their forefathers on the terrible field of Albuera, "with what majesty the British soldier fights." With little, it must be owned, of the science that the Arab equestrian wrestler displays, they tear the shirts off each other's back in the fury of their grapple, finishing, as a rule, in about sixty seconds or so a bout which a couple of native donkey-boys would have artistically prolonged for at least five minutes. In the meanwhile Arabs, narrowly watched by a British soldier or two told off to see that play does not become earnest, tackle each other at quarter-staff, to the profit of a veteran "gamester" of sixty years, bien sonnés, who simply does what he likes with every opponent that steps into the ring. It would have been a graceful compliment to the founder of the Citadel if the feat named after him—that of cleaving a floating veil in twain with a sword—had been exhibited, as it not infrequently is in English military games, by some trooper of our Egyptian contingent of cavalry. This, at any rate, the Caliph would have
