The steeds were now led in, accompanied by their owner, a wall-eyed Turk. They were not much to look at, if one estimated them from an English standard, but I had learnt, in previous travels that one cannot always judge of Eastern horses by their appearance. I desired my English servant, Radford, to mount the best-looking one of the lot, a little black, about fourteen hands high. He was very thin, and looked as if he had never been given a good feed of corn, but his legs were fine and hard. He put down his feet flat when he walked, and did not go on his toes, which last is a fatal defect to a horse if about to march for many days in succession. Radford eyed the animal from head to foot. "Lor! sir," he said, "this 'ere horse will never carry me. He ain't got no shoulders!" "Never mind," I replied. "Jump on him and try." There was no saddle, and my man had to mount bare back. "Very good," I added, as the animal appeared to carry his burden without any difficulty, "take him round at a hard canter." The little brute now began to pull hard, and bounded over the rough stones in a way that showed he was well accustomed to such obstacles. "Does he pull?" I inquired. "Pull, sir? He pulls my harms off!" This was enough for me, and I determined to buy the animal; as a horse that walks well, and will pull with fourteen stone on his back, is not a bad one for a long journey. The next one produced for my inspection was covered with a rug, the other horses not being provided with any such clothing. "What is that for?" I inquired, pointing at the cloth. "Effendi, I put it on him because I was afraid that he might catch cold," replied the owner. "Never mind, take it off. When I buy horses I like to see them first." "He thinks, sir," remarked my faithful servant, "that we buy 'orses as they marry their wives—that is, without looking at them. I should not be surprised, sir, if that 'ere 'orse had a sore back." The man's remark proved true, and on taking off the cloth a raw place of at least six inches square was exposed to view. "He has a sore back," I remarked to the owner. "Take him away." "Sore back! Yes, he has; it will soon get well. The Effendi would like this horse though, and he is a great friend of the horse the Effendi has just looked at—they eat out of the same manger. The Effendi had better buy him." "Get on that little bay," I said to my servant, not paying any attention to the Turk's observation. As my man went past at a trot, I heard a sound which at once made me aware that there was something the matter with the horse's wind. "He is a roarer," I remarked. "Effendi, he makes a noise, but he is stout and strong. He would make a capital pack-horse." The horse was sound in other particulars, and as a roarer for slow marching is as good as any other animal, I determined to buy him—at the same time telling the owner that the fact of the horse's wind not being all right would considerably deteriorate from his value.