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nions among the rest of their order, or perhaps, in proportion as he became too familiar to them, their attention had been turned to newer objects. However this may be, from being the object of their most darling affections, he soon became that of their hatred and contempt: and what led chiefly to it was this; the very first man of the parish was one of his adherents at the beginning, but soon withdrew himself, without any remarks. Two others, the most in estimation among them, also withdrew-and many began to suspect that all was not right at bottom; but still there was something original in the poor vain fellow's manner, and people went to him still for sport-for an hour's amusement, to hear what he would say of other people and himself. At length he began to attack his most intimate friends with the most diabolical ferocity-those who had always adhered to him, and advocated his cause much to their own disadvantage, and who never had wronged him either by word or deed. The blackness of his heart now became apparent, and then people saw that it was vain to expect that good would spring out of evil, that a corrupted tree could bring forth good fruit.

The last time I was at his meeting-house, his most approved old friends walked across, before his face, as he advanced through the church-yard, and took up their old births in their primitive parishchurch. His pulpit now resounded with little else but declamations against those who were unfavourable to his measures; and, in short, few were exempt from the fulminations of his wrath. It was probably this that first drove him to alleviate his sorrows with the friendly assistance of the bowl; but unfortunately he was soon forced to apply this remedy so often, that it almost entirely incapacitated him for the discharge of his pastoral duties. His irregularities were now become so gross and avowed, that people considered, that to go to hear such a man prescribe rules of morality, would be the most palpable abuse of it. His situation was now become rather ticklish, for as he had justly incurred his father's most implacable re

sentment, he dared not apply to him for relief; and as he had nothing of his own to depend upon, now that he was altogether forsaken by his flock, pecuniary necessity forced him to the miserable shift of going to town without a patron, and almost without a friend. Here he commenced wit, and associated himself with all the profane company he could find; nor is it to be wondered, that, in this situation, his life was most pitiable. Whatever little sum his writings produced, was either dissipated in riot and debauchery, or attached before it came to his hand, so that he was often in the most abject poverty. After living about two years in this manner, he went off in an excess of intemperance, pitied by few, and regretted by none. So lived, and so died, the once celebrated Thomas Macfribble, who was possessed of some dashing talents, had he made a right use of them; but he could not live, or taste happiness, if he heard excellence annexed to any name but his own: and so perish every work and every name dedicated to the same purpose!

A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF THE EXECUTION OF KAPPETAPOLE AND MADUGALY, WHICH TOOK PLACE AT KANDY, ON THE 25TH OF NOVEMBER 1818.

BоTH Cappetapole and Madugaly had been actively engaged in endeavouring to subvert the British power during the Kandyan insurrection, and in attempting to establish a native government. These enterprising chiefs were surprised and taken by a detachment of troops in the neighbourhood of Anarajapoora, on the 30th of October 1818. They were without loss of time brought to Kandy, and tried by a military tribunal, by which they were sentenced to suffer death.

Kappetapole, during his confinement, seemed to wish to converse on the subject of the insurrection. He, however, anxiously endeavoured to exculpate himself fro... the charge of endeavouring to overthrow the British power in the Kandyan territory. Although he sometimes frankly con

fessed, that he was concerned in many of the hostile attacks made upon the troops, he also wished to explain away, or, at least, to weaken the force of any inference that tended to implicate him. He, however, admitted two facts, and allowed that they were both impropernamely, that he had accepted the appointment of first Adigar from the "False King," as he called the pretender, and that he did not make his submission in due time to Go

vernment.

Previous to his execution, he repeatedly and earnestly expressed a desire that sentence of death, which had been passed upon him, might be commuted to banishment. He remarked, that although life was full of trouble, existence was still desirable. He often observed in the course of conversation, that he was unfortunate, and generally declined admitting that his unhappy condition was a direct consequence of his actions. Being a zealous Buddhist, he considered all his misfortunes as consequences of crimes committed in a former state of existence-a creed under which there can be no selfblame, no remorse, or pain of guilt.

Early on the morning of the 25th of November, the two prisoners Kappetapole and Madugaly, were, agreeably to their own request, permitted to visit the Dalada Maligawa, or Temple of the Sacred Relic. In a small room, immediately adjoining that in which the Relic is deposited, they repeated the ten commandments of Buddhu, and made an engagement to fulfil them. Kappetapole then pronounced the Proptannawah, or last wish, which was, that at his next birth, he might be born on the mountains of Himmalaya, and finally obtain Nearwannah or Nirwane. This state of being, or rather annihilation, is very difficult to comprehend. The Buddhists describe it as a state of existence where the being wills nothing, fears nothing, and desires nothing; a suspension of all the faculties of the mind, as well as a cessation of all bodily motion. It implies a complete exemption from all the miseries incident to humanity, as also a privation of all the enjoyments of life; but still it is not annihilation. This is the heaven of the

followers of Buddhu, their highest state of happiness.

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After the prisoners had pronounced the Proptannawah, the officiating priest addressed them and said, So sure as a stone thrown up in the air will fall to the ground, with the same certainty shall your wish be fulfilled."

Kappetapole then made a voluntary transfer to the priest of the merits arising from one-half of his good works, to which the priest very politely replied, by returning him the same compliment, namely, the merit that followed one-half of his good deeds. The prisoners next detailed to the priest the late events of their life, insisting that they had done nothing to deserve the punishment which awaited them,-and con. cluded, by asserting that their present calamity was in consequence of sins committed during a former state of existence.

Kappetapole conducted himself with a manly firmness, observing, that his fate was inevitably decided, and that no person could alter his destiny. While he was conversing with Mr Sawers, Commissioner of Revenue, in the Kandyan provinces, Madugaly rushed into the inner-room of the Temple, the place where the Sacred Relic is deposited. Here he loudly craved mercy for the sake of the Relic. He was instantly dragged into the anti-chamber, by some soldiers. Here also he most earnestly begged that his case might be again investigated. Kappetapole seemed to be surprised at the pusillanimity of Madugaly, and, in the most dispas sionate manner, observed, that he acted like a fool. He then, in a firm and collected manner, shook hands with Mr Sawers, and bade him farewell.

The prisoners were immediately ta ken to the place of execution, which was at the side of the Bogambere Lake. When they reached the ground, both of them requested to be provided with water, which was brought them. Kappetapole then begged to be allowed a short period to perform the last ceremonies of his religion. This request being granted, both the pri soners washed their hands and face with the water. When this opera tion was finished, Kappetapole tied

up his hair in a knot on the crown of his head, and sat down upon the ground beside a shrub, or bush. By means of his toes, he grasped the bush, apparently with the intention of enabling him to keep a firm seat. From the folds of the cloth which encircled his loins, he took a small book in the Pali language, and proceeded to recite some verses. As it did not appear that he intended soon to come to a conclusion, the book was taken from him. He requested hat it might be given to Mr Sawers, n trust for his brother. He then epeated by heart some Pali verses, and while he was thus employed, he executioner struck him on the ack of the neck with a sharp sword. At that moment, he breathed out the vord Arrahaan, one of the names of Buddhu: a second stroke depried him of life, and he fell to the round a corpse. His head was searated from the body, and, accordng to the custom of the Kandyans, laced on his breast.

Madugaly continued to evince great want of fortitude: he was so much agitated, as not to be able to tie up his hair: this operation was performed by the Hearigha Kangan, the chief over the public executions. The perturbed and infirm state of his mind was evinced by the convulsive action of the muscles of his countenance. He earnestly requested to be dispatched by means of one blow, and then faintly pronounced the word Arrahaan. In consequence of his not having sufficient resolution to bend his head forward, it was held by one of the executioners. After the first blow of the sword, he fell backwards, but he was not deprived of life until he received a second stroke.

The cranium of Kappetapole was brought to this country by Mr Marshall, Staff-Surgeon, and by him presented to the Phrenological Society of Edinburgh.

January 7th, 1822.

CHARACTERS OMITTED IN CRABBE'S PARISH REGISTER.

OL. X.

Register of Births-The Sailor's Orphan.

NEXT at the font an orphan boy appears,
Whose cheek was never wet with mother's tears;
Before his birth of father's love bereft,
To strangers now and Heaven's protection left.

Tom Wilson was of hapless love the child;
His mother's easy faith too soon beguil'd;
Her virgin zone a flatterer's tongue untied;
She hop'd to be--but never was a bride.
From home expell'd, she wander'd forth forlorn,—
Though few could pity, many look'd with scorn;
Of friends forsaken, stain'd her virgin fame,
She, weeping, gaz'd upon her child of shame.

There are who o'er their early errors mourn,
And gladly would to virtue's paths return;
But dragon forms beset the bolted door,
And, frowning, say, "You enter here no more!"

So felt this mother in misfortune's hour;
She had the will-the world denied the pow'r.
She many a night would o'er her infant weep,
And, forced by want, go supperless to sleep;
Oh! sad alternative !-'twas now to die-
Or live-and eat the bread of infamy:
Temptation sought her-she was fair and young-
Her proud heart swell'd, with disappointment stung;

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The world had been unkind, but life had charms,
An infant boy was smiling in her arms;

Her choice was made-since tears could not restore
Her wonted peace, the damsel wept no more.

Time stole away, and Tom, a thriving boy,
Now felt a mother's shame his peace destroy;
When thirteen years had roll'd around his head,
With wounded pride he from that mother fled;
On board a stranger bark he left the shore,
With stern resolve there to return no more.
For seven long years the Merlin's deck he trode,
And fearless on the mountain billows rode;
Through narrow Cattegat had wrought his way,
And stemm'd the tide in Biscay's stormy bay;
Had bronz'd his face on India's torrid coast;
And, shivering, winter'd in Archangel's frost.
In every duty Tom could take his part,
With steady hand and firm undaunted heart;
But niggard fate had to his skill denied,
By rule and chart, the vessel's course to guide;
Ambition now his breast began to fire,
And bade him to a nobler post aspire;

With mind resolv'd, and head both clear and cool,
He staid on shore, and studied hard at school.

With lines and tangents now familiar grown,
What was mysterious, intimately known,
He joyous saw, in his horizon far,

Hope shed her rays, a bright and brilliant star;
With new-born fire he felt his bosom glow,
For love had promis'd paradise below.

Young Susan Campbell he had often seen,
And, in his eyes, she shone perfection's queen;
With dimpling cheek, blue eyes, and auburn hair,
Her mien was modest, as her face was fair;
Of manners gentle, as her heart was kind,
Her winning features spoke a kindred mind.
Tom saw, admir'd, and sought the maid again,
Look'd, lov'd, and languish'd, till he told his pain;
The chilling frown, from affectation's art,
Was all unknown to Susan's guileless heart;
A faithful bridegroom and a blushing bride,
Both sigh'd in secret till the knot was tied.

One little week on downy pinions flew,
Tom press'd her cheek, and bade a short adieu;
"Cheer up, my love !" he cried, "these tears restrain,
My duty calls we part to meet again—

This voyage made, my skill to exercise,

I shall the next above my messmates rise;

And I have hopes, should Heaven prolong my life,

To see my Susan smile a captain's wife!"

Three tedious months had slowly, lingering pass'd, While Tom aloft, high on the bending mast, Rock'd on the billow, would the top-sails clew, And trill a ballad to his lovely Sue;

While she, when night winds rav'd around her head, Would turn and sigh upon her sleepless bed.

Now safe return'd, before the auspicious gale, The harbour gain'd, and furl'd the flapping sail,

The bark is moor'd-Tom lightly springs to land,
And fondly presses Susan's trembling hand-
Leads her along, still gazing as they go,
No happier pair were ever link'd below;
At home, he smil'd, her glowing cheek he press'd,
And clasp'd her, blushing, to his manly breast.

Ah me! how short their hour of guileless joy!
Oh! why should fate their budding bliss destroy?
Or, why should Britain, Freedom's boasted isle,
Her bravest sons of their best rights beguile?

While Susan's eye with fond affection beam'd,
And through the lattice purple twilight gleam'd,
A ruffian crew, the tools of legal power,
Like Satan, seeking whom they may devour,
With rudeness tear the husband from her arms,
Unmov'd by Woman's tears, or Beauty's charms!
She weeps, she kneels-but kneels and weeps in vain ;
Then, like the lily, when surcharg'd with rain,
Low at their feet she pale and prostrate lay,
While they, relentless, grasp their hapless prey.

Why should my pen the pensive tale pursue?
She wakes-her sailor's vanish'd from her view,
For he is doom'd to quit the peaceful shore,
And go where Britain bids her thunders roar,
His sighs to mingle with the midnight wind,
And muse on her he left to mourn behind.

Though Time had wip'd the tear from Susan's eye,
Still would her widow'd heart in sadness sigh;
A letter came-it spoke her sailor's heart-
"Dear Susan, though I felt it death to part,

I must not die in this eventful hour,

When Britain threaten'd, dares a boaster's power;
With gallant Nelson now the foe I brave,
And he still triumphs on the ocean wave;
When I have gather'd laurels on the main,
Thy smile shall bless my longing eyes again;

Till then, cheer up! and know, my heart, dear Sue,
Is like my jacket-still unchanging blue!"
She read and sigh'd, and bath'd it in her tears;
For now she felt a mother's hopes and fears.

Time steals apace-the bells, with pealing sound,
Sonorous ring, proclaiming gladness round;
On every side the shout, the loud huzza,
Rejoicing, tell Trafalgar's glorious day;
And while they Nelson's hapless death deplore,
The bonfire blazes, and the cannons roar;
But Susan's heart with dread suspense oppress'd,
Each peal was anguish to her aching breast.

In came dame Lorimer, with meek demand,
A seaman's letter in her wither'd hand;
"Dear Susan, read-you know I want the skill,
Yet sure am I that letter is from Will;
Thank God, he lives! perhaps of Tom we'll hear,
On board the Victory both were comrades dear."

The blotted scroll she anxious open tore,
Glanced o'er the page, and sunk upon the floor!

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