SWEETFLOWER will beguile us into believing that the interposition of the Fairies in our Baroness's domestic arrangements, grows up, if one shall so hazardously speak, from TWO seeds, each bearing two branches--namely, from two wrongs, the one hitting, the other striking from, themselves--BOTH which wrongs they will AVENGE and AMEND. We take up a strenuous theory; and we deny--and we defy--SWEETFLOWER. Nay, more! Should our excellent friend, ERNST WILLKOMM, be found taking part, real or apparent, with SWEETFLOWER, we defy and we deny Ernst Willkomm. For in this mixed case of the Fairy wrong, we distinguish, first, INJURIES which shall be retaliated, and, as far as may be, compensated; and secondly, a SHREW, who is to be turned _into_ a WIFE, being previously turned _out of_ a shrew. We dare to believe that this last-mentioned end is the thing uppermost, and undermost, and middlemost in the mind of the Fairies; is, in fact, the true and _the sole final cause_ of all their proceedings. Or that the _moral heart_ of the poem--that root in the human breast and will, from which every true poem springs heavenward--is here the zeal of the spirits for _morally reforming Swanhilda_; is, therefore, that deep-seated attraction, which, as we have averred, essentially allies the inclination of the Fairies to the moral conscience in our own kind. One end, therefore, grounds the whole story, although two and more are proposed by _Sweetflower_. It is one that _satisfies_ the moral reason in man; for it is no less than to cleanse and heal the will, wounded with error, of a human creature. That other, which he displays, with mock emphasis, of restitution to the downtrodden fairyhood, is an exotic, fair and slight bud, grafted into the sturdier indigenous stock. For let us fix but a steady look upon the thing itself, and what is there before us? a whim, a trick of the fancy, tickling the fancy. We are amused with a quaint calamity--a panic of caps and cloaks. We laugh--we cannot help it--as the pigmy assembly flies a thousand ways at once--grave councillors and all--throwing terrified somersets--hiding under stones, roots--diving into coney-burrows--"any where--any where"--vanishing out of harm's--if not out of dismay's--reach. In a tale of the Fairies, THE FANCY rules:--and the interest of such a misfortune, definite and not infinite, is congenial to the spirit of the gay faculty which hovers over, lives upon surfaces, and which flees abysses; which thence, likewise, in the moral sphere, is equal to apprehending resentment of a personal wrong, and a judicial assessment of damages--but NOT A DISINTERESTED MORAL END.