464 THE HORSE. 



renders him not always sensible of the nature of the objects 

 which are presented to him, on which account he is easily 

 startled at the sight of what is unusual. His sense of hear- 

 ing is good, and his large external ear is readily turned to col- 

 lect distant sounds. He is cheered by the voice of his rider, 

 and certain sounds give him pleasure, as the tones of distant 

 music, the baying of the hounds when he has been used to 

 the chase, and the noise of rejoicing and triumph. 



His memory is tenacious with regard to localities. He re- 

 members the path which he has once travelled after a long 

 interval, the place at which he is accustomed to feed, and 

 the tanks and pools at which he has quenched his thirst. A 

 horse lost in the desert of Southern Africa, has been known 

 to find his way for 500 miles to his native farm. He has the 

 faculty, like the Camel, of discovering water in the distance ; 

 and hence he has sometimes been able to save the life of the 

 sinking traveller. 



The horse is fond of caresses, and susceptible of attach- 

 ment in a high degree. The Arabs, who never beat their 

 horses, but treat them like the children of the tent, often owe 

 their lives to their gentleness and fidelity. The Desert- 

 Horse, so full of fire, should his master fall wounded or faint- 

 ing from the saddle, will stand by him till he rise, and neigh 

 for assistance, will shelter him from the burning sands of the 

 desert, stand over him during the glare of noon, and stretch 

 himself on the ground beside him when the dews of night 

 begin to fall. Major Denham thus speaks of his feelings on 

 the loss of a favourite Arab in the heart of Africa : " The 

 horse that carried me from Tripoli to Mourzuk, and back 

 again, and on which I had ridden the whole journey from 

 Tripoli to Bornou, had died a few hours after my departure 

 from the latter. There are situations in a man's life in which 

 losses of this nature are felt most keenly, and this was one 

 of them. It was not grief, but it was something very nearly 

 approaching to it ; and though I felt ashamed of the degree 

 of derangement which I have suffered from it, yet it was se- 



