cares and dreams of nothing else but the girl
he loves; and if he is disappointed in his affections
he dies. In order to commence the suit,
he sends for a member of the girl's tribe
who has access to the harem; and, first
ensuring his secrecy by solemn oaths, confesses
his love, and entreats the confidant to arrange
an interview. The confidant goes to the girl;
gives her a flower or a blade of grass, and
says, " Swear by Him who made this flower
and us also, that you will not reveal to any
one that which I am about to unfold to you."
If the girl will not accept the proposal she will
not take the oath; but does not tell, nevertheless.
If she is disposed to the match, she
answers, "I swear by Him who made the
leaf you hold, and us; " and the place and
time of meeting are settled. These oaths
are never broken.

Next in rank to, or before, their beautiful
women, the Bedouins prize their mares.
Some are beyond all price, and many would
fetch almost fabulous sums. One youth, in
Suttum's tribe rode a filly for which a
hundred camels had been offered and refused.
Their best bred horses are never bought,
unless by some rare chance or mischance.
Layard once offered a sum of money for a
beautiful mare that had struck his fancy;
the owner shook his head— it was far below
her value. The offer was increased, but the
Arab still refused, and rode away. However,
the report got about that he had bargained for
his mare, and, though of the best blood, she
was suspected, and, in the end, was obliged to
be sold to a horse-dealer at Mosul, for less
than what Mr. Layard had offered. When
an Arab loses a horse in a foray, the
conqueror sends an envoy, who passes harmless,
like a sacred messenger, from tent to tent, to
learn the qualities and breed of the animal he
has gained; and all that he hears he may
rely on, for the Bedouin never lies about his
mare. Often a dying man will tell his
murderer and victor the name and descent of
his horse, which the chances of war have
given to an enemy. His last breath will be
spent in the praises and the exultation of his
mare, and every word may be believed. The
breed of a horse is preserved by tradition,
and the birth of a colt is an event made
known to the whole tribe. If a townsman or
a stranger buys a horse, and is desirous of
having written evidence of its race, the seller
with his friends go to the nearest town, to
certify before a person, specially qualified,
called " the Cadi of the horses," who makes
out a written pedigree, to which he first
attaches certain prayers and formularies from
the Koran, in use on such occasions, and
then his own seal. The best mares are
assumed to be descended from the five
favourite mares of the Prophet; but that is
not a fact that can be distinctly sworn to. The
Arab mares are not so beautiful in appearance
as many people imagine; it is only in
the spring, when the pastures are green, that
they are sleek and comely; on their ordinary
food they are nothing but skin and bone, with
staring, shaggy ungroomed coats, and to the
ignorant not worth their keep. But when
the mare hears the war-cry,— then her blood-
red nostrils dilated and quivering, her neck
arched, her tail spread wide, her large eyes
all on fire, and every nerve and muscle
strained and started— then she shows what
qualities she has, and proves her worth to be
often the salvation of the rider's life; for, to
the speed of his mare many a Bedouin has
owed his life and wealth, and all that he
possessed. The desert proverb says, that a high
bred mare, when at full speed, should hide
her rider between her neck and her tail; and
certainly when the Arab mare is at the full
stretch of her paces, if she does not quite
fulfil the proverb, she does not fall far short
of it.

One day a Gezidi, or devil-worshipper and
snake-charmer, came to Mr. Layard's tent
with his son, a child of about seven or eight
years old. Mr. Layard was sitting on his
carpet with Suttum, when the Gezidi began
his performance. He first took from a bag
several venomous snakes, all knotted together,
which he gave to the lad. The boy received
them from him, and allowed them to twine
round his neck and breast, playing with them
or alternately caressing and teazing them. The
Gezidi pretended to be,or was really angry
with one of the snakes, which had bitten his
son, and drawn blood. He seized it, bit off
its head with his teeth, and threw the
writhing body among the spectators.
Suttum's curses were loud and violent, and
the whole assembly was strongly excited,
and with difficulty restrained from falling on
the luckless snake-charmer and inflicting
summary and condign punishment on him.
Suttum cursed him to his remotest generations,
with sundry impolite allusions to his
female relatives, and unwarrantable assertions
respecting his dead "forbears." It was
some time before he could be quieted, and
many days before the poor Gezidi was
forgotten; the Bedouin breaking out into the
most furious invectives against him, and
bespeaking him the warmest corner in a
certain place, more hot than healthy, where
he was consigned, æsthetically, without
remorse.

Another day a striking-looking object sat
in the museef, or great tent. He was a
Bedouin boy, sickly, thin, clothed in rags,
and emaciated, but with a resolute and daring
expression of face. His only clothing was
a ragged and dirty keffich, or kerchief round
his head, and a tattered cloak, with the
knotted end of a club appearing out of the
folds. He was a distant relative of Suttum's,
but his father was too poor to give him a
mare and spear, without which no Bedouin is
complete. He was now fourteen, and old
enough to be a warrior, and too old to bear the
disgrace of his condition. He left the tents