While over the vast continent of America no effort has ever been made by the aboriginal tribes to establish a dominion over the useful animals, with the single exception of the Llama in the Peruvian highlands, we find the Arab shepherd from time immemorial in the absolute possession of the horse and the camel--of a faithful friend, and a laborious slave. Although the high steppes of Central Asia are probably the genuine and original country of the horse, yet in Arabia that generous animal attains the highest degree of spirit and swiftness. Such is the estimation in which it is held, that the honours and the memory of the purest race are preserved with superstitious care, the males are sold at a high price, but the females are seldom alienated, and the birth of a noble foal is esteemed among the tribes as a subject of joy and mutual congratulation. A colt at the moment of birth is never allowed to drop upon the ground; they receive it in their arms, washing and stretching its tender limbs, and caressing it as they would a baby. The tender familiarity with which the horses are treated, trains them in the habits of gentleness and attachment. When not employed in war or travelling they loiter about the tents, often going over heaps of children lying on the ground, and carefully picking their steps lest they should hurt them. They are accustomed only to walk and to gallop; their sensations are not blunted by the incessant abuse of the spur and the whip; their powers are reserved for the movement of flight and pursuit, but no sooner do they feel the touch of the hand and the stirrup, than they dart away with the swiftness of the wind, and if their friend be dismounted in the rapid career they instantly stop till he has recovered his seat. The noble steed of the desert pines and languishes in the crowded town. Its head droops mournfully, it seems the very image of despondency and sloth. And as the animal, so its master. He also appears, not as the bold energetic nomad, but as a listless apathetic wanderer; and, were it not for the glowing eye which restlessly rolls and flashes under its thick brow, you might be inclined to prefer the servile fellah to the sullen child of the desert. But now the Bedouin mounts his horse, and, as if touched by an electric spark, they both of them raise their heads and stretch their sinewy limbs. Slowly they leave the dusty streets, and reach the confines of the desert. Now at length both are at home; now rider and horse melt into one like the fabled Centaurs of old; now, first, the real Bedouin and the real Arabian horse stand before you. Like an arrow ‘shot by an archer strong’ the steed flies towards his master’s tent, his light hoof scarcely leaves a print on the sand; the white burnous of the rider flies about in the wind; with a firm hand he guides the noble animal, and in a few minutes both are lost to sight in the desert.