Gwáder is a seaport on the coast of Makrán (ancient Gedrosia), and Makran the name of the southernmost portion of the country marked Baluchistán in our maps. The derivation of the word “Makrán” is doubtful; indeed, I have never heard a satisfactory derivation. Baluchistán, viz. the country of the Baluchis, is so called from the people by whom it is now principally inhabited, who, themselves, claim to be of Arab extraction (Arabs of the Koreish tribe), stating that they were forced to emigrate, about the latter end of the seventh century, from the neighbourhood of Aleppo, in Syria, by the tyranny of the Khalif Yezid, in consequence of their having taken the part of Husain (the martyr), grandson of Muhammad; and that, passing through Persia, they eventually reached Makrán, which they gradually overran and became masters of. Their traditions are, however, meagre and unsatisfactory. They do not appear to have preserved the name of a single place through which they passed in their journey through Persia; nor have they any recollection of the people inhabiting Makran at the time of their advent. This state of oblivion may, perhaps, be accounted for by the gradual manner of their coming into the country, viz. clan by clan at a time; but, in the lists of their ancestors, as I have received them, many names must have been omitted.

Certain passages in the Kauṭilīya Arthaśāstra and the reading of the inscription on the Māṇikiāla stone, published in this Journal for 1914 (p. 641), have invited some attention to the question how time was measured, marked, and told for ordinary use in ancient India; and Dr. Fleet has recently discussed the ancient Indian water-clock fully (p. 213 ante), showing how time was measured and marked by it. This paper continues the subject, dealing with the marking and telling of time for ordinary use. I have to thank him for drawing my attention to the passages in the Arthaśātra, the Jyotiṣaratnamālā, and the Divyāvadāna, and to the notice of the Jain muhūrtas, and for some criticisms and suggestions.

Since my article on the above appeared, additional information has come to hand which appears to be of sufficient merit to be recorded, more especially because this old music of the Moors is gradually disappearing. At the invitation of the Egyptian Government, I attended a Congress of Arabian Music which was held in Cairo during March and April, 1932, where I had the honour to preside over the Commission of History and Manuscripts. During this congress I had the opportunity of studying, at first hand, the practical as well as the theoretical art. The best native orchestras from Arabic speaking lands were in attendance, and among them were three from Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia. These latter included in their répertoires the old Maghriban melodies from the ṭubū', naubāt, or ṣan'āt. At these auditions, and from conversations with the musicians, but more especially through information obtained from Sīdī Ḥasan 'Abd al-Wahhāb the Governor of Mahdia, and Sīdī Muḥammad al-Manūbī al-Sanūsī of Tūnis, I had confirmation by eye and ear of that which hitherto had only been known to me by script.

In offering the following notes I would especially ask for consideration on the part of students of Sinitic languages. I in no way pretend to be familiar with these forms of speech, and I must explain that, while I shall be grateful for criticisms on their part, my remarks are not directly addressed to them, but rather to those students of philology who have not made a special study of Chinese, but who, for purposes of comparison, are compelled to acknowledge a bowing acquaintance with all, or nearly all, the tonic languages of Asia.

In cataloguing the Oriental MSS. of the John Rylands Library, I came across an unknown and semi-official defence of Islam. The MS, containing it is in some places in a bad state of preservation, but apart from about ten words which have completely faḍed away, the text has been read and translated, and it is hoped that the book, accompanied by a critical apparatus, will shortly be published by the Governors of the Library at the Manchester University Press.

The following narrative is abridged from a Japanese book called “Nankai Kibun” (Notes of the Southern Ocean), which records the examination by the officials of Ohikuzen in Kiushiu, of a native of that province, named Magotarō, who had been cast away on an island near Mindanao, and, after a captivity of seven years, was ultimately brought back to Japan in a Dutch ship.

From the Rājatarangmī we learn that, when Kāsyapa raised Kāshmir above the waters, Nīla, whose royal canopy was the hood of the serpent, reigned there over the Nāgas.

The Greco-Buddhist sculpture of Gandhara has for a long time been of singular attraction for students of Indian art. These sculptures of greyish-blue schist found in such quantities in the inaccessible valleys of the Indo-Afghan frontier, have from the outset been noted for their classical affinities, and many were brought to Europe by art-loving dilettanti. The particular qualities distinguishing them from all other Indian sculpture were duly extolled; they came to be recognized as the earliest examples of new ideas which changed the whole development of Indian art and propagated Western influence throughout the Buddhist world. But the rôle so enthusiastically assigned to them has not remained unchallenged. A younger generation, more eager to discover the truly national qualities of the arts of Asia, maintained that the only reason for this admiration was that on account of their Greek affinities the Gandhara sculptures were less strange to Europeans than Asiatic art proper. They considered Greco-Buddhist sculpture a weak and provincial offshoot of Western art, without much influence in the East, and for the most part of a quality which could not compete with the broad current of the Indian tradition. Even those iconographical innovations with which the sculptors of Gandhara had generally been credited, such as the creation of the Buddha image, were attributed by these scholars to other and more “national” schools. To this day no satisfactory solution of the problem has come forward.

In the Egyptian medical papyri, as well as in certain other texts, there occurs a substance called didi which for many years was understood to mean the fruits of the mandragora or mandrake. This equation didi = mandrake arose out of the opinion stated in his dictionary by Brugsch that the word didi was akin to the Hebrew doudaim “mandrake”. Brugsch, some years after the publication of the supplement to his dictionary (vol. vii, 1882), reaffirmed his opinion in a special article with the title “Die Alraune als altägyptishe Zauberpflanze”, which appeared in 1891. From that time the identification was accepted without question until in 1904 M. Henri Gauthier published an important article in which he showed quite conclusively that didi was not the mandrake, nor even a plant at all, but a mineral. It does not in the least detract from the importance and value of M. Gauthier's paper that it is now necessary to go over the ground once again, because further evidence has become available since its publication. We will first, therefore, enumerate the texts in which the word didi occurs.

Popular and (as attested by theory) undoubtedly old as the bhāṇa must have been, the specimens of this form of composition which have been hitherto known to exist belong to comparatively recent times. Considerable importance, therefore, attaches to the discovery and publication (1922) of four bhāṇas. under the title Caturbhāṇī, by M. Ramakrishna Kavi and S. K. Ramanatha Sastri from Śivapurī, for which great antiquity is claimed by the editors and which, whatever might be their date, are certainly older than any of the late existing specimens. The Caturbhāṇī consists of Ubhayâbhisārikā (Ubh), Padma-prābhṛtaka (Pp), Dhūrtaviṭa-saṃvāda (Dvs) and Pāda-tāḍitaka (Pt), ascribed respectively, on the authority chiefly of a traditional verse, to Vararuci. Śūdraka, Īśvaradatta and Śyāmilaka. Professor Keith, in his recently published Sanskrit Drama (p. 185, fn. 3), throws doubt on the first two ascriptions, and declares rather dogmatically that “ none of these plays need be older than a.d. 1000”.

In this article the author presents an overview of the British Library's Manichaean Turkish text fragments (written in Runic, Manichaean and Sogdo-Uigur script). Besides information on all fragments published so far several pieces of a confession text on the Blessed Small Feast Day are edited in full and compared to parallels in other collections.

The origin of the Indian alphabet is a matter of very considerable interest and importance. Was the art of writing introduced from foreign lands, or was it an indigenous invention; and in what age did it first make its appearance? Opinions differ on these points, for there is no certain evidence; and the conclusions arrived at are based entirely on inference and probability. The balance of opinion has perhaps, hitherto, inclined to the theory of a Semitic origin, and a late writer on the subject, our learned colleague Dr. Burnell, has given a very decided opinion on that side of the question. To his judgment I pay due deference, but the arguments with which he supports it seem to me inconclusive and unsatisfactory. I propose, therefore, to review briefly the whole subject.

The average quality of the sculpture at the Exhibition of the Art of India and Pakistan at the Royal Academy, London, is remarkably high. Naturally there is a bigger percentage of first-class pieces in bronze than in stone, because so much of the best stone sculpture is fixed in temples or carved on rock. The great Siva could not be moved from Elephanta nor a River Goddess from Ellora nor the Descent of the Ganges from the rock-face at Mamallapuram.