CHAPTER I. What thing so good which not some harm may bring! E'en to be happy is a dangerous thing?" " SING no more, for thy song wearieth me," exclaimed the impatient daughter of Navarre, tossing upon her couch with the heavy restlessness of one who courts slumber when nature demands exercise. The Moorish maiden, accus-tomed to the petulance of the beautiful Berengaria, arose from her cushion and laying aside her lute, murmured despondingly, " The proverb saith truly, ' 'Tis ill-pleasing him who is ill-pleased with himself.' " Abandoning further attempts to soothe her mistress, the attendant retired to the extremity of the long apartment and gazed listlessly from the casement. " Art vexed that my ear loved not the sound of thy lute, peevish child ?" inquired the youthful princess. " Read me a riddle, or tell me a marvellous tale of the Genii, such as thou hast learned in thy southern land." With the air of one who performs an accustomed task while his thoughts are far away, the girl resumed her seat, and recited A TALE OP ARABY. Once upon a time three Genii, returning from their mis-sions to mortals rested beside the well Zemzem. And as they sat recounting to each other the things that they had seen, behold they fell into conversation concerning the Eternal One (whose name be exalted), the destinies that reign over the fate of men, the characteristics of the world, and the misfortunes and calamities which happen unto all, both the righteous and the wicked. And one said to another,