‘The slaves of a despotic rule may vainly boast of their national independence; but the Arab is as free from a domestic as from a foreign yoke. In every tribe superstition or gratitude or traditional respect has exalted a particular family above the heads of their equals. The dignities of sheik and emir invariably descend in this chosen race; but the order of succession is loose and precarious, and the most worthy or aged of the noble kinsmen are preferred to the simple though important office of composing disputes by their advice and guiding valour by their example. If an emir abuses his power he is quickly punished by the desertion of his subjects. Their independent spirit disdains a base submission to the will of a master, their steps are unconfined, the desert is open and the tribes and families are held together by a mutual and voluntary compact. Accustomed to a life of danger and distress, the breast of the wandering Arab is fortified with the austere virtues of courage, patience, and sobriety; the love of liberty prompts him to exercise the habits of self-command, and the fear of dishonour guards him from the meaner apprehension of pain, of danger, and of death. The self-respect which independence inspires shows itself in the dignity of his outward demeanour: his speech is slow, weighty, and concise; he is seldom provoked to laughter; his only gesture is that of stroking his beard, the venerable symbol of manhood.’ Unfortunately the Bedouin too often tarnishes his liberty by crime, and, accustomed to confound the ideas of stranger and enemy, endeavours to justify by casuistry the base pursuits of a robber. He pretends that in the division of the earth the rich and fertile climates were assigned to the other branches of the human family, and that the posterity of the outlaw Ismael is entitled to recover by fraud or force the portion of inheritance of which he has been unjustly deprived. Equally addicted to theft and merchandise, he ransoms or pillages the caravans that traverse his native desert, and armed against mankind, makes the inoffensive traveller the victim of his rapacious spirit. And yet by one of those strange contradictions, belonging to the mysterious nature of man, this same Arab, the terror of the desert, embraces without enquiry or hesitation, the stranger who dares to confide in his honour and enter his tent. His treatment is kind and respectful, he shares the wealth or the poverty of his host, and, after a needful repose, he is dismissed on his way with thanks, with blessings, and perhaps with gifts.