to one street out of five, which compose this ancient metropolis.  Meantime, it is most instructive to hear the secret account of those causes which set in motion this unprincipled rebellion.  For it will thus be seen how hopeless it is, under the present idolatrous superstition of Ceylon, to think of any attachment in the people, by means of good government, just laws, agriculture promoted, or commerce created.  More stress will be laid, by the Ceylonese, on our worshipping a carious tooth two inches long, ascribed to the god Buddha, (but by some to an ourang-outang,) than to every mode of equity, good faith, or kindness.  It seems that the Kandyans and we reciprocally misunderstood the ranks, orders, precedencies, titular distinctions, and external honours attached to them in our several nations.  But none are so deaf as those that have no mind to hear.  And we suspect that our honest fellows of the 19th Regiment, whose comrades had been murdered in their beds by the cursed Kandyan “nobles,” neither did nor would understand the claim of such assassins to military salutes, to the presenting of arms, or to the turning out of the guard.  Here, it is said, began the ill-blood, and also on the claim of the Buddhist priests to similar honours.  To say the simple truth, these soldiers ought not to have been expected to show respect towards the murderers of their brethren.  The priests, with their shaven crowns and yellow robes, were objects of mere mockery to the British soldier.  “Not to have been kicked,” it should have been said, “is gain; not to have been cudgeled, is for you a ground of endless gratitude.  Look not for salutes; dream not of honours.”  For our own part—­again we say it—­let the government look a-head for endless insurrections.  We tax not the rulers of Ceylon with having caused the insurrections.  We hold them blameless on that head; for a people so fickle and so unprincipled will never want such matter for rebellion as would be suspected, least of all, by a wise and benevolent man.  But we do tax the local government with having ministered to the possibility of rebellion.  We British have not sowed the ends and objects of conspiracies; but undoubtedly, by our lax administration, we have sowed the means of conspiracies.  We must not transfer to a Pagan island our own mild code of penal laws:  the subtle savage will first become capable of these, when he becomes capable of Christianity.  And to this we must now bend our attention.  Government must make no more offerings of musical clocks to the Pagan temples; for such propitiations are understood by the people to mean—­that we admit their god to be naturally stronger than ours.  Any mode or measure of excellence but that of power, they understand not, as applying to a deity.  Neither must our government any longer wink at such monstrous practices as that of children ejecting their dying parents, in their last struggles, from the shelter of their own roofs, on the plea that death would pollute their