The very next day Aunt Henshaw came down on a visit; and placing in my
hands an old-looking, leather-covered book, observed, "I happened to
come across this stowed away in an old chest, Amy, and knowing your
fondness for fairy tales, I have brought it for you to read."

I scarcely heard what she said; I had glanced at the book, and on
seeing "Arabian Nights" traced in large gilt letters, the ground seemed
swimming before me, and I could scarcely contain my senses. Seizing the
beloved book, I made my escape as quickly as possible; and mounting up
to the cupola, a tiny room with glass sides, that commanded a view of
the country round, I effectually secured myself against interruption,
and soon became fascinated out of all remembrance. The day waned into
evening--the shadows deepened around--I remember fixing my eyes on a
brilliant star that seemed to come closer and closer, until it assumed a
strangely beautiful form, and I lost all consciousness.

In the meantime a strict search for me had been going on below. They
began to be alarmed at my continued absence; and after examining every
room, the garden, and every spot on the premises, they sent around the
neighborhood. I was known to be extremely fond of visiting, and every
acquaintance was interrogated in turn--of course, without success. No
one had thought of the cupola, and mamma was getting fairly frightened;
when Mammy took a light, and on ascending to my dormitory, discovered me
fast asleep, with the book tightly clasped to my bosom.

It afterwards yielded the boys as much delight as it had me; Fred, in
particular, had a notion of trying experiments upon the plan there laid
out. He had sat one afternoon for sometime with the book in his
hands--apparently resolving some problem in his own mind; Mammy was