development of the style. One, a Paris vase (Fig. 64), gives a special application to a fine banqueting scene, by added names and the insertion of Iole, as the visit paid by Herakles to Eurytios, king of Oichalia. The fair daughter of the house stands with some indifference between the guest and her brother; it is supposed to represent a legend, but is really little more than a genre scene, as which it is hard to beat. The lively conversation of the guests, the dogs tied to the sofa-legs waiting and speculating on the chance of [Illustration: PLATE XXXIII. Fig. 66. DEPARTURE OF AMPHIARAOS: FROM A CORINTHIAN KRATER.] bits falling from the table are masterly, and even the horses in the supporting frieze, if out of proportion and inelegant, are the more characteristic and living. The technique follows old tradition; the flesh of Iole, tables and sofas, one dog, shields on the reverse, appear in outline drawing. Such contours, also found sometimes where men’s bodies left white set off those painted dark, unite to some extent, as does the red colouring of the male countenance, the vase in its effect with the great art. On the other hand the Amphiaraos krater (Fig. 66), which gives up red for male faces, and makes a point of covering the outline figures with a layer of white, has become more decorative and black-figured. Its pictures are not equal in execution to the invention, but come from excellent models (p. 67). Between the colonnade and façade of the house, which are in line like the tables in the Eurytios vase, the hero, because of his oath, mounts his chariot to go with open eyes to the death he forebodes; his angry look is directed to Eriphyle and the fatal necklace in her hand. With raised hands the family takes leave, a maid-servant gives the stirrup-cup to the charioteer. Foreboding evil, the faithful Halimedes sits on the ground: his heart has evidently bidden him to train up the boy Alkmaion to take vengeance on his mother. The whole delight in narration, which in the exaggerated rendering of the necklace strongly emphasizes the previous history, is as genuinely archaic, as the mythological individualizing of an old type ‘The warrior’s departure.’