the alphabet to what is done now. And long before Rarey's day, there
was here and there a man who had a sort of magnetic influence, and
could tame a vicious horse whom nobody else dared go near. When George
the Fourth was Prince of Wales, he had a valuable Egyptian horse who
would throw, they said, the best rider in the world. Even if a man
could succeed in getting on his back, it was not an instant he could
stay there. But there came to England on a visit a distinguished
Eastern bey, with his mamelukes, who, hearing of the matter which
was the talk of the town, declared that the animal should be ridden.
Accordingly many royal personages and noblemen met the Orientals at
the riding house of the Prince, in Pall Mall, a mameluke's saddle was
put on the vicious creature, who was led in, looking in a white heat
of fury, wicked, with danger in his eyes, when, behold, the bey's
chief officer sprung on his back and rode for half an hour as easily
as a lady would amble on the most spiritless pony that ever was
bridled.

[Illustration: STRETCHING HIMSELF.]

Some men have a tact, a way with animals, and can do anything with
them. It is a born gift, a rare one, and a precious one. There was a
certain tamer of lions and tigers, Henri Marten by name, who lately
died at the age of ninety, who tamed by his personal influence alone.
It was said of him in France, that at the head of an army he "might
have been a Bonaparte. Chance has made a man of genius a director of a
menagerie."

Professor Bartholomew was ready to talk about his way, but a part of
it is the man himself. He could not make known to another what is the
most essential requisite. He, too, brought genius to his work; besides