Finally, Said bin Salim fulfilled at Kazeh Lieut.-Col. Hamerton’s acute prophecy. The Bukini blood of his mother--a Malagash slave--got the better of his Omani descent. I had long reformed my opinion concerning his generosity and kindheartedness, hastily concluded during a short cruise along the coast. “Man’s heart,” say the Arabs, “is known only in the fray, and man’s head is known only on the way.” But though high-flown sentiment and studied courtesy had disappeared with the first days of hardship and fatigue, he preserved for a time the semblance of respectability and respect. Presently, like the viler orders of Orientals, he presumed upon his usefulness, and his ability to forward the Expedition; the farther we progressed from our “_point d’appui_” the coast, the more independent became his manner,--of course it afterwards subsided into its former civility,--and an overpowering egotism formed the motive of his every action. I had imprudently allowed him to be accompanied by the charming Halimah. True to his servile origin, he never seemed happy except in servile society, where he was “king of his company.” At Kazeh, jealous of my regard for Snay bin Amir, and wearied by long evening conversations, where a little “ilm” or knowledge in the shape of history and divinity used to appear,--his ignorance and apathy concerning all things but A. bin B., and B. bin C., who married his son D. to the daughter of E., prevented his taking part in them,--he became first sulky, and then “contrarious.” Formerly he was wont, on the usual occasions, to address a word of salutation to my companion: this ceased, and presently he would pass him as if he had been a bale of cloth. He affected in society the indecorous posture of a European woman stretched upon a sofa, after crouching for months upon his shins,--in fact he was, as the phrase is, “trailing his jacket” for a quarrel.