The _New Arabian Nights_ was in many respects a parody of the Eastern book. It had, if we make a few necessary allowances for the difference between East and West, the same, or very near the same, atmosphere of gallant, extravagant, intoxicated romance. The characters had the same adventurous irresponsibility, and exhibit the same irrelevancies and futilities. The Young Man with the Cream Cakes might well have sprung from the same brain as the facetious Barmecide, and young Scrymgeour sits helpless before his destiny as sat that other young man while the inexorable Barber sang the song and danced the dance of Zantout. Indeed Destiny in these books resembles nothing so much as a Barber with forefinger and thumb nipping his victims by the nose. It is as omnipotent, as irrational, as humorous and almost as cruel in the imitation as in the original. Of course I am not comparing these in any thing but their general presentment of life, or holding up _The Rajah's Diamond_ against _Aladdin_. I am merely pointing out that life is presented to us in Galland and in Mr. Stevenson's first book of tales under very similar conditions--the chief difference being that Mr. Stevenson has to abate something of the supernatural, or to handle it less frankly. But several years divide the _New Arabian Nights_ from the _Island Nights' Entertainments_; and in the interval our author has written _The Master of Ballantrae_ and his famous _Open Letter_ on Father Damien. That is to say, he has grown in his understanding of the human creature and in his speculations upon his creature's duties and destinies. He has travelled far, on shipboard and in emigrant trains; has passed through much sickness; has acquired property and responsibility; has mixed in public affairs; has written _A Footnote to History_, and sundry letters to the _Times_; and even, as his latest letter shows, stands in some danger of imprisonment. Therefore, while the title of his new volume would seem to refer us once more to the old Arabian models, we are not surprised to find this apparent design belied by the contents. The third story, indeed, _The Isle of Voices_, has affinity with some of the Arabian tales--with Sindbad's adventures, for instance. But in the longer _Beach of Falesá_ and _The Bottle Imp_ we are dealing with no debauch of fancy, but with the problems of real life.