One of the suite, the oftenest seen in Amboise, was the butcher, Ben Salem, who officiated for his tribe, and whose office was looked upon as a solemn one. He had a fine muscular figure, with an intelligent and handsome face, and was upward of six feet high. When he immolated an animal he might be said, as has been apocryphally reported of Shakspeare, to have “Done it in high style, and made a speech.” About a year and a half ago poor Ben-Salem was found a drowned corpse, in the Loire; he is supposed to have perished while bathing, but the writer recollects at the time, to have heard it whispered that despair had caused him to commit suicide. The attachment of the Arabs to their chief is intense; an instance of this excited immense interest in Paris some time since. A young man who had belonged to Abd-’el-Kader, was detained at Toulon, from whence he escaped, but instead of endeavoring to regain his own country, his sole desire was to behold his chief once more, and to die at his feet. He arrived at Amboise, no one knew how, having traversed France to its centre, and there, his clothes in tatters, his feet bleeding, and fainting with hunger and fatigue, he was overtaken, secured, and forced back again to his prison at Toulon, without having gained the object of so much energy and resolution. How could the most severe guardians of the safety of France drive back such a servant from his master? In the month of August, 1850, a party of the Arabs received permission to return to Africa. After extraordinary struggles between their love of country and of their master, forty men, women, and children, consented to profit by this clemency. Their parting was, however, a scene of desolation, agonizing to witness. The railroad was to take back these sons and daughters of the Desert partly on their way, and a carriage filled with pale emaciated women, holding their children in the folds of their ample garments, bore them from the castle walls. The men pursued their journey on foot, a cart containing their wretched goods followed, and the patriarch of the tribe accompanied them to the station, where he took leave of them with sighs, tears, and exhortations, mixed with embraces. At the last moment a young woman, who was probably related to the patriarch, lost her presence of mind entirely—her veil thrown back in despair, she cast herself upon his bosom, concealing her face in his venerable white beard, and uttering cries that melted the hearts of the bystanders to hear.