Studies on Ottoman society and law through the so-called court sijills have lately proliferated, surpassing in volume all previous studies based on other archival sources, including tax and land registers. The comparatively massive size of these sijills, and the fact that their majority did survive, even in a good state, have led some scholars to the conclusion that only the Ottoman qāḍīs kept records of their court proceedings in a systematic fashion, and that they were the first to establish the sijill as a formal institution. Even those who do not share this view of a uniquely Ottoman achievement seem in no sense clear as to the pre-Ottoman history of this important institution. My purpose in this article, therefore, is to attempt to unravel some important aspects of the sijill's history, including the less consequential issue of the terminological confusion which has engulfed it in modern scholarly discourse.

Following the political upheavals of 1978, the history and development of Shiite religious thought in modern-day Persia has been the subject of detailed scholarly studies, but the modern development of Sufism—the mystical tradition that lies at the heart of traditional Persian culture, literature and philosophy, which is, from the cultural and literary point of view at least, the most fascinating aspect of the Perso-Islamic religious tradition—remains almost completely uncharted. In contrast to the classical and medieval periods of Persian Sufism which have undergone much scholarly investigation in recent years, the study of the modern period of Iranian tasawwuf, though far better known and documented, has been seriously neglected by scholars.

Section 274 of the Secret History of the Mongols (Yuanchao bishi) tells us that Khagan Ögödei placed governors over the conquered peoples whose cities were ‘Asud, Sesüd, Bolar and Mankerman-Kiwa’. I present the entire passage, first, in the transliterated edition published in 1972 by Igor de Rachewiltz, then in two English translations, the first by Francis Woodman Cleaves, the second by Rachewiltz:

batu büri güyük möngge teri'üten olon kö'üt qanglin kibca'ud-i bajigid-i oro'ulju ejiljayaq meget balaqasu ebdeljü orusud-i kiduju ülüttele talaba asut sestüt bolar man-kerman kiwa teri'üten balaqad-un irgen-i dawuliju else'üljü daruqacin tammacin-i talbiju qariba.

Thangmi is a Tibeto-Burman language spoken in central-eastern Nepal and north-eastern India. The majority of Thangmi speakers live in Nepal and still inhabit their traditional homeland of Dolakhá district. There are ethnic Thangmi in many of the other districts of the kingdom, especially in the neighbouring districts of Sindhupálcok, Sindhulī and Rámecháp. The Thangmi population in India is largely concentrated in Darjeeling and is the product of an emigration earlier this century.

Okina , a ritual play without plot, a collection of old songs and dialogues interspersed with dances, can be seen in many parts of Japan, performed in various versions. In village festivals, it may be put on by local people using libretti derived from oral traditions, and in larger shrines professional players might be employed to perform it at the New Year. Puppets enact Okina dances at the start of Bunraku performances and Kabuki actors use them to open their season. Such Okina performances derive from Nō traditions, and as might be expected, the Nō schools have their own Okina, based on texts deriving from the Edo period, which they perform at the start of celebratory programmes. These ‘official’ versions feature, among other roles, two old men: Okina and Sanbasō (). Before the fifteenth century, when Nō traditions were being established, it was common for a third old man known as Chichi no jō () to appear as well (I shall refer to this ‘complete’ form as Shikisanban, three ritual pieces, a term used by Muromachi performers). These old men are marked out from all other Nō roles by their use of a unique type of mask, having a separated lower jaw connected by a cord (the so-called kiriago).Erika de Poorter, in her introduction to Okina, suggests that actors dropped the third section because its Buddhist content conflicted with a trend away from Buddhism towards Shinto (a trend she refers to as ‘the spirit of the times’). She supports her theory by adducing a similar ideological shift in contemporaneous interpretations of Okina and legends about the origins of Nō. De Poorter tells us little about these interpretations, as is perhaps appropriate for an introductory essay. This study, however, aims to give a full account of them, starting with a Buddhist reading, recorded near the beginning of the Muromachi period, proceeding to interpretations current among performers in the fifteenth century, and concluding with the purely Shinto explanation taught by the Yoshida lineage in the mid-sixteenth century.

That Sanskrit satyá (Avestan haiθiia) derives from sánt is by no means so certain as Georges-Jean Pinault has recently claimed, and as the standard etymological dictionary (both KEWA, III, and EWA, I) maintains. The picture has altered since (as noted already in KEWA) Elmar Seebold finally disposed of the existence of a Germanic *sun∂jaz, which had seemed to correspond in form as well as meaning with Sanskrit satyá ‘true’. Gothic sunja ‘truth’ (>*sun∂ī: Seebold, art. cit., 25, 36) offers no support for the notion of a -ya derivative from the participle. At the same time, Karl Hoffmann had sought to withdraw the support of Agni's epithet santya, by explaining it as ‘being together: (etwa) Mitbewohner‘ from a *sóm-tiyo which otherwise, as in Germanic (English soft), develops a sense ‘appropriate, agreeable: angenehm’. To this may now be added the consideration that Paul Thieme has thought (oral communication) to explain satyá, with IE *sem- ‘one, together‘ in mind, as ‘einig, übereinstimmend‘ from a *sm-tyó. The latter would show more primitive Ablaut and more literal meaning than *sóm-tiyo, but both words would thus be close relatives of samydk ‘together, properly’.

According to the Nihongi, a chronicle of Japan written in A.D. 720, the first Chinese calendar was brought to Japan in the year A.D. 554. It is now generally agreed that before this time there was no native calendrical system and that earlier dates given in the Nihongi were calculated retrospectively, and in some cases inaccurately, using Chinese systems (Nakayama, 1969: 7–8). The Chinese calendar was not only a method for keeping track of the days but also a complete astronomical system for calculating the movements of the heavenly bodies.