URING a trip which I lately made to the continent, I accidently met with (at an Inn where I had occafion to halt a fhort time) a French edition of the Arabian Nights Entertainments; and having no other book at hand, I was induced to wade through it. When I had finifhed reading the book, it ftruck my imagination, that thofe tales might be compared to a once rich and luxuriant garden, neglected and run to⚫ waſte, where ſcarce any thing ftrikes the common obferver but the weeds and briars with which it is over-run, whilſt the more penetrating eye of the experienced gardener difcovers ſtill remaining, though but thinly fcattered, fome of the moſt fragrant and delightful flowers. Full of this idea, I determined to turn floriſt, and to traverſe this wild and unweeded ſpot with a cautious and difcriminating eye, by which means I flattered myſelf I might be enabled to cull a pleafing nofegay for my youthful friends. Quitting the fimile, I have endeavoured to felect a few of the most intereſting tales, have given them a new drefs in point of language, and have carefully expung-A ed