184 
A CRUSADE IN THE EAST. 
“ Tell me,” said I, the indignant blood mounting to my 
cheeks, tell me, Yusef, is that a horse?” 
“ A horse !” retorted he, smiling, as I took it, at the untu¬ 
tored simplicity of an American ; “ a horse, 0 General! it is 
nothing else hut a horse ; and such an animal, too, as, I’ll 
venture to say, the richest pasha in Beirut can’t match this 
very moment.” 
“ Tahib /” Good—said one of the Arabs, patting him on 
the neck, and looking sideways at me in a confidential way. 
“ Tahiti” said another, and “tahibT another, and 
“tahib” every Arab in the crowd, as if each one of them 
had ridden the horse five hundred miles, and knew all his 
merits by personal experience. 
That there were points of some kind about him was not to 
be disputed. His hack must have been broken at different 
periods of his life, in at least three places; for there were 
three distinct pyramids on it, like miniature pyramids of 
Gizeh ; one just in front of the saddle, where his shoulder- 
blade ran up to a cone ; another just back-of the saddle ; and 
the third, a kind of spur of the range, over his hips, where 
there was a sudden breaking off from the original line of the 
backbone, and a precipitous descent to his tail. The joints 
of his hips and the joints of his legs were also prominent, espe¬ 
cially those of his forelegs, which he seemed to be always 
trying to straighten out, but never could, in consequence of 
the sinews being too short by several inches. His skin hung 
upon this remarkable piece of frame-work as if it had been 
purposely put there to dry in the sun, so as to he ready for 
leather at any moment after the extinction of the vital func¬ 
tions within. But, to judge from the eye (there was only 
one), there seemed to he no prospect of a suspension of vital¬ 
ity, for it burned with great brilliancy, showing that a horse, 
like a singed cat, may be a good deal better than he looks. 
“ A great horse that,” said Yusef, patting him on the neck 
kindly ; “ no humbug about him, General. Fifty miles a day 
he’ll travel fast asleep. He’s a genuine Syrian.” 
“And do you tell me,” said I sternly, “ that this is the great- 
grandson of the beautiful Boo-booda ? That I, a General in 
