use of it, and one day perhaps they may be re-united, and live in
happiness."

At these words a balsamic odour spread itself in the cottage, and a
bright light discovered to the view of the astonished Persian, the
features of a young man, whose expressive countenance had in it
something celestial. It was a beneficent genius, who after having
deposited his presents on the bed of the old man, vanished like
lightning. The old man called his two sons, they ran eagerly towards him
with a light, and approached the bed of their father, who related to
them the visit he had been honoured with, and showed them the presents
of the genius. On one side was a small box covered with brilliant
spangles; on the other a sheet of paper carefully sealed. "Come Osmyn,"
said the old man, "you are the eldest, it is for you to choose."

Osmyn attracted by the richness of the box, chose it with eagerness, and
poor Zambri was obliged to be contented with the humble envelope. The
old man embraced them, blessed them, and died as one resigning himself
to the arms of hope. After having wept sincerely the death of so good a
father, and having rendered the last offices to his remains, the two
brothers were anxious to know what aid they should find in the presents
of the genius. Osmyn opened his little box and found it filled with
pastilles of divers forms and colours. He was almost tempted to laugh at
the meanness of such a gift, when he perceived these words written on
the lid of the box--"_Each time that thou eatest one of these pastilles,
thine imagination will bring forth a poem perfect in all its parts,
sublime and delicate in its details, such in short as will surpass the
ablest works of the best Persian poets._"

Osmyn did not want vanity; the possession of so fine a secret failed not