Cuapr. I.] DOGS. 33 
a 
Dogs.— There is no native wild dog in Ceylon, but 
every village and town is haunted by mongrels of Eu- 
ropean descent, that are known by the generic descrip- 
tion of Pariahs. They are a miserable race, lean, 
wretched, and mangy, acknowledged by no owners, 
living on the garbage of the streets and sewers, and if 
spoken to unexpectedly, they shrink with an almost in- 
voluntary cry. Yet in these persecuted outcasts there 
survives that germ of instinctive affection which binds 
the dog to the human race, and a gentle word, even a 
look of compassionate kindness, is sufficient foundation 
for a lasting attachment. 
The Singhalese, from their religious aversion to 
taking away life in any form, permit the increase of these 
desolate creatures till in the hot season they become so 
numerous as to be a nuisance; and the only expedient 
hitherto devised by the civil government to reduce their 
numbers, is once in each year to offer a reward for their 
destruction, when the Tamils and Malays pursue them 
in the streets with clubs (guns being forbidden by the 
police for fear of accidents), and the unresisting dogs 
are beaten to death on the side-paths and door-steps 
where they had been taught to resort for food. Lord 
Torrington, during his government of Ceylon, at- 
tempted the more civilised experiment of putting some 
check on their numbers, by imposing a dog-tax, the 
effect of which would have been to lead to the drowning 
of puppies; whereas there is reason to believe that dogs 
plant in Ceylon, called Cuppa-may- it into the air, watching it till it 
niya by the natives; by which he falls, and crouching to see if it 
says cats are so enchanted, that will move. It would be worth in- 
they play with it as they would quiring into the truth of this; and 
with a captured mouse; throwing the explanation of the attraction. 
