LYI 



THOUGH in my journeys through the Orient I have 

 had the good-fortune to see somewhat of fancy stock, I 

 have not purposed to pay much heed to the studs of the 

 great princes ; the horse of the people interests me more. 

 One could scarcely expect a man to gain much of a knowl- 

 edge of the horse of North America by taking him 

 through the stables of Leland Stanford or over the Alex- 

 ander farm ; by driving him out to Milton to see " Arion " 

 and " Nancy Hanks ;" or by personally conducting him 

 through the great training stables of the men who carry 

 off the big racing events of the year. Nor does a man 

 who describes the choicest specimens of the Arabian 

 world convey to you any idea of the Arabian as most of 

 us would see him. To pass in review the inmates of the 

 imperial stables, or the stud of the Khedive, or even to 

 tell about an exceptional specimen found in the tents of a 

 Bedouin sheik out in the Arabian desert, is to portray a 

 faultless creature a sort of equine Thaddeus of Warsaw. 

 A man may fall down and worship some of the beautiful 

 Arabians, like the one in the illustration, for instance, who 

 belongs to the Sultan, and whose lines, standing, are as 

 perfect as his grace in motion. He is fleet and able ; he 

 is gentle and intelligent, and he possesses the rare artistic 

 beauty all must delight in except those who reduce the 

 horse down to the level of a sumpter-animal or a gambling- 

 tool. He is deservedly an object of our admiration. But 

 so we may go into ecstasies over many of our own noble 

 sires or great prize-winners. 



