* * * * *

‘Good are the horses of the Moslems,’ said my old friend; ’where will you find such?  They will descend rocky mountains at full speed and neither trip nor fall; but you must be cautious with the horses of the Moslems, and treat them with kindness, for the horses of the Moslems are proud, and they like not being slaves.  When they are young, and first mounted, jerk not their mouths with your bit, for be sure if you do they will kill you; sooner or later, you will perish beneath their feet.  Good are our horses, and good our riders, yea, very good are the Moslems at mounting the horse; who are like them?  I once saw a Frank rider compete with a Moslem on this beach, and at first the Frank rider had it all his own way, and he passed the Moslem, but the course was long, very long, and the horse of the Frank rider, which was a Frank also, panted; but the horse of the Moslem panted not, for he was a Moslem also, and the Moslem rider at last gave a cry and the horse sprang forward and he overtook the Frank horse, and then the Moslem rider stood up in his saddle.  How did he stand?  Truly he stood on his head, and these eyes saw him; he stood on his head in the saddle as he passed the Frank rider; and he cried ha! ha! as he passed the Frank rider; and the Moslem horse cried ha! ha! as he passed the Frank breed, and the Frank lost by a far distance.  Good are the Franks; good their horses; but better are the Moslems, and better are the horses of the Moslems.’

* * * * *

‘The burra,’ [donkey], I replied, ‘appears both savage and vicious.’

’She is both, brother, and on that account I bought her; a savage and vicious beast has generally four excellent legs.’

* * * * *

I was standing on the castle hill in the midst of a fair of horses.

I have already had occasion to mention this castle.  It is the remains of what was once a Norman stronghold, and is perched upon a round mound or monticle, in the midst of the old city.  Steep is this mound and scarped, evidently by the hand of man; a deep gorge, over which is flung a bridge, separates it, on the south, from a broad swell of open ground called ’the hill;’ of old the scene of many a tournament and feat of Norman chivalry, but now much used as a show-place for cattle, where those who buy and sell beeves and other beasts resort at stated periods.

So it came to pass that I stood upon this hill, observing a fair of horses.

The reader is already aware that I had long since conceived a passion for the equine race, a passion in which circumstances had of late not permitted me to indulge.  I had no horses to ride, but I took pleasure in looking at them; and I had already attended more than one of these fairs:  the present was lively enough, indeed, horse fairs are seldom dull.  There was shouting and whooping, neighing and braying; there was galloping and trotting; fellows with highlows and white stockings, and with many a string dangling