Another aspect of the subject must now be examined. Archæologists whose intentions are perfectly honest often dig out monuments, sepulchres, and temples which require to be protected as soon as exposed; but they do not first consider whether such protection is available. They are overwhelmed by the desire to make discoveries, and they go on digging and digging without any regard for the immovable but frangible objects which are left exposed to destruction in their wake. “Oh, the Government will look after them,” say they, not realising that the Government is already straining every nerve and expending every available penny upon such works of preservation, and can do no more. People sometimes believe that the British are vandals; and I must therefore observe in passing that under British direction more money has been spent upon antiquities in Egypt in proportion to the budget of the country than in any other part of the world. During the four or five years previous to the war nearly £300,000 was spent by the Egyptian Government on archæological works; and surely no more can be asked. In archæological work there is nothing more harmful than the craze for discovery. The archæologist often thinks that it is his business to find antiquities with which to fill the museum which he represents; or, again, he thinks it is necessary to make some startling discovery which will redound to his credit and to that of his institution. This attitude is generally forced upon him by the fact that the persons or societies who have financed his work desire to see a tangible return for their money, and are not satisfied with the heavy records of a dull piece of work such as the planning and clearing up of an empty fortress of Roman date. They insist on their representative going for the plums; and they do not seem to realise that in so doing they are encouraging him to excavate in an unprincipled manner. An archæologist cannot accomplish his duty to the world unless he digs out the unfruitful site as conscientiously and diligently as he would the plenteous one, and records everything minutely, whether it happens to thrill him or leave him cold. This is the first principle of honest work, based upon the quite obvious truth that at the present time we cannot always tell exactly which of our records of the past are going to be considered of value to the future.