resolved to tell them nothing at all, to avoid the imputation, (which their charity would certainly incline them to) of my telling too much. But, I depend upon your knowing me enough, to believe whatever I seriously assert for truth; though I give you leave to be surprised at an account so new to you. But what would you say, if I told you, that I have been in a Haram, where the winter apartment was wainscotted with inlaid work of mother-of-pearl, ivory of different colours, and olive wood, exactly like the little boxes you have seen brought out of this country; and in those rooms designed for summer, the walls are all crusted with Japan china, the roofs gilt, and the floors spread with the finest Persian carpets; yet there is nothing more true; such is the palace of my lovely friend, the fair Fatima.” I trust, the amusing style and singular nature of these extracts will fully justify the length of them. Mr. Dallaway, in his late work, called “Constantinople, antient and modern,” has the following passage. “Much of the romantic air which pervades the domestic habits of the persons described in the Arabian Nights, particularly in inferior life, will be observed in passing through the streets of Constantinople. And we receive, with additional pleasure, a remembrance of the delight with which we at first perused them, in finding them authentic portraits of every Oriental nation.” Thus, also, and in strong terms, speak the authors of the British Critic. “This work has been admired, and always will, for the simplicity of its narrative, combined with all that the most luxuriant imagination can require; for the accuracy of its representation of Oriental manners, and for the interest and curiosity it awakens in the learned and unlearned, the young and the old. And we have known some of the most grave, and most learned men retain, with delight, the impression made by these volumes.”