If a warrior loses the horse that was his sole strength, if a family is robbed of the flocks that furnished its subsistance, it is to the chief, and to the chief alone, the sufferers address themselves. However strong may be the love of pelf, it never goes so far as to make him risk the loss of his influence; and the Arab noble, while in so many respects resembling the Baron of the Middle Ages, differs from him in one essential point—he abhors gambling. Neither cards nor dice ever wile away the leisure hours in a tent. An Arab chief may neither indulge in play, nor lend money at usurious rates of interest. The only way in which he may turn his money to account, is by indirect participation in some commercial enterprise. He hands over a certain sum to a merchant, who trades with it, and, at the end of so many years, divides with the lender the profits he has gathered. It must not, however, be supposed that riches are therefore despised by Orientals. With them, as in every other part of the world, wealth is one of the indispensable conditions of power. Whoever falls into poverty, falls also very quickly into obscurity, while he who makes a fortune enters upon the path of honours. But, in order to follow out an ambitious career, it is by the right arm rather than by industry that wealth must be acquired. When a warrior has made a number of razzias that have brought him at the same time glory and gold, he is surnamed Ben-Deraou, "the son of his arm," and may aspire to the highest dignities of the tribe. This brings us back to the quality which should be the groundwork of every noble Arab's soul—valour. "Nothing," said Abd-el-Kader, "throws out so well as blood the dazzling whiteness of a burnous." An Arab chief, like our captains in the olden times, should be more valiant than all his men at arms. He must distinguish himself by warlike feats as much as by his bearing at fantasias. His influence would be for ever lost if he were suspected of faintness of heart. But it is the reality, not the appearance, which the Arabs appreciate. What they admire is a spirit nobly tempered, and not the frame of a mere giant, or athlete. This is the place to combat the widely spread prejudice that a lofty stature and bodily strength make a deep impression upon them. Such is far from being the case. They take pleasure in man's being robust, patient of thirst and hunger, and capable of enduring severe fatigue; but they care very little for tallness of stature, or for muscular force like that of our porters, or showman's Hercules. They reserve their esteem for activity, address, and courage. It little matters to them whether a man be tall or short; and not unfrequently, while looking at some Colossus whose huge proportions are being vaunted in their presence, they may be heard to murmur sententiously: "What to us is the stature or strength! Let us see the heart. After all, it may be only the skin of a lion on the back of a cow."