Chap. L] 



DOGS. 



33 



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. 



D 



