THE CEYLOH MUHAMMADANS. 
the subject of their religious belief or opinions, is just 
driving in the nail, instead of loosening it, for in this 
respect we must calmly appeal to the reasoning powers- 
of the mind, for the points of a man’s faith are quali-^ 
ties of the mind, not of matter. How little is this 
often thought of, and how often is the hambone stuck 
under the nostrils of the Moslem, or some other bone 
down the throat of the Christian, under the apparent 
idea that he must be v/rong in his mind, incompetent 
to judge for himself, all because his opinions differ from 
yours. Who has given us different pov/ers and qual- 
ities of mind ? “Who maketh us to differ?” Consider 
this well, before assuming the responsible position of 
judging others, on their matters of conscientious belief, 
or church government, even any of its forms. There is 
such a diversity of opinion in the minds of men, that, 
unanimity of opinion in all matters of religious belief 
or church government is impossible : there is always a 
something, as the following verse states of the Moslem. 
‘ ’ But still he ’s not a happy man. 
He must obey the Al-Koran ; 
Nor durst he taste one drop of wine. 
I would not then his lot were mine.” 
(From an old song, “ The Pope and Sultan.”) 
Hassan Tambi was in his faith a true Muhammadan, 
and by trade a mason. Where he came from none 
knew, and, as he never Avould tell, when the question 
was put to him, it was very toleorable certainty that 
none wnuld ever know. He was a very quiet, reserved 
man, just one of the sort who act upon the principle 
of hearing every possible piece of news and scandal, 
but never telling any : in fact, one who kept his own 
counsel, and neither required nor desired any coun- 
sellors. A strong-minded self-reliant man was Hassan 
Tambi. The first time he wns ever seen or heard of 
was at Gampola, where he rested, on his way into the 
coffee districts, to push his fortune. He had no plans laid 
at all, in regard to where he was going. So it was 
just a matter of chance, or, as he himself said, 
“ kismet, ” that he crossed the ferry, and proceeded 
onwards, towards Pussellawa and Pamboda. When he 
came to the 31st mile-stone — no, there were no mnle- 
stones then, only wooden posts stuck in the ground 
with the letters carved out in the w^ood, which after- 
a few years got so rotten as sometimes to tumble over, 
or, if they did not, the letters were so defaced that 
the travelling stranger would be very much puzzled, 
as to the distance he had come ; but the knowing resid- 
ents did not require the figures for their information, 
for, being well aware of the precarious condition of the 
posts, when they did pass one with the figures plainly 
marked, made good note of the circumstance, and so, 
