One of the main and most tempting problems for a student of Arab geographers is the analysis of their excursions into the little-explored regions on the periphery of the Islamic world, such as Eastern Europe, Central Asia, China, and India. It is a well known fact that these geographers, intent on Space, are often negligent of Time. On a sixteenth century Turkish map I have found a phantom of America stretched into the shape of a new-born moon, whereas the wastes of Siberia were still marked as the haunts of the traditional Gog and Magog. Thus, too, in the ninth and tenth centuries, the classical period of Arab geography, the scholars felt no compunction in plagiarizing one another, or borrowing from some ancient source data bearing no relation to the contemporary conditions: in the tenth century King Dahum of “common origin” still figured among, the rulers of India, although this name referred to Dharmapala, the ruler of Bengal about A.D. 800.

As a good missionary and teacher Mani knew the value of repetition. With endless pains he had elaborated a story of the world, which was to explain all phenomena, of nature and the mind, that came within reach of his knowledge. Its comprehensiveness made it so complicated that it required—and still requiresa strong effort to remember all its details. t All the greater was the need to force it, by ceaseless repetition, into the minds of those who were ready to listen to the new prophet. No doubt every one of his books and longer epistles opened with this story, which may have been the sole subject of several of them. It is therefore useless to try to identify the various accounts before us either with each other or with one of the books of which we know merely the title.

In a recent lecture to the Philological Society (now in the press, and to appear in the Transactions, 1947) I had occasion to quote a Central Asian ethnic name Ttaudägara–. The one passage where this name has been found is in the Khotanese manuscript in the Bibliothèque Nationale numbered P 2741. I had prepared this text for publication in 1942, but it remains still unprinted. I therefore print it here since a controversy may be expected over this name as a possible equivalent of Ooyápa, and it is desirable the basic evidence should be in the hands of scholars as soon as possible. A complete translation is hardly possible yet and only the relevant passage is rendered here.

It has already been noted by Professor F. W. Thomas 1 that there are several striking coincidences in religious topography between Buddhist Khotan and Nepal. In addition to place–names, however, there is also a considerable body of legendary tradition common to the two countries.

In Telugu, unlike any other Dravidian language except Kui-Kuvi, there is a very numerous class of words of native origin, beginning with a consonant group of which the second element is r, e.g. krovvu, trādu, prōlu, mrānu, vrāyu, sraggu. These are all common words of some antiquity and most of them have doublets in which the r has been dropped, as in kovvu, in accordance with the Common Dravidian tendency to avoid initial consonant groups, which is shared with Prakrit. Sometimes there are three forms, as tirika a twist, trippu, tippu to cause to turn. Trikku a twist, has only this form and is presumably not popular, while tikka crazy, is also written trikka.

In two recent articles in the Transactions of the Philological Society the problem of Dravidian words in Sanskrit has been discussed, and a considerable number of etymologies have been presented.1 Roughly 170 Sanskrit words of Dravidian origin are dealt with in the two articles. There remains an even larger amount of material which has not been touched on in the above two articles, and the bulk of this is brought together in the list of etymologies proposed here. The present article contains 315 items, involving a larger number of words since several words may be treated together, bringing the total number of Dravidian words in Sanskrit dealt with in the three articles to well over 500. This is a very considerable number, and shows that the extent of Dravidian influence on Sanskrit has always been underestimated rather than overestimated. It by no means exhausts the field, and another supplementary list will eventually be necessary. When the subject has been fully dealt with, it is unlikely that the total list of Dravidian words in Sanskrit will be less than 750, and it may well turn out to be considerably more.

In reading through the Pali Canon one cannot help being struck by the frequent occurrence of phrases which lay stress both on the real objective character of the truth and the supreme importance of “ self ” in the matter of the subjective aspect of the truth in so far as it is the function and duty of the self to realize (i.e. make real) the truth which the self recognizes by means of its cognitive and intuitional faculties. This emphasis is in keeping with the definite assertion of a positive and real self all through the Canon

There is perhaps no writer held in greater esteem in the Tamil country than the poetess Avvai or Auvai, as her name is given in the old commentaries and in a poem of the Sangam age.1 The editor of a selection of poems from those traditionally ascribed to Avvai says that the poetess was an incarnation of the goddess of learning, while the writer of the foreword to his book says the joy of her presence is with us in the world to-day. An editor and annotator of a philosophical work ascribed to her writes in much the same strain, remarking that the work in question is the fruit of the penance of the whole Tamil country.

After the death of Han Yü in 823, his literary works were collected and edited by his relative and disciple Li Han . These works were soon forgotten, and the name of Han Yü remained virtually unknown until the chance discovery of a fragmentary copy by the child Ou Yang Hsiu in the house of a friend in 1016.1 Ou Yang Hsiu, who within thirty years had done much both to restore Han Yü′s text, and to demand for him the recognition that he had claimed but never received during his lifetime, was followed in his work by every Confucian scholar of note, until Han Yü′s position as the last of the classical writers was irremovably established. In his original edition Li Han had arranged Han Yü′s works according to categories: he may have made some attempt at a chronological order within those categories, but if so, the disintegration of copies during the 200 years of neglect undid his work.

Amongst some material recently recorded for me by Mr. E. A. W. Engmann, a native of Christiansborg, was a passage from his prize essay, “ Ganyo bi”. The passage contained a Gã, folk tale told some years ago to Mr. Engmann by his aunt (minyε nukpa). Apart from any intrinsic merit, the story affords an interesting example of the adaptation of a borrowed theme. A detailed comparison with the well-known Akan version would undoubtedly prove profitable. I give Mr. Engmann′s text below.

This present study is the result of observations I made on the speech of Mr. S. M. Ahamba, while he was at the School in 1946. Mr. Ahamba is an Igbo, and was born and brought up in Lorji, a small rural village situated near the western bank of the Imo River, some twenty miles east-south-east of Owerri town. He has spent some time at Obosi and Awka, both in Onitsha Province, and also at Egbu, three miles from Owerri. It must be emphasized, however, that the type of Igbo he speaks is not that of Owerri town itself. It could be most nearly described as the Lorji dialect spoken by a school teacher who has spent some years away from home.