handsome man, yet there was something of a sternness in his air."

The king promises to comply with the prince's request, but upon one condition—that he shall bring him a damsel of fifteen: a virgin beautiful and perfectly chaste; and that her conductor shall behave himself on the road with perfect propriety towards her, both in deed and thought. "Zeyn," says the story, "took the rash oath that was required of him; " but naturally asks, how he is to be sure of the lady? The Genius gives him a looking-glass on which she is to breathe, and which will be sullied or unsullied accordingly. The consequences among the ladies are such as Western romancers have told in a similar way; but at length success crowns the prince's endeavors, and he conducts the Genius's damsel to the enchanted island, not without falling in love, and being tempted to break his word and carry her away to Balsora. The king is pleased with his self-denial, and tells him that on his return home he will find the statue. He goes, and on the pedestal where it was to have stood, finds the lady! The behavior of the lady is in very good taste, and completes the charm of the discovery.

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"Prince,' said the young maid, 'you are surprised to to see me here: you expected to have found something more precious than me, and I question not but that you now repent having taken so much trouble: you expected a better reward.'

"Madam,' answered Zeyn, 'Heaven is my witness that I more than once was like to have broken my word with the King of the Genii, to keep you to myself. Whatsoever be the value of a diamond statue, is it worthy the satisfaction of enjoying you? I love you above all the diamonds and wealth in the world.""

All this to us is extremely delightful. We can say with the greatest truth, that at the age of fifty we repeat these passages with a pleasure little short of what we experienced at fifteen. We even doubt whether it is less. We come round to the same delight by another road. The genius is as grand to us, if not so frightful as of old; the boatman is peculiar; and the lady is charming. Such ladies may really be found on pedestals, for aught we know, in another life (one life out of a million). In short, we refuse to be a bit older than we were, having, in fact, lived such a little while, and the youth of eternity being before us. So now, in youth and good faith, to come to our last and best genius, the peri! We call her so from custom, but pari is the proper word; and in the story above-mentioned, it is so spelled. We shall here observe, that the French have often misled us by their mode of spelling Eastern words. The translation of the " Arabian Nights" (which came to us through the French) has palmed upon our childhood the genie, or French word, for the genius of the Latins, instead of the proper word jinn. The French pronunciation of peri is pari; and in Richardson's Dictionary the latter is the spelling. It would have looked affected, some years ago, to write pari for peri; though, in the story just alluded to, an exception is made in favor of it but in these times, when the growth of general learning has rendered such knowledge common, and when Boccaccio has got rid among us of his old French misnomer of Boccace (which a friend of ours very properly called bookcase), we might as well write pari and jinn, instead of peri and genie, loth, as we confess we are, to give up the latter barbarism—the belief of our childhood. But, somehow, we love any truth when we can get it, fond as we are of fiction.

Pari, then, in future, we will venture to write it, and jinn shall be said instead of genie or even genius; with which it is said to have nothing to do. This may be true; and yet it is curious to see the coincidence between the words, and for our part we are not sure, if the etymology could be well traced, that something in common might not be found between the words as well as the things. There might have been no collusion between the countries, and yet a similarity of sound might have risen out of the same ideas. This circumstance in the philosophy of the human history is, we think, not sufficiently attended to on many occasions. Fictions, for example, of all sorts have been traced to this and that country, as if what gave rise to them with one people might not have produced them out of the same chances and faculties with another; obvious mixtures and modifications may be allowed, and yet every national mind throw up its own fancies, as well as the soil its own flowers. The Persians may have a particular sort of fancy as they have of lilac or roses; but fairies, or spirits in general, are of necessity as common to all nations as the grass or the earth, or the shadows among the trees.

Thus out of similar grounds of feeling may issue the roots of the same words. It is curious that jinn, jinnian, and geni-us, should so resemble one another; for us is only the nominative termination of the Latin word, and has nothing to do with the root of it. The Eastern word pari, and our fairy, are still more nearly allied, especially by the Arabic pronunciation, which changes pinto ƒ. It has been justly argued, that fairy is but a modern word, and meant formerly the region in which the Fay lived, and not the inhabitant. This is true; but the root may still Italian word fata, from which it has

be the same, and the

been reasonably derived, says nothing to the contrary, but the reverse; for ta or tum is but a variety of inflection. Fata is the Latin fatum, or fate, whence come the words fatua, fama, and fanum; words implying something spoken or said,

Aery tongues that syllable men's names.

Fari is the Latin to speak. All these words come from the Greek phaton, phatis, phao, to say, which signifies also to express, to bring to light, and to appear; and phaos signifies light. Here is the union of speech and appearance, and thus from the single root pha or fay may have originated the words peri or fari, the English fairy, the old English fay, which is the fée of our neighbors, the Latin fatum or fate, even the parca (another Latin word for the Fates), the Greek phatis, the old Persian ferooer (a soul, a blessed spirit, which is the etymology of the author of the "Fairy Mythology"), and the word fable itself, together with fancy, fair, famous, and what not. We do not wish to lay more stress on this matter than it is worth. There is no end to probabilities, and any thing may be deduced from any thing else. Horne Tooke derived King Pepin from the Greek pronoun osper, and King Jeremiah from pickled cucumber,* a sort of sport which we recommend as an addition to the stock at Christmas. But the extremes of probability have their use as well as abuse. The spirit of words, truly studied, involves a deep philosophy and important consequences; and any thing is

* As thus, "Osper, eper, oper, — diaper, napkin, pipkin, pippin-king, King Pepin." And going the reverse way, "King Jeremiah, Jeremiah King, jerkin, gerkin, pickled cucumber." Fohi and Noah, says Goldsmith, are evidently the same; for change fo into no, and hi into ah, and there you have it.

good which tends to make out a common case for mankind.

Pari is the female genius, beautiful and beneficent. D'Herbelot says there are male Paries, and he gives the names of two of them, Dal Peri and Milan Schah Peri, who were brothers of Merjan Peri, supposed to be the same as the Western Fairy, Morgana. The truth seems to be, that originally the Paries were of no sex: the poets first distinguished them into male and female; and their exceeding beauty at last confined them to the female kind. We doubt, after all that we see in the writings of Sir William Ousely and others, whether any poet, Western or Eastern, would now talk of a male Pari. At any rate, it would appear as absurd to us of the West, as if anybody were to discover that the three Graces were not all female. The Pari is the female Fairy, the lady of the solitudes, the fair enchantress who enamors all who behold her, and is mightily inclined to be enamored herself, but also to be constant as well as kind. She is the being "that youthful poets dream of when they love." She includes the magic of the enchantress, the supernaturalness of the fairy, the beauty of the angel, and the lovability of the woman; in short, is the perfection of female sweet

Pari has been derived from a word meaning winged, and from another signifying beauty. But enough has been said on this point. We are not aware of any story in which Paries are represented with wings: but they

* Where we say angel-faced, the Persians say pari-faced, pari-peyker, pari-cheker, pari-rokhsar, pari-roy, are all terms to that effect. The Parysatis of the Greeks is justly supposed to be the pari-zade, or pari-born, of the Persians.