THE HISTORY OF MY HORSE SALADIN. 
183 
Ballala, then a boy, grieved constantly until lie was eighty- 
nine years of age, when, no longer able to endure life under 
so melancholy an affliction, he got married to a woman of 
bad temper, and was tormented to death in his hundred and 
twentieth year, and the last words he uttered were, dogh- 
era ! doghera ! straight ahead ! All of Yusef Badra’s horses 
were his own, bought with his own money, not broken down 
hacks like what other dragomans hired for their Howadji; 
though, praised be Allah, he (Yusef) was above professional 
jealousy. There was only one horse in Syria that could at 
all compare with this animal, and that was his own, Syed 
Sulemin ; a horse that must be known even in America, for 
Syed had leaped a wall twenty feet high, and was trained to 
walk a hundred and fifty miles a day, and kill the most des¬ 
perate robbers by catching them up in his teeth and tossing 
them over his head. I had not heard of this horse, but 
thought it best, by a slight nod, to let Yusef suppose that his 
story was not altogether unfamiliar to me. Being determined 
to examine in detail all the points of the animal destined for 
myself, I directed Yusef to bring them both up saddled and 
bridled, so that we might ride out and try their respective 
qualities before starting on our journey. This proposition 
seemed to confuse him a little, but he brightened up in a mo¬ 
ment and went off, promising to have them at the door in 
half an hour. 
Two hours elapsed ; during which time I waited with great 
impatience to see the famous descendant of the beautiful 
Boo-boo-la. I looked up toward the road, and at length saw 
a dust, and then saw a perfect rabble of Arabs, and then 
Yusef, mounted on a tall, slabsided, crooked old horse, and 
then—could it be?—yes !—a living animal, lean and hol¬ 
low, very old, saddled with an ancient saddle, bridled with 
the remnants of an ancient bridle, and led by a dozen ragged 
Arabs. At a distance it looked a little like a horse ; when 
it came closer it looked more like the ghost of a mule; and 
closer still, it bore some resemblance to the skeleton of a small 
camel; and when I descended to the yard, it looked a little 
like a horse again. 
