In this commentary there are variations from the version by Abū Bishr and additions to it. Margoliouth says that the commentary is based on the version by Abū Bishr and suggests that Avicenna had a copy which had been annotated by one who had had access to the Syriac translation. If this should prove to be correct it will still not explain all the additions. That Avicenna uses for Úποκρîτης and not the of Abū Bishr may be due to the Syriac, but al-Fārābī before him had used tragodia and komodia instead of the (panegyric) and (invective) of Abū Bishr. Other changes may be explained by Avicenna's ability to get out of the faithful but obscure Arabic rendering more than the ordinary reader; as when he prefers to for γλττα (1457 b 1) and to for εύΧ (1456 b 11).

[With a view to obtain correct and authentic information on the subject of Nepálese law, both in its theoretical principles and practical administration, Mr. Hodgson addressed a series of questions to several individuals who were judged most capable of replying to them in a full and satisfactory manner. Copies of these series of interrogatories, with their respective answers, have been communicated by him to the Royal Asiatic Society (together with a separate paper on crimes and punishments); and the following article has been drawn up from a careful comparison of the whole, excluding as much as possible the repetitions unavoidably occurring, in many instances, in the various answers to any particular question. A reference to the works of Kirkpatrick, Hamilton, and others, will shew how little has hitherto been contributed to the knowledge of Europeans respecting Oriental systems of jurisprudence, as far as regards the kingdom of Nepal; it is therefore particularly gratifying to be enabled to produce so complete a view of the subject as has been furnished by Mr. Hodgson, whose perseverance and energy in obtaining an acquaintance with these and other matters hitherto kept sacred from all strangers, are only equalled by the intelligent and liberal manner in which he communicates to the public the information he has acquired.—Ed.

Since the discovery of the pillar at the Lumbinī Garden commemorating the birthplace of Gautama Buddha considerable curiosity has been aroused concerning the different mounds, or koṭs as they are locally called, which occur dotted over the tract extending from Kapilavastu on the north-west and the Lumbinī Garden on the north-east in Nepalese territory to a distance of several miles southwards inside the British frontier.

Students of Chinese intellectual history are familiar with moral cosmology developed in the Han era, a theory that alleges that ru use omens to admonish the emperor, and thereby to constrain and compete with his absolute political power. This thesis, in theory, is convincing; in actuality it is not. This article questions the autonomous power of omen discourse. Focusing on the socio-political conditions in which this discourse functioned, it demonstrates that, in real politics, the enactment of omen interpretation had nothing to do with restraining the power of the throne, but evolved with bloody factional struggles. Replacing the secret knowledge of diviners and astrologers with the common cultural heritage—the classics—and transforming the mysterious otherworldly spirits into a moral agent, ru successfully defeated the technical specialists and became the primary operators of the omen interpretation enterprise. The theoretical innovation that contributed to ru's success, however, undermined their chance of building a social closure both to close off competition and to secure their interpretative authority. As numerous historical cases show, neither the ru classics nor the moral competence of the speaker add to the social efficacy of omen explanation: without monopolised knowledge, standardised hermeneutic rules, or institutionalised positions, omen discourse, rather than contesting political power, became its servant.

Despite the Pakistan-Afghan border's importance as the epicentre of regional insurgency, the mechanisms by which Friday sermons may be stimulating Islamic ideology have been understudied. From an analysis of 250 hours of sermons in the local Pashto language, interviews with mullahs and survey work, Robinson argues that sermons are a powerful means by which sectarian tensions and traditional ideologies are propagated. Their influence is derived from an irresistible synergy of both ancient and modern. They gain traction from using a highly credible ancient sermon form - rich in poetics and sparkling oratory - which is multiplied by the use of modern media. The religious ideology they traffic continues to grip the imagination of Pashtuns in ways which shape their society and provides a bulwark against secular intruders.

The Indian water-clock was an arrangement for measuring by means of water and a jar or bowl the duration of a nāḍī, nāḍikā, nālikā, or ghaṭī, ghaṭikā, the period of twenty-four minutes, one-sixtieth of a mean civil day of exactly twenty-four hours from mean sunrise to mean sunrise, 6.0 a.m. It has existed in two forms.

It is a well-known fact that the discovery of the sea route to India and the ensuing scarcity of spices and other Indian products on the markets of Alexandria and Damascus resulted in their prices rising steeply. Judging from Venetian sources, the change in the condition of the Levantine trade was considered catastrophic. On the other hand, some scholars have already drawn attention to the fact that pepper prices fell considerably on European markets in the period preceding the expedition of Vasco da Gama, and especially in the second quarter of the 15th century. It is probable, a priori, that this was caused by a downward trend of prices in the Near East. But other factors, such as the level of demand in European countries and the conditions of trade (communications with the Near East, direct or indirect trade), could also have influenced the course of spice prices in Europe. In order to explain the tremendous impact of the rise of spice prices at the beginning of the 16th century, I have suggested, in my Histoire des prix et des salaires, the probability of a fall of prices in the Near Eastern emporia in the pre-Vasco period. In a paper published a few years later I tried to substantiate this conjecture by additional materials and, further, by the supposition that it was accompanied by a great increase in the volume of the Levantine trade, and also a general price-decline in the Near East at the end of the Middle Ages.

On 20 February 1582 when Alessandro Valignano, Visitor to the Jesuit missions in the East Indies (the geographical area from Goa eastwards, to Japan, and southwards, to the Indonesian archipelago) left Japan, the country had been in a state of civil war, (the sengoku jidai) for more than a century. That was about to change. Oda Nobunaga had succeeded in uniting the central and western parts of Honshu under his rule and was intent on imposing his rule over the rest of the country. The Jesuits considered him if not quite a patron, then certainly someone sympathetic to Christianity and their mission in Japan. Yet on 22 June Nobunaga died, the victim of an attack by an ambitious rival, and ironically, considering the previous esteem in which he had been held, unlamented by the Jesuits who believed that during the final months of his life he had transformed himself into a megalomanic tyrant, a Nebuchadnezzar.

The Ṭāq i Kisrā is the most famous monument of Sasanian architecture, but opinions as to its date and builder differ widely. The traditional name “Arch of Khosrau” might as well refer to the first as to the second Khosrau, and perhaps not even that, as in Arabic Kisrā is used as a general designation for the Sasanian rulers. Mohammedan writers used to regard the façade of the Ṭāq i Kisrā, as one of the wonders of the world, but the historical facts were very soon obscured by legends. Eventually no less than four Sasanian rulers were quoted as its builders: Shapur I (241–273), Shapur II (310–379), Khosrau I Anushirvan (531–579) and Khosrau II Parvez (590–628).

In an article published in this Journal dated April, 1930, I discussed a tombstone which I considered as the most ancient Islamic monument. This was dated A.H. 31 (A.D. 652).

It is a remarkable circumstance that the Queen of Great Britain rules over two hundred millions of people, who though deeply religious, possess a religion which cannot be designated by any one name. Most of the religions of the world, as, for example, Christianity, Muhammadanism, Buddhism, Zoroastrianism, are called by the names of their founders, though without the sanction of the founders themselves.

The Pariahs or Parayans (feminine in Tamil Parachi, in Malayalam Parayi) number 63,688, and are more numerous in the South of Travancore, though a few are found in almost every Talook (county). Of the whole, only 192 males, and no females, can read. Their general social condition is very similar to that of the other so-called “slave castes,” though, perhaps, not quite so low.

Some apology is perhaps needed for publishing these notes, which are not the work of a professed Pali scholar, and I would plead in extenuation that, apart from a few cases suggesting new interpretations of certain difficult terms, most of the words have been chosen for discussion because of their interest for Sanskrit lexicography and other general Indian subjects and that I have avoided Buddhist technical terms.

Since the time when the human race first began to speculate about the origin of the universe there have been two cosmological models that have seemed particularly attractive to its imagination. One has been to derive everything in the world from a single primal origin, out of which the cosmos, in all its apparent complexity, evolves. The other has been to view the history of the universe as a battle between two opposing forces which contradict and undermine each other. The two views can be called monism and dualism. They are not the only possibilities. There have been systems that posit three, four or an indefinite number of principles, but most of these have also tended to assume one basic pair of opposites with one or more neutral or intermediate principles beside them; this too can be seen as a form of dualism.

One of the larger, and probably the least well-known collections of oriental manuscripts, printed books and other two-dimensional material in the United Kingdom (and possibly in Europe) is to be found in the library of the Wellcome Institute for the History of Medicine. The collection includes over 10,000 manuscripts, some 900 written on palm leaves, and others on paper, metal, leather and ivory. There are about 3,000 books printed in oriental scripts, prints, drawings, paintings, and items of photographic material. Over 30 languages are represented in the collection.

The contents of the Kano Chronicle have long been known to scholars from the translation by Sir Richmond Palmer. The several Arabic MSS. of the work had, for years, been lost sight of, though it was thought that there must still be copies in Kano. In 1939 an American scholar, Professor J. H. Greenberg, made a microfilm copy of a MS. which he found there. This copy can apparently no longer be traced.

Tīmūr (or Tamerlane), the Barlas tribesman whose empire stretched from the Mediterranean to India in the early fifteenth century has been a much studied and much romanticized figure in the history of Central Asia. His displays of macabre and often brutal intimidation of enemies have become almost as legendary as his military prowess. Indeed, Western legend of Tīmūr is as full of spine-tingling grotesquerie as any Gothic novel, and has been embellished far beyond plausibility.

Whether we possess among the numerous Buddhist books preserved in China any text translated from a Pāli original, is a question which has not as yet been quite settled. Several scholars have answered it positively or negatively, but no one until now has brought forward an undeniable fact in support of his opinion. The object of my present note is to decide this point, and to introduce to the Society a text of Pāli origin in Chinese.

It is a strange circumstance, yet one immediately observable, that the Parsi community in India, so innovative and so energetically creative in many other respects, has failed to distinguish itself in the sphere of indigenous arts. In the acquisition of tastes and skills in European or hybrid pseudo-Persian architecture, in European-style portraiture, and in Classical music, the Parsis have been diligent, even as they long ago became eloquent masters of the English tongue. What of their arts can properly be called Zoroastrian?