of his tribe, leaving behind him all his clothes
and taking only the wretched rags he had on
him, and wandered down to the Euphrates,
where he remained for months, until his
family believed him dead. He lived all
this time in the river jungle, feeding on
roots and herbs, and prowled about in
the night-time, searching for the horses
of the Aneyza, if by chance any had
been left unsecured. At last he found one,
but, alas! her legs were manacled, and he
had brought no tile with him to cut the
irons. He was on his way back to the tents
when he passed through Mr. Layard's
encampment, where he said he would remain
until he had recovered his strength, when he
would set off again on his adventurous expedition,
and this time take a file under his cloak.
There is no disgrace, but, on the contrary, a
vast deal of merit due to the youth who thus
possesses himself of a mare and spear.
Provided only he has not eaten bread and
salt in the owner's tent, he may steal with
impunity, and, if successfully, with credit.

In nothing is there a more striking
difference between the Arab and the
European, than in the precocity of intellect.
One beautiful boy whom Mr. Layard knew was
a very pleasing instance of this intellectual
precocity. He was the youngest son of the
governor of Hillah— Shabib Aga— a child of
about twelve years of age, and who transacted
business with Layard with all the
dignity and decorum of an old man; wrote
letters, settled disputes, collected levies, and
was governor and judge in general. He was
exceedingly lovely, with large bright eyes
and a dark olive complexion, and his manners
were both graceful and dignified. He wore
the long silken robes of the town Arab, with
the keffich of the Bedouin; but his heart
was all Ishmaelite, and his desires were for
the desert and its liberties. " His salutations
were made with the greatest gravity," says
Layard. " We trust that it has pleased God
to preserve your Excellency's health. Our
harem begs your Excellency's acceptance of
sour milk and francolins. May we show that
we are your slaves by ordering the irregular
troops to accompany you in your ride. Your
person is more precious to us than our eyes,
and there are evil men, enemies of our lord
the sultan, abroad in the desert." Mr. Layard
on parting gave him a kaleidoscope, which
he had taken into strong affection, and
between which and his judicial duties he
divided his time pretty equally; peeping into
the small end with all a boy's glee and
delight when not settling grave disputes of
property, or awarding punishments for crime.
Often a Bedouin child, at the age when
Europeans are still in the nursery, is left in
charge of the tents, when the tribe are absent.
He must receive strangers who may have
blood-claims against his family, answer
questions, or evade them, guard against marauders,
and watch and account for every strange
sign and mark. If he sees a horseman's
back near the encampment, he must ask
himself why he did not stop and eat bread or
drink water. Was he a spy, or one of an
attacking party on the march thither, or what
was there in his condition that made him
pass so near without stopping? Indeed, few
men are called on to exercise such watchfulness
and intelligence as the Bedouin child
must practise daily.

The signs, too, by which a Bedouin boy or
man can read the book of the passing life of
the desert, seem to the uninitiated almost
like magic. He can tell by the foot-prints,
and by other signs, whether the camel which
has lately passed was loaded or unloaded, fed
or hungry, fatigued or fresh; how long since
it has passed, and whether its owner was a
desert or a towns-man, friend or foe, and
often the name even of his tribe. Layard
was frequently advised not to dismount, as
his foot-prints would be known by any tracking
party, as those of a stranger, and often an
Arab led his deloul, that it might not be
read in the sand that it had been ridden by
one unaccustomed to guide it. Not a mark
but has its story; not a stone but tells its
tale; and the Bedouins can spy out each
other's movements by their fleeting
footprints in the sand, as clearly as if published
in a Court Gazette, or public despatches.
Once a party of Kurdish horsemen stopped
before the Frankish Bej's tent. It was a
young Kurdish chief carrying off a girl with
whom he had fallen in love, who hastily
dismounted, to eat bread and drink water—
then rushed wildly forward, to escape
pursuit. But yet they were as easy to track in
their flight as if they had left a printed notification
of their road.  However, they had
gained time, and time and the good mare do
all in the desert.

Hawking is a sport in great repute among
the Arabs. Their favourite falcons are highly
prized, and are exceedingly dear.  Poor Suttum
lost his favourite hawk Hattib, in this
journey to the Khabour.  In striking its
quarry it was pursued by an eagle and flew
off to the desert, screaming and terrified.
Suttum wept, and was inconsolable, crying
"Oh Bej! Hattab was not a hawk, he was
my brother."  The birds are trained in a very
simple manner.  They are first made to take
their meat from the horns of a stuffed gazelle
—then from a tame gazelle, the distance,
gradually increased to about half a mile. A
greyhound is next loosed, the falcon flown at
the same time, and the gazelle's throat is cut
—the bird and the hound being fed with the
meat.  After the sacrifice of three gazelles,
the falcon's education is pronounced complete,
and it is taken to the field, to strike for
itself.

The Arabs have an honour and honesty
among them which is quite incorruptible.
Marauders and thieves as they are in their own
vocation, yet, when their sense of honour is