It is my intention to trace the history and evolution of the dome in Persia from the earliest times to the present day; and I hope to show at the same time the very important part played by Persia in the evolution of domed construction, which I believe has never been pointed out before. Before I can do this, however, I must first briefly review the dome in antiquity.

The Ongin inscription was discovered in 1891, the year I was born, in Outer Mongolia on the Manet mountains, near a tributary of the River Ongin, from which it takes its name, at a point a little north-east of 46° N., 102° E., that is about 100 miles south of the two great “Orkhon Inscriptions” and some 250 miles west-southwest of the inscription of Toñukuk.

The following classified references may prove useful and suggestive to the student of the economic conditions of ancient India. The work accomplished by Professor Zimmer in his Altindisches Leben, which contains, among so much of varied interest, almost all that may be gleaned on the political economy of Vedic times, has not been carried on with respect to the advancing civilization of the succeeding centuries. Mr. Romesh Chunder Dutt's important compilation, the Civilization of Ancient India, cannot, from the magnitude of its scope, treat adequately of what the literature of that era lets us see concerning rural economy, organization of industry, and methods of exchange. Dr. Fick's Sociale Gliederung im Nordöstlichen Indien is most valuable and suggestive as far as it goes. But it is compiled from a sociological and not from a specifically economic standpoint. Yet if we consider the ancient records now accessible, contemporary respectively with the age which preceded and with that which saw the rise of Buddhism and Jainism, and with the times of the earlier and succeeding ‘law-books’ —covering, from b.c. 800, let us say, a thousand years,— we may find materials sufficient to justify at all events some initial efforts to gain a coherent outline of economic institutions. I do not pretend that the passages noted are at all exhaustive; I am confident that much valuable material remains embedded both in edited and unedited texts.

The tomb-scenes of Egypt of all periods are particularly rich in pictures of various phases of agricultural life: so complete is our material that it is possible to reconstruct every episode of the farmer's year. The newly sown seed was turned into the ground by various methods, sometimes by means of the hoe and human labour, sometimes by means of the plough drawn by oxen, and sometimes, again, it was trodden in by animals. From Herodotus' statement, it might appear that the only method of treading-in corn was by means of swine, but actually this method is very rarely met with. So far as I know, there is no instance of this procedure earlier than the eighteenth dynasty. In two Theban tombs (Nos. 24 and 146), each of which belonged to a different person bearing the name Nebamun, amongst the agricultural scenes, pigs are seen following the sower to tread in the grain. Both these tombs date from the reign of Tuthmosis III.

It is a well-known fact that descendants of the Visigothic kings lived on in Spain under Muslim rule for several centuries. An important early historian of Muslim Spain, Ibn al-Qüṭīyah (died 367/977), owes his name—“son of the Gothic woman”—to descent from the princess Sara, granddaughter of King Witiza, and in his Iftitāḥ gives an account of the destinies of several members of the family. The following pages will, I hope, serve to throw light on one of these and at the same time to clear up a bibliographical problem which has never been properly solved.

Few nations, either ancient or modern, have surpassed the Amazirgs, or lineal descendants of the primitive inhabitants of northern Africa, in power to produce a more ingenious and contemplative writer than the one now before us. And yet this writer, equally profound as an historian and as a statesman, has hitherto been so little known in Europe, that the majority of our Arabic scholars have but very confused notions of his scientific and literary merits, and to many, even his name is almost unknown. In the East, and in Africa, however, the great historical work he has composed, has given him a celebrity which no lapse of time, nor any vicissitude of events, will ever impair or lessen.

The Thai kingdom of Ayudhyā endured several periods of crisis during its long history from 1350 to 1767, but the crisis which will concern us here happened in 1592. During that year the king, Nareśvara, was well aware that he lived in a hostile world of unusually wide dimensions. His behaviour will be discussed as a basis for a brief consideration of Ayudhyā's attitude towards the world, a subject of more than diplomatic interest.

Usually the European perception of South Asia and, related to it, academic research into this region, is informed by specific, powerful images and metaphors that establish a dichotomisation of the world. The reasons for this development cannot be analysed in detail here. Suffice it to say, however, that this organisation and designation of the world has deep roots. Until the Reformation, Europe was basically perceived only in terms of geographical boundaries. But the dichotomy between “Europe” and “Asia” acquired a new dimension in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when, in the wake of a change of paradigm into modernity, European self-consciousness gradually developed into a sense of European intellectual superiority. Just as a new form of collective identity had developed within the boundaries of Europe, based on the idea of “nation” in the late eighteenth century, and just as the members of the early nation-states forcibly dissociated themselves by definition from members of other societies in order to be able to establish their own identity, now, with the same intention, though on a different level, Europeans dissociated themselves from “Asia”, the “Orient” and “Islam”. The political recollection of important master narratives kept the mythical fictions in mind and imbued the nation-building process with enormous real power. This development towards a modern European identity was based, as can be deduced from many travellers' testimonies, on the history of reception, reciprocal perceptions, and the development of enemy images. In this process, the Orient and the Orientals were also used by Europeans as a didactic background for the critique of their own (European) urban societies. The literary technique of contextual alienation and distancing, such as can be found in Montesquieu's “Persian Letters”, was born in this period. These and following processes of projection were connected among others things with the fact that Europeans, as colonial masters, advanced to confront the world outside Europe. There they were faced with attitudes and norms that forced them to question their own perceptions. In doing so, they also tended to accept some of these strange and different ideas, and, thus, exposed themselves to cultural hybridisation which could then only be overcome by the reconstructing of their own culture as something “pure”, in contrast to the “degenerate” culture of the colonialised. In this way, collective antagonisms developed. Even the Oriental crusades that had been critically evaluated by European academicians, were now for the first time perceived in terms of cultural clash. Analogously, Europe and Asia were constructed in the eighteenth century and very predominantly in the nineteenth century in terms of arenas of power politics. For instance, it was during this time that the eastern borders of Europe were conceptualised, with the Balkans and Transoxania being considered as buffers or gaps between the two.

The following notes are intended to supplement an article written in 1912 and published in JRAS. for October, 1916, pp. 773–807. The theme then was the tradition of the group as generally accepted at the present day, and limitation of space confined the study to one hero-tale for each of the Eight. The tales were translated intact from an illustrated compilation of Taoist mythology which continues in popular favour and provides a fairly representative treatment of the subject. With a scope so restricted, the former article made but a small contribution towards a better understanding of an important national cult. It is essayed here to probe a little deeper and in more varied places in search of evidence about the origin and evolution of the conception. The writer feels that apologies are due for the scrappy nature of these notes rather than for reverting to the topic ; for surely there is call for much fuller inquiry, considering the ubiquity of the Eight in the folk-lore and folk-art of the Far East during many centuries, and the scant, attention paid them by Western students.

Heraldry — that is the systematic use of hereditary charges based upon the shield — had not come into being by 1095, the year of the Council of Clermont, but by 1300 the new science of Armory, as it is more correctly called, was in use throughout most of Christendom. The authors of the Chansons de Geste and historians such as Ambroise certainly mention heraldic devices on the banners and shields of both Western knights and Saracen amīrs, but their confused statements, although extremely illuminating as to Western views of Muslims, do not add a great deal to our study of contemporary heraldic practice. Their lowly position in the Crusading armies did not offer them many chances for really accurate observation. However, Jean, Sire de Joinville, who is dictating in about 1305/6 his account of events he had not only witnessed but in which he had played an important part in his youth, had been very close to the King and lived during the very period when Heraldry in the West became formalized on strictly controlled principles. He is a reliable historical observer, and it may well be that by examining specific statements he makes about both Western, and more importantly Muslim, heraldic practice we can further our knowledge of developments in the two systems.

I have the honour to return you Sir James Mackintosh's interesting memoir. It possesses (like every thing which comes from the pen of that gifted and ingenious writer) the highest interest; and the ideas which are so luminously developed in it have the more merit, if we consider, that, at the period when this memoir was published, philosophical notions on the study and nature of languages were rarer and more novel than they are at present.

a well-known find of a vehicle-model in the Indus civilization is the fragmentary copper representation of a covered cart found at a depth of 10 feet 6 inches in Stratum IV of Mound F at Harappā (Vats 1940, I, 99, 452; II, Pl. CXXV, 35), illustrated here by a drawing made from the original in 1943 (Fig. 1). It has a virtually exact counterpart from Chanhu-dāro (Mackay 1943, Pl. LVIII, 2) which, however, lacks not only the draught animals but the figure of the driver. The Harappā model clearly shows that in its unbroken condition it had a central draught-pole, with model animals projecting from the body of the cart on rods, the broken stumps of which look for a moment deceptively like an anachronistic pair of shafts. Both models would originally have possessed a pair of wheels carried on an axle turning in the loops below the vehicle.

The following transcript of a Persian Newspaper, lithographed and printed at Tehran, is given as a specimen of the political advancement of the Persians, among whom a printing press is but of very recent introduction. The newspaper was undertaken a few years since, under the editorship of Mirza Salih, one of the public secretaries of H. M. the Shah of Persia, who has been employed on a diplomatic mission in this country. The original is lithographed on two large folios, printed on one side only; it is closely written in a plain hand, and is surmounted by the Persian emblem of the Lion and Sun.

The organization of the nobility of the Indian Mughal Empire in numerical grades (manṣabs) is now generally recognized as one of the basic elements of its administrative and military structure. Equally general, perhaps, has been a recognition of the manṣab system's many complexities. However, by combining the information in Abu 'l-Faẓl's Ā'īn-i Akbarī with a number of 17th-century texts and documents, it has been possible to construct a tolerable picture of the working of the manṣab system during the 17th century. In many respects, the basic features were first delineated by Moreland and Abdul Aziz; but their views have been greatly refined, and often substantially revised, by M. Athar Ali and Irfan Habib. It is now accepted as beyond argument that by Akbar's death (1605), manṣab was explained in two numerical representations: the first, zāt, determined the holder's personal pay (ṭalab-i khāṣa) and status in the hierarchy; the second (sawār) indicated the number of horsemen to be maintained by the holder and set the amount sanctioned to cover their pay (ṭalab-i tābīnān). In each case, the rank-number was converted into monetary claims and military obligation by means of the schedules (dastūr al-'amals) in force at the time. The system undoubtedly gave to the Mughal nobility and military machine a high degree of uniformity and regularity in its functioning, which is likely to have contributed greatly to the stability and strength of the Empire.

[It will be of use to the future historian of British India, to know the precise periods at which the British government granted to the natives of the Island of Ceylon, and of the different parts of India, those rights which are alike calculated to elevate both their moral and their political character; and, also, to be enabled to refer to the opinions which were entertained at the time upon the subject, by the people of the country. One of the most important of these rights was that of sitting upon juries, and of being tried by juries of their own countrymen. It is, therefore, thought advisable to record the period, and to give some account of the circumstances under which the British government granted this right to the natives of the Island of Ceylon, and to the natives of the different parts of India; and, also, to give a copy of a paper written to Mr. GræMe, the late Governor of Madras, by Rám Ráz, who was native Chief Judge of the Mysore country, and one of the most enlightened of the Hindú inhabitants of the peninsula of India.

No 1 (large folio of 460 pages) contains the About the hero see Malayan Annals, translated by Leyden, chapters xiv. and xvi. A small extract is found in Crawfurd's “History of the Indian Archipelago,” ii. p. 51. Manuscripts of this work, the text of which might be available, are in the possession of Mr. J. Pijnappel, at Leyden; and of Mr. E. Netscher, at Riyow. The last chapters of this tale are found in No. 2607 of the manuscripts of the India Office, commencing with that part where the king of Mălaka intends to make one of his sons king on Mount Siguntang.

This composition is very interesting, as it exhibits a faithful picture of Malay life, and is written in genuine Malay.

No. 2 (large folio of 288 pages; the last four pages are filled up with doggrel rhymes by some transcriber).

This article examines the relationship between the leader of the Aqquyunlu Turkman confederation, ‘Uthmān Beg Qarā Yulūk, and the Mamluk Sultanate, with an eye to the ways in which the Mamluks sought to define the limits of sultanic sovereignty on the frontier, as well as the ways in which Qarā Yulūk sought to pursue his own interests and those of his tribal followers within the framework of the Mamluk political order. What becomes apparent is that while the interests of the Turkmans ultimately clashed with those of the Mamluk sultans on the Anatolian frontier, both Qarā Yulūk and the Mamluks shared a common interest in maintaining a relationship in which formal recognition of Aqquyunlu autonomy was exchanged for ritual submission to the sultan.