Besides, according to some authorities, the Arabs are the first horsemen in the world, while according to others they butcher their horses. The former give them credit for whatever is good in the systems pursued by ourselves or our neighbours; while the latter insist that they know nothing whatever about riding, or about the veterinary art, or about breeding. How much of truth is there in all this? What is the real value of Arab horses? What is the nature of the service they are capable of rendering? This I was determined to find out, not by hearsay, but through the evidence of my own eyes—not from books, but from men. What I am now about to place before the reader is consequently the result both of my own personal observations, and also of conversations with Arabs of every grade of life, from the tented chief down to the simple horseman, who, as he himself would say in his picturesque idiom, has no other profession than to "live by his spurs." In other words, I made my inquiries of those who had large possessions, and of those who had very little; of those who bred horses, and of those who only knew how to ride them: in short, of every body. Thus the opinions which I am about to commit to paper do not emanate from the head of a single individual—they are gathered separately from the members of a powerful tribe. My only merit is that of having collected and arranged many documents widely scattered and difficult to obtain. In fact, a Christian has need to employ both tact and patience to extract from Mussulmans information insignificant perhaps in itself, but which a gloomy fanaticism makes them regard as of great importance, or as perilous to their religion. Nevertheless, I have one reservation to make. I am not at all prepared to say: "This is right," or "That is wrong." I say simply: "Right or wrong, this is what the Arabs do." REMARKS OF THE EMIR ABD-EL-KADER. Learned Mussulmans have written upon horses a great number of books in which they discourse at considerable length upon their qualities, their colours, upon all that is esteemed beneficial or injurious, their maladies and the right mode of treatment. One of them, Abou-Obeïda, a contemporary of the son of Haroun-al-Raschid, composed no fewer than fifty volumes on the horse. This Abou-Obeïda met with a little misadventure, which shows that it is not the author of the most ponderous and numerous volumes who imparts the soundest information, and that not the worst plan is to consult men themselves. "How many books hast thou written upon the horse?" asked one day of a celebrated Arab poet the vizir of Mamoun, son of Haroun-al-Raschid. "Only one." Then turning to Abou-Obeïda he put to him the same question. "Fifty," replied he. "Rise, then," said the vizir, "go up to that horse and repeat the name of every part of his frame, taking care to point out the position of each." "I am not a veterinary surgeon," answered Abou-Obeïda. "And thou?" said the vizir to the poet.