Larger excavations of this kind are found in the neighbouring island of Salsette. But these are far surpassed by the temples of Ellora, which are in the province of Hyderabad, about twenty miles north-west from Aurungabad, the capital, and 239 east of Bombay. It may be considered as near the centre of India. Here we have a granite mountain, which is of an amphitheatre form, completely chiselled out from top to bottom, and filled with innumerable temples; the god Siva alone having, it is said, about twenty appropriated to himself. To describe the numerous galleries and rows of pillars which support various chambers lying one above another, the steps, porticos, and bridges of rock over canals, also hewn out of the solid rock, would be impossible; and we recommend those who have the opportunity to look at Daniell’s designs, which will serve to give some idea of this wonderful place. The rock-cut temples of India are generally supposed to be of higher antiquity than pagodas[2] or temples, built on the surface of the earth. ⁂ Abridged from ‘British Museum--Egyptian Antiquities.’ ----- Footnote 1: Mr. W. Erskine, in the Bombay Literary Transactions. Footnote 2: The word pagoda is a corruption of _Bhaga-rati_, “holy house,” one of the several names by which the Hindoo temples are known. --------------------- THE WEATHER.--No. 3. Ben Jonson, in his play of ‘Every Man out of his Humour,’ has a character of which some examples may still be found, even in our own day. It is that of a credulous man, who relies implicitly on the _Weather Prophecies_ of the almanacs of his time;--and, his barns being full, resolves not to sow his ground, because the almanacs foretel “Rotten weather and unseasoned hours.” This species of credulity is probably not very often now carried as far as in the instance of _Sordido_, the dupe of the play;--but still there are some amongst us who will not cut their grass till they have seen what “Master Moore” says about the weather. In nine cases out of ten these superstitious confiders in an almost worn-out imposture, have in the end to exclaim with the miser of the old dramatist, “Tut, these star-monger knaves, who would trust ’em? One says, _dark and rainy_, when ’tis as clear as crystal; another says, _tempestuous blasts and storms_, and ’twas as calm as a milk-bowl. Here be sweet rascals for a man to credit his whole fortunes with[3]!”